#or with them winning because new who is just more widely known

[companion-showdown-dot-org]

okay, heres the thing, at the moment, theres one vote in this, if theres still one vote in it by the end, i'm tempted to call it a tie and probably will. the problem is, becuase of the way I break ties, ie everyone not automatically in the next round as a group, thats inherently going to favour Kate since she'll be the only new who character in the group, so everyone who only knows new who will vote for her, while classic who votes are going to be split, so, I don'k know what to do about that

Who deserves to do well in a tournament for once?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[ghostaholics]

fuck it i'm thinking about grump x sunshine trope and a neighbor au with ghost where he's known for being the building's loner-tenant, this brute bear of a man that keeps to himself.

nobody's ever seen him smile or caught a glimpse of the entirety of his face because he always wears a black surgical mask when he's going to and from his flat; nobody's ever had a full-length conversation with him, because true to his callsign, he's in and out of the building with as much silence and stealth as a ghost. the other residents gossip about him: the water-cooler talk usually goes along the lines of them trying to piece together his story, who he is, what he looks like, whether they should be worried about the fact that he lives there (because there's nothing wrong with being a recluse but he does give off slightly terrifying vibes due to his size and demeanor). the rumor mill’s churning out these outlandish ideas about his private life and they kind of make assumptions based on little things they’ve noticed about him since he’s started living there.

enter in his new neighbor who's never met him, but was advised on her move-in day that he doesn't interact much with the other residents, basically a light debrief on how he can come off as cold and aloof and while some people have made attempts in the past to greet him, they’ve been dissuaded by his general standoffishness and avoidance of any social interaction.

anyways, simon wakes up at odd times throughout the night because he's got the most fucked sleeping schedule from deployment; he can start his day anywhere from 4am, 6pm, and so forth but on one particular morning, he's up at 3:30am, ready to go out for a jog of all things at this hour and then in the hall, he runs into his cute neighbor who's holding this also equally cute german shepherd puppy in her arms; his reaction consists of slowly blinks and a blank expression because he doesn’t quite know what to make of the sight in front of him

and she's staring back at simon with wide, frightened eyes not because she finds him intimidating or anything of that nature (honestly she doesn’t really give two shites about what the others say about him) but because the landlord has a severe and well-known, no-pets policy so she's been sneaking the puppy outside to use the bathroom in creative ways (one of them being at a time where she's certain none of the other tenants are awake) – she's basically been caught red-handed and fuck she's not sure if he's the type to snitch so all she can really say is:

❝ You didn't see anything. ❞

to which he deadpans,

❝... Sure. ❞

because he’s really just trying to mind his own business and not get involved, ducks his head before shouldering past her in the corridor to get outside – he tells himself he can’t bring himself to care about this new development

however, she's not entirely confident that he's going to make good on his word, so she bakes these cookies (special recipe of hers that she’s hopeful will win him over), leaves them in front of his door as a bribe with a card that says please don’t get me evicted ��� on the inside, which seemed like an excellent plan in theory until he shows up the next day with an empty plate, a very real, very genuine request for more, and a serious demand to see the german shepherd that’s trying to squirm its way out the door to greet simon

edit: love thy neighbor masterlist

[cloudywriting05]

one of your girls. — coriolanus snow.

we dont gotta be in love, no. i don’t gotta be the one, no. i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

part two published, read here.

cw: dom!coryo, p in v, Bondage, vulgar language, pain during sex, daddy kink, slight sadism(?), 18+, slight non-con, etc

words: 3048 [good, GOD], MAY be grammar errors.

tags: @euphemiaamillais my lovely lady.

“Hey, Snow.” 

The blonde boy snapped his head at you, a stern look plastered to his face. You watched his eyes travel up and down your figure, his expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. He turned his body to face you and sighed.

You and Coriolanus’s relationship was unique, to say the least. You’ve known each other your entire life but dedicated your every day to one-upping each other. Your decade-long academic rivalry with him was something you found deeply annoying, and you knew if he wasn’t as attractive as he was, you would’ve killed him by now. Coriolanus found the rivalry thrilling. Watching you stress and work out to get the best grade was entertaining for him. On the days he was lucky, you would be in the library at the same time as him, searching for textbooks to grab before the other could. The number of times he caught himself peering down at your small figure, bent over, frantically digging through piles of chemistry books was criminal. 

The new school year had just begun, and you were instantly bombarded with strange rumours. Rumours about Coriolanus, more specifically, his dick. He’d allegedly slept with half of the grade’s female population, including your own friends. You rebuffed them initially, that was until you overheard the said ‘girls’ discussing it, confirming it all. You were annoyed, absolutely livid at the thought of Coriolanus sleeping with them. Why did he leave you out? Was this something else he was showing you that you could never get? Whatever he was doing was working. Fucking your entire friend group but purposely dodging you was a smart move on his behalf. But you were never a loser, never second place.

So here it brought you. Standing in front of your arch nemesis with your arms crossed. 

“Could I help you, gorgeous?” he purred, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re a slut, Snow. Fucking all my friends is pretty corny, don’t you think?” you remarked, running a finger down the locker beside him. 

He looked at you, guilt written across his face. “I’m not a slut, little girl. And who told you that?” 

“Everyone. Everyone is talking about you and your dick, Coriolanus.”

“I got busy over the holidays. Who knew Academy girls could be so desperate for my dick?” he sneered, smiling to himself. 

“So why did you do it?” 

“Do what?” he asked, puzzled.

“Fuck everyone but me? Were you trying to tick me off? If so, it worked, Snow.”

He let out a laugh, completely bewildered. “Are you high? What are you trying to get at?”

“Did I stutter? You fucked every girl in my friend group but me, even though I should’ve been the first. Now, because you decided to fucking skip me, I have to hear about how freaky you are, or how big your dick is all day!” you blurted, your frustration getting by the absolute best of you as his nonchalant demeanor sent you over the edge. 

“So, let me get this straight; you’re angry at me because I didn’t fuck you?” he questioned, eyes wide, trying to comprehend what was coming out of your mouth.

You stuttered for a second. “Yes, yes I am.”

“We played sandbox together and here you are now, in this empty hallway, begging me to fuck you,” he said as he fixed his uniform.

“Oh, so you don’t wanna fuck me?” you purred, your arms crossed, looking up at him. 

“Just to piss you off, no I don’t. Doesn’t matter how hot I think you are, or how long I’ve wanted to for this to happen. I like seeing you mad.” he smiled, knowing he had ticked you off. “I’ll see you in bio, little girl.”

He spoke as he walked away. Your eyes twitched in anger; Snow could not win. Not today. 

“Fine, I’ll just ask Plinth!” your words stopped him right in his tracks.

He turned and stalked towards you, stopping only a few inches in front of you. He glared down into your eyes. “If you fuck Sejanus, I’ll kill you both and make it look like an accident.” 

You scoffed. “Would you, actually? I don’t know. All I know is that I want you at my house by eleven thirty. If you’re as good as one of the girls was vouching you were, then prove it. Or I’ll get one of your friends to, just to make it even.”

“You win, I’ll see you there, doll.”

It was eleven-twenty on the dot and there was still no sign of Coriolanus. You’d pondered about the interaction from today for hours, worried you came off too demanding. You thought to yourself for a while that he was going you stand you up and purposely not come, that would’ve sent you over the edge. You sat on your bed, every negative thought running through your head. Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of frantic knocking. 

You rushed downstairs and stood in front of the door. “Who is it?”

“Is that a joke?” Coriolanus spoke from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’m freezing.” 

You flung the door open, Coriolanus stood there, a smile plastered to his face. He sported a worn-out shirt that was fitted, hugging his chest. He paired it with pajama pants with a red pattern and slides that looked like they should’ve never left his house. He walked right past you into your home. “You look like you’re about to go to sleep, couldn’t dress sexier?” 

“I mean it’s gonna come right off, isn’t it?”

“Whatever, my room is upstairs and the first to your right.” 

“Perfect.” 

You watched the boy jog up the stairs and disappear behind the wall, following him shortly after. 

You entered the room to him sitting on the bed, using his arms to sit up behind him. You closed the door behind you without breaking eye contact. You could physically feel the tension in the room, his entire demeanor shifting from minutes ago. You felt almost chilled. 

He lifted himself from the edge of your bed and walked towards you, stopping himself only when his face was inches from yours. “Did one of the girls ever tell you what I did to them?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think.”

“I’ll have to show you, won't I?” he purred, his hand traveling up from your side to your chin.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

His hand landed on your cheek, taking you by surprise. You gasped as his hand returned to your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Stupid girl. You wanted me to treat you like your friends, right? They didn’t talk, so why should you?”

You should’ve walked away; you should’ve told him to get out. The boy who defined your entire academy life just slapped you in the face and degraded you, yet your entire body yearned for his touch. You stared into his eyes, they were glistening, wild with power and lust. His blonde hair dimly lit by the streetlight peering through your window into your dark, cold room. You needed to get even; you needed him to fuck you to get even. You needed him inside of you and in that moment, you didn’t care if it was the last thing you did that night. 

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, now,” he demanded, his grip on your chin tightening as he forced you to look up at him, helpless.

You shook under his touch, completely powerless. “I- I want you to fuck me, Coryo.”

He lowered his head, resting his lips against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine and straight to your heat. “Say it louder, so everyone in the Capitol knows how much of a dumb, little slut you are for me. Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me because I’m a slut... for you.” you proclaimed, your voice projected as he breathed against your cheek, his grip on your chin still tight.

“Pathetic, but good enough,” he replied, he released your chin and moved himself away from you slightly. “Get on the bed and strip for me, now.”

You nodded dumbly, crawling onto the bed. You lifted your shirt over your head and tossed it on the ground beside you, removing your pants and underwear right after. You sat there idly, completely bare, whilst a clothed Coriolanus stood in front of you, fucking you with his gaze. His eyes traveled up and down your frame, admiring you.

He raised a hand and began to caress your cheek; you instinctively nuzzled your face into his palm causing him to softly laugh. “The smartest and prettiest girl in the academy, sitting naked waiting for me to fuck her like a good girl.”

He looked down on you, you were naked and nuzzling your face into his palm, inaudibly begging him to fuck you. You were desperate and it turned him on so much. The most stubborn girl he fawned over for years now naked and begging him to fuck her. He could feel his dick trying to break free from his pants just from the sight of you.

He walked away and disappeared into your open closet, leaving you clueless. He walked out with a ribbon in his hand.

“That’s my grandma's, Coryo. That’s the ribbon she gifted me. What do you need it for?” you questioned, puzzled.

“Put your back against your bed frame and stop asking me stupid questions. Sluts with dirty mouths like you, my dear, don’t get to talk.” 

You followed his command and shuffled up until your bare back was against the headboard, waiting patiently for his next command. You were the smartest girl at your academy yet there you were, brainlessly waiting for Snow to tell you what to do. 

He climbed onto the bed and motioned for your hand. “Give me your hands, doll.” 

You timidly raised your hand towards him. He grabbed your wrist and began to firmly tie the piece of ribbon around them, causing you to wince slightly. The thin material pressed against your skin as you looked at him, hopeless. There he had you. Your wrists tied, naked. Your knees spread exposing you. 

He took his time once again, admiring your small, fragile frame. “You look so gorgeous, let daddy see what’s between your legs better, okay?”

You nodded and spread your knees apart more, fully exposing your heat to the boy. He hovered over you, staring down at your pussy, glistening with juices. He used his hands to turn you over on your knees, your hands still restrained, using your elbows for support. 

“How many times did you speak to that bitch this week?” he inquired from behind you.

“Who? Sejanus? … Maybe three or four times, I’m not too sure–”

“Too many times. Way too many fucking times.”

You felt a hard hand land against your cheek, your back curled in pain as you threw your head between your hands. It was followed by another, causing you to cry out in pain. He slapped your ass again, and then once more. Painful groans escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain.

“Four slaps for four conversations. Turn over and spread your legs a bit more for me, okay?” 

You dumbly followed, still wincing in pain. You turned yourself onto your back and spread your legs as far as you could, quivering and vulnerable. Coriolanus watched, entranced by your naked body. You looked at the boy, gawking at you. His hand grabbed your tied wrists and lifted them above your head. The boy then moved his head between your knees, planting a kiss on your knee, then on your inner thigh. He peered up at you, your pussy throbbing and yearning for his touch.

“Please, I can’t take it. Touch me,” you begged, your voice timid, scared of the boy between your thighs.

“Say please.”

“Please, please?”

“Good girl.” he purred, lowering his head further, you felt his nose graze your pubic bone.

His lips planted a kiss, then moved down to your folds. A moan instantly escaped your lips, your body churning at the feeling of his lips on your moist folds. Your back arched. You felt his lips move against your core, lapping at your folds. He used his tongue to press against your clit, making you cry out and heave. His arm traveled up to your breast, massaging it as his tongue lapped at your pussy. His nose pressing against you. You squirmed as he used his mouth to suck your clit, sending your eyes to the back of your head. The sensations overstimulate you, leaving you hopeless. You didn’t dare bring your arms down, knowing he wouldn’t react well.

He lifted his head from your heat for a second and peered up at you. “You taste so good, let me show you.”

He raised himself and lowered his lips onto yours. Forcing your mouth open with his, his tongue invading your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. You moaned in his mouth, completely dumbfounded by the boy.

“Now, open your mouth,” he said, gripping onto your chin. 

You dumbly followed, letting him spit into your mouth. You swallowed without hesitation. 

“Good, you did one thing right,” he remarked, unbuttoning his pants, holding eye contact with you from above. 

He swiftly removed his pants, followed by his shirt. His body was leaner than you’d expected, his muscular frame surprising you. He hauled himself off the bed and lowered his brief, freeing his throbbing penis. You let out a small gasp. He motioned for you to come towards him, you crawled, wrists still tied, and sat on the edge of the bed in front of him. His penis right across from your face. He stared down at you.

“Look what you did to me, fix it up. Now,” he demanded.

You nodded your head as you leaned to lick his penis. You use your lips to latch onto his tip, sucking on it as you let your tongue massage it. He groaned from above you, eyes closed. Your head moving slowly to and from, his dick still in your mouth. Your tongue glided back and forth as you pleasured the boy. He threw his head back as you did everything you could to his dick with your mouth alone, you spat on it frantically as you took his cock deeper into your throat. Gagging on his dick and pushing yourself past your limit.

“Go fucking deeper, you dumb fucking slut. Treat it like you would treat some other guys. Whore.” he demanded, his hand latching onto a chunk of your hair. 

He pushed himself further down your throat, tears rolling down your eyes in return. He pumped your throat like it was your pussy, you gagged on his cock uncontrollably. Your wrists were tied in front of you, helpless as he fucked your throat. He pulled your head back with the chunk of hair. You gasped for a breath of air frantically, tears rolling down your eyes. His open palm landed against your cheek again, causing you to gasp in pain.

“When I tell you to go deeper, I mean it, slut. Aren’t you meant to be smart?” he scoffed, looking down at your frail frame. “You spent years trying to get under my fucking skin, now I’m on yours, and you don’t know how to act? Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you.” you whimpered, sniffling as he shot you a smile.

“There you go, pretty girl. Turn over for me now.” 

You nodded dumbly, turning around on the edge of the bed. You used your elbows for support as you perked your backside up. The boy stared at you hungrily. You felt a slap land on your cheek again, causing you to flinch in pain. 

“You wanna feel me?” 

He watched your head bop and down in response. Within no time he prepped himself at your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You groaned into the mattress, feeling his large cock stretch your pussy. 

“Little Miss Capitol is tight, isn’t she?” he sneered.

He slowly pushed himself in, then out. You groaned as his pace picked up excruciatingly slow, every thrust filling you up. His dick stretched your walls, every bit of your pussy was filled with his cock. He gripped your hip and leaned forward, using his free hand to push your wrists further from you.

His pace quickened. His cock slung in and out of you, moaning as he slapped your ass. You didn’t flinch, distracted by the feeling of his cock. Your moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, hitting a spot within you that hadn’t known of until now. Your body quivered as you felt the boy fuck you with all his strength.

You felt his arm wrap around your throat, pulling you up and restraining your breathing. You gasped, his pace not slowing. You felt his chest against your back as he thrusts into you mercilessly. His free hand slithers to your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. You felt your muscles wear as he continued to push into you, overstimulated beyond comprehension.

Your stomach tightened as you came, and you shrieked. Your entire body loses its balance, flailing forward on your chest. Coriolanus didn’t stop. He continued to thrust into you, your body limp in front of him. You moaned into the mattress as he fucked you whilst his hand circulated your clit. 

