#look schools typically have forms and a place to put your name and they typically dont raise money with out one

[medicaltechnician]

a kid just came up to my door and asked for money that their school is raising mons for a field trip, which is chill, could it of been a scam? maybe? do i care? no. i just need to get this thought out or else i’m gonna think circles around it forever no matter how much I don’t care.

brains are stupid what can I say

[urfavlarry]

i love your sbg content!!!! if you’d like, could i request some ben and tyler hcs (separate) of the reader helping them calm down when they’re pissed at something? im a sucker when angry characters are soft for only certain people. bonus points for gentle hugs and kisses

Tyler & Ben (seperate) x gn!reader

summary: reader helps them calm down after they got pissed off because someone talked shit about reader behind readers back

warnings: swearing, bad grammar, violence, mentions of bl00d

A/N: hope this makes sense i wrote this at 1am so sorry if its shitty😭

Tyler Hernández

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School fights. Typical American high school movie type of shit, but today just had to be one of those days where it happened. You were walking to the front gate of the school when a crowd started to form and a series of ‘oohs’ and cheers were heard. It wouldn’t have interested you if you hadn’t caught your boyfriends name in that crowd. You run over and push through the people and see your boyfriend fighting your friend. You and some other person pull them away from each other, both of them beat up, well the other person a bit more. You pull Tyler by the arm and you hear curses aimed at you and Tyler; “Pussy!” “Booo!” You ignore them and hold Tylers hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. You walk in silence, only Tylers huffing and heavy breathing being heard. He was looking anywhere but you, too angry to even speak.

You unlock your house and drag him to the bathroom upstairs. You sit him down on the edge of the bath tub and you crouch and open the cabinet, taking out the first aid kit. You glance over at him, his leg bouncing like it was running on electricity. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask softly as you start your clean the blood from his nose and lip, making him hiss in pain. He stays silent for a while as if he was thinking or trying to find the right words to explain the situation.

You wait patiently for him to sort it out in his head and play with his hair while sitting in his lap, softly kissing the spots that were bruised. He pulls you closer and hugs you, his face buried in your chest, mumbling swears and incoherent sentences. You rub his back and hum, knowing that mostly calms him down. He looks up at you, his gaze softening. “You ready to tell me what happened baby?” He nods and you smile, kissing his forehead. He looks away and speaks in a hushed tone; “They were.. spreading shitty things about you, so I defended you.” He says and frowns, looking guilty. “But they fucking deserved it fucking hijo de puta—” You kiss his lips to stop his rambling and his shoulders relax, kissing you back. You smile into the kiss as his hands wander down to your waist, squeezing it gently. You pull away, putting your forehead against his; “Ty, I’m glad you protected me but you don’t need to beat people up for it.” He huffs, quickly snapping back; “But—” You place your finger on his soft lips, shushing him; “No buts, you shouldn’t fight people, I don’t like seeing you hurt.” He cups your cheek and smirks up at you.

“I’d kill for you princesa.” He looks at you lovingly and pulls you into another passionate kiss.

Ben Clark

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You and the group were aware of Bens “anger issues” ever since the day you saw Logan getting bullies by Barron. You were well aware of how things like bullying triggered him so you tried to keep him away from things like that along with Aiden, who was always there to calm him down. Today Aiden wasn’t there, leaving you to deal with an angry Ben. Not that you minded but you never really calmed him down. You pull him away quickly from the fight, making him thrash around and he hits you right in the nose. You hiss in pain but drag him to the schools ‘abandoned’ bathroom. You take out some bandages and tampons, wrapping his bleeding knuckles with the bandages and clean off the blood from his lip with the tampon. He huffs, breathing heavily and his legs tremble. You finish cleaning him and gently pull him into a hug, playing with his hair. He breathes in your scent and seemingly relaxes wrapping his arms around your stomach, pulling you into his lap.

You sat there for a bit, humming the tune of his favorite song and pull away, kissing his cheek, forehead and finally his soft lips. You intended it to be a quick peck on the lips but he pulled you right back, kissing you with a bit more force. You pull away for breath and he hides his face in the crook of your neck. The bells rings but you guys stay seated on the floor of the bathroom. “Can you tell me what happened my love?” You say softly and kiss his cheek. He carefully take put his phone his head still rested against your chest, typing something on his phone.He hands you the phone after he finishes and you read it, making sure to not leave out even a single detail. “Your new friend the one you met in your volleyball class, she was saying some mean shit about you and I just snapped.”

You nod and lift his head up to look at you; “I’m really glad you stood up for me but you know you shouldn’t beat people up. I know it’s harder for you and I promise to help you through it okay?” You say with a smile and kiss his nose. You rub his back soothingly and he just fiddles with his fingers, obviously nervous. You grab his hands and kiss his knuckles, making him smile and you notice just the slightest hint of blush on his cheeks. You guys talk for the rest of the class you skipped in the bathroom and after the last bell rang you went home. You board the bus and sit down next to him and let him sleep for the rest of the bus ride. You both shared headphones and listened to your shared playlist that slowly lulled you to sleep.

[just-a-jock]

Get Digitized

Josh is your typical college kid maybe even a little nerdier. He majored in video game development and is a part of the gaming club at school he really didn’t take part in any social life. He was very average-looking, not too skinny but not too fat. Of course, he has some pudge around him One day while waking to his character design class he noticed a new flyer on the bulletin board

“Love video games? Want to earn cash? Come join our trail of Beta testers”

Josh loved the idea as he continued reading. It did pay pretty well and would provide all accommodations during the duration of the trial. He decides to take the pamphlet and heads to his apartment pondering if he is going to do it or not.

The next day Josh ends up driving to the address. Some big office parks with multiple buildings. “WAG” said the sign out front. He remembered seeing this developer when taking his Indie gaming class last semester. “We Are Gaming” is what the company was called and they specialized in virtual reality games and development. Josh was excited to see what project he would be helping in.

As he walked into the building he went to the front desk.

“Hello I’m here to be a part of the beta testing program,” Josh asked the receptionist

“Hello, please fill out the form on the iPad and one of our specialists will assist you momentarily”

Josh grabbed the iPad and started to fill out the questionnaire. It had all the reasonable questions you might think Until he got to the end

“What the fuck” Josh winced as the questions got more personal. Cock size, sexuality, perceived popularity. Josh decided to answer as he didn’t want to get disqualified and entered the form. Not that long after a man in what seemed like a doctor's uniform comes out from a secure door

“Hello, you must be Josh. My name is Doctor Houston. I’m the head of the VR department. Please follow me” Houston had a very stern voice with a seriousness that he did not want to mess around.

As he started to follow Dr.Houston Josh asked questions “Wow so you have a Ph.D. in gaming or computer science?”

Dr. Houston chuckled before answering “No, I have a MD in Internal medicine. WRG hired me to head the VR department as they want to see the reactions the body takes to long-term virtual reality gaming… and here we are” He finished saying as he opened a room to some sort of laboratory containing a monitor, sleek white gaming equipment and some sport of large computer. On the other side a window looking into what seemed to be a control room

As Josh walks in he hears a door close and lock

“Hey, what’s going on” he screams while banging at the door. After a moment he notices dr Houston walk into the control room across the room and sit down at a desk facing the main room.

Over the speaker “Dear Josh, I will be monitoring your experience from over here. Please strap onto the center platform near the screen so we can start”

Josh felt like this program was more of a medical drug trial and video game testing but decided to continue with what the doctor said anyway. As he walked up to the platform he put his two feet on the conveniently designated spots and looked at the screen as it turned on.

“Welcome player to your new life”

wait new life what did it mean by that. Before Josh could react clamps came out of the ground and attached to his feet holding him in place

“Hey what’s the meaning of this” he screamed

“Please stay calm as we proceed,” the doctor said over the speaker

Large laser pointers came from the side of the computer. “Beginning digitization” the computer screen announced

“Wait what?? What’s happening”

Slowly two beams from the computer started to travel up his body as everything it touched slowly disintegrated

“AHHHHH FUCK IT BURNS STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE” Josh pleated to the computer and the doctor or anyone that would notice

As the computer continued up his body in a burning pain he noticed on the screen a complete 1 to 1 replica of himself….. wait no not a replica that was him…

The computer finally made it up to his head as he pleaded one last time “PLEASE I DON'T WAN…..” He was caught off as his head was completely overwhelmed by the lights

Suddenly Josh regained consciousness but now he is in some white room with nothing around. He then hears a noise

“Customization available……. Character template chooses… JOCK…….. PROCEEDING MODIFICATIONS”

“What is happening stop this” Josh screamed but no one was around to hear him as his clothes completely vanished out of nowhere.

Slowly his body started to change to correspond to the data inside the computer

First Josh's feet grew from his regular size 9s to a huge size 14 which would be making noise anytime he walked anywhere. As the changes traveled upwards his calfs and leg muscles grew. His thighs ended up looking like watermelons and could easily break one if he wanted to between the two.

“Oh fuckkkkkkkkkk” Josh moaned as the changes continued

His cock and balls were next to change as his penis started to pull outwards slowly inching from a 6….7….8…….9……10 and finally ending at a huge size 11 which would make anyone fucked with It limp for days. His ball felt sore as they grew to baseballs filled with cum ready to fill and breed. The last touch to his groin area was the re-growth of his foreskin and ended with a continues leaky cock.

The changes moved to his torso as his abs started to chisel themselves one by one making a road all the way to the growing mountains that were his pecs. His chest looked like it was being inflated and his pecs were the Mount Everest of the range with a pointed nipple which faced downwards due to the muscle growth onto of his pecs.

“Ughh please make it stop…” Josh moaned as the changes continued

Next, his arms grew with his biceps growing to the size of footballs and his hands matching to be able to palm and grab any ball he wanted. The next set of changes started to settle in as hair started to grow across his body. His armpits started to burst out with hairs so thick that even when he put his arms down they would spew from the sizes. Next hair started to travel across his chest and legs thinking and giving him a nice rug that accentuated his already defined muscles. Lastly, but most importantly his bush started to grow more and more from his groin. Anytime of pants or underwear won’t be able to cover the spillage that will be coming over the top of them.

Josh was in a dazed state as the changes started to subside and finish up. He didn’t know how to feel…. Horny? Confused? Scared? Everything seemed so different as he started to hear the voice again.

“MODIFICATIONS COMPLETE….. STANDARD JOCK REGISTERED…… NAME: CHRIS HERNANDEZ… REGISTERED”

Wait that wasn’t his name why would it say that was someone entering all of this

“GAME WILL BEGIN MOMENTARILY… PLEASE HOLD”

Soon everything went black and it felt like Josh fell asleep.

“Oh god…. where am I” Josh woke up in what seemed to be a house much different to his one. It felt almost generated. Against his will, Josh got up from his bed and started to move to the kitchen where his body made a protein-heavy breakfast.

“Omg stop why can’t I control my body what is happening,” Josh thought in his mind completely scared of what was going on. Unbeknownst to him outside the computer his body was being fully controlled by someone on the outside.

After eating the breakfast his body immediately got up and started to walk to a new room filled with gym equipment. “Oh god no,” Josh thought.. His body started to go through an intensive workout against his will.

by the end of it he was completely exhausted with the last bits of energy he had he was able to take control for a moment and scream out

“HELP IM STUCK” . . .

“Um Doctor, there seems to be an issue,” the voice said

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The character said something weird… “Help, Im stuck” in like screaming pattern” he responded

“Ahh that’s strange don’t worry about that. We can fix that in the next patch. Might just be grabbing from some unused text files. Thank you for pointing it out” The doctor replied as he walked away taking notes and smirking

Josh was now completely trapped inside WRG new game “US” a life simulation game where gamers can be anyone their dreams can be. Unluckily for Josh, he was stuck being the complete opposite of his original self. Now is a template of a stereotypical jock for those who are too lazy to create their own characters in the game.

.

.

I hope you all enjoy. This was a story swap with @axeegliter. Check out their story and blog!

[warping-realities]

Dalton Academy - Power Hungry

“Let me see if I understood correctly. A fancy school is offering me a scholarship for my senior year for no apparent reason, just like that?”

Michael asked with an expression divided in equal parts of disbelief at the proposal and disgust at the male figure sitting in front of him in the modest but comfortable living room of his family. The surprise was genuine, as well as the disgust, although there was no concrete reason for the second, after all the blond, muscular and well-dressed young man in front of him had not treated him with anything other than respect and politeness. But that air of arrogance, of knowing the world was there to serve him, was for Michael the essence of white privilege, and therefore the antipathy was... inevitable.

"I wouldn't define Dalton Academy as just a 'fancy school,' Mr Jones, nor would the invitation be a no-brainer. Dalton is an extremely exclusive school and all students are handpicked, the school board makes no mistakes, accepts only senior high school boys and the only ways to get in is if you are a legacy like me or by invitation like you, if you accept of course. So sorry, but if you are among this year's choices it's because someone saw something of value in you.

Conclued the boy, and Michael couldn't help feeling that the boy himself, Chadwick Wentworth Hartfield IV, was not among those who had seen that value in Michael. Asshole. But if that typical Chad thought Michael was going to lick his feet just because of his last name and an invitation to a prestigious school, he would discover that he was dealing with a personality that was pure steel. He would obviously accept the proposal, studying in a place like Dalton would be extremely beneficial for his studies and his academic future. Even if for that he needed to put up with figures like the one that was placed in front of him at that moment.

"May I ask why the school sent a student who hasn't even started the year to talk to me, instead of a teacher or an alumnus?"

" The council asked me to come to your house as they believe that our proximity in age will facilitate your adaptation to The school. And why I was chosen has to do with what I told you before, I am a legacy, my father studied in Dalton, in fact all my male ancestors have studied there since the opening of the school at the end of the 19th century. You could say that Dalton is part of my heritage. A heritage that I am willing to share with you Mr. Jones. Dalton formed some of the most impressive personalities in our history, future politicians, athletes, renowned artists... and contrary to what my last name might make it seem, the school is very eclectic, the choices are not based on finances but on what Dalton has to offer to the best candidates and how they will reciprocate. But don't worry, a formal representative of the school will come and talk to your parents if you answer positively to my next question: Are you ready to change your life?

……

It was the first day of school at Dalton and Michael was feeling slightly uncomfortable. He was as far as he could see the only black boy in the entire school. Eclectic my ass… he thought as he headed to the school's amphitheater to receive the orientations for the beginning of the school year. Despite the dislike he felt, he couldn't help but admire all the opulence of the place, with its imposing columns and marble floor, it really did give the impression of being an environment that formed success stories.

As he entered the amphitheater he saw Chadwick strutting with a group of other young men, all already in uniform. Trying to avoid contact with the other boy as much as possible, he sat in the first empty seat. And to his surprise he found himself facing the first non-white face that day. An Asian boy, with delicate features, who seemed to be even more uncomfortable than him to be in that place.

"Hey, I'm Michael, it's such a relief to see someone who doesn't look like they just got off the Mayflower!”

"Hi, I'm Edward."

Answered the boy, with a timid voice. Apparently it was going to be difficult to get some interaction from the other boy, but Michael was willing to try, a friendship with an introvert would be much better than putting up with the Chadwicks of life.

"So how did you end up in Dalton? Invitation or legacy?"

"Invitation, my dad almost didn't believe it when Chadwick Hartfield told him there was a place for me here."

"Ahhh, so you already know Chadwick?"

"Father and son, the Hartfields own a large slaughterhouse, meat packing plants and the like, they are the biggest suppliers to my father's chain of restaurants, so Chad and I have meet over the years..."

