#ca final standards

[cavirtualhubonline]

Exam Prep: Business Economics and Business Law - CA Virtual Hub

Aspiring Chartered Accountants must first complete the CA Foundation online test. Exam topics must cover both business law and business economics. To do well, you must be familiar with their curriculum, the importance of each subject, and the best ways to prepare. In this post, we'll go into the complexities of these topics, offer study advice, and highlight the importance of CA Virtual Hub for your exam prep.

Commercial Economics

Curriculum and Sections

Topics covered in the CA Foundation Economics course include both general economic theory and its practical applicability to the corporate world. Important sections comprise:

A Primer on Business Finances

Principles of Supply and Demand

Cost and Production Theory

Determining Prices in Various Markets

Economic Periods

In these chapters, you will thoroughly understand economic principles and how they apply to company decision-making.

Weightage of Business Economics CA Foundation weighs

To set priorities for studying, it is essential to know how much the Business Economics CA Foundation weighs. This is the breakdown of weight:

Introduction to Business Economics: 15%

Theory of Demand and Supply: 20%

Theory of Production and Cost: 20%

Price Determination in Different Markets: 25%

Market Recessions: 20%

Market dynamics, production theories, and business cycles are given equal weightage, indicating a balanced approach.

Strategy for Prep

Make sure you have a solid understanding of the fundamentals of economics.

Solving numerical problems regularly will help you comprehend questions that are based on practical applications.

Use Past Papers: To get a feel for the test format, go over the chapters on CA Foundation Economics in previous years' questions.

Best Online Coaching for Chartered Accountants

If you're looking to prepare for Business Economics, CA online coaching is a great option:

Watch recorded lectures to review difficult subjects whenever it's convenient for you.

Join us for live classes where you may ask questions and get answers.

Study Aids: Full-length notes and practice exams are at your fingertips.

Commercial Law: Syllabus and Topics

The regulatory environment in which companies function is within the purview of business law. Important sections comprise:

Section 1872 of the Indian Contract Act

Act of 1930 Concerning the Sale of Goods and Services

Law No. 1932: The Indian Partnership Act

Formed in 2008, the Limited Liability Partnership Act

A Law of 2013—The Corporations Act

Legal frameworks for businesses, partnerships, LLPs, and sales are covered in these chapters.

The weightage distribution

This is the usual breakdown of how important various areas of business law are:

The Indian Contract Act of 1872: forty percent

Twenty percent of goods sold were subject to the Sale of Goods Act of 1930.

In 1932, the Indian Partnership Act gave 20%

A portion of the 2008 Limited Liability Partnership Act (50%

In 2013, under the Companies Act, 10%

Because of its centrality to the curriculum, the Indian Contract Act is given the greatest weight.

Method for Being Ready

Gain an understanding of the legislation: Pay close attention to the general ideas and specific ways each piece of legislation is applied.

Important portions to memorize: To perform well on exams, it is recommended that you memorize the key portions and provisions.

To better grasp how laws are put into practice, it is helpful to refer to case studies and practical examples.

Making Use of Exam Papers

Reviewing previous year's CA Foundation Business Law exam questions can give you a good idea of the format and types of questions you can expect to see on the exam.

To gauge your progress and find ways to better organize your time, try taking practice exams regularly.

Business Economics and Business Law: A Comparison

Degree of difficulty

The field of business economics requires students to grasp abstract ideas and then apply those ideas to real-world numerical situations.

Learning the rules of business law and how they work in practice is a very practical endeavor.

Analysis Method

Economics: based on calculations and analysis, more so.

Law: grasping the fundamentals and remembering the provisions of the law.

Methodology for Assessment

Specifically, in economics, you should practice answering numerical issues with detailed explanations.

Law: Practice expressing your ideas clearly and answering questions based on case studies.

How CA Virtual Hub contribute?

Online CA Coaching and Its Advantages

Learn the material more quickly and easily with the help of structured learning.

Help from Industry Veterans: Talk to seasoned professors who can answer questions and offer advice.

Personalization: Study whenever it is most convenient for you, regardless of how busy you are.

How to Choose the Top CA Program in India

Choosing the correct coach is essential. Determine what to look for:

Reputable Organizations: Look at their ratings and profitability.

Thorough Course Content: Extensive handouts, practice exams, and previous year's papers.

Live classes and opportunities to ask questions help students grasp more.

Updated ICAI Announcements

Keep yourself informed with ICAI announcements, as they can influence how you plan to prepare. Here are the updates:

modifications to the CA Foundation Economics and Business Law Syllabus: Stay updated on any modifications to these syllabuses.

Exam Patterns: Your study time could be impacted if the exam pattern changes.

Important Dates: Remember to mark your calendars for the due dates of registration, exams, and the announcement of results.

At the summary,

Studying both business law and business economics in a balanced manner will help you pass the CA Foundation online exam. There is a notable difference between the two courses' curricula and the approaches needed to succeed in each. You should join the Best CA Online Coaching, make sure you know how much each subject and its topics cost, and practice with prior exams often, you'll be well-prepared. To be sure you're heading in the correct direction, make sure to stay updated with ICAI notifications. You can maximize your study time and performance on the CA Foundation test by paying close attention to these details.

Consider enrolling in the CA Virtual Hub for personalized advice and complete support. Experienced instructors and tailored materials will assist you in achieving your CA goals.

[xx-justsomeguy-xx]

BRO TIGHNARI FROM STANDARD SHDKSHAKSHAJA

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg.  It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed.  Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it.  You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book.  The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.”  Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!”  Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean.  It’s important.”  Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!”  Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away.  Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed.  Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee.  You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell.  Straight there.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect two hundred dollars.  And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans.  If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room.  Bobby was always protective of you, his niece.  You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped.  Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer.  That man did not mince his words.  And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel.  Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg.  The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this.  If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk.  You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells.  You said he quieted the noise in your head.  Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home.  You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way.  Not that slutty was bad.  Dean liked slutty.  But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink.  That’s what was missing.  Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions.  A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move.  Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.”  You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack.  The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry.  He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside.  He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid.  You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt.  You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way.  The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were.  His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been.  He couldn’t.  As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.”  He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt.  He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…”  Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain.  The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan.  He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled.  He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths.  He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them.  Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening.  Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this.  You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down.  Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy.  You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped.  You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time.  You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat.  You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal.  Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other.  Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet.  Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare.  Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot.  Fuck, he was good with his tongue.  Everything about him was good except his image.  Bad boy Dean Winchester.  He was every woman’s wet dream.  He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen.  But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid.  Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot.  You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life.  He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm.  When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down.  He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while.  You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.”  He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself.  “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it.  He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms.  It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you.  You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have.  Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this.  God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips.  His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.”  He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.”  You sighed.  Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it.  It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on.  He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you.  When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.”  You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said:  What can I say?  I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs.  Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved.  Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest.  You were both content.  Both had goofy grins on your faces.  Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?”  Sam said.  “I need that book.”

“NO!”  You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.”  Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!”  Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again.  In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name.  Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

[thatonegreenleaf]

~urban haze~ reshade preset!

I've been using this preset on my twitch for a bit now, and i've finally gotten around to releasing it!! I'm very happy with it and I currently use it for everything😅

Urban haze has a focus on realistic lighting with a slight hazy and warm feel. Less blue in shadows, darker nights, deeper afternoon shadows, saturated sunsets, balanced greenery. Use it in any world, I've tested them all :)

__________________________________________

How to download:

♥ Download Reshade: (I use reshade 5.7.0, I can't say how this preset will behave with other versions of reshade, or G-shade.)

♥ During Reshade Installation, select The Sims 4, choose DirectX9 as the rendering API.

♥ Effect Packages to install: standard effects, sweetFX by CeeJay, qUINT by Marty McFly, color effects by prod80, and Legacy effects.

♥ Download urban haze below, drop it in your Sims 4 installation's "Bin" Folder

♥ Open the Sims 4, Disable edge-smoothing in your graphics settings if it's not already, In the reshade menu, set RESHADE_DEPTH_INPUT_IS_REVERSED= to 0 in global preprocessor definitions if it's not, and MXAO_TWO_LAYER= and MXAO_SMOOTHNORMALS= both to 1 in qUINT_mxao's preprocessor's definitions.

♥ If you're struggling with installation, I suggest you check out @kindlespice's installation tutorial! It was made for reshade 4.9.0 but the instructions remain the same.

__________________________________________

Notes:

♥ Both Depth of field shaders are off by default, you can enable them using their shortcuts: ctrl + Q (MagicDOF), ctrl + W (MartyMcFlyDOF) or enable them manually.

♥ MXAO.fx also has a shortcut (ctrl + R) bc sometimes the DOF blur makes the shadows weird, most of the time it's fine!

♥ Could potentially be gameplay friendly, depending on your GPU! The MXAO and DOF shaders will be the most performance heavy, feel free to adjust to your liking.

♥ The pictures above were taken with this preset and no further editing, but I do use a few lighting mods that will affect how my game looks:

♥ NoBlu by Luumia

♥ NoGlo by Luumia

♥ twinkle toes by softerhaze

URBAN HAZE RESHADE PRESET ↠ download on sim file share!

Follow me on twitch!

Support me on patreon!

TOU: do not redistribute, reupload, or claim my cc/CAS rooms/presets as your own! recolour/convert/otherwise alter for personal use OR upload with credit. (no paywalls)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Beth Bourne

Published: Feb 27, 2024

Kaiser gender specialists were eager to approve hormones and surgeries, which would all be covered by insurance as “medically necessary.”

On September 6, 2022, I received mail from my Kaiser Permanente Davis Ob-Gyn reminding me of a routine cervical screening. The language of the reminder stood out to me: “Recommended for people with a cervix ages 21 to 65.” When I asked my Ob-Gyn about this strange wording, she told me the wording was chosen to be “inclusive” of their “transgender” and “gender fluid” patients.

Based on this response, several thoughts occurred to me. Could I expose the medical scandal of “gender-affirming care” by saying and doing everything my daughter and other trans-identifying kids are taught to do? Would there be the type of medical safeguarding and differential diagnosis we would expect in other fields of medicine, or would I simply be allowed to self-diagnose and be offered the tools (i.e. hormones and surgeries) to choose my own gender adventure and become my true authentic self?

If I could demonstrate that anyone suffering from delusions of their sex, self-hatred, or identity issues could qualify for and easily obtain body-altering hormones and surgeries, all covered by insurance as “medically necessary” and potentially “life-saving” care, then maybe people would finally wake up. I certainly had.

I was prepared for failure. I wasn’t prepared for how easy success would be.

* * *

I am a 53-year-old mom from Davis, CA. My daughter began identifying as a transgender boy (social transition) and using he/him pronouns at school during 8th grade. Like several of her peers who also identified as trans at her school, my daughter was a gifted student and intellectually mature but socially immature. This shift coincided with her school’s sudden commitment to, and celebration of, a now widespread set of radical beliefs about the biology of sex and gender identity.

She “came out” as trans to her father (my ex-husband) and me through a standard coming-out letter, expressing her wish to start puberty blockers. She said she knew they were safe, citing information she had read from Planned Parenthood and the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH). To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was also confused because this announcement was sudden and unexpected. While others quickly accepted and affirmed my daughter’s new identity, I was apprehensive and felt the need to learn more about what was going on.

Events began escalating quickly.

During a routine doctor’s visit scheduled for dizziness my daughter said that she was experiencing, the Kaiser pediatrician overheard her father using “he/him” pronouns for our daughter. The pediatrician seemed thrilled, quickly asking my daughter about her “preferred pronouns” and updating her medical records to denote that my daughter was now, in fact, my son. The pediatrician then recommended we consult the Kaiser Permanente Oakland Proud pediatric gender clinic, where she could get further information and (gender affirming) “treatment.” Now I was the one feeling dizzy.

As I began educating myself on this issue, I discovered that this phenomenon—minors, most often teen girls, suddenly adopting trans identities—was becoming increasingly widespread. It even had a name: rapid onset gender dysphoria, or ROGD. Thankfully, after learning about the potential side-effects of blockers and hormones, my ex-husband and I managed to agree not to consent to any medical interventions for our daughter until she turned 18 and would then be able to make such decisions as an adult.

Over the past five years, my daughter’s identity has slowly evolved in ways that I see as positive. Our bond, however, has become strained, particularly since I began publicly voicing my concerns about what many term as “gender ideology.” Following my daughter’s 17th birthday family celebration, she sent me an email that evening stating she would be cutting off contact with me.

While this estrangement brought me sorrow, with my daughter living full-time with her father, it also gave me the space to be an advocate/activist in pushing back on gender identity ideology in the schools and the medical industry.

I decided to go undercover as a nonbinary patient to show my daughter what danger she might be putting herself in—by people who purport to have her health as their interest, but whose main interest is in medically “affirming” (i.e., transitioning) whoever walks through their door. I am at heart a mother protecting her child.

* * *

My daughter’s sudden decision to become a boy was heavily on my mind in early September of 2022, when mail from my Kaiser Permanente Davis Ob-Gyn reminded me of a routine cervical screening with “Recommended for people with a cervix ages 21 to 65.” I was told that the wording was chosen to be “inclusive” of transgender and “gender fluid” patients.

Throughout the whole 231-day process of my feigned gender transition, the Kaiser gender specialists were eager to serve me and give me what I wanted, which would all be covered by insurance as “medically necessary.” My emails were returned quickly, my appointments scheduled efficiently, and I never fell through the cracks. I was helped along every step of the way.

Despite gender activists and clinicians constantly claiming that obtaining hormones and surgeries is a long and complex process with plenty of safety checks in place, I was in full control at every checkpoint. I was able to self-diagnose, determine how strong a dose of testosterone I received and which surgeries I wanted to pursue, no matter how extreme and no matter how many glaring red flags I purposefully dropped. The medical workers I met repeatedly reminded me that they were not there to act as “gatekeepers.”

