#letting him get penalties left and right because rules

[f0point5]

Max in a Mercedes would be such an ick.

[enjoythebutterflies11]

George Russell: “Did Verstappen get a penalty for that Turn 1?”

Toto Wolff: “No, he didn’t get a penalty and at the end Lando got a penalty for being forced off and overtaking on the outside. I guess it’s a bit biased decision making but not surprising.”

George Russell: “Yea… strange.”

-

On lap 1, Max pushed Lando off the track, allowing Leclerc and Sainz to get through, dropping Lando to P4. There was no penalty for Max, no investigation, nothing. Later in the race, Max and Lando battle again. Max forced Lando wide, but Lando overtook him anyway. McLaren told Lando, “You had the apex, keep going,” while Max was on the radio complaining about it.

Then, Lando got a 5-second penalty for overtaking outside the track. Lando basically told the team at the end if he should have just given it back and gone for it again instead, but McLaren kept telling him he was in his right so i don’t think Lando should be blamed for not letting Max through when his team told him not to, and honestly, Max should understand that too.

Now here’s where it gets messy. The stewards penalized Lando, saying Max was in front at the apex, which apparently justified the penalty. But the problem is, Max was only ahead because he braked too late, forcing both of them off track. Jenson Button even pointed out that Max being ahead at the apex happened because he out-braked himself. If that’s the standard, does that mean everyone can do the same thing in the next races? As long as they’re "ahead," they can just push others off?

This brings up a bigger issue with the rules. If the only thing that matters is being ahead at the apex, then how you got there doesn’t seem to matter anymore, which is why we see these grey areas all the time. It’s confusing, and it happened more than once this weekend—not just with Lando and Max. Honestly, there needs to be a better system, maybe something like gravel traps to avoid these off track situations in tricky parts of the circuit.

To make things even more confusing, there’s the FIA document that basically said Max forced Lando off. Max, however, defended himself by saying Lando overtook outside the track. But in the cooldown room with Carlos, Max didn’t seem as sure anymore about why Lando got a penalty and told him it was because of track limits instead. Meanwhile, McLaren and Lando stuck to their opinion that Max pushed Lando off and overtook by going off track himself.

Lando handled it really maturely in the post-race interview, saying: “He [Max] defends by going off track and he overtakes by going off track but I’m not gonna complain about it.” Honestly, I think he was way more professional than I would’ve been in his situation.

Yes, Lando overtook outside the track, but both of them left the white lines because of Max’s late braking. Even the stewards reduced Lando’s penalty from 10 to 5 seconds, acknowledging he had nowhere else to go since Max ran off the track too. So, doesn’t that imply Max forced him off? Shouldn’t Max have gotten a penalty as well for pushing Lando off the track?

The fact that only Lando got punished is frustrating. If McLaren hadn’t given him bad information, he would've given the place back, and none of this would’ve happened. You can’t bash Lando for the overtake without also calling out Max for what he did at the start. Both were penalty-worthy situations, but only one driver got penalized.

In the end, this whole situation is just confusing and messy.

[dear-ao3]

can you pls do an f1 race summary from this weekend i'm literally living for your f1 lore stories

ABSOLUTELY

ok so while i will not go into Everything from this weekend (cause there was a lot) i will do my best to talk about the last 10 laps because wow.

so!

here's what you need to know:

heading into the last race of the year (abu dhabi), the standings for the constructors championship were as follows:

red bull: 822 mercedes: 392 ferrari: 388

so while redbull had secured the win several races ago, ferrari and mercedes were still duking it out for 2nd (keep in mind, were talking several million dollars difference in prize money here)

heading into the race the two teams were about even. charles leclerc was starting p2 on the grid with his teammate carlos sainz starting an abysmal p16 after crashing in practice (this is the same guy who ran over the manhole cover in vegas and narrowly avoided getting royally and permanently fucked). on the mercedes side george russell was starting p4 (mostly thanks to lando norris fucking up his qualifying lap but landos abu dhabi race is another story entirely) and lewis hamilton was starting p11.

heading into the final 10 laps the two teams were neck and neck for second in the constructors championship. but, carlos sainz had once again been fucked over by ferrari strategy because while he had already pitted once, he was on hard tires both times (you have to run two different compound tires during the race as per rules) so he still needed to pit again to put on a set of medium tires. so while he was hovering around p10ish, ferraris baller strategy of "wait for a safety car to pit" was looking grimmer and grimmer as no one crashed into each other and therefore there was no safety car. so heading into the last 10 laps, it was pretty clear that carlos was not getting any points to help the team (points are scored if you end p10 or higher), leaving it all down to charles leclerc.

sainz ended up pitting on the last lap and finishing in a horrendous p18 (tho technically it was a dnf because of the tire thing).

charles leclec was chilling up in p2, about 16 seconds off of max verstappen (the least important person in this story). behind charles was george russell, lando norris, then sergio perez.

lap 47. perez tries to pass lando norris. he is unsuccessful and they bump into each other. its kind of unclear who causes the accident (the announcers debated fiercely over it) but lando gets pushed off the track, still ahead of perez. race control debates it and end up giving perez a 5 second time penalty.

perez passes norris, then moves on to pass russell. hes now in 3rd. but, he still has the 5 second time penalty, meaning that if he wants to be on the podium he needs to be at least 5 seconds in front of george russell. perez zooms on, now trying to pass leclerc.

lap 58. the last lap. george russell is in 4th (but will end 3rd because of perez's time penalty) and hamilton is in 9th. this will put mercedes just 3 points ahead of ferrari and they will take second in the constructors championship. charles leclerc, who has been getting fucked left right and center up the ass with a fork by ferrari strategy all season long says fuck it what do i have to lose. he has no chance in hell of passing verstappen (who is still 16 seconds ahead of him) but he may have a shot at knocking russell back to 4th (with perez's time penalty) and if he knocks russell back to 4th, ferrari will just narrowly take second in the constructors championship.

so, with all the rage of a man who was deemed ferraris golden boy but hasn't won a single race all year, charles gets on his radio and says the following:

"tell me the gap between checo (perez) and russell. if theres less than 5 seconds ill give him the place (?) and i will let us switch for the last sector. hes got 5 seconds anyway."

the gap between russell and perez is 2.7 seconds. at this rate, russell will still get third and mercedes will take second.

ferrari doesnt exactly tell charles to let checo take p2, but they also don't tell him to not let checo take p2. and boy, charles has already been through the wringer this season, its the last race, he might as well give it everything hes got.

and right now, everything hes got is to let checo pass him, increasing the gap between him and russell. because, 5 seconds will be added on to checos finishing time, and, if he is more than 5 seconds ahead of russell when he finishes, this will keep russell in fourth place. charles will still take p2 with checos time penalty and if all goes according to plan he will be able to singlehandedly secure ferrari second in the constructors championship.

its so genius that you wonder why the ferrari strategists didnt think of it themselves.

but alas, the plan does not work. checo only finishes about 3.7 seconds infant of russell, meaning that with his penalty russell still takes p3, and allowing mercedes to come second in the constructors championship by only 3 points.

charles, rightfully, is fucking pissed. hes done the job of himself, carlos, and the strategists and it still isn't enough to pull out p2.

after the race is over and charles curses spectacularly that they come in 3rd overall, he thanks everyone at ferrari for "this difficult season" (he doesnt sound very thankful at all) and ferrari don't really even acknowledge him

if you want to hear his radios from the last lap they are here

[mstgay3000stories]

Frat4Sale: Crave

Another story about a lazy roommate :) Commissioned by Habernath. Hope you enjoy! For more, check out this link:

Kristopher was only twenty one, a junior at college, and quite a looker in his own right. He had brown hair styled high, dark eyes, and a clean cut, boyish face with kissable, pouty lips. When he smiled, it was mischievous and playful, highlighting his best features, and making him even more irresistible.

He took great care of his body too. He often worked out, shaved frequently, and remained fit and trim, oftentimes going out shirtless in public just because he could. He had the girls at campus fawning all over him, and had plenty of notches on his bedpost to prove it.

And yet, despite his stunning looks, he was a total slob at home. He knew it. Everyone that knew him knew it. But he didn’t care.

He even had a roommate at one point, who could vouch firsthand for his poor personal habits: a young man named Melvin.

Melvin and Kris didn’t really get along. Melvin was rather uptight, and not only was Kris a slob, he was also an ass. Melvin would pick up after Kris whenever he left his clothes lying around, or whenever he left his dishes in the sink, or left food out everywhere, and any time Melvin tried to bring the issue up, Kris dismissed him or even mocked him. Sometimes, Kris would walk around shirtless while snacking, shamelessly dropping food or crumbs all over his hard, perfectly sculpted chest.

“Uh, you got food on you,” Melvin would say.

“Why don’t you lick it off then?” Kris would reply, laughing mischievously as he sauntered away, leaving more crumbs on the freshly vacuumed floor.

Living with someone so careless was certainly difficult for Melvin. But it was balanced by the fact that he found Kris overwhelmingly attractive. He, like the many girls Kris had fucked over the years, had no problem cleaning up after him if it meant he could ogle his perfect body just a little bit longer. Fortunately, Kris never caught on, and if he had, he would have made life even more miserable for the sophomore.

Kris moved out of the apartment the next year, but Melvin still missed getting glimpses at Kris’ perfect form, from his amazing chest, to his perfect rear, to his tasty, sexy feet. How could someone so sloppy be so incredibly hot? One of life’s mysteries, he supposed.

When a friend recommended the Frat4sale website to him, he was absolutely floored to discover his old roommate on it. He knew that Kris was part of some type of frat and was strangely defensive about it whenever he inquired. Now he knew the reason why.

He had heard several stories from others about the mysterious Aaron, the guy that ran the website and the frat, and it always seemed so implausible. A guy that could mind control others? It sounded ridiculous.

It didn’t stop him from pursuing a session, especially since Kristopher was available. There was no way he was letting that opportunity slide. Besides, he would know right away if it was fake or not given Kris’ reactions to it when meeting; the guy was as straight as a horizontal line.

He had saved up enough money since moving out to buy a session that lasted about a few days. He described the scenario to Aaron through a detailed email, a little something that had been born from his own private fantasies.

In his scenario, he wanted to be roommates with Kris again, to briefly relive their torturous time together, but under very different circumstances. Kris would appear at his apartment, and be back to his usual jerkwad self. He would take off his clothes, walk around shirtless, and be as messy and asinine as always, only this time there would be a penalty that came in the form of The Douchebag Jar.

The Douchebag Jar would require Kris to put money into it anytime he ‘broke’ any one of Melvin’s rules regarding tidiness. Anytime he left his clothes around? A dollar in the jar. Food on his chest? More money for the jar. Etc, etc.

However, each time, Kris would find himself inexplicably unable to pay. He would still have to pay the price for his infractions—and Melvin was going to make him pay with his body. If Kris was under control, as Aaron claimed, then his requests should pose no problem.

He was surprised when he got an email back from Aaron. Everything he had detailed could be easily arranged, all that needed was payment. Melvin sent the money, then waited for his day to arrive, feeling anxious and even doubtful. He wondered why he had blown so much money in the first place. He even made a Douchebag Jar just for fun out of a mason jar and a taped piece of paper, with the words boldly spelled out. He didn’t expect to use it. The whole thing was probably a hoax anyway.

On the appointed day, he heard his doorbell ring and rushed to answer it. He held his breath for a moment, half-expecting it to be anyone other than Kristopher, but when he opened the door, his mouth slipped open.

Kristopher was back. Melvin gawked at him for a few moments, scanning him up and down with disbelief, yet there he was, with the same surly look on his face, his muscles bulging through his thin cotton shirt.

“Move?” he said.

Melvin regained his senses and got out the way. Kristopher barged in, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

“H-how are you, Kris? Nice to see you and—” 

Kristopher ignored him and headed to his old room, as if he had lived there the whole time, then shut the door without a word. Just like the old days….

Melvin sat down on the couch to take a breath. He couldn’t get over it. Was Frat4sale real? His eyes wandered over to the Douchebag Jar on the coffee table and he felt a tinge of anticipation hit his cock.

Only one way to find out.

Kristopher came out a short while later and headed to the kitchen.

“What’s to eat?” he said. 

Melvin stared at him. He had taken off his shirt, and was walking around in shorts and socks. Melvin’s eyes scanned his fine, muscular, hairless body, his cock rumbling between his legs. It was like they really were roommates again.

“Hello?” Kris said, opening the fridge. “You deaf or something?”

Melvin collected himself. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Haven’t been to the store lately.”

Kris groaned loudly, and instead of being annoyed, as usual, Melvin felt giddy.

Kris slammed the fridge then headed to the pantry, and returned with a bag of chips that Melvin was saving for lunch the next day. He opened it without asking, then shoveled a handful into his mouth, crumbs falling all over his bare chest.

He headed to the living room then slumped into a sofa chair and continued to eat messily, chewing with his mouth open, as more and more crumbs tumbled onto his skin. Melvin stared at him from the couch, his heart thumping. 

“What’s that?” Kris said, nodding his head towards the Douchebag Jar on the table.

“That’s uh, the Douchebag Jar.”

“The fuck is a Douche Jar?” Kris said, eating even more noisily.

“That’s Douchebag Jar, and it’s part of, uh, the new rules I’ve set up here.”

“Yeah? What kinda rules?” Kris burped, startling Melvin. He felt so nervous he could hardly articulate himself.

“Right. Uh, starting today, anytime you make a mess in the house, you need to put a dollar in the jar.”

They stared at each other silently for a moment. Melvin thought Kris was going to burst into laughter, or cuss at him for something so idiotic. Instead, Kris looked down at the mess he made on his bare chest, crumbs strewn about.

“Fuck.” He ate a single chip, spilling even more crumbs onto his flawless torso.

“Yeah….”

“Well I don’t got a dollar, bruh. So now what?” Kris stuffed his face again.

Melvin took a deep breath. It was now or never!

“You need to pay up, and since you don’t have any money, uh, I’ll need to...need to take something from you. From your body.”

“What, you gonna cut my finger off or something?” Kris laughed in his familiar, childish laugh.

“No, I mean, uh,” Melvin took a breath, then stood up, “oh fuck it, you need to pay up by doing anything I say, that’s what. And right now, since you have no money whatsoever, I demand that you let me eat those crumbs off your chest.”

Melvin felt his cheeks turn red. Did he really just blurt that all out? He immediately regretted it. It always felt so much better in his fantasies.

Kris gawped at him quietly. While Melvin couldn’t see it, the jock’s brain was already going off, Aaron’s conditioning running through it like engine oil, twisting and changing his natural reactions, subduing his natural jock instincts to laugh and bully.

Instead, Kris broke the tension with a sigh, then tossed the bag of chips onto the floor. “Fuck, man, I knew I shouldn’t have moved back in. These rules are gonna kill me. Alright, fine.”

Melvin’s eyes widened. “Fine? What do you mean, ‘fine’?”

“I mean, fine, you can eat these crumbs off my chest. Whatever. Stupid rule, but I got no money on me, so I guess it’s fair.”

Melvin almost fell back onto the couch. He could hardly speak or even think at that point. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?

“Well? What are you waiting for? Hurry up, bruh, I don’t got all day.” Kris grabbed a few more chips from the bag and chomped on them as awaited his fate.

He flexed his chest, inadvertently teasing Melvin with it. Melvin felt the temperature rise in his pants.

He gulped, then approached Kris, falling to his knees. He stared at his beautiful chest, covered in scattered, salty bits and pieces. He half expected Kris to punch him right in the face, but instead, he merely gazed at him with his usual irritable, impatient look. It was as if they were conducting a simple business transaction, that Kris wanted to get over with as fast as possible.

But it was more than that. It was a simple transaction that had given Melvin a full-on boner!

Melvin’s lips quivered as he stared at the fallen food on Kris’ chest. His cock throbbed heavily down below, turned on even more by Kris’ uncharacteristic permissiveness. He had always wanted to do this, and couldn’t believe he finally had his chance!

He noticed a rather large chip resting comfortably on Kris’ pec. His head leaned towards it, and, with his gaze locked with Kris’, he gingerly ate the chip right off the unaware jock’s chest, munching on it quietly.

He felt a rush throughout his whole body. The taste of barbecue and salt greeted his tastebuds, but the fact it had been removed from Kris’ body by his own mouth electrified him. He felt emboldened, his cock growing even more in his underwear. His head plunged forward, unable to contain himself, as he let his lips sink onto Kris’ entire pec, swallowing up the surrounding crumbs in the area. His lips slid along the surface, causing his eyelids to flutter as the delectable taste of Kris’ skin filled his senses.

“Fuck me,” Kris said in disgust. Yet, he didn’t move in his seat. His brain accepted the ‘punishment’ he was receiving, though ordinarily he would’ve tossed Melvin onto his backside by now.

Melvin, however, felt consumed with desire, his cock raging below. His lips smacked on Kris’ pec, sometimes taking a moment to chew the loose bits of food in his mouth. His tongue swirled around Kris’ nipple, causing it to get hard, while Kris grunted uncomfortably. He let his fingers squeeze the other pec, plumping up the muscle, while his tongue hounded the other one, the salty and sweet taste of the chips complementing the taste of Kris’ body.

He gently bit into Kris’ chest next, causing the jock to moan and swear at him, but he was so horny he didn’t care. He ate the chips right off his skin first, then chewed on the nipple hungrily, enjoying the strange, sweet and salty taste, erotic and delicious.

“Christ, dude, the fuck are you doing?”

“Gotta...pay the...price….bruh…”

He never used the word ‘bruh’, but it amused him to do so. Kris squirmed in his seat as Melvin continued to bite and lick his chest, crumbs disappearing one by one. He turned his attention to the other nipple and licked it to hardness, moaning with pleasure, enjoying the salty taste on his lips. He licked his lips, then gently bit into the muscled area, as if he were taking the first bite into some luscious peach, causing Kris to howl. Then he treated the nipple to the same service, swirling his tongue around it lasciviously, before gently nibbling on it as if it were a piece of jerky. Kris grit his teeth, but endured, while Melvin spoiled himself at his expense.

But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t. His hunger caused him to lick the rest of his torso, moving down to his muscled abs, chasing any stray crumbs he could find. He gnawed on the ridges of Kris’ stomach, causing him to shriek again. Kris swore even more, but Melvin noticed he didn’t kick him off at all; he knew he could get away with anything he wanted to at that point. He licked the ridges of his abs, his cock leaking profusely in his jeans, then moved up to the chest again, licking a pathway up to the arms.

He had cleaned up most of the food by now off the torso, but his hunger wasn’t sated. He moved to Kris’ armpit.

“Oh come on. Why the armpit?” Kris said. Melvin explained that he was simply following through with the price that was owed him. Kris reluctantly gave in, his dark eyes shooting daggers at Melvin.

Melvin pinned his arm up against the couch, then licked the newly exposed armpit, basking in the sweaty, musky taste, even finding a few morsels that had fallen there, straight from Kris’ chest. He licked the area ravenously, to Kris’ disgust, a far different flavor than the one at his chest, but one that was just as tantalizing. The jock’s natural scent and deodorant aroma was a treat for him, one that he spent several moments indulging in, lick after lick. He then moved to the triceps. He licked Kris’ triceps while Kris scowled at him, taking great pleasure in feeling the smooth, yet bulging ridges of his underarm; his tongue moved up and licked the biceps as well, his lips smacking and plump, leaving red marks all across the jock’s skin.

“You done yet?” Kris said.

Melvin shook his head. He licked his way across Kris’ broad shoulders to the other arm, where he sucked and groped at his arm muscles, sating his hunger just a little bit more, then forced Kris to expose his pit. Once again, he went after Kris’ tender underarm area, collecting a whole new layer of musk and tastiness on his tongue, while Kris looked on with annoyance. Melvin felt like his cock was bursting. He spent several moments licking the area, building up even more lust, before allowing Kris to drop his arm.

“Now are you finished? You fucking weirdo.”

Melvin wiped his mouth, catching a few breaths. “No. The payment came up a little...short.”

Kris rolled his eyes. “What else you need?”

“Kiss me.” 

Kris’ eyes widened in shock, but his brain wouldn’t let him deny Melvin’s request. His fingers curled into fists, and he shook his head in a threatening manner, but Aaron’s control was unassailable. They shared a tense moment before he finally agreed to it, cursing under his breath.

“Don’t be like that,” Melvin said, wiping the crumbs from his own face. “I’m just trying to keep this place nice and clean.”

“Whatever.”

Melvin laughed, then grabbed the back of Kris’ head, and plunged in. He moaned when their lips made contact, while his tongue invaded the mouth. He noticed Kris scowling, which amused him: he enjoyed delivering the taste of his own body back to the jock, as the taste of Kris’ body and barbecue flavored chips still lingered on the tip of his tongue. Kris looked uncomfortable throughout the entire encounter, while Melvin made out passionately with him, gasping for breath at times from how horny he was, his body writhing. He was so turned on from the kissing, and the thought of Kris tasting himself indirectly through his tongue, that he ended up cumming in his jeans. His body trembled as he released, yet his lips remained locked on Kris, forcing him to keep up with him. 

Melvin finally got off, and Kris wiped his mouth with his arm. His chest was glossy with saliva, but, finally, spotless. He noticed the wet spot at Melvin’s crotch and was even more repulsed.

“Now we’re done,” Melvin said breathlessly. He grinned then left Kris alone in the living room, and returned to his own room. He was in disbelief at what he had just accomplished. He was so excited he even texted his friend about it, who was glad he was finally getting a bit of revenge on the messy jock. 

The Douchebag Jar actually worked! And if he could get away with eating scraps from Kris’ body and making out with him, what else could he do to him during his stay? He had the next few days to entertain himself, and decided to take it slow.

The next time he saw Kris was later on in the evening, a few hours later.

He was shirtless again, but this time, his socked feet were on the coffee table while he watched a game. He sipped on a beer and didn’t even comment on Melvin’s presence. Melvin turned off the TV.

“The fuck?”

“Excuse me,” Melvin said, standing in front of the blackened display, “but I see another Douchebag Jar violation.”

Kris glared at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? Where?”

Melvin pointed to Kris’ socked feet on the table. Kris looked upset.

“I don’t got any money on me.”

“That’s okay. Stay right there, this won’t take long.”

