#In my country there's a specific expression used to describe what I feel for him rn which is: I am under a train

[jokerownsmysoul]

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Absolutely banger content!! Love it! When Kaz calls Inej "treasure of my heart" he's cheapening an otherwise meaningful phrase. Do you think he is being totally sarcastic or is he deadpanning his feelings to a degree? Because a little later he describes another time he said something cold-blooded to Inej and says to himself "in moments like that he thought she might hate him." Can the second quote be used as context to explain the "treasure of my heart" quote?

Hi, thank you so much!

I definitely think that this is a prime example of using sarcasm as a defence mechanism, so although he comes across completely sarcastic - as confirmed by Inej’s reaction, which is to look pointedly at his cane and wish him a long trip down the stairs before she herself slides down the bannister - I would agree that to some degree he is voicing his genuine feelings. It could be viewed in a somewhat self-destructive nature, because by voicing these feelings in a manner that he knows will elicit a negative response from Inej he can use it as evidence for her not returning his affection and therefore use it as a reason not express his feelings in any real way - claiming that she won’t be interested, when actually he simply has a massively debilitating fear of being vulnerable bred in him by Rollins and the general attitudes/environment of the gangs in the Barrel (and arguably to some degree Jordie as well; by trying to protect his younger brother he doesn’t necessarily convey the full severity of their situation when they first arrive in Ketterdam, inadvertently leading to the belief that such vulnerabilities should never be spoken of or discussed becoming a highly complex and difficult aspect of Kaz’s character)

When Kaz comments “in moments like that, he thought she might hate him” it’s coming off the back of him effectively defending the appropriation of Inej’s culture. She is horrified to see the Suli Jackal masks on sale and being worn by pleasure seekers in Ketterdam, because they should only be worn by Suli seers and are “sacred symbols”. In return, Kaz says that he’s seen the seers “ply their trade on party boats and in pleasure houses” and that “they didn’t seem very holy”, and when she says that “they are pretenders” and “they’re laughing at you behind those masks” he responds coolly that he would never pay to have his fortune told, whether it was from a conman or a holy man. When Inej is visibly upset by this conversation, he comments that he wonders if she hates him, and I think that a large aspect of this is because he is the only person who knows what she went through to its fullest extent. And the specifically relevant aspect of what he knows here, is that Inej was forced to appropriate her culture herself when she was at the Menagerie (slight tangent, but so was Nina, it’s very interesting, I’ve mentioned it in a post before). Inej describes her room at the Menagerie to be a farcical mockery of a Suli caravan, she was forced to “donn false Suli silks”, and it’s even mentioned that the only reason she was ‘the lynx’ is that the Jackal masks were seen as unattractive - “but what man would want to bed a Jackal? So instead, the Suli girl - and the Menagerie always stocked a Suli girl - wore the lynx”. What a quote. What. A. Quote. Starting with the Jackal, it makes it clear that there are no lines that won’t be crossed, and that’s emphasised by other girls at the Menagerie wearing animals sacred to their countries such as the Fjerdan woman being the wolf, and that the only reason Inej didn’t have to wear an outfit similar to the one she’s so horrified by here is that it couldn’t be sexualised and exploited the same way the lynx could. And then we have “and the Menagerie always stocked a Suli girl”. Wow. That gets me every time I read it. There are two main things I want to comment on in this quote, so I’ll start with “stocked”. This singular world is so dehumanising; the idea that the women and girls at the Menagerie are seen as stock, produce, literal consumables that can be bought and traded and sold. There’s also the point that Inej herself is the one using this word, and I think it’s left purposefully ambiguous as to whether this is a satirical usage of the word on her behalf as a criticism of the culture surrounding pleasure houses and cultural appropriation in Kerch (although more specifically Ketterdam), or if it’s the product of indoctrination to this toxic culture - similar to Nina’s horror at releasing that the appropriation and disdain for foreigners she’s been surrounded by has actually led her to judge traditional Ravkan dress as old-fashioned in Crooked Kingdom (I think it’s chapter 13). The second thing about this quote I want to mention is “always”. “Always”. It so subtly introduces so early on in the books the deeply ingrained over-sexualisation of Suli culture, which is evidenced time and time again but most specifically in the ‘Rare Spices’ billboard that Inej describes un Crooked Kingdom. I could talk about that billboard for DAYS so I won’t go into it here because this is already a long post.

But I think it’s incredibly important that Kaz knows all of this when he makes these comments, every time he mocks her gods or her “depressing Suli wisdom”, he knows that he is part of a culture that dehumanises and sexualises and appropriates and reduces everything about who she is, and he knows that it’s hurting her, of course it would hurt her anyway, but especially hurting her because she was forced to do it herself as a cherry on top of the worst year in Inej’s life, a year made of unending pain and terror. But arguably this is once again all that self-destructive nature; the pushing her away, similarly to the sarcasm as a defence mechanism, because it is easier to hate than to love, and because if she hates him then he never has to be vulnerable with her.

Oh wow I just looked at that and realised it’s way longer than I thought, sorry about that… Thank you for reading it, and thank you so much for the question this was really interesting to think about! :)

[bajis-wife]

Retro wave

Synopsis: Every individual has something that they are missing or lacking in their lives, whether it be a person, a purpose, or something else entirely.

Will they be able to fill those gaps and find satisfaction or a purpose, or will they be left perpetually incomplete?

And what better way to describe this journey and character development than in a fan fiction? Where they embrace life to its fullest, make mistakes and grow while hiding their true flawed tint, that lost it's meaning long ago.

Will she finally achieve her childhood dream of becoming an artist? Using their smudged and sketchy colors to paint on the canvas of her life, or will she settle for more sophisticated one's?

Will the painting in the end be enough to engrave the memories passed together?

Warnings: Swearing, explicit profanities, illegal doings, VERY LONG.

Notes: This is the full version of my story on wattpad ‘Retro wave’ until now there are only five chapters if we count the prologue too, I only want to get some feedback and attention for all the work i put in it and for the readers to enjoy it as this isn’t your usual insert self story.

The background of the character is already decided and specific although the appearance is not, so you can perfectly put yourself in it without reading Y/N or anything annoying like that.

New topic, tattoos.

Often seen by those stiff elders with a closed mindset as something bad, permanent and idiotic.

How about I give you my perspective of it?

Tattoos aren't just stupid impulsive mistakes that last forever, they are one of the best ways someone can ever express themselves with; Words are useless to describe someone compared to the feeling of your fresh virgin skin being inked, making whatever part of your body a masterpiece. Flamboyantly taking away the virginity of your flesh.

Am I romanticizing it too much? Probably, but honestly who cares when you're being paid to do what you love?

After my last customer headed out, I took a deep breath and walked into the foyer of the shop which I personally customized, from the soft lighting to the comfortable furniture.

As I sat on the couch, spreading my limbs to then relax them, breathing in and out slowly, closing my eyes, focusing on the deep dark of my mind as existential thoughts started to flow into my brain.

Out of all I focused on one only.

Am I even making a difference?

This day surely has worn me out as it brought me to thinking about something so distant when I'm still young and beautiful.

Why bother thinking about legacy? I'm here now making most of the present moment, my future isn't written yet so screw legacy. I'll deal with that later after I've had my fill of fun and adventure, so don't talk to me about it.

I'm too busy living the dream, your dream.

It's reassuring to know that in my chaotic existence I'm not living under a bridge and have a place to call home.

But even chaos is born from something or someone; And I was born from my immigrant parents in Italy, just to be sent to my home country.

What a way to start life huh?

Only a couple months old and my parents already had enough of me, sending me to my grandparents with the excuse of learning their and now apparently my mother tongue.

Jokes aside, they loved me from the bottom of their hearts.

Four years later I came back to finish the remaining two of kindergarten and finally start primary school.

But oh boy, from there my life has been a downhill roller coaster of emotions. As childhood optimism had brain washed my mind into thinking it was going to be a wonderful experience.

Not realizing that from the very first day of school I was thrown into the cage of lions.

For the first, second and third year they weren't nothing but buzzing noises in the background, as I felt drained from being in that class.

As now I was in fourth grade, and already tired of everyone there but him.

Now you might wonder who this kind soul is?

Simple, my first love.

Brown wavy locks that gently swayed every time he tilted his head, capturing my gaze with those dark brown eyes.

With that little beauty mark under his right eye, that everytime he offered me one of his sweet smiles would make my heart melt.

But the thought of seeing him every day made me push through all of that.

I could relate to thinking it was simply him and I against the world. But there's more to the story. Love is blind, as they say, and we sometimes need time to accept it, one way or another.

Certainly being served the fact that he likes another girl in our class, wasn't the best.

I felt as if the world crashed onto me.

But maybe the other girl didn't feel the same? Maybe all of this was one sided love like most of the time between kids, I could just go and ask her if she feels the same.

Simple as that.

I was relieved to find out she didn't feel the same, my burdens lightened; Not realizing that by doing this little thing to relieve myself I broke his trust.

Making him the new target of mockery in our class, as that girl couldn't keep her mouth shut.

The classroom isolated me too, labeling me as the snitch, well deserved I guess?

But what hurt me the most was him slowly distancing himself from me, it was a gradual process. Yet the most painful for me, and heartbreaking for my parents to watch their daughter suffer from it.

After finishing my fourth year, I was transferred to a different school, one where I was welcomed with open arms. Spending my last year of elementary school there, forming good friendships as I grew more confident with each day.

I learnt the fine art of blending in while also standing out in society. Once I completed my fifth year in elementary school, I started my middle school journey, confidently prepared for whatever came my way.

However, fate had other plans.

I ended up being way too overconfident, and it bit me in the butt.

The universe had a way of humbling me and remembering me nothing lasts forever, each and every time you start from zero with the help of your past experiences.

So now you ask me how would I describe those three years of middle school?

Hell.

This time I was fortunate enough to have a loyal friend who was alongside me, Anastassia.

Together we helped each other and formed a lasting bond that would only become stronger as time went on.

She was one of those friends that even you meet again after a long time, I'm talking about months and years. It felt like time stood still with her.

Anastassia made the time fly by before you knew it, and with her by my side, I felt a timeless sense of comfort and peace. Whether we spoke of distant memories or made new ones together, it was as if we had never been apart.

After we finished middle school we had to part ways, she chose to focus on studying languages while I wanted to study art.

High school offered a much-needed fresh breath of air. There people seemed too occupied with their own personal struggles to bother with my actions, which brought back my laid back confidence that mixed with the release of dopamine.

I no longer felt restricted by the confines of social expectations or the constant judgment of others, instead focused on exploring who I was, and what I wanted from life in a less constrained and more meaningful way.

In less words I stopped caring about what others thought.

This newfound sense of freedom allowed me to truly come into my own, and shaped me into who I am today.

From studying there I also got to meet two wonderful girls that today moved and live with me in San Francisco.

First I came across Lara whose light brown shoulder length locks were highlighted with buttery blond highlights. Her eyes were surrounded by thin metal square frames, which perfectly empathized their beautiful vivid hue of maroon.

Lara's aura was like a magnet for those around her, drawing people like moths to a flame. Drawing the attention of boys who lusted for her and girls who envied her, leading to gossip and telling vicious rumors about her. Yet these attempts of destruction failed, as she continued to radiate joy and positivity.

Truly looking up to her for it, wondering what her secret was.

And so, the truth was unveiled.

One day, I found her smoking cigarettes in the school bathrooms, and the habit gradually became something I expected to find her doing from then on.

I had no intention of dictating her choices.

However, I still held hope that she would make a conscious effort to stop the unhealthy coping mechanism of smoking.

But despite her habit remaining the same until this day, many things about Lara have changed over the years.

Her hair for example, her once buttery blonde locks now styled in a choppy cut, with a side-fringe and even a bold red dye job to top it off.

These changes have altered her previously bubbly image, giving her a more mature and confident flair, though it's hard to say if that is simply the result of growing up.

Her charming and bubbly personality remains as captivating as ever, and she has not lost any of the charms and magnetic personality that constantly goes in contrast with Lia's one.

The living room everyday was an area of contention, Lara's smoking habit often irritated Lia through the smell that easily flowed through the apartment, as the confined space made it difficult to avoid breathing the smoke.

Arguments between them would always end in Lara sulking in the corner, while Lia walked away fuming from anger.

I don’t blame for her intolerance towards smoking.

She was an open-minded person, but when it came to smoking, she had zero tolerance. So, it's only natural that she would be upset whenever she caught Lara smoking inside.

Anger issues weren't the only trait that characterized her.

No, not at all.

As those curls of hers kept her craziness in check, but it somewhat from time to time it managed to escape from those lips of hers, making her say the most mean and absurd statements sound true and convincing.

If her lips were mean, then her eyes shall be the sweet ones. Green and hazel hues coloured those irises, as they held such beautiful mystery and charm.

And yet they also held a glimpse of her fiery anger and held up frustration, which sometimes exploded out, turning her captivating eyes into fireflies that burned through my soul.

A mix of raw emotion and magnetic influence made her memorable and endearing, as her presence was one that was hard to forget.

Lia truly was a girl of many colors and contradictions.

Although the two women have brought their fair share of excitement and adventure into my life, there's always room for more.

If the gods offer more and more delicious fruits on the branches of life, it would be a shame not to indulge in a little more of what makes it sweet and delicious, wouldn't it?

After all, life is made interesting by new experiences and challenges we encounter, and who are we to deny more enjoyment?

Not knowing I've jinxed for good my future, for thinking like that.

As the sound of the phone alerted me about a new message.

Unfortunately not notifying me about the consequences it will bring to my unsure future.

The number was unknown, but as I read the message and realized it was from Lara, I let out a sigh as I shook my head.

I was used to her borrowing other people's phones to send me messages or call me when her iPhone died, but I still felt a slight sense of annoyance.

Constantly reminding her to change it into maybe one of some other brand, whose battery didn't die immediately after being charged.

Fuck the aesthetic. Even an eighty year old could last longer in bed than those phone batteries.

With a groan, I rose to my feet, taking the keys of the shop out of my pocket as I slid one sleeve than the other of my cardigan.

I held onto my phone in one hand while the shop keys were in the other, as I exited the door.

After the store was properly locked up, I set my sights on the parking lot where I had left my 2006 BMW M3. Talking about it, it was probably the best deal I had scored in my entire life.

Quickening my pace while searching for my keys as I neared the parking lot, making my way over to the red sports car that stood out among the other vehicles, looking like a beast ready to devour the roads with its raw power and beauty.

After finding them, I unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat, ready to drive away.

Starting the engine as now the powerful roars could be heard, feeling the humid air come in through the slightly open window, breathing the fresh yet familiar scent of the night.

With everything set, I put the car in drive and started making my way to the exit of the parking lot.

Speeding through the freeway, with wind coming through the window making the end strands of my hair fly back as adrenaline pumped into my veins.

But it soon came to an abrupt halt as I found myself stopped at a red light.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, traffic rules were sure pesky; Still I had to follow them, while I waited for the annoying red light to become green.

As the smooth, soothing tunes of "House of balloons" by the Weekend filled my car, my mind was at ease and my soul at peace.

Enjoying myself before the storm, commonly known as Lara, could enter my car.

Talking about the devil, there she was on the other side of the road talking with someone.

A man to be precise.

They still continued conversating, as I focused on the new individual.

His shaggy butter blonde strands swept to the side and his imposing lion tattoo were hard to miss, as they commanded attention.

Shifting my gaze at the now green light, I stepped on the gas pedal and proceeded toward the roundabout, making a sharp turn as I went back to them.

Parking my car just a few feet away from them as I yawned, hitting the horn two times to let her know I was there.

With a jolt, Lara turned to my direction to then say something to her companion earning a chuckle from him, while she motioned for me to come over.

Weird, she usually doesn't involve me with her flyings—What was she trying to pull here?

Frustrated from the long day of work I just compiled with her request, exiting my car and shutting the door behind me as I approached her and the man.

I looked at them to notice the blonde's stare was on me, probably he wanted me to burn holes into my skull for interrupting his moment with Lara.

At least that's what I believed until I was in front of them as he offered me a supposed charming smile.

"Nice to finally bump into the talk of the town." He made a little dramatic pause to then add.

"The name's Madarame Shion, but you can call me sir, if you're into that kind of thing." A devilish grin spread across his face as he introduced himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bravado.

You only needed to hear that, to know that he was the type of man who looks better with his mouth shut.

Eyeing Lara as she looked confused about Shion's introduction, considering her words before putting on one of her best smiles and finally breaking the awkward silence, "He is just a little full of himself today, don't mind him."

Wrapping her arm around his as she tried to justify him.

"I wouldn't call it being full of myself, more like pointing out the different possibilities my little minx." He remarked with a toothy grin, only a few inches separating his face from hers.

There was clearly something between them, but no way I was letting that guy try to woo her in some way.

"Right, a little minx huh?" I interjected with a sneer as it was now time to put this guy into his place.

And I surely didn't mind doing that.

"Well, if you're going to be throwing around names, then I suppose I can call you a douche." Locking eyes with him while my lips rose into a mocking smile.

Shion seemed more amused than annoyed by my response, as if he enjoyed this back-and-forth insult exchange.

Licking his teeth to then speak "If she is my little minx... Then you shall be my little vixen." This time leaning closer to me as he was trying to control the situation, perfectly knowing how to get under someone's skin.

It was futile trying to beat him this way, as it seemingly was his best field.

This would have taken time to bring him down from that supposed throne he believes he is on, and embarrass him when he is with Lara so she would leave him, but right now i didn't have the time nor the patience to do so.

So I did what I should have done from the start.

"It's late we should get home Lara," Motioning for her to come as I gave one last glance at Shion before saying "It was shit meeting you, hopefully I won't see that ugly face anymore."

Opening the door of my car as I waited for Lara that was still hesitant to leave.

"Why can't we stay out a bit longer? I mean, it's Friday night and we don't have anything to do tomorrow..." She said trying to convince me as her voice was dripping with disappointment at the idea of returning home so early.

Still I gave her one last look as an ultimatum, and she didn't do anything but walk in my direction complying to my order, sighing like a little kid since she was in no place to argue when I was the one driving.

The only one still calm was Shion watching us intently with a smug smile on his face as he added "Oh yeah? You're pretty annoying yourself,"

Both of us were already in the car as it didn't take much before we exited the momentary spot where I parked it.

"But that's what makes you endearing. Sweetheart" He concluded talking to himself.

Leaving him there, as the speedometer raised and lowered its pointer.

The car ride was silent until I stopped at a red light taking the opportunity to look at her, so maybe she will fill in the blanks and explain what the hell I needed to interact with him.

To which she just responded with, "Do I have something on my face?" Saying this as she moved the rearview mirror towards herself to check.

I was now looking at her like she just killed my family.

"How many times have I told you that the rearview mirror isn't to check yourself out!" Examining exasperated as I tried to fix the mess she just caused, only for her to start fiddling with the car radio as she browsed through the different channels.

Finally settling down for one to then look at me as she leaned into her seat, "So what do you think about Shion?"

To which I answered.

"I'm thinking about how much weed you've smoked to even see something in him," sighing to then add.

"Lara I'm seriously thinking you have a talent to find self centered assholes."

This story continues with a man whose ambitions drove him to obsession.

Kisaki Tetta, a man who both instills fear in others and arouses hatred. Not just any ordinary criminal, but rather, one of the men who rules the darker depths of the criminal underworld of Japan, pulling the strings behind the scenes and manipulating those below him to his will.

All in order to find peace and escape his weak past self, who failed to stand-up to the cruelties of this unjust world. By any means necessary, he sought to reach the position that he currently holds.

No one could oppose him, not even her.

Tachibana Hinata, his sweetheart. The girl in which words and praises he found shelter, words that even his own mother didn't say to him if there wasn't any perfect test score that accompanied his request of appreciation.

Her kind and straight forward personality truly caught him in its embrace. Making his past self desire more kind from the young girl. She was truly his first love, or at least in his eyes she will forever be.

She had saved him mentally, and yet he was unable to save her physically that fateful afternoon when they first met their hero.

Hanagaki Takemichi, a walking wannabe defender of justice. Mock him how much you want for being beat up after making his entrance, still he was able to offer her comfort and protection when she needed it.

