#many are just trying to make enough money to get by

[nytephox]

There are so many issues tied to why this is so fucking bad. As an American, and no, not a fucking proud one, this whole thing makes my skin crawl.

***This is why white-washed history is intrinsically detrimental to everyone it is taught to. And they know it!

***This is why they tell you that you need to learn history or you're doomed to repeat it. Because then you have the people you have seen, praising, applauding, and freaking defending the sick human being that decided to give a nazi salute.

***ALL OF THAT (and more) has led to what we are seeing now.

***This is why the American government, which has been bought out by so many corporations, will not put an actual working education system in place. In the words of George Carlin, they don't want critical thinkers, they want mindless factory workers that don't know any better. Then they don't know how to fight back.

***This is the accumulation of decades of work from people in power (not just government) to make sure they get to keep their power, money, assets, and will always try to make sure no one is smart enough to fight it.

All in all, there will always be bad people that want power, that want enslavement, that want other people to do their work, and know very well how to manipulate others to do it.

Be. Smarter.

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

[hyunjuenthusiast]

Im craving for angst , so girl can you write about Hyun ju x female reader

Basically Hyun ju and female reader have been dating for 1 and half year now, but things didn't went so well after attending squid game, Hyun ju gave young mi more attention , than she did for female reader so she distance herself from Hyun ju and her team, wondering why female reader ditched her. So female reader went to Gi Hun's team instead. And to make things worse not only Hyun ju voted O to continue the game, but Hyun ju lost the love of her life during the Mingle, ANND.. It took Hyun ju 2 to 4 business days to figure out that she hasn't been a good girlfriend ever since they came to squid game and Hyun ju Crashes out so badly.

(Female reader committed su!cide during Mingle, died instead of young mi and the shaman lady predicted female reader's death)

(And YES the guilt is definitely eating Hyun ju alive)

Sorry if this is too long

Take your time for this one

゜・（／。＼）・゜

Okayyyy complex, I like it! Hopefully I do this ask justice 🙏🏻

HER ANGEL

Pairing: Hyun-ju x femreader

Warnings: ANGST, depression, death, suicide, longing, survivors guilt.

Insecure. That was a word Y/n had always been familiar with. Ever since she was little. Her mother would criticize everything she did. If she ate too much, if she didn't eat enough. If her hair was down, if her hair was up. If she smiled, and if she didn't smile. Everything she did up until she was an adult was judged.

When she finally got the taste of freedom, moving out at the ripe age of eighteen, she discovered that the world was an ugly place. Nothing like how she fantasized how it would be. The books were wrong.

For the first few years after moving out, she was alone. Truly alone. She had no one. No friends to call late at night, no fuzzy kitten to cuddle when she had tears running down her face on a rainy day. No significant other who would whisper sweet nothings to her as she fell asleep... No one.

Not until she met her angel. Hyun-ju.

Everything had changed. For the first time in her life, Y/n felt like she deserved to take up space in the world. Hyun-ju made her feel wanted, loved. She erased every insecurity Y/n had. She loved every flaw and imperfection. She kissed her scars and wiped her tears.

Hyun-ju was her soul mate.

Y/n didn't care that her angel was different. She didn't care how people looked at them in public. Hyun-ju was perfect, in every way. Even if her angel couldn't see it for herself.

Hyun-ju told Y/n of her wishes for surgery. She had cried to Y/n about her debt and abandonment. And Y/n was there to comfort her in return, wiping her angels tears away and whispering promises.

So when a nice-looking man asked Y/n to play a game, showing her the money she would win, of course she agreed. For her angel, for Hyun-ju.

Y/n didn't need convincing to call the number on the back on the card. Once she saw Hyun-ju looking at herself in front of the mirror, her eyes filled with loathing, she dialed the number.

It was the least she could do. Hyun-ju had given Y/n her sense of self back. She had given Y/n her smile back. Of course, she would return the favor. Anything for her angel.

Waking up to the blasted music, she looked around to see other people. Waring the ugliest green she had ever seen. Looking down at herself, she saw her jacket was labeled 005.

She gathered around like everyone else. Waiting for an explanation. There were so many pink guards and even more players. They explained that they weren't trying to collect debt or cause any harm.

"Excuse me!" Said a voice. Not just any voice. Her angel's voice. Y/n quickly turned and saw Hyun-ju. Her Hyun-ju standing near a couple of bunks. She didn't catch what her angel said next, only focused on the fact that she was here.

Y/n winced as she saw Hyun-ju getting slapped. That was the day her angel had gone on a walk. She remembers her coming home, acting strange. Hyun-ju had met the salesman before Y/n did.

As all the players walked in single file lines up the colorful steps to get their pictures taken, Y/n looked around for Hyun-ju. Seeing her fixing her hair prettily, she smiles and quickly walks up to her. "Angel!" Y/n gushes.

Instead of greeting Y/n with a smile, Hyun-ju tenses. Asking her what she was doing here. "I know how much you need the money..." Y/n whispers softly, watching as Hyun-ju's eyes soften.

As they all walk into the first game, Hyun-ju holds Y/n's hand. "Don't separate from me, sweet girl. Okay?" Her angel asks softly. Y/n squeezes her hand in return.

"What is that?" Y/n asks, pointing to the giant doll like figure in the distance.

"Green light..."

Y/n quickly runs forward a few steps, then stops.

"Red light!" The doll waits, seeing if anyone would move.

The first to go was 196. Y/n stood, stiff as a board, the sound of people dying behind her. When the doll says green light, no one moves forward, but Hyun-ju reaches over and grips Y/n's hand.

Player 456 explains that they will die anyway if they don't cross the finish line in time, and so, she stays behind Hyun-ju, racing towards the finish line.

Once across, she watches in horror as her angel races back across to help player 456. This is the first and only time that Y/n has ever wanted to yell at Hyun-ju.

The second game is the six legged pentathlon. Her and Hyun-ju look around for more teammates. She notices Hyun-ju's fallen expression when people stare at her, and when they don't want to join because of her.

"Excuse me?" A timid voice says from behind the both of them. Y/n and Hyun-ju turn to see a small girl, obviously nervous. "W-Would you...like to team up with me?" She asks, looking at Hyun-ju first, then to Y/n.

Ever since then, Hyun-ju had been attached at the hip with Young-Mi. It was hard for Y/n not to notice, especially in a place like this. When she wanted comfort and reassurance from her angel, she would see that Hyun-ju was already comforting Young-Mi, that she was already whispering words of encouragement to her instead of Y/n.

But that was just who her angel was. She was kind to everyone, and Y/n had no right to take that away from Young-Mi. Y/n could clearly see how terrified the small girl was, and if Hyun-ju was her safe place, then who was Y/n to take that away from her?

That's was until Y/n heard it. What Hyun-ju was saying to Young-Mi.

"I won't let anything happen to you, sweet girl." Hyun-ju had said. Y/n felt her stomach drop. Sweet girl. That was Y/n's nickname. That was her word of endearment.

She decided to give them space. Joining player 456 and his team.

The third game was mingle.

As they all stood on the platform, Y/n watched as Hyun-ju held Young-Mi's hand, giving her soft smiles. Y/n felt horrible for feeling envious. Would she always be cursed to be this insecure? Would she ever feel content with anything?

"TEN"

The voice said. Everyone scrambled to find their groups and rooms. So far, their team had nine after joining Hyun-ju. Until her angel grabbed the crazy shaman lady.

Running into the green room, Y/n pants, not even bothering to look at her angel holding onto another woman. Hyun-ju gives her a confused look, wondering why she had left their group.

"Your heavy sorrow will swallow you whole." The crazy lady says, making everyone look at her. Y/n shrinks into herself as she realizes that she's talking to her. "You won't last much longer, I'm afraid. Pity. You have the purest birthstone."

"SIX" the voice says.

Gi-hun and Young-il had split from the group, leaving Y/n no other choice but to join Hyun-ju.

They all run to a yellow door, freezing in their tracks as they see a group is already in there. Hyun-ju races to find a different one.

She found one.

Y/n starts to run towards it with the other people in her group, but when she sees player 333 running towards it too, she slows down.

Looking over at her angel, she sees her clutching Young-Mi's hand.

The pregnant girl holds her belly.

The mother and sun cling to each other.

Where did Y/n fit into that? She didn't.

She has seen Jun-hee talking to player 333 on several occasions...

She needed him, more than any of them needed Y/n.

She made her decision then.

As player 333 races into the room, she finally hears Hyun-ju calling for her. Her angel was trying to get 333 out of the way.

Y/n walks to the door, looking into the small slit. "Y/n, what the hell are you doing? Go find a room! Go!" Hyun-ju shouts. Y/n only shakes her head softly.

"Ita okay angel." She whispers, putting her hands onto the door. Hyun-ju is starting to panic. The timer still had thirteen seconds on it. "I know there's no place for me here. Not now." Y/n says, tearing up.

Hyun-ju continues to shout, begging Y/n to go find a room. "You made me feel so inside the lines, Hyun-ju. Like I wasn't a lost shade outside of the pretty design. I could actually fit inside the art." Y/n says with a sad smile.

"I never thanked you for that." She says. "Thank you for showing me. For guiding me to see who I was for the first time."

Nine seconds on the timer.

"I know you'll be happy. You'll make it out of here and live the life you've always dreamed of...live the life you've always deserved. A life, with Young-Mi." Y/n's lip quivers.

Four seconds on the timer.

Hyun-ju starts shaking the door, sobbing and yelling. "I love you, my angel." She whispers tearfully, letting out a pained breath as she feels the bullet peirce her back.

"NO! Y/N!"

Player 333 had left that room beaten to a bloody pulp.

At first, Young-Mi's hand doesn't feel out of place instead of her own, not for the next two games.

Until Y/n's words repeat instead of her head.

A life...with Young-Mi.

Once she realizes it, she drops Young-Mi's hand as if it had burned her. She had been holding the wrong woman. Comforting the wrong woman. Calling her...

She had called the wrong woman sweet girl.

Hyun-ju looks over to Young-Mi, a tear falling. She had made the love of her life question her love.

She had been at fault for her sweet girl's death. Not 333. Not even the guards. Hyun-ju was the reason.

"Don't worry. You'll be seeing her again, " the shaman says. "A lot sooner than you think."

For the next game... was human chess.

I'm scared.... what do we think?

[amoristt]

the night falls like heaven

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, pining, nam-gyu's pov, lots of angst in an edgy way, very light drxg mentions,

a/n: this'll be a 2 part mini series! so excited to get this started ugh tysm to anon who requested this word count: 9.2k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・Nam-gyu was not a man of many regrets. 

