#that there was also cases of me making friends

[endearng]

Doomed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: If you and Spencer had a nickel every time someone teased you after witnessing your interactions, you'd have two nickels, which isn't much — but it's weird that it happened twice. WC: 4.4k Warnings: Mentions of abandonment and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I'm so obsessed with them... in a normal amount of course. I'm thinking about writing casually for them, who knows... Also,,,, who am I if not a morcia truther….. I hope you enjoy it! Feedbacks are always appreciated <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

You were doomed from the moment he bid you goodbye.

"So, who's he?" Victoria inquired, a sly smirk on her face and a bashful expression on yours.

"Who's who?" You asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

She groaned playfully, "You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't." You winked, sitting on your couch again, between the two women. Sex and the City was playing on the TV across from the three of you.

"You're acting like us as freshmen when the seniors looked at us—" she retorted.

"I thought we didn't talk about that," Jude deadpanned.

"You're 'I don't know what you're talking about' me? I thought we were friends!" Victoria poked you in the rib.

"Ouch! He's just a friendly neighbor, that's it." You said, trying to cut the subject. Jude looked at you suspiciously. "White wine time."

From Spencer's apartment, he could hear the sound of chatter, joyful laughter and opening bottles for the rest of the night. He didn't know how to feel by your invitation, now that he had calmed down after looking you in the eye for a moment, technically, all by yourselves. He would definitely feel inappropriate at a kid's birthday where he barely knew the people who invited him, but he thought that Olivia's gesture was amazingly endearing. What could possibly be more childishly adorable than an infant trying to help and making a 'mistake'? And what could possibly be more devastatingly endearing than a mother taking advantage of said mistake to make it right?

Spencer studied the card for a moment. It fit the palm of his hand, tiny and delicate. It had a different address from yours and the time of the party, all of it lovely handwritten, just like the letters from calligraphy practice notebooks. It seemed like Olivia put a lot of effort in trying to perfect her handiwork. It read:

Hey, it's Oli!

I'm turning six and I want to celebrate it with you!

The contents of the slip of paper were adorned by dainty drawings related to birthdays: party hats, cake, gifts, some decoration and so on. It suddenly dawned on him that he was actually becoming closer to the people he always thought lived a perfect life. His mind had a tendency to wander and, for a fleeting moment, he thought about what it would be like to be part of that perfect life.

Olivia was a perfectionist child. He saw the expected behavior of the age in her manners, but the care with her work almost made him think someone else had done it for her. Something told him it wasn't the case, though.

Secured by two magnets, he placed Olivia's birthday party invitation on his fridge. You know, just so he wouldn't forget it — he tried to convince himself.

Everybody knew about his otherworldly memory, but he decided to forget it purposefully.

"Good morning, good ghost. I didn't see you anymore." Olivia greeted as she saw Spencer in front of the elevator. You were just locking your door closed, hyping yourself up for the week ahead of you when you heard it and a shiver ran down your spine. This, whatever it was, was getting out of hand.

"Good morning, Miss Olivia!" He said, a sweet tone of voice. You melted. "It's true. It's been a while. I was here on the weekend, but it seemed like you had other plans." He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She did it in a heartbeat.

"I was with my grandma and grandpa. They took me to the movies and grandpa made me lasagna." She explained as you approached them, adjusting your bag and Olivia's backpack in each of your arms. "Did'ya get my birthday party invitation?"

"Yes, I did! Thank you for inviting me. But, you know, your mother probably needed the rest of them for the other guests." He said as the elevator opened. He gestured for you to enter it first, so you did it with a grateful nod.

"Sorry, mommy. I didn't mean it." Olivia looked at you briefly, ashamed that you would call her out.

"I know, baby, 's okay. Everyone has one now." You assured her with a light tone. Breathe. "Hi, Spencer. Good morning." You said as he joined you in the elevator.

He breathed out, "Good morning. Hi." He had a big smile on his face, standing right next to you, you both facing the door and Olivia in front of you. Internally, he felt like a puppy who had his owners’ undivided attention.

Olivia pressed the button to the lobby. You noticed a book in his hands. Courage. "So, what are you reading, Spencer?"

He gulped. Were you talking to him? It took him a moment to get a grip and realize that he hadn't answered you. Struggling to find the words and suddenly unable to remember what he was actually reading. "Me? I'm just re-reading one of Dostoievski's books. Notes from Underground."

"Dosto-what?" Olivia chipped in.

You looked at her, ready to tell her to not interrupt someone, but couldn't stop yourself from giggling. Spencer watched it fondly. "It's Dostoievski, baby. D'you remember that one book with the 'ugly' cover that mommy was reading the other day?" You asked her, air quoting the word 'ugly'. “It wasn’t ugly. It just wasn’t pink.” You explained it, looking at Spencer. He grinned.

"Yeah. You didn't read to me because it was work." She said, getting distracted with one of her braids.

"Are you a teacher?" He asked, intrigued.

"No. I actually work for a publishing company. Sometimes I have interesting content to revise." You said, a tinge of irony in your voice. He smiled at you, feeling comfortable enough to joke around him without the awkwardness of that first encounter.

The elevator door opened. Olivia jumped out. "I bet it's interesting," was the best he could come up with. Tongue tied.

“Yeah. It’s a good book.”

Like a fucking teenager, he watched as you left with your daughter. Your mixed laughter echoing in the lobby as Olivia spinned around while you carried the weight all by yourself.

He scolded himself for not remembering to offer you help.

Two days later, a few states over, Spencer sat on a chair at the conference room of the precinct they were working with. The case was exhausting and he just wanted it to be over, but it wasn't that simple. He waited for Derek Morgan — he was his ride that night back to the hotel they were crashing on. He was in front of Derek as he and Penelope talked, her image on the computer screen. The man's nonchalant tone was a riddle for her to unsolve — everyone else was aware that there was definitely something between them (an unspoken dictionary worth of words), even if their interactions were deemed as jokes. Penelope, feeling very shy, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her lap after a particular comment about her smile. As she did so, her eyes caught a glance of her watch. "Oh, shoot. I have to go," she murmured, relieved to have a way out of the exchange that had high chances of turning her into a nervous wreck. "I'm so sorry, handsome! Tomorrow is one of my friend's daughter's birthday."

A flash of disappointment crossed Derek's features. Not that she'd noticed. Instead of pressing her, he chose to say, "Need extra energy to keep up with the kids, babygirl?" Ah, there was it. The teasing tone. She was definitely imagining things.

"Not as much as I need to keep up with you, tiger," she replied with a wink, the dynamic between them quickly shifting back to the usual playful banter. Both of them wanted more than playful and far more than banter, but none of them had the courage to admit it, to be straightforward about it. Spencer understood it, really. Speaking made things too real. "But, seriously. I totally forgot to pick up her gift. Olivia loves reading, so I'll go to the mall. I'm glad I already bought it, so I won't get home late."

If he was a dog, Spencer's ears would have definitely perked up from how quickly he associated one thing to another. Could it be the same Olivia? Your Olivia? "Okay, mama. Be safe." Derek said.

"I will," she smiled as she hung up.

Idiots.

Maybe Derek was too serious about the "no profiling each other" rule they set.

"Let’s go, pretty boy," The dark-skinned agent stated. Spencer got up, grabbed his bag and made his way to the elevator with her.

As they chatted about nothing in particular, walking out of the precinct, he desperately wanted to ask him if she truly didn't see past Penelope's sudden shyness. It wasn't in his nature to do that, of course, but as Derek and Penelope were two of the most important people in his life, he wondered why wouldn't they be a thing by now, since they enjoyed themselves so much and were so open about their affections towards one another.

He was quickly ripped away from his thoughts when the man suddenly spoke up, “So, what's your deal lately, Reid? What's she like?"

The doctor choked on his own saliva, which made him cough like crazy. Derek laughed, but tried to help his panicked friend. "What was that, man?" he asked worriedly, once he saw Spencer had finally inhaled a gulp of air.

Face as red as a tomato, cough dying in his throat, "what was what?" Derek returned to his normal self once he noticed his friend was able to finally form a coherent sentence.

"You're gonna act dumb now that you almost died when I talked about her?" Derek questioned, teasing tone, "it was just a lucky guess, but I see you, Reid. You're daydreaming far too often for what's acceptable for the boy genius who's as focused as a laser beam."

Spencer looked straight ahead as they got to the exit. He should have cornered Derek first. "Why would you think it has anything to do with a 'her'?" He chuckled, nervous to be caught red-handed — even if he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Was it wrong to want? He felt like it was. All his life, really. Had no chance to want anything because either was a far too distant reality, person, happiness for him to grasp it or it was ripped away from him too soon, before he could even acknowledge what was happening inside him. That's why want was almost a foreign sensation for Spencer. He had been deprived of it for as long as he could remember.

"Because people get a little dumb when they're in love. At least, ordinary people do. Apparently, so do geniuses," he snickered, his mind also set on teasing Spencer.

Maybe it was dumb to reveal his secret, jaw dropping crush on his cute neighbor, but he wanted some sort of relief to that mess of tangled thoughts inside his head and the strange, to say the least, feelings brewing on his chest whenever he saw you. You barely knew each other. But he supposed it was yet another part of the want he wasn’t familiar with: it didn't need much and it took all consciousness out the door. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest whenever he was on the field, especially since he was often facing danger. The way the events were unfolding were scarily similar to his cases: he noticed you, made up theories based on your behavior and routine, and slowly, oh, so slowly, started to approach you. Not to put you away, but for more personal reasons.

What was different was the feeling in his heart, instead of the sensation of being squeezed painfully inside his ribcage, often leading to ragged breathing, now felt like it was being held delicately by a pair of caring, dainty hands. Either way, his heart was fighting in the frontline and relied on the other part to be calmed and saved. The least he could do was try to be careful, finally opting not saying anything to Derek.

"Just a lot on my mind lately," he chose to say, instead. Derek dropped the subject, too tired to press it further.

Olivia's party had come to an end an hour ago. You got to see old friends and talked until they got every single ounce of information about your life lately and so did you about theirs. Your daughter had enjoyed her party greatly, and hugged every. single. person. who came to wish her happy birthday and thanked them for being there. She paid little attention to the gifts, too focused on spending time with her friends, playing with them until the sugar rush wore off — all of them had a massive candy intake that day. You didn't spend much time with her, but she promised you that she would unwrap her gifts the next morning with you, the most adorable toothless grin on her face.

Despite everything flowing accordingly, all day long, your stomach churned with anticipation. You wondered if Olivia's dad would show up, since the day she was born was, quote, the happiest of his life. His parents did, and when you looked at them anxiously, his mother shot you a neutral glance. Not a word from his end was its meaning. Your daughter never asked anything about him during the day, which made you even more jittery. You feared she would have a breakdown at any time, so you paid extra attention to her.

It never came.

You had missed the deadline of a book chapter that you had to revise, too caught up on trying to balance everything in your life, so your parents told you they'd stay with her so you could go home to work and take her in the morning. Normally, you wouldn't accept it, but your father had decided you were too tired to wake her to go home, so you complied. Right after the guests left, you did all the steps of her night routine, except for the bedtime story — she was that tired of all the running around in the backyard. You were sure she would sleep all night long.

Once she dozed off, you stood for a moment in her grand-bedroom (she had come up with that and it kind of stuck with you). Your parents had decorated it while you were still pregnant. She needs to feel at home, was what your mother said when you walked in on them assembling her crib. You almost cried, overwhelmed with joy. Your fiancé, then, had rolled up his sleeves to help out. Oh, the irony.

Her room was full of photographs that held many memories of her six years of life. You could never imagine that you could love this much, let alone dedicate yourself so entirely to someone like you did for her. Even though it was hard and you often didn't feel like you were enough to raise her on your own, Olivia was a wonderful child and her gestures and overall behavior assured you you were doing a good job. The reflection brought tears to your eyes. You drove home by yourself.

Currently, in your apartment, it felt a little too big without Olivia in there — too many books, too many chairs, too much space on your sofa, too many toys scattered around with nobody to play with them. You sighed, deciding on going to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea — you felt like your brain was hammering inside your skull and you still needed to spend time in front of a computer screen. Going back to your small office to wallow in self pity and second guess yourself even as you read whatever material it was, you heard a knock on the door.

You checked your watch. 9p.m. On a Saturday.

Weird.

Through the peephole, you saw someone you truly weren't expecting. "Spencer?" You asked as you opened the door, surprise filling your being. "I didn't think you'd come, I supposed you were at work. I mean, sometimes it feels like you barely have a routine, heh. But, um, thanks for dropping by." You said, a little unfiltered. Not even five seconds in his presence and you were already making a fool of yourself in front of him.

He held a small bouquet of flowers in one of his hands and a gift in the other. To a stranger's eye, it seemed like he had missed your birthday and was trying to apologize for it. You blushed at the thought. He shut his eyes, sorry crossing his features. "I know. I'm sorry I missed it, even though I really didn't want to. You were right, I was away on a case." You smiled, dismissing his apologies and soothing his worries once you did so.

"It's alright with me. She was totally expecting you, though. Kept asking where you were for the first hour. Then she got distracted with candy," you told him, "so she's the one you're gonna need to apologize to." You joked.

"T—that's why I'm here."