The boy replied, seeming to loosen up a bit. So he was rich too, although he lacked that air of arrogance that seemed to surround Chadwick. Michael thought there was a hint of discontent in the boy's voice as he referred to the Hartfields, then he jumped at the opportunity.

"Are you friends then?"

"Hardly, Chadwick's family is old money, my father is a Chinese immigrant who made a fortune from his own work, Chadwick and I have nothing in common. Although my coming here may mean a certain... concession for part of the Hartfields."

"Hmm, I understand..." Michael replied without really understanding, money was money, wasn't it? What difference did his origin make?, In his opinion every rich man was the same, regardless of where that wealth came from. Of course, he wasn't going to verbalize it in front of Edward.

And it wouldn't even be necessary, because at that moment an imposing, middle-aged man, wearing an impeccable suit, was addressing the students gathered there, giving Michael an excuse to interrupt the conversation.

“Good morning gentlemen, I am Principal Vincent Carmichael, and I will be responsible for your welfare and education at Dalton, we will have plenty of time to get to know each other better throughout the course and beyond, so today I will be brief. It is a great pleasure to receive you for what will certainly be a transforming year in your lives. Some of you already know Dalton's story, your families are part of that story, of our legacy. And as legacies, I ask you to be kind and helpful to those who are now part of this history, to guide them, point the way and integrate them as it should be. For those of you who still see yourselves as outsiders and perhaps still wonder why you're here, know that the our board makes no mistakes, you are exactly where you should be.”

Michael couldn't explain why, but he felt a chill when he heard those words, which echoed inside his head like a bad omen. Giving himself a mental shake he forced himself to listen to the rest of the director's speech.

“Here in Dalton you will be assigned to your dorms according to a pre-selection. However, as we value the relationships of friendship and companionship that we hope for and we are sure that you will form here, these dispositions can be modified if there is interest from the parties. You will find the location of your dorms and the names of your roommates inside the folder you received when you arrived at school. Finally, in that same spirit of camaraderie, in addition to sports teams, theater, music and debate clubs, the school has several student clubs, led by some of our legates, but for which you can receive invitations or apply, do not worry about being excluded, I'm pretty sure you'll all find a place in one of them before you even know it....”

The director continued, while looking at the group of young men that Chadwick had been talking to and with whom he was sitting next to. And Michael felt that strange feeling again. To try to get rid of it he decided to open the folder and there next to his name and location of his dorm was the name of his roommate: Chadwick Wentworth Hartfield IV.

"Fuck!” Michael murmured, as Principal Carmichael concluded.

"...because Dalton will forever be your home."

………….

"So what's it like sleeping under the same roof as the prince of the privileged?"

A slender dark-haired young man asked with a snarky expression to Michael.

"It's not so bad, he leaves me alone and I have no interest in what he does."

Michael replied. He was in his second week of classes and oddly enough he seemed comfortable with his situation, even having already made a group of friends, which included Edward, Jaime, a grandson of Mexican immigrants and Jonathan, the boy who had asked him about Chadwick. The truth is that Chad had to leave him alone, thanks to the total indifference that Michael showed him. In the first days the other guy tried to start some conversations that varied between the typical bro talk, sports, women, drinking... and bragging about his lifestyle through countless stories of travels, parties and whatever.... the fact is that for a few days now the interactions between the two had boiled down to "good morning and good night." Which to Michael was fine.

"Now, if we analyze the situation well, in theory you also sleep under the same roof as him. And isn't it a little hypocritical of you to call others privileged, Mr. son of a senator?"

Michael continued teasing his friend.

"First, my dorm is in another building, so I can categorically state that I don't sleep under the same roof as Chadwick. And second, yes I recognize my privileges, but there's no comparing my father's job to the capitalist machine that rich men like Chadwick portrays. No offense, Lee."

"I don't take offense, and all my dad wants is to be compared to the likes of Chad's dad, i believe he would take that as a compliment. And don't take what Michael said to heart, he adores your dad , there's probably a poster of his campaign taped to his bedroom wall."

The other boy had proved to be much less shy over the days and now he even cracked jokes.

"You know, I preferred it when you were shy... but yeah, I really admire Senator Roberts' work, he does so much for underprivileged communities and minorities. I'd like to do something like that someday."

"Are you thinking of becoming a politician? I can try to get you a summer internship with my dad if you want."

"Politics is not out of the question, but I'm thinking of being a public defender or something. But there's no way I would pass up an internship with Jack Roberts, thanks for the offer John."

"Speaking of offers, has anyone here gotten an invite to one of those student clubs?" Edward asked.

"I'd rather have a glass of acid than indulge in such elitist nonsense..."

"You'd be surprised what you can get down at one of the elite clubs, Roberts." Said a deep voice with a touch of arrogance at that moment, making the boys all turn at once to face Chadwick standing next to their desk in the library study room.

"Michael, I'd like to talk to you for a moment. If you don't mind."

"Hum..sure..."

Michael replied while getting up and accompanying his colleague to the other side of the room.

"I'm glad you made friends Michael."

Said Chad with an expression that did not denote any happiness. Seeing that Michael

once again avoided answering him the boy continued.

"Jonathan Roberts has his connections, despite his...quirky style. And Chang has... potential. So do you. I don't know what happened or how I might have offended you, but I'd like us to be friends. You may not know, but I am the president of one of the oldest clubs in Dalton, The Crows. And I am currently in the process of selecting our new members, I would really appreciate it if you would consider joining us."

Michael didn't know what to answer, because while he felt an instant dislike for the other boy and planned to change dorms as soon as possible just to get away from him, that was another opportunity for him to create the necessary contacts for his future career. And he couldn't help but wonder for the thousandth time what the school's and Chadwick's interest in him would be, he was a good student but not brilliant, he was far from an athlete, he was the son of a firefighter and a nurse and not knew influential people. He had already discussed this with Jaime, who also didn't seem to understand why both of them were there and seemed willing to dig deeper to find out. Although Michael didn't need to know why he was there, he only cared about making the best of the situation and that meant...

"Yeah, sure. I'd love to join the Crows."

He replied with the most fake and forced smile he had ever given in his life.

……

That late afternoon, instead of heading to his dorm, Michael went to meet Chadwick in one of the towers of the immense structure that was Dalton's central building. Apparently the Crow Club occupied much of the top floor of the tower. Reaching the top of the stairs he slammed the door, overcome with the familiar sense of foreboding he wondered again if he shouldn't turn around and put all that pretentious nonsense to rest. He was about to do exactly that when the gigantic door to the room opened with a noise that sent an icy shiver down the boy's spine, who stood staring at the entrance to the room with the feeling that he was about to enter the gaping mouth of a predator about to swallow him, which made him wonder again if there was still time to run away.

"Michael, glad you came, come in."

Said a casually dressed and much more cheerful Chadwick than Michael had ever seen before, which only added to the uneasy feeling that coursed through Michael's mind and spread through his body. Which reached the edge of a panic attack when he heard the door close behind him.

" Welcome to the Crow's Nest. Sit back and make yourself comfortable, Michael. This will be your favorite room for the rest of the year, it belongs to you and you to it. But before I introduce you, I would like you to introduce yourself. I feel like I don't know anything about my roommate and new brother."

Chadwich said as he sat down in a leather armchair, his cocky air back in full swing. Did Michael really want that? Being Chadwick's "brother", were his future plans worth as much sacrifice at his present? Such thoughts were swept from his mind when he saw Chadwick reach for an object beside the armchair. Was that... a basketball?

"Tell me Mike? Do you like basketball?"

Chad asked with a smug smile. Which caused Michael's feeling of anxiety to be replaced by another, hot, intense anger.

"Why, Chad? Because every black boy must be a basketball fan, is that it???"

"Wow, calm down brother, it's not that much, I just thought you should enjoy..."

"You do not know anything about me!"

"That's exactly the point, isn't it? Getting to know each other, forming bonds, a brotherhood."

"Why? Why me, and don't tell me you don't know, because you do."

Tump.

The ball landed on the ground and bounced back into Chadwick's hand, shutting Michael up in the process.

Tump. Again.

"You don't like me, do you, Michael? You never did, from the moment we met I saw the way how you looked at me, like I was some kind of monster, some freak. Be sincere."

Tump.

"No, I don't like you." Michael found himself responding against his will, as if he couldn't control his own vocal cords. At the same time, a kind of anesthesia spread through his body, preventing him from moving. The feeling of panic returning with multiplied force.

Tump. Tump.

"Ah, progress, everything would be easier if you had collaborated from the beginning, but I admit that I have a certain difficulty understanding your... kind."

Hearing that made Michael's eyes flash with anger that gave him enough strength to try to get up and go.

Tump. Tump.

The sensation of anesthesia returned.

"Impressive Mr. Jones. Such willpower will take its toll. But I wonder why my comment would provoke so much aggression. Ahhh... you think I'm racist, is that it? Or maybe an elitist? Well, I abhor racism, and as for elitism, well... I'm elite, aren't I? But so are you Michael, so are you. You've been offered the chance to become someone... better. To be a part of something bigger, a brotherhood, to be by my side, in the elite. A chance many would die to take and you spurn and grudgingly accept... so I ask you again, why?

Tump.

"Why? Listen to yourself, Chad. The size of your arrogance. You talk about community, about brotherhood, while at the same time you brag about being part of an exclusive elite. You talk about belonging, but you don't know what what it is to belong, you represent those who only know what it is to own.

Tump.

A sour expression spread across Chad's handsome face. As if he wasn't used to dealing with someone who antagonized him. Which was probably true. Which made Michael's panic rise even higher.

Tump. Tump.

"And I am the prejudiced one."

Tump.

"But you didn't actually answer my first question.”

Tump.

“Do you

Tump

“…like…”

Tump

“…basketball?"

Tump.

"Yes."

Michael replied grudgingly.

"Well, wasn't it easier to have answered the first time I asked?"

Tump. Tump. Tump.

"No, it was not..."

"I'm tired of repeating it, but... why, Michael?"

"Why? Because people like you look at people like me and see a stereotype: black kids are obligated to like basketball just because they're black."

"People…”

Tump

“…like…”

Tump.

… me..."

Tump.

“Tell me Michael, isn't it hypocritical of you to accuse people like me of looking at you and seeing a stereotype while you look at me and everything you see is also a stereotype?"

Tump.

"I... I hadn't thought of it that way."

"I see..."

Tump.

“But thinking the right way isn't exactly your strong point, is it? At least not for now…”

Tump

"What?"

Exclaimed Michael but Chad just smirked and continued to talk.

"I overheard your conversation with the insufferable Roberts today… a very commendable attitude, wanting to work for the community, change the world. But not the first thing that comes to mind when I think of you... Mike."

Tump. Tump.

"I told you, my name..."

"I know your name, Mike, how could I not know the name of my roommate, my second in command, my brother, who despite differences in color and social class, is so much like me in so many ways."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Calm down, be quiet now, and take off your top clothes, they can get a little…constricting."

Michael felt his arms move of their own accord and carry out Chad's orders automatically, while he screamed in rage and despair inside his own head without being able to express anything.

"I’m surprised, you had a respectable foundation, Michael. But there's room for improvement.

First of all, You don't like me and to be honest I don't like you either... not yet. But since I'm being honest there's something about you that attracts my attention, even my admiration I would say. You are ambitious Michael. You didn't hesitate to accept coming to an unknown school just for the advantages you could get. Even though you didn't like me, you accepted to join the Crows because you knew that this would open doors in your future . And you even made friends with people who could offer you ways to move up in life. Although they are not the friendships I would have chosen, I admire your initiative. But your mistake was not taking advantage of the true opportunity that was at your side all the time, me."

Tump. Tump. Tump.

"We're going to fix that and a few other things, aren't we?"

Tump. Tump.

What the fuck is this psychopath talking about? Thought Michael without being able to voice it.

"Looking back, I think our problem started when we first met, because you were already willing to dislike me just for being who I am. All that anger and resentment you have towards people of a higher social class prevented any kind of bond from being established between us, didn't it?"

Tump.

"But you know what I think, Michael, deep down all that anger is envy, envy of me, envy of my lifestyle. An immense envy of those who can have whatever they want, be whatever they want."

Tump. Tump.

Was it, was that true? No, no. He was happy with what he had, with who he was.

Still, being able to have what you want, when you want it must be an incredible feeling, said an insistent little voice in the back of his mind.

"And you know what envy really is? A form of admiration, after all desiring what belongs to the other, desiring to be in the other's shoes, there is no greater form of admiration. Isn't it Michael?"

Tump. Tump.

"You admire men like me."

Tump. Tump.

"All that ambition of yours, that desire for power. Real power. Power over others, over other people's lives."

Tump. Tump.

"You aspire to be someone who controls the pieces on the board..."

Tump. Tump.

No no! Michael denied to himself. He was ambitious of course, but that was about having a better future, doing something better, being someone better! Someone who could be admired, someone who could be envied, someone like...

"...to be someone like me."

"No..." Michael continued to deny it, but something was growing inside him, a dark desire, a desire to dominate, to subdue, to control.

"Of course there is only one of me, but there is space in my life for others, and I will be a good leader and a good friend to my companions, my brothers. And you accepted to be one of them, the first of them. And so you'll be closest to me, my deputy and make sure things are in order. And when we leave Dalton you'll have what it takes to achieve all the success and power you want, as long as you remember the origin of it all and to whom you should be grateful."

Tump. Tump.

Yes, he wanted it, he would take it, he would do what Chad wanted and he would be grateful for a lifetime if it gave him the chance to dominate, to conquer, to be better, better than everyone else, above everyone else... No, no, that wasn't him, that wasn't him!

"We're almost there, Michael, almost there, but I still see challenge in those eyes of yours. That's why I want you to close them."

Tump.

"That's right, close your eyes and go back to the day we met, it's me and you sitting in your room and talking, tell me what you felt when you saw me that day?"

Disgust, Michael thought, but his mouth said something else.

"Admiration."

"Good, very good. And why did you feel that way?"

Tump.

"Because... because you represent the kind of man I want to be..."

"And what kind of man would that be?"

Tump. Tump.

"Rich, confident... powerful."

"I'm flattered to hear that Michael, as much as I was the first time that very day."

What is he talking about? Michael thought. He'd never said that before... he hadn't even thought about it...or had he? But he knew he truly admired Chad…

"Actually, I think we recognized each other despite our differences, didn't we? Because deep down our similarities were much greater! Two ambitious men, who know what they want, who know that the world will belong to them. My experience in these things is much greater, but you are intelligent, you saw in me the opportunity to grow, to learn. And I saw in you someone at my height, who could be a partner, a true friend, someone to respect me, to follow and support me, a brother indeed."

Tump. Tump. Tump.

"And then there's the fact that our physical similarities, I don't mean the color of course, but the size, the stature. It's hard to find someone who compares to my physique. But for someone like you who has a daily training routine at the gym and has played basketball since childhood... oh, basketball! My father was always irritated by my devotion to the sport, he would rather I played Football, but my passion was always elsewhere and finding someone who loves basketball as much as I do, was invaluable. Imagine my happiness when I see all those trophies in your family room... it was almost like a gathering of souls, don't you think, Mike?"

No, not like that, Michael of course liked basketball, had even played a few times. Yes, daily training, competitions, victories, everything to the winner and he was a winner, just like Chad, it takes one to recognize the other…and the conversation? One of the best of his life! It was almost like finding a lost brother... even better: a lost and wealthy brother who could provide him with the means to become what he deserved to be, what he would be.

But what about that comment about their size? Chad was huge, with the physique of a Greek God, whereas Michael... well... you don't become a winning basketball player without a winning physique... and if even Chad marveled at his physique surely it should be impressive!