“I came, Coriolanus, I came!”

“I know, shut up.”

He ignored your words. Your body tightened again, this time your juices threatened to squirt out. You fought every bone in your body to not let it out. His finger still rubbing your clit as he pushed into you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum again. I can’t, it hurts!”

“Yes, you can, you can.” He breathed from behind you.

You cried out, shamefully squirting on your bedsheets. The boy pulled his cock out and frantically massaged it until his semen shot on your back. He heaved from behind you.

“Now, you are just like the rest of the girls. I’ll see you on Monday, doll.”

—

pt2 published…. read here.

[mercillery]

STRAWHATS AND WAXING…

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

SUMMARY: Just hcs on how some of the strawhats are like during the waxing experience. You’re the one waxing them btw.

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Zoro + Nami

NOTES: I made this random mess because I got my face waxed for the first time a few days ago and they peeled a small part of my skin off. I wish I was joking.

When Luffy first hears about waxing, his initial reaction is pure confusion. He tilts his head, eyes wide, as if you've just told him about a new, mysterious kind of devil fruit. "Waxing? What’s that?" he'd ask, genuinely clueless, probably thinking it's some sort of bizarre new adventure or maybe even a weird dessert. In Luffy's world, anything unknown is either something to eat or something fun to do, so naturally, he'd assume waxing falls into one of those categories.

You’d have to break it down for him in the simplest terms possible: "It's a way to remove hair. Like, pulling it out so it’s not there anymore." He blinks a few times, processing this new information. "Remove hair? But why would anyone want to do that?" he’d ask, clearly baffled by the concept. For him, the idea of going out of your way to get rid of something as trivial as hair is as foreign as trying to understand why Sanji doesn’t just eat the ingredients instead of cooking them.

Once he finally gets it—or at least he thinks he does—his curiosity piques. But not for the reasons you'd expect. He might think the wax is some sort of edible goo (which, let's be honest, he'd probably try to eat). Or he might be intrigued because it sounds like a new kind of challenge. "Does it hurt? Is it like a fight?" he'd ask with an eager grin, already ready to face this 'hair-removal' challenge head-on. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he imagines waxing to be some sort of mini-battle he has to win.

Now, Luffy isn’t exactly known for his patience or for thinking things through, so when you finally explain that it involves ripping hair out by the roots, he just shrugs it off. Pain? Discomfort? Those are small potatoes for the guy who’s taken down warlords and emperors. "Let’s do it!" he’d declare, without even a hint of hesitation. After all, in his mind, if it’s something new and weird, it’s got to be worth a shot.

Luffy, being the impulsive bundle of energy that he is, obviously doesn’t have a shred of patience—especially when it comes to something as boring as the prep work for waxing. The moment you start heating the wax, he’s already squirming in his seat, looking like he’s about to jump out of his skin. He watches you like a hawk, his eyes darting between the wax and your every movement. It feels like time has slowed down—that's how bored he is right now.

“Come on, just do it already!” he’ll exclaim, practically bouncing up and down with impatience. The waiting is torture for him, and you can tell he’s seconds away from grabbing the wax himself and slapping it on in whatever haphazard way he can manage.

It’s like trying to calm down a hyperactive kid who’s been told he has to wait five minutes before opening his birthday presents. Patience is not in his vocabulary, and the idea of sitting still while you carefully prepare everything is almost more than he can bear. And honestly, with Luffy, you know the clock’s ticking before he does something crazy, so you better hurry up.

 When the waxing process finally begins, Luffy is… well, to put it mildly, underwhelmed. He thought this whole thing was going to be a lot more exciting, maybe even a little dangerous—something worthy of a future Pirate King, you know? But instead, it's just you, applying warm wax and smoothing down strips with what seems like no end in sight. He starts fidgeting almost immediately, shifting around as if the chair is suddenly the most uncomfortable place in the world—it’s not, he’s just really bored. He might even start poking at the wax with a finger, trying to figure out what all the fuss is about.

“Can’t you go faster?” he’ll whine, looking at you with those big, expectant eyes that are practically begging for some kind of action. The boredom is killing him. Luffy’s the type who thrives on chaos and excitement, not sitting still while something as mundane as hair removal drags on. He’s clearly disappointed that this isn’t turning out to be the grand adventure he somehow imagined it might be.

However…

The moment that first strip is ripped off, everything changes. The look of boredom is instantly replaced by sheer shock as Luffy’s whole body jolts. His eyes go wide, and without missing a beat, he lets out a loud, explosive yell. “OW! WHAT WAS THAT?!” He practically leaps out of his seat, clutching the now-hairless spot as if he’s just been ambushed by an invisible enemy. It’s not that Luffy can’t handle pain—it’s the surprise of it all that really gets him.

Even though you carefully explained the whole process beforehand, he somehow managed to forget about that crucial detail. He was too focused on the idea of wax being some weird new eatable substance to pay attention to the part where you mentioned that it might, you know, hurt a bit. His reaction is pure Luffy: loud, dramatic, and completely honest. You can’t help but laugh a little as he rubs his arm, still looking at you like you’ve just pulled the ultimate prank of betrayal on him.

But if you think the pain is going to make Luffy tap out, you’ve got another thing coming. The shock may have caught him off guard, but backing down? That’s not in his nature. Instead, Luffy’s all in—gritting his teeth and getting ready for the next round, like he’s about to face down a sea king. The pain with each wax strip is real, but it’s also the one thing keeping him from reaching that extreme level of boredom that was starting to gnaw at him earlier.

Every time you rip off another strip, his eyes widen for a split second, and you can see him visibly brace himself, but then he’s right back to his usual self, shaking off the pain with a grin. “Hah! That one wasn’t so bad!” he’d boast, even though you can tell from the way he’s rubbing the spot that he definitely felt it.

And in true Luffy fashion, he starts to get into it, almost like he’s made a game out of enduring the waxing. He’ll throw out little challenges, like daring you to rip the next one off faster or harder, because if he’s going to do this, he’s going to go all out. “Come on, hit me with your best shot!” he’d say, grinning even though you know he’s still feeling each pull.

 But as determined as Luffy is, eventually, the boredom creeps back in. He’s the type who needs constant action, and once the novelty of the pain wears off, there’s not much left to keep him entertained. After a few more strips, you notice he’s not reacting as much—his bravado is still there, but the excitement has clearly faded. He starts to tolerate the pain to the point where it’s just another thing happening to him, like getting rained on during a storm.

Before long, you hear the unmistakable sound of snoring. You glance over to see him slouched in the chair, completely conked out as if he’s taking a nap on the Sunny. His body is so used to pushing through discomfort that it just decided, “Why not catch some Z’s?”

You don’t even need to check if he’s okay—those snores are a clear enough sign. You work as quickly as you can, ripping off the strips one after another, half expecting him to wake up at any moment. But he just keeps snoring away, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s still in the middle of a waxing session.

When you finally finish and wake him up, Luffy blinks groggily, still half asleep as you tell him it’s all done. It takes a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it does, his eyes light up like you’ve just told him there’s a mountain of meat waiting for him. He immediately sits up and admires his newly smooth, hairless legs with the same enthusiasm he’d have for discovering a treasure chest.

“Whoa! My legs are so smooth!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands over his legs in amazement. He’s completely mesmerized by the feel of his skin, as if it’s the coolest thing in the world right now. You can already tell that any discomfort or redness is the last thing on his mind.

And before you can even suggest taking it easy, Luffy’s already up and bolting out of the room, eager to show off his fantastic new smooth legs to the rest of the crew. “Hey, guys! Check this out!” he shouts, practically bursting onto the deck with a wide grin plastered on his face. He’s flexing his legs, striking exaggerated poses like he’s just achieved something monumental.

“Look how smooth my legs are!” he brags, showing them off to anyone who will listen. He’s so caught up in his own excitement that he’s completely oblivious to the lingering redness or any stares of confusion from the crew. Even if they’re wondering why he’s so excited about hairless legs, Luffy doesn’t care—he’s just thrilled to have something new to show off.

 If someone asks him how it was, Luffy will flash that signature grin and say, “It was easy!”—completely forgetting that he’d screamed bloody murder when the first strip was ripped off. To him, the pain is already a distant memory, replaced by the thrill of showing off his new, smooth legs.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is left in a mix of surprise and confusion. They’re all quietly wondering how on earth you managed to get Luffy to sit still for so long without him bouncing around or possibly even eating the wax. The idea of Luffy sitting through the entire waxing process without causing total chaos is almost more shocking to them than the fact that he went through with it in the first place.

When the idea of waxing is first brought up, Zoro’s reaction is about as predictable as you’d expect. He barely gives it a second thought before letting out a low, uninterested grunt and going right back to whatever he was doing—probably napping or lifting absurdly heavy weights. Grooming beyond the basics just isn’t his thing. In Zoro’s mind, as long as he’s clean and his swords are sharp, there’s no need for anything extra, especially something as seemingly frivolous as waxing.

His first response would probably be a blunt, “No way,” with a look that says he’s already decided the conversation is over. You can tell that he’s genuinely baffled by the idea. Why on earth would he willingly let someone rip out his hair for no reason? The whole concept just doesn’t compute with him, especially when it’s not going to help him train or fight better.

If you push the idea a little further, maybe teasing him about how even the toughest swordsmen could benefit from smooth skin, he’d probably snap back with something like, “Why would I let someone rip my hair out for no reason?” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, as if the whole suggestion is almost offensive to his sensibilities. Zoro’s the type who lives by practicality—if it doesn’t make him stronger or help him achieve his goals, it’s not worth his time.

 The only way you’re getting Zoro to agree to waxing is if he’s somehow backed into a corner with no other way out. Maybe he lost a bet after one too many drinks, or someone bribed him with a stash of rare alcohol. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s doing it to shut someone up—most likely Sanji, who’s probably been teasing him nonstop about being too scared to go through with it. Even in that case, though, Zoro would make it crystal clear that this isn’t his idea of fun.

When he finally agrees, it’s with an irritated sigh and a muttered, “This better be quick,” as if he’s about to endure some grueling, unnecessary challenge. You can almost feel the weight of his reluctance hanging in the air, and he’s definitely giving you a look that says he’s only doing this because he has no other choice. It’s a rare moment, almost like spotting an endangered species in the wild—Zoro, the one who faces down powerful enemies without flinching, is now about to endure the ultimate test of patience.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you know it. Getting Zoro to sit still for something as non-essential as waxing is nothing short of a miracle, so you best not let it slip through your fingers. It’s clear that he’s mentally preparing himself, as if this is just another battle to get through—one that he’s determined to endure but not exactly thrilled about.

  Like Luffy, Zoro has zero patience when it comes to things that waste his time, and waxing is no exception. The moment the process begins, you can practically feel the impatience and irritation radiating off him. As soon as you start heating the wax or doing any kind of prep work, Zoro’s already showing signs of frustration. He’s tapping his foot, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and scowling as if the entire process is some sort of personal insult.

“Is this really necessary?” He’d grumble under his breath, casting a sharp glance your way as if daring you to say otherwise. Unlike Luffy, who would probably be whining and fidgeting, Zoro’s complaints are more subdued but no less pointed. He’s the type to internalize his frustration, letting it out in low, growly mutters and the occasional heavy sigh. The whole thing feels like an unnecessary distraction to him—one that’s taking way too long for his liking. Still, he’s not backing down.

Every minute that passes just adds to his annoyance. He’ll let out a groan every time you mention there’s another step or that the wax isn’t quite ready yet. The delay is clearly getting on his nerves, and you can tell that if it were up to him, he’d already be done and back to his training. But instead, he’s stuck here, enduring this tedious process with nothing but his grumbles and scowls to show for it.

 When the wax is finally applied, Zoro’s expression remains as stone-faced as ever. There’s no way he’d let anyone see that he’s uncomfortable, especially over something like this. He sits there with a cold, indifferent look, acting as if the warm wax is just another insignificant obstacle in his day.

He’s not scared—Zoro doesn’t do scared. He’s just getting himself ready for the moment you rip off that first strip. It’s like he’s preparing for a fight—not with an enemy, but with the sharp sting he knows is coming. His eyes narrow slightly as the wax hardens, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, calculating the best way to endure this new form of discomfort.

When you finally rip off that first strip, Zoro doesn’t scream, flinch, or give you the satisfaction of seeing him react. He’s been through far worse than this, and he’s not about to let something as small as waxing get the better of him. The sting is sharp and sudden, but Zoro just grits his teeth, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as he breathes out in a slow, controlled manner. That’s the only sign you get that he even felt it.

As more strips are applied and ripped off, Zoro’s irritation steadily grows—not because of the pain but because of the sheer, mind-numbing repetition of it all. For someone who thrives on action and hates being idle, this process is torture in its own right. The longer he has to sit still, the more his patience wears thin. You can see it in the way his brow furrows and the slight twitch in his jaw as he tries to keep his frustration in check.

“How much longer is this going to take?” he finally asks, his tone laced with impatience. There’s no mistaking the edge in his voice; he’s clearly reaching the end of his rope. His gaze flickers down to his still very hairy legs, and you can practically feel the silent judgment radiating off of him. It’s as if he’s questioning every decision that led him to this moment, where he’s stuck sitting through what feels like an endless ordeal.

A long, loud silence hangs in the air as your eyes trace over the hair still covering his legs. This is obviously going to take a very long time. But as you glance back at Zoro, the last thing you want to do is push him over the edge. With a small, reassuring smile and eyes that do their best to hide the truth, you muster up your most convincing tone and say, “Not long.” You know you’re lying through your teeth, but hey, it’s for the sake of Zoro’s sanity.

 But despite the mounting irritation gnawing at him, Zoro wouldn’t back down or even think about asking to stop. Once he’s committed to something, no matter how trivial or annoying, he sees it through to the bitter end. His stubbornness is practically legendary, and there’s no way he’d let something as simple as waxing break his resolve. The idea of quitting? Not even on his radar. Zoro isn’t about to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking he can’t handle it.

Besides, he knows for a fact that if he even hinted at tapping out, Sanji would never let him live it down. The thought of that smug blonde cook mocking him is enough to keep Zoro going, his pride and stubbornness fueling him through every irritating strip. So he toughs it out with grit in his jaw and steel in his eyes.

 Once the waxing ordeal is finally over, Zoro will act as though it is no big deal. There wouldn’t be any complaints or mentions of pain—he’d simply brush it off with his usual nonchalance. “Done already?” he might say, as if the whole thing was just a minor inconvenience, nothing worth talking about.

Internally, though, Zoro would feel a wave of relief wash over him. He’d never say it out loud, but he’s glad it’s over. The thought of sitting through another round of that repetitive, irritating process? No, thank you. He’s more than ready to move on to something that actually matters—like getting in some serious training, polishing his swords, or finding the nearest sunny spot on the ship for a well-deserved nap.

 Even if his skin is red and irritated afterward, Zoro wouldn’t show the slightest sign of discomfort. He’d carry on with his day like nothing happened, even if the soreness lingers with every move he makes. To anyone who might notice the redness and dare to ask how he’s feeling, he’d give them a simple, “I’m fine,” in that gruff, no-nonsense tone that shuts down any further questioning.

Don’t even think about suggesting that he try it again. Zoro’s already made up his mind—this was a one-time thing, and there’s no chance he’s ever doing it again. Once was more than enough, and he doesn’t see any reason to put himself through that kind of hassle a second time. If you’re ever brave enough to suggest it in the future, you’ll be met with a hard glare and a flat, uncompromising “no.” There’s no room for negotiation in that tone.

From that moment on, Zoro will subtly avoid any situation where waxing could possibly come up again. If he hears the word “waxing” in passing conversation, he won’t even acknowledge it; he’ll just walk away without a word, his mind already moving on to more important matters. The crew might chuckle about it behind his back, but Zoro doesn’t care. As far as he’s concerned, this is one experience he’s leaving firmly in the past. He literally wants nothing to do with wax ever again.

My girl is a seasoned veteran when it comes to waxing. She’s practically a walking encyclopedia on the subject, knowing all the different types of waxes, which ones are best for specific skin types, and which methods give the smoothest results. She could probably run a beauty salon in her sleep if she wanted to, though she’d charge a hefty fee for it. With all that being said, when you bring up the idea of a waxing session, she’s more than ready to jump on board. She’s no stranger to grooming and self-care; in fact, it’s something she prioritizes.

When the waxing begins, Nami is completely relaxed. She’s no stranger to this, and her confidence shines through. She'll engage in casual conversation with you, keeping the atmosphere light and friendly. However, despite her composed demeanor, she can’t entirely shake the anticipation of the pain that’s about to come.