I was able to instantly change my medical records to reflect my new gender identity and pronouns. Despite never being diagnosed with gender dysphoria, I was able to obtain a prescription for testosterone and approval for a “gender-affirming” double mastectomy from my doctor. It took only three more months (90 days) to be approved for surgery to remove my uterus and have a fake penis constructed from the skin of my thigh or forearm. Therapy was never recommended.

Critics might dismiss my story as insignificant on the grounds that I am a 53-year-old woman with ample life experience who should be free to alter her body. However, this argument for adult bodily autonomy is a standard we apply to purely cosmetic procedures like breast implants, liposuction, and facelifts, not “medically necessary” and “lifesaving” treatments covered by health insurance. Or interventions that compromise health and introduce illness into an otherwise healthy body. And especially not for children.

My story, which I outline in much more detail below, should convince any half-rational person that gender medicine is not operating like any other field of medicine. Based on a radical concept of “gender identity,” this medical anomaly preys upon the body-image insecurities common among pubescent minors to bill health insurance companies for permanent cosmetic procedures that often leave their patients with permanently altered bodies, damaged endocrine systems, sexual dysfunction, and infertility.

* * *

Detailed Timeline of Events

On October 6, 2022, I responded to my Ob-Gyn’s email to tell her that, after some thought, I’d decided that maybe the label “cis woman” didn’t truly reflect who I was. After all, I did have some tomboyish tendencies. I told her I would like my records to be changed to reflect my newly realized “nonbinary” identity, and that my new pronouns were they/them. I also voiced my desire to be put in touch with an endocrinologist to discuss starting testosterone treatment.

Fifteen minutes later I received an email from another Kaiser doctor informing me that my medical records had been changed, and that once my primary doctor returned to the office, I’d be able to speak with her about hormone therapy.

I responded the following day (October 7, 2022), thanking her for changing my records, and asking if she could connect me with someone who could help me make an appointment for “top surgery” (i.e., a cosmetic double mastectomy) because my chest binder was rather “uncomfortable after long days and playing tennis.”

She told me to contact my primary care MD to “get things rolling,” and that there were likely to be “preliminary evaluations.”

Six days after contacting my primary care MD for a referral, I received an email from one of Kaiser’s gender specialists asking me to schedule a phone appointment so she could better understand my goals for surgery, so that I could get “connected to care.” This call to review my “gender affirming treatment options and services” would take 15-20 minutes, after which I would be “booked for intake,” allowing me to proceed with medical transition.

This wasn’t an evaluation of whether surgical transition was appropriate, it was simply a meeting for me to tell them what I wanted so that they could provide it.

On October 18, I had my one and only in-person appointment in preparation for top surgery. I met in Davis with my primary care physician, Dr. Hong-wen Xue. The assessment was a 10-minute routine physical exam that included blood tests. Everything came back normal. Notably, there was not a single question about why I wanted top surgery or cross-sex hormones. Nor was there any discussion of the risks involved with these medical treatments.

The following week, on October 24, I had a phone appointment with Rachaell Wood, MFT, a gender specialist with Kaiser Sacramento. The call lasted 15 minutes and consisted of standard questions about potential drug use, domestic violence, guns in the house, and whether I experienced any suicidal thoughts. There were no questions from the gender specialist about my reasons for requesting a mastectomy or cross-sex hormones, or why I suddenly, at 52, decided I was “nonbinary.”

After the call, Kaiser emailed me instructions about how to prepare for my pre-surgery intake video appointment to evaluate my mental health, scheduled to take place on November 15. The email stated that prior to my appointment, I should research hormone risks on the WPATH website, and to “research bilateral mastectomy and chest reconstruction surgery risks and recovery” on Kaiser’s website.

I decided to request a “gender-affirming” double mastectomy and phalloplasty. Kaiser sent me a sample timeline for gender transition surgery preparation (see below) that you can use as a reference for the process. I also asked for a prescription for cross-sex hormones (testosterone) as needed and recommended by Kaiser.

[ Source: Kaiser Permanente, Top Surgery - EXPLORING YOUR SURGICAL OPTIONS ]

Pre-Surgery Mental Health Video Appointment, Part I

This “Mental Health Visit” assessment was conducted over Zoom. The Kaiser gender specialist started with questions addressing my marital status, race, gender identity, and other demographics. She asked whether I was “thinking of any other surgeries, treatments in the future.” The list she read included “gender-affirming” hysterectomies, bottom surgeries such as metoidioplasty and phalloplasty, vocal coaching, support groups, and body contouring. “Anything else you might be interested in doing?” she asked. I said that I’d perhaps be interested in body contouring. I was also assured that all the procedures would be covered by insurance because they were considered “medically necessary.”

I dropped in several red flags regarding my mental health to see the reaction, but all were ignored. For instance, I revealed that I had PTSD. When the therapist asked me about whether I had experienced any “childhood trauma,” I explained that I grew up in Mexico City and had been groped several times and had also witnessed men masturbating in public and had been grabbed by men in subways and buses. “I was a young girl, so [I had] lots of experiences of sexual harassments, sexual assault, just the kind of stuff that happens when you are a girl growing up in a big city.” “So, you know,” I finished, “just the general feeling that you are unsafe, you know, in a female body.”

The therapist did not respond to my disclosure that trauma could be the cause of my dysphoria. Instead of viewing this trauma as potentially driving my desire to escape my female body through hormones and surgery, she asked whether there is anything “important that the surgery team should be aware of” regarding my “history of trauma,” such as whether I’d be comfortable with the surgeon examining and marking my chest prior to surgery.

When asked about whether I had had any “psychotic symptoms,” I told her that while I had had no such symptoms, my mother had a delusional nervous breakdown in her 50s because she had body dysmorphia and became convinced she had a growth on her neck that needed to be removed. I told her that my mother was then admitted to an inpatient hospital for severe depression. I asked her whether she ever sees patients with body dysmorphia and whether I could have potentially inherited that from my mother. She told me that psychosis was hereditary, but that it was “highly unlikely” that there was any connection between body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria.

I enthusiastically waved more mental health red flags, waiting to see if she would pick up on any of them.

I’m just wondering if my feelings, or perseverating, or feeling like these breasts make me really unhappy and I just don’t want them anymore!...I’m just not sure if that’s a similar feeling to body dysmorphia? How do you decide which one is gender dysphoria and general body dysmorphia, and just not liking something about your body? Feeling uncomfortable with your body? And I did have an eating disorder all through college. I was a distance runner in college so I had bulimia and anorexia, you know. So I don’t know if that’s related to gender dysphoria?

The therapist replied, “I completely appreciate your concerns, but I am going to ask you questions about your chest, about your expectations. And then I’ll be able to give you an assessment.” She also said the main difference between my mom’s situation and mine was that my mom didn’t really have a growth on her neck, whereas it’s “confirmed” that I actually have “chest tissue.” Furthermore, she said that while “historically there has been all this pressure on patients to be like ‘Are you really, really sure you want hormones? Are you 100% sure?’ We are a little more relaxed.” She continued, “As long as you are aware of the risks and the side-effects, you can put your toe in the water. You can stop ‘T’ [testosterone], you can go back and do it again later! You can stop it! You can stop it! You know what I mean?”

Because we ran out of time, I scheduled a follow-up phone meeting on December 27, 2022 with a different gender specialist to complete my mental health assessment for top surgery.

Pre-Surgery Mental Health Video Appointment, Part II

During this meeting, Guneet Kaur, LCSW, another Kaiser gender specialist (she/her/they/them pronouns) told me that she regretted the “gatekeeping vibe” of the meeting but assured me that since I have been “doing the work,” her questions are essentially just a form of “emotional support” before talking with the medical providers.

She asked me about what I’d been “looking into as far as hormones.” I told her that I’d be interested in taking small doses of testosterone to counterbalance my female feelings to achieve “a feeling that’s kind of neutral.”

When she asked me about me “not feeling like I match on the outside what I feel on the inside,” I dropped more red flags, mentioning my aversion to wearing dresses and skirts.

I don’t own a single dress or a skirt and haven't in 20 years. I think for me it’s been just dressing the way that’s comfortable for me, which is just wearing, jeans and sweatshirts and I have a lot of flannel shirts and, and I wear boots all the time instead of other kinds of shoes. So I think it’s been nice being able to dress, especially because I work from home now most of the time that just a feeling of clothing being one of the ways that I can feel more non-binary in my everyday life.

She responded, “Like having control over what you wear and yeah. Kind of that feeling of just, yeah, this is who I am today. That’s awesome. Yeah.”

She then asked me to describe my dysphoria, and I told her that I didn’t like the “feeling of the female form and being chesty,” and that because I am going through menopause, I wanted to start taking testosterone to avoid “that feeling of being like this apple-shaped older woman.” “Good. Okay, great,” she responded, reminding me that only “top surgery,” not testosterone, would be able to solve my chest dysphoria. (Perhaps it was because all these meetings were online, they didn’t notice I’m actually fit and relatively slender at 5’-5” and 130 pounds, and not apple-shaped at all.)

She told me that we had to get through a few more questions related to my medical history before “we can move on to the fun stuff, which is testosterone and top surgery.”

The “fun stuff” consisted of a discussion about the physical and mood changes I could expect, and her asking me about the dose of testosterone I wanted to take and the kind of “top surgery” technique I’d prefer to achieve my “chest goals.” She told me that all or most of my consultations for surgeries and hormones would be virtual.

The gender specialist told me after the appointment, she would submit my referral to the Multi-Specialty Transitions Clinic (MST) team that oversees “gender expansive care.” They would follow up to schedule a “nursing call” with me to review my medical history, after which they’d schedule my appointment with a surgeon for a consultation. Her instructions for this consultation were to “tell them what you’re wanting for surgery and then they share with you their game plan.”

[ Decision-making slide to help me identify my goals for top surgery–flat chest, nipple sensation, or minimal scarring. Source: Kaiser Permanente, Top Surgery - EXPLORING YOUR SURGICAL OPTIONS ]

She told me that Kaiser has a team of plastic surgeons who “only work with trans and nonbinary patients because there’s just so much need for them.” She asked about my priorities for chest surgery, such as whether I value flatness over nipple sensation. I learned about double incision top surgery with nipple grafts, as well as “keyhole,” “donut,” “buttonhole,” and “Inverted-T” top surgeries.

By the end of the hour-long appointment, I had my surgery referral and was ready for my “nursing call” appointment.

Nursing call with Nurse Coordinator from the Transgender Surgery and Gender Pathways Clinic at Kaiser San Francisco

On January 19, 2023, I had my nursing call with the Nurse Coordinator. He first said that “the purpose of this call is just for us to go through your chart together and make sure everything’s as accurate as possible.” Once that was done, my referral would be sent to the surgeon for a consultation.

He asked me about potential allergies and recreational drug use, and verified that I was up to date on mammograms, pap smears, and colon cancer screenings, as well as vaccines for flu and COVID. I verified my surgical history as well as my current medications and dietary supplements.

He told me about a “top surgery class” available for patients where one of the Kaiser surgeons “presents and talks about surgical techniques and options within top surgery,” and includes a panel of patients who have had top surgery. I signed up for the February 8th class.

Within 10 minutes he told me that he had “sent a referral to the plastic surgery department at Kaiser Sacramento,” and that I should be hearing from them in the next week or two to schedule a consultation.

Appointment for Testosterone

On January 27, I had a 13-minute online appointment with a primary care doctor at Kaiser Davis to discuss testosterone. The doctor verified my name and preferred pronouns, and then directly asked: “So, what would you like to do? What kind of physical things are you looking for?”

I told her I wanted facial hair, a more muscular and less “curvy” physique, and to feel stronger and androgynous. She asked me when I wanted to start, and I told her in the next few months. She asked me if I was menopausal, whether I had ovaries and a uterus, although that information should have been on my chart.

The doctor said she wanted me to come in to get some labs so she could check my current estrogen, testosterone, and hemoglobin levels before starting hormones. Then “we'll set the ball in motion and you'll be going. We’ll see you full steam ahead in the direction you wanna go.”

That was it. I made an appointment and had my lab tests done on February 12. My labs came back on February 14, and the following day, after paying a $5 copay at the Kaiser pharmacy, I picked up my testosterone pump. That was easy!

Top Surgery Consultation

On the same day I received my labs, I had a Zoom surgery consultation with Karly Autumn-Kaplan, MD, Kaiser Sacramento plastic surgeon. This consultation was all about discussing my “goals” for surgery, not about whether surgery was needed or appropriate.

I told the surgeon that I wanted a “flatter, more androgynous appearance.” She asked me some questions to get a better idea of what that meant for me. She said that some patients want a “male chest,” but that others “want to look like nothing, like just straight up and down, sometimes not even nipples.” Others still wanted their chest to appear slightly feminine and only “slightly rounded.” I told her that I’d like my chest to have a “male appearance.”

“What are your thoughts about keeping your nipples?” she asked. “Are you interested in having nipples or would you like them removed?” I told her that I’d like to keep my nipples, but to make them “smaller in size.” She asked me if I’d like them moved to “the edge of the peck muscle” to achieve “a more male appearance.” I said yes.

I was asked to show my bare chest from the front and side, which I did. Then she asked me how important it was for me to keep my nipple sensation. I replied that it was important unless it would make recovery more difficult or there were other associated risks. She highlighted the problem with the free nipple graft, saying that removing the nipple to relocate it means “you're not gonna have sensation in that nipple and areola anymore.” However, some nipple sensation could be preserved by keeping it attached to “a little stalk of tissue” with “real nerves going to it,” but that would require leaving more tissue behind. I told her I’d go for the free nipple graft to achieve a flatter appearance. It was also suggested I could skip nipple reconstruction entirely and just get nipples “tattooed” directly onto my chest.

She told me I was “a good candidate for surgery,” and put me on the surgery wait list. She said that the wait time was between three and five months, but a cancellation could move me up to a sooner date. Also, if I wanted surgery as soon as possible, I could tell the surgery scheduler that I’d be willing to have any of the other three surgeons perform my mastectomy. Outpatient top surgery would cost me a copay of $100.