And in fact, at that moment Chad was in awe of what was happening in front of him. Michael's muscles expanded in waves, each pulse amplifying the volume, the boy's lean, defined physique giving way to broad, bulging muscles. Pectorals like two slabs of meat, thick biceps and horseshoe-shaped triceps. The process appeared to be painful, but Michael showed no sign of feeling anything. With his eyes closed and expression relaxed, it actually looked like he might be enjoying it.

And in reality he was. The sense of numbness that had gripped his body for the last few minutes was replaced by a strangely erotic throbbing, like an erection, only throughout his entire body. That feeling was exhilarating, it was intense, it was power! And if there was one thing Mike Jones respected is power! The waves of transformation continued, elongating the boy's body, causing his uniform pants to become short and giving him a thinner appearance again. But that didn't last long, as his muscles increased again with his thighs testing the limits of his pants and his calves taking on a perfect diamond shape. His dick was also affected, even though it was already of an enviable size, it grew in such a way that it would be impossible not to attract attention even when Michael was fully dressed. Finally the boy's features changed from reasonably attractive to artistically sculpted, albeit surrounded by an undefined air of arrogance and superiority. Leaving before Chad someone who despite their differences in many ways could be considered his equal.

Still, Chad's work wasn't quite finished, he needed to secure a few other things.

"Then came the first day of school and you came straight to meet me in the amphitheater. Ready to start your journey of ascension with the best possible guide. I could see the genuine happiness when you found out we were going to be roommates. And the admiration and gratitude to know that I guaranteed it myself."

Tump. Tump.

"And in this last week, the admiration and respect became a bond. The conversations at night, about the women we've gone out with, about the parties and drinking of each one, your desire to know the places I met... your desire to be my friend, to be by my side, to make sure what I want comes true."

Tump. Tump. Tump.

Michael, Mike, Big Mike… he felt that sensation build to a point that was almost… orgasmic. With Chad's words being burned into his very soul, as if through them a part of the other boy had seeped into him and expanded, infecting and overpowering every piece of who he was and cementing his transition into someone completely different, ruthless, up for anything, a predator, yet still loyal to his leader and ready to carry out his plans, their plans.

"And it all culminated in the moment you've been waiting for since you heard Principal Carmichael talk about the clubs. The moment you became a Crow, one of us."

Tump.

"So, I would appreciate it if you open your eyes and accept reality fully, brother."

And that's what Mike did.

The giant that had been Michael opened his eyes slowly, as if it were the first time he had done so in his life. Focusing his vision on the one in front of him, his roommate, his leader, his passport to everything he deserved. Then he smiled, a smile that conveyed extreme confidence and arrogance.

"Is everything okay, bro?"

Chad asked with a twin smile.

"And why wouldn't it be, brother?"

"You seemed a little distracted to me, I don't tolerate sluggishness when I'm speaking, especially from my vice president."

"I would never think of leaving you talking to the walls, Chad"

Mike replied, his smile taking on a mocking air.

"Don't try play clever on me, this is a game you can't win."

"Fair enough, since you can't beat me on the court."

Mike replied, as he quickly took the ball from Chad's hands.

"Asshole"

"A less than eloquent response from the king of cleverness."

"Fucking Asshole"

Chad replied making both of them burst out laughing.

"So what's so important you have to say, Mr. President?"

"The most important thing for a president: expanding membership, and you have a huge role to play in that, so pay close attention to what I'm going to explain to you."

Mike hung on every word and when Chad finished, knowing the kind of power he would be entrusted with and what he would do with it, he couldn't help but smile again.

[idesofrevolution]

Requiescat

"Alright, my Musical Mentees, welcome back to my Channel! I am your friendly neighborhood musical critic, Kyle Donaghue, and today we're going to be reviewing something a little bit out of our typical wheelhouse!" Kyle sat with feigned excitement in front of his webcam. Though on the outside he eagerly drew out his intro for the 250th episode of his "Musique Critique" web series, internally he was livid. The young YouTuber had dreamed of becoming the go-to modern music critic on the platform but after almost two years of barely breaking a thousand views, he recognized he needed to do some market research on what his 347 subscribers wanted to see.

Thus, after asking his audience for requests, the music of some newer wannabe rockstar gained traction to be reviewed. To the music conservatory graduate, such low-brow "music" was beneath him; yet reality dictated that the business of content creation was based upon supply and demand. His audience demanded it, and if he wanted to gain any traction whatsoever, he needed to pivot. So, when the band in question, Catalyst, announced a new single drop, Kyle decided he was going to be the very first reviewer to tear it a new one.

"So you guys have been requesting I listen to this band called 'Catalyst' for a long time now, and today is finally the day. Apparently, the lead singer of Catalyst announced a few days ago that a new single was going to be released. I haven't heard much about them, so I did a bit of digging." Kyle clicked around on his computer, dredging up whatever he found in his five minutes of "research" the night before. "So, this band literally came out of nowhere. They're independent and are in talks with some record company about a deal, but nothing has come of it yet, so I'm going into this completely blind. They're out of Austin, Texas, and it's four guys who started the band out of this lead singer's parent's garage. The guy's name is Jaxon Black."

Kyle was literally reading off of some Tumblr fan blog about all this, but his audience certainly didn't need to know that. Why would he put in any effort for a band of this low caliber? "Black is 27 years old and started the band in 2013 when the four of them were in high school. They haven't really found any success, which is one of the reasons I'm surprised you wanted me to review them in the first place. They play in dive bars and some small venues, but nothing really outside of that." Scrolling through the blog, a picture of Jaxon Black actually appeared on the feed. He looked like any run-of-the-mill traditionally hot bad boy that you could find on the cover of GQ. What was so special about him?

"So, it's interesting too. This guy looks completely different than he did back when the band was formed. I totally get he was a kid when he started it, and there's puberty and whatever. But I mean, can you say plastic surgery? C'mon, guys. This guy is a 'serious musician' to you all?" Kyle sighed and wiped his face clear of the disgust he felt inside, putting on the eager façade he felt he needed to emulate. "But for you guys, I will make an exception, I'll give Jaxon Black and Catalyst a chance. I'm doing this for you! Just know that!" With that, he began to screen share, and the handsome visage of Jaxon Black was plastered on his screen as it would be for the whole review. The single didn't have any album art or anything, it was just a Soundcloud link; so in hopes that his audience would see right through this charade, he let would make them look at the face of the man who wrote whatever terrible song he was preparing to hear.

"See what I mean, guys? Ugh. I'm sorry, anyways. Here it is. The link that's posted on this fan blog brings me to Soundcloud, and there's no title or anything. It's just called 'Untitled', so we're off to a great start. But like I said, let's give the guy a chance. So without further ado, here is Catalyst's 'Untitled.'" With the press of the space bar, the sound of a slower ballad began to play through his earbuds.

The song began with a slow and heavy bassline in A flat Locrian, immediately an odd choice to start with. Contrarian, in Kyle's opinion. In terms of influence, it was an odd mixture of stereotypical hard rock like Guns n' Roses or Aerosmith, prog rock like Yes and Pink Floyd, with a random hint of Santana? Kyle did his best to stifle the cringe which trickled down his spine, but his face could do nothing to hide it. He felt the corners of his lip tense up and purse, his left nostril tweaking in pure annoyance.

"Starting off in Locrian... that's an interesting choice." He muttered under his breath. Looking at the progress bar, he saw the song was a full seven minutes and thirty-six seconds long. Lovely. "I feel like this is gonna be 'Hotel California' but bad, not gonna lie to you guys." Though, as the electric guitar faded in, quiet and subtle, it took Kyle by surprise. The technique that Black employed in his riffs, with precision he'd rarely heard outside of a classical guitarist, was nothing short of impressive. "Okay, the guy's got some skill. I'll give him that."

The music felt lugubrious, giving the sensation of swimming through a vat of molasses, pushing and pulling at great tension. It was near impossible for him to put into words, but the gravelly tenor timbre of Black's voice deftly began to soar atop the dredging music below. Evoking Eddie Vetter or perhaps even Jon Bon Jovi, the words were not exactly easy to decipher. Frankly, the song was almost trancelike, as if he'd taken a handful of mushrooms before embarking on his musical journey.

"Guys, I don't know how to explain it, this shouldn't work but it... it kind of does? I don't... I don't know." Kyle leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The song had actually piqued his interest and intrigue, it was unlike anything he'd ever really heard before. Yet, it felt so familiar in ways far outside his comprehension. Waves of goosebumps washed across his body, barrage after barrage. The music became a full-body experience, and he was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kyle tried his best to analyze the theory engrained into the song but found his mind to be a mere void that was seemingly being filled with viscous liquid. The longer the song went on, the more his mind felt entirely numb.

"I'm... I'm impressed, guys..." Words began to falter, his tongue feeling swollen and heavy. Behind his closed eyes, ribbons of bright colors danced against the black backdrop, bursts of red and purple illuminating the periphery like clouds of heat lightning. He could feel the notes meandering through the air and landing on his body, pressing down with the force of a boulder each time. "He's... he's really good, guys..." A thick dribble of saliva oozed through the gap in his open lips.

It was as if he was being drained of all his energy, all of his willpower, every last ounce of strength which propelled him to live. And yet, despite the darkness he could feel creeping over his body, he was oddly at peace. As if moving of their own accord, Kyle felt himself shuck his shirt from his body, now covered in a sprinkling of sweat across his limber torso and head. The music pulsated from within him as if he were the amp himself, seemingly making the muscles in his arms expand and contract. "I can... I can feel him in there..." Kyle couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten here. He was in his room, sitting in his chair and yet, he was somehow with Black, inside the music. With every heavy pick of the bass, his biceps began to swell and firm; veins distinctly snaked down his strong forearms and into his callousing fingers. His body temperature was now sweltering, shedding every ounce of water and liquid within him into the beadlets of sweat which cascaded down from his thickening pecs and cobbling abs.

The drums and synthesizer came in, further enriching the already complicated chords which tickled his ear like a soft, warm breath. The bass line was an ebb and flow, weaving and bobbing as the song soared through the chorus, a melody that sent a ripple of lust across his body. It was as if he were on a ship in a storm, one which was luring him deeper into the dark waters as his thighs began to balloon out of the sweat-stained shorts he wore. The power of the music seeped into his veins, imbuing him with a foreign energy from a distant shore beyond his corporeal being. His calves spasmed and inflated, while his feet stretched out wider and stronger in his quickly ripening socks.

Black's voice was now all that Kyle could hear in his head, every indecipherable word rang as some existential truth. Kyle's thoughts were no longer his own, he was just along for the ride, a passenger in his own mind. He was no longer in control of his actions, nor his thoughts. His breathing had become heavier, slower... The music had invaded his very being and taken control. Spatterings of black ink began to sprawl across his glistening smooth skin, each with some sort of esoteric reference which he would not yet understand. Grim Reapers, skulls, geometric designs of unhuman origin now proudly displayed across his strong body.

"Fuuuck, man. This shit is amazing..." His voice gradually grew scratchy and smoky from years of singing for crowds of headbanging punks in cramped, smelly bars. He reached to his left, eyes still closed in euphoric bliss, snatching the small joint which now sat on the edge of his desk. Kicking his sweaty, buttery feet up onto the wooden surface, he brought the smoking j to his lips, dragging a heavy dose of creative vapor into his powerful lungs. "Fuckin' hell, you guys... I mean... shit." He blew out a heavy, grey plume of smoke from his wide nostrils. "This song is fuckin' incredible."

He pulled down his shorts and briefs, letting his lean but long dripping cock slap against his navel. Strings of pre seeped out of his pulsating cockhead, making winding rivers flowing down toward his sagging sac. A large prince albert ring now adorned the top of his uncut shaft, with three frenum piercings towing down his urethra in succession. The slightest touch from his calloused fingers wreaked immeasurable pleasure, radiating from the groin all across every inch of his body. Thus, as he wrapped his hand tightly around the limber shaft, gently caressing the prince albert with the tip of his index finger, he could barely breathe without a quiet moan escaping his throat. Quickly, the fondling turned into a measured, intentional pump with each beat of the music.

The drums and bass were now coming together in a thunderous crescendo, Kyle could feel his very blood bubbling beneath his skin as it made his way up his strong neck and toward his skull as he hastened his pace. The room around him began to blur and distort. Bookshelves formerly lined with music theory textbooks and repertoires of classical mainstays were warped into racks of well loved guitars: Fender, Gibson, Sqiuer, & Ibanez. The pristine white duvet-covered bed was now clad with sleek black satin sheets and a shiny vinyl comforter. The portraits of famous composers which once adorned the wall were now a collage of posters: Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, Metallica, AC/DC, The Ramones, Aerosmith, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden. Piles of ripped up, weathered clothes, marinating in the sweat of shows past now littered the dingy red carpet.

The blood had finally arrived at the precipice of his brain, and like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks, it overtook him. His hair darkened to a deep black, his brows furrowed, his lips now plump and curled into a permanent cocky smirk. This was his kind of music. This was his genre. This was the message he was born to bring to the masses. It was a message of rebellion, of raging against the corporate machine of whitewashed mass-marketed culture. A flash of bright red and teal illuminated the room from behind Kyle's closed eyes as rope after rope of his spunk shot from his cock onto the laptop and camera. He roared in climax, louder than he'd intended, but nothing his neighbors were unfamiliar with in regards to the activities the apartment notoriously beheld.

The music had stopped, the final note hung in the air for a moment before retreating back into the abyss as his shorts melted into a dense magenta slime, moving down his muscular legs until they covered his entire lower half before hardening into slick gator skin pleather pants and a pair of beat up black combat boots wafting the scent of his musky feet. Axel opened his now black eyes, letting out a sigh of complete satisfaction.

"Now that's what I call fuckin' music, man! See why I wanted ya to experience it? It's like a requiem for corporate machine, man. That's why Catalyst is my fuckin' muse. Their music is gonna take over the whole fuckin' world." A loud pinging signaled Axel to check his phone, where his bandmates, performing as Hammerthrow, were confirming their next gig in L.A. "Fuck yeah, guys. Just landed the Cali gig. I'm thinking we cover this masterpiece and mind fuck them into oblivion. Catch us in Azuza next week, kids. You don't wanna miss it." With that, he ended his recording, smirking mischievously as he uploaded it to his channel. The song certainly was going to change the world, even if the world itself wasn't ready.

[foreverbase1]

Teardrop ❣ ZEROBASEONE

❥𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: popular!bullies!ZEROBASEONE x bullied!fem!reader (not really tho)

❥𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.0k

❥𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: High School AU, slight Fluff, mainly Angst, Reader comes back as a bad bitch tho

❥𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bullying, name calling (slut, whore, etc), members are complete assholes, Reader calls them names back (doggy, etc), swearing, physical bullying (hair pulling, tripping, kicking the back of Reader's knees lightly), mentions of blood

❥𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Teardrop by Alex Porat

❥𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bullies!ZB1, IVE's Leeseo & ILLIT's Minju

❥𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Reader is consistently the target of bullying by ZEROBASEONE, a group of very popular boys of her school who typically get away with anything they do to her.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬! <𝟑

Decided to try smth a little bit different, so the lyrics aren't really the focus here!

"��𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙬 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨"

You sat at the front of your class, writing away into your notebook as the teacher continued the lecture. You had a determined and focused look in your eye, but a tiny smirk was placed onto your lips that were coated in a shiny pink lipgloss.

You could feel the eyes of 9 people staring at the back of your head, but they weren't hurtful or mean gazes, they were more obedient? Concerned? Maybe a little scared? Either way, you liked it. Now don't get it twisted, you aren't a nasty person in any way, every other student could agree on that, you were one of the most helpful and kind students in the entire school.