"I'm just not sure if Olivia is old enough to get flowers," you said, face serious. His eyes went wide and it took him a moment to understand, but once he looked at your serious expression cracking, his shoulders shook with laughter, with you. If you had more attention, you'd seen the moment his ears turned red.

Your laughter died down. A beat of silence. "These are actually for you." He revealed.

You were stunned. "Oh," you said, suddenly at a loss of words. "Thank you so much."

He gave you the flowers and you gracefully accepted. You were mesmerized by them; colors swimming in harmony before your eyes and the scent making you feel dizzy. Maybe not the scent, but the emotions you were feeling with the surprise. He went out of his way to get you those flowers — it's safe to say that it had been a while since you felt that way. "I—I have no words, Spencer. Really. Thank you so much," your voice choked.

You looked at each other for a brief moment. You tried to show how much you appreciated his gesture. You grinned, trying to get out of that haze, "Do you want to come in? Oli's with my parents, so you won't be able to apologize today," you quipped, making room for him to enter.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"You can place the giftbox on the coffee table." He went inside, toeing off his shoes in the small space you had before the living room. Once he was there, he saw you enter the kitchen to find a vase. He could see you from where he stood. "Make yourself at home. Do you want some tea? I have Earl Gray."

Your voice was distant as he took in his surroundings. "Yeah, I'd like it." He murmured as he looked around. Your walls were a light gray, adorned with pictures of you and Olivia, some people he assumed were some of your friends. The wall behind the sofa was entirely covered by a big bookshelf that went from one end to the other, filled with books and souvenirs from basically everywhere. The dark wood of the furniture complemented the light walls in a cozy way, some toys and kids books scattered around the floor. The apartment smelled like fresh printed sheets of paper and earl gray tea. You had a few indoor plants that looked well taken care of. Spencer was admiring your degree from Stanford, which hung on the wall beside the TV, almost close to the door.

"One of my biggest achievements. Besides Olivia, of course," you approached him with his mug of tea. Turning to you, he noticed through his peripheral vision that you had placed the flowers inside a vase and in your coffee table.

"Thanks," he said.

"So... are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard. What?

You smiled a little. "You always look kinda tired when I see you," you said, not thinking about how your words might be interpreted. Your eyes widened, realizing it. "I mean, no! Sorry! You're still pretty, don't worry. It's just— I asked because you might be going through something. Forget I said anything about your looks."

He would definitely never forget.

Spencer laughed, flustered, eyes softly gazing at you while you rambled like a madman. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Sometimes my job is a little demanding and I'm forced to see some things that usually people don't even think exist," he confessed.

You bit your lip. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," he retorted, "I have a great team to work with."

"I'm glad to hear that. Sorry I brought it up, you probably don't want to talk about work right now." You said, sipping on your tea.

"Yeah, you're right, again," he chuckled. "How was Olivia's birthday?" He tried a change of subject.

"That was actually the reason I was moping when you got here," you said, trying to force a chuckle. "It was nice, I guess. I was just on edge all day trying to anticipate her emotions regarding her dad, but I guess they never came. At least, not today." You beckoned him to sit with you on the couch, now facing each other directly.

"May I ask why?" He asked, tentatively.

"Why what?"

More hesitance. "Why wasn't he there?"

"From what I know, he moved away." You said, tone unreadable.

He worried that he was overstepping and wasn't sure that he would like to hear more about it. He was scared to find out unpleasant news, such as you still had feelings for him. "I'm sorry." Was all he could muster.

"Don't be. I have a great team," you repeated his words from earlier and he smiled at you.

His brain and tongue didn't seem to be working together that night, he was so avid to know more. "Did you always have support?"

"My parents didn't like the idea of having a single mother when they first heard it. It hit me hard back then, but then I realized it was better to be alone than to stay in an unhappy relationship, especially since Olivia was already in the picture." You said, setting your own mug on the coffee table.

"What happened?" Stop it.

He couldn't help it, he was too curious. It was his first opportunity to truly know the novel sort of family that you had. Apparently, not so much.

"He was distant before leaving. Someone else, maybe?" You asked, rhetorically, a crease between your eyebrows. "I never found out, but I don't want or need to, either. His parents absolutely love Olivia and they were there today, 's all that matters."

"You���re a very strong person."

"I have to be," you said, softly. "You’re a very good listener."

A rush of courage running through his veins. Deciding on not taking the road of unsaid things, like his friends were earlier. Don’t dance around the subject, take the opportunity. Dare. "And you're just as pretty."

The world stopped. You looked at him in disbelief. It didn't last much. A knock on your door. Scratch that: someone banging on your door.

You pinched your eyebrows together. Spencer stood up, almost as if he was doing something wrong. You looked at him, apologizing, "I'm not expecting anyone."

You walked to the door and he stood behind you, telling you he was going to let you be. You didn't want to and you were already chastising yourself from not trying to talk to him and focusing on your problems instead. You opened the door and in the threshold stood Penelope Garcia, gift basket in hands. Before you could speak, both of your guests spoke at the same time.

A mortified "Garcia?" from Spencer.

A surprised "Spencer?" from Penelope.

Finally, a confused "Do you know each other?" from you.

"Yeah. We work together." Spencer replied. "What are you doing here, Penelope?"

"What are you doing here, boygenius?" Her tone now was teasing, a cheshire grin on her face. You were acting confused, but you were loving to see Spencer so out of place.

"I... I was..." He trailed off.

Poor thing. "He came to drop Olivia's gift. We're neighbors." You explained, trying to save him from further embarrassment.

She glanced between you two, eyes full of mirth behind her glasses. "I'm here to do the same." She said, smiling as she handed you the basket, which you took carefully and thanked her with a side hug. "There's her present, sweetcheeks. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there, you know how much I miss you and Olivia. But I'm sure our genius told you all about it." Her sentimental words truly held emotion, but she turned her attention to Spencer once again. The opportunity was too good to let go.

Spencer looked like a fish out of water. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. "Garcia, can we talk?" He asked abruptly. "I'm sorry, I have to go." He murmured in a much more soft tone to you.

He could never resume whatever was going on in there because he felt like he had been caught with his pants down.

You were so surprised you didn't even process what was your answer, forgetting to ask if Penelope wanted to come in or anything. "I—Okay. I'll see you, then." With a small smile and slight disappointment in your voice. He all but dashed out of your apartment and took Garcia, who had a mischievous expression on her face, with him. You closed your door and looked at the mix of flowers. A sigh escaped you. Damn, Garcia.

Spencer was escorting Penelope back to her car, ready to bury himself alive because he knew she would run her mouth and knew precisely to whom she would tell about it. And, of course, the endless jokes he would hear during the next few days. "Sooooo..." She trailed off, suggestively.

"I—don't want to talk." She opened her mouth, but had no success in talking. "Not. A. Word."

She entered her car and started the engine as he waited for her to go. But before she started driving, she yelled, "I knew you had it in you, Reid."

From your balcony, work long forgotten, you watched Spencer hide his face in his hands in utter embarrassment.

You were doomed.

[ancient-art-of-craft]

Yarn for Christmas?

An open PSA to anyone with crafting friends (and isn't really sure what they like):

DON'T BUY THEM YARN

Part of the hobby is the purchasing yarn, which some might argue buying yarn and using yarn are two different hobbies. "But OP," you might argue, "I just know they'll love the Red Heart Super Saver I got on sale at Joann's! One skein should be plenty, and they can make me a sweater!"

This is one of those rare cases where a gift card to their favorite yarn store is more personal. First off, nothing against Red Heart, but if they're a yarn snob, it's going to collect dust. If they're a project-oriented purchaser, it's going to collect dust. If they like to buy yarn, then it's just mean.

Also, NEVER imply that your crafting friend should make something for you. If they love you, they will. If they don't, then you're not close enough to be making expensive demands.

[a-student-out-of-time]

An Important Reminder In Trying Times

Hey everyone, Mod Bubbles here.

I know that I've said over and over that I don't like talking about politics on here, but I really feel the need to say this:

This Is Not The End.

I understand things probably seem really bleak right now. A lot of people are going to be hurt by this, and the sheer amount of fearmongering and worst case scenarios are inescapable. But the country and the world are not going to change overnight. To be honest, it may not change very much at all in the next four years. I'm not a political scientist, so I can't tell you that for sure. There's a lot to be concerned about.

What I can tell you, as a student of history, is this: not only have we survived this once, we have survived this every time.

Think about it this way: every single tyrant, every single right-wing representative, every single emperor and colonial power, every corporate scumbag and power-hungry lunatic. No matter how many of them have ever come to power, held onto power, and tried to make themselves seem invincible, not a single one has ever held back humanity's progress and not a single one has proven to be invincible.

There were countries throughout history, especially in the 20th century, that fell under brutal dictatorships and saw countless lives lost. Did the people just give up and accept it? Fuck no they didn't. They fought back. Many of them lived to see democracy restored to their lands in their lifetimes, or fought to see it restored in their children's.

From Europe to Latin America, while many countries still have their issues, they endured and their people have survived. Their governments were not invincible, just as none ever have been.

Regardless of the outcome of this election, the world will go on. People will not just roll over and accept whatever horrible things happen, the fight will continue and we will do everything in our power to carry on as we always have. We'll carry on to achieve bigger and better things.

Let me also be clear: if you feel the need to cry, please cry. If you're afraid, don't pretend you're not. If you're angry, allow yourself to feel that anger. But if you're seriously contemplating giving up or hurting yourself, please don't.

You may hear all this news and ask yourself, "Bubbles, what's the point? What can I do about all this?" I've felt that way too, I have for a long time. I understand completely. It's scary and overwhelming, but I'll tell you exactly what you can do to fight against that: you can be kind.

Do you want to know where the most tangible change in the world begins? It's never at the top. It begins with people like us on a communal level, where we reach out to help others. Whether that means we help our neighbors, our friends, or any strangers we can.

Going out of your way to start fights, looking for someone to blame based on the flimsiest justifications, and just being cruel because you're angry, those aren't how you change anything. Those just add to the problem.

Here's just some ideas on what you can do instead:

Get away from the news, stop doomscrolling, mute doomers, and turn the TV and news apps off. This will get you out of a negative feedback loop that'll make you feel worse and more powerless, which is what they're designed to do in order to maximize traffic.

Remember to eat, sleep, brush your teeth, take a shower, take your meds, and do everything else you need to do to stay healthy.

If you or someone else really feel like leaving the country for your own safety is best, you can still work do so. But please don't convince yourself that if you can't, it's over.

Give back to people as much as you can. Show the people in your life who support you that you care, and that all that they do for you matters.

Donate to good causes you believe in.

Stand up to bullshit whenever you see it.

Do not give up on your dreams and ambitions. One bad leader does not mean your future automatically ends. Stop worrying about any potential apocalypse in the future, because you can do that even on the best days, and instead work toward a future that you CAN achieve.

There's this pervasive and very inaccurate idea that it's only the president who gets to enforce policies on the country. This ignores governors, the House of Representatives, Congress, mayors, and the countless other leaders involved. And it ignores you.

You do not have to spend the next 3 years and 364 days doing nothing but feeling miserable. In fact, that's the last thing you should do. Fear and despair are the weapons they wield, and they only have as much power as you allow them to have over you.

If your view of politics is that you just have to vote for the "right one" and then everything will be utopian, or that if people vote for the wrong one" then we're headed for a terrible dystopian nightmare, I have to tell you that that is incredibly reductionist and also very dumb. I can also tell you from personal experience that it's not them who make the real changes where it's needed.

A friend sent me a video that really opened my eyes on this situation: Adam Conover, the guy behind Adam Ruins Everything, said he's not worried about all this. Why? Because he and some friends were able, through their own power, to make real positive changes in their community. They were able to bring homelessness down in their district by over 38% through their own efforts.

And he's right that, as a silver lining to all this, it made more Americans than ever take a stand against all the horrible shit they were seeing and get involved with solutions.

Speaking from my own experiences as well, when Hurricane Helene devastated my area, it wasn't the politicians who came and repaired roads and power lines, it wasn't them who brought in food and supplies to everyone, and it wasn't them who worked tirelessly to save people still in need. It was everyone in our local communities.

The people at the top have never really cared about anything more than your money and your vote, but the people around you care more than you may believe they would. Hell, even strangers on the internet care more than you'd believe.

Now, even if you've made it this far, you may be wondering "What about when he starts outlawing and banning things?" To that, I say look at Prohibition and see how well that went. Politicians have only ever operated under the idea that banning something will make it go away, and it always does the exact opposite. And if you're still worried, you can get involved with organizations that fight to support these things being available and regulated.

But by now, you may also be wondering "What if I can't get involved? What if I'm too young or I don't have the money, or my parents won't let me?"

Then just be kind.

Stop looking for enemies to blame. Don't martyr yourself for some nebulous cause or the idea that your suffering increasing means the rest of the suffering in the world will go down. Don't torture yourself by telling yourself that you didn't do enough.

Show compassion, show support, show love and genuine care toward people who need it, including yourself.

"But there's so many shitty people in this country and the world, why should I-" Stop thinking that way. This isn't about them, this is about you and how you can make a difference. There will probably always be shitheads and power-hungry morons, but that does not negate the fact that you can choose to be different. You can choose to be kind.

Kindness is a sword that you have to learn how to wield. Wield it responsibly and use it to help others. No matter how small or insignificant it may be, YOU DO MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

I say all this as a 29-year-old who spent most of his life feeling scared and miserable about so many current events, convincing myself I'm useless and selfish because I was worried about so much and I hated myself for all of it. And I've decide I'm not going to do that anymore.

