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annwrites · 2 months

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—long black road

and, baby, when you think of me, i hope it ruins rock 'n' roll. — 80srockstar!billy x reader ; ✩ : · ✿

x dividers

The crowd shooshes and you smooth the skirt of your dress, ensuring your legs are perfectly crossed as you clasp your hands over your knees, looking to David Letterman with a smile, while he looks at the camera.

"Alright, folks. We have a really special one for you tonight. I have here with me the author of the New York Times bestseller, 'In the Back of the Bus: My Year with Billy and The Hard Grove', Y/N."

The camera zooms in on the cover of the book—the boys standing along the side of their tour bus, holding you up on your side, Billy staring down at you with a soft smile, while the others are laughing and smiling amongst themselves.

He turns to you and grins, shaking his head, setting the novel down. "I'll be honest, I'm only about halfway through the book myself, and if there's one thing I've learned on this show, it's that truth is stranger than fiction, and this autobiography only further proves it."

You laugh lightly. "I worried, while writing it, that I'd get accused of lying, because I even said to myself at times 'did we really do that? I mean, did Billy? Surely no one is going to buy this. Literally or figuratively'."

He clasps his hands atop his desk, growing serious.

"I have a plethora of questions. But my first one—and I'm sure this will be the easiest one," he says with obvious sarcasm. "Do you regret any of it?"

You're quiet for a moment, thinking, while the crowd remains silent. Waiting.

You open your mouth to reply.

Billy glances to you, watching as you lean back against a stack of black boxes, meant for stage equipment, looking anywhere but at him.

He smirks. So you're either shy, or just like to be chased. He's done it before—played into the fantasy of the lonely girl who wants to be noticed by the rockstar, instead of the other way around.

If the night ends with your legs spread for him in his penthouse suite, he'll write the whole damn romance novel on your clit with his tongue.

His eyes trail from your tight little velvet bell-bottoms that hug your thighs, to the curve of your round hips, then your hourglass waist, finally licking his lips as he eyes-up your breasts, hiding beneath your glittering crop-top.

"You want an autograph, sweetheart?" He asks, taking another from a waiting fan who's practically bouncing up and down from excitement at being in his mere presence.

He hardly notices her.

Instead, his eyes are trained squarely on you.

"No, thank you," you reply quietly, only glancing to him, then back away, waiting for Carmen.

"What, you don't like my music? Don't tell me you're an Air Supply girl," he says with a smirk, coming over to you.

"I didn't say that," you state plainly, finally looking at him.

He leans in toward you, pressing his palm against one of the boxes.

"You're not sayin' much of anything. Come all this way and you didn't even enjoy the show? I gotta make it up to you somehow, sugar," he says with a charming wink and a wide grin, showing off his perfect teeth.

You merely stare back at him, unimpressed, hoping Carmen wraps up collecting the other band member's signatures, and quickly.

He shrugs, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. "Quiet. That's alright. I like that in a woman."

He then glances down to your chest, then back into your eyes. "Out of pictures, but I can sign somethin' else, if that's more your speed."

You cross your arms then, irritation building. "That's really generous, but I'm not interested."

He can tell he's getting under your skin, and is enjoying every second of it.

He finally sighs, nodding. "Alright. I'll get off your case."

He shrugs.

"When you give me your number. Probably not every day you have the lead singer of a rock band that sold out Chicago Stadium asking for that, huh?" He asks with a cheeky grin and a raised brow.

You merely roll your eyes. But you know this is the only way to get him away from you: pretend to play along, and then he'll go. The game will be over.

He holds a magic marker toward you and you gently take it from him, twisting off the cap.

He then holds out his hand, palm face-up. Just an excuse to have you touch him, really.

Once you’ve finished jotting down the faux number, you hand the marker back to him with a pleasant smile.

And he sees right through it. He half-turns away from you, searching for your friend. Something starting with a ‘C’. And then he spots her.

He places his thumb and forefinger between his lips and whistles, all eyes suddenly turning in his direction—a plethora of young women praying to God he’s wanting their attention, specifically.

But he hones-in only on Carmen.

He jerks his head toward you. “You two live together in an apartment or somethin’?”

Giddy from the fact he’s even talking to her, she begins to nod excitedly. “Yes!”

“You got a landline, then, I assume. What’s the number?”

You begin rapidly shaking your head, staring with wide-eyes at her, but she’s too entranced by Billy to even acknowledge your presence as she spouts it off to him.

He turns back to you with a raised brow and a sarcastic shake of his head. “Looks like you gave me a bogus number, honey. Guess we need to turn that zero into a six.”

As he corrects the number on his hand, you merely glare at the back of Carmen’s head.

1980s rock band, billy & the hard grove, are at the top of the music charts, as well as the world.

billy—the lead singer & a guitarist—has everything he could ever ask for & never could've imagined he'd one day have when he left that podunk indiana town: drugs, women, money, & worldwide fame.

but not what he needs, even if he doesn't know it—is reluctant to admit to desiring it in fear of seeming weak, pathetic, or, much more: fucking it up like he does every other facet of his life in due time—someone who loves him.

along comes you, who he spots backstage after one of the band's shows in indianapolis. quietly standing off to the side, not requesting so much as an autograph from him as groupies & fans gather round.

so, he goes to you instead—refusing to leave you be until you give him your number—& for the first time in his life, he gradually comes to find that he's discovered something that he has no idea how to live without.

&, through billy, you discover a world you never knew existed. one full of passion, excitement, & maybe even love. one where you can step outside the box you've tried to desperately to shove yourself into for so many years.

until your heart is broken, & you finally remember why you'd kept it so carefully protected all your life.

&, in turn, billy loses not just his soulmate, but himself as he rapidly goes off the rails with no end in sight, until he, like all natural disasters, finally crashes & burns.

headcanons:

after madison square garden, billy has one of the guys take a picture of him & reader. he pulls her into his lap & she just smiles wide at the camera, while he presses a kiss to her cheek. one of her hands is gently gripping the fingers of the hand of his arm that's around her shoulder. it becomes one of billy's most prized possessions.

he honestly falls for her extremely fast. but he doesn't admit it. just tells her a lot how he really likes her & spending time with her. likes how she treats him & makes him feel.

he likes that she holds him accountable. no one else does & it makes him feel like no one gives a shit about him. like, sometimes he'll do stupid shit just in the hopes of someone telling him 'hey, man, maybe that's enough', but they don't. & he figures it's either bc they truly don't care, or bc they think he's that egotistical that the second he gets told no, he'll leave the band bc he wants to be able to run wild at all hours.

he, at first, wants to spoil her, bc he thinks that's how it works. with groupies, they only want him for sex, or their own five minutes, or for nice clothes or money, a night in a penthouse, etc. they don't see him. they see the guy he brings on stage & to magazine covers, etc. whereas she's not interested in any of that. she tells him that her friendship isn't transactional.

she eventually gets put on at least 1 of the band's tracks—per rod, their manager's, idea. he says it's missing something & it's when he looks at her sitting in a chair behind the sound board that he realizes: female vocals. she's really adamant that she not be on it—she'll ruin it, but he insists. & it's an instant billboard hit.

plotting *MASSIVE SPOILERS HEAD*:

billy is quickly entranced by reader, bc he comes to immediately realize that she wasn’t playing hard-to-get; she just wasn’t interested, which is even more of a chase & challenge for him.

calls her up pretty quickly. like two days later. carmen answers, though, & when she tries to hand the phone off to reader, she refuses to take it. carmen refuses to hang up, though, so reader does it for her.

just keeps blowing up their landline until she finally speaks to him.

after a couple of weeks of idle talking—her not showing any real interest—he breaks out the big guns. he offers to arrange to have her come see the band perform at madison square garden. he’ll pay her entire way there—cabs, airfare, lodgings, food, souvenirs, her front-row ticket, even an all-access backstage pass. she declines, which he’s not happy about. he then asks her as nicely as he can manage—especially with his explosive temper—if she will at least think about it. she agrees to do so & actually does…& changes her mind. he’s thrilled when she says yes. even if it’s not for him. it’s for her. to, for once in her life, do something impulsive. & at least she won’t have to pay for anything.

he puts her in first-class on the plane, gets her a private driver for when she arrives in ny, puts her in a very nice suite at the hotel—& anything she orders through room service is on him. shortly after she arrives, though, she receives a call on the phone in her room informing her there’s a car waiting downstairs for her.

it takes her straight to the stadium & there’s an usher waiting for her at the gate to escort her backstage as the boys are doing soundcheck. billy just wanted an excuse to show off in front of her.

none of the band members seem too surprised by her presence—because this is something he’s done before & they know he’ll inevitably do again just to score pussy.

when they head back to the hotel, he has her ride with him & he asks her to come up to his suite. “just to check it out-—see what you think,” he says with a smirk. “you’re not getting me into bed.” “damn, at least buy me a drink first.”

nevertheless, she does. & he tries hitting on her further. “so, what’d’ya think?” “it’s impressive. & I thought my room was nice.” “can always stay here instead. even have a nice big california king. more than enough room for two.” she goes to leave with a roll of her eyes, but he stops her & gets serious for a minute, asking her to please stay.

they talk for awhile & he actually bothers genuinely opening up to her, even a bit.

she tells him how great she thinks it must be to have the privilege of doing what you love every day like he does. providing joy to millions.

he asks what she’s passionate about. she enjoys writing, but says she can never finish any story that she starts. & that even if she thinks something she’s come up with one day is really good, by the next she may very-well see it as utter garbage.

he asks if she brought any of her material with her.

“my typewriter is at home, but I do carry a notebook.” “can I read some of it?” “no, I’m sorry. I just worry about…I don’t know. being judged or mocked, I guess.” “welcome to being an artist, baby.” “I’m not your baby.” he smirks. “sure would love it if you were, though.” she just rolls her eyes yet again.

after more talking, she tells him maybe she should head back to her room for the evening. it’s getting to be evening time now & she’d like to shower & order dinner. he offers for her to do so there—he’ll order her whatever she wants. she raises a brow at the offer to shower, so decides to in her own room.

he gives her an extra key to his room to use once she’s done in hers.

& when she comes back, his room is empty, so she glances in the bathroom for a moment, only to find a vial of coke sitting on the counter. she’s not sure why she’s in disbelief at it, but she is. turns out he was on the balcony.

“you want some?” he asks, nodding toward it. she looks at him like he’s suddenly grown a second head. “of course I don’t. you…you shouldn’t be using it, either. do you have any idea what this will do to you in the long-run? to your life? your body?”

he doesn’t appreciate being preached at. he stalks toward her, smile now gone. “i didn’t pay your way here to listen to you lecture me, honey. so you can either sit your ass down & have a good time, or you can get the hell out.”

“i’ll do you one better. I’ll find my way back home. coming here was clearly a mistake. i don’t know why i thought you were capable of acting like a human being for five seconds. that’s what all you celebrities have in common: you sell your souls to the industry in exchange for fifteen minutes of fame. i just hope it was worth it.”

he watches her head toward the door & his true toxicity finally jumps out. “if you walk out that door i’ll use. i’ll snort myself fucking stupid. but if you stay…i won’t.”

utterly shocked, she turns back around. “i’m still practically a complete stranger to you & you’re willing to use your sobriety for the evening as a way to manipulate me into staying? unbelievable. i’m not one of your little groupies who will fall on her knees & beg for your forgiveness for hurting your precious feelings. i’m leaving.”

just as she turns to leave again he openly wallows in self-pity as he goes to sit on the foot of the bed, head in his hands. “i’m sorry. it’s just like me to fuck everything up. i make everyone leave. even since I was a kid. it’s what i’m best at.”

she knows what he’s doing, but bc she has a conscious she can’t just leave. “it’s called consequences, billy. see, just because you want someone to do something, doesn’t mean they have to. i know that not always getting what you want is probably an unfamiliar concept to you.”

he looks at her with puppy-dog eyes. “i wanted you to stay because i like how you make me feel. how you talk to me. like…like you see me. you see past all the glam rock bullshit. because you’re not falling all over yourself to get five seconds of my time. i’m…i’m sorry, okay? so you have to forgive me.”

she raises a brow, crossing her arms. “i’m sorry, i have to forgive you?”

“yeah, that’s how it works. i tell you i’m—”

“forgiveness—as well as trust—are both things which are earned. & are only given when the opposite party feels you’re worthy of them. they don’t just get served to you on a silver platter because you said ‘you’re sorry’. that was maybe how it worked when you were like, three, or four, but not now.”

“can you please just stay?”

“no, billy, i’m tired. & hungry. so i’m going back to my room. i’ll…reassess in the morning. for what it’s worth, i hope you don’t use. but that choice is ultimately up to you.”

next morning she gets a breakfast platter delivered. “compliments of mister hargrove.”

fresh fruits, juice, milk, pastries, eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, etc. as well as a stack of pancakes. & when she removes the lid to them? written in chocolate chips—surrounded by a heart of whipped topping—are the words 'i’m sorry’.

She goes to throw them in the trash, but it’s so ridiculous that she can’t help but smile at it…& eat half of them.

& then there’s a knock at the door. & when she opens it, billy is standing on the other side, smug with himself that she’s still there. “mornin’, sunshine,” he says, barging in. then, “see you got my apology note.”

in regards to the music track she's featured on, she's extremely nervous once she's in the recording room. like, shaking & her breathing is unsteady. heart is pounding. billy himself struggles with anxiety (i'm going to make that a very big reason as to why he uses), so he takes her face between his hands as he stares into her eyes until her breathing has calmed.

he tells her to only look at him & the sheet music w/ the lyrics on it in front of her. they're the only two people there. ignore the people in the other room, ignore the band behind them. just look at him.

"can...can i hold your hand?"

he gives her a soft smile. "of course you can."

i do have a breakup scene planned in the future where she gets in an evening early—she's supposed to be in the next morning—& when she walks into billy's room, she finds him in bed with two girls. fucking one doggystyle, snorting cocaine off her back, while the other is pressed up against his side.

reader is heartbroken, but somehow...not entirely surprised. it was like she'd been waiting for something just like this to happen.

he sees her, freezes, then, "fuck".

he jumps off the bed, racing over to her before she can leave. just like that first night, as soon as she grips the door handle, he speaks. "if you leave i'll kill myself".

the girls gasp, looking at each other.

reader pauses.

"i'll do it. i'll throw myself off the goddamn balcony."

she turns back to him with a look of both disbelief & loathing.

"i'm a piece of fuckin' shit. so i'm not above threatening my own life to make you stay. i know you won't leave me."

she all but backs him into a wall, staring at him. he tries to turn his head this way & that. he can't even look her in the eyes.

& then she grabs his chin, forcing him to. a beat of silence. "no, you won't. you're pathetic. i shouldn't be surprised, though. you showed me who you were that first night, didn't you? what was it you said again when i tried to leave? 'i'll snort myself stupid'?"

her eyes trail down & back up, tears shimmering when she meets his own again, which are bloodshot. "clean yourself up."

she turns to leave.

"i love you."

she turns the handle. "you don't even understand the meaning of the word."

she glances back to the groupies. "good luck with him. you're going to need it."

with that, she walks out, slamming the door.

she hears him yell for the girls to "get the fuck out!"

he sinks down to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest as he starts to cry.

she heads toward the elevator.

it's taking forever. & just as it dings, the band's bass player comes back from getting ice, excited to see her. "hey! i thought your flight wasn't due in until tomorrow?"

"i'm leaving."

he blocks the open doors then. "wait, wait, wait. what—what happened? did he do something?"

"as if you don't know. you're just like him. all men are the same. you're all liars."

he swallows, filling with guilt. "i wanted to tell you. i just—how the fuck could i be the one to break your heart? hey, just, listen. he never fucking deserved you. from that first day he didn't. he doesn't give a shit about anybody but himself. doesn't see anything unless it's his own reflection in a mirror. & that's what he would've turned you into in time. but i see you. i see how beautiful you are. and kind. talented, smart. just...wonderful. and i—"

she crushes her lips to his.

he drops the ice.

"can we go to your room?"

unable to even speak, he just nods, fumbling with the key.

they sleep together.

cut to her sitting on the floor of the shower, pulled into herself as she thinks on what she just did with regret.

"you alright in there?"

"y—yeah. i'll be out in a minute!"

"you want me to join you?"

"i'm almost done!"

she gets out & he's right back at the door. "you want me to order room—"

she sits on the toilet lid, switching the blow dryer on just to be left alone.

once the band is at the recording studio the next morning (she remains at the hotel), one of the other members asks where you are. "wasn't she supposed to be in by now?"

billy freezes up again, having no idea wtf to even say.

then, "she's at the hotel sleeping."

billy turns toward the bassist, his eyes full of rage. "excuse me? but what the fuck did you just say?"

rod is in the other room watching. "oh shit."

bassist shrugs. "you never deserved her in the first place."

all hell breaks loose.

billy throws a music stand at him, which he dodges. then he grabs his bass guitar from its stand & slams it down on the floor, breaking it in two.

bassist lunges & they start fist-fighting right in the middle of the room.

billy initially gets the upper-hand, throwing repeated punches until the bassist gets on top of him & starts trying to choke him out, until rod pulls him off & demands they separate until they both cool off.

billy goes back to the hotel immediately. he needs to see for himself.

& he does. he pounds on the door.

you open it, wearing only a robe from the hotel.

"i just had to see it for myself. you're a fucking hypocrite."

you feel sick. "difference is, at least i did it once we were no longer together."

he sneers. "that is a comfort to no one but you." then, "what? you think he's better for you or something? you think he actually fucking sees you?"

"like you did?"

"yeah, i did. but with him?" he chuckles. "you're just—to him you're just going to be a perfect goddamn madonna. god-forbid you ever make a mistake. because the minute you do—"

"so what was i to you, billy? the whore?"

"no, you were just mine."

"not anymore."

tears are in his eyes. "fuck you."

"he already did," you say, slamming the door in his face.

in the future, things hit their climax when billy can't take it anymore. all of it. so he overdoses in bed, clutching that polaroid of the two of you.

one of the guys find him bc he's late for something or other.

you stand shaking in the doorway, watching as he'd loaded onto a stretcher, staring at that photo in his hand, crying. & you know who you really want. what you really want. have all along.

you go back to your room w/ the bassist & he says something unforgivable. "i hope he dies."