After the bell had signalled the end of the class and the teacher had packed their things up and left. You heard footsteps approach your desk as you were putting away your school supplies, your eyes looked up slowly, staring at the 9 boys that stood in front of your desk. They were the popular boys of your school. Emphasis on 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦. Who were they? They were ZEROBASEONE, a popular self-formed group of friends at your school, consisting of 9 boys; Kim Jiwoong, Zhang Hao, Sung Hanbin, Seok Matthew, Kim Taerae, Shen Quanrui, Kim Gyuvin, Park Gunwook and Han Yujin.

They were popular simply due to the fact every student at your school had a crush on them, mainly cause of their looks and talent, and also wealth. These 9 boys were rich and originally had the school backing them, they would perform at every dance tournament your school held and at school festivals, they were the school's pride.

Now? Now they simply obeyed you, cause you were the first of their victims to stand up against them, fight back and bite them where it hurt. And also cause you had very damning evidence that could ruin each of their futures in the music industry.

"Y/N...." Hanbin was the first of his friends to speak up, your eyes looking at him and a small smile graced your lips. "Hm?" You hummed, but before any more words could escape from his lips, two more figures joined you. It was your best friends, Minju and Leeseo.

"Y/N, hurry! The cafeteria is gonna run out of strawberry milk if we don't get going" Minju pulled on your arm. "Sure, let's get going" You smile up at them, sending a knowing smirk towards the 9 boys in front of you. Exiting the classroom with your two best friends, all 3 of you giggled to yourselves.

Now you might be very confused. So, let me explain, and get prepared, cause this is a long one!

"𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢, 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚, 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚"

Originally, your dynamic was never like this. It was the exact opposite. You used to be the least popular student in the entire school, mainly cause of ZB1's influence on the school and its students. Everyone turned a blind eye when they would call you names, teased you until you cried, hide your supplies so you'd have to run around the entire school building looking for it and they never once dared to rat them out to the faculty. But neither could you, at least, at that time.

The only two people by your side were Leeseo and Minju, they were the only reason you didn't just transfer schools and move on with your life, they were also the reason your entire dynamic changed and they were also the only two that didn't give a flying fuck about ZB1's influence. But they also listened to you, choosing to not turn to the school faculty about the bullying, even if it pained them to see you go through it.

But let's start at the beginning; Elementary school. You used to be best friends with Kim Taerae, the two of you being extremely close. This was up until high school, where you met Leeseo and Minju, and where Taerae met the other ZB1 members. You two drifted apart and lost contact, but at least you still had Minju and Leeseo.

And then everything changed when you and the rest of ZB1 had been put into the same class, thankfully Minju and Leeseo were in it too, so you weren't completely alone. But this was where the bullying began. It was all for a dumb reason too.

By this point, ZB1 had become popular throughout your entire school. You couldn't deny, you were also a fan of them at first. But when Gunwook came up to your desk one day and asked you out on a date, you couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. After all, you could hear his friends snickers in the back of the class and with the smile he wore on his face and his status in the school, the first thought you got was that this was all a joke. A dumb prank to toy with your feelings.

"Sorry Gunwook, i don't think i can" You smiled apologetically at him, you tried to let him down easy, but when the snickers from his friends abruptly stopped and his smile had disappeared and been replaced with a glare within his eyes, you couldn't help but feel your heart drop into your stomach, he shrugged. "Whatever, it's not like you're all that anyway" He said, walking away towards his friends and leaving you stunned. From that day on it got worse.

Gyuvin, Gunwook and Yujin were the main ones from the group that teased you. They shared most of your classes and would tease you whenever they could; At your desk, at your locker, even doing it while the lecture is on going. And it would always resort with you getting into trouble.

You sat in your English class, unfortunately for you, your seat was right in front of Gyuvin, Gunwook and Yujin's seats. Allowing easy access to you. "Pst, Y/N!" Gyuvin whispered, getting light shoves and giggles from Gunwook and Yujin. "Where'd you get your hairband from? It looks cheap" He said, causing you to reach your hand up and fix your hairband. It didn't hurt much, he always targeted your accessories.

Gunwook was the next one to take his approach. "Y/N?" He whispered your name, you hated the fact that your ears tuned in whenever they talked, knowing it'd just result in you being hurt. "I heard you write notes about Hanbin in your notebook, is that true?" He smirked, and with a little maneuvering of his body, he'd peek at the front of you face. "She's blushing, it's true!" He giggled between Gyuvin and Yujin.

You weren't actually blushing because of what he said, it was mainly out of embarrassment. Because the students seated around you were giving you odd looks, as they had overheard what they were saying. You just wanted to melt away, right then and there. But it all got worse when it was finally Yujin's turn. "Y/N" He said, leaning over his desk a bit.

"I heard you still have to sleep with a night light, is it true?" He giggled, it was nothing more than immature, elementary school level teasing. But the glare you sent him was enough of a reaction to feed into them. "She totally does" Gunwook snickered, causing you to turn around. "Can you shut up?" You bit back, but unlike them, you weren't so lucky. "Miss L/N, wanna repeat what you just said?" The teacher said, overhearing what you had said.

Now everyone's eyes were on you and the three boys had gotten what they wanted. You blushed out of embarrassment, fidgeting in your chair. "No, sorry sir" You said, staring directly down, and with a scoff from your teacher, the lesson resumed. Your eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall, you didn't like this, but you had to deal with it. Once class was over, you collected your things and bolted out the door, hoping to find refuge in Minju and Leeseo.

"What assholes" Minju glared at the boys of ZB1 from across the cafeteria. "It's been like this for the past 3 months since you rejected Gunwook, why don't we just go to the principal?" Leeseo said, thinking rationally. She rubbed your back as you ate the small sandwich in your hand. You shook your head in response to her words. "It wouldn't matter, the school adores them, including the principal. They would just dismiss it and if they find out i reported them, it'll get worse" You sniffled, voice quiet.

The bell would soon ring, signalling it was time for your Math class. Probably your most dreaded class of all. Not because you sucked at Maths, it was because Zhang Hao and Shen Quanrui had that class with you. And they were by far the worst of your bullies. Unlike Gyuvin, Gunwook and Yujin with their teasing and tint jabs at you, Zhang Hao and Quanrui threw actual insults at you. They'd call you any name they could think of; Slut, Whore, Dumbass, Loser. You name it, they'd say it.

Sighing, you got up and hugged your friends goodbye. Walking out of the cafeteria with Zhang Hao and Shen Quanrui close behind you.

In your Maths class, you once again had the misfortune of having your desk be placed right in front of Zhang Hao and Quanrui's seats. Once again, allowing easy access to you. As the teacher taught the class about different equations and whatever else she needed to teach the class that day.

And this was when Zhang Hao and Shen Quanrui would start their typical antics. "Hey Y/N?" Quanrui whispered, Zhang Hao snickering beside him already. You tried to drown him out, trying to ignore him, but you also knew that'd make it worse. "Hey, slut" He said again, this time dropping his teasing tone. You breathed in, before slowly turning around. "What's the answer to this one?" He held up his notebook, pointing to one of the equations written down that he couldn't be bothered to figure out himself. "I don't know" You mumbled, and Zhang Hao scoffed. "What are you? A fucking moron?" Him and Quanrui snickering to themselves, the teacher looked over at the noise and instead of targeting the two boys who were clearly making the most noise, her eyes landed on you and your figure being turned towards them.

"Miss L/N, can you answer this one for us?" She raised her voice, causing you to turn around and face the front of the class. You looked around quickly, everyone's eyes once again on you. "Umm, is it....96?" You said, your voice was quiet. The teacher sighed, shaking her head and the class giggled. "Pay attention next time" She scolded you and you nodded, sniffling a little as tears filled your eyes again. "Great job dumbass" Hao said, him and Quanrui snickering to themselves.

Just as quickly as class started, it ended as well. And now it was time for your final class of the day, History class. With Hanbin, Jiwoong, Matthew and Taerae. This was by far your worst class of them all, cause while Gyuvin, Gunwook and Yujin teased you, Zhang Hao and Quanrui called you the meanest insults they could think of. Hanbin, Jiwoong and Matthew were much worse and would resort to physical contact with you.

Thankfully, Leeseo shared this class with you and your seat was with hers. But again, Matthew, Hanbin and Jiwoong's seats were right behind yours. And during this class, was when you finally had enough and reached your breaking point.

"See Y/N, this is where....." Leeseo's voice carried on as you listened to her help you with a certain part you were stuck on, you giggled. "Thanks SeoSeo" you thanked her, earning a smile from your best friend. As class continued, it was actually peaceful, so far the last 4 members of Zerobullyone hadn't bothered you yet. Keyword being yet.

The teacher would leave the class, another faculty member requesting their aid in something. And this was when it all went downhill. You got up to collect some paper from the back of the class, and with a few shared glances between the boys, Matthew got up and followed you.

While you were minding your business, humming to yourself as you picked up a few pieces of paper, Matthew stepped behind you, pulling your hair. Hard. You hissed, your hand quickly reaching behind you to rub over the spot he had just pulled on. "Sorry, my hand got caught" He smirked, giving you a side eye as he got some paper and returned to his seat, earning high fives from Jiwoong and Hanbin.

You breathed in, calming yourself. But next up to make your life a living hell was Hanbin. As you went to turn around and return to your seat, Hanbin walked right behind you, and raising his leg quickly, he kicked the back of your knee. Causing you to buckle and bang your knees against the wall in front of you. You bit your lip to stop yourself from letting out a cry of pain, standing up and wobbling back over to your desk without a second glance back at Hanbin.

But unfortunately for you, you still had one more demon to face. Kim Jiwoong. As you neared your desk, he stuck his leg out, causing you to trip and let out a loud yelp, followed by a loud crash. "Y/N, you okay?!" Leeseo yelled, but before she could get up the teacher walked back in. All eyes we're once again on you. "Y/N, what are you doing on the floor?" The teacher asked, watching as you sat up, letting out a small whimper before reaching up to your head.

Your fingers grazed a spot on your forehead where your head had hit the desk, and with a gasp from a student, everyone's eyes widened. "She's bleeding!" One student shouted, at their words you had pulled your hand back down in front of you, analyzing the crimson red that stained your fingers. "Y/N, are you okay?" The teacher kneeled down and helped you up, you began letting the tears fall, sobbing as you shook your head. "Miss, I'll take her to the nurse" Taerae stood up, a smile on his face.

Leeseo glared at him, her eyes turning to Matthew, Hanbin and Jiwoong behind as the three of them tried holding in their laughter. "Great idea, Taerae. Tha-" "Actually, I'll take her" She cut off the teacher, standing up and earning glares from the 4 boys, she continued. "I finished all my work and i'm sure it'd be better if someone who actually 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 went with her. I'm her friend after all and i'm sure Taerae hasn't finished all his work." She finished, a smirk on her face as she stared at Taerae.

"Well, okay. Thank you Leeseo." The teacher said, handing you off into the comfort of your best friend's arms as you left the class. "Crybaby" Taerae muttered to you as you both left. You didn't know why you had to go through his, all because you rejected their friend? It wasn't your fault, you thought it was them trying to mess with you.

"Thank you" You sniffled, thanking the nurse as she patched up your head and called your parents. "SeoSeo, i think i'm gonna move schools" Her eyes widened, and the girl shook her head. "You can't be serious, if you do that, they'll know they won". You looked down, twiddling your fingers. " I know, but, it hurts and i can't take too much more, SeoSeo." She sighs, when you got like this she knew there wasn't much she could do to change your mind.

Leeseo waited with you until your parents arrived and picked you up, before returning to class. Entering back into the classroom, she felt the glares of the 4 boys return to her. The teacher nowhere to be seen. "Just had to get in the way" Hanbin mumbled, and this was when Leeseo snapped. "What are you four, mentally deranged or something? Did your parents drop you when you were kids? You caused Y/N's head to bleed and that's all you have to say? All cause of what, cause she rejected your fragile friend and hurt his fucking feelings? Grow the fuck up." She growled at them, malice in her tone as she collected her things and left once the bell had signalled the end of the school day.

"𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠. 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙠, 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝"

A month had passed since the incident that day and you had refused to go to school, you only let your parents know half of what was going on and it was all they needed to let you stay at home. After school finished, Leeseo and Minju would visit you and help you catch up on all the lessons you missed. Without them, you didn't know how long you could've handled the bullying when it first started.

Two weeks before summer break arrived, Leeseo and Minju had managed to convince you not to go through with the school transfer, instead offering another solution; 𝙍𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙚.

At first you were a bit cautious, cause you could go into big trouble and the 9 of the ZB1 members were basically untouchable. Well, not entirely. "Since you haven't been at school, they've chosen new targets each time. If me and Leeseo record every incident, they can't turn it down whatsoever." Minju sat up, showing you both two small special cameras and microphones.

"I'm.....not gonna ask where you got those from" Leeseo giggled, as she fixed your hair for you. "What do you say Y/N? I'm down for it if you are" She said, looking at you. Your eyes looked between your two friends and then back at yourself in the mirror. You didn't really want to get on their level, but when there's no one else to turn to, then you have to bite back. Right?. "Let's do it"

And just like that, your mission to ruin ZEROBASEONE's members was initiated. Just as Minju and Leeseo had said, they recorded each incident of the members bullying other students and would then send the recordings to you, where you'd then edit it together into one large video file. This would continue on until summer break rolled around, and you were sure you had everything you needed.

With the video created and ready for whenever you needed it, you decided to move onto the secret phase of your mission. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. So all of summer break you learned how to do makeup, doll yourself up. You weren't ugly by any means, and this wasn't like a Disney movie where taking your glasses off suddenly made you prettier, but your school's popularity thrived off of visuals. And if it's visuals they wanted, you'd give it to them.

Just as quickly as summer break started, it had ended. On the day of the student's return, you texted Leeseo and Minju to meet you in class and not pick you up, as you had a surprise. They agreed, trusting you. And now here you stood, in front of the school gates, earning glances and whispers from other students around you.

You walked through the halls of the school, greeting each student and teacher that passed. Your hair was nice and neat, curled well. A hairband sat prettily atop your head, your lips shining with pink lipgloss, your cheeks holding a bit of blush and a smile gracing your lips. It was like they were seeing a whole new person, and technically they were.

Standing outside your classroom door, you texted Leeseo and Minju one last time, before opening the classroom door and stepping inside, the sound of the heeled shoes you had purchased during summer clicking against the floor as you stepped inside and shut the door behind you. Everyone was quiet, all eyes on you. Including the ZB1 members. Leeseo and Minju's mouths were open in shock, but a tiny hint of a smirk was hidden within it too.

"Good morning" You said, eyes scanning the classroom. A chorus of slow and quiet good mornings were given back, everyone beginning to whisper amongst each other. This was going all according to plan, just like you hoped. Instead of taking the route to your desk in order to avoid the ZB1 members, you took the route where you had to pass by them instead.

As you walked past, the members quickly sprung into action, with Hanbin pulling on your bag and causing it to drop some of your school supplies. You stood still, everyone's eyes now on you. But you weren't scared, no, quite the opposite. As the members tried to snicker to one another, you turned towards Hanbin and stepped closer. "Pick it up" You said, causing everyone to gasp. "W-what?" Hanbin said back, staring down at you.

You scoffed, grabbing his tie and yanking him down a bit to your eye level, everyone's eyes widened in shock including Hanbin and the rest of the ZB1 members. "I said, Pick. It. Up. Doggy." Each word that left your mouth was laced with venom, and Hanbin swallowed hard. Looking around, he quickly bent down and began picking up your supplies and handing it back to you. "Thank you" You smiled at him.