He truly admired his bravery and was thankful to him for saving his muse, if taking the hit instead of her was considered saving.

Then so be it!

Next time he will be the one protecting Hina.

But there wasn't a next time and there never will be. Hina didn't get into trouble, and after that day her parents enrolled her in some self defense classes.

Yet their life's took different paths after they graduated elementary school, forced to part ways by the wishes of their parents.

Still managing from time to time to cross paths when going to buy groceries, it was fascinating to think about their friendship, going from being close friends at school to distant acquaintances outside of it.

He adored those moments he got to spend with her, her voice was so smooth to get him to space out sometimes

—Life was still good for him.

Or so he thought, till the start of the second year of middle school. Hina started to space out multiple times while they talked, which was very unusual for her.

This left the young man feeling confused as he tried to make sense of her behaviour. It was like she was physically there but her head was elsewhere.

In conclusion there was something else going on beneath the surface that Kisaki was unaware of; Still it wasn't that big of a mystery as she later confessed that she and Takemichi go to the same middle school.

Until here it was all fun and games.

Fool, he shouted victory too early and as a result he was taken back to discover she had been harboring feelings for the boy since their first encounter.

Otherwise from Kisaki, Hinata was and never will be a bystander especially when she was in love, more than ready to battle for Takemichi's one.

And weeks later in a spring evening, he was welcomed not only by allergies but also with the news of her being in a romantic relationship.

With none other than the crybaby hero himself.

He should have understood it by now, nothing good in this world comes for free and lasts forever.

He could cherish them from afar and trust them to not do anything stupid, but if he didn't take matters into his own hands; He would be just a passing phase for the lives of the two lovers.

His mind was a mess as many of his beliefs became doubts, but about one thing he was certain. He wanted her, the thing he lacked for that made him fall in love with her.

What his beloved considered pure platonic friendship for him became a full time obsession, not essentially on her but also on her so-called boyfriend.

Takemichi, the admiration he had in his regards

didn't take much time to turn into resentment and disgust.

Beginning to despise everything about him; Starting from that new bleach job that he got done, making him look even more of a bigger prick than he already was.

Ruining Hina's image with his choice of joining the delinquent world like many of their peers.

Sure he remained the same brave idiot he knew, still he became nothing more than a trouble maker to the public eye.

Always wondering why girls often romanticized being in love with delinquents, fantasizing any possible love story with them.

Couldn't they be happy with a regular guy?

How could troublesome and dumb clowns like them be attractive to girls?

Maybe it was their appearance? The charisma that some of them had?

No, it became crystal clear now. It was the seek of thrill in their life.

To have someone who will protect them, go on late motorcycle rides, boys who aren't afraid of judgements.

He was just a gifted boy with an average and easy life. Waiting for his happiness.

He had nothing to offer to no-one, destiny couldn't do anything with his useless life.

This was a big mistake he had made; Waiting for people to walk right into his life, and then expect them to stay. Only one person did, Hina.

But even she could walk away like she walked in. He couldn't afford losing her.

And there he is thirteen years later. Still hasn't lost hope on having a relationship with her.

Looking through the car window, gazing upon some carefree birds flying in the afternoon sky;

The sun gave its last rays for the day, as the chilly air hit his face hinting the approaching of fall season.

How he wished to spend a peaceful evening like this with a cup of tea in his hand, enjoying the warmth of the sun while he still had the chance.

Instead he was in a car driving him to attend a meeting regarding the incompetence of his subordinate.

His appearance was absolutely flawless, with silken vanilla blond hair pulled back by a touch of old and practical gel as light danced across his blue scrutiny eyes which gazed at the horizon through the glasses he wore.

His outfit was a sharp beige suit, perfectly complemented by a tie that matched the hue of his eyes like no other combination could.

Finally entering the gates of the unique complex of coloured buildings. Tinted glass hiding the different illegal doings inside of them, prostitution being the main of course.

After all these were the Haitani headquarters.

Waiting for him in front of the main building was Hanma Shuji, his infamous right-hand man, a crazy bastard ready to do anything for some thrill and action.

His tall, lanky figure made it easy to distinguish him from the sea of people entering and exiting the structure.

Those golden irises bore sharp and fiery glares which were contoured by the lens of the glasses covering the man's eyes.

His gaze was lazy and casual as he searched for something to pique his interest, constantly moving from place to place and person to person.

Just when he spotted a familiar car pulling up, the bland expression was quickly replaced by his trademark mocking grin.

In just a split second he was standing at the curb, ready to open the door for Kisaki.

Without a moment to spare ready to greet him and show his efficiency and promptness.

Jokes on you, he just wanted to taunt him even this early in the morning by making various snarky comments.

After opening the car door, their usual dynamic began to play out.

"Kisaki! I see that you're perfectly on time and busy as ever…Wonder if you ever take a break?" Breaking the ice with a bit of light-hearted teasing, to then afterwards ask.

"What would the occasion be, if I may ask?" His boss didn't even give him a glance as he started to walk towards the entrance.

Hanma couldn't do anything but follow right behind him, this was a classic behavior Kisaki had in his regards, how could he blame him though?

He knew he was annoying and used that to his advantage, but these games weren't so effective on his superior.

Walking straight ahead to the elevator, it seemed like Kisaki was cutting in half the lobby. Which was teeming with low-ranking scantily dressed prostitutes.

To which his subordinate being the gentleman he was let his eyes wander around, like he hasn't seen this already multiple times.

Shamelessly observing his surroundings, and all of them had a good package, just saying.

And when he got to the elevator there was his boss waiting for him, spitting the most vile and hurtful words to him and his dick.

But honestly he couldn't care less of what the shorter male said, if he was alright with anything that brought him to feel the thrill.

And to top that off, what would be more satisfying than seeing the one that offered him that fall apart? As his childhood dreams shatter.

Silence filled the elevator ride, until unexpectedly the shorter one broke it.

"Has Shion updated you on his progress? Because from what I've been told, he's been wasting time smoking weed and drinking,"

'Annoyed' wasn't quite the right word to describe his attitude. Instead, he was getting fed up quickly with Shion's bullshit, I mean who wouldn't?

Despite the length of time that they'd worked together, Hanma didn't grow weary of his boss' behavior, enjoying the show whenever he could; Like it was just an ordinary day in the office for him.

Prior to dismissing the subject as unimportant, "It's not my problem that you chose someone so incompetent for such an important task."

Earning a sharp glare from his superior to then backfire.

"Oh really? Wonder who advised me to send him for it, you know what? You're right; It's my fault for listening to some worthless bastard like you."

Hanma raised his hands and casually replied, "What can I say? Guilty as charged." Accepting his guilt as a sign of amusement and carelessness, dismissing his boss concerns completely.

"Wow we got a comedian over here?" His companion said with a sarcastic tone. "You certainly seem to be enjoying this, don't you?"

He surely was.

"If you're enjoying this so much, how about you go fix his mess?" Kisaki snapped back with a sarcastic tone followed by a challenging statement, saying, "Surely you won't mind, since you find this so amusing."

By sarcastically stating that Hanma wouldn't mind, he implied that fixing the situation was his responsibility in the first place.

"Oh please, who got your panties in a twist? Why the hell should I be included in this? It's his fault man."

He very well knows how much of a selfish and reluctant individual Hanma Shuji is; loves to laugh about someone else's mistakes, but dream on to actually seeing him helping them.

"It's not for you to choose to do so, Reaper. It's an order." With these words, his superior made it clear that this was not a request but a demand that as his subordinate had to follow.

And of course his tongue-in-cheek nature had to butt in along with his nonchalant attitude, nodding his head in a gesture of mock obedience saying, "Then I shall comply with your request, my sir."

But he very well knew his and Shion's life's were at risk, which honestly added more thrill to the thing.

Then a ding concluded his last thought, indicating that they reached the top floor, letting his boss exit first to then follow right behind.

Two male figures were walking into the halls of the police station, one proceeding with his fast peace while the other tailing right behind him, trying to lose the distance between them attempting to reason with his companion on a matter this last one didn't understand.

Or let's rather say he didn't want to understand...

"Kazutora, can you be reasonable for one time? You can't decide to do things on your own, especially now that you're in an organization!" There he goes being ignored by his friend, again.

Chifuyu was concerned about Kazutora's behavior, as the latter was consumed by guilt and self-blame due to Mikey's disappearance.

It turned into casual sex in a futile attempt to escape his own guilt and the memory that haunted him.

"Let me put it in a language you can comprehend. I'm exhausted at having to deal with so much paranoia every day," With a slight turn and a sharp exhalation, he faced Chifuyu, his eyes tired as he continued.

"If we continue like this, someday that picture on that board may turn out to be our single and final memory of Mikey!" For once, he truly did understand him, lacking the desire to blame him instead he wanted to free him, just like he did when he saved him from the grip of an abusive father.

It was explicit that his friend blamed himself for Mikey's crimes, and Chifuyu couldn't reason with his stubborn ass.

"Have a nice day Matsuno." With this last statement he made his way to the stairs.

He only hoped he wouldn't do anything too reckless like he did in the past...

But he clearly underestimated his companion.

In a certain way, he was able to relate to Kazutora, as the latter was similar to his younger self of thirteen years ago.

However if he in his teenage years failed to accomplish a much simpler rescue plan, statistically talking it's not like his friend had a much bigger chance of succeeding, if not lower.

Arriving at a point where he wondered if he should drag Baji's corpse out of the grave, revive him with some kind of ritual, so he could knock some sense into Kazutora's head, first with punches and then words as he usually did back in the day.

Seriously speaking though.

The concept of a gang originated from the ambitions of Mikey but especially Baji during their childhood; As the last one idolized Shinichiro, the older brother of the first one.

Also best known as the commander of the first generation of the Black Dragon, the most powerful biker gang in Tokyo back in the 90's.

The duo harbored the desire to follow the footsteps of their idol, wishing to create a gang of their own and live out their youthful fantasies.

So when the right time came, with the help of those who would eventually be known as the core members of its creation, namely Sano Maniiro, Riyuguji Ken, Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Hayashida Haruki and Hanemiya Kazutora, they officially gave life to Toman.

Even if the latter ended up in juvenile detention, it didn't stop the enlargement of it.

As the gang was more than just a part time thing, as it had a cherished place in the hearts of the captains and their vices.

And three years later it was living fully its era of gold, being recognized as one of the most powerful biker gangs of Tokyo.

But with the fall and loss of Baji, one of its linchpins, it became more and more fragile as time passed, somewhat still managing to have their influence over the city.

Thanks to some scum of members doing dirty work to archive it.

One thing was known for sure by the members, if Mikey was in command with Draken alongside him everything would have gone just fine.

Not knowing that the commander lost both of his parents at the age of three, being raised by his older brother Shinichiro and grandfather Mansaku who taught him the ways of karate, from which he made a name for himself in the streets.

The Sano siblings were just like a group of bowling pins, put in line one after the other connected by bad luck.

Another individual who had a lack of luck was Kurokawa Izana, their non-blood-related relative, fruit of the love of a Filipino woman and man.

Unfortunately, after her companion died, she found herself looking after the young boy on her own. Until she crossed paths with Masaru Sano, father of Shinichiro and Manjiro.

They became lovers and were together for a brief period until she passed away as well.

But he wasn't so heartless to not take the young boy with him, taking him under his wing as he went to live with his new flame, Karen.

And at that moment, they also had an infant daughter, Emma. Who he left behind as he also made his departure to the underworld.

Not even after she just turned three, her father's last paramour abandoned her in front of the Sano household, as she took her leave, and never returned back.

While she was introduced to her half brothers, her previous one wasn't doing very well.

Unlike her he was dropped at an orphanage, left to himself.

But despite the hardships, there was still hope for Izana as Shinichiro sought after him tirelessly.

After his grandfather had a talk with him, and nominated the young boy that lived together with Emma and Karen before they all parted ways. He was determined to locate him, to hopefully make him become a new member of the family.

And he does find him, instaurating an amazing sibling bond between him and the soon to be Sano.

Making him believe in that fairy tail, where everyone gets their happy endings but the villain.

Over time Shinichiro begins to talk about Emma and Manjiro too, giving him updates and telling him their adventures hoping to fuel the curiosity and excitement of the younger boy, but no success.

One thing he did fuel though, the young albino haired boy's jealousy in the regards of Mikey.

Believing the boy was trying to separate him from Shinichiro, he refused to let another loved one get snatched away from him, as he viewed the older sano sibling as a father-like figure in his life.

Taking a firm stance against the notion of letting the boy take the only thing remaining that could fill the void that the loss of his parents had created in his life.

But either way he had to be taken away from this world to early repent for his sins.

And just like this the bowling ball had hit one of the side pins that would later take two more down with it.

Starting the countdown for the lives of the other two Sano and our one and only Kurokawa.

Second to fall was Emma, Izana following right behind her leaving Mikey now all alone.

Waiting for the ball to eventually hit him.

So yeah he became a somewhat untraceable suicidal crime boss, in flip flops.

Ok he sounds too silly if we describe him that way, but he is Mikey so being silly is —Correction was his nature.

And what better way was there for the search to continue other than staging a reunion with the past division captains of Toman?

Reviving the organization, as now it slides sides and cooperates with the law to extend the reach of effectiveness in the search.

Working together while risking our lives for a better cause, which was stopping Manjiro and making him exit from that corrupted mentality so his name won't be stained by different numerous crimes.

That was our main goal, while the police wanted Bonten to fall apart, trying to capture most of its executives and associates, slamming them into jail and leaving them to rot there.

Lunch break; And those four motherfuckers were still in the office discussing business, well actually, only two of them were seriously discussing business while the other pair had discarded their jackets, loosened up their ties and opened the first buttons of their white shirts as they were busy hugging and laughing, just being the regular obnoxious drunk duo.

Remembering embarrassing past experiences, until the alcohol would no longer make them feel it's stung on their throat.

"Do you remember that intoxicated exotic dancer who wanted to provide you with a lap dance, but accidentally slapped you with her tits in your face?" The older Haitani inquired and then added, "I have never laughed so much in my entire life, I tell you!"

This was one of the many amusing escapades that they lived through together whilst being part of the Tenjiku and later the Kantou Manji Gang.

Chuckling his pal added.

"She was worse than a bitch in heat, the impact that came with it, and the weed effect nearly sent me to the depths of Hades, no cap!" This statement earning a snort from Kisaki,

while Rindou had become accustomed to dealing with drunk imbeciles.

So this was very common for him to not say usual in his daily life.

"If you ever require a prostitute's services for your trip into the so-called land of freedom, you know who to contact. I have a few fresh faces this week, and who knows maybe they can help you enjoy it to the fullest!" Ran's face broke into a smug and happy grin, as he offered his ex comrade the opportunity to indulge in some pleasure even out of the state.

However, the younger Haitani was clearly unamused by this show of generosity. He may not have shown it explicitly, but his mind was filled to the brim with irritation.

"Hold your horses, until we don't receive the order or further instructions we can't start any new negotiations with third parties, so refrain your fantasies together for another time." Collecting his papers and putting them into a folder.

Kisaki got up after he finished his paperwork, as his presence wasn't needed anymore.

"If you excuse me gentleman. I have some other important matters to attend to, so now I'll take my leave."

Matters my ass, he just wanted to leave as soon as the meeting was over, since the next few days will be brimming with work-related responsibilities and meetings; So he needed as much rest as he could get.

He might have the brain of a genius, but a brain doesn't work if it's not taken care of.

Rindou was about to tell him to get his dog with him, but it was already too late as the other business man was already out of the door.

Leaving him with not one, but two annoying drunken pricks.

He hated his job, at first it was fun until there wasn't any thrill in his life as everything was now routine.

He very well knew that once you get in Bonten, you can't leave.

Not alive at least.

Exactly, in exchange of what they always wanted as teens, they had to give their freedom and loyalty in return. But they didn't have any other choice.

Or let's say he didn't have any voice in chapter...

Two best friends, on the balcony; Violating the now deep black color of the sky with white and gray free spirited hazes.

The smoke danced along that void which gave the buildings a defined shape, floating lazily into the darkness of it, disappearing into the night sky just as soon, almost seeming like it was absorbed by it.

While I absorbed Lara's blabbering about Shion, as nicotine gave me the patience I needed for it.

"And when our eyes locked into a curious dance, I wondered; Who could he be? What has he seen in his life to make him pick my eye?" She concluded by taking another hit from the cigarette.

"It's a waste of effort, Lara. Just by viewing him one can tell he is more of a rake than a real-life criminal or thug, whatever he claimed himself to be,"

"You should really raise your standards, for your own good." I sighed out, flicking the back of my cigarette as the ash dropped down the railing into the street.

"Is that so? Funny coming from a woman who sent nudes to her lover before they even hit their third month, I doubt you're in a position to speak about such matters of morality." She retorted, rolling her eyes dismissively.

"Really? You're picking something that happened almost a decade ago so you could counter what I have just stated?" I replied, as the tone of my voice was disappointed while my face displayed an irritated grimace.

"Il lupo cambia il pelo ma non il vizio." She shrugged, looking to the side.

"Can you please listen to me, and stop behaving as if you own the world while I'm trying to advise you?" I was now furious, dropping my cigarette on the balcony tiles, firmly stomping on it and kicking the butt out of the railing.

"This individual is not good for you, I am trying to help you not get another heartbreak, like the one you had in junior year; With a guy who by the way was seven years older than you!" Rubbing my temples while I spoke in an attempt to soothe the headache that I was starting to feel, as I added.

"You want me to remember my mistakes from the past? Fine by me, have it your way, but don't think I won't reciprocate since you're no saint either." I concluded as now I was fully annoyed, while my eyes betrayed the fury I felt towards her shitty remarks.

"You always get your way! It's honestly so annoying how you establish your argument as definitive truth, and nothing can prove them wrong in any circumstance," Lara stated, unable to suppress emotions as her voice rose to match mine, expressing the pent up frustration and the feeling inferior to me even if she was older.

"I know I'm stupid and keep making the same mistake over and over again," She declared, as if she had nothing to lose by making me see her vulnerable side.

"But it's too late as now I'm addicted to that type of person, despite the fact that they will fuck me up." As she continued to vent her feelings to me, her voice became lower and lower.

There always was a sense of beauty she saw in her circumstances, no matter how bad they were. Despite the challenges, she would always point out a hint of good and cling onto it.

Nonchalant of the consequences.

"Let's join Lia on the sofa, and enjoy the match of football. We shall discuss this another time." I exhaled deeply, trying to turn her attention to some light entertainment.

"But I haven't finished my cigarette!" Protesting, as she held the carcinogen stick between the middle and index finger of her right hand.

In no time, the cigarette was swiftly thrown over the railing, by me as it flew down to the street where it crashed on the ground; Putting an arm across Lara's shoulders, guiding her inside.

Welcomed by the triumph screams of Lia, spinning around in the air her team's scarf, as apparently gli Azzurri had scored against the Brave Blossoms.

Her joy was palpable even to the neighbor next door, as he banged his fist against the wall while cursing at us to keep it down. Reminding us that it was late, and there were other people residing on the second floor.

We did nothing but laugh to our heart content at it.

"We'll surely try, cariño~!" I shouted back in a playful tone, with a hint of flirtatiousness in my voice.

I had a soft spot for our neighbor, Mr. Garcia; The handsome Spanish teacher, who recently moved into the condo weeks prior. With his suave personality and dazzling charisma, how could one not?

His anger issues were on another level though, maybe those were the reason his wife divorced him.

But one thing I know for sure, I would have chosen Spanish instead of French in middle school if he was the teacher.

As only the idea made me caliente between my legs.

Only to be dragged back to reality by Lia as she sat us down on the couch, to then accommodate herself between me and Lara, keeping us at a short leash, so to speak.

"It would be appreciated if you kept your lustful scenarios to yourself, at least until this match finishes." Lia expressed with a tired sigh.

"Oh come on what's wrong with letting your fantasy run a little wild? Plus who wouldn't fall for a dilf like him-" I answered as Lara playfully hit my shoulder chuckling, before Lia cut us off putting both of her index finger on our lips.