"what?"

"i mean it. we'd be better off. the whole goddamn world would. he's just a junkie waste of space anyway."

"you're a monster."

"i'm sorry, what?"

"i—i'm leaving. i need to go to him."

"you're going to him?" after everything he's done he still gets what he wants. are you fucking kidding me? no. you belong with me."

"i'm still in love with him! i never stopped being. this is over. i'm done."

so you go to billy at the hospital.

he tells you he wishes they'd just let him die.

you tell him how you feel.

and then he holds you in his hospital bed while you both lie together in silence.

#annsideas #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader

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captaindibbzy · 2 years

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One of the things that has been on my mind lately is how going forward the government wants us to use "less energy" and to "reduce overall usage" to deal with our own energy bills cause if prices remain high in 2024 it's tough shit.

And idk about your house but as a general rule we don't just leave shit running for giggles? And what's one lightbulb anyway? Or a TV on standby instead of turned off at the socket? A phone on charge or a computer screen? How are we supposed to make the house more energy efficient when you can't scrape together enough money for repairs on your single glazed windows and we have to keep the dehumidifier running cause the building that was built the other side of 1900 has rising damp issues?

And then there are skyscrapers with all their windows lit up in the night. Every time a country is awarded a sporting event they knock up entire sports villages and stadiums that are ultimately demolished and left when the games are over and never really used again. Private jets flying from one end of a city to the other. Elon Musk telling people to fucking fly to Twitter HQ to see him in person if they work remote unless they have a really good reason not to.

How the fuck does turning my electricity off at the fuse box help when there are people out there who feel so entitled to resources they use more in a day than I personally use in a year?

And then they have the gumption to say that disabled people use too much energy staying alive and that's selfish of them.

It gets dark at 4pm. It's cold all the time. It's god damn November and it's pissing with rain. What am I supposed to do? Live in the dark and the cold and let the mold grow round the condensation, take cold showers and learn to photosynthesis in the weak sunlight to avoid making food waste? What does my suffering contribute to the world? So you can keep electric advertisement billboards running while turning streetlights off to save money?

This is not an individual's game.

#personal

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miyukisluv · 2 years

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Koshien Experience!

Today was one of the best days ever - I visited the Koshien Stadium! As soon as you come out the train station it’s literally there, and you can see the sign for the entrance.

There’s a Koshien museum next to the stadium, so i got a ticket for ¥900 which allows you to access 2 sites: The Hanshin Tiger’s Zone, which is a museum of the history of the Tigers baseball team, and then the Koshien Stadium Zone, which was my FAVOURITE.

There was a section that allowed you to pitch and bat, so of course I did both. To pitch, you enter a bullpen looking area and pitch 10 balls to a wall which has a projection of a catcher and the strike zone. Let’s just say I have zero ball control. I hit anywhere BUT the strike zone. Miyuki would throw his mitt at me for sure. For the batting, you go in a cage and choose the speed of the ball and whether you bat left or right. I chose 110km/h because i’m a coward. Even then, I hit maybe about 3 balls and they didn’t go far at all. You’re telling me these baseball players are hitting 150km/h+ balls and getting HOMERS?? The strength they must have is astounding.

The next bit included more history of the stadium, key players and trophies, AND! There was a “KOSHIEN” in Manga section!! Photos were allowed but there were limited things you could post on social media so unfortunately i can’t post this section here :( but there was a Daiya No Ace section!! They had a whole wall of manga panels from when Seido went to Koshien, and!!! a whole Seido baseball uniform on display!! It was so exciting I was giggling the whole time.

The last part of the exhibition was to actually go into the stadium and stand on the back screen balcony, which was my favourite bit. The view of the whole stadium literally left me breathless, the atmosphere was just so beautiful and overwhelming. I could have stood there for hours. I’d love to go when there’s a game on, I bet the energy is insane.

After I left, I walked round the stadium outside to take some photos, and it’s actually quite a pretty building?? Like, there are leaves and creeping vines going up the walls, and because it’s autumn, the whole place looks golden. Koshien in general is quite a nice area! You can see the mountains clearly in the distance and it’s a lot quieter than the heart of Osaka; it has a really nice vibe.

All in all, I’d give it a 10/10! So if you’re a fan of baseball or if you want to see the stadium for yourself after seeing it in your favourite baseball manga (like me) then I’d say definitely definitely give it a go!

#today was really enjoyable 🥹🥹#also the staff there are really nice #but yeah it was a surreal experience i’ll never forget #daiya no ace #diamond no ace #daiya no a act ii #ace of diamond #miyuki kazuya #sawamura eijun #baseball #koshien stadium #koshien #japan #travel diary #japan travel #travel blog #baseball stadium #hanshin tigers #bucketlist

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strikingfm · 10 months

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If I were the GM of The Bills

I was talking with my brother and a friend last night and It sounds crazy, but I still believe the bills can win out and get to the Super Bowl. And The AFC is so mediocre, its anyone's Conference to win.

I heard SiriusXM the other day and they said the same thing I've been saying. They are saying The Buffalo Bills if they make the playoffs will be the most dangerous team in the road to the Super Bowl. They even went to the extent to say in the NFC; no one impresses them to the point where they are an easy favorite.

The Bills remaining schedule is The Chiefs who have no edge protection on offense...the Chiefs really don't have WR gamebreakers....and the Cowboys have one of the weakest NFL schedules in the league making them look good....Yes, the cowboys offense is crazy good and their pass rush is phenomenal.....but, they don't have a tough schedule; almost losing to the (6-5) Seahawks last week.

The Bills and I told my family this and others when the schedule came out. I said if the Bills weren't careful, they'd find themselves battling for a Playoff spot due to:

#1. Their schedule (The Hardest in the NFL)

#2. How every team in their schedule was building their rosters

#3. The Bills Bye week didn't come until Week 13

#4. The game overseas

And so far, I've been spot on....but, even with my criticism...I was telling people that the Bills are so good; they can still do it....A big criticism of mine was the OL - this OL is doing a good enough job...we're set at OL for a couple of years....and pick up a draft pick on OL just to keep the roster building wheel turning.

So, For next season, If I was Brandon Beane I'd trade:

-Hyde

-Poyer

-Milano

-Taron Johnson

-Tre White

-Von Miller

-Diggs

-Elam (maybe) (I love him, but he got injured)(My rule is, the second a player is injury prone - trade him so you don't lose value)

And I'd try to get at least 4-7 additional draft picks in the early rounds.....I think these players still have value.....They are all over 30+ or peaking out and teams are looking to fill their depth charts.

My biggest thing on the Draft is you draft playmakers....Its an absolute intangible statistic.

I was explaining to my friend and my brother....Today's NFL players at the age of 29/30 are not worth keeping.....When we were kids the players longevity was age 35 and then a decline.....

Today's NFL everyone is running nearly a 4.4 at this point which means the speed of the game is so fast....you can't matchup a 30 year old whose losing range and speed vs. fresh young men who are all running 4.4s.

But, the other reason why I'd trade these players is because the Buffalo Bills have proven this season they can compete with any team with their depth chart....I love Kincaid, Dodson, Spector, Bernard, Cam Lewis, Taylor Rapp....And I can dive in of why I love these guys...

But, mind you The Buffalo Bills have lost EVERY GAME by 7 points or less and their point differential is +100.....PLUS 100 AT A 6-6 record!!!!

My only criticism from this past draft is they didn't get a SS/LB hybrid and the Bills didn't get another DB....but, at the trade deadline they Picked up a DB (Rasul Douglass) who I love.

If the Bills do this, this off-season, we will be building a dynasty. A serious dynasty....

And I'm tired of hearing Buffalo Bills fans bash Josh Allen and bash Brandon Beane....It is sickening to me.....especially after Josh Allen has broken NFL history by being & claiming #1 for the most TDs in his 1st 6 seasons (NFL History)

Not only that, but Josh Allen; yes he is 0-6 in OT....but, he is top 5 in the NFL since entering the league for game winning comebacks.

I mean these fans have to stop.

My ultimate dream is to be a GM of an NFL team or NFL owner. One day, someone will recognize my football intellect. I consider my intelligence of a GM at a Theo Epstein or Bill Polian level.

That's why I went to school for Sports Management. To do that, not to be a ticket salesman in the stadium or marketer or writer.

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emeren · 4 years

Text

speed racer pt.2 - eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 4.3 k

content warnings: 18+, smut, car sex, possessiveness, choking, dangerous driving idk LMAO

notes: it’s my birthday today! my gift to you all is speed racer pt. 2!!!! pt. 1 is not necessary to enjoy this oneshot, but may help with some context. here is that!

SUMMARY: eren takes the reader for a drive where he decides to clear some things up about their relationship in his own special way.

“it’ll be quick; i promise,” eren’s voice brought you from your daydream, head shifting against the cold window to look at him in the driver’s seat. his hair was up, brows furrowed in guilt as he waited for your response.

you let out a dramatic sigh, reaching to unbuckle your seatbelt. “fine, but i’m not going to wait in the car.”

“once it’s over i’ll buy you some food,” he rationed, unbuckling his seatbelt the same. you eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the inevitable sexual innuendo to leave his lips. “n’then i’ll take you back to mine and fuck you, just like you want.”

your unspoken agreement with eren had become routine at this point. after your mutually discovered attraction a couple weeks prior, the two of you had spent many a night in his bed, unashamedly basking in your sexual tension.

the concept of sex buddies hadn’t been one you’d previously dived into, and you would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t want to be exclusive. it only made matters worse that eren insisted on doing everything with you at this point, including dragging you to his board meetings for his sponsorship. he was a pain in the ass, but he was a pain in the ass that treated you like his girlfriend.

you wanted to make it official, but were too scared of embarrassing yourself, so you resorted to enjoying things the way they were. frienemies with benefits, as eren would say.

“c’mon, don’t be so vulgar,” you responded, slipping out of the car as eren snickered to himself quietly. you hated the fact that his comments made your face heat up. you were beginning to act like a schoolgirl around him, infatuated by your little crush.

“you know you love it,” eren smirked over the top of the car as he joined you, locking the vehicle. it was dark outside, the stadium brightly illuminated against the navy sky. “what was it you said again? ‘i want this just as much as you do’?”

you scowled, giving his arm a hard shove. he would not let you forget the things you’d said in the heat of the moment. “oh, fuck off.” you snipped.

eren laughed again, jokingly rubbing his arm as the two of you walked up to the stadium. it was around eight, the building being nearly vacant save for the members of eren’s sponsorship board inside.

“what’s the meeting about?” you asked as he held the door open for you, a gush of air conditioning making you shudder.

“if i’m being honest, i don’t know,” eren replied, his eyes settling past you. as you turned your head, you saw a group of exhausted looking men in worn grey suits talking quietly amongst themselves. they stopped whispering at the sound of the door opening; a short, balding man making his way over.

“mr. jaeger, thank you for coming on such short notice,” his voice was thick as he spoke, obviously a smoker. eren reached out to shake his hand, the man’s beady eyes settling on your face as he did so. “i’m sorry, but we won’t be allowing any unauthorized people in this meeting.”

startled, you looked to eren, whose face did all but curse at the short man. “do you mind waiting out here?”

“oh, yeah, no biggie,” you smiled reassuringly. he shot you a look of gratitude, mouthing the words “i’m sorry” as he walked off with the group. it was funny to watch him go; surrounded by serious men in suits while he wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers. not to mention he was about a foot taller than the rest of them.

a sigh escaped your lips as they disappeared around the corner. the building was ominous when you were alone; large and vacant, normally filled with people excitedly bustling to watch a race. without the energy, it was downright creepy.

you decided to stand against the wall while you waited, anxiously toying with the hem of your skirt and counting the number of fluorescent bulbs that flickered in the ceiling.

the distant rumble of talking suddenly hit your ears, head snapping in the direction of the sound. it was getting louder, obviously two people approaching. you readied yourself to launch into an explanation as to why you were sitting alone in the stadium, after hours, only to be pleasantly surprised at who rounded the corner.

“yo, what’re you doing here?” connie cried out in excitement, a smile splitting across his face. he was with jean, the two of them spattered with engine oil and dirt.

you grinned back, pushing yourself off the wall to meet them halfway. “eren had a sponsorship meeting and dragged me along. what about you guys?”

jean smirked at your response, sharing a look with connie that went unnoticed by you. “well, connie accidentally told the boss that we don’t know jack-shit about car mechanics, so now we have to go to a stupid workshop five days a week.”

“hey, it’s not my fault he was eavesdropping on our conversation with armin,” connie retorted, coming to stand beside you. you smiled at your friends, happy they were there. “we’ll wait with you, if you want?” he proposed.

“that’d be great,” you sighed. “eren said they’re usually only like thirty minutes long, so we won’t be here all night.”

“about that,” jean started, uncomfortably bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. you frowned, wondering where he was going with this. “are you and him, like, y’know...”

you paused for a moment, deciding to play dumb. “huh?”

“are you and jaeger-meister dating?” connie interjected, wiggling his brows. despite knowing that this is where the conversation was going, you couldn’t help the wave of embarrassment that washed over you. you shifted uncomfortably in place, looking between your friends.

“i don’t know,” you answered honestly. “i can’t tell if he likes me or not. god, this is so high school.” you muttered.

jean gave you an apologetic smile, opening his mouth to speak before connie decided to give his own advice. “huh? why wouldn’t he like you? you’re a hot piece of ass!”

a laugh escaped your mouth at his idiocy, jean dishing him a scowl. “don’t listen to him. personally, i can’t see why you’d want to date that little shit.”

“yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing,” you replied demurely.

“well, if you like him that much, i say go for it,” connie shrugged. you eyed him warily, waiting for the ‘but’. the three of you stood in silence for a moment longer, considering what to say next.

“do you want my help?” jean asked apprehensively. he looked put-off by something, but you couldn’t tell exactly what. connie gave him an incredulous look.

“sure, i guess,” you responded. in some ways, you felt bad for jean. your friendship had been built off of a mutual distaste of eren, and now that you two were sleeping together, the playful mockery with jean had died down. he motioned his head back towards the wall, indicating that you and connie should follow.

“alright, here’s my plan,” he whispered dramatically. connie nodded his head, the two of you leaning in as if it were some grand escapade. “eren is a dumbass. in fact, i think he still has the brain of an ape.”

you rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh as connie nodded once again in agreement. “get to the point, he’ll be out here any minute now.”

“alright, alright!” jean held his hands up defensively. “i genuinely don’t think he’s capable of intelligent thought. that being said, i believe the right way to gage his feelings are to activate his instincts.”

“dude, how long have you been planning this?” connie snorted. you couldn’t help but smile at just how funny the two of them were.

“never mind that,” jean shooed him back in annoyance. you raised your brow impatiently. “we need to make him jealous. if my assumptions are correct, it’ll piss him off and then you can tell him that he’s the only one you’re interested in.”

you pulled back from the huddle, unsure about his grand plan. “i dunno, jean. this sounds kinda stupid, if i’m being honest.”

“oh, c’mon,” jean begged, a devious smile on his features. “this’ll be our last chance to taunt him together.”

connie grinned as you contemplated it. “i think this is a great plan!”

you groaned, the small side of you that liked to make fun of eren starting to grow once again. “okay, fine. how’re we gonna do this?”

“leave that to me,” jean smirked. as if on cue, you could hear the bustle of the sponsorship men coming down the hallway. your tall friend was quick to step behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and placing his chin on your shoulder, effectively pulling you to his chest. “follow my lead.” he whispered into your ear.

you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the action. jean was respectfully keeping a distance between your ass and his groin, but he was close enough that it wasn’t very obvious.

connie started to babble about a new korean barbecue restaurant that he and sasha were planning on going to, you rocking in jean’s arms to make the sight believable.

your heartbeat was drumming in your chest as eren rounded the corner, his professional smile plastered on his angular face. he was in the middle of talking with the balding man from earlier, eyes fixed on him. jean gave your waist a squeeze in reassurance.

eren’s gaze peeled from the short man, teal eyes landing on you and jean all cozy. it was as if a flip was switched; the professional smile he’d been wearing slid off his features with ease, face hardening.

you held his angry stare for a moment before turning to connie, laughing at whatever had been said, the feeling of jean’s breath against the shell of your ear as he let out a light chuckle. “it’s working.”

you heaved out a deep breath, focusing on connie instead of eren. you could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your head, shifting your neck so that yours fell back on jean’s opposite shoulder.

“alright, that should be it for tonight,” you heard one of the men say, glancing back over to them. you didn’t look for long though, quickly noticing that eren’s stare was intently focused on you and jean.

the men shuffled past the three of you, leaving the building. “hey, jaeger. we ran into y/n as we were leaving.” jean hummed against your shoulder.

you looked back at eren, who was standing in front of you with his eyebrows furrowed. jean must’ve been right, judging by eren’s face.

“we’re leaving.” eren deadpanned, taking a step forward. he wasn’t looking at jean, rather staring directly at you. you could feel a slight amount of guilt creep up your spine, jean sighing exceptionally loud as he pulled away from you.

“do you guys wanna come to the korean barbecue place with us? it’s gonna be real good,” connie asked innocently. eren didn’t look away from you, his jaw clenching.

“no. we’ve got other plans.” he said seriously, reaching forward to grab your hand and tug you the opposite way from the doors.

“woah, eren, you’re going the wrong way,” you huffed in confusion, trying not to trip as he yanked you away from your friends. he continued forward, not looking back.

“uh, bye i guess?” jean yelled. you looked over your shoulder to see the two of them giving you a thumbs up. you dished them an appreciative smile as you rounded the corner.

“eren, where are we going?”

eren stayed silent for a moment, not letting go of your wrist. “for a drive.”