And now, you may be confused. We went through what each member did to bully you and get to you right? All except Taerae. That was cause Taerae never resorted to teasing, physical bullying or calling you the lowest of insults. Instead he held something much harmful; Your secrets from your now broken friendship.

Determined to make up for the embarrassment you caused Hanbin, Taerae chuckled. "Y/N, remember when you used to have a massive crush on me?" He said, now this was getting juicy, at least for the onlookers. Stopping in your tracks again, you turned towards Taerae and his friends. "Taerae, remember when you peed yourself in the middle of class? Cause i sure do" You bit back, and that caused a chorus of laughter to erupt in the classroom, Taerae shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Finally reaching your friends, you greeted them with hugs and a smile. But you weren't done, not until you got back at each member.

Your next targets were Gyuvin, Gunwook and Yujin. But they were easy, after all, it wasn't hard getting them to shut up. Your first class of the day was Sports class and luckily for you, the teacher that usually taught the Male students was absent, so both groups would merge this one time.

The teacher decided to play dodgeball, thinking it'd be fun to see how it'd go. Of course, the girls were losing badly. Because most of the time, your group did everything but the actual class during Sports class. But you were determined to use this class to get back at Gyuvin, Gunwook and Yujin. And that you would.

When the teacher was distracted, you used this opportunity to exact your revenge. You threw the ball as hard as possible, hitting Gyuvin right in the genitals and causing him to collapse to the floor in pain. "What happened?" The teacher said after her attention was put back on the class at the sound of the commotion, everyone was silent staring at you.

"Sorry, i accidentally threw the ball a little too hard." You giggled, approaching Gyuvin and offering your hand. He hesitated, but took it anyway. "Don't leave yourself so open next time, duckling" You whispered to him, before returning to your side of the field with a smirk on your face.

Gyuvin had to sit out due to the pain he was feeling and this left two people left to take care of. Gunwook and Yujin. You nodded towards Leeseo, who on cue, began distracting the teacher. "Hey, miss, i was thinking...." She began the distraction as you targeted your next bully; Yujin. Picking up the ball, when Yujin was distracted with dodging two other students attempts at eliminating him, you threw the ball at him, once again with all your strength, hitting him right in the stomach and toppling him over.

The teacher paused, blowing the whistle and signalling that Yujin was out. "Sorry, i guess i don't know my own strength." You giggled as you watched Yujin glare at you, leaving the field. One more to go.

With the last signal to Minju, the girl would start her distraction on the teacher. "Hey, i think i heard......" You drowned out her voice and focused on Gunwook, you two stared at each other, you knew that he had caught onto what you were doing. He wasn't stupid after all, but the poor boy had no idea what you had coming for him.

When you managed to tag Leeseo back into the game, she threw a ball right at Gunwook, who spent his time dodging it. This allowed you to set yourself up, and before the boy could recover, you hurled the ball right at his face. Hard. Gasps erupted the entire sports hall, and the teacher had to stop the class in order to attend to the whimpering boy on the floor holding his nose.

"Gunwook, are you okay?" You said, faking innocence and pretending to actually care. The boy glared up at you, and just as you were enjoying the payback you were giving them, the class ended. But that isn't where it stops, you still had 4 boys left to get revenge on.

Your next targets were Zhang Hao and Shen Quanrui. Math class would be fun this time around. The lesson went normally for the first part, you just waited for the two boys to try and get their egos fulfilled by targeting you. "Y/N" Zhang Hao's voice filled your ears, now the fun part.

Turning towards Zhang Hao, you smiled at him. "What is it?" You said, catching him off guard a bit. But he recovered quickly, holding up his notebook. "What's the answer to this one?" He pointed to the question, you looked at it before looking back at him.

"Why? Can't figure it out yourself? Don't tell me...." You covered your mouth to stop yourself from laughing too loud. "Zhang Hao's actually an idiot" You said loudly, of course, on purpose. The teacher cleared her throat, catching your attention. "Miss, i think Zhang Hao needs help, he can't even figure out what 5 + 5 is. He's asking me for the answer" You explained to her, causing Hao to glare at you from where he sat, giggles filled the classroom as the teacher nodded her head.

"I see, Zhang Hao, i'm quite shocked cause you're usually at the top of this class." She said, and while they were distracted by the teacher, you quickly exchanged yours and Quanrui's notebooks before you spoke up again. "And miss, i think Quanrui is confused too, cause he doodled on his notebook". Quanrui looked down at his (yours) notebook, and just like you had said, the entire pages were filled with doodles.

"I'm disappointed with you two, pay attention, cause i'm only going over it once" The teacher took her place at the front of the class, determined to help Zhang Hao and Quanrui despite them not actually needing help. "Better luck next time, morons" You snickered, facing the front of the class with a smirk as you felt them stare at the back of your head.

Now it was time for your last two targets; Kim Jiwoong and Seok Matthew. But, you weren't gonna humiliate them in front of everyone else, instead you'll let them fear that you would. What better way to break the two cockiest members egos? Make them live in paranoia.

"SeoSeo, Ju, i need you to do something for me" You told the two girls as you sat in the cafeteria. It was time for the final phase of your plan. You were going to ruin ZEROBASEONE.

After lunchtime had finished, you waited in an empty classroom until Leeseo and Minju arrived. When the doors slammed open and the two girls ran in with a group of 9 boys behind them, you knew it was time. Clicking play on the laptop you had set up, the video you had put together played on the monitor. It showcased each bullying event that each member did to a poor student, making sure to blur out the students faces for their privacy.

"Checkmate" You said, smirking as you stared at the stunned expressions on each member's face. After the video ended, you, Leeseo and Minju listened contently to each member beg you not to release the video. It was cute, in a way. You had them wrapped around your finger and begging at your feet. You had ruined them in a day, how easy was that. The 9 men that made your life hell for days on end, cracked in one day.

"Okay, we won't. Under one condition." You said, stepping forward with your arms crossed over your chest. Eyes all on you. "Do as we say." You spoke each word slowly, making sure they heard you.

And that is how we come to the present day. Your revenge worked perfectly, you made all 9 members crack in the span of a day and held a video that could ruin their careers if they so much as tried to step out of line. You smiled to yourself as you stared at yourself in the school bathroom mirror. It was cruel, and sure, you felt bad about it. You had stooped to their level, but as you looked at yourself, you couldn't help but feel content.

You had gotten revenge on the 9 boys that caused you so much pain and hurt, the 9 boys that made you want to run away and hide from the world, the 9 boys who hurt the fragile girl that was still deep inside you. But you avenged her, you protected her. You protected 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. And now you no longer had to worry or live in fear of them anymore.

𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦

"𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙥 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪."

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 <𝟑 𝐈 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝!

[tenjiiku]

21 : only

The chime of the shop rings with prominence. You already know who it is without lifting your gaze from your newspaper.

“Darling, love of my life, fire of my heart,” The man sings — an annoying, sickly sweet tone — his volume increasing as he glides his way to the front reception desk, “The machine is broken again.”

You cough, adjusting your newspaper. He is so abnormally tall his hair is all you can see from your periphery. Why he presents himself in such a way you never want to know.

“Then go to another laundromat,” you murmur quickly. You have grown accustomed to dismissing his outlandish behaviour. It is a second instinct at this point.

“Nah. I wouldn’t receive such service anywhere else — you are special, you know? One of a kind.”

You choke a little at his hoax of his compliment, “You make me sick.”

A large hand puts your newspaper down. You allow it, only because you wanted this interaction to end. Even seated on a swivel chair, elevated to its highest position, you have to crane your head a little to meet him in the eye. You see yourself in the reflection of the dark glasses he cunningly chooses to wear inside.

When you scowl he returns it with a cheshire grin.

“Thank you. You’re too sweet.”

“What do you want, Satoru?” You do not use his last name or any honorific to address him despite his age. He was older than you by a few years — but certainly did not act the part — so you do not think he deserves your respect. Your host father told you he does — something about his being from a prominent private school as an educator, which you cannot possibly fathom being the truth. But only in front of you is Satoru Gojo an inane, odd man with a need for clean, dry-cleaned clothes that, for some strange reason he has conjectured in his equally baffling mind, only you can provide.

“You.”

The wrinkle that had formed between your brows drops in less than a second. This was the typical routine. You would get annoyed — and he would get a sick kick from that. You refused to be his entertainment, so, for once you decide to be the bigger person.

“My friend is a police officer. He is five minutes away,” you retort, not being the bigger person. Though actions did speak louder than words.

Satoru places his elbow on the desk. He has to bend his back in an uncomfortable manner to do so — and he leans his face on his palm which only makes the position and his stature appear more cretinous and acute.

“You’re pretty when you’re angry, do you know?”

“Go die.” (You are being a bigger person today only through your actions. Not your words, you quickly decide.)

“Can you let me buy you a coffee? Put me out of my misery?”

“Leave me alone. I will scream for A-chan.” (Your dog, sleeping peacefully somewhere in a corner near the dryers.)

“Awh,” he coos, tilting his head only more. You wonder if he has back problems. “That’s vulgar. I thought you were a good girl.”

At this, you flounder. Fisting your hands together, you rub at your forehead. Satoru possessed the putrid ability to irk you like no other. You look down at your textbook — you were on chapter five, studying deadlock before he came — and it was certainly fitting given his arrival.

“I am. For people I can tolerate.” You retort, monotone to not please his sadism.

He smiles anyways and leans forward, gazing towards where you look — a few sheets of loose-leaf paper with your begrimed writing. You can catch a glimpse of his azure coloured eyes through his lashes from this angle. At first they scared you. It was an utter oddity to you — you had seen nothing as strange from all your years tending to this run-down laundromat. People who came and went were not as nearly as fascinating as Satoru Gojo’s eye colour, unfortunately, but that was not to say they were not as interesting. Odd characters entered every now and then considering your laundromat being less than 5 metres away from a graveyard — which only begged the existence of Satoru all together.

Perhaps he was visiting someone every time he came. You liked to make stories of customers who you would encounter. That was Satoru’s because you could not think of anything else.

You never asked, he never said. This was how it went.

“What’s all this?” He questions, his tone softer than usual. You feel his eyes travel to your right shoulder, making you self-conscious.

For a second you think he knows of the pain you have been feeling there.

You shake your head of the plausibility.

“Homework,” you reply, curt and straight, adjusting your posture in your seat as a sudden wave of bashfulness has overcome you.

“For what?”

“My operating systems class.”

Satoru coos — treating you like you are some sort of stray cat when he is the one encroaching on your property. “Sounds hard. You’re real smart, then?”

You look up, mouth falling into a line as you mumble a small, “Yeah.”

You want this conversation to come to an end. But Satoru liked to season his prey and you were not an exception. You remember encountering one of his students once — you think their name was Megumi — who had told you to steer clear of Satoru if you wanted your sanity to remain intact. It was solid advice, the only possibility it did not cover was Satoru forcing himself in front of you no matter what turn you took.

“You have to give me something to work with here,” he moans dramatically.

You take some money from the tip jar and hold it out in front of him as an incentive.

“I’ll pay you ¥800 to leave me alone?”

Satoru takes the money, but he doesn’t leave.

“You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” He sneers at you. You crack your shoulders and decide to get started on the problem at hand because at this rate you will never finish your homework.

Walking towards the washers, you start speaking, not looking behind you to see if he is following because you already know he is.

“I don’t have time for this. Which machine isn’t operating?”

For once in his life, maybe out of the glory that overcame him from getting the upper hand on you once again, he complies.

“Third washer on the left, near the door.”

You walk towards it. Satoru stands next to you. His clothes float in a puddle that has formed within the washer — a drainage problem. Taking his clothes out of it, you rinse the soaked water in the sink and place them in another washer. If he chose to use half his brain he could have solved this himself. But after observing his smiles from your periphery and through the reflection of the glass door you come to realize he is enjoying himself.

An hour comes and go. Satoru talks your ear off at the reception even as others come and go. He puts his wet clothes in the dryer and folds them when they are finished, into a duffel bag.

When he stands in front of you, silent for the first time since his arrival, you know he is about to leave. You always give him a nice goodbye.

“Time for your weekly departure? Please do not bring clothes stained with blood to be dry cleaned next time. Mother almost fainted last week and is growing suspicious.”

Satoru smiles at you which lets you know that he understands your joke. He is handsome but he is nothing of your world, you realize. He only ever exists within the four wall of your parent’s laundromat and will only ever smell of floral detergent. It was better this way, you think.

“Awh. You’re worried for me?”

Your lips lay flat and you look down at your textbook.

“Have a nice day as well,” he murmurs, low. It catches you by surprise. When you lift your head up, he is already gone.

The pain on your right shoulder has stopped when the chime of the door opening and closing rings.

You pretend to ignore it — the feeling of his eyes and the growing aches surfacing within you — and go back to studying.

.

Satoru waits five minutes after he has left you to acknowledge his student following him. He stops near the abandoned phone booth he had found you sulking in two weeks prior — curled up with your legs tucked to your chest — pondering on about nonsensical things.

It was not the worst of the side effects you possessed after leaving your clan years ago and starting a new life with the Kobayashi’s at their laundromat.

“Megumi-chan, care to join me?”

He smiles when he sees his student scowl at him and he only continues to walk as he catches up.

“Why do you insist on pestering her? You know she will never remember. Yaga-san will be mad,” his student asserts after meeting his shoulders

Satoru does not answer right away. He recalls a fragment of a memory from his childhood. He had been doted on since his birth. You were a refreshing rarity, always hoping for a life greater than the one you were subjugated to — the daughter of a lowly maid, a normal girl for all purposes yet never treated as such. He remembers a small conversation you shared for less than a minute when he was only eight years old and you were five — how one day you wanted to be able to go to Hokkaido for the ice sculpture festival during the Winter. It was such a naive thing to aspire for. A cruel irony, really, that you still remained the same after so many years.

A snowflake falls towards Satoru’s shoe, but never quite graces its body.

Slinging an arm around his student, he answers brazenly, “I don’t know. I suppose I’m bored these days. Entertain me.”

[come-away-with-me87]

It Takes Two Chapter 2

Chapter 1 here

******

The work week went by without incident, and suddenly, it was Friday afternoon.  As you were leaving to go to your car, Nemuri caught you.  "Hey, Y/N!  Do you want to come out with us tonight?  Me, Hizashi, and Toshinori are gonna hit up the bar and have a few drinks.  Well, Hizashi and I will, not Toshinori.  And hopefully you."  You thought about it for a moment.  You had no plans for that evening other than sitting on your couch with your cat watching a trashy reality show in your pajamas.  You finally responded, "sure, why not?  What time?"  She said to meet up with them at 7:00pm.  This should be fun, you get along with the three of them great, and you haven't been out in quite some time.

Since you were going out to a nicer bar, you decided to dress up that night.  When you went back to your apartment, you jumped right in the shower.  With a towel around your upper torso and a towel around your head, you went to your closet and decided to pick out an outfit to wear.  You decided on an outfit, and laid it out on your bed to put on closer to when you were going to leave.  You made yourself something to eat, played with your cat, Ariel, for a bit and started getting ready.  With your towel still around your upper torso, you blow dried your hair mostly straight with some voluminous waves.  Your normal everyday makeup look was usually a little foundation and mascara, but tonight you also opted for some cat eyeliner and red lipstick.  

