#like you can’t relate to someone’s body if they’ve never commented on it????? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winsmoke · 2 years

Text

　　　　　❥ Chapter 1: Help Wanted

Series Synopsis: Privately self-medicating, the 7 members of NCT Dream are all withering away under the pressure of idol life. Unable to cope on their own, they want something to hold, caress, and squeeze away the stress… a teddy bear of sorts. So the boys decide to secretly hire you, their human teddy bear, to help them out. As they explore your mind and body, you discover and confront the problems they’ve been hiding. However, one girl can only support seven boys for so long and you can’t be their teddy bear forever.

Warnings: [no smut or angst - this is probably the tamest chapter] swearing, talking about penis oral sex, mentioning sex on the beach to a minor, y/n asks if she will be a personal cum dump

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: NCT Dream x y/n (has a vulva and uses she/her pronouns)

Links: disclaimer • masterlist

May

　“She has to be nice,” Jisung starts, gripping the armrests of the chair tightly.

　The other six boys around the office exchange smirks. So typical of Jisung.

　“Don’t want anyone judging you when you fall on your face, right?” snickers Chenle.

　Jaemin swats at Chenle’s shoulder in Jisung’s defense. “Whatever, she can’t be mean.”

　Beside the youngest, Jeno rubs his chin thoughtfully. “But not too nice. If she doesn’t have a backbone we’ll never know if she’s actually comfortable around us or not.”

　The playful mood dims as each boy imagines pushing a girl into doing something she never wanted. Each gives a small nod in agreement.

　“She needs to be independent since she’s going to be by herself a lot,” Renjun comments from the back of the room. Too anxious to sit, he chose to lean against the wall.

　“But she also should be good at making friends because all seven of us need to like her,” Haechan adds, his hands folded tightly on his lap.

　“She needs to be interesting too. I want someone I feel like I can talk to forever,” Renjun says while tapping his cheek.

　Mark crosses his arms. “Okay, but she needs to be a private person. Preferably not too many friends or family so it cuts down the chances that she talks about us.”

　“That’s what we have the non-disclosure for,” Chenle reminds while rolling his eyes. “I want her to be a good cuddler. That’s the whole point of the job anyways.”

　“I want her to be very clean and healthy. I don’t want to share my apartment with a stranger who isn’t,” Jaemin says as he purses his lips.

　Jeno closes his eyes, trying to imagine the perfect girl in his mind. “I just need someone who I can trust. Someone honest and loyal.”

　Chenle stares down at his hands. “Yeah, emotional maturity would be nice.”

　Haechan tries to think about this more logically. “Considering the work we do, it might be difficult for the average 20-22 year old girl to relate to us. Maybe she’ll be able to understand us better if she’s worked a lot before.”

　Mark nods slowly. “That’s true. They should be unique jobs too since being an idol is multifaceted. Preferably some travel experience as well.”

　Renjun bites his lip nervously. “She needs to know how to adapt,” he says while studying his shoes. “We each have our own eccentric habits. She has to be able to handle it. Help us even... if we need it.”

　“Renjun,” Haechan says sharply.

　“He’s not wrong. You could use some help,” Chenle defends.

　“Oh fuck off,” Haechan mutters.

　Facing the seven boys sits a young man who puts down his pen to crack his knuckles. Startled by the sound, the boys’ attention snap to the man. He wears a dark blue suit and a vague expression as he flaps his cramping hand. Mark narrows his eyes at the small black notebook he had been taking notes on, trying to decipher the upside-down scribbles.

　The man looks up at their tensed faces. “You are asking me to find a girl that might not exist.”

　“She does,” Chenle insists.

　Jisung nods. “And if she doesn’t, we don’t want anyone else.”

　The man in the blue suit nods. “A long questionnaire, video, and photo submissions will be included in the application. Naturally, health and criminal background checks will be required as well. I will narrow down the applicants to maybe 3 girls and send their applications to you to review. Of course, you’re not obligated to select anyone.”

　Silence fills the room. There’s a sort of finality in the air that makes the boys anxious. They never thought they would get this far.

　“How long until you send us their applications?” Jeno asks the question everyone is thinking.

　The man clicks his pen. “If you’re determined to find a girl that meets your criteria—and I’m sure you have more requirements—possibly 6 months? Maybe a year. It really depends on the volume of applicants.”

　“And you’ll make sure that no one knows we’re the ones who are hiring?” Jisung asks.

　The man in the blue suit smiles in a way that is professional but reassuring. “Of course, that’s my job. No one will ever know.”

At a diner, halfway across the world

　“Let’s dine and dash,” Ningning announces, standing from the red-cushioned booth.

　Looking up from the menu, you stare at Ningning incredulously. “This is how you want to celebrate graduating from university?”

　She shrugs. “Why not? Not like the alumni party was any better.”

　Giselle laughs. “Shut up, you’re going to John Hopkins. That’s enough of a celebration.”

　Ningning scrunches her face. “Which is exactly why we should dine and dash. I’m gonna be paying off med school loans until I have gray hair.”

　“Can you sit down? People are starting to stare!” Karina exclaims anxiously as she pulls Ningning into the booth.

　Ningning rolls her eyes. “They’re staring because we’re the only ones under 40.”

　“Can we just order in peace? For once?” you laugh. “Or are we gonna get kicked out again?”

　“That was definitely your fault,” Winter mutters while reading through the menu.

　You huff. “Okay, it was a science museum–aren’t I supposed to be curious?”

　“You literally ignored the ‘Not Open to the Public’ sign,” Winter laughs.

　“It’s not like you were stopping me,” you grumble. “Besides you’re the one that got us kicked out of Chipotle!”

　“You know they have our pictures in the store so the employees know not to let us back in?” Giselle grins.

　“Is this supposed to be a good thing?” Karina groans.

　“Hey, it’s not like we got arrested,” Ningning shrugs.

　You nod. “And that’s all that matters.”

　Karina shakes her head. “Sometimes, I really wonder how you all got GPAs above 3.8.”

　Giselle presses the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. “How could you ever doubt us.”

　Ningning smirks. “Because you were so busy hooking up with the basketball team.”

　Giselle drops her hand and glares at Ningning. “Whatever. At least I got us in all the clubs and parties for free.”

　“We would have gotten in for free without you,” Ningning shoots back.

　Karina shoots you an inquisitive look. “Yeah, y/n always somehow knew the bouncers.”

　You put your hands up in defense. “Hey, I’m always at the front of the clubs, throwing up. The bouncers and I are buddies, they even chase away the creeps for me.”

　“Your ability to throw up is impeccable,” Giselle sighs.

　“Thank you?” you laugh.

　“Which is why I’m so confused as to why you like giving head. Like, have you thrown up on someone’s dick?” Winter asks with wide eyes.

　“Um… sorry to interrupt but I’ve been standing here for a minute. Can-can I take your order?”

　The five of you turn to face a scrawny waiter with a tray of ice waters. His face untouched by puberty, he looked to be a freshman in high school.

　You squirm uncomfortably in your seat. This boy, likely 8 years younger than you, was making you feel incredibly old. You and Karina exchange guilty glances, both thinking about the conversation he had just overheard.

　But this kind of formality had never bothered your other friends.

　Winter grins. “Yeah, I’d like to order a Sex on the Beach?”

　Giselle removes one of the ice waters from his tray and takes a sip. “Make that two!”

July

　You were never one to reminisce. You never had time for nostalgia. But here you were at 3am getting caught in memories, crying your eyes out, and listening to R&B.

　Despite all the brain-wrenching research papers, skull-splitting classmates, and crippling personal experiences, college had been really amazing. Your rambunctious group of girlfriends undoubtedly was the main reason. All the fucked-up boys and the hollow nights meant nothing when you were with them.

　But they were all gone.

　Your parents and academic advisors had urged you to go to graduate school or find a job but you ignored them. You told them you wanted one summer to relax and not think about your future. But really, you were burnt out and overwhelmed. Everything was changing so quickly and you didn’t feel ready to move on from your undergraduate experience.

　Unlike you, your friends had planned out their futures. Eager to travel with COVID restrictions softening, your friend group positioned themselves at least 1,000 miles away from your university. Ningning had been accepted into the most prestigious medical school in the country, Giselle was headed off to Alaska to study whales, Karina had been hired as an engineer at Tesla in Los Angeles, and Winter was working at a promising start-up in Singapore. You, on the other hand, have no job prospects, and no desire to enter the adult world. You were spending the summer living at home alone. Like always.

　You just wanted another intoxicated walk along the river, another joyride into the night but there was no one to do them with. All your friends from college or high school had jobs, relationships, and reputations. Even your parents were busy celebrating their retirement in various South American countries without you.

　People told you that you were wasting your potential but really, the only thing you were good at was having fun. All the jobs and internships you had done had never touched the serious world. “Fake jobs” you liked to call them. Yes, you did real work but it never felt like it. You always made friends with your boss and coworkers so most of the time, it felt like you were getting paid to fuck around. And once it wasn’t fun anymore, you would quit.

　But as you scrolled through job search websites on your laptop, all the places that used to excite you didn’t seem like enough. Besides Ningning, all of your friends were earning salaries, and hourly pay seemed to pale in comparison. Yet, all the jobs that had salaries seemed too white collar, too close to the grown-up world that you didn’t want to enter.

　Getting frustrated with your options, you began randomly scrolling for a few seconds before clicking on something abruptly. You read out loud: “Visa Intern. Uh no, money is my enemy.”

　You try the scrolling and clicking strategy again, only to land on another credit card company. Glancing at the time in the corner of your laptop screen you groan. It was already 5AM.

　You decide to try randomly clicking one more time. Rubbing your sagging eyelids, you read:

HELP WANTED

In need of a human Teddy Bear for a minimum of 1 year.

Applicant must be a 20-22 year old female and willing to:

Permanently relocate to the clients’ residences

Refrain from contacting anyone and leaving the clients’ residences while under contract

Provide multiple clients with mutually consented mental and physical support

All living and travel (including visa) expenses will be covered. Starting pay $20,000 a month with a signing bonus. More details will be provided if the applicant is successful in obtaining the position.

　“What a weird name… human teddy bear,” you laugh to yourself. “Probably just a group of rich guys who are too socially awkward to date…” You purse your lips and give that concept a thought. “…which honestly does not sound bad.”

　The physical and emotional support didn’t daunt you either. You had your fair share of fuck-buddies and had often helped friends through rough spots. For the most part, you were a level-headed person that could work under pressure.

　Your eyes lingering on the “restrain from contacting anyone” line, you frown. It’s not like you need to talk to friends or family every day. Glancing around your empty bedroom, you shrug. Your friends and parents were scattered around the world without you. As long as you have new places and people to occupy your time with, you won’t need to contact your friends or parents. You’ve always made it work on your own.

　Plus they pay for all your travel and living costs... Entry level jobs rarely provide any sort of benefits. The compensation is quite handsome too - enough to fly you between John Hopkins, Alaska, Singapore, L.A., and anywhere in South America countless times. You fold your lips as you read the description again.

　What really worried you was that you couldn’t leave. You need a sense of freedom. Even during the height of the pandemic, you went outside frequently.

　You know you should be wary. The benefits looked too good to be true. And you can think of at least 3 ways this could end in human rights abuses.

　When you glance through the required application submissions you groan. “Damn, they really tryna get my life story… this is gonna take at least 3 hours.”

　From the way that your feet and eyes are twitching, you can tell that you’re getting delirious. But for whatever reason, your eyes stay glued to your laptop.

　Sticking your laptop charger into a socket, you glare at your screen. “I don’t even know which country this job is in… This is so fucking sus,” you mutter.

　You read over the job position once more, trying to let the information soak in. But the more you read, the crazier the job seems, and the more intrigued you become. You’ve been working odd jobs since you were 14 and you’ve experienced some truly bizarre things. But this… this was something else.

　You sigh loudly. “Fuck it. I’m applying.”

August

　There are two types of people in the world. People who jump off the cliff and people who are too much of a pussy to try. And you’ve never been a pussy.

　At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself since you accepted an interview for the human Teddy Bear position. You know it’s stupid but you’re growing desperate for change. Your friends fill your Instagram timeline with surreal photos of their new homes and new friends. And your parents still haven’t come back from backpacking in South America. You want something equally drastic, equally as breathtaking, even if it means that you would be off the grid for a year or two.

　So here you are, in some random office building that’s suspiciously empty with a suspicious man in a blue suit. Desperation can do you dirty sometimes.

　After some uncomfortable pleasantries, the man in the blue suit slides a letter across the table. “My clients wrote this letter to you.”

　Your eyes fall onto the glossy red seal embossed with a delicate D. Tearing open the envelope, you take out the paper and read out loud:

Dear y/n,

We are happy to inform you that you have been selected for the Teddy Bear position. We were extremely pleased with your application and are excited to meet you in person. Accepting the position and relocating to Seoul, South Korea can begin at your earliest convenience.

Eagerly awaiting you,

The Dreamies

　“Seoul?” You echo.

　You stare at the letter, dumbfounded. Out of all of the countries you imagined, you had never thought about South Korea.

　“So… this job isn’t like… how do I say this…”

　The man in the blue suit tries to smile but it makes his face look funny. “Yes? I know this might be overwhelming but I am here to answer your questions and assuage your concerns.”

　You blink. Assuage? Damn, this guy is legit. You let out a little sigh. Might as well ask, you are about to sell your soul.

　“Might sound like a stupid question but I’m not like, a signing up to be a personal cum dump, right?” You smile guiltily. “Because that was not my postgraduate plan…” you mutter.

　The man in the blue suit nods politely. “Not a stupid question in any regard. The clients wanted to make it clear that sex is not a part of your job description. The job description does describe physical support which the clients imagined being as simple as a hug or as intimate as sleeping next to each other. Although this is a very ah, unique job, they want it to be as natural as possible. And if sexual intimacy does occur, it will be mutually consented and is not included in your contract.”

　You nod dumbly. So basically, if I have sex with someone it wouldn’t be paid for. “Oh… that’s nice.”

　“Any other questions?”

　“About a million but mostly, who are the Dreamies?”

　“I cannot disclose much until after you sign the non-disclosure. However, they include seven males between the ages of 20 and 22.”

　“How come they don’t want me to leave their home?”

　“They’re public figures. If anyone knew you existed, their careers would be finished. The clients’ top priority is privacy. But since the clients all live in different apartment complexes, I will drive you to a different building every week. Other than that, you’re not allowed to leave until your contract expires.”

　Leaning back in your chair, you let your shoulders slump. You can almost see Karina standing beside you waving a huge red flag. But you had already made up your mind a while ago.

　“Okay… thank you. I, uh, would like to accept the job. But–I need a week before I go. Or–” you pause to look sheepishly at the man in the blue suit. “Am I allowed…?”

　The man in the blue suit nods enthusiastically while he takes the acceptance letter from your hand. “Of course. The clients want to ensure a comfortable transition into this position. They will pay for all moving expenses, including transportation and storage. You will only be allowed one backpack of items which will be inspected by their security upon your arrival. You will be given a weekly allowance to pay for any desired clothes, toiletries, and other necessities.”