If he had to count, he could fit them all on one hand. Mostly from when he was a teen. Younger and somehow even more impulsive than he was now, drinking through money like water and getting into fights he’d never remember. The worst of them all, however, was one he hadn’t thought would really eat at him. It was unlike himself to get hung up over a girl of all things, but good lord, he was hanging. Strings and all, like a marionette, bleeding and sore at the joints. 

Tough to swallow couldn’t even compare to the feeling of when that specific regret suddenly pops up in the same room after years of abandon. If he hadn’t been so down bad, the sight of you would have only ruffled up his feathers enough to remind him of a better time, but in God’s honest eyes, those feathers of his had been ruffled since the dawn of the very instant you left. The door hadn’t even had a chance to hit you on your way out, nothing but dust and tears in your wake. He was stuck fast, left to his own devices, bouncing between wondering why he let it go so bad and whilst also begging God himself to make you stop being such a bitch. 

But the worst part, the worst part is that even now you still carry this aura of over it all around you. Self-respect colliding with the want to be loved was never an easy tango to dance, all steps just pulling and pushing and trying to snuff out useless feelings and red hot passion. But you twirled until he did what he did best and nudged you to the brink of your breaking point. All that sweet, sweet adoration drained from your face and he saw it- dignity. He saw it on you on your  way out of his apartment, storming past him with biting tears in your eyes. And now, years later, he gets to see it again from across the room.

You’re sitting on a high, high bunk you’ve claimed as yours, people watching. Other than the initial moment you’d seen him in the bubble of people, you haven't bothered sparing him a second glance. It was a beautiful moment- your eyes widening, stopped dead in your tracks before you were on the move all over again. He’s sneaking glances through the corners of his eyes, watching you over his shoulder, and you can’t even give him another second of your day. And the thing that really bothers him is that he knows he can’t stop. 

Out of everyone in this room, your distant presence is a fiery beacon in the darkness and he’s an angry, bitter moth. It’s in his very nature to circle and flutter one step behind, seeking the light, burning at its touch. Singed wings and an endless sneer. If only he could just stop touching the heat, he would surely move on. But he just can’t, and the fact that you can pisses him off so much it makes him lose his breath at times. 

He wished, with the very core of his entire being, that you were weaker. Or, at least, stupider. Maybe then you would have lived up to his expectations and showed up to his door, or at his club, teary eyed and lonely without his superior presence around. He could see it behind his eyes at night, the waver in your voice when you’d beg him to come back into your arms, and more importantly, back into your bed. 

I told you so, he’d say, with that shit eating grin and a hand on your waist guiding you out from the cold.

A forlorn, guideless sheep in need of your shepherd. He could be that for you. If only the word boyfriend didn’t make him shudder with every last fiber of his being. If only that specific little thing wasn’t your breaking point. Your face haunted him- that halo around your irises fading into something far away and charred when he’d had the nerve to actually laugh at you for it. You were grabbing your things and leaving, and he sat watching every moment in clips. It wasn’t anything, back then. You were just mad, in a few days you’d be right as rain climbing into his lap and peppering kisses along his throat. You’d be back, he was sure of it. 

But then the days turned into weeks. And then, to his distaste, those weeks faded into months of silence. He started to catch himself looking for you in crowds, visiting places you’d frequented at just to linger around like an awkward ghost in case he spotted you through the shifting crowds. But you were gone- vanished.

Fine. You’ll never see me again, asshole. 

Those words had been etched into the very walls of his cranium since they’d left your lips in a scathing hiss. Such nasty words, but they shook with every consonant. 

Among your pride was a healthy blend of honesty. You had been true to your word- he really did never see you again. Wiped your slate spotless of anything Nam-gyu.

And it drove him fucking crazy. It made him sick to his stomach in a way he did not think was possible. It was out of control- he couldn’t stop thinking about you, you, you. He missed you more than he didn’t, and he was angrier at himself than he’d like to admit. So instead of admitting, he funnels all that anger into the very shape of you. Drags in the idea of you, his memories of you and shoves them down, down, down, until he truly did think he hated you, after all. 

Until he’s clenching his fist so tight he’s drawing blood and telling himself he’s better off now, without some whining bitch in his ear begging him to stick that boyfriend pin into the thinness of his skin. Thinks that without you hanging on his arm all the damn time, he could really go out and have some fun. He thinks, and he thinks and he thinks until he’s thought too much and suddenly he loves you again and he misses you so bad it’s crushing him under the sheer weight of your absence. 

So, Nam-gyu does what Nam-gyu does best once again, and he drowns himself out with the bitter taste of drugs on his tongue and the sear of alcohol in his blood. 

It all stops.

For a time, anyway. 

You always found ways to seep back into his mind one way or another. Songs that would only make it a second in before he was mashing the skip button. A tv show you’d watched together surviving on the screen roughly a whole minute before it’s switched off. Sometimes it was when he saw something he knew you’d like- a shitty video or meme. Other times you came to him in whispers while he laid out on his own living room floor, out of his mind watching the blank ceiling above him twist and writhe under his spotty vision with a needle poking out of his arm. 

But, most times… Most times you would slither your way to the forefront of his mind just before bed. The touch of you, the smell of you. 

The shape of you underneath him. Hands and quiet breaths. He could still hear the noises you made ringing in his ears, stored away in his memories just to taunt him when he was indisputably alone. Soft skin, even softer thighs. Always so warm, and so wet. So willing. You would come to him while he curled over himself in bed, drunk on porn and memories. 

And afterwards, when Nam-gyu had finished, he would throw his head back onto his pillow and ignore the way it felt like there was a lump in his throat. And that would piss him off even more, because fuck, you should be there with him. Laying by his side running your hands through his hair until he’s falling asleep balancing on the fine line of afterglow and dozing off. 

But you aren’t. You’re doing fuck all with who knows in places he’s never been to, places you probably begged him to go but he couldn’t even remember the name of. You hadn’t answered a single one of his texts, you hadn’t picked up a single call and everytime he hears the first couple seconds of your stupid voicemail he wants to crush his phone in his hands. Vexation was a slippery slope into the fires of fury- rage was like a parasite under his skin, eating away at what little rational thinking he had. 

Voicemail after voicemail. Text after ignored text. Anger was the hardest stage- rage grew horns on the crown of his head and it turned him into something he couldn’t recognize. Or, something he refused to recognize- desperate and heartsick. 

It was supposed to be you. Not him. 

He filled the endless gaps of you with drugs often and women when he could. For a short time it would work and he would wonder why he ever let someone else get him so, so low. But then the drugs would wear off. The random woman in his room that he never bothered to learn the name of would grab her clothes and saunter out the door. He stopped letting them stay the night. He could never sleep, stared at the ceiling until 5am wondering why he still felt like shit. He would be right back where he started, sitting on the couch, staring at the door watching you leave over and over again.  

You stopped updating your socials, quit hanging out with the few people that bounced between his and your crowd, successfully scrubbed him of your life entirely. After a year, he resorted to asking around if anyone had seen you. The answer, as always, was a firm no. It was a corrosive feeling, a constant churn and thrum within the cage of his ribs. It made him even more unrecognizable to himself. Made him invite women into his lap just to shove them away when they didn’t smell like you, or sound like you. Or laugh like you.

It had been so, so perfect before. It was fun, and it was hot all the time, and sex with you felt like heaven was a place on earth. Why couldn’t you see that? Why did you have to go and ruin it with your words and pleading eyes? Nam-gyu doesn’t roll like that. You knew that. He’s a free spirit, he tells himself. No chains, no labels. No holding him down. Even if it was at the feet of this gorgeous, gorgeous body and a honey sweet voice that just always seemed to know what to say. Beautiful eyes that always watched, a smile so saccharine, whispering words against his ear so dirty it made him shiver just to think about. 

The world was too vast to be held down. 

But, truth be told, he was held down. 

He is held down. 

When you walked out of his apartment those years ago, he never left that spot, chewing his nails and anxiously spinning the ring on his finger, watching you go. He started seeing it behind his eyes. Replays it, changes the course, wonders where he’d be right now if he’d just said something different. 

Finding you at the games was like divine intervention. It had to be. Some higher power had crossed his path and plopped you right in front of him. With rolling eyes and a deadpan stare at anything except for him, sure but you were there and you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. God had heard his drug induced prayers of stupor. 

Now it was all about waiting. Waiting for the right moment to dive in and recapture you within him and he’d be right back to drinking you in at every chance he had. He’d do it differently this time, do it right so you’d cling to him and wonder why you ever wanted to leave at all. Make you wonder why you were so stupid to have been so stubborn when everything you could ever need was in the palm of your hand. He was sure of it. That strong, bullheaded expression would blitz is something vulnerable in his hands. A lurch of excitement riveted under his skin among the nerves. 

For now, he waits, and watches. Your presence could never go unnoticed by his dark eyes. 

It’s unfortunate for him that Thanos takes a notice to you, too. It’s hard not to, really, when every time he follows Nam-gyu’s locked line of sight it always leads back to you- this little sweet thing perched up at the peak of the bunks alongside the back, watching the room with this bored stare between mundane yapping with other players. 

“Someone you know?” Thanos’s voice had this subtle drip to it, this underlining excitement that Nam-gyu picks up on almost instantly. His expression stays cool, mostly uninterested despite the way he can’t seem to pry his eyes away from you even as he answers.

“Yeah.”

“Who is she?”

And then he’s stuck. Because his mouth opens for a split second to say, my ex, but he can’t quite say that, now can he? But he also can’t say an old friend either, because you simply weren’t. What you two had was something else entirely- a new plane he struggled to navigate, lovely when things were good, a hellscape when they weren't. The lines were always so blurred, fuzzy with sex and warm laughter.

He decides on something mostly true. “Someone I used to hang out with.”

“Girlfriend?” Thanos’s brow raises with his chirp, leaning forward with clear interest. 

“No.” It comes out quick- too quick, and too heavy. Tinged venom with more baggage than even he could handle at times. Thanos catches it on impact and whistles. 

“I see. So you won’t care if I go chat her up? Hm?” 

“Don’t bother. She’s not like that.” Nam-gyu’s scoffs before he can stop himself, this unsettling seed of jealousy planting itself in his chest. 

“Hm… I guess we’ll see, huh?”

You’re dismounting from your bed and climbing onto the stairs when Thanos jumps to his feet, and Nam-gyu can already feel that itchy panic starting to blotch away at his skin. His hands, his cheeks. That seed takes its place within him bearing vicious roots. 