During the last right-wing era, I managed to help build a whole community out of my love for Danganronpa. I created friendships, relationships, and there are people alive right now because I chose to do so. Because I chose to use that community for kindness. I want to keep building from there by going into streaming and reaching out to more people.

I won't lie to you and say that I'm not scared, because I am. But I'm also not going to let fear change who I am. I want us all to be better to ourselves and others, because that is how you defeat hate. It starts with you.

And if you're still concerned, let me share with you a quote from The Great Dictator, a movie made in 1940, when World War II wasn't even at its height yet:

To those who can hear me, I say - do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed - the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish…

Please take care of yourselves out there, everyone. We'll get through this, just as we always have.

[fortunapre]

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ♫ Lando Norris x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ♫ You Lando can’t stay away from each other, no matter how bad you should be running for the hills.

This is heavily inspired by the song “Run for the Hills” by Tate McRae

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 16+, use of Y/n, 3rd Person POV

♪ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 ♪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ♪ 𝐋𝐍𝟒 ♪ 𝟐.��𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

Did this idea also come from the possibility that Lando (or his car) might be featured in Tate’s new music video? yes. Yes, it did.

Never gonna ever be more than just something that’s fucking me up,

Should run for the hills, should run for the hills

Should be running for the hills the way you touch me.

This dilemma you’re in, is nothing new. Partners with benefits? Friends with benefits? Sure, but it's a bit more complicated than Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake. 

If anyone, meaning anyone, found out about your relationship (if you could even call it that), you’d both be fired. Ended. Then in your case, probably disowned. 

Across from the table, your secret sits a few seats away, chatting with another member of the team. Occasionally, you make eye contact and its never casual glances because his eyes hold a type of want that makes your skin burn. Each time your eyes meet, it’s like a secret signal. His hazel eyes hold promises that you swear could end wars. Or start them. Whatever he wanted, probably. 

No matter how much tension and stolen glances passed between you two, nothing could ever come of it tonight. He, Lando Norris, is a McLaren Formula One racing driver, and you are untouchable to him. Because you are the daughter of a rich man, a rich man who happens to be the leading sponsor of the McLaren Racing team. Your father’s business is so large, that if any reporter, coworker, friend, or teammate caught wind of an interpersonal relationship between you and Lando, he’d be ruined. Nothing stops the media from taking lies and twisting them for any audience that’ll listen. 

It’s been about six months of team dinners and other events since your family became a McLaren business partner. Six months where you’ve gotten way too close to Lando. Originally, you listened to your father’s warnings about dating anyone McLaren-related, but with Lando, you couldn’t help yourself.

The flirting became more than playful, and the careful touches became purposeful. Up until last night, the most you two had ever physically interacted is small brushes of your hands in crowded rooms, or that one time you swear he grazed your leg while sitting in a conference. Then last night, at the hotel your family and him were conveniently sharing, you let your needs win. You went to his room because you couldn’t sleep and wanted company at first, but then he invited you to his room's patio hot tub. 

Hotels, late nights, hands through my hair,

Long talks, red eyes, clothes everywhere…

You talked a bit, kissed a bit, kissed more, explored each other, but never did anything serious. Eventually, you both shared the realization that your family might come looking for you, so you stopped. However, ever since you left him last night, you’ve only been able to think about his hands and his lips. Little did you know, he was stuck on the same thing.

You both wanted it, and were willing to throw everything out of the window just to be in each other's reach. So, what was stopping you?

That was the same question that was running through both you and Lando’s mind tonight.

‘What’s stopping us?’ Your eyes tried to communicate to him, while tilting your head a bit. 

He let a smirk slip at first, but then immediately hid it, hoping no one caught him. If anyone followed his eyesight, they’d easily catch you two looking at each other with more fire than the hibachi stove next to you. 

You ate silently and talked to other business moguls around the table, trying your hardest to ignore how Lando was practically undressing you with his eyes. 

“So, Y/N, how’s life treating you?” A man who is two seats away from you changed the subject from baseball and directed it to you. He was wearing a classic pinstripe 3-piece suit that looked like it was going to pop open any second. He had an air that absolutely radiated money, or perhaps that was just the cologne that’s been burning your nose all night. 

You twitched your nose at the smell, then plastered a fake smile when looking at the man. “As good as it can get, I guess.” You answered him and took a look around the table, seeing how everybody has stopped to listen to your conversation. 

There were some people that you recognized, and some that you didn’t. (And one person that you wished you knew everything about.) Some people wore nice clothing, and others were dressed in casual or orange. 

“Good, good,” the man added while stabbing a piece of steak, swirling it in brown sauce on his plate. He shoveled the food into his mouth and continued nodding like he was still going to speak. He waved his fork in your direction, as he chewed. At first, he looked like he would never swallow the food. Finally, with what looked like a painful gulp, he cleared his throat and spoke again. “You, uh, getting into the family business anytime soon?”

“Sorry?” I asked, slightly confused with his wording. I was already in the family business, and I was sure he already knew that.

“Excuse me,” he began again. “I only meant to ask if you had put any thought into properly naming yourself an owner of your family’s company.” 

You were at an age where most business owners started inheriting the business, but your father was as healthy as ever, so there was no need to think about that. Maybe the man was looking for an opening to join your family’s company? 

“Oh, um, I’ve already prepared myself to inherit the business when the time comes, if that’s what you're referring to, but my place as a business representative is serving me well enough at the moment.”

The man nodded again, shoveled more meat into his mouth, nodded more, then gulped. “Ahhh, I see.” 

His words shouldn’t have meant anything rash, but his tone was so sour that I almost flinched. Anyone that wasn’t in the industry wouldn’t think twice about his wording, but when you’ve been surrounded by people like him all of your life, you catch the real meanings. In high class motorsport business, people rarely ever say what they actually mean, so you have to learn to understand their underlying cues. 

For example, someone could say “your business has been running pretty consistently recently,” when they really mean “I know you're going into debt nana nana boo boo.”

This man said “Ahhh… I see,” in a way that sounded very impolite.

“Sorry, but it almost sounded like you were doubting my daughter’s future.” Your father spoke up, cutting off the man who was speaking to you. Your father must have also caught on to the man’s tone. The man shook his head quickly and looked around the table, trying to explain. Everyone’s attention was still on our conversation. 

Even Lando’s. Especially Lando’s.

Lando looked like he wasn’t enjoying the man’s accusations, eyes almost predatory. 

You looked away from him, and back to the blubbering man. “No, no, no, no, no, sir. You must understand. I was only curious whether your daughter’s recent affairs had affected the re-”

“Affairs?” My father spoke louder. He didn’t look at me for clarification, he just looked angrier at the man. 

“Well, I mean, everybody’s noticed her and the McLaren racer becoming uncomfortable close for a business relationship.” The man looked both nervous, yet proud of his words. 

Your eyes widened. You were not expecting this man to know anything about this. You were mortified, safe to say. He had just outed you and Lando to a table full of people you were keeping your relationship the most secret from. 

“Get out.” Your dad stood from his chair quickly, asserting dominance, and showing his power. Two people from your father’s side ushered the man out quickly.

You were thankful for your father’s actions, but also terrified of how he might react to this new drama floating around the table currently.

Whispers clouded the table: “Y/N and Lando? No… maybe Oscar?” “You've seen them, right?” “No way!”

You looked at your father, as he sat back down. You wanted to explain, but he spoke first. 

“Honey, I know he was just trying to get under your skin. I never liked him anyways.” Your father spoke, trying to comfort you. “Plus, I know you are smart, and you and that Mclaren boy’s relationship is nothing but friendly business.”

Instead of fighting him, you let him believe that lie. “Yes. Yes, just friendly business, Father.”

He smiled with agreement and went back to the dinner. 

Your mind was still reeling with the events. Hopefully everyone else believes the same thing as your father. Hopefully no one knew the truth: that your's and Lando’s relationship was anything but professional or business-like.

The dinner had reached its end very soon after that altercation. Now, you and your family were pulling up to the hotel. As soon as you stepped out of the limo, you caught sight of a familiar body standing near you.

“Sorry.” you heard Lando speak up, facing your father. “I was wondering if I could speak to Y/n.” Lando asked very confidently, like he his request was nothing out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, your father looked at Lando with one of the most intimidating frowns you’ve ever seen. 

You touched your father’s arm lightly, signaling that he could trust you. So, your father let you go, reluctantly, but he trusted you. Maybe he shouldn’t. 

Lando waited until you were out of sight from your family, around a corridor, when he grabbed your hand and dragged you into a nearby room. You can’t say you didn’t expect this.

“Lando- what?” You tried to reason that your family could be waiting but Lando cut you off fast. 

His lips met yours with force and determination. You let whatever you were going to say die into a small moan against his mouth. 

Your mind was running again with scary thoughts of your father catching you two, or maybe even Lando’s boss. However, those thoughts instantly fizzled away when Lando slipped his arm around your waist, bringing your bodies close.

You were flush against each other, sharing body heat. Lando being so close was the exact remedy to any and all anxiety-inducing thoughts. You were this close before, sure, but this time felt so much more intimate.

It’s almost like the tension had built up from the dinner, and this small feeling of body-near-body made that dam break. Now tension and lust were washing over the two of you in a tidal wave. 

However strong your feelings for Lando were building, his are easily doubled.

Lando has been waiting to touch again ever since last night. The insatiable need to be near you, feel your body, hear those whispering noises you make when you kiss, was incredible. If it wasn’t irrational, he could have pulled you away during the dinner. Recently, that line between rational and irrational has been blurring more and more every time he’s near you.

He, of course, got the same warning as you about workplace relationships. Actually, he was basically threatened and scolded, because Zak couldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him when it comes to romantic relationships. Or keeping anything professional. 

He knows how worried you are about your business, and what bad publicity could do to it’s reputation. So, despite how bad he wants to ignore the warnings, he goes along with it to keep you safe.

In general, the entire relationship is just a god-awful idea. You should have stopped as soon as it started, but after last night…

Maybe the danger’s covered by the thrill,

‘Cause I know I should be running for the hills.

The way you touch me…

You tilted your head up slightly, deepening the kiss. He felt your submission and licked a stripe across your bottom lip.

Anytime you two have been intimate, kissing has been a key part. At first you were disappointed when Lando kept teasing your lips instead of your body, but the longer you kissed him, the more you never wanted to stop. Lando was a phenomenal kisser, and he knew that. 

The kiss moved from soft to hot and frenzied. You felt his tongue trace along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in and he quickly dominated your mouth. Anything Lando did with the kiss was insanely sexy, like he knew he could do no wrong.

You broke away, hoping to only catch your breath and go back to his lips, but he pulled away.

“Wait, Y/n. Listen, I’m sorry. I know how us being seen together could create a whole lot of shit…” He was silent for a bit. His words brought back the anxiety pounding in your mind.

You were worried he was rejecting you, but his next words were unexpected. 

“But, god, Y/N. I need you. I couldn’t fucking care less about your father’s rules or the media. I know we should stop. Trust me, I’ve tried mentally slapping myself anytime I think about you.” He started moving back to kiss you. “But no matter how hard I try to stay away, you keep pulling me back in.” He said the last part against your lips. 

All you could do was breathe harder. Of course you agreed with him, but no words were coming out of your mouth. You wanted to spill all of your feelings just as he did, but your thoughts were just fog at the moment. Perhaps, if you’d actually even said anything, it wouldn’t be comprehensive at all.

So instead you settled by pulling him closer by his tie and smiling. He must have gotten the hint because he dove back into the kiss. 

After you both finally express your feelings, nothing should come between your relationship anymore right? 

Except, like it was described at the beginning, this is much more complicated. 

Days later, you still weren’t dating. Actually, you didn’t know if you would ever date Lando. 

Either way, again and again, you still meet up in dark corridors and hotel rooms. 

“I need you, Y/N.” Lando told you after you tried to end it out of worry that you’d be caught.

“Lando…” However hard you tried to stop seeing him, your body fought against you. “Alright, but we need to be especially quiet. Please…”

Don’t tease me, and keep me around like it’s easy,

When you know deep down that it’s

Never gonna ever be us.

You were like magnets that could never be apart for too long. No, you were never going to be able to publicly date, and this secret partners-with-benefits ordeal was insanely risky. But, like a hobby that turns into an obsession, or a flame that turns into a bonfire: A little taste was never enough. 

I get obsessive with you.

All that I want is attention from you

Break into my life and break all my rules, it's true…

Fortunapre Taglist:

BTW IF YOU WANT TO BE INCLUDED, TELL ME!! :))

@zupercoolgirl

@iloveotters11

[spider-stark]

A BOY'S FIRST PEST

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker thinks Per Haskell's daughter is a (very lovely) pest

Warnings - fem!reader, traumatraumatrauma, the woes of troubled youth, light mentions of blood and death, these bitches trauma bonded yo, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED WE DIE LIKE MEN

Word Count - 2.0k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Everyone knows Kaz Brekker put his own money into fixing up the Slat. 

He hired men to patch the leaky roof (though it still drips during a heavy rain) and put proper insulation in the walls (which keeps the house warm enough, even if it does nothing to muffle the noise of its occupants). He had all the doors fitted with working knobs (but easily picked locks) and ensured the kitchen was capable of making a warm meal (even if seriously doubted any of the Dregs knew how to cook). 