“huh? but your car is in the lot out front?” you mumbled, absolutely dumbfounded. the tall man didn’t respond, large hand still wrapped around your wrist.

it wasn’t until you came to a familiar large door, eren giving it an unnecessarily hard shove. the lights flicked on, revealing ten shiny race cars, all perfectly lined up.

eren let go of your wrist, making his way over to his own car. it was a sleek black with white checker decals, much like the rest of the vehicles in the garage. you’d seen it before, as it was quite literally one of eren’s most prized possessions.

you stood in the doorway, eyeing him warily. “your race car? you never take it out on regular roads.”

eren’s jaw clenched as he unlocked the car, pieces of hair falling in his face. he looked upset, muscular arm propped on the roof and brows laced with annoyance.

he walked around to the other side, opening the passenger door for you. it was strange, seeing him dressed in his regular clothes next to his race car. something about the nonchalance was attractive, teal eyes looking at you expectantly. “c’mon. be a good girl and get in the car.”

at his choice of words you swallowed, inwardly cursing jean for his plan. you knew you were in for it, judging by the fact that eren only referred to you as good girl when he had his most sinful plans in mind. maybe you should’ve just talked to eren about making things official rather than making him jealous, you thought. too late now.

“okay,” you sighed, resolutely deciding to accept whatever fate it was that jean had painted for you. you crossed your arms, slowly approaching eren. you stopped right as you were about to slip into the car, looking up at him through your lashes. he stared down at you, eyes serious.

you slipped into the dark interior of the car without further discussion, the cold leather making you shiver as eren shut the door. you observed him through the windshield as he pressed a button to open the garage before getting in the car himself.

the smell of his cologne filled the car, your teeth nervously nibbling at the skin on the inside of your lip as he turned the vehicle on. you’d never been inside the car before, only seeing it on the track and in the garage when you came to pester your friends before a race.

it rode impossibly smooth, eren bringing his hand to the back of your seat as he backed out of the garage. you tried not to stare at the way his arm flexed, jawline enhanced as he strained his neck, but you couldn’t help yourself. he was just so hot.

eren must’ve felt your eyes, glancing down at you momentarily with an expressionless look. you quickly shifted in your seat to stare out the window, heat burning in your cheeks. god, why was this suddenly so awkward?

it was silent as he drove out of the arena, the dark city glittering against the sky. it was beautiful at night, skyscrapers lit up all pretty. you quickly found yourself distracted by the view, leaning your head against the cool glass. you were so consumed that you didn’t notice eren merging onto the freeway.

you were brought out of your trance at the feeling of his large hand resting on your upper thigh, grip tight and possessive. you glanced to him again, lifting your head from the window.

he was staring straight forward, foot slowly increasing the gas. you felt your chest tighten, seeing how he was riding the tail of a minivan in front of you.

“eren,” you warned, insinuating that he slow down. his index finger tapped tauntingly on your bare thigh, slowly rising up the skin. the fabric of your skirt rode up, eren weaving past the minivan with one hand on the wheel.

“i have a question for you,” he said lowly, eyes not leaving the road. you gulped, a strange mix of arousal and anxiety pitting itself in your stomach as his hand reached the apex of your thigh. the side of his pinky brushed against your pelvis. “hm, no underwear?”

you felt a pang of embarrassment. in your defense, you’d thought tonight was just going to be spent hooking up with the man, not going to the arena. “i, uh-”

“so, jean had his dick pressed against your ass and you didn’t have underwear on?” his voice was deep, jealously dripping from every word. your breath hitched as his middle and ring finger slid against your clit with ease, already soaking wet.

eren’s shoe pressed down on the gas again, the car zipping in and out between other vehicles on the freeway. his fingers rubbed against your clit slowly, your legs subconsciously spreading to give him better access. it felt so good, the way he was circling the nerves with desirable pressure.

“mmm, eren slow down, you’re going to crash the car,” you mumbled, watching as he sped up, whipping past the other vehicles. he was easily approaching 100 mph, your anxiety beginning to outweigh the pleasure. as if sensing this, eren sped up his fingers as well, a whimper leaving your mouth.

“i know it’s bad for me to be so jealous,” eren said flatly, his middle finger deviating from the ring finger to slowly insert itself into your tight cunt. he pumped it slowly, still not looking at you. he was pushing 110 at this point, doing so with ease. “but something about jean touching you. being so close to you like that.”

his ring finger joined the middle, the two sliding in and out of you, curling slightly. it was hard to stay focused on his reckless driving when he was fucking you with his fingers like that, your mind feeling fuzzy as a passing car laid on its horn.

“eren,” you breathed out in worry, his fingers hitting your sweet spot in order to make you shut up. “you gotta slo-”

an involuntary whimper left your lips as he curled his fingers particularly deep, the tingling sensation at your core beginning to build. you looked over to him, and boy what a mistake that was.

his one arm was flexed, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. he was entirely focused on the road, eyebrows furrowed intently as his other hand purposefully increased its speed. he was so so hot.

you stifled another moan as your eyes looked forward again, the sight of eren nearly clipping a subaru outback making you sit forward.

“you’re going to crash!” you gasped.

“i’ll slow down if you answer my question,” eren growled, his thumb coming to rub your clit rapidly as his fingers continued to pump in and out of your cunt. you hissed at the newfound pleasure, your head coming back to rest against the seat.

“yes, yes, okay,” you agreed, screwing your eyes shut to avoid looking at how fast he was driving.

eren took a deep breath, giving you a sideways glance. he’d never done this before, but he’d also never felt this way about someone. the way you clenched so good around his fingers making his chest tighten. he made you feel this good, not jean. the thought brought a smirk to his face as you let out a strangled moan.

“i’ll stop speeding if you agree to be my girlfriend,” eren’s words shocked you right out of your pleasure coma, eyes widening as you jolted upright in your seat. did he really just say that? did jean’s plan actually work?

his hand jerked the steering wheel to the side, your mind too preoccupied with his statement to even notice his fingers had stilled inside of you, anxious for your answer. he wasn’t looking at you, eyes still locked on the road.

you held your breath as you noticed how fast your heart was beating. “i thought you’d never ask.” you responded, cheeks burning.

eren’s lips curled upwards, pulling his fingers from inside of you. your eyes followed his long digits as he popped the middle two into his mouth, sucking your bitter sheen from his knuckles. he was your boyfriend. he wanted you to be his girlfriend. “good girl.” he mumbled.

you glanced back at the freeway, surprised as eren jerked the steering wheel, making an abrupt exit. it appeared to deviate into the woods, your eyes flitting nervously to the man beside you. “um, where are you taking me?”

“i’m just fulfilling my promise,” he answered, bringing his hand back to grip your thigh. his fingers were wet with his saliva, the sight bringing a strong throb to your core. oh yeah, i never finished. “’member? i said once we were done with my meeting i was going to fuck you.”

you suppressed an excited smile at his vulgar words, pressing your thighs together for some form of relief. you were painfully aroused, the burning sensation almost too much to bear.

“plus, it seems like you never learn,” eren’s words were suddenly serious as he pulled the car up a gravel road. there was a sharp drop off to the side, the city skyline sparkling in the distance. you cocked a brow at him. “you’re my girlfriend now, but i’m still pissed about that stunt you pulled with jean. gonna have to punish you, of course.”

you swallowed as he shut the car off, the city sitting innocently in view. the spot between your legs was aching, desperate for some form of release. you couldn’t help the swell in your chest at the fact that eren was your boyfriend now, anxiously awaiting whatever he had in mind.

eren leaned over you, maintaining a deep stare as he shifted your seat into a flat position. his fingers lightly danced across your skin as he unbuckled your belt, face hovering above the hem of your skirt. he glanced back up to you, teal eyes glinting in the darkness.

“can’t wait to fuck my new girlfriend,” eren growled, wasting no time in climbing on top of you. he shifted your legs so that your knees were bent by your head, wet cunt on full display in front of him. he stared down at you, a hand on each knee. “shit, you’re so hot like this.”

he slowly brought a finger to your center, the feeling of his cold digit gliding against you bringing slight relief to the deep ache. his eyes were focused below your waist, lazily flitting upwards as he brought his finger to your lips. “taste.”

you happily accepted, wrapping your lips around his finger. your tongue swirled around his knuckle, the saccharin taste filling your mouth. he pulled it from your lips, a devilish grin on his features.

“i can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. the kiss was deep and heated, however it felt different from all the others you’d shared in the past. it was meaningful and tender, slow and deliberate. his tongue swiped your lip, slipping into your mouth with a sigh.

his hands undid his pants as you kissed, the sound of his belt being undone filling the small space. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, sliding it against your slick.

eren pulled back to look at you, breaths mingled for a moment before he pushed past your entrance, burying himself deep within you. the stretch was slightly uncomfortable and you were convinced you’d never get accustomed to the sheer size of his dick.

eren didn’t wait for you to adjust, flexing his hips back to give you another purposeful thrust. a whimper slipped past your lips at the feeling, his hand leaving your leg and lightly wrapping around your neck.

“fuck,” he hissed, speeding up his pace. your walls clenched around him, climax fast approaching with every deep thrust of his cock within your cunt. “feels so good fucking you when you’re all mine.”

his hand tightened around your throat, the combined pressure at both ends of your body only adding to the pleasure as he rammed into you. he grunted as his other hand pressed your legs forward, getting a better angle so that he could fill you to the hilt.

a strangled cry ripped from your throat as he hit particularly deep, bringing his face down to roughly kiss your lips. he was breathing heavily, the car shaking as he bucked his hips into yours.

eren craned his neck down to look at where his length disappeared inside of you, a small smile toying at his features. the sight caused his cock to twitch, relishing in just how nicely he filled you up. you were his, and he was yours.

just the thought of you being his girlfriend was enough; a loud groan leaving his chest as he pressed his hips against yours. you could feel him release himself inside of you, the thick sensation bringing on a much anticipated orgasm. your limbs grew cold, the pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers.

eren placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, gazing down at you. “my girlfriend is so fucking hot.” he grinned.

you rolled your eyes at his cheesy comment, swatting his chest playfully. he carefully removed himself from you, trying not to drip onto the car seat.

“here, pretty. you’ll have to keep your legs up,” he instructed as he pulled his pants back up. you frowned, the thought of holding this position the whole way back somewhat daunting.

“huh? but how am i supposed to keep this stuff from coming out?” you whined, still trying to regain your composure. eren’s face was flushed as he smirked at you.

“that’ll be your punishment, m’kay?” he said smugly. you scoffed, holding your knees in each hand.

“but that’ll be impossible!”

“don’t worry,” he leaned forward to kiss your lips once again. “i’ll drive slow.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger #eren jeager #eren yeager #eren yaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren jäger #eren x reader #eren smut #emmy writes #🦧

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coachtfd · 4 years

Note

Didn’t the women lose to 15 year olds or some shit? Also, the money thing isn’t about talent. It’s about how popular men’s soccer is compared to women’s soccer. There’s so many countries that don’t even have a women’s team. Meanwhile, nearly every country in the world has a men’s soccer team. The advertisements alone are why the men make more money. It’s just economics. Maybe it’s not fair but life isn’t fair.

You know, someone on Instagram mentioned losing one game (emphasis on “one”) and I did some digging. Mainly because this has to stop being used by people who don’t do their homework let alone follow the sport. That match where they “lost” was a scheduled and prearranged SCRIMMAGE with the FC Dallas U-15 boys team as part of their pre-tournament warm-up.

The primary goal, however, was actually to help with the development of the BOYS team, with building the women’s chemistry and working out the kinks being secondary. That’s right, they were there to help the BOYS get better. It was part of a structured practice and therefore they weren’t going all out, because only a douche would whoop a group of kids and feel good about it. But sexist goons online love to throw around this headline they read like they actually know something, and well-meaning people like yourself are subsequently misled.

As for the economics, the US Men rarely sold out a stadium for their friendlies unless they were playing Mexico but the women were doing it regularly because Americans love winners. There’s a massively untapped market in women’s football and the day more business owners and countries realize this, you’re going to see something spectacular. Niche markets are niche because no one goes there, most business people prefer low-hanging fruit. But they’re leaving so much money on the table.

The US Men got the better deals because they were men and they were first in line by default, not because they were good. As someone who’s been following the men since ‘94 and the women since ‘99, I can tell you they’ve more than pulled ahead of the men with their accomplishments and consistent development. Failure to get past the group stage or round of 16 with 2.5 generations of players doesn’t compare to winning World Cups, Olympics and being #1 or #2 in the world for the last 20+ years with 3.5 generations (the women refresh more frequently).

#tfd #answered #woso #uswnt #fc dallas #mls #women’s World Cup #megan rapinoe

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noritoshiikamo · 4 years

Text

game over

pairing: noritoshi kamo + fem!oc genre: angst tags//warning: established relationship, wild gojo appeared // blood, character death, emotion distress, mention of shibuya note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. note that i put descriptions of the characters i write so it would be easier for me, you’re free to imagine the character the way you seem fits! okay listen imma be honest i dont like this part that much dhhdbdjksncjddiem and im sorry if it sucks bcs istg i cant compete to part 1 and 2 of it so IM SORRY tagging @unabashednightmarepizza @sassyeahhhh @dok-ja @sukirichi [bold means i cant tag u idky :( lemme know if wanna be tagged in the next part] read the first part | second part | third part | bonus

few years ago;

“you’re fucking ridiculous!”

“you’re injured, how the fuck is it me that’s being unreasonable?”

she contemplated stabbing him straight to his chest. “i’m fine, leave me alone,” she hissed, holding on to her arm as she tried to limp away. second year jujutsu student noritoshi kamo wondered how the hell one could be this stubborn. with blood caked up on the side of her face, lips busted and bruising in the corner, not to mention the broken arm and probably twisted ankle, he could not understand how one could be this reckless and stupid, it’s almost ridiculous.

but here she is standing in front of him.

“you could’ve let me handle it,” he said, coldly.

she never turned that fast in her life; her limping leg suddenly worked fine as she hauled her ass, throwing both fists to his chest. the force put was enough to threw him back a few steps, he caught her wrists holding her from falling down. “stop acting like i’m so fragile. i can exorcist the curse just fine. you make me hate you so much,” she spitted, pure rage etched on her face, “just because i’m a girl, because i’m your girl, i’m weak. please, i am as good as you are, kamo.”

their faces were so close, he could count the freckles spread on her nose and cheeks. he loves her eyes the very first time he caught glimpse of it; one is a dull brown while the other looks like it carries the secret of the bright blue sea. this time, the eyes he loves looked hopeless, lack of the burning spirit she carried with tears threatening to spill. letting go of a wrist, his trembling hand brushed the hair coated with the blood back, carefully not to hurt her. “i never said you are bad,” he clarified, fingers busy brushing the hair back. his sudden reaction surprised her, and her body betrayed her thoughts as she eased in his arms.

he tilted her chin, his head was panicking as he realised that his brain was no longer controlling his movement as he leaned down and kissed her.

she tasted like blood.

she winced, pain aching on the swollen part and he apologized so quietly as he deepened the kiss. “nori-” her voice croaked as she swallowed his moans. he hummed, satisfied by the kiss. their foreheads rest against each other, the tip of their noses touched as they struggled to catch breath.

“stop being stupid. let me help you okay?”

“okay.”

slipping his arm under hers, he helped her walk, leading them out of the abandoned building they managed to exorcist. nothing major, a couple of pestering level three and four curses that them both handled well but their supervisor missed to tell them about the hiding level two curse that took them by surprise. she had become the curse’s main target.

if she would’ve just listened to him and stay close. he sighed.

“ouch, ouch,” she cried, clutching on her left leg, forcing him to stop. impatient, he slipped his hand under her knees, lifting her up in his arms. she apologized profusely, embarrassed to be such a burden to him. he brushed it off immediately.

“did you call them? told them that we are done?”

she gasped, “wait, i thought they’ll wait for us.”

he huffed, “you’re not that important, y/n. give them a call, please. i want to go home.”

kicking the door open, the moonlight shone on them as he carried her down to the bottom stairs. settling her down on the steps, he sat beside her, letting a long sigh. he watched as she took the call, letting them know that she was slightly injured, and they need to go back asap. she was visibly tired, and he was the same too.

he couldn’t help but to sigh at the way the moonlight enveloped her. he had loved her from the very first moment he caught his eyes on her; she caught him staring, called him out publicly and ignored all his advances. it took him a lot to court her. she’s a gojo, she can have anything and everything with the sky is the limit.

but one thing money could never buy is affection.

it started with little stuffs; noritoshi waiting for her with her lunch readied every day. it annoyed her but momo (who was secretly rooting for him) forced her to just do it. “it’s just a lunch,” momo said sheepishly. noritoshi would have them paired all the time for the missions. she’d accepted it with open heart. noritoshi would also teach her how to weld a bow and shoot arrows. she promised that she would go out on date with him if he taught her.

by the end of their first year, they became inseparable.

the idea of being apart from her hurts him physically and mentally. she took a sharp breath when he laced his fingers between her own, quickly telling the other person on the phone that she was okay. “it was just noritoshi,” she replied with a small laugh. their hands fit each other; his skin contrasted her slightly tanned skin. while his hands were rough from welding the bow and he kept his nail short and clean, hers were slightly softer with her nails painted prettily. this month she had her nails painted in pastel. all the girls’ day out with momo and mai had proven its importance. he was happy to provide her with his black card despite her discontent.

“analysing my hands now?”

he smiled slightly, “it looks very pretty. i guess i got my money worth. are they coming?”

she leaned on his shoulder, his own wrapped around her as she closed her eyes, “they are around the corner. i would definitely need another round this week,” she teased. kissing her forehead gently, he didn’t mind that his uniform was stained with her blood; he was glad that she’s safe.

“i’ll happily take you there.”

few years later;

noritoshi kamo almost lost his mind. the stadium was half destroyed, huge craters on the pitch with the sight of his wife nowhere to be found. he looked up to the black pitch curtain encasing the stadium area from the sky, a curse escaped his lips.

“where the fuck are you?” he grunted, scanning the area.

she is gone, his stubborn little wife. she could’ve just wait but annoyed that their dinner date was interrupted and eager because this was their first mission together as a married couple; she escaped his supervision. as they were dealing with minor curses outside, she decided to head on forward, leaving him to deal with whatever is left. he beat himself inside for letting her come, he could easily do this himself and send her home safely, but she blinked her eyes and he was weak. she always has her way with him.

his step stopped when he realised there was a shadow ahead.