“Man, are you gonna mess with me again?”

“You gotta pay the price, Kris. It’s what we agreed to.”

Kris swore again, but did as he was told and remained in his seat—allowing Melvin to kneel right in front of his socked soles.

He took a moment to savor the sight before him: two big socked size twelves sitting innocently on the table, teasing him with their sexy arches and toe length, the outlines looking utterly amazing. He caught a glimpse of Kris’ annoyed face between his feet, which made him chuckle. It served the messy fucker right!

He let his hands run along the jock’s socked feet, taking in their heft, his cock once again rising. The smell wafted into his nose, awakening his senses, putting him on edge. His mouth watered. He couldn’t wait to get those socks off!

He let his face run along the edges of Kris’ soles first, causing him to voice his disgust. He even felt his toes wiggle in his socks, and yet, Kris was still sitting there, putting up with his ‘punishment’, just as he was ordered.

Melvin pulled off a sock, and was floored. He knew what Kris’ feet looked like from their time together; he had fantasized about them often. But to be this close to them! He gazed up and down the wide, perfect sole, the incredible arch, the amazing toes. He pulled off the other sock, and was greeted with the foot’s partner, two perfect snacks just begging to be devoured by him. His cock was fully rigid and ready to go, despite the grumpy expression on Kris’ face.

He let his face run along the length of both feet again, warming himself up even more, not at all put off by Kris’ jeers and impatient tongue clicks. The jock’s feet were so warm and soft, so perfect, just like the rest of his body. There was a tangy, wonderful scent emanating from them, which drove Melvin even more wild.

He opened his mouth, and when his tongue made contact, his entire body shuddered.

“Fuckin’ nasty,” Kris said, folding his arms and looking away. Melvin didn’t care. The jock’s feet were a dream! His tongue licked up and down the soles, his cock throbbing heavily from the taste and texture. He took turns licking each sole, his neck craning up and down while his tongue lapped away furiously. Sometimes Kris would wiggle or spread his toes in revulsion, but it only heated Melvin’s loins even more. He couldn’t wait to get at those next!

He put Kris’ feet on top of each other, ignoring his protests the same way Kris ignored his own about cleaning up. Then, he allowed himself to take long, luxurious swipes right up both soles, causing them to tense, his own cock leaking profusely. He pressed his face against them and nuzzled his nose against the arches, taking in more of the scent, his mouth taking its turn from time to time to take in more of that authentic jock-boy taste.

He placed both feet side by side again, then brought the toes to his face. Kris flexed his toes back, which was the best he could do to avoid him, but Melvin held him down firmly anyways, feeling a slight rush of power at having so much control over the jock. He sighed happily as he let his nose run along the bottoms of all ten toes, breathing in their rich scent, enjoying the way they twitched and moved around.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Kristopher said. “This is some sick shit, bruh.”

“That’s funny, I used to say the same thing about your personal habits.”

Melvin let his tongue have a taste of Kris’ amazing toes, then moaned in satisfaction: Kris’ feet were delicious by themselves, but the toes had an even better flavor, and the jock’s reactions were a wonderful added bonus.

His tongue ran all over the toes, spreading them apart, allowing him to enjoy them even more. He opened his mouth and started sucking on them, fulfilling a fantasy he had harbored the entire time he used to live with Kris, his cock shooting out precum as soon as he tasted them. 

He moaned breathlessly as he sucked toe after toe, spending a few moments with each one, his head bobbing up and down while his fingers pressed into the soles. Kris’ toes writhed inside his mouth, clenching futilely at times, yet he was powerless to Melvin’s assault. The jock could barely look anymore, and he hated the feeling of it. Yet, he felt ‘obligated’ by some strange compulsion regardless, though he couldn’t understand why.

Melvin had worked himself into a frenzy, and needed to get some release. Everything about Kris’ feet had fulfilled his deepest fantasies. He whipped out his cock (noting Kris’ even more extreme reactions), then daringly started rubbing them across his soles, squirting his precum all over it.

“Are you fucking serious? What the fuck?” Kris said.

“You only brought this on yourself, Kris. Time to collect the rest of your fine!”

He grabbed Kris’ feet and let his cock rub against the soles, moaning happily while his shaft quivered in his hand. He anointed the bottoms of his toes with precum, ensuring that it got between them, delighting in the way Kris spread them apart from shock, which only made delivering his precum easier.

At last, he grabbed the jock’s big feet and wedged his cock between them. Kris covered his face, while Melvin took his wet and slick, throbbing, veiny cock, and began moving in and out between the tight space between the jock’s soles. Kris constantly swore, yet he remained powerless, his face flinching. He knew what he had to do. The price had to be paid.

Melvin sighed and moaned breathlessly, working his cock up more and more, his balls ready to burst. He couldn’t believe he was actually fucking Kristopher’s feet, and every thrust felt incredibly satisfying, his cock thrilled by the sensations running through it. The fact that Kris hated it made it even more enjoyable, and the expression on his face was priceless. He thrust harder and harder, and shouted after one final, bigger thrust, cumming at last, and releasing copious amounts of his jizz all over Kris’ feet and legs. The jock groaned in disgust, and when Melvin was finished, he pulled away, leaving the jock’s feet a cum-covered mess. It was a mess that, for once, he was proud of.

He grabbed Kris’ socks.

“What are you doing with my socks? Hey, wait!”

Melvin started putting the socks back on Kris’ feet, slapping his hands away whenever he tried to stop him.

“This is the last thing, promise.” He covered them back up, and loved how they immediately began to dampen from the new layer of cum on Kris’ soles and toes.

“What the fuck, bruh?”

“I want you to wear these the rest of the night. Then you can consider your infraction paid for.”

“But I’m going out with the bros later tonight!”

“Well...make sure you take a shower when you get back.” He winked, then left, leaving Kris feeling even more agitated and confused.

Kris left for the rest of the night in a sour mood, but Melvin noticed he did his best not to make any more offenses. Melvin spent the rest of the evening relaxing, overjoyed with what he had accomplished on the first day alone, his cock taking a much needed break.

The next day, he woke up to find Kris wasn’t anywhere to be found. He prepared breakfast for himself, and was surprised to find Kris enter through the front door.

“Hey,” he said. Kris ignored him again. He looked like he had just worked out. He was in gym clothes, and they looked damp.

However, Melvin noticed he started undressing right in the hallway. He watched as he took off his socks and shoes, then the rest of his clothes, leaving them strewn all over the floor, a particularly nasty habit he used to indulge in back when they lived together.

But this time, there would be no futile pleading with him. Kris got down to his jockstrap, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Melvin stopped him by blocking him in the hall.

“Uh, move?” Kris said. Melvin took a moment to observe Kris’ gorgeous body, his beautiful ass sticking out behind him in all its bare glory, his strap bulging with meat.

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Clothes all over the floor? Oh yeah, you need to pay the Douchebag Jar, no exceptions.”

Kris was in disbelief. “Are you serious? Do I look like I got my fucking wallet on me?”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate. Guess that means you’ll have to pay another way. You can meet me on the couch.”

Melvin walked past him. Kris hit the wall with his fist, but felt compelled to do as Melvin said anyways. Melvin was already seated in the living room when he entered it, a big, excited grin on his face.

He couldn’t wait to dole out the next ‘punishment’, especially with Kris already dressed for the occasion. The jock stood in front of the TV, his jock strap meeting Melvin’s eye level, his arms folded.

“What now?” he said. “Fuck, I don’t even know why I’m doing this shit, this is so unlike me.”

Melvin smiled.

“I want you to come over here and turn around. I’m gonna spank you, maybe rim you a bit, finger fuck you, then fuck you for real. What do you say to that?”

Melvin loved the outrage on Kris’ face, but he knew the jock couldn’t deny him in any way whatsoever.

And he was right.

“Fine. Do it. Fuck this shit, man. I swear I’m moving out the first chance I get!”

Melvin motioned for him to approach him, then turned him around, allowing him a fuller glimpse of Kris’ amazing booty. His own cock was ready, once again, and his mouth was salivating. 

“Bend over.”

Kris sucked in his lips, and felt the sudden urge to murder Melvin, but it was abated by Aaron’s brainwashing. He did as he was told, causing his ass to pop out even more towards his horny roommate.

Melvin let his hands rove around Kris’ buttocks, feeling that familiar, and totally welcome, rush of power. He found Kris’ ass was just as perfect as the rest of his body, rotund, juicy, and just begging to be fucked.

He slapped the jock’s cheeks, causing him to yell out. 

He continued to spank him, taking turns with each buttcheek, loving the fresh bloom of color that appeared on it. He enjoyed the way each buttock jiggled, as well as the very satisfying thwap sound, and his spanking got more and more intense, the more he recalled just how much of an ass Kristopher had been to him in the past.

Kris swore louder and louder, and his ass turned bright red from the frequent smacking. Melvin’s cock was immediately turned on by it all, signaling it was time to take Kris’ ‘punishment’ to the next level.

He pulled the jock strap down, and when Kris tried to protest, he simply handwaved it away, claiming the necessity of payment, while Kris grumbled under his breath.

Melvin pulled the jockstrap down, spotting Kris’ cock hanging between his legs. He would get to that some other time, but for now, he wanted to throw himself to the joy that was Kris’ ass.

He spread the cheeks apart, and was met with a musky, moist crack, a little ripe from the workout, but undeniably sexy. He pushed his face forward and took in even more of the sight and scent, his cock shuddering uncontrollably from it, while Kris winced and sweated from nervousness.

Melvin’s tongue extended, and he moaned gleefully at the rich taste that filled his senses. Kris groaned and shuddered, yet maintained position, as Melvin began to lick up and down his crack, holding onto his cheeks, his fingers digging into the juicy fat. He loved having the jock in such a compromising position; it was not only incredibly hot, but also humiliating to Kris, which he found highly amusing. His tongue lapped up the area, his own body turned on even more by Kris’ shudders and groans.

He let his tongue swirl around the hole, the taste far more rich there, noting how it clenched from nervousness.

“Relax, Kris, you’re not in prison or anything. It’s just me.” Melvin smiled mischievously.

“I might as well be in prison, you fucking asshole! Fuck you, Melvin.”

Melvin laughed and continued to rim Kris voraciously. His lips turned to the buttocks themselves, and he wiped them with his tongue, covering the surface wholly. Kris winced and griped as Melvin’s tongue stung his newly sensitive, reddened buttocks, but Melvin didn’t stop regardless.

When he was finished with licking and worship, it was time to give his fingers a go. He let his fingers trail down Kris’ moist crack softly and gently, causing him to feel even more nervous. His fingers ran across his plump buttocks playfully, their delicate motions making Kris feel more and more threatened.

“You’re not going to put those in, you know...”

“What do you think, dumbass?” Melvin smiled at his own uncharacteristic reply. He hardly ever cursed at anyone like that! But he couldn’t help himself. It was so much fun having Kris at his mercy!

Kris screamed when he felt Melvin’s finger poke at his hole.

“I haven’t even got inside yet,” Melvin said.

Kris whimpered, begging Melvin to not go through with it, even promising to clean up after himself later, which surprised Melvin. He had never known Kris to be such a wuss, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

He finally jabbed his finger inside. Kris let out a high pitched shriek.

“Now I’m inside you.” Melvin laughed as his finger dug deeper into Kris’ throbbing hole. Kris wanted to escape, to attack, but Aaron’s conditioning made sure he stayed put, to take his punishment right in the ass, quite literally in this case.

Melvin let his single finger burrow into the jock’s hole, further and further, taking as much liberty as he could, and when he had stretched him enough, he forced a second finger inside. Kris howled, while Melvin laughed, his cock throbbing even more, every finger and push inside the jock feeding his cock’s hunger bit by bit.

He fucked and stretched his hole like cotton candy being spun, and even managed to get a third finger inside, right up to the knuckle. He kept it there, enjoying the feel of Kris’ insides, yet another intimate body part he never thought he’d be acquainted with. Kris was teary eyed, and cursing by the second, yet his cock was strangely getting hard from the forced stimulation. Melvin allowed his fingers to push back and forth gently, spreading the jock’s entry point wider, while simultaneously also causing Kris’ cock to tent. The sight of it disappeared from view, and that’s when Melvin knew Kris was hard.

“Wow, you’re hard? Maybe you’re gay too.”

“Shut up!” Kris said, whimpering. He felt tense from the agony of having fingers up his ass, as well as the humiliation at being hard from it.

Melvin was ready. He pulled his fingers out, giving Kris some temporary relief, then stood up and got his own cock out. His cock throbbed heavily in his hand, and he gave himself a few strokes as he readied to put it inside Kris’ newly minted hole.

He let his cockhead swirl around Kris’ hole first, drops of precum wetting it even more.

“You fucking asshole….I can’t believe I’m letting you do this!”

Melvin laughed, while Kris continued to swear at him, but he stopped Kris’ protests by sticking his cockhead inside his hole, causing him to moan instead. Melvin spent several moments enjoying the feel of having made it inside, an accomplishment he took a somewhat twisted sense of pride in.

He sighed dreamily, preparing himself for something he always wanted to do: to fuck Kris in his ass.

He once again recalled the many times he wanted to do so in the past: all those times of agitation, frustration, all the times Kris laughed in his face. And then, with one fell swoop, he thrust as hard as he could inside the jock, violently, mercilessly.

Kris shouted and almost keeled over from the impact, but his cock reacted with joy. They both moaned as Melvin held the position, his cock throbbing against Kris’ warm insides, wanting more and more.

He delivered several smaller thrusts, gasping with pleasure and disbelief, both of their cocks throbbing intensely. He pulled away, leaving only the head in, then rammed Kris once again, all at once, causing both of them to moan even louder.

From there, it was a mix of smaller and medium sized thrusts. Both of them were writhing and moaning breathlessly, sweating profusely, while Melvin pistoned in and out, taking his roommate for a ride. His thrusts got shorter and faster. Melvin grit his teeth, and his balls swelled, as he finally came inside the jock, unable to withhold himself any longer. Kris shouted a short while after, cumming himself.

Melvin pulled out, and was happy to see his cum bubble out of Kris’ hole, a work of art. Sure, the living room was messier with all the cum all over it, but he didn’t care; he’d clean it up himself even! He was just grateful for the experience overall.

Kris, on the other hand, could barely walk, and hobbled away, naked and wet.

“Hope you enjoy your shower,” Melvin said with a cheeky grin.

Kris was far too upset to even say anything back, and wandered off, his lips pursed. He hated the feeling of the jizz sliding down his thighs, and his insides felt like they were burning. On the other hand, it had all felt earth shatteringly good, enough for him to cum twice from it, a fact he didn’t dare share with his roommate.

Melvin cleaned up, then retired to his room for the rest of the day, far too spent to play anymore. He only had one day left with Kris, but for now he needed a break!

The next day, Kris made no mention at all of his ‘punishments’, and the Douchebag Jar even made a couple of actual dollars throughout the day. It seemed Kris was being mindful of his own behavior. Melvin spent the entire day in, and noticed his roommate carefully avoiding some of his usual shenanigans, which amused him.

Kris grabbed a beer, and, while heading back to his room, opened it. It foamed and spilled onto the floor. 

“You just spilled beer all over the place, Kris.”

“Fuck.” Kris searched his pockets. He patted them down, becoming more and more upset. “Oh come on, I know I had a dollar in here somewhere!”

“Sorry, but...you know what that means.” Melvin got up from the couch, ready to collect.

“No way, bro. I know I have some money on me. Just give me a second and I’ll get my wallet, and….”

Melvin shook his head. “Sorry, but the rules are the rules. Time to pay up.”

Kris shut his eyes in frustration, then angrily placed his beer on a nearby table. “How do I pay it off this time? Man, fuck this Douchebag Jar crap!”

“We’ll just keep it simple. A blowjob will do.”

“A what?!”

“You heard me.”

Kris stood there angrily, his mind stewing with all sorts of things he’d like to do Melvin, and none of them involved pleasure. However, he had no choice but to cave in to his fussy roommate’s demands.

“I’ve never blown a guy before.”

“First time for everything.” A grin spread across Melvin’s face as Kris fell to his knees, right on top of the small mess he had made on the carpet.

Melvin hastily brought his cock out, then ordered Kris to lick it to hardness. Kris winced, but did as he was told, gingerly moving his head back and forth as he brought Melvin’s cock to life. Melvin loved his reactions. He looked like some kid that was being forced to eat his vegetables, and couldn’t wait to stuff even more down his ungrateful throat.

It didn’t take long for him to get hard. Getting sucked off by a straight boy, especially one as hot as Kris, was incredibly entertaining, and felt overwhelmingly wonderful. When his cock was rock hard, he told Kris to lick his shaft. Kris scoffed, but Melvin didn’t relent, forcing him to do it anyway. He began craning his neck, doing his best to service Melvin’s cock and struggling, amusing Melvin as well as turning him on further.

He stopped Kris’ clumsy dick licking, then let his cockhead rub against Kris’ lips. Kris groaned and his face soured, but he stayed in position despite himself, even as Melvin’s precum made his lips glossy. 

“Open up,” Melvin said.

Kris tried with all his might to resist, but he just couldn’t do it. He let out a frustrated cry, then his jaw opened, and then, Melvin was inside his face. Melvin’s eyelids fluttered as he sank inside his messy roommate, his hands running through Kris’ fauxhawk.

He loved the sight of Kris’ displeased expression, his cheeks bulging with his cock. He loved the feel of his tongue on his rod, which slowly pistoned in and out, much gentler than the forceful ass fucking he had delivered the day before.

He enjoyed the slow, steady rhythm, slowly edging deeper and deeper, further and further down Kris’ mouth….and then started to pick up the pace. Kris gagged, even looking up in shock, but Melvin only tightened his hold. Once again, he felt a rush of power and was more than happy to punish Kris for his past behavior, driving his dick further down his mouth until he was fucking his throat. Kris gagging became more pronounced, his eyes watered, and his nose started to run, while Melvin clutched his hair tightly, pulling it from his scalp. 

He started skullfucking Kris, forcing his head to move rapidly against his pelvis, his nose hitting his skin. Melvin moaned and gasped, the whites of his eyes showing as he surrendered to the immense pleasure, the joy of finally giving Kris what he truly deserved. He came, filling Kris’ throat with his jizz, causing him to gag and even cry. 

He pulled out, and his jizz fell onto the carpet, mixing with the beer stains on the carpet and making an even bigger mess. Kris collected himself, coughing and retching, holding his throat, his face red and his chin dripping with cum.

“Don’t forget to clean that all up,” Melvin said, leaving to the restroom to freshen up after his hearty blowjob. 

The day continued without a hitch. Kris even cleaned up after himself, including the mess from their blowjob earlier. Now that Melvin was rested again, he was ready for more. He knew he only had a couple hours left with Kris. While he was more than satisfied with his session so far, he was hoping to at least catch him in the wrong one more time before he took off good.

He got his chance. Kris was getting ready for a shower for a date later that night. Melvin knew that, once he left, he would never see him again (unless he paid for it, of course). Kristopher was on the phone, talking to his latest female conquest, and was getting ready for a shower—but was in nothing but his underwear.

When he came to the living room to grab a snack, Melvin cleared his throat.

Kris looked at him with an annoyed expression, and covered the speaker on his phone. “What?” he said in a hushed voice.

Melvin pointed his gaze towards Kris’ underwear. 

“So what?” Kris said in whispers. “I’m not making a mess, am I?”

“Walking around in your underwear is still a violation.”

Kris got louder. “I thought walking in a jockstrap was a violation, when the hell did underwear become a bad thing?”

Melvin wouldn’t hear it. “Sorry, but this is an infraction, and you need to pay up.”

Kris’ face was shocked. “I don’t have any money on me, I’m on the phone! Have a fucking care, would you?”

Melvin smiled to himself. How many times had he made that exact same plea in the past?

But this time was different. He wouldn’t budge.

Kris shook his head angrily. “Sorry,” he said to the girl on the phone, “I’ll have to call you back.”

“No, wait!” Melvin said. “Stay on the line. This will be part of your payment.”

Kris was puzzled. Melvin explained he wanted to give Kris a blowjob this time—while he remained on the phone.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Kris whispered.

“No. Just horny,” Melvin said bluntly. “Plus, I find this amusing. Stay on the line. This won’t take long.”

Kris was speechless as Melvin got to his knees. He encouraged him to keep talking, even as he pulled his waistband down, revealing his big floppy cock.

Finally! He had been so busy with the rest of Kristopher’s beautiful body the last couple days he never had a chance to acquaint himself with his cock, one-on-one. Now it was time.

“Yeah,” Kris said nervously on the phone, “I’m uh...I’m still here, baby.”

Melvin began stroking Kris’ cock as he talked to his latest date. It grew stiff by the second, throbbing with every pull on it, every squeeze heating it up. Kris leaned back on the wall as Melvin stroked him to a fat erection.

“Yeah babe...we can go out to the beach l-later and...ohhh gawd….what? N-nothing it’s...mmmm….w-what are you talking about...I’m fine!”

Kris sucked his lips in, as Melvin began licking his cock, taking his time to indulge in the taste. It was everything he ever dreamed about when it came to Kris’ cock, musky, manly, hard as steel. Kris’ knees wobbled as Melvin serviced him, the veins throbbing rapidly in his shaft.

He hissed. “No, you’re the only one I’m talking to right now, babe, I swear! It’s just….oh gawd….ohhhhh…fuck...”

Melvin took Kris inside his mouth and began sucking him hungrily. He gazed up at the jock as he whimpered helplessly, and could hear the girl on the phone growing more confused...and angry.

He smiled as he sucked on Kris’ cock further, causing him to grow more restless as his head bobbed back and forth, the jock even moaning at times.

“N-no, I’m not...not fucking another girl right now at all! You crazy? You sound like my stupid roommate M-mel...oh fuck...mmmmmm….Melvin...ahh!”

Melvin almost laughed, his cheeks bulging with Kris’ cock. He tasted his precum, and increased his sucking, doing his best to draw more and more out of the captured jock. His sucking became heavier and more rapid, rendering Kris incoherent. Kris’ eyes rolled up and he dropped his phone, as he moaned louder and louder, while Melvin sucked him like a leech. Finally, the jock exploded, his cries spreading across the living room. A smile managed to spread across his face, but was immediately dispelled when he realized his call had ended.