Finally, you put your outfit on. You opted for a form-fitting black cowl neck dress that went down to your knees, with golden chain straps that criss-crossed across your upper back.  As far as shoes, you opted for a pair of red kitten heels.  You looked the complete opposite of how you normally looked at work.  You didn't wear your hero outfit to school, you typically opted for a blouse tucked into a skirt with sensible shoes.  You stood in front of your full-length mirror, and thought you actually looked really good.  You could never compare to the R-rated hero's outfits, of course, but still.  Your dress hugged your curves in all the right places, and your makeup was on point.

By the time you finished getting ready, it was already 7:00pm.  Shit, you were going to be late.  Good thing the bar you were going to was only ten minutes away.  You texted Nemuri to let her know you were on your way, blew a kiss Ariel's way, got into your car and headed to the bar.  You arrived around 7:15pm, and the parking lot was absolutely packed.  You finally found a parking spot and went inside, and looked around for a little longer than you cared to admit to see where your friends were sitting.  You finally spotted...Shouta?  Nemuri did not mention he was also going to be there.  You suddenly felt very overdressed and uncomfortable; the man you technically work for was here, and you were dressed the way you were.

You were there, though, so you made your way over to the table that they were sitting at, when Shouta looked up at you first, "Miss L/N?!"  Nemuri just laughed, "now now Eraser, we're not at school right now, I think we could be on a first name basis, yeah?"  Shouta just looked down at his drink, but not before scanning you up and down.  Hizashi whistled, "girl, you look hot tonight!"  Nemuri nodded her head in agreement, while Toshinori just looked up at you and smiled.  He scooted over so you could sit next to him.  It was you at the end, then Toshinori, then Nemuri, then Hizashi, with Shouta at the other end of the table.

The server came over and took your drink order, which was a whiskey on the rocks.  She came back with your drink, and you all cheered to the end of another successful week.  While you were cheering, you looked at Shouta and noticed his eyes on yours.  For some reason, you suddenly felt yourself blushing.  Why were you blushing?  He was your boss.  You tore your eyes away from him, looked down at your drink instead, and said, "so, what have I missed so far?"  Nemuri chimed up, "well, we were talking about the students' progress this week, but I think we should talk about something other than work now that you're here."

The conversation flowed very easily between the five of you; even Shouta chiming in at times.  It was nice to feel included in a conversation with him as well.  The server came back over when she noticed that all of your drinks were empty, and you all re-ordered.  She came back to your table rather quickly after getting your order, with just a whiskey on the rocks for you.  You were confused.  She pointed across the bar, "Miss, that gentleman over there bought you a drink."  You looked to where she was pointing, and the man waved at you.  He was absolutely gorgeous: he was tall, blonde, muscular, wore a dark green button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki pants, and dress shoes.  You politely waved back in thanks, to which he took the opportunity to get up and make his way over to your table.

******

To be continued...

[adhdnojutsu]

Identity wars & the Uchiha

I always wondered why Itachi haters hate him because he committed mass murder, but excuse Sasuke, Obito, and Madara, for doing/attempting the same. I finally managed to put my finger on why exactly this doesn't sit right with me, other than just being plain silly or using trauma or marginalisation as an excuse for just about anything. Look, I'm queer, doesn't mean I get to walk into a roomful of c*s folks and empty my clip.

Itachi weighs human life in absolute numbers. Anti-Itachi, pro-Uchiha fans weigh human life in identities.

To them, each marginalized life is worth a whole busload of non-marginalized lives. They forget that social justice is NOT revenge, ie marginalized people taking the whole cake and leaving the non-marginalized to starve, but to redistribute the cake so NO ONE goes hungry.

To them, anyone in Konoha other than the Uchiha are non-marginalized aka "the oppressor", so their lives carry not even half the weight of an Uchiha's.

Because clearly, when they defend Sasuke's planned mass murder, it's not just "Danzo and the elders", no, these people think "guilt by association" is the new social justice, so everyone "laughing" in Konoha, to use Sasuke's words from his unhinged rant, is guilty and deserving of retaliation, too. There are no "victims" or "innocents" in Konoha unless they have a ping pong bat on their shirts, it seems. Not even babies or elderly. They're all guilty of something only 3 living people are even aware of.

They don't realize they're justifying school shooters. Because yes, the boy was victimized by a handful of bullies and had every right to go after them, but what, pray tell, justifies shooting up the whole school? That's what Sasuke, Obito, and Madara are. Glorified mass shooters. They have righteous beef with an entity or handful of people, and they're happy to take everyone else down with them for sharing the enemy's zip code.

When lumping all Konoha residents/people everywhere in with "the oppressor", these people don't take into account:

-genuine ignorance of the administration's rotten tactics

-if aware, a lack of power to change anything

-repercussions of treason/desertion -rational thought, ie. not criminalizing someone for living in the only place they've ever known

-other forms of marginalisation existing within Konoha, as well as civilians and dissenters -cultural/propaganda impact, ie. drinking the kool

-aid not typically being an act of malice and thus not warranting a death sentence

-limited responsibility for elected leaders: you may not have voted for this leader, or your elected leader may not keep his promises

-various personal and societal struggles not leaving capacity to march for the marginalised; remember Konoha doesn't even pay decorated ninjas enough to have their sick children treated: Mukai Kohinata had to spy for an enemy village to pay his son's hospital bills, and Konoha sent Itachi to kill him for it

-Kage are not democratically elected, making people living under them even LESS responsible for their administration. The Kage administration is a dictatorship, making everyone living under a Kage oppressed and victims. This also adds not-so-voluntary pressure to the "voluntary" decision to serve as a ninja. Imagine saying no to a dictator with a huge standing army of brainwashed child soldiers.

-the public reaction to the genocide. If they hated Itachi that much for it, surely, they could have made good allies to the Uchiha if the latter had EVER bothered to share their concerns rather than simmer in silence!!

All they see is "Uchihas oppressed, so everyone else bad". So they don't mind that Sasuke or Madara or Obito kill a bunch of innocent and marginalized people along with "the oppressor". Collective punishment, guilt by association, all those things I thought we all agreed are ALWAYS bad, are suddenly excusable if committed in the name of justice (revenge) rather than power.

Itachi "looks bad" because he only killed oppressed people, under orders from the oppressor. Itachi haters don't even take into account that he did so in tears and hating his commander and only obeying because of the many INNOCENT lives he thought were at stake - many more than those 60 or so Uchihas. He didn't kill the clan "for the oppressor" (a government), he, from his POV, killed the clan for the people who didn't ask to live under this, or any government - after all, there is no opting out of "enabling injustice through citizenship" no matter where you go, so why fault anyone for existing where they do?

Is all of Konoha really "the oppressor" because of those 4 old people? Where could Konoha residents go in protest where they would not collaborate with some form of oppression, where is that utopia of innocence and justice? Fugaku sure wasn't gonna build it, since he would have to establish a new iron fist rule to keep people in line after *checks notes* kidnapping a leader who only ever showed them a loving face.

"Guilt by association" is not how to advocate for social justice. Not in the Narutoverse, not IRL. You just turn the aggressor-victim dynamic around, not eradicating oppression.

[rpking99]

Kobiya High/Transformers Kotobokiya Lore

So as some of my guys might realise/know that I have the Kotobokiya Bishoujo Transformers girls as Muses

And it just had me thinking... Might be good to let everyone who what In doing with them as characters, haha

Okay so first off, let me explain what these are. Basically Kotobokiya is a company that makes very beautiful anime style statues. They do lots of official characters (like Marvel and DC Heroines) but they also have a few spin off lines. Such as the Bishoujo line where they make genderbent human formed characters, in this case transformers. There is no more or story for them at all

So... Yeah. My own unique idea/stuff

The group all go to Kobiya High, nice and simple. And the girls are split into two... Factions, kinda.

....

Also. Be warned. Lots of punny names incoming

The Factions

First we have the AutoBot Action Band (ABAB) where the good girls are. They are group that just specialises on... Well.... Having fun. Trying new things. Doing sports, acting, adventuring and playing music. It's basically an excuse in order to just hang out and have fun

On the other hand we have the DeceptiCon Disciplinary Committee (DCDC), the school police kinda thing lead by the Student Council. You've seen them in many anime and Japanese franchises.

And now... On to the characters/Muses!

Characters/Muses

Optima Convoy is the leader of ABAB, a fun loving and free spirited girl who is wise beyond her years. Coming across as a big sister to every member of the club. Someone who lives in the moments. And is also a big nerd. Optima actually being a nickname, as her real name is Oriana and she has some of the highest grades in class

BumbleBecky is a girl who forever has stars in her eyes. Lacking self confidence, making friends is one of the things that could keep her smiling forever.

Megatronia is the Student Council President, and also the head of the DCDC. Classic high power president type, think Satsuki Kiriyuin form Kill La Kill. She took over the Council President position from a girl called Zeta, who had made the school a war zone. Putting down social expression for uniformity and high grades. But after taking control, and through the election, she became twisted. In ways making the school a better and more accepting place, but also making the punishment for rule breaking even harsher. Pushing her and her old friend Oriana apart....

StarStacey is Megatronia's right hand gal in the DCDC, a typical spoilt rich girl type who will try and seize command from the president any chance she gets.

That is the main cast all done. The four official muses. However Kotobokiya does repaints, as does Transformers. And while there are not enough pics for me to add these girls by themselves, there IS enough for me to let them exist as soon offs to an extent....

Spin Off Characters/Muses

ThunderCandy is part of StarStacey's Seeker Trio. A drama queen who wishes to be an actress, she is highly focused on her looks

SkyWendy is the final member of the Seeker Trio. She is a bit of a ditz, and also a prankster. There to back up the other two as told but when left alone to her own devices... She causes chaos

Nemisa Convoy is Optima's twin sister. A trouble maker who works for the DCDC in exchange for being allowed to get away with her chaos as she so desires. A bitchy bitch who will happily kick your ass as soon as sucking your dick.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XXXIII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: The aftermaths of Sukuna’s defeats, and the role that Y/N L/N plays in both.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3.4k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i loved reading all of your comments on the last chapter LMAOAOAO had me giggling ngl. also uh tw cannibalism for the first half of the chapter?? idk it’s just sukuna on his bullshit as per usual

“I am a little insulted,” Sukuna admitted, standing with one pair of his arms folded over his chest, the other on his hips, the mouth on his stomach baring its teeth at the girl. “I thought the might of all the world’s sorcerers would have come to try and seal me, but they only sent you and that little knife of yours.”

The girl — well, she was on the cusp of womanhood, but anyone who wasn’t an old lady was nothing more than a mere girl to the King of Curses — did not look like she was afraid, or at least not afraid in the way she ought to be. Certainly, she was frightened, but it was not of him that such fear originated, and that irritated him. Did she not understand who she was standing in front of? Did she not realize that any other fears she might have would pale in comparison to him?

”I volunteered to come,” she said, eyes downcast but shoulders straight. “I told them I could do it.”

“Is that so?” Sukuna said. “And do you still believe that you can?”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

It wasn’t really public knowledge, but the truth was the Sukuna had, as of late, been famished. Uraume’s cooking was as delicious as ever, but he had been craving something different. Something fuller, something like sushi, maybe; the delicacy of the meat combined with the flavor of the sauce…it would be appealing, if he ate fish. Though, then again, something even baser might satisfy him better, something raw and messy and hideous. He had been thinking these things, but he hadn’t had the wherewithal to do anything about them, not when it required effort on his part.

Yet here she was. This girl, this robust, childish creature, was standing in front of him, and he almost salivated as he observed her with the critical eye of a connoisseur. She was full in the places she ought to be, which was definitely a relief — in his experience, the spindlier sort of humans never tasted quite right, always too tough for him to enjoy himself as he went. 

“I’m surprised,” he said. “What do you think you can do against me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think I can do,” she said. “I’ll do what I must.”

He didn’t use his technique. He was so, so hungry, and besides this girl barely came up to his collarbone, so it would be a little excessive to do so. Anyways, the thought of eating meat tainted with his own technique always made him shiver; it was a little too close to self-consumption for comfort, and he also couldn’t put thoughts of contamination out of his mind, so he tried to avoid it when he could.

It was a little strange: the girl did not run away. When he wrenched the knife from her hands, she was motionless, tears gathering in her eyes but her body frozen in place as she surrendered to Sukuna’s might. Twirling the knife in his fingers, he used one of his hands to lift her by her collar, cocking his head at her dull gaze.

“And what must you do?” he said. She hung there, but an uncharacteristic defiance sparked in her eyes. It was not the kind of look that prey wore. It was the expression of someone whose victory was predetermined, which was entirely absurd, given that she was quite literally millimeters away from the jaws of death.

Scowling at her impudence, Sukuna took the knife and dug it into her chest. She obviously tried to keep silent as best she could, tried to deny him the delight of her pain, but she was unable to stop the small, soft gasps from escaping her, unable to to prevent her every breath from breaking off into small whimpers as the life began to drain from her, right alongside the blood spurting from the site of the wound.

His mouth watered, and then he could not contain himself any longer. Without even taking a moment to rip the knife back out, he brought her body to his, biting onto the crook of her neck, his second mouth latching onto her thigh, tearing into the flesh and lapping at the crimson liquid seeping from where his teeth had clamped down.

She was shaking now. He paused for a moment, because if she was crying, then there was no point in continuing until her tears abated — the salty water would saturate her and spoil the flavor completely. Yet to his surprise, though she was crying, as any person being consumed alive was wont to do, she was also laughing. That was why she was shaking, in truth; she was laughing so hard that she trembled from the force of it.

“I’ve done enough,” she said. “I don’t have to be the one to seal you. I just had to do this one thing.”

“What are you talking about?” he said. There was a tinge of insanity to her expression now, her eyes dancing, her lips pulled back in a half-grimace, half-grin even as she slowly died.

“It’s not a surprise that you aren’t aware of it,” she said. “I’m an unimportant person married to an unimportant man, so of course you know nothing about me. It worked in my favor, though, since it meant you were naive enough to do what you just did.”

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, thrashing her about in the air furiously. “Explain yourself!”

“It’s not a cursed technique, but rather a property of my cursed energy that I inherited from my mother,” she coughed out. “I’ve never been able to explain it until someone told me a story from a land on the other side of the world, one in which a woman must stay in the underworld against her will because of the contract she unwittingly signed after eating a third of a pomegranate. It’s like that.”

“That makes no sense,” Sukuna snapped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“My cursed energy,” she said, and then she had the gall to spit in his eye. “My body. My very being is like the pomegranate from that myth, and you dared to partake; thus, you have agreed to your own execution, the ink of your signature my blood, which seeps from your mouth even now.” 

He threw her to the ground, taking a step backwards. “I did no such thing.”

“You did,” she said. “From now on, I will be your weakness. You can only live when I live, just as you can only taste defeat when I do. The contract is fair, after all; it affords you immortality, contingent on my survival. Even I am powerless to change that.”

Just then, he felt a searing, all-consuming pain, his cursed energy separating from him, his fingers sliced from his hands by the blades of one-or-another sorcerer’s technique. This time, it was him who could not move as he was slowly but surely suppressed; it was not out of fear but something physically holding him in place, an oppressive but intangible weight on his shoulders that would not allow him to even flinch.

“You’re only sealing me,” he managed to say, his tongue leaden in his mouth though it was. “Not killing me. I’ll come back, and you won’t be able to stop me then.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe that’s what defeat means, this time. But when it comes to contracts, there are always, always loopholes. One day, I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean by that.”

She was dead by now, there was no doubt about it. The girl was dead, exactly by her design, and so Sukuna faded into the grey existence of the shrine he would be sealed in for the next thousand-and-some years.

The last thing he saw was a young man running to the woman’s side, shouting her name, his hands outreached as if his paltry Reverse Cursed Technique could actually do something as fantastical as bringing her back to life.