“Man, don’t bother,” He’s touching at Thanos’s sleeve, his shoulder, anywhere he can to try and gather his friend’s attention. “She can be kind of a bi-”

All it takes is a swat to Nam-gyu’s chest to stop him dead in his tracks, words dying his throat. Shut down, watching his friend take quick steps to you, Nam-gyu following close behind to witness.  If only he could be firmer, never demanding, always suggesting. Always rolling over and showing his soft underbelly at Thanos’s whim. Instead, he lets his lips press into a tight line and let’s it all happen right before him. 

You’re on the bottom step and taking a seat, and you see the rapper approaching before he gets a word in, but your eyes skip over him entirely and settle onto Nam-gyu’s. Distress is building in his muscles, but he’s making damn sure to keep himself in check. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone? You want a friend?”

Up closer now, sharing your space, he sees all the things he’d been missing so deeply throughout the years. You still look just as he remembered- still bearing this expression of bemused coolness, still having these all seeing eyes that seemed to cut right through him. 

“A friend?” you hum, and your voice threatens to pull him in like gravity. “You wanna be my friend?”

If jealousy could sprout through his skin, it’d be an ugly beast of horns and claws. But it can’t, so instead, it takes shape in the way Nam-gyu’s eyes are flicking between yours and the rappers, hands wrapped up in his sleeves. 

“Stick with me, yeah? I promise to keep you safe. My number one priority.” And Thanos is patting his chest, flashing those painted nails. Makes Nam-gyu’s chest tighten, his stomach growing sicker by the second. 

Damn, you can see it, too. There’s no denying the way he’s cringing behind that distant smirk, and he doesn’t think to hide the way he’s twisting his rings on his fingers. When you click your tongue, he knows what's coming. 

“Stick with you, hm… Sorry, but I try to work alone. Partner’s tend to, how do I say…” Those eyes of your slice through him all over again, honing into him when you finish your sentence. “Disappoint me.”

Fuck. Disappointment. Oh god, how that sears into Nam-gyu’s skin. The way you look the rapper up and down, visually sizing him up, would make his heart leap into his throat if he were under that same scrutiny. He never understood how you could always be this intense with such a sweet, sweet face. Kindness was certainly a luxury and he missed it, that never ending fire that kept him warm.

“I can change that for you,” Thanos sings.  “I’m a legend here for a reason.”

“Legend? I’ve never heard of you.” Your brows raise in amusement. 

“You will. Thanos.” He puffs his chest out and nods, a half cocked grin playing over his lips. “Guy’s like me, we don’t disappoint.”

The man actually finds the nerve to reach down and pluck your hand, bringing his knuckles to his lips. Nam-gyu feels red hot scorching through his face but he’s locked in place, watching it like a car crash. Relieved when you yank your hand free and shove it into your jacket’s pocket. It’s the only good thing out of this entire interaction, he finds, especially so when Thanos’s smirk falters into a tight surprised line. 

“Don’t go and do all that. Guy’s like you will always disappoint me.” You lean back against the wall of the step, vexation evident over your features. “How about you talk to me again after the next game, yeah? Maybe I’ll feel different. Thanos.”

You always were so good at slamming the door in people's faces, always brought Nam-gyu joy to witness you shut down the advances of some poor loser trying to gain your affections. Thanos knows he’s been hung out in the cold, too. Barking up the wrong tree in the wrong neighborhood in the wrong country. So, he takes a loose step backwards and shrugs. 

“Your loss.” He sighs, and Nam-gyu follows him all the way back to his bunk in brooding silence. 

Wringing his fingers, he can’t help himself when casts a glance over his shoulder to find you one last time before you’re obscured behind metal frames and moving bodies. When he does, he feels a rush of heat in his cheeks when you’re already stuck fast staring right back, watching him go. He’s silent when he sits down at his little corner of the dormitory, silent when Gyeong-su is harping praises at Thanos. Silent, even, when Thanos says he’s determined to bring you to his side of the map. 

However, he noticeably tenses when Thanos mutters, “What a babe, huh? I should go visit her after lights out.”

Almost immediately there’s hands on his shoulders, pushing and nudging him, demanding his attention. The deepest of sighs leaves the rapper, ducking his head to find Nam-gyu’s eyeline. 

“Come on, man. Don’t be pissed, it’s in my nature, boy. Be honest. You into her?”

“Me and her…” Nam-gyu swallows. “We used to mess around.”

“Lucky you.” Thanos’s is shoving Nam-gyu’s shoulders again. “You cut her lose?”

No, she cut me loose. But Nam-gyu can’t bring himself to say that, the words lost and barred at the tip of his tongue. In the silence, Thanos takes it as confirmation. 

“That’s so cold. If I had her, I’d never let her out of my sight. Sheesh.”

Nam-gyu can’t even form words at all, anymore, irritation and envy wrapping tendrils around his throat and snuffing him out. Your earlier words spin through his brain like a carousel- come find me after the next game. Were you being serious? Were you just saying that to mess with him? He knows you- he knows your tone better than he even realizes, but he suddenly can’t decipher what’s honesty and what isn’t anymore. Jealousy blinds him, thick lenses leading him in all sorts of binds. 

He should have talked to you. He should have made the first move and made sure the first time he was breathing your air was alone. Now he’s anxious, he’s resentful, and he’s humiliated for some reason he can’t quite place. It doesn't help when he can’t resist the urge to look at you one last time, just one for the road, and you’re chatting idly with a man lounging on the other side of the steps you’re currently sitting on. There’s a five foot gap between your bodies but Nam-gyu doesn’t care- the anger that rips through him is blind, you may as well have been fucking the man right in front of him. 

It’s all he can see, tunnel vision encompassing him all the way until the moment lines start to form for lunch. Stewing in his jealousy, a bitter taste blooming over his tongue, he doesn’t jump in line because he’s got an appetite, but simply because you were rather eager to fill your belly. He tails you, matches every step and still has to jump out in front of a random player from taking the spot directly behind you. 

You notice him with a fleeting look tossed over your shoulder, eyes darting from the corners of your eyes and then forward, still as a statue. Desperate to not interact. 

Nam-gyu can’t help himself.

“You into Thanos?”

You audibly laugh at him, and the sound makes him shred the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Everything. It’s everything to me. 

You look up at him over your shoulder, watching him through your thick lashes with scorn written all over those beautiful irises. There’s a flash image of you- a memory, tangled between the bedsheets, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes and tear stained cheeks with his hand wrapped around your throat. It’s quick but it hits him like a sucker punch right to the gut. He sucks in a sharp breath. He wants to touch you- he almost does, but the line moves forward a beat and you’re moving with it away from his hesitating fingers. 

“I’m just asking.” He’s trying to be coy, but you can see right through him. 

“You worried, Nam-gyu?” 

That hits him like a sucker punch too. He’d forgotten how his name sounded on your tongue, how it rolled off so perfect and pretty even when you were pissed at him. Sometimes specifically when you were pissed at him, this bubbling anticipation running through him in waves, your passion always the spark lighting the fire in his belly. 

“I’m not worried.”

“You are.” Clocked him, again. Peered into the windows of him and saw that angry ocean of spite and regret behind his eyes. “I know you are. I can see it on you.”

“Not worried.” Nam-gyu shrugs, but he can’t meet your eyes anymore. 

Another sigh ghosts from your lips, but it’s quieter, defeated, almost. 

“I’m not interested in your friend. I’m not interested in anyone.”

And then, he says it. Quietly, as if he doesn’t want you to truly hear.

“...You seemed interested.”

“So you are worried.” You’re crossing your arms and he stares down into your hair, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What if I was? You clearly had nothing to say about it. You were right there- you didn’t tell him we had history? Or did I mean that little to you?”

You’re mad. Holy shit, you’re still so mad at him. But then his brain scrambles to tell him the good side of things- anger is not indifference. So in some ways, maybe more than others, he’s still in that little dome of yours ratting around amongst your thoughts. Means that if he does this right, it would mean something to you to be better this time. 

His lips press into a tight line. He should have talked to you, and now it’s biting him in the ass. It seemed like everything always bit him in the end. And he always let it happen, watched and never interfered. You drive the nail you’d plunged into him even deeper when you throw his words, from all those years ago, right back in his face. That last thing he had said to you before you, or the idea of you, had become a black hole.

“You know what, Nam-gyu? What was it you had said? Oh- uh, why don’t you focus on yourself and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

It stings. It stings so bad that he physically recoils from the sound of his voice on your tongue, words spilling that just don’t seem right coming from you. Bitter resentment rises in his throat, this reflexive coping mechanism to bite back overtaking his senses. He wants to say I shouldn’t have said that. He wants to say, hear me out. But what ends up leaving him is just as ugly as the rest of his feelings. 

“Jesus. You’re still a bitch.”

The very instance those words tumble from him, he’s already regretting it with every fiber of his being. Even more so when you pluck your bento box from the guard and spin on your heels to glare absolute daggers into the very pits of his soul.

“Get over yourself. I’m glad we had this talk, it was very refreshing.”

This time he does jump to stop you, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just listen-”

“No.” 

He doesn’t hide the way he watches you scamper off to your little ledge, hopping up onto your bed and enjoying your vantage point above all else, focusing on your meal. The man you’d been chatting with earlier is in the bed next to yours and that’s just fucking great. The guard has to pry his stare off of you, and a bento box is practically shoved into his chest, urging him out of line. 

Nam-gyu hates the stone anchoring in his guts. Almost as much as he hates how his appetite never quite returned. All food tasted the same when you left, nothing compared to what you’d used to make him. 

The bento box was no different. 

That night, sleep avoided him. There was something keeping him awake- buzzing under his skin no matter how many times he’d rolled over and shifted himself into a new position. Of course he knew what it was- it never really left him, after all. The fact of knowing you were across the room, all alone in your bed, was this incessant knock in the back of his skull tapping him back into reality whenever he found himself comfortable enough to doze off. His mind was stuck on you, as always, wondering what you looked like right now. 

Did you sleep the same as before? Laying on your side, hair messed over the sides of your face and splayed over the pillow, those heavy lashes of yours kissing along the bone of your cheeks. He always told himself that it was you who was attached, that he was some great being and you simply touched the stars through him. How wrong he had been to think that, when the entire time he’d fit so perfectly against you, he a piece to your puzzle. 