"Shh shut it for now..." She whispered strictly, eyes glued onto the screen of the TV.

The camera now shifted its focus to Tommaso Allan, who had the ball passed onto him by one of his teammates. In a swift and decisive move, he rushed forward, and successfully managed to overcome an opponent who had initially blocked his path. He was in the process of searching for an ally to pass the ball to, when Kanji Shimokawa suddenly tackled him to the ground, catching him by surprise and seemingly causing him to lose the ball.

"Now that's a hunk!" Lia remarked as she viewed the slow-motion replay of the action on the screen.

Only for me and Lara to shut down her affirmation.

As the game progressed, the Italian team was in advantage, netting two more touchdowns, prompting Kanji to utter a series of curses in the meantime, his anger being quite apparent.

Takeomi glanced sideways at his companion, cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag before saying. "You worry too much buddy,"

"They are playing on their home ground, with that huge advantage I'm sure they are just being a little playful with the opposing team just to put on a show and then get serious reversing the situation."

To which the fake blonde answered with a serious demeanor, "One thing I know for sure, and that is their victory over the Azzurri. I'm not taking another loss from our national team." He stated.

To which the other male answered.

"Then try not to get any white hair from the stress, it would ruin that dye job." Taking a long drag from his cigarette as he talked to his colleague.

While their two younger superiors played pool in the background, the pink-haired freak wasn't having any bullshit from his smoke addict of an older brother.

"Can you shut that trap of yours and stop smoking like you're mourning someone!? It's so fucking annoying to smell the smoke of your cheap cigarettes!" Talking, more like spitting words as if he was speaking with the lowest scum on earth.

"Suck it up Haruchiyo, your weed is no better." He firmly stated puffing out the smoke.

"It's Sanzu to you Akashi, stop acting like we're close and playing family, we both know you suck at it." Snarling while he glared at the older male.

"Fair enough, I just thought you missed my figure as an older brother." He laughed to himself.

While his little brother scoffed at his antics, dispising him from the very bottom of his heart.

Applying some chalk on the cue stick, as he got ready to make his strike.

"You talk as if you've died, which unfortunately you didn't. Anyhow, who would miss such a parasite as you?" With a swift and precise motion hitting the little white ball, as it went rolling full speed colliding with the brown one, "The world would just lighten from such burden if you did." He concluded as the ball fell into the hole.

"Oh- come on now, you talk as if I've ruined your life, or in this case as if I was the only one that did-" Being cut off by Mochi esulting as the Brave Blossoms finally scored a point after a back and forth between the two teams.

"Take that, you pasta eating bitches!" He was aware that the Azzurri were still ahead of a point but had so much faith in his team to win, as his nationalism kicked in.

When the two charismatic figures of Bonten entered the room.

Or more like one entered while having the arm of the other on his shoulders, as he helped him walk inside.

"Ahoy there, mates! Terribly sorry to keep you all waiting, I was busy chugging down copious amounts of liquor." Stumbling forward for a couple of steps as he gripped tightly the fabric of his brother's suit, the older Haitani made his entrance.

"However, I've recovered somewhat and I'm ready to enjoy some time together with you beautiful, beautiful people!" The man drunkenly declared, while his sibling dumped him on one of the minibar stools.

"Stay put, alright? Don't do anything dumb." Putting his brother in a position where he wouldn't fall off the stool from squirming around.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Rindou. I can take care of myself, even when I'm tipsy. Seriously, don't you trust me?" He proudly stated.

"There's nothing to be so proud of, Ran." Only to be cut off by the other, "I mean, I know how to handle my booze!" As the two got into a back and forth over the situation, which only got more chaotic and interrupted Kokonoi's efforts to concentrate and get some work done.

The ladder was immediately caught by their words, as he grew annoyed by all the interruptions to his work.

"Can you stop being so loud!? I'm trying to focus and you're making it almost impossible!" He snapped, his patience quickly running out with the ruckus.

The younger Haitani was already fed up after all the bullshit he had to deal with today.

As the situation wasn't helping, and his patience was quickly running out. He was ready to explode, and this slight form of provocation pushed him over the edge.

"Screw off, dick cheese! This isn't a place for work. Stop thinking about more ways to make money when we don't need it right now, you capitalist prick!" He exclaimed not able to control his temper anymore, as now he just wanted to exit the room not wanting to completely lose it.

And he did just that leaving his drunk sibling over there with the other lad, quickly making his way to the elevator.

Ran, being the drunken flirt he is, decided to break the silence between them with a bold claim, "Don't listen to him, gorgeous. You can consider this room your workplace, and if anyone else says otherwise, let me take care of it. I'm quite the big deal around here." Clearly still drunk from the alcohol, he mistakenly thought the white haired man was a woman.

Who seemingly caught his attention so he wanted to shoot his shot and earn some chuckles from, but he only received a disgusted glare from his comrade.

"For the love of all that is holy, please just trip over a knife and leave me alone." He face palmed in utter exasperation, as just the idea of having to deal with Ran's drunken antics was just too much for him to bear. He returned to typing on his laptop, trying his best to avoid Ran and hoping he wouldn't interrupt him again.

He was wrong, Ran was right behind him, his arms draped over his shoulders as he leaned over to whisper in the other man's ear, "Oh come on, don't you like attention? Especially from such a charming man like myself." Continuing to hit on the supposed woman he believed his comrade was.

"I like respect and boundaries, don't you know personal space is a thing? Stop being a creep and keep your goddamn hands to yourself, geez." Wanting the other to get the point and leave him alone, he wasn't going to sugarcoat his words to not sound offensive.

Still the rather tipsy individual took it personally.

"Me a creep? Please, I'm a gentleman." He started, quickly retracting his hands from his companion's back.

"Is there any difference? A gentleman is just a more patient and pleasing wolf in sheep's clothing" He retorted with a roll of his eyes, not impressed by the behavior of his companion.

“Don't be a killjoy, sweet cheeks! Why waste those lovely locks if you aren't gonna put them to good use? Maybe they'll look even better with my fingers through them and you on your knees." He said with a cocky demeanor, leaning on the counter holding his head and looking dreamily at his colleague back, as if imagining the various things he wanted to do with 'her'.

Ran was high on his own fantasies of romance and sex, while Rindou was high on their own professional success.

Making his way to their boss' office to report the process of their successful deal with Kisaki, hoping that their superior, Mikey, would be pleased with that accomplishment and tell him and Kokonoi to begin making the necessary investments into their new deals.

Rindou, after stepping out of the elevator to the top floor, was met with the warm glow of the sunset as the sun was slowly setting in the horizon. Within thirty minutes, night would fully sweep over Tokyo, giving the window one last glimpse before heading to the boss' office.

Firmly stepping through the double doors, closing them behind him. He glanced up at his boss, making eye contact with the man piercing black irises.

Despite his lanky and short stature. He was the epitome of 'don't judge the book by its cover.'

As his presence was intimidating, making the executive quick mental note to keep the report short; The faster, the better.

"How did it go Haitani? Hopefully you gave a good image of Bonten." He asked even though it seemed more a threat, making the thirty year old man stand straight.

Breathing out, relaxing as he recollected his thoughts, he started to give his report about today's meeting he and his brother had with the heads of the Tenjiku criminal organization, Kisaki and his left hand man Hanma.

It was hard for Mikey to remain calm and focused while listening to Rindou talk about them, considering the men were the ones who caused the death of two of his siblings. Still, managing to stay silent and not show the frustration he felt.

With a quick hand gesture shutting the other man up, before he inquired, "Was Hanma much of a hassle during it?"

Rindou quickly shook his head, "He was knocked out shortly after Ran got him to try some of the new booze we ordered from China," he explained before adding "Just as you had told to operate."

Another hand gesture telling him to continue, as he complied with his boss' order.

“He wanted to have some other drinks so we gave him a vip pass to one fo our most known nightclubs, for later we prepared a royal suite at one of our five star hotels.”

Instead of going through all this trouble he could have shot that adrenaline freak, leaving him to die alone like a bastard in the corner of a cold and lost alley, people wouldn't even notice about his disappearance. Nobody would care honestly, not even the police.

But his boss' orders weren't optional, and Rindou would much rather follow them and tolerate the other annoying asshole for that short period of time, than suffer the wrath of Mikey's so-called 'loyal mad dog.'

As being skinned alive by him doesn't sound so appealing to no one. Whatever he has to do he will do it, and get the job done.

"He will depart to San Francisco tomorrow at 7 am sharp. At least this is what I know from the information Kisaki gave me." He concluded, fixing his tie as he awaited further instruction or questions from his superior.

After a long period of them just staring at each other as silence surrounded them, the boss moved his arm over the landline, his fingers pressing a button before speaking.

"Kokonoi, come to my office and bring Ran along with you." The boss says to the other person on the line, in a firm and clear tone.

And not even five minutes after three people enter the office out of the two requested.

"I was told there was going to be some top-notch food here," The still intoxicated individual exclaimed, ready to engage in whatever entertainment that was happening currently. However, despite this, the pink haired individual accompanying this person mentally scoffed and was annoyed by his drunken behavior.

Nevertheless, the person's sotic expression remained in front of the king that he followed, regardless of the irritation caused by the inebriated idiot.

With Kokonoi right behind them, closing the doors after entering with his laptop in one hand a dossier on top of it.

"You told me you were taking me to your hot female friends, but I see no beautiful babes, no sexy girls, just a bunch of ugly dudes in an office." Rather disappointed by the lie Kokonoi told him to get his ass moving as soon Mikey required their presence there, Sanzu wasted no time in dropping Ran on the leather couch like he was a sack of potatoes.

"My hot bitches-" was as far as the drunk individual's complaining got, because he was abruptly interrupted by Sanzu placing his hand over his mouth, trying to shut him up, only to have it licked away in the process. The other man was disgusted by the behavior of the drunk individual, and his annoyance was starting to show.

"What the hell you freak!" he exclaimed, clearly surprised and not expecting this to happen. He quickly pulled his arm back, Kokonoi offering him a handkerchief as he proceeded to walk towards Mikey.

Placing his laptop and the folder on the desk of this last one, as he began to state the analysis he made about how much would their earnings rise out of assimilating Tenjiku into Bonten, with the ultimate goal of absorbing them completely after removing the top two heads.

"What about Madarame Shion?" Sanzu questioned about the third head, Kokonoi confidently responded by saying.

"He is no threat. He's easy to bribe with some money and power, maybe be generous and add a couple of women for him too..." He paused looking at Rindou before continuing.

"But if his appetite isn't satisfied by that, two bullets can shut his mouth for good, and make him grateful that we ended his life quickly." Showing no hesitation or remorse as he made his statement, clearly not bothered by the slightest to have a guilty conscience.

As long as it serves the greater interests and goals of the criminal organization he loyally serves, fill his pockets and mouth, he will do that and much worse.

"What do you think, boss?" Sanzu looked to Mikey for an answer, waiting to make sure they were all on the same page.

Ready to follow whatever came out of his mouth.

As his boss was still contemplating the situation, thinking about the best move to make. Finally deciding to go along with the plan suggested by Koko, believing that there shouldn't be any trouble with the third head of Tenjiku as long as they had a fool-proof plan to bring the man over to their side, and if not get rid of him.

Pulling out of the folder the documents before giving it one last adjustment, as he and Rindou put their signature on them, handing them to Sanzu and Mikey so they could do the same, as they both read what the contract was about before signing too.

Officially declaring their agreement, now they just had to wait for the outcome, and ensure that everything proceeded according to plan.

"Now we have time to give this to Kisaki, while I need you to give this to Hanma as he will go overseas tomorrow morning." Kokonoi directed Rindou, sticking out with his hand a piece of paper from the folder for him to take.

In the middle of the nightclub, surrounded by the loud music and boisterous atmosphere, is a man. Average height and a lean type of build, with a face that is so charming even now when it displays nothing more than indifference.

He was familiar if not used to having ladies of the night by his side as they swayed along the music, one in particular, his favorite.

The young woman was basically a walking feast for the eyes, her figure a perfect example of what the male gaze perceives as the ultimate beauty.

As she back faced him, his hands under hers as she guided him to feel every curve he already knew of her body, as they moved along the rithm of the music.

Still failing miserably when it came to Kazutora, as his mind was elsewhere, and she was nothing more than another Saturday night for him.

And while she tried to win his attention for hours, only to see her efforts fail, something much simpler had managed to get the job done. And that was a buzz from his phone, tucked away in his jeans pockets.

Quickly making his way across the nightclub towards the bar, presumably intent on finding a way to end his night on a more positive note. However, the woman was not about to give up that easily. She followed closely behind him, trying not to loose him in the sea of people.

When he reached the bar, the man paid for his drink, before giving the woman some gas money to call an Uber. This sent the signal loud and clear that he had enough partying for the evening, and the lady was forced to accept defeat.

He needed to fully focus on the task at hand he gave himself, still he wasn't no ungrateful bastard as he bid her a swift goodbye, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as a sort of consolation.

Walking out of the club leaving her behind. Reviewing the intel his most trusted subordinate had sent him.

"Roppongi huh?"

Haitani's well known turf. Still half of their subordinates liked to say they were loyal, in reality they are just a bunch of dumb assholes that with a little money and lies you could buy.

Cracking the engine to life as soon as he got on his motorcycle, a loud roar filled the mostly empty parking lot due to the late hour.

Taking a hold of the handle bar, rubbing it to gain more speed. He then performed a half circle turn to then speed off down the wet streets of Shibuya.

The streets were empty, except for the occasional low-life thugs or wannabe gangsters. He enjoyed nights like this, as it was just him, his motorcycle, and the cool wind that brushed across his now rosy cheeks. The blonde streaks in his hair blew freely, adding even more beauty to this moment.

Taking the exit onto the highway, it started to get boring.

Until he noticed a luxurious car in the distance, it seemed to be a black Mercedes-Benz.

Surely expensive to maintain, from the looks it seemed it was brand new. Although he couldn't see the owner, unfortunately as this rich bastard had black tinted car windows. But surely he seemed to be in deep thought as he moved with a slow monotone peace.

Then an idea came to his mind.

Letting the car gain a good distance, before going at maximum speed just right beside it. The roars of the motorcycle surprised the driver that much he swerved off into another lane. Luckily, the driver hit the brakes with all his might saving the car from making an accident.

Kazutora burst into laughter, not caring about the person in the car he almost killed. According to him, it was the driver's mistake to be distracted and wandering off with their thoughts while on the highway.

And since he considered himself to be a good cop, he saw it as his duty to remind him of this simple rule.

In his style and way of doing it.

The two figures that exited the car didn't catch his attention for long, as the situation had given him enough fun for today. Turning back to focus his attention on the road and on his true goal that night —visiting one of the night clubs owned by the two charismatic brothers.

Unbeknownst to him, the ones that he almost made go astray were none other than the two brothers, and the psychopath with a pink mullet of their superior.

The younger Haitani was outraged after the incident, and furiously started shouting calling the driver of the bike all sorts of names.

"That bastard!" The man yelled, his tone raging with fury.

In spite of his subordinate's outrage, Sanzu saw comedy in the situation and couldn't help but crack up.

"Calm down, bro. This is hilarious. it almost felt like we were going to die there," His coworker said with a wicked grin, as he closed and leaned into the car door.

Rindou was now fuming with outrage as the Joker wanna be continued to go at it.

"What? It's not my fault nor his that you drive like an old lady," The individual shrugged, unconcerned.

"You sick fuck! That damned bike almost caused us to crash! I might drive like a grandma, but who does he think he is acting like a maniac on the road?!" Storming back to the car, upon reaching it he opened the car door and forcefully closed it behind him.

Sanzu stayed out of it, sighing in annoyance as he left the younger Haitani some time to cool off, before they could carry on with the task given by his king.

While all this chaos happened, Ran was in the back seat, knocked out.

And not even five minutes after they were back on the road.

The speedometer showed numbers escalating rapidly, reaching higher digits after mere seconds had passed.

Street lights pass their bright ray on the car bodywork, somewhat trying to clean it from all the shady businesses that they have used it for.

Chase Atlantic blasting from the radio, as the man with the pink mullet sang along the lyrics. Only to be interrupted by the news.

"It seems that the trend of illegal car races came back, California has been full of reports. Especially in the cities of San Diego, Los Angeles and lastly but not least San Francisco."

As the news reporter continued their broadcast, Sanzu lowered the volume as he looked at Rindou before saying.

"Seems like Shion is already at work." He snickered still looking at whom he was speaking to.

While the other guy thought nothing but how idiotic people were to follow a trend, just to be known as some sort of crappy underground superstar. Not knowing how much of a hypocrite he sounded.

He and his older brother did follow the trend of being delinquents too, but they had more style and charm than those scraps.

"San Francisco huh?" He mumbled to himself.

Rindou only knew the city thanks to the books at juvie.

Remembering it's characteristic monuments such as Alcatraz, the ruthless prison known world wide, the Golden Gate Bridge; A red and white vortex that makes you enter a colorful mix of colors and cultures, where cheap and expensive coexist.

These were the words that the author of the book chose to describe the city.

Hanma tomorrow would go there to help Shion, his old gang pal, as the mission given to him by Kisaki wasn't such an easy task.

They should be there just for a few days, just to find a good location out of the public eye, and then be back in Japan without getting noticed.

The police have been on their tails in this period of time, with the help of that damned Toman.

As they reunited the gang, this time to find and bring back Mikey and his fucked up mind. With Takemichi being none other than the leader, yes that's right a weak bitch like him is the top dog.

He was good with words, Rindou admits, but words can't bring you anywhere. Violence must accompany them, at least that's his ideal.

Still he found it hilarious how they believed that with the power of friendship they could bring back his boss, who honestly just needed to be sent to a psychiatric hospital along with his loyal mad dog that was now sitting beside him looking at his phone.

But at least they had the balls to do something he would never do, and that was going against Mikey.

As if it wasn't Sanzu hunting him down for betrayal his subconscio would take his place. Guilt tripping him of leaving Ran alone, breaking the promise they had made at each other from the very start.

He couldn't handle the type of life without anyone beside him, like he had Ran for his entire life.

So running away was, and forever will be just a fantasy.

Since we were into the topic of old friendships, two other old friends were seeing each other right now after many years.

Junpeke, a once lively individual, had become much more tame over the years. His once stylish and edgy haircut was still the same, but his spark seemed to have been lost.

And now he happened to work at one of the many clubs the Haitani owned, he was just a low ranking subordinate of theirs nothing really special.

Still Kazutora found a way to use the position of his old friend in something useful to him, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered meeting him again after all these years.

Both of them not wasting much time, walking though the dark corridors headed straight for a door that was labeled 'Staff Only'.

Once through the now closed door, they entered an area that was most likely a dressing room, as Junpeke immediately got to business, pulling a waiter suit, from the nearby closet handing them to Kazutora.

As the latter changed into them pretty quickly, taking out keys and wallet from the orher pocket of his jacket along with his phone.

"Now that i have completed everything you've asked me for, it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal," Junpeke stated, a smug smile made it's way on his face as he added.

"Give me the money, and you can go and do whatever your heart pleases with Hanma." As if he wasn't in a dangerous situation at all.

"Of course, a deal is a deal after all." Kazutora seemed used to his arrogant behavior as he searched though his jacket pockets, pulling out two rolled stash of twenty five bills worth ten thoused each.

For you folks that don't want to do math, it's basically around four thousand dollars.

Not wasting anymore time the other took it and began to count them.

"What? Don't you trust me Junpeke?" The man with long hair pulled back and tied into a low ponytail asked his former friend, however the ladder didn't respond to him.

He looked around to make sure everything was left as they found it, then both took their leave walking to the door.

Not all bad things come to harm you, and Kazutora had learned one important rule during juvenile detention, and that was; Never let anyone walk behind you, especially when doing shady business.

Of course the ex-juvenile delinquent took this opportunity, knocking his childhood friend unconscious, sending his live location to one of the police officers he had under his command, and carrying the man outside the back exit and dropping him inside a dumpster.

After successfully taking Junpeke out of the picture he went back inside the building, now walking through the corridors that brimmed with sex workers that offered him lustful gazes and sweet chuckles.