　You nod, silently wishing you had brought an old school journal to take notes. It was so much information and you wanted to remember all of it.

　“Excellent, you can begin to go over the non-disclosure, terms of agreement, and contract. As you are aware, this is a year-long contract, but this is subject to change, pending your experience on the job and if the clients deem you inappropriate to service their needs. Discussions about the duration or termination can begin after two months.”

　The man in the blue suit slides a pile of papers in front of you and places a blue pen neatly above the stack.

　“This top file is the most important to the clients. It outlines your guidelines to interact with them. Essentially, every week you will live with a different client. It is critical that you do not discuss your time with the other clients. They work closely with one another and do not want their relationship with you to affect their teamwork.”

　“So basically, I should pretend like the others don’t exist when I’m with one of them?”

　The man in the blue suit looks uneasy. “Not necessarily ‘exist.’ Perhaps ‘avoid talking about’ would be more appropriate. The clients are usually with one another for 8 or more hours every day. They do not wish to start unnecessary disputes over their private lives.”

　You sigh while rubbing your forehead. I guess I can respect that. You nod at the man in the blue suit. “Continue.”

　“As mentioned, they all live in different apartment complexes. Every Monday, I will escort you to the next client’s apartment and the other clients will be unaware of where you are staying each week. For any medical, personal, or professional needs, I will be your point of contact.”

　“And your name is…?”

　The man in the blue suit smiles politely. “The clients thought it would be best if you remain unaware of my name.”

　“Damn, these people really don’t want me to do or know anything,” you groan.

　“To be fair,” he says gently, “your salary is exceptional. Please understand that their careers are on the line if there is the slightest mishap.”

　“Okay, but I can’t leave their apartment at all? Let me guess, I can’t even open a window?”

　The man in the blue suit nods. “If you flip to the next page…”

　Doing as instructed, your eyes fall on the paragraph titled ‘Phone Usage.’ “I can’t post, like, or comment on any social media platform? I can’t even order anything for myself. This is crazy!”

　“It’s a part of the job. I will purchase necessities and any other items for you.”

　You bite your lip. This is insane. You’re pretty much signing away your freedom.

　“Fuck…” you moan, slumping into your chair. “Give me a second to think.”

　Closing your eyes, you weigh your options. It was either this or being stuck at home with no job, parents, or friends.

　Gradually, you raise the stack of papers from the table to your eye level.

　The man in the blue suit sighs in relief. “Please take your time to read and feel free to ask me about anything.”

　You don’t hear him as you finger through the pages and pages of stapled documents.

　The iPhone default ringtone splits through the office. “My apologies,” the man in the blue suit mutters as he slides his mobile out of his pocket. Reading the screen, he smiles apologetically at you. “Please excuse me, I need to take this.”

　Closing the office door firmly behind him, the man in the blue suit accepts the call.

　“Hello?… yes, she just accepted the position… no, she will move in a week… she seems anxious but as to be expected… no, but I will bring her a glass of water after this call… you want me to tell her what?”

　When the man in the blue suit returns, he sets down a thin glass of water with a coaster on your left before sitting.

　“No questions?” he asks gently, observing how you underlined and circled certain words.

　You look up from the terms of employment, eyes dazed. “Huh? No, I’m good.”

　After a tedious hour-long reading session, you had approved all the paperwork and signed every page. Although you had your suspicions, the paperwork was legitimate and you felt confident that the job was real.

　After the man in the blue suit overlooked your signatures, he shuffles the papers cheerfully, happy that he successfully hired the perfect candidate. As he nestles the papers in his briefcase, you gulp down the water that had gone lukewarm.

　“I just spoke with the clients. They’re very pleased that you have taken the position.”

　“Hmm,” you hum softly, trying to drag out a smile through the exhaustion. The last time you had focused this hard was months ago in finals week.

　“They also permitted me to tell you their identities now that you have signed their non-disclosure.”

　You straighten up in the chair. “Do you have any pictures of them?”

　“You can google them if you’d prefer. They’re called NCT Dream.”

　　　　　　　　Read the series

#nct dream #nct dream fic #nct dream angst #nct dream smut #mark #jisung #renjun #haechan #chenle #jaemin #jeno #nct dream series #teddy bear

198 notes · View notes

pollenallergie · 6 months

Text

if we’re friends but you don’t agree with the following statements, then, sorry, i don’t think we can be friends.

fat people are not inherently bad/immoral just because they’re fat; fatness does not automatically equate to badness/immorality. << moreover, saying that does not imply that non-fat people are inherently bad/immoral, it simply clarifies that no one is inherently bad/immoral based on their body type/physical appearance.

someone’s physical appearance should not dictate how you treat them and/or whether or not they are worthy of respect, acceptance, love, etc.

health is not an indicator of morality/worth; if you wouldn’t shame a smoker for smoking, then you shouldn’t shame an overweight person for their diet nor an underweight person for their diet. shaming never helps, it typically only makes things worse. if you’re not in their medical support system (their primary care provider, a specialist they’ve either been referred to or specifically sought out, etc.), then you have no right to comment on another person’s diet or activity level; the way they actually eat and the amount of daily activity they actually get is 1) irrelevant to their worth of fair treatment and respect and 2) probably much different than how you perceive it to be (we only see a snapshot of other people’s lives, we can’t possibly know the full story).

the body acceptance/positivity/neutrality movements are meant for ALL bodies, so people of all body types should be able to benefit from them.

you are not more hygienic if you chose to remove your body hair. likewise, you are not less hygienic if you chose not to remove your body hair (or not to remove all of it). the removal of body hair should ultimately be treated a matter of personal preference and not a marker of cleanliness.

sloped/curved/downturned noses are just as beautiful as upturned or “button” noses

acne is not always a sign of poor hygiene, it can be caused by sooo many other factors (diet, hormones, pollution, etc.), none of which should be used to determine your worth.

a bisexual or pansexual or demisexual person in a heterosexual relationship is NOT a straight person. a bisexual or pansexual or demisexual person in a homosexual relation is NOT gay/a lesbian. bisexual, pansexual, and demisexual people retain their bisexual, pansexual, or demisexual identities regardless of who their partners are.

a non-binary person is not a woman simply because they’re femme-presenting. a non-binary person is not a man simply because they’re masc-presenting. a non-binary person is just that: a non-binary person, regardless of what clothes they wear, what hairstyle they have, etc.

your worth is not defined by your productivity level. you are not a bad person for taking time off. you are not a bad person for needing a break.

just because someone does not behave exactly like the one neurodivergent person you know, that does not mean they aren’t neurodivergent. both autism and adhd vary widely in terms of symptoms and each person experience with one of both disorders can look very different.

#pol’s diary <3

7 notes · View notes

oraclekleo · 2 years

Text

Jay Park (Enhypen) Ideal Partner Characteristics based on Tarot Reading

Hello and welcome!

I’m Kleo and I’m here to present some k-pop related tarot readings to you.

Disclaimer:

I would like to state that all these readings have a purely entertainment nature and their purpose is to bring some fun into my and hopefully yours lives. I have never ever met any of the idols / actors / celebrities in my readings, I don’t know them personally. Tarot reading isn’t an exact science and I can never guarantee any of it. Most of it is my intuition mixed with fantasy. Don’t take these readings seriously and don’t base any important decisions on tarot readings only, use your common sense.

If you wish to request a tarot reading, please read the pinned post on my profile first to see the instructions on how to request. I only do readings for idols / actors / celebrities of 18 years of age or older. Requests for readings including younger people will be automatically dismissed. If you feel uncomfortable with these tarot readings, do not engage in reading my posts. Thank you for understanding.

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Deck: Crow Tarot

Spread: Ideal Partner

Questions:

Body

Heart

Spirit

Soul

Time

Place

Zodiac Sign

Full Name: Jay Park

Stage Name: Jay

Group: Enhypen

Jay Park

Jay (Enhypen)

Deck: Crow

Spread: Ideal Partner

Body - 5 of Swords

Jay’s perfect match is likely someone isolated from other people. They are feisty and stubborn, they are ready to fight for what they believe in and that leaves them lonely. They might have scars, either physical or emotional, from all those battles they have been through. They probably don’t have many friends left.

Heart - 5 of Cups

At heart, Jay’s ideal match is likely mourning over everything they lost in the past. They’re likely consumed by this grief and can’t really see what they have and what they gained. They need to shift their focus from the sense of scarcity to gratitude and they might need Jay's help to do that.

Spirit - XX Judgement

Jay’s special person is likely not very spiritual. They rely on logic in their life and don’t have time for emotional and spiritual growth. Maybe they were spiritual people once but all the things they’ve been through left them insecure when it comes to emotions. They locked them up and decided it’s less hurtful when they stay purely reasonable and logical.

Soul - 2 of Wands

Deep down in their soul, Jay’s ideal partner knows it’s time for a change, it’s time to leave their bubble and comfort zone and become maybe more vulnerable but also open to blessings and open to love. All they need is the slight push in finding their match.

Time - 7 of Wands

Jay and his ideal partner are likely to meet in yet another battle the person gets involved in. Their competitors or rivals would try to knock them down from their earned place. Jay is likely to stand by his ideal partner’s side, supporting their claims as rightful ones. An ally, a friend, is exactly what Jay’s isolated and lonely ideal partner needs.

Place - XIX The Sun

If Jay and his perfect match decide to live together, their home is going to become the happiest of all places. They are likely to create a safe and joyful home where both of them can relax and be themselves no matter what impression they have to give in public.

Zodiac Sign - Libra

Thank you for reading!

Hit the Like 💖

Comment! 💬

Reblog! 🔁

Follow for more! 💌

#enhypen #jay park #jay park imagines #jay park scenarios #enhypen jay #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen kpop #kpop #kpop smut #kpop tarot #enhypen tarot #enhypen jay park #enhypen jay smut #enhypen jay scenarios #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jay park smut #oracle kleo

100 notes · View notes

praecurokat · 1 year

Text

Ted Lasso Finale Thoughts- So Long, Farewell... (I do not know what to think!)

this episode being an hour and 15 minutes..after being released at midnight... that's just cruel.. my brain cannot operate properly under such conditions..

congrats Tedbecca shippers! oop watched more.. sorry Tedbecca shippers...

most normal Beard and Jane appearance in the series at Rebecca’s house in the beginning

writers were bringing the dramatic flair in this episode! first that thing with Isaac dressed as a judge in the beginning, and then a musical number! idk how i feel about that..

speaking of the musical number, i must regretfully inform the masses that idk what the song is from.. pls lmk in the comments.. i see that it relates to the episode title

ah yes Jane acting totally normal by shredding Beard's passport.. total ✨ marriage material ✨

Trent's shirt says sat 17 may.. could this be significant?? everything in this show is..

"You know, that might be a tasty little treat for the diamond dogs.” “No. No. No. No!”-Roy, soon to become a Diamond Dog in a moment of desperation

wait did Trent name his manuscript the lasso way awww

“I only got into this to ruin Rupert's life, and he seems to be doing a pretty good job of that himself.”- Rebecca

So. Many. Throwbacks. Keeley saying “Is everybody decent?”, Jamie using lots of axe body spray like S1, the cleaner walking in on everyone, and way more i can’t think of

the complicated web that is royjamiekeeley is still being spun.. in the last episode..

“Must be awful for them, lying awake at night, haunted by how fucking easy they’ve had it!”- Mae, to Rebecca’s mom

Trent watching Ted read his book.. heart eyes emoji

the way Ted looks at him.. i meannn is this even subtext anymore?

“So you do laugh, but you don't do it until page.. 43?! And it wasn't even a big laugh!”- Trent, while Ted is reading his manuscript

"Whatever happens on Sunday, I want you to know I’m proud of you. All the work you’ve put in this year."- Roy to Jamie, before proceeding to fistfight with him later

Both Roy and Jamie seem very contemplative this ep. What are they thinking??

i am so concerned about the current royjamie feud over Keeley... what is gonna happen here???

“Would you please stay?” and “I know, I just had to try.”- Rebecca, about Ted

lmao Keeley kicking both Roy and Jamie out after they asked her to choose

“You stay put, Trenthouse magazine. You’re part of the squad now.”- Ted, to Trent

“Yeah. Someone better. Can people change?”- Roy, also this is a central tenet of this damn show

“I don’t think we change per se, as much as we just learn to accept who we’ve always been, you know?” -Trent’s most beautiful quote thus far

aww Nate finally got his diamond dogs reaction to Jade

George being Rupert’s coach sent me.. like you Really couldn’t find anyone else?

I hate Rupert but I love his dramatic slay coat swish moments.. again reminds me of Uther’s drama queen antics

“I prefer rugby, there’s just more grown men throwing other grown men into the air like children. And blood. Which is nice." - Barbara

Bloodthirsty and mysterious? Barbara is a serial killer or vampire confirmed.

“Never forget, I am always inside you.” -Zava’s note, which also came with a giant avocado

Zorro has truly entered his superhero arc and Dani Rojas is his genius creator

the fourth thing has to be 'Believe'.. aand it was? Right?

AFC Richmond Women’s club.. i sense a spinoff show opportunity…. or they could just do a show about Trent

George has begun a redemption arc!! (Telling Rupert to fuck off)

Rupert's desperation and misery at the end is not entirely unreminiscent of Rebecca at the start of S1

yesss Colin got his kiss on the pitch!!

haha the same? person from S1E1 taking pics w Ted in the airport

damn so Beard’s going home too, thought Jane would've locked him away in a safe or smth… nvm

omg Amsterdam man has a child.. hmmm Rebecca’s prophecy may still be fulfilled

Roy becoming manager feels natural

Ofc Trent renamed his book ‘The Richmond Way’… never let them know your next move

that montage at the end…so much to process....

beardjane wedding marking the end of the series.. good or bad omen for the future? i think bad

seems very fitting the series ending the opposite of how it began.. Rupert's life ruined, Rebecca in love and not owner of the club, Roy and Jamie healing and bonding w others around them, and Ted back in America with family.

#ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso #afc richmond #trent crimm #roy kent #rebecca welton #isaac mcadoo #coach beard #jamie tartt #keeley jones #ted lasso s3 #ted lasso finale #anotherofmybrilliantthoughts

18 notes · View notes

ghostofanovelwriter · 2 years

Text

My brother and I recently watched Clue (1985) for the first time and I thought I’d some some of our comments throughout the viewing.

“Y’aaaal that’s a cheap maid’s outfit.”

-“Her name’s white and she’s wearing black clothing. No one thought hard on that one.”

-“Can you imagine getting into a stranger’s car just like that? Can’t relate.”

-“I can’t tell the men apart at all. They’re all white and men. Why are they dressed the same? At least the women have interesting outfits.”

-“Watsword is a fraud. Why does he have an English accent?”

-“There is literally nothing in those spoons.”

-“Wait, who’s related to who? Somebody slept with somebody else, right?”

-“WHO’S THE FUCKING HOST?”

-“I can’t stop staring at the maid’s boobs.”

-“I’m so confused right now.”

-“so she’s totally killing her husbands, right?” “Nah, I think she just likes dressing like a widower.” Cue intense cackling as the men cross their legs.