“Aw shit,” he said. He pulled out his cock from Melvin’s mouth, grabbed his phone, then returned to his room, making several attempts to reach his date again.

“You fucking asshole, Melvin!” He yelled, right before he slammed the door.

Melvin wiped his mouth, the taste of cum still fresh inside it. As far as he was concerned, the session was officially over.

Kris finally ended up leaving later in the evening, taking his gym bag of stuff with him, and Melvin watched him drive away through the window. He returned to the living room, and picked up the Douchebag Jar. It seemed he had made five bucks in total over the last three days, which meant Kris had cleaned up after himself exactly that amount of times. It was five times more than he ever did in the past. He took the money out, and put the jar away, and couldn’t wait to use it once again. He was sure it wasn’t the last time he’d run into his douche of a roommate, and he’d have his jar ready for him.

[dizzyduck44]

How bad management is ruining the Triple Crown 👑👑👑

So Sunday saw two thirds of motorsports triple crown take place, the Monaco Grand Prix and the Indy 500.

There were highs. Charles LeClerc winning his home Grand Prix, McLaren’s epic Senna tribute livery, further proof that the survival cell of an F1 car and an Indycar are first rate, the passionate Indy crowd staying despite a 4 hour rain delay and the huge love Pato O Ward inspires in people.

However the lows are multiple and worrying. Both races leave a bit of a sour taste in the mouth and if we dont acknowledge it then how will we ever avoid it happening again?

Let’s start in Monaco on Saturday morning. An incident between Lando Norris and George Russell. Lando coming out of the dark tunnel into daylight at speed, finds a slow moving George on the racing line to the left meaning he has to swerve right from the line and slow down. He then turns left in front of George onto the racing line to turn into the tight left right right left chicane that he is now at. He has a bit of a sarcastic rant over team radio about others impeding and carries on. The stewards somehow interpreted that as Lando turned in on George in anger. That was the first warning the stewards were high on glue!

On to qualifying and during Q1 bits of advertising was coming off the walls and attaching itself to cars. When McLaren pulled a banner easily 6ft if not more from under Lando’s car, common sense would say, oh hang on this is dangerous, should we red flag this and check any banners hanging off? Of course they didn’t!!

By the end of qualifying despite the various incidents investigated of impeding and a driver receiving a three place grid drop for the same thing only a race before, the stewards decide to penalise no-one 🤦‍♀️ Anyone know the French for consistency?

Also those people trying to claim that impeding doesn’t count if the person qualifies out of the session let me explain. Impeding is an action not a consequence.

The real warning bells were going off that there had been some obvious gamesmanship between Carlos Sainz and Lando, with the former trying to compromise the later getting a decent quali lap in and . . . . silence. Not even a slap on the wrist.

But they did somehow find time to disqualify both Haas cars 😬

So along comes Sunday and less than a minute into the race Sergio Perez car has no front wheels, the Haas cars have both been planted into the walls, Carlos is sat at Casino with a puncture having driven into Oscar Piastri at Sant Devote and Esteban Ocon’s car has been been airborne, damaging both Alpines. By the time the red flag comes out the front 3 or 4 are over half way round the track, BUT poor Zhou Ghanyu is stuck not having made it to the second corner as three spinning F1 cars and a sea of debris sit between him and the rest of the track. And this is where it gets ridiculous.

The stewards decide that as not everyone got past the first timing point before the red flag, because as previously mentioned Zhou had no hope, and despite the fact the front of the field has passed the second safety car line, we will restart the race as if none of that happened. In effect people like Lance Stroll who made up three places lose them and Carlos Saniz who was effectively out at turn 2, gets to start again from 3rd and will end up on the podium. The gamesmanship from yesterday continues, as after all it had gone unpunished and effectively destroyed any hope of the top 4 every changing places!

However at this point the stewards wake up and realise they are meant to be upholding the standards of F1 and decide to give Ocon a 10 second penalty, but as he damaged his car so badly he can’t continue they decide to make this a 5 place grid drop for the next race. Continuing with the approach of one big grand gesture rather than bother with the little stuff.

The big issue was the often contested rule of people being able to change tyres to any compound under a red flag, meant the top 5 competed the race without ever having to change tyres.

You got to the end of the Monaco Grand Prix feeling like someone was meant to have been protecting the integrity of that race and F1, but they were off having a liquid lunch on one of the yachts.

The fact the three car smash resulted in a photographer being hospitalised really highlights that priorities were definitely in the wrong place in the Côte d’Azur.

So we then we turn to the rain delayed Indy500. And nothing says pinnacle of motorsport like a road sweeper!

8 cautions meant this race felt like motorway road works where you have to shuffle past at a set speed for a few miles then you get a couple of minutes of speed and then back to shuffling. And guess what? This race didn’t get more than 30 seconds in before cars were out either!

By this point, for those of us who had watched both it felt like the day would never end. But at least it looked as though it would end with a popular first time winner . . . . but no.

I’m not sure of how much people outside of America are aware or how much people in the US are unaware of the optics outside.

The race was won by a team owned by the guy who owns the track they were racing on and effectively has control of the series the race forms part of.

And yes you remember correctly, Andretti really did ask Congress to write to F1 and Liberty Media this year as they felt F1 was breaking US competition laws. Yet they seem fine with this!

Here is the issue. Josef Newgarden and Team Penkse were disqualified from the first race of this season as they ran with an upgrade that teams had been testing for next season, that they claim they forgot to take off. It resulted in four members of Newgarden’s usual team being suspended internally. So you know what would not be a good look? To bring this up in your post race interview, or say you don’t care what people say about you in respect of it, or thank your suspended team members. Yeap, he went there, led with his whole chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if the head of the team’s PR department was later found in a Jack Daniels induced comma!

If there was a year where maybe it might have been better for Indycar if anyone but Team Penske won its most watched race, it was this one.

So motorsport Christmas Day as I saw Sunday called, ended with a sense that these two triple crown races feel they can make their own rules up as they go along. Consistency, integrity, perception be damned.

Maybe it’s time they stepped back and truly looked. The three races that make up the triple crown are considered the three hardest races to win. Only one driver has ever done it and two manufacturers/teams. Time to do away with the glamorous self congratulatory nature they seem to revel in and get back to being about the racing, like Le Mans still is!

[blonde-batgirl]

“Soccer and teams are born from an overwhelming striker.” This is what Isagi deduces Ego is thinking in chapter eight, following the match with Barou where Team X rapidly forms around him.

I have a theory that, pre-Blue Lock, Kunigami is used to being that overwhelming striker that teams form around. This is the fourth time I’ve taken a crack at writing this out, because it keeps getting far too long, so to make this easier we’re going to stick to the First Selection and split it into sections starting with…

The Team Y Match

In the Team Y match, Team Z have a bold new plan: each of them (except for Chigiri and Iemon) will be the striker the team revolves around for ten minutes of the game. During Kunigami’s turn, here is what Isagi thinks about his playstyle:

“He lets his teammates take care of moving the ball up… so then he’s free to go right to the front line! Rather than the penalty area, which is crowded with players, he positions himself just in front of it… receives a pass from his teammates… and once his teammates clear a space for him… he drives in the ball with his powerful left leg!!”

This is very much where this theory springs from. There’s repeated emphasis here on how much he allows his teammates to do for him. Within the Egoist Four, this makes Kunigami unique – the other three have all expressed the desire to go it alone at one point or another, whether its Isagi’s obsession with scoring his own goals, Bachira trying to take back his lonely soccer, or Chigiri declaring that his ideal self doesn’t want to pass. Additionally, we’ve seen both Bachira and Chigiri carry the ball up the field to the goal entirely on their own with their dribbling skills and speed respectively (Team V match and Manshine City match respectively). We also know that all three of them experienced some level of alienation from their previous teammates: Isagi felt like he couldn’t be himself around them, Bachira was himself (affectionate) and suffered for it, and Chigiri was also himself (derogatory) and got bullied by the Wanima brothers. We don’t really know anything about Kunigami’s backstory yet, but the fact that he’s so willing to rely on teammates he barely knows suggests he didn’t have that problem and implies that he's used to his teammates working to support his goals.

Speaking of which…

The Tag Game

One of Kunigami’s first acts as a member of Team Z is to try and enforce fair play during the tag game. This is after Ego has told them that the only rule is that they can’t use their hands. At this point, most of Team Z don’t even know each other’s names – he has no authority here and there’s no reason for him to believe that anyone will listen to him besides confidence or, perhaps, experience. He’s not doing this from a place of assumed equal footing either – even if some of the guys in the room didn’t know who Kira was, Igaguri has just loudly announced his identity.

It's worth bearing in mind here that we can only speculate on what Kunigami makes of Ego and this whole situation. Isagi, Chigiri, and even Imamura (at the start of the tag game) have established opinions on Ego’s trustworthiness. Kunigami is less bothered by being in the soccer Hunger Games than he is about said soccer Hunger Games not being adequately policed. As mentioned above, we do know that he puts a lot of emphasis on playing fair, and he always shares credit when he feels it’s warranted (yes, sharing the steak, but he also tells the rest of the team in chapter eight that his goal in the Team X match wouldn’t have happened without both Isagi and Bachira). Neither of these seem like very pro-Ego’s-philosophy character traits (although Raichi does point out that there could be a selfish motivation to sharing credit - if people keep passing to him, he can score more).

However, Kunigami plays pretty fast and loose with playing fair when it suits him…

The Team X Match and Kunigami VS Raichi

Technically, Team Z come into the Team X match with a plan. I say technically, because Raichi breaks formation almost immediately and Kunigami charges right after him. There are three ways to interpret this:

Learning from previous mistakes: he already tried enforcing fair play during the tag game and (shockingly) nobody listened

Pragmatism: yeah, he cares about fair play, but it’s not fair play if no one else is playing fair. If this is how things work here, then fine, he’ll play along

Blatant hypocrisy: this one is arguably backed up by Isagi’s thoughts over a panel of Kunigami, Raichi, and some of the Team X guys battling over the ball – “All of them are only thinking about themselves.”

Kunigami himself puts it down to the second one. Regardless, this throws Team Z into immediate disarray. As Team Z are all scrambling to be the main character, Barou is succeeding in becoming that on Team X. He overpowers the rest of his teammates and they promptly fall in behind him – after all, if their team comes in first or second overall, they all get through regardless of who scores. The only reason the same thing doesn’t happen on Team Z is that they’re the main characters none of them manage to score alone.

Kunigami does score in this match, but it’s not his goal that pulls the team together - it’s Isagi’s pass to him. With Barou coming at him, faced with a choice between Raichi (who was free) and Kunigami (who had a defender on him), Isagi chose to pass to Kunigami. Which brings us to one question: why does Isagi pass to Kunigami? Isagi himself tells Raichi that this was subconscious. Later, with the benefit of hindsight, Isagi hypothesises that he did this because he had personal experience with how hard Kunigami could kick and he thought Barou could potentially take on Raichi. But, as noted, Barou was on Isagi at the time and not really any closer to Raichi than he was Kunigami. Of course, this is Isagi’s weapon in its earliest stages – Isagi subconsciously realised that he himself could not beat Barou and, given a choice between Kunigami and Raichi, he identified Kunigami as the one overwhelming striker of the three of them.

To Conclude

I don't feel like I should be hitting post without adding some form of conclusion, so a quick summary of my argument: I think, pre-Blue Lock, Kunigami was used to being the one overwhelming striker that teams formed around and I think this informs his behaviour throughout the First Selection. This would also track with the rest of the Egoist Four, who all behave the way they do because of backstory baggage (Bachira has been lonely his whole life, Chigiri is terrified of reinjuring his leg, Isagi passed a ball once...) Once they're officially working together, Kunigami has no problem trusting his teammates to support him in scoring and he also comes into the story with the confidence to believe that he can lay down the law and people will actually listen to him (nope - ball to the face). Additionally, Isagi instinctively identifies him as the character most likely to make a goal out of the two of them and Raichi.

[calciumdeficientt]

hey everyone!!! below is a little commission i wrote for @wolfxplush that they were kind enough to let me post. if you like what you see, may i direct you to my ko-fi. now with shiny new commission buttons!

Lovette Jackson had some huge shoes to fill. Not only was she the second youngest prefect in Bullworth history, first place went to one Alfred St Clair, a fourteen year old boy in 1960 with just ten months left to live on account of a giant tumour behind his eye that gave him a sort of Quasimodo esque appearance, whose dying wish was to bring down sweet justice on his teasing classmates for the remainder of his short time at Bullworth. Usual candidates for prefect were fifth year seniors and recently graduated alums that just couldn’t give up the ghost that they weren’t members of the student body any longer, all of these candidates were male. Lovette was also the first woman. Expectations for her were higher than for any other prefect, just because she didn’t have balls. Not real ones anyway, the metaphorical balls on her were just fine.

Crabblesnitch didn’t trust that the girls dorm, changing rooms and other such women-only venues were all sunshine and rainbows as Ms Peabody was recounting to him; so when his loving niece, Lovette Jackson joined the school (kicking and screaming) as a 5’10“ freshman,and still growing, he had to appoint her as prefect. To make it less emasculating for the current prefects, he waited until she was in her Sophomore year, the year of her final growth spurt, to give her the position. Besides, no one in their right mind would let a freshman (no matter how physically imposing) give them orders or accept penalties dealt to them, upperclassmen especially.

Now, she was a Junior, and had settled in nicely to the position. Her relationship as Crabblesnitch’s niece definitely played a hand in achieving the role. How could it not, she’d tear the school apart if she didn’t get her way. That’s just how it worked between them, she got what she wanted from him, or she’d run riot. Lovette wasn’t a bad girl, not by any means. She was just… a facilitator of conflicts. Everyone needs a bit of cash now and again, and she found that selling illegal, potentially deadly Chinese fireworks to students that gave her a good enough price to make up for her dorm room smelling like civil war reenactment (sweat and tears included) made her life at Bullworth much more of a breeze. These little deals proved time and time again to be an absolutely ideal way to get her through the week.

She wasn’t being paid for her labour as a prefect, why shouldn’t the people she protected give her a little something for her trouble? At Bullworth, you can have money, or you can have morals. Both can’t coexist, not in a place like Bullworth academy, it creates a domino effect that eventually leads to the heat-death of the universe and the collapse of the space-time continuum(Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. You have to trust me here). Every brick of Bullworth Academy is tainted with something seedy and underhanded. It punctuates everything. Every ring of the school bell. Every scrape of chalk against the chalkboards. Every panel of asbestos in the ceilings. All students from varying walks of life end the knee to Bullworth’s unspoken rule: ’If you’ve got friends. Use them.‘ Canis Canem Edit. It’s dog eat dog at Bullworth.

Then, midway through her second year as prefect, came Jimmy. Jimmy. Fucking. Hopkins. A menace by all accounts, but a true embodiment of the spirit of Bullworth… at least what Bullworth thinks it is anyway. Jimmy’s a mercenary just like Lovette is, he stands valiantly opposed to the power system amongst the students, protecting innocents from Bullies, Vagabonds and otherwise harmful influences. Jimmy’s defiance of the clique system also extended to the Prefects. No gods, no masters, no class for Jimmy Hopkins. At least, that’s what he had planned. His mother had dropped him off at yet another corrective school to run off with yet another man that was old enough to be her father, let alone his. So as a big middle finger to her, Jimmy planned to let her spend all that cash on tuition fees for classes he never bothered to show up for.

Presently, he was in the little plaza where the main school, the gym, Harrington House and the auto shop intersected. He circled the fountain, making note of which section was which clique’s jurisdiction “Rich kids, ‘roid monkeys, greaseballs No man’s land” he repeated as he stepped from section to section. He was still getting used to the layout of the school, and making acquaintances amongst the cliques, so other stragglers simply put his little wheel around the fountain as the new kid being completely off his box. Same old same old at Bullworth. His mindless circles were stopped midway through his spiel when he collided with another person. He was facing the auto shop, so made an assumption that he’d clashed with a Greaser and quickly hopped to name calling “Watch it! Christ! Brush the hair outta your eyes you big lo-“ Jimmy let his eyes trail upwards, across the vast landscape of navy blue and white. This wasn’t a greaser, it was a prefect. Once he finally reached the blonde braids on either shoulder he put two and two together. Looming above him by about a foot, give or take, was Lovette Jackson. “Oh- its you” this wasn’t his first run-in with Lovette, he’d gotten to know her quite well, the on thing he knew especially well about her was the way her hands felt when they wrapped around the scruff of his neck and tossed him like a caber into Crabblesnitch’s office.

“Don’t you have class to be getting to, Hopkins?” she asks exasperatedly. She didn’t have the energy to bicker with a child over his classes, even though that child was of a similar age to her, and certainly old enough to know better than to play truant in plain sight, during the brightest hours of the day. “Dr Slawter isn’t feeling well, he told me himself. You didn't hear? I thought you were faculty.” he responded flatly, his buzzed head nodded up and down curtly with the kind of bravado only a teenage boy who is blatantly lying could have. Lovette narrowed her eyes a little in disbelief, it wasn’t her first rodeo. Kids will tell you anything to get out of class, and nine times out of then, all of it was bare-faced lies.

“You have chemistry this morning, Hopkins” she reminded him, adjusting her arms to be folded a little tighter to her chest. Jimmy’s face dropped a little, not happy to have been caught like he had. He just sort of stood there… dumbfounded. “Well? Go on, I’m not walking you to class. I’m not your mother.” Lovette looked him up and down, thoroughly unimpressed but not keen to leave in case he was having some sort of absence seizure or something, technically she was supposed to escort any busted students to class, but she hadn’t had her morning cigarette yet, so she left Jimmy to make the right choice. he wasn’t as stupid as he made himself out to be, Lovette knew that just as well as Jimmy did.

Once she saw Jimmy start to move towards the main school building, Lovette began to go towards the gym, like King Arthur bravely venturing out from the comfort of his round table to find the Holy Grail, which in this case was not a stupid, crusty old cup but one of Casey Harris’s coveted Marlboro reds. But, never one to let sleeping dogs lie and get off basically scot free, Jimmy just had to open his mouth and deliver a death sentence for getting away with truancy “Hey the new Planet of the Apes movie was great by the way!”

That was a little odd, sure, but Bullworth students had a tendency of thinking out loud, there was nothing Lovette hadn’t heard before, so an impromptu movie recommendation was all par for the course. Lovette turned, raised a brow and popped a hip “I beg your pardon, Hopkins?”

“I’m just saying, I liked Planet of the Apes. I know it must’ve been hard on you… but you looked great as a gorilla”

Oh hell no, he was making fun of her.

“Watch your fucking ass, Hopkins. Go to class.”

Jimmy, in another act of defiance, turned to walk the other way, towards the entrance to the Harrington House. He assumed he could just lie through his teeth again and claim he didn’t know where he was going. He was wrong. Nicotine starved and altogether just tired of everyone’s bullshit, Lovette lunged forward and caught Jimmy’s arm in a vice grip. Her fingers were likely to bruise his skin, and she’d have one hell of a hand cramp by the end of the ordeal but if Jimmy wanted to play this game with her, she intended to win. Her uncle was already wary of the mistake he’d made by promoting her to prefect. She may as well look like she was doing something right before she got herself demoted back to standard non-clique.

She gripped him even harder -if that was physically possible- and began tugging him, now dead weight, towards his chemistry classroom. Jimmy hadn’t just bit the hand that fed him with that Planet of the Apes quip, he’d torn the whole arm off, and Lovette’s wounded ego wouldn’t give up without a fight. Lovette Jackson stomped across the courtyard, her footfalls loud and unmistakable, had she been in heavier shoes the concrete could well have cracked beneath her.

“Hey, you got any more movies lined up?” JImmy asked so casually that just the tone of his voice was an insult in and of itself, feeling the familiar prick of pins and needles flood his arm as his circulation got considerably more cut off, his arm limp and useless in her grip. He looked over at his arm, the unmistakable milky white associated only with poor circulation… or death.

“Be a shame to waste your talent… maybe you should try out for a Godzilla movie, I hear they’re hiring. A big monster like yourself? You’d be back on the silver screen in no time.”

She inhaled deeply through her nostrils as she tried to stop every synapse in her body from sending those sweet sweet contraction signals to her muscles and tossing him into the stratosphere like a discus.

“Stop talking to me, I’m not your fucking friend… and pick your feet up when you walk jackass, you’re making me look bad”

she hissed, her voice dripping with venom as she continued to drag him through the courtyard and up the concrete steps to the school‘s main building: ancient, gothic and falling to pieces. Above them, a gargoyle watched idly as Jimmy Hopkins was brought to justice.

Once she had manoeuvred him up the main steps, and opened one of the heavy double doors that sealed the school’s main entrance shut, she let go of his arm just a smidge. He couldn’t run so far now that he was in here, or he’d bump into one of Lovette’s less merciful colleagues. She escorted him like a prisoner set to receive the chair, right to the door of Dr. Watts’ classroom and made a loose gesture with her free arm for him to enter. He was only 10 minutes late, but considering every period was a measly 45 minutes, he’d missed a good chunk of valuable playing with dangerous chemicals time. Jimmy was quick to shrug off her touch and stomp sullenly into the classroom. Lovette was equally as quick to post herself up outside the door. Leaning against the wall, the smooth paper of a printed student body president campaign poster protecting her navy blazer from being assaulted with dust from the cheap, crumbling plaster that had been rotting off the walls of Bullworth Academy since its installation in the early 1950s.

She didn’t have to stay, of course she didn't. Her job was done. The perp was busted and was rightfully in the custody of his chemistry teacher, she was free to get her cigarette in peace. But she knew better than that, if she didn’t stay Jimmy would make a trip to the bathroom from which he would not return. Standard troublemaker procedure, she’d done it countless times before she switched teams and started playing the role of ‘goody two shoes’. Her past career as a little shit kid really helped her out in her prefect role, she was able to get into these kids’ heads and pretty easily figure out what the fuck their damage was and why they wanted to waste their parents hard earned money by never going to class. It was pretty cool, sometimes it made her feel like a really lame superhero, one of the X-men professor X kept on the back burner, locked away from all the cool, important mutants so they wouldn’t damage his rep.