And while he would never admit it aloud, Kaz was also the one who made sure there were always clean linens in every room (albeit the cheapest Ketterdam has to offer) and spare clothes in every closet (sizes ranging from wafer-thin to barrel-chested). In keeping, he also takes it upon himself to keep the bathing room stocked with a steady supply of toiletries (because if someone uses his toothbrush again, he’s going to kill everyone in this place and then himself). 

Because of Kaz Brekker, the Slat was more than just a safe place to hole up. It was a haven, the closest thing many of the Dregs had to a home. 

But it did, of course, have one enduring problem. 

The pests.

Or, namely, the one pest—one that he could never quite exterminate (though the spider privy to the inner-workings of Kaz Brekker’s mind might argue the merit of replacing ‘could never’ with ‘would never’). 

Per Haskell’s very annoying (and very lovely) daughter. 

In the midst of Ketterdam’s hottest season, you find yourself lying sprawled on your back atop the dark sheets, clad in the skimpiest nightclothes you own: a matching set of black silk shorts and flowy, thin-strapped camisole. The air is thick and near stifling in the attic-bedroom, but you don’t mind it. You prefer being hot to cold, if only because the heavy weight of winter clothes makes you feel trapped, eliciting the urge to crawl straight from your skin. 

When the door finally swings open, you eagerly push up onto your elbows. 

Kaz doesn’t so much as spare a glance in your direction. He’s got one hand on his cane, the other shoving the door shut behind him as he limps toward his desk, guided by the bright moonlight spilling in from the muggy window. 

Your shoulders slump, huffing out a breath. “Seriously? You’re not even gonna greet me?” 

With his back turned to you, Kaz removes his hat and places it on the desk. He doesn’t look at you. “You’re in my room.” 

“Yeah—so I was actually thinking something more along the lines of hello,” you drone, lips pursed. “Y’know, that thing normal people say when they see their friends.” 

“We’re not friends.” 

A hand flies to your chest, as if struck by his words. “Um, ouch? Rude. For your sake, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

Kaz tugs off his signature gloves and tosses them next to his hat. “I can always repeat it,” he says, so impassive you can’t tell if it’s a joke. 

Knowing Kaz, you’re pretty sure it’s not. 

You push up the rest of the way, scooting down to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. It’s so much nicer than yours—the sheets softer, the mattress plusher, the smell so familiar and warm. 

If it were up to you, you’d sleep in here every night. 

And most nights, that’s exactly what you do. 

“Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?” you ask. 

“Not usually, no.” Kaz faces you, his weight leaned back against the desk, his cane propped against it. “But we both know you’re a special case.” 

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Not at all.” 

Your bottom lip juts into a pout. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” 

Aside from the subtlest lift of his brows, Kaz’s expression remains vague and disinterested. “Regularly,” he deadpans, looking the image of austere melancholy. 

Your laugh comes so sudden it sounds like a snort. “I should’ve guessed,” you nod, forever unphased by Kaz’s forbidding attitude. 

This is the way things have always been between you. Ever since a surly twelve year old marched head-high into your father’s office to see if the Dregs needed a new grunt, oblivious to the girl beaming up at him from a lonely corner, weaving colorful scraps of thread into bracelets for the friends you’d yet to make. 

Kaz Brekker is dark and foreboding while you’re bright and bubbly; he’s rude and standoffish while you’re sweet and flirtatious. Some may liken your relationship to oil and water, but you prefer thinking of it as a carefully crafted balance—a yin and yang sort of thing. 

Kaz, on the other hand, would simply say you’re a thorn in his side. 

Fortunately for yourself, you’re not an easily offended thorn. 

The rickety floorboards creak as Kaz starts around the desk. His bare fingers trail along the varnished edge for support. His limp is always at its worst by this time of night, so you’re not surprised to see the flicker of relief that slips over him when he finally sinks into the chair. 

“Have you ever considered that maybe you work too hard?” Your voice teeters on the edge of concern, tracing idle shapes against the sheets with your nails. 

His answer is curt, and contradictory to the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “No.” 

Fumbling with his cufflinks—simple, unadorned things—Kaz rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Afterwards, he flips open the thick ledger laid before him, plucking up a pen and dipping it into an awaiting pot of ink. 

Kaz keeps track of the Dregs expenses in his head—a skill you’ve always found most impressive, since you can hardly do a simple equation without scratch paper. Still, he keeps the physical record for the sake of having something to point to in case someone’s ever stupid enough to claim Dirtyhands flubbed the numbers. 

As he works, boredom quickly becomes a chip on your shoulder. 

Your legs unfurl, bare feet stretching toward the floor as you slip off the edge of the bed. Every step is purposeful, traipsing toward him with a look that’s not so unlike a cat readying to toy with its favorite mouse. 

“Maybe we should take a holiday,” you suggest, your voice a soft trill. 

One part of you expects to be ignored, the other to be shot down. 

He lands somewhere in the middle. 

“And go where? His eyes remain focused on the ledger, dark brows drawn tight in concentration. You envision numbers flashing before him, adding and subtracting at the steady pass of the nib scratching against parchment. 

“I don’t know. Ravka, maybe?” 

“Ravka?” It’s like the word tastes sour on his tongue. “Why?” 

You stop just short of his desk, an answer instantly rapping at your mind. You quickly replace it with one that’s far less tragic. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Nikolai Lantsov with my own eyes,” you drawl. “Nina says he’s quite the looker, y’know.” 

Kaz sits up a little straighter, shoulders pinned with newfound tension. 

“Of course he is.” He seems to press the nib down harder, his disinterested tone bordering close to resentful. “He’s a prince—looking pretty is all they’re good for.” 

Your head tilts. “Well, he’s actually a king now, so…” 

There’s the briefest falter in the smooth motion of his jotting wrist. “I’m not taking you to Ravka so you can seduce the Lantsov bastard.” 

“And why not?” You reach for the tip of his cane, still propped against the desk, skimming a finger over the crow’s head. “You think I can’t do it?” 

The pen keeps on scratching, accented by the dull hum of the Slat’s perpetual motion—doors slamming, voices cackling. Your ego grows larger for every second Kaz stays silent, your satisfaction settling into a feline smirk. 

Simply, yet firmly, Kaz eventually maintains, “We’re not going to Ravka.” 

Your exhale is something over dramatic, laden with feigned disappointment as you huff, “Fine!” Kaz never looks up, continuing with the ledger. 

Abandoning the crow’s head, you swipe one of Kaz’s abandoned gloves off the desk, fiddling with the smooth leather. Still recovering from their civil war, you imagine Ravka isn’t an ideal travel spot right now, anyway. Not unless someone has a morbid desire to tour the sites where Saints met their often-grisly ends, that is… Besides, for all Nina’s praise of the Lantsov king, you’ve never actually had a thing for blondes. 

And yet— 

“I really would like to go someday.” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your other answer—tragic and rapping—crawls up your throat in a hoarse admission, “My mother was Ravkan.” 

That persistent scratching finally comes to a sudden halt. 

For the first time since he entered the room, Kaz looks up. There’s not a hint of pity in his eyes, though they gleam with solemn understanding. Your lips thin, pressing his glove tight to your chest. 

In the winter of your fourteen birthday, you snuck into your father’s office and stole a full bottle of kvas. Dressed in clothes too light for the frigid weather, you sped up the crooked stairs to Kaz’s attic-bedroom, pleading until he begrudgingly agreed to join you on the moonlit roof. For a boy who claimed such an aversion to you, he was always doing things you asked—even if he’d griped the whole time. You both gagged after the first sip of hard liquor. After an hour or so, the full bottle had dwindled to just a drop, your tongues seeming to move with more freedom. 

Neither of you had been prepared for the way the carbonated joy in your chests fizzled to something stagnant. 

I don’t like being alone, you told him, fiddling with the frayed strings tied around your wrist, the friendship bracelets no one ever wanted. If I’m alone, it means I’m thinking, and if I’m thinking, it means my mother won’t stop dying. 

You told him of the endless montage in your head. How at six years old, a walk along the Stave in your favorite winter coat ended with getting crushed beneath the weight of your mother’s last act of devotion, shielded by a body crumpled and crimson, shorn in the crossfire of unexpected gang violence. When you fell silent, Kaz drained the last drop of kvas and told you about a coffee shop near the Exchange. About a sickboat and a boy named Jordie, about a frosty harbor and an impossible swim that left him unable to bear the touch of another’s skin. 

When neither of you had any soul left to bear, Kaz chucked the bottle off the roof. You don’t remember hearing it shatter, and maybe it never did. Maybe it hit some hapless pigeon and fractured his skull. Maybe it ceased to exist the moment it went over the edge. The bottle didn’t matter. Not to you. Not when Kaz Brekker reached for your wrist, leather-clad fingers gently tugging the bracelets off your wrist. 

Don’t make a thing of this, he told you, stuffing them in his pocket. You’re still a pest.

But it was a thing. A strange, beautiful thing—and both of you knew it. 

“Fine.” Kaz’s voice—the rasp of stone on stone—drags you back to the present. He sits the pen down beside the ledger, a strand of black hair swaying with the subtle shake of his head. “We’ll go to Ravka. You’ll seduce some sorry prince and live happily ever after in a gaudy palace. I’ll make my fortune snagging the Lantsov Emerald and use it to hire a proper bookkeeper. Deal?” 

Your lips twitch, still hugging his glove to your chest. “King,” you correct him. 

His eyes roll, but a flicker of something warm betrays his affection. “Pest,” he calls you, though it doesn’t sound like much of an insult. 

“I imagine the Grand Palace has fine exterminators,” you muse. 

“Then I suppose your marriage will be short-lived.” 

“Will you save me, then?” Your heart leaps with the question, how it slips from your tongue before you can grasp it. 

Kaz hesitates. Then—remarkably—smiles. 

“Maybe.”

a/n - you know what they say. a bottle of kvas is never just a bottle of kvas, amirite

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

anyways, i was procrastinating an essay and thought "lets write something with a somewhat ambiguous ending!" and voila, a boy's first pest is the product. now everyone say: lainie, go work on your original writing and stop writing so much fan fiction! (but i'm already thinking of a kaz smut drabble so) anyways, comments and reblogs much appreciated, i cry with joy every time someone actively interacts with my work so THANK YOU

[allthisfornothing]

When I lived in America, my partner’s parents were Trump voters (they participated in handing him the 2016 election). They owned a dental lab and another small business, 2 houses in California, and multiple cars (those big killer trucks). Their whole (and I mean whole) argument in favor of Trump was that he was going to get them tax breaks on their business. They were also partly French and had found a way to "hack" into French social security in case they ever need a big operation or anything.

The policies didn’t matter at all. I guess she had menopause (and lived in Cali anyway), the abortion ban meant nothing. They didn’t actively hate anyone and in a way they were welcoming and generous people, always ready to land a hand to their friends, always getting me little things to make me feel welcome. But their politics were just. about them. The rest of the nation never factored in. They took the tax breaks.

It’s not even a matter of hating you and me, it’s just that if we needed to lose rights so that they could buy a boat, it wouldn’t ever register with them. They check the list of proposals and think "what benefits me personally right now" and that ends there. Community means nothing and it’s every man for himself.

[winryrockbellwannabe]

this friday i will enter my business management class, present my work which i somehow made all about autism, books and murder, and just mic drop and leave.

they'll know everything they need to know about me after this presentation

[greenfiend]

Most of Stranger Things is within Will’s head…

Including El, the Mind Flayer, Vecna, and more characters...

A lot of people aren't going to like this or agree but- if you are willing to read this at risk that you won't like it... try to keep an open mind and keep that curiosity door open.

(Above is a direct cut from Will to this line...)

I just want to begin by saying: I believe Will is the center of this show. I know many disagree, and place other characters at the center but let me explain to you why I believe the show is mainly about him.

The show begins with Will, as his disappearance is the catalyst for every single event to follow.

If you take a step back, and look at the show as a whole… making Will the center makes the most narrative sense. Without Will… there is no Stranger Things.

(GIF from @/kaypeace21's post here)

Lonnie hammering a nail into the wall while we cut to Mike poking a hole into a piece of paper visually tells a lot. Remember guys, this show is all about showing and not telling. Here they are showing us that the abuse Lonnie has inflicted unto Will caused the gate to open. The Upside Down exists due to Will's trauma. This is because the Upside Down is Will's mindscape.

DID and Internal Worlds

Will has experienced trauma far more severe than we are explicitly told. His trauma mainly leads back to his father. If you are prepared to read about the depths of said trauma, read this post. Not for the faint of heart though, my friends.

In Will's case, his trauma as led to a specific rare mental health condition called: Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition where you have two or more separate personalities that control your behavior at different times. When personalities switch, you’ll have gaps in your memory. The identities are usually caused by living through trauma. x

This means I believe that many of the characters we know and love were created from Will's mind. There are common alter roles within a DID system, and this show has been assigning different characters to some of these roles this whole time.

Now, this is NOT a new theory. The creator of this theory is kaypeace21 (one of the original Byler theorists!) Check out her posts here and here. While I agree with a lot of what she has to say, I do think she jumped the gun a bit with some things... specifically: the Persecutor Alter... more on that soon (not to fault her at all! As Vecna did not even exist prior to ST4).