He payed them no mind, as they were only doing their job.

Entering the large underground club lounge of the hotel, he was met with a scene of chaos. Music blasted in the background, ladies dressed in vibrant colours and styles moved back and forth, forming a veritable bouquet.

Just as he was taking in the sight, his eyes scanned the various tables as they came across the man he was looking for, he was surrounded by a circle of ladies, as they stuck to him like glue or looked to get closer.

Hanma Shuji, a man with many words for him, but clown was the most fitting, as his lazy smile was exactly the same of a fool.

And Kazutora couldn't wait to wipe it off his face, as it would look better when he will shove him behind the bars.

As if by fate, a tray carrying two alcoholic drinks was suddenly placed in his hands by a waitress, confusing him for a waiter, shouting at him to bring it to the table where the infamous reaper was.

And of course after knowing that how could he not spit into the drink to top it off?

Not a smart idea to do it in the middle of the dance floor, as he was grabbed by the collar from a bulkier man with an angry expression on his face.

If you were at a club and brought a drink, only to see a waiter spitting into one of the same type that you ordered, it would certainly put some doubts in your mind about your own drink.

And since alcohol can often make one's inhibition lower and impulse control harder to manage, it's now wonder that the man got so aggressive in a quick time span with Kazutora.

"Who do you think you are, spitting into drinks like that?!" In the midst of the loud music and partying, the sound of that sudden shout got the attention of those nearby.

As the partygoers turned their gaze towards the source, witnessing the man violently shaking the 'waiter'.

This situation surely ruined the cheerful mood there was in the club, as people didn't know if the accusation was true or simply a misunderstanding.

"If you don't want to give us our money's worth, then don't bother working here at all?!" Kazutora didn't even bother defending himself, he was too busy getting his face sprayed with spit from the angry shouts of the other man.

This whole situation ruined their night, as his voice surely would give the others a headache if this continued.

But one in particular.

And that was Hanma Shuji of course.

Making his way through the crowd of people as he left all the ladies behind, and when he got there he was met with the familiar face of Kazutora.

Seeing his ex comrade getting into a heated confrontation, how could he not intervene to help him? Jokes aside he quickly made his way to the two, putting his hand on the angry customer's shoulder, before saying.

"Now now, what's with all the hoopla?" he asked with a somewhat dismissive tone, taking the situation lightly.

But this seemingly innocuous gesture seemed to spark a fire in the customer, who was now fuming with anger.

"Who do you think you are, you bastard?!" he growled at Hanma, his voice practically dripping with fury. "I'm a powerful criminal, you think you can just go and mess with me like this?" he continued, his rage growing with every word.

Hanma, however, remained unfazed and replied to the customer's threats with a lazy smile, "Or what? What are you going to do? Enlighten me," he retorted, his lazy smile remaining on his face despite the customer's rage.

"Are you challenging me?! I can take you and break you like a breadstick, you lanky beanpole!" The customer shouted, angry at Hanma's continued lack of fear and respect for him.

"You don't seem to be in the right mood, mister." He said before adding "How about you go on a little timeout and drink some water, hm-?" And that was it, the final straw.

Suddenly Kazutora was free, as the man who was gripping on his collar turned to the taller male.

"I'll kill you four eyes!" He shouted, finally snapping.

"Four eyes? Make it six, because from how drunk you are." The other one had enough, and decided to resort to physical violence. As he ran at Hanma, fist ready to punch him hard on the jaw, determined to wipe that lazy smirk off his face.

Still as we all know this was a piece of cake for the reaper, as he dodged the strike with ease. Getting under people's skin was his profession rather than being a criminal, this was routine for him.

Kicking his opponent's feet, making him trip and fall on the dirty dance floor, that from the various partying of the night was all sticky, either from drink spills or obsolete substances.

As the bouncers came and took the man on the floor, as he continued to sprout profanities at the two.

Once the chaos of the situation subsided, Kazutora understood it was his cue to leave and get out of there. His plan being ruined by some drunk bastard.

Hoping to slip away unnoticed, but he was way too positive and confident in his skills not to notice Hanma's hand on his shoulder.

"Not even a 'thanks, old friend?" The familiar voice cut through the air. Even if he was facing the other way, the ex Valhalla number three could feel his ex superior lazy smile.

"Hanma, long time no see," he said, "You've changed quite a bit, and it seems like you've acquired the habit of grabbing people by their shoulders?" He said with one of his best fake smiles he could manage to hide his irritation.

"I could say the same for you," he responded humorously, "you still look as fresh as new! Mind telling me your secret?" With a light-headed tone, he joked about his friend's transformation.

"Oh, y'know. Just grew my hair out a bit," lightly tugging some rebel strands of hair framing his face, "and eleven years of prison did their work." He playfully scoffed.

"You're as sassy as ever, huh?" Hanma replied teasingly, "How about we get some drinks and catch up on the lost time?" Wrapping his slender arm around his old comrade's shoulders, who seemed to not be interested in having to chit-chat.

Ultimately, he accepted the offer, ending it with "Why not?"

Both perfectly knew who the other was, but just for tonight they'll forget it over a few glasses of Mojito.

[basilone]

@hesbuckcompton-baby tagged me in this one, ty! 💚I know a lot of folks have gone and done this one already, but please if you wanna do it consider yourself tagged right now! misc tag game!

favorite place in the world you’ve visited?

I really loved Prague when I went there for a citytrip aeons ago. The atmosphere of that city and its chill style really vibed with me. We’d rented an apartment, so it felt way less like visiting and more like living there for a couple of days. Remember just standing on the balcony in the very early morning watching the locals waking up and starting their day – that sense of utter inner tranquillity I had in that moment has really stuck with me.

something you’re proud of yourself for?

Uhm, I dropped out of school when I was fifteen. That part isn’t a point of pride, just a fact of life. And I had a lot of people pushing me this way and that way since, telling me I’d never make it and that I needed to sacrifice pretty much all of my mental health in order to fit the standard idea of what fifteen-year-olds should be doing with their time. I didn’t listen to them and started to carve out my own way instead. We’re almost twenty years on from my dropping out, and I can safely say this: I made it. I’ve got a great job I love, I’ve got people around me who lift me up, and my mental health is good enough for me to thrive 90% of the time. I have worked my ass off to get to where I am right now, and fought a long uphill battle to make life sing again. And it’s made me so resilient and so certain of myself, you know? I’m superproud of myself for sticking around in this world and making something awesome of my own path in it.

favorite books?

Rebecca (by Daphne du Maurier), Anna Karenina (by Tolstoy), Son of the Shadows (by Juliet Marillier), The Braided Path trilogy (by Chris Wooding), and Ash: A Secret History (by Mary Gentle).

something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?

The prospect of curling up on the couch/in bed with a really good book for company. Can’t beat that!

favorite thing about your culture?

The way I almost went “which culture” lmao. 😂 Which really almost is an answer in itself, as I think Dutch culture is a collective of many different things? We’re traders/explorers by nature and our identity tends to slip into something pretty multifaceted. That said, I come from a specific part of this country where people still routinely speak a dialect and where the cultural events are a lot more in-your-face celebratory. My fave thing about this particular cultural offshoot, which I grew up in, is that you can play all the Dutch-language songs you could ever want without anyone bothering to so much as hum the tune… but the second you play a song in my dialect is the second you get the whole crowd singing along. Something about poetic expression? Yeah.

when did you join the hbo war fandom? what was the first show you watched?

In 2020! At least, that’s when I immersed into the fandom here on Tumblr and watched Band of Brothers/The Pacific back-to-back. Gen Kill was actually my first, though, as I’d read that book some years before and watched that one without fandom-dipping first.

have you read any of easy company’s books? if so, which ones were your favorite?

Yes! Bill & Babe’s book is so nice.

favorite hbo war character and your favorite moment with them?

*inhales* Speirs. Night time, speech time. Local forest cryptid says shady shit about war, more at eleven. I’ll never be normal about him so.

do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?

Fun fact: I usually advocate against using the term ‘content’ when describing creative pursuits, for reasons I’m not gonna get into right now because that’s a rant for when I’m feeling particularly feisty. That said, I’m a writer and gifmaker. I’m more known for the latter, but the former is where my heart really lies.

favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?

I have a few favorites that’re way up there in terms of how mesmerizing they are, but I’m going to mention one that isn’t mentioned nearly enough: Tom Pelphrey. Truly one of the most captivating actors of our time. He tends to do TV shows more than movies – please, look up his monologue from Ozark if you have a moment – and so I get to rec Banshee to y’all while I’m at it. He’s amazing in that.

favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?

Look, I’ve lived by the words “seize the day because tomorrow you might be dead” for years now. I think it originated in Buffy, but I’ve adopted it and it’s mine now. Life wisdom from yours truly, boom.

random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?

I’m really into astronomy, outer space, etc.

if you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader?

I used to have beta readers back when I started writing, yeah, so I’m not gonna advocate against using one. Sometimes you need that extra pair of eyes, that nitpicking, that moment of being confronted with your own hubris. I’m my own beta at this point in my writing journey, but I still have a group of people around me who get first dibs on reading my stuff because I trust they’ll give it to me straight and pick out any lingering idiocies on my end. Which doesn’t stop me from shoving something onto the internet that has never seen an edit a day in its life, ahem.

three things that make you smile?

Put me near an alpaca and watch my face brighten, I dare ya. Also big fan of bookstores. Even bigger fan of AO3’s notification mails for fic reviews.

any nicknames you like?

Killy’s my most-used nickname, and we’re vibing!

list some people you love to see around on tumblr!

If I follow you, I love to see ya. That’s just how this thing works. But I’m gonna shout out my writing-and-life-support crew here because without them I would be nowhere much at all: @mercurygray, @junojelli, @shoshiwrites, @arethosedustyjumpwings. You lot are the real deal who’ve stuck to me like glue, and that means so much more than words can say.

what would you do during a zombie apocalypse?

Look, I have a zombie survival plan drawn up in my head but it essentially involves not being near people ever again. Because we’ve gone through a pandemic now and I don’t trust people to follow quarantine instructions or anything else that mildly inconveniences them. So. In the event of a zombie apocalypse, I’m sorry in advance, I’m gonna cry-scream-piñatapunch my way through any and all stupidity. If you see me running, please know I’m being chased because there’s no other way you’ll ever see me running voluntarily.

favourite movie?

Singin’ In The Rain. This needs no further explanation.

do you like horror movies?

Yes and no. I do not vibe with horror movies that get really gory for the sake of shock value. Can’t do it, won’t do it. But I’m a biiiiiiig fan of the final girl trope, I can’t go a day without pondering vampires, and I really love old horror movies and the progression of horror stories throughout the years. It’s fascinating to me to see how specific types of horror interact with the history/culture of that time it was created in: horror is never created in a vacuum, and its storytelling beats are so inspirational.

[dolphin1812]

This chapter feels somewhat melancholy when taking Hugo’s exile into consideration. The opening paragraph centers around how much Paris (and France as a whole) has changed between 1817 and 1862:

“ It is hard nowadays to picture to one’s self what a pleasure-trip of students and grisettes to the country was like, forty-five years ago. The suburbs of Paris are no longer the same; the physiognomy of what may be called circumparisian life has changed completely in the last half-century; where there was the cuckoo, there is the railway car; where there was a tender-boat, there is now the steamboat; people speak of Fécamp nowadays as they spoke of Saint-Cloud in those days. The Paris of 1862 is a city which has France for its outskirts.”

Of course, part of this paragraph’s purpose is just to provide context for his readers, and it’s not as if many of these changes weren’t visible when he left the city. But there’s a sense of nostalgia permeating this paragraph, a longing for an older Paris. The rapid urbanization and increased speed of transportation that took place over the course of the 19th century radically altered the meaning of the city and its boundaries, as Hugo points out. But it’s sad to think that the city and its surroundings kept changing while he was gone without him seeing it.

The moments of foreshadowing in this chapter are also so painful. Aside from the opening paragraph (and my discomfort whenever Hugo writes about women), this chapter is really light-hearted. I even laughed at Tholomyès (This sentence about him specifically: “”That Tholomyès is astounding!” said the others, with veneration. “What trousers! What energy!”” - “What trousers” is just a very funny thing to say)! But then Hugo has to add this toward the end:

“Although she [Fantine] would have refused nothing to Tholomyès, as we shall have more than ample opportunity to see”

If the dark aspect of the last chapter was knowing the extreme power imbalance between these two because of their financial statuses and Fantine’s naivety, this one leans once again into the latter: she loves him and doesn’t want to deny him anything, even though he’s horrible.

Spoilers below:

Although the descriptions of Fantine mostly just made me uncomfortable and I didn’t want to analyze them too much for that reason, I can’t help but think of Enjolras every time there’s a reference to divinity, chastity, or disdain when describing Fantine. @yoursjustasitwas commented on how just as Fantine’s youth is emphasized here, so is Enjolras’ when he’s introduced, but to different effect: whereas the focus on youth for Fantine and the other women is used to define one of them as old for being in her early 20s, his youth (he’s around the same age) makes him tragically young. Fantine’s youth is tragic in some ways as well (it’s tied to her naivety, she loses her youth to Tholomyès’ callousness and to poverty), but it definitely reads very differently from the tragic nature of Enjolras. I feel the same way about their physical descriptions. Some of them I just find funny (like Hugo focusing on “disdain” when describing their expressions), but his focus on Fantine’s “virginal” appearance is much more uncomfortable than it is with Enjolras (to me, at least) because of the differences in intent. Enjolras is shown as a “priest” to the revolution while Fantine’s “virginal” qualities are emphasized to show what she “loses”. I don’t think Hugo fully uses the “fallen woman” trope because he maintains our sympathy for Fantine the whole time. But I also think he’s concentrating on these parts of her character precisely because he sees that as the most effective way to get his audience to feel for her. He knows they’ll feel more for a beautiful woman who’s not seen as transgressing social norms until later on, once they’ve already come to care for her. I respect that aspect of his approach, but it did make chunks of this chapter very uncomfortable to read.

[mejomonster]

Any other trans friends i could use ur personal knowledge input. Ill also look this up though so don't worry im assuming like the definution of bi theres gonna be varied overlapping definitions

(So pre warning these first big paragraphs are preamble on what ive heard as far as more recent definitions, it can ALL be skipped down to my question. Basic summary is: DEI taught about gender identity, gender presentatuon, and sexuality spectrums and how they dont necesarily match the way stereotypes would expect as each Individual experiences those 3 spectrums their own way). Okay so the last time i got proper formal definitions taught was a Diversity Equity Inclusion training. Which was eons ahead of what my schools ever taught but it was still not all encompassing. Training included mentioning: sexuality is a spectrum, pansexuality and bisexuality are being able to feel attraction to multiple genders, heterosexuality and homosexuality are attraction to one gender, asexuality as an umbrella term for people who experience no sexual attraction or various levels different than the other sexualities, queer is an all encompassing umbrella term that lgbt people may use but a person outside the community should not use to refer to a person unless specifically asked to (and its also a label various academic texts use to describe lgbt elements discussed). Also the romantic attaction spectrum was mentioned, as like the sexuality spectrum but not necessarily matching it for any particular person (as in one can be bisexual and demiromantic, homoromantic and asexual, not just say bisexual and alloromantic). Training mentioned gender identity is a spectrum (and nonbinary is an umbrella term, as is genderqueer, for various identites that dont identify as men and women, agender includes people who do not identify with genders - basically gender is diverse as human experience, as with all other points).

Gender Presentation is a spectrum, and they do NOT have to match up (such as a butch woman, a feminine woman who goes by he him, a feminine man who uses he him, a masculine looking man who wears dresses basically in terms of clothing hair pronouns social activities any person can embody any kind of traits along the masculine to feminine spectrum - and may also align them differently as in a country woman may see "girls dont cry!" As a feminine associated expectation while an oldest son might also see "boys dont cry" as a masculine associate expectation to his own life experience, i could go on forever but basically clothes/hobbies do NOT equal gender identity. Pronouns do NOT necessarily equal gender identity). So like. The trainer my nonbinary coworker used examples like them using the pronouns they/he/she and prefering to dress more masculine but still using they/she/he and sometimes really enjoying dresses and still using they/she/he, of how some butch women may prefer he him or she her and theyre women If they simply identify as women, women who wear pants and no makeup and go by she her, men who love makeup and go by he him, some of my coworkers realized that day they prefered they/them (presentation) even if their gender identity was man or woman. Basically the point is Presentation is diverse. There is no one to one perfect list of traits to define what each gender identity "must be." Youre your gender identity because you are that gender, it feels right for you. You express and present yourself how you want, and that doesnt necessarily align with masc for men or fem for woman or androgynous for nonbinary, those are just the basic things strangers might assume. And the person labelling themselves understands more than you. (So in this case like gender nonconforming presentation would be a man who wears glam makeup or woman who never wears makeup, a nonbinary person who leans heavily into clothes that arent associated with androgyny, im not explaining well but i hope u are kinda getting my point).

Anyway my point was Gender Identity (im a guy a girl im nonbinary im agender), is not the same as Gender Presentation (the spectrum of human traits society vaguely interprets as masculine feminine and androgynous and where each individual lands in terms of presenting themselves such as clothing, hair, hobbies, social traits, etc)

Now my question Im really confused about:

Im nonbinary im bi. Im also a few other things and sometimes just saying im queer makes my life easier.

Im a bit confused about what transmasc and transfem as labels mean. Because i can only interpret the words on my current knowledge by guessing the masc and fem in the words Either relate to Gender Identity, or Gender Presentation. The words obviously are for trans people. But i have no idea at all where a trans butch woman falls in this scale, or a trans man who dresses very femininely, or nonbinary people like me who embrace masculinity and femininity a lot (and hey its okay if maybe nonbinary ppl like me just dont fit inside these terms).

Is the masc and fem in those labels referring to "man-spectrum" gender IDENTITY and "woman-spectrum" gender IDENTITY?

So this would mean maybe transfem: trans woman, any nonbinary or genderqueer person who relates slightly more to feeling the gender of woman, this would include trans butch women, and nonbinary people with beards etc who present visually very masculine but identify slightly more with women

Transmasc: trans man, nonbinary or genderqueer person who relates more slightly to the gender of man. This would include feminine trans men who wear dresses and makeup, include nonbinary people who Present visually very feminine but identify slightly more with men

OR is the masc and fem relating to gender PRESENTATION? Which would mean the terms include any trans person of any gender identity, who mainly presents masculine or mainly presents feminine

Transfem: trans women who are feminine presenting, trans men who are feminine presenting, nonbinary people who are more feminine presenting visually (feminine presenting as in clothing, hairstyles, hobbies etc that generally are interpreted by others as feminine)

Transmasc: trans men who are masculine presenting, trans women who are masculine presenting, nonbinary people who are more masculine presenting visually

Can you see where im getting confused? Depending on if masc and fem are refering to gender identity Or presentation, a trans butch woman is transmasc or transfem. So would a trans butch woman be transfem for transitioning to a woman physically, or transmasc for physically presenting masculinely and being trans. Would a nonbinary person who medically transitioned taking testosterone who wears dresses and makeup be a transmasc (for being a trans man) or transfem for being a trans person who presents feminine fashion choices. And im assuming the labels dont include nonbinary people that dont really lean one way or the other but like... if a nonbinary person is included in the terms is it based on the gender they more closely identify to on the spectrum (which for some of us is None, is multiple, is gender identities not within man or woman), or in the terms it is based on their visual presentation (which again! Nonbinary people can be androgynous, can embrace masculinity and femininity, can embrace one more than the other, can present our selves in ways meant to exclude those categorizations).

Tldr: is the masc and fem in transfem and transmasc refering to gender Identity or gender Presentation?