“she’s pretty,” the thing said.

his blood ran cold, “what did you do to my wife?”

the curse let out a laugh. it was sinister enough to send chills down his spine. especially when he realised the head it was stepping on was his wife. her eyes were fluttering back and forth, struggling to stay awake. a howl shocked him, shivers down his spine at the painful whimpers her shikigami making. cursed spirits were devouring it alive, overwhelming it and chewing every part of its body. his wife was too weak to dispel the shikigami; it’s dangerous as the devoured wolf shikigami will drain her cursed energy by a second.

all shikigami linked directly to the owner; everything inflected to the wolf, she could feel it too.

he needed a plan.

hidden in his wedding ring was a retractable knife. he rarely carries blood bags anymore as his power solidified itself. the older he got, the better he was at using and controlling a small steady flow of his own blood straight from the tap. with a clap of his hands, the knife cut his hand enough to send blood shooting like bullets. the blood hit the curses straight to its cores, died out instantly on impact, but the shikigami was beyond salvageable. it let out one last howl, one last goodbye before dropping to the ground, half of his snout gone. she will be devastated, it’s her only shikigami she managed to tame at such a young age, but at least it has stopped the shikigami from stripping his wife’s cursed energy to its core.

the fire burning in his eyes only made the curse laughed. he kicked her body away, spurting blood out of her mouth. she was halfway close to death’s doorstep.

“i will fucking murder you,” he hissed.

“my blood is my power. it’s supposed to rot human, stripping its meat from the bone like acid. however,” the curse nudged her body, “your wife didn’t. humour me, did your blood tainted hers? tell me, i’m curious how.”

“are you going to chit chat because i don’t have whole day.” his blood dripped on the pitch.

the curse grinned, shrugging his shoulder. he kneeled, running his bloody fingers on her cheeks leaving trails of flowers pattern that dissipated immediately, “i’m not here to fight. i’m here to serve a warning,” he looked up to the tensed sorcerer, “for gojo satoru. tell him, we’ll be waiting for him in shibuya.” noritoshi’s face scrunched in confusion.

“we have no business with the gojos.”

“but she is. she could change her name, married you, but it doesn’t erase the fact that she carried gojo’s blood in her vein. she’s the bridge to your two clans. i’m just killing two birds with one stone. ruin the kamo clan’s relationship with gojos and hurt gojo satoru. all thanks to her,” the curse turned his back on him, his laugh echoed as he walked away. the dark curtain disappeared slowly as the ground rumbled. a perfect chance for noritoshi to strike if it wasn’t because of the cursed spirit’s words gluing him to his spot, “oh, kamo, i believe a congratulation is overdue. let me know when’s the baby is due, i would love to drop by personally.”

the pillar holding on to the roof collapsed sending wave of dust all over the place. noritoshi covered his face, coughing as he sucked some in, removing his coat as a shield. the cursed spirit was no where to be found.

“the place is going to collapse! i’ll get the curse, you go get her!”

a voice echoed and he caught a glimpse of blond hair running past him and noritoshi didn’t think twice as he sprinted around the cracks and holes. who was that voice or who was the curse, he couldn’t give a single fuck, he just wants his wife back. he was shaking when he got to her, arms immediately scooped her up in his arms. her chest was raising slowly, blood dripping on the side of her lips as she struggled to exhale.

“you’re going to be okay,”

he told her, but he wasn’t sure if he will ever be.

“can you turn down the stupid light, it’s hurting my eyes.”

the voice laughed melodiously, the light moved to the other eye repeating the same thing.

“as you can see, she’s awake, slightly weak, but she should be okay.”

another voice interrupted, “are you sure?” she gasped, excited to hear a familiar voice. “nori?” she called out, unable to open her eyes, relying strictly to her hearing as she reached her shaky hands out for him. “her senses might be slightly off, just let her do it herself,” the woman’s voice noted, and she felt annoyed. how dare you underestimate me, her mind scoffed.

“my senses are fine. see?” she claimed as she held noritoshi’s hand up. he smiled, gently rubbing her hand with encouragement. “thanks, shoko, we are fine.”

“i’ll leave you be then. call me if you need anything.”

she listened to the clacking of shoko’s heels, followed by the door opening and slamming shut. she jumped, but he held her hand tighter, reassuring her that it’s alright. “so why can’t i see?” she asked, confident that they are alone now. she felt the bed sunk a little on the left side, “you were high on anesthesia, i’m surprise you could even move your jaw to speak.” she felt a finger brushed her hair aside, breath loomed on her face and she could feel her own face reddening up.

“are you going to kiss me or are you just going to tease me?” his heart swell up, despite her shaky voice almost made him laugh.

“do you trust me?” his hand cupped her cheek gently.

she nodded eagerly, “always.”

“good.”

his kiss hit her like a waft of fresh air. every kiss felt like a first kiss to her that she couldn’t help to react so eagerly to it. his tongue slipped through her defense, overwhelming her taste buds with such strong taste of iron. it didn’t stop her. she knew what he was doing from start. he peeked a little, didn’t stop a second from kissing her as he watched his blood marking appeared on her face. her hands went up around her neck pulling him closer and he obeyed, deepening the kiss.

heal; his mind commanded.

after a while, she pulled back, being the one to break apart from the kiss first, her chest raising up and down as she struggled to catch her breath. her eyes were wide open now, fluttering lazily as she leaned back on the propped-up pillow. he wiped the corner of his lips, eyes on her as he watched the open wound on her face and arms slowly closed leaving the fresh healed red marks behind. he relaxed when he heard a thank you coming from her, as she checked her healed arms.

“i’m disappointed with you,” he finally broke the silence.

“really?” she frowned. he always does this thing where he will immediately go into lecture mood every time she does something that pisses him off. it’s almost like a game to her as she waited for him to explode, “right now? not even going to wait until i’m discharged. this is a new record, toshi. like shoko said, i’m fine.” he shook his head, “it doesn’t make it right. you always disobeyed me. ignored my orders, going about with your goddamn big head, you could’ve been killed.”

she rolled her eyes, noritoshi is being noritoshi, what a drama queen, she mentally rolled her eyes, “but i’m not,” she pushed her hair back, twisting it easily into a simple loose knot, “i told you, i am not weak.”

“your shikigami was destroyed, your blood was poisoned, 70 percent was already circulating to every part of your vein, i had to beg for the higher up to help purify your blood,” her smile died down. this game no longer feels fun for her. noritoshi was really mad this time. “you think it’s fun and all game but game over, y/n. you need to stop doing this. if you can’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

“leave me alone, nori, if you just going to nag, please i don’t want to hear it. i’m tired.”

it made him angry that she was taking his word lightly. running his hand in his messy hair, he felt like hauling his head to the wall.

“you don’t understand-”

she slammed her hand on the bed, interrupting his words, “no YOU don’t understand me, i’m tired of you babying me. i’m an adult, i am your wife, stop treating me like a fucking child! we have been married for months, but god you’re suffocating me.”

“i will when you stop endangering yourself. i will stop treating your like a child when you stop acting like one. you’re pregnant, for the love of god!” he threw his hand on the wall. the wall cracked from the force. “i’m what?” she felt the world stopped spinning. she was hundred percent sure that her ears and head were deceiving her. he removed his hand from the hole he made on the wall, his body shaking from the amount of anger building up.

“noritoshi, answer me! what do you mean- i’m not pregnant, i had my period this month.”

“you are,” he shrugged. he felt something hit him in the back; looking down he saw the fluffy white pillow sitting by his feet.

he pointed to the bedside table where a sonogram perched up against a tissue box. she was about to lose her mind. “this is not funny, if this is your mean way of fucking me up because i won’t listen to you then this is just fucking cruel.”

he marched towards him, his hand went down on his chin, forcing her eyes on him, “until you stop playing your stupid games, until you stop treating your life like it’s nothing, until you consider my feelings and my worries, as your husband is valid, i do not exist in your life,” tears fell down her cheeks, “like you, i’m tired too.

“nori i-“

he left her before she could say a word. she broke into sob; her chest was pounding so hard that the blood pressure monitor was beeping. the door burst opened but it was not the face she wanted to see. she was immediately hysterical. satoru managed to hold her wrist down before she ripped the tubes and needles off her arms. “no, no, i want nori. where is he!” she screamed as satoru held her down. “you need to calm down, it’s not good for the baby,” satoru cooed, but she was not having it. he turned to shoko, “her cursed energy is skyrocketing, she’s going hysterical, do something!”

“let me go!”

shoko held out a syringe, “hold her down.”

she screamed, thrashing so rough that she almost slipped out of the strongest sorcerer’s hands. she managed to get a needle out before she felt another sharp pain on her back. shoko pulled the empty needle out and they retreated away as she fell on her butt backward. she was reduced to a babbling mess, her eyes drooped as she struggled to fight the waves of sleepiness hitting her one after another.

“tell him i’m sorry,” she croaked out, before everything turned completely dark.

the blood pressure monitor returned back to normal.

three days later;

“are you still going to ignore her? it’s been 3 days.”

“she needs to learn her place.”

gojo satoru disagreed. he eyed the head of the clan, shaking his head before standing up. he thought he could convince noritoshi kamo to visit his wife, but the man was as stubborn as- huh, her.

“i think she have learned enough, she’s miserable. you’re miserable.”

the man glared at the blonde man child, raising the cup of tea up for a sip. the tea doesn’t taste as good as the way she made it. he left her for 3 days and he found himself struggling to do everything alone.

he, noritoshi kamo, 23 years old and the head of the kamo family, could not make a cup of fucking tea.

she always said that the best way to make tea depends on how long you let it steep. “too early and you won’t get the right amount of flavour,” she explained, her back facing him as he watched from the counter as she loomed over the stove, “but if you steep it way too long you going to burn the tea leaves and it will make everything taste bitter.” she turned around, a huge smile on her face that made his heart skipped a beat.

he frowned; the tea tasted bitter.

“she’s pregnant, she’s supposed to be crazy. you are supposed to be the wise one. she is going to carry your child for 9 long months, i can’t explain to you how long that’s going to be but she is allowed to be crazy.”

he dropped the cup on the floor when gojo’s hand grabbed him by his collar, pulling him up from his chair.

“now please, see your goddamn wife before i deck you in the mouth.”

“i will.”

satisfied with his answer, gojo’s demeanor changed and he was again the man child they all know of him. noritoshi could no longer focus on the report in front of him; not when his mind is full of her and only her.

would she forgive him? he wasn’t sure.

but he would spend his lifetime making up to her and the baby if that’s necessary.

#I FEEL LIKE THIS ONE IS JUST AINT IT AND I MIGHT REMOVE IT #jjk #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x y/n #jjk y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru #wild gojo appeared #tw blood #noritoshi x reader #i already have part 3.5 have written tho loool #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #writing: fics

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 3 years

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Last chapter of this volume! Can’t believe we’re already through four volumes, and we’re not even done with the second full arc yet. I mean, later arcs are gonna be even longer, but like. Yeah.

[No. 35 - Battle On, Challengers!]

We move on to the next match - Kaminari versus Shiozaki! I’m actually kind of marveled that they were able to thaw out that entire glacier in any sort of timely manner. That’s quirks for you!

Present Mic announces Shiozaki as class 1b’s assassin, and also reveals that he apparently either doesn’t know the full quote for ‘every rose has its thorns’ or started to say it, only to realize she didn’t have roses and scrambled to compensate. Kaminari, meanwhile, gets announced as a ‘sparking, killing boy.’ Really kind of morbid on this round, huh?

Shiozaki turns around to object to Present Mic’s descriptor as an ‘assassin’, stating that she’s merely come this far seeking victory. Present Mic apologises, and Kaminari just kind of watches while admiring her. He takes notes of her eyes, and then thinks about how strong she is. He then sort of counters his previous admiration of strength by asking himself if he really has to hit someone so pretty with a full discharge, then concludes his ‘battle plan’ by determining that he’ll ask her out once all this is over.

Present Mic starts the match while Shiozaki is still focused on talking to Mic - which means she’s facing away from Kaminari. Which is kind of a dick move on Mic’s part, but eh, I guess ‘heroes have to be ready for anything,’ yarda yarda etcetera.

Kaminari asks Shiozaki if she wants to grab something to eat when they’re done there, and that he’s happy to console her if she wants. She turns to stare at him in confusion, just in time to see him charging up his whole body with his quirk. Kaminari makes a quip about this match probably being over in an instant - and then we cut to the immediate aftermath, where Present Mic comments on how it’s already over while Kaminari wheys out in the grasp of Shiozaki’s vines. Shiozaki was both able to create a shield against the electricity and yank Kaminari into the air and away from her, thus causing him to short-circuit.

One on patrol, Mount Lady comments on Shiozaki being a promising one, and another plant user. Kamui Woods amits he wishes he could’ve seen her up close, but that they need to get back to work.

Back in the stadium, Midnight announces Shiozaki moving on to the second round. Shiozaki is relieved to have no wasted the opportunity bestowed upon her, and the narrative finally gives us an informational blurb on her quirk.

...A strange ending note there, but sure. Some of the crowd - or possibly Izuku? Since he’s sinking into a muttering fest right after - comments on the ‘match’ and the participants. Shiozaki’s ability to use her quirk is something else, between building walls, binding enemies… Kaminari’s quirk was no use against her. She countered him well. He might’ve had a chance if he could maneuver better, but he panicked and short-circuited after one attack.

Ochako hears muttering besides her and is a bit alarmed, looking over to see Izuku in the middle of an analysis fugue. Izuku mutters about thinking Kaminari’s quirk would be stronger, but Shiozaki got fourth in the entrance exam, and she’s the real deal. The vine moves are similar to Kamui Wood’s binding attacks, and binding types are always strong, to the point where you almost never see someone break out. It’s pretty much impossible to dodge all the vine attacks, so the only counter is to rip them apart with brute strength - ah, but to prevent that, they tend to go for the hands first.

(...and I just NOW realized that this specific commentary about binding-type quirks and the counter being brute strength is literally something that comes into play when Best Jeanist binds Gigantomachia with those steel cables during the Jakku arc. Holy shit, I don’t think Hori intended it, but what a callback. Or it’s just good worldbuilding, which would also be neat!)

Ochako eventually cuts into Izuku’s muttering - startling him in the process - by commenting on how his match just ended, but he’s already thinking ahead strategy-wise. Izuku denies it, saying that it’s just a hobby of his, and that they finally have a chance to see the quirks of people outside their class in action. He then eagerly shows her his open notebook, stating that he has everything she’d need to know about class A in there - even her ‘zero gravity’.

Me, staring down the people who have the class unaware of the contents of Izuku’s notebooks when writing suspected traitor fics:

Anyways! Ochako is kind of impressed despite herself, stating that she thought Izuku was amazing from the day they met, but this sports festival has brought him to a whole other level. Izuku is confused by the complement, but there’s no time to ask, since Present Mic is announcing the participants of the next battle: Tenya versus Hatsume.

Some of the students are chattering about how the match is going to go, with one asking what is that - which seems to be referring to the support items Tenya is wearing? Midnight comments on it as well, noting that they’re forbidden for hero course students, and that a special request has to be put in for those things beforehand. Tenya admits he forgot, seeing as Aoyama was wearing that belt of his. Midnight reminds him that Aoyama applied for an exception.

Tenya apologies, stating that he’d been touched by Hatsuma’s sense of sportsmanship. Although she’s a member of the support course, she came to him and said that if they’re to be seen as equals, then they should fight on equal footing. She gave those items to him; her earnest spirit… he could never look down on it. That was his thinking.

Midnight apparently is now all for this, calling Tenya naive. Mic says that it’s good enough for him, and Aizawa says that if both parties are fine with it, he supposes it can be allowed… right? Izuku, up in the stands, is looking concerned, wondering if Hatsume is really the type to offer that. Hatsume, of course, is chuckling as she flips down a microphone right as the match starts.

Mei immediately starts going into her spiel, commenting on Tenya’s speed - much to the confusion of both Mic and Tenya. She then points out how Tenya’s legs should feel lighter than usual, and that that’s what one can expect with her custom leg parts, which keep up with their user’s speed! However, dodging is no problem for her with her hydraulic attachment bars! Which she deploys just before Tenya reaches her, causing him to trip over one of the bars and flail.

Mei checks for where the support companies were seated, her quirk zeroing in on the faces she’s looking for - which, to her pleasure, are eating her words up.

Tenya catches himself and spins on his heels, wondering what she’s going. Hatsume complements it, noting how her auto-balancer makes those sorts of tight movements possible. Meanwhile, up in the announcement booth, Mic and Aizawa are both so put out, with Aizawa facepalming and calling her a born saleswoman.

The game of tag, along with a completely play-by-play sales pitch, goes on for another ten minutes. Eventually, however, Hatsume steps over the line, sweating but proud of managing to get through everything she wants to show off. Midnight states that Tenya’s moving on to the second round, while Tenya is just in despair at the deception.

Ah, the face of someone with zero shame. Hatsume gives a completely insincere apology for using Tenya, which Tenya replies to by stating his extreme dislike of her.

Izuku is also a bit dismayed as he notes that Tenya is just too serious, so it wasn’t hard for her to get him to play her game, and that at least she’s honest about her under-handed methods to get what she wants. Ochako herself is looking a bit down as she gets up, quietly noting to Izuku that she should get to the prep room. Izuku notes that she left her still-full drink behind, glancing back to her in concern as she walks away.