The thought of wax strips being ripped off makes her just a little bit edgy. To ease her nerves, she might ask, “You’ve done this before, right?” The question comes out half-joking, but there’s an underlying need for reassurance. Whether you decide to tease her or not is up to you, but be careful—you might end up on the receiving end of her temper for playing with her like that.

She knows waxing isn’t exactly a painless experience, so she prepares herself mentally. When the first strip is pulled off, she might exhale sharply, but she won’t scream or cause a scene. Instead, she’ll bite her lip and maybe squint her eyes briefly before quickly regaining her composure. “That was nothing,” she’ll mutter, partly to herself, determined to get through the session with as little fuss as possible.

Throughout the waxing process, Nami would keep the atmosphere light and breezy, effortlessly weaving a stream of witty commentary to distract herself from the sting and keep things fun. “You know, I’ve had marines chasing me who were less painful than this,” she might say with a smirk, her voice steady despite the sharp tugs on her skin.

If Luffy or another crewmate happened to wander by during the session, Nami wouldn’t miss the chance to throw a playful jab their way. “Hey Luffy, I bet you’d cry like a baby if you tried this,” she’d tease, knowing full well that Luffy’s curiosity (and his competitive nature) would probably lead him to try it just to prove her wrong. Honestly, that might be how you got him to sit down for waxing in the first place.

But despite the jokes and banter, Nami wouldn’t let the conversation stray too far from the task at hand. She’s someone who can multitask like a pro, keeping up a lively chat while making sure you’re following the process correctly. “So have you ever tried sugaring? It’s less harsh on the skin,” she might ask casually, as if you’re both just having a normal conversation over tea rather than ripping hair out by the roots.

For the most part, though, the two of you would be chatting away like it was just another day. Nami’s not the type to let a little pain faze her, and she’d take the opportunity to catch up, swap stories, or maybe even get the latest gossip from you.

Once the waxing is done, Nami will pause to admire the results, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she runs her fingers over her freshly smooth skin. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” she’d say with a pleased smile, clearly impressed with how everything turned out. Any lingering redness or irritation wouldn’t phase her in the slightest; she’d already have some soothing lotion on hand, applying it with the practiced ease of someone who’s been through this routine many times before.

After making sure everything’s perfect, she’d flash you a grin. “You did a great job,” she’d say, a hint of genuine appreciation in her tone. And because she’s not one to keep something good to herself, she’d probably hold out her leg toward you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Go ahead, feel how smooth they are,” she’d encourage, clearly eager to show off just how soft her skin is now.

 But just when you thought you were in the clear, happily basking in the relief that Nami enjoyed the waxing session despite the occasional sting, Nami gives you a smile—one of those sweet, too-innocent ones that immediately puts you on edge. Before you can even process what’s happening, Nami turns to you with that sweet, knowing smile of hers, holding up the waxing materials like a challenge. “Your turn!” she announces cheerfully, and it dawns on you that things are far from over.

ﾟ｡ ₍ ꙳⸌ ♡ BONUS ♡⸍ ꙳ ₎ ｡ﾟ

You blink, momentarily dumbfounded. “Wait, what? Nami, no, I’m good. Really. I’m totally fine.” But she’s not hearing any of it. “Come on, we’re going to have matching smooth legs! It’ll be fun!”

“Fun for who?” You protest, trying to back away as she advances with the wax strips. “Nami, seriously, I think I’ll pass. I’m more of a ‘keep my hair’ kind of person.”

“Oh, come on,” Nami insists, her smile widening as she edges closer. “It’s not that bad! We’re gonna match—smooth legs for everyone!”

You try to squirm out of it, but Nami’s determination is as solid as the Thousand Sunny itself. “Nami, please, we can talk about this! I’ll give you all my berries, or maybe I can wax someone else for you!”

“Not a chance,” she grins. “You’ve already committed. Now hold still!” Before you know it, she’s expertly applying the wax, and your protests turn into frantic pleas. “Nami, come on, let’s not do anything rash.”

“Too late!” she chirps as she preps the first strip. “You’re going to love this.”

“NAMI, WAIT—!”

With a swift motion, Nami rips off the first strip, and in that instant, you feel a jolt of fiery pain shoot through your leg. It’s like your soul has just been forcibly evicted from your body.

“AARRRRGHHHH!” The scream that escapes your lips is loud, raw, and absolutely blood-curdling. It echoes through the entire ship, startling birds from nearby trees and probably sending some poor marine scrambling for cover somewhere in the distance.

The rest of the crew pauses mid-task as they hear your shriek of horror.

“Sounds like someone’s having a rough time,” Zoro comments, raising an eyebrow but not moving from his spot.

“Are they… Are they torturing someone in there?” Usopp asks, wide-eyed.

But before anyone can even think of rushing to your aid, Nami’s calm, reassuring voice rings out, though it’s almost drowned out by your continued screams of agony. “It’s fine, it’s fine! Everything’s under control!” she calls, her tone as soothing as someone trying to calm a wild animal. “Just a little waxing!”

Inside the room, you’re practically convulsing, clutching your leg with a mix of horror and disbelief. “Nami…that was—ow—absolutely brutal! I think I’m dying!” Nami’s smile is as bright as ever as she pats your shoulder encouragingly. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It isn’t that bad, just a little sting!”

The second strip is suddenly torn off, and you let out another soul-piercing scream that echoes throughout the entire ship. The sound is so loud and terrifying that even the fish swimming under the Thousand Sunny probably stop dead in their tracks.

Meanwhile, outside, the crew is collectively wincing with every scream you let out. “Maybe we should just let them handle it,” Robin suggests with a small smile, knowing better than to get in Nami’s way.

“Yeah, good luck to them,” Franky adds, cringing as another scream reverberates through the air.

Luffy, who’s lounging nearby, tilts his head and grins. “Hey, maybe they’ll have smooth legs like me!”

Back in the room, you’re gripping the sides of your seat, your knuckles white as you endure yet another strip being pulled off. “Nami, this has to be illegal in at least ten countries!”

“Relax, you’re doing great!” Nami reassures you, her voice as chipper as ever, even as you let out another ear-splitting shriek. “Just a few more and we’ll be done!”

“Just a few more?!” you practically wail, but it’s no use.

The crew collectively decides that maybe it’s best not to check in on you just yet. After all, they know better than to interfere when Nami’s on a mission.

[polo-drone-055]

The Golden Army meets The Polo Drones: Part 2

Written at the command of and in collaboration with @hypnogold

Christian, the recently recruited wingback wearing #55 for the Golden Army went to the Pulse nightclub to let off steam.

His first match with the Golden Army, a few weeks ago, did not go well. Trying to hide his insecurity he planned to show the team all his skills and prowess, thereby proving his worth. Instead the team lost the match to their rivals, the Silver, because of him. Christian stayed up too often, despite his Captains instructions, allowing space out wide for the opposing team to fill and score. He felt horrible for letting his Bros down. They however rallied around him, told him to shake it off, and have been encouraging him.

The press and fans however were not as kind. The headlines were devastating. “Christian is worthless!” “Sack #55!" “This guy is crap!” At matches the fans threw beer, food, drinks and all sorts of stuff at him. When out about the city he was cursed at. There was no peace except when alone with his Bros who were always providing long deep hugs of support and encouragement.

In middle of a particularly brutal day his captain Richard calls asking if he wants to go out for a drink and talk. They arrange to meet that night at Club Fusion.

Christian arrives first walking straight past security paying them no attention.

Looking around the club Christian sees no sign of Richard and heads to the bar and has a few brews, all the while beating himself up for being a jerk. Internalizing all the crap that is being thrown at him.

“Hey Bro, here you are” says Richard haltingly hitting Christian on his shoulders and flashing a big smile.

“Yo Cap! I was worried you weren’t coming. Whose this with you?”

After a brief pause and without emotion: “A new mate I’ve brought on to help us become more focused, intense, and synchronized”

“Woe” says Christian rubbing his eyes and staring at Cap’s mate. “I think I need to lay off. I swear you were just wearing our club jersey.”

Christian’s gold spiral emerges in his eyes as Cap comes closer gently embracing him and beginning to lead him through the club while now wearing a glossy, almost rubbery or latex-like black Fred Perry, buttoned to the top, polo with distinctive yellow details including a laurel wreath embroidered on the chest.

“We will help you. We have a purpose.” Cap says robotically. “We are one. We will make the team one. We will win. We will be more focused, more intense, more synchronized.”

The gold in Christian’s eyes is drawn to all the yellow gold on Richard’s black polo. Christian and the gold begin to internalize the belief that all is not lost. They can win. They can be focused. They can be a team working as one. Gold wants this, no needs this!

Richard and the other polo drone have unbeknownst to him led Christian to a smoke filled back room of the club with similarly dressed men wearing gas masks.

The smoke has a musky, sweet, intoxicating smell to it. Both Richard and Christian’s heads swoon. Becoming lost in a daze, they hear in their minds and begin repeating: “We will improve. We will grow. We will defeat.” “We are one.” “We obey. We serve.” The two drones in the room approach Christian and gently lift his arms removing his jersey and replace it with the polo. As it assimilates Christian the gold voluntarily relinquishes hold and allows itself to become one with the collective. Christiangold55 is no more.

The scientific drones then place gas masks on the former Richard who was known among the gold as Hypnogold and Christian who was known as Christiangold55.

The musky, sweet smell is now more concentrated and pumped directly into the recruits. The new drones are led into another room to continue being assimilated and processed. All the while the two drone on “We will improve. We will grow. We will defeat. We are one. We obey. We serve.”

Along with the other drones absorbed in the club that day and night the Captain and Wingback of the Golden Army internalize their new identities and await their commands.

The next morning Polo-Drone-012 and Polo-Drone-055 head to the stadium.

As they approach the field their Golden Army kits reemerge.

Entering the dressing room Cap with an intensity and focus not seen before announces to the team :

“Bros it’s time to train. We will improve, We will be in sync. We will conquer!! Let’s get to it!"

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 33 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

As it turns out, the Underworld provides a whole slew of services designed to deal with circumstances just like this. Medical care, emergency home repair–and body disposal, all for the price of a handful of gold coins.

You sit with John as a man your lover so descriptively calls Doc sews up Wick’s wounds. There is blood on your face, and your silk pjs. Dog sits on your foot, clearly anxious about letting either one of you out of his sight. In the same spirit, John’s good hand is clasped in yours, or yours in his–neither of you have been able to let go. 

Another man known simply as Charlie orchestrates the removal of the collection of corpses through the house. Yet more tattooed tradesmen work on boarding up the blown out window in the kitchen with a big piece of plywood. 

It’s a miracle, really, the house didn’t burn down. 

“Thought you’d left all this behind you, John?” asks Doc, making a neat knot in the former assassin’s side. 

“So did I.”

“What will you do?”

“The same thing I always do when I’m lost. Talk to Winston.” 

The two men share a snort of laughter you don’t entirely understand. 

When Doc finishes with John he gives you a bottle of pain meds, and a bottle of what are, as far as you can tell, pharmacy grade amphetamines. “In case he has to work again.” You take them with wide eyes and a nod, praying to whatever devil might be listening that that won’t be necessary. 

You’re fairly certain that no one up above is interested in any of you anymore. 

You killed a man. 

You killed a man with a gun to save John, and you do not feel sorry at all. 

Numb, perhaps, but not sorry. 

John groans as he adjusts himself on the couch. You reach out to steady him, helping him best you can. He is heavy, and you look at the stairs with doubt. “Maybe we should sleep down here tonight?”

He blinks at you, undoubtedly thinking you incredibly naïve. “We can’t stay here, baby. It’s not safe.”

“Where will we go?” 

“We’re going to the city,” says John, sounding weary as a man twice his age. “I know a place. Can you drive?”

You have to admit you’re a little dizzy from the whiplash. In the span of a few hours, you’ve gone from being locked up like a princess in the castle, to murdering a man, and now John is going to let you drive?

He must read the blatant surprise on your face. He doesn’t like it, his grip tightening on your hand. “These are bad, bad men who would eat you for breakfast. You’ve got to stick with me.” 

You bristle at this, because even though you absolutely should be thinking about escape? You’re not. You were thinking about how you were going to manage taking care of him in this state, and it pisses you off that he’s still so fucking worried about controlling you that he can’t see the writing written in blood on the wall. 

Or at least, written in blood, on the kitchen floor. 

“You asshole,” you say for the second time tonight. It wins you a lordly scowl that for some fucked up reason thrills you to the tips of your toes. But it’s too late to turn back now. “Were you there, when I fucking shot a man for you? Maybe this is just business as usual for you, but it’s fucking new to me.”

He clenches his other fist on his knee, seeming to count to ten with his eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” he finally grinds out. “I know…Are you alright?”

You guess that you put up a good enough front that he forgot that maybe he should ask. Good on you. Maybe.

“No, not really,” you answer truthfully. “But I don’t have any choice, do I?”

He actually has the grace to cast his eyes down, seeming to really think on what you’re saying. “You had a choice,” he muses quietly, his thumb sliding over your knuckles. “In the kitchen.”

You stroke Dog’s head for something to do with your other hand, which is shaking. Your thundering heart beats painfully in your chest. From the corner of your eye you take in this anomaly of a man. This man, who kidnapped you, who has been playing mental games with you for months, who has kept you prisoner, who has taken your body to heights you never even knew were possible, who has spoiled you, who has adored you and degraded you all in the same breath–this man, who somehow, you know you love with your whole heart. 

“John…” He tilts his head to look at you, his eyes glazed with pain. You’re not sure if it’s physical or mental at this point. “Did you really think I could shoot you?”

Perhaps he did, because in his mind, the only acceptable answer to a wrong against you is murder. 

Perhaps in the brutal world he’s occupied since he was just a child, it is. 

Suddenly he can’t meet your eyes. “Maybe I would deserve it, y/n.”

The fact that he knows that is definitely a good sign. 

But the tricky truth is–it wasn’t all bad. And the good? The good was almost worth the bad, you dare to think now that you’ve survived it. You know better than to say that, because you know you are in the midst of a negotiation right now.

“I love our life together, when you’re sweet to me, John. I only want to murder you when you boss me around. And I only mean that figuratively.”

A huff of laughter escapes him; there is a glimmer of hope in his miserable dark eyes. You know it’s insane, after everything he’s done, but you feel sorry for this man. 

“If you would just treat me as an equal, instead of constantly trying to control me…” I’ll be your ride or die. You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud yet. He already has enough power over you. “Do you think…that’s something we can work on?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, when slowly he nods, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them. “If you don’t want to murder me after everything I’ve done to you…maybe anything is possible.”

You on the other hand, can only blink. Did you just hear what you think you heard? 

That blood-pressure induced ringing has returned to your ears again. The explosion and gunfire surely didn’t help, but somehow this is far more momentous to you. Your surprise for the magnitude of this admission surprises you, and you must show it in the lift of your brows. It makes him smile ruefully; you’re not sure why the sight of it squeezes your heart so. 

You are not so stupid as to think this traumatic event has healed him miraculously, knocked some loose screw back into place. The mind doesn’t work like that. But just maybe, it did put some things into perspective. You are allies now against a mutual cause, rather than enemies of each other. And just maybe, when you tell him that you don’t want to leave him, he will actually believe you from now on. 

“Anyway…I can drive the Rover…” you say with confidence, even though you are still utterly flabbergasted he’d even give you the opportunity. “I don’t know about the ‘Stang.” The Mustang you think you could manage in an emergency, but it’s been a long time since you had to drive a stick, and being responsible for his baby doesn’t sit well with you. 

“That will do.” He grumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ve got to teach you to drive. There is so much I need to teach you.”

You’re not sure what he means by that. You are too tired to hash it out completely right now, but you sense that something, a whole lot of something, has changed in the past few hours between you.  

He makes to get to his feet with a groan–and can’t quite. “Maybe I am too old for this shit,” he grouses. 

“John, you got shot, stabbed, and fought off ten heavily armed assassins. I think you can count tonight as a win.”

Again, that bitter huff of laughter escapes him. You help John to his feet, trying to steady him as best you can. If he’d injured one of his legs badly you would be so fucked; there was no way you could carry him.

“Um…who were they?” You realize you haven’t even talked about who was just trying to kill him. You suppose you already think you know the answer, but then again you could be wrong.

“Camorra goons, I’m pretty sure,” hisses John, clearly in pain. “Guess I should have kept someone alive for questioning…I’ve always been bad at that.”