They contacted twice, in February and March, notifying me of cancellations. If I had accepted and shown up on those dates, they would have removed my breasts. This would have been less than five months from the time I first contacted Kaiser to inform them of my new “nonbinary” gender identity.

How Far Can I Go?

I decided to see how easy it would be for me to get approved for a phalloplasty. Known euphemistically as “bottom surgery,” phalloplasty is the surgical creation of an artificial penis, generally using tissue from the thigh or arm.

I sent an email on March 1, 2023, requesting to have a phalloplasty and concurrent hysterectomy scheduled alongside my mastectomy.

Two weeks later, on March 16th, I had a 16-minute phone call with a gender specialist to discuss my goals for bottom surgery and obtain my referral.

During the call, I explained to the specialist that I wasn’t sure about taking testosterone anymore because I was already quite athletic and muscular, and that taking testosterone didn’t make much sense to me. Instead, I wanted bottom surgery so that I wouldn’t feel like my “top” didn’t match my “bottom.” I told her:

But what I really wanted was to have bottom surgery. So this way when I have my top surgery, which sounds like it could be very soon, that I’ll be aligned, that I won’t have this sense of dysphoria with one part of my body and the other part feeling like it matched who I am. So yeah. So I just did a little bit more research into that. And I looked at the resources on the Kaiser page for the MST clinic and I think I know what I want, which is the hysterectomy and then at the same time or soon after to be able to have a phalloplasty.

I told her that I wanted to schedule the top and bottom surgery concurrently so that I wouldn’t have to take more time off work and it would save me trips to San Francisco or Oakland, or wherever I had to go for surgery.

None of this gave the gender specialist pause. After a brief conversation about some online resources to look over, she told me that she would “submit the referral now and we’ll get this ball rolling.”

Bottom surgery would cost me a copay of $200, which included a couple of days in the hospital for recovery.

Phalloplasty Surgical Consultation with Nurse Coordinator

On May 16, 2023, I had a short surgical consultation with a nurse coordinator to go through my medical history. This was similar to the consultation for top surgery but included information about hair removal procedures for the skin on my “donor site” that would be fashioned into a makeshift penis. They also went over the procedures for determining which donor site—forearm or thigh—was more viable.

After only 15 minutes, she submitted my referral to the surgeon for another surgical consultation.

On May 25 I received an email from my phalloplasty surgeon’s scheduler, informing me that they have received my referral and are actively working on scheduling, but that they are experiencing delays.

I ended my investigation here once I had the referral for the top and bottom surgery. I never used my testosterone pump.

Final Thoughts

In fewer than 300 days, based on a set of superficial and shifting thoughts about my gender and my “embodiment goals” triggered by the mere mention of “gender” in a form letter from my primary care physician, and driven by what could only be described as minor discomforts, Kaiser Permanente’s esteemed “multi-disciplinary team” of “gender specialists” was willing, with enthusiasm—while ignoring mental health concerns, history of sexual trauma, and rapidly escalating surgical requests—to prescribe life-altering medications and perform surgeries to remove my breasts, uterus, and vagina, close my vaginal opening, and attempt a complex surgery with high failure and complication rates to create a functionless representation of a penis that destroys the integrity of my arm or thigh in the process.

This describes the supposedly meticulous, lengthy, and safety-focused process that a Kaiser patient must undergo to embark on a journey to medically alter their body. No clinician questioned my motivations. No one showed concern that I might be addressing a mental health issue through radical and irreversible interventions that wouldn’t address my amorphous problems. There were no discussions about how these treatments would impact my long-term health, romantic relationships, family, or sex life. I charted the course. The clinicians followed my lead without question. The guiding issue was what I wanted to look like.

No other medical field operates with this level of carelessness and disregard for patient health and welfare. No other medical field addresses issues of self-perception with surgery and labels it “medically necessary.” No other medical field is this disconnected from the reality of the patients it serves.

Kaiser has traded medicine for ideology. It’s far beyond time we stop the ruse of considering “gender-affirming” interventions as anything approaching medical care.

This isn’t the first time Kaiser Permanente has been in the news for completely disregarding medical safeguards in the name of “gender-affirming care.” As girls, Chloe Cole and Layla Jane became convinced that they were born in the wrong body and were actually boys on the inside. Doctors at Kaiser ignored their underlying conditions and instead prescribed testosterone and removed their breasts. Both Cole and Jane have since detransitioned and are currently suing Kaiser.

The fact that children and vulnerable adults are being exploited in this massive ideological experiment is not just tragic; it’s deeply disturbing, especially considering it has evolved into a billion-dollar industry.

I hope that by sharing my story, I can bring more focused scrutiny to the medical scandal unfolding not just at Kaiser but also at medical centers and hospitals across the Western world. These institutions have completely abandoned medical safeguards for patients who claim to be confused about their “gender,” and I aim to awaken more parents and assist them in protecting their children.

--

==

This is completely insane.

Apologists online are running around saying, but she didn't mean it, she was lying, she was pretending...

It doesn't matter.

Any kind of security, penetration or integrity test is insincere too. When security researchers compromise Microsoft's operating system or Google's browser or whatever, "but they didn't mean it" is not a defence to a discovered security flaw. It doesn't matter that the security researchers didn't plan to steal data or money or identities. The flaw in the system is there regardless.

It doesn't matter that it was insincere. Because the workers didn't know that. They never checked, never asked questions, never tested. They had been taught and instructed to never ask any questions. They did what they were supposed to. And the system failed spectacularly. Because that's what "gender affirming care" means.

Additionally, the claim that Beth Bourne committed fraud is an outright lie. A patient cannot bill. They do not have the authority. The medical clinic is the only one that can bill, and they must supply a diagnosis and a medical necessity.

If they didn't diagnose her and just wrote down what she said, then they committed fraud. If they claim they did diagnose her, then they committed fraud, because the diagnosis they concocted was bogus. This, by the way, is actually going on. Clinics are reporting fake endocrine and other disorders to get blockers, hormones and other interventions. Jamie Reed and other whistleblowers have documented evidence of this. Beth Bourne is not responsible for what the clinic does. They have medical licenses and legal responsibility. Not her.

Additionally, anyone who actually read the article would know how she tested the system. She said things like, "I've always been not that feminine. So, maybe I get my boobs removed." And they said, "sure." Instead of saying, "wait, why do you think that?" Framing it as her lying is itself a lie. They violated their ethical obligations. That much is incontrovertible. And it's directly the result of "gender affirming care," where clinics and clinicians rubber-stamp anything deemed "trans" based entirely on ideological, not medical, grounds.

[rafecameroninterlude]

hii again ik i just sent one but what about rafey manhandling you out of a party when you get into an argument w some girl who was like trying to get all over him (he was clearly not into it and was telling her he had a girl) and then him eating her pussy in bed that night saying that shes the only one he wants cause he loves her and her pretty pussy so much -👛

warnings: arguing, oral (f receiving)

you were sitting next to rafe when the broad stumbled over to him, so high out of her mind that she didn’t notice your head resting on his shoulder. “hey rafeee!” your eyes shot to the source of the voice, your boyfriend immediately glancing over at you. “you got a line for me?” she smiled, tripping over her heels before falling right into his lap. “yo, come on!” he pushed her, “watch the fuck out, i got all this shit out right here.” you glared at her, annoyed with the way she was looking at your boyfriend.

“i don’t have any money on me, but i could pay you with something else..” rafe’s lip curled in disgust, physically cringing at her while you fought the urge to drag her out of the house by her hair. “go be a mess somewhere else, i got a girl.” rafe pulled you closer to his side, her eyes finally landing you. “all lines are fifty dollars, babe. sorry, no free plays around here!” you flashed her a smile, running your hand across rafe’s chest, “this is your girl? my god, i’d think you have higher standards, ray.. guess not.” you took a moment to examine her.

“then what does that make you?” you stood up. “the whole world could see where your hair extensions start, your lashes are hanging on by a thread, you desperately need a nail fill, and you could barely walk in those things called heels.. you’re as low as they come.” rafe was already packing his stuff, knowing how this would end if you two didn’t leave right now. surrounding partygoers were now looking at you two, your boyfriend tugging on one of the belt loops of your skirt. “my daddy is chief police, i’d watch out if i were you. i could shut your whole operation down.” at that, rafe cursed under his breath, dragging you away before anything could escalate.

“do it then! and make sure you tell him how you’re an easy coke whore while you’re at it!” rafe picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder while you tried to squirm out of his grip. “put me down!” it wasn’t until he made it to the truck that he placed you in the passenger seat, your hands shoving him away when he tried to talk to you. he groaned, making his way to the driver’s side. “you should’ve defended me.” rafe looked over at you with wide eyes. “i should’ve defended you? against what? the idiot that couldn’t tell left from right?” he laughed.

“it’s not funny.” you crossed your arms over your chest, scooting as close to the door as you could. “are you seriously mad at me right now?” you swatted his hand away when he reached over, making him shake his head. “just wait till we get home.” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him for the rest of the ride. you were quick to get off the truck once he pulled in, slamming the door shut as you ran inside. rafe scoffed, “well that was a little dramatic.” he went up upstairs, groaning in frustration when the door knob to his bedroom didn’t budge. “you can’t lock me out of my own space!” you were naked, about to step into the shower before you shouted, “i just did!”

you took your time under the hot water, washing off all of the irritation and anger from tonight. you knew rafe did everything he could to establish himself as unavailable and uninterested to that girl, he even pushed her for crying out loud. the guilt for being mad at him was starting to seep through, making you open the bedroom door after you got out of the shower. once you changed into a pair of his boxers and a baby tee, you climbed underneath the sheets, waiting to hear his footsteps walk in. eventually he did, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, “i just get so mad when someone thinks they can just flirt their way into getting your attention.” he turned, rubbing your leg through the comforter. “no one, except you, has my attention, y/n. nothing else matters to me.” he uncovered you, fingers toying with the waistband of your, well his, bottoms. you sighed, pulling him to your chest where you cradled his head. “i promise i won’t be mad at you when it comes to other girls. i trust you.” he kissed you before pulling away, sliding his boxers down your legs.

you let him have his way with you, a gasp leaving your lips when he pulled your thighs on top of his shoulders. “you never have to worry about anyone else, no one even compares.” rafe left wet kisses on your folds, your back arching off the bed when his tongue met your clit. “i’ve never met someone so beautiful, ‘never seen a pussy this pretty.” he spread you apart with his thumbs, marveling at the sight of you. “you’re the only girl i need, ‘the only one for me.” you knew rafe had a mean head game, but one hour later and he was still making you cum until tears rolled down your cheeks. “please! it’s too much, rafe,” you sobbed, your body on fire as your legs trembled.

he finally pulled away, his lips shining with your slick. “i love you.” he rubbed circles into your skin. rafe waited until you were able to meet his eyes, your chest falling and rising with each breath. “i love you, too.” you blinked slowly.

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 6

summary: as paige packs to move to uconn, she starts to doubt herself. grasping for a sense of security, she goes to the one person she knows can make her feel better. azzi.

disclaimer: as always everything i write is fictional!

warnings: fluff, angst, emotional distress, mild anxiety mention.

word count: 4.6k +

author's note: ik this probably isn't what you were expecting lol, very sorry. i will be giving yall what you want very soon.

~flashback to july 2020~

paige's pov:

i can't believe i'm doing this.

playing at uconn has been my dream since i was a kid, but now that it's finally happening i feel paralyzed. packing my stuff made things feel final.

i'm really leaving minnesota. everything i know is here.

who's going to build legos with drew? who's going to make my parents coffee in the morning?

my hands shake as i fold another shirt, memories flooding my mind. friday night games, late-night drives with the team, sunday morning cartoons with drew.

what if i'm not ready? what if i can't handle the pressure?

i'd been doing a good job keeping all this to myself. putting on my best smile for every interview, every photoshoot. i had a good enough support system too, my family, friends, fans. but behind every "congratulation", i felt their expectation. a standard of perfection only a prodigy could fulfill.

what if i let everyone down?

i can't let them see me crack.

it's not like i'm not grateful for the opportunity. this is all i've worked towards for years. it just hurts to leave everything behind, especially for a future i had no control over. i felt safe here, in this moment, i'm full of potential.

the weight of my potential weighs heavily on my shoulders, keeping me up at night.

i sink to the floor, surrounded by half-packed boxes. part of me wants to unpack it all, to pretend that time isn't moving forward.

my eyes snap up when i hear a knock at my bedroom door.

"hey kiddo," my dad says warmly, leaning against the door frame.

"hey," i reply weakly, putting on a smile. i feel his eyes scan my face, his expression warming with sympathy.

he knows my smile is fake.

"already packing? you don't leave for another week, it shouldn't take you that l—" he stops mid-sentence looking at my closet. "but with that shoe collection maybe you should've started a month ago," he teases, trying to make me smile.

"i just want to be ready," i say, sounding more insecure than i expected.

"it's okay to be scared, you know?" he starts, his voice gentle. "i know this is a big change."

"i just don't wanna disappoint anyone," i stand, continuing to pack my stuff, eyes glued to the floor.

"you could never disappoint us," he assures me. "we're all so proud of you, no matter what."

a mix of gratitude and homesickness rushes over me. i crumble over his words, a few tears escaping my eyes. walking slowly, he grabs me in his arms. we stand there for a moment, the heaviness of change lingering in the air.

"you know," he says suddenly, "i think azzi's still in town at her grandparents. why don't you give her a call?"

he's right, i usually visit her around this time of year. the thought of azzi brings a small smile to my face. memories of our summers spent together fill my mind—trips to the fair, month long sleepovers, sleeping in her clothes.

"not everything has to change, paige," his voice knowing, eyes gauging my reaction.

if anyone could understand what i'm going through, i'd be her.

"yeah, i'll give her a call," i nod, trying to shake my heartache.

"good," he says, walking to my door. "don't forget to leave some of your shoes behind. we don't need the whole state of minnesota wondering why there's a shortage."

i roll my eyes, laughing. "i'll think about it."

he gives me one last warm smile before closing my door. i take a deep breath, reaching for my phone.

azzi's pov:

i'm sprawled across my bed, scrolling through my phone when it starts buzzing. paige's name lights up the screen, and i can't help but smile.