Her daydreams of X-men were interrupted when she heard the swift click of professionally cobbled, nicely polished, Italian leather shoes; a sound that could only mean the approach of the ever-poised Edward Seymour II. Lovette swivelled to face him and he regarded her with a knowing look.

“Everything okay?”

He asked, a light, almost sarcastic smile on his pursed lips. Lovette gave him a look, quirking a brow as she raised her padded shoulders into a shrug.

”Yeah, fine, yeah” she answered dismissively, trying to wave him away from her, like one does with a fly or a bad smell. He knew well enough that she was not fine, she’d gone to bed late on the last watch and had gotten up with the sun to make sure all the female students were up, dressed and on their way to breakfast before 8AM. She was tired.

“Trouble in paradise?” He pries a little more, trying to figure out why she was standing outside the Sophomore chemistry class like a sentinel.

“What? Oh god no, I told you I’m past that.” Her face dropped into an expression of disgust, that was just on the brink of morphing into offence. Just the thought of Derby Harrington was enough to nauseate her now. She’d fallen hard for the older boy and had to scrape herself back up from rock bottom, the end to this ordeal had just transpired a few months prior and she was only now just getting back to normal. Edward thought maybe she’d stopped for a moment of brooding, not very becoming for a young prefect, they were expected to be alert and moving at all times. Like sharks.

“Okay, okay, I understand,” he tweaked his glasses and rocked back on his heels for a second. “You must be waiting for someone then, yes?” He asked quietly, looking her up and down as he spoke.

“Hopkins” she responded, the word feeling like poison in her mouth. Edward’s eyes widened in recognition behind his thin frames, he was surprised she’d caught him, he was quite the slippery fellow. He regarded her with mild sympathy, tweaking his glasses again.

“Ah… I see. Would you like me to hold down the fort for you? There’s muffins in the staff room”

Damn, muffins sounded so good right now. She’d had to break up a food fight at breakfast, her oatmeal had been used as a weapon, poor Donald was probably still rinsing it out of his hair as they spoke. God, now that she thought about it, she was absolutely starving.

“Did a student make them?”

She queried, now fully considering the idea. A muffin would do her good. A muffin made by a little shit kid with access to cheap laxatives, would not.

“No, they’re from a parent, I believe. Some sort of apology for structural damage their child inflicted on the library building”

Home baked muffins, waiting in the staff room. She couldn’t say no, it wouldn’t be right. “Could you cover for me?”

She felt like a dick for even asking, but she hoped a pleading look might sweeten the deal.

“It would be a pleasure and a privilege...now go, before I change my mind”

he responded teasingly, swapping spots with her outside the door.

Lovette was off like a shot to the staff room, now that Edward had made her aware, she just could not seem to shake the nagging feeling of hunger. She felt like her whole abdomen was on fire, she hadn’t eaten dinner the previous night either, she didn‘t even remember why. Lovette was really running on empty. Her walk to the staff room was brisk, but not too fast, she walked with a straight spine, regarding the paintings on the walls with disinterest and boredom. The faces of the founders glared back at her, their eyes following her down the hall with stern distaste. Eventually, she made it, and opened the door softly; the hinges were squeaky and rusting, opening it too hard would not only make an awful noise, but could send the solid oak slab crashing down on her. Not exactly ideal.

Inside, she was greeted with a wave of warm air from the worn out, antique radiators that decorated each wall- it was the least Crabblesnitch could do in the bitter autumn and winter months-, and the smell of freshly brewed- if not slightly burned- coffee inside the busted up old Keurig on the counter. The staff room was the prefects’ sanctuary… but only when there was no actual staff in it, they would often come in during class time and have a little coffee, take a little cat-nap or otherwise act like typical teenagers when they were certain everyone had their butt at a desk, or on the track, or just… anywhere educational. Lovette ran a hand through her hair and approached the aforementioned muffin basket, a little wicker thing likely bought from k-mart or some other similar chain. It was cute, she had to give them that. Each flavour was neatly arranged into small piles within the basket, a sort of muffin rainbow if you will. Although, a very uninteresting rainbow, more a mix of browns and beiges, sometimes with small flecks of blue or red. Lovette reached towards what she assumed was chocolate chip and took a tentative bite, despite assurance from Edward she was still partway convinced that the treat might detonate in her hand or release a neurotoxin or something. It was odd for something so wholesome as a muffin basket to exist at Bullworth, not without it being full of something sinister like razors or human faeces, for that matter.

That first nibble didn't seem to do anything too bad to her, so she ate a little more, still a little afraid… and once again she was met with no concerning side effects like stomach cramps or a bleeding tongue. Eventually, her hunger consumed her and she, in turn, consumed three more muffins. Lovette neatly disposed of the evidence and made sure the basket looked presentable for when the intended recipients arrived to maul it like starved lions. As she was terraforming the muffin kingdom, Lovette became aware of the sound of a window pane sliding open. Everyone at Bullworth knew about the ghosts in the building, but everyone also knew all they really did was flick pens across classrooms, flicker lights and start small fires. What they didn’t do was open the windows. That was a purely human activity. She chalked it up to delirium brought on by sleep deprivation and continued to fiddle around with the muffins, a veritable career if Bullworth didn’t work out. It was only when she heard the window slide closed again that she turned around, and who else was before her other than Jimmy Hopkins, brushing some dry leaves off of his sweater vest. Lovette kept quiet, she wanted him to see her first, it was more fun that way.

And see her he did, after he was done preening himself he got about four steps into the room before he realised it wasn’t as empty as he thought it was in the staff room.

“Hopkins! Lovely to see you again and so soon too!”

“Hi… Lovette. I’m here on business, Dr Watts sent me for..”

“For?”

It was funny watching him scramble for an excuse, he wasn’t as calm and collected as their encounter twenty minutes ago, Lovette watched his squinted eyes scan the room for a valid reason to be in there but it was clear he was coming up blank.

“A… mug. We ran out of beakers”

It was almost endearing how much he didn't want to be in class, he was inventive, she had to give him that.

“He sent you unattended into a staff-only room to collect a mug? Yeah, likely story”

He pressed his hand to his heart and tried to look sincere “Scout’s honour, he wanted a mug”

Lovette shook her head and leaned back on the counter, a wry smile on her lips as she regarded Jimmy’s smaller frame. “And he sent you up here through the back window?Cut the crap Hopkins, what did you really want?”

Well, Jimmy had to give up the ghost now, she’d seen right through him. And that little window in the chemistry classroom was so damn hard to wriggle out of. “If I said I wanted a muffin would you hold it against me?” He asked, putting his hands up in mock surrender as he slowly but surely approached the basket that Lovette was leaning beside. His movements were slow and calculated, if he went too quickly she’d probably suplex him through the floor and into the basement. “Depends, if I grabbed you and dragged your sorry ass up to my uncle’s office would you hold it against me?’ She asked, her coy smile only growing as she watched Jimmy falter. Two counts of truancy in one day was a surefire way to land himself at least a week’s worth of daily detentions. There’s only so many times you can mow the school lawns before you wonder what kind of fertiliser is making the grass grow back so damn fast. Jimmy eventually made it to the muffin basket, plucked one, and began eating it with the kind of hunger only starving Victorian factory workers, and teenage boys possess. It was like watching an eagle eat a rabbit, weirdly gruesome for a mid-morning snack.

Lovette didn’t even have the heart to even so much as think about grabbing him, the sheer ballsiness of this kid alone was enough for her to keep letting him get away with blatant acts of misconduct. He was funny for a little shit. Lovette sucked a little bit of air in through her teeth, and then exhaled in a deep, guttural sigh of annoyance. Jimmy looked up at her, his face smattered with chocolate muffin crumbs

“So, you gonna chase me or what?”

“I’m working up to it, cool your jets hotshot” she waved him off, her brows knitting together for a second “I’ll give you a ten second head start”

Once again, Jimmy couldn’t leave it alone, and decided to try his luck with a little bit of good-natured bartering “One minute”

”One minut- hell no are you crazy” Lovette did a double take, absolutely floored by the absolute audacity of this kid. He was a pretty stellar businessman, his bravado made it hard to shut his offer down completely.

“Fine! Forty seconds then. Jesus you drive a hard bargain”

”Thirty-five. Final offer”

Jimmy nodded in agreement, that seemed fair enough “When do I start?”

Lovette watched the second hand on the old grandfather clock in the corner tick away, waiting for the last minute to pass before she set him loose “Riiiiiight…. Now”

And away Jimmy Hopkins leapt, right back out of the window he slid in from.

Damn it all. Lovette was going soft.

[tenitchyfingers]

Did I just construct an entire fan theory about how Chip from Serial Mom is Stu Macher? You better fucking believe I just did. And it actually does make sense (to me anyway, but i’m high on weekend relief so idk I think it fits).

Like hear me out- Serial Mom doesn’t really have a time setting but it was released in 1994 and the story takes place in Baltimore, Maryland while Scream is set in 1996 in California. Matthew Lillard plays Chip in Serial Mom and Stu in Scream, right? Well, that’s not the only thing the two characters have in common. First off, both are weirdly insensitive and kinda cruel although Stu is more extreme in this sense, and both are horror super fans (and Chip works at a video store which like, hello Randy??) and both love gore and morbid shit (ok but same thing). Also, both are weirdly into the idea of murder, and while Chip looks kinda flabbergasted by the idea of murder he’s also kinda really excited by the idea of it. He’s also kinda detached by how horrific the murders his mother committed are, although most other characters in the movie ARE properly horrified. He doesn’t turn against her, and let’s say he’s the most ride or die member of her family like, he’s probably his mom’s biggest fan right from the moment he hears she’s suspected of murder.

His mom is also VERY flamboyant and over the top, just like Stu is in Scream. And both have a weird relationship with the idea of rules, both really strict and really lax.

So anyway, he witnesses his mom get away with SIX murders with just as many witnesses, during trial (let’s give them leeway on how the trial goes, although I have heard of enough cases where murderers got away with it or justice wasn’t served based on bullshit loopholes and nonsense even though there was plenty of evidence right there and I don’t need to suspend disbelief too much, especially considering how closely the whole media worshiping angle mirrors the OJ trial and how part of it does sound like the Casey Anthony trial) so he’s like “I could do that too”, right? Beverly (mom) could get away with 6 murders, so wiggling out of more murder accusations is gonna be easy peasy (although she’s bold for murdering another person RIGHT after her trial, right outside the court she just came out of) and here’s how it goes: the poor dad, Eugene, is kinda stuck with a serial killer wife and two crazy kids who don’t see how bad what she did is, so he just decides to move everyone out of Maryland and try to lay low in a small town in California (where death penalty is still a possibility and Beverly LOVES that her husband is even thinking he could get away from her like it’s FUN

So they move to Cali and change names because the Serial Mom case was pretty big, they all change their looks and personas (which is how Chip, who now goes by Stu, is so good at mingling with other people by the time ‘96 rolls in whereas Misty, now called Leslie, does manage laying low and doesn’t really commit crimes and once she finds out Stu is the killer she completely breaks contact with him, but she won’t tell anyone cause that kinda opens a whole can of worms and she doesn’t want to (her whole moral system was pretty much fucked the moment she realized her mom was a serial killer).

So anyway, in Woodsboro Stu meets Billy, and he immediately sees this kid is not like all the others, and once he hears Billy’s mother left, given how Stu loves and admires HIS mother, he’s like, fuck yeah let’s do this because god i’d be a wreck too, thank fuck my mom is still around. And when Billy reveals his mother leaving is due to Sidney’s mother he’s surprised, but he’s even more sympathetic, like wow this kid has it really bad. So, here’s an alternative, homebrew motive for Stu, because yeah he’s way too insane from the start to think his “pressure” motive is anything but an excuse.

And then this theory kinda offers an alternative explanation to the ‘my mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me’ line (other than it was ad-libbed YEA I KNOW) aka dad is gonna be mad because holy shit why can’t I have a normal family, now I’ll have to move everyone again and it’s your fault Chip, and mom is gonna be mad because I got away with six murders with plenty of witnesses, I AM DISAPPOINT CHIP (and he doesn’t wanna disappoint mom!!! 😢)

This also sneaks right into the Stu Lives theory because that is THEIR house, and since it’s THEIR house and they have lots of money mostly due to dad being a successful dentist (hehehe Little Shop of Horrors) and mom knowing enough about the ins and outs and gossips around the Westboro police, they manage getting Stu’s alive body discreetly switches out for someone else’s and fake his murder.

And hey, he might move with his family somewhere close to Maryland now and go back to his previous identity now, since he’s innocent of any wrong doing when he’s Chip Sutphin.

[kashishwrites]

As soon as Amrapali saw him, the unsuccessful man hid again. She had earlier said that she wondered who he was. A soldier again said, "Come Amrapali, you will have to come with us to the palace soon. You have come there in front of everyone to participate in that competition!"

These news brought back the same scene in Amrapali's mind which she was still seeing in the palace. After seeing which she was not able to understand what to say and what to do. Then her Baba said, "Daughter, now you cannot refuse this because this is an age-old tradition of this state, in which once a girl comes forward to participate, then she cannot back out. That is why I stopped you from going there!"

"Yes Baba, now I understand why you stopped me. But I was so foolish that I did not listen to you and went there. But you don't worry at all, I will see in this competition. I will not let you win." While saying this, she was feeling a strange fear. But she did not want to express this fear in front of her father, so she kept quiet.

"Go daughter, now you cannot back out from this otherwise both of us will have to lose our lives. But remember you are the daughter of a soldier who cannot compromise so easily." Mahanaman said in a strong tone.

Amrapali understood the meaning behind her father's words. So she said, "Don't worry Baba. Everything will be fine." After this story, Amrapali started to leave from there with Yas and the citizens. After walking a few steps, she suddenly remembered her entire childhood. How her Baba had brought her up. Also, her Guru Maa Ambe, who had stopped dancing many years ago, still wanted to give her this wonderful art to her. And her husband Kumar Bhatt who used to teach dance to the girls of Vaishali, both of them also played with great love. Remembering all this, she suddenly turned back and started hugging her Baba who was running and then she said, "Don't worry Baba, even if I win this competition today, I will not let any other man touch me." , You don't worry that your daughter will never be a part of this evil practice, what you wanted will happen. Your daughter will never be left on the throne of a royal Vaishya. You will see! This is my promise to you!"

Hearing these words, Mahanaman felt a little relieved. But he knew that this was impossible, so he said, "What will you do now daughter, nothing can be done now. The rules of this kingdom are very strict, if we oppose them, then both of us will be given death penalty and I cannot see the pages of death coming to my daughter. So go from here now!"

"Let's go soldier", Amrapali said this because she started going towards the palace with those soldiers. The whole way, it kept going on in her mind that she has to lose this competition somehow.

However, there was a strange fear in her mind. But he was so brave and fearless that he could not even express this fear to anyone.

In a short while, she reached the palace with the soldiers. There was beautiful decoration all around and the sound of drums was coming and as soon as she stepped on the main door of the palace, the first thing she saw was the other dancers. They were mesmerized by their beautiful faces. She started getting jealous seeing them. That is why she started talking in relationships like this, "Aaa... so many people have come here. This is what everyone is talking about." On the other hand, among the men present there were some men who were fighting for her in the market today and they made her feel as if they had seen an Apsara. At that time, the same discussion was going on among them, "Today, see, she will become the Nagarvadhu and then all our desires will be fulfilled." The other man said pointing towards Amrapali, "Yes brother, you are absolutely right, she is really very beautiful." When all these things reached Amrapali's maternal relatives, she felt as if some sharp sarcasm was piercing her maternal relatives. Then she thought and started thinking, "Baba was absolutely right. I cannot back out from him now. But I will have to somehow stop myself from becoming victorious in this challenge, yes I will definitely do this." Thinking like this, she came to the royal court. And then as soon as she came in front of the king, she said, "Forgive me Maharaj, I made a mistake. But from now on, this maid of the kingdom will not disappoint you."

"Devi, where did you go from here after giving me this opportunity to participate in this competition?" said the king.

On this, Amrapali replied, "Maharaj, I had gone to take blessings from my father."

[honeybeewhereartthee]

Madness Mansion of Helter Spider 12

꒷꒦˚︶꒦Previous꒷︶꒷꒦˚Chapter twelve꒷꒦˚︶꒦Next꒷︶꒷꒦˚

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

... you show too much simp attitude and spoke of things you shouldn't. This is twisted wonderland, in what mind, do think you can go anywhere?

First Violation penalty: ...

A G O N I Z I N G T O R T U R E

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

.

.

.

"I--" you want to reason out, to tell him that you aren't ungrateful when your body suddenly become ragged and you felt invisible hands start to choke the air out of you.

"Ack... " You held your throat yet felt no hands holding you in a choke hold, you move around and the strings have wounded you. Blood spill around you and the mad hatter stood beside you watching you suffer with no expression on his face.

On the side Grey look at you in worry, while others stood in the side expressionlessly.

"kokoko, what a stupid little cat~ did you perhaps think you could escape this world even just for a moment~? AHAHAHAH...How laughable. " He grab your hair as he stare down at you with his purple eyes of madness seems to mirror the abyss, there's nothing but the abyss.

The pain of your scrap left you to cry out if not for the part your being choke hold by invisible Shadow hands that now start to gripping your wrist on tormenting grip, like it wish to snap your bone--

SNAP!

"agh.... " You want to scream from pain but mad hatter shut your mouth with his free hand. "Don't you dare scream in front of me... Besides.... That pain is nothing~" his grip on your jaw seems trying to stop himself from snapping it off as tears fall from your eyes as another invisible force have grip your left leg, your eyes widen in fear for the worse as the grin of THE MAD HATTER become permanent on his face.

SNAP!!

"!!!!!!!" You find yourself unable to breath from the pain, everything felt so painful. You can't feel your right let or wrist. You cant scream and the person before you chuckle at your agony and won't even let you scream.

"I was going to punish you, but you did it to yourself... How amusing and delusional of you... You don't know the roles of this world... Such a stupid cousin of the so called cheshire cat." His gaze turn cold as he throw you to the floor like a rag doll, hour head collide on the floor with a soft bang. He stood up and wipe his hands. The hands disappear as he let go of you.

"Get that thing off my sight. I'm not entertained anymore." He give you no look as he left the room, red chuckle in amusement as Blue follow mad hatter. Small blue wave at you with a smile as if he doesn't feel bother to see you in pain. "Bye bye~" he the. Skip toward the other blue.

"*hic.." you weep silently as grey was the first one to approach you with worried face.

"Grey hurry up with that. We still need to play some card game since the night is yet to end." Red soon left the room as well, leaving you with Grey.

"you should watch what you think... The world doesn't treat everything and everyone so kindly, to even think of such taboo." He Slowly bandage your wounds with first aid kit he have in his pocket. A sad smile on his face as he look at your crying and sobbing form. "I'm sorry... I can't do anything. Nor tell you all the rules of this world __" he carefully fix your wounds up, so you won't feel pain from it yet every move cause you to squirm in pain.

"why would you think... This world is a simple thing... There's rules and roles... " He sigh as if trouble by something. "Your wounds is almost fetal... Yet you cannot use revive. Because it's one of your penalty, you have to go through the pain, pain that will take your sanity and leave nothing but madness." He chuckle hopelessly before he sigh.

" I have the 7th tea. Drink it. And you will only dream about stuff... You shouldn't bother much about it... When you wake up... The pain is less and it be morning again." He stood up and left the room so fast and come back, holding a tray of coffee. " H-here... " He try to not spill more tea as he hide the tea cup to your lips, you eyed him suspiciously, you cannot trust him. What if his the same as that hateful person?

"it's good you won't trust so easily, but you really need to drink it. Unless you wish to suffer through the pain..." He chuckle at your soft glare your giving him.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Would you drink this tea?

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 110

“Hey, it’s me, Goku the White!  And I come back to you now at the turning of the tide!”

This episode opens with Goku still struggling to push the Spirit Bomb onto Jiren, but I love this shot of Vegeta and Ribrianne going at it, so I’m gonna start there.

So like I said last time, Goku can’t beat Jiren on his own, but the Spirit Bomb technique allows him to push a Spirit Bomb with greater force than he can muster on his own, which is why they’re at a standstill for so long.   I mean, this is only a few seconds, I guess, but Jiren is pushing the Spirit Bomb back, and it’s  taking a while, whereas I’m pretty sure Jiren could beat Goku at arm wrestling in a fraction of the time. 

As they struggle, the Spirit Bomb gets bigger for some reason, then it collapses and turns black, which I won’t even try to interpret.  King Kai invented this technique, but we’re way, way beyond anything he could have envisioned for it.  So I don’t think anyone knows what this means.

We’ll cut to the chase.  Goku can’t stop Jiren from push the bomb back upon him, and it blows up in his face.  And I guess that’s a cool thing about this episode.  When Goku had a similar struggle with Kid Buu, it was implied that Buu would throw the Spirit Bomb right back at Goku, but we never got to see that happen. 

It’s an epic blast and it leaves a big crater on the edge of the ring, and everyone thinks Goku’s dead.  No one can find him in the ring, and he hasn’t teleported to the bleachers like everyone else who falls off, so what does that leave?

Gohan is understandably upset, but I really like this long, lingering shot of Beerus as everyone chatters about what just happened.  Remember, this all started because of a vision Beerus had of a rival he would discover, a Super Saiyan God who would keep him “suitably entertained”.  And now that guy seems to be gone.  It has a more profound effect on him than we might expect.

So this means Jiren is disqualified, right?  No, because Jiren didn’t kill Goku, he just deflected an attack that Goku himself initiated.  The Grand Minister rules that Goku eliminated himself, and there’s no penalty for Jiren.  Ouch.

Everyone else in the ring is shaken, but they soon start to gather around Jiren, ready to fight.  The Grand Minister notes that there’s still a lot of time left on the clock, and he encourages them to continue.  Jiren seems to be unstoppable now, but regardless of the odds, the other universes still need to make every second count. 

No surprise that Ribrianne is front and center.  Jiren had her spooked before, but she’s too hardcore to back down now.

Then, just as the Grand Zenos are about to cross Goku off their scorecards, everyone senses some strange power, and this column of white light appears in the crater left by the Spirit Bomb. 

And it’s Goku, but what the hell happened to him?   Let’s rock out to “War Machine” while we try to suss this out.