Let's go back to the Upside Down being Will's mindscape:

Many individuals with dissociative identity disorder (DID) have an internal world in which they or their alters can manifest as themselves and interact. These internal worlds, which are also known as inner worlds or headspaces, can range in size and complexity. x

The Upside Down = Will's internal world. Those that inhabit that world or arose from said world are likely Will's alters. Yes, that includes El, the Mind Flayer, Demogorgons, etc. and of course: Vecna.

Here's another visual clue! A hole in the wall (an opened gate...) at the Byers' house that may have "always been [there]".

I know we are told the gate had opened prior to Nov 6, 1983, and that El had been the one to open that door/gate. But... that's because El herself is Will. She is a personality that had developed from him.

Now, lets talk common DID alter roles and how some of our favourite characters fill these roles to a tee.

El, the Gatekeeper Alter

I talk about the Willel theory here but I'll explain it briefly. El is "the gatekeeper", she is the one who Will lets "front" most of the time. Because remember guys... Will "likes to hide".

El was even compared to D’art (who came from Will…) see post here.

Also worth noting: Will's abduction in the shed is compared to... the first atomic bomb (used in an act of war) called "Little Boy". Post about that comparison here. What occurs during a nuclear reaction? Nuclear fission. Fission meaning: SPLITTING INTO TWO! Just as we see with the Phineus Gage comparison. That exact moment was when "El" emerged from the UD (Will's mindscape) into "reality". Leading to her becoming... a literal gatekeeper for Will.

She also helps solve Will's dilemma of to stay or to go, as Will himself stays (in the UD) and El goes.

So... what do I mean by “the gatekeeper"?

A gatekeeper is an alter that controls switching or access to front, access to an internal world or certain areas within it, or access to certain alters or memories. x

Now. Remember guys, we literally see her closing the gate and she (allegedly) was the first to open said gate. She also is heavily associated with repressed memories (the whole NINA plot...)

El has always been protecting Will from facing his trauma and facing himself. That is why we see her "save" him multiple times, why she takes on the role of Mike's romantic partner, why she takes the brunt of the bullies at Lenora, and why Will looks on like a helpless bystander... It is not due to resentment nor cruelty but fear. Will has been hiding behind her this whole time. He is not ready to face his memories, trauma, and the world. Not yet...

The Mind Flayer, the Demon Alter

In abusive groups, a young child can be severely traumatized in order for abusers to intentionally create an alter, and the alter can be tricked into believing they have been possessed by, and have become, a demon. X

This one is pretty self-explanatory, as we literal have a "possession" plot line involving Will. Though, instead of being "possessed", this alter of Will's was fronting.

Vecna, the Persecutor Alter

This is the one I'm most excited (and nervous) to talk about because it is SO fascinating and it matches his character perfectly.

So basically, Vecna is NOT Henry Creel. Vecna is an alter of Will's existing in his hive mind. Hear me out about this.

What I believe is that Henry Creel (or perhaps Edward Creel), was a real person that Will had heard about resulting in him creating an alter based on him. This is called "Factive Introject":

An alter with the form, personality, and possibly the psychological backstory e.g. memories of an outer-world person, whether a relative, a celebrity, or even an acquaintance. x

I believe that when we see "Henry" within both the Rainbow Room AND the Upside Down... this is Will's alter. (The Rainbow Room is likely another inner world of Will's...).

Are you still with me on this? Because lets get into the real evidence here.

What is a persecutor alter?

Persecutors are alters that purposefully harm the body, system, host, core, or other alters, sabotage the system’s goals or healing, or work to assist the system’s abuser(s). x

I know that sounds pretty scary, and some easily dismiss persecutor alters as "evil" BUT they are not. Viewing any alters this way is harmful. All alters' goals are to protect the system, even if they may do so in misguided ways.

x

Most persecutor alters start out as protector alters… which exactly what we see in the show! “Henry” is kind and protective towards El (who is another alter).

Then he decides to “kill” the other kids/alters (I say kill but they will still live on in the mind.)

Lets look at the exact terms used to describe the effects the persecutor alter has on the system...

X

Headaches…

Internal bullying…

Increased blank spells…

Interference with function…

Self-multilation…

Still have doubts on this? Let’s continue…

x

As I said, the persecutor alter is not "evil", it is a misguided protector. Its goal is to protect and often does this by taking on all the suffering experienced by the host and the alters...

But why? Why does the persecutor alter do such things if the goal is to protect?

X

To prevent the host and alters from disclosing their abuse. Think about this for a moment. What did Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Max all have in common (other than trauma)? They all were seeing the student counsellor Ms. Kelley and revealing to her aspects of their trauma and abuse.

Vecna, as the persecutor alter, was having NONE of that and thus… “killed” them to protect the system. As he feared the consequences for Will/the system as a whole.

This is VERY telling for Will, because he has long been afraid of opening up about his abuse, trauma, and everything…

We see this emerge in many forms:

The Byers phone frequently going unanswered throughout the show due to Will’s fear of opening up/communication.

Lonnie telling Jonathan to keep his mouth shut for his mom’s sake…

The rats in ST3. To “rat” = to snitch.

El’s bullying in ST4. Angela repeatedly refers to her as a “snitch” even though she never did snitch.

Papa/the Demogorgon/Neil, the Abuser Alter

x I’m going to go right out and say this: “Papa” represents Will's abuser. We see him abuse El, Henry and others in a manner similar to what Will had experienced with Lonnie.

That’s why he’s called “Papa”, as he is a representation of the abusive papa of Will: Lonnie Byers.

Like Henry Creel, he is also likely based off a real person... Richard Brenner perhaps?

"That's what I have to do to keep her close to me. I don't want her going out. Men only want her for one thing and then they hurt her. She doesn't need anyone else but me." In addition to intimidating her so that she would not seek contact with men and risk further abuse, [the abuser alter] was also possessively trying to strengthen her attachment to him. X

This perfectly applies to Brenner's relationship with El, Henry and the others. He wants to isolate them to "protect" them from further abuse. We see this clearly as Brenner prevents El from leaving NINA, at all costs.

Again, even the alter representing the abuser should not be seen as “evil”. It’s complicated. All alters are aspect of the host, they are not evil. There are good intentions behind the bad actions.

Other Alters…

So, I believe other characters are also alters of Will’s such as:

Max, Billy, Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, Eddie, Argyle… and more. This post is getting far too long for me to expand on that just yet though.

Mike is “The Key” but… he’s not the only key

Let’s not forget about Ms Kelley and her key necklace!

Although Mike’s love will be an incredibly important aspect to saving Hawkins and saving Will… Will also needs to open up, face his trauma, and reveal his truth. Keeping all of this bottled up inside is causing far more problems…

When it comes to treatment for DID, there are different methods. Some include:

Identifying and working through past trauma.

Managing sudden behavioral changes.

Merging separate identities into a single identity. x

The latter being a highly controversial one, and it may not be the right choice for everyone with DID.

Within the show however? We will likely see merging or fusion of some of the characters in the end (we likely already have too...)

We already have foreshadowing of fusion between Will and El:

Robin and Steve discussing the act of "combining" to "solve all [their] problems".

Dustin hugging El and Will only to have El visually disappear during their hug.

El ending the season standing alone in the Upside Down.

In DID there's also a concept called integration, which may not be as extreme as fusion.

The individual must then make the choice of to what extent they want to integrate their alters as part of their healing. Again, some degree of integration is inevitable. The individual must integrate traumatic materials in order to heal from PTSD. As well, enough integration between alters must occur to allow for easy communication, a lack of dissociative amnesia between parts, and a consistent sense of being grounded in the present and in the body. The individual must be able to take responsibility for all of the system's actions, and all alters in the system should work together towards the same goals. x

Basically, Will must become insightful of his condition and see all aspects of himself (all alters) as helpful (even if they may be misguided). It will NOT help him to simply "kill" any alters, that will not work. He must accept himself for who he is. He must learn to love all aspects of himself.

I won’t touch on it here, but I will just mention that I’m very confident the show will end with another realm/internal world that’s beautiful and full of life. Implying that Will has finally found some peace of mind. I talk about it in this post.

[numinously-yours]

Choose a bird: How to be the best version of YOU

Thank you to those of you who messaged. I appreciate both your ideas AND your patience. I really thought things were settled down when I asked for your thoughts and then they ramped right back up. But here I am!

Choose a bird from above for a free reading. Today's topic: how to be the best version of yourself. I asked the cards three questions:

What does the best version of yourself look like (to you)?

What steps can you take on your journey to your best self?

How can you avoid getting caught up in others' perspectives?

Your choices are below! Like, reply, or reblog if it resonates, and tag your group if you feel inclined :)

Group 1: Aibo Tarot

What does the best version of you look like? Three of Wands

The best version of you is someone confident standing on their own. You may be dependent on other people for your happiness but you want so badly to be happy on your own. There is a fear that if you start your own journey that you won’t find other/more people that make you feel comfortable and safe.  I have a sense that the people you surround yourself with are simply fine, but they also don’t make you feel empowered to do your own thing or speak your differences. There is a lot of keeping the peace because that’s easier than being alone. It doesn’t mean these people are bad friends or negative influences necessarily, but you know there could be something more. You are longing to find that. You are longing to find yourself, too.

What steps can you take in the process? The Tower & The King of Pentacles

It’s time to create your own tower moment. It may sound counterintuitive since the Tower represents upheaval and chaos. Typically, it’s not something someone is excited to bring upon themselves. But, I think in your case, it’s going to be more beneficial than detrimental. You have to burn some bridges. You have to have some falling outs. Yes, moving forward from your comfort zone is going to feel weird as hell. It’s going to feel scary. You may be worried that ending friendships or setting boundaries was a bad idea, but it is all for the sake of becoming the best version of you. Trust me.  The reversed King in particular is asking you to “give yourself permission to break free and do something different.” Just as a phoenix, your tower will rise again from the ashes even stronger than before.

How can you avoid getting caught up in other’s perceptions? Moonlight, Four of Cups, The Magician

The visual for this pull is below because it was kind of a fun way for the cards to drop 😊 I asked this question and the first card fell: Moonlight in reverse. This moonlight card is specific to this deck, so it doesn’t necessarily have the same meaning as The Moon does in tarot. The first phrase that came to me when I was looking at the card was “turn that frown upside down”. Because the card doesn’t have a traditional meaning, I wanted to shuffle one more time for cards that DO have trad. meanings. These are the two that came out – in this order! THE FROWN IS TURNED UPSIDE DOWN! What does this mean in execution, though?

Recognize the power you have in creating your own life and stop dimming your light. I know that it takes work to feel confident in spaces where you feel small but it is worth the practice! The more you execute your power, say yes to yourself, and make yourself heard the easier it will get. Not only easier in doing it but easier in believing it, too.

Group 2: Delos Tarot

What does the best version of you look like? Two of Cups

For you, I think to feel like the best version of yourself, you are wanting to be in a space where you can create and maintain meaningful relationships. It’s not that you lack relationships, but they feel a little surface level or superficial. You want to feel that SOMETHING, and you want to bring that something to others. You may have your own personal goals when it comes to relationships – wanting a work bestie, wanting a romantic relationship, wanting a strong relationship with a sibling, etc. But overall, the ability to form these relationships as a whole is really what you long for.

What steps can you take in the process? The Devil reversed

My first thought “quit thinking you’re the devil!” lol When in relationships, you focus on your negative qualities. You are always thinking of how you can bring more to the table rather than focusing on what you already DO bring to the table. You tend to psych yourself out when you get close to forming the bond that you crave. An actionable step you should look into taking is working on your shadow self. There are a lot of websites with lists of shadow work questions that get to the root of these types of fears. Shadow work makes you think of things in a different perspective. It could help you determine WHY you shut yourself off at certain times. It helps identify triggers in relationships so you can sense them when they appear and know how to deal with them. Then, I know this is easier said than done, but you gotta push through the discomfort, too. Perhaps your relationships fade when you’re right on the brink of vulnerability. Instead of ebbing backward, take that leap into the unknown. It’s the only way you’re going to get passed that piece.

How can you avoid getting caught up in other’s perceptions? King of Swords rev. and Strength

I know it’s way easier to say online but finding the courage to just be yourself is honestly going to be the best thing you can do for yourself. I feel that you may preemptively get caught in what you THINK others’ perceptions are of you before you know their true perceptions. I know you KNOW what your inner truth is, but you deserve to understand WHY it’s your truth. You have a lot to contribute to relationships and having this better relationship with yourself can also contribute to gaining courage to just be yourself. Doing that shadow work can be really good for you in that growth, too Each time you seem caught up in someone else’s perception, ask yourself why you’re caught up in it. Is it actually an accurate depiction of who you are? Are you trying to protect yourself before anything scary actually happens? Find the strength to be rational because it’s gonna change your mind set a LOT. 

Group 3: Everyday Tarot

What does the best version of you look like? Ace of Swords

The best version of yourself, group 3, is someone who is continually growing. You want to be open to expansion, ideas, spontaneity, and adventure. You may feel a little stuck right now. I definitely think you have the excitement and adrenaline inside you, and you’re ready to let it out. You’re not longing for motivation or inspiration, you’re longing for an outlet for the motivation and inspiration already inside of you.  You may wonder, “how do I explore new opportunities if I don’t know where to start?” “How can I continue growing when people and places around me aren’t growing?” Let’s find out!