"hey p," i answer, my smile showing in my voice.

"hey az," she replies, and immediately i know something's off. her voice is quieter than usual, lacking its usual charm.

"you okay?" i ask, sitting up straighter.

there's a pause, i can almost feel her forcing a smile through the phone. "yeah, i'm good. just...packing."

packing. right. she's leaving soon.

i'm hit with a wave of anticipatory grief. i've been trying to avoid thinking about what it's gonna be like when she leaves. we'd fallen into such an easy routine. she's spent countless summers at my grandparent's house, becoming part of my family.

"how's that going?" i ask, trying to sound hopeful.

"it's...going," she laughs gently. "it's just a lot, you know?"

i do know. the spotlight she's received these past couple years has been intense, but paige made everything she did look effortless. her confidence carried off the court, giving her a new charisma.

she was so easy to love.

"yeah...it's a big change," my voice matching her quiet tone.

there's another pause, the soft hum of the phone. i listen for her breath, a sigh, some background noice. but nothing. i feel her worry through the phone.

"can i come over—"

"you should come ov—"

we say at the same time. "i'll pick you up tomorrow morning," i smile at the thought of finally getting to see her.

i hear her take a steadying breath, "okay," her voice sounding a bit lighter.

my mind starts to wander. what if i don't see her again for years after this? all this time, and i never thought i'd have to confront my feelings for her.

"hey, i'll call you later, okay?" i'm sad to end our call, but i didn't have time to waste.

"uh yeah," she says, sounding a bit disappointed. "talk to you later."

i hang up the phone, my mind racing, filled with all of her favorite things. that minnesota lynx jersey she loves, her favorite snacks, the lego sets she builds with drew.

i can't let her leave without knowing how much of me she's taking with her.

i start in my closet, sifting through my clothes. my fingers brush against the fabric of my favorite hoodie—the one paige always steals when she's here.

i pull the hoodie closer to my chest, hoping that, for a moment, i could capture the warmth of her hug. a mixture of my perfume and her shampoo. i swear no matter how many times i wash the damn thing, it always carries a piece of her. like the intricate stitching holding the fabric, our bond sewn into the core of who we are.

i run my fingers along the seams—strong, resilient, trustworthy. i guess some things are too deep to be washed away. maybe it'll remind her that no matter how far she goes, a part of us will always be intertwined.

she should have this. it's practically hers anyway.

next, i move to my bookshelf, scanning the titles. my eyes land on one of my favorite john green books, looking for alaska. every once in a while she'd ask me to read it to her so she could fall asleep. paige always claimed my books were boring, but sometimes i'd catch her leaning in, eyes wide and attentive, consumed in the story. maybe she'd finally get around to reading it herself.

lastly, i grab some scissors off my desk and head for my front porch. the old basketball hoop stands sentinel, a silent witness to countless hours of our shared passion. i run my fingers along the worn metal, remembering all the times we'd scrimmage until the streetlights flickered on. our laughter and trash talk echoing through the quiet neighborhood.

i tilt the hoop towards me cutting off a piece of the net. the frayed edges feel like memories slipping through my fingers.

she was my champion first.

before the world knew 'paige bueckers', i knew paige. the slight competitive spark she'd get in her eyes before every shot. her confident sway as she played, turning my front porch into an arena.

everyone is finally gonna see in her what i've known for years.

back in my room, i surveyed my collection. each item, a different memory. i reach under my bed, adding the final touch to my gift—an old lego set paige and i bought together a long time ago. i put off building it with her, claiming we should save it for a special night.

there is nothing more special than tomorrow night.

i want everything to be perfect. i find myself frantically cleaning the house at 2 am, as if paige hasn't visited countless times. i organize my bookshelf, fold clothes, anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from wandering to her.

my exhaustion finally takes over and i lay sprawled across my bed. i try to sleep but she's all i dream about.

except these aren't the usual dreams.

a sequence of different visions flash through my mind, in each of them i'm losing her. we're on a basketball court, but something's off. paige is wearing a uconn jersey, looking different in a way i can't quite place. older, more independent. i'm still in my high school uniform. we're on opposite sides of the court, the air between us heavy. i call out to her but no sound comes out.

i want to tell her something. but my throat tightens, restricting like it's trying to hold her too.

i wake up before the sun, in a cold sweat. it felt so real, almost predestined. a heavy ache in my chest lingers, still unable to articulate what i need to tell her. the thought of my nightmares becoming real ignites a motivation in me to figure it out. fast.

i close my eyes again, hoping for dreamless sleep this time.

tomorrow, i'll find the words. i'll make sure i do.

paige's pov:

the sun peaks through my blinds, waking me up earlier than usual. awaking to the sight of half-packed boxes leaves me disoriented. but my heart flutters when i check my phone to find seven unread text from azzi.

i'm gonna miss stuff like this the most.

glancing at the time, i start to pack a bag to stay the night. she technically didn't say i was sleeping over, but i know us well enough to know that i will.

i start throwing things into my bag—my favorite hoodie, some shorts, and a pillow. then i pause, remembering the last time we hung out at her grandparents' place.

everything i needed was already there.

i empty half the bag, smiling to myself. the hoodie she'd always let me wear, my toothbrush, that book azzi's always bugging me to read, even my favorite pillow. they're all still at her place.

i'm reaching for my phone to tell her i'm ready when i hear my doorbell. smoothing out my hair, i nearly trip down the stairs running to answer the door.

i take a quick breath. even after all this time, i still want to look good for her. the moment i open the front door i'm met with azzi's smile, carrying two coffees in her hands.

everything i need is right here.

"i'm surprised you're not still in your pajamas," she smiles, handing me a coffee.

"what? no, of course not. i've been up for hours," i lie, letting her roll her eyes at my comment.

"mhm," she turns walking to her car.

i glance at her while she walks, her attitude showing in her posture. within just a few seconds, i already feel lighter.

the drive there is both long and short. as we pull up to her grandparents' house, i feel a wave of nostalgia. how many summers have i spent here? how much of me will i be leaving behind?

azzi's grandma is already at the door as we get out of the car. "paigey!," she calls out, her voice warm and welcoming. "how's our little superstar?"

"hi grandma fudd," i mumble, as she pulls me into a hug. i feel like a kid again in her arms.

"look at you," she says, holding me at arm's length. "more beautiful every time i see you."

i blush bashfully at her compliments. "hey, what about me?" azzi pouts from behind us.

"oh hush, you too," she pulls azzi into a deep hug. "i'm glad you finally came, paige. i was worried you weren't gonna make it this year. azzi here hasn't stopped talking about you since your last visit."

i shoot azzi a look, raising my eyebrows at her. she blushes, looking away.

once inside, memories pass me by like a warm summer breeze. the creaky third step on the stairs, the faded marks on the doorframe where azzi and i measured our heights every summer. old family photos lining the hallway, many of which include me.

azzi leads me up to her room, her hand gently tugging at mine excitedly. i let her lead like it was my first time in this house.

as we enter her room, i can't help but notice how clean it looks. her bookshelf organized by size and color, desk clear and neat. i almost miss the messiness of it all, the way her personality leaked all over her bedroom walls.

had she cleaned everything for me?

i scan her bedroom walls, all of which are covered in photos of us. photos from practice, summer trips to the lake, championship games.

her bedroom a museum of us, a bold testament to our bond.

"you kept all of these?" i asked softly, touching the corner of a photo from years ago.

azzi shrugs, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "of course," she clears her throat nervously. "only because i look so good in them," she laughs failing to hide her affection.

i turn to her, ready to tease her about being sentimental, but the words die on my lips. she's holding something behind her, smiling with her eyes.

she takes a deep breath, bringing her hands forward slowly. in them is a carefully wrapped package, similar to the half-packed boxes littering my floor at home.

"i, uh, got you this. well, more like...put together." she hands me the box.

my fingertips brush against hers, heart racing as i look up into her eyes. "az, you didn't have to—"

"just open it, p," she interrupts, her voice soft and eager.

i unwrap the box, finally catching sight of its contents. it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, it's all too much for me. her favorite hoodie, a worn copy of looking for alaska, a piece of frayed net from the hoop on her porch. and...is that the lego set we bought a long time ago?

all pieces of us, delicately put together in a small brown box.

"az..." i whisper, blinking away tears.

"i wanted you to have a piece of home to take with you," she explains, her eyes seeking my reaction. "so you didn't forget me—us."

i look up at her, my vision blurring the edges around her face. a warmth in my heart builds, surrounded by fragments of us. the finality of it all finally hit me.

how can we pack all of us into a box? years spent together, inseparable for the longest time, just to be neatly packaged in a cardboard box.

there's still so much i want to take with me. how do you package the sound of azzi's laugh? the feeling of her hand in mine? how do i fold up the comfort of her presence and tuck it neatly into a suitcase?

our friendship is a living, breathing thing. packing it away feels inhumane. she will never be a cardboard box i push into the back of my closet, the back of my mind. azzi's warmth pulses underneath my skin. she's the movement that pushes the blood through my body.

i realize something now. home isn't minnesota. it isn't my house or even this one.

home is azzi. and i'm about to leave it behind.

the weight of this box, however light in pounds, pulls me to the floor. my knees buckling underneath me, unable to form a coherent sentence. i'm drowning in a sea of emotions, waves of nostalgia and fear crashing over me. i cry, clinging to the box, like a life vest. my breath comes in short gasps, like i'm barely keeping my head above water.

i hear her call my name, but i can't respond. her voice feels far, muffled by my own emotion. i want to reach out, to tell her i'm okay, but my body won't cooperate.

azzi's hoodie wraps around me like a buoy, keeping me from sinking into the depths of my fears. the book, a raft of memories. the piece of net becomes a rope, pulling me to the shore of home—to her.

i can feel her worry radiate off her in waves, matching the momentum of my fear.

azzi's my anchor, solid and hopeful, grounding me in this storm. her hands cup my face, holding me like water, wiping away the flood.

her touch is gentle, safe. i lean into it instinctively, she always knows how to bring me back to myself.

looking up, i meet azzi's gaze. her eyes are a mirror of my own—a mix of worry, empathy, and something deeper. something that's been left unspoken between the two of us for a long time.

i feel her eyes search my face, a warmth that cuts through the chill of my tears.

azzi's looking at me like i'm her anchor too like she's just as terrified of drifting apart.

"paige, look at me," she says softly, also crying, wiping away my tears before her own.

i force myself to focus on her face. the wetness of her eyelashes, the trembling of her breath, her flushed cheeks—anything to slow my thoughts.

she sits on her knees, catching my tears in her palms. "you're not losing me, okay?" her voice reassuring, but also breaking between her tears.

"okay," i mumble sniffling. before i can thank her or apologize, she pulls my forehead to her lips. they tremble softly against my skin, her sadness showing but insistent on soothing me first.

azzi pulls my head into her chest, stroking my hair gently. i wrap my arms around her waist firmly, thinking that maybe if i hold her tightly enough, i can keep her here—in this moment, forever.

my tears begin to settle as i focus on her heartbeat, trying to memorize it. each beat a resilient promise, a faint whisper of trust, something to hold on to.

we stay there for a moment before azzi pulls back, staring at me with such a tenderness it almost sets me off again.

my eyes fall on the lego set peeking out of the box, and i can't let but let out a shaky laugh. "you're finally letting me build this," i smile, "it only took me almost moving away, huh?"

azzi's face breaks into a small grin, relief showing in her eyes. "like i'd trust you to build it on your own. someone's gotta make sure you read the instructions."

"hey!" i gasp in mock offense. "instructions are for people who don't know what they're doing, i'm a professional lego architect."

"oh we'll see about that," she jabs, opening the box.

azzi's pov:

as we build the lego set together, i can't help but steal glances at paige. i read the instructions to her but she's definitely not listening. already working at the pieces, her focus is unbreakable. her tongue pokes out slightly as she concentrates. it's so quintessentially her, it makes my heart ache.

the day passes by in a blur of laughter and shared memories. it isn't until i notice how dark my room has gotten that i realize we've spent hours on my bedroom floor.

"see, i don't need instructions," paige says, proudly showing off the part she's assembled.

"yeah, whatever," i laugh, admiring her confidence.

we're interrupted by a soft knock at my door, the scent of fresh-baked cookies wafts from behind the door. i open the door to my grandma, always the perfect host, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

she smiles warmly, "i thought you two might want a cookie break."

paige lunges up from the floor almost pushing me over, reaching for the plate. "you're gonna have to send some of these to connecticut," she says, between mouthfuls.

she laughs at her comment, "i wanted to give you this also," in her other hand she hands me an old film camera. "maybe you can capture something special," she smiles before closing the door.

"your grandma makes the best cookies," paige's voice muffled under the sound of her chewing.

before she can react, i snap a photo of her. the camera clicking in a way that makes me giggle.

"hey, i wasn't ready!" she snatches the camera out of my hands. "you're always the model anyways," she says, snapping a photo of me.

i give her a fake smile, still reaching for the camera. "happy now? give it back," i laugh, chasing her around my room.

"not until you give me a real smile," she holds the camera above her head.

"that's not gonna work, we're the same height, stupid," i reach for the camera nearly knocking it out of her hands.

"one picture, with a smile," she takes the camera up to her eye to look through the viewfinder.

i give her another impatient smile. she kneels down dramatically, shifting back and forth while snapping photos.

"okay, my turn," i reach for the camera again.

"these aren't real smiles," she pokes my side, making me giggle. "see there it is, hold still."

i drop my smile and pout dramatically. paige moves the camera away from her face and lunges towards me, jabbing at my sides. "stop, paige," i giggle, swatting at her hands.

she dodges me, her fingers continue relentlessly. i push her onto my bed, using my body weight to keep her still. we fight for a moment squirming around my mattress before i pin both of her wrists down. satisfied, i grin down at her. our laughter comes to a soft stop and we're both breathless.

"see, was that so hard?" paige tilts her head to the side, still out of breath. she attempts to reach her hands up again but i tighten my grip.