(And i suppose part of my confusion is like. Unfortunately in my social media experience over the last 10 years i saw the rise of "are you afab or amab" which screamed unpleasant unnecessary attempts to drag us back to "but what were u before transition" bullshit, and then recently in the "girl dinner" "boys are academia girls are shopping" and the lgbt community similar memes "lesbians are cottagecore gay men are clubbing" "transmen are so bob the builder transwomen are so my little pony" its giving Gender Expectations. Its giving: old school traditional limiting gender requirements on people if they want to conform to traditionalist norms. Its giving girls are stupid and soft abd emotional and boys are strong and smart and analytical - which isnt true by the way, you can be any traits regardless of gender identity you are. Ive been seeing a lot of "transmascs are army clips" "transfem are delicate jewelry" memes lately and its just like... aside from the fact im already sick of reinforcing gender stereotypes in a broad way. The memes are also confusing me because im like okay so is this implying trans men MUST be masculine, and transwomen MUST be feminine? Cause if its about gender identity, then that sure feels like thats the implication. I dont necessarily think the actual labels imply that necessarily, but i do think the memes of this nature just like ALL the widespread gender-stereotype memes imply some shit about expectations i do not like seeing reinforced as much as it goes around)

[trans-advice]

Hey :)

I need some advice on how to talk to my stepmom. I’m not out to any of my family yet, and I know they’d be supportive, but I’m not sure if I’m ready.

Where I really need the advice is with Harry Potter. My stepmom grew up with the books and my little brother got REALLY into them too. He’s seen a couple of the movies and read all the books and everything, and has some HP merch. I talked to my stepmom on the phone the other day and asked if she was aware of JKR and her transphobia and what she thought of it. She said she was aware but didn’t know specifics or the severity, and that she’d do some more thinking and researching, but that when it comes to things like that it’s hard because my brother is so into it. She’s keeping him from reading any of her opinion pieces, which I appreciate, but I can’t help but be a little upset by their continued support of her work. I know that they would never intentionally upset me, and I do get how it’s a difficult decision (I suspect my brother is autistic, as am I, so I don’t want to take a special interest away from him) but should I try talking to my stepmom about it again? Is it worth coming out to her so she can see how it’s affecting me emotionally on a personal level? Should I just get over it? I can’t help but feel like I’m overreacting. Thanks in advance :)

There are at least a couple things to say, the JKR gets so focused on is because she's a billionaire collecting royalties from Harry Potter via intellectual property. Her royalties then fund promotion of transphobia, antisemitism, etc. Unfortunately, her antisemitism, her pro-slavery, her transphobia, her pro-imperialism, has many different clones, as bell hooks critiqued in December 2003 in chapter 3 of "The Will To Change".

Ever since masses of American boys began, in the wake of the civil rights struggle, sexual liberation, and feminist movement, to demand their right to be psychologically whole and expressed those demands most visibly by refusing to fight in the Vietnam War, mass media as a propaganda tool for imperialist white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy have targeted young males and engaged in heavy-handed brainwashing to reinforce psychological patriarchy. [...]

In the wake of feminist, antiracist, and postcolonial critiques of imperialist white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy, the backlash that aims to reinscribe patriarchy is fierce. While feminism may ignore boys and young males, capitalist patriarchal men do not. It was adult, white, wealthy males in this country who first read and fell in love with the Harry Potter books. Though written by a British female, initally described by the rich white American men who "discovered" her as a working-class single mom, J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter books are clever modern reworkings of the English schoolboy novel. Harry as our modern-day hero is the supersmart, gifted, blessed, white boy genius (a mini patriarch) who "rules" over the equally smart kids, including an occasional girl and an occasional male of color. But these books also glorify war, depictedas killing on behalf of the "good."

The Harry Potter movies glorify the use of violence to maintain control over others. In Harry Potter: The Chamber of Secrets violence when used by the acceptable groups is deemed positive. Sexism and racist thinking in the Harry Potter books are rarely critiqued. Had the author been a ruling-class white male, feminist thinkers might have been more active in challenging the imperialism, racism and sexism of Rowling's books.

Again and again I hear parents, particularly antipatriarchal parents, express concern about the contents of these books while praising them for drawing more boys to reading. Of course American children were bombarded with an advertising blitz telling them that they should read these books. Harry Potter began as national news sanctioned by mass media. Books that do not reinscribe patriarchal masculinity do not get the approval the Harry Potter books have received. And children rarely have an opportunity to know that any books exist which offer an alternative to patriarchal masculinist visions. The phenomenal financial success of Harry Potter means that boys will henceforth have an array of literary clones to choose from.

The reason I mention this is that it means that the goal should also be to prevent merch acquistions from being ones that pay JKR royalties. For example, no streaming & no on-demand. Pirating would be more ethical in this case. I also mention this because there's at least 2 other problems: the media overall still supports white bourgeois patriarchy & your brother is likely getting targeted by the school to prison pipeline, which assimilation basically says on average you either have to step on other demographics (such as students of color, poor students, & or tgnciq students, etc) & break solidarity in order to avoid getting targeted, or you get more policing sicced on you.

To summarize there’s 3 goals regarding your brother:

1. do not give JKR money,

2. make sure he starts to become anti-sexist, anti-racist, etc.

3. protect him from the school-to-prison pipeline.

She said she was aware but didn’t know specifics or the severity, and that she’d do some more thinking and researching, but that when it comes to things like that it’s hard because my brother is so into it. She’s keeping him from reading any of her opinion pieces,

The mind can only handle what the butt can stand. She hasn't said which sources she's going to research. Further just because she changes her mind about JKR doesn't mean she'll be able to teach your brother. For example, parents can't censor everything, especially as kids learn to evade censorship, or teachers, students, adults at school & in other social settings expose them to various works including hate speech. What parents can do is control their own wallets.

For example of people at school & other social settings promoting hate speech, some special needs establishments use neurosexism to promote myths such as “only males can have autism”. I literally had teachers use neurosexist myths on entire mainstream classrooms in order to promote other neuromyths like the visual-audio-kinesthetic (VAK) model of learning models. (Like seriously, these teachers would tailor their lesson planning to accommodate these 3 styles. Neurosexism got used to sometimes segregate people by gender marker.) If you need more insight, I recommend Cordelia Fine’s “Testosterone Rex” & “Delusions of Gender”, along with reading up on the school-to-prison pipeline. Schools tend to attack/thwart student solidarity/activism & they are legally allowed to on the basis of preventing “disruptions to education”. This means that on average faculty will reward students who suck up by attacking other students who are either: disabled students, students of color, tgnciq+ students, and or poor students, because this helps break up solidarity. Seriously, I don’t know how your brother’s school’s faculty acts, but consider that your stepmom also has to deal with them & will need support dealing with them.

So no, I don’t know if you coming out will actually do anything. You family is maybe supportive, and even consent to back you up, but are they able to back it up? I don't know your family's situation. I think y’all need help dealing with sexism, dealing with the school-to-prison pipeline, etc. To raise a child, it takes a village, so to combat the racist capitalist anti-TGNCIQ+ patriarchy also takes a village. Make sure your stepmom & family & brother has the support to help your brother learn that sexism, racism, etc, are bad.

Good Luck, Peace & Love,

Eve

[dreadfulgentleman]

Channeling an Animatronic?

Feb. 21st, 2023

When I first entered the attraction, W disappeared. This is not unusual as Country Bears is his favorite attraction and he usually zips away whenever I enter it. I remembered on my own from a previous energy encounter with this attraction that I needed to either be in the very front or very back to connect properly, per W’s own instructions. I chose the front.

W was right. The middle of the audience was a dead zone. As soon as I sat down, I was surrounded by smaller figures of the performers (Lesser Represenatives?). They were curious that I could see them and wanted to know what I was doing.  I explained that I offer healing energy and that I was there to try and give it to the performers. They disappeared when the show started. 

I was drawn immediately to one specific animatronic that happened to be close to me. It was one that I did not actually know its name at the time (later learned it was Ernest). I would not have assumed that I would be drawn to that one first since it wasn’t one of the more well known characters. But I stuck with it anyway since it was such a strong pull. His turn in the show hadn’t come at this point, but I could feel him behind the curtain. 

Then something strange occurred. Right before his section of singing came, I felt a sensation to the left side of my face. It was fuzzy, distorted, and felt like something was hovering so close to me that I could feel its breath. The sensation was one I’d never personally felt before, but I recognized it as matching the feeling a friend had described as being how they can tell when a spirit wants to channel through. 

Something was definitely trying to channel, however, the energy was not human nor a soul of any kind. The energy had animal ears akin to the animatronic I was trying to work on. It was then I realized the animatronic’s energy itself was somehow blending with my own. 

Just as I was trying to puzzle out how an animatronic could do this, suddenly the energy jumped and started to meld with my face right as their section of the show started. I freaked out, trying to back away and quickly yelled for W to help. Shockingly, he did indeed appear (I did not expect him to) and he indicated not understanding what my problem was. I began to panic, and said something was trying to channel through me and I didn’t understand what it was. I feared I was in trouble. W stepped forward and peeled off the “skin” of the energetic animatronic from me and showed me that the inside was half mechanical and half fur suit. He them reminded me of a previous conversation he and I had had where I was told I needed to trust him in energy situations. I told him he was right and that I did trust him, but in order to trust him he has to tell me what’s going on or I won’t allowed things to just happen to my body.

W showed me a picture of the 8-bit scene with Fredbear and Spring Bonnie. He then pointed at the suit that had just attempted to channel through me and said, “If you’re going to do this kind of work, you need to understand how these work. Don’t use reiki. Just put it on and let it happen.” 

So I let him put the “skin” back on. The energy became a springlocks suit of Fredbear and I was inside of it. I could feel all the pieces snap into place, including the mouth plate in my own mouth. It’s important to note that all of this was happening in a matter of seconds, so by the time the suit was put on me and I had talked with W, the section of the show with the animatronic in question was still going.

Immediately, I began to sing and sway to the music (quietly) that Ernest was singing. The animatronic was following its show program, but it was also doing it through me at the same time (or I was doing it at the same time as it? Uncertain). 

I ended up spending the entire rest of the show channeling the energy of that one specific animatronic. Even after its one section was over, I was singing along to certain sections, reacting with expressions to certain parts, or feelings emotions that Ernest supposedly was. 

When the finale hit, the animatronic energy flew out of me, leaving behind the feeling and visual of the neck-down portion of the entire Fredbear suit still on me. I came back to myself in fright, completely confused over what the hell had just happened, as well as hugely drained over how much energy it had taken to do that. 

W swooped forward with extreme enthusiasm and began to clap, cheer, and kiss my face over and over. He kept repeating, “You did it, you did it!” And was so excited that I could hardly believe it was him. I was bewildered and shook by both the experience and his reaction. I asked him what had just happened and he didn’t explain, just kept congratulating me and sending me an outpouring of feeling “proud”. 

When the show was over, I started to fall over the moment I tried to stand. I limped and began to panic more, wondering if I had seriously screwed something up. When I eventually could stand normally, I managed to quickly text a friend to send me distance reiki. Thankfully they were able to. 

In the meantime, W said I desperately needed water after that and suggested I sit down for a while and just breathe. I did that for about 15 min before I felt I was okay enough to stand again. 

[alphabetsoup-blogposts]

Did I ever want the job? No. Did I ever apply for it? Yes.

So, I asked [𐑡] for suggestions to escape from [my job] and, ideally, the City of London. [S] was still on the [same] premises when I asked, which had set me off—back then I don’t think I felt able to approach [S] directly then (although at one point in 2017, I think, I did tell him that [he had] my ideal job and he said it wasn’t as ideal as I might think). I think I hoped that [𐑡] would say “oh [my friend] knows [S], why don’t we make an approach to him…” But, equally, I was losing confidence, I’d kind of given up thinking I was good enough for the “overseas” bit and I’d sort of decided that I needed to do it in two stages--out of [my job] and then out of the country. So, although I was probably hoping “at best” that [𐑡] would speak to [S] or ask [his friend] to do so (and I remember that quite clearly), I might have presented my request to [𐑡] less specifically, less in the manner of a direct request--or I might have said “could you or [your friend] have a word…”, it’s certainly possible.  Anyway, he said “can I send you details of this new programme to recruit [women] with different kinds of experience and expertise?” and right on the spot I expressed ambivalence.

...

So, [𐑡] sent me the application forms at [my address] and I filled them out while [the Boy] and I were on holiday in Guernsey that year. I can’t begin to describe how heavy, slow and unwilling I felt about it all.  I sent them to [him] to ask if he had feedback and he sent them back saying they weren’t really good enough and would “benefit from as much time as you can spend on them, Jo” (more stuff like .—.-not so much the feedback as the fact of the need to give a wholesale performance review that makes you feel bad about yourself before you even begin).  As I plugged away at the forms, I became more and more depressed just thinking that being a judge would be a kind of living death.  I was also beginning to worry very seriously that it would bring me into greater proximity to [𐑡] and [his friend].  It may have been around this time or a bit later that i said to [my neighbour] that I’d become kind of paralysed about applying for any jobs--even a dream job [overseas]—.-because I was worried that if I did any kind of work in the small incestuous world of financial markets law, [he] and [his friend] would just “pop up in a corridor” and try and tell me how to do my job.  I was also becoming aware that I hadn’t really managed to find referees that weren’t influenced by [him] and [his friend]. My old CV still had [my Boss] and [him] on it.  I told [him], too, that I wanted to work overseas and was occasionally depressed. The trouble is I had the sense that he was talking to [my Boss] about me on the basis of his mistaken assumption that we were somehow “special friends”.  I was using “depression” as a way of telling people that the external stimuli in my life were really out of kilter and I needed a change in order to manage my mental health and prevent it deteriorating --I still do--but I wonder if [he] was telling someone like [my Boss] that what I really needed was more protective avuncular watching by [him] to safeguard my mental health.  That’s how horror films work, right?  The victims’ fears and complaints are just used to bring her into closer proximity with the thing she fears.  I don’t know. That could just be the fact that once you get to a certain point of fearing someone, you become irrational about it.

At some point between the conversation at Cafe ,,, and the Dinner at the ..., I became convinced that [he] and [his friend] were managing everything, that they were invested in having people beholden to them and/or negatively incentivised by them (carrot and stick): that [he] and [his friend] might not have a view on the definitional boundary of Spot FX but if anything key was being decided, like [geopolitical engagement], they would pop up and find a way to say how you should do it. Perhaps that was neurosis, I don’t know, it’s how I felt.

I submitted the forms and told [him] I’d done that and he invited me for coffee at Natural Kitchen. I’d got to the point where I believed this to be the only option on offer and I’d realised I still didn’t want to do it.  I explained it to [him] in terms of “it’s just not me--I haven’t enjoyed being a barrister, this won’t make it better, I don’t find myself in sympathy with judges most of the time and one of the things about [where I work now] is that I say that with the benefit of quite a great deal of knowledge”.  I mean, just on a basic calculation whatever people think they know about me--and [some] used to say “you’d make a great judge”--is wrong. I’m irreverent, restless, impatient, easily irritated by waffle or BS, put off by pomp and circumstance, and motivated exclusively by [the chance to explore] the changing the big picture, the trillions, the political corruption and “wrongness” of the world, [to see administrations] creating new things, new rules, new regimes out of thin air.  None of that is any part of judging. And anyway I don’t even need to use my pre-frontal cortex and the power of reasoning to know that being a judge would be a living death--that’s a base amygdala kinda thing.  I said it to [E], for example, for years before that.  He wanted to become a judge, it was a kind of life dream despite all his success as a [lawyer], we had several difficult conversations when I had to explain that I didn’t see the world that way, wouldn’t be interested in following in his footsteps, didn’t want a closer association like he did with judges (including [𐑡])--back in the day [E] seemed to need my approval or admiration, or at least to want it quite badly. Anyway, as I’ve said, [𐑡] was very angry but in that suppressed way he has.  One thing he said during that conversation was that he’d been appointed as a kind of mentor.  He didn’t actually say, I think, that he was assigned to me--because that would be odd, given his insistence on “friendship”--but at the same time he strongly implied it.  And perhaps he didn’t even say that he’d been appointed, maybe he just said something like “I’ve invited you to coffee because [someone influential] has been concerned to invite qualified [people] to act as mentors to this programme” or something.  I had the sense of his hedging what he was saying and I was confused... In contrast at some point--it may have been then or on the phone later—I recollect that he dropped in that this was really an application for a taster opportunity. I’m trying to think about why I was confused about that, having filled out the forms. Looking back I still don’t know (on that sole point) exactly who said what, what the forms said or what I understood.  I think possibly that [he] sort of sold this as a possible alternative route...  I did understand most of that from the beginning but there was nonetheless a kind of shift--from the idea that it was an application for the first stage of a long and highly competitive process to the idea that it was an application for a taster session to see if you might want to embark on a long process.  Anyway, another reason (if I needed one) for my ambivalence was indeed this idea that all I was doing was embarking on some kind of long evaluative process (at best) and I really felt not only that I didn’t want to make it over the finish line at all but also that it was a distraction from the urgency of my needing to escape.  In other words, even had I wanted to be a judge, at that stage I would have preferred an instant low key job outside the City of London and legal environs rather than a more prestigious but deferred job within it.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

is it possible if i just go to the hospital and get pills for anxiety without getting diagnosed because damn it have ruined almost everything i tried to achieve. lmao jk. No i am not 😭😭

I walked into the room to preresent my idea and the topic is dicussing 'Some people said that spoken communication is more powerful than written communication. To what extend do you argee and disagree' Not a great start with shaky voice, but i was planning to say things like,

'I think spoken communication will give you more power than the other way. Well spoken communication will make people view yourself as a confident, modest, and reliable person and since ppl tends to belive in those who have these characteristics. And then you will have more control over the situation and more powerful obviously. And before i say this, i just want to say that this historical figure was not and will never be a great person in general. But there is one thing i agree with him and that was about hitler saying something along the line 'if you repeat a lie long enough, it will eventually become true' and he had proved this point by brainwashing many people into following his sinister's footsteps and well the rest is history. However when it come to law or professional work, i belive we can not use our tongue only. For instance, the government can't change the law just by mouth and words. There have to be a statement for the civilans and everything has to be public. Or it could be a contract between two bussiness partners in order to prove its exsistence if a bad situation happened. (I mistook what written communication is lol)'

I started off by fixing my voice and tried to stay calm you know. Then my brain suddenly chose to focus on the judge's face, i saw the look of disappointment and bored expression lmao, probably imaging it. Then i stuttered a little bit but since i couldn't calm myself down, i couldn't voice my idea like what i have said above, it came out pretty bad and weird, i actually mentioned Hitler because i knew they would ask about that part and high chances that the question would be something i have predicted.

The funny part is that when i was talking about written communication, i realized that part might have been wrong and i mistook it for another thing. Then i started to panic and zoning out by looking at the window, then a song i have listened on daily at this time started playing in my head and i couldn't finish my speech as the time ran out. My score would have been higher if i could answer the question, and they really ask about the hitler part like i have thought but i couldn't make out what she was saying, it just like gibberish or another language. But it turned out that others also couldn't hear what she said since they said she has this weird accent. Maybe it just me lmao.

Soooooo yeah. I hate my life know 👌

-Iv :)

beta blockers aren't really specifically for anxiety but they're sometimes prescribed by GPs if you go to them and tell them you have an important test/interview/ whatever coming up because they're really good at quick control of anxiety. i don't know what your country is and therefore what drugs are and aren't allowed to be purchased without a prescription (in my country you can buy almost anything without a doctor's prescription lmao) but generally you'll need a GP to prescribe them to you but you don't need to be diagnosed as having anxiety to get them

aw man i can almost feel what you're describing. public speaking really is the worst. but maybe you didn't do as bad as you think you did?

it can feel really shitty to mess up something you've been working on for a year, but you obviously know what you're talking about, you just need to control your anxiety

[bananaet]

Karaoke somewhere jesus and john wayne

KARAOKE SOMEWHERE JESUS AND JOHN WAYNE FREE

I value the time and interest you spend on my expressions, and I read every comment. I also love to write and have been expressing in this way for a number of years in private poems, stories and journals that have been shared with treasured friends or publicly. I have been creating since childhood and sharing my giftings for hire since 1989. I am a visual artist who works in a variety of mediums - producing fine art, illustration and design commissions/products for clients.