So yeah, whatever happened to Goku, he goes straight for Jiren, because Goku’s not done.  He just charges right at him, guns a-blazin’.  The other Pride Troopers try to take him down, thinking he’s on his last legs, but they can’t even touch him.

It’s hard to describe, and still images don’t do this episode justice, but Goku’s moving so fast that it’s like Top and Dyspo are in slow motion.  It’s like he knows exactly where to move to avoid their attacks. 

Jiren tells the others to back down, and he starts fighting Goku again.  But this time, the fight is much more even.  No one is sure who’s winning, but Piccolo believes Goku is actually improving as he fights, and his attacks are becoming sharper and more precise.

Whis finally figures it out, and explains that this was the style he’s been trying to teach Goku, Vegeta, and Beerus this whole time.  He described it way back in Resurrection F, but he goes over it again here.  Ideally, every part of a fighter’s body should move independently of conscious thought, thereby conserving the time and concentration needed to think about how to react to a situation.  Whis believes that Goku has inexplicably tapped into that ideal, which Whis calls “Autonomous Ultra Instinct”.  Well, the dub added “autonomous” to the term.  I have to admit that it’s an important word, since this is all about body parts moving autonomously.   But I’ll probably stick to just calling it “Ultra Instinct” for now. 

The Grand Minister seems to agree with Whis’ assessment, but he’s not altogether certain, either. 

So what caused this?  Did the Spirit Bomb somehow charge Goku up?  Whis doesn’t think so.  It may have re-energized Goku’s exhausted body, but it wouldn’t have made him strong enough to beat Jiren.  If that were possible, then Jiren wouldn’t have been able to push back the Spirit Bomb in the first place. 

Instead, Whis suggests that the Spirit Bomb explosion and the sudden influx of power must have been a shock to Goku’s system, one that allowed him to break through limits on Goku’s abilities.  That’s all a little vague, but to be fair, we are in uncharted territory.  UI is supposed to be this advanced style that most gods can’t handle, so no one ever expected a mortal to stumble into it like this.  But then, no one had ever used the Spirit Bomb before Goku, and he’s never had one blow up in his face before.  I wonder what would have happened if Buu had thrown it back at him that one time.

Anyway, Goku seems to be getting the hang of this thing, and he even scores a heavy blow on Jiren.  But when he tries to follow through...

Jiren blocks him again.  Suddenly Goku turns back to normal, and it seems like he’s all out of miracles.

Jiren blows Goku away, though curiously, he doesn’t send him out of the ring this time.   Instead, he tosses him toward the center, near that big column. 

Vegeta gets to Goku first and demands an explanation, but Goku doesn’t understand it himself. Then, when Vegeta looks away, Frieza snatches Goku and takes him to a more secluded location.

Meanwhile, Hit suddenly charges in to attack Jiren while he’s tossing Goku.  Jiren blocks him too, and it looks like we’re getting Hit vs. Jiren already. 

As for Goku, Frieza has his own plans for him...

[mainstoryarchive]

Ensemble - 124: Contrast

Subaru: Alright. Laugh or cry, this is the end.

It's the finals. Let's go, to the stage.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Auditorium (LIVE)

Subaru: Alright. Laugh or cry, this is the end.

It's the finals. Let's go, to the stage.

Mao: Yeah. What will you do, transfer student? Vacating and taking a seat among the audience is fine, but now that we've come all this way don't you want to stand on stage until the end ♪

Makoto: But unlike on the outdoor stages, the auditorium has the teachers watching as well. Won't we be warned because a masked idol is so suspicious?

We've been manipulating information and using every other trick in the book to let her up on stage until now after all. Getting a penalty right now would be pretty bad.

Though it is very reassuring that you're here with us, transfer student.

Subaru: Right. Even if you only sit and watch over us from the first row for affiliated parties, that's more than enough to help us. That's why, well, I guess we'll be having you as an audience this time around.

Watch over us and cheer us on, okay. Our dear producer ♪

We'll show you an awesome stage ☆

Going around the back is a pain, let's climb on the stage from here! Ukki, Sari! Follow me, hup-ho ☆

Mao: Got it, you sure are as reckless as ever. It'll be a flashy entrance, but performance-wise that's exactly what we want.

Jumping in overly eager is just like us, I like it ♪

Makoto: But aaah, it'd be so lame if we were to stumble here… Wa-wait a second! Don't leave me behind, I'm going with you!

Subaru: Hup-ho ♪

We finally meet, president.

Eichi: Welcome.

You're so impatient. Even though there's no need to hurry that much. I don't even have time to catch a breath, or maybe that's what you're aiming for?

Rei: They don't have the cunning to plan something like that. It's nice to see how energetic they are, as expected of them youngsters ♪

Subaru: Sakuma-senpai, thanks for the hard work too. Thanks to you, we'll be able to fight with fine on even ground.

Rei: Kuku, I haven't done anything. No, having the power to make others act is also part of your talents.

I'll leave the rest to you, Trickstar. Because, however regrettable, we will be retiring here.

Kaoru: You were plenty energetic, weren't you? The elderly shouldn't overexert themselves, right?

Extra rounds aren't that unlikely an occurrence in DreamFes, but having three consecutive rounds is really rare.

Ah, I'm tired. I won't be doing this ever again, sweating isn't really in my character.

Rei: Yes. Kaoru-kun, you also did well in going along with us until the end. It's because you were here that our plan functioned more than enough ♪

Kaoru: No, no, I didn't do it for you. It's better to have more time to appeal to the girls gathered in the audience ♪

While there's still a lingering aftertaste of our live in the air, I'll go seduce some cute girls… meet up with our fans, okay?

But we did lose in the end. They've seen a pretty uncool part of me, it's kinda hard to pick up girls now…

Hm? What's the matter, transfer student-chan in the affiliated personnel seats?

If you have something to say, then go ahead and say it, I listen carefully to every single word a girl says…☆

I was cool? Haha, that's nice to hear even if it's just flattery!

Actually, being nice to me when I'm weakened moves me quite a bit. Maybe I'll get serious about transfer student-chan☆

Rei: Hoho. So you actually were depressed about losing, Kaoru-kun, you also have a cute side ♪

Koga: Gaaah! It's all for nothing if we don't win, damn it!

Shit, I'm not satisfied yet, mister president! Don't think this is the end, come at me!

I'll do ten or even a hundred more extra rounds! Don't stop performing, I don't care about the rules!

I'll pulverize you to the point that there's no blood or bones left…!

Kaoru: Eh? Jeez, this kid isn't reading the mood! Won't you say something to him too, Sakuma-san?

Rei: Now, now, the results are set in stone already. Withdraw, Wanko. There's nothing more pitiful than a loser's wails—we should promptly leave the stage.

Veteran soldiers never die, they just fade away. Adonis-kun, can you forcibly drag Wanko off from the stage for me?​

Adonis: I understand. I'm good at using raw strength to talk.

Oogami, we should retreat for now. We've put quite a burden on both our instruments and ourselves, they both need proper maintenance.

Koga: Gah, you ass, Adonis! You better remember this, I haven't had enough yet! Let me go, you stupidiotass…!

Rei: Kukuku. Let's pick up where we left off, I'll be saying one last thing.

The two semi-final stages were in total contrast to each other, war and peace, tragedy and comedy, hate and love…

The finals in which those will clash is worth pawning your wife for.

Rei: I'll be enjoying myself, gentlemen ♪

Well then, pardon me. I pray for you gentlemen to have prosperity in battle.

[ ☆ ]

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[brandt-fc]

Dortmund's Brandt spotlighted in data analysis: Bundesliga star - and European Championship hope?

Translation of an article from 26/10/2023

Dortmund's Brandt spotlighted in data analysis: Bundesliga star - and European Championship hope?

Julian Brandt is playing his best Bundesliga season to date. For a long time, the Bremen-born player lacked consistency in his performances. But the Borussia Dortmund attacker, who has just celebrated a special anniversary, delivered just in time for his home European Championships.

Suddenly everything happened very quickly. Emre Can passed the ball between the stunned Bremen defenders and into the penalty area. Right into the path of Julian Brandt, who had cleverly stolen away. The high-class striker took the ball with one touch and struck Werder with the second. Brandt scored with a fine lob over the onrushing keeper Michael Zetterer to make it 1:0 for BVB.

It was to be the only goal of the evening. Brandt of all people - the Bremen-born player who had never played for Werder - was the man of the match. And this match was not just any match, it was the 300th that the attacker had played in the Premier League for Leverkusen and Dortmund. At the age of 27 years and 171 days. In Bundesliga history, only Charly Körbel (27/119) and Eike Immel (27/116) were younger when they made their 300th appearance.

Not only BVB coach Edin Terzic finds this "extraordinary" and calls Brandt "a child of the Bundesliga", who once made his debut for Leverkusen in 2014 at the age of 17.

Brandt in the form of his life

Germany is currently seeing a Brandt in the form of his life - as a glance at the GSN data clearly shows. With a performance score of 64.91, the man who, with his light blonde hair and cheeky grin on his face, still looks like a rascal ten years after his debut, is having by far the best season of his career on Dortmund's left wing (previous best score 61.47).

What is the "performance score"?

Three goals and four assists have already been recorded. His scoring record dates back to his last season at Leverkusen in 2019/2020, when he ended up with seven goals and 15 assists (his goal record is nine). Unlike usual for Brandt, however, he is in outstanding early form this season.

As a rule, he always needs a few more weeks to get up to speed. In his record-breaking season, for example, he only had two assists to his name after eight matchdays. In 2021/2022 it was two goals, in 2022/2023 two goals and two assists each.

Are his days as a sloppy genius numbered?

The strengths of the player from VfL Wolfsburg's youth team, who had to let him go before his first professional appearance, are well known: from offensive one-on-one, technique and passing to creativity and overview. In the 1-0 win against Bremen, he also showed how well he can anticipate and how quick his pace is.

At the same time, Brandt will certainly not become a header monster or a defensive workhorse. More seriously, however, he has lacked consistency in recent years because he hasn't always seemed to be on the ball - a sloppy genius, if you like.

His current explosion in performance may also have something to do with the fact that coach Terzic has deployed him much less frequently in his favorite position as a playmaker this season. In Leverkusen, he once played with the number 10 on his back, but Dortmund's number 19 now mainly plays on the left wing, but also on the right. Mind you, with permission to repeatedly move towards the goal in the center. In data jargon, this is referred to as an "inverse winger", while Brandt himself recently spoke of a "hybrid position".

Brandt is the fourth-best German in the league

In this position, he has no need to shy away from comparison in the league. Brandt is right at the top in almost all relevant statistics. With 3.32 assists per game, he is even the best in the league - as is his involvement in 1.55 Dortmund attacks per game that lead to goals and his 0.59 expected assists, i.e. assists that should (actually) lead to goals.

In Leroy Sané, Mats Hummels, Chris Führich and Leon Goretzka, only four Germans in the Bundesliga currently have a better performance score than Brandt. That should also make namesake Julian Nagelsmann prick up his ears. But is the new national coach also counting on him?

Only 19 minutes on the pitch on the USA trip

Another reason for Brandt standing out could be the upcoming European Championships in his own country. It kicks off on June 14, 2024 with the opening game in Munich. And Brandt will not be allowed to slack off if he is to play a significant role at the home European Championships. Nagelsmann did nominate Brandt, who has 45 international appearances to date with three goals, for the most recent international trip to the USA. However, he only played 19 minutes against the hosts and sat on the bench for the entirety of the subsequent match against Mexico.

Great competition in the German attack

This is not because he has strong competition in his position in the form of Führich (performance score 65.08/2 goals/5 assists). The Stuttgart native, who is a completely different type of player anyway with his long sprints down the left wing, only played nine minutes in the USA. In Nagelsmann's favored 4-4-2, four central midfielders played behind the two attackers and, in Jamal Musiala and Florian Wirtz, two 20-year-olds who have a bright future with the DFB.

And then there is another problem: the "child of the Bundesliga" Brandt, who was awarded the Fritz Walter Gold Medal in 2014, has not been able to build on his strong previous performances in either the Champions League or the national team. Especially with the eagle on his chest, the BVB professional was hardly recognizable. His performance score in international matches over the past five years was just 55.86 points.

Does Brandt bring consistency to his performances?

However, with his current GSN index of 82.98 and a possible score of 84.59, Brandt is scratching the surface of world class. He is also so interesting for the national team because he can actually play all positions in the offense (apart from center forward). If he manages to even begin to show his potential in the national team, Nagelsmann will not be able to ignore him.

Source: EM-Hoffnung? Julian Brandt von Borussia Dortmund in der Datenanalyse | NDR.de - Sport - Fußball

[seospicybin]

FATAL ATTRACTION.

PART I

I.N x reader. (s,a)

Next chapter: Part II

Synopsis: Your father as the leader of the Southside must given up something as a penalty for breaking the territorial rules to the Northside leader, Yang Jeongin. It's an exchange that he can't resist, a hidden daughter of the Southside, you.

Author's note: Part II will be out tomorrow! Enjoy this one ❤️

The gun is loaded and his slender fingers are wrapped around the handle.

Pale white skin on cold dark steel, someone's life is right at the end of his finger. The gun is pressed hard against a man's temple and the bullet is only a few inches away from his brain being obliterated. After that, he guesses it's the gate of hell since they're both in the same unholy business.

Jeongin's eyes are nowhere but staring into the other man who's kneeling on the floor, begging for a life that isn't his.

"You didn't hesitate to kill my man when he entered your territory," he says to the begging man.

The man lets out a shaky breath and screws his eyes shut for a second, begging certainly is not his forte, the man is struggling.

He understands that his pride stands between him and what he wants. The pride is coming from the family name that he upholds above everything else.

Unfortunately, Jeongin has a family name to uphold as well and his family wouldn't let this chance easily pass, a chance to win more territory which leads to more power to rule over the city.

Jeongin's family has ruled over the Northside for years and he, the rightful heir to the throne that had been passed down right from his father, leads the family's business.

What kind of business? Anything that brings money, legally or illegally, he doesn't care as long as he gets to maintain his family's prestige name.

And here, the man who is begging for a life to be spared happens to be the one who leads the Southside and his family's mortal enemy with decades-long of enmity that goes way back to when Jeongin wasn't even born yet into the world.

He knows enough that if he should give him a pass he has to get something in return.

"Not my son, please?" The man begs again, bleary eyes filled with fear and the sheen of sweat on his forehead glistening under the dusty light bulb.

Seeing him pathetically begging for him like he is praying to a god makes him feel like playing one, he presses the gun until it digs into the skin.

"Tell me why should I keep him alive?" He asks, giving the man one more chance at redemption.

"Anything but my son!" He answers without a beat.

Jeongin looks down at the man's son who seems to be only a few years older than him. He learned of his mortal enemy's history to know why his son is so important to him. He's the only one who will inherit the Southside, the only descendant left to continue the legacy, the same fate just like him.

As much as he hates to give a shred of sympathy, Jeongin relates so much to that. It reminds him of how his father had sacrificed so much just so he can have all of these because truthfully, a lot would kill to sit on his throne.

His hand loosens around the gun then uses it to scratch his head, thinking of something to exchange for the son's dear life.

A huge chunk of territory would suffice, he reckons.

He smacks his lips together and squats down in front of the father, "In exchange for your son's life, I'm taking Red Lights district from you!" Jeongin says ever so casually like he was asking for a piece of chewing gum while the man's eyes widen in shock.

Not only that he's asking for a big chunk of territory, Red Lights district has clubs, drugs, gambling, and everything illegal that makes money the most, in other words, it's their main source of income. To take it away from him might as well shut down his business and leave so little for settlement.

"I– I can't... can't give you that!"

Jeongin clicks his tongue, dissatisfied with his response.

"You. Are. Not. In. Position. To. Make. A. Bargain. With. Me!" Jeongin enunciates every word with every push of his gun onto the man's chest.

He leans in and stares into the man's eyes, "do you want to save your son or not?"

The man vigorously nods.

"Give me the Red Lights district and I'll let you two walk back to the Southside," he offers again.

"You know what? I'm feeling generous, I'll even give you a ride home!" He adds with an enchanting yet evil grin.

The man closes his eyes again, conflicted, panicked, in fear then glances at his son who's bruised and swollen from being beaten up by Jeongin's loyal subordinates.

Jeongin gestures to his right-hand man, Joon, to get him a paper of agreement of the transfer of property and puts it down on the floor for the man to see.

"All you need is to sign this paper," Jeongin puts then he slams the pen on top of it.

"Then you'll be having champagne in my limousine back to your home and we'll pretend that this never happens!" He concludes with an eased smile, giving him the easiest way out.

The man grips the pen but does nothing to uncap it, he holds the pen in the air for a moment with eyes squeezed shut, Jeongin is testing his conscience: his son or his business?

When the man finally uncaps the pen, Jeongin exchanges a triumphant smile with Joon, knowing damn well that this would earn him acknowledgment from the side of the family that still doubted his leadership.

Jeongin looks at the man again who slowly leans down to jot down his sign when all of a sudden, the man cries and his tears wetting the agreement paper.

"I can't do it!" The man cries, dropping the pen, and covers his face with his hands, ashamed of his decision, of himself.

The smile on Jeongin's face drastically fades like a day turns to night.

He runs out of patience, Jeongin picks up his gun and walks to his son, pulling his body straighter by the collar, pressing the gun close to his temple again, getting the bullet even closer to his brain than before.

"Well, it seems like you choose the hard way!" Jeongin remarks and cocks the revolver, the sound of it magnifies the palpable tension in the basement of some abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, where Jeongin reigns the most powerful, on the Northside.

The bullet is on the cylinder and ready to pierce through the poor man's skull at the gentle squeeze of Jeongin's long forefinger on the trigger.

"I have something else to offer!" The man cries out with his tear-streaked face while holding his hands up in defeat.

Jeongin keeps the gun pressed to the son's head and nudges him with it, tipping his head to the side.

"You don't have anything else that I desire so don't bother!" Jeongin says with sinister eyes, his finger curves around the trigger.

"Please!" The man cries again then crawls until he is close enough to his son, "No one knows about this but I'll let you have it!"

Jeongin is intrigued, he put his finger away and aims the gun elsewhere to make the man relax a little.

"What is it?"

The man is a stuttering mess still "...just... as precious... as my son!"

The son seems to know what his father is willing to exchange for his life. He was silent the whole time but starts grunting through his duct-taped mouth at the mention of it, that only means the man offers him something as precious, or even more.

"Keep it hidden..." the man stutters again, "...no one knows!"

Jeongin scoffs, pitying the so-called man who owns the Southside. He gestures for his man to get them up to sit them down on the worn-out sofa while he sits on the folded chair facing them.

Joon hands the man a drink but he hardly drinks them, the alcohol flooded out of the glass as he was taking a sip, the front of his shirt drenched with it.

"Now tell me more!"

The man wipes his mouth and nervously licks his lip, "I've been keeping this as a secret for years—"

The son grunts again, interrupting his father by headbutting his father's shoulder to stop him from talking and shooting daggers with his eyes.

"I don't have any other choice, son!" The father meekly says to him.

With his eyes, Jeongin orders Joon to hold the son for him so the father can speak in comfort.

Jeongin fills the man's glass with more alcohol and tells him to drink it.

"Relax!" Jeongin says to him as the man drinks his alcohol in one big gulp.

Jeongin pours himself a glass of alcohol and holds the glass close to his mouth.

He takes a moment to take it all in, that the man who owns the Southside is begging him to spare his son's life and he's about to offer him a precious gift in return.

He drinks his alcohol and it feels so sweet on a day like this.

Jeongin slams his empty glass on the table and folds his legs, "Let's do it again from the start, shall we?"

-

It's a slow day on a Monday morning.

You always take the time to take a personal tour around the gallery but the time you spend the most is admiring this painting of a flower field.

The longer you look at it, the more immersed yourself in it.

Maybe you're slowly losing your mind but you swear you feel like swaying away with the wind that is depicted in the painting, how it slips through the grass and brushes your skin.

Every time you look at the flowers, you can feel how soft their petals are without having to touch them.

You sigh and think of how beautiful it would be to just lay on that field with your hands turned up while looking up at the serene blue sky.

And how the painter weaves the delicacy in the painting, you sigh again at how amazing a few strokes of paint on a canvas can make you feel.

You want to meet the man who painted it but it seems impossible because the identity of the painter is still a mystery, they only go by the initial H.

"Is this painting for sale?"

You turn on your heels to find a man in a suit, hair as dark as midnight, sharp jaws, and a pair of foxy eyes.

"This painting?" You ask again, gesturing to the painting you've been admiring for a few days now.

He nods and takes a step forward, taking a closer look at the painting.

"You're the curator, aren't you?" He points to your ID card hanging around your neck.

"Yes." You answer with a smile.

He hums while nodding, "I want to buy this painting!"

You get the impression that this man knows nothing about painting and it's not the first time you met such customers. It's clear that he's one of those rich people who buy whatever they want as they please. They don't care about the price so what makes you think they will care about the art value of the painting they bought?

If they want to buy a painting on a Monday morning? They got it

Therefore, you don't have to waste time sharing some pieces of information about the painting, and leads him straight to where he can process his purchase which consists of signing some paperwork.

The man tells his assistant to do the rest while he walks up to you.

"Congratulations! You just bought a really beautiful painting!" You said to him with a courteous smile.

His foxy eyes deeply stare into yours again while he holds his hand out at you.

You don't hesitate to take it and shake his hand, "hope we get to see you again!

He doesn't say anything in return but keeps staring into your eyes like something wondrous is happening in them.

"Oh, I have a feeling that we'll see each other again real soon!" He confidently says as he lets go of your hand but not his eyes on you.

You don't walk him out of the gallery and let the director of the gallery do the task while you stay inside, watching him get into the car from the window of the second floor.

Rich people behave as they please because they are under the illusion that everything can be bought with money and you met some crude ones.

You met enough to know that he isn't trying to offend you yet he put you a little on edge.

The eyes tell all and his piercing eyes cut through you like a knife through the water.

On weekdays, the gallery closes at 4 pm and the time on your computer screen tells you it's already 25 past 5 pm.

"You're not going home, pup?" Mr. Shin asks. He is an art restorer who has worked for the gallery for almost a decade and still carrying the same leather briefcase since you joined two years ago.