What steps can you take in the process? The Devil reversed & The Queen of Pentacles

Let go of unhealthy attachments and nurture yourself if/when you feel guilty for doing so. Part of what keeps you feeling a bit stuck is not wanting to leave anyone behind. You care a lot about a lot of people and want them to experience this growth with you. They’re not quite ready though. YOU being ready doesn’t make you better than them, it just means you’re in a different place. Accepting the unknown that lies ahead is also important for you, group 3. No matter how ready you are, moving forward (likely on a solo journey) is scary! It’s like jumping off the high dive. You just…gotta do it. Lastly, as you move forward onto fun adventures, remember to keep some sense of practicality – this means being aware of what might be TOO much right now, but also knowing that you can do hard things.  

How can you avoid getting caught up in other’s perceptions? King of Wands reversed

Stop setting unrealistic expectations for yourself! I think this really speaks from that last bit of steps you can take. Being practical also means believing in yourself and your amazingness. I feel this extends to knowing you’re capable of being in these people’s lives while still going out and expanding your boundaries. It doesn’t have to be either/or, it can be both. The perceptions you’re caught up in currently might be self-created. People around you might not have even considered the thoughts you think they have. Stop yourself in your tracks if you find you’re going down a road of worry. These people are proud of you and WANT you to succeed. They also think it’s pretty neat that they’re friend is so cool 😉<3

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

you seem nice and are being polite so i am going to attempt to return the same energy: there is just no universe in which i think it is the case that the language i used, talking explicitly about myself, on my blog, qualifies as harm that i need to be morally responsible for because someone else saw it and made a series of unwarranted assumptions about me. none whatsoever. this is a principle that i hold deeply, and one i extend to you as well and to anyone reading this and to the person i blocked: everyone on earth is allowed to talk about themselves however they see fit in their own spaces. i believe we all deserve that. i believe in being mindful to some degree when we are speaking in the semi-public space that is a personal blog on the internet, and i am in fact generally quite deliberate about using first-person language, as i did in that post, partly because i know that sloppy generalizations can cause people to take posts personally in ways that can be pretty painful, and although frankly i also think many people could stand to get better at keeping it chill when a 3-line post from someone they don’t know who was probably not expecting it to go viral doesn’t encompass their personal situation, i do generally strive to avoid posting in a manner that might cause such friction. but that’s not what this was. i said “here’s what i’m doing,” and someone said, in effect, “fuck you for telling me what to do.” i simply cannot be held responsible in any way for someone wildly distorting the reality of what i said, and i am under no obligation to make any kind of space for someone whose only interaction with me literally ever is to be rude, obnoxious, and annoying directly at me. because that’s what happened here, to be clear: yelling at me about something i quite literally did not say while seeming to make a million unwarranted assumptions about me (a stranger) is a rude thing to do. it is bad behavior in no way justified by the trauma of seeing a personal post about how a stranger on the internet is thinking about the election. absolutely no one is obligated to put up with that shit. if someone wants to take the high road on the matter, that’s very nice. but that’s a favor. it’s not a requirement. if you’re going to be a dick at people - literally at me, like, if they had screenshotted my post to yell at me on their own blog not in a million years would i have responded even if somehow i found out because they would not be doing it literally to my virtual face - you have forfeited the right to expect anyone to respond to you without matching your energy.

it is so, so, so obnoxious to see a stranger talking about themselves and decide it’s appropriate behavior to get in their face and yell at them that they’re doing emotions wrong. i don’t see this as an understandable overreaction after the thousandth paper cut. i just don’t. i see it as someone behaving without any consideration for the fact that other people have interiority. and i don’t think there’s ever a situation in which we are required to greet that particular form of myopic entitlement with gentleness. there are times where that kind of thing may be at some point met with forgiveness, for, like, a person in my actual life and community, although i’d like to state for the record that my friends are almost exclusively people carrying a fuckload of shit and literally not one of them has ever engaged in this kind of behavior, because it’s actually really easy to not be an asshole on the internet. but i just can’t get behind the idea that any of us owe shit to someone whose literal only interaction with us is ever was making up a guy in their head to get mad at and being a dick to us. i don’t believe it is prosocial or good for everyone to endorse the norm that if someone takes the time to behave badly towards you, a stranger whom they don’t know from adam, the only correct thing to do is shrug it off or accept that actually it’s reasonable of them to have gotten mad at you for something you didn’t do. i believe that thinking that way does nobody any favors. i think it’s bad for everyone.

my other grounding technique is remembering that the earliest abolitionists & the earliest suffragists had no proof that the world would ever make possible what they fought for and indeed many of them did not live to see it come to pass. and yet they did not succumb to despair so it would be disrespectful to their memory to let it overtake me

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

feel like dandadan is a setting weird enough that weird relationship dynamics just kinda fit the vibe without much further effort.

jiji seems like the type of guy who would convince okarun to do some gay experimenting with him and all the while be genuinely convinced its just a "bro thing"

like somehow cooks up some shit like "oh, since we're both into momo, we could practice being boyfriends on each other!" through a string of logic that Only Makes Sense To Him

okarun deep down knows it Is Gay but also ends up liking it enough that he does mental gymnastics to convince himself that this somehow constitutes normal close friend behavior (and also keeps telling himself "i just don't want to hurt jiji's feelings, that's all!!!")

momo herself is initially unaware of it (because okarun would die of embarrassment if he told her about it, and jiji wants her to be "surprised" by how much he "secretly practiced")

but when she finds out, she immediately loses her shit out of jealousy

which in turn kind of forces them to explain themselves, which then means explaining *why* they did it.

at which point momo is so fucking baffled and flustered that without really thinking she blurts out something like "okarun!!! you don't need to practice! if you wanna be my boyfriend just ask!!!"

which leads to okarun busting out the even More awkward "um. I-I would love to, really, but, um, I feel like you should know... all of this also kind of... made me realize i really really like Jiji too..."

and Momo's all huffily like "wtf then pick somebody!!!" (me. you have to pick me please pick me please please please-)

and Jiji is like "hear me out: what if we just both date him?"

Momo, more confused and scandalized than ever, but genuinely curious: "y. you can DO that????"

Okarun, somehow shocked to hear this despite having literally made out with Jiji already: "YOU LIKE ME BACK?!"

and so this situation ends up upgraded to a polycule

and then aira hears about this and is silent for all of about ten seconds before just straight up going "well in that case, i'm takakura-kun's girlfriend too!!!"

which has Momo soooo tilted like "Y-YOU CAN'T JUST BARGE INTO IT LIKE THAT!"

(Aira Does In Fact "just barge into it like that" once the ensuing argument somehow ends in her and Momo also confessing to each other in the heat of the moment)

[islandtarochips]

Farmer!Ghost x Female!Reader

Arhtur's Note: I apologize for taking so long to post this everyone. It takes a while for me to find a good story to it and I was busy helping out with my family and work. So I hope this is worth the wait. Let me know if I miss anything or which part that doesn't make sense and I'll re-edit quickly! Thank you so much for your patience! And also, I have added the names of you guys having two friends. Just in case you get mixed if you thought they were part of the COD universe. Thank you! And enjoy!

Words: 3376

Halloween is tonight and everyone in town is busy preparing for this fun event. The mayor in town had already planned on making the best Halloween Festival YET!

There will be some foods, drinks, games, fun rides-

EVERYTHING that is on the list. And you were quite excited!

You even volunteered to help out with the food vendor. Along with your friends as well.

You were in charge of the food as you made sure that the orders will be delivered on that exact date in time. And you also offered your own cooking and baking for the little kids. The leaders of the committees agreed to it and will send someone to deliver EVERYTHING that you needed for the food preparation.

Which you don’t mind. So you and your friends are at the big hall, in the kitchen, busy cooking.

“This is SO exciting!” One of your friends said in a chirpy tone while putting the pans of cupcakes and a pan of cake into the oven. “This will be the BEST festival yet!”

The other friend of yours nodded as she agreed. “Yeah! And hopefully it’ll be better than LAST year.”

You just smiled at your two friends, who are named Rebecca and Sally, talking about the festival. You started to cook some nice meals for the special events before giving a taste test.

“Hey, what are you gonna wear for Halloween? I’m going to be that sexy vampire!”

“Mine is just being a witch. I’m also bringing that big cauldron for apple bobbing!”

You gave them a smile before hearing them asking you what you’re going to wear. You shook your head as you went back to cooking. “I don’t have anything to wear for the festival. Just casual clothes.”

“WHAT?!?” The two friends of yours had made that horror expression as if they received the news of someone DYING.

Rebecca had started to walk over to you as she stood next to you. “What do you mean you have nothing to wear for the festival? Come on! It’ll be so cool and cute of you wearing SOMETHING!”

You just shrugged at them. “I wanted to. Really. But to tell you the truth. I didn’t have time to look for one. I was SO busy getting everything ready before tonight. So for this year only, I’m not gonna wear anything.”

The two best friends looked at each other before looking back at you with an unsatisfying look.

Sally had walked up towards you before gently taking your cooking ware away from your hands. Which you looked at her with a confusing look.

“Girl! You can’t just leave us hanging with the costume! We’ll help you to get one!”

The other one nodded with agreement as she smiled at you. “Yeah! You can worry about the food while the two of us find you a GOOD looking outfit!”

You shook your head as a small smile appeared on your lips. “No no no. It’s okay. I’ll just pass this year. Promise. I know how much you girls wanted all of us three dressing up! But please understand that I’ve been busy preparing all of this.”

The two girls pouted but sigh in defeat when you bring up your reason.

Rebecca shrugged a bit. “Fine. But NEXT year, if you’re busy then let us know. We can help you pick your outfit!”

Sally nodded in agreement. “Yes! Promise us that!”

You just giggled but agreed with the girls. “Promise!”

While the three of you continued cooking and baking, you heard a knock from the entrance in the front door.

“Special delivery!” A heavy Scottish accent called out through the door.

You walked over to open it and saw it was a young man. He seems to look like in his late 20s and has a mohawk on his head. Wait, a mohawk?

“Good day to ye, lass! Here to drop off these boxes of flour, butter, some seasoning and some fruits? Are you the one who orderit?” He asked with a genuine smile as you smiled back at him.

You nodded in response before stepping aside. “Yes! You can go ahead, bring it in and head to the back. The kitchen is right in there.”

He nodded before walking in. And then you saw someone else followed behind him with another box in hand. Another young man who has a cap on his head with a UK flag on it. He also looks like in his late 20s. The man gave his charming smile to you as he nodded in greetings.

“Ma’am.”

You smiled and nodded back before watching him following the man who was in front.

And then to your surprise, you saw another man. A man who is taller than the first two that came in. A brown short hair, with brown eyes and is also wearing a black mask covering his mouth and nose. He looked down on you, seeing you with quite a surprising look.

“Madame.” His deep British accent had softly gone through your ears. As you weren’t expecting to hear that kind of tone.

You slowly nodded at him and watched him pass by as he followed the other two into the kitchen. You quickly follow as well before peeking inside to see your two best friends are talking with the two boys. It seems like that man with a mohawk was flirting with Sally while the man in the cap was just talking with Rebecca.

You just smiled a bit to see them getting along so quickly. So you stepped inside as you saw the tall man putting the boxes down on the floor. You were staring at him for a bit as you took a good look at him.

He stood up and looked at his buddies as he started to tell them to stop flirting.

You smiled a bit to see the two boys were just being embarrassed of how that dark brown hair man was calling them off. Before you noticed him looking in your way.

“Sorry ‘bout those two. They can be VERY addicted to seeing pretty ladies. Mostly my very dumb friend named Johnny over there.” He said as he pointed at the guy with a mohawk behind him.

You giggled to hear the mohawk man calling out to him.

“OI! I am NOT dumb!”

“You are. With your LAME pick up line.”

“Like you can do any better, Si?”

“I can do 10 times BETTER than your corny ass line.”

You couldn’t help but giggle so much and even your two friends also started giggling and laughing with you. While the man with the cap just sighs and shakes his head before walking over to stop the two.

“Hey hey hey! Not in front of the ladies. That’s a very bad first impression AND bad luck, you know?” He turned to face you and your friends as he started to rub behind his head. “Apologies ladies, we’ll be heading out now.”

Rebecca looked saddened all of a sudden when he said that. “Aaaaw…already?”

He smiled a bit at her and nodded. “Yeah. We still got more deliveries to take care of.”

The two girls looked sad to hear that they’re going to leave. Until that man named Johnny had an idea.

“Hey! I know that we just met. But the boys and I are free tonight. Do you want to join us?”

You glanced to see the girls were looking excited as you smiled a bit. So you looked at him and shook your head. “Sorry. I’m a bit busy tonight since I’ll be serving the food.” Then you started to walk towards your girlfriends as you placed both of your arms around their shoulders each. “Buuuuuuuut my friends are available tonight. Right girls?”

The two ladies looked at you in shock as you had lost your MIND.

“Uuuh…WHAT are you doing?” Sally whispers to you.

“Yeah, don’t you need our help? There will be LOTS of people coming to your booth.” Rebecca also whispered to you as she agreed with her friend.

Which she is not wrong. Yes, there will be BUNCH of people coming over for food but you handle this before. You're sure that you’re okay with this and it is fine for your two friends to have some fun!