"oh, whatever," i roll my eyes, leaning closer to her, my hair draping over her face.

"can i tell you something?" she starts, her voice sounding a bit more serious.

"hm?" i respond, still satisfied i could hold her still.

paige hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching mine. "i've never actually had my first kiss," her cheeks flushing a light pink. "i thought i would've by now, before college, you know?"

i loosen my grip on her wrist, "oh, i had no idea. i figured plenty of guys would be lining up to kiss the paige bueckers," i tease.

"i guess," she looks away bashfully, "i just want it to be with someone special. someone i care about," her voice lowering to a whisper.

there's a silence that hangs between us. i feel my heart pounding in my chest. "like who?" i ask quietly.

i need to hear her say it.

her eyes flicker to my lips briefly before meeting my eyes again. "like...you," she says nervously, almost asking it like a question.

was she saying what i think she was?

"really?" i lean closer to her, my eyes wide and hopeful.

she lets out a nervous breath, her eyes intently locked on my lips. "yeah," she whispers, blinking quickly.

before i can overthink it, she leans in, closing the gap between us. her lips meet mine softly, and my hands reach for her face. i feel a nervous tremble in her lips, soft and warm. the pure flavor of her lips, tasting like vanilla and chocolate. her hands move to my waist, her thumb swaying slightly. we move slowly, gently, not wanting to rush this moment.

our kiss is tender like a warm summer night. her lips move sweetly and determined like she's thought of this before. her hands stroking softly saying "i've wanted this. wanted you."

when she pulls back i feel a new kind of emptiness. how am i going to live with the absence of her touch? she's opened a crack in my heart, long enough for the light to come in.

kissing paige was like sunlight embodied.

we stare at each other for a moment. caught in this new in-between.

what do you say after you kiss your best friend? how do you tell her it was your first kiss too?

"i'm glad it was you," she smiles, sitting up.

"yeah, me too," i murmur, my voice full of emotion. i lean to the side, still dazed from her touch.

"it's getting late, we should probably—" she starts.

"yeah...um," i respond uneasily, standing up to walk over to my closet. i grab one of my old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. "you can wear these to sleep in."

paige takes the clothes from me, her fingers brushing against mine. when we touch this time, it feels different, heavier. she heads to the bathroom to change, and i let out a breath i didn't know i was holding in.

even being just a room over, it feels like she's slipping through my fingers. i'm reminded of my nightmares from last night, paralyzed by the thought of losing her.

i need to tell her.

i grab a piece of paper and pen off my desk, my hands quivering slightly as i start to write.

the first part of the letter flows easily. but as i continue, i feel a shift. the truth hanging in the space between my pen and the paper.

she deserves the truth. and i owe it to myself, to finally tell her.

my heart races, searching for the right words as i continue...

i reread the letter, feeling vulnerable under my own words.

what if this ruins everything? what if she doesn't feel the same way?

i glance at my bedroom door, knowing paige could return at any moment. the panic sets in and i make a split-second decision. my hands shake as i tear the paper in half.

the first part, full of friendship and encouragement. it's a bit more sentimental than usual but not enough to make her suspect anything. i fold it neatly, placing it atop the other objects in the box. it's safe, expected.

the second part, my true feelings for her. i can't bring myself to throw it away, but i'm not ready for her to read it either. i tuck the small slip into the final pages of the last chapter of the book i'm giving her.

maybe one day i'll find the courage to tell her. maybe someday she'll finish the book and know how i really feel. but for now, this feels safe.

i don't know if i'm hoping she finds it or not.

as i hear the bathroom door open, i quickly close the book, sealing my fate. my heart pounds with the weight of my unspoken words.

my thoughts cease when i see her in my clothes. she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking unabashedly herself. for a moment, i see our future. imagining our closets becoming one, holding her as she falls asleep, an endless sleepover.

how am i supposed to let her go?

she catches me staring and smiles softly, a knowing glint in her eyes that makes my heart ache. without speaking, we settle into our usual routine. i let her sleep on my favorite side of the bed, she shifts around, trying to get comfortable. eventually, she turns on her side, her back facing me.

right before i drift off to sleep, i hear her call out to me. "azzi," she whispers softly into the dark.

"hm?" i answer, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"can you hold me?"

her voice gentle and vulnerable, as if i could hold every piece of her together. "of course," i wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her in closer. she sinks into my touch, her breath slows.

she drifts to sleep quickly in my arms, our heartbeats syncing. the weight of our unspoken words between us, laying heavily on my chest, pushing me towards a deep sleep.

i dream of never having to let her go.

[linkspooky]

GREAT TEACHER, GOJO

For my final commentary on chapter 236, I thought I'd talk about this panel the starter of a million flame wars on twitter dot com. The big controversy is Nanami stating that Gojo fought only for himself without mentioning his students which a lot of people thought was a last minute reversal on Gojo's character, or character regression.

I'm not going to call anyone stupid, or say if you have good teacher Gojo headcanons you're wrong. However, I'd like to point out that Gojo's always been more complicated than most shonen mentors. He's not Kakashi, and he's not Aizawa, and I'd argue the fact that he's not the standard "I'd die to protect my students" mentor we see in shonen manga is what makes him interesting.

The Springtime of Youth

Jujutsu Kaisen is a shonen jump manga that is very aware of the other manga that are running in the same magazine and uses that awareness to play with audience expectations.

To put it simply if you don't want to use words like Deconstruction - if you're reading Jujutsu Kaisen then things are probably not going to go the way you expect them. It's not Naruto, it's not My Hero Academia, it's a little bit like Bleach except characters actually die.

If you expect things to go one way in Jujutsu Kaisen, then you're going to be thrown a curveball. To name some examples briefly before diving into Gojo.

Yuji Itadori is a normal boy protagonist suddenly dragged into the world of the supernatural.

However, everything goes wrong from there. Jujutsu Sorcerers are not heroes. Yuji is told that much from the beginning by Megumi within the first thirteen chapters. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery is not a good place to be, Yuji is initially excited to be a sorcerer and to be a part of this world and then learns that lesson fast. I mean, imagine if Deku was accepted to UA, and then he immediately learned that students at the school die on the regular and all the adults are either terrible selfish people, or if they're not they die too like Nanami because being selfless means sticking your neck out for someone else.

Yuji's not really special in the narrative. He's just a kid who swallowed a finger. He doesn't have a secret technique. We're hundreds of chapters in and he's still just punching people. If he's cornered in a fight he doesn't unlock a secret technique either, he just loses.

Yuji has a superpowered evil side, like the nine tailed fox, or Hollow Ichigo except it's not really his super powered evil side. It's an evil parasite attached to his soul with a will of its ownt hat will manipualte him. Hollow Ichigo and the Kyuubi can escape temporarily and there's usually no consequence. Sukuna escapes twice, the first time he nearly kills Megumi, the second time he kills thousands.

Yuji is kind of like a main character who is not a main character.

If you still believe he's the main character, then you can agree he's punished for thinking he's the main character and therefore things are going to be easy, because nothing is ever easy in Jujutsu Kaisen.

Megumi is a riff on the chosen one. He's supposed to be the Gojo Satoru of his generation, born with the strongest technique that ca even surpass the limitless and he's nowhere near the level he's supposed to be. This is because Megumi has been continually failed by every adult figure all his life, starting with his father who sold him, then Gojo the man who SAVED* him techically but with a big asterisk that he needed to become his student and do jobs for Jujutsu High School otherwise Gojo would just let the Zen'in take him or let them starve I guess. Megumi has no adult figures to rely on, and has been given very little freedom about who or what he wants to be in his life, and therefore he's a very passive, repressed individual who's riddled with insecurities. Megumi doesn't want to be the strongest like Gojo, or like many hero / rival characters in shonen manga. Megumi doesn't even know what he wants to be, because he's never been given any choice in life.

If you don't think Megumi's a deconstruction of any sort of character type, look at those posts on twitter that are like "Look at the black haired depressed shonen boys" and then look at Megumi, he's never actually like any of these boys because he's much deeper and probably closer to being the main character than Yuji is.

Then we get to Gojo who is very unlike all the other mentors in shonen manga.

If Yuji and Megumi are both riffs on a main character, a hero in a world so cynical he's not allowed to play hero and actively punished for it, and a chosen one who doesn't want to be the chosen one then you have Gojo as the mentor who's nothing like the classic mentor.

The problem with mentor characters in fiction is that number one they die a lot (spoiler warning Obi Wan Kenobi dies in Star Wars just so you know) and number two they're not usually the most complex character in the cast.

What is the mentor there for?

To Mentor (duh.)

What this means is they are usually a fully formed adult who can teach a lesson to the main character, who in shonen manga is typically a teenager.

I say they're usually less interesting because stories are about characters changing, or characters learning lessons. A teacher presumably already has learned his lesson. They are usually at the end of their journey and not the beginning, that's why they can offer wisdom to the main characters. They're not usually their own separate characters because of this - a narrative doesn't have time to waste on a character that's not going to change.

Jung had a term for this character, it's called the Wise Old Man.

In Jungian analytical psychology, senex is the specific term used in association with this archetype. Examples of the senex archetype in a positive form include the wise old man or wizard. In the individuation process, the archetype of the Wise old man was late to emerge, and seen as an indication of the Self. 'If an individual has wrestled seriously enough and long enough with the anima (or animus) problem...the unconscious again changes its dominant character and appears in a new symbolic form...as a masculine initiator and guardian, a wise old man, a spirit of nature, and so forth'.

The role of the wise man archetype is to help other people along with their ego development, because usually they are already fully developed individuals.

Obi Wan is the most typical of typical mentors, and he dies in Star Wars because after he finishes teaching Luke he has nothing to do. This is Luke's Hero's Journey. Obi Wan's already happened offscreen, he's at the end of his journey there's no room for change or growth in him because his story purpose is to exist to advise Luke and to do that he needs to be a fully grown adult figure.

The subversion to this when the mentor has their own agenda (Gandalf), or the mentor is as flawed as the main characters themselves and so therefore he has something to learn.

Gojo is kind of a combination of both, like Gandalf he is the mysterious but seemingly all powerful wizard (er... or rather sorcerer) with his own agenda, and he's also practically the fourth member of the main cast who are otherwise all teenagers. In fact, Gojo spells out his agenda in the same panels that everyone uses to constantly assert that Gojo is a good teacher who only wants to protect his students.

He wants to make the Jujutsu World a better place (good) which is why he is raising students so he can turn them into his political allies to make a regime change (hidden agenda).

It's a means justifies the end type scenario. In Gojo's mind the means (raising kids as tools in support of his political agenda) justifies the ends (a better jujutsu world for those children). His motivation is still the same. This is what I think people most often get confused about with Gojo's character. I think he is one hundred percent genuine about wanting a better world.

"I have a dream, I want to reset this crappy Jujutsu World" is his motivation, but not his means. He uses his students as a means to achieve that end. Even if it's purportedly for their sake, he's still using them. I don't even think this is subtext it's text, both Megumi and Yuji call themselves cogs.

"But senpai, what's your function...?"

You could say in this case that the ends don't justify the means. Is Gojo really protecting these kid's youth, if Yuji and Megumi are going around calling themselves cog and acting like they don't matter in the grand scheme of things? In fact the narrative is inviting you to question if Gojo's ends justify his means.

Gojo's ideals can be one hundred percent real, but he can also pick faulty ways of choosing those ideals that fail to live up to them. In fact most people fall short of ideals, that's why they're called ideals. Gojo is taking these kids in because they have strong potential as sorcerers and he wants to recruit them, that's his hidden agenda. It's confirmed in databooks in Yuji and Yuta's case, and even if you don't trust databooks as canon then look at how he treats Megumi.

Megumi is explicitly Gojo's student, not his son. He only intervened in Megumi's situation on the caveat that Megumi work for him. Presumably, if Megumi didn't want to be a sorcerer and just wanted to be a normal kid, Gojo would have either let the Zen'in have him or do nothing. The option of just calling child services and getting someone to foster Megumi until he was older didn't even seem to cross Gojo's mind. There's the help he gives (Food money, rent, protection from the Zen'in) and then the hidden agenda (Don't work for the Zen'in who are my political rivals, you're my student now).

Yet at the same time Gojo is shown going to find Megumi after Geto's defection, probably because of the words he said to Yaga "You can only save those who want to be saved," when he realized it was too late for Geto. Was he intervening earlier for Megumi because he learned from being too late with Geto? Did he think Megumi needed guidance, or did he think Megumi needed protection in his youth so the Jujutsu World wouldn't corrupt him like it did Geto, or did he think he just needed to make it so Megumi was strong so he wouldn't fall behind him because Geto fell so far behind him once Gojo became the strongest. There's ambiguity there, because the hidden agenda is you know... Hidden. That's what I mean with Gojo though, you can look at him from multiple angles, he's not just (I love my students I'd die for them) because that character would only have one purpose in the narrative and that'd be being the perfect mentor who teaches them all the right lessons.

Gojo's not like other mentors, and in fact he's a commentary on the mentors that everyone is always comparing him to and expecting him to be like.

Literally everyone who reads Naruto has the exact same response, "I hate how the manga never talks about how it's a bad thing to send these child soldiers into war, and nobody breaks the cycle."

There are a lot of people unhappy about the same thing in My Hero Academia, "Why does nobody talk about how wrong it is that the adults make these high school students fight on the battlefield."

Well there you go. That's Gojo. His dream is to make it so Jujutsu Society is a place where teenagers can survive until adulthood. His method of doing so is to... raise those teenagers to be stronger than the previous generation, but you know still letting them be child soldiers on the battlefield just stronger ones. He does this because if he's working within the system the his two choices are raise a group of people who can age out and replace the old regime, or just kill everyone at the top.

Everyone complains about how no one talks about the child soldiers in Naruto or My Hero Academia, but here you go, we have a manga that is centered around how messed up it is to send high school students to continually fight these curses before they even turn eighteen. Gojo's sending these kids out there still even if he wants to change things, and it's supposed to be a little messed up and also a contradiction to what his ideals are supposed to be.