As other matches run in the background, we shift over to prep room two, which Tenya is just entering. Ochako, already waiting in there, tells him good which, which startles him out of his funk as he recognizes her. Of course, the first thing he notes is her furrowed brows, which Ochako admits is probably from her being a bit nervous, and how it’s probably showing on her face. Tenya remembers her match is against Katsuki, and Ochako admits that she’s really scared. But, seeing Tenya out there, she…

Well, before she can finish her thought, Izuku bursts into the room. Ochako is confused, since he should be out there watching the other matches. Tenya to the side asks about the story behind the support girl. Izuku ignores the latter, telling Ochako that another two matches are already over, and now Kirishima and some class 1b guy are duking it out. Mina managed to damage Aoyama’s belt, he panicked, and she knocked him out with an uppercut to the chin. Then Tokoyami won his match in a flash - he didn’t give Momo the time to use the objects she made… he’s one of the strongest guys here in a one-on-one. Ochako realizes this means her match is up soon, her heart pounding in her chest.

Tenya can’t imagine that Katsuki would give it his explosive all against a female opponent, but Izuku cuts in, staring very firmly that Katsuki will. Everyone is competing here with the dream of becoming number one. No one’s holding back - Katsuki least of all. However, Ochako’s already helped Izuku so much, so he thought he might return the favor…

He really just stores his notebooks anywhere he can. What a legend. He offers the notebook, stating that Ochako needs a counter-strategy against Katsuki - one that uses her quirk. He came up with it on the fly, but it might work! Tenya is relief, stating how fortunate Ochako is. Ochako thanks Izuku, but says that it’s okay. Both Izuku and Tenya are startled by the reply.

Ochako states how amazing Izuku is, and how he does amazing stuff all the time. During the cavalry battle, she thought the easiest strategy woul be to team up with friends. But when she thinks about it, she was just putting her faith in Izuku. That’s why Tenya said ‘I challenge you’ and all that, which left her feeling a little embarrassed about herself.

She pushes herself to her feet, moving past them to get to her match as she says thanks, but no thanks. Everyone here is fighting for their futures, so doesn’t that make them all rivals? That’s why she’ll see him in the finals!

Ochako, sweetie…

Kirishima and Tetsutetsu knock each other out at the same time. Present Mic comments on the mirror image quirk matchup, and how the winner is… neither! They have a tie, since both are down. Midnight clarifies that in the event of a tie, they’ll determine the winner after the two recover, probably with an arm wrestling match or the like. The crowds comment on how they’re equal in strength, and how that was great though. They kind of hotbloodedness would be a great morale boost, and how they’re desirable as sidekicks.

Shouto watches on as the final two contestants of the first round enter the arena. Tsuyu states her worries about the match, and Jirou addson how she doesn’t want to watch it. Izuku quietly hopes for Ochako to do her best.

And so the final match is announced: Ochako versus Katsuki.

And with that, volume four is done! I’ll be getting up the character sheet first, and then digging into the bonus material. Hopefully y’all enjoy!

#chapter 35 #sports festival arc #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #Iida Tenya #uraraka ochako #kayama nemuri #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #Hatsume Mei #Kaminari Denki #shiozaki ibara #not related to this post or anything #but happy birthday tenya #what a good bean #he gets so betrayed in this chapter

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thedisguisedaltruism · 3 years

Text

fond stares, vast place, loud heartbeats

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, concert au

pairing: wonwoo/gn reader

summary: wonwoo hates the crowds, but he has to save up all his energy since you’re taking him as your concert buddy for taylor swift’s 1989 tour. little did he know, he will soon realize that he was actually in love with you, thanks to taylor and her wicked songwriting.

word count: 2,192

a/n: dumping this shit because too much feels for you are in love live :((

2015

“Wons, turn it up, turn it up!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort from your excitement to see your longtime idol live. You worked hard to save enough so you could see Taylor Swift since then, and now you’re about to witness your turning point in life.

...together with your best friend, not to mention how he loathes crowds.

I Know Places is currently playing on the car stereo and you're warming up as you hit the high note in the chorus, dramatically pressing your chest with eyes shut. Wonwoo takes his final turn as you finally arrive at the stadium.

"Missed the note there, my friend." He teases. You could care less from his assed remarks because your mind's been in euphoria since you woke up from a power nap a few hours ago.

Outside the venue has already gathered a big crowd, and you patiently wait for your best friend who's double-checking the doors if they're surely closed.

Wonwoo has been your best friend for five years, and being grateful to have him is an understatement as he has witnessed your ups and downs in college. He knows that apart from your family and him, Taylor and her music has already played such a great role from adolescence until adulthood.

As a sucker for books, Wonwoo was undoubtedly impressed by Taylor's songwriting prowess since he listens to your discussions during the free time about the lyric analyses that you read across the internet, and you usually play her live performances whenever you pull off all-nighters that's why he agreed to be your concert buddy because he wants to see the person who could give rainbows to the person he likes.

Yes. The person he likes.

Wonwoo thought being in a Taylor Swift concert is not bad at all. It's like having a big crowd of best friends gathering in one huge place to have fun with their most talented best friend. Everyone's perfectly singing along to every lyric, breathing to each punctuation, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Honestly speaking, he was having fun, and boy, he could sing along to a few songs while waving with his light-up bracelet.

Aside from being fascinated by the live performances, he would sometimes steal glances at you, making him amused by your kaleidoscope of emotions you've shown from the past eight performances. Sometimes you'd turn to him just to sing while holding your chest, and go back to screaming how much you love Taylor Swift.

After the succeeding crowd-jumping performances, Taylor comes out with her black Gibson acoustic guitar to perform an acoustic version of her song just like the old days. The crowd has once again roared, and you scoot close to Wonwoo to whisper that Taylor's going to sing your favorite song from 1989.

He knows the story behind it. You told him on your graduating year at the rooftop of your college building while chugging an energy drink just to keep yourself awake from pulling off an all-nighter for your thesis, it was about Taylor’s known actress friend falling in love with her producer on this album—someone with the name Jack—if he could still guess correctly.

Taylor has already ascended for a clearer sight of crowds from the top seats, instructing everyone to sing back the specific words. Wonwoo watches you hugging yourself while craning your neck so you could see Taylor from above.

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

You and Wonwoo first met at the same elective during college freshman year. You were sitting near the door, sparing the next seat with your bag since someone from your class politely asked you to but unfortunately, she never came back and it was perfectly timed that Wonwoo immediately spotted the vacant seat beside you, exhausted from running before he gets late (yes, in a goddamn first day of class).

He learned that you’re taking up creative writing that’s why said elective was important for your course. He told you that he was taking up computer science, but he still needs to take the elective.

...and then, your friendship started.

You have friends, but they’re few for your liking because socializing is exhausting. Wonwoo, on the other hand, despised being exhausted around people and that’s the reason why both of you became friends quickly. Reading was Wonwoo’s stress escape and yours was binge-watching k-dramas and reality shows.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

Since both of you chose to live in dormitories at college, sometimes you’d walk together around the university park late at night and talk about stuff happening in your life outside academics. One time, you told him how you’re pissed at your family’s insights about coming out since they happened to share once about how your cousin came out at a family gathering and the next moment, he was already in the hot seat. You told Wonwoo that you wished you were there to end all of your religious hypocrite relatives.

Wonwoo, within the years of friendship, was never the type to initiate a conversation, but he’s an excellent listener. He could watch you talk about Taylor Swift, the perennial hate for your Major professor who’s academia-obsessed since she sets a standard too high for her liking while her class is on the brink of dropping out, and how you were fascinated about him staying up all night for computer games and still ace programming exams.

Suddenly, the crowd started to roar out of the blue, making him shake his head from spacing out. Still standing, much to his surprise since he hates getting tired, he realized that he’s just watching you being helplessly in awe at Taylor Swift no matter how neck-stiffening it is, how your eyes sparkled with bliss just like the days when you talk with him about the things you love.

And then he felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened.

The crowd was already singing along with excitement—he has no idea what kind of reason it is—but he remains watching you like you were excruciatingly hard to reach, despite how you could hear his loud heartbeat if this was an empty place.

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says “You're my best friend”

And you knew what it was

He is in love

You screamed you’re my best friend at the top of your lungs together with other sixty thousand people at Taylor despite how your best friend, who’s silently watching beside you, couldn’t calm himself down unnoticed.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

Suddenly, you turn to Wonwoo as Taylor does her guitar break before singing the bridge, and you were surprised to see him just staring at you instead of watching Taylor from up above and tell you how skilled she was at playing guitar. The way he’s looking at you wasn’t even judging, teasing, or the usual antics that he does.

He’s just looking at you fondly and you thought maybe, he’s extremely happy that you get to see your longtime idol live after all these years and you deserved it so much.

...except that your tentative guess is incorrect.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” you yelled at him proudly while pointing at Taylor with emphasis.

Your best friend could only nod and gesture at you to look back on your idol.

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

That made Wonwoo look up to Taylor Swift in an instant and judged her as he could so. As Taylor stopped, the crowd screamed once again, but nothing is deafening as his heartbeat while watching you cheer in chorus.

He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed, because you were his partner during graduation ball and you were just having the best time of your lives because fuck it, despite being anxious about what’s to come after the graduation, both of you were so happy to have been able to survive despite the shit hole life your university has given.

He also happened to frame a picture of you in his office peacefully sitting beside the stacks of scratch papers for software development. He secretly requested for its original copy at the official student publication of your university during that one major event as he saw it on Facebook.

He realized that he’s in love with you after all this time.

Much to his misfortune, you suddenly looked at him again and your eyes met that he couldn’t look away, but this time it was replaced with worry. You caught him twice, and knowing Wonwoo, he’s not usually vocal when it comes to express his discomfort.

You gently hold Wonwoo’s hand. “Are you having a bad feeling? We could go out if you want to,” you whispered just audible enough for him to hear.

And that’s how he lost it.

It took him another deep breath to sink in that you chose his well-being over your once-in-a-lifetime moment with your idol.

Like… holy shit, he was so lucky to have you in his life and he thought this time, he wants to step out of his shell and gather the courage to tell you how much you mean to his life. He’s had enough secretly pining over you for years.

But first, he wants you to be happy and enjoy your time with Taylor. He shakes his head no and holds your shoulders to turn to Taylor who’s now descending for the next performance.

“I can’t believe she’s real, what the hell, she was fucking real, Wonwoo.” you sighed. “Oh my god.”

You couldn’t stop wiping your face after spacing out which made Wonwoo chuckle. After the concert and almost a painful hour of waiting to get out of the stadium, you mutually agreed to stop by the nearest convenience store.

Although you only bought a coffee and went back inside Wonwoo’s car.

“Me too.” Wonwoo whispers. That made you remember what happened during You Are In Love performance. You looked at him and tapped his shoulder.

“You looked unwell this evening. Were you honestly okay, Wons?” you ask.

He only blinked in response.

It took Wonwoo a few seconds to gather up his courage. Now that it’s only the two of you alone, he thought he must let it out.

“Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. You don’t have to worry.” he jokes, his attention remained at the store. He could see from his peripherals how your eyebrows furrowed, obviously not convinced enough by his excuse.

“What you told me about Taylor the first time you introduced her to me was...true,” he sighed deeply. “She sings what we couldn’t put into words.”

For someone like Wonwoo whose eloquence is something to look up to, you were confused by what he meant.

Wonwoo turns to face you and takes your icy palms to wrap them with his large, slender, and warm ones.

“I love you.” He says, straightly looking into your eyes.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Please don’t joke around!” You hit his shoulder, but all he does is let out a burst of breathy laughter.

But honestly, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his sudden confession.

Tracing circles on your hand, Wonwoo smiles at your bewildered expression. “You were wondering if I was having a bad time? No, it’s all Taylor’s fault for making me confess to you tonight. That took me a long time I guess.”

“Wait, what?”

“I love you and Taylor made me realize that I should confess before it gets too late.”

You looked up at Wonwoo while pulling your hand from his gentle hold and laughed. It was unbelievable how both of you have been painfully oblivious despite being helplessly pining towards each other.

It was your best friend’s turn to get puzzled so you took the time advantage to confess.

“Idiot, I liked you too, ever since we first met.” sounding bashful, you looked away hoping that you didn’t sound like an idiot. So much irony for making fun of your best friend a few moments ago. “I have no idea that you felt deeper than I thought I have.”

Even if you already knew how Wonwoo’s mind works for five years, he is always full of surprises.

Or maybe he was so happy tonight that he kissed your hand and never let go of it as he started driving you home.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt au #DOOD MY FUCKEN HEART I CANT #stream ready to love everyone #lf: heaven's cloud stans #kpop fiction #kiwistories

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hlupdate · 4 years

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In a never-before-published 2012 interview, Harry Styles and Niall Horan talk about their childhoods, the future of One Direction, and much more

In the spring of 2012, I spent a few entertaining days hanging out with the five young members of a British boy band who were just breaking big in the United States. The guys from One Direction were unjaded, unguarded, totally charming, and a puppy pile of optimism and energy. On April 8th, in a New York City hotel room, an 18-year-old Harry Styles and 16-year-old Niall Horan sat down with me for a joint interview, published here for the first time. (The reporting was intended for a Rolling Stone cover story that never ran.)

It was late morning, and they had both just rolled out of bed. Styles wore a hotel bathrobe; Horan, with braces still on his teeth, was in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a Dallas Mavericks hat a fan had given him during a recent trip to Texas. The conversation was casual, full of laughs, and focused on their formative years.

What did you do at the gym last night? Harry: One of our security guys, his friend’s over, he’s a personal trainer, so I was working with him, and he ripped me to shreds.

In 12 hours, you have to do Saturday Night Live. Are you ready? Harry: Yeah, I think so. I think it’s going to be a fun day. It’s just really exciting, obviously. The show is so huge. For us to get the opportunity to be on it at all was just amazing, and to us, to be performing and just be involved with the show is amazing.

Have you seen whole episodes of it? Harry: I’ve watched a lot of clips on YouTube. They don’t show it in the U.K.

Growing up, when did you realize you could sing or that you wanted to sing? Harry: I sang in primary school, like the school productions, plays and stuff.

What was your first one? Harry: The first one was…I was five, and there was a story about a mouse who lived in a church, and I was Barney, the mouse. I had to wear my sister’s tights, and a headband with ears on it, and I had to sing a song all by myself. I remember it was just like, whatever…in the second, I was Buzz Lightyear in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, so you know when they run and hide in the toy shop? Buzz Lightyear was in the toy shop, so they just created my character. The last one, I was in…you know Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat? I was the pharaoh, but I was an Elvis pharaoh.

Did you have a sense that this is what you wanted to do in your life? Harry: I think in school, I was OK, I wasn’t a bad student. I think I just knew I wanted to entertain people and stuff. I was a bit of an attention-seeker at school.

Niall: Me, too. I just talked too much, sang too much.

You were onstage as a kid and were like, “This is what I like”? Harry: I knew it was fun, I had a lot of fun doing it, and I stopped when I started high school, and then I didn’t really do anything, I just sang at home, in the shower, in your bedroom, that type of thing. I guess it started again when my friends were in a band and they wanted to do this battle of the bands competition that was at school, and they needed a singer, and one of my friends asked me.

What did you sing? Harry: We sang “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet, and “Summer of ’69.” We did it more towards the Bowling For Soup version.

How about you, Niall? Niall: I always knew I wanted to sing. I was academic…I was one of those people that if I’m not interested in something, I don’t really care. If I’m not interested in school, I would have never trained or done my homework or anything, I’d have just gone outside and played football or whatever.

Harry: [helpfully translating] Soccer.

Niall: So I always wanted to sing. I was singing here and there, not gigs or anything, but I always sang around the house or whatever, and I played Oliver in a school play. And then I just did that, and people told me I should do something…I was only 10, what could I do at 10? I just did a couple of gigs, and when I got to high school, they told me that I should just try out for The X-Factor.

Who told you? Niall: My French teacher. We used to do talent shows and stuff at school, she was like, “You should do it,” so I did it.

What did that entail? What were the steps from being a kid in high school to getting on the show? Niall: It was the final of The X-Factor the year before, and at the end credits of the final, it says, “If you want to apply for 2010, go online,” so a couple of weeks later, I said, “Right, I’m going to do it,” and I filled in the form online, we were sending emails back and forth, going to this place at this time. The first one is at a big stadium, then if you get through that, you come back the next day. Is that the way they did it with you?

Harry: I had to wait a little bit, I think.

Niall: I was there at five a.m., I got seen at 12, and I was out of there by quarter past 12, and the next day I came back at 10 in the morning. You get through the first round, then they do a round where they don’t tell you if you got through after that.

Harry: They film it.

Niall: The producer and someone from the label. They film it and show it to whoever. Then if you got through that, it takes about two or three weeks until you find out. I was in Spain. Then you just go through the audition.

Harry, how did you wind up on X-Factor? Harry: I basically said, the same as Niall, I was watching the year before, and I remember looking at the young guys on there, and I was kind of like, “I’d love to have a go at it just to see what happens,” and that was kind of it. My mum actually did the application, and then three weeks later, I walked upstairs and she said, “Oh, you’ve got your X-Factor audition Sunday,” and I was like, “OK.”

Niall: In England, it’s the biggest thing ever. It took a while to build.

Harry: The two or three years were steady, and third or fourth, it just blew up.

Niall: It works that one in three people in the UK watch it. There’s 60 million people in the UK, and 21 million people watched the final the year we were in it.

Harry, your band also played at least one wedding right? Harry: Yeah. We actually said that we’d do the wedding gig, and…

Niall: You get paid for it?

Harry: Yeah. 160 quid, between all four of us. 40 quid each…we said we’d do it, and then we found out it was the weekend coming up, and we hadn’t done anything for it, so we asked the bride what kind of stuff she wanted, and she said she didn’t mind, but she wanted some Bob Marley songs. Literally in three days, not even three, probably two days, we learned like 25 songs. We might have known like three of them before. I was 16, maybe 15, singing these Bob Marley songs. There was a girl a couple of years below us, and it was her mum, she said she wanted us to play.

Niall: Can you imagine you’re at a wedding and you have 16-year-old kids up on the stage?

Maybe you were really good! Harry: Yeah, the drummer is one of my best friends from school, he’s a sick drummer, he’s so good.

Did you think the band could be something? Harry: A bit. My friend’s mum was a radio presenter, and she did a radio show for a bit, so she was trying to sort us out a little bit of studio time, we were going to go in and record.

What do your parents do? Harry: My mum is a PA. My dad is a financial adviser.