"In a minute!" You replied while saving the files before you forget.

"I'm leaving," he announces.

"Don't want to upset missus again!" He adds while heading towards the door.

You softly laugh and get up from your office chair, "Be careful and send my regards to your wife!" You shout before he exits the door.

He responds with a smile then waves bye at you.

You didn't forget to turn the lights off before leaving the office and carrying your bag in one hand. You walk past the director's office and it seems like she's already left as well.

The security greets you as you exit the back door and you pull your car keys out of your bag since the car is already in sight.

"Excuse me!" Someone asks.

You are only a few feet away from your car when you turn around and someone suddenly holds you from the back, a hand covers your mouth to muffle your cry for help.

Another person ties your hands behind your back and then everything goes dark as someone puts a cloth over your head while your body is being lifted.

You hear a lot at the same time, a car coming and footsteps, someone whispering orders at the same time.

You try to scream but it's no use since you are the last person who left the gallery and no one is going to hear your screams, you also doubt someone is watching you getting abducted through the security footage.

But someone will watch and know and then help you, right?

Someone puts you down on you guess the backseat of a car and then there's the sound of the car door being slammed shut.

The car is moving and is taking you somewhere that you're afraid to guess where.

"Who are you?" You ask to the void or so you think since your head is covered in dark cloth and can't see anything. You believe there's someone else in the car with you because why would they let you alone, unguarded?

"Why are you doing this to me?" You ask again.

There's no answer and the car is taking a complicated route to avoid you know where they are taking you.

"I have nothing. I don't have money or anything. Kidnapping me will get you nothing!" You say again in a shaky tone as your thoughts rush through your head at a light speed and it seems like it's not slowing down any soon.

"Please, let me go!" You begged, this is the last effort you can do to get a response or anything.

But nothing, no answer but the car keeps moving, taking you to your uncertain future.

The car finally stops moving after an hour or so, you stop keeping track of time, and your brain is drained from endlessly thinking all sorts of thoughts, good and bad, everything in between.

They take you out of the car and walk you somewhere, dragging you by your elbow even though you can walk by yourself if they take the cloth off.

Your heels click-clacking against the floor you're walking on, and from the subtle slippery surface, you are sure it's a marble floor. The sounds echo so it gives you an idea of how big the place you are walking into is.

There's a creak coming from the door being pushed open, two big wooden doors from how you have to stop walking and that means the guy who escorts you have to push the door open with two hands.

"She's here!" The man who walks beside you announces.

He drags you by your elbow again and sits you down on a chair. After a moment of silence and someone cuts off the tie that shackles your hands, you take a deep breath before slowly lifting the dark clothing over your head. You close your eyes as the light starts to fill your vision all at once, blinding you.

You blink your eyes a few times to adjust to the light and the first thing you see is his eyes piercing right through your chest.

"Who are you and why are you doing this to me?" You asked since you're still curious as to why someone would bother to kidnap a nobody like you.

"So you don't know?" Jeongin asks back with a slanted grin.

"If you think you can get anything by kidnapping me, you're wrong!" You say again, looking up at him since he is sitting on the long wooden table.

He scoffs and fixes the cuff of his shirt, "but you are the hidden daughter of the Southside leader!"

You don't move despite knowing that you're no longer tied, no one knows this and no one even knows that you exist in the first place.

For the last 23 years since you were born, your father has successfully concealed your existence from the world, no one knows that you're the daughter of the Southside leader and you're grateful that you don't have to live with the notorious family name.

It seems like you are under the illusion that you'll always be safely hidden from the world.

Unless the two people that know about it give the secret away.

"Is it my father?" You guessed, he is the most likely to spoil a secret.

He doesn't respond but gets off the table, walks closer then stops right in front of your chair.

"I heard our fathers fought over your mother," he chuckles because it's baffling him as he recites the tale he heard from his jealous passing mother.

"And I wonder how beautiful she was that my father was willing to kill for her."

He takes even a closer step to your chair, "I saw her picture once and I admit that she really was beautiful."

His hand reaches for your face and holds your chin up with his fingers, observing your face like you're a statue.

"The resemblance is uncanny!" He sighs in disbelief.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You snarl, swatting his hand away from your chin.

He juts his lips then shrugs, "beautiful yet vicious!" He says then turns around on his heels.

"Let me go!" You shout at him.

"I have nothing to do with my father's business!!!" You tried again.

He sits behind a desk and ignores your demand, "Take her to the room and lock her up!" He orders the man who escorts you earlier which you recognize is the man you thought was his assistant back in the gallery.

He drags you by your elbow again and you yank your hand away, "I can walk by myself!"

-

Every day is the same.

You got locked up in your room, a maid only comes to serve meals on the tray if not to clean the room. The closet is filled with clothes from casual attire to ball gowns, you laugh at the irony because it's not like you have anywhere to go.

It has been two weeks, more or less, you stop counting the days because no one is coming to save you anyway.

You got thinner, weaker and your tears dried on their own from the countless night you spent crying yourself to sleep.

You're on the brink of losing yourself to insanity.

"Get up, you have somewhere to go in two hours!"

You don't have to turn your head away from the window to know that it's his right-hand man, Joon, you learned his name since he's the messenger between you and Jeongin.

"If you're not taking me to kill me in the middle of nowhere, I don't want to go!" You replied with a snide remark.

You might as well just die than live like this, chained to an evil man and this shit luck of a fate you have.

You hear Joon heavily sigh then leave, unbothered by your words.

An hour later, the door to your room flies open and heavy footsteps come your way.

"Get up!" Jeongin yanks you by your wrist and forces you to get up from the bed.

"Don't touch me!" You protest, trying to get your hand away from his grip.

"Then do what I tell you!" He says with a heaving chest and lets you go.

With so little energy you have, you stagger backward and fall back down on the end of the bed.

"What do you want from me?" You ask, rubbing your wrist to soothe the pain.

"I want you to obey me!" He replies.

Those piercing eyes have come to the point that they disgust you and make you sick to the stomach, "why should I?"

He bends down to look you dead in the eyes, "do I look like I want you here?"

His hot breath brushes your face as he speaks, "have you ever thought that maybe I didn't kidnap you?"

"Have you ever think why your family suddenly revealed their secret child after twenty years?" He asks, his words sting and your eyes start to water.

"Have you ever thought that maybe you're not that important to them?"

Every question he throws at you feels like a slap to the face and egging on your pain, opening your eyes to the reality of who's the real evil behind this.

He finishes with his forehead pressed on yours and says, "Do the fucking math, princess!"

You close your eyes and hot tears roll down your face, it surprises you that you still have any liquid left in your body to secrete.

"I want her to be ready in an hour!" Jeongin orders Joon and slams the door shut behind him.

"I have a few people to help you get ready," Joon says, he hesitates to get closer to you and stops after a step.

"I'll tell them to come up in 15 minutes!" He says, giving you a little time to mourn for your sad, cursed life.

You feel like a doll being dressed up as three people working at the same time to get you ready so Jeongin can show you off to everyone.

You're the hidden daughter of the Southside leader and you're an arm candy to the man who leads the Northside, after a few trips to his clubs, you learned his true intention. He wants to show the world the jewel crown of his achievement and that is having a Southside daughter under his feet, which will earn him respect and a lot more.

It's the same every other week, you come to the club and just sit still and look pretty next to him like a flower.

And he wants you to do nothing less or more than that.

But that night, a surprise guest comes to the club and insists on seeing Jeongin.

"It's someone from the Southside!" Joon whispers to him and he might have intentionally raised his voice louder so you can hear him too.

"Let him in!" Jeongin says and reclines on the leather sofa with a glass of drink in his hand.

You look at the doorway to see if it's a face you recognize from the Southside and your heart races when you see that it's your brother.

He makes a run for you but someone quickly stops him from getting close to you. He breaks out and sits on the sofa across from you.

"I want to talk to my sister!" He says to Jeongin.

Jeongin doesn't bother to look at the person he's talking to, he's more interested in looking at the sphere ice cube inside his glass.

"She's mine now!" He casually says like you are a mere object.

He puts his glass away and puts an arm around your shoulder, enjoying the hatred in your brother's eyes that is directed toward him when he does it.

"Why? Are you jealous that it's not you sitting beside me now?" He mocks with a lopsided grin.

"You fucki—" your brother holds himself back, knowing that it's not the right place to be reckless, he's powerless here.

He shifts his eyes at you with concern, "are you okay?"

You nod, the tears clogging your throat preventing you from talking.

"Did he hurt you?"

You shake your head but avoid looking him in the eyes.

"You can talk! It's okay," Jeongin says as he pours another glass of liquor.

Your brother's hands are balled into fists on his lap, "I'm sorry that you got caught in this!"

Jeongin stifles a laugh because he knows damn well who gets you into this mess in the first place.

"Its father isn't it?" You ask.

Your brother knows you'll catch up to it because you're smart, his face drops into his hands and he tries to come up with something to say.

"It's okay," you say.

"I know that he will always choose you over me," you tell him.

The nights you spent on your own made you rake your brain for any possible reason why you ended up here and then what Jeongin said earlier stuck with you. You finally come to this conclusion: your family has dumped you.

"He's not—"

"We all know he despises me. He wishes that I had never been born."

The truth hurts but it needed to be said.

Your brother is the only one who treats you like a family, hence he can't lie to your face, he knows that it's true.

Jeongin raises his glass at you, "You finally did the math! Good job!" He says with a sinister smile on his face

Your brother almost jumps at him for making fun of the situation, he succeeds to ignore his remarks and turns to look at you.

"But I care for you!" He sincerely says with his eyes looking deeply into yours.

He is your brother, the only person you trust and you've been relying on. But he's also the one who brought you into this mess.

Betrayal pains you the most when it's coming from someone who's closest to you.

You close your eyes to fight the tears from coming out, "that doesn't change anything," you unintentionally raise your voice at him.

"What difference would it make?"

"You can't save me on your own!"

"It's too late for that!"

You attack him with fact after fact and leave him tongue-tied, unable to speak. He can't find anything to say to defend himself, it is too late to save you now.

"Time's up!" Jeongin suddenly announces and gets up from the sofa.

Getting used to being his shadow, you follow him getting up from your seat and standing behind him. Two of Jeongin's men come into the room and hold your brother down by the shoulders.

Jeongin doesn’t have to say anything again to make you come with him, walking behind him as the two of you make your way to the exit.

Your brother grabs your hand as you walk past him, "I'm sorry."

You yank your hand away from him and look straight ahead, "you're not my brother anymore."

The music inside the club is deafening and the dress you're wearing is suffocating, the lump in your throat making it harder for you to breathe.

Maybe it's the fact that you just cut ties with the only person that you consider as family.

It feels like you just cut ties with the world altogether.

You broke down once you arrive back at the mansion and Joon rushes to help you, kneeling on the floor with an arm around you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, shaking you by your shoulders.

Jeongin turns on his heels and watches you while standing a few feet away from you, unfazed.

"Put your hand around me. I'll carry you to your room," Joon offers, taking your limp arm and putting it around his shoulder.

But your hand gropes around his chest and found the gun inside the pocket of his suit jacket. You succeed to pull it out real quick. Joon was quick enough to catch your hand and yank it back from you, but you don't let him take it away from you.

"What are you doing? It's dangerous!" His concerned voice turns into a mix of panic and an angry one.

He holds the gun but your hand is wrapped so tightly around it and with the strength you have, turning it at your head.

"Kill me! Kill me, please?" You beg with tears flooding your cheeks.

"Stop acting stupid!" Joon snaps at you while struggling to get the gun from you without hurting you in the process.

"I don't want to live anymore and you don't have any reason to keep me! They threw me away so kill me! Kill me!" You beg again.

Joon finally succeeds to get his gun back and hurriedly taking a step back, put the gun as far away as possible from you.

"Give her the gun!" Jeongin coldly orders. His voice cut through the quiet of the room and is as cold as the floor you're sitting on.

Joon who has just placed his gun back into its holster looks at him with uneasy eyes, "Pardon?"

"Give her the gun!" He enunciates the word one by one, confirming that Joon didn't mishear him.

"Make sure it's loaded too!"

Joon hesitantly does what he is told to do, emptying the clip and showing you that there's not one bullet missing. He loads the clip back into the gun, then hands it to you. There's a second of pause before he puts it on your open palm and guided your fingers to wrap around it.

It's cold and heavy in your hand, so this is what death feels like.

You look at the gun closely and take a second to admire the person who invented a tool that makes death as easy as pulling the trigger with your finger.

You roughly wipe your eyes since they're blurry with your tears then bring the gun close to your head and press the end under your chin.

All of a sudden, Jeongin let out a laugh and it echoes in the empty hall, "Now I see why they dump you!"

He laughs again and licks his lower lip, "if you put that bullet in your head, you're only proving that you are worthless and it was the right decision for them to dump you."

He put his hands behind him and observe you like you were a wounded animal in a cage, pathetic and helpless but he can't do anything about it.

He approaches you and leans down to look you right in the eyes, "If you hated it so much, why would you die with that name?"

His gaze lingers on and you can see the disgust in his eyes. And you hate that he is right, his words feel like a slap in your face.

He walks away and then stops on his track, slowly turning at you to say, "If I were you, I'll make a name for myself! Make them whisper my name in fear! Make them regret casting me out!"

Jeongin shoves both of his hands into the pockets of his trousers, "but of course, you're too weak for that too."

He laughs again and walks further into the house, "Please, don't bleed all over the marble floor. Joon can show you a better place to do it!" He nonchalantly says without looking at you.

He leaves you there, on the floor with the gun pressed under your chin.

Maybe he is right, you are too weak and you don't have it in you to live with your family name.

You loop your finger on the trigger but not pulling it yet.

"Just think about it! Please?" Joon begs again with a pleading voice, hoping to stop you from making a bad decision.

"I can't live like this!" You say between your choked sobs.

"I'll help you! I can help you!" Joon's offers come out of the blue.

"How?" You scream.

"Put the gun down first!" He commands.

Your finger lingers on the trigger and all you need is one gentle push then...

Then again, Jeongin is right, you don't have it in you.

Your hand goes limp and the gun falls off, clattering onto the floor.

Joon kicks the gun to get it away from you, then helps you get up as your body goes limp from malnourished, adrenaline, stress, and everything that makes you feel that you're dead inside.

-

Joon comes to your bedroom in the morning and makes sure you eat your breakfast, watching every spoonful of food that goes into your mouth.

"You've been doing it wrong!" He says as he goes to open the window and fills the room with fresh spring air.

"What?"

He sits on the stool across from you, "I've known Jeongin since we were little. We practically grew up together."

Isn't that obvious? Joon is the only person you know is the closest to Jeongin, it comes to your knowledge that he's not a part of the family so the only conclusion you have is that he grew up with him.

"I know him well enough to know that going against him will never get you anywhere," he explains, taking a piece of a ceramic miniature from your vanity table to play with it.

"You're only riling him up and making him detest you," he adds.

You can trust him, right? Because Joon has been nothing but nice to you.

"Then what should I do?" You ask.

"Soften him. Try to be good and just do whatever he says, I promise you he likes obedience more than anything."

He twirls the miniature in his palm and pauses, "no wait, obedience is the second on his list."

That intrigues you, "then what's the first?"

"Loyalty."

It's interesting. You thought that he would put his family over anything else.

"He has no reason to keep you here, that's true and perhaps, if you did soften him and the timing is right, it's possible to get what you want," he furtherly explains and leans against the vanity table.

Joon makes it sounds so easy to you, "I don't know that seems..."

He smirks at how you doubt him right away.

"Jeongin might seem difficult but you only need to know which button to push," he says and puts the miniature back in its place, "just one right button!"

He gets up from the stool and looks down at your breakfast tray, "maybe you can start by not looking like an ET first," he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him, slightly annoyed.

Everything that Joon shared with you stayed with you the whole day.

Jeongin never laid his hand on you to harm you unless it was necessary and it was always because you provoked him first.

He doesn't have any intention to harm you but keep you trapped here, being his little doll.

And maybe this little doll can gets what she wants if she sits still and looks pretty for him, nods to everything he says, and smiles because she doesn't know how to do anything else.

If that's what he wants, then you'll give him that.

-

The rose's rarest essence lives in the thorn.

For him, you are a rose but lack that rarest essence.

To be that beautiful yet so fragile, a delicate thing that is so exposed to the cruel, cruel world.

Should he help you grow some thorns or should he protect you more from the world?

He can't decide yet.

After that night when you went to your wit's end, something changed.

He admits he was too harsh at you that night but he knows he's right, but a little part of him still worries that you took his words by heart, or worst, broke you more.

You are broken, yes, but humans are never irreparably broken. We can always heal, we can always piece ourselves back little by little until we're whole again. We always do.

Maybe this change is you piecing yourself back together and he can see you.

A beautiful rose you are!

Blossoming smiles, the twinkle in your eyes, and the echo of your laughs in the hallways that are usually occupied if not by the dead silence, it's the heavy footsteps of his men coming with information for him.

He follows the source of the sound to find you helping in the kitchen, kneading dough on the kitchen island with your flour-dusted hands.

On another day, he watches you swimming from the balcony where he can see your body slicing through the water and the shape your body took as you come out of the water.

That quite resembles how Aphrodite was born. You weren't born from the foam of the sea but you do own the beauty of the goddess of love.

And if you're not swimming or walking around the garden, you hide in the greenhouse and read the book you secretly borrow from his library.

By the night before the old clock in the mansion struck midnight, you're already in your room and tucked in for the night.

This sudden obedience astounds him but at the same time, sparks his curiosity. There must be something behind all these good girl behaviors.

"Arrange a dinner!" He orders.

Joon puts down his glass of whiskey and takes out his phone, "the usual place?"

"Yes."

"How many people?"

"Two."

Joon slyly smiles, "it's not a business dinner, I reckon?"

Jeongin doesn't answer but looks out of the window and sees you walking out of the greenhouse.

"And get her ready for it!" He adds.

When it finally registered to him, Joon nods in acknowledgment and gets up from his chair.

"Sure!"

Jeongin booked the whole restaurant just for you and him where the chef cooks the dish from the finest ingredients and serves the most exquisite wine with its aphrodisiac smells that instantly relaxes you.

It's the first time that you're out of the mansion yet you seem so calm and collected.

Again, he admits that you look so beautiful in that dress, deep blue like the color of the pacific ocean.

You thanked and praised the chef for every meal, but you show less enthusiasm when they serve the desserts.

There's no meaningful conversation in between the meals so he wonders what changes.

"You don't like the dessert?" He asks.

You shake your head and smile, "it's just so pretty."

And you thank the chef again for it.

"Is there any reason why we're having dinner together?" You ask.

Jeongin triumphantly smiles, it's not hard to make you finally ask the question he wanted you to ask.

"Because you've been very good lately," he simply answers and lifts his wine glass to take a small sip.

"I think you deserve a nice dinner," he adds as he puts down his wine glass.

The night doesn't stop there, he takes you on a little stroll around the city just to see how are you going to react.

He wants to know if you're tempted to flee or pull an act, instead, he watches you shivering from the gust of cool night air.

He puts his suit jacket around your shoulders.

"Thank you," you sweetly mutter with the moon reflected in your eyes.

"Should we head home now?"

You nod with a smile.

Arrives back in the mansion, walks you to the door of your bedroom, and stands there in front of you, looking at your face with an intense gaze.

"Thank you for the dinner! I had a nice evening," you say to him.

He only smiles in response.

"Oh yeah, this," you shrug his jacket off your shoulders and hand it back to him.

He grabs your hand instead of the jacket from you, "Is there anything you want?"

Your eyes widen in surprise or maybe this is what you've been waiting for him to say.

He slides his hand up to your elbow then pulls you closer, "you can tell me and I'll give it to you."

With the other hand, he brushes your hair to the side and lightly caresses your cheek, "you deserve it," he says with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You swallow air before answering, "I—"

Jeongin lifts your chin and forces you to look him in the eyes, he leans in close you can see yourself in the irises in his eyes.

"Come on, tell me..." he murmurs with his lips only inches away from yours.

You try again to focus on answering him, "I—"

This time, he cuts you off with a kiss.

He knows that those lips would be soft, but Jeongin doesn't expect them to be that soft.

He let the kiss sweep you away and takes you out of your head for a moment. It's just your lips on his lips in an enamoring kiss.

He can easily carry you to the bed and have you pinned underneath him, kissing you more, deeper, and harder that breathing is no longer necessary to him.

Doesn't want to waste another second, his hands start to explore your body, touching your miles and miles of silky smooth skin that make him whimper against your lips.

His hand goes down your thighs and pulls the hem of your dress so he can touch you there.

Then he can feel that you're stiffening under him, your legs are pressed shut and your hands are on his chest, keeping a space between your bodies.

No matter how much he likes kissing you, Jeongin abruptly stops and retracts himself from you.

He may be a bad person, but he's not a vile man who fucks a girl against her will.

"Don't force yourself, I know you don't want to do it," he breathlessly says.

You slightly get up from the bed, "but it is what you want, right?" You ask and reach for him again.

He jerks away and puts your hand away, "just tell me what you want!"

He met a lot of people and a lot more variety of evil people, but he knows the tricks people usually do to get what they want.

The dinner is just to let you know that he acknowledged your effort to get his attention and you did a wonderful job at it.

But now, it's time to find out what you want to gain from it.

"Let me go," you meekly answer.

"I am worth nothing anymore therefore I'm holding no value as your hostage. Just let me go and I'll disappear from your life forever," you breathlessly explain the reason behind your demand.

"I promise. Please, let me go!"

For a split second, you remind him of how your father begged for your brother's life. Thus, reminded him how easily he gave you away in an exchange for your brother.

It disgusts him how easy for you to say that you're worth nothing.

"I'll let you go," he says.

Your face lights up hearing his words.

"But with one condition!"

Your face goes dim in a second but there's a flicker in your eyes, "I'll do anything! Anything!" You eagerly say to him.

Jeongin fixes his shirt and his cuffs, "you have to marry me!"

And it's like all the happiness drained out of you in a second, your face turns pale and your hands fall to your lap.

"How can I marry you? We're— We— I don't even know you!" You stammer, confused and shocked at the same time.

Jeongin gets off the bed and picks up his suit jacket from the floor, "well, that wouldn't be hard since we're living together!" He nonchalantly says without looking at you.