You press your lips, because it shouldn’t be funny…but if you don’t laugh about it, you might cry. Your life has been so weird lately, it almost just seems par for the course in a way. 

“John…” you chortle and sigh. “Surely the d’Antonio kid gets the picture now? You’ve killed everyone he’s sent after you? Why can’t these assholes just leave you alone?” Why the prince of the Camorra would court such trouble is beyond you. 

“Good question.” He groans as he takes a step, his good arm slung over your shoulder. “The young ones, especially the second or third generation, think they have to prove themselves. Or maybe…he loved his mother and wants me dead. It’s a faint possibility.” 

“Italian boys and their mothers.” 

John chuckles a little, then winces. “Please, sweetheart,” he entreats you. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

Maybe you are a silly creature, but hearing the endearment for you warms something in your heart that had been left out in the cold for too long. “Fine,” you agree, even though humor is absolutely your biggest coping mechanism. “Tell me what we need to do next?” 

“We need to pack.”

“Ok. What?”

“Suits, and guns.” 

You guess in a nutshell, that was the essential distillation of his world, once upon a time. Now, quite against your will, you both are being kicked back into it. By the look in John’s dark eyes, for some reason you have a feeling it’s the Camorra who are going to regret it. 

[auras-moonstone]

girl, i’m in dire need of some jack angst!! (i know, i’m crazy for wanting my heart to be ripped out by your beautiful writing in the saddest way possible😂)

maybe he and the reader have been dating for a few months and have their first big fight, maybe he’s been a little too close to a girl the reader has been having weird gut feelings about. they break up after some harsh words were said, and a few weeks later the reader sees that he’s dating the girl he told her not to worry about 👀

a few months pass, and jack and the girl break up bc he can’t get over the reader, and he tries to win her back, but soon realises he lost her for good when he sees her ar an event or something with someone else, and it’s clear that they’re more than friends.

(i kinda envision this as actress!reader x jack. and the event could be the oscars + the reader’s new bf could also be an A list celeb)

lyrics that could inspire you:

“'Cause there we are again when I loved you so, Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known” - All Too Well (Taylor’s Version)

“I'm sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind, Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life” - I Don’t Wanna Live Forever

thank you so much and i’m sorry if this req is all over the place 😂😂❣️

hii! this might be one of the saddest things i’ve written yet. hope you like it<3

break me like a promise — jack champion

word count: 2,949

pairing: jack champion x actress!fem!reader, louis partridge x fem!reader (brief).

summary: jack breaks y/n’s heart, and after ten months he is determined to win her back, he sees her being happy with someone else.

author’s note: when i read “readers new bf could be a celeb” i knew i had to include the other love of my life aka louis partridge aka london boy.

Y/N AND JACK HAD MET THROUGH JENNA ORTEGA. The latter and Y/N both worked for Netflix, so they bumped into each other in lots of events and eventually became super close. And, knowing how big of a Scream fan Y/N was, Jenna invited her over to set and that’s where she met Jack.

No one could deny that sparks flew instantly between them, not even the two people involved. And that scared Y/N a bit, because her last relationship had left her with insecurities and trust issues, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive into another relationship.

Jack had been very understanding about it, and told her that they should start as friends. He assured her that he would wait as long as she needed to, that she was worth it. And after months and months of therapy, Y/N finally felt ready to try things with Jack.

They were in a lavender haze for months. Her relationship with Jack was unlike anything Y/N had experienced before. The love she felt for him was so strong that there was no way to put it into words. Jack was her best friend—he had held her hand as she healed, and drew stars around the scars that the previous relationship had left on her. And she never would have thought he was going to be the one who made the wounds bleed again.

Jealousy is often seen as a toxic feeling, and after talking with her shrink about it, Y/N came to a conclusion—the toxicity depends on the way you handle that feeling. So Y/N decided to put her fears on the table, instead of jumping into conclusions. That’s what she thought would be the most healthy thing to do. Jack would be honest with her, and the thoughts that had been eating her alive would disappear.

But as soon as she said the words and saw Jack’s expression of irritation, Y/N knew she should’ve kept her mouth shut.

“Seriously? I can’t have female friend now” Jack spat furiously.

“What?! Of course you can. That’s not what I’m saying” Y/N said calmly. “I just… she clearly has feelings for you. And I’m not saying you should stop hanging out with her, I just need to know if she’s just a friend to you… or if there is room for more.”

“I can’t fucking believe you’re telling me this.” he shook his head in disbelief.

“Jack, I’m not accusing you of cheating or anything, really. You’ve been spending so much time with her…” more than with me, she wanted to add. But that would make things worse. “and I just have this weird feeling. I need to know how you really feel, that’s it. If you tell me you don’t like her, I’ll believe you. But please be honest with me.”

“What I really feel is that you’re suffocating me with your shitty problems.” his demeanour was so calm, but his words were sharp as knives, and they cut right through her heart. She had trouble believing the words had actually left his mouth. “I’ve waited for you for months, I helped you through all of it. And now you’re making this shit up? Grow up.”

Y/N felt like throwing up. She felt like she was about to spit her heart. “You don’t mean that.” her voice broke. “In all of these months, when have I ever brought up one of your female friends? Not once. Because I know they are only friends. But with her, Jack, I just feel like there is something more. And yes, maybe I’m overthinking, but that’s why I’m asking. That’s it. I’m just asking, Jack.”

“Stop being so fucking paranoid. I get that your ex cheated on you, but stop seeing ghosts everywhere.”

“Why are you being so mean? Why are you avoiding the question? It’s simple, Jack. Do you have feelings for her?” Y/N asked, the knot in her throat grew in size when she noticed he couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Jack?”

“We’re just friends, jesus!” he said annoyed. Y/N wanted so bad to play dumb, to pretend she couldn’t see he was lying.

“You know I can read you like a book, right?” she asked softly, sad. “When you lie, you can’t look me in the eyes, you play with your hands and bite the inside of your cheeks.”

“Y/N… fucking drop it. I’m tired of this”

“We are over, Jack” she tried to walk towards the door, but he grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, trapping her in his arms.

He saw the tears steaming down her face and cursed himself. “Shit. No, please. Let’s talk. I’m sorry” he sound like he was about to cry, and Y/N knew she needed to leave. Because even though he had hurt her, the soft spot in her heart was still reserved for him.

“No, let’s just leave it like this because if you keep talking, I’m afraid I might end up resenting you, and I don’t want that.”

“I love you, Y/N” Jack hugged her tightly. “Please let’s fix this. I promise you nothing happened with her, and nothing will.”

“I love you too, but I don’t believe you. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore” and so she stepped away for the arms she loved the most in the world and left without glancing back. If she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave.

EVER SINCE SHE WALKED OUT OF JACK’S HOUSE TWO WEEKS AGO, Y/N HAD BEEN OVERWORKING HERSELF TO AVOID HER THOUGHTS OF JACK CREEPING INTO HER MIND. She had stayed out of social media, and had deleted Jack’s number from her phone to avoid temptations. Her friends kept their eyes on her all the time, worried about the inevitable breakdown. You can only hold back for so long before it becomes too much.

Louis, her co-star, had been by her side as much as he could. And, like every morning, he was waiting for her on her trailer with a caramel macchiato and a shiny grin on his handsome face.

“And a chocolate chip muffin?” Y/N asked, seeing the mouth-watering treat next to her Starbucks drink. “What’s the special occasion?”

Louis stared at her, frowning. Not any indications of having had a break down, not even puffy eyes, which meant one thing—she hadn’t seen the pictures yet. “Nothing” he blurted, showing his charming smile. “Just saw it and had to buy it.”

“You really need to stop buying me these breakfasts, Lou. I’m going to get cavities” Y/N said taking a sip of her overly sweet drink.

“But look at how happy it makes you. Cavities will be worth it, don’t you think?”

“You may have a point. Scoot over” she told him, nudging his leg with her foot. Louis moved his body so that she could sit next to him on the small couch. It was not made for two people, so they were basically pressed against the other, yet they found it comfortable. Especially Louis, whose insides melted because of the closeness between them—his not so tiny crush on her was painfully obvious.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked, trying to keep his voice calm as she unlocked her phone.

“I forgot to check which surprise songs Taylor sang last night” she answered as she opened twitter. “Oh god”

“What?!” Louis squealed.

“She sang Cornelia Street and You’re on your own kid! And I wasn’t there, Lou!” she dramatically dropped her head on his chest. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “What is going on with you?” she laughed.

“Nothing. Why?” he laughed awkwardly.

“I don’t know, you’re extra jumpy and panicky today.”

“I’m always jumpy and panicky around you.” he said, trying to brush it off.

“No, you’re not” Y/N furrowed her eyes, locking her phone. Louis eyed the action and his chest relaxed. The girl noticed that, so she unlocked it again and started scrolling through Twitter. On her periphery, she saw the boy’s body tensing again. So it had to do with social media, she guessed. “Louis, I’m not dumb. Tell me what is going on.”

“Nothing” he repeated. “Let’s rehearse our lines.”

“Lou, I love you but you’re getting on my nerves right now. I hate being lied to, you know that.”

Y/N’s vulnerable eyes were his weakness, so he sighed and took her hand in his. “This weekend, some fans caught Jack walking around the city with a girl… and they… um, saw them kissing and holding hands.”

Y/N felt her heart drop, and her eyes started to sting. No. She wasn’t going to cry. She hadn’t let herself cry for two weeks and she was not going to start now. “Oh.”

“Give me your phone” Louis said softly. She was too lost in her own mind to question it, so she just obeyed. “I deleted Tik Tok and Instagram. And silenced any Jack related stuff on Twitter. You don’t need to see those pictures.”

“Louis… the girl… is it her?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice in control.

“Stop” his voice was firm.

“I want to move on, Lou. And for that, I need to know I was right first.” she pleaded. “Is it her?” her friend nodded slowly as he brought her to his chest. Y/N did a little nod too, and tried to stand up. “Let’s rehearse our lines.”

“Y/N…” he grabbed her elbow to push her back.

“Lou, please. I don’t want to cry, I don’t want to think about it.” he noticed she was two seconds away to burst into tears. And as much as he knew he would hate the sight of her weeping, it was necessary.

“I know you don’t, Y/N/N, but you have to if you want to move on. You’re never getting over this if you keep ignoring your need to cry.”

“I’m just afraid that if I do, I won’t be able to stop.” she confessed, tears starting to blur her vision.

“It feels like that now, but I promise you it’ll be good for you. You have been holding it back for weeks, and once you let it all out, you’ll start to heal” he said as he played with her hair.

“Two weeks… it took him two weeks to go off and date her. And it’s not only some girl… it’s her. He told me I was paranoid, and now he proved me right.”

Jack had promised nothing would happen between him and that girl, and now he broke his promise just like he had broken her heart two weeks ago.

After the realisation, it was like something snapped inside of Y/N, and one sob turned into desperate crying. Her fragile body shook under Louis’ arms, and he wished he could stop her pain. But he couldn’t, so he just stayed there with her holding her as she let it all out.

AS MUCH AS SHE HOPED THE CRYING WOULD EASE THE PAIN, IT DIDN’T. It had been months of being in a rollercoaster of feelings, sometimes she was okay, sometimes she was great and sometimes she was so low not even Louis’ hugs could lift her up.

The days where she didn’t have to shoot were the worst, because she spent hours in bed and her brain betrayed her by bringing the memories of Jack back. She missed him so much, it was completely agonizing. Why?, she asked herself when the room was dark and she couldn’t sleep. Why did he get to move on while she had to spend her days like that? She has been trying to pick up her heart while Jack was all lovey-dovey with the girl he swore was just his friend.

Jack continued her life without her, while Y/N woke up everyday with his memory over her. She longed for the picture of Jack’s dazzling smile to be gone from her mind. She prayed to forget the sound of his voice as he whispered the sweetest of things on her ear. She wished she could stop hearing his angelic laugh everywhere. She wanted to stop feeling the ghost of his touch against her skin. To forget that his lips were soft and that every time they were pressed against hers she could feel goosebumps all over her body. Y/N just wanted to stop being haunted by the memories of Jack.

Louis had slowly helped her through the process of moving on. He was there to offer his warmth when the wrenching thoughts triggered the waves of tears, and he was also there to make her break a smile once the sobbing stopped.

After eight months, the flood of her tears successfully carried away the thoughts of Jack, and Y/N knew she was finally clean. Not that she didn’t miss him, because Jack was her first love after all, and a small part of her would always love him.

It took her a few more months to be sure if she was ready to risk it again, but Louis’ sweet disposition, how he saw the best in her even in her worst times, showed her that he was worth it. And so she she watched it began again with him.

JACK AND THE GIRL LASTED FOR TWO MONTHS. He never intended to have something with her, but she was interested and he was lonely and sad, so he said yes. But reality crept in soon—he loved Y/N with all his heart and no matter who he was with, his thoughts would always go back to her.

He had been texting her for months, but she had blocked his number. He knew he could easily drive to her house, but he didn’t want to add salt to the multiple wounds he had inflicted on her, it would be selfish. So when Jack saw that Avatar 4 and Y/N’s drama film were both nominated for the Oscars, he knew it was his chance to make things right. To bring back the only real thing he had ever known.

But he didn’t plan on seeing her with someone else. And he knew they weren’t there together just as co-stars, they were each other’s date. The spark in Y/N’s eyes when she looked at Louis was familiar to Jack—it was the way they used to shine just for him. Jack had been the one to extinguish the spark on her eyes, and Louis had managed to light them up again.

And he wasn’t even mad or jealous. He actually felt happy and sad. Jack didn’t understand how it was possible for two opposite feelings to co-exist in his body at the same time. He realized it was a lost battle, yet he needed to do talk to her. For the sake of their once marvellous relationship.

Y/N got out of the bathroom and into the crowded room, but the thousands of people in it became blurry once she recognized the silhouette of a handsome tall boy leaning against the entrance. “Jack?” his name left her lips in a mix of anguish and surprise.

“Hey” he said softly. You look beautiful, he wanted to add, but restrained himself. “I wanted to talk to you.” Jack saw her grimace and continued before she could stop him. “I know. I know it’s the last thing you want, I just need to get this off my chest. You’re not paranoid or insecure. You never overwhelmed me with your problems. You were right, and I was a shitty boyfriend, friend and person, and you have been so amazing and patient… and I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never deserved your love.”

“You did… up until that night.” she said in all honesty. “I loved you so much, and then you said all of those things. I can’t forget about it, because I never expected those words to come out of your mouth.”

“I know, and I really don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s okay and understandable if you don’t, but I needed you to know that those things I said weren’t true at all.” Jack said, pressing his lips in a thin line. “To be honest, I came here with the mind set of trying to win you back” he confessed, and let out a little laugh, as if the idea was now ridiculous. “But I saw you with him and I know that I’ve lost you for good. Are you happy with him?”

Y/N saw his deep brown eyes starting to get glossy and her insides melted. She didn’t see him with romantic eyes anymore, but it didn’t mean the love was gone. She still cared for him with every bone in her body. “I am. He’s amazing.”

Jack smiled. Genuinely smiled, so widely that it made a few tears drop, and before she knew it, Y/N’s cheeks were wet too. “That’s great, Y/N/N. Really great. I’m happy for you.”

And that was the moment Y/N knew Jack honestly regretted the words he had said before their breakup. “I forgive you.”

The tall boy’s eyes widened “What?”

“I forgive you.” she repeated. “And you deserve to be happy too, okay?”

“Thank you” Jack said breathlessly, wiping away the tears.

“I need to go. But it was nice to see you, thank you for coming to talk to me. For real. I really needed that, I think we both needed that.”

And so they both smiled to each other one last time before parting ways. There was nothing left to say, staying friends had never been an option with them. They loved each other too much for that. When it came to Y/N and Jack, it was everything or nothing at all.

[thefrogsennaneverfound]

I ask this question from a curiosity standpoint, and don’t mean to seem rude or anything, but why don’t you like Daniel Ricciardo? Am I missing something?

He’s far less offensive than a lot of the other drivers. He has a tendency to awkwardly laugh rather than say “that’s a shitty joke. Not okay”, which is frustrating, but not even in the same universe as something like Lance Stroll physically assaulting his trainer.

Like all F1 drivers, he wants to be WDC and talks a big talk, but he’s still nowhere near as obnoxious as a lot of the other drivers, who all think and say the same.

Maybe my understanding isn’t correct? As far as I know, his only really shit time as a driver was with McLaren in 2022, and words like “scapegoating” and “sabotage” get thrown around a lot. In 2021, he gave McLaren its only win in over a decade, and it wasn’t team orders based, and he hauled Renault back up into the podium as well, for their first time in almost a decade. I don’t think he should have left Red Bull, and I don’t think he’s necessarily an Alonso or Verstappen level talent, but he also made those Red Bulls and Renaults that he drove look a lot better than they were.