-“EYYO! Green’s a homosexual? Why’s he being blackmailed he didn’t do anything wrong?”

-“I’m liking Scarlet but judging from her name she’s definitely up to something. The fuck’s a double negative?”

-“A CANDLESTICK IS NOT A WEAPON!”

-“Shit is that Tim Curry?”

-“It’s Wadsworth! I’m calling it right now. Never trust Tim Curry when he locks you up in a mansion!”

-“This has polyamory couple potential. Just complete chaos.”

-“Stop running around I can’t keep track of y’all.”

-“Y’all, give Green a seat. This is homophobic.”

-“Wadsworth is a bitch. A nasty one or an iconic one I can’t tell. All I see is Tim Curry.”

-“Omg if Green ends up being the murderer imma riot. He’s never done anything wrong.”

-“White’s iconic. Give her more screentime.”

-“Oh, wait! BODDY SOUNDS LIKE BODY AND HE’S THE FIRST VICTIM OMG I JUST REALIZED-!”

-“Peacock is suspicious. What’s she leaving the room for? Not for a oui oui?”

-“Zombies!”

-“Green is suspect number one on my list.”

-“NOOO! Don’t kill off Tim Curry!”

-“it’s totally that dude. Comes in way too randomly.”

-“Take a shot for every pun in this movie.”

-“Colonel is spilling way too much whiskey for it not to be poisoned.”

-“What is the point of asking if anybody is in the house of you’re not going to believe him?”

-“And of course Green ends up with Yvette. I swear if he somehow ends up straight because of this-“

-“nvm they’re totally the best duo.”

-“I’m getting weird tension between Watsworth and White. Is it just me?”

-“Nice knowing you Scarlet.”

-“Oh shit, that dude must’ve broken in and then went back outside to be invited back in the not arouse suspicion!”

-“has that dude just not question why he’s locked up in the library?”

-“alright I’m just confused again.”

-“someone just kill mustard please.”

-“ah man, now there’s going to be a dead black dude? That’s racist.”

-“they act so much like a family in such a short amount of time. Murder really brings people together.”

-“lol, Green looking terrified of straight sex.” “I think he’s terrified at the prospect of corpses having sex.” “Oh.”

-“are they seriously checking the house again? They’ve totally forgotten their original plan right?”

-“OMG YVETTE!”

-“OMG GREEN! Where’s Green?”

-“Tbh i’d shoot someone too if I got a singing telegram.”

-“at least have a little remorse for the corpses. God.”

-“fuck Wadsworth. We get it, we were watching the movie too y’know?”

-“tim curry runs like a video game character.”

-“GET TO THE POINT TIM CURRY!”

-“what do I even know anymore?”

-“i don’t even know who know who.”

-“Wait it was Scarlet? Wait what?”

-“Ah yes, the true idea of capitalists: blackmail.”

-“Wait.”

-“WHAT?”

-“Wait. Which ending is this?”

-just a garble of confused noise at this point.

-“WADSWORTH YOU BITCH!”

-“Fucking everything is a red herring at this point. Who cares about communism?”

-“i’m still so confused!”

-“Fucking everyone’s a criminal!”

-“NO GREEN WAIT! NO GREEN I LOVE YOU! SORRY FOR EVER SUSPECTING YOU!”

-“WHAT KIND OF STRAIGHT NONSENSE IS THIS?”

-“I’ve never have a character simultaneously surpass my expectations and disappoint me at the very same time.”

Overall 8/10 would recommend

#clue 1985 #80s movies #murder mystery #whodunnit #tim curry #that ending was ridiculous tho #fuck sleeping with your wife when tim curry is right there #couldn’t keep all the motives and alliances straight #instant classic for me still

12 notes · View notes

purplecowbell · 1 year

Text

Time Travel and Wish Fulfillment

I distinctly remember a moment from one of my creative writing classes. One of my classmates wrote a story in which after someone died, they woke up again as a baby and got to relive their life. They fixed all mistakes they remembered making, used the wisdom they had from an entire life lived, and made everything perfect. I remember looking at it for a long time before I wrote the only comment, “So what?” I don’t blame them for writing that piece, it’s wish fulfillment, and I get that. But it wasn’t really a story. I’m worried that too many people look at their relationship to the past in a similar way instead of accepting how they’ve changed.

There are many time travel stories, especially in pop sci-fi, where the time travel is just wish fulfillment, no consequences or weighty questions. Let me be clear; I don’t think the trend is stories in which the protagonist travels back to the 1800s and deals with the problems of the era; that’s fine and dandy. The problem I’m talking about is in what I like to call “internal time travel,” time travel that takes place within one’s own timeline instead of going outside of it. An old man goes back in time to stop his childhood friend from dying, or a middle-aged office worker wakes up in their teenage body in the 80s. These scenarios can speak directly to the individual human experience of grief, of regret, and of hindsight. But take the more pop fantasy depictions of time travel: It’s About Time, 13 Going on 30, and 17 Again. None of these time travel stories care about paradoxes, identity in relation to the past, or any higher level of conflict. They’re just pure wish fulfillment. Again, it’s fine for those stories to be very light and breezy, there’s nothing wrong with that, but it feels impossible to get popular stories that aren’t that. There are lots of serious stories (or should I say stories trying to be serious) that try to use time travel to raise the stakes by offering either the destruction of the past or unraveling of time itself as the price of failure. But these stakes end up never mattering, both in media where the writers don’t care and in media where they’re supposed to.

A Recent History of Time Travel

First let’s look at the stories that don’t focus on time travel specifically, those that just use it because it happens to be convenient to the story it’s trying to tell (most common among serialized works and franchises). Let’s start with the most “popular,” or at least commercially successful, Harry Potter. JK Rowling’s franchise made her an estimated billion in revenue over the years. In the third story The Prisoner of Azkaban, one of the main characters is given an artifact that allows her to time travel. The reason given for why she has one is frivolous (so she can attend more classes with conflicting schedules) and the reason for its removal is because the author didn’t want to have to deal with that as a potential plot hole anymore. However, the time travel capability is given a caveat: time travel can’t actually change the timeline. This prevents the possibility of paradoxes and gives some stakes to problems since they can’t be reversed with time travel. When a beloved animal character is executed, the main characters run away grieving its death, since they couldn’t go back in time to fix it, and try to focus on how to solve the main plot. How do they solve the main plot? They go back in time and save the beloved animal which helps solve the main plot. “But wait,” says the one blessed individual who hasn’t read Harry Potter, “didn’t you say that they can’t change the timeline?” Well you’re right, and it turns out they didn’t. Because actually what happened with the execution was the main characters freed it after their past selves turned their backs. There, problem solved; the magical time travel still can’t have paradoxes and the timeline is preserved. However, a question must be asked: what’s the difference between changing the timeline and going to the past and ensuring what you wanted to happen, did? Dramatically speaking I would say no difference at all.

And now for the more recent commercial success story that used time travel just because: Avengers: Endgame. The culmination of an entire franchise and marketing department behind it cemented this movie into the second place of “Top Movie Grosses” of all time. After the “surprising” end of the last movie (where over half the universe dies because the Russo brothers wanted a comic book villain that has a crush on Death to instead be a competent and sympathetic ecofascist), the premise of Endgame is about undoing all that. The movie isn’t about rebuilding from the rubble or actually dealing with grief of over half the cast and world dying: it’s about how to not deal with it using time travel. The movie opens on the rebuilding of society and how people are coping with the immense loss. This is a grounded emotional beat and could be a great story of catharsis for people feeling similarly. And then time travel is introduced and everyone abandons reconciling with their past to fix it. One of the scientists originally dismisses time travel because if they went back in time to fix the problem, then they would have no reason in the present to go back in time in the first place. All of them are only going back to the past for resources they don’t have anymore to undo the tragedy in the present. Cool, the time travel isn’t magic and has rules. Except no, that’s not the case. There are two characters who died, who the audience knows died outside of the thing they’re undoing. Loki is killed trying to save his brother, and Gamora is killed in a very bad attempt to try to evoke sympathy for previously mentioned ecofacist. One of them (Loki) gets to teleport out of captivity in the past and the other (Gamora) is brought forward to the future. The writers do get something right here in that when Gamora is brought to the future, she doesn’t love the man who she had a relationship with and leaves him. If it weren’t for everything else in the movie, one could argue it was making the point that the man had to accept Gamora’s death and not project their relationship on to another person. In the end, the only people who stay dead in Endgame are those who die in that movie: a woman who sacrifices herself and is forgotten five minutes later and a man who everyone and their mother go to the funeral for (huh, I wonder if that unintentionally says something else as well). But the worst thing, the worst thing that this movie does, is mock those who are actually affected by grief.

Thor, a buff heroic character in previous movies, is reduced to a fat, drunk, laughing stock that is an emotional wreck. He’s obviously really struggling with the grief of his homeworld dying and then three quarters of the survivors dying as well (one half when the ecofacist attacks, and another one half of those survivors when the ecofacist’s plan works and half the universe dies). The other main characters are annoyed and dismissive of his state, and they only go to him for his knowledge of where a plot-relevant magic item in the past is. When Thor becomes distraught due to finding his mother in the past, the only other character responds with “get over it man.” Now, some may argue that it’s accurate to that character’s personality, but there’s nothing to suggest that the other characters wouldn’t respond similarly. Every story beat and character rejects the fundamental idea of struggling with grief.

Overall, these serial stories use time travel as a way for characters to avoid having to grieve, and sometimes they make fun of those who grieve or struggle with it. It’s not just wish fulfillment, but hostile to the idea of a person actually coming to terms with something when there’s a theoretical way to fix it. But that may be a bit too hasty of a judgment when so far the only pieces analyzed are those in which time travel is not integral to the central theme. So how about we look at some popular stories in which time travel is part of the central theme?

The Consequences That Don’t Matter

Let’s start with a serialized story that focuses specifically on time travel and one’s relation to their own past. The Umbrella Academy is an appropriate one to start with. The protagonists and other characters fuck with the timeline all the time no matter how many times they bring up the Grandfather paradox. In the very first season, the time traveling expert Five is doing everything in his power to try and prevent the apocalypse. But if he only knew about the apocalypse because he time traveled to it, how would the timeline handle the apocalypse being prevented only because he went back in time to stop it? There doesn’t have to be an answer if time is truly changeable, but in the third season we find out it’s not. In the third it turns out that temporal paradoxes do matter (they even bring up the grandfather paradox!), and they almost ended the world because of it. And then at the end of everything, the timeline is basically restarted with the characters in a more idyllic version of their old lives. All the characters get everything they want. (Pay attention, that will come up later.) The closest thing we get to a character’s reckoning with their past through the actual time travel mechanics is in the second season where Five meets his past self.

When Five meets his past self, the show introduces something called “paradox psychosis.” Five can’t be in the same room with his past self for too long or both of them will go mad with uncontrollable rage and paranoia. This doesn’t make sense from a pure temporal mechanics perspective, but it does make sense from a metaphorical one. Taken out of the context of literal time travel, what do you interpret from the idea of “a person becomes overcome with rage and directs uncontrollable hostility towards their past self?” What I personally take it as is a person who hates themself for what they’ve done and has become a person their past self would similarly hate. It’s not the most eloquently described (having it be a “psychosis” demonizes people with psychosis as those with uncontrolled rage), but it does in some way actually touch on and reckon with the relationship between a person and their own past. This type of metaphor and character dynamic is exactly the kind of thing that I love about internal time travel stories, so it’s really unfortunate that after the episode in which it’s introduced, it's never brought up again. But this may be the problem of serialized stories, ones where they go on without end, where they try to wring out audience engagement with cheap tricks and hooks. What about a complete story? Without serialization can pop sci-fi break away from perceiving the setting of the past as an opportunity to fix everything?

The Closest We Got to Narrative Weight

There is one non-serial story that I would argue is the most serious exploration of time travel: Life is Strange. (Yes it’s a video game that is separated into episodes but the video game medium is designed with the intention to be played as a singular story.) The core premise of the story is that after watching her best friend Chloe get shot, the protagonist, Max, unlocks the ability to go back in time. The ability allows her to back sometimes by seconds, sometimes by years if she has a photo of the time she wants to go back to. The plot starts off as a slice of life with social dilemmas and a little bit of mystery, and the occasional weird supernatural thing goes on that’s just as unexplained as the time travel powers. It feels like a coming of age story with the time travel powers being so limited and unexplained. There’s even a section in the game where one of Max’s friends is about to commit suicide, and Max has to prove that she knows and cares about this friend without being able to time travel. Max also confronts the dilemma of being able to change specific moments in her past that could give her what she wants in one facet but she loses something she likes in her original life. In one part of the game, Max changes the past so drastically that she’s now one of the popular kids, but Chloe is no longer her best friend. It feels like the time travel ability is a sort of mirror to the protagonist’s own anxiety and indecision, and perhaps the story will be about Max giving up the ability in favor of living in the moment. But then at the end of the story, after everything is perfect and a bad guy is stopped (with time travel), it’s revealed that a storm is coming to destroy the town because Max saved Chloe who was fated to die. All of the weird events like two moons in the sky and dozens of whales being beached inexplicitly, was due to this defiance of fate. Now Max has to decide on whether to let Chloe die and save the town or save Chloe and let the town be destroyed. It’s a dramatic decision, but it’s not communicated effectively on why this choice is being made. The game is telling Max to accept Chloe’s death or lose her connection to everyone else, which is one of the time travel metaphors I like: time travel is about holding onto the past too long and the answer is to let go. The problem is that her death is circumvented by the time travel method that (except for this one instance) has been the same method of time travel that she’s used to fix a bunch of other little, split second decisions. She has the ability to rewind, or jump to a moment a picture was taken, and so far it’s been established with wildly diverging timelines that drastic time travel with the pictures is much more drastic and consequential than the rewinding of a few seconds. Max uses the ability to rewind all the time to get answers or to help a person not get splattered with mud. It’s not communicated clearly why Chloe’s death is fated, since seemingly nothing else is. The game is so close to making this point, but the vague, unexplained storm that threatens to destroy the town if Chloe doesn’t die, feels arbitrary and not actually connected. It feels like an outside force instead of actually natural fate.

What the game should’ve done is had Max deal with Chloe’s death for a long time, have her discover her time travel powers afterwards but too far in the future to rewind and save Chloe. This does push her to reach out to her friends, think about her relationship with Chloe, track down the serial killer, and use her time travel powers to stop him. However, at some point she does get access to the power to time travel using photos and cause drastic changes in the timeline which she uses to go back in time and save Chloe. When she returns to the present with Chloe alive, she’s at first elated, she gets to have the relationship she always wanted with her. However, she discovers because Chloe never gets killed she loses her connection with her other friends and the serial killer isn’t caught. She can’t prove any of the things she did in the previous timeline (perhaps she loses the rewind ability she relied on) and the serial killer can keep killing without being stopped. Then it would make sense for Max to make the choice to choose Chloe over everyone else, choose to hold onto the friend she actually grieved and misses, or let her go and accept her life, the positives and the negatives too. It wouldn’t be nearly as visually compelling, a girl pleading to let her die in the middle of a great storm set to destroy the town, but it would be more consistent and connected. Life is Strange comes the closest to time travel not being wish fulfillment and coming at a cost; it just can’t make the landing of why the cost is what it is. Or at least it can’t communicate that well. If Life is Strange is the closest we get to heavy time travel, what does it mean when it misses the mark? With a lack of a clear connection, making fate an unnatural force instead of an understanding of cause and effect, it’s because we haven’t confronted the flaws in our own thinking about the past.