How wrong he had been, because when he’s staring up idly at the ceiling, he thinks of the better days in his life. Always, always, it was you. Thinking of you sitting pretty in his passenger seat, watching out the window as the world blurred by in rushes. The wind blowing through your hair, your necklace catching the glint of the sun. You’d feel his eyes on you and you'd turn and smile at him so darling, so lovely, that he thought it could heal. Remembering when you’d walk into a room, shining like a beacon just for him. You’d find his lap, find his hair, find his lips against your own and you’d cry his name like a prayer. 

He was an idiot to have thought he was the something in the nothing- it was you. 

Even when he finally drifted off into sleep were you still infecting the very membrane of his mind. In his dreams, you were just as warm as you had always been. Bated breaths, hanging onto every word that left his lips, fingers that longed to touch and stroke and feel. His heart slowed to a peaceful beat, and his body curled into his pillow and blanket, trying to recreate the shape of you in his arms. For a time that evening, it worked. 

But then he woke up, and Thanos was leaning over his bed asking him if he was dead, and all those wonderful moments he’d relived were gone in a rush of bright lights and endless chatter bouncing off the walls of the dormitory. Like an addiction, the first thing he thought of when he sat up, was you. Thought about you all the way through the winding staircases and into a giant room with rainbow’s painted over the hard floor. So lost in thought that he almost misses it when the speaker starts instructing them- a 5 player minigame race. 

Teams of five. Okay, he could do that. Easy. Gyeong-su, him, Thanos. That was already three. 

It’s natural instinct when he starts to search for you in the bubble of people, his fourth member, even though he’s more than sure you’re all too excited to send him packing. The way you had looked at him at dinner the day before, he wasn’t sure if you’d even entertain a conversation with him at all, let alone join their team. But this is beyond an argument- beyond him trying and failing to lull you in, this is life and death. 

“Hey, there’s your girl again.” Thanos spots you first. He follows Thanos’s line of sight and sure enough, there you are, standing with your hands shoved into your pockets with this far away expression he can’t quite read. 

His girl. It would make him shiver, if he wasn’t already on the brink of tweaking. 

“Let’s go see if she’s changed her mind.” 

Thanos is running his hands through his hair and popping the collar of his tracksuit, a particular bounce to his step when he bounds right for you. Just as the first time, always on the lookout for yourself, you spot him coming before he gets to you. Already you’re annoyed.

By the time Nam-gyu slithers up beside him, you’re already turning Thanos’s first wave of advancements down, a snark to your tone and a glint in your eyes. 

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Thanos blinks, looks left and then right. “You’re good? I don’t see a team?”

“I’ll find one.”

“You got one right here,” He pats his chest again, before he slings his arm over Nam-gyu’s shoulder haphazardly. “Come on. You’ll be safe.”

The intensity in which you roll your eyes is fierce- an expression Nam-gyu really had only thought he could draw out of you. To make matters worse for his friend, you don’t even bother with saying no again. Instead you merely wave a dismissive hand and turn on your heels, meandering into the crowd. 

“You were right, Nam-su.” Thanos’s face drops and he unwinds his arm from Nam-gyu’s shoulder. “Not getting anywhere with that one.”

Nam-gyu is so focused watching you, that all he murmurs is, “It’s Nam-gyu.”

“Yeah. Nam-su, Nam-gyu. Look over there.” He has to force himself to look away, following Thanos’s point in the other direction you’d gone. A girl with short black hair stands off to the side, eyes traveling and sizing up all her potential team mates. Thanos pops his collar again, a hound dog chasing a brand new scent. “Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

For the first time, Nam-gyu doesn’t follow him. He says, you go, you go, and lets Thanos wind himself up all on his own before watching him go. He’s much more concerned with you and your team, this sense of anxiety starting to bud in his gut. 

He finds you like a moth to flame. Your shoulders slump at the sight of him, tired and irked. 

“Not this again.” You groan. “What, do you think you’re gonna come sweeten me up and I’ll say yes? I’m not playing on your damn team.”

Nam-gyu shakes his head and steps in front of you when you try to turn away again. His nerves are on the rise, and so is his temper. You draw it out of him like nothing else, he can’t stop himself. 

“Why not?” He asks, looking down at you with furrowed brows. You cross your arms, barring yourself from him. 

“Because I’m not.”

“This is no time to be stubborn. You don’t know what the next game is. You might need guys on your team.”

“I plan on it. There’s other men here other than you and whatever the hell his name is.”

Other men. Nam-gyu’s mouth dries up, his fingers already wringing in his sleeves. His jaw tenses with his temper, teeth grinding. 

You didn’t need other men, not when he would do anything under the sun to keep you safe. Anyone else may just let you die. Can’t you see that? 

“Why are you being-... Being like-...” He stops himself. Holy shit, his brain actually fires off the warning shot and he stops dead in his tracks staring at you in bewilderment. You adopt this expectant glare, a spiteful uptick to your lips that darkens your eyes. 

“Say it.” You sneer. “Go ahead, say it. I’m being a bitch, right?”

The word fights against his lips to get out. You’re waiting for it, at the edge of your seat, fully ready to take it in and chew it up and spit it out right back at him. But he bites it back and he swallows it down into his chest because this means something to him. Because it might mean something to you. 

“Being like this.” He stammers. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Your eyes widen just a fraction. “Keep me alive?”

“Can you really trust anyone here? You know me.”

“I do know you.” A flash of something provoked and somber rivets within your eyes. Anger mounting, your heart colliding with your brain in real time right before him. “That’s exactly why I won’t be on your side.”

If he’d had his foot in the door before, you were properly shoving it back outside. He doesn't know what to do, so he does the first thing he can think of as a creature of impulse, and unfortunately when it came to you that meant he was all hands. 

“Wait-” He catches you just as you’re turning away, tries to bulldoze over your defiance and smooth out all the harsh edges of your protests with the broad flats of his palms. Fingers clutching your tracksuit at your shoulders and then he’s realizing that he’s touching you for the first time in years. Your skin from underneath your jacket is just as warm he remembers, your eyes are just as doe-like at his touch too. Stubborn and ornery but overflowing with passion and static energy that settled into his bones. He needs it, he needs it. The obsession of you hits him in waves of yearn. 

He needs you more than air, he thinks. 

“Get your hands off of me, right now.” But you aren’t tearing him away- so maybe that’s progress. 

“Come on.” He ducks his head, shoulders slumping, and it physically hurts him to feel this desperate. “Stay with me.”

Oh, you don’t like those words one bit. They hit your eardrums and your eyes narrow in slits, and then yeah, you’re reaching up and catching his wrists in his iron grip before ripping his paws off your jacket. It takes a long moment for you to speak, but when you do, he swears he can hear the devil amidst the heartache. 

“You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again.”

His hands twitch to touch you again- anything to keep you there for a moment longer. 

“Come on.” 

Sadness like pits swirl in your eyes, drags your lips into a frown. “You gotta’ stop Nam-gyu. I can’t do it.”

An awful, awful mass grows in his stomach when you turn your back on him. Gets bigger with every inch you build between you and him, threatens to take over entirely and swallow him whole right in the middle of that room. If it did, and he was to be gulped up by the void, perhaps he wouldn't have to feel like this any longer. And he wouldn’t have to watch you disappear behind all the moving bodies. 

He was weaker than he was three years ago. You made him weaker. Back then, if you’d been so sure of yourself he found it rather easy to deter you. A beastly way about him when he would have just ripped you by the hand and brought you over to his team and made you sit the hell down and just stay with him. Something possessive, something under his skin at the thought of you sharing the same air as anyone other than him. You used to be so malleable in his hands- but he knows, now more than ever, that that was truly never the case. You let yourself be pliable. You let yourself fall to him. He could never, not even now, make you do anything. Not really. 

That’s the part that burns him to the peaks of his soul. That strength about you. You’re so much stronger than him, with an energy iron so it’s like running headfirst into a wall when you’d no longer graced him with your softness. Such a double edged sword, that will of yours. That attitude and the passion made him feel alive. Cold and disposed after you’d properly slammed the gate right in his face. No leverage, no space for him in your heart any longer. 

It’s cold, Nam-gyu finds. Lonely without you. 

And then Thanos goes and invites some random girl with a poor attitude (that isn’t yours) and an even weaker buddy. He tries to tell him- remind his friend of the potential disadvantage but like always all it took was a dismissive wave to get him to screw his lips shut. Rolled over, tongue caught in his throat, weakened. 

He spends a majority of his time waiting for his teams turn arguing with Se-mi and tossing gazes over his shoulder to keep a very keen eye on you, only to find a sneer growing on his features after seeing you chatting with the same player as earlier, the man with the bed next to yours. Laughter and smiles roll from your lips as natural as breathing air, and he’s nudging you with his arm and you’re letting him with this expression of pure amusement. 

That should be him. 

That ugly face of betrayal peeks through the cracks all over again, with guilt and anger and regret following in tow close behind. Sitting on his shoulders like little devils, spinning and racing through his body in waves. If you saw his face- you’d never suspect it, but his hands shake in his lap. His jaw tenses so tightly his teeth could burst into powder. Squared shoulders and an endless drag to his lips. Something in the sight of you enjoying that guys presence is reminding him of all these shitty feelings he’d been faced with when you two were together- well, no, not together, he remembers- and then he’s even angrier. Angry at you, angry at that random ass player you were talking up, angry at himself for letting it get here in the first place. 

Thanos pops open his necklace beside him and draws a fun little pill from its contents, and Nam-gyu makes it a mission to get his hands on one of those sweet little pick-me-ups. The pill is bitter on his tongue but he swallows it down in delight. And it works, too, because the moment the colors start to glow and fuse together and all sounds become this echoing fishbowl of noises, you’re vacated from the corners of his fuzzy mind. For a time, he’s at peace all over again, lost in the blurry joy. 

By the time he comes down, he’s already back in the dormitory. 

Though it takes a moment for him to realize it, he’s taking inventory of all the surviving players. One by one, watching them fill the room and find their creaky beds or their little groups. Most were distraught, though some were particularly perturbed. It takes a couple teams before he understands that what he’s really looking for, naturally, is you. He’s always searching for you, even when he knew you weren’t searching for him back. 

That’s the change, and it dawns on him like a rapture. He’d never had to care before- you were always this constant in his life, something that would always bounce right back if he tossed you aside. He didn’t give a damn if it upset you, he didn’t give a damn if it ate away at you like termites through wood. But now he does, and he gives so many damn’s they’re driving him crazy. 

Any moment spent sober and lucid were moments entirely taken up by you.

Any moment now you’ll come strutting through those doors, head held high and gunning it to make sure Nam-gyu knew exactly how much you didn’t need him. 