It's not just about what a driver's like on the track; it's his attitudes off the track too and Ricciardo has really bad form. As for dragging the Renault into the points, and the Red Bull when it was underperforming - that's his job and the cars weren't that bad. If he'd swapped with one of the back markers at the time, they'd likely have performed just the same. Plus, if he made the Red Bull look better than it was, why wasn't he the one winning championships in it? Why did Vettel get all that action when all Ricciardo got was a handful of race wins?

Anyway, here's (just some of) why I firmly believe that Daniel Ricciardo is every bit as obnoxious as the most obnoxious drivers on the grid. If you don't read right to the end, and I wouldn't blame you, please at least take in the part I've highlighted in red; it pretty much sums up the type of character he is and why I - along with many others - really do feel that he's most definitely obnoxious.

“I don’t watch the news and feel better about my day so I choose not to watch it.” Just one direct quote regarding his complete and shameless ignorance about the extreme humans rights abuses prevelent in some of the countries F1 travels to. What it amounts to is that the “drama and negativity” (his own words) of news reports on out-dated and abusive attitudes to women and LGBTQ people is a buzz kill so he’d rather not know about it, thanks all the same.

His attitude to the sexist objectification of the (now thankfully defunct) Grid Girls: "It's kind of like part of the attraction of the sport, fast cars and fast girls,". In his opinion, because it’s a male dominated sport it’s “a cool thing” so “let’s keep them”. If that's not obnoxious, I don't know what is.

On “Your Mom’s House” (a lowest common denominator podcast aimed at pathetic little boys who think they’re men) he laughed along with deeply sexist, misogynistic ‘jokes’ about women. There are plenty of drivers who would, at the very least, have kept their reactions neutral, making it clear they didn’t think it funny, but not Ricciardo; he was more than content to chuckle away at their vile comments about women.

Tricking Yuki Tsunoda into trusting him to come closer on a boat so he could throw him overboard, because it’s funny to force someone to face a very real phobia of sharks by throwing them into a body of water that’s widely known to contain them. I don’t care what Tsunoda’s reaction was to it (it's common for the victim of bullying to make light of their ordeal) or that Ricciardo threw himself into the water too; it’s still an appalling way to treat someone when they’ve been brave enough to be in such close proximity to one of their greatest fears. It’s the behaviour of a bully and Ricciardo is the worst kind of that particular species – a charming bully. The reason he gets away with so much of his crappy behaviour is because so many people are taken in by a cheeky smile, a twinkle in the eyes, and the friendly disclaimer that it’s just a bit of fun; they’re just trying to lighten the mood and make people laugh. It’s always at someone else’s expense though.

Given he was in a highly competitive Red Bull for all those years, he won precious few races, and left because he wasn’t getting the attention he thought was his right. I know athletes have to have an enormous amount of self-belief but to have looked at a racer like Verstappen and sincerely felt that he was his equal? That’s delusional. But is that really how he felt? Or did he – like so many who can’t face real competition when they know someone else is going to come out on top – jump ship because being a big fish in a small pond is preferable to being outperformed and therefore second best? I don’t know which it is but if he really, genuinely, sincerely thought he was on the same level as, first, Verstappen and then Norris, surely he’s just not very bright?

Monza 2021 absolutely was a team orders win for Ricciardo. Have you listened to Norris’s radio? He was faster; he wanted to pass; he asked if he could pass; he was told to maintain position. Either the team were concerned that the two might take each other out (although I am absolutely certain that Norris could have made that move with ease so was it more a case of Ricciardo taking Norris out if he tried to overtake?) or Ricciardo’s ego was so fragile by that point (Norris had been wiping the floor with him) that they decided he needed the win to boost his confidence and get a few more much needed points for McLaren. Either way, Norris was robbed of his maiden victory because he’s a team player who obeyed team orders rather than saying “screw this; I can win and I’m damn well gonna win”. I respect him for playing the team game but I hate the fact that Ricciardo got an undeserved win at his considerable expense (that’s not hyperbole; a driver’s first F1 win really is huge).

You're probably sorry you asked now.

[cosmicjoke]

Man, all these people who claim that Levi made the "wrong" choice when he chose Armin, claiming that the outcome of the story would have changed or been different if he'd just chosen Erwin, essentially blaming Levi for the Rumbling, conveniently never have an answer when you actually ask them what Erwin could have done differently to change the outcome. That's because there isn't anything Erwin could have done to change the outcome, short of somehow, magically, discovering what Eren was really planning when no one else could. How Erwin would have been able to do this, who can say, since Eren didn't tell anyone about his plans other than Floch and Historia. I guess Erwin really was just that much smarter than everyone else, including Armin, even though, you know, Armin discovered that Annie was the Female Titan through simple observation and the same with realizing Reiner was hiding in the walls in Shinganshina. Isayama didn't set up Armin's exceptional observational skills for any reason. Nope. Just an arbitrary detail he put in, since Isayama's so known for including superfluous information in his story (insert heavy sarcasm here).

If Armin wasn't able to discover Eren's true intentions, despite being infinitely closer to him than Erwin and spending far more intimate time with him than Erwin would have been able to, why do people think Erwin would have gleaned Eren's true intentions when Armin or the others couldn't? Even Levi, who'd had Eren pegged from the start and understood what he was better than anyone, who's widely acknowledged at being better at reading who people really are than anyone, wasn't able to see what Eren really had planned. Eren himself didn't even know exactly what he had planned until he saw the future, and even then, he remained in deep denial about it, pretending to himself that he wasn't going to go through with it.

But we're supposed to believe, according to these people, that Erwin would have been able to see what Eren had planned when Armin, Levi and even Eren himself didn't know and was in denail over up until the point they were in Marley. These same people also want to claim that Floch never would have been radicalized if Erwin had lived, but that's bullshit. Floch was already radicalized, from having to charge to his death against the Beast Titan. He came out of that situation wanting to make Erwin suffer for leading them on a death charge, under the belief that Erwin was the "devil" they needed in order to win against their enemy. Floch's radicalization had nothing to do with Levi's choice in who to give the serum to. It had to do with how over a hundred soldiers had to give up their lives in order to keep the hope for humanity's future alive, and how Erwin led them and convinced them to do so.

But let's suppose Levi had chosen Erwin, then. Would it have changed Floch's decision to collaborate with Eren?

The answer to that is no.

Either Erwin would have supported Eren's plans or come up with some other, similarly aggressive plan to deal with the outside world, or he wouldn't. If Erwin had refused to deal with the outside world with a mercenary attitude the way Floch wanted (i.e. in a way lacking humanity, wiping out everyone, essentially), Floch would have turned to Eren, and the same outcome would have resulted. Floch never accepted the limited Rumbling plan. That wasn't enough for him. He wanted the whole world wiped out. We see this in the way he intentionally targets innocent civilians during the raid on Liberio. He wanted Erwin to be chosen because he believed that Erwin was devoid of humanity, because of how he'd led 100 new recruits to their guaranteed deaths. Because of that, he believed Erwin would do whatever it took to win, no matter the cost.

If Erwin had shown him something less than that monstrosity, it wouldn't have satisfied Floch. So Erwin choosing to go with Zeke's proposed plan wouldn't have satisfied Floch, either. It wouldn't have been extreme enough for him. The only thing that would have been, would be Erwin choosing to eliminate all of humanity beyond the walls, i.e. going with Eren's actions. If he'd refused anything less than that, again, Floch would have turned to Eren. Either way, they end up down a path of death and destruction.

If people think Erwin would have succeeded in negotiating with Marley where Hange and the scouts failed, again, wrong, because he never would have even been given the chance, just like Hnage and the others were never given the chance, because, again, Eren went rogue and disappeared. Again, unless Erwin was somehow able to magically discover Eren's true intentions before they left for Marley, when up until that point, Eren himself was still in denial over it, then the outcome would have been the same, whether Erwin was with them or not.

People that claim Levi made the wrong choice and "doomed humanity" as a result, also routinely fail to acknowledge just how done Erwin really was. There's a reason Levi talks about not wanting to see Erwin become a "devil". I've talked about this at length already, so I won't repeat myself here. If you want to read more in depth about my thoughts on how Erwin's dream had begun to corrupt him and threaten his humanity, you can do so here: https://www.tumblr.com/cosmicjoke/737098651561787392/sorry-to-keep-reblogging-this-it-just-keeps?source=share But to go into it briefly, these same people who want to deny the significant role Armin played in Levi's choice, and how that speaks heavily to how Levi was very much considering what was best for humanity at that point, also want to deny that Erwin was in danger of losing his humanity if he'd been forced to go on living and leading the SC. The denial of this blinds them to the fact that, in Levi's view, what humanity needed was hope. It didn't need a leader who was broken by his own guilt and cynicism and self-loathing.

Just before Levi is about to inject Erwin with the serum, Erwin begins mumbling in a delirious state, talking to his father and asking about the outside world. He's still in the grip of his dream. Still, in his dying moments, possessed by it. He has nothing beyond that. That's what that moment shows us. He's just given up his dream by charging the Beast Titan to his own death, knowing death was the only thing that COULD release him from that dream. While he still drew breath, that dream consumed him. The idea that these people posit is that Erwin would have recovered from the loss of his dream by finding a "new dream" to be drunk on moving forward, and that would have allowed him to continue on as an effective leader. But what this take fails to acknowledge is how Erwin's guilt most assuredly would have been exacerbated by the discovery of the truth, not alleviated by it. He would have been met with the crushing disappointment of what that truth was. Yes, his theory that humanity existed beyond the walls would have been proven true, and thus his father's correctness. But beyond that initial vindication for Erwin, he would have been met with the bleak reality of their situation. That all those lives he'd sacrificed for his dream, for the discovery of the truth, would have amounted to nothing more than the hopeless realization that the rest of the world wanted them all dead. Instead of finding freedom or an answer to their hopes, they'd instead found themselves pushed further into a corner without hope of escape.

That wouldn't have lessened Erwin's guilt, it would have worsened it. There's no way Erwin would have felt that disappointing reality was worth all those lives he'd sacrificed. And that's where Levi's fear came in of what Erwin might become. Why he tells Floch Erwin would have to become a devil if he'd continued on as their leader. He was in danger of losing his humanity to his guilt and self-hatred. He might very well have been driven mad by that guilt without the distraction of his dream to shield him from those negative thoughts and emotions. There's a reason the panels show Levi recalling in this moment asking Erwin what he would do once he discovered what was in Eren's basement, and Erwin answering he didn't know. There's a reason Levi recalls Kenny saying to him that we need something to be "drunk on" in order to continue living. People that claim Erwin would have been fine love to ignore all of this. They love to ignore just how ruinous Erwin's pursuit of his dream had been on his psyche. And I'm not talking about whether the self-loathing he felt was earned or deserved. That question is irrelevant. It's irrelevant because whether deserved or not, it's what Erwin felt. He hated himself, and felt overwhelmed by the guilt of what he'd done, and the discovery of the truth and the realization of his dream wouldn't have assuaged those feelings. It would only have made them worse.

And that was never what humanity needed. It didn't need someone who'd been turned bitter and hopeless and filled with despair, the way Erwin was, that bitterness and despair likely only to become worse with the realization of his dream and its ugly, disappointing reality. His guilt would have only increased with the realization that the world all those soldiers under his command died for, that he convinced to die for, was an impossibility. It would have made him feel all the more as if he'd lied to them all, and sent them to their deaths for nothing. Again, to think Erwin would have been able to easily recovery from this, or move on and continue to lead in the wake of this, is absurd and fails to acknowledge the depth of Erwin's inner turmoil and suffering. To continue on in that role, after these revelations, after the confirmation that he'd convinced all those soldiers to give up their lives for a lie, would only have increased his self-hatred. The very fact he would have had to continue to lead is what would have threatened the loss of his humanity, ultimately, because there's no way he could have continued to operate in that role under that much crushing guilt. Retaining his humanity would have meant drowning in despair. Forfeiting his humanity would have meant turning into Floch or Eren or Zeke. In order to keep operating as the leader of the SC, Erwin would either eventually succumb to his guilt and be rendered useless, paralyzed by his self-doubt and fear, unable to bring himself to tell the lies, or what he believed were lies, required to inspire people to action, or he would truly have had to divorce himself from all sentiment and feeling, uncaring that he was lying and sending people to their deaths for nothing. And that, in the end, would have been a disaster, both for Erwin himself, and for humanity.

Levi says he doesn't regret not choosing Erwin, even as the Rumbling unfolds beneath him, and it's because he knows and fully believes that what humanity needed was someone that still believed in it, someone that still believed in it being worth saving, someone that still believed and had hope in something better, something beyond war and death. That was Armin. That's what Eren's own speech he gives to Levi, trying to convince him to choose Armin, is about. How Armin is this person who can see beyond fighting or thirst for revenge. How he's the person who will save humanity because he believes in that ideal future.

Levi says "I entrusted the future to that kid who had the same look in his eyes as all of you,". He literally says it. "I entrusted the future". He's very literally saying he trusted in Armin to carry humanity forward into the future it needed. That he specifically chose Armin for this purpose. That Armin's idealism was as much a consideration to him as Erwin's own suffering. These people love to talk about Levi saying "I chose this place for Erwin to die" while ignoring him saying later to Erwin "I didn't choose you", meaning he did choose Armin. It was as much a choice for him as it was for Erwin. Both of them weighed equally in Levi's decision. I don't understand how these people that claim Levi's choice was all about Erwin just completely ignore this line. It's so utterly disingenuous to do so and I think they know it. I think they know it's disingenuous to frame Levi's choice as if Armin wasn't just as important and significant in it as Erwin.

And I don't want to hear the argument that Levi was saying Armin's purity and the innocence of his dream was "the same" as Erwin's. Again, this is a disingenuous argument from these people, twisting Levi's words and their context to fit their agenda. Because they know deep down Levi wasn't comparing Armin's purity and the purity of his dream to Erwin, he was comparing it to the collective hopes and dreams of the soldiers of the Survey Corps, to all of his fallen comrades who offered up their lives in the belief it would help create a better, freer world. A "stupidly idealistic world", as Levi puts it. Armin's dream was akin to that. He wanted to see the ocean, he wanted to explore a world he believed was filled with wonders and beauty. He believed, even after the discovery of humanity beyond the walls and the reality of their hostility toward them, that there was beauty and wonder to be found and experienced. He never lost faith in that conviction. Armin's dream was one rooted in hope and belief and joy. That's what made it pure, and that's also why he was able to give it up so readily, because in its innocence, it didn't consume or define him.

Erwin's dream wasn't pure and anyone who claims otherwise is either full of it, or they seriously don't understand Erwin at all. Erwin's dream was never pure, because it was a dream rooted, not in hope and belief or joy, but one rooted in guilt and shame and a longing for atonement. He wanted to discover the truth not because he thought it would lead to a better world or to experiencing something beautiful, but because he was desperate to escape from the crushing guilt he felt over his father's death, and the belief that he was responsible for it. That's the literal opposite of purity. That's wretchedness and shame and self-loathing driving Erwin's dream, from the start. That's not an innocent dream able to be let go, that's a weighted shackle round his neck, threatening at all times to pull him under and drown him. And in the end, that's what had begun to happen to Erwin. That's what his dream had begun to do to him.

Armin encapsulated the dream of the Survey Corps, through his innocence, though the purity of his dream, through his belief that there was still a world out there worth discovering, worth exploring, worth experiencing, despite the bleak reality of their situation. Nobody believed in humanity's worth or its future more than Armin, and that's why he was the right choice. Because humanity needed someone who believed in it and its future. Ignoring Armin's role in Levi's choice is to fundamentally misunderstand why Levi made the choice he did in the first place. It wasn't only for Erwin's sake. It was for humanity's sake, too. And that really is supported, also, by the fact that Levi chose the humane option of not dragging Erwin back into the role that had left him with only more pain and guilt. He chose compassion, both in allowing Erwin to rest, and in choosing a boy who still held hope for humanity.

[ranpowriter]

on BSD’s Ranpo — on inspiring others, compassion, and forgiveness

By comparison to my post on Poe, this one doesn’t draw direct comparisons to one specific work, though I’ve attempted to drawn in some appropriate historical context. At core, though, this is focused on BSD Ranpo. Stay tuned to watch an idiot compose their thoughts?