The Result

I think many writers, or at least the popular ones, write time travel still in the denial and bargaining stages in our own grief to change and our own regrets. We see this in how amateur writers engage with time travel do the same. You see it all the time in fanfiction for example. There are over 70 thousand works with the “time travel” tag in AO3, and of the top 20, only two aren’t of the “fix-it” or “time loop” type. There are so many stories where the time traveler just happens to wake up in their past body without rhyme or reason. Rarely do they at least acknowledge that there is a power imbalance in the relationship or that their relationship with the friends they had in the future is forever lost. The reason why they’re popular is because the stories that do accept the past that happened either don’t use time travel at all or when they do, are not what the time travel readers are looking for: wish fulfillment. Is it possible to write a time travel story where not everything is solved and it makes sense? Absolutely.

What Can We Do?

We see time travel that is not pure wish fulfillment all the time outside of “internal time travel.” There are so many stories where characters go back in time to fix historical events and realize that the world is worse off, where they go back and make the past what it was to both accept it and the present. Why can’t we have the same narrative weight to consequences as in “internal time travel?” For example, the most popular historical example of this A Christmas Carol does this perfectly. Scrooge is confronted with his own past and future, and instead of having an opportunity to change his past he uses his new perspective as a motivator to change his present. In Star Trek: The Next Generation there’s an episode where the god-like alien Q gives the captain Picard the opportunity to “fix” all the mistakes he regrets in his life, but Picard is forced to realize that those mistakes were true to himself and made him the man he is. After realizing this he decides to commit to those mistakes and return to the unaltered present with his regret settled. Artemis Fowl is a science-fantasy young adult series where in one of the books The Time Paradox the titular protagonist had to confront his past self and his own flaws before he started his character development. These characters weren’t trying to fix the past, they’re trying to learn from it, or overcome it, to make the present better.

I understand the appeal of people having conscious control over their sense of self, of using hindsight to its fullest advantage, and of living a phase of your life that you only just mastered when it ended. But it’s just escapism, it’s an illusion of control and mastery of fate. And I think what we as writers and an audience need to reckon with is that even if we were able to go back in time to change the past, we wouldn’t be able to change ourselves. We have to accept that there are some things that are out of our control, no matter what magic or science we know. If we examine our own past, immerse ourselves in it, or even literally travel it, I think we should take the lessons learned and apply them every present day, instead of trying to stay there. I think you’ll find it much healthier and more real than the alternative.

#writing #writing advice #writeblr #science fiction #time travel #media criticism #I have very strong opinions #on time travel #and while I don't hate the escapist aspect #I'm kind of sad how hard it is to find healthy views of it #sci fi #sci fantasy #sff #speculative fiction

1 note · View note

god-whispers · 1 year

Text

mar 2

letter to my friend

my dear friend. i have thought about you so often lately and meant to write but somehow got distracted with other things - a problem i know you never have. tomorrow comes so soon. i remember how frequently we wrote after we re-discovered each other. (which, by the way, i am eternally grateful we did.) suffice it to say, i'm glad we haven't gotten too old to remember.

so you finally got through my emails. some people never do. i am so "wordy." me? gifted?? maybe i just have too much time on my hands. something i know you're not familiar with. ha! ha! 😎 honestly, there are times when i think i am just being a bother to people and they are just too nice to tell me otherwise. the angel on one shoulder tells me they are just quietly directing them to junk mail but the other side tells me i am being blessing to many shut-ins and others who look forward to them. i guess it doesn't matter either way. i feel God has laid upon me to do this thing at this time and i cannot do other than obey. besides, every now and then when i try to proofread for errors, i know it wasn't me but God writing these words.

yes, my little prisoner. i'm going to have to move her further up in my prayer list. she's about thirty and i see her life going to pot (and i don't mean weed, although that and worse are involved too). i remember calling in to a show years ago about something. the counselor asked my age and i too was about 30 at that time. she said, "oh, you're at such a good age to do things for the Lord." alas, i too went down a different path. yes, even Jesus began his ministry at 30. i guess that might be the optimal age. i would think if our glorified bodies have any kind of relation to age, i would suppose we would be an eternal 30.

i still have hopes for my prison lady. i hear some man has now bailed her out and she is in kind of a limbo. mother doesn't want her back and father is worse still. the parent's confusion and sin produced after it's kind. the cycle goes on. what breaks it? only God can and only they can ask Him too. i cannot make that decision for them and God will not. not a shallow asking but a deep hearted repentance for all they've done and a turning to Him. i guess i really have to pray for them to know how far they've fallen; fallen from God's goodness.

(it looks like this is going to be a longer email. got your coffee?)

that's funny about you forgetting the water in your canning. i was reading just today on this local bulletin board that i also post the dailies on, about this woman who put up her groceries and absent mindedly put the ice cream in the frig instead of the freezer. her comment: i guess i'm officially old! she's got nothing on me. when i was much younger i put a couple items i meant to put in the trash in the refrigerator instead. stop it! i hear you laughing from here.

you're right about all the hacks and everything. i watch a lady on youtube who is into homesteading and genealogy. she was commenting on the state of things and about how people were giving their dna to find out their heritage. i've always been reluctantly to do that but as she said: "if you've had any kind of blood work or surgery over the last 30 years or so, they already have it. i guess she's right. the world is shrinking and has been paved for the antichrist to arrive and take control of everything. it may well be complete when the digital currency is mandated and takes effect.

it can't be coincidental that so many "accidents" are happening all over the world. oil fields set ablaze, train wrecks, animals dying. i read recently where someone destroyed an at&t fiber network box and took everyone's internet down. i have at&t. the day may come when internet is lost or controlled by others. much of it probably already is.

that's just counting the human element and not how even the earth itself is groaning for redemption - earthquakes, volcanoes, violent storms. and then we must consider all the wars and casually speak of "nuclear" times. a quick assessment would see people killing people fast enough without any technological influence.

why in God's name would people sit idly around while allowing leaders to make decisions leading them to starvation and extinction? got to take everything electric, gas won't do - gas of any kind. can't breed cattle anymore. eat bugs. can't fertilize and grow crops anymore. the environment is more important than lives. save the planet.

i remember reading once how some thought this virus was an attempt to thin out the over population. if that's true more deaths than have already happened will be coming. and i guess, if that doesn't work, they've got all these other things to help them achieve their goal. of course we all know they have pre-chosen the "worthy" who will survive.

i think our God has different plans. it amazes me to no end that lives could continue as "normal" in the days; a lot of them floating aimlessly, oblivious to all else around them; others always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth; the truth staring them in the face all the while.

i may not live to see the His second coming, but nothing in the world could ever convince me this is not the generation that will. i don't know about anyone else but my eyes are searching the skies daily. (yes, i can see the heavens even through my ceiling. if up is down on the other side of the world, then up cannot be limited by anything material. the eyes i am viewing with are spiritual. i pray you have yours on too.

guess i'm running out of gas for now. (no pun intended.) i ran on so long and got in so deep. would you mind terribly if i made this a daily? i really didn't discuss anything personal - other than we're both getting old and the world can see that without any help. anyway, let me know.

now and forever your friend. more than that, your sister in Christ Jesus. may His name be blessed forever.

linda too

0 notes

roscgcld · 3 years

Text

RYOMEN SUKUNA || pretty little thing

note: am I simping for volume 12 cover sukuna once more? ...yes, and am not afraid to admit that. that man can glare at me and i will apologise for gracing him with my unworthy self lmao. but i do enjoy this entire idea of super mean and evil sukuna and his cutesy lover that can do whatever she wants to him and he wouldn’t stop her - not like he wanted to anyway lmao

pronouns: she/her

warning: mentions of murder and acts of murder as well, and if you squint a little there is mentions of minors, but it doesn’t play a big role in the story

The small group of sorcerers stood before the towering man, trying not to show the fear on their faces as they tried to look at the glowing red eyes head on. Sukuna was seated on his throne, two of his four arms resting on his while another was propping up his cheek; the other tapping his fingers on the plush fabric of his throne. He hated having his time wasted on useless things, and the socerers before him were starting to wear their welcome too thin.

Sighing tiredly, he tilted his head back, a sign that had the sorcerers tensing up. They knew that body language all too well - if they do not tell him what was the purpose of them coming all the way to him temple, and even daring to walk up to his alter will lead him to murdering them all in cold blood.

He doesn’t care how important they are in the town, or in jujutsu world either - to him, he is the most important. And everyone else is beneath him.

Well, everyone but one person, that is.

As if the Gods took pity on them, the soft sound of delicate footprints came from somewhere beside the group, causing the group to stop their whispers between one another at the sound of soft footsteps. Within seconds a beautiful woman walked out from the shadows and into the main room of the temple, her kimono trailing behind her delicately. The beautiful crafted garment hung on her frame perfectly; not too tight where it left little to the imagination, yet not too loose to hide her beautiful figure underneath it either. It was clearly crafted by a master craftsman, and the fabrics it was made of show how expensive it must have been.

A hana kanzashi was delicately placed on her perfectly styled hair, a streams of flowers hang off the end of the pin, giving the woman a more mysterious look as the sunlight casted a shadow over half of her face. She gave the sorcerers no more than an uninterested glance, trying not to roll her eyes at the sight of the group of mostly men - the same group of elders in her town that were so willing to sacrifice young girls to the man before them in exchange for peace.

She would know - she was one of those sacrifices, after all. However, the difference between her and the others was that instead of being killed after their purpose was done, Sukuna was now wrapped around her finger tightly. She can’t be too proud of it either; she was equally as obsessed with him as he was with her, so the better word to describe it might be mutual pining.

Sukuna will never admit that though, claiming she is just a foolish woman he likes keeping around for food and a warm body. But if she tries to get up and leave, or if he knows people are even thinking about bringing her harm? The world would suffer through Hell like they’ve never seen before.

Speaking of the man - Sukuna’s ruby red eyes watched as the woman made her way towards him, carefully climbing the steps of his alter like it was her own home; a soft pout resting on her lips as she walks closer to him. He didn’t get the usual burst of annoyance when anyone dared to look at him in eyes, or the anger he’d feel of having someone even daring to take one step towards the direction of his throne. Yet all he felt was amusement as he shifted in his seat ever so slightly; watching how the woman just made her way towards him and sat down in his lap like it was her throne.

Which it was after all, and Sukuna will let her indulge herself in such a luxury. He loves to spoil her, letting her do as she pleases

“Yes, my beautiful flower?” He hums softly as the hand that was once tapping his fingers along his seat reached up, stroking the apple of her cheek delicately as he raised an eyebrow at her. At that moment he didn’t care who was in the room - all that mattered was her. And he has a gut feeling he knows why she is currently sporting that cute pout of hers, her arms crossed over her chest adorably. “You’re taking too long. I got cold.”

Immediately a low chuckle rumble from somewhere in his chest as his other arm wrapped around her protectively, his tattoos a contrast against the unmasked skin of her bare thigh that was revealed by his simple action of pulling her closer. “We can’t have that now, can we?” He cooed ever so softly, something so foreign and so unheard of coming from a cold hearted killer that it scared the already terrified sorcerers even more. A few of them were even shaking at the sight of the woman, who was a mere girl when she was scarified, now perched in the lap of such a fearsome creature like she was a lazy house cat.

How can such a relation be so natural?

“What a pretty little thing she is, isn’t she?” Sukuna suddenly stated loudly, his ruby red eyes now dull and clearly showing his boredom as he turned to address the sorcerers before him once more. The woman from before just smiles softly as she curls up into his warmth, not caring about the others in the room; quietly purring at the feeling of a large hand stroking along her face delicately. An action that might seem hard for a man his size to achieve, yet he still somehow manages to treat her like fine china beneath his fingertips.

“I should thank you for being blind enough not to keep a beauty like this for yourselves, but it’s because of your blindness that landed her in my lap in the first place.” Sukuna continued into the silent room, the hand that was once cradling his cheek waved in the air lazily; a smirk tugging against his tattooed face. “All the ones you sent before as sacrifices were quite sad little things; blubbering and whining so much that I rather send their heads back to you so you can see just how pathetic they really were.” He sighs in annoyance, his face curling a little as he remembered all the past women he had.

Some were pretty, yes - but there was just something about them that just irked him. He didn’t know what it was; maybe it was their constant crying, or how they try to pretend to be head strong and threaten to kill him in his sleep. He just took what he wanted before slicing their head off just as he climaxes; not really caring for their own pleasure. It’s not his problem if they were satisfied or not.

However, when his little flower came, sniffling with tearful eyes at how she had been yanked away from her loving family; yet eyes curiously staring up at the man that she had heard so many stories about. There was just something in him that lets him know that she was the one. That she was the one that is going to scratch that insatiable itch that he has whenever he is sent a new sacrifice from the town that he is currently residing in. And he was right. “Yet, with that being said, that doesn’t mean I am not growing tired of your antics. Speak now before I make you.”

Immediately a few eyes glanced over at the woman in his lap, as if they were silently begging for her to lend them a hand. Yet this actual caused Sukuna to scowl as he looks over at the group, snapping his fingers to drag their attention back to him. “Who gave you the permission to turn your disgusting gazes at her? She can’t help miserable excuses like you lot anyway.” He scowls, his eyes narrowing in anger at how they thought they even worthy enough cast their dirty eyes on her, as if she would extend the olive branch to them after they’ve done.

Before he can do anything rash, the woman decided to step in, gently placing her warm hand against the exposed part of his chest from underneath the kimono he had worn. The feeling of the familiar touch caused him to sigh softly as he leans back into his throne once more, but he glared at them with the same intensity as before, watching them for a moment longer. “You know what? I think I know what to do with you lot. I mean, I hope you didn’t forget - you did make my little flower cry.”

Just as he finished saying that, he gave them all a sadistic smile before he swiped his hand in the air leisurely. His other arms immediately wrapped around the woman, turning her face away from the scene before them as the sorcerers all started to be sliced up one by one by invisible blades, the sound of wails and body parts flying about as they landed on the ground in bloody heaps. A few. who watched their fellow comrades be sliced up in horror before they tried to run, turning and running towards the entrance as if they can escape their fate.

They should know better than to try something so foolish.

“The clean up is going to be a pain, you know.” Y/N sighed softly as she looks up at her lover, knowing that he was shielding her from the horrors he had committed. If she was being honest, she had never seemed to fear how easily he dispose of others - whenever he does kill people, it usually leads to a much more wider and bigger picture at the end of the day. What she can’t stand though, is the mess he tends to leave behind. “The maids just cleaned the rugs too.”