But then ten teams turn into twenty, and twenty five into thirty. 

“How many teams were there?” Nam-gyu asks with a voice steadier than even he expected. Thanos doesn’t need to question anything, watching the doorway all the same. 

“Fifty-six.” Se-mi hums from her spot, leaning back against the steps. 

Thirty eventually turns to fifty. 

Too much time has passed, and you’ve still yet to pop out through that doorway. He double checks those who’d already shown their faces, hoping to find you through the cracks of them, but you’re simply not there. There’s a shovel digging pits and moats into his stomach. Another wave of players trickles in and he scans them all over the same, only to feel that hollowness inside him grow once more. They saunter to their beds, to their little groups, taking up space and taking up air that should belong to you. 

Where the hell were you?

“Only two teams left,” Thanos hums. “Where’s that girl of yours?”

Nam-gyu can’t force himself to answer this time around. So, instead, he presses his nails between his teeth and nervously shifts his weight from left to right. Though he shrugs, the anxiety within him was palpable, all lines and tension that he tried to bury with nonchalance. But it wasn’t working, and felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Mind racing, thoughts circling him like birds over fresh kill. The final team walks through the doorway, slow as zombies, shifty eyed and hurriedly rushing to their beds. His eyes sit on the door, waiting, waiting. 

No one comes through. 

His shoulders fall limp. 

You didn’t make it. 

“That’s a shame.” Se-mi sighs, the sound swimming in Nam-gyu’s ears. 

Loss, real loss was a foreign feeling within his chest. He’d seen it described in the movies, in songs, this soul eating all consuming weight that blanketed over bodies and crushed, but nothing could have ever prepared for the blistering moment it wrenches itself within the confines of his heart, within the deep ache of his bones. It didn’t settle properly in his throat- his body trying to force the alien ripple of dread stitching itself right between his ribs. It hurts- his lungs can’t take in air. His breath wheezes past his lips in shallow pants, unable to tear his eyes away, like at any moment you’ll suddenly materialize right before him. 

He presses his lip into a tight line and digs his nails into his palms, anything to release a fraction of the agony festering within his body. 

Brain on fire, shaking hands and the image of you dead in a thousand different flashes, a sting to his waterlines that has him scrambling to shove his fingers against the thin skin. 

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“Bad luck. Sorry, boy.”

All the skin on his body has flushed red and sticky. He ducks his head down towards his lap, desperate to hide within himself, even more desperate to hide this part of himself from the watchful eyes of his group. He should have just made you join them. Should have thrown you over his shoulder and wrapped an immovable grasp around your arm and held you hostage until everyone had a team and then you’d have no one else to turn to. No one else, nothing else except for him. 

He can’t even hear his friend’s counterfeit empathy over the swell of his heartbeat in his ears. His body is too heavy to hold up, his arms dragging as lead, his head even heavier on his shoulders. Uncanny urges to tear at the skin of his face overcome him and he has to bury them into his hair in release, roughly running his digits through the black locks, trying to breathe and breathe and breathe. A lump the size of a boulder burrows into his throat.

Cracking his eyes open to peek down at his lip, squeezing them shut when his vision is wet and blurry. His lower lip trembles until it’s caught in his teeth, biting hard into the skin. 

Don't fucking cry.

Why did you have to be so stubborn? If you’d have just let him take care of you this one fucking time, you would be alive right now. You should be alive right now- pissed and glaring fury in his direction but breathing and taking up space and existing-

“Ah, they made it. Here I thought they were all goners.”

Se-mi’s casual tone barely reaches him, but it’s got him frantically flicking his gaze back up to the archway, his hands falling from his face, trying to see through the blotches in his sight. A handful of players take soft steps into the room, all shaken up, all bewildered.

There you are. His racing heart stops entirely.

You’re sauntering into the dormitory like a wounded animal, all hands wringing out in front of you and lines drawn into your frown. For the first time, in Nam-gyu’s eyes, you look small. Frightened. Every step you take has a weight to it he’s never witnessed you bear. And even from across the room, even with rigid tears trapped in the corners of his eyes, he can see the grip of fear on the flat of your throat. 

All those jumping thoughts settle into a tunnel vision, you at the epicenter of his quaking nerves simmering down into stillness. He forgets how his chest had twisted as if a knife had been planted between his collarbones, and he forgets how he had almost lost his lunch right there on the floor. All because you’re standing there in the middle of the room hugging yourself, white as a ghost, even paler when you lift your head up and see the way Nam-gyu is trapped in your line of sight. 

Nam-gyu see’s it. No hate, no dejection. 

Relief- this instant where your widened eyes soften, your frown lifts into a slack-jawed breath of solace. It rocks his world when it hits him and it lights a flame so hot under his skin it’s burning through his veins. All the air trapped in his lungs leaves him at once and he can pinpoint the exact moment all the tensions in his shoulders and back melt away in nothingness. The tears dry, his lower lip released from his gnashing teeth.

The man you’d joined earlier pats your shoulder and offers you a pathetic, wavering thumbs up. You can’t seem to return his dull enthusiasm. In fact, you look worse than Nam-gyu’s seen you thus far. Changed, all wires sticking exposed and sparking. There’s this lifelessness to your body when you climb up the stairs and have to heave yourself up into your bed, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your palms propped up over your knees. 

When your eyes meet his, he expects some sort of sign of contempt, or perhaps maybe you’d refuse to meet his gaze entirely. Instead, for the first time since you’d arrived, you find him first. 

You offer him a pitiful open palmed wave. 

The pearly gates crack open and Nam-gyu feels it again- warmth. Even just a little bit, like lighting a match in a snowstorm, huddling around the flame. He half cocks a smile, and he waves back. 

--

Lunch came quicker than he’d anticipated, and much to Nam-gyu’s dismay, you weren’t exactly thrilled to hop into line. In fact, ever since you’d let him jam his fingers back into your closing door, you’d hardly acknowledged anything other than your lap. Even more so upsetting, that player you hung around tapped your mattress to gather your attention, pointing to the line, sighing in defeat when you’d shook your head. 

Jealousy seeps into his wounds all over again, quiet, but equally as simmering. Don’t act like you know her. Little devils tapping away at his psyche. She doesn't need you to check up on her.

But then again, he realizes, maybe you do. 

His mouth dries when the sound of his thoughts footsteps come running up on him. His greed. His innate ability to leave you unchecked and grappling. That was among the sea of problems Nam-gyu had been struggling to grasp. Here he was, trying to drag you back into the tar pits of his hold and he hadn’t even tried the basics of kindness. The step one of it all. Always taking, taking, taking and demanding more at every swipe. Always expecting, never building. 

So he jumps into line before he can second guess himself, and he takes his bento box with a grateful nod and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chasing the trail of you to your bed. From your high point, perched and unmoving, all he can do is climb the stairs and rest his hands over the corner of your mattress. Your far away gaze lifts from your lap and settles down to him. 

The air is different. The landscape of you has changed. 

“What is it.” Your tone is uncannily flat, but it’s void of its bite, its drive. 

“Can I come up?” 

It’s a simple request, but it leaves a shake at the end of his sentence. It’s only natural when he mentally prepares himself for you to slap no onto his forehead, but you scoot over, and he takes the spot so quickly you wouldn’t even have the chance to say no if you thought about it too much. He hoists himself up and over, fills the gap at your side, just as he should have done days ago. He sits the bento box at the crest of your lap.

“What’s this?” Blinking down at the food, you make no effort to pick it up. 

“Fish and rice.” Nam-gyu shrugs. “Looks like an egg, too.” 

“I can see that. I meant, what are you doing giving me this?”

“...You didn’t get anything.”

As your fingers gingerly touch the container, eyes scanning over the contents, Nam-gyu feels he can breathe easier. This is a win for him- you aren’t fighting him anymore. Still on the edge, always ready to run, but the look in your eyes isn’t pure hatred or outright hurt. A swell of pride overcomes him when you pluck the chopstick and murmur, thank you. 

You’re pliable. Now, more than ever. 

You eat in silence. He lets you eat in silence, even though peace isn’t exactly one of his virtues.  Partly because he doesn’t know what to say to you, but mostly because he’s got this innate fear that he’s going to say something shitty and you’re going to hate him all over again for it. A million words are always shoving and pushing against his lips and he fumbles with navigating them. So, silence, it is. 

But it doesn’t bother him. Silence meant that you were simply just there, existing, the one thing he had longed for over the years. He knew, deep in his heart, he’d fucked up when he began to miss the very presence of you. No sex, no drugs, no push or pull, just you. And now he gets to take whatever you’ll give in micro doses, greedy and starved for you. Fighting the urge to pull you into himself where you could never climb out. He refrains- he forces himself to just be there. 

No longer could he be the creature he had been all those years ago. He had to be different- not all rough edges and clawing hands, ripping and taking. Or dark eyes watching your every move, or jagged words cutting your flesh with the highs and lows of his tone. Something better, this time. Something for you. 

Tomorrow would be a new beast entirely. And, in less than a few hours, the lights would flicker off and bask the dormitory into hues of red and blues. You would lay alone in your all-too-large bed and he would sink into his mattress drugged out of his mind thinking countless thoughts of you, you, you. The distance would feel like miles- he needed you right there, right then, always. Anything other than what he had sitting beside you was a vast ocean. 

The bento box appears in front of his lap, half eaten.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Nam-gyu’s brows knit.

“You should eat, too. What, scared of my germs now?” You murmur, and when he meets your eyeline, he sees something familiar in those hues. Something nurturing, sweet. Tender. 

Nam-gyu picks up the chopsticks, and he eats.  For the first time in years, his food tastes like food.

[callahanisms]

college au caitlyn

i finally watched arcane after a lot of convincing from my friends and a determination to see how badly s2 butchers s1's themes. and uh caitlyn's my problematic fave unfortunately.

college au caitlyn? yes. and she wants you. 🫵 yes you specifically.

these are my headcanons. you don't have to agree with them.

accompanying bot: 🫐

banner by @cafekitsune

🫐 | piltover national university (pnu) is not cheap. even for piltovians, getting a higher education makes a massive dent in their back accounts. if you're from piltover, you're well off enough to sustain yourself. if you're from zaun, you worked your butt off to be here.

🫐 | college is really where many piltovians, caitlyn kiramman included, finally get outside of their comfort zone. they start to learn things. and caitlyn begins to finally interact with people outside of her circle.

🫐 | double majoring in poli-sci and anthropology. she enjoys the subject of anthropology. but her mother wants her to do poli-sci. who is she to deny her mother?