How about you? Niall: My dad works at a supermarket, he’s the head manager, general manager of an area, not just one, and my mum is unemployed now, so I try to help them out whenever I can.

You probably can. That must be nice. Niall: Yeah, it’s nice, it’s good.

Plus, now you can tell them what to do. Harry: [laughs] “Now you go to bed.”

Were you happy as kids? Did you have adolescent angst and stuff? Did you go through depressed periods? Harry: Not really. I think at one point, I started acting like I was…I had a phase of listening to really heavy music.

Niall: I never went through that.

Harry: Not stupid heavy, but a bit… just because I thought it was cool.

Like what? Harry: Like Nirvana T-shirts, wore black all the time, pretty much.

Were you pretty happy go-lucky? Niall: Yeah, I was always happy. I think me and Harry were lucky. Our parents got divorced quite early, didn’t they, when we were really young. I was four, I didn’t know much, so I was always a happy kid, always up for a laugh, very carefree, and I’m a bit like that now.

Did you both grow up in your moms’ houses? Harry: Yeah.

Niall: I went between both, my mum moved to the country and I didn’t have any interest in it. I always felt like the country is for when you’re older. I was with my mom for a while but got bored, all my friends were in town, I went to school in town and all that stuff. It was more like that.

Harry: I lived with both parents, and then moved with my mum, and we owned a pub for like five years. I remember the first night, it was like a night where a band was playing, and I just thought, “How am I going to get to sleep?” I was three stories up, I was like, “How am I going to get to sleep with this noise?” I was next to a road in Sussex in the middle of nowhere, and by the end, I could fall asleep next to the band, I was so used to the noise.

Was it imprinting your brain? Harry: Maybe. One of the guys who used to play every so often, he used to be in Deep Purple or something… He started teaching me guitar when I was like 10, I think 10, maybe nine. I loved it. I was 10, 11, all of the regulars, I got on with them. I’d walk behind the bar and my head would barely go over the bar. It’s still going now. We sold it to my best friend, we go in all the time still.

People say you come off as more mature than your age, you come off wiser. Did hanging around all those people as a kid help you mature?

Harry: I don’t know, maybe. I moved when I was seven or eight from Cheshire, and it was still Cheshire, but half an hour away, but in terms of not driving and stuff, all my friends lived near my school, so that was a bit further out. One of my friends there was my sister’s age, he was 16 when I was 10. It was so tiny, they were the only teenage boys…we’d ride our bikes and go to the driving range and stuff. It was good, it was fun.

You both wanted to entertain – if it hadn’t worked out, would you have been really unhappy? Harry: Yeah, I think it would be kind of like…one of the reasons you go for X-Factor in the first place is that you want to do this, and it kind of helps you get out of the life that you were doing before. I worked in a bakery for two years. Obviously, I didn’t want to do that for ages!

If you’d asked people at school, would they have said, “Yeah, they’re probably going to be famous,” or would they never have guessed that? Niall: My aunt, I was in the back of her car. We used to go across Ireland to go to the beach for a couple of weeks, and I remember we were in the car, I was singing, and she thought I was the radio, and she told me, I never forgot it, that she thought I was going to be famous since I was six, seven. She was the only person who told me that, so I always remembered that.

Harry: My dad said it. I used to listen to a lot of the music he was playing, he’d play Elvis Presley to death, the Stones, I’d sing along to that and he’d say, “You’re going to be famous,” or whatever. He came on tour with us for a few days out here, he came to the Radio City show. He just said, for him, it was so educational. Obviously, he hears about what happens when I call him, but to see it and see it actually happen and how everything works was so good for him, he really enjoyed it. So that was nice.

So you grew up on Elvis and the Stones? Harry: Yeah, pretty much. My dad was a massive Stones fan, so it was pretty much Beatles and Stones in terms of what my dad played.

People say you kind of look like Mick.

Niall: He gets that a lot.

Harry: I get it more here, probably, than I do at home. It’s because of the British thing.

What have you learned about life from the last few years, what didn’t you know? What advice would you give yourself? Niall: How much more independent we actually are – me, anyway. Your mum attends to your every need and does your food and washing and gives you somewhere to live. Then you go into the real world, as you’re told as a kid…

Harry: We’re living on our own now.

Niall: We just started living on our own in the last six months, really.

Harry: I’m moving when I get back.

Niall: We do our own washing, we make our own food, we rent places, we’re out on our own now. You mature so quick, you’re dealing with big businessmen every day, you’re not dealing with school, people your own age. It’s a bit different.

Harry: You seem to learn so many life lessons, but in such a short space of time. If I speak to my friends and they’re having problems with girls, whatever it is, now I seem to just have the answer. I don’t know, it’s just different. Or I think I have the answer. In terms of…one of my friends was trying to decide what to do with school, stuff like that, and I would have had no idea what to say to him before.

The last two years must feel like 10. Harry: Yeah, but at the same time, it feels like six months, it’s weird. X-Factor was two years ago, but it seems like five years ago, but at the same time, it’s gone so quick. It’s a really strange dynamic of how it feels.

Do you have a sense of how this is going to go? Does it matter if it’s two years, five years or forever? Harry: I think how much we all enjoy it, because we love what we do – if you have to call it a job, it’s an incredible job to have, and we love it. We’ll all want to do it for as long as possible. If we have the opportunity to have a Take That kind of career, I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t want to do that. If we don’t, I don’t know…we’ve done some amazing things already, but we don’t want to stop there, we want to keep going. I guess if we didn’t, I think we’d probably want to still be involved in…I’d just write, I guess.

Do you want to act? It feels like you could have your own TV show. Harry: I think it would be more of a documentary, because obviously, we’re not actors.

People must want you to try. Niall: Watch tonight, tell us what you think. Watch SNL.

Will you all make solo albums? Is that inevitable? Harry: No, I don’t think so.

Niall: Let’s do a swing album!

Harry: [laughs] We’ll all do swing albums. We’re just so focused on this, we all feel so lucky just to be part of this opportunity that we’ve all been given, it’s incredible, we’re just loving it. It’s sick.

People make a lot of assumptions about people in your position. They think you’re puppets and do what you’re told. What do you do when people make those assumptions? Harry: When you look from the outside, especially if you’re a skeptic of groups made through TV shows, which is fair enough, people don’t see what we do on a daily basis, people don’t see…I think from the outside, it looks so glamorous, they see us do TV performances every now and again, see us doing an interview every now and again, but they don’t know that we work seven days a week.

Niall: If there was eight days, we’d fit it in.

Harry: It’s not as completely glamorous all the time, of course it’s not, it would be stupid to think that it would be, but it’s hard work.

Niall: You’ve got to remember that you’ve got people on your team that have been doing this for many years and have been through the mill. You have all that experience around you, even from our tour manager, who’s been doing this for 20 years, they know what’s right, but at the same time, we want to have creative control, because at the end of the day, it’s us stepping out onto the stage of SNL tonight and have to sing these songs. We want to be singing what we enjoy, as we said last night. The music we all listen to is what we try and blend together to make this One Direction sound.

Harry: We obviously want to make it authentic and have our say without going, “People say we don’t control it, so we need to take control.” We’re not…we haven’t been writing songs for 20 years, we’re not producers. We’ve got an incredible team around us. Luckily, we’ve been given a lot of freedom, so we don’t go, “OK, we just need more and more control,” because we have a lot of control already. I think we find a really good balance in the way we work with our record label and our management, and it’s just how we work together, I think.

In any case, it’s probably better than the bakery. Harry: Yeah. But I don’t get a nice bun on my break anymore, that’s the thing.

Did you wear an apron? Harry: Oh yeah, I wore a white polo shirt and a maroon apron with white stripes. “What would you like? 78 pence, thank you very much.”

Were you behind the counter? Harry: Yeah, I was behind the counter. It was good. It was Saturday morning, I started at five and finished at four in the afternoon and got like 30 quid, it was a joke.

Niall, did you have a job? Niall: No, never.

So this is your first job. Niall: Yeah, not bad at all. I was chilling, I was being a kid.

Harry: I had a paper route before that. It gave me a bad back, bad posture. It was a heavy bag.

I interviewed some fans downstairs, and asked if they knew who you were six months ago, and they all said yes, and a year ago…They were all early adopters, heard you from the Internet, watched X Factor on YouTube… Harry: It’s the internet. People have friends over here that might tell their friends and look on YouTube and show their friends. It’s insane how it’s blown up. We’ve had the opportunity to come over to America and do shows, and release our music over here, which is amazing. Through the power of social media, we already had a bit of a following before we’d ever been over here, we hadn’t done any shows. We had some fans out here, which was amazing, but weird, really strange. I don’t know, it’s gone crazy. We don’t really see loads of it. We do the shows, then we’re in hotels, then we fly somewhere else. We don’t see massive amounts of it, we just go with it. This whole thing has gone on, and it’s sick.

Do you ever feel anxious through all this? Harry: Yeah, I think, obviously, just naturally, you think about what’s going to happen in the future. We’re 18, 19, 20 years old, we’re young. I wouldn’t say anxious, we’re just excited most of the time, and having so much fun, that if stuff were to finish and you were to look back on your time and all you did the whole time throughout this amazing stuff was shitting yourself about what’s going to happen next, then it would just be…I think you have to enjoy it while it’s going on. I think you should be wary about the future, but not worrying about it all the time. We still enjoy it and have fun, but obviously, you do think, “What am I going to be doing in 20 years, 30 year?” I’ll have kids by then.

Harry, I saw a tabloid with pictures of everyone smiling, and you were looking thoughtful. Do you get down sometimes? While everyone else is having fun, do you start drifting off? Harry: No, I think I’m naturally…not everyone is happy all of the time. I think you always have times when…like when you’ve just landed off a really long flight or miss home or something. They got a picture of me where I wasn’t smiling. I usually smile, but they got one where I wasn’t smiling and used that, and then said I wasn’t happy. They did that for a few days, that’s when we were in L.A. last time. It goes with the morbid voice.

Ringo would say, “It’s just me face.” Niall: “Who’s that little old man?” [quoting Hard Day’s Night]

Harry: “That’s Paul’s grandfather. He’s very clean.”

Sometimes you can drift off, that’s just your thing. Harry: [laughs] I’m just soulful, man, I try.

Harry, do you mind when you’re singled out for attention? Harry: I don’t know. I don’t really…I don’t know. We’re a band. Everything we do is together. I don’t take much notice of it.

So you’re not the Justin. Harry: No.

Niall: J.C. was popular, too, wasn’t he?

It’s not like that for you guys. Harry: Not at all.

There was an imbalance in that group. Harry: I think we find it important that people get to know all of our individual personalities, because…

Niall: I think that’s what’s good about it, people see us as individuals as well as a band, we all have our own personality, and we all give something to a band. Previous bands, they go around and can never explain themselves, they can explain the band, but as individuals, what we bring to the band and stuff…

Harry: We all know that we all have our roles, and we all know that without one of us, it wouldn’t work.

#harry styles #niall horan #one direction #230720 #1d ten

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stillness-in-green · 3 years

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Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Part Two)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front

Introduction and Part One

PART TWO: Logistics Problems

The Initial Arrests

Looking over the events above, one thing becomes apparent almost immediately: the only one that involves numbers even resembling those at the villa are the Rice Riots, and arrests there were scattered across two months. The only thing I could find that even came close to the idea of arresting the entire PLF in a day was a mass detainment in India in 2011: in the run-up to a separatist rally[7] that had stated its intention to be a “Million Man March,” police reportedly detained 100,000 people to stop them from attending. To do this, they used auditoriums and stadiums, not actual detention facilities.

And you can see why! We see a few pictures of the Gunga Villa group in the aftermath, but they’re pictures that raise more questions than they answer. Consider this one:

The detainment and relocation of the PLF. (Chapter 296)

This is but the tiniest fraction of the people captured, but every single one of them has had their hands and arms bound. The ones we see in the basement are restrained similarly. Where did all those restraints come from? Who got them all here? Were they, perhaps, made by the man in the center, who conspicuously has lengths of the same restraint wrapped around his wrists? If so, how did he make them all so freely, when most similar quirks we see rely on a certain amount of body mass or caloric intake?

Or take those transports in the background. How many people can each hold, and how long will it take to move a group of 17,000 into secure facilities? How are those 17,000 being kept docile all that time, especially once they’ve been moved onto the transports? Will there be a hero onboard every one, making sure the prisoners don’t get the opportunity to plan amongst themselves? Were there similar transports parked at every other raid site across the rest of the country? Enough of them and their assigned heroes to move the other 98,000 people?

Consider what we know about the Paranormal Liberation Front.[8] While easiest to compare numerically to widespread protest movements, they’re unlike any historical mass arrest in that context because they are, every one of them, combat-trained and ready to give their lives for the cause. There's no one there to tell them all to stand down, at least not that we see give such an order. Trumpet, perhaps, could have, but why would he have done so? Re-Destro gave the order back in Deika, but Re-Destro seems to have lost consciousness following his battle with Edgeshot, and I much doubt he’d have given the same order here as he did when facing Shigaraki in any case.

My Hero Academia has a long history of treating police custody as something like a status effect, like once a villain has been subdued, they’re In Custody, and magically become incapable of attempting to mount an escape. But why should this be so? There’s a relatively common misconception I see in fanfic that the police have “quirk cancellation restraints,” but let’s be clear: no such device exists in the series. This is the ostensible reason All For One and Muscular are restrained so unforgivingly; it’s why the prisoners in Tartarus have guns pointed at their heads at all times. It’s why Overhaul’s drug was such a big deal and it’s why the only way to stop Gigantomachia was to drug him or have Best Jeanist bind him in steel cables.

There is no way to stop someone in MHA from using their quirk except convincing them not to, via diplomacy or intimidation, or rendering them unconscious. Which of those tactics, pray tell, is in use here, such that the enormous numbers of people at issue remain subdued until they can be moved to secure facilities?

The Liberated Districts

Another problem quickly presents itself. We’re told that the PLF’s “other bases” around the country were hit, but we weren’t shown what that looked like. We saw Slidin’ Go and another hero in a prisoner transport; we know from bonus material that people like Class 1-B and Mirio—and presumably any number of other high school hero interns from around the country—were involved in those other raids. Still, we didn’t see what those base raids actually entailed.

That’s not surprising, because “base” is not really a very accurate word to describe the scale of the problem. See, with the intention of the raids being to put a stop to the PLF in one fell swoop, rather than risk a drawn-out conflict with a force that Hawks describes as, “On par with, maybe even greater than,” the power of their hero-saturated society, the Commission would have had to take into account an aspect of the MLA that readers learned about during My Villain Academia: what Trumpet calls “liberated districts.”

Deika was a liberated district—an entire town where an enormous chunk of the population was made up of members of the MLA. Ominously, the fact that Trumpet had a ready term to describe it—“a” liberated district, not “our” liberated district, or even “the first” liberated district—suggests that Deika was not the only one.[9] Further, Curious describes what we can expect the heroes would have to contend with in such areas: people who look like everyday civilians but are actually combat-trained warriors. Combat-trained warriors not gathered in one conveniently isolated compound or solitary building, but scattered across miles of homes and businesses, schools and parks, anywhere that an ordinary person might be found spending their day.

That is an entirely different can of worms than raiding one single building; thus it is here that the logistics really start to strain. Mass arrests of a civilian populace don't work at all the same way as a round-up of people all in a single area—how do you arrest an entire town? Well, there is such a thing as martial law, or military occupation, and maybe those tactics would work if the PLF had sent all their ace combatants to the villa and all the people remaining in the target city were terrified and unarmed civilians who could be ordered to keep inside their houses until further notice lest they start getting shot. That is not at all how the bulk of the PLF—that is, the ranks of the MLA—have been portrayed, though.[10] Again, Re-Destro and Curious characterize their 116,000 warriors as all being trained, combat-ready, prepared to rise up to answer the call. That is not a population that you're going to keep cowed with a certain minimum police presence, especially as time drags on.

Anyway, an occupation is clearly out-of-keeping with how the text presents the operation being run. We’re given no reason to assume other raids were any different than the ones we saw: a team of heroes launches a coordinated assault with a backline set up to catch stragglers. We’re told, after all, that the other sympathizers were “rounded up,” so extended detainment-in-place clearly wasn’t the intention. That just returns us to the problem, though.

According to Trumpet, Deika was 90% MLA. Presumably it was one of their higher-concentration bases, yes, but the situation isn’t any simpler in places that are “only” e.g. 80%, 70%, 60% inducted. It only becomes complicated in different ways.

Imagine a 70% liberated district. PLF-adherents are in the government, the municipal operations, the schools, the stores. How does this town keep running in a state of mass arrest? If the 70% are removed, what are the other 30% to do? Is the town even livable in that state? Will the remainder have to relocate? Can they afford that, and if not, what measures will be taken to help them? How quickly can those measures be enacted?[11]

The liberated districts present a bevy of other problems, too, but we’ll come back to those in Part Three.

Detainment Facilities

Let’s look at some more real-world facts and numbers.

As of 2018, Japan had 184 penal institutions, a term which covers prisons, detention houses, and juvenile facilities of either type. There are 70 prisons, 108 detention houses (eight of which are major facilities; the rest smaller branch locations), and 6 juvenile facilities. Their official capacity—that is, the number of occupants they are considered able to house without becoming overcrowded—is roughly 89,000. Their current population is around 48,000.

This puts Japan’s prison density—how close they are to being at full capacity—at 54%. They could not even double their occupancy without becoming overcrowded. Looking back to our PLF numbers, this tells us that real-life Japan could take an influx of 17,000. They absolutely could not take an influx of 115,000.

Here’s another way to look at it: in Japan currently, the rate of incarceration is 38 people per 100,000, in a population of 126 million. Adding the PLF to those numbers would mean they're incarcerating 130 per 100,000—more than triple the amount.