“It’s their job, flower.” He just sighs and shifted her so she was straddling his lap leisurely, letting her hands rest against his warm chest as two of his arms wrapped around her waist. One of them rested against her cheek lovingly, letting her lean into his touch once more whilst his other hand went back to cupping his cheek in his hand. “You can still make it less dramatic, no?” She mumbles softly with a soft giggle, to which Sukuna just rolled his eyes at her comment.

“Why make killing so dull? I enjoy the flare of dramatics, flower.”

With a fond roll of her eyes she just leans forward to press soft kisses along his face, knowing that he will not push her away; not when his arms tighten their own hold on her. “Whatever you say, my King.” She cooed at him quietly, still placing feather-like kisses against his face as he closes his eyes for a moment. Soon he grew bored of them, and with a firm hand on the back of her head, guiding her face down to his. He presses a passionate kiss against her as she smiles, her hands trailing up his chest before they found themselves wrapped around his neck where they belong.

Maybe it was an obsession, or maybe it really is fate - whatever the reason may be, he’s going to make sure that his little flower is safe and content. Even if it means killing an entire army of people at her command, or tearing out his heart for her if she so much so as asks.

He is her slave, and he doesn’t see a reason to fight against his faith.

837 notes · View notes

mxtantrights · 3 years

Text

past lives | 10

a/n: final part!! AHHHHHHH stay tuned for the epilogue!!! And thank you guys so much for coming on this journey with me. I really appreciate it and YOU! <3

You awoke to the smell of cement and dry wall. It smelled so bad you could feel it in your throat. Your eyes cleared up to the spectacle in front of you. It was Ra's and Nyssa with their arms crossed.

“Is this some sick parent teacher conference?” you joked.

“No games. You failed to deliver the package.” he said.

“You mean your grandson? The one who left of his own volition?”

“Nonsense he is the heir to everything I have. He can’t leave.”

You looked over more to your former friend, “Nice to see you too Nyssa.”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” she asked.

You look at Ra’s and he’s already staring you down. You don’t think he’s told her. It would have been best not to. Withholding information is his favorite skill anyways.

You’re about to say something when Ra’s comes over and backhands you. It makes you curl in the chair they’ve put you in. You weren’t surprised, that didn’t make it any less worse however.

He really doesn’t want her to know.

“All you had to do was seek him out. You couldn’t even do it.”

His smack- you hate to say it- brought up a thought to the front of your mind.

“When did you know about my father?” you asked.

It’s in words that Nyssa isn’t able to pick up on. You know. He knows. It’s clear he doesn’t want her to know. Another hint at telling her might earn you worse than a slap.

“After you came out of the pit. I looked into your identity some more and did some research.” he said.

“Tell me,” you move your arms bound to the back of the chair, “Did you spawn Damian afterwards because of me?”

“No, you’re not the reason. I had already been watching him for some time. You were just a happy coincidence.” he answered.

Ra's folds his hands behind his back and moves around Nyssa, and then around you. In a circle. The predator and the prey. What was Nyssa this time around?

“You never reached out.” you said directly to her.

“You left.” she shot back.

“He wanted me gone.” you nodded to her father.

“It was a test you imbecile!” she shouted.

It made you flinch. You realized that maybe Nyssa wasn’t going to let bygones be bygones. And from her stand point she didn’t have to. You hurt her.

Ra’s circles around you once more. His eyes never left Nyssa though. It gave you a sickening feeling. How everyone was his pawns. Specifically Talia and Nyssa. The women in that family needed serious counseling after being brought up by a man like that.

“If it was a test then why did he let me live? The moment I stepped out the door I should have been dead!” you shouted back.

She stayed silent. So you continued.

“He’s lying to you Nyssa.” you said.

“She’s right I lied to you. It wasn’t part of some test.”

Nyssa turned to her father in shock. You were sat wondering why he would give himself up so easily. What did he have to play here?

Whatever it was could wait. He was far enough now to not strike you again. You needed to let her know.

“He wanted me as a back up for Damian. My half-brother.” you said.

Nyssa turned back to you and when she did Ra's smacked her too. You winced for her, his hand print would probably be on your face in a few minutes. Just like old times.

He turned to you.

“You ruined my plan to bring my grandson back. Now he knows I’m here.” he said.

“He ran away for good reason. I’m glad he did. I would've never handed him over to you anyways.” you spoke.

“You didn’t have to hand him to me, you were just going to serve him to me on a platter.”

“No. Because I know you were tracking me through my phone, both of them. You think I didn’t notice how heavy that flash drive is? I know a cloning device when I hold one. And the burner phone? That was cheap work.”

He began to laugh. It made you sit further back in your seat. Him laughing was never a good sign. And it never sounded right. All those years in the pit must’ve done something to his laugh, along with the rest of his mind.

Ra's al Ghul came face to face with you. He wasn’t a pleasant man to look at. His breath even more telling on how close to death he is. But you looked him in the eye anyways.

“And that’s why you’re here. The bargaining chip. He’ll come for you, because just as you care for him he cares for you.”

He lets up and in the background you saw Nyssa shift her arm really quickly. You don’t know what it was for.

The family had gotten a hit on your location. It had been four hours since you were taken. Everyone decided to suit up and hit the streets for the first two hours. Redhood and Red Robin took downtown, Nightwing enlisted the help of GCPD to search Midtown and Batman and Robin took Uptown. With the league they couldn’t be too careful.

In the middle of searching is when they got a comms message from Alfred. Your phone had pinged off a tower in Crime Alley. As Bruce and Damian were closest they began to head over to that neighborhood. The rest of the boys and some footmen from the GCPD were on their way over.

Batman and Robin got there and Alfred was able to narrow down the closest tower that your phone pinged off of.

In the bat mobile Damian remained quiet. He had kept mum about the real reason you were there with him when Gotham Academy had caught on fire. Bruce could tell it was something he wanted to speak about alone.

“So what's the real reason?”

Damian let out a sigh, “This isn’t our first meeting. We’ve had a relationship since I was born. Back on the island.”

“With the league?”

“Yes. It was sad when we could no longer see each other, grandfather had offered an out. I never thought we would see each other again.”

Bruce stayed quiet for a moment. All that could be heard was the engine of the batmobile.

“Did you know you were related?”

“I found that out the same day as Gotham Academy. We had a conversation later that night.”

“You snuck out?”

“I had to father. It was for good reason. We were able to put the pieces together. I said I would handle grandfather.”

“Damian.”

“This has gone on for too long. It’s my fault. If something happens-”

“We’ll make it.”

Then he steps more on the gas.

Your head lulled forward after the sixth blow he dealt you. It wasn’t like you earned it. He wanted to prove a point to Nyssa. That you were expendable to him. That in the grand scheme of things you didn’t matter.

“All that training, wasted! You can’t even get out of the restraints.”

You swallowed the blood that was in your mouth, “What makes you think he’ll come for me?”

“We’re going to send a public ransom across all of Gotham. I figure a hundred thousand as the bounty will circulate enough to get to him. And then he’ll come and find you.”

“He’s just a child.”

“No he’s more than a child. He’s my grandson, the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul.”

“And what does she think about all this?”

“Enough!” he shouted.

You were punched again.

“I’ll get someone to send the ransom around.” Nyssa’s voice said.

You lifted your head up to look at her but her back was already turned to you. This however did earn you another punch, to the gut this time, by Ra’s. You let out a disgusting sound at the impact.

“Instead of a coincidence you’ve become an inconvenience. This time I won’t put you in the pit.”

“Why would you ever put me in there in the first place, huh? I was a no one! You didn’t know me or my mother. You just snatched my body and made me one of your foot soldiers.” you screamed through the incoming headache.

He did that mechanical laugh again and you wanted to spit at him. You never thought he was a good man. All the things he did. The things he told you to do. You can’t absolve all of the blame but he was an undeniable reason why you did those things.

Drop offs turned into stake outs. Stake outs into undercover. Undercover into sedation. With him the lines were blurred, because there was supposed to be nothing you wouldn’t do for him. But you chose Damian. Or, you chose Damian’s new life over his old one. And he didn't like that one bit.

The door bused open and in came Batman. You didn't think you'd live to see him up close. It’s true that while in Gotham you would probably see him once or twice. But this?

You watched as Ra's attacked him on sight. It was like the two were in sync. Batman hit, Ra’s dodged. A kick here, a swerve there. They seemed to be equals. You know you could never pull that off. Ra’s would have you flat out in under a minute.

When Batman should have swerved he didn’t. And Ra’s got the best of him with a punch. This gave way to a kick to the side and a head pull into the ground. You struggled to get out of your restraints. It wasn’t looking good for either of you.

Ra’s picked him up, and you watched in horror as he hurled him toward you. Batman collided with you so hard that he broke the chair you were in. It sent you back into one of the many crates in the room.

Batman groaned as you lifted him off of you. You slid over to the side on the floor. He was definitely not light. He knocked the only wind out of you that remained after Ra’s punishment.

No more chair meant your hands were free.

You pulled your arms around to the front. You could try to take him like this. Even though you could hear him laughing in the foreground.

“Here.”

You looked over at Batman. He was holding out one of his knives, shaped like a bat. You took it without passing a comment on it. You passed the blade over the restraints and made quick work of them.

On your feet, the laughter stops. You inched closer and closer to him.

“I didn’t snatch your body, your mother handed you over when she found out you were murdered. She asked me for this!” he said.

You stopped.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you died she went to a very dark place. With how dark she got it didn’t take long for her to find one of my associates and get in contact with me. She begged for you to be brought back. Her child!”

You ran into the attack. The words that came from his mouth just made you see red. He threw his fists but you ducked and weaved. After weaving you landed multiple blows on him. You grabbed him by the shoulders and brought your knee into him.

He went down a bit, only for a few seconds, then got his bearings back. Ra’s spit out the blood from his mouth.

“You’ll leave here with no parents. And it’ll be at my behest.”

In through the door comes Robin. A robin with a face too familiar to hide behind a mask.

“Grandfather!” the little robin shouted.

That makes you look behind you. At Batman. Bruce Wayne.

Your father was Batman. Your father.

#dc x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #Ra's al Ghul x reader #robin x reader #Tim Drake x reader #Nightwing x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #Jason Todd x reader #PAST LIVES

92 notes · View notes

messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings: Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap. Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel, @pleasantanathema and @linestrider. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life.

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up.

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that.

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning.

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did.

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft.

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash.

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?”

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over. “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old.

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.”

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave.

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one.

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look.

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are.

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement.

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time.

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back.

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged.

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested. Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough.

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street.

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere.

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee.

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully.

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips.

“I guess you could say that.”

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.”

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.”

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place.

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut.

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested.

Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.”

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.” It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee.

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them.

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare.

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

“I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.”

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world.

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again.

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face.

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it.

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.”

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu.

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face.

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.”

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray.

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over.

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.”

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow.

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.”

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile.

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal.

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle.

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all. “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime.

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money. He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes.

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner.

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

[to be continued]

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fic #haikyuu fanfic #iwaizumi haikyuu #mafia au #thesmutpilecollab

286 notes · View notes

stoney-siren · 3 years

Text

May I Have This Dance? PART 2 (Sal Fisher x Reader)

Link to Part 1

Summary: After you confront Ash on your crush on Sal, she takes you to some friends who she believes to have good advice on what you should do. Meanwhile Sal is trying to work up the courage to asking you out.

Warnings: Swearing, possible mentions of drug use, slight angst?

It had been a few days after your conversation with Ashley, that day she had taken you to go meet up with Maple and Chug, who were somehow excellent advice givers. Not only that, but they knew how to keep a secret too, you weren’t too trustful of them at first, but after a couple of days with their lips sealed, you started to trust them a bit more.

So there you were sitting in your apartment with Ash, your mom was out getting groceries, so it gave you two some time to try and plan out how to ask Sal to the prom. Little did you two know that Larry and Sal were doing the exact same thing on the fourth floor in Sals room.

“I was thinking of either wearing this purple dress I have, or a green one.” Ash commented as she messed with her polaroid camera.

“I think the purple would really compliment your eyes.” Ash smiled at your feedback and nodded her head in agreement.

“What do you think Larry, Todd, and Sal are doing?” She questioned, getting up and sitting beside you at your desk and taking a look at what you were writing.

You have been spending almost the whole day writing down ideas on how to ask out Sal, but everything that came to mind just sounded either cheesy, dumb, or both.

“Probably playing some video game on Sals gear boy.” You responded, sitting next to Sal and watching over his shoulder as he attempted to beat a video game was one of your favorite things to do, you found it adorable how he celebrated every time he beat a level.

“Speaking of Sal, these ideas of yours are starting to get pretty creative!” Ash took the paper you had been scribbling on from the desk and started to read what you had been writing.

Quickly, you snatched the paper back, even though you appreciated the compliment, you couldn’t help but imagine every way Sal could turn down every idea you came up with.

Sal stood in front of a mirror in Larrys room, messing with his hair and thinking of how he’d style it for prom.

“You should do a bun, I heard a lot of people find those attractive.” Larry commented from somewhere in the room, he himself was occupying his time with a painting he was working on.

“Nah dude.” He let his hair fall to his shoulders as he removed his pigtails, messing with the blue strands in his face.

“They’ll probably like your hair regardless what it looks like! If you wanna go with something mature then maybe you should just wear your hair down.” He continued to suggest from his easel.

“Yeah maybe,” he began, touching his prosthetic. “Larry, what if I want to kiss them?” That caught his attention real fast.

“Then do it bro! Nothings holding you back, unless of course they don’t want to.” He set his brush down and made his way over to the mirror, putting his hands on Sals shoulders.

“Yeah but.. They’ve never seen me without my prosthetic before, what if I scare them?” This was Sals usual nervous thoughts, always afraid of how his appearance would affect others.

“You’re not gonna scare them, trust me. You know (Y/N) better than that, they’ve gotta be the most kindest, and accepting person we know!” Larry tried to reassure his friend as Sal lowered his hand from his prosthetic, turning his gaze to his feet.

“I guess.” Deep down he knew Larry was right, but all the anxiety pent up inside just wouldn’t budge.

“The dance is in two days, you still have time to think of what you want to say to them.” And that’s all Sal thought of for the next two days, practicing in the mirror, even asking his dad for advice, which ended horribly since Henry was more proud of the fact that Sal wanted to ask someone out rather than giving him advice.

“Mom, I have to get going soon.” You tried to exclaim as your mother snapped another photo of you in your prom dress, part of you was feeling disappointed that you never got to ask Sal to the dance, but he had been avoiding you for the past few days now.

In fact, you actually started to grow worried that somebody might’ve told Sal about your little crush on him, your bets were on Chug. You could see him somehow spilling the beans on accident and then immediately trying to take it back and playing it off as a joke.

“Oh just one more photo!” Your mother cheered, snapping you from your thoughts, but before your mother could continue on with her photo shoot, there was a knock at the door.

“Those are my friends, can I go now?” You asked in a more harsh tone, trying to hint that you were getting impatient. Honestly, your mother could probably fill a whole scrap book with the amount of photos she had taken of you.