🫐 | basketball player. she's tall, she did it in high school and continues to do it. it's an excuse to get out of the house and to stop burying her nose in books. her height also makes her perfect for reaching for things on high shelves if you need her help.

🫐 | as a roommate, caitlyn has a strict schedule. she likes to keep things tidy and neat. and she has no hesitation cleaning your side of the room as well if it gets dirty or out of hand. (also definitely has you use coasters on the wooden desks of the dorm)

🫐 | massive workload. honestly kind of unbearable but she's one of those people that just powers through it. she has expectations to meet. and her fear of failing them is what drives her to be hunched over the desk, late at night, with the light on while you're trying to sleep.

🫐 | you guys met in one of your gen ed/core classes. maybe you both are the opposite. or maybe you guys share a major. either way, you become friends because you asked her if she wanted to get lunch with you afterwards. she was also smart, so studying with her and peering over at her notes was always a perk.

🫐 | definitely obsessive. caitlyn has always struggled with friends. the kiramman name doesn't exactly lend to the most fruitful friendships. and yet here you are. attractive, a bright smile. she finds herself missing you.

🫐 | so what if she stalks your hexgram account? she's just looking out for you. that girl on the basketball team? yeah. she's not the most reliable. maybe you shouldn't go on a date with her. or that guy who's a poli-sci major. don't trust poli-sci majors (except herself of course).

🫐 | at some point caitlyn recommends you guys move in together. like move in off campus. she can take care of the rent no problem. she has money. she wants to take care of you after all. and despite your objections, she convinces you to live with her.

🫐 | and even though you live together, it's simply not enough. her mind runs rampant with fantasies of domesticity. and crap, she just wishes you guys were together. and she misses you when you're out of the house. and maybe it's a problem that she's always checking your social media when she's bored in class or losing focus while studying. she likes to call those her "study breaks."

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - three

⇽ part two

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .

🍒 three - unnatural habitats

I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.

“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 

Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.

“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.

“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.

“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.

“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.

“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”

“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.

“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.

“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.

“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”

“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.

“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 

“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.

“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.

“Hey” I responded.

“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.

“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.

“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“We spoke already,” I remind him.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.

“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.

“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.

“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.

“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.

“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.

“She’s my girl, move” Jason snaps.

“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.

“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.

“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.

“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.

“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.

“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.

“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.

“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.

Fuck, I curse to myself.

“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.

“Let me guess, finance?” He says.

My head is still spinning. “What?”

“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.

“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 

“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.

“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.

“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.

“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.

“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.

“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 

“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.

“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.

“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.

“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.

“He’s not your type”

“What?” she asks.

“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.

“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.

“Hello”

“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.

“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.

“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.

“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.

“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.

“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.

“Good. You low on money?” he asks.

“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.

“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.

“I’m in” I tell him.

“Good”

“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.

“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.

“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.

“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.

“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.

“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.

group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)

authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.

This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.

Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.

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[not-your-damsel]

Listen, y’all can wild for the hair in the hairstyles released in Tomorrow’s Catch-22 event going in now in Love and Deepspace. But y’all CANNOT tell me Sy didn’t EAT!

⚠️ATTENTION⚠️

There’s a boycott going on started by the CN fan community. Depending where you look, there are people upset by this thinking that it’s to get the game shut down. This. Is. Not. The. Case! I’m sure many of you know or have realized by now that in this first ever Quint-Banner, the outfits have been separated, you’re not automatically getting the hair that comes with it as usual. This is a huge problem for free-to-play players and any future players, as farming isn’t gonna be enough with the allotted time for the event. What the CN community is boycotting is the hidden price hikes for gaining the hair, incentivizing players to buy despite their little notice to play the way you want to, that’s not exactly feasible for everyone. Which will inevitably leave some players out. LaDS has an advantage in the otome genre by being so stunning looking with 3D character models. Infold/Papergames should be making the example for future games to not pull this BS, considering they’re currently king of the genre atm.

If you want to join along with the CN community in this boycott, it’s simple. I already know of a few people here in the US who are participating, myself included.

Try NOT to spend money in the first 3 days of the event. Use your saved diamonds/tickets instead.

Or, limit your time in-game for the first 3 days as well. Simply log in, choose your favorites, wish, and get the fuck out. Their analytics show how long someone stays in-game and they count it during the first few days of an event as a success. You can also find more on YouTube from Gacha Goblin, she’s wonderful.

Will it be hard? Yes. Will it be worth it? I also think yes. Don’t trash the CN community when it was them in the first place who enabled us all to receive Heartfelt Wish crates when the game launched because it wasn’t easy snd still isn’t for many to get who or the ones they want. It was them boycotting that got us that very thing in the first place. This isn’t to shut down the game, just for companies to not abuse the ones who literally are giving them recognition, popularity and money for those who pay. Yes, it’s a business, but one that should be done responsibly and respectfully to us as the consumers. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, it’s your choice. I already got Zayne and Sylus just from my saved diamonds. I’m not spending any money until day 4. But outfits and hair are separate this time around and the formula is changing. We don’t want it to stay like that when it affects everyone, including free-to-play and new players. Happy and responsible gaming!

[tentacle-therapissed]

Amber Heard, Megan thee Stallion, Blake Lively… I just feel so frustrated with the effectiveness of smear campaigns against these women who, if you can rub two brain cells together, are clearly victims of male violence. It’s really disheartening to know a lot of women fall for it and tend to be the worst perpetrators of harassment against other women. I don’t know if they’re stupid or not but I feel like we need to stop giving anyone grace with misogyny anymore.

I saw a TikTok (unfortunately, I need to get off that app) theorizing that the reason so many women are the worst perpetrators of harassment in these smear campaigns is because they’re subconsciously afraid of the implications when a rich, privileged, beloved, successful woman goes through something like this. You either have to accept that misogyny is so prevalent in our current society that not only are these women unable to shield themselves from abuse, but the entire world is willing to turn on them and ridicule them in a heartbeat… or you have to believe that the woman must actually be lying, that she provoked the man, that she’s problematic, that she misbehaved, and therefore she actually deserves this treatment. That if YOU were in that situation you wouldn’t be subject to the same treatment. I see a lot of rhetoric with these cases along the lines of ‘what do I care about the struggles of a rich, privileged celebrity?’ Blake Lively was a beautiful, successful, beloved A-lister with money, resources, and high-profile connections and none of that mattered in the end. If it can happen to her, it can happen to every single one of us.

A lot of these women, on the other hand, have gone through abuse themselves and are willing to throw other victims under the bus to try and gain approval for their own story. ‘This person behaved imperfectly but I didn’t, therefore you should believe me and not her.’ They don’t realize no woman is perfect enough to be a believable victim in our society. But they get temporary validation from people who will use them in their arguments to go ‘see? this is what a REAL victim looks like. [insert celebrity here] is harming REAL victims by lying about being abused.’

I think another huge aspect of it though, at least when it comes to how easily women fall for Johnny Depp’s patented DARVO method, is the insidious way in which progressive values are twisted to make misogyny sound woke. ‘Feminism is about treating men and women EQUALLY’ ‘feminism means treating women like people, and people are flawed’ ‘feminism benefits men too! we care about men’s issues! men’s mental health! male abuse victims!’ These things all sound nice in theory but oppressed classes are NOT equal to their oppressors and that’s exactly why their voices need to be amplified more. These types of issues ARE gendered because it’s statistically more likely for a man to be mistreating a woman than vice versa. It’s safe and easy to call yourself a feminist while still catering to your oppressors, and it feels right because that’s what we’ve been taught to do. But it isn’t going to get us anywhere.

[c-rankshaft]

This addition might be considered a little bit off topic, so feel free to tell me to make my own post if you wish OP(s)!

Elder Scrolls games seem to have some kind of disease about them that makes it so they just cannot grasp the scale of JUST HOW BAD things are. Morrowind (edited bc my dumb ass forgot about beautiful Daggerfall and I own up to my mistakes), in my opinion, came the closest, but that's another post for another time. I think one of the problems with Skyrim and the Alduin storyline is that there's not really any true incentive in the game to seek out this information. You can ABSOLUTELY play the game not knowing anything but the bare dry bones of what is going on. Then, with no incentive TO learn deeper outside of having the question in the box go from white to grey, the incentive is more found in NOT asking the questions- gets you back to the ""fun"" gameplay quicker.

This DOES allow for player character variation (say you want to make your LDB an idiot or something) alongside an easier route for people who have already played before, but it doesn't work for portraying a world that is supposedly ending, or one that is being overtaken by dragon cults. To get the gravity of that to truly WEIGH on the player, you have to make it so not knowing, like not seeking out the books or the extra dialogue, in some way disadvantages the player.

However, this doesn't really tackle the issue of the confusing and overly simplistic way they handled Alduin in the first place. As said above, there's a huge unanswered question taken from the main storyline of "What the hell was he even trying to do?" that comes from different characters implying different sentiments. Perhaps this was supposed to be an attempt at pitting many theories against each other A LA Battle of Red Mountain(?), but without any elaboration on anything and no true incentive to seek out more information, alongside the fact that some of the MOST interesting stuff on Alduin isn't even in the game at all, it all just falls flat. You don't get a coherent story OR the full weight of the situation from the game, at all.

I'm, personally, fully convinced that this is the result of suppressing creative writing/portrayal ideas in the interests of making the game marketable. You can feel as you play the game, that it was intended to hit a very very wide audience. It's designed to be easily picked up and played by literally anyone, and that's a HUGE part of where the massive success came from. It was simplistic enough story wise so that nobody ever would have a single issue understanding. Big reach = Big money, and big money is more important to a game studio than a good story. Combine that reach with the fact that they've re-released the game (arguably) 17 times on 10 different consoles, it makes it pretty clear that they're more focused on creating and adding aspects to the game (and other games currently being worked on in the series) that make it lucrative-- not necessarily new, inventive, creative, or gripping story-wise.