Y/N L/N. That was what she was called. That was the name of the woman who had sealed him. 

He swore to make her suffer if they ever met again.

It was unclear who dealt that final blow, whether it had been Itadori in his rage or Maki in her grief. Or maybe they did it at the same time, or maybe it was Y/N who had killed him and their actions had just been formalities. The details didn’t matter, really. He was gone. That was what was important; Sukuna was gone.

It was an occasion to celebrate. Once and for all, the King of Curses had been exorcised. He could never harm them again. He could never take anyone else from them. Though, it was a strange thing: neither Itadori, nor Maki, nor any of the others seemed to be particularly thrilled.

“Why did she do that?” Itadori said as Maki fell to her knees without the adrenaline of the battle to boost her any longer. “Why — why did she have to do that?”

Right beside where Maki sat was the fallen body of Y/N L/N, alarmingly still, alarmingly cold, the needle she had used to kill herself still hanging loosely from her hand. Because of how tiny the puncture mark had been, there was no blood, no indication that anything had happened to her, no indication that she was even dead. She just looked relieved to finally rest, her brow relaxed, the shadows under her eyes and the hollows of her cheeks less stark, less severe against the sweetness of her mien.

“What kind of plan was this?” Maki said, holding Y/N’s hand to her face. Tears that she would never dare shed in front of anyone else trickled from her eyes and down Y/N’s arm, but she did not try to stop them. It was Y/N, her Y/N, and she could always cry in front of Y/N. “Huh? Tell me, you idiot! What kind of plan involves running around and rattling off stupid, vague one-liners and then killing yourself? Only shitty ones do! Only really, really shitty ones do! You’re lucky you didn’t — you didn’t tell me what you were thinking before you did it, because I would’ve stopped you. You get that? I would’ve stopped you! You dumbass…why didn’t you let me stop you?”

Suddenly, an icy chill blanketed the air around them, and then they were all being knocked aside by the force with which Yuta Okkotsu arrived. Despite his Reverse Cursed Technique taking care of any of the actual wounds he had sustained against Kenjaku, he looked haggard, his eyes nothing but dark pits, his hair and clothes haphazard, his white shirt torn and stained, his sneakers splattered with mud.

“Kusakabe told me,” he said by way of greeting. “But it’s not true.”

Even though he said it flatly, like it was a fact, there was no way that they could agree with him. Because it was true. Because Y/N was dead. Yuta waited for them to say something, but both Itadori and Maki were silent, and that was when he noticed what was in between them — a corpse. The corpse.

He stared at it for a second, his face growing paler and paler as he slowly but surely understood that Kusakabe had not been lying, that she really was gone. He shoved past Maki and gathered Y/N in his arms, feeling for her pulse, waiting for it to blaze under his fingertips, waiting for her to open her eyes and laugh at him for actually believing she could die.

She did not wake up. She did not laugh. She could die. She had died. There was no pulse. There was just the vast expanse of her smooth skin, already losing its color in favor of the pallor of death. Yuta then tried to shake her awake, but she was limp and unmoving despite the harshness of the gesture. Slowly, it dawned on him that this was it. This time, he had really lost her.

He had been prepared for that to have been their final conversation, had been prepared to never see her again, but not in this way. He was the one that was supposed to die. She was supposed to live. It was because she was stronger than him — she was the one who would be able to figure out how to keep going. He could not do the same. She was the person who had told him that it was okay for him to live, so how was it that she was now dead? 

“Okkotsu?” Itadori said when he did not move anymore, just sitting there and cradling her body in his arms. “Okkotsu, what should we do now?”

“We have to cremate the fallen sorcerers,” Maki said, interjecting for Yuta, who was in no condition to respond. “Including — including—” She dissolved into genuine tears, unable to complete the sentence, burying her face in her hands, her breaths coming shallow. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just give me a minute, Itadori.”

“No,” Yuta said, dully at first and then voice rising in a panicked crescendo. “Not her. You can’t cremate her! She’s scared of fire, Maki, she has been since Shibuya. She’ll be afraid if we burn her!”

“What about Megumi?” Itadori said, steering the conversation in a different direction when it became obvious that Maki had no response to Yuta’s protests.

Maki gave Yuta and Y/N one final look, and then she wiped at her face, knowing that she would have to take charge, that she could not afford to linger like this. The time to grieve would come later. At present, she had to ensure that all loose ends were tied up, that they made sure their friends’ sacrifices were not in vain.

“Let’s go see what the situation is,” she said, placing a hand on her junior’s shoulder. “Come on.”

They left Yuta alone with Y/N, lying beside her immobile body, her on her back and him on his side so that he could face her. He stared at her with the same adoration that he had when she was alive, his devotion unwavering even though she was now gone. He was like her, in that sense: he, too, did not know what it meant to let go. He would lie there, waiting for her until she came back.

“Why didn’t I tell you?” he said. “I was so afraid of cursing you, but if this was always going to be the outcome, then what reason did I have to be so cautious? I should’ve just done it. I should’ve just told you.”

She would never get to hear him say it. That had been the one thing she had asked of him, and he had not even given her that. Now she was dead and he was alive and it should be the other way around but it wasn’t, and how was that fair? But there was nothing to be done about it. His beautiful Y/N, the girl he loved — loved, loved, loved, he thought it all the time but never said it — he would never see her again if he left her side now. So he stayed. For as long as he could, he vowed that he would stay, that he would in the meantime go about imprinting her memory in the very essence of his soul, so that he might never exist without her.

“I’ll say it to you now,” he said. “Even if you can’t hear me. Y/N, I—”

“Stop.”

Yuta blinked and then sat up, looking around and wondering why he had heard that voice at such a time. “Rika?”

He was sure that it had been her, but he hadn’t summoned the copy of her soul that he had retained, and the surrounding vicinity was empty. It was just him and Y/N, so why had he heard Rika telling him to stop?

“Yes.” It was her again. He whipped around, trying to figure out where she could be, but there was nothing bar a slight, dry breeze in the district. “You can stop looking for me. It’s not really me but a version of your subconscious speaking at the moment, so you’ll never find me in the physical plane.”

“Why are you talking to me?” he said in alarm. “Why can’t I tell Y/N what I should’ve told her so long ago?”

“Didn’t your teacher tell you that love is the strongest curse of all?” Rika — could she be called that if it wasn’t really her? — said. “By refusing to tell her, you’ve made a kind of Binding Vow with yourself. If you say it now, there could be consequences of the kind you aren’t ready for.”

“Consequences?” he said.

“Hm. Do you remember the story of the first Y/N L/N?”

“The one who helped to seal Sukuna, right?” Yuta said, and he was so exhausted that he could not even comment on the ridiculousness of the full-fledged conversation he was technically having with himself.

“What happened after that?” Rika pressed. “It’s the reason why the L/Ns are so well-respected. It’s the reason you’re still here.”

Yuta’s eyes widened, and then he was scrambling to his feet, crouching over Y/N. She was dead, but when had death ever been the end for them? She had not accepted his death, so why should he just accept hers?

“Can I do it?” he said.

“It’s not a guarantee, and you’ll have to give something else up to even try,” Rika said. “But yes, there’s a chance.”

“Anything,” Yuta said. “No matter how small the chance, I’ll try. I’ll give up anything to try.”

“Me,” Rika said. “That’s what you’ll have to give up. Your reserves of cursed energy — every drop, in fact. Your Reverse Cursed Technique isn’t like Composition; it’s not that strong, that purposefully designed. In order to even attempt a feat such as this, you will have to multiply everything you have together, far past the point of recovery.”

He didn’t have to take a second to think about it. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll be a normal person,” she warned. “I don’t even know if you’ll be able to see curses, so you can forget about fighting them. This is the last thing you’ll ever do as a sorcerer.”

It was selfish. That was what she was telling him; he was choosing himself, choosing Y/N, over the entire world. He was the only special grade sorcerer left, and yet instead of harnessing that power to restore order in wake of Sukuna’s rampage, he was giving it up for just a possibility, and an unlikely one, at that.

“I don’t have to be a sorcerer,” Yuta said. “I just have to be with her.”

“Then you know what you have to do. Goodbye, Yuta.”

“Goodbye, Rika,” he said, and the farewell wasn’t as horrible this time, not when it meant that he might — he might get to see someone else again. Someone just as precious. Someone who he was not ready to say goodbye to, yet.

Y/N often spoke about harnessing a great pain in order to be able to heal others. According to her, it was like a knife in her stomach whenever she used Composition, but Yuta did not have to reach for that, not when there was one already in his heart — a knife of his own choosing, one made entirely of the sorrow he felt from her loss. It was that pain which he sought out, and then he placed his hands on her chest.

“Y/N,” he said, activating his Reverse Cursed Technique with a tenderness he had never known before nor since. “I love you. Did you know that? I hope you did. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

There was nothing more he could do. He had given up all of his cursed energy, everything he had, and he did not know if it was in vain or not. For a second, nothing changed, and he thought that it had come to nothing, that he had given up so much and received disappointment in return, but then he was inhaling sharply as he felt a new sensation, one he had thought in the back of his mind he never would again.

Maybe she and Rika had been right. Maybe his love didn’t curse people. Maybe it saved them.

Under the callused skin of his palm, Y/N L/N’s heart once again began to beat.

[sea-owl]

What about a different type of Au!? In Season 1 When Colin is at the Featherington house trying to court marina. what about while he is waiting for his turn a duke or a Visount who Penelope met while helping him out of a situation shows up t court Penelope and while they are talking he make Penelope laugh meanwhile Colin who is supposed to be their for marina is looking at Penelope and the caller and realizes as he makes her laugh that he loves and is super jealous and trying one up the caller the whole time. How do you Think that would go?

Chaos, typical Bridgerton chaos. A scene is about to be made. Colin was already standing next to the seated Penelope waiting for his turn to talk to Marina so he got a front row seat of Marquess Odysseus Rose of Winchester. 

Colin first noticed him out of the corner of his eye. The man quietly slipped into the room. Colin would put him around a little bit taller than him, Benedict’s age with Anthony's build and quiet confidence. The man's hair was dark, darker than Colin's own chestnut hair, and scruff along his face. His brown eyes were scanning the room. 

“Pen do you know who that is?” Colin whispered to Penelope. Was it a relative of her’s? If not why wasn’t he announced? Who was he looking for? 

Penelope’s eyes followed Colin’s line of sight, recognition lighting them once she landed on the man. “That is the Marquess of Winchester, Lord Rose.”

“So not a relative of your’s?” Colin asked.

Penelope shook her head. “No, I assume he is here to call on Marina like the rest of the gentlemen. Odd though, the rumors say he is more focused on his academics than looking for a wife.” 

Marquess Rose looked in their direction, as if sensing their stares. A small smile formed on his face as he began to walk over to the pair. Colin noticed in his hands he carried a quill made out of a peacock feather and two journals. One of the journals was plain, something he himself has used before during his Grand Tour, the other was embossed with a floral design. 

“Miss Featherington.” Marquess Rose bowed his head. “I had hoped to see you.” 

Colin looked back down at Penelope. Again? They’ve met before? 

Penelope giggled. 

Wait, giggled? Colin found himself leaning back a little. Since when was Penelope this comfortable with some stranger? Colin felt his eye twitch, and his hand slid across the top of the chair until the back of Penelope’s head was unknowingly leaning against his fingers.

“Pen,” Colin said stressing her name. He wasn’t sure if it was to grab her attention or this stranger’s in front of them. Either way he had gotten both. “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting your new friend.”

“Oh.” Penelope blushed. So bright, and red. They reminded Colin of his favorite fruit raspberries. “Marquess Rose this is Mr. Bridgeton.” 

Marquess Rose turned towards Colin, was he sizing him up?. “Bridgerton? I believe I went to school with your brother Benedict.” 

“That sounds about right, you look to be about his age.”

“So you are the third brother?” 

It was innocent question, many have asked it before, but something about having a titled lord ask him that in front of Penelope set Colin on edge. 

“He’s the traveling brother,” Penelope said. 

Colin tried not to flinch. 

Something lit up in Marquess Rose’s eyes. “You travel? Have you heard the folktales from the places you travel to?” 

Colin nodded, unsure why the marquess would be asking about folktales. 

Thankfully Penelope spoke up. “Lord Rose studies different folktales around the world and how similar figures have appeared in different cultures.” 

Marquess Rose nodded. “Yes, I am currently focusing on mermaids and maidens of the sea. It’s utterly fascinating how similar and different each part of the world views them and how they came to be.” 

A lord and an academic? So he actually has a brain under that pretty head of hair? Dear god, no wonder Penelope seems excited to be in his company. Colin found himself wanting to shoo Marquess Rose off to see Marina already. So what if the marquess showed up last he’s sure Lady Featherington would push him right up to the front if she knew he was here. Maybe Colin should let the lady of the house know someone new was in it. 

As if she had a similar thought, and Colin did find it so satisfying that Penelope could almost read his mind sometimes, she pointed her head in the direction of her cousin. “Calling hours are almost over soon. If you wish to see Marina my lord you may want to make your way over there.” 

Marquess Rose looked confused, and. . . no. No he was not here for-

“I am sorry Miss Featherington but I am actually here to call on you.” 

Penelope’s face flushed again, her eyes darting everywhere but the marquess. “Me?” 

Colin felt himself go stiff. 

Marquess Rose chuckled. “Yes, you Miss Featherington. I had quite enjoyed your perspective on the sirens from the Odysseys. I had hope that you would take mercy on this lord and share your thoughts on Queen Penelope of Ithaca.”

Rumors say he’s not interested in finding a wife my ass, Colin thought, his grip tightening on the chair. 

Before either Penelope or Colin could respond Lady Featherington had announced that calling hours were over. 

“Here,” Marquess Rose said handing Penelope the embossed journal and peacock quill. “Write your thoughts in here. I can come back another day for you to share them with me.” 

“Lord Rose these are too fine for me-”

Marquess Rose cuts Penelope off by closing her hand around the quill and journal. “They are my courting gift to you. One of many actually.” With that Marquess bowed his head to Penelope one more time before leaving. 

Colin and Penelope both stared at where the marquess had just left. Well Penelope stared, Colin glared. 

Penelope traced the new quill. “This is the first time someone has came to call on me.” 

Colin felt himself bristle. He had. . .came to call on Marina, not Pen. As Penelope stroked the spine of the journal Colin promised himself that the Marquess would not be the only caller Pen had tomorrow. 

“What are you doing?” Benedict asked. 

Colin was surrounded by books, looking as if he was on a mad quest to find the right one. In one hand he held the story of Eros and Psyche, while the other held the Odyssey. 

“One of your old schoolmates, the Marquess of Winchester, came and called on Penelope today.”

Benedict scrunched up his nose, trying to think back on who this marquess is. “Okay, what does this have to do with you tearing apart the library?”

“He claims he wants to court her,” Colin spat the word, “but when he first arrived he said he wanted to hear her thoughts on the Queen of Ithaca in the Odyssey. Then he left her with a  journal and quill, but no book to reference from. Without a doubt he is looking to embarrass Pen just because she is clever and witty.”

Benedict crossed his arms. “Still doesn’t explain the library.” 

“I am going to call on Penelope tomorrow as well with a gift of the Odyssey that she may reference and examine,” Colin said. Now getting up from the floor he began placing both books in a bag. “If Lord Rose thinks-”

“Oh you mean Odysseus-”

“HIS NAME IS ODYSSEUS?!”

[wcrldcfvtlvs]

You have (1) new email.