“Oh, fine! Maybe I could get a picture with you and your friends though?” She attempted one last time to get a few more pictures out of you.

“Mom!” You whined as you stepped over to the door, opening it to see your dear friends, Larry, Ash, and Sal.

“Heya (Y/N)!” Ash chirpped, she was wearing that purple dress that she spoke of a couple days ago. Larry and Sal were both in suits, and even though Sal still wore that blank prosthetic mask, he looked nervous for some reason.

“Hey (Y/N), y- you look nice.” Sal spoke, and wanted to punch himself for stuttering. Larry nudged Sal lightly and did his best not to burst into laughter right there.

“Thanks Sal! You look lovely too, are we ready to go? Where’s Todd.” You questioned, looking around for that brainy friend of yours.

“He’s helping Chug out with his outfit, he’s kinda nervous since he wants to ask Maple out.” It was Sals turn to nudge Larry back and give him a look from behind his prosthetic.

“Dude! We weren’t supposed to tell anyone!” Ashley and you both laughed a little, and honestly it was because you both knew Chug liked Maple from the start.

“Trust us, our lips are sealed!” You commented, stepping out of her apartment and waving your mom behind before closing the door before she could come attack you four with her camera.

You and the others stepped out of the building into the night, Larry pulled some car keys out of his pocket and unlocked Lisa’s car, which wasn’t far.

“We’re taking your moms car? Please tell me she’s okay with this.” You asked Larry, he only laughed and patted your shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s completely chill with me using her car tonight as long as I don’t wreck it! Only problem is that one of the seats is unavailable, and there’s six of us.” Larry explained.

“I call shot gun then!” Ash shouted as she rushed to the car in heels, it amazed me how fast she could run in those, even if they weren’t that high.

Chug and Todd had made their way out of the apartment just as Ash got to the car, you could now see what Larry was talking about when he said Chug was nervous. The poor guy was sweating bullets.

“Two people are gonna have to sit in the trunk.” Larry continued to explain, and Todd immediately spoke up.

“Chug can’t sit in the trunk, this nervous wreck will throw up all over Lisa’s car.” Chug tried to protest, claiming he wasn’t nervous, but it was clear to everyone that he was.

“I don’t mind sitting in the trunk.” Sal finally spoke, he seemed less nervous than before has he proceeded towards the car.

“Well then it’s settled I guess, (Y/N) and Sal will sit in the trunk, Todd and Chug will sit in the back, and Ash and I will sit in the front!” Before you could even try and argue with him, Larry was following Sal to the car with Chug and Todd close behind.

Why would you even try to fight with him on this? Being stuck in a small space with Sal Fisher? It was the perfect moment to try and make a move, you supposed you just didn’t want the others to overhear you, or end up having Ash tease the both of you.

“So you decided to join me?” Sal joked as you climbed into the trunk and laughed.

“Guess so!” You sat beside him as Larry closed the trunk and got into the drivers seat, starting the car and putting on some heavy metal music. Nobody really seemed to complain since he was giving everyone a ride.

“How are you feeling, (Y/N)?” He continued to conversation as the car was too noisy for anyone else to hear the two of you.

“Fine I guess, a bit nervous.” He seemed to relate to that as he nodded and stared up at the ceiling of the car, the both of you sat side by side, with your hands dangerously close. His nails were painted black, his hand looked so soft and holdable.

“What are you so nervous about? We’re gonna have fun tonight.” He stated that with enough confidence that it almost felt like a fact.

Silence fell between the two of you as Larry’s metal music started to overtake the car, the sound of Todd reassuring Chug mixed into the ambiance of the car. Slowly, just ever so slowly, your hand creeped closer to Sals, your mind raced with thoughts both positive and negative, what if he pulled away? What if he held your hand? Before your hand could even touch his, Larry took a tight turn, and Sals body crashed into yours.

“Larry!” You could hear Ash yell from the front of the car, your head hit the floor of the trunk rather roughly.

“What!” Larry cackled as he continued to drive the car, the pain in your head instantly faded when you made eye contact with the blue haired boy on top of you in a rather intimate position.

“U- Uh- I- I’m so- so sorry (Y/N)!” He immediately sat up and pulled himself off you as you sat up yourself. Before you could try and say anything, Larry took another tight turn and this time you fell against Sals chest, his back colliding with the side of the trunk.

“Larry! Sal and (Y/N) are in the trunk without seatbelts! Could you be a bit more gentle on those turns!?” Todd spoke up this time, you were just praying he wouldn’t turn back and take a look at the two of you, now smushed together.

“S- Sal I’m sorry!” You could feel your face practically about to burst into flames as you tried to pull yourself up, and his hand wrapped around your wrist to help support you.

“I- It’s okay, it’s neither of our faults, just Larry’s reckless driving.” He chuckled off the tension between the two of you as the car started to come to a halt. Todd turned back in his seat as Chug exited the car.

“Hey, we’re here.” He stated bluntly before leaving the car. Larry opened the trunk for the two of you as the both of you climbed out, Sal gave Larry a punch on the shoulder.

With that, most of your friends vanished into the crowd of students you have known for a while, you stuck close to Larry and Sal though as you made your way into the schools gym, which was now decorated surprisngly nicely by your peers. Students were dancing, chatting, and overall having a nice time.

“Hey, hey (Y/N)!” Ash shouted over the music, she looked relieved that she finally found you. It had been almost an hour into prom, and you have just been standing to the side and dancing to some of your favorite songs. Maple had came by a few times to ask you about the Sal situation, but you didn’t have much to say to her. You just didn’t know how to approach him after that moment in the car.

“Yeah Ash?” You responded to her, you knew your voice was gonna be a bit soar after tonight, but who cared?

“I got the DJ to play a slow song after this one! You need to go find Sal!” Ash yelled to you, instantly your face heated back up almost similar to that moment in the car.

“Why would you do that!?” Now beginning to panic, Ash took you by the shoulders and looked you in the eyes.

“Because the both of you need to just get your shit together and dance!” And with that she pushed you off into the crowd to go find Sal.

Instead of finding Sal, you found Travis Phelps, school bully and your friend groups worst enemy. You couldn’t help but sometimes feel bad for the guy though, since you heard his dad was a preacher and he was always looking a little beat up. Travis gave you a disgusted look.

“Oh, it’s you, I overheard you and that bitch.” He sneered, you wanted to defend Ashley, but he went on. “Do you really think that freaks gonna wanna dance with you?”

“Shut up Travis, all you ever do is pick on us, I don’t understand what we did to deserve your cruelty!” You replied, clearly upsetted by his comment.

“Whatever, can’t wait to hear all about how Sally Face rejected you tonight!” His final remark made your heart sink, as you heard a familiar voice from behind you. Sal was standing there with Larry close behind, looking ready to beat the crap out of Travis.

Waves of embarrassment washed over you as Sal just seemed to blankly stare at you, was Travis right? Did he really not like you like that? You didn’t want to think about it, you did the only thing you could think of, which was to run away from the three of them and escape to the outside of the school.

You hated Travis for doing that to you, he let everything you worked so hard on just slip out right in front of Sal. Hot tears filled your eyes as you collapsed to your knees, attempting to frantically wipe your tears.

“Stupid, stupid..” You mumbled, the music from the gym had made its way outside the building now muffled though and more quiet, you always hated how loud school gatherings would play their music. As you attempted to contain yourself, you heard the door you exited from open and close, and a soft and gentle voice call out to you.

“(Y/N)?” Sal called, the sound of his shoes against the concrete floor rang in your ears as you lifted your head.

“Sal.. I’m sorry. I..” You were lost for words, what were you suppoed to tell him? Try and lie? Tell the truth? You soon snapped out of it again as you heard slow music begin to play from inside the gym, and Sal offered his hand out to you a bit hesitantly.

“(Y/N), may I have this dance?” Your heart sank as you quickly took his hand, he pulled you onto your feet and wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping his other hand entangled with yours.

The both of you were so close that you could hear him softly breathe against his prosthetic, your heartbeats were almost in sinc as he began to lead you passively with the song. His eyes remained on yours, and yours remained on his.

“Sal,” you began, he was all ears, “Do you like me?” He lightly laughed at your comment, which made you a bit nervous until he responded.

“(Y/N), I’ve had a crush on you for like, three years. I’ve been waiting for a moment like this since forever.” He spoke softly, you never knew that he could be this romantic, it made your heart just want to burst from your chest.

The song eventually ended, but Sal continued to hold you, slowly he untangled his hand with yours and touched the bottom of his prosthetic. You had always silently theorized what Sal may have looked like under his prosthetic, so excitement overcame you as Sal slowly lifted his prosthetic off his face.

“You’re.. A work of art.” The compliment escaped your lips before you could even process them, his cheeks grew deep red as he sheepishly smiled.

“Thank you, (Y/N), would you.. Or.. Could I um.. Kiss you?” He softly asked, of course you responded with a nod before pulling him into a light kiss. Sal instantly dropped his prosthetic and carressed the side of your face with his now free hand, you wrapped both your arms around his neck as he kissed you back lovingly and passionately.

When the two of you separated, you both were blushing messes, and lost for words. Your moment was at and end when you heard Larry open the door and call out for you two, Sal took your hand and gave you a caring smile.

“We should head back now, okay? Enjoy the rest of the night.”

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read this :) if you want more Sally Face content lmk!

#sally face #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #larry johnson #ashley campbell #todd morrison

93 notes · View notes

5uptic · 3 years

Text

hey fanfic spotlight again:)

arm candy by amsves (5up/Fundy, general rating, m/m | 300 words)

Summary: The first thing Fundy does after the stream ends is lean over and engulf 5up in his arms.

a chance encounter by mangoedges (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 450 words)

Summary: Who would have thought Apollo would find his soulmate now?

Desecration Smile by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: No summary.

She said to me, Oh Death / Come close my eyes by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve thought the words on his wrist were the coolest thing ever, but they just didn’t make sense. No, really; he even asked 5up–had called him in a possibly drunk state on his twentieth birthday, when a prickling sensation on his arm made him think that he was about to die, 5up, help, and was reminded drily that it was his soulmark, dumbass–and the best his smartest friend (self-proclaimed) could offer was, “Maybe your soulmate’s a poet?” Completely useless. Steve remembered hanging up on him, the click of his mobile cutting off his indignant exclamation. It was only the next day that he looked, properly looked, at his soulmark and tried to make sense of it. Nope. That didn’t work out either; he blamed the hangover. For the longest time ever, he just dismissed it as the universe fucking up. A slash in the middle of a phrase? Ridiculous.

why’d you only call me when you’re high? by LVTO (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I miss you,” Steve mumbles through the phone, and his voice has that soft, honest tone that it always does when he’s like this. 5up’s heart clenches. It’s these moments that keep him from leaving like he should’ve done four months ago, these soft-spoken truths that time and time again have him believing that maybe, maybe this time will be different. It never is. or 5up receives a phone call and ponders his life.

jealousy, jealousy by planetwitch (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy are best friends and have never crossed that line into something more. Until Fundy gets jealous at 5up's constant admiration for a certain 6 foot tall musician.

mimi's menagerie of the miraculous & the mundane by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a drabble for the word of the day, every day, for 100 days.

5up & Co. Throw Yarn at a Wall (and more) by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 1.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Hafu neither confirmed nor denied, instead snatching the half unraveled ball of yarn out of his hands forcefully, a cheshire grin finding its way onto her face. Before 5up could clearly decipher the situation, she flung it at him, smacking him directly in the center of his face. or 5up loves throwing yarn at walls, and everyone else quickly picks it up from him. But in different ways.

Inside My Mind by SilverSprinklez10 (5up/Apollo, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: Soulmates are usually a blessing. But sometimes, a soulmate connection can feel like a curse.

(2021, 190 x 172 cm, oil on canvas) by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.9k words)

Summary: Nobody ever painted anything if they’ve never painted the way 5up closes his eyes when he laughs, how his slender fingers wrap around a new tube of paint, how his smile is all teeth and eye-crinkling. Cabanel’s Fallen Angel has curls, but they aren’t 5up’s, are they? Hyllas, in the nymphs, has fair and delicate hands but 5up’s are prettier, especially when he accidentally squirts paint everywhere and slams his palms on the table and goes “fuck!” Steve cackles until he can’t breathe.

Don't Take Me Tongue-Tied by AoDity, LovelyDayForIt (5up/Sleepy, 5up/Apollo, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words)

Summary: "Sleepy found the ring by luck, something that matches his lover's graceful beauty that he could still afford. Twisted strands of thin silver with a little shimmering opal in the center, it was perfect." Aka: Sleepy's love for Five brought him heartache. If they try, there's still a chance the two could be happy.

implying that the ferris wheel's your body (and i'd really love admission to it) by homeward_bound (David/Hafu/Steve, mature rating, multi | 2.2k words)

Summary: Steve might be drunk out of his mind, but David's just really hot, okay? [or, steve propositions david, kind of. hafu and dumbdog bear witness to his lapse in judgement.]

mi casa es su casa by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.9k words)

Summary: Apollo's soulmate is cautious. Except, apparently, when it comes to coffee. Because, for the fifth time this week, Apollo wakes up to a burnt tongue. It's annoying. He can't really be mad though, because he has given his soulmate so much worse. The occasional burnt tongue is a meager act of penance, comparatively.

I love you too (I love you too) by some_spooky_shit_right_there (5up/Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 3.9k words)

Summary: Apollo comes into 5up's coffee shop. He always gets a cup of coffee and either a bagel or a croissant. He always seems tired, and he never comes in on weekends. Steve would really love to find out just who, exactly, he is.

i'm more fool than wise by 5fu (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steven Suptic is a brilliant crewmate - ask anyone. Okay so don't ask Janet. Or Dk. Or Koji. You know what, don't even ask - it's pretty obvious he is. But when new recruit and stunningly intelligent 5up boards the Crewfu, Steve isn't so sure he can compete. Not that he cares. Totally. Absolutely. On their mission to gather intel on Polus and find out what happened to the previous crew that disappeared from the planet three years earlier, Steve may realize that maybe he was indeed more fool than wise - and maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

i was praying that you and me might end up together by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Four years at Polus University. Four first weeks of school. Two strangers become two friends, and maybe even something more. Apollo hates being seen, hates having attention drawn to him, hates living in a world that feels like a game where everyone knows the rules except him. Steve thrives on attention, purposefully draws the gaze of everyone in the room, making his own rules as he floats through life. They're a match made in hell, but Apollo finds that when Steve looks at him, gives him nothing but attention, he doesn't mind being seen after all.

Long Journey Home by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 9.6k words)

Summary: Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue Feeling kind of blue, boys, feeling kind of blue Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue I'm on my long journey home

there’s so many ways to say “i love you” and i wouldn’t wanna waste ‘em (on someone who, don’t feel it too) by Dear_MaedaysUnwelcomedGhost (5up/Steve, 5up/Hafu, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 13k words, chaptered)

Summary: Love was a strange thing, 5up found. It was everywhere. And not in the way it may seem. It wasn’t in the adverts of perfect couples with artificial lighting. It wasn’t in the glittery cards made by factories or the flowers sold at grocery stores. Not in the TV shows made to bring in cash and be thrown out, with couples who don’t have anything to hold onto but brief infatuation and physical attraction. But in the friendly smiles of strangers as they pass by. In a mother cutting fruit up for their child. Running a hand through the hair of your partner, as their eyes flutter close and to sleep. Helping a stranger pick up their dropped papers, asking for nothing in return. In the graffiti on the wall by the alleyway you walk by everyday to get to work. To the goods baked by small independent bakeries. Flowers planted in parks to make it just a little nicer, or the ones growing out of pavement cracks with determination.