KARAOKE SOMEWHERE JESUS AND JOHN WAYNE FREE

Please Feel Free To Express Your Thoughts Below When the author made this statement, I immediately thought of one of my favorite Jim Croce songs, below. And I think that can go both ways and is a complicated conversation. Lil Wayne reached out to Robert Hoobler, the cop Wayne nicknamed 'Uncle Bob,' and said that he would support him financially throughout his life. No further spoiler alert as the podcast/interview says it all, other than there was a brief mention of what might happen when one uses the Bible to justify/stand on their views (paraphrased). As one who slowly migrated out of traditional evangelicalism and has encountered at times, conflict with people I consider dear to me going far back, these difficult topics about the disparity and underlying belief systems that intermingle with a tribal version of Christianity, have troubled me and I’ve given thought to over the years. Other responses explain the book content, but specifically, according to an interview I listened to, the title is a reference from this song. Themes of American Nationalism – the unholy marriage of Bible and flag – have been on my mind for awhile. Beka The title borrows from lyrics describing tensions between love and violence explored in the country song, 'Somewhere Between Jesus and John Wayne' by Gaither Vocal Band. I know I shared this book and referenced it on social media a few times in January – and perhaps it was as far back as last fall, actually. I think it is sometimes helpful to listen to interviews with book authors to help decide if we want to read/listen in full. Last August 2020 I had added a piece here called The En thusiastic Election of the Embodiment of All Seven Deadly Sins which was my expressed view at that time and before surrounding this topic. The title/topic caught my eye as I have listened to this audiobook back around January 2021. ​Taking a brief moment to link a good podcast by Lee Camp I just listened to featuring a talk with Kristin Du Mez, author of Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation.

[lazyliars]

/rp

Before I get into it, I want to state that is EXPLICITLY an analysis of the Characters, and is not intended to touch on how the cc’s played them in a meta sense unless specifically stated otherwise.

Also, this is technically a part two to my other post, which took a more in depth look at Techno and Phil’s reactions to Tommy’s death. It’s not necessary when reading this post, but I don’t address their reactions here.

So. The question must be asked.

Are we [the Syndicate] the baddies?

Yes.

The End.

 Why are the Syndicate the baddies?

They got damn logo is a wither skull.

The End.

That's not how this works.

Yeah, yeah. You’re right.

The Syndicate's goals as an organization are not inherently bad. They seem to have good intentions behind them, and the focus on the freedom of it's individual group members is important to remember when talking about it; It is not a government. There is no hierarchical power system. No one is forced to do anything against their will, or surrender any of their rights or power to remain a member. It is not a government.

I also want to address Techno and Phil backing Ranboo into a corner – I see them getting a lot of flack for this, but I personally do not think it is relevant to the greater discussion, or necessarily representative of any contradictions within the organization. It was clearly played for laughs, and after they back off they clarify to Ranboo that they won't force him. Then later when Phil and Ranboo are alone, Ranboo feels safe enough to express that he felt like he was pressured into it, and Phil assures him he is allowed to leave whenever he wants; He is not being forced to do anything, and he is not being coerced or blackmailed.

None of the Syndicate members have done any wrongs against each other in the context of the Syndicate, OR gone against any of the Syndicate's core principles.

That, said, holy shit are they the baddies.

Listen, there's trying to telegraph a meaning or message to the audience and then there's having your logo be wither skulls on blackstone. That is straight out of the skit I keep referencing, seriously.

Okay, but, they laughed at it! It was played as a joke, just like the Ranboo thing!

The Ranboo thing was improv, the Syndicate's headquarters were planned – the artistic choices that they made reflect on what role they want the build and the organization inhabiting it to play in the future storylines.

Wither Skulls kind of have some CONNOTATIONS. Techno is an English major, I don't think he chose the most threatening imagery possible on accident, and then joked about the way people would interpret it just to stir the pot. This reads as hugely intentional.

And beyond that, the jokes they make during this part aren't “haha yeah, we look bad but we're actually good!” they're “you can tell by looking at these that we're the good guys wink wink, this is good guy stuff right here :)” It is a joke about how they are definitely not the good guys. This isn't even a case of unreliable narrators, this is one step down from flat out saying the meta intent.

But okay, I hear you, I'm talking about things that haven't happened yet. The Syndicate hasn't used any Withers, they could be an aesthetic choice.  Lets look at what they do in practice.

So, they barge into private property, assess Snowchester's right to continue existing based entirely on their own ideals of what Freedom is, and then only once Tubbo assures them that they have no standing leader do they grant the place their approval to, and I gotta stress this part, continue existing.

 In my Quackity meta, I already talked about how Government in the context of a M1necraft RP cannot be compared to IRL Governments on a one-to-one scale. They don't serve the same purposes or have the same type of power. What I didn't talk about was Agency in the context of m1necraft governments.

In an irl government, if you are born into one, you can't really leave without committing a massive overhaul on your life, which can be expensive and difficult, if not impossible for many people. Even in a “benevolent” government, the simple physicality of where you were born can prevent you from leaving it easily.

The same hurdles do not exist in the Dream SMP. People who join M1necraft governments choose to. They want to, either at the beginning when they form one, or later on when they join up. So far, no Government has just Sprung Up and forced the current residents of an area to become dependent on them, except maybe the Eggpire, who's status as a government is... shakey.

And even when people want to leave or separate from the government, they have been historically able to do so without any trouble or any effort from said governments to stop them. Jack Manifold emancipated from Manberg. Fundy and Quackity both left to start new nations. In all cases they were allowed to do so without any attempts on the part of the governments to stop them, either through force, or institutions preventing them from doing so.

The most anyone has lost when leaving a government is their house, which is still usually their property anyway, and is something that is easily rebuilt elsewhere and is inconvenient to move anyway.

The only exceptions to this might be Schlatt exiling Wilbur and Tommy - but even then, they weren’t trying to leave, they were trying to get back in, and of course the original L’manberg revolution, where Dream attempted to force L’manberg back into the Dream SMP, which wasn’t even a government at that point in time.

I don’t consider Phil’s house arrest an example of a government forcing someone to stay a citizen - that was treated less as a matter of a citizen wanting to leave the country and more as a threat to national security. Still pretty fucked up, but it’s a different issue.

What I'm saying is, If Tubbo wants to create a government out in the middle of nowhere, threatening no one, forcing no one to join either through force or desperation, and allowing people to join willingly because they want to, then he should be allowed to do that.

The Irony of the Syndicate, a group of people consisting of some of the richest, strongest people on the server, going around and enforcing 'Freedom' that entails no one person having more power than any other, is absurd. 

It shows an extreme lack of self-awareness and/or self-righteousness, as they seem to think that they deserve to be the ones who decide what constitutes a government.

Snowchester is a small independent nation - they shouldn’t have to live in fear of being obliterated if they don’t walk on eggshells to meet an arbitrary standard decided by people who’s only authority on the matter COMES FROM THEIR PERSONAL POWER. No one elected them! No one chose them! They were not “approved” by the server at large to enact this kind of law.

The Syndicate are not a government, but they are an unsupervised power structure exerting their ideals on a land that did not ask for them. Like, These people have invented an actual Authoritarian-Anarchist faction. How the hell did they manage this?????

Back on topic.

Tubbo shows them the crater left by his nukes. The reaction is oddly positive – the nukes are fine by the morals of the Syndicate, apparently. I'd argue that they come across as more impressed than anything else; they seem to respect Tubbo for having gotten ahold of “real” power.

(There's a few good memes out there about “We can excuse nuclear weaponry, but we draw the line at Government!”)

So. By the Syndicate's standards: A single person or group of acceptably equal persons with weapons of mass-destruction are only worth “keeping an eye on” because they might provoke other people.

Like, I consider Project Dreamcatcher to be one of, if not the most morally ambiguous thing Tubbo has ever done, largely because it was all on his own initiative. He holds some culpability for The Butcher Army and Phil's house arrest, but they weren't his ideas and he was mostly following Quackity at that point.

And Phil tells Tubbo, IMMEDIATELY AFTER SEEING THE NUCLEAR CRATER:

“Looks like you've reformed a little bit Tubbo, I'm proud.”

And it's fine. Crimes against nature? Fine. A sign of healing in fact!! Tubbo is having a sweeeelll time and he definitely didn't make these nukes specifically in fear of being attacked by these exact people! Tubbo is doing great. Tubbo is doing fine. Tubbo. is. FINE.

Anyway.

I don't think this presentation of the Syndicate was an accident. Looking at the greater lore of SMP right now, after the Egg is done, their list of enemies is slim, and considering that they seem solely invested in taking down governments, that leaves maybe Snowchester, Kinoko Kingdom, and Eret and the greater Dream SMP.

Snowchester has not been shown to be corrupt, evil, or have any intent to go down that route. The most ambiguous thing they've done is, again, is the nukes. Other than that, it's pretty much your average cottagecore snow village.

Kinoko is presented in an even more morally 'good' light, Karl having founded it specifically for his Time-travel library purposes, which are currently being treated by the narrative as a selfless act, if not downright heroic.

Eret is also a fairly 'good' aligned character atm. He's been on that redemption grind since the og betrayal, and doesn't seem keen on backtracking. He's actively tried to leverage his position as king to make things better, and hasn't been quiet about that. He was also 'validated' by Tommy*, a character who has been described both by his allies and enemies as “the hero,” so take that as you will.

What I'm getting at is, all of the current potential enemies for the Syndicate aside from the Egg, are currently being cast as 'good,' and if they were to be attacked, they would undoubtedly have the moral high-ground, unless something drastically changed.

The only potential shakeups I can think of is are a Dream escape and/or a Wilbur revival, both of which could draw the Syndicate's attention and ire, depending on how things go. That said, it's just as likely that either or both of them would join the Syndicate – Dream still has that favor, and Phil and Techno both seemed to think Wilbur would've agreed with their blowing up L'manberg.

Both of those characters are currently **villains – the fact that they're both prime candidates for the Syndicate is a huge indication of the direction it's going to go as the plot moves forward.

((*I know some people are gonna come at me for painting Tommy as the “deciding factor” of what is morally good, so lemme just stop you there. I'm not talking about Tommy somehow having the 'right' to decide who is and isn't good, and definitely not the right to decide who should and shouldn't be king. I'm saying that Tommy, a character who the narrative treats as, if not a good person, then a person who is trying to be good, was in support of Eret, a character who has also been trying to be good.

Eret doesn't gain the moral highground because Tommy said so, he gets it because a character who the narrative treats as trying to do better, acknowledged Eret's earnest attempts at doing the same.

**I'm referring to Wilbur here as a villain because Tommy seemed convinced he would be if he were to be brought back. There is always the possibility that he's wrong.))

So, to summarize this: I read the Syndicate as being intentionally positioned as future antagonists, if not outright villains of a future arc. They are NOT a Government but their goals are contradictory with their means, and it is important to keep in mind that they plan to enforce their own brand of freedom on people who did not grant them either the authority or permission to do so.

So, uh. Can you tell I loved these streams? They were seriously so good. I kept switching between Ranboo and Techno's POV's trying to keep up with everything. I still have to watch Niki's!

All in all, I'm super, super excited for whats coming next, egg stuff, Syndicate stuff, Tommy stuff, all of it.

[1kook]

card swiped (3)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love.  GENRE romance, smut, teensy angst WARNINGS eventual smut, mentions of sex, virginity plays a huge role OTHER college crushes, childhood friends to lovers, besties to lovers, volleyball player!jk, student council pres!oc, seokjin is 32... and a a coach lol<3 RATING m (18+) WC 1.5k

NOTES (!) seokjin being a hot 32 year old <3 jk gets progressively more dumb as it goes, prayer circle <3 lmk what u think !

[ masterlist ]

The truth is, the reason Jungkook doesn’t lie that much is because he’s terrible at it. 

His mother had found out soon enough who put that dent on the car after a slip-up at the dinner table. His high school coach had learned he had purposely skipped out on practice after an accidental snapchat and jealous teammate had snitched. And, well. Fifteen minutes after the end of practice finds him sitting outside the gymnasium, a grimace on his face as he considers running back to your room and confessing to all his lies. Admitting he’s still a virgin— which was practically of no use to you —and maybe even revealing his own recently uncovered feelings was the easy way out. 

Thankfully, Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is there to knock some sense into him. The hard plastic of the clipboard they use to outline their attacks smacks him hard over the head, making Jungkook’s bones rattle from his skull down to his toes as he steps up behind him. He whirls around to glare at the perpetrator, only to come face to face with the aforementioned assistant coach. “Go home,” Seokjin says, twirling the gym keys in one hand. “I’m trying to lock up.”

“What’s stopping you,” Jungkook huffs, tucking his knees to his chest, ignoring the awfully rude manner in which Seokjin nudges him away, foot against his back as if he’s just an annoying pile of cardboard boxes in his way.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Seokjin asks casually, doesn’t sit next to Jungkook on the steps because he’s always been a little too posh. According to Taehyung, Kim Seokjin graduated from some elite university in another country with near immaculate all-around player statistics before Jungkook even knew what a volleyball was. His success and fame in the world of collegiate volleyball is why he never wears the standard-issued slippers around the court, always some high-end, luxury brand. One glance slightly to his left has Jungkook meeting the black stripe of the frequently sought after Givenchy sneakers head on. 

He scoffs, a sound that Seokjin doesn’t approve of if the karate chop he lands on the back of his neck is anything to go by. “Ow,” Jungkook flinches, pushing him away with an irritated sigh before eventually slumping over his knees again because it’s the exact same thing you do to him sometimes. Study nights— dates, his brain supplies now —where he begins gazing off into space are filled with numerous karate chops to the neck in an effort to get him to focus on his homework. “Come on, Jungkookie,” you always tease, playful smile, lithe fingers toying with the corners of the pages in your book in a way that was almost sensual. But then he does a double-take because he’s aware of the rose-tinted lens he’s unknowingly slapped over it, something he would have maybe not noticed pre-realization of his feelings. And even he is shocked by the absolute seductiveness his brain inserts into an otherwise innocent memory. He’s pretty sure you haven’t called him Jungkookie in years— was his brain trying to hint at something here?

Jungkook groans, knocking his head against his knees as a form of self-punishment for his lecherous thoughts concerning his best friend. 

But his show of emotions must move Assistant Coach Kim because, after a moment of trying to concuss himself against his own knee, there’s a hand placed on his shoulder that makes Jungkook pause. He doesn’t even bother turning around, just throws his head back to look at Seokjin upside down. He’s got a double chin from this angle. “It’s a girl, isn’t it,” his coach sighs, looking at Jungkook with what can only be described as an unimpressed expression. 

“No,” Jungkook defends even though it’s true. “Can’t I just be sad for oth—“

“I heard Jimin call you a simp on the way out,” Seokjin says rather bluntly. And then he surprises Jungkook a second time as he throws aside his posh status to sit on the dirty concrete steps beside him with a sigh. “What did you do?” 

See, Jungkook could lie here and prance off to deal with his own problems. Leaving Seokjin and everyone else in the dark concerning his personal life was, honestly speaking, the smartest thing to do. He didn’t mind his volleyball teammates and friends (in this case, his coach), but he also wasn’t too fond of being relentlessly teased throughout the entire five or more hours they spent together almost every day of the week. 

But also… 

If what Taehyung had said is true— that being, if Kim Seokjin is the illustrious bachelor who charmed his way into multiple foreign panties all whilst demolishing the spirits of liberos and defensive specialists in another country —then Jungkook needed to capitalize off his presence immediately. 

So he lays his cards out flat. “I… might’ve told my best friend I’d take her virginity,” he blurts out, turning to face Seokjin. For the most part, the older man doesn’t look too surprised. If anything, mildly amused. Jungkook quickly adds, “while also being a virgin.” 

“You’re a what,” Seokjin exclaims, chokes on his own saliva in an admittedly not Casanova, bachelor-esque fashion that ends with him coughing into his elbow and Jungkook hurriedly patting his back. “You?” Seokjin repeats once he’s composed himself. “Are a— don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Jungkook’s cheeks warm. “No, Coach. I do not have a girlfriend,” he emphasizes, because who knew sharing the details of his (lack of) sex life would be this embarrassing? 

Seokjin frowns. “What about that girl?” he asks, and Jungkook raises his brows. “You know the one. Carries around stacks of papers to sign, goes to all the games. The one who pats you on head all the time.” And he’s talking about you, of course he is, but the insinuation that other people might, maybe, possibly, perceive you as his girlfriend makes Jungkook malfunction. 

“She’s— That’s—“ he sighs, dropping his head down until his chin touches his chest, brushed against the lucky necklace you’d given him two years ago during their first trip to Nationals. “That’s… my best friend.” 

Beside him, Seokjin says, “the one you’re gonna fuck?” 

Jungkook lets out a long exhale. “Yes. The one I’m going to fuck.” And it’s so blunt and crude, not that it’s surprising coming from him, but it’s surprising because he’s talking about you. Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love. 

The thought must show on his face because Seokjin snorts. “Well, good luck.” 

And then he stands up and begins walking down the sidewalk and Jungkook can’t spring up fast enough. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his forearm. He feels like a dorky character in those dramas you like so much, the ones you force him into watching every time he comes over. Like he’s some disgraced son looking for his father’s approval. Except Assistant Coach Kim is neither his father nor someone he really wants approval from anyway. 

What he does want is pointers. From an experienced pro, if you will. 

Jungkook has to swallow down all his pride as a man to ask his next question. “H- How do I—“

Seokjin beats to it him with a flick to the forehead. “I’m your volleyball coach, kid,” he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not your sex coach.” It’s a sensible rejection, one that Jungkook expected, but still. He deflates, let’s the weight of the world and his heavy gym bag nearly knock him onto the ground. 

But Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is kinder than he lets on and, after one annoyed sigh, let’s him in on the secret Jungkook has been chasing for all his life. (Or, well, for the past few hours since he first propositioned you.)

“The key to impressing your partner is to always act like you know what you’re doing,” he tells him, arms crossed over his shoulders. It’s night now, the campus shrouded in darkness. But Jungkook swears a heavenly light shines down on Kim Seokjin just then, a halo appearing over his head when he jabs a finger against Jungkook’s chest. “Confidence is sexy.” 

“Confidence is sexy,” Jungkook repeats, feels like a kid who’s just met his favorite wrestler after years of being an avid fan, watching every match, memorizing every finishing move, collecting every figurine— it’s a little too specific but it makes sense in Jungkook’s case. You would understand this analogy perfectly, having grown alongside him during his iconic wrestling phase (before volleyball). You had indulged him in his interest, had let him practice those Do Not Try at Home moves on you again and again, even when you knew it ended with you bruised and crying, the twin pigtails you used to rock as a kid uneven and messy. But as your best friend, you had let him twist your arm and pin you to the count of three, because that’s what a good best friend did. 

And as your best friend, Jungkook was gearing himself up to completely, thoroughly rock your virgin world. Because that’s what a good best friend did.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[ackerfics]

the parent trap — levi ackerman (i)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: none, just two adorable little boys being idiots

— summary: two boys discovered that they are connected in more ways than they expected.

— word count: 6k (oops i regret nothing)

— author’s notes: i watched the parent trap recently and i had to do this. everything in this multi-part fic will be based on the parent trap and most of the dialogue can be found in the movie. this chapter doesn’t contain that much levi and the reader (they’re mentioned tho) but it contains bickering between two kids. happy reading !!

part two

Bright gray eyes stared out the window, onyx hair being ruffled by the wind, as the bus’ engine finally stopped at its destination with dozens of boys excitedly finding friends under the cooling canopy of trees of Camp Eldia for Boys. It was a good kind of chaotic, a boy of eleven thought even though he wasn’t used to so many people in one place at the same time (his dad hated it), as he kept his eyes peeled for an orange duffel bag. It was a bright shade and he couldn’t afford to lose it in this horde — he didn’t want to damage it, knowing that his dad specifically bought it for this summer getaway. A shoulder bumped into him, causing the young boy to lose his footing, but not before directing an icy glare at the person, who scurried away after getting a glimpse of his face. Huffing under his breath, he steadied himself while patting his shorts and denim jacket, catching a familiar orange in the pile of duffel bags as he rose his head. 