Basically, this post is so correct it kinda hurts a bit. There are ways to make all of this information work. They don't really bother because they'd have to put more budget into story, and what if not every single person on the planet is pleased with the story? Bad for business. Better make it as generic as possible so it sells better. Fire every writer who cares. Underpay and mistreat the rest so they can't care. Now put Skyrim on the Switch. Now put it on VR. Now add paid mods. Now encourage everyone to play your MMO. Now release paid DLC. Now add something to the Crown Store. Now release paid DLC. Now add something to the Crown Store. Now release paid DLC. Now add something to the Crown Store. Now release paid DLC. Now add something to the Crown Store.

alright i might be misremembering some things bc it's been a while since i played the skyrim mq but.... man i really wish we could've had a proper conversation with alduin near the end of the game like we do with dagoth ur. like he's the one villain who isn't some Bad Guy gone mad with power he's literally a GOD. he's literally just doing his job!!!!! of ending the world!

i don't like how he's depicted as just a generic power hungry bad guy like isn't being the world eater literally his Purpose....you even have conversations w arngeir and paarthurnax, iirc, about the ethics of killing the "world eater" and if it's okay to let the current kalpa keep going when it's supposed to end. i wish that was a moral dilemma explored more in the game. i would've loved a final conversation between the ldb and alduin where he talks to you and asks you if you know what you're doing, if you know what it means to keep this world going. discussing if it's really your choice to decide when the world ends or stays. about death, rebirth and creation. who are you to interfere with this natural cycle?

[natsmagi]

what are your opinions abt people using ych as bases? don't want to start anything but my friends said its theft but it's just a pose? as long as u don't make it your own or smth

ohh very interesting!! i think maybe its being viewed a bit incorrectly here? because arent ych's usually art commissions? theyre little poses an artist has drawn out for you to commission for ur character to be in. this is a good way of doing comms if u dont really have a lot of time for elaborate and fully unique pieces but are still in need of a couple bucks

so honestly, i dont think they should be used as bases...... you can definitely use them as inspo! but dont draw over them like one would a base..... it feels disrespectful to the artist and kind of takes work and income away from them. so, if you see a ych you like, its better to just commission the artist! or, if comms arent open, draw ur own variant from scratch! its ok to use other peoples work as inspiration, just dont draw over it if theyve not given expressed permission to do so

no one can own a pose, this much is true, but they do own the ych drawing. so, when it comes to the ych drawing itself, what the artist says goes

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[dramarants]

Wanting more homoeroticism in the tension between the show’s leads as the narrative introduces greater intimacy and higher stakes between them, especially in a landscape that lacks queer representation who isn’t a villain or dies within one or two episodes, but also recognizing that core values/motivation for these characters lie in their relationships with one of two major female characters in an on screen sausage fest where the only other woman is a morally reprehensible femme fatale and erasing and/or vilifying female leads in favor of conventionally attractive males is a common practice observed in fandoms that’s rooted in misogyny and justified under the guise of rejecting heteronormativity, thinly veiled double standards, or claiming the woman is simply not interesting enough and not wanting to bolster that mindset

[cheemscakecat]

To add to this: Luke wasn’t enslaved but he was from Tatooine. He and his friends all wanted to leave so bad they planned to enlist in the Empire’s military. Some of them did, realized they were evil, and joined the rebellion.

He stood out like a sore thumb in Mos Eisly because moisture farmers avoid the big city. They rely on each other, they stay away from the criminal underbelly and as many spies and scammers as they can.

Tatooine isn’t just a boring desert, it’s hellish. If somebody dies on the street? Someone will claim the body. To steal their money, their clothes, their belongings. Street vendors cut corpses apart and turn them into street food for naive tourists.

Every type of criminal makes a pit stop or hides out or looks for work there. Smugglers for every drug, slavers, killers, butchers.

The Hutt’s are brutal in a creative way, a disturbing way. Not only in the way they trap people in slavery or servitude, not only in the way they keep you like that, but in the ways you could die if they get bored or you try to escape.

So if Luke was (somehow) in the room when the Jedi Council was judging Anakin as a child, saying he had too much darkness in him?

You don’t walk out of being enslaved without it leaving a mark on your mind, especially on a world like Tatooine. The things Anakin might have seen or heard at such a young age are staggering. It’s a major cause of the boy’s nightmares and fears and anger.

That’s something Luke would understand that the sheltered council didn’t. Anakin isn’t a problem child, an unruly and potentially dangerous asset, he’s a traumatized ex-slave. The last thing the kid needs is to be scrutinized by all these grown adults, to his face.

“Can I just say something?” There was a begrudging sigh from Mace Windu. “This ‘something’ better be important enough to interrupt the test.”

“Why are you saying all of this in front of Anakin? I mean the boy is only 9 years old. Having a circle of grumpy old strangers judge his thoughts is intimidating enough, even without you all rejecting him.”

“This is the way we test new recruits.”

“Is that why you recruit babies and toddlers? So they can’t remember getting glared at?”

Luke went through a lot of loss at 19, and had to learn to manage his emotions. His aunt and uncle were torched and left smoldering on their own lawn. Vader killed Obi Wan in front of him. Lifelong friends of his died trying to blow up the first Death Star.

He couldn’t bear to lose Leia, Han, and Chewbacca and left Dagoba to rescue them. He tried to drag Anakin’s biomechanical dead weight onto a ship so they could get him medical attention.

Different trauma, but he’d understand that it is affecting baby Anakin. And that the institution Jedi don’t teach how to regulate negative emotions properly, even for the kids without trauma.

The timeline changed because Luke trained Anakin in a way that actually fit his needs. That didn’t put enormous pressure on him to become the chosen one and scrutinize his flaws at every turn. A way where the boy was allowed to see his mom and have civilian friends and date.

It also allowed Obi Wan to continue his own training and grieve Qui Gon instead of trying to care for a child. One day he would get his own Padawan, when he was ready.

He did keep in touch with the Skywalker’s though, and gradually came to respect this outsider Luke more. Even though he disagreed with the council more than Qui Gon.

The old Jedi would not know what to do with Luke.

Anakin was seen as a handful, but the Jedi could still command and control him. He was only a little boy when he was cut off from seeing his mother, and when the Jedi started drilling it into him that his personality was a problem he needed to grow out of.

He respected them, they were the authority figures in his life. He just wanted them to see him as someone worthy of respect too, instead of a problem child.

But they still talked down to him, even after all he did in the Clone Wars. Anakin was susceptible to Palpatine playing the part of a kind father figure because the Jedi treated him so badly.

He was so depressed when he met Padme again and his mom dying was the final straw. Padme stuck with him, but believed they needed to keep their stations as a Senator and Jedi to make the galaxy a better place.

Neither of them were in the right headspace for Anakin to leave the Jedi and seek a different life. He still wanted to be a Jedi, and wasn’t he supposed to be the chosen one? Surely he had to keep trying, he had to prove that Qui Gon was right. Had to prove himself.

Luke wouldn’t have thrived either if he was taken to the Jedi as a child. But if he travelled back in time as an adult?

That man thinks like a good old moisture farmer. Some of the most moral, trustworthy folks you could find on Tatooine. And they don’t take nonsense from anybody.

He respects Obi Wan and Yoda. But he doesn’t agree with them all the time or take all their words as gospel. He was turning down Obi Wan about rescuing Leia, saying he had to go home and he wasn’t qualified to help. Left Dagoba to save his friends, because he can’t just leave them behind to train.

And he didn’t give up on reasoning with Vader, even when told nobody comes back from the dark side. He believes people can redeem themselves.

Luke isn’t set in the strict and cultish ways that the Jedi had in their last days. That’s something Disney didn’t understand.

He’s like the ancient Jedi, the ones who were normal people who happened to have the force. That’s how he operates. Who says you have to train since childhood, away from all your family, in this temple system?

He doesn’t have all the same information and training, but he has an outsider’s perspective. Luke Skywalker doesn’t put the Jedi in the same box they built for themselves before the fall. And he would make that known.

He would get along swimmingly with Qui Gon and Quinlan Vos. Vos operated outside of the Order and was looked down upon for it. I can see those two sitting and joking for hours, racing each other with Luke on a Speeder and Quinlan parkoring through the trees.

Qui Gon tried to be civil and work as a member of the Jedi, even when they looked down on him. He believed someone like Anakin could change things, so of course he’d be excited meeting Luke.

Wouldn’t it be a relief to hear another person call out the Jedi on their overzealous rules? This Skywalker, who spoke of Count Dooku potentially being redeemable and said he understood why the man left? Nobody else would have said it out loud. Mace Windu would find the man infuriating. An outsider with no right to speak about the Jedi’s ways. Do you know what he said, when Mace told him he was not fit to call himself a Jedi, much less a master?

“I’d rather not fit your definition of a Jedi. This” he gestured at the Council “isn’t something to aspire to. You’re all so high up you can’t see the ground. You can barely see the other Jedi who are a floor beneath you.

I prefer to have my feet back on solid ground, with the people who live there.”

“You said your name is Skywalker.” Luke shrugged and chuckled.

”I like to fly. I’m a decent pilot. But looking at a world from orbit only shows a fraction of it. Landing, seeing what’s on the ground is important. There are so many lights you can’t see from space. So many sounds that Air Traffic Control sees as a distraction.

The sound of a child singing along to a song, the sound of old locals bickering, the sound of animals in the trees. They’re best experienced in person. The Jedi haven’t gone down to listen in a long, long time.”

Mace could say Luke’s not a Jedi, but then what is he? He uses the light side of the Force and has good morals and does his best to work with the personality traits he has.

Maybe he does have that impatient streak and fierce anger, but he’s learned to manage them. Instead of repressing them and assuming they’ll lead to the dark side.

You can’t call Skywalker a servant of the dark side, even when you vehemently disagree about Sith being capable of redemption. And he knows enough, is skilled enough, that you can’t just write him off as part of the unwashed masses.

So what is Luke then? Living proof that Jedi can function without the Council and Temple and Dogma. Proof that Anakin could have thrived if he wasn’t raised separated from his old life and to think he was wrong for having the traits he was born with.

Would he fade away if he changed the timeline? Or would he create a new, separate timeline and wind up back in his version of the future?

Luke would probably try not to sound like a crazy man, talking about the Chancellor. Instead of being able to oust Palpatine, I believe he would change the timeline by making a difference in people’s lives.

Qui Gon was surprised to see Skywalker insisting that Anakin needed his mother; and if the Jedi were so set on isolating kids, he’d buy her freedom himself and train the boy outside of the Order. He’d never really questioned the virtue of separating parent and child, but when Luke called it out? Really made him think.

Nobody could deny that Skywalker and the small child with the same name hit it off. They were both from Tatooine and loved to tinker and loved to fly. Some even wondered if Luke was the father, which made him burst out laughing and point out the flaws in that theory.

Shmi still ended up marrying Owen’s father when she was freed, but let Anakin go with Skywalker to become a Jedi. Somehow she knew the two of them would come to visit, just like he promised.