It’s fairly general knowledge that the author Edogawa Ranpo is widely regarded as the father of Japanese mystery. Somewhat lesser known may be the nuance of this, which is that he’s credited with trying to adapt European/Western style mysteries (A. Conan Doyle, E. A. Poe, and others) into a Japanese setting, working around and accommodating the architectural and societal differences that come with.

He founded an organization called the Mystery Writers of Japan, which has its own award in addition to the one that’s named after him; the Edogawa Rampo Prize.

What I believe is significant about this, as it relates to BSD Ranpo, is that this award targets new/beginner/amateur novelists, and is awarded to unpublished mystery novels. Winning this award accompanies a 10 million yen cash prize (~63k USD) and publishing by Kodansha, giving the novelist a jumpstart of sorts into their career.

This notion is reflected more explicitly in this part of the manga, where Ranpo encourages the world, the layman population, to become detectives as well (just as the IRL award gives aspiring novelists an opportunity to be published, + gain recognition and money to help in their careers). Earlier in the manga, he also explicitly presents BSD Mushitaro with a career opportunity (via the business card of a special abilities division spy), encourages Poe to keep writing (IE: maintain his career), and offers to assist Minoura on future cases at a discount price (career assistance).

Then, of course, there’s this:

Convincing one third of the police force (who, if we are to compare being a novelist like author Ranpo to BSD Ranpo’s detective work, could be analogous to aspiring writers) despite the page explicitly saying police will not trust the agency is a very powerful something.

I personally like to believe that a large part of this can be attributed to the compassion BSD Ranpo displays in the manga. Mind you, in this context, I am defining compassion, in opposition to empathy or sympathy, as attempting to understand and relieve another person’s suffering, which is something we see him do multiple times in the manga. I have placed this (rough) analysis below the cut due to the subjectivity of this interpretation.

Having said that, I should preface that Ranpo having compassion ≠ him being a good or moral person. Just remember he was 100% willing to let Atsushi get kidnapped (likely having foreseen that not doing so would induce the Guild to attempt to destroy Yokohama and the agency), and then even more willing to let a war between the agency and the mafia ravage Yokohama (which would generate innumerable casualties) if it meant saving Fukuzawa.

Anyhow,

Inspiring Other Characters to Self Fulfillment

A note I want to touch on is that the four characters whom initially oppose only to side with Ranpo (Fukuzawa, Minoura, Poe, Mushitaro) are all self-actualized after he catalyzes them to do so. Fukuzawa finds his “life’s path” in founding the agency. Minoura gets his moment in ch81 where he fights for what he believes in and protects Ranpo. Poe is inspired to write again (and this time, for a positive reason—because Ranpo wants to read his works—not out of hate). Mushitaro, who was previously made to be the villain in two deals he made (murdering Yokomizo, evidence erasing evidence for the Rats), makes a decision for himself to turn against the Rats and do something he himself wants to do —not what his near-death friend wants him to do, but something he chose for himself and at the expense of himself. It also allows him to meet Poe later, and begin to write.

This is not to argue that Ranpo is responsible for these people’s finding of their desired goals/life paths, but rather that he catalyzed them to think about it and pursue the goal themselves. It was ultimately their strength and motivation that got these characters to pursue what they do—pursue something that satisfies themselves—, Ranpo simply had a helping hand, through his compassion, in inducing them to decide to make that change. This is similar to a person being inspired to self-improvement —something like an inspirational person/post or friend may trigger them to make that change, but ultimately it is the person themselves that puts in the effort for the change.

Compassion: Understanding of A to relieve the suffering of B, vs Understanding of A to relieve the suffering of A

I consider this a demonstration of compassion, because though it isn’t intended to relieve Sugimoto’s suffering, it does relieve Minoura’s. Notably, prior to this scene, Minoura is agitated over Sugimoto not confessing the location of the evidence which Minoura’s subordinate died for, and in demonstrating understanding of Sugimoto like this, he got Sugimoto to confess what Minoura wanted.

This is notably the same method through which he gets Mushitaro confess. Granted, with Mushitaro, it’s explicitly blackmail, but the principle of understanding the motive and tragedy involved with the crime —the fact that the victim cared for the murderer, and vice versa— and using that to derive the result Ranpo wants, is the same. The suffering relieved here is Kunikida’s.

Demonstrations of compassion which relieve the suffering of the one being understood are most obvious with Poe (who he gives acknowledgement and praise to) and Mushitaro (who he fulfills his promise to of both granting him work, as well as burning the manuscript instead of keeping it as blackmail). In both cases, he openly gives two people who tried to hurt him encouragement for them to build their own futures. He encouraged Poe to write and Mushitaro to find work on the right side of the law, though it would ultimately be up to both to make the most of these opportunities.

Kunikida fits this category as well, as Ranpo understood how awful he felt about letting that child die in front of his eyes, and acted to relieve that suffering by clearing his name. It remained up to Kunikida, of course, to move on from the incident on his own.

Less obviously, there’s also Kyouka and his immediate acceptance of her into the agency.

This moment, I suspect, is due to Ranpo seeing Kyouka as someone like himself. Like him, she lost her parents and very nearly lost faith in the world, only to be shown the light again (by Fukuzawa and Atsushi respectively). This may be the reason for the sibling comparison between them, as well as the fact that Fukuzawa accepts Kyouka (and even lies that she’s his granddaughter) after looking at her pleading face (which I like to think reminded him of Ranpo, given their similar ages, hair colors, liking of snacks, etc.) Like with Ranpo as well, once she lost her parents, Kyouka was taken into a world of “monsters” —people which were terrifying and hard to understand (the Port Mafia).

This sympathy and acceptance which Ranpo displays towards Kyouka is notably something Atsushi was excluded from, which is something I believe stems from what I highlighted above, as well as the fact that Atsushi (being who he is, and having the ability he does) presented much more significant danger to the agency than Kyouka does.

And now that I’ve been over all of this, I also think it’s interesting to highlight that Ranpo has been a very forgiving person throughout the manga. He forgives Minoura for insulting him. He forgives Poe for trying to kill him and Yosano. He forgives Mushitaro for his hand in Kunikida’s torment. This, I believe stems in large from what Fukuzawa told him about everyone else being stupid. His explanation to Ranpo was something roughly along the lines of (not a direct quote): compared to your intelligence people are like babies. They don’t hate you, they’re just ignorant. How can a baby who can barely hold its head up have malice towards you?

Bearing this mentality in mind, it makes sense that Ranpo does not rebuke the above listed people, who he regards as ignorant compared to himself. Minoura just didn’t know how great of a detective Ranpo was, Poe was just upset, Mushitaro was just acting on his loyalty to his friend, etc. They were not malicious.

Noting Poe—yes he was after revenge (and I discussed this in a previous post), but he seemed to delight more in the action of defeating Ranpo than in watching Ranpo be miserable. The most obvious evidence to this being that when Yosano died, he simply gloated that he’d defeated one of the detectives and that Ranpo was next, not the more sadistic alternative of being happy Ranpo lost a good friend.

In summary: Ranpo is capable of an astonishing amount of forgiveness and compassion, so long as it is to people who are ignorant compared to him, do not act in malice, and are not threats to the agency. When he does decide to extend compassion and/or forgiveness, his doing so often inspires them to pursue their own goals/happiness in life.

I hope, if you have read this far, there was some value to be derived from this analysis. In truth, I wrote this to organize my personal thoughts in preparation for writing as well as other analysis.

Previously I declared that I wanted to touch on BSD Ranpo’s and Poe’s social isolation, however that turned out to be more of a complicated topic than I expected. Same thing with connecting The Case of the Murder on D. Hill (the novel which Ranpo’s debut chapter is named after) to Ranpo.

[futbol16]

Bebita • Barcelona Femení

Request:  can i please request a barcelona femení x baby reader, where baby r is just super shy, and always tucks herself into anybody’s side, doesn't speak much, etc. and all the girls love her and are so protective of r, especially when interviewers are a bit to invasive, or other players are too rough

Word count: 1,1k

You hide behind Irene’s body - her arm around your front- as she goes off on the Benfica player that just fouled you and you nervously shift to peer over your teammates shoulders. The girl Irene is cursing looks at you with wide eyes before quickly nodding at what your protective wall just said and then she runs off. Irene pats your side as a sign that you can come out from your hiding spot and you move to stand next to her with a bashful expression on your face. 

Irene’s eyes soften at the sight and her lips quirk up into a smile as she rubs your arm in an almost motherly manner.

“You okay Y/N/N?” she mutters, eyeing the light bruising on your thigh and shin from the tackles you’ve received. You give her a slight shrug and then a small smile.

“Yeah, all good” with that you’re off towards your original position as the referee calls for a throw in.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve let one of your teammates do the talking for you, especially during a game when you were playing an aggressive opposition. During your first season at Barca the girls quickly took notice of how you would never lose your cool in a match no matter how many times they’d pull you to the ground or kick your leg out. You always remained composed, sometimes even avoiding these players when you would have to shake hands after the game. 

Patri found it quite funny because despite how much they always tried to keep you on the floor you always outsmarted them and continued until your team would win. So to see you shy away from interacting with them was new to her, especially when everyone else on the team would become even more confident or cocky after beating a team. Not you though.

They can’t exactly pinpoint when they first felt the need to keep you far from the brutality of the world, keep you safely tucked in their arms but the girls hadn’t known a day since then where they wouldn’t make sure you were okay.

Your rather reserved nature meant you hung out with those around you who were similar in this sense. You often spent your training sessions close to Aitana and Laia, the two best friends quietly conversing with you during drink breaks. Off the field you were the exact same, though that didn’t come as much of a surprise to your friends. 

When out with the girls you were more open but still if it came down to ordering for yourself at restaurants Ana and Caro often found themselves ordering for you if you thought it was too complicated. You were embarrassed by this for a good while but as you got closer to the two they reassured you that it wasn’t a bother and that they were happy to help you out. And so you realized that is what friends are for, they make you feel okay about yourself. 

You gently nudged Mapi’s arm and lifted it over your shoulders to move closer to her and the defender obliged to your silent request with a toothy grin as she pulled you into her. It was half time and you were intently listening to the strategies and substitutions Jonatan and the assistant coaches were talking about but you felt a bit alone just sitting there.

 You couldn’t explain how or why you’d have these feelings at the most random moments but sometimes your body needed that contact with someone else’s warmth. 

Mapi had been your person and now more often than not the blonde would tug you closer to her before this feeling could even think about reappearing. You really loved her for that, providing that extra comfort you’d need.

Soon you feel an arm go over your waist and another presence next to you and you barely turn to look at the source, Mapi’s arm keeping your head secure against her chest. 

Your eyes meet those of Asisat and you lightly blush as she gives you a welcoming smile and a squeeze to your waist. You don’t even notice the camera taking a picture of the three of you all cuddled up, too preoccupied with the hot feeling of your cheeks. The fans are over the moon though as they find the photo adorable when Barca posts it.

You hated doing media. Absolutely despised it. Why would you need even more unnecessary interaction with rather unknown people off the field as well? You avoided these situations during games as much as you could, but there was no way to escape from before the camera. To your luck though, they’ve gotten your captain to join you, another person who shared your lack of excitement for media duties. 

But Alexia was good at it in spite of her discomfort and you let her answer the questions for most of the interview. Although it’s not like the brunette has much choice because every time the interviewer directs a question at you, her eyes are on you only. Your response is to lean more into Alexia, your cheekbone against her shoulder as you offer a nervous smile to the camera. A light pink dusts your cheeks as you bid farewell to the camera and scurry off, pulling Alexia with you.

Your captain laughs at your embarrassed antics and she smooths your baby hairs back as you come to a stop at the tunnel.

“You don’t need to feel embarrassed, mi pequeña. Lo hiciste bien” she kisses your forehead in a sweet manner as you let out a small laugh, nervousness slowly dissipating from your body. 

“Gracias Ale, I don’t know why I get like that” you shuffle in spot as you explain but Alexia only beams at you with adoration. An arm swings around your shoulders and you yelp as you’re pulled into someone.

“No es un problema bebita!” Patri’s booming voice rings out and she grins at your expression, quickly pressing her lips against your temple before you can pull away.

“We love you the way you are Y/N/N, shy or not” Alexia’s soft words have you melting in your place and as you get squished into a group hug by the team you realize that your captain’s words are true, you’d be loved no matter what. You were part of the family.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

[muzicgenerator]

Hey, can I request an angst story with Bill and reader (the reader is female) abt crazy fans please? Like them (Bill and the reader) admitting somewhere (idk maybe in an interview for a magazine) that they almost broke up because of that (maybe reader's fanbase is known for being "too much" sometimes like following the reader everywhere, being so in love with her etc)

(Also could the story take place in the 2000s please?)

Goodbye 👋

i like this one im actually excited abt writing this one shot

btw im so sorry for late reply AHSJHFKDHDK please expect ill take like AT LEAST a week to answer yalls request bc im busy as hell w school 😭😭 love u guys pls understand

and again this aint entirely proof read

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

Too Much?

✮

Pairing: Bill Kaulitz x Fem Reader

Genre: Angst, Mostly fluff

Warnings: Stalking, mention of nonconsensual touching, very embarrassing storytime from bill

Request Status: closed :(

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ I'm Not Okay (I Promise) : My Chemical Romance

(Time set back in late November of 2007)

Being a famous actress since as a child was unbelievably tough.

You had worked so hard and expertly; you didn't even have time to spend your childhood properly.

Just at the age of 19 and you've finished numerous movies and series. A true self-made millionaire, really.

You and your ravenette boyfriend are currently doing an interview for a night show.

"So ____, wow! After a long pause from doing films you're finally gonna have one showing soon! How is it like? Being back and all; being the talk of the country."

In the past one and a half year you hadn't done any projects since you've decided to take a break for yourself. And now you're once again busy taping with film staff and directors for your new and upcoming Teenage Romance movie.

Rest assured it's not your typical boy-meets-girl or vice versa and they do sappy sweet stuff and get together kind of film; it has its own uniqueness that will surely be called as "One of 2000s greatest Teen Romance movies of all time."

"Oh, I feel great Hanna. I had a deserving break and I'm back to doing one of the things I love most. I'm even happier because I got my lover and his band to sing the theme song for the movie." You truthfully answered and chuckled by the end of your statement.

"How about you Bill? How are things with your band?" Hanna included Bill to the conversation.

At that, he smiled politely. "Everything's great with us y'know, we're still together and all. Which I'm grateful for."

After a few more minutes for pep talk; the blonde interviewer finally decided to get onto the exciting part of the show.

"And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for! Dunk Tank!" Hanna smiled widely at the selected crowd.

"Where in this game; you will pick someone from the crowd who will accompany you with this game.

Your selected teammate will ask any question they want; to which you will answer, and if you don't want to then they'll get a chance to throw a ball on the target. Where if they hit it, you'll fall down the tank."

Hanna excitedly announced despite having done this for the nth time.

"____ and Bill, play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who goes first."

You knew you'd beat Bill since every single time you played it - he'd miserably lose.

"Oh, I'm confident in winning this one!" you proudly say.

"Just because you've beat me all the other times we played this, doesn't mean I'll lose now!" Bill accepted your challenge and laughed.

He was right. He won for the very first time.

"Oh my God! Did I seriously win?!" your black clothed boyfriend exclaimed.

"I only let you win this time because I felt sorry." you playfully rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm gonna choose now." he giggled and stepped closer to the crowd.

His fan girls were screaming at the top of their lings, begging to be chosen by him.

No, you weren't jealous. Not one bit. Sometimes Bill would even complain about you not being possessive of him from time to time and would think you're not as in love as he thought.

It's cute, really. Then you'll show him how much you love him through actions rather than words.

Bill chose a girl who seemingly looked two or three years younger.

The joyous girl screamed in surprise; "Oh my god! What?! Me??! SERIOUSLY??"

It made Bill giggle, "Yes, you! Now get down here!"

A body guard helped the girl down; and when she was no longer at the stairs she rushed Bill to hug him but abruptly stopped. "Hi oh my god you're more beautiful up close! Can I hug you?!" she says excitingly.

It made your heart flutter just how kinder your boyfriend's fans are compared to yours.

To say your fan base is crazy is an understatement. Many would harass you through nasty words or touching you with no consent; it didn't matter if they did that out of how much they "love" you, it was still disgusting.

"Um, yeah. Sure!" he hesitantly looked at you; his eyes asking for permission. To which you subtly nodded.