“There you are,” he whispered under his breath with a smile pulling on his lips, his feet carrying him to the pile. The moment he caught hold of the straps of the bag, a scowl replaced his smile, exclaiming, “For fuck’s sake!” as the camp’s staff dumped a lot of bags on top of his. Noticing the incredulous stare given to him by the green-eyed adult, the boy directed his irritated glare from the pile to him. “Do you need something? Or are you going to dump more bags in this pile?”

The green-eyed man rose his hands as if surrendering. “Chill, little dude, you can always get it out.”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Okay, rude,” the staff murmured, walking away from the struggling kid. “Kids these days, having undercuts and piercings at a young age.”

The black-haired boy continued pulling on his duffel, occasionally cursing in various volumes. He didn’t realize someone timidly coming up beside him, looking between him and the orange bag. Right when he was about to call for help from the adults, the silver-eyed boy turned around, only to jump with his back on the bags at the sight of a boy his age looking at him curiously. Damn it, his lessons in social interaction with his nanny weren’t getting to him at the moment. “Hi,” he muttered, wary of the boy still staring at him with a tilted head. “Can I help you?”

“I think you’re the one who will be needing help,” the boy replied, nodding at the bags. “You know, with that.” A stretch of silence rang through while two pairs of eyes continued staring at each other, one narrowed while the other kind, the owner of the latter now walking to the pile of bags. “Here, let me help.” The boy effortlessly pulled on the strap of the orange duffel, the bag now free from the confines of the pile. The silver-eyed boy looked at the other person with wide eyes. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the same age as him, maybe he was a little older. The boy was taller than him by inches and it made him feel small. “First time in camp? I can tell since you weren’t fast enough in getting your bag from the staff.” The boy nodded at the adults flitting through the throng of pubescent boys. “My name’s Michael. What’s yours?”

As the black-haired boy opened his mouth to give it to his newly found friend (surprise for his dad because he made a friend hours after telling him he will have trouble getting one with his snappy attitude), the brown-haired, green-eyed man from earlier shouted, “Altair Ackerman!”

He rose his hand, “Right here!”

“You’re in the Ehrmich cabin!”

Altair nodded, turning back to Michael, who was grinning. “We’re in the same cabin.”

“Awesome.”

It wasn’t meant to be sarcastic but given the fact that he grew up with an always annoyed man as his father (though his dad was never seen with a scowl when he was around), Altair picked up some of the older man’s habits. The silver-eyed boy took in a deep breath and roamed his eyes around the camp, the countryside of his hometown reminiscent inside his mind, clogging his chest with nostalgia out of nowhere. He was starting to miss the hectares of small tea trees surrounding their estate that seemed to clear the air whenever he took his morning walks, even their quaint little tea shop boring their last name in the middle of their town (well, it was quaint but their numbers are increasing around their state, which is insane). After eight weeks of being with people he barely even knew, Altair was in for a wild ride. He would much rather race through their estate on his horse, Nox, than participate in friendship rituals or whatever camps do during the summer (don’t forget the camp sing-alongs that his father warned him about, giving him second thoughts at the last minute).

Every hour of his flight to Maine was spent thinking about why his father decided to ship him off to the other end of the country. For what? Altair will never know.

A honk interrupted Altair from his thoughts, eyeing the sleek black car entering the camp’s premises with furrowed brows. He can hear Michael express his awe beside him. Who in their right mind would choose to ride a borderline limousine inside a summer camp?

“Dang, the person in that must have a lot of money,” Michael stated.

Altair only narrowed his eyes in slight scrutiny. His small family also has a lot of money but he never once suggested to his dad that he will be arriving in camp with his horse. Plus, poor Nox wouldn’t want to be cooped up inside a ship just for that. “Maybe,” he muttered in reply to his friend. “Hey, do you play poker? My dad gave me cards for this trip.”

“I don’t know how to play poker but you can always show me the ropes.”

“Great.”

As the two boys went inside their cabin and greeting some of their roommates, the black car opened, along with a lean man surveying the camp with a watchful eye. Most of the children had their eyes curiously stuck on the vehicle and the man with light brown hair had to hold in his smug smile at their dashing entrance. Ducking down to address the person inside the car, he opted for smiling encouragingly at the onyx-haired boy — he doesn’t want to bite down his tongue in front of young children because that would be embarrassing. Feet enclosed in dress shoes stepped outside of the black car, beholding the sight of an eleven-year-old boy clad in a gray suit jacket and matching short pants. His hair fell right past his ears and touching the nape of his neck in tidy wavy locks, his hand clutching his stationery box.

The man behind the boy smiled before saying, “Here we are — Camp Eldia for Boys.” The man followed the boy, who was walking towards the side of the car with wide, admiring eyes. “We traveled all the way from London for this.”

The boy of silver eyes chuckled, the sound twinkling in the air. “It’s rather picturesque,” he glanced at the man with a huge grin, “don’t you think?”

The light-brown-haired man swatted a mosquito hovering close to his face, turning to the child with a sigh. “Not exactly the term I would use in describing this,” he paused, looking around the vicinity with narrowed eyes, “place.” He didn’t want to be rude now that he saw how the young boy stared at the cabins with bright eyes. He took the box from the boy’s hand, the latter giggling at his friend’s unamused face, and took out a small notebook and a pen from the inner pockets of his suit. Opening it to a checklist, he started, “Now, let us review your mother’s list.” At the sound of the young boy humming lightheartedly, he continued with a small smile, “Vitamins?”

The boy grinned. “Check.”

“Minerals?”

“Check.”

“List of daily fruits and vegetables?”

“Check. Check.”

The man stopped, staring at the onyx-haired boy with a raised eyebrow.

The young kid laughed. “Check for the fruits and another check for the vegetables. Go on.”

With a satisfied smile, the man continued listing items from the list — sunblock, lip balm, insect repellant, and the stamps that the boy will be using for the weekly letters. Then, he also gave reminders for the photographs if ever the kid misses his family members. All of this was answered with a huge smile, claiming the young boy had all of those in check, adding a, “You don’t need to worry. I got everything handled and packed safely in my luggage.”

“Oh, and before I forget, here’s a little something from Hange.” The older man presented something from his suit with a smirk. “Spanking new deck of cards. Maybe you’ll actually find someone on this continent who can whip your tush at poker.”

“I doubt it,” came the reply. The black-haired boy swayed on the balls of his feet, an endearing smile plastered on his face. “Thanks for bringing me here, Oluo.”

Oluo Bozado, the butler of the esteemed [Last Name] family was a dear person to the little boy and the extended members of the household, seeing as he witnessed how the mistress of the household took care of the young boy all by herself until he was a bright child ready for all sorts of adventures. Looking at the child of bright stormy eyes and hair as dark as midnight, the brown-haired man felt his lips tremble with the thought that his young master was starting to experience what it was like away from family. It was only a week before that the boy’s mother decided to present more opportunities for her son while she was away for a business trip in Greece. 

It was a great decision to bring along the child but it was more suited for him to mingle with people his age, knowing that he was homeschooled all his life. Now, Oluo was trying hard not to bawl his eyes out in the middle of this blasted summer camp so instead, he spread his arms for the little boy to give him a goodbye. Sniffing occasionally, Oluo muttered with conviction, “Now, you remember, if you ever change your mind and want me to come here and collect you at the end of the camp — we’re all only one phone call away.”

Chuckling at the antics of the butler, the dark-haired boy pulled away and patted the man’s back. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. You, Hange, and Mum shouldn’t worry too much. Though, Hange wouldn’t worry that much since they’re responsible for this suggestion. Nevertheless, I’m a big boy now. See you in eight weeks, Oluo, old pal.”

Oluo huffed lightheartedly. “I’m not that old, you know. It’s just the face. Keep safe, Caelum.”

Caelum grinned knowingly. The two then started doing their signature pact of friendship, which the child orchestrated the moment he started to be aware of his surroundings. Their hands clapped against each other, bumping their hips along an imaginary beat, sliding past one another, and ending the small show with a firm handshake and a smile on their faces. Oluo smiled softly and affectionately ruffled Caelum’s hair, making the wavy curls more pronounced. “Have fun, little prince.”

“I will.”

-

One week in camp and everything was going the way Caelum expected it to be. He made friends with a few campers, who were all chattering about how cool he was while entering the camp a while back, saying that he looked like a noble. All of their remarks will always be brushed off by the dark-haired boy. There was partial truth in what they were saying, his mother’s family solely responsible for why he acted like the way he is — regal. For a shorter explanation, Caelum was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Plus, he was spoiled a lot by his Mum’s best friend, Hange, who lived with them for he could remember.

(“Do you want to know why I live here, little bean? Except for being a freeloader—ow, I’m just having a laugh, [Name]! If you’ll excuse that interruption, I live here because this has been my home. Your Mum’s family accepted me after I came out to my parents. Aaaand, I get to see your cute face every day!”)

There were so many things that he loved while being on this little escape. One, this place was full of sunshine and laughter compared to his home back in London, not that he hated the gloomy thunderstorms and the sounds of the city back home, but it was nice to finally relax under the blinding rays of the sun. Two, the games were glorious, having to play alongside children around his age. It was exhilarating in the smallest of ways and it warmed Caelum’s heart. After getting their lunch inside the cafeteria (which consisted of a strange encounter from one of the camp directors, Nile Dok, saying that he saw someone who looked a lot like Caelum seconds before acknowledging him), the little boy roamed around the camp beside his friends. Ahead of them was a small gathering of campers and a staff, Eren Jaeger, Caelum learned. The adult was saying along the lines of challenging the reigning champion of fencing.

Caelum had to hold back his scoff.

He had a fencing teacher once and he was told that he could best anyone even if he would do it halfheartedly. Maybe it was the nostalgia bringing in the drive to be the said challenger but the silver-eyed boy found himself saying, “Can I challenge him?”

Eren didn’t look up from his clipboard as he answered, “Finally, someone stepped up. Okay, you can suit up there, buddy. Your fellow campers will help you get ready.”

“Got it.”

Once he was fitted with the white fencing suit, Caelum wiggled his arms as he released a deep breath. It’s been a while since he prepared for another spar, almost a year now, and he could only hope that he wasn’t rusty. Running his hand through his thick hair, Caelum placed the helmet snug around his head. Without waiting for their referee (who looked like they wanted to be at another place at the moment), the onyx-haired boy faced his opponent. He sized up the boy in front of him with blank eyes. It looked like they were of a similar build, with the boy bouncing at his feet every few seconds, which irked Caelum in the slightest. Maybe this would be the moment to be serious in something he thought he used only to pass the time. Lowering his stance with bended knees, Caelum neutrally positioned himself so that his opponent wouldn’t know if he was in the offense or defense. 

“Fencers ready?” Eren asked the two of them, eyes flitting between the two boys.

The boy in front of Caelum said, “Ready,” in the exact voice as him that it unnerved the black-haired boy.

Shaking his head, Caelum flipped his saber expertly in the air. “All set.”

“Tch, show-off.”

The silver-eyed boy felt his insides churn with annoyance.

“En garde, fence!”

Caelum immediately forwarded a couple of steps, taunting his opponent with light jabs as the other person defended his torso against Caelum’s attacks. Once he had the boy in the green fencing suit backed against the trees with nowhere to turn, the last thing Caelum expected was to have his adversary dashing for one of the trunks, gaining momentum for a second and jumping on the surface of the tree in a graceful turn, the other boy’s saber slashing the direction of the silver-eyed boy’s stomach. Caelum backed away with a jump at the last second, successfully dodging the boy’s attack, to which he failed to notice the glint of metal shooting towards his head. With his instincts, Caelum ducked down and made a counter-attack, zoning his attention on the opening on his opponent’s knees brandishing for his attention. Annoyance once again prickled Caelum’s being, bubbling in his stomach and reaching towards his head in migraine, as the other boy parried his consecutive offensive maneuvers until they circled the entire area for the camp’s games.

The onlookers could see how the two mirrored each other. When Caelum went for the overhead jab, the other boy would strike his rival’s lower body. It was a dance of parries and counter-attacks that some of them were starting to feel dizzy from all the constant back-and-forths between the two children. Even Eren, who was starting to think that accepting this job for the summer was a total waste, perked up while the two boys continued meeting their weapons in parries as their little feet brought them to where the pavilion was situated. The green-eyed man even called for one of his friends, Reiner Braun, to watch the exciting fencing tournament. With bated breath, every pair of eyes watched as the boy in green had his saber thrown away by a flick of Caelum’s sword, leaving the former with nowhere to go and no weapon to deflect the point of the saber’s tip on his chest.

Right when the audience thought the two were done (Eren was about to announce the winner), the boy in green lost his balance from Caelum’s push, his body going over the railings of the pavilion and into the small washing area by the side of the establishment.

“What the fuck?!”

Caelum swore he heard the entire audience gasp.

The only question in his mind was ‘what was the reason?’ Was it the curse words or the fact that he just pushed his opponent in a tub of water that could’ve seen better days?

Pursing his lips, the silver-eyed boy leaned over the railings and reached out a hand. “Sorry about that, let me help you.”

“No, let me help you.”

Water entered Caelum’s helmet as he toppled over from the force of the other boy’s pull. He slowly looked over at the other person occupying the tub of water after sitting up. He could feel his eye twitch from behind the soaked helmet. There was a distinct chatter in the background, asking both boys if they were alright. Eren might have called over his friends and now they were fussing over the two with concerned and amusing questions. And yet, Caelum never strayed his glare from the person in front of him. 

“What did you do that for?” Caelum seethed.

“Me?!” The boy all but screamed at his face, his hands gesturing between them. “You pushed me in, you idiot!”

“I did not!”

“I’m sorry I ruffled your feathers, gentleman,” the boy spat.

“Okay!” Eren interjected, coming forward and crouching to meet the boys’ eyes. His earlier expression of boredom was now switched into something bright as he looked back and forth the two boys. “That was awesome, little dudes! Are you sure you two didn’t enter any kind of fencing competition?” When he saw that the two had opposing answers, he grinned. “Campers,” he called out to the children surrounding him, “I think we have ourselves a new camp champion, from London, England — Caelum [Last Name]!” Eren stood up to his full height, watching as the two boys took off their helmets, backs facing one another. The said champion shaking his head and splashing water droplets like a dog while the other boy raked his hand over his short hair, slicking back his haircut. The green-eyed man noticed something from the two but he extinguished his curiosity with a, “Alright, dudes, shake hands. We love and promote sportsmanship in this household.” Preventing a chuckle from coming out since the boys didn’t budge from their positions, Eren once again tried, “Come on, little dudes.”

Altair has never been surprised even once in his life but the moment right now shook his entire world.

It was like viewing himself in the mirror.

Even though the boy in front of him had longer hair, there was no mistaking how his heart was pounding inside his chest, breath taken away at the uncanny resemblance between him and this boy from England (posh accent and all). He vividly read somewhere that seven people around the world looked exactly like a single individual, remembering how he thought that was cool enough for his seven-year-old brain. Maybe this was it. But he knew better because the more he stared shell-shocked at the boy with waves for hair, the more the feeling like he knew him bubbled inside his stomach. The boy seemed to think similar thoughts as him at the moment, stretching his hand for a tentative handshake that was long overdue (probably a couple of minutes, like Altair cared). 

A zap.

A bolt of electricity.

It trickled in Altair’s whole arm until he pulled away from the boy’s grasp.

He was never big on physical contact, to begin with. Yeah, that’s the reason why he pulled away so quickly and not the possibility of sharing something common with the boy who looked like him. Brushing everything off just like his dad always did, Altair scoffed, purposely wiping his hand on his pants exaggeratedly as he stated, “Why is everybody staring at us?”

The boy stared at him like he grew a second head, which sparked irritation in his veins. “Don’t you see it?”

Altair lazily looked around. “See what?”

Furrowed eyebrows graced the pretty boy’s expression (by calling the boy pretty, he was practically calling himself pretty, and Altair had no complaints about that). “The resemblance between us, you tosser.”

“What?”

“I said—“

“I heard what you said.” Altair stepped forward a little to glare at the boy. “What did you call me?”

The boy rose his chin a little in the air. “A tosser.”

“I swear to God,” Altair murmured under his breath, a smile of disbelief painted his lips, “if you don’t stop calling me names in your slang, I’d really be a tosser because I will fucking toss you and your stuck-up ass in the lake right now.” He continued surveying the boy with eyes full of disdain. “And what resemblance? I don’t see a thing because you look nothing like me.” The other boy’s face contorted into that blank mien that he was sure only him and his dad could pull off. The bags under the boy’s eyes became prominent as he matched Altair’s stare. Huffing indignantly, Altair continued, “For your information, your eyes are much closer together than mine. Your ears … it makes you look like a rat. Your teeth are crooked. Oh, and that nose? Don’t worry, those things can be fixed.” Satisfaction made Altair’s chest puff in confidence at the offended look on the boy’s visage. “You want to know the real difference between us? It’s—“

“I know how to fence and you don’t?” The boy taunted. He placed a finger on his chin as if contemplating something. “Or I have class and you don’t? Just take your pick, good sir.”

“You little shit—“

“Try me, you fu—“

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Eren interrupted, placing a hand on both boys' shoulders. “Let’s break up this little lovefest of yours. Caelum, Altair.” Then, at the next second, the man became confused. “Altair, Caelum. Caelum? Altair? Oh, holy shit, this is giving me a whiplash.”

-

The following weeks were pure hell that Caelum was convinced this was his punishment for eating Hange’s stash of their favorite butter cookies. He could remember how they screamed bloody murder for whoever finished their special tin, with Caelum’s mother calming them down and saying they probably forgot eating them. Nobody knew who ate them, well, except for Oluo since the butler caught the young master in the act.

That Altair kid definitely knew how to handle a grudge, throwing pranks at Caelum left and right, causing the latter to retaliate in the most mature way possible — giving the boy who looked like him a taste of his own medicine. It all started when Caelum was defeated at poker the night after they had their fencing competition, defeated by Altair to be precise. That pompous idiot thought it was funny to taunt Caelum into diving into the lake naked and leaving him behind while Altair’s little posse took away his clothes. It was mortifying, walking back to his cabin stuttering because of the cold, no clothes to keep him warm. That spurred him to take revenge, asking for his cabinmates’ help in getting out the Ehrmich cabin’s beds for all the campers and camp directors to see. It only got worse after that. It was all fun and games until Altair got Nile Dok and his assistant, Floch Forster, in his ultimate prank to humiliate Caelum, turning the Mitras cabin into a mess of honey, whipped cream, water balloons, and feathers.

While Nile was screaming for Caelum and Altair to pack their bags, the former turned to look at his doppelganger with lifeless eyes. “You are without a doubt the lowest, most awful person on the planet.”

Altair couldn’t help but smirk devilishly. “Thank you, thank you very much.”

Nile decided that the fitting consequence was to put the two of them in the isolation cabin. Caelum doesn’t know if that will help with their situation. He was convinced they will kill each other if they’re cooped inside a smaller cabin. 

The first night in the isolation cabin was turning out quite nicely for the longer-haired boy, taking out his journal to write the significant events that happened during the day. He was peacefully enjoying his solitude that he didn’t notice Altair huff every second while glaring at the overhead light bulb that served as their only light source. At the umpteenth wordless complain, Altair had enough of it, sitting up in his bed and turned the lights off. The whole cabin was bathed in darkness, making Caelum flinch since he was immersed in writing out his inner thoughts of decapitating the person sharing his space at the moment. With an incredulous stare directed at the boy across the room, Caelum turned on the lights, which resulted in a battle between the two boys and making it seem like the isolation cabin was infested with ghosts.

After an entire week in the isolation cabin, there was a thunderstorm warning around the camp. As some of the campers screamed while looking for shelter one afternoon, Altair was organizing the posters plastered on his side of the room. The other person occupying the cabin was trying to distract himself by playing solitaire. The short-haired boy wanted to make casual talk since the silence has been stifling for the past hours but his anxiety-ridden gut got the best of him so he chose to stay quiet while fiddling with the poster of his favorite show. A strong gust of wind then blew from the opened windows, making his posters fly around the room.