Years later, Luke would find a way to return to his own timeline. And it would be time for him to go home, with precious memories with his father, grandmother, and uncle that he never dreamed he’d experience.

The Anakin Skywalker he left behind would be okay. He had learned how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way. He didn’t hang on the Jedi’s every word.

He was so much more calm and happy. He didn’t care what the Order said about him when he and Padme announced their marriage. Anakin had questioned why she’d deny herself happiness for her career, and she saw that he had a point.

Of course Luke stuck around for the ceremony, alongside many Jedi like Qui Gon who left the Order after seeing there was an alternative. He left an Obi Wan and Yoda who weren’t so stifled by the Order, and who made it better for it.

It would be much later that Anakin would realize the other Skywalker was his son. He grew into the same face and voice and powers. And he would find a hologram from his master, too.

Explaining that he was from a timeline where the Jedi failed the Chosen One and he fell to the dark. Reassuring Anakin that he redeemed himself in the end, and that the evil Empire was defeated. Calling him dad and saying he was glad they got to get to know each other properly.

[fabdante]

genuinely i would kill to be a line artist yall have no idea

[mejomonster]

There's a podcast I found on youtube called Behind the Bastards that goes into the history of awful people in history. Listened to the Thomas Jefferson episodes recently and. Wow rich people always have been shit (as a group)

Jefferson admired the roman 'farmers' who were land owners who had slaves work their land. He and his peers were virginia landowners who also had slaves farm for them. The ideal he read about and admired were "hard working self sufficient farmers" but this image is not of a man hunting and farming himself or with his family, but a man living in comfort with slaves to do the work and provide the comfort.

Now the big trend among conservatives is tradwifes and the image men are sold about it - a woman cleaning their home, farming for them, providing for them and obeying them. Which on the small scale is to like appease poor men and poor women - to give poor men this illusion that they could have a stay at home wife and afford for her to not work eventually (and also serve him), to give poor women (that they could afford to not work for money one day and serve a man who loves them for being the 'right' kind of woman). The people who are actually achieving this lifestyle are rich men (and women who end up working since... if you're an influencer that's your job, so it's all an illusion since the lifestyle could not be achieved without money coming in).

It's just a symptom of a bigger pattern. Conservative circles push this lifestyle as idealized to the masses (a man being served by someone for free, able to control them absolutely). If the masses aspire to that, hope for that, then the masses will continue to think they'll be billionaires one day who WILL have that and DESERVE to have that. And instead of fighting the billionaires, they'll think that is the goal to be admired as a sign of success.

Meanwhile our whole world, our current world, is at the mercy of some very very rich fucks. Who are attempting to sap what wealth everyone else has, and take it for themselves. These billionaires live in comfort! Far more comfort than slave owners of centuries past! These billionaires have so much money, they can buy any service they want, land, websites, politicians. And yet its never 'enough' money to these bastards. They need to buy more property to rent to the masses, and drive rent prices up by using housing as assets. They need healthcare gutted because god forbid the masses pay less for healthcare - they SHOULD pay 100,0000 to live after an accident! God forbid the masses own property, and therefore have a little wealth and security for their family - if they're less housing stable, they'll quit shitty jobs less. You can abuse them more! God forbid the majority of humans have food, water, shelter, healthcare. Got to raise the price of all groceries, because you can! Because you need to get ALL the money the masses manage to make, and funnel it to yourself. Billionaires are just like those illusions of "self sufficient farmers" who own slaves and rely on slaves to both provide necessities and luxuries.

Billionaires really spew the bullshit they're self sufficient, then don't pay their employees living wages. Billionaires have nothing to offer without the efforts of their employees, and the money those employees earned for them (or the rent they charged etc). They certainly aren't self sufficient, they're also not a single benefit to society. They dream of a world where everyone serves them, provides for them, and gives them always MORE. In many ways the world probably already is this, all of us buy something that eventually contributes to a billionaire, or work for one (or for a company that serves one), or pay taxes to a government that coddles a billionaire, buy groceries. But billionaires always want MORE. More more more. They're destructive in their existence. In what they choose to do, which is take from others to give themselves more, to give themselves SO much they can't even use it all. They'd still be rich enough to buy a politician off, to buy an island or a website, if they paid their employees a living wage and charged reasonable prices. Once you have enough money you simply cannot spend it all in your lifetime, in your grandchildrens lifetimes, even if you buy absolutely everything you ever want. They don't have to seek to take from others endlessly, to continue existing with the lifestyle they do. But they still seek to take more and more and more. In the process they hurt most people, and hurt the world we live in as a whole. And they don't care, even though it would not hurt them at all and would not take a single tangible benefit they receive, to stop being Such destructive presences in the world.

[aridhingra]

"All varieties of teasing are always on the table." A smirk tugging at his lips before laughing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, tasting the saltiness of the water that still clung to his skin now. "Now who told you that you had an innocent appearance? Because they were lying, and you should get your money back." If there was one thing Ari could do, he could play the games too, she wanted to tease him, he could easily tease the blonde headed woman, at least she was being gracious enough to have talked to him so he wasn't standing on the beach completely alone, which had been the original plan. "Challenging and difficult, those are the two that you choose to start off with in telling someone about yourself? Brave, brave woman." Clicking his tongue, not sure if he was more impressed, amused, or fascinated by their conversation. "Believe you're supposed to save that information till you meet a person at least -- I don't know say the third time." Holding three of his fingers up as if driving the point really home. Though the blonde could do what she wanted, he just couldn't resist when she had offered up that information. "Mean there's the cliffs here, aren't there? Maybe it's not allowed to cliff jump from them, rocks below -- immediately crushes that rush, er -- figuratively and literally." Or maybe it was more turned into shredded human but there was no point in attempting to give more details to this story.

For Ari he was someone who was always up for an adventure, maybe you wouldn't actually find him cliff jumping but send him on a more difficult hike? Sign the man up. It was something he planned to do more of once the weather settled a bit more in Merrock and he could get outside, feel the crunch of his heavy boots back against the ground, it'd be that feeling of home for him. "That's all I could ever aim to be, a true gentleman, have to live up to someone's dreams." Ari quipped, tugging the towel tighter around his skin. "So you have one ghost lady, and you're willing to promote me. All I'm hearing is I'm winning at ghost life, and in the afterlife I'd at least have a friend, or maybe a ghost girlfriend, mean she's alone, I'm alone, haunting your for the rest of evermore might as well also make a partner out of it." It seemed like the only logical idea.

Giving a set nod, "You're not wrong, not something I want to think about anytime soon, actually happening. As much as haunting you until your last days probably would be far more amusing for me, than you. A person can only handle so many things going missing or ending up in random places before you know." Tapping the side of her temple indicating going a little crazy, but weren't they all in this world? "Definitely have a lot I want to teach him in this world so kind of have to stick around. Want him to learn to enjoy the outdoors, how to be kind and gentle with nature and animals." It was something he knew wouldn't happen for awhile, at least in the bigger sense there'd be years before he was taking him on adventures, but even in small ways he could make a change for the little boy. "Daddy Phantom sounds -- like you've been on booktok. Don't ask how I know about booktok either, you couldn't torture it out of me."

"I said that I'm freezing as fuck! Not that I fuck freezing -- wait, that -- no, definitely did not say that and I'm going to need you to make sure that you don't put out the image to anyone that I'm hanging around meat freezers. Are you trying to give the town of Merrock the idea I'm a serial killer? Not the vibe I'm trying to give, Sunny." As the blonde followed he rolled his eyes, "Apparently I'm far more exciting than you're giving me credit for, but I will take the liquor if you're offering now." Since this had all started over her playfully attempting to show off her spiked hot chocolate. Once inside it didn't take him long to dry off and change, emerging with his own hot drink, now far more suitable in a pair of jeans, his boots, and a simple button up. "Alright, I did make a pit stop for one of these, figure warm up and you show me the direction to this place you intend to take me to liquor me up and tap into all my secrets. Let's see how much game you have."

“Oh, I wasn’t aware any other variety of teasing was on the table,” Sunny couldn’t help but say, raising an eyebrow. She could appreciate the fact that Ari was multi-faceted. She didn’t know him well but he usually seemed mature, intelligent and it was nice to see a lighter side of him. She supposed that there had to be another side though given his history with Lucie. She didn’t know much about that either aside from Archer existing. To say the least, she was amused by all of this, more so than she was annoyed with the biting cold wind or the fact her hair kept blowing in her face. “I don’t think I ever said that I was an angel. I, despite this innocent appearance, can be many things and – challenging and difficult are just two of them.” She nodded though. “And yes, cliff diving is very much a thing. I mean, it’s probably more like large hills around here but there are cliffs in the world. The trick is honestly to just survive trying that thing once. Dying tends to take the fun out of everything.”

When it came to dumb decisions, Sunny was definitely the sort of person who would show up to support her friends through it. If there was an actual chance of death, she’d probably try and talk them out of it. She firmly believed in personal autonomy. Everyone had their own thoughts, feelings and preferences and if they only did the things she wanted them to do they weren’t going to be true to themselves. If they succeeded, great. If they failed, she was there. It all worked out in the end. At the moment, she was perfectly find to watch the chaos of the plunge and keep herself out of it. Truth be told, she couldn’t actually see ghosts or speak to spirits but she definitely believed they were out there. “You’re a true gentleman,” she said with a laugh. “Mostly just one but she’d be happy to have a new friend. Is it weird to pre-fix your living friends up with your house ghost lady? –I mean, I have a long friendship with her and we’ve only met a little while back but I’m open to promoting you. Especially, ghost you.”

It was probably not a good idea that he not die though. He did have dad stuff to do. “I’m sure it’ll end up okay though. I mean, he’s got fun parents. He’ll probably have plenty of fun words to say when he starts going,” she offered. At the end of the day everything was going to be just fine. “Maybe Daddy Phantom will be in the mix.”

It definitely was not easy to listen and not judge. She supposed she’d never be any of the trends because she definitely knew she was not demure. “Someone has to be that person, it might as well be me,” she said said with a shrug. “Ah. But I do have to question where you’re fucking that you’re freezing because I can’t say I’ve ever done that. Are you secretly a man around the meat locker?” She could definitely join him for warming up and drinking though. She followed his gesture starting to move with him, anywhere warm would do honestly. “I suppose, we could do that. I mean, I’ll drag you in and liquor you up so you can fill me in on all these stories of your exciting life. Clearly you’ve got secrets.”

[hey-heigo]

theyre doing an interest poll for the thh characters on plushwonderland and i am. unfortunately. tempted....