He puts his suit jacket back on then walks to the door, he lingers there, then turns around to look at you one more time, "and don't worry. I'll never touch you again without your permission!" 

Jeongin walks in the direction of his office for a quick talk with Joon but finds him as he walks past the dining room, eating by himself.

"Oh, I didn't know you were already home!" Joon gasps with a stuffed face, a red jam smeared in the corner of his mouth.

Jeongin pours himself a glass of water, "what are you eating?"

He slides the plate toward Jeongin and lets him have a piece.

"Cherry pie!" He exclaims as he bites into a piece of cherry from the filling.

"It's good, right?"

He shrugs but Joon knows him well enough to know that means he likes it.

"She made this all afternoon for tonight's dessert," Joon informs.

"You're lucky I left you some," he adds with a chuckle.

Jeongin takes another piece and shoves it into his mouth, feeling that burst of that tangy mix of sweet and sour. Now he knows why you look a little sad during desserts.

"Sweet," Jeongin says.

"I know right?" Joon chimes.

But Jeongin isn't talking about the pie.

-

It's been a week now but still.

Marry him?

Ugh, the more you replayed those words in your head the more pissed you are at him, the more you pissed the more you wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

But as far as you can get is the greenhouse.

And you've been stuck on the same page of the book you're reading because your head can't stop replaying his words that are impossible for you to fulfill.

Why did you have to say you'll do anything? Anything? You hit your forehead with the book repeatedly.

You can foresee your future from here and it looks grim.

You cover your face with the book next and hope that it will teleport you somewhere or the page magically sucks you into the story, Victorian era is way better than here.

How people back in the day are okay with arranged marriage? How is it okay for them to marry someone they don't know? How can they have a marriage without love? Why would they marry a...

"...this is going to work just like we planned! Trust me!"

You jolt awake from the long bench you're lying down on and hear someone talking just right outside the greenhouse. You can only make out the shape of them through the foggy glass wall, two men huddling together and whispering into each other's ears.

"If you look nervous, he'll know that we're up to something!" One man says to the other.

"We're just going to rob one of his compounds and what damage it will do? he'll only lose a little fortune, he'll forget it in no time.

For a man who persuades another man to commit treason, he's quite convincing.

"What makes you think he'll not suspect us?" The agitated man asks while rubbing his hands together despite the day being warm with a clear blue sky.

"We've been doing business together for years now, he trusts us and in my experience, he'll always pay back no matter how much."

The agitated man is intrigued, "so we're not only getting money from our rob but also getting the money back from him?"

The confident man laughs, "I told you, it's good money and we only need to pull it out once!"

The agitated man who seems to be the one with power is assured that the plan is going to work and trusts his accomplice.

You accidentally drop your book and it hits a potted plant, the two men hear and look around to find the source of the noise.

One of them wipes the glass clean and looks inside, you hurriedly squat down, hiding behind the row of potted plants.

"Are you calm enough now?" The confident man asks.

"I guess, yeah."

"Let's go then!" He says and starts walking toward the mansion.

Without thinking, you sprint out of the greenhouse and into the mansion through the kitchen door. You're going through one room to another to find Joon and tell him about two men conspiring against Jeongin. You must tell him before they come into the house.

You almost bump into the maid and quickly ask her if she sees Joon.

"He's in the office!"

You break into a run to go to the front office to the part of the mansion where Jeongin first took you, this is where he takes care of his business.

"Joon! Joon!" You call even though you're still a meter away from the door of the office.

You open them all at once then close them behind you, you sigh when you see him inside.

"Joon, I have to tell you something, there are..." you pause to catch a breath while clutching your chest.

"It's not a good time!" Joon tells you as he approaches you.

You get to him first and grab him by the elbow, "It's important, I swear!"

Joon looks away to the other side and you follow to where he's looking, the two men are already there, sitting at the long table.

"We have guests," Joon tells you, "but if it's that important, you can tell me!"

You smile at the two men and then look back at Joon, "I'll tell you later!"

He wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

You get out of the office and run to Jeongin's bedroom, it's your last chance to let him know that someone is planning bad to his compound.

You break into his bedroom without knocking and find him tying his tie in front of the full-length mirror, he only looks at you for a second before back looking at his reflection, totally unbothered by the sudden visit you make to his bedroom.

"Haven't you been avoiding me lately?" He says, setting the knot close to his collar.

"Or you've given up already?"

You scoff at his words but for the innocent lives that will be taken in his compound, you're willing to let it slide.

"They're going to rob your compound!" You hurriedly say before forgetting why you came here for.

That catches his intention and he turns around to face you, "who?"

"The two men who just came in today!" You tell him.

"The Park brothers?"

"They're brothers? But they're different"

Jeongin gives you a perplexed look.

"Anyway," You immediately retrace your conversation back to where you started.

"They're going to turn against you!"

Jeongin walks up to the chair and grabs his cufflinks from a velvet box.

"They paid a few men to rob your compound, the one where you produced their order and they will blame it on you so you'll have to pay what you owe them but also get the money from the products they robbed!" You explain as detailed as possible and make it concise due to the limited time you have.

"They're not going to do that," he coyly says and picks up his suit jacket.

"I heard them talking when I was in the greenhouse. Trust me!" You beg, following him to wherever he goes in his bedroom.

He turns around and almost bumps into you, "I've been doing business with them for years and so far, I have no problem with them so why should I trust you whom I have only known for a few months?" He asks.

Is this his way to get back at you for rejecting his marriage proposal because you said you didn't know him well enough to marry him?

"You don't have to trust me then," you say.

Jeongin puts his suit jacket on with his back facing you.

"But you have to know that the lives of the men working in your compound are threatened. Do it so you don't have to regret not trusting me."

But he seems to be unfazed by your words and takes one last look in the mirror.

"Are you done talking?" He asks.

You sigh because he chooses not to trust you and you see him walk to the door.

"Why would I lie to you? What good it would do to me for lying to you?" You shout at him.

But he opens the door and leaves you alone in his room, in his big, spacious, and lonely room.

The fear keeps you awake the whole night.

The fear of the guilt that you will carry your whole life for knowing something evil is going to be done yet you did nothing to stop it.

You tried and you failed.

But the guilt, you believe will keep haunting you.

The mansion is eerily quiet tonight and it only heightens your fear.

Then you hear footsteps in the hallway and you quickly get up from your bed to see who it is. You see Joon opening the door to the front office and getting inside.

You don't care if you're intruding again but you need to know if something happened, good or bad.

"Joon?" You call from the door.

He stops rummaging through the drawer of Jeongin's desk and sighs when he sees you, "Is that what you were going to tell me earlier?"

Your hands are shaking from anxiety, "did something happen?"

"You're the one who told Jeongin that the Shin brothers are conspiring against him?"

You stifle a nod, afraid that it was all just a trap the Shin brothers set up for you and you fell into it.

"What happened? Tell me!" You insist.

He rushes to you and squeezes your shoulder, "thanks to you that everyone in the compound is safe!"

It's like a giant invisible rock has been lifted off of your chest and you can properly breathe for the first time.

"Oh thank God!" Your knees got weak and you hurriedly sit on one of the empty chairs.

"Jeongin ordered a few men to catch the robbers first before they could execute their plan," Joon furtherly explained.

You let out a long breath and recline on your chair, "then what about Jeongin?"

"He's still taking care of it and I'm here to grab the contracts," he briefly shows you the paper he takes from the drawer.

You sigh again.

"Don't worry, he's okay and I have to get back now," he says, putting the contract paper into a briefcase while checking his phone and furiously typing a message on it at the same time.

"You'll be safe in the mansion," he says before leaving.

It's not like you have another choice but to wait until they get back and you hope when they do, they are back safely.

-

It takes them a day to take care of it.

A few years' worth of business is blown by one stupid plan, you can only guess there is a lot of mess to sort.

But only Joon comes back and you don't know why you feel a little disappointed.

Joon is a very observant person, he can see even the faintest of expression change on your face.

"He has a lot of things to handle at the moment," Joon tells you, "he'll be okay."

You look down at your book, "I'm not asking," you say.

"Yeah, but I just want to let you know," he says, saving you from being embarrassed about asking Jeongin.

On the following day, Jeongin is back but he comes home very late at night and you take a peek through the crack between your bedroom doors of him entering his bedroom.

You get back to your bed and have the most restful sleep you've ever gotten in a while.

In the morning as you're having breakfast in your room, Joon comes with a file and a pen, then puts it next to your tray.

"Sign on the highlighted part," he says then put a pen on 

"What is this?" You ask.

You are about to read the content when Joon snatches

snatching it away, "Just sign it, quick, we don't have much time!"

"I can't just sign without knowing what I'm signed up for!" You say with a glare.

"Trust me! I swear it's not something bad but you'll regret not doing it," he says with a smile.

Joon has that sweet smile of a boy and you can't help but smile back at him.

"Trust me, okay? When did I ever lie to you? Never, right?" He assures you.

Joon has been nothing but kind to you and he's indeed honest, maybe for this once you trust me for everything he had done for you.

"Okay," you cave in and uncap the pen to place your autograph where he instructed you.

"There!" You hand him the pen back.

Joon closes the file with a satisfied grin and holds it under his arm, "Congratulations! You officially become the new owner of this painting!"

He signals someone from outside your bedroom and you crane your neck to see them carrying a big painting, it's still wrapped so you can't see which painting he talked about.

Joon gestures for them to step aside, "you want to do the honor?"

"You want me to unwrap—"

He eagerly nods even before you can finish your sentence. You put your napkins away and walk toward the painting, carefully ripping the thin brown wrapper to slowly reveal the painting.

A part is unveiled and you can tell already what painting it is, you gasp with your hands covering your mouth.

"There is no way!" You say in disbelief.

Joon grins seeing your reaction and lets you continue ripping the whole wrapper.

It's the painting you adore so much, The Flower Field by H.

"Oh, this is so beautiful!"

You still can't wrap your head around the fact that it's so beautiful it evokes so many emotions in you, the flowers that are swaying with the gust of wind and the soft pink sky above, at how you want to lay in the flower field. How peaceful that would be!

"You want it hung in your room?" Joon asks.

"Of course!" You answer rather too passionately.

You stand next to Joon as the men start working to hang the painting in place.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's a gift from Jeongin for you," Joon answers.

You snap your head in his direction, "Isn't this too much for a gift?"

As a curator who watched over this painting for a few months, you know how valuable it is and how much it costs. This is not just a gift for you, it's a promising investment.

"Well, you saved everyone in the compound and he believes that alone costs a lot more than this painting," he says.

He leans in close to your ear, "I'm quoting his words, by the way, not mine."

It takes you aback and you feel so warm inside, "but still, I don't feel good for accepting it," you meekly say.

"You already signed the certificate, you can't do anything about it but I suggest, a little thank you will do."

You chuckle, "thank you!"

"I only did the legal stuff, but you're welcome," he replies.

And before he can add anything else, you say, "I will thank him too."

The two of you continue admiring the painting hung on the wall

of your bedroom, it will take you some time to get used to seeing it before bed and as the first thing you see in the morning.

-

Jeongin hates to be compared with other people, especially his father.

His father was his own person and a role model to him, he aspires to be like him. A man with so much charisma and poise, a man that didn't need to explain who he was because everyone already knew.

Jeongin can't duplicate him and he doesn't intend to.

He wants to lead like him but not to copy every move he made.

He wants to be... himself.

"Am I that easy?" Jeongin asks, gripping his crystal glass so hard.

"What do you mean?" Joon asks back.

"Am I that easy for everyone to dare to try and fool me?"

"Hey, no one saw that coming and it's not your fault that they chose to betray," Joon comforts him.

"If anything, they should not mess with us and you show it to them."

Jeongin finishes his liquor and put the glass down on his desk. He fills it with more liquor and one more ice cube, his eyes notice the transfer of ownership paper on the pile on his desk.

"The painting?"

Joon stops flipping the files he is reading, "it's hung in her bedroom."

Jeongin doesn't need to know the rest, knowing that you receive the gift is enough so he drinks the whiskey he pours.

"You should see her face, she likes it so much!" Joon adds.

Jeongin pours another and brings it with him as he looks out the window.

You're swimming at night, that's a first.

He puts his glass down and walks out of his office, taking slow walks until he arrives at the swimming pool. The water appears blue from the lights and your body glides under, seamlessly like you're one with the water.

He silently watches your body swimming back toward the edge and breaking through the water's surface.

There it is, how Aphrodite was born.

He sees how you are slightly surprised to see him there, standing at the edge of the pool.

You slowly climb the steps to get out of the water and Jeongin immediately reaches for the bathrobe lying on the sunchair, he takes it and offers to put it on you.

He promises not to touch you but allows himself to do a little chivalrous thing like this.

"A hot night?" He asks.

"Yeah," you hesitantly answer.

You turn around and slip your hands into the sleeves, finishing it by tying them together.

"Thank you," you mutter to him without looking him in the eyes.

After a few days of rarely seeing each other and you already change again, a little timid but still the same sweet girl.

"Are you going back to your room?"

"Yes."

"Can I walk you there?"

"Sure."

Just another little chivalry, no physical contact, totally safe and not against the rules.

Jeongin only needs to take his mind off things and just quietly walking the hallway with you does work for him.

"I'm glad that you made the right choice and everyone is safe," you suddenly say, breaking the silence.

"It's all thanks to you," he simply states the fact.

"I was just a mere messenger, you were the one who made the decision," you state another fact back at him.

He feels bad for doubting you back then, if you didn't ask him what good it would do for you to lie to him then he would choose not to believe you.

Your obedience still needs some work but you are an honest person and it pours out of you, that's what makes you so fragile.

And in the world he lives in, honesty comes with a price.

"Thanks for walking me back," you say and snapping him out of deep thought.

Does his mansion shrink by its size or the trip from the l swimming pool to your bedroom has always been this short?

He looks at you and the drops of water rolling down your neck, the wet hair stuck to your face.

He fights the urge to not put them away and shoves his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Goodnight!" He mutters.

"Goodnight!" You say back and push open the door.

Jeongin is about to walk to his bedroom when you call his name and come up to him.

"I have something else to say to you," you say and put the hair curtains on your face behind your ear.

"What is it?"

"I want to thank you for the painting," you say with eyes gleaming, something about it that resembles a pool of stars.

"Don't mention it. It's nothing if you compared it with the lives you saved that day," he says, resisting pulling his hands out of his pockets to touch you.

"You know how much I like that painting so I want—"

He cuts you off and he doesn't want to hear you which gives him the impression that the gift is burdening you.

"It's nothing really, you—"

Then you cut him off as well with a kiss, it's a soft peck with your plush lips against his and it makes him feel like he's floating in the air, nothing is going to bring him down.

You let go of the kiss with a shy smile and look down at your feet.

"Thank you and goodnight," you mutter so fast that when his brain finally processed your words, you're already back inside your room.

That isn't a little chivalry yet it's not a violation because he is not the one who initiated it.

But it feels good, isn't it? Breaking the rules.

-

"Where are we going, Joon?"

Joon rushes you to get dressed after breakfast and now, you're on the way to the airfield where a private plane is waiting.

"A business trip," he answers.

"Why am I part of this business trip?" You ask out of curiosity because they've been on so many business trips and why all of a sudden they take you in one.

"He reckons you need some fresh air," he replies.

"Oh?"

So it's Jeongin's idea to take you, not Joon's.

When you meet on the plane and you keep your head down, walk to the seat, pick up your book, and don't try to engage in a conversation with him.

You don't know what led you to kiss him on the lips, you plan on thanking him and that's it. It crossed your mind to kiss him on the cheek at the last minute but by the time of the execution, you didn't know why but your lips found him and kissed.

Now, you have to deal with the consequence of it and it's to always avoid his eyes, trying not to make any eye contact with him.

Joon seems to be oblivious about it though, thank God for that! Jeongin is not a schoolboy who kissed a girl and then told his friend afterward.

He's the leader of the Northside for God's sake, you remind yourself.

He kidnapped you and imprisoned you in his mansion, he'll not let you go unless you agree to marry him. You're supposed to hate him, aren't you?

Once you arrived in your hotel room, Joon takes you to your room and helps you with your bag.

"A hotel suite just for myself?" You ask.

It takes only one look to know that it's bigger than the apartment you once lived in and the ceiling-to-floor window that overlooks the city is so captivating.

Joon takes that as a joke and chuckles, "I'll be back in a few minutes!"

He goes back inside to tell you, "don't try to do anything funny!"

You walk to the liquor cabinet and open it to show mini bottles of all brands of alcohol inside, "you mean I can't get drunk in the middle of the day?"

He chuckles again, "yeah, especially that!"

After Joon leaves, you take time to look around the hotel suite and drag your suitcase to the bedroom, sitting on the bed while touching the fine fabric of the sheet.

You give in to the temptation and lay down on the bed, exhaling a long breath that is long overdue only for the thoughts to go back into your head again.

That Jeongin kidnapped you, took you into his mansion, and locked you up, the only way out is to marry him.

You are supposed to hate him, you said in your head.

You close your eyes and inhale a deep breath, filling your lungs with as much oxygen to let your body relax.

The knocking on the door snaps you awake and you hurriedly open it.

"Are you ready?" Joon asks.

You tip your head to the side, "what?"

"I told you, I'll be back in a few minutes," he says and puts something inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

"But you didn't say we're heading out!"

He grabs your bag from the chair and pulls you along with him, "everything is ready, let's go!"

It feels nice to be out of the mansion for a while and have a little sightseeing as the car ride around the city, but it seems like Joon has one particular place to take you.

Then you see the banner from outside the gallery, it's an exhibition of your favorite painter, the painter H.

"You should have said that you're taking me here, I would have come running to the lobby!" You playfully remark.

Joon lets you walk and look around on your own while he's following you from behind at a safe distance.

Looking at all of the paintings and being surrounded by them transport your back to the days working in the gallery, your routine of making a round before the opening hours with a coffee in your hands and spending time looking at your favorite pieces of art.

You can only dream of going back to those days.

You're so deep in your thought that you didn't notice a man standing next to you.

"It seems like you were deep in it," he says.

You politely smile and glance his way, "Yeah, I was."

He's beautiful, shiny dark hair with a faint mole under his left eye. He's dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans with a flannel shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, he looks a bit older but he wears what a typical art student wore to school.

"What do you think?" He asks.

It's the first time you talk to someone else apart from Jeongin and Joon or anyone working in the mansion. You find it hard to calibrate yourself to society again.

"Mmh?"

"The painting?"

You look back at the painting and try to verbalize your thoughts into words, "I've seen every painting in this exhibition and he used a lot of color blue, but the kind of blue that is so... gloom and cold," you comment.

"Then in each painting, there is an element of red in there, deep red, crimson..." you clasp your hands together in front of you.

"I don't know it's just... that the blue look like the color of a dead body and the red is blood oozing out of a wound," you finish with a small smile.

He nods but not saying anything. Then he lets out a laugh, a laugh that tells so much but nothing at the same time.

You quickly add something to back your previous remark, "It's just so different from the previous collections, they're tender and vivid and lively like forever blossoming flowers."

He turns to you again and praises, "You have good eyes!" praises.

You awkwardly laugh, "I'm a curator."

Then you remember you stopped working one month ago, "I was," you correct.

He looks at you and you feel like you're shrinking in size the longer his gaze lingers on you.

"Do you have a favorite?"

"From his works?"

"Yeah."

"The Flower Field," you answer without a beat.

He nods again and looks straight ahead, "nice."

"I have it hung on my bedroom wall," you brag with a smile and you realize how cheap that is but who else is going to hear you brag about owning his painting? Also, this man knows how to appreciate art and you will never meet him again anyway.

But the answer seems to surprise him that he walks away. Or maybe you shouldn't brag about the painting in the first place.

Joon comes up to you while talking on the phone, "are you done?"

"Yeah, I'm done looking around."

At this point, you stop asking Joon where he'll be taking you next. After a late lunch, he takes you to a boutique and you guess that you'll be dressed for something tonight.

All these times you have someone picked a dress for you and you had no choice but to put it on. Today, you have the perk of choosing the dress and taking the time it needed to try to find the perfect one.

It baffles you how much effort you put into this, but you remind yourself that you're not dressing up for a man, you're dressing up for the enemy.

"I have one more favor!"

"Since when did you ask?" You say with a subtle eye-roll, fiddling with the strap of your purse because you have no idea why you are so nervous.

He scoffs but lets this one slide, "look, it's important that you make the entrance at the right time."

Seeing that Joon's face turns serious, you intently listen to him.

"Now, here's what you have to do," he leans in close and whispers instructions into your ear.

-

Jeongin has lost a few million dollars already.

Poker is never his favorite game to play, but reading their faces is what he's good at.

Except for Mr. Yamada, he's a little tricky. He maintains unwavering eyes and shows the slightest bit of gestures, he hides his cards well. He's an experienced player and has been in the game longer than Jeongin's reigns in the Northside.

That's why he raked over almost a hundred million already.

Jeongin needs a little distraction to penetrate his enemy's mind and try to beat his game.

"Mr. Yang, your bet?" The dealer asks, derailing his train of thought.

"How much?" Jeongin calmly asks.

"1 million, sir!"

Jeongin looks at his cards once again and calculates his odds, he's not going to win with them.

Then the doors to the private casino lounge open and the sounds break the thick, intense silence in the room, all heads turn to see who it is.

Magenta, a color that never comes to his attention until he sees it on you, on a dress that reveals just enough to make everyone coo in awe.

And you make eye contact with him, don't stray for a second until you arrived next to his seat.

Then you lean down and gently, kiss him on the cheek.

It's a part of his plan, a distraction that he needed but he didn't know that he'd be just as distracted.

"I'm sorry for coming late," you softly speak then places a hand on his shoulder.

You look at everyone around the table and then back at him, "Good luck, darling!" You sweetly say.

Jeongin takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles before letting you go.

"Sir?" The dealer asks him again.

"Sorry, yeah, one million, isn't it?" Jeongin intentionally stammering his words.

He throws the chip to the middle of the table and when it's time to reveal the cards, he loses another game.

But this will be the last because now he knows how to outsmart Mr. Yamada's slick poker face.

Sometimes, in gambling, you don't need to play smart or dependent on your luck or pull an intricate trick, sometimes you just have to follow your guts.