Again, your heart melted by how he's making sure you're okay with it. Honestly, you very much understood that being famous would mean people wanting to hug you or any form of physical contact. Plus, it's not like you can say no to Bill from hugging a fan; you'd be a scandal. And you knew Bill wouldn't have any other choice as well.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulders while she fully embraced him. Okay, you're a teensy bit jealous especially by the way she's holding him like he's her man.

But that was soon washed away when she turns to you.

"Hi! What's your name sweetie?" Hanna asked and put a mic on her mouth.

"My name is Pauline!"

Before Hanna could say anything further, Pauline beat her to it.

"____!! I'm such a big fan of you too! I've been watching your movies since forever." saying she's over the moon is definitely an understatement! This will definitely be a core memory.

Almost immediately you wrapped your arms around her back and squeezed her. This girl is definitely one of the most respectable and sweetest fan you've ever met.

Was it really low? Yes.

The audience cheered by how sweet you and Bill had been to the girl and by how jealous they were.

As Bill and Hanna chattered about God knows what; the girl leaned closer to you in order to ask a favour which no one can hear.

"Can I ask you to shout out my brother? He has a huge crush on you!"

"Sorry darling but we're in the middle of a show right now. How about later I ask the staff to send you to the backstage? Then I'll give him my magazine with an autograph, and if you have a camera with you - you can video me saying hi to him!" you came up with a resolution.

Was it over the top? You didn't know and you didn't care. You're just fleeting with joy by how this girl isn't like any other of your fans.

"Seriously? You'd do that for me and my brother?" she gasped.

"Well, yeah. I mean it's not always that I have such nice interactions with people who are a fan."

"Okay lovebirds what are you two talking about there?" Hanna teased with a smirk and Bill playfully pouted.

"Nothing, nothing" you laughed and held Bill's arm as the crowd laughed and cheered.

"If you say sooo." she replied. "Alright, your turn to pick!"

You carefully looked around the crowd and walked five steps of the stairs to get a better view of the people on the back. A fifteen year old boy was holding a banner stating "Bill's No.1 Boy", it was cute, really. So you planned to steal your boyfriend's fan! (this a joke dont hate reader pls)

"The ginger at the back with the banner please." you said to the mic.

The boy squeeled in delight and threw his banner somewhere before running down to you. Your arms opened for an embrace which he immediately jumped into.

"What's your name?" you put the mic to his mouth as you both carefully went down the stairs and back to the stage.

"Sam, I'm Sam! My name is Sam!" his rather high pitched voice said.

"Okay, Sam. I know you're Bill's fan so I'm gonna have to steal you, that okay?"

"Hey, no fair!" Bill patted the boy's head and shot a smile at him.

This moment for him is definitely a core memory and will brag about it to every living human he sees.

"Now, who wants to go first in the tank?" Hanna asked.

"I'll do it" Bill says excitingly.

They agreed and the staff helped him get up. Once he were seated and adjusted in the circular surface; he challenge you.

"Ask a good one!"

"Ohohoo, we definitely will!" you smirked.

You turn to Sam and ask him without the mics near your faces; "What're you gonna ask your idol?"

"Oh uhmm, I don't really know." he says bashfully.

"Maybe his most embarrassing moment?"

"That'll work, definitely." you smile supportively and fist bumped him.

"Bill, you read?!" Hanna exclaimed.

"Born ready!!"

"Alright Sam, ask away!"

"What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?" Sam asked with twinkles in his eyes.

"Oh, definitely when me and ____ weren't dating yet; she threw a sleepover party and she invited me and my mates, and there were three bathrooms, right? The three were being used and in one of those bathrooms it was Tom using it, and I had to rush him because I really needed to take a shit, like I couldn't hold it any farther!

So he went out really pissed and I pushed him off the door and quickly shut it and went right into business."

Bill paused and tried to compose himself as the crowd started to get louder.

"And when I washed and pushed the flush button - It wouldn't flush! So I got really scared because I just shit in my crush's toilet and I can't let anyone know that I'm the one who did it. So i looked around and saw a pack of pads so I took one of them; and forced myself to dip my hand down to grab it and I almost puked!

I look around and see there's no trash bin. So I panic again, and eventually decided I'll just rush down to throw it in the garbage in her garage. I quickly make a run for it and almost bumped into ___"

He now covered his hands in shame and embarrassment. "And she saw the pad in my hand! So she asked me like, 'Is that a pad?' and I'm like yes and so she asks whose it is...... and I said it's mine....."

You know of this story long ago; and it just gets better and better whenever you think or hear of it.

The audience and interviewer roared with laughter; as well as the staff behind and securities who tried to contain their smiles.

"I wish I never asked!" Sam wiped his tears from laughing too hard.

"Get down here Bill! That was too much!" Hanna's cheeks started to hurt, "Sorry to the viewers who are eating."

Bill went down immediately and squeezed the living life out of you. He does this whenever he's feeling embarrassed or nervous, and calls it his "Physical Support" from you.

"You should've let yourself get thrown in the water!" you giggled and hugged him back before he pulled away with a red face.

"Next goes ____!"

Once you were seated and made yourself comfortable on the seat; you tell them you're ready.

It was Pauline's turn to question whatever she wishes. "____, what do you think of your fans?"

She asks sincerely; she must've noticed something by the way you're like to your fan base and to Bill's. A part of you wished she hadn't asked but you've been dying to let the creepers out there know that whatever they'd been doing to you for a long long time - greatly affects you, especially as a young stat growing up in this sort of industry.

You rarely held any meet and greet, rarely had photos with fans where you look actually comfortable and where they weren't touching your waist or hips or near your ass - and ones where you do look comfortable it was mostly with girls or kids, which was not as often as when you do with the rest; who are pedophiles and creepy boys.

Of course you've always been nice when interacting with them; you didn't want to be rude and only wanted to be kind.

Definitely, there were times when you couldn't take it and couldn't do anything about it - other than cry and complain in your lover's arms.

You're forever thankful to have someone like him; he'd always listen to whatever you say and support everything you do.

Not realising; you zoned out quite a bit and snapped out of it when Bill called out your name with worry that he's trying to mask from everyone.

"Oh-, well, obviously I love them so much, if it weren't for them I wouldn't have succeed this much - of course the people who helped me get up in this industry as well.

I truly do appreciate their love and support, seriously. But quite the number of them are uh, how do I say this." you nervously chuckled as everyone listened intently to the tea you're telling.

"Crossing my boundaries? Yes, uh- that." you say not quite satisfied with the word you chose. It was evident that it's worse than just that but the safest.

"We all know people would cross it by taking unsolicited pictures of you, that's given because you're a celebrity, but are there some other ways they would? If you don't mind me asking of course." Hanna carefully asked.

You smiled softly, "Well a few have stalked me to my house - which I dunno how the hell they did so and took pictures of me and they'd send it to me and tell me how they thought of me. Some leave love letters, flowers, food in front of my gate, sent death threats to my exes when I was dating them and even now to my Bill." you left the worse parts out since you didn't want half of the world to be talking about your most private part of life. What you're even telling them now is a whole lot.

"Wow.. we all knew your fan base could get a bit crazy judging from all the videos we see and the news, but not by this much!" Hanna says empathetically.

"It happens, I guess." you try to laugh it off. However, Bill looked at your hues with his that sent the message of "Are you okay?"

In which yours replied with "I'm not okay."

✮✮✮

The game went on a for it was Pauline's turn to the dunk tank, then Sam's.

You continued your cheery self through the whole taping and told yourself you'll regret what you said later in your dressing room. Bill kept his distance close to you and would caress your hand or shoulder as a sign of support - as well as slipping a "How're you holding up?" every now and then.

If there were billions of ways to show gratitude to this man; you'd do every single one of it to him.

After the agonizing show was over; you and Bill kissed Hanna's cheeks as a goodbye and thank you. To which she said back to you both as well and wished to see you soon.

As you made your way to the dressing room in silence with your fingers intertwined with Bill's; you abruptly stop in your tracks.

"I almost forgot I have to sign a magazine for Pauline!"

Your lover looked confused for a second "What? Why?"

"I kinda promised Pauline I'll just sign a magazine for her brother because she asked me to shout him out while taping." you let a small huff and loosened your grip on your boyfriend's slender hand. "How about I'll see you later in the van? You can wait for me there instead if I haven't been back by five minutes."

Bill smiled, "Of course sweetheart, I'll see you later. Love you." he pecked your lips and lovingly looked into your eyes for a moment before heading to his dressing room.

Quickly; you asked a staff to bring Pauline to your dressing room to give her an autograph - to which they agreed to. Thankfully.

While they did that, you strided to your room and grabbed your magazine and marker - which immediately after doing so, a knock was heard on your door.

You hand held the paper as the other gripped the violet ink marker. When you did, you were greeted by a Pauline smiling widely with a camera on her right hand.

"Hi!" she says excitingly.

You greet back and quickly hugged her, "I see you have a camera with you."

"Oh, yes, uhm.. I was wondering if i can take a video of you signing an autograph? So my brother would believe me that it really is from you." she nervously giggled. "I might or might now have pranked him once by giving him a fake autograph."

"Yeah, sure. What's your brother's name?" you say softly.

"It's Percy." she answers as she readies her camera.

"Alright, is it rolling?" you ask with a smile on your face. Pauline says yes with a grateful smile; grateful for being how considerate and kind you are.

"Hi Paul! So I heard from your sister that you're a fan? Too bad you didn't come with her." you looked behind the camera to Pauline.

"And I heard she gave you a fake autograph of mine? Well now, you're getting a real one, and this is the proof." you say still giggling as you signed the magazine.

"There, and keep the pen. I gotta go now, bye and love you!" you say as you waved goodbye and gave your iconic kiss blow alongside a wink.

Once Pauline returned the camera back to her bag; she immediately thanked you.

"I'm serious - thank you thank you sooo much! And uh.. I'm really sorry if what I asked earlier was too personal. I really am. I was just curious and didn't thoroughly before it slipped my mouth." she noticed the change of the atmosphere long ago. Even if she's just fifteen, she knew how to read the room well.

"Aw, sweetie.. it's nothing." you pat her shoulder, "It's fine I tell ya, also I better get going - you should too, it'll get dark in just two hours. Bye bye and stay safe!" you wave goodbye as she still exclaimed thank you's as she walked backwards towards the exit.

(that footage is definitely gonna go viral after many years)

In a light speed; you gathered your essential belongings and had your personal assistant help you carry your other belongings to the van; to which Bill noticed through the windows that you're carrying back pack and a purse and immediately helped you despite having it under perfect control.

He opened the door for you and let you in first before him and closed the door. Your personal assistant sat in the passenger seat next to the driver, while you and your beloved were at the very back despite the space up front.

You rested your head on his shoulder and he put his above yours while he held your hand with both of his; tracing every outline, massaging it, and kissing it once in a while.

"R'you okay now?" Bill mumbled and kissed your head.

"Yes, hon. I'm great actually.. thanks so much for being there, I love you so much." you turn your head to face his and pecked his lips.

"I love you more than you'll ever know, I'm glad you're okay." he smiled genuinely and kissed you deep and passionate.

You returned to your head's original position and fell to sleep; not caring if tomorrow, you'll be the town's talk.

[little-bumblebeeee]

hey! would you mind doing dustin x fem!reader...? about anything really, i just need more fics of him because i love him and i barely ever see any

phew, sorry, life got my ass before I could start this lmao. I got sick again but luckily my new house doesn't have nasty shit in the walls so let's hope this gets better 👍

Anyways, have some awkward teenage flirting and confessions with 641 words ♡

You only said yes when you were asked by a teacher if you wanted to sign up for camp Know-Where because you thought she said camp Nowhere, but next thing you knew you were on a bus full of nerds. Like, textbook nerds. The kids behind you just kept going on and on about science stuff and it gave you a headache. And when you turned around to tell them to shut up, you met Dustin.

Now you can't seem to shake him away from you, even a year later.

"C'mon, just sit in on this session to see if you like it!" Dustin says, trying to convince you to get into d&d for what seems like the millionth time in the span of this short year in which you've known each other.

"For the last time, I have better things to do, Dustin. Speaking of, you have a book report that you can't afford to get an F on if you wanna keep a good grade." You remind him, sticking a finger into his shoulder, watching red bloom in his cheeks as he rolls his eyes and walks past you into the drama room where Hellfire is held. Unfortunately, even though you prefer being alone, you don't like going places by yourself, so you have to jog to catch up with him.

You've never seen him like this before, his eyes wide and lips parted just barely as he listens so intently to Eddie's theatrical speech, you think not even a tornado passing through would shake him. You sit away from the table, watching as he yells and cheers, going through the most colorful range of emotions you've ever seen.

And when they win, who does he go to? Straight to you, taking you in his arms and squeezing tight. "So!?" He says over the yelling of his fellow Hellfire Club members, a big smile on his face. You just shake your head, letting the boy drag you outside along with Mike and Erica, the promise of his mom paying for pizza being what lures the other two, but it's Dustin that seems to capture your focus. He always seems to do that for you, doesn't he? Even in summer camp.

You've been to Dustin's house countless times, but none where him and Mike are arguing over a pizza and character sheets. The phone has rung about 4 times, his mom calling because Mike has to pack for California to see Will and El for spring break, but the boy just refused to pack on time. When he finally does leave, it's just you and Dustin.

Just you and Dustin.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared. Not of him, but of yourself. You get this terrible horrible feeling in your chest that you might say something stupid and mess this all up, but it seems like Dustin is one step ahead of you.

"Hey. Hypothetically, what would you say if I.. asked you to the movies this weekend. As a date." He asks you with a slight tilt of his head and a nervous smile. You can't believe your own ears. It's not like you're some science nerd or d&d fanatic like he is, so why you? You don't bother to ask, just grateful this is happening in the first place.

"Hypothetically.. I'd say yes." You reply, your shaky hand finding his own. You hate all this awkward eye contact but you can't seem to look away, not when his eyes seem bluer than normal– god, when did they get so blue?

"Cool.. cool. So.." He starts, trailing off as you nod.

"Yeah. Uh– sure." You say a little too quickly. You're both just laughing a little now, this is just too awkward to take seriously.

But now you've got a date this weekend. And you feel pretty damn good about it.

[yggdraseed]

Women in Jujutsu Kaisen

Let’s get this out of the way first: if you’re reading this because you enjoy reading posts by people who hate Jujutsu Kaisen, you’re going to be disappointed. I actually like Jujutsu Kaisen a lot, I have a lot of positive things to say about it, and I’m going to be explaining my reasoning here. You should probably move on if you want trash talk. But if you have a negative view point that you’re nevertheless willing to reevaluate or recontextualize by looking at things from a new perspective, please read on.

A lot has been said about how women are written in Jujutsu Kaisen. A lot of good, and a lot of bad. I think a lot of the bad comes from how Jujutsu Kaisen was praised so early on for how it’s women were written, only for people to either not see it or have their expectations not be met due to events in Shibuya and the Culling Games. However, while I try to respect diversity of opinion, I feel like a lot of people aren’t really grasping why the way GeGe Akutami writes women was lauded. I think a people have lots of different ideas of what makes for a well-written female character, and don’t find what they’re looking for in Jujutsu Kaisen, thus they get angry and they post online about how GeGe Akutamisogyny isn’t going to beat “the allegations.”

I’ve never liked the justifications put forth for that argument. There’s a lot of subtext to how the female cast of Jujutsu Kaisen are written that can’t fit neatly into the simple world of page and panel counts or win-loss ratios. And, fortunately, there are tools for feminist literary analysis that I am going to employ in what will hopefully be a short trilogy of posts, starting here.

When I see people criticizing how women are written in Jujutsu Kaisen, I usually only see them using one point of interest: the outcome of a fight. If a female character doesn’t win a fight, then some people in the audience take that to mean that GeGe Akutami hates that character, hates women, and doesn’t want them to succeed — or some variation of that, perhaps less extreme.

This is a product of Jujutsu Kaisen being a Shonen, and thus being on the radar of Shonen fans who — let’s be honest — are not known widely for consuming anime or manga outside of the Shonen demographic. Shonen is heavily focused on conflict and competition as storytelling, it’s why the term “battle shonen” is used so prevalently. And Jujutsu Kaisen doesn’t try to deny its own Shonen heritage: it uses fights for storytelling all the time, sometimes even more than other Shonen seem to do.

I think this might also be a cultural thing. Anime and manga are written very differently from Western movies or comic books, with very different cultural background and different artistic sensibilities. However, that’s a topic that I’ll unpack another time, maybe not even in Part 2 or 3 of this post.

Point is, we need to step back and get some perspective. People who use the losses or deaths among the female cast as evidence that GeGe hates women, or sees women as inferior, or has some sort of passive, culturally-inherited sexism in their worldview are suffering from tunnel vision. You need to look at the story as a whole sometimes, not just the one subject in question.