Also!

GuardianPuppy‘s this city needs to be destroyed or at least painted in a different color collection.

spaded_ace’s Casino in the Sky collection.

5fu’s among all this pain collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight #long post #finally a steve/dogfu fic.... come kiss me author

40 notes · View notes

magnhild · 3 years

Text

Nora Valkyrie, Identity, and Purpose

Hey everyone, Blaire here, and almost exactly a year ago, I made this mess of a post where I laid out all of my thoughts on Nora and what I thought the show could have in store for her.

And honestly, most of my ideas were way off, and not at all correct. Also, the post kind of flopped.

Thankfully, Volume 8 has given me a chance to redeem myself, and write another, more coherent, essay about my favourite RWBY character; where this Volume seems to be taking her character, and what it means to me, personally.

Buckle up.

To the vast majority of people in the RWBY fandom, Nora is the least-developed character, and the one most lacking in dimension. Most of her character seems to be defined by two things; her energy and love for fighting, and her relationship on Ren.

Volume 8 took note of these conceptions, and addressed them head-on.

Of course, any keen-eyed viewer will have noted Nora’s hidden depths even before this volume, which I noticed in last year’s post. She is perhaps the most perceptive of the main cast, at least, when it comes to people’s feelings and relaionships. She was the only one to really comment on Pyrrha’s crush on jaune, and the first to bring up Blake and Yang’s growing relationship. It was also her level-headedness that resolved RNJR’s argument in Volume 4, Chapter 9.

Volume 7 also showed us her innate desire to protect the weak, and her disdain to those who have the power to help, but refuse. I personally get the feeling that this was her driving motivation in becoming a Huntress; to protect people who cannot protect themselves, perhaps because she doesn’t want anyone to have to grow up as she did. Nora’s fury at Ironwood in V7C7 is esepcially signifigant, because it’s the angriest we’ve ever seen her before, even more so in that this anger is directed at someone with much more authority than her.

But these little details were only the tip of the iceberg. These were traits she already had, and while they help to add layers to her character, they’ve done very little in terms of her actual development.

This is where Volume 8 came in stronger than any other.

Volume 7 hinted to us that Ren and Nora’s relationship was beginning to get more complicated, between their bickering, Ren’s dismissiveness at Nora, and their kiss in V7C6. By the end of the volume, it was clear that they were still struggling, despite their clear love for each other. Volume 8 carried this thread along, having them split into different parties, and Nora giving Ren a bit of attitude we’ve not really seen her direct at him before.

She’s frustrated with him, and disappointed that he can’t see what she sees. But despite her tough front, V8C2 then hints that she’s sadder about the split than she’s letting on, after May brings up Nora’s ‘friends’. C3 then brings this to a head, where we get a conversation that sees Nora opening up to Blake and Yang, and revealing a deeply sad truth about herself- that she has no idea who she is without Ren, because she’s spent so much of her life with him and him alone, and her feelings for him have shaped so much of who she thinks she is. We’ve never seen her so hopeless and lost, especially after she reveals that, as far as she’s concerned, all she’s good for is hitting stuff.

Right in these few minutes, the show takes how the audience percieves Nora, and reveals to us that those two core traits are the gateways to a far deeper insight of her character. She’s known for her relationship with Ren, but wait- what about when he’s not there with her? She’s known for hitting stuff, but wait- that’s all she thinks she’s good for.

It’s revealed to us that, not only is this how most of the audience percievs Nora, but it’s how she percieves herself. And for all her energy and upbeat attitude, deep down, she thinks incredibely lowly of herself. For all her confidence in her fighting abilities, she lacks confidence in herself as a person.

Surprisingly enough, the ‘who am I?’ character arc is one that was hardly explored at all up until this point, despite it being one of the most common and signifgant character arcs in fictional media. And I don’t think many of us at all could have imagined that Nora would be the one to get that arc, when she’s always seemed so self-assured on the surface.

And then, when Penny is in need of help, Nora takes Weiss’ advice to heart, and does the one thing she believes she’s capable of- being strong, and hitting stuff.

Nora overcharging her Semblance to take down the wall is seen by a lot of the fandom as some kind of win for Nora; as her ‘big moment’. But while it’s certainly a really cool and badass scene, it was far from a triumph for her.

This was Nora at perhaps her lowest point so far in the series. This was Nora figuring ‘well, if this is all I’m good for, I’ll do it to the extreme’. This was Nora thinking her only purpose was to greatly endanger herself for the sake of others, because she figured she was the only one who could. And she almsot got herself killed for it.

While certainly a defining moment, it was far from triumphant. It wasn’t a win. It was a self-destrcutive act that reflected how little she thinks of herself; that she’s not worth anything unless she’s pushing herself to the limit doing the one thing she thinks she’s good at.

And to drive the knife in harder, it backfires horribly.

Because now she’s bedridden and critically injured, with scars that are probably permanent; a reminder of her lowest point, forever marked on her body. She can’t fight now, can’t help at all, and Salem has launched her attack on Atlas.

And in her half-unconsious state in V8C7, she realizes this, delivering an absolutely heartbreaking line:

As far as she’s concerned, her last attempt at doing what she thinks only she can do- what she thinks is all she can do- has prevented her from doing anything of worth at all. She lost one half of herself when she split from Ren, and now she’s lost the other half too. The two things that she defines herself by are gone. And the worst part is, we don’t know if she’s awar of the fact Salem has begun her attack. We could very well see her fully wake up, only to realize that the world has begun ending while she was unconsious, and she can’t do anything about it.

Now, this scene, and Nora’s struggle in this Volume as a whole, hit home for me in particular.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’re probably aware that Nora is only of my hightest- and only- kins. And I’ve only been able to relate to her more and more after what we’ve got of her in this Volume.

I am chronically disabled. I have a connective tissue disorder known as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which fucks up my body in a multitude of different ways, but signifigantly affects the joints. For me, it hits worst in my back, ankles, and my fingers. The fingers are my main problem. To make matters worse, I’ve also been victim to intense pains in my shoulder, which came out of nowhere a couple of months ago and have only gotten worse since. The slightest movement aggrevates it. As any follower of mine would know, I am both an artist and a writer. I create both for fun, and I’ve studied writing as a profession. It is these things I’m known for being good at, and not much else.

Thanks to my disability and my shoulder though, I have to do these things less. Even on perscription pain medication, it still hurts. It hurts to write this even now; my shoulder feels like it’s burning up from the inside. It will only get worse over time.

So, I’m finding myself in Nora’s position. I can’t do what I’m good at anymore, and I don’t know what to do with myself as a result. Not doing these things makes me feel lazy and unproductive, and makes me feel that the people around me will abandon me so long as i can’t keep providing them content. And I’ve gotta say, it hurts a lot, and I don’t just mean physically.

Because of what I’m going through, it’s especially important to see my favourite RWBY character just so happening to be dealing with the same problem; the same loss of idenity and purpose. We don’t know who we are or what we’re good for without the things we think define us.

While I’m unsure of my own future though, I find comfort in knowing that Nora’s problem will be tackled and addressed; that her friends will help her to rediscover herself and find her true worth. And while we’ve got a while to go until we’ll be able to see the Volume continue, I’m incredibely excited to see where Nora’s arc goes, especially if we can get some backstory along the way. I find myself wondering if her life before Ren is part of why she thinks so little of herself without him- was it the way she was raised to think? Is this the fault of her childood circumstances? Or is this just something she developed on her own, after becoming too dependant on Ren for comfort?

Whatever answers we get, I have faith that Nora’s story will be told well, and I’m very sure that it’s only just beginning. Even if she finds her worth before the end of the volume, her story won’t be over yet, not when we’ve still likely got at least four more volumes to go after this one.

In just seven episodes, Nora Valkyrie has gone from one of the least developed characters, to one of the most interesting and relatable, at least, in my eyes. There is so much more depth to her character than having a crush on Ren, and being the strong girl who hits stuff. There’s a layer of tragedy to her character that we’re touching upon now, and I’m excited to dive into it.

Thank you all for reading!

#rwby #my writing #rwby analysis #rwby spoilers #nora valkyrie

258 notes · View notes

sixteenthshen · 3 years

Text

i need help

I read a post on Zhihu last night - “How to evaluate the finale of Word of Honor?” The top commenter’s writing just killed me.

Heavy spoilers for episode 33/34. There’re no spoilers for the episodes after that, but I can’t guarantee this if there are replies.

The rest hidden behind a cut.

I don’t need help explaining the finale or the happy ending, bad ending whatever it is, I’ve found my own way to come to terms with it. But I can’t accept what happened in 33/34 and the lack of follow up on the core of the issue, and that’s blocking me from enjoying the “HE”. To be fair, I think I may be a bit hormonal? Because this is really making me feel like crap.

-----

This is a comment made by a Chinese user on Zhihu:

I only want to say; the show might as well have ended when A-Xu jumped down the cliff after WKX. Even though it's a bit lame, at least the soulmate feelings were still there.

The grand finale basically destroyed the soulmate bond built up over 20+ episodes. The essence of it is gone; all of the "candy" and "knives" feel like they've been stripped away.

I've written so much about WKX & ZZS and how they were both falling for each other, saving each other. And now it all looks like a big joke.

It turns out ZZS's soulmate is ZZH, not WKX. The mountains and rivers in the world can't compare to meeting my soulmate. Since my soulmate is gone, I might as well die. (Play on the quote from the drama, instead of why should I live, it becomes I should just die)

(The poster starts talking to ZZS directly - referring to him as you) You're really a mistreated (tortured?) concubine, aren't you? Once you decide to give your whole heart, whole person away, you somehow always end up meeting some fake evil bastard (reference to Farewell my Concubine, basically that ZZS always ends up being suckered)

When you first fell into Prince Jin's trap, it's because you were young and not yet wise to the ways of the world, and believed in the grand words of your cousin and got conned into the world of politics. Sinking into the dirtiest, muddiest of marshes.

You plotted tirelessly for 18 months, suffered through 18 months of pain from the 7 nails, and finally exchanged it for 3 years of freedom. But when you met WKX, you fell right back in again.

Heraclitus said, "You cannot step into the same river twice" <<(I think this person mixed up the meaning of this quote, cause it doesn't fit, but basically intends to say people shouldn't make the same mistake twice)

The first time you stepped into the river, you got away with only half your life. The next time you stepped into the river, you nearly lost your life 4x (under YBY's sword, when you jumped off the cliff to your death for love, pulling out your nails, exploding the mountain to cause an avalanche + suicide), in the end you became a living dead person on Changming mountain.

I don't know if I should call you a living dead man, anyway, in my heart, once you pulled out the nails from your body, cutting off any other alternative you had just to help WKX take revenge… while WKX came back from the dead, and worked with everyone present at the scene to give the performance of a lifetime, you were already dead.

What a mockery, a farce.

You gave up everything but in the end, you were nothing more than a spectator.

He wanted you to give him face, to let him go home to explain things. You quietly stepped aside and gave him the stage. He wanted your baiyi sword to demonstrate his family's sword technique, to prove his identity. You gave it to him without a second word. He cut Zhao Jing's arms and legs tendons, crippled his martial arts, finally took revenge. You were happy for him despite everything.

When Mo Huaiyang accused him of being the Ghost Valley Master, he openly admitted to it and said the entire first part was just an act. You stood in front of him, to protect him. Said he is your shidi, and stood with him without any reservations.

But he had secretly already reached an agreement with Ye Baiyi. He knew YBY wouldn't hurt him, but you didn't know and yet you still shielded him. So terribly afraid that YBY would hurt him because of his identity.

Everyone knew this was part of the scheme he laid out, everyone participated in his scheme. Only you didn't know. Only you foolishly believed that he wouldn't be alright without you, that he needed you to help him take revenge. That he had his difficulties so he couldn't confess the truth to you, as long as he did, then you would be the first to know everything. That he was your soulmate. This word "soulmate", if said enough times, it would even be real. In this life, right up until the end, we can't even fully understand ourselves, how do we talk about others?

-----

the source is the top voted answer here. I like this poster a lot, she shared some great things throughout the course of the drama, 3 of which were the base of poems-related posts I’ve made here. I was doing fine before, but in the course of translating this answer for a friend, I made myself feel worse.

She later forced herself to look at it from WKX’s perspective and wrote a piece on it as well, but it... was very forced and I’m not too sure she even believed it herself. She ended that part with - “this made her feel very keenly that no matter how similar two souls may be, in the end, they are still two souls. He isn’t you and he will never be you. You can work endlessly and tirelessly to be closer, but your souls can never meet.”

I... I’m too sad to translate the WKX part in order to be fair to WKX in this post (if I feel better about it, i will later? but it didn’t make me feel better at all tbh)

Can someone who can articulate well and believe that what WKX did was right, please help to make me understand episodes 32-34 from his perspective?

My main issues are:

We never got a proper 1-to-1 discussion between WKX and ZZS over the issue. At first, they were celebrating as a group, I can accept it. There wasn’t a time or place.

But when ZZS went back to his room early and sober, when everyone else was still drinking and having fun, I felt so bad for him.

When WKX came into his room, looking for ZZS when drunk, I know it isn’t supposed to be like this - but I can’t help but feel he didn’t dare to talk to A-Xu 1-to-1. Instead he went when he was drunk to spill his heart. It can be thought of as sweet, because the first person he thinks of when he’s drunk is A-Xu... but I can’t help but find it very selfish, because it leaves A-Xu with no way to talk about things. If you’ve ever talked to a drunk while sober, you would understand what I mean, it’s a one-way conversation, you can’t get anything through.

But that conversation left A-Xu with enough guilt that he can’t come clean to WKX about what he did. How can he tell WKX that he pulled out his nails, and is about to die. To take away WKX’s happiness, when Lao Wen just told him about how happy he was to have him in his life?

Lao Wen had 0 intention to be cruel, but it ended up being more cruel. And this lack of a proper discussion between the two of them, makes me call into question the whole thing about soulmates. I believe Lao Wen loves A-Xu the best he can (with his somewhat emotionally stunted self), but he’s not putting himself in the other person’s shoes to care for them.

Love =/= care. And by not caring enough in this matter, I feel it’s thrown him into OOC. Where is the WKX who cared so much for ZZS at the start? Where is the tenderness?

The drama never properly addressed why WKX faked his death and not tell A-Xu. The only reason they gave was that A-Xu was heavily injured (through Wu Xi). WKX just admitted he was wrong (and should drink). That’s all.

Thankssss.

Please don’t preach to me about the happy ending or talk about the finale. I personally can’t resolve 32-34, I have found a way to accept the ending as long as I can accept these 3 episodes.