So you started to whisper to them back. “Don’t worry! I got this! You two can go ahead and CHARM your way with these boys while I’ll handle the booth.” You gave them a reassuring smile and a wink. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

The two girls looked at each other again but with more worried looks on their faces. As they could see your warm smile, telling them that it’s alright, they finally gave in and turned to look at the boys.

“Yeah! We’re available!” Sally said as she smiled at Johnny.

The mohawk man smiled at her with glee. “Awesome! We’ll see you tonight at…?”

You raised your hand a bit. “Our booth will be next to the Ferris Wheel! You’ll meet them there!”

The man with the cap nodded and smiled at them. “Alright then, we’ll be there and…are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked you as you can see that he’s feeling a bit bad.

You nodded as you gave him a thumbs up. “Sure I’m sure! Someone HAS to take care of the food booth!”

He smiled a bit as he nodded and tipped his cap. “Alright then and also, I apologize for not introducing ourselves. I’m Kyle. Kyle Garrick. But most of them call me Gaz.” Then he put his arm around his friend’s shoulders before patting his chest. “This is John MacTavish.”

He nodded at you and the girls. “You can call me, Soap.”

Sally snickered when she heard that name. “Soap? Why do they call you that?”

“Aye, cause I cleaned up nicely.” He said with a wink.

“Not with your room you’re not.” The tall man with the mask had said while rolling his eyes.

“OI! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS CRITICIZE ME WHENEVER I TRY TO TALK TO A LASS?!?”

“Just trying to save her from going out with a dumb Scots like you.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING DUMB?!?”

Everyone started to laugh before settling down as the girls introduced themselves to them before exchanging phone numbers with the two boys. But your eyes had caught onto the tall man who was just looking at the four.

You slowly crossed your arms while rocking back and forth a little on your feet. Before looking at him. “So um…what’s YOUR name?”

He glanced down at you. Looking at you for a good minute before he looked back at his friends and yours. “Simon. Simon Riley.”

“Are you also dressing up for tonight?”

He shook his head. “Not into these Halloween things. Just want to walk around the festival. So I don’t think I’ll be going with those guys. Might make me a 5th wheel with them.” You giggled at that last response. “Ah. I see. Well, if you want. You can hang out with me at the food booth if you’re not going with them. Buuuuut I might be busy.”

He shrugged a bit as he looked at you with his brown eyes. “I don’t mind.”

You couldn’t help but find his eyes a bit intimidating but yet quite kind at the same time.

So they all agreed that they’ll meet at the food booth.

—-----------------------------------------------

Tonight is the night of Halloween. And every child in town is running around, taking a look at these fun events. Along with their friends and families.

While you and the girls on the other hand were REALLY busy selling those goodies that you guys have made. Everyone really enjoys your cooking and baking goods. Not a single person has been missed with their orders.

After a few while, the crowds had started to die down a bit. Which you three had FINALLY taken a break for a while.

“Damn…It almost feels like you have put a magic charm on these foods! I mean, did you SEE how many people just came?” Rebecca, who is dressed as a Witch, said with an exhaustion tone in her voice as she leaned back against the counter.

“I KNOW! Fuck man…what is your secret recipe though?” Sally, who is dressed as a Vampire, asked as she looked at you. “The whole TOWN can’t stop buying these!”

You smiled tiredly as you giggled lightly from your friend's compliment. “Well, I do want the people to ENJOY it. And it’s no secret at all! Just a bit of love and viola!”

The two girls just look at each other with an unamused look and look back at you while crossing their arms.

“Bullshits.” They said in unison before laughing with you.

Then you noticed the three boys that you’ve met earlier this morning had walked over.

“Good evening ladies. Don’t you look extravagant.” Kyle, who is dressed up as a wizard, said with a smile to see the three of you. Before he looked over to Rebecca seeing that she’s a Witch. “Ah. I see that you’re ALSO a magical person here.”

Rebecca just giggled. “Indeed I am, my pretty! But we ALL know that a Witch has the powerful potential of cursing anyone in her path!” Saying in her witch voice as she cackled with laughter.

The two just laughed at this.

Soap, who dressed up as a werewolf, then just smirked to see Sally in her Vampire costume. “Awooo~ A vampire is ya?~ Micht wanna be careful with me, lass. Ye know how vampire an werewolf are~”

Sally smirked back at this Scottish werewolf man before leaning in as she poke his chest. “Oh I know~ And I’ll take the risk~”

You rolled your eyes as you saw the two flirting before seeing Simon looking at you. You smiled at him before waving at him softly seeing him just wearing his black hoodie and blue jeans with shoes on.

He waved back a bit before seeing Gaz was nudging his arm. He just rolled his eyes seeing his smirk before walking up to you. He took a look around your booth before leaning on the counter. “Not too shabby. How’s the business going?”

You just smiled while still prepping the food and desserts into the display case. “It went VERY well. And I see you’re not wearing anything?”

“Like I said, not into these Halloween things.”

Before you two continued to talk, you felt a hand on your shoulder as you saw it was Rebecca.

“Okay! We’re gonna go! Now, are you SURE you can handle this? We can still stay.”

You nodded at her before touching her hand. “I’ll be okay. Besides, I have my extra helper over here!” You pointed at Simon.

Your friend saw him nodding at her as she smiled a bit before calling out to him. “Try to help her out will ya?”

Simon just nodded as a response and gave a thumbs up.

Soon the four already walked away. Leaving only you and Simon alone. The two of you don't talk much except just making and selling your food. 

Simon was busy mixing the batter before taking a glance at you. You were just giving out some candies to the trick-or-treaters and handing them a bag of goodies. Seeing your sweet smile had really caught his eyes for some reason.

Why does he feel that towards you? You two just met and he also doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. He looked back at what he was doing before you finished giving the kids their treats.

You had started to bring out another tray of desserts before looking at Simon. “Hey, you wanna taste this?”

The tall man looked at your direction, seeing you showing the cupcake in your hand. He stopped what he was doing and started to walk over to you. You watched him take it as he pulled his mask down a bit before he took a bite. You were curious about why he was wearing that mask but judging by how quiet he was. You know that he doesn’t want to talk about it which you understand.

“So? How was it?” You asked him with a warm smile feeling excited of how he’ll respond to your baking expertise. But you saw him paused for a moment and he just withdrew the cupcake away from his lips as he stared at it for a bit. “Simon?”

He kept staring at the cupcake for a while as if something had made him feel...familiarize with this dessert. Soon he snapped out when you gently touched his arm. You gave him a worried look as he cleared his throat and pulled his mask back up. “Sorry, your cupcake is delicious. I bet the REST of your desserts are wonderful as well.”

You slowly nodded as you appreciated his words but you still felt a bit concerned for him. “Thank you…but are you alright, Simon?”

The British man was silenced as he kept staring at the cupcake before putting it down. “I’m alright. Just…remembered something.”

“Oh? What is it that you remembered?”

Simon was just looking at you with a loud silence between the both of you. The sound of people chattering and the children’s laughter had clouded out of your hearings. You know something that he wanted to share but is too afraid to even speak. So you just slowly walked over and stood in front of this man.

“Simon?”

“......I don’t want to bore you. And also, it’s just a burden that I have to carry.”

“Do you…wish to talk about it?”

“...No.”

You just gave him a small reassuring smile before taking his cupcake and gave it to him. “Then we don’t have to talk about it. Since I know we just met but I am here to listen.”

Simon had seen you handing his cupcake as he accepted and just stared at it. He sighed before starting to speak. “Your cooking…reminded me of someone that I know so close.”

You just nodded to let him continue.

“She had always made me great treats and it was…delicious.” He said softly before pulling his mask down again and took another bite from the cupcake. He proceeds on talking with you. “That’s all I could tell you. The rest…it’s for me to bear.”

You understood what he was saying and that last sentence had made you feel even MORE sympathy for him. “Of course, I understand. But…it will be better for you to let something out of your chest.” Then you place your hand on his back as you could see him looking at you with his brown eyes.

Damn. You can’t even help but to feel mesmerized by his brown eyes. You cleared your throat as you glanced away. “IF you’re ready to talk about it I mean.”

The two of you were just standing there in silence before you saw Simon was just staring at the cupcake. You then had an idea as you grabbed another cupcake for yourself.

“Hey, I’ll make you a deal. It’s not that kind of deal of you TALKING your problems to me.”

You saw that you caught his attention when he looked at you again.

“And that is what?”

“I can make you any kind of treats or food that someone of yours can make. IF you helped me to make some great buffet for thanksgiving next month.”

Simon just blinked at you when he listened to your offer. He started to chuckle deeply. “Oh love, I don’t know if your cooking skills are HALF as good as someone that I know of.”

You huffed as you crossed your arms. You’re going to make him EAT those words. “I can! And I will! Would you accept these deals?” You started to extend your hands towards him to shake on.

He looked at your hand and then looked at your eyes. He could see that you’re determined to make this for him. He sighed and reached his hand out and shook on yours. “Deal.”

You smiled as you nodded at him. “Alright then! Shall we begin discussing the food that you require?”

THE END

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[hwamphwamp]

~11:39pm

warning(s): mentions of being high and the side effects of being high, a suggestive line or two if you squint

In hindsight, expecting Wooyoung to follow instructions was your first mistake.

At least that’s what Hongjoong said when you called him, desperate for advice.

“Just be there for him until he comes down from the high,” Hongjoong said, his voice muffled by the sounds of the party he’d stepped out of to take your call. You waited, hoping he’d have more to offer than just that.

“Joong, he thought he was sinking into the mattress for half an hour, and now he’s freaking out because he has a case of cottonmouth that’s— in his words—‘so extreme he can’t breathe.’ What do I do?”

“Give him a gallon of water and some cuddles or something. He’ll be knocked out in no time,” he replied, unfiltered as always. “Listen, my set’s starting soon, so I have to go. If he gets worse, take him to the hospital or something. He’s got good insurance.”

With that, the call ended, leaving you just as helpless as before. You knew that later on, when both of you were much less high, you’d realize everything had been perfectly fine. Sure, Wooyoung had taken twenty milligrams for his first high instead of the five he’d been told to take, which was a bit much, but he’d be okay by morning. Right now though, in your current state of mild panic, it felt like him experiencing one more side effect would send you spiraling.

“Baby?”

You turned towards the balcony door to see Wooyoung peeking out, a small frown on his face as he shuffled over to you.

“What happened to our cuddle session?” he asked, throwing his arms around you and lifting you just enough to carry you back inside. “I waited for an hour, and you weren’t back. I was starting to get worried.”

“First of all, it’s only been ten minutes at most,” you corrected, wriggling free from his arms once you reached your bedroom. “Second, when I tried to cuddle you, you thought our combined weights would make us sink into the mattress faster.”

“Oh… Wait, I’m the one who stopped the cuddle session? That doesn’t even sound right, so I kinda have to assume you’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

You caught yourself, deciding there was no use. Wooyoung was too stubborn while sober to admit he’d ever stop any affection with you—better yet while high and you were picking and choosing your battles tonight.

“Yeah, you’re right. That does sound crazy, Woo,” you replied, watching him as he made his way over to your vanity.

“By the way,” he started, motioning for you to join him, “I drank the rest of the bottled water in your stash under the bed. But more importantly, I was looking at your makeup.”

“That water was supposed to last me until next week—”

“Again, more importantly, I was looking at your makeup and thought it would be fun if you did my makeup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again, taken aback by his request. It wasn’t surprising he wanted to look pretty no matter his state of mind, but still, it was random considering the last thing he’d said before you went outside to call his best friend was how he didn’t feel real and thought the person running his “simulation” hated him.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes.”

“At almost midnight?”

“Also yes.”

“Is it because you want your makeup done or because you want to hold me without feeling like you’re sinking into the abyss?”

“Both.”

You sighed, pulling your desk chair over to the vanity and motioning for him to sit down. Even though you were ready to sleep, it was hard to resist the way he looked up at you, his bloodshot eyes still brimming with affection. Wooyoung had this way of looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you could never stay annoyed when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, so what look are we—”

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he interrupted, patting his lap as he waited for you to take your usual spot.

“It’d be easier to reach the makeup if I just stand up, Woo. Besides—”

But before you could finish, Wooyoung pulled you down, guiding you to straddle him. His goofy smile grew wider as you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t act like you don’t like being on top of me,” he teased, his hands resting in your hips.

You chuckled, playfully smacking his arm before grabbing a foundation brush. “Behave. Now hold still.”

As you started dabbing foundation onto his face, Wooyoung’s hands moved up to your waist, tracing light, lazy circles that made it nearly impossible to focus. You bit back a smile, hoping he didn’t notice the way your cheeks flushed.

“You’re so gentle,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as you blended the foundation. “Feels nice.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you moved to grab the concealer. “Stay still, or I’ll mess up.”

Wooyoung pouted but obliged, though his hands continued their light movements. “It’s hard when you’re so close,” he mumbled, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shook your head, smiling as you started patting the concealer under his eyes. “Yeah, ok pretty boy. Now close your eyes.

He obeyed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he relaxed into your touch. You took your time, perfecting the base as he hummed contentedly, entranced by the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

“Wow, I can already tell I look amazing,” he said, cracking one eye open to see your reaction.

“Patience, diva,” you laughed, reaching for an eyeshadow palette. “Let me work my magic.”