There’s another problem on top of the capacity issue: in Japan, penal institutions are divided up by what kind of prisoner they’re intended to house. Remand prisoners—that is, pre-trial detainees—are to be housed in different facilities than convicted prisoners. Convicted prisoners are sorted further by demographic traits, the type of offense they’ve committed, whether or not it was their first offense, and so on. For example, there’s an entire prison in Chiba Prefecture dedicated to housing men convicted of traffic violations; elsewhere, even murderers are subdivided according to criminal affiliation and likelihood of reoffending.

The relevance here is obvious. The problem isn't merely that there is limited prison capacity, but that that capacity is further limited by what space is available in the correct type of prison. And I am very prepared to bet that All For One prioritized targeting prisons that held violent offenders; he even implies as much when he describes the people he freed as violent escapees.

Speaking of All For One’s prison breaks, let’s take a look at some canonical numbers. They offer both information that mitigates the problems above, but also present new reasons to be concerned.

All For One, the night of his escape from Tartarus, targets seven other prisons, managing to free at least some inmates from six of them. Including the Tartarus escapees, 10,000 convicts are freed.

10,000 from seven prisons. Consider again the numbers above: Japan currently houses less than five times that many in twenty-six times as many penal institutions. In general, prisons don’t hold anywhere near those numbers—the largest one in Japan houses just barely over 2,000; even one that houses 500 is considered to be a large inmate population.[12]

I did some math based on the numbers I had available, and my rough estimate is that, in Japan, about 88% of the carceral population—42,000 people—are housed in the for-real prisons; the other 12% are remand prisoners and a negligible percent are incarcerated minors.

The MHA numbers are wildly, wildly higher. Now, this makes sense. In this post by @codenamesazanka, she notes that the first My Hero Academia movie describes Japan’s crime rate as a somewhat vaguely defined 6%, and estimates that this means the crime rate in MHA’s Japan is seven times higher than in real life—and that this is drastically lower than anywhere else in the world thanks solely to All Might! In other parts of the world, the crime rate is over 20% at minimum. So it seems reasonable to assume that Japan’s carceral capacity has increased likewise. Not, I think, to the degree that they automatically have the prison space to match their crime rate, but certainly more space than in real life.

Assuming, then, that MHA’s Japan has far more and/or far larger prison facilities, that also means they must need that kind of space—which means the space is already in use. Which, again, takes us back to the problem of overcrowding. If not—if the country is easily capable of dumping 115,000 people in prison without even causing a ripple of difficulty—then that implies its own deeply harrowing things about the rate of incarceration in the country. Either way, it sounds like a country that badly, badly needs to find a better way of doing things.

Legal Proceedings

Here’s another issue to consider: the legal proceedings. See, Edgeshot says this:

The hero Edgeshot explains why protecting the country requires these sixteen-year-olds be on the frontlines in a fight with people absolutely ready to kill them. Words cannot describe how much I wanted Re-Destro to knot this guy around a tree. (Chapter 263)

“If any of them get out, they could keep terrorizing other places.”

So assume for a moment that everything went exactly according to plan. Virtually all 115,000 members of the Liberation Front got rounded up, there’s easily enough room for them in Japan’s correctional facilities, and now the entire organization is awaiting trial. What happens next?

The Judicial Process

To provide some context for those of my readers whose only exposure to the judicial process is pop culture depictions, the very first thing that should happen after a person is arrested in the U.S. is a pre-trial appearance, at which people are formally told what the charges against them are and bail is set or denied. Non-violent offenders, provided they have someone able to post bail, are usually able to await their trial date at home, albeit under travel restrictions. Typically this pre-trial hearing should be within two business days; if a detainee hasn’t seen a judge in that time, the prosecutors’ office is obligated to let them go.[13] This doesn’t necessarily mean the person is off the hook entirely, of course; they can be arrested again later. It just means they’re free to go for the time being.

I don’t think for one second that Japan’s legal system can handle processing an influx the size of the PLF in just a few days. For comparison’s sake, in 2018 (the same year all my incarceration numbers come from, incidentally), 206,000 people were arrested in total, for the whole year. So will the overflow just be let go? Released to their homes to wait for the police to come back when they have more time? Yet that doesn’t seem to track with how Edgeshot was talking, does it?

On the one hand, if you look at the numbers from some of my historical analogues, it’s very consistent that only a small portion of people swept up in mass arrests in Japan ever actually reach trial. For the Rice Riots and the March 15 Incident, that portion is about a third—quite sizeable, given the numbers involved—but the others are lower still: the long-term arrests under the Peace Preservation Laws saw only about a twelfth of those arrested actually brought to trial; for the Righteous Army, it was less than a tenth.

Frankly, you don't arrest those kinds of numbers and then actually prosecute all of them; you arrest them to scare the shit out of people, and then you try the ringleaders and whichever others you have the most dirt on. This is the pattern in every other instance that involves over a thousand people being arrested.

On the other hand, even setting aside the fact that people can apparently be dropped in Tartarus without trial now,[14] a significant difference between the U.S. and Japan is that pretrial detention can stretch on and on and on in Japan. Legally speaking, charges should be filed with 72 hours, but prosecutors can request ten more days twice, then repeat the process over by adding other potential charges about which they need to question the suspect. So, yes, I suppose that, if the authorities do have the facilities to keep the PLF in, there’s nothing stopping them from dragging this detainment out indefinitely—it just isn’t very in-keeping with the historical record to do so with all of them.

As you might expect, lengthy detainments are a massively controversial aspect of the Japanese legal system to human rights activists both locally and abroad, since the loophole of detainees not yet having been charged or tried allows police to get around a lot of the rights that are supposed to be guaranteed, particularly the right to legal representation.[15]

So, now that I’ve brought up the right to legal counsel, here’s another procedural issue: due to a generally non-litigious culture and a very difficult bar exam, there's a dearth of attorneys in Japan. Defense attorneys have a particularly hard time; thanks to the presumption of guilt of those arrested by police, and an oft-vicious ostracization of criminals, it's seen as something of a blemish on one's character to willingly defend the accused, so defense lawyers are frequently unpopular and underpaid. I have to assume MHA is facing similar problems.[16] Good luck finding all the people you need to investigate and defend the new glut of people in the system, though!

No, the reason real-life Japan’s legal system can go on functioning even with a shortage of lawyers is, I suspect, that compared to how long pre-trial detention can go on, trials are fairly quick. Legally, they're required to last no longer than a few weeks. There is, however, concern among some in the legal profession that cases are not being examined closely enough, leading to preventable errors and miscarriages of justice,[17] due to both the haste with which trials are conducted and aspects of Japan's “lay judge” system.

Lay judges are a unique feature of Japan's legal system, in some ways similar to—and in other ways very distinct from—a jury of one’s peers. As in a U.S. jury, lay judges are a panel randomly selected from the citizenry to hear evidence and render judgement. However, where jurists are a passive audience to the presentation of the case, only debating the merits behind closed doors after the case concludes, lay judges are encouraged to take active part in the trial process, empowered to question witnesses and challenge evidence. The lay judges are joined by a smaller number of professional judges; a verdict requires a majority vote of the judges' panel, in which at least one vote is that of said professional judges.

As to what this has to do with concerns about justice, consider, if you will, how the requirements of a system that demands active involvement from its participants might intersect with the (self-)perception of the Japanese people as modest and not wanting to “make trouble” for others, particularly when combined with a widespread belief that suspects would not be brought to trial if they weren’t guilty. Additionally, in the specific context of My Hero Academia, consider how bias about villains or “villainous quirks” will influence such judgements.

I’ll talk more about the presupposition of guilt in Japan and how it relates to the treatment of suspects by both officials and the public in Part Three, but for now, let’s consider the trial itself. What will the charges be? What will the sentences be? How long will the PLF members be in prison? And will that time in prison do the slightest thing to prevent them from going right back to what they were doing when they get out? Are they just going to be imprisoned indefinitely? Until they say they change their minds?

When I began my research, there were two main things I wanted to examine in regard to crimes the PLF at large might be on the hook for: membership in an illegal organization and conspiracy to commit acts of terrorism.

Japan and Illegal Organizations

So here’s the thing: Japan doesn’t criminalize membership in organizations categorically. Because of the government’s history abusing laws to crack down on labor organizations and political dissent—e.g. the March 15 Incident—any attempts to legislate the process of banning criminal organizations get significant pushback from freedom of speech advocates. After all, critics say, the police may say that your community activist group doesn’t count as a terrorist organization now, but what’s actually stopping them from categorizing it as such in the future?

Now, that’s not to say Japan doesn’t have ways to regulate such groups at all! I’ll talk more about this later on, but briefly, groups that are found likely to be advocating for “terroristic subversive activity” can be forcibly barred from e.g. printing their organizational material, holding public assemblies, or owning property under the group’s name. One thing that isn’t mentioned in those prohibitions, though, is actual membership in the organization. That’s because, as I said, Japan is hugely gun-shy about criminalizing membership in any sort of organization, even organizations that have been declared criminal.[18]

It’s illegal to pick mushrooms on conservation lands if you’re doing it to raise money for your terrorist organization. It’s illegal to use protest sit-ins against new apartment buildings if you’re doing it on behalf of the mob. But it is not illegal to simply be a member of a terrorist organization or the mob—not even if that group has been formally dissolved by the government.

We can see a few places where this holds true even in the universe of My Hero Academia. The Shie Hassaikai is, like many yakuza groups, under police surveillance, but not barred outright from existing. Likewise, whatever prohibition there might once have been on printing material in support of the Metahuman Liberation Army has clearly lapsed, otherwise Curious would never have gotten away with reprinting Destro’s memoir.

Being a member of the MLA was likely not illegal as such, not any more so than membership in Aum Shinrikyo (currently calling themselves Aleph) or yakuza groups are in real life—they’re surveilled, sure, their activities curtailed, absolutely, but banned outright? Not so much. And membership in the PLF certainly wouldn't be banned even if it were legal to ban such memberships, seeing as it's brand new and, at the time of the raid, would not yet have been targeted for restrictions on its activity, lest such targeting tip the group off that the government was aware of its existence.

Keep that last point in mind; we’ll be coming back to it later, too.

Conspiracy

So, if membership in the PLF isn’t illegal in and of itself, what else can the government use to charge the 115,000 people they preemptively arrested?

Well, in general, for someone to be tried for a crime, they need to be either caught in the act or caught in an attempt. An attempted crime is something that is in immediate danger of happening—for example, if someone tries to kidnap a baby from the pediatric wing of a hospital but is caught by security before they make it out of the building, that’s an attempted kidnapping. An attempted crime may or may not be punished with the same severity as a successfully enacted crime, depending on the nature of the offense and the local laws.

What an attempted crime differs from, however, is a planned crime. If someone was planning to commit tax evasion but decided not to, they cannot be charged with tax evasion. This is how most criminal charges work—you can’t be charged with something you didn’t at least try to do, regardless of how close you came to it, and a policeman who tries to goad someone into such a crime should rightfully be running into charges of entrapment.

There are, unsurprisingly, some exceptions. It’s not uncommon for countries to criminalize planning insurrection or treason, and in cases like that, police are under absolutely no obligation to wait around for an active attempt before they respond. They can and will move as soon as they have sufficient evidence to get an arrest warrant. For lesser offenses, though, the legality of the advance-planning of a crime varies from country to country, and this is where we start getting into conspiracy.

Conspiracy in the legal sense has a couple of elements: it must be something that 1) two or more people 2) knowingly 3) discussed a plan for, which 4) led at least one person in the group to commit a “preparatory action.” i.e. do something to advance aforementioned plan.[19] All of these elements have to be proven to get everyone in a group on a conspiracy charge, though not all members of a group have to be in on all parts of a plan. If these elements are met, then everyone in the group can be charged with any and all crimes committed over the course of the plan being carried out, regardless of each member’s individual involvement.

What all this means for our purposes is that, because the heroes made the first move, they have to get the PLF on something that is illegal to even plan, not something that only becomes illegal in the attempt.[20] Huge portions of the PLF may wind up being released if the police can't conclusively prove not merely their association with the PLF, but also their direct knowledge of the relevant plans—not difficult for the ringleaders, obviously, but much dicier when you start getting out into the liberated districts. If the prosecution can't prove that knowledge, and lacks confessions otherwise—and as I’ll discuss in more detail later, a confession in and of itself is not considered sufficient; there has to be corroborating evidence[21]—huge swathes of those people are going to get cut loose.

So what are police going to be looking for? What crimes can the PLF be charged with under current law, and what are the sentences for such crimes like?

Prior to 1952, conspiracy was only illegal in the following cases: insurrection, treason, or aiding/abetting/instigating either of the above. Conspiracy to commit treason as a charge is right out—everything the PLF is doing, they’re doing for their own sake and for the sake of the future of Japan, not for the sake of a foreign power. Conspiracy to commit/instigate insurrection is more debatable, but, surprisingly, shakier than it might appear at first. This is because of the specific, legal definition of the term.

Japan’s Penal Code defines insurrection as rioting for the purpose of overthrowing the government, usurping the sovereignty of the State, or otherwise subverting constitutional order. The middle clause, the one regarding territorial sovereignty, is obviously not at issue—the PLF is not attempting to stake out land for a new country and secede. It’s the rest of the description that’s debatably more applicable, but still, to my eye, not an easy guilty verdict.

Firstly, per Hawks’ description of the plan, the PLF at least wants the government and the constitutional order intact enough for the Hearts & Minds Party to “storm the political world,” which to me suggests that their target is public opinion, not the intangible apparatus of the government itself. Further, even if you did argue that their manipulation of public opinion constitutes subversion of the constitutional order, you’d also have to argue the rioting part, and we have no idea whether any of the PLF’s plans actually involved a significant number of people mobbing in public as opposed to e.g. small strike teams.

So is the PLF off the hook? Not hardly! The Penal Code was established in 1907, after all—it’s been expanded lots since then, and those expansions are where the PLF really starts to run into trouble.

The Subversive Activities Prevention Act of 1952 criminalized a number of conspiracy-to-commit crimes—crimes like arson and homicide—if said crimes were to be undertaken “with the intent to promote, support or oppose any political doctrine or policy.” For example, conspiring to burn down a bank was not criminalized. Conspiring to burn down a bank as an act of protest against a new tax law became illegal as all get-out.

This gets us where we need to be for the PLF, as, on top of the crimes laid out in the 1952 act, I am very prepared to believe that acts of villainy (that is, illegal quirk use) in advancement of political ends have been folded into this particular branch of Japanese law.[22] So then, what kind of conspiracy charges are we looking at here, and what associated crimes?

I see two major possibilities at this point, and they hinge on exactly how much the prosecution ties Shigaraki’s attack on Jaku and Gigantomachia’s destruction to the run-of-the-mill PLF member sitting in a backwater town somewhere doing nothing more involved than e.g. quirk training and attending weekly meetings to get updates on where the plans stand for their local regiment’s part of the big push the following month. It’s difficult to say how feasible it is to make that connection—there are provisions in Japanese law for group criminal liability, but they tend to require things like joint actions, or specific knowledge and intent regarding the crime in question.

Obviously, random PLF members nowhere near Machia’s path of destruction didn’t take joint actions to abet it, so the pertinent question is, was Machia going on a rampage part of the plan? How about Shigaraki’s destruction of Jaku? If so, how much did random PLF members know about it? How specific does that knowledge need to be? If, say, the original plan had Shigaraki decaying the greater part of Hosu, does it still meet the specific knowledge requirement if he wound up decaying Jaku instead? If Machia was supposed to stampede across Tokyo, do the PLF members who chased after him count as furthering a conspiracy to do so when he stomped across Osaka and Kyoto instead?

Frankly, I don’t think we can say for sure how much a randomly selected member of the rank and file would have known. Any knowledge they had would have been many steps removed from the people actually making the plan; I would tend to think that the outer reaches of the PLF mostly knew about whatever plan their specific group would be tasked with, but would have much patchier knowledge of plans beyond that immediate sphere. As to how much that matters to the courts? Well, let’s take a look at the final logistics problem: the sentencing.

Sentencing Standards

First things first: I absolutely do not think the death penalty is on the table for the rank and file. People like Shigaraki and Dabi, yes, based on their pre-PLF crimes alone; Re-Destro and the other lieutenants are certainly a strong possibility. But the rank and file? No. Looking at our historical referents, it has never been the case that every single person involved in a mass arrest incident has been sentenced equally harshly, even in the case of the February 26 Incident’s outright uprising against the state! And that was in a time where human rights were considerably less enshrined in the constitution; in the modern day, the death penalty is usually reserved for murder cases,[23] typically only those involving multiple murders or particularly aggravated cases involving torture or ransom.

Whether or not the courts could attempt to punish all of the members of the PLF for all the deaths caused by Shigaraki and Gigantomachia under group criminal liability provisions, the degree of mass international outcry sentencing 115,000 people to death would involve is difficult to fathom. Egypt's 2014 mass trials of the Muslim Brotherhood are a good referent, and they “only” involved about 1,200 people.[24] Multiplying that number ten times over? I very much doubt Horikoshi is prepared to even imply that the system all these cute kids want to grow up and join is anywhere near that grisly and authoritarian.

Anyway, if the MHA government were that quick to hand down death sentences, I very much doubt Stain or All For One would still be alive—or, indeed, that Tartarus would serve much function at all. It's described, after all, as a place that houses those who threaten Japan's security on a fundamental, national level. That's the kind of thing countries keep death penalties around for.

That said, let’s assume for the time being that Shigaraki and Machia will be treated as their own thing, and what the PLF are going to be tried for is more in tune with the plan as Hawks laid it out. Remember again that the heroes attacked preemptively. This means that, in this scenario, all the conspiracy stuff is on the table, but it’s the only thing on the table—because it’s all the PLF had time to get to! There might be a few other charges—for example, if the black market support good proliferation is part of their plan, and the weapon proliferation is already underway, the whole group could feasibly be charged with whatever crime covers illegal weapon distribution. However, whatever crimes those support goods would be used to commit haven’t happened yet, so on that front, the PLF is still only on the hook for planning them.

Here, then, is what the Penal Code and its relevant revisions have to say about conspiracy sentences:

If they do wind up getting the group on conspiracy to incite insurrection:

A person who prepares for or plots an insurrection is punished by imprisonment without work for not less than 1 year but not more than 10 years.