That's what Mr. Yamada doesn't have.

He's old, he runs out of a sense of recklessness and that impulsiveness, so he plays safe.

Good thing Jeongin doesn't want to play safe, he pushes all of his chips to the center of the table.

"All in!" He coyly says that those chips don't worth more than ten million dollars.

After a moment, he finally comes to a decision.

"All in!" He calls Jeongin's bluff.

There's a total of roughly fifty million on the table and all the eyes are on him, waiting in anticipation.

"It's time to show your cards, Mr. Yamada!" The dealer points at him to open his cards first.

He slides the cards on the table and flips them open at once, he lets out a snarl for getting a straight.

Everyone gasped in surprise, probably pitying Jeongin who may lose all of his money.

Jeongin's face drops a little but it's time to show his cards, he slides them to the dealer which he takes then turns them over.

"Straight flush!" The dealer announces.

That's when Jeongin finally let out his triumphant smile, victory is sweet but seeing his opponent's losing face is even sweeter.

"Mr. Yang wins!" And the dealer rakes every chip from the table to Jeongin's side.

Jeongin flicks one chip worth a thousand for the dealer as a tip and gets up to grab a drink for himself. Or that was his plan until he sees you standing with Joon from across the room.

His secret weapon, a distraction that got him distracted as well and almost derailed him from his plan.

"Good game!" Joon beams at him with an exciting laugh but he soon understands that he's only getting in the way when he notices that Jeongin's eyes are on you, "I'll get you a drink!" He says, then leaves him with you.

You sip your champagne and smile, "Congratulations!"

"I should thank you for that good luck kiss," he calmly says and grabs a glass of champagne from a server, he gulps it down in one go.

"I'm glad that worked," you say and finish your glass.

Tonight, he meets the feisty you that he rarely meets.

He puts his hand against the table to block you from leaving, "I wonder what kind of luck I would get if I got more than just a kiss on the cheek," he says

You crack a laugh, "it's ironic because you need the luck to get more than that," you say, boldly looking back into his eyes.

But Jeongin's eyes are focusing on those lips, lips that he kissed and vividly remembers how it tastes.

He takes a step forward but maintains a little space in between, "I—"

Someone comes from behind him and taps him on the shoulder. It's Mr. Yamada and he comes to congratulate him.

"Brilliant game, Mr. Yang!"

Jeongin lets you go and takes Mr. Yamada's kind offer for a handshake, "you almost had me there!"

The old man chuckles then shift his to you, "and this lady had me!"

You let out a polite smile, "oh? Me?"

"I don't have to tell you how beautiful you are! Everyone here is captivated by you!" He compliments with a charming smile for a man with salt and pepper hair.

"Oh, thank you!" You respond with another courteous smile.

He offers his hand at you, "would you have a dance with me?"

"Certainly!" Your answer and for a second forget that Jeongin is there with you.

Mr. Yamada sees the glance you throw at him, "Mr. Yang, you don't mind me borrowing your fine lady for a dance, right?"

Jeongin fixes his bowtie and smiles, "Not at all!"

He shouldn't be worried about you having a dance with an old man, he's not that petty. He earned millions of dollars tonight, he should be happy with it.

But seeing you having a great time and waltzing around the place, he agrees that Mr. Yamada is a pleasant man to be with.

He can be one too if he wanted.

"Your drink!" Joon comes with his third glass of drink and he's getting just as agitated with Jeongin throwing icy glares at Mr. Yamada.

"Poor old man just wants a dance," Joon comforts him.

Jeongin scoffs but not answering.

"Go get your turn then if you're so annoyed," Joon says and pushes him toward the dancing floor that Jeongin almost sloshes his drink onto his tuxedo.

Lucky that he knows Joon since they were little or else, he would have his men teach him a lesson. He throws a dagger through his gaze at Joon but he can only laugh at him in return.

And the sound of your laugh is getting louder now, he hates that he isn't the one that can make you laugh that loud.

He stomps his way to Mr. Yamada and taps his shoulder, "I think it's my turn now," he says straightforwardly.

Mr. Yamada laughs at him then at you, "someone is impatient!"

You notice how his jaws clenched and hurriedly let go of Mr. Yamada's holds on you, "I had a great time, thank you!"

"Likewise!" He says to you and kisses your hand before parting.

Yet Jeongin just stands there and looks at you.

"Aren't we going to dance?" You ask.

Jeongin immediately takes your hand and starts dancing with you by placing the other hand on your waist. Takes him a moment to adjust his body for a dance or he is just nervous but doesn't want to show it.

"Does winning millions of dollars not enough for you?" You say with your cheek barely touching his.

"Why should I win you? You're already mine!" He simply states a fact.

"Men and their obsession with possessions!" You say with cute but condescending low chuckles.

Your warm breath brushes his cheek and reminds him of the kiss you placed earlier, as light as a feather yet so addictive.

"Did you forget that your only way out is to legally become mine?"

The smug on your face fades a little, "Thanks, I really do need the reminder!"

Jeongin doesn't mean to turn the mood sour, something in you that makes him get easily provoked. While all he wants is to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you are and how much he wants to touch you.

But in order to do that, he has to earn your permission first.

"You're—"

"It's getting boring," you abruptly stop dancing and let go of him altogether, "I want to go home!"

Jeongin yet again rubs you the wrong way.

He hasn't yet to find any ways to handle you with care when you're like this. You walk so fast in front of him, and can't wait to get in the car and go home.

"You did it again!" Joon grumbles at him while also walking fast to catch up with his pace.

Jeongin can't defend himself, because he did blow his chance.

"Slow down! The cars are not here yet!" Joon shouts at you, giving up chasing after you, and goes to the valet service.

He knows he shouldn't go near you, it will only piss you off more but seeing you rubbing your hands up and down your arms, he comes to offer his suit jacket.

Something stops him on his track.

An inkling, a gut feeling.

Maybe it's an instinct or maybe he's been in the same situation one too many times.

He can feel that something is not right, he is almost certain that something bad is going to happen soon. He looks around the place and scans through a group of people crowding the entrance of the casino.

There, he sees it, a man pulling out a gun from the inside of his jacket.

Without thinking, he dashes toward you and throws himself at you, shielding you from whatever comes your way.

Then...

BANG!

There are screams and shouts, people scramble to safety.

But all he sees is you, the terror in your eyes with your hands clutching onto the front of his shirt.

He wraps his body around you and says, "I'm right here, you're—"

But before he can finish his words of comfort, there comes another one.

BANG!

-

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[ralexsol]

hey guys, it’s your new regularly scheduled prime defenders analysis post!! today we’re talking about mainly depowering! might do another post about the whole william section later cause that shit’s super interesting, but for now, we talkin’ POLITICS!

if you haven’t read my previous post on all this, i suggest you read it! i addressed basically everything about the whole villain/prison/depowering/whatever situation in the og post and then in the following reblogs.

TL;DR? death penalty should be option for big villains with the alternative being depowering, depowering or a prison sentence for lesser ones, and the only reason the watch isn’t doing the death penalty right now is because they’re so proud of the fact that they don’t stoop to the level of villains.

now, you can probably guess how excited i got when the pd were asking wordsmith about depowering in this episode! i was shaking in my seat, just waiting for somebody to say, “...but why did tide get depowered??” unfortunately, wordsmith wouldn’t specify the “principles of watch”, so we don’t exactly know what rules tide could’ve possibly broken.

in any case, i was so relieved to hear that you have to sign something when you become a hero that says if they’re allowed to depower you! im sure you’re allowed to say no, though! i mean, just because you don’t want alterations made to your body doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to save people, right?

...right???

honestly, wordsmith was so fucking vague i dont even know half of what’s going on with that. i think it’s kinda fucked up that the pd all don’t know if they signed the paper??? like, did the heroes just slip it in with a bunch of other paperwork and say like, “oh yeah, just sign this, it’s nothing”, like real world bosses do to employees? if they’re signing this shit, they should know it. it should be the biggest deal ever.

also, if they dont allow you to be a superhero without signing it... they’re really stupid lmaoooo. like. that’s not going to stop them from becoming a vigilante. if they want to use their powers for good you should fucking let them.

if heroes break the “principles of watch”, im assuming that would entail breaking the law, which would make them villains - which means they should be treated as such. there shouldn’t be a separate punishment for heroes from villains.

if breaking the principles of watch doesn’t entail breaking the actual law, there’s no way in fucking HELL they should be allowed to depower any heroes. and in every case, i HIGHLY doubt tide broke any rules.

depowering should not be for the heroes who are risking their lives to protect everyone. if a hero turns, they are no longer a hero - they’re a villain. it’s almost like the heroes are afraid to say that, because if one of their own can turn... then any one of the ones that are left could do the same. and if we’ve learned anything about the watch, it’s that they think they could never be as bad as villains.

i am glad to hear that they dont depower people if it means killing them, though. WHEW. was very worried for dakota and william (i talked about that possibility in this follow-up post, which was also about depowering). slightly worried about the story wordsmith told about bees boy? maybe i need to rewatch the episode, but i felt like he didn’t even finish the story?? like what the fuck did the watch do with him??? i remember him saying something about “dampening” bees boy’s powers, but like... what did they do after that? keep him locked up forever?

all in all, fuck wordsmith. bro can’t tell anything straight for his life. so not useful for my analysis posts. god.

[pricklynoodle]

real or not real

Itadori Yuji/Fushiguro Megumi pairing | Squid Game AU | Rated T | warning: implied character death | ANGST

( yes, writing instead of doing school lol, squid game ruined me so if you want to read this then be warned of SQUID GAME SPOILERS. There's no graphic death, but its sad as hell either way TT)

---

“The player who takes all ten marbles from your partner wins.”

Megumi had always kept to himself, never saying anything unless spoken to, never stuck to groups, and never took the choice to attach himself to something. Everything had an expiration date. Unnecessary things like friendships had never appealed to him. He only needed his sister, and it wasn’t like she had the choice to have him as her brother. But the fact that she still stuck around caring for him until she worked herself to a coma.

So honestly, it’s a surprise why he feels his heart drop when the announcement tells him he has to go against … whatever 310 is to him.

He hardly knows 310, and doesn't know anything about his life actually. Other than that he’s crazy strong, has an impressive pain tolerance, but also the loudest kid he’s ever met. He's always around him, sticking to Megumi like a persistent piece of gum stuck to his shoe. But he doesn't dislike him, but he can't say he's thrilled with him either.

But would Megumi kill him?

Stupid, he tells himself.

“Oh, fuck, I honestly didn’t see that coming,” 310 says with a grimace, looking at Megumi guiltily as if he was the cause of Megumi’s inner turmoil. He sits down on one of the stone benches. The whole setup was supposed to mimic a typical neighborhood, something Megumi wasn’t fortunate enough to grow up in. The bastards even made the effort to add in the sounds of cicadas from the fake trees, as if this was a completely normal summer for a couple of teens.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, he feels dizzy. He drops down to the bench, away from 310 as possible.

“I’ve always wanted to say this,” 310 says as he rests his elbows on his knees, looking at Megumi seriously, “This whole thing reminds me of Hunger Games.”

Megumi looks at him with furrowed brows.

“You know, Jennifer Lawrence?” 310 pushes. Megumi says nothing. “...Tall girl, big ass? The one with the arrows?”

“Can you shut the fuck up,” Megumi deadpans, then he shakes his head. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He counts to ten, then glances down at his hand. 10 marbles. “Just tell me how to play this game.”

“I don’t know either,” 310 admits, sounding sheepish. He shrugs carelessly, “This is more of the games my gramps used to play, but he was too busy being sick to teach me though.”

Megumi looks up at 310. He looks tired, but nostalgic. Like he was thinking of a good memory.

310 perks up, grinning at Megumi brightly, “though they said that we can make our own rules. I’ll think of something.”

Megumi nods solemnly. The silence stretches until 310 lets out an ‘aha!’.

“Let’s bet everything and just play one around,” 310 says, even dropping his fist down onto his hand as if it were the best idea ever.

Megumi freezes, staring at 310, was he going to trick him? He doesn’t even know him. They’re not friends. Of course, everything still is a death tournament at the end of the day.

310 seems to pick up Megumi’s reluctance, he jerks his head to the side. He points towards the pair of men competing against each other, looking frantic and panicked.Their faces are sheened with sweat, t-shirts drenched in sweat. It’s… it’s a pathetic sight.

“Fine,” Megumi relents. “What are we playing?”

“Calm down,” 310 chuckles, “are you that excited to kill me?”

Megumi stays quiet.

“We have a lot of time left,” 310 says breezily, pointing towards the timer mounted on the wall. “Let’s do it at the last minute.”

“What do you suggest we do till then?” Megumi asks with a scowl. “Sit nice and pretty, twiddle our thumbs and shove these marbles up our asses?”

“Jesus, man,” 310 laughs, “no just… talk.”

“Talk,” Megumi repeats.

“Talk,” 310 smiles, looking down at his hands. Megumi looks at them too. He remembers the hard calluses on them, when they shook hands. They’re thick and sturdy, and hold a lot of power. He really could have killed Megumi before, just wrap his hands around his neck and it’s all over.

Megumi also shakes away the filthy thoughts of what else those hands could do. Get a grip, Fushiguro.

“Things we couldn’t tell other people,” 310 says, smiling wistfully. “One of us is going to die here anyways.”

Megumi swallows the lump in his throat.

310 smiles wider. He’s always smiling, Megumi notes.

“There’s no reason to feel embarrassed if that’s the case,” 310 tells him, “I promise I won’t laugh when you blush like a tomato.”

“I don’t,” Megumi denies, but he can feel the heat already rising up to his cheeks.

“You do,” 310 says, “but I think it’s cute.”

Cute.

“So, uh, you have someone back home then?” 310 asks.

“Yeah,” Megumi says.

“...like a girlfriend or something?”

“Sister,” Megumi says quickly, “no...never a girlfriend. Impossible for me.”

“Ah, okay,” 310 says, nodding. “Just your sister?”

“I had a dad, but he … never came back.” Megumi confesses, “he was a shitty dad. He was never really home, but he gave us shelter and food. He had a bad temper, but he never hit us. He never liked to be around me especially. I … used to think he hated me.”

“What changed?” 310 asked.

“I… I became him. I understand why he did what he did,” Megumi says, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. “Doing dirty jobs, stealing, never at home. Hiding from danger. Hiding us from danger. Protection.”

310 nodded, he slid closer to Megumi. Thighs brushing. Silence continues.

“He came here,” Megumi says, looking up at the ceiling. It’s painted a pink-orange gradient, like a sunset. “I found half of that business card in one of his jackets. The last two digits were cut off. I dialed every possible number until I got here.”

“For what?” 310 asks.

“Find him,” Megumi says, “punch him. I would have killed him, I think, if I found out that he left us to rot. Then steal all his money to pay for my sister’s medical bills.”

“Oh, she’s sick?”

“Coma,” Megumi clarifies. “Some rich bastard from work hit her on her way home. He got off easy because of money.”

“I see,” 310 says, clenching his fists. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” Megumi says gruffly.

“You’re still getting money though,” 310 says. He doesn’t say but you don’t get your dad back. “What would you do with it?”

Megumi doesn’t even hesitate, “pay for my sister’s medical bills. Buy a nice house for us to live in. A car, if I can.”

“If you can?” 310 says, “where would you drive your car?”

“school,” Megumi says simply. “I would use my car to drive to school.”

310 blinks. “You know, you can do much more with that 40 billion. You really don’t want anything else? Don’t have a destination?”

“I’d go to Sendai.”

“Wh—Sendai? I’m from Sendai. Are you kidding me? Are you going to drive there with a shiny new Toyota Yaris?”

Megumi blushes furiously, “enough about me, ugh, it’s your turn anyways.”

310 shakes his head, but he’s giggling like a schoolgirl. “You really have to think bigger. Have you ever been to the beach?”

“No,” Megumi says.

“You should, one that’s got nice soft sand and blue water. With palm trees too. And you should get piña coladas.”

“What?”

“C’mon man, you don’t get to be frugal with 40 billion. I’ll teach you how to splurge once we get out—”

Ah.

“Right,” 310 breathes out, laughing to himself all silly. “Only one of us leaves.”

Megumi grunts.

Silence.

“...Ever seen a dead body?” 310 asks.

“...I’ve been answering all these questions. You haven’t answered at all,” Megumi points out, feeling far too exposed for running his mouth.

“Ah you’re right! Uh, I don’t have anyone.”

“But your grandfather—”

“He’s dead. For a while now. My mom and dad. Also dead. My brother is on the run. He’s, uh, killed a lot of people. He got the death penalty, so yeah, haven’t really seen him around.”

Megumi looks at him.

“I don’t think he counts,” 310 says, scratching his face. Megumi realizes the scars on his face aren’t from the previous games. They looked healed, puckered and faded from time.“He looks a lot like me, though. A lot of people can’t tell us apart. He hated that. He’s only a bit taller than me, and he loves to brag about it. He has a huge ego.”

“I see.”

“Yeah,” 310 says, but he doesn’t look awkward about it. Just mildly inconvenienced. “Oh, have we really been talking for that long?”

Megumi looks at the time. They have less than 2 minutes.

310 stands up, swiping the dirt off his pants. He pats around for his marbles. “Okay, so you see that wall over there?”

Megumi nods mutely. It’s quite far, maybe around 2 meters.

“Okay, we throw one marble, and the one closest to the wall wins, okay?”

“Okay.” Megumi nods, easy enough.

“Okay, you go first.”

Megumi scowls.

“added rule, we do it together,” he says, jaw clenched.

“Eh?” 310 looks at him, confused.

“I’ve been doing things first, so it seems rather fair if we do it at the same time, with our best effort, okay? I have the blue marble, you get the red one.”

“... okay.”

“Don’t give me a weak ass toss, alright, that doesn’t count,” Megumi says gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him. “Do your best.”

310 nods, giving him a thumbs up. “Okay!”

“On three,” Megumi says.

“Okay!”

“Three.”

“Two,” 310 continues, positioning his arm.

“One,” Megumi does the same.

They both throw their marbles. Megumi’s heart leaps out of its chest as he watches his marble in the air.

Clack!

Clack!

Clack!

Megumi looks down on the marble that lands right next to his shoe.

It’s red.

“Ahh, shoot, I threw it too hard,” 310 says with a pout.

Megumi sees red.

He shoves 310 against the wall. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Whoa! No, you won f-fair and square, man,” 310 stutters. “I did my best shot, like you said!”

“Any idiot would know that shit would bounce right back if you threw it like that!”

310 laughs, “I must be some one of a kind idiot, then.”

Megumi shoves him further into the wall. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You can’t kill me if I’m gonna be dead anyways.”

“THEN I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU DIE.”

“See, that doesn’t really make sense—”

“Shut the fuck up! Why did you do that?!”

310 slumps against the wall, body lax. Not looking at him.

“Answer me!”

“You… you have a lot more to live for than me,” 310 says quietly. He looks up at Megumi, tears in his eyes, “what kind of asshole would I be to deny you for a life?”

“You have a life!” Megumi snaps.

“I don’t, not anymore,” 310 sobs, a wobbly smile on his face. “Before my grandfather died, he told me that I should help others. That when it was my time to go, I would die surrounded by others and not end up like him.

“I should use my strength to help others, that’s what I’ve been doing here. Out there, no one wants me to help them. No one wants the face of a killer to help them. No one wants me to be around them. I can’t go to places, I’ve… I’ve always hated what Sukuna did to me. Made me carry his sins, his crimes. The way people looked at me as if I was him. I can’t move forward, not like you.

“I… I never went to school either, y’know. Or I never graduated. When Sukuna became a wanted man, I became a target. I stayed in my room. The doors were locked. The curtains were always down. It was like this for years. I received no support. The only way I could get by was doing interviews with journalists, feeding the narrative. Making people hate Sukuna more, making them hate me more. That’s no way to live.”

Megumi felt the back of his eyes burn, his teeth aching from being clenched too tight.

“Even if...I had the money. I can’t erase what my brother did. I can’t erase my existence in the world. I would just keep doing the same thing everyday. I don’t… I don’t want a bigger house, not when it’s just me who lives there.”

“You and I are not so different,” he says, looking up at Megumi.. “I think that’s why… I want you to win. You get to experience all these normal things, and feel… happy. You have a chance.”

Megumi wipes his eyes harshly, “Shit.”

“That’s true.”

“... What’s your name?” Megumi asks.

“Itadori Yuji,” 310—no, Yuji says. “My name is Itadori Yuji.”

Megumi takes a shaky breath, he raises his hand for him. “Fushiguro Megumi.”

Yuji grins, he clasps his hand onto Megumi’s. “That means blessing, right?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“I’m glad then, Megumi. That I’m friends with you even through this hell. That itself is a blessing in a disguise.”

“Shut up,” Megumi punches his shoulder.

A guard suddenly arrives, carrying a gun in his hand. Waiting.

Yuji looks behind Megumi’s head. “Ah, I wish we had more time.”

Megumi bites his lip. “I wish I’d… met you sooner. I don't know anything about you.”

Yuji jaw drops, “Okay, I’ll … summarize this in ten seconds! I’m twenty-years-old, my favorite color is green, my favorite manga is Bleach, my type is tall people with big butts! Uhh, I really like watching action films—”

“Not … whatever, nevermind,” Megumi says softly as he listens to Yuji ramble on about himself.

Yuji pauses from his ramble looking winded, “uhm, Fushiguro, can I hug you?”

Megumi freezes.

“I just haven’t had a hug in a long time—” Yuji trails off before he gets cut off with Fushiguro hugging him desperately, clinging to him.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

“...Hey, Fushiguro Megumi, live a long life, okay?”

Megumi lets go.

He turns around.

Eyes burning as he stares unblinking down the path. Footsteps. Silence. Breathing. He feels something salty on his lips when he licks them. It's not sweat.

He... he got attached. He stares forward, he doesn't regret it. Not at all. He got to know Yuji Itadori, the real him, and the pain in his heart is the best he can give back. A reminder that he was more than what people saw him. Yuji Itadori didn't deserve what the world gave him, they did not deserve his cries. The fact that... no one would shed a tear for him.

...Ah.

Megumi notices the dark wet spots on the dirt.

“Thanks for playing with me.”