LOST AT AIRPORT IN NEW ZEALAND WITHOUT PASSPORT

Dear friend,

I am Roberta. I know we haven’t spoken in over ten years and you probably don’t remember me but your email wound up in my list so I am sending you this aid request as well because I’m very desperate and sad and miserable and will cry. tHIS is because during my flight to norway the plane stopped at new zealand for transit and I lost all of my belongings while boarding because they took my luggage to a different plane. My passport was not in my bag and i need the sum of twoo hundred dollars to make a new one and confirm my identity to the local authoritries so theycab ket me go. My paypal is on the same email, i promise to pay you everything back adbif you need proof here is  apicture of the airport. Please, old friend, help me for old time’s sake I love you so much. 

With desperation, 

Roberta from high school

Checking emails was something Rosalie did often since it was part of her job to do so. Making sure VIP clients were taken care of, security patches were put through and so much more. However, she had to double-check the email she just received. Squinting at the screen Rosalie couldn't help but laugh. " Hey Gabe, come look at this. " Rosalie called over her shoulder, within seconds the voltaic knight summoned beside her, a rare occurrence for him to do so but with all the power Rosalie had acquired over the years, Gabriel was able to manifest a physical form.

Leaning over practically at a ninety-degree angle, Gabriel looked towards Rosalie. " You never told me you had a friend named Roberta, shouldn't you help them? " " Oh no Gabe, this is a scam, you tell by the typos, claiming to know me for ten-plus years. You know how my high school experience was, Lockhart hardly allowed me to have friends outside of Natalie and Sloane. My circle was small. Consider this cyber security 101. Typically you don't reply but I'm choosing chaos today. " Rosalie smirked as she placed her hand on the screen. Using her technopath abilities she did her best to trace back the source, hopefully she was able to make direct contact to the sender. If she was able to, they'd see the message:

Make sure the next time you try send a dumbass spam message, make sure you're not fucking around with a CYBER SECURITY MAJOR AND CEO OF A SECURITY COMPANY. GET MILLIE ROCKED IDIOT.😘 - R.A.A

Removing her hand from the screen she crackled her knuckles and turned her chair to finally face Gabriel. If the knight could, he'd raise a brow but she could already tell by the look on his face he was confused. " Don't worry Gabe, I was nice. " " I have a feeling you weren't. " " Yeah you're totally right, I was a bitch and I don't regret it. Maybe next time they won't screw with someone who is basically the queen of cyber security and a technopath. " The knight placed his claw like hands on Rosalie's head and gently ruffled her hair. " As long as you can't be tracked, it won't be a fair fight you choose to summon me, I might scare them, as you say humans says, shitless ."

[rederiswrites]

And now that I've put a face to the name for you, here is the biography I've worked out for Huginn so far.

Huginn Abban was born Irrenan Illistyn and raised in the drow capital of Menzoberranzan. Their mother was killed when they were ten, though as they had a typically distant relationship, the largest impact this had on Huginn’s family was being taken with their father into another drow family. They first truly came to their stepmother’s attention when her younger son attempted to kill his unwanted step-sibling and instead died, becoming twelve year old Irrenan’s first kill. Huginn’s stepmother saw this as a sign of desirable initiative and began investing more in Huginn’s schooling. They became a rising star as a strike unit commander until their family fell to politics. 

After the fall of their family branch, they spent several decades as a slave. During this time, a covert follower of Eilistraee helped them process their realization that no amount of viciousness, cunning, or strength can save you from things outside of your control, and that the drow cycle of violence and betrayal was not all there was to life.

After seventy years under the yoke of Lolth, living both as an active participant in the toxicity of drow society and then as a victim, they formally disavowed their culture and the goddess Lolth, and fled to the surface. They also chose a new name and shed the ill-fitting mantle of “he”.

In the one hundred and eighty years since, they have been many things--a lost soul looking for meaning in all the wrong places, a farmer in a small Seldarine community dedicated to the teachings of Eilistraee, a parent, a wandering cleric worshipping through acts of service to the poor and outcast, a covert operative in the Underdark seeking to free more of their people (this is a tenet of Eilistraee's church), and increasingly, a healer. They have two grown children with their own families.

As a fighter, they see themself as reasonably good at staying alive and not much more than that, but they’re a natural as a commander and strategist. Though they are always mortified afterwards, their bone-deep drow arrogance comes out hard and fast if their authority is challenged by anyone they consider unworthy to make the challenge. Between their substantial age and experience gap over most of the other tadpoles adventurers and this past experience with command, they made a natural leader for the tadpole team. Still, they believe deeply in self-determination, and always step out of the way and strive to make room for the companions to forge their own paths.

As Eilistraee dictates, they have pursued the arts in various ways. They take the most pleasure in music, dance, and embroidery. They consider themself to be a more or less adequate lyre player and a fairly good dancer, but a very boring painter. Their singing voice is a husky tenor, untrained but sweet. Though they’re aware that others consider them attractive, their formative experience was of not being considered up to drow standards of beauty. They enjoy cooking, but possess what they consider to be an inescapable weakness for the Underdark foods of their youth, especially a passion for mushrooms that the other companions can’t really get behind. Between a somewhat adversarial relationship with the sun and this weakness for the foods and flora of the Underdark, they’ve always considered themself to be something of a failure in their religion’s pursuit of return to the surface.

They consider choosing to be kind, and seeking to show others kindness, to be the great work of their life. Eilistraee does teach that violence and harm to others should be responded to swiftly and decisively, but they are very afraid, after so many years of pursuing a gentle life, of how easy violence is for them, how readily they still fall back on the deceit and viciousness of the drow. They are good at it--very good. They wrestle deeply with both knowing that this is what's gotten the adventurers this far, and knowing that this is not the person they've fought so hard to be.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Land and Freedom

A HABITAT IS A TERRITORY THAT PROVIDES SOURCES OF water and food, as well as reliable sources of materials for shelter and heat. Typically, it is where you first made love, learned to swim, caught your first fish, and perhaps even fought a battle against a belligerent neighboring group.

Practically everybody in your community knows the names of the flora and fauna of your habitat, where the berries are, when the birds leave and return. Most inhabitants feel a kinship with the totality of your habitat, not only its flora and fauna, but its weather patterns, rocks, streams and mountains, its unique smells and sounds and the various combinations of them that make the singular music of your home.

Urban civilization won’t fail because of the actions of a minority of eco-activists and indigenous traditionalists. However, it is possible that a majority of those repulsed by the destructive basis of civilization will become anti-authoritarian fighters dedicated to creating a world of ecological communities, each success along the way a revitalising inspiration. If enough of the population participates, a critical point will be reached where the drive of our collective push toward kinship with our surroundings will become unstoppable.

Revolution is not everywhere or nowhere. Any region can be liberated through a succession of actions, events and strategies based on the conditions unique to it, as the grip of civilization in that area weakens through its own volition or through the efforts of its inhabitants. It would benefit these liberated regions to form alliances or meld in some way, or they might choose not to.

It is up to each of us to look for the weak points and the vital points of our opponent’s armor within our geographical area and to strike them. It is not true that until all humans are free, none are free. But it is true that none are free until all are free within the same place. And it is enraging and sad that some might enjoy freedom and authentic community while others don’t. It is this sense of solidarity with others, our refusal to be atomized, that compels us to spread our freedom.

Civilization didn’t succeed everywhere at once, so its undoing might only occur to varying degrees in different places at different times. In any case, the process of domestication is an ongoing one. Just because it succeeds in colonizing any given area, doesn’t mean civilization is inherently permanent. Its continuance relies on our belief in its superiority, our submission to its authority, and our failure to have successful insurgencies.

Civilization is a march toward death. Just to ensure that some diversity of life will endure, the brakes must soon be put on the mega machines: seemingly unstoppable, out-of-control locomotives of catastrophes.

The captivity of the civilized must be maintained on a daily basis, otherwise there would be constant organizing and revolting. Coercive authority relies on entertainment (tourism, drugs, television, etc.), ideologies (Marxism, religion, science, etc.), propaganda (schools, mass media, etc.) and repression to keep us dumb and scared. Many of us who recognize that something is deeply wrong don’t fight back primarily, I believe, because of feelings of isolation and poverty, as well as fear of retribution from the repressive apparatus of political power (police, military, courts, jails, etc.).

While the rule of capital and centralized power might seem omniscient, they actually are not. There is a totality of domination, but the totality is not yet dominated. There are many psychic and geographical blind spots, openings, frontiers, where the sentinels and soldiers are few or at least fewer. We can take advantage of these. Our struggle for individual and collective freedom isn’t pointless or hopeless or so overwhelming as to make total surrender appear reasonable and inevitable.

For instance, because so much of our captivity relies on internalized cops, on the daily reproduction of social misery by our own compliance with the various roles expected of us (worker, soldier, consumer, man, woman, etc.), the weakest point in our opponents armor is probably our own ability to refuse these expectations of predictable behavior. It is through withdrawal from scripted roles and cultural constructs that we will get to know our neighbors and comrades, indeed ourselves, in a more honest light, revealing our true complexity as individuals, and thereby be better able to create the communities of resistance that could form the bases of our offensives. It also means attempting to collectively withdraw from our participation in the institutions and behaviours of capitalist civilization: entertainment, schooling, dependence on welfare states, wage work rather than subsistence skills and self-reliance, electoralism and other forms of representation, etc.

[citylighten]

🖊️ 🎶 💘 🎂 🍝 😊 😥 for rosie and 💯 🔺 🐈 🍎 🖤 🍸 🧐 for pietro <3

This took me SO long to answer but that's because the questions were so good!!

🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? Do they want any (more) tattoos?

Rosaria has a tarot card tattoo on her arm and a rose tattoo on her thigh. The latter came a bit before she started her first college semester. It was her 17th birthday and her sister insisted that she needed a tattoo before her college journey began. Since Sonia is a tattoo addict and Sal also has a handful of tattoos (I need to make more of his but I'm lazy shh) for Rosaria to get one was like a ‘rite of passage.’ Either way, she likes her thigh tattoo because she thinks it looks like an intricate design when she puts on stockings. But the downfall of this is when she wears stockings with intricate designs, her tattoo is still visible and throws the design off. The tarot tattoo is more recent and it also serves as a display for how much she loves colored tattoos rather than black and white ones. Rosaria has seen some really cute tattoo ideas of flowers at the ankles or a kitten hugging the moon, and she would love them on her but, because of her career goals she thinks they could be very unprofessional or at worse, look immature. 

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

She has a nostalgic love for 80s rock and 80s pop due to her parents always playing it when she was little. Beyond that she grew up in a house with all sorts of music: Sal loved rappers, Sonia loved rock! Rosaria found herself leaning towards indie pop and indie rock. Because I’m the sort of person who has to know what sort of music my OCs listen to so I can get into their headspace, I’m gonna name off some musicians! Tennis, The Bird and the Bee, Florence & The Machine, Lana Del Ray (she got into her during like, 2014 or 2013 tumblr. same with Florence), Mitski, Steve Lacy, and Toro y Moi.

💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them?

Her immediate family is very important to her, because it feels 'small and fragile.' Her mom died when she was going into Middle School, her dad began living his life self-destructively soon after therefore, Rosaria consequently grew up worried about her siblings dying young in addition to herself dying young. Her cat Briscola is also very important to her, because Rosaria feels like domestic animals depend on humans and consequently, if something happens to them its her fault and she's a failure in some way.

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs? Rosaria’s birthday is March 26, she’s 28 going on 29 and her sign is Aries which hopefully puts every one of her confrontational scenes in a better context 😂 I’m gonna be honest and say Rosaria’s behavior is based on my grandmother who is also an Aries who switches from being a diligent worker, a sweet, pleasant, caring person, then the most combative person ever.

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)?

Grilled chicken wraps, tortellini with ricotta and spinach.

😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life? When Rosaria was a kid she wanted to be the President. Looking back, Rosaria recognizes she always wanted to make the world a better place, because in addition to fixating on history, she was obsessed with how the creation of laws and rules were formed. When she learned that people in government made laws, that’s when Rosaria decided: “oh! I want to be President so I decide which laws exist!” ‘cause you know, kids simplify logic like that. She wanted to be a lawyer in Middle School and High School, but by High School she felt like her family wasn’t likely to put her through Law School due to their low finances. Once she was in college, she majored in Communications because she felt like she would graduate quickly with some sort of [dead-end] job to satisfy her family. Rosaria still wanted to make the world a better place though, so she would always participate in activist rallies and protests.

As she studies to be a lawyer now, Rosaria still aspires to help people. [Unaware that Raphael allegedly wants her to be a consigliere.] I consider middle-aged Rosaria, in the Sink or Swim AU, to be an Immigration Lawyer which ties into her passion about helping others have a better life.

😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool?

Rosaria is prone to anxiety. In a mild case she’s overthinking a situation, but in a severe case she’s having panic attacks. High levels of neuroticism runs on the father’s side of her family. But beyond that, a good deal of Rosaria’s general stress comes from her overworking herself and setting high expectations for herself. To receive bad feedback in college, or work, can send her into a brief depression.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. 1. Because he immigrated at seven years old and was thrust into English-speaking schools he struggled reading, writing, and speaking. Because this school was [shitty] and underfunded, apathetic teachers would consequently place Pietro in Special Education Classes that did not help him either. Dissatisfied with school [and seeing it as a place where he would just be humiliated] Pietro would stop going at fourteen years old. 2. His English gradually improved because his big sister, Donatella, would take him to the local theater every Saturday and they would watch movies. It was more of a listening experience than anything else.  3. Pietro was coerced into a sexual relationship with Daciano’s mother, Maria Falcone when he was twenty. Neither Ernesto or Daciano are aware of this. But, Pietro was residing with Ernesto and Maria at the time. Ernesto and Maria were splitting up, and Maria frequently made passes at Pietro wanting to fulfill a personal fantasy of having a young, fit guy fulfill her needs. As a result, Pietro felt to secure the fact he had a roof over his head, he had to sleep with Ernesto's wife.

🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons? If it was required for Pietro to cut up a man, he could do it with expertise. This is because his father, Umberto, made his living as a butcher and had his sons assist with the shop. He knows how to cut chickens and remove their innards and just the same he knows vital spots on the human body. Frankly, he would prefer to use a gun to kill. 🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends? Pietro is a man with a few close friends. However, he feels it’s good to be sociable and know others: because when people think that they know you, they can be resourceful in times of need. Prison taught him the importance of keeping his circle small, but even as a child and teen Pietro was a quiet, observant boy. He could be in a group of people, only making a meaningful connection with roughly three or four other kids.

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace? Pietro was born in Sicily [Tartosa] and now he resides in America so he is nowhere close to his birthplace. He misses Sicily, although he isn’t quite sure if he romanticizes his home country or not. Either way, Pietro isn’t fond of city living. Apartments terrified him as a kid - it’s too much noise and it didn’t seem right to stack people on top of each other. Houses located in busy districts are just as worse as the noise persists. He would rather live in quiet, unassuming suburbs where nothing happens or the countryside. However, living in the countryside means the commute to work would be too long, so Pietro settles for suburbia.

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust? Hurting others comes with the nature of Pietro’s occupation. However, an instance of Pietro harming someone within Sink or Swim can be seen when he and others pummeled Mendel the dentist. Pietro has broken hearts and trust more on a profound level when it comes to his family. And that is something we will dive in later within this story’s narrative.

🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink? Bourbon!

🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional? Pietro is sneaky, but he is also logical and level-headed. He analyzes situations and he is a reflective thinker. He is capable of becoming emotional in certain situations, but it’s because something he really loves is on the line or something he cares about is at stake. Sometimes, you can get away with jumping and doing something risky when wrapped up in your emotions. But sometimes you can’t afford to.