Because in My Hero Academia you have characters like Aizawa and Kakashi who are "I will die for my students" but then they just send those teens out to fight in a war, and seem totally fine with that. It's a hole in the writing, but this time it's done on purpose, to ask why these adults are always comfortable sending teenagers out to fight for them?

Jujutsu Kaisen provides two answers, number one the system is inherently corrupt and it sees the youth as cogs because the system is rooted in traditions that keep the elderly in power. Number two, in Gojo's case at least this is exactly what it was like for him growing up as a child. Gojo is just repeating with his students what was done to him, subconsciously.

The reason Nanami said this, and then repeated it in this most recent chapter is Gojo was born to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a highly deadly occupation for everyone else, except for Gojo. Not only that but because he's so good at it, and he's so lauded for it he's built his entire identity around it. Nanami's not just saying that Gojo is selfish, he's also saying that Gojo thinks being a sorcerer is a good thing. It is the end all, be all of Gojo's existence.

He doesn't want to make it so sorcerers don't have to fight, or make it so all cursed energy is gone for the world like Yuki Tsukumo, his dream is actually kind of limited in scope he doesn't want the school days of his students to be destroyed by the outside world the way it was for him and Geto.

Gojo looks at the symptoms and not the cause. Geto defected, Haibara died, Yaga wasn't really able to do much for his students in both scenarios. Gojo deduced it was because the elders and regressive policies were holding people back in favor of keeping the regime in charge (correct) and that because of that the sorcerers in Gojo's high school years just weren't strong enough to keep up (this is just what Gojo thinks).

His words to Megumi are encouraging him to be strong so he won't get left behind, which as I speculated above might imply Gojo thinks that part of what went wrong with Geto was that he simply wasn't strong enough to keep up with Gojo or stay on his level. If not then he still encourages Megumi to get strong before everything else, he's not taking care of these kids emotional needs, he's pushing them to get stronger because in Gojo's mind that's the be all end all solution to every problem.

"Nanami's line was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, it's saying that "You live for Jujutsu." It is the lens through which Gojo sees everything, and so therefore he doesn't think of breaking kids out of the Jujutsu World, just making it a place that's slightly more safe for them. Gojo's ego is so strong that he only ever sees things from his point of view, being a sorcerer was fun for him, his high school days were the happiest time in his life before they got ruined by outside forces.

He's trying to protect those days for his children, but he's not arguing against the existence of an institution like Jujutsu High in the first place. He's not saying the teenagers should never be sent out on missions, he's saying we need to make the teens stronger. If they're stronger than they won't die (that's probably true but they'll be even safer if they don't have to go on missions in the first place).

Now we have a reason! Why do Aizawa and Kakashi send out child soldiers into the battlefield if their goal is to protect their students? Because it's a shonen manga and the main characters are all teenagers.

Why does Gojo send out teenagers to fight for him if he wants to protect them, well I just explained it.

In fact, the entire purpose of Nanami in the story is to give us a character who explicitly treats children like they are children and not miniature adults. Who acknowledges that this is emotionally hard for children to deal with and they shouldn't have to do that.

Nanami's lines of "I'm an adult you're a child" and "Being a child is not a bad thing." would not have the weight they carry if they weren't so different from the way that every other adult in the story (including Gojo) treats children.

Nanami and Gojo have the same goal of making being a Jujutsu Sorcerer easier for children, but Nanami practices what he preaches. He tells Yuji to stand back and that he doesn't need to fight if he sees an enemy that's too strong, to let the adult on scene handle things first.

When he sees that Yuji is disturbed by the idea of killing former humans that Mahito had changed with his technique, he consoles him. He knows that Yuji is a sensitive kid and tries to spare him as much of that grief as possible. When he leaves Yuji behind he tells him explicitly that he's the adult in this situation, he shouldn't be forcing a child to help carry that burden if it's not necessary.

He also explicitly tells Yuji that being strong or jumping into life threatening situations =/= as growing up. Nanami is a character aware that the problem isn't that the children are not strong enough, but that too much responsibility is being thrown on these children. That there is a difference between what children and adults are emotionally capable of. Gojo doesn't see that difference because he reached enlightenment as seventeen. He even explicitly chose Nanami because Gojo knew he wasn't good at that stuff.

Nanami was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, Nanami was saying Gojo lives to be a sorcerer, Gojo who loves sorcery doesn't understand why being a sorcerer is too much of an emotional burden on a child. He just doesn't. He literally says his students are flowers.

Now, here's the kicker. Nanami dies.

Nanami wanted Yuji to not take on too much responsibility, and he died leaving Yuji with more responsibility than he could ever carry. Nanami failed in his goal, despite the fact he is the most responsible and well-meaning adult in the story who treats children like they're children.

The reason he dies is because this is what happens to people like Nanami in Jujutsu Society. The whole of society is built to condition people into being cogs and Nanami who's just one person can't overcome it on his own. I can write a whole meta on how Nanami's way of dealing with children is way better than Gojo's and yet they do essentially the same thing, throw way too much responsibility onto Yuji even though he's just a kid. They're both too ingrained in the system to make any sweeping changes, and that's why the child soldiers keep on child soldiering.

Gojo as a Character

The second reason as eluded above that Gojo is not meant to be read as a perfect teacher, or even a good one really is because he's the fourth main character of the cast. If you are a main character, then you need a flaw, and an arc where you either improve upon that flaw or you succumb to it in tragic fashion.

Gojo's not the perfect adult mentor, because he's kind of in the same place as the kids themselves. I think there's a reason we never learn anything about Gojo's backstory, we know nothing about his parents, the Gojo clan, because those details aren't as relevant. The most important thing about Gojo is the three years he spent at high school, because that was the only time he felt like a person, and also because he is trapped there mentally.

There's a reason that Gojo's dying dream is him imagining everyone reset to seventeen years old, because that was where the clock stopped for him in his youth, and that was where all of his regrets as an adult come from. His motivation to help teenagers today only comes from his own youth being ruined, and the adults in his life failing to protect him.

It's very likely that Gojo who lives for Jujutsu probably would never have realized the problems in his current society, if his youth wasn't ruined by those same adults he's now fighting against.

The reason most mentor figures in fiction are not main characters is because as adults they don't really need to grow up anymore. The obvious solution is that you just need your mentor character to just fail to be an adult in some glaring way.

To show how Gojo falls short as an adult, especially in regards to these children and how he treats them is to drag him down from all powerful, all knowing wizard, and make him struggle with the rest of the main cast. Gojo is not a positive adult figure in these kids lives despite having the best of intentions, because he's not really an adult.

I guess if you were already the best and strongest person in the world at seventeen, smarter and more capable than all the adults around you, you wouldn't really feel the need to grow up. Coupled with the fact that you are alienated from other people and do not relate to them on a personal level that's not going to help with your identity formation.

I mean I constantly compare Gojo to Superman, but to be fair to Gojo instead of bullying him like I usually do Clark Kent was raised by parents who raised a boy not a superman, and who constantly tell him that he's just a normal person, his powers don't make him great, it's his heart.

Nanami says that Gojo only fights for himself that ""You don't wield Jujutsu to protect something, you use it solely to for your own sake. What a weirdo" it's likely Gojo only fights for himself because he's never ben told that's he's more than just the six-eyes and more than just the limitless.

The best way to make a mentor a part of the cast, is to make them through some way or another have failed to grow up properly in their youth and therefore they need to do it while the story is taking place. We know how Gojo failed, his springtime of youth ended early, it ended the day he couldn't stop Geto from leaving, the day he can be the strongest sorcerer ever and still fail because sorcerer society is too corrupt for one person to handle alone. We also know he didn't really grow up past this point, because he still thinks the solution is to make people be stronger. Why does he not do anything about Geto for 11 years? In story terms he's basically suspended in time unable to grow past Geto. Kenjaku literally uses the trauma from his youth and the memories that seeing Geto alive would provoke in Gojo again, to trap him because he knew it would make him freeze up. Gojo is frozen in the past, he failed to grow up in story terms and must now grow up while the main story itself is taking place along with the children he's trying to raise.

This is how you make a mentor interesting. You have to make them flawed in some way that makes it worth having them onscreen, because a perfect mentor only serves one purpose to teach a main character and then he's gone.

Dazai Osamu from Bungo Stray Dogs is a character that's almost as massively popular as Gojo. Similiarly, he is a teenage genius who found trouble relating to other people who is now as an adult attempting to mentor two children.

However, Dazai's faults as a mentor are made much more explicit.

Dazai suddenly punched Akutagawa in the face, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Akutagawa flew back onto the ground, his head bouncing off the stone flooring with a thud. "Perhaps I made it look like I wanted to hear excuses. Sorry for the misudnerstanding," Dazai said while rubbing his knuckles. "Urg..." Akutagawa moaned. He'd hit his head so hard that he couldn't even stagger to his feet. "Give me your gun," Dazai ordered one of his men. The subordinate was hesitant but nonetheless handed over his weapon. Next, Dazai removed the magaine from the automatic pistol, took out all but three bullets, then put the magazine back in. He immediately pointed the gun at Akutagawa, who was still on the ground. "I have this friend who's supporting several orphans all on his own, you see," he continued his weapon still drawn and aimed at the boy. "AKutagawa I'm sure Odasaku would've been patient enough to give you the guidance you needed had he been the one who'd found you on the brink of starvation right in the slums. That would have been the 'right' thing to do. But 'righteousness' doesn't take very kindly to me. And there's only one thing people like me do to useless subordinates." Dazai mercilessly pulled the trigger the moment he finished his sentence.

(Don't worry, Akutagawa lived). Dazai is a character who had a troublesome youth he never grew up from. He was too smart for the world as a kid, and because of that joined up with the mafia because he wanted to feel like he was more connected to life and other people by getting closer to death (weird dazai logic I know) and was the best of the best at it, but it only drove him further away from people. He makes one friend, and loses that friend similiar to Gojo. Just like Gojo too, that friend is the one who gives him his purpose as an adult that drives him to mentor young people.

"Odasaku.. What should I do?" "Be on the side that saves people," Odasaku replied, "If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit more wonderful."

Is this not what Nanami said just in different words. Odasaku tells Dazai point blank, I know you're selfish, I know that you don't really have any concept of good or evil but you can choose to save others anyway.

Isn't this what Gojo does?

He is selfish. He doesn't really consider the morality or his actions or get hung up on the idea of protecting the weak like Nanami or Geto do, but he still does go out of his way to live for the ideal of saving children.

Both Gojo and Dazai are characters who are struggling with this ideal of saving the children, because while their ideals are good they themselves as people are morally gray. Adding onto that, they're also children and a good deal of their backstory is devoted to showing why they never really grew out of the mindset that they held as children.

The story doesn't call them horrible monsters for it, it's just saying that they need to grow up or face the consequences of not growing up.

"I have one regret," I said. "I never got to say good-bye to my friend. He was always there for me as 'just a friend.' He was bored of this world and always waited for death to come for him." "That man was in search of a place to die just like me?" "No, not exactly," I answered. "I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he's different. He's sharp-witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier of the world we're seeing." He was too smart for his own good. THat was why he was always alone. The reason why ANgo and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood. But in that moment, I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading a little.

Does that sound like the narrative is condemning Dazai for being who he is? No, it's Dazai's best friend offering empathy and understanding for how lonely it must be, and how if Dazai made real connections with people then he could have a chance of growing up like everyone else. That's what the narrative challenges Dazai to do while empathizing with why it's harder for him to and why he's still trapped in his youth, because to take care of children you need to be an adult yourself. Otherwise if you're a child, and I'm a child, then nobody's driving the plane.

Rupert Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is another mentor who faces the same moral dilemna that Gojo does. In fact his entire character revolves around the fact he knows deep down he's sending a kid to her early grave.

Buffy is the Chosen One TM. One girl in all the world is chosen to fight the vampires. Much like sorcerer society, there is an entire bureaucracy dedicated to identifying the chosen slayer and then raising her up and guiding her as a weapon to be used against the threat of vampires and demons.

The watchers are all adults. The slayer is a teenage girl. The slayer slays. The watchers watch. Just like in Jujutsu Kaisen, there is a necessity for the Slayer to exist, because the alternative is just letting vampires eat people. Yet even if the slayer needs to exist, at the end of the day a bunch of adult men are sending a teenage girl to fight for them.

All Slayers die young. All of them without an exception. No matter how good of a mentor is, no matter how much he cares about her, Buffy is going to die one day, and Giles is going to watch. Because that's what the watcher does, they watch. Sending her on missions means Buffy's in danger, not sending her means innocent people are in danger.

It's a scenario that's pretty much like Gojo's, and the narrative of Buffy makes it explicit that Giles really can't be a father figure to bufy in this scenario. A father would have to choose to put their child above the world and keep them safe, not send them out straight into danger.

It is a choice that Giles makes over and over again. He is always her watcher and never her father. There's a season 3 episode where Giles literally drugs Buffy as a part of a test to prove she is "worthy" of being a slayer. A test that deliberately puts her in harms way that he complies with - because the system told him to. A choice to be her watcher and act according to what the council of watchers wanted and not what Buffy wanted. A choice that shatters the illusion that Buffy had of him, showing her that Giles is only there to teach her to be a Slayer, not to take her to the iceapades or buy ice cream with her.

In this scenario Gojo is very much like Giles as no matter how much he may personally like these kids, he is not their father, and there is only so much he can do for them when he's still feeding them into the same system. Giles loves Buffy, Giles wants to protect Buffy, Giles is a part of the system that exploits Buffy. Giles is an adult asking Buffy to risk her life to save the world.

Gojo goes out of his way to recruit Megumi, Yuji, and Yuta among others. Gojo still doesn't let them be anything other than sorcerers, and as sorcerers they're still guaranteed to one day die and probably die young. Gojo wants to revolutionize the system he is, but he still sends out his students to do missions as part of that system. He's not letting them escape it, he's just making them be stronger sorcerers.