(…)

A person who aids the commission of any of the crimes prescribed above by the supply of arms, funds, or food, or by any other act, is punished by imprisonment without work for not more than 7 years.

So that’s kinda bad! Not as bad as if they’d actually gotten to the insurrection, which is when death penalties and life sentences for ringleaders and key figures start cropping up, but still pretty bad! Seven years in prison is almost certainly enough time for a lot of those people to do some serious reconsideration of their life priorities!

As I already said, though, I think the insurrection charge is shaky. So what if they wind up instead charging the PLF with conspiracy to commit villainy for political aims?

Well, that’s why this whole section is in the logistics portion of this essay, because the sentencing for politically motivated villainy probably looks a lot more like this:

If it’s a crime on the level of, for political aims, preparing, plotting, inducing, or inciting:

Arson, illegal use of explosives, homicide, or robbery involving assault or intimidation: imprisonment with or without work for a term not exceeding five years.

A public disturbance: imprisonment with or without work for a term not exceeding three years.

A hazard for a train, tram, or vessel: imprisonment with or without work for a term not exceeding—oh, three years again.

The assault or intimidation of a public employee in the performance of public duty[25]: spoilers, it’s imprisonment for not more than three years again.

Five years or less. Three years or less.

Is that enough time to make people reconsider their life choices? Especially people who have been raised all their lives to follow the cause of Liberation?

Remember that when the heroes attacked, the intention was a clean sweep, a preventative tactic to stop the villains before they could enact any of their terroristic plans. Yet if they intended to stop things at a point where only conspiracy would be punishable, is three years in prison all that Edgeshot thought these people would be in for when he said that if a single one of them escaped, they might go on to terrorize other places? What was Japan’s government and/or the Hero Public Safety Commission planning to do in three years, or five years, or ten years, when 17,000 to 115,000 people were released en masse from prison, free to return to their lives? It certainly seems like they had more stringent consequences in mind, does it?

Of course, there are other factors to consider.

Lots of these people would, presumably, be up on multiple charges, compounding their sentences. Certainly, if Shigaraki and Gigantomachia are tied to the rest of the group, their tolls of death and destruction could potentially be applied to any and all co-conspirators. And maybe the penalties for conspiracy to commit politically motivated villainy are worse. Maybe the prosecutors will push for insurrection conspiracy charges regardless of their applicability, and the Japanese courts will just let them, because there will be a profound thirst for “justice” after Gigantomachia’s rampage and a few human rights violations or abuses of the law will seem like just what the Paranormal Liberation Front members had coming to them.

Maybe, behind the immediate logistical problems presented by this mass arrest, there are a whole fleet of problems of a different nature.

Next time: let’s talk ethics.

-----------------------------------------------------

Footnotes (Part Two)

[7] Whose supporters were eventually successful, by the way. Look up the Telangana movement.

[8] For example, “Skeptic can access such high-tech satellites that he can get up-to-the-minute views on the heroes approaching Gigantomachia, but he somehow didn’t notice a literal hero battalion bearing down on the villa until they were charging out of the tree line? Seriously?”

[9] Frankly, another 2-3 Deikas is the simplest way to explain how they can have a group that big and still be totally unknown to society at large. Far easier to maintain a cult’s required isolation and secrecy when your strongholds are more “this town and everyone you know and love in it” and less “this fancy resort that everyone has to drive thirty minutes to an hour to get to from the totally normal towns they actually live in.”

[10] And frankly, I don't know that that the, “All their really good combatants are at the villa,” assumption is even justified, given that you'd think the people at the villa for the “conference” are more likely to be the people who are going to be involved in coordinating the upcoming assaults—lots of great combatants, sure, but also people who are going to be doing the organizational work, the supply work, etc.

[11] Presumably, at this point, our hypothetical 30% will be instructed to relocate to one of the hero school shelters, but that obviously wouldn’t have been in the plan from the beginning, given that the shelters were only opened after heroes started retiring in droves.

[12] For comparison, a mid-sized prison is considered by the American Jail Association to have 50 to 249 beds, and we’re way more prone to incarceration than Japan is.

[13] For example, in 2005 in Baltimore, so many arrests were being made based on quality-of-life crimes like loitering that the system couldn't keep up, leading to thousands of people having to be released because they just couldn't be processed in time.

[14] When AFO was first brought in, we were told that his remand to Tartarus pre-trial was without precedent. However, Chapter 297 describes Tartarus as a detention facility that only calls itself a prison—remember, in Japan, remand prisoners are supposed to be kept separate from tried and sentenced prisoners. Thus, Tartarus should be reserved only for those who are sentenced to it, or it shouldn't contain sentenced prisoners at all. But with 297, we find that such is no longer the case, as people can be put there “regardless of their sentencing status.” It's unclear whether this change was a rapid case of slippery slope in-universe or whether it's a simple retcon.

[15] Suspects get one visit from a “duty lawyer” for free during detention, but otherwise, the right to counsel only kicks in after charges are filed, and lawyers are not allowed to be present during questioning.

[16] Among many other factors, it would certainly help explain why All For One hasn't even been brought to trial yet. Hell, we don't even know if he's really been formally charged, though Pixie Bob’s comment back in Chapter 184 could easily be interpreted as meaning that the questioning process is still ongoing. AFO needs a Yasuda Yoshihiro, clearly.

[17] Though both acquittals and convictions can be appealed.

[18] An “organized criminal group” per Japanese law has a few qualifications to meet. They need to be committing crimes in an organized fashion, obviously, and there are laws determining which crimes qualify, but further, they need to be a sustained organization, one in which members have assigned roles and duties such that those duties advance a common cause sought after by the organization as a whole. Ergo, a yakuza group definitely qualifies, while an impromptu group of people who got together to murder their boss but who have no further common cause afterward does not. Groups like the Metahuman Liberation Army and the Shie Hassaikai obviously meet these standards, but e.g. the League of Villains, lacking much in the way of a common cause or defined roles, might not.

[19] Like buying a ski mask if their plan to rob a bank involves ski masks.

[20] This, obviously, applies only to members of the PLF who haven’t already broken other laws. The League is boned no matter what. Likewise, there are laws against e.g. harboring criminals that could be brought to bear against whoever maintains the villa, and so on and so forth.

[21] Though one huge issue is that other peoples' confessions can be counted as evidence against you, and yours against others.

[22] A highly controversial anti-conspiracy law in 2017 criminalized the planning of a whole array of new crimes, some bizarrely innocuous-looking, but because it was aimed mostly at the yakuza and other groups engaged in human trafficking, the new roster was generally criminalized on the basis that they were crimes intended to gain some material benefit for the organization planning them. The PLF’s plans were going to do a lot of things, but provide material benefit—a legal term for something that has monetary value—is decidedly not one of them.

[23] Though there are 19 offenses for which it is legally invokable.

[24] The greater majority of the sentences were commuted to “only” being life sentences, but that only by virtue of a relatively powerful upper court, which Egypt’s president has been working to diminish ever since. The state of fair trials and humane prison conditions in the country is pretty appalling right now.

[25] Continued, “committed collectively by carrying any deadly weapon or poison, against any person engaged in prosecutorial or police duties, any assistant to such official, any person who guards or escorts persons in legal custody, or any person engaged in an investigation under this Act.” There are a lot of riders on this one.

#bnha analysis #bnha meta #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #my writing #plf arrests #stillness has salt

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prettyboymichaels-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Rewind, Rewire, Reword - Chapter 1: Where Did I Put That Map Again? (Pt. 1)

It’s the week before Wrestlemania 12, he’s preparing to give Shawn Michaels the fight of his life in their 60-minute Iron Man match, and his little brother has decided to drag him out to socialize on an otherwise perfectly ordinary Wednesday night.

Surely, this decision won’t take the course his life was on – and the course his relationship with Shawn was on – and send it into a tailspin.

(Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels ABO AU; NOT Kayfabe Compliant; Words: ~2k; Rating: M; Notes, trigger warning/s, tag list, and chapter under the cut!)

my massive bretshawn abo au is here! as I only have two-ish more scenes to write, and 10 chapters already written to publish on here (separated into smaller “parts” for tumblr, which means I technically have 21 chapters; they’ll be published fully on ao3), I’ve decided to try for an every other day publishing schedule to give myself more time to fully finish this book of the series. so. :) I’ve read and edited and reread and re-edited this more than almost any other fic I’ve written, so HOPEFULLY. I don’t want to edit it MORE after finally PUBLISHING it. sigh. anyway.

tw for: attempted sexual assault. it doesn’t actually occur, but this IS the jumping off point for the fic, and it will be referenced throughout. the tw “references to attempted sexual assault” will be used in any chapter that references it

tag list: @track12to13; @piratewithvigor; @sinderellanightwolf. tell me if you want to be tagged for any future chapters!

It was times like these when he wondered why he ever bothered going out at all.

They’d gotten to California two days before, early, the way they usually did, leaving the morning after their last match to get a head start and not arrive completely burnt out. They’d spent those two days getting acquainted with their hotel room, their rental car, and the stadium gym they were going to be using the next two weeks. However, “California” didn’t just mean “new match”, it also meant “new towns”, which meant “new opportunities to make Bret socialize”. He’d told Owen, repeatedly, in a variety of ways, that the last thing he needed was a fucking wingman, let alone his happily mated younger brother as a wingman, but he’d just brushed off everything he’d said and dragged him out anyway. “You have almost two weeks to prepare,” he’d scoffed, forcing him to change basically as soon as they got back to their room. “When’s the last time you really let loose?” he’d offered, trying to hustle him out almost before he’d had his shoes tied. “I promised mom I’d try something the last time we talked so would you stop digging your heels in, please,” was his final explanation, as he was hailing a cab to take them out of the city and to some smaller town a little less than an hour away, where they’d be less likely to get recognized, because getting mobbed in a bar or a club was always… not great, to say the least.

But it just really wasn’t Bret’s scene. It just really, really wasn’t. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he couldn’t power through a hangover the way he used to, and he wasn’t in the mood anyway, the way he hadn’t been for the last two years Owen’d been trying to set him up. He’d gotten used to being single by now, he’d even gotten used to his mother’s passive aggressive comments about it every time he called home, and, yeah, being used to it didn’t mean he liked it, but trying to find a date at this point in his life wasn’t exactly easy, at thirty-eight years old, in his line of work, with his designation. Honestly, he didn’t know why Owen was still trying so earnestly; the odds of Bret finding a decent prospective partner at some random club in Somewhere, California was so low it might as well be in the ground.

As such, instead of socializing, the way Owen wanted him to, he’d nursed a glass or two at the bar, had a fairly interesting conversation with an older woman who happened to be the designated driver for a group of girls giggling on the dance floor, and eventually called it quits after hitting the bathroom two hours in. It wasn’t even ten-thirty yet, you’d think he could last a little longer, and he could, he was just… bored. His bar mate was corralling her wayward group to leave, and Owen was having a grand time failing miserably at darts with what looked to be a group of regulars, so he just told him he was heading back to the hotel, refused to be guilted into a game no matter how many times Owen batted his eyelashes or how disappointed he looked, paid his tab, and slipped out into the night with a sigh and his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. It was only slightly cooler outside than it was inside, and it was much less crowded – a few smokers, on the other side of the street, and two people eating a pizza and using the box as their plate a little further down from that. Definitely less busy than Anaheim would be this time of night, and equally less well lit.

There was also, though, something he almost didn’t hear over the noise of the bar:

“…an’t change your mind now!”

“I agreed to go home with you, not you and your fucking friend–”

His foot still raised from where he’d been stepping to the curb to hail a cab, he cocked his head to the alleyway the voices had drifted from – and, there it was, he hadn’t been hearing things, because there was an incredulous laugh, a dull thump, and a pained grunt before another man said, amused, speaking over the rising growls, “C’mon, baby, you really think you’re in a position to turn us down? You’re the one about to go into heat, it won’t matter whose knot you’re taking soon enough.”

Bret was moving before the end of that sentence, rounding the corner to find three figures pressed up against the stone wall beside an open dumpster. They were mostly hidden from the orange street lamps outside the mouth of the alley, but he could still see rough impressions, and they weren’t very promising: two holding the third prone while the third tried to fight back, thrashing and almost snarling with how viciously he was growling, but he was getting nowhere fast, with how successfully he was being restrained. One’s nose was buried in this man’s throat, the other’s teeth visible in the low light as he grinned, and Bret felt his expression twist and harden as he stepped forward. “Hey! You’ve got three seconds to walk away before I make this a fair fight.”

That certainly got their attention, and he saw them all turn his way, their eyes flashing a little in the dark. Parts of their faces were highlighted now – the barest crests of their jaws, their cheekbones, their hair – but he could see the moment their nostrils flared and he was written off as nothing but a nuisance, which was only confirmed when one of them scoffed. “Run away, little beta, this doesn’t concern you.”

And then he turned right back around to continue scenting the man, the omega, who headbutted him so hard in the nose Bret could hear it crack from here. The man howled, staggering away and clutching at his gushing face with both hands, and Bret watched as the omega took advantage of the other man’s stunned disbelief to kick his legs out from under him and send him tumbling to the ground.

Bret didn’t waste any time. He stalked forward, hauling the one on the ground up by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his pants so he could toss him bodily into the open dumpster. The open, empty dumpster, if the clang of metal and yelp of pain were anything to go by. There was a choked off squeal from behind him, and he turned just in time to watch the omega’s leg come back down and the second perpetrator crumple into the fetal position, clutching his groin. That one quickly joined his friend in the dumpster, courtesy of Bret, and the groans and squeaks that resulted from that collision were incredibly satisfying.

He wiped his hands on his jeans before turning back to the omega, raising his hands placatingly when he, too, was met with a sharp, threatening growl. “Hey. You okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

There was an extended moment of silence. “…Bret?”

Oh, perfect, he’d been recognized– …Wait. He knew that voice. He squinted, edging closer, and fuck, now that his eyes had adjusted a little–

“…Shawn?!”

When it sounded like the men in the dumpster were starting to try and gather their bearings, Bret put his hand on – on Shawn’s shoulder and pushed him out of the alley and past the bar, letting his hand fall away and trusting Shawn to follow him as he lead them past another two buildings to turn the corner onto another block, and then a little further still, directly under a street light, far enough to see them coming if they tried it. After getting their asses handed to them so thoroughly, not just by their intended victim but by a little beta to boot, the alphas shouldn’t come sniffing around looking for seconds, but you could never be too careful.

“Jesus, Shawn, what the hell was that?” he hissed, shrugging his jacket off and settling it over Shawn’s shoulders in one fluid motion.

Or he would have, if the man didn’t take an immediate step back and bare his teeth at him, rubbing his arms. Bret scowled. “Can you stop being so stubborn for two seconds–”

“I’m two seconds from kicking you in the fucking balls, Bret, don’t test me,” Shawn barked, taking another step back for good measure. His voice was hoarser than it usually was, and Bret was a little worried about what he’d do if it cracked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sucked in a breath through his mouth, and blew it out through his nostrils. “Look,” he settled on, staring at Shawn hard, who stared right back. In the orange light illuminating them, he could more clearly see his rumpled clothes, his wrecked hair, his blotchy face, but if he could compare him to anything right now it’d be a cornered animal. “Just – put it under your nose, okay? I know I don’t have much of a scent, but it’s gotta be better than whatever the fuck they were giving off.”

Shawn scoffed, but flexed his fingers from where they were clutching at his biceps, moving his eyes to his jacket. “Gee, when’s the last time you took a high school health class?”

“In high school, asshole, now take it.”

Shawn curled his lip, looking ready to keep arguing, but, shifting his weight on his feet, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and snatched the jacket from Bret instead. He paused once he had it, glaring at him like he was expecting him to say something, and when Bret just crossed his arms and gave him a look, he finally shoved it under his nose and took a deep breath. Half the tension in his body released in one fell swoop, and with it came a hitch as he buried his face in the leather completely, his hands starting to shake.

Bret, deciding to give him a modicum of privacy, looked behind Shawn to make sure they hadn’t been followed (they hadn’t) and moved to the curb to finally hail a cab. Two of them passed, occupied, before he heard Shawn move up next to him, his jacket still stuffed under his nose. His eyes were a little red, and a little wet, but his cheeks were dry. “I wanna puke,” he rasped, muffled into the leather, and Bret gave a humorless snort.

“If you’re gonna, do it here,” he said, waving at another taxi, and this one actually responded, starting to pull up. “I sure as hell don’t wanna smell it all the way back to Anaheim.”

That earned him a grumble, more lighthearted than anything he’d heard out of Shawn’s mouth tonight, and Bret hid his relief by walking around the idling cab to talk to the driver at his window, digging out his wallet. “You got a divider?”

“Sure do, brother,” the cabbie told him, jerking his thumb to the backseat and the tinted glass that separated him from it. “Got some wet wipes back there, too. Just don’t leave any stains, huh?”

Bret frowned, because that made it all too clear what he thought they were planning on doing in his backseat, but threw a handful of twenties into the driver’s lap anyway, enough to make his eyes widen comically. “That’s to get us to Anaheim. There’s more where that came from if you get us there in forty.”

“Hell, brother, I’ll get you there in thirty,” the cabbie exclaimed, and Bret straightened back up after giving him the hotel’s address, waving at Shawn to get in on his side, which he did one-handed, slamming the door behind him as Bret followed suit. The divider deafened the cabbie’s music to a low rumble, and, as they pulled off, Bret started digging around in the mesh pocket attached to the back of the driver’s seat until he emerged with the aforementioned wet wipes. He tore the pack open, pulling half of them out in one go and passing them over to Shawn, who took them automatically with the hand that wasn’t holding Bret’s jacket to his nose, but gave him a look that said he had no idea what Bret was trying to do here.

He gestured to his own throat. “For your scent glands,” he explained, and he could see the moment the light went off, because Shawn started scrubbing at either side of his neck like a man possessed. Bret used the rest of the wipes to clean his own hands and stuffed them into his pocket after he was done, sinking back against the creaky plastic seats like they might swallow him up, lack of give or no.

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