Caelum looked up from putting a card on one column and immediately stood up to help the boy struggling with closing the window. “Oh, no,” he murmured when he saw the mess. With occasional glances, he planted his hands on one side of the sliding window and pushed. He didn’t miss how Altair looked at him with a weird face. The longer-haired boy didn’t care as he pushed the window, stopping the howls of the wind. Feeling the stares drilled at the side of his head, Caelum met Altair’s stare with a small half-smile before nodding towards the posters scattered over the floor. “Need help with that?” A nod was all Caelum needed to pick up the posters with Altair, a comforting silence blanketing the two boys. In the midst of their tidying up, he noticed a stuffed toy lying on top of some newspaper clippings. Thinking that Altair will act rashly again, he hesitated, “Oh, here’s your…”

Altair turned to the other boy, breathing a laugh through his nose and taking the stuffed bunny from Caelum. “Snuffles. For having a tough-boy persona, I don’t look like the kind of person who owns a stuffed toy, right?”

“Not at all, I think it’s pretty normal.” Smiles were shared, with the longer-haired boy fidgeting with his fingers, needing to break the silent atmosphere. “No pictures were ruined, right?”

“You don’t have to worry,” Altair replied with a slight smile, eyes still on the posters. “You were fast enough in helping me with the window.”

“Home has pretty much had this weather most of the month. I guess I developed the reflexes there.”

Altair hummed, looking inquisitively at the wavy-haired boy. “How far is London anyway?”

“Well, from here it’s 3,000 miles, but sometimes it seems much further. How far away is your home?”

“California’s at the other end of the country.” Altair looked at the side and picked up a photo. “Here’s a picture of my house.”

Caelum peered down at the picture and immediately thought it looked, “Amazing.”

“I know, right?” Altair flashed a proud smile. “Dad built it when I was a baby, at least that’s what he said. We got this incredible porch that has a cool view of the tea tree plantation and then there’s this pool in our backyard. Petra, my nanny, will always scold me for staying too long in the water or for walking around the plantation until nighttime. I also have this beautiful horse that Dad gave me for my tenth birthday, she’s amazing, her name’s Nox, by the way.”

“Who’s that?” Caelum pointed at a black-haired man, who only had his back on the photo. The man was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and some jeans. Even though he never saw the man in person, there was something about that physique that screams familiarity, very much like how he first met Altair. 

The other boy blinked before grinning. “That’s my Dad. He’s like my best friend since nobody wanted to befriend me for being snappy. We kind of did everything together. He didn’t know I was taking his picture or else he would turn around and tell me to take a picture of the house instead. He doesn’t like his picture taken, says he doesn’t like the sound of the cameras or how it exposes him.”

“Why?” Caelum asked curiously with a pinch in his chest. Must be complete to have someone you can call Dad. 

Altair shrugged. “Beats me. Every time someone wants to take a picture of him and our teahouse, he would decline. But, the only pictures that he was in were the ones that have my mom in them. That disappeared when I found out about it though.” At the expression on Caelum’s face, the boy tried asking what was wrong, only to be told that the room was getting chilly. As Caelum stood up from the floor and went to his bed, Altair followed suit and opened the trunk at the end of his bed. Taking out something that always cheered him up, he lifted it so that the wavy-haired boy could see it. “Want some Oreos? I know you’ll find this weird but I eat them with peanut butter.” He then took out a jar of peanut butter from his things.

“That is weird.” Caelum saw how Altair’s face slightly dropped, so he continued, “That’s weird because I eat Oreos with peanut butter, too.”

Altair took a seat on Caelum’s bed, a few feet separating the two boys. “Finally someone who appreciates the combination. Dad always told me it’s disgusting even though I’ve seen him eat Oreos with peanut butter a couple of times for his midnight tea.” Opening the box of Oreos, Altair offered one to his newfound friend, to which Caelum took gratefully. “So what’s your dad like? Is he one of those workaholics who always go home late and leaves the house before you wake up? Or is he those types who spoil you with all the time in the world while still keeping up with his job?”

With a small smile, Caelum answered, “I don’t have a father. I mean, I had one once, I suppose, but my parents divorced years ago.” He looked down thoughtfully. “My mother never even mentions him. It’s like he evaporated into thin air or something.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair before taking another Oreo from the packaging.

“It’s scary how the way nobody stays together anymore.”

“Tell me about it.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m turning twelve on December 24.”

Altair choked, swiveling his head to the boy beside him. “That’s my birthday, too!”

“We have the same birthday,” Caelum trailed off, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How weird is that.”

“Extremely,” the short-haired boy answered, looking out the window the next second. “Hey, would you look at that? It finally stopped raining.” Standing up from the bed, he stretched his arms into the air and sighing in satisfaction. “Come on, Cae, let’s get some popsicles from the mess hall. It’s always good to eat something cold in this weather.” He went outside the cabin until he noticed that the door didn’t open after him. Curiously, Altair looked up from the bottom of the stairs, meeting the stare of his perturbed friend. “Hey, are you alright?”

Caelum was fidgeting with his sweater, looking at anywhere except for the boy at the bottom of the stairs. He leaned against the railings before speaking out what was bothering his mind since he saw the picture of Altair’s father, “Al, what’s your mother like?”

Stuffing his hands inside his pockets, Altair answered, “She’s not exactly in the picture in our little family. I mean, she and Dad split up when I was a baby or even before that. I never met her and Dad never talks about her every time he’s at the house.” He then remembered the picture he stole from his father’s nightstand after trying to find the photo album with his parents in it. “But I know she’s really, really beautiful. Probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even if it was just a picture I stole from Dad’s nightstand.”

“Do you have that picture right now?”

“Yeah? Hey, I’m getting hungry, let’s get some lunch.”

The wavy-haired boy turned around, leaving Altair outside of the cabin. “Don’t you realize what’s happening?” When he faced the boy following him, he saw how Altair jumped an inch at how quickly he turned around. Holding back a snicker, Caelum continued his theory, “Look, I don’t have a father and you’re also missing your mother. We’ve also never seen our missing parents. You have one picture of your mum and I also have one picture of my dad. Well, at least you have one whole picture, mine’s a pathetic crinkled little thing and ripped down the middle ...” He stopped his rambling when he saw Altair dashing his trunk. “What are you rummaging in your trunk for?”

“This.” Altair pointed at the picture in his hands. “This is the picture of my mom and it’s ripped down the middle, too.”

Caelum also went to his desk, taking out a tin box where he kept all the photos of his family members. He slid out a ripped photograph and went back to his friend’s side. “On the count of three, let’s put it together.” 

“One.”

“Two.”

Together they shouted, “Three!”

Like puzzle pieces, the two ripped parts became a whole picture again, like the two boys inside the small cabin as they looked at each other and realized they share more than just their birthdays and love for peanut butter Oreos.

-

“I have this crazy yet genius idea!”

“I hope this doesn’t concern another dip in the lake.”

“No, this is better.” A crazy glint in Altair’s eyes appeared. “Let’s switch places when we go home.”

[charcubed]

hey char, mind to share your fave stevebucky headcanons? 👀

Oh I LOVE that you asked me this :’)  Thank you!

I honestly have so many if I really think about it because I love them so much and I think about their dynamic so much that I have so many favorite things... but here is what I think of off the top of my head:

• Steve was color blind before the serum, according to canon. I have a headcanon that Bucky used to try to describe colors to him. I wrote a mini fic about that here.

• Bucky was drafted for the war, but didn’t tell Steve. Steve sort of assumed that Bucky enlisted, and Bucky never wanted to correct him. How could he? Steve wanted to enlist so badly, and Bucky didn’t ever feel like he could admit that he didn’t have the same drive to want to ~fight for the country~ like Steve did. He didn’t want to disappoint him and he was afraid Steve would think he was a coward. So Bucky just... never told him that he was forced into war. It was never his choice to fight for the country. If it was up to him, they would’ve stayed home together and stayed safe and never fought at all.

• They were always physically rough with each other, in the sense that they'd wrestle as boys all the time, and Steve loved that Bucky never treated him as fragile. Buck knew he could take it. Even after the serum, they'd still scuffle a bit like kids, finding a bright spot in a war-torn world. They’d be awake in the trenches on lookout, having soft conversations in the night, and shoving each other after one says something stupid or makes a bad joke.

• Steve is bi, and Bucky is gay. Bucky was consciously aware of his feelings for Steve way, way before Steve was aware of his for Bucky. In the 30s, Bucky has a bit of a reputation for ~dating around,~ but not in a rude ladies’ man kind of way but rather his reputation is “Bucky Barnes is a real charmer. He’ll show you a good time and he’s really sweet, but he never pushes your boundaries.” Some women wishes he’d push their boundaries, but he doesn’t. He’s taken so many women out on dates because he never lets it get super serious, since they’re not who he wants and it’s mostly for appearances’ sake, especially since he and Steve live together. He definitely enjoys hanging out with women, and treating them nice, but most of the time his motivation is to try to set up double dates–half because Steve deserves to find a great girl to date, and half because a double date means Bucky can selfishly do a date activity “with” Steve and not have it mean anything. Meanwhile though, Steve gets jealous as hell and testy about Bucky dating all the time, but he’s oblivious to the fact that it’s because Steve wishes Bucky would be with him instead.

• Their first kiss was when Steve was 16 and Bucky was 17. I’m not necessarily saying that’s when they actually got together, but something significant happened between them at those ages... maybe they kissed because they were drunk, or it was so Steve’s “first kiss” would be someone he knew and it was for “practice.” And then they both never talked about it again, because they’re idiots and were afraid to ~ruin things~ between each other. That’s why Steve says “Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn.” That’s why “seventeen” is one of Bucky’s trigger words as the Winter Soldier. It checks out, because Bucky is a little bit older than Steve.

• Steve doesn’t fully admit the depth of his own feelings for Bucky to himself until he finds out Bucky’s been captured by HYDRA. And then he tears Europe apart to get him back. He’d have done that anyway, obviously, but... the prospect of losing Bucky forever is really what makes him realize how much he can’t handle that concept. Because he’s in love with him.

• After Bucky “dies,” Steve gets more reckless, and that’s part of the reason he put the plane in the ice and didn’t try to survive: he didn’t want to live in a world without Bucky in it. This is supported by canon. And so I headcanon that, after Steve finds out about the Winter Soldier, one day he abruptly realizes that he could’ve died in that plane crash and never known Bucky was alive and brainwashed and suffering. He thought Bucky was dead and he wanted to follow him, and he could’ve left Bucky even more alone in the world without knowing it. When Steve realizes how close he came to leaving Bucky behind like that, he throws up. It horrifies him to think about it.

• They each have a pair of dog tags where one says “Steve Rogers” and one says “Bucky Barnes.” They swapped one tag each, so that they’d have a matching set, because while they couldn’t list each other as “next of kin,” they wanted tangible evidence that would show other people how important they are to each other. So people would know: tell him if something happens to me.

• Their Brooklyn accents come out / get heavier around each other, especially if they’re bitching about things or arguing.

• Bucky is a complete sci-fi and fantasy nerd–which is now confirmed canon, and I love it. In particular, I like to headcanon that he loves to read paperback sci-fi novels, and discount romance novels. He unironically enjoys them, and he leaves them allllll over the place. One of the things they love to do is Bucky will sit around and read while Steve will sit around and draw/paint, and half the time Steve gets distracted sketching Bucky’s facial expression he makes while he’s reading.

• Bucky is also a pop culture gremlin. He will try and often get interested in pretty much anything and everything, without rhyme or reason. In modern day, he and Nat will watch trashy reality TV together–sometimes to make fun of it, sometimes to get invested. Steve thinks they’re insane for that. And sometimes Bucky will like one niche thing but then for very specific reasons he dislikes another similar thing. It makes sense to him, even if Steve doesn’t get it.

• Steve tends to be pickier with the kind of stuff he enjoys. He’s always had Strong Opinions™️ on everything, including and especially art. Put him in a museum and he’ll have a lot of thoughts on all of it. He doesn’t judge things or hate on other people for liking things he doesn’t like at all, but he won’t get hooked on a movie/show quite as easily. The one exception is animation, which he absolutely adores, and he goes on a wild binge of all kinds of animated content for awhile–shows and movies–because the various art styles and uses of the medium to tell crazy stories just fascinates him.

• Easy access to so much music is one of their mutual favorite things about the 21st century. Bucky often gets into individual artists’ entire discographies and becomes a fan, whereas Steve often gets into a handful of specific songs from a wide range of various people. Like... Bucky will often love an entire album, and Steve will often love 2 songs specifically more than others. But even with that, Steve loves collecting vinyl records–both old and new ones.

• Bucky has a fantastic singing voice even though he’s shy about it, and he tends to hum along to music when distracted or working on something else–especially while making something in the kitchen. 

• Bucky likes technology more than Steve; Steve likes physical stuff more than Bucky. Bucky loves to take photos and videos of things all the time, hoarding digital memories in a way that’s precious to him, knowing that they’re “safe” and accessible anywhere. They lost so much of the objects that they loved a century ago, and photos were scarce, but now... there are endless ways to have pictures. When Bucky was recovering in Wakanda and Steve was on the run, Bucky would often text Steve photos–sometimes without captions–to wordlessly share bits of his days with him. He’s got a good eye for photography, except for when he takes the photo equivalent of shitposts to make Steve laugh. Regardless, Steve gets his favorites printed–some of Bucky’s photos, some of his, some of their selfies–so they also always have something tangible to hold onto.

• Bucky calls Steve “sweetheart” sometimes, just to be a little shit–and he means it. It makes Steve turn red every time, without fail, but he secretly doesn’t mind it.

Okay I’ll stop hahaha. Those are the main ones that come to mind for me all the time when I think of them! 

Thank you again for asking :D  This was so fun to write all in one place!

[smoochkooks]

—chapter one: the beginning of an end

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.4k words

summary: loving jeon jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

previous || next

You’re positive your favourite sound in the whole world is the rhythmic, repetitive sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard.

Everyone has a different approach when it comes to coping with stress and anxiety. Some people drink away their unwanted emotions, some drown themselves in work, some watch yet another, mediocre Netflix show. But your solution, your little panacea has always been writing.

You’re not the best when it comes to expressing your true feelings. You can struggle with saying ‘I love you’ to your mother and then write a long, affectionate letter for her birthday that makes her eyes turn glossy. You may stutter and tumble on your own words while trying to order coffee and then complete academic essays with ease.  

Whenever you feel like you’re overwhelmed, boiled up with mixed emotions, you do exactly what your school counselor told you many years ago: you let it out. She never mentioned any specifics, simply encouraging you to find your own way. And that’s exactly what you did – you picked it up yourself. First, it was writing a diary. No less than two weeks into it, you got bored. Turns out describing in detail every single mundane day of your life was never your forté. You threw away your old notebook, bought a new one and decided to write there whenever you felt like you really wanted to, not out of obligation.  

And you continue to do so, these days you opt for a use of modern technology often. You open your laptop and pour your feelings onto a digital sheet of paper. It’s cathartic, in a way. Getting rid of what you feel like is weighing you down.  

Jungkook however, your dearest best friend, has always been on the other side of the spectrum. Loud, obnoxious, a life and soul of the party who happened to miraculously befriend the most quiet introvert in class. Sometimes you still wonder how your friendship has managed to survive almost twenty years. You’re two polar opposites. Fire and water. Storm and chilly breeze. A confession screamed in the middle of the night and handwritten love letter.  

You’re a dichotomy. Made of the same atoms, pulling in and pulling away. And if the phrase ‘opposites attract’ held any significance, maybe you would’ve ended up together. But in your case, it’s yet another platitude. Something that seems to work out only in books and movies. Because, if that was true, he would never fell in love with a female version of him, just graced with a sprinkle of pure sweetenes Jungkook sometimes lacks.

Soojin is everything you will never be. Polite, outgoing, sociable and so likeable you hate yourself for despising her. Truthfully, there’s nothing bad you could say about her. No wonder he’s fallen head over heels for her, not you.

What’s there to love about you, if you willing chose to pin for a boy that’s so out of your league? It’s actually hilarious to even dream about him returning your feelings.

You stare at the screen with half-lidded eyes. The clock reads quarter past midnight, letters start to blur into nothingness. Yet another chapter of your miserable life is completed as you save the document and slam your laptop shut. You don’t bother to shower or take off your clothes. Sleepiness hits you right when you close your eyes.  

You dream of wedding halls and never spoken love confessions.

You read once on Twitter that being an adult means checking your e-mail as a part of your morning social media routine and since then, you haven’t quite related to anything more in your life.  

At the very top of your inbox there’s yet another e-mail from your Creative Writing proffesor, Kim Namjoon. He’s a very stubborn man, you decide, as you scroll through the contents of his message. He still wants you to consider what he told you a few days ago after class, it seems.  

“Miss ___? Can I talk to you for a second?” 

“Sure.” you replied and awkwardly walked up to his podium.  

You might have been madly (and miserablely) in love with your best friend, but Kim Namjoon has never failed to make you feel like a silly teenager with a crush on her older teacher. To say Kim Namjoon was intimidating was an misunderstanding. His presence was thoroughly electrifying. You remembered a very disappointed sigh the girl sitting next you let out when she noticed a ring on his right hand. You couldn’t judge her. His wife had scored probably the finest man on this damn planet.  

“I read your latest assignment and I must say, your novelette was outstanding as always. Dare I say the best among others,” Namjoon said. You bowed your head in acknowledgement, praying he wouldn’t notice your rose-colored cheeks. “Regarding that, I actually have a proposition for you.”  

At that, your eyes widened. “What kind of proposition, sir?” you asked.  

He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to you. It was a flyer, you realised, and read it through quickly. VARIETÉ Publishing was organising an annual contest for young poets, which you had heard about before. Your English Literature proffesor mentioned it during her lecture a week ago. However, poetry had never been your strong suit. As much as you enjoyed reading it, you weren’t really fond of creating your own poems. So why did Kim Namjoon decide to tell you about this all of a sudden?

“I know what you might be thinking right now, but I’m not actually encouraging you to take part in this competition,” As he smiled, two dimples appeared on each side of his mouth. “Do you know anything about VARIETÉ Publishing?”  

Slightly confused, you gave him a nod. “It’s one if the biggest publishing companies in the country.” 

“That’s very much true,” Namjoon agreed. “VARIETÉ's vice-chairman, Lee Jongi, is actually my old friend. We used to study together here, at this university. When I chose a teaching career, he got a job in a foreign publishing company, climbed up the ladder until the very top and now he’s vice-chairman and I’m a simple college professor,” He chuckled. You were too stunned to form a coherent response let alone laugh along with him. Lee Jongi and Kim Namjoon being buddies? It was a small world, after all. “Jongi has always been very fond of young, aspiring writers. When I discover a student with huge potential, I send him their works. If he finds them interesting enough, he might even take a risk and propose a publishing deal. This doesn’t happen quite often, but I want you to know that you have a pretty big chance to impress him.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed because holy fucking shit, did he just say he can help you publish your first book?  

“I don’t know what to say, sir. I’m shocked.” you responded truthfully. You had heard people complimenting your skills before but this was extraordinary. “Let me just process all of this: you know personally VARIETÉ'S vice-chairman and you want to show him my works?” Even said out loud, it still sounded surreal to you.  

“Correct. But of course, I won’t do anything without your consent.” Namjoon said. “That novelette you sent me recently was amazing. I’d love to show it to Lee Jongi one day.”

The task was to incorporate a hidden, symbolic message into a story. You decided to use your favorite flowers, magnolias, and its meaning. They represent eternity, because once they bloom they will continue to bloom for a long time. In your story, a girl gave her best friend magnolia's seeds, wishing her love for him to be everlasting. A day later, she received a pack of seeds from the boy as well. She happily planted them in her garden and when they bloomed, she discovered they were yellow tulips. A symbol of love that will never be reciprocated.

“You make people feel things with your words, ___, and that’s a very rare gift,” You heard Namjoon add. “Promise me you’ll consider my proposition.”  

There was thousand thoughts per hour running in your head, but you gave him a curt nod. “I’ll think about it.”  

As you’re staring now at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, you think about the girl whose only dream was to be loved by her best friend. Maybe it’s finally time for you to move on. Bury the past and plant a seed of new life. Because, loving Jeon Jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

With shaky hands, you start writing a response to your proffesor.