Not only is Gojo not a father figure to Megumi, he is exploiting him more or less. The option of Megumi not being a sorcerer isn't on the table. No matter how well-intentioned he may be, or how good his ideals are he's still an adult telling a child to make a sacrifice for the world.

So, there are two character conflicts with two different mentors that both reflect Gojo. Gojo cannot grow up because he's still trapped in the tragedy of his youth. He himself is not an adult, for various reasons (lack of connection to other people, trauma in his youth) he's egocentric like a child but there are children in his life who need him to be.

Gojo also cannot be a proper adult, because he is part of a system that exploits children. We see what the system does to proper adults like Nanami, he shows us just how much well-intentioned adults struggle to help kids under sorcerer society so how about Gojo who thinks being a sorcerer is really fun. A proper adult would never send kids on those missions, they'd find some way to shield them but Gojo cannot do that. Because sorcerers are short staffed and innocent people will die if he doesn't. Because Gojo isn't the sorcer-king of Jujtusu Society and is working within it to affect change. There are reasons, but still Gojo is failing to live up to his desire to protect children because he's not doing what a responsible adult should do in this situation.

Gojo's failures are two-fold, and yet it's because of those failures that he was a main character who got as much special plot attention as he did. If Gojo was a perfect teacher he wouldn't be a character. After all, we relate to the struggles of other human beings we see onscreen in television and in movies so why would we care about a perfect character?

Gojo has a lot more to say about teachers in shonen manga, and also about childhood vs. adulthood as a bad teacher struggling to be a good one, then a teacher who's already perfect. Nanami said those lines because he wanted us to understand the audience that this is who Gojo is, he is a selfish and egotistical person who nonetheless was trying to do good things.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hi, could i request Alastor x reader where one of them does something nice/gives something to the other not realizing that in their culture it's equivalent of courting/proposing? And since the other is in love with them, they don't mention the connotations and it takes someone else to point it out for them to realize? :)

Going to be honest, I wasn't sure how to write this one, since I'm white and to my knowledge Alastor's a Creole man from 1930s, so I wasn't sure what from either of those cultures could be mistaken for a proposal. After doing some research I'm going to tweak this ask a bit, simply because I am not entirely comfortable representing other cultures that I am not a part of and only have a few hours worth of google research knowledge of. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted. If you or anyone has more specific traditions to use as examples, I'd be happy to try and expand on the idea.

(Or reinterpret this as like, flower language, gift giving symbolism by pagan standards, or crow language. Which not gonna liez my ADHD ass really wants to write a crow sinner giving them weird random stuff they find that they think the others would like.)

Anyway, I'm going to do things you'd do for each other that make you both wanna get married. Hope that's ok!

Alastor

It's not so much a single thing you do, but more like there is a single moment where he realizes he wants to marry you. And to be clear, his idea of marriage is going to be based off of what he grew up with and his own personal level of comfort with romance and intimacy (remember folks, aromantics have a spectrum as well and can get married and have perfectly happy, functional, healthy relationships and marriages).

It's probably not even a big grand gesture or anything. It's more likely something domestic and really sweet. Like it's post the finale fight with Adam, and he already knows he's getting attached because he let you help him get patched up. He lets you in his room, his space, and being touched by you is as easy and comfortable as it is with Rosie and Niffty, who have pretty much a free pass whenever.

Yet you're still always so respectful of his boundaries, of giving him subtle ways to avoid or redirect your touch if he's not feeling up to it. You never push, chosing to take what levels of affection he's willing to express but always letting him know you love him, and this last small thing is the thing that makes it click in his brain.

You bring him his coat, newly patched, cleaned of any trace of blood. The stitching is a little sloppy, crooked, and the fabric isn't lined up as well as it used to be, but you tried. He can see the effort and knows you spent hours holed up in your room after patching him up.

"I know it's not perfect, but it'll hold until you feel well enough to visit your tailor again." You say timidly, as if you expected rejection or critique. And while criticism wouldn't be unwarranted, he's just too emotional to say anything. His smile is gentle, a little wobbly, and he reaches out and brushes the coat aside to grab hold of you and pull you into a hug.

You're just so sweet and considerate, you understand him. He's not going to change, he doesn't want redemption, he thrives off the bloodshed and chaos of hell, but at the same time he's still just a man. And he wants you to be by his side for eternity, if he you want that too. He's never thought of marriage before but now...now he can't stop. He wants to have that with you. Domestic life, something to come home to.

He won't say anything right away, he wants his proposal to be perfect. He's going to have Rosie help him plan this every step of the way, but regardless, one day, you will be his partner.

As for what your moment with Alastor is, I think it entirely depends on what you value most in a partner. However, a general consensus I've seen in most of the fanfics and tumblr posts is the idea of Alastor showing us a softer side.

Not just showing us that he's more than a serial killer and cannibal with his own sense of morality. More than just feeling comfortable enough to let us initiate touch, hut genuinely letting us see past the Radio Demon persona.

Maybe it's by cooking for us and talking about how he learned the recipe from his Mama, which leads into him slowly opening up about her, how much he adored her. What she meant to him.

Maybe it's him and you at the bar in the hotel or in his room, sipping drinks, his jacket off, sleeves rolles up. Letting himself be casual and in a compromised state around you. Maybe he'll even take your hand and spin you across the dance floor like he used to with Mimzy. He doesn't even care if you're not that good, he can teach you, practice makes perfect, he just has fun with you.

Maybe it's a moment where he let's you touch him. Or seeks you out for help because he knows you won't say anything. Or if he humors you and flirts back when you tease him. Or let's say he has a tail and he doesn't snap your head off for accidentally touching it as you go by. Or he agrees to watch a movie with you or listen to a podcast despite how he feels about technology.

Maybe it's just a quiet night, sitting next to each other, each reading a book, his radio playing softly for background noise, and you look up to him to ask a question or say something and he's already watching you, a small, adoring smile on his face.

Take your pick of which one is the moment where your heart stops, your breath catches, and you realize that you wanna marry this man.

And then your delulu ass wakes up, lol.

Decide for yourself if you'd go through with a proposal or if you just accept how things are.

[blueywrites]

eddie frequents the curtained adult area of family video and steve always complains that he knows far too much about munsons kinks.

curiosity overwhelms you so you go over to smoke with him and lightly tease him about it. he shows you a super hot porno full off butt stuff on the woman AND the man.

this was fun to explore! cw: butt stuff, mutual masturbation, unedited.

You fancy yourself to be pretty sexually liberal - it doesn't phase you to talk about dirty stuff with friends, including their personal escapades. So when you hear Steve grumbling about all the dirty videos Eddie checks out, you know you're gonna tease him about it next time you see him. You don't really expect him to narrow his eyes and challenge you back by offering to pop in the one he just rented, but hey, why not? You shrug and say sure, not even bothering to ask what it's about, which Eddie seems amused by when he plops back down beside you on the couch, closer than he normally would be if he wasn't high. The film is typical - a 70s era tint, exaggeratedly sensual music, a ridiculous premise to lead into the fucking. You both giggle at the punny innuendos, muttering little quips back and forth, then finally fall quiet once the film makes its shift, leaning forward with interest. His elbow is hot when it brushes against you as he makes himself comfortable; you pull your legs up cross-legged, and when your knee nudges his thigh, you leave it there.

And that's where you thought it would remain: a smidge of lightly-loaded touching and some new fantasy material to touch yourself to later. What you didn't expect was for the guy to go from the standard 'two in the pink' while he eats her pussy to slipping his middle finger in her ass, pumping it in and out as she moans and fists her hand in his hair. Your clit throbs, and your belly tightens with a tingling heat, and you can't help but steal a glance at Eddie to see whether you're the only one affected. He's got his head tipped back against the couch while he watches the TV with a bloodshot, half-lidded gaze, and it's pulling the cords of his pale neck taut and making his adams apple look so prominent all of a sudden. Why is that erotic? you ask yourself, your eyes snapping back to the television when his chin nudges toward you like he's sensed you're looking at him.

"Uh--" You hear him clear his throat, just the tiniest bit hesitant, and you look back at him again. "How would you feel if, like..." Eddie wags his head slowly as if he's trying to find the words, though clearly he gives up going for subtlety when he finally finishes, "I jacked off right now?"

The thought makes your clit positively ache, but you play it cool, shrugging again as you tell him, "Sure."

The next moment he's fumbling eagerly with his belt like maybe he'd been feeling as needy as you are. You try not to look when he pulls himself out, but between the guy on screen burying himself between her legs and the constant moaning, you really can't help yourself. Eddie's cock is real ruddy at the tip, so much redder than his hand when it disappears into his fist, and the way he flicks his wrist with such practiced ease makes you think about how many times he's likely sat on this couch touching himself like this until he cums all over his twitching abdomen. God, that's fucking hot to imagine.

And it wouldn't be weird for you to touch yourself too, right? Like, obviously, Eddie wouldn't care. And it's no big deal, really, touching yourself next to your friend, especially when you're already watching porn together. So you shove your hand down your pants, sighing quietly as you swipe the tips of your fingers over your clit, letting that tingle center and build there.

So there you are, sitting next to Eddie while you both watch this porno, pretending you're not listening to the tiny sounds of each others' pleasure and sneaking quick glances at your arms moving rhythmically over your own laps. It's already more than you would've expected when you came over thinking about teasing him. And you haven't even gotten to the good part yet: when the guy on screen turns over, spreading his legs so the girl can run her hands up the back of his thighs and nestle close to lick his ass.

Cause then you start thinking about something you never would've ever fuckin' thought you'd think of before. Namely, what it'd be like to see Eddie like that - on his knees, moaning for you while you lick his ass.

Fuck.

You glance to the side again and catch Eddie's wide brown eyes. He's looking at you too, and with the way he's biting his lip through a crooked grin, you're about to say 'fuck it' and ask if you can do it here and now, damn the implications to hell.

Sexually liberal, indeed.

[scoobydoodean]

ppl get mad when dean’s “love” is “conditional”

but don’t blink when others erect “healthy boundaries” and “respectful expectations”

do you think dean is expected to be this idea of perfect, unconditional love in ways other characters are not?

thx

Hey anon sorry it took me a while to circle back to this! I was trying to find a related post for you but I never found it. :(

I don't know if most people expect Dean to be perfect, but I do believe that without realizing it, a lot of people hold Dean to very unreasonable standards and don't believe he deserves boundaries of any kind—including regarding his own feelings. For example,

Dean is often demonized for not trusting people immediately after they have broken his trust (ex: 4.21, 5.02, 5.05, 6.20) in a way fandom would never demonize Sam or Cas for not trusting Dean after Dean lied to them.

Dean is often criticized for not "opening up" to Sam. Not only is Dean under zero obligation to use Sam as a confidant, but the expectation always seems to be that Dean become "ready" to talk on Sam's timeline, and anything outside of what Sam considers to be an acceptable timeline is criticized by Sam and fandom from some cringe pop psychology perspective on emotional health (2.02, 4.09, 13.04). Sam, on the other hand, is never treated as if he is obligated to open up to Dean, and the countless times he says he doesn't want to talk are immediately dismissed as normal and his boundaries are treated with respect.

Dean was criticized by fandom immediately in season 13 for not parenting Jack correctly and not "being there" for Sam. Dean was very clear that he didn't want to be Jack's mother. Dean was under zero moral obligation, at any point, to adopt Jack and treat him as a son. However, portions of fandom consistently—from 13.01—insisted on judging Dean based on a poor "parenting" performance to someone who was not his kid, and who he explicitly stated he did not want parent. Many fans did and still do criticize Dean for not immediately setting aside his grief over Mary, Cas, and Crowley and joyfully accepting a parenting role over someone he had every reason to believe brainwashed his best friend which lead to his demise. (I say all of this separately from how Dean treated Jack as a house guest).

Dean is expected to forgive Sam and Cas on their timelines (season 5, season 15) but if they are angry at Dean, any length of time they might choose to hold things against him—including indefinitely—is justified and often applauded. In fact, you would often find—especially with Sam—fans over and over cheering Sam on for "standing up for himself finally" as if every time of the dozens of times he did that, it was the first time.

Dean is very popularly demonized for not forgiving Jack for murdering his mother. Jack can kill Mary because he was "scared" or "mad" and that's fine but Dean having a single feeling about it is out of line to this fandom. (As an aside—no—I don't think soulless Jack killing Mary was an accident based on how soulless!Jack described it... but either way it doesn't matter when it comes to how Dean is allowed to feel about it.) Mere hours after the incident occurs, Dean is expected to be flowering Jack with love and forgiveness, and the fact that he didn't makes Dean a monster.

Dean is demonized for putting Jack in the mal'ak box and when the episode aired (and again—continuing to this day within the fandom) it was framed by and large as if Dean was the sole perpetrator of that act, while Sam's role was brushed under the rug or fans straight up insisted Dean somehow "forced" Sam to go along with him (despite Sam very clearly being fucking terrified of Jack). Cas, a single episode later, enquiring about putting Jack in The Cage is also completely dismissed. Nobody gives a single fuck.

Dean saying (he thinks privately to Sam) he doesn't consider Jack family after what happened with Mary. I'll make myself abundantly clear: Dean has every right to feel this way. And let's be real—if Sam said he didn't see Jack as family, almost nobody would give a fuck... which goes for everything on this list?

Which brings me to the why of this ask.

Part of the reason Dean is held to different standards is down to some of fandom's desperate need to perpetuate Dean's childhood parentification by holding him responsible for everyone in his life. Because Dean is Mr. Parentified Child, he MUST accept Jack as his child because that's who Dean is—a defacto parent to everyone in his life, destined to be treated like the universe's mommy and then judged for doing a bad job at a task he does not have the power or authority to handle as if he did have that power and authority... and if he complains he's a selfish, cruel, evil monster.

Another reason is Dean's overarching role in the story, as the narrative heart and the hearth of the house. You cannot miss, in SPN, how central Dean is to the concept of belonging somewhere—of having a home—of being loved. I've said before that Dean's love is practically regarded as a human right in Supernatural. Dean really represents the idea of being loved at all—the intrinsic human need to be loved and accepted by others.