I may not be able to immediately accept your POV but I will force myself to try to find something that fits. I want to keep shipping wenzhou :(

#i'm not even checking my own grammar cause this is making me too emo #WKX fans and stans #please help #i added a sad gif of a-xu #because he's sad

97 notes · View notes

csykora · 3 years

Text

A thought about meaningful change

I don’t want to distract from the most recent thing Benn did. I’m going to be talking about several different things, and some might seem smaller than others: I know. I’m not saying that the newest thing isn’t important enough on its own or that everything’s on the same level. But I think patterns can be useful.

(I have also made myself sick with nerves a couple times so I’m posting this as is: sorry for typos, and while I’ll stand behind my ideas there may be some sentences that are a little long or awkwardly worded).

Back in 2015, Jame Benn and Tyler Seguin were doing a radio interview.

Some of you might be thinking, “You want to talk about THIS, AGAIN?” Yes. More of you are probably thinking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yeah, that’s what I want to talk about.

cw for discussions of sexual harassment, incest, homophobia, bullying, misogyny and transmisogyny, transphobia

So during this interview, one of the radio hosts asked Benn if he and his brother were ever road roommates. Benn said no, and the host commented that Henrik and Daniel Sedin probably roomed together.

“Well yeah…that’s the Sedins,” Seguin said.

“Who knows what else they do together?" Benn said. Everyone laughed.

“Seriously,” Seguin said.

"Dude, it's creepy," the radio hosts said, "In fact, it's a good example to future brothers in the NHL on how not to do things." Then they reassured Benn, “In no way am I implying that you have a Sedin-type vibe going about you.”

Benn and Seguin laughed. The conversation continued, calling the Sedins creepy for wearing similar facial hair, leaving nearby and spending too much time together.

When asked pointblank, “Are the Sedins weird?” Benn answered, “I don’t know. I can’t say.”

To finish the sentence he didn’t: he was implying that the Sedin brothers fuck each other.

Now, these were shock jockeys. They were almost certainly hoping Benn and Seguin would say something homophobic. That said, even shock jockeys pre-screen an interview. They’re not going to invite just anyone on the air and try this with them, because all it takes is someone saying, “I don’t know what you mean,” or “No, I actually respect Dan and Henke a lot as my colleagues” to ruin that set up. If a shock jockey thinks you’re a mark, you’ve probably said something off-air that made them think you’re a mark. And if they dug a pit in front of him, Benn is still the one who decided to stick his dick in it and make things overtly sexual.

After, the Stars stated that Benn had “reached out” the Sedins to apologize. Seguin did not reach out but was “included” in whatever Benn wrote or said. Neither of them gave a public explanation or apology. As far as I can tell the Sedins never commented on whether they received that message, what sort of apology it was, or whether they accepted it. Henrik Sedin’s only comment was, “I think it says more about them than it does about us.”

Ways that homophobia is working here:

-the idea that two men having any degree of physical or emotional closeness, even family members, is suspicious.

-Benn roomed with his brother. Course he did. The hosts spell out what he was afraid of: that the other men in the room might think he had the wrong vibe. He was so afraid of them thinking he had unmanly vulnerabilities like liking his own brother that he misrepresented the situation and pushed someone else forward.

-the idea that a man having any relationship to another man’s physical body or appearance, is suspicious.

Dressing or looking too similar to another man—which means you’ve paid attention to how another man’s body looks in order to copy him, like you’re trying to take ownership of his body, which = fucking him—is a really common accusation. Gay men are seen as lusting after and trying to copy other men’s real masculinity for themselves (but of course never quite succeeding). A man thinking that another man who he knows or suspects to be gay looks too similar to him, and so must have been watching and ‘copying’ him, is a common spark for homophobic attacks.

-the idea that any of this could have been a joke depends on the idea that two men having sex is wacky and unrealistic. Imagine if that happened, wouldn’t that be weird.

Now, someone might say, “It’s not that gay sex is wacky, it’s that the incest that is!” First, incest accounts for a lot of childhood sexual abuse, so I wouldn’t say it’s wacky either. And while it’s true that people can say awful things to different gender twins as well out of a combination of gender prejudices, in this case there were also homophobic ideas about men and masculinity at play.

Ways that power is working here:

-People forgot this fast. It was treated as settled because the Stars said it was settled. People gave “kudos” to Benn “doing the right thing” afterward, or for seeming to realize what was happening and not saying yes to the final question.

I would argue that “I don’t know, I can’t say” is somehow a worse answer to a yes-or-no question, because it means that either you want to say yes but you’re scared of the consequences, or you sincerely don’t know what to say. All he had to do was say “No.” After he said “I don’t know,” Seguin continued and said, “They are weird.” If Benn had said, “No, actually they’ve been professional when I’ve worked with them and I won’t comment any more on their personal life,” Sequin might have noticed, and Benn might have encouraged him to change his behavior. Not saying “no” was a direct, demonstrable failure to show any kind of leadership.

-This counts as workplace sexual harassment. I’m not saying a case should have been pursued: that should have been at least partly up to the Sedins (although there should also be workplace rules about what is and isn’t acceptable without the victims having to ask for it). But that’s a word we can use for this, this could have been counted as that. Sexual harassment are actions based on a person’s gender, assigned sex, sexual activity, or other qualities related to sex, not just sexual attraction. I worry that often, conflicted feelings about putting people into the category of “Sexual Harasser” lead people to think that actions “aren’t bad enough” to be sexual harassment when they definitionally can be. In other lines of work, if you talk about your coworkers fucking their twins in the office, there are rules about that: at the very least, you’ll be getting a bunch of trainings and be moved to a part of the office where you won’t see them again.

In the NHL, it seems frighteningly clear that people don’t have recourse for sexual harassment. This was discussed and handled as a “childish insult”, not harassment against two coworkers/employees. Often, there’s a logic that something is just an insult, not a ‘real’ threat, because the person who did it couldn’t possibly be sexually attracted to the person they did it to.

-In 2015 Eric and Jordan Staal were living in identical houses outside Raleigh and ‘playing’ together every night. Seems super suspicious. Unless beefy Canadian boys’ behavior is normal, and European masculinity always has to be questioned as being softer-spoken, slimmer, more intellectual, scared of heavy hitting. There are a lot of reasons you might not call Eric Staal gay—maybe you know he’s bigger than you, more successful on Team Canada than you, more popular with the other Team Canada guys than you. Or maybe you just don’t look at him and think he could be gay. Or both. Eric is positioned so you’d have to punch up at him: Benn tried to position himself closer to that kind of social standing, by pushing someone else who already doesn’t quite fit in further out. This isn’t directly in the words, so I’m not all-out accusing them of xenophobia: what I mean is that it’s always worth asking if and how and why feminization is applied to Those Other People.

There’s the eating out thing. Which he sent to teammate Jason Demers, commenting “I feel like your (sic) the kind of guy who would”.

How misogyny is working here:

-the idea that this could have been funny or interesting or worth saying at all depends on the idea that vulvas are weird. Imagine if someone willing touched a cis woman with anything but their dick. Gosh.

-There’s no good explanation for what ‘the kind of guy who would’ was meant to mean. No one says, ‘Hey, do you do this widely mocked sex act? I don’t, but I think you would, and that’s cool and doesn’t affect your masculinity at all, bro, life is a rich tapestry.’

How power is working here:

-This counts as sexual harassment again. Even if asking a coworker (or really more like someone you shift-manage or who reports to you) ‘how do you fuck your partner?’ wasn’t, saying ‘you seem like you would do ___’ is. Again, I’m not saying that Demers has to feel that way about it, but he should have had options.

-Demers was also in a new relationship at the time, so this could be harassment to both him and his partner, who had no recourse when someone her partner has to work with/for comments on her body.

-I don’t think it was intended as sexual harassment. But there’s not really a nice explanation of what he meant to say. It seems like it was intended as an insult or a ‘warning’: ‘this is the way men are allowed and no allowed to be in our group, do you know your place?’

Around that time, the Stars shared a video of Benn, Seguin, and Valeri Nichushkin. Each were supposed to say a couple lines, including their name. Valeri pronounced his nickname ‘Vall’, with a native Russian accent, more like “Wall” in English. Each time Benn and Seguin laughed and questions him and the producer cut. After a couple takes Benn said, “I thought your name was ‘Val.’”

Sequin physically turned away from Nichushkin and laughed. Nichushkin, not understanding the comment, and not laughing, turned to Benn for an explanation, but Benn only turned toward Seguin, both continuing to laugh.

It was part of a pattern of comments from observers: “If Tyler Seguin and Jamie Benn are having a laugh in the locker room, Nichushkin can only guess what’s so funny.” They themselves commented on how “His English is really not good at all…A lot of times we find him just sitting there.” “(In) normal conversations, he doesn’t really know what’s going on.”

I’ll give them credit—they said they felt pity and “try to help” too. I just can’t find any examples of them doing it, compared to teammates like Sharp or Spezza who can more concretely describe spending time with him.

Nichushkin chose to burn contract time in the KHL rather than Dallas before being bought out, expressing that he no longer felt like he “belonged in the NHL.” He felt that the Stars didn’t “trust” in him, was “nervous” in the locker room, and said his family worried for his mental health because of the culture.

“There is a bit of it because I want to be part of the conversation when someone says something,” Nichushkin said. “But I don’t have enough words I know so I can join in.”

-Is it the worst xenophobia in the world? Nah. It’s not free from xenophobia, when the only joke is that someone speaks differently than you. It’s not Benn joking about his own misunderstanding to invite Nichushkin in. I often point to Tripp Tracy, who asks players to teach him words in their language and then sets up jokes about his accent so they can deliver the punchline and laugh with him.

-Is it bullying? It kind of came off like it, to make a joke about someone you know can’t understand. At least it was unnecessary, and unkind. It’s just reminding someone they don’t belong.

-It’s unimpressive. It’s deflecting. Oh, he doesn’t know what’s going on? What did you do to tell to him? My family communicate through a mix of finger-signing, Scrabble tiles, and interpretive dance: I guarantee you, if you can’t communicate concepts like “we’re going to get dinner now, you’re welcome here, we’re having fun!”, you’re not trying. Which is fine, I guess, you don’t have to talk to people, unless it’s like, your job to work with your teammates.

Wanting to ban trans*feminine athletes from competition is based on a complete misunderstanding of math, medicine, and athletics; it’s unnecessary, unethical, and unkind.

It’s an unsurprising continuation of the ideas that there’s a line between men and women and transgressing it is suspicious, that women are gross, that people who are different are shocking and funny, that social pressure can and should be used to remind people who are different that they don’t belong.

It’s a fascist use of power, which I don’t say to mean that “He is A Fascist in every sense,” but that those beliesf express a desire and a comfort with using power to control other people’s bodies, and which bodies have access to certain spaces, to maintain “purity”.

I’m not saying that anyone should have looked at any of these things and easily decided in that moment, “That’s it, he’s shouldn’t have a platform or power over other players, he’s irredeemable.” You might look at a couple of them and think, “That’s not even a problem at all.” I’ll agree to disagree on some of them, but my point is about a pattern of how this dude uses the power he’s given.

I have a phrase, or more a series of words I sometimes yell when I’m talking about subjects like this—“STRUCK A TIM HORTONS.” I shout this in commemoration of the time that Ryan O’Reilly got drunk and drove his pickup into the wall of a small town Ontario Timmies.

“Struck a Tim Hortons” is a very good phrase to read in a police report. And, also, I’m an ACoA. I’ve experienced impaired driving, I’m terrified to shaking of it, and I know that other people have experienced much worse consequences. This isn’t a perfect metaphor (it’s not an example of prejudice or violence against a class of people, etc) but my point is that I try to hold it in my heart because that’s one case where I know what it’s like to really, really want something to just be NBD. Where part of me wants to just think it was a funny mistake so I don’t have to really think about the serious implications of it, and part of me super doesn’t. I have an instinct to resolve those feelings, to come down and decide that it’s either insignificant enough that I don’t have to think about it, or significant enough that I can hate him and then also stop thinking about it, and then I can have the relief of feeling just one feeling at a time.

I don’t think it’s bad to feel conflicted learning something about someone. I think it’s important.

But the problem is that if one thing isn’t significant enough, and we decide to keep thinking someone is fundamentally Good, we often toss that thing out. So when another thing happens, we only look at the new thing, trying to decide: is this enough? And that next thing might not be enough either. So we can go on and on, until you add up to a lot of things that have each done some harm, but none of them have been enough to change how we see and talk about someone.

Now I, personally, decided that the Timmies wasn’t so bad that ROR couldn’t ever make it up to me. But I didn’t decide to feel fine about it: I tried to just put a pin in how conflicted I felt. It’s been years, and over the years I think his actions have showed meaningful change. He hasn’t struck a Starbucks, a Dunkin, or even a Caribou. There’s a pattern.

I think a lot of people who don’t really like the things Benn says or does or believes have given him a lot of chances to make up for them, because they don’t want him to really mean those things. By which I really mean that I know there are a lot of women and queer fans who liked the guy. I get it (I don’t actually get it get it, but I mean I can try to understand people coming from a very different place than I do about him).

I’ve read a lot of ways that people who are themselves vulnerable in our society try to empathize with him by imagining him as vulnerable too--he’s also experienced fatphobia, homophobia, he wasn’t expected to succeed, etc! I think that’s a wonderfully human instinct. But often I think people have more empathy for those experiences than he expresses for himself--he agrees that it was Bad to be fat and he’s Worked Hard to fit into the masculine norm, he agrees that it’s Bad to be close with another man and works to avoid it--and certainly more than he has showed in his actions toward others. If you’re going to say I hate him for saying that, I don’t--I want him and everyone in our society not to feel and do this shit!

I see a lot of people starting from the idea he is a good leader trying really hard to spin his choices as a smart strategy when he plays dumb with media, when he doesn’t give specific action plans or give public statements or apologies. (I actually agree with the first one, I think it is a strategy for him to avoid transparency and not do a part of his job that he doesn’t want to do.) It just…it seems like a lot of work to reach a pre-determined goal. It’s okay to like someone and for them to still not be good at their jobs! When I say I think a guy’s not a good leader, that’s not always the same as saying he’s a bad person. And if we keep on promoting a guy as a good leader because we like them regardless of their demonstrated leadership skills…that’s how we end up with a lot of shitty policies in the NHL.

Over the years he has consistently avoided stepping up to his captaincy and using his personal power to say things like, “No,” “Tyler, cut it out,” “This is what I’m going to do to fix a problem,” or “I believe in…” anything, really.

I really, really want to ask people to be mad as hell and advocate for the NHL to improve its code of conduct and harassment processes. I do. But I’m also tired. I don’t think, if I did ask you that, it would work. I don’t have an argument for why you should be mad at someone who’s mad at my existence. I’m not trying. I just want to encourage you, if you’re feeling the tug of feelings and just want to be able to simplify someone’s behavior and love them in simple terms, to put a pin in the more complicated parts, and remember them the next time, and look for patterns.

79 notes · View notes