Go back to the Goodwill Event, and the fight between Nobara and Momo. Their whole conversation is a huge part of why Jujutsu Kaisen was praised early on for how Akutami writes women, and I think the subtext of it really went over some people’s heads. It did mine, the first time around: to me, it just felt like a competent, if tired “girl power” moment for Nobara. But as I invested more time and thought into reading the series, and as I learned more since first viewing that scene, I started to realize what I wasn’t seeing in that scene.

Momo shares something in common with all of the Kyoto Students, Todo and Miwa being the exception. In addition to seemingly coming from a more-or-less established sorcerer pedigree, Momo shares the general pessimism that hangs over the Kyoto Students like a dark cloud. There’s this very morosely Japanese sense of “woe is me, but there’s nothing to be done” about Momo, Mai, Noritoshi, and Mechamaru, in one sense or another. These four are people who will complain about a problem, then just sit while it washes over them and batters them like a wave. They just accept the unfair hand they’re dealt in life, and while they don’t like it, they treat it as something no one can overcome. Furthermore, on some level, I think these four don’t necessarily want to overcome the misfortunes and injustices they face.

See, Momo pours her heart out at length about how hard it is being a woman and being a sorcerer. And the way she talks about it is a very different critique of society than you’d see in a lot of Shonen. She talks about how women are expected to be perfect: beautiful, graceful, exquisite, the model of femininity, while also keeping up with the macho “might makes right” sensibilities that dominate sorcery. In her words, “men have to be strong, women have to be perfect.”

This isn’t something that’s just being plucked out of thin air, this is a criticism of the girlboss culture that arose through the 2000s and 2010s up to now. Women are expected to battle sexism alone, in their own lives, by being exceptional: rather than reforming cultural structures that put women at a disadvantage to men, girlboss culture says women just need to always wear perfect makeup, always be fashionable, always work 2.5 times harder than men, and find time to raise children and have a side-hustle at the same time. Instead of fixing the problem, it’s telling women, “Just work harder. Just be better.” As if women haven’t been having to work harder for nothing in return for the past 50 years, holding down jobs that they have to go above and beyond to prove themselves in as compared to male coworkers for whom the job might as well be a guarantee by comparison, having a ceiling put on their promotion while men who didn’t put in as much work get to move up the company ladder, and frequently having to juggle having a child and taking care of housework in addition to the expectations of jobs that often don’t afford maternity leave. And then, on top of all of that, the expectation is then foisted on to have the time and energy to perfectly craft your hair, makeup, and outfit for the day, and if you miss a single step of the whole stupid dance, you’re seen as an underachiever. That’s girlboss culture, and that’s what Momo is indirectly criticizing when she laments the contradictory and unfair expectations women in the sorcery world have to uphold. They need to fight just as hard as the men, while wearing skirts and not getting a single scar on that pretty face.

(Just as an aside, I love the way this conversation comes about. Momo and Mai are pretty close to each other, to the point that it sometimes feels like nobody else in the Kyoto school likes or respects Mai like Momo does. And Momo targets Nobara with this whole speech because of the friction between Mai and Nobara, and because she wants to stand up for Mai. I like that element of both solidarity and conflict between women, about being a woman, and I’ve always gotten sapphic vibes from Momo and Mai, so I’m glad that she’s the one giving this whole speech and why she’s doing it. But I digress.)

And the thing is, she’s not wrong. Neither Nobara nor the story as an overall entity refutes anything she says. However, Nobara points out something else about Momo that she shares in common with the other Kyoto Students who were raised to be sorcerers: the way she treats her whole life like a job. Momo has internalized the culture she despises, and instead of trying to rebel, she just accepts all of it as “the way the world works.” She soldiers on, just as Noritoshi soldiers on with his family’s expectations, Mai soldiers on with her pain and feeling of being abanoned, and Mechamaru soldiers on with the isolation, unfairness, and general misery that comes with his Heavenly Pact. Soldiering on, as if soldiering on has inherent value when it leads nowhere and accomplishes nothing. Never addressing the problem, or trying to find a way around it; simply rolling that boulder up the hill, grumbling all the way. She and the other Kyoto Students have this sense of treating their own misfortune as a badge of honor. To them, they’re justified and validated because they have experienced more than their fair share of suffering. They’re always eager to flaunt the crosses they have to bear.

Momo treats being a woman as a curse. Funny how that ties into the rest of the narrative, huh?

For Nobara, being a woman is not some great burden she has to live with. Being a woman in general and being Nobara Kugisaki in particular is something she revels in, and it’s just the fault of everyone else if they think otherwise.

Let’s talk about Nobara, and let’s not reduce her to her death scene. When we meet Nobara, she’s immersing herself in the Tokyo way of life after moving from the countryside to the big city. She encounters a sleazy talent agency recruiter who’s pestering women on the street with his hand-rubbing, obviously nefarious ways… only for Nobara to stop him, turn him around, and say, “What about me?” He gets intimidated, tries to run, and she drags him back. From her perspective, he should be happy to have her, and the fact he isn’t means he’s ignorant of her beauty and wit and needs to be corrected. If he won’t convert to Kugisakism, then her charms are wasted on him, and he’s doomed to the dim world that is Nobaralessness. When she meets Yuji and Megumi, she introduces herself with a line that’s translated into English as, “I’m the only woman in your group.” But from what I’ve been able to gather, her line in Japanese is, “I’m the red mark.” The phrase “red mark” can mean “the one who’s different from the others” — like the one girl in a group of boys — or it can mean “the one who stands out.” So you can also read it as her saying, “I’m the stand-out of the group.” Nobara Kugisaki, everybody.

If you want to talk about how literary circles analyze how women are writing, let’s leave the topics of fight outcomes and feats to one side. One thing you immediately look for is motivation. What’s motivating a character? This is important for how female characters are written, and especially in Shonen, which revolves so much around characters with some goal or belief that the story pursues through fights and other forms of adversity.

Now poorly-written women will tend to be motivated by men. They’ll be attracted to a man, or trying to support or protect a man, or trying to find a man. This by itself isn’t a death sentence for a woman’s characterization, but it is a red flag. It’s also not as if women have to never interact with or think about men to be well-written. It’s not an on-off switch, a bad writing-good writing switch. It’s a meter, like Mahoraga steadily adapting to a technique. Just a little bit is fine, and can be even turned into good writing in capable hands. But if it becomes too prevalent and is never examined, then you get a situation where a story’s women are not permitted lives outside of being in a male character’s orbit.

How do we gauge this? Well, there are lots of ways, but one of the more well-known and simple techniques is the Bechdel test. The name is derived from Alison Bechdel, feminist author who penned such classics as Dykes to Watch Out For. Bechdel proposed a simple litmus test for how to tell an author’s seriousness about writing women, and it goes like this: 1.) Look for scenes where women talk to each other. 2.) In those scenes, check for how often they’re talking about things besides male characters.

This isn’t the only way to tell if women are written well or not, and some will say it isn’t even the best way, but it’s a good foot in the door to get us thinking about what divides well-written female characters from poorly-written female characters. I’m not going to go back and scan through the whole manga just yet, but let’s look at some examples.

— The aforementioned conversation between Nobara and Momo, where the two pit their different view of what it means to be a woman and a sorcerer against one another. — Maki and Nobara talking to each other after the encounter with Mai and Todo. Curious by meeting Maki’s sister, Nobara talks to Maki a bit about their upbringing. Having gained more insights into Maki’s past and personality, Nobara leans on her and tells her how much she respects her. — Miwa and Mai discussing the upcoming Goodwill Event in a flashback. Mai tells Miwa that Maki is weak, which leaves Miwa unprepared for their fight. — Maki and Mai arguing and coming to terms with what drove them apart. Mai just wanted a peaceful life with Maki, but Maki couldn’t be happy and authentic with herself if she just left things the way they were. She was forced to choose between herself and Mai, and Maki chose herself, knowing that Mai would suffer and that she’d shoulder some of the guilt for that.

This indicates that GeGe found it important to divorce the identities of the female characters from male characters. And this holds true in what drives and motivates the female cast.

Nobara is motivated by her own goals. She hates the countryside, and she loves the city; becoming a sorcerer is a way she can make a lot of money, live in the city, and pursue the kind of lifestyle she values. She wants to be a true blue Tokyoite, wearing trendy clothes and eating crepes and taking selfies by the statue of Hachiko outside Shibuya Station. She’s not doing this to avenge her dead brother, she’s not doing this to find her father, she’s not searching for a strong man to sire strong children — yuck. Nobara has aesthetic values and strongly held beliefs, and becoming a sorcerer lets her pursue those values and beliefs.

And if you really want to analyze the action side of Jujutsu Kaisen as an indicator for how GeGe feels about female characters, consider how Nobara takes to sorcery like a fish to water. Both Megumi and Yuji have their own internal dilemmas with being a sorcerer, but not Nobara. In a series where mindset is so important, Nobara has the mindset. Uro describes the model sorcerer as having “no concern for others and an overwhelming sense of self.” There is no one with a more overwhelming sense of self than Nobara. She’s loud, opinionated, loves to argue, flaunts herself, and demands other people give her more than what they think she’s due. She’s narcissistic, but that faith in herself makes her mentally strong.

She lacks experience, but even then, she learns and grows rapidly through the series. Due to running out of nails to fend off cursed spirits during the first stretch of Fearsome Womb chapters, she invents Hairpin as a way to reuse nails she’s already launched and embedded in a surface. She manages to land a Black Flash during the tag team fight with Yuji, and it’s her oppressive use of Resonance on Eso and Kechizu that turns the tides — a tactic which required her to hammer nails into her own arm. She takes it on the chin and gets her brain rattled around in her skull during the fight with Haruta, but even while borderline unconscious and suffering from a concussion, she forces herself to keep him talking in hopes Nitta can escape and manages to get to her feet and keep fighting despite the total disorientation and inability to summon her strength. While she didn’t win the fight, she showed more fighting spirit than half of the male cast tends to, and I find it kind of gross that people will ignore all of that and mock someone who kept fighting against the odds. That’s like laughing at Mumen Rider when he’s hopelessly trying to fight Sea King even as his body is breaking. I don’t exactly see what about either case is so funny or worthy of ridicule.

Even in the showdown with Mahito, people always fixate on how she dies, but never consider what led to it. She crosses paths with Mahito, and even knowing from Yuji what he’s capable of, she goes in — partially because he hurt Yuji, her friend, and she wants to make him suffer for it. And her technique turns out to be a worst case scenario for Mahito. She’s hammering his clone with Resonance and sending the blowback to the original while he’s fighting Yuji, dividing his attention and weakening him. Her only mistake was chasing him down, and even then, this isn’t the story punishing her. It’s the story being consistent with who Nobara is. She’s got a dangerous enemy on the ropes, her pride is bruised after the fight with Haruta, and she has a chance to get vengeance on someone who’s hurt her friend while helping said friend in the process. If she hadn’t followed Mahito into the subway, then she wouldn’t be Nobara Kugisaki.

And in her final moments, Nobara achieves something that’s considered to be out of reach of most sorcerers. She dies content, with a smile on her face. Nobara may not have realized her potential to be a great sorcerer, but she got what she, personally, wanted. Sorcery was a means to an end, and she got to live the Tokyo life and meet interesting people that she considers her friends. She got to fill out that finite number of seats in her life, and even meet a few people who pulled up a chair when she didn’t expect it. In her words, “It wasn’t so bad.” Nobody else but Toji and Gojo have gotten to die this satisfied — Toji because Megumi had grown up free of the Zen’in curse, Gojo because he was authentic to himself right to the end and left it all on the field. Nobara was authentic to herself right to the end, and that’s worthy of high praise. If she is definitely dead and not coming back, then she managed to accomplish what it was she wanted before dying. Not many get that luxury in Jujutsu Kaisen. It hurts because I liked her and admired her and appreciate the way she was written, and her dying doesn’t make the value of her character disappear from the story entirely. It’s the character’s death, it’s everything that led to that death and what that death means to them and to those who are left behind. And if it’s manga that explore death, nobody does it better than GeGe Akutami.

Lots of people will point to an interview where GeGe said that Nobara was not originally considered part of the cast, and they’ll use that as evidence that secretly, GeGe’s a big stupid misogynist who hates women and likes killing them in stories and blah blah blah blah blah. You know, first of all, I doubt that the editor held a gun to GeGe’s head and said “Put in a female main character or die.” Secondly, if GeGe really didn’t care, Nobara would just be a two-dimensional copy of Sakura who dies in the first arc or two. GeGe would not have put in the effort to set her apart from other female leads, or given her so many stand-out moments, or given her such an interesting motivation and world view. In short, if GeGe didn’t want to write a female character, they’d do what Kishimoto did: write Sakura. But that comparison is a can of worms I’ll need to pry open another time.

To sum up for the time being, no, GeGe Akutami does not hate women. Losing a fight does not make a female character worthless, and does not indicate a disdain for them on the part of the author. I don’t know about you, but I don’t read Shonen just to see who punches harder. I want to see characters be challenged, sometimes fail, learn, grow, and overcome adversity — and it wouldn’t be adversity if all the characters I like win and survive easily. I love Kashimo and will continue to love Kashimo, and Kashimo being super ultra dead doesn’t change that.

Look out for Part 2, in which I’m going to unpack some really contentious stuff when it comes to challenges and female characters in Jujutsu Kaisen. We’re gonna talk about the concept of screen time, we’re gonna talk about subtext, we’re gonna talk about great expectations and the great unexpected in Jujutsu Kaisen, and we’re gonna talk more in-depth about the narrative outside the narrative of Jujutsu Kaisen in a vacuum. If your sense for danger is giving you a bad feeling about this, then it should be: we’re talking about that. Switch on your Anti-Gravity System, it’s going to get messy.

[gingerylangylang1979]

Remember when Ebra's future at The Bear wasn't certain?

gif courtesy of @heardchef

Remember when this trailer hit and we freaked out?

I was worried about Ebra. I thought he would quit or maybe get fired because he couldn't keep up with the new pace. In season one he was a bit dismayed by all of the components in the chicken piccata. In the moment above there was foreshadowing that he wasn't confident about his place in the future. Things moved forward rapidly. He didn't thrive like Tina in culinary school. In a crueler kitchen he may have been forgotten when he disappeared but he wasn't. He was given space but he wasn't cut loose. People were concerned. Carmy asked about him. Tina reconnected with him. He still had a spot on the team, just one reimagined. I'm glad.

Edwin has high billing despite a small role. He's a legend in Chicago. I honestly think Ebra's the funniest character even though he doesn't get the big goofy, flashy moments. Please let him be funny again! But there is a story of immigration, sadness, and loss for him that is ready to be told. I don't think they will ever give him a big storyline but I do hope he at least gets a monologue to explain the whole thing or it gets revealed in bits and pieces along the way. Also, I think his style doesn't get enough love. He dresses like the older fly African and Caribbean men I see in my Brooklyn neighborhood. Bright colors, bold patterns, boho accessories. It's a vibe. I bet he smells good, too. And he's attractive. If I was his age...

I think Ebra's arc last season says a lot about the show and the people behind it. Carmy could have let Ebra go. There was a lot going on and he could have just saw a rogue element and dropped that ass. But who would Carmy be to judge? He was the most rogue element all season and was the weakest link at Friends & Family. Instead, Carmy still found value in him. Tina could have rubbed in her all star status and promotion but she didn't. She saw a friend struggling, not competition. She had the vision for him in his current position.

Storer saw Edwin in a local play when he was a kid, thought he was the most magical actor he'd seen, remembered him, kept up with his Chicago career, and sought him out for this role. He didn't have to do that. He could have hired a more widely known talent but he gave his childhood favorite actor the opportunity. He remembered and honored him.

I see a lot of how Storer is with his talent in how Carmy is as a leader. Carmy is deeply flawed but he does invest in his people. He could have fired the old crew from day one. But he didn't clean house and hire a bunch of Sydney's (he only needed one). He could have started with an entirely new crew when he decided to rebrand, but he didn't he decided to fast track his found family. Storer wanted people he had worked with to work on The Bear. Jeremy (his award winning lead), Ayo (breakout star, IMO romantic lead, and future director thanks to Chris), Ramy (director), and Molly (romantic interest) are people he worked with in the past, sought out again, and saw how they could build on what he saw in them before.

Anyways, this was partially an ode to Ebra/Edwin and partially me getting warm fuzzies over Storer as a generous show runner and Carmy as a generous anti-hero.