He watched as you carefully selected a soft pink shade and began sweeping it across his eyelids. Every few seconds, Wooyoung would open his eyes a bit to peek at you and every time he’d break into a smile, watching you with a look so full of adoration it made your heart ache.

“You’re so good at this,” he said softly, his voice taking on a rare, serious tone. “It’s like… I don’t know. You make everything feel like art.”

You paused, warmth spreading through you at his unexpected compliment. “You’re making me blush, Woo.”

“Good,” he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on your back. “You should know how amazing you are.”

Trying to keep your composure, you moved on to his eyeliner. His eyes sparkled as you carefully lined them, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the makeup made his already striking features stand out. You brushed a bit of highlighter onto his cheekbones, and he closed his eyes, soaking in the attention like he wasn’t used to it by now. Still though, there was something so nice about being with someone who treated every intimate moment with you as if it were the first.

Once you finished, you leaned back, admiring your work. “There. You’re all done, Woo.”

He glanced in the mirror, his mouth dropping in playful awe. “I look like a whole new person! No… a prettier version of myself. You’re incredible, babe.”

You laughed, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his face. “You’re gorgeous with or without makeup. I just brought out what was already there.”

For a moment, you both stayed silent, just looking at each other. His hands found yours, and he pulled you even closer, his fingers threading through your hair as he let out a soft, contented sigh.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured, his voice quieter than it had been all night.

Your heart skipped a beat as you leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “Yeah… I love you too, Woo.”

A soft smile spread across his face, his eyes beginning to droop as the high was just starting to wear off. You felt him growing heavier, his hands resting in your lap as he started to drift off. His head leaned against your shoulder, his breathing evening out as sleep began to take over.

You could’ve moved, or nudged him towards the bed, but instead, you stayed right where you were, feeling the gentle weight of him against you. You watched his face relax as he slipped into sleep, his makeup still perfectly in place, highlighting his beauty even in his unconscious state.

In that moment, with his heartbeat steady against yours, you realized you were falling for him even more. If that was even possible.

On a not so unrelated note, you now had to tell Hongjoong he couldn’t have been more right if he tried.

[cazort]

I think you've hit some of the big factors but not all of them.

I think a major factor driving people to Trump is reaction to left-wing extremism during the 2010's, so-called "cancel culture". My one friend who is a Trump supporter is like this. He had a bunch of people gang up on him and totally demonize him. Some of their criticisms were fair criticisms of bad things he had done, but that he had apologized for and he thought they had been resolved. He lost his entire social circle minus a few isolated friends like me who did not cut him off. It was traumatizing for him.

My neighbor, who is very liberal, has a son who is also a Trump supporter and he also became such a supporter because he got "cancelled". In his case, he made a single problematic comment about race publicly on social media. He was a freelance photographer. A whole bunch of people ganged up on him almost instantly and destroyed his professional reputation almost overnight. Again, he was traumatized. He moved back home with his parents.

Both of these people ended up going deep down right-wing rabbit holes. The right-wingers spoke to these people and empathized with their pain and listened to their concerns while the left bullied, condemned, and cut them off. It seems totally understandable to me that these people fell into right-wing circles based on how they were treated.

The thing is, each of these people did something wrong. But the mob's reaction to them was disproportionate, and it was condemning not supportive. Completely ruining someone's professional reputation and destroying their source of livelihood is not a proportionate reaction to making a single comment that people perceived as racist. And bringing up bad things a person has done in their past, that they had fully apologized for and thought were resolved, is not even remotely healthy in terms of ways to communicate and act. Even if the original action was quite bad. Neither of these reactions helped the person in any way shape or form to learn or grow.

For every extreme case like this, there are hundreds if not thousands of minor cases.

One thing that I think has driven people away from the left is identity politics, specifically, the way the left does not embrace principles of "treat people equally regardless of their identity" but rather, has embraced ideas where certain groups are labeled "privileged" and others "oppressed" or "marginalized", and the left's general ethic is to give the marginalized groups more of a voice. Special treatment, so to speak. The worst is when people start feeling license to insult or talk down to people in the privileged group. I've been saying for years that targeting privileged groups with hate always ends up hurting marginalized groups the most.

I wrote that post 8 years ago. Not enough people have read it. It only has 24 reblogs. Seriously. You want to figure out why Trump won and prevent this sort of thing from happening again? Read that post. Reflect. Internalize it. Reblog it. Make new material that communicates the same ideas in your own voice. I'm wordy and make these long text posts that don't reach everyone...find new ways to communicate it that will reach others.

Seriously, people, we have a lot of work to do. The nation is hurting and it's not just the people who voted for Harris. The whole Trump movement is a big giant ball of hurt and if we can't see that and can't work to heal those people we will never get ourselves out of this mess.

If Harris loses, please try blaming real issues (Republican-driven voter suppression and intimidation tactics; billionaire-funded Trump-PAC’s and propaganda machines; a broken electoral system that hinges presidential elections on a dozen or so states instead of a simple popular vote; or the Democratic Party’s fumbled opportunities to respond to things like the corporate greed driven cost of living crisis, the housing shortage, the medical debt and healthcare accessibility crisis, the ongoing climate disaster, and the ongoing genocide in Palestine) instead of doing the Right’s job for them by blaming folks like climate protestors, Antizionist and pro-Palestine activists, Black and Brown people, jaded millennials living paycheck to paycheck, and tumblr users with an audience ⅛ the size of the average Christofascist MegaChurch Congregation.

[lurkingshan]

Hi Shan

I've been watching your commentary on Peaceful Property with regard to its mishandling of its class conflict themes and I have to admit that I'm coming to agree with you on it.

I had to basically go "Welp, I can't see how they get out of the mess they've made now - I guess I just have to give them a pass on the grounds of found family?" in order to keep enjoying the show, which did let me do that but also left a bit of an icky taste in my mouth.

So I guess I wanted to ask - do you think there's a way they could have handled the wealth disparity and classism issues more gracefully within the show's narrative? And also whether there are any QLs you would recommend that do handle the topic to your satisfaction? I could use something good to watch!

Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I feel like you always make me consider topics more deeply and reflectively, even when I don't agree with you.

Hi, thanks for dropping in! I feel you on this, and I want to be clear that my criticism of the show is not criticism of people who still like it despite these failures. If you have still been able to connect to the friendship and family themes without this getting in the way, that's great and I'm glad for you. Just because the show is doing one thing very poorly doesn't mean there's nothing of value in it.

That said, you're right, they've passed the point of no return on their missteps with the class disparity themes. Early on in the show, after several episodes in a row of ghost stories involving poor or working class folks harmed by Home's wealthy real estate developer family on top of the class disparity between Home and Peach/Pang, I said I was confident that the show had something to say about this issue. And that was true! Unfortunately, what it had to say was garbage.

To your first question, I actually think it would have been very easy for the show to handle the wealth disparity and classism issues more gracefully, and that's a big part of my frustration. They had all the ingredients--a family history of exploitation, a ghost busting team including working class folks to shed light on the family's sins, and an ignorant grandson uncovering wrongdoing case by case and learning that there was always a price for his privilege. All the show needed to do was allow Home to come to some natural realizations about his family's treatment of others, via both the ghost case work and his relationship with Peach and Pang, and then use the power and resources he has to take accountability in the form of restitution and reparations to the people and communities they harmed. My ideal story line based on what they set up in the first half of the show would have had Home setting out to right his family's wrongs and take real steps to restore the communities they harmed. Even if a full on wealth redistribution narrative was too much to hope for, at the very least Home should have been made to reckon with what his family did and set out to do better in the future, both by Peach and Pang and by his family's countless victims (including Kan).

But that's not what we got. Instead, the narrative tried to sell us on the idea that none of this is anyone's fault, and that any harm that came to people at this family's hands was the result of a "curse" or one bad apple's wrongdoing. Instead of saying anything meaningful about systemic inequality and the responsibility of the wealthy and powerful to avoid extractive and exploitative practices, they painted Home's Gramps and family corporation as benevolent, concluding that they destroyed a bunch of people's lives by accident and without intent or even knowledge. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how utterly absurd and insulting that is. On top of all that, despite Home being the one with the most power in this little friend family and making some very serious mistakes that caused harm to the others, the show consistently centered him and his feelings in all conflicts, including Peach's near death and the death of Kan's father and destruction of her community. It also ignored the very real stakes it set up for Peach and Pang's dire financial situation whenever the plot demanded. The second half of the show became all about the poor people Home and his family have harmed forgiving him without any accountability because they felt guilty he was sad, and then those same people spending their time and energy fighting to save this rich family's reputation and livelihood. That's not me offering an interpretation, that is what literally happened on our screens!

So yeah, it was bad! It was clear weeks ago that it was not going in the right direction, but I understand holding out hope that they'd pull a rabbit out of a hat or look into the camera and say sike. But that ship has sailed at this point, and Peaceful Property becomes another in a pattern of GMMTV shows that try to incorporate class disparity in their narratives and get it very very wrong.

Which brings me to your second question: are there any QLs I recommend that do this better? Yes! Here is a short list for other Thai shows that have genuinely done this better:

Moonlight Chicken: not a class disparity narrative, but the only GMMTV show to date that has depicted working class people with full dignity and empathy

Dark Blue Kiss: the only GMMTV bl to tell a romance story that involves class conflict and not completely bungle it (snaps to TayNew for having another show that did better on this)

My Ride: a slow burn romance between a doctor and a motorcycle taxi driver that gets the way their class disparity would shape their relationship right

Love Sea: this one isn't perfect (I think the working class character in the pair gets too little narrative attention relative to his rich counterpart) but it does take the class disparity seriously and ensures it informs the relationship the whole way through

Laws of Attraction: don't laugh at me, I'm serious! This show is mostly absurd but the core narrative is all about class conflict, and it informs the romance quite thoroughly, too

The Loyal Pin: including this one on the word of @twig-tea because I haven't watched yet, but I understand it's dealing with class very directly in its core relationship (with the disclaimer that it still has two episodes to go so something could go sideways)

I'd also throw in some shows that aren't really about class disparity but do include it as part of the narrative background to inform characterization and plot like I Told Sunset About You, Love By Chance, Khun Chai, and 3 Will Be Free

Outside of Thailand, South Korea is always a safe bet for strong class disparity narratives, and in QL you'll find the best examples in Hwang Da Seul's works (Where Your Eyes Linger, Blueming, To My Star 2, and currently Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo). Japan and Taiwan actually don't do much of this, because most of their shows are about middle class and working people as a rule. Miseinen, a Japanese BL that just started airing, looks to be tackling a class disparity narrative, though, and doing it well so far (not a coincidence that the source material is from Korea). And We Best Love is a classic Taiwanese BL with a significant class disparity informing the romance conflict. Blue Canvas of Youthful Days is a currently airing Chinese BL that is doing a class disparity romance and has been killing it so far.

So there is my incredibly long answer to your questions! Thank you again for sending me this kind note; I'm so appreciative that we can chat about this stuff and still maintain our love for these shows. I hope you find some things you like on the rec list, as well. :)

[dramatic-dolphin]

heyyo, sorry if it's a bother but I remember you mentioning somewhere (in the tags of something?) that hungarian might even have more than 18 cases if we count it a different way and I lost that post but I'm still very curious, could you tell me more about this or point me to a source? I love terrorising international friends with the hungarian case system

It's NEVER a bother to talk about linguistics :DD This is gonna be a bit long tho.

The reason for this is that Hungarian has like a million suffixes and not all of them are created equal. So there is a bit of debate over what, exactly, constitues as a "case" here.

The currently accepted safe list of the 18 Hungarian suffixes that are definitely totally cases looks like this:

This is already hilarious, because you, as a native speaker, have no idea what these terms mean, and also because there is nothing at essive-modal in this example. Because we just do not decline the word jég in that case.

(Essive-modal is the -ul in "jutalmul" and "[beszélek] magyarul" btw. Is 'jegekül' a word that exists and makes sense? Discuss.)

These are the "bare minimum" of cases that fit both of the two (currently accepted) rules that 1) a case can be a compulsory argument of a verb (aka you can have a verb that you have to use a specific case with, like "beléptem a házba") and 2) only cases can follow other suffixes (I actually can't think of an example for this rn lol).

Thinking about it, you might even get by with saying we have 17 cases in a pinch, since essive-modal is such a weirdo and useless for like most nouns. Don't quote me on this one though.

Anyways, if you're a bit more daring, you can look at all the other suffixes and say "well, why can't these be cases too?" Like come on, this is missing genitive. Why is it missing genitive? So you put in genitive (embernek). And if that's in, then why can't the others be there too? Which is how you end up with off-the-wall cases like temporal (ötkor), sociative (kutyástul), locative (Győrött), distributive-temporal (hetente), and so on until you reach like 34, or however many suffixes there are. Every suffix can be given a fancy overly specific case name to horrify poor non-Hungarian speakers.

Wait, did I say the bare minimum was 18(-17) cases? Actually no, the bare minimum is ZERO cases. Because you can take the enlightened opinion that "case" as a concept should not be applied to agglutinative languages like Hungarian, and Hungarian cases are actually better understood as postpositions affixed to a noun. (Funnily, this is actually how some of those suffixes became suffixes. Ex: hodu utu rea -> hadi útra.)

So, there you have it. The number of cases in Hungarian is a number between 0 and 35. But probably 18. Unless it's not.