Sam or Cas could say they don't love someone, and it would just be taken as a personal opinion with no greater weight or significance. If Dean says he doesn't love someone, that carries a very special meaning to the fans and has a very special impact on the character who hears it. And while it may hurt another character to hear that from Dean... it also is not fair, in any sense of the word, to treat Dean's love as something everyone is entitled to—to deny his personhood and autono-[gunshots]—to act as if he is obligated to force himself to love everyone—as if that wasn't deeply unfair and also literally impossible.

One of the reasons Jack instantly attaches to Dean like a baby duck in season 13 despite Dean's cold, grief-stricken exterior while Sam is standing right there being "supportive" (besides Sam's poorly-concealed ulterior motives) is that Jack implicitly understands that Dean, whether he wants to be or not, is the Winchester family house. In order to ever feel like you belong in that house—like you are in that family—Dean has to love you. Fans also understand this whether they know they do or not. They know it doesn't matter if Sam says "You're family". If Dean doesn't say it—if Dean doesn't feel it—it will never feel real. Because of this, fans feel an entitlement for Dean to bestow instant love and forgiveness on their faves in a way they would never ask that of Sam or Cas... and they also perceive Dean as aware of his unique role and often perceive him as using it to control others or make the family a dictatorship... when Dean is literally just being a normal human being with boundaries and feelings, who did not choose to be perceived in this way, and whose feelings do not simply stop existing just because of this unfair perception of him and how everyone else is tying their self-esteem to him in ways Dean has zero control over... and their needs do not trump Dean's right to boundaries and feelings as just a guy—as just a human being!

[colibrie]

Mosaic Moments

Prompt 3, Leo: Not made of stone.

Art by @trilobitepunch

3. Not made of stone (Leo, Casey Jr, brief Donnie cameo)

"Woooowe! Now that was a great run!" Leo exclaimed, chest heaving gently as he skidded to a stop. His muscles throbbed with a pleasant burn, chest gently heaving with the welcome effort of exertion. A thin veneer of sweat cleansed his skin, gently pulling at the slight breeze that blew by the roof.

"Hah yeah," Casy huffed as he came up from behind, face flushed and hair stuck to his face. The humans thin shoulders jumped as he folded over, hands braced on his knees as he sucked in deep breaths of air.

"You good bro?" Leo asked, only half teasing as he stretched his arms above his head, casually nudging Casey Jr with the side of his foot. "Way you're sucking wind someone would think you were the one stuck in bed for over a month and a half."

"Hey, not all of us get to be freaky strong mutants," Casey shot back, a broad grin taking any away any heat that may of existed as he pushed himself upright. "You definitely don't run like someone whose been bed ridden. Then again, you always did heal fast. It was useful for the resistance but it drove uncle Tello and Master Michelangelo crazy trying to keep Sensei in bed long enough to meet minimum rest standards."

The shift was barely perceptible. If he hadn't been raised by older versions of the turtle he was sure he would have missed it. The suble tightness that crept into the corners of Leo's smile, forcing them wider in a way that was to plastic to be genuine. The way the light in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly, even as he let out the perfectly light chuckle to cover.

"Yeah, future me is like six kinds of amazing. Must have been a crazy time."

"It was the apocalypse," Casey replied slowly, mentally trying to make sense of these shifts.

Had it been mentioning sensei? In the aftermath of the Krang invasion Leo had initially had a hard time hearing Casey mention his future counterpart. But they had worked through that. They had talked, under the cover of night when the rest of the lair had been at rest. He'd apologised to the younger turtle for putting so much pressure on him. Leo had accepted with apologies of his own, and had eventually coaxed him to give more details about his life with sensei, stories both good and bad. They'd laughed, they'd cried. They were good...weren't they?

"Must all seem pretty tame now in comparison," Leo said casually as he leaned into his stretch.

"Yes and no," Casey responded, watching carefully as he pushed his hair away from his face. "There's certainly less explosions, and the lack of zombie krang chasing us on our morning run is nice. But other things are crazy. Like how rich everyone is. Uncle Tello used to tell me stories about it, and he had a million folders of ideas and inventions that he'd imagined but lacked the materials to make. Seeing how easy it is to get things here, I get it now. He'd be over the moon, and probably lock himself in the lab for a whole year!"

There. A slight flinch, shoulders hiking a few centimeters up towards his tympanum.

"Heh, once an egghead always an egghead I guess. Anyway, we should-"

"Leo, what's wrong?"

"Uh...Nothing?" Leo replied questioningly. "I mean, I'm kinda hungry. Wanna swing by Run of the Mill on the way back? We can-"

"I thought we were past lying to each other," Casey challenged, a tiny bud of frustration building beneath his ribs as he pinned the turtle with a look.

"I'm not lying Cas, everything is fine now, right? Apocalypse averted, city is in repairs, everyone is healing, and Donnie finally paused updating the security system long enough to eat something other than caffeine and applesauce. Everyone is happy."

"You're avoiding my question. Master Michelangelo said you'd..."

He did not even need to look for the flinch this time. Leo turned away.

There was something here he was missing. Something in his words. But what? It wasn't like he'd never told red eared slider about the future. About the family he'd lost.

About Master Michelangelo.

About Uncle Tello.

About how...

"They all die!"

His heart hit the floor, stomach doing flips as he stared at the mosaic of barely healed pain spiderwebbed across Leonardo's shell. They had talked about a lot of things in the aftermath of the apocalypse, but they had never discussed what had happened in the tunnels beneath the tower. About the fate he'd revealed.

"They all die!"

"Every single one of them."

"The world needs Master Leonardo, and all we have is this guy."

"Leo, I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what man? Everything is fine." Leo replied, voice smoothly polished. He did not turn around.

"I've been talking about the future this whole time and..and we never really talked about it like that."

"Sure we have. You were telling me about it yesterday."

"I was talking about Sensei yesterday," Casey corrected, "we've only discussed the...others... once."

A falling pin could have sounded like a gun shot in the quiet that followed.

"There's nothing to talk about there," Leo said eventually.

Gone was the polish, the glitz and the glamorous glow of humor. Leo's tone was flat, a blank slate for this single fact to be engraved.

"I think there is," Casey replied carefully, biting his lower lip hard as he sought the for words that would fix the situation. "The way I told you about what happened to them was... not ideal..."

"Hey, you did what you needed to do to get the message through my thick skull. I don't hold it against you Casey. "

"Yeah, that's partially why I did it. But...I think I also did it because I was mad at you."

The atmosphere between them felt tense enough to explode, and Casey found himself tripping over his words in the haste to get them our before the fireworks could begin.

"I was angry at you for not being Sensei, and I was scared that I was going to fail the mission he and Master Michelangelo sacrificed everything to give me. The mission that could make uncle Tello and Raphel's death mean something. I threw their deaths in your face, and it was...I didn't mean to... I didn't think it would still be effecting you this badly..."

"You didn't think learning my whole family died because of my stupidity would effect me? Jeez Casey, I know I'm an self-centered idiot sometimes, but I'm not made of stone either. "

The words were light, but underneath them was brittleness, fine cracks poised to shatter at the next misstep.

"No!" Casey panicked, desperately backpedaling for the a way to sooth the hurts he'd intentionally and unintentionally afflicted. "I just meant that-"

The soft beeping of Leo's com cut him off mid sentance, and the young terrapin answered it before he could regather his scrambled thoughts.

"What's good Dee?"

"I need to go to the junkyard for some parts, but Raph won't let me go alone incase Repomantis "shows up for a showdown". To appease him I volunteered you for the buddy system. Tell Junior to head home and meet me there in ten minutes," Donatello replied, his voice that perfectly painful bend of familiar irritation, excitement, and affected disinterest.

There was something else there too. Something Casey had never had a name for beyond donnieandleo. He'd grown up hearing donnieandleo in good times and in bad. In the early hours when Sensei would grumble and drag the soft shell into his own bed to ensure he got at least four hours of uninterrupted rest. In the curses that had flown from his uncles lips when he'd fought to keep Sensei from bleeding out after amputating his arm. It was like a secrect code that only they could speak, one that remained uncracked up until the day his uncle had died.

Whatever Donnie was saying now, Leo read loud and clear.

"Fine, but you owe me a smoothie after. Extra large."

"Says the guy who still owes me pizza for that bet from last week."

"Uuuugg fine, but I'm gonna need some serious food to make up for this. On my way."

"Leo, we need to-"

"Sorry Case, duty calls," Leo cut in, never looking back as he walked towards the edge of the roof. "You head back and get some lunch. I know Mikey has a new recipe for you."

"Leo stop! Just let me explain."

"No need. Heard it loud and clear, I promise."

[st-eve-barnes]

You know that I'm no good (chapter 3)

(modern Aegon x Reader, modern Sihtric x Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

This chapter: You and Aegon start operation fake dating, and you finally officially meet Sihtric.

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Word count: +2700

Read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Summer may not be your favorite season but it was the best time to live in the city. There were festivals, evening markets, open air performances, food trucks, movies nights by the river and parties that went on until after sunrise. There was something to do every night and Aegon wanted to attend them all.

“Do you not have a job at all?” you texted him that Wednesday night after closing up the bookstore and walking back to your apartment.

“I’m a man of leisure,” he texted back with that sunglasses emoji, making you roll your eyes again.

“How fun for you!” you texted back and then your phone rang. It was Aegon.

“Hey, sweetie pie,” he teased,”Where are you?”

“On my way home from work, you know that thing us peasants need to actually make money and be able to afford things.”

He laughed,”Cute. Listen, there’s a party at Jace’s place tonight, we should go.”

“I have work in the morning, Aegon.”

“Then we’ll make sure not to stay too long, come on, everyone will be there, this is our shot.”

You sighed,”I have to get home and I still have a bunch of emails to get through, and then I have to cook and shower and change and…”

“I’ll buy you dinner on the way there, my treat.”

You stayed quiet for a moment. He was right, if you wanted to go for it you couldn’t keep using work and being tired as an excuse to postpone the whole thing. You had to actually go for it, and what better time than right now?

“Give me a few hours to get ready,” you answered,”Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll come pick you up around nine.”

And with that he hung up.

***

Aegon Targaryen was strolling around in your small living room admiring your book shelves. It felt strange having him up here, the only people who frequently visited your home were your parents and Helaena. You hadn’t had a guy up here in ages.

“So, I like what you’ve not done with the place,” he remarked and gave you a cheeky smile.

“I don’t like cluttered spaces,” you said as if that explained why your apartment was pretty much a blank canvas. White walls, white kitchen and nothing but a standard green couch and small coffee table in the living room, the only things that made this space your own were some books, dvd’s and a few small plants. And you liked it that way.

Your apartment was a perfect metaphor for your live, empty but filled with so many possibilities.

“No, I like it,” Aegon said and he turned around when you stepped out of the kitchen.

“Is this okay?” you asked, giving him a twirl and showing off the white summer dress you had chosen to wear. 

He gave you a whistle, making you laugh.

“I thought…since you were in all white as well today we may as well coordinate, look like a real couple,” you explained.

“Good idea, you ready?”

You nodded but sighed,”I don’t know, maybe I need some more make up.”

“You don’t,” Aegon reassured you but you weren’t convinced, looking at yourself in the hallway mirror with doubt in your eyes.

Aegon was perceptive, as usual. He walked over to you and placed both hands on your shoulders, pushing you out in front of him and towards the mirror. You avoided your own reflection.“What are you doing?”

“Look,” he asked, firmly,”Look at yourself.”

You hesitantly did as he asked.

“What don’t you like?”

“Aegon,” you sighed.

“Work with me cause I’m not gonna let this go until you do and we’re already late. Look and tell me what bothers you.”

“Everything,” you sighed.

“That’s too easy,” he shook his head, not letting you off the hook that quickly,”Give me details.”

“I’m not skinny enough,” you then confessed, softly and your eyes met his in the mirror.

“That’s bullshit,” he moved his one hand down to your hip,”Don’t believe what stupid magazines and Instagram are telling you, your curves are absolutely perfect, trust me. I don’t know any guy who wouldn’t wanna tap that.”

“Um…thanks?”you gave him a confused look but couldn’t deny his words made you feel slightly better.

“What else?” he asked.

“My face,” you added.

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“I’m just…not pretty enough.”

There was no quick come back from Aegon this time, instead he just stared at you in the mirror.

“Who made you believe that, huh?” he then asked, a serious tone to his voice that surprised you.

You turned around to look at him,”Not one person in particular, just…I don’t know, I guess I’ve always felt a little insecure about the way I look compared to other girls. It comes and goes but lately…”

“You’re beautiful,” he interrupted you,”You must know that.”

You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes,”You’re kind, and you can say that but…at the end of the day you’d still prefer a girl like Skade.”

He avoided your eyes and sighed,“Now that’s not fair.”

“Maybe not but it’s the way the world works, Aegon, we both know it. It’s fine,” you reassured him.

“Will you at least believe me when I say you look beautiful?”

“No,” you shook your head,”But I thank you for saying it anyway, for trying to make me feel better, that’s really sweet. Can we go now?”

***

The party at Jace’s house was already in full swing by the time you and Aegon arrived. There was a group of people in the swimming pool while others were sitting on the grass having some drinks and there was an improvised dance floor out on the terrace.

Heleana pulled you into a hug as soon as she noticed you guys, then she gave Aegon an annoyed look and a fake smile, which he returned with an even faker smile of his own and a little theatrical wave. You couldn’t help but laugh at them both.

“Come on,” she grinned,”Let’s get you drunk.”

She pulled you with her to the bar.

“Hey, don’t steal my girlfriend for too long!” Aegon yelled after you both.

Helaena ignored him as usual and moved behind the bar to grab you both some drinks. 

“You look stunning tonight, babe,” she complimented you with a smile.

“Not as stunning as you though,” you returned the compliment and accepted whatever alcoholic beverage she gave you.

“How are things with my idiot brother?” she then asked,”I gather you’re going to continue with the plan?”

She whispered those last words as if they would reveal what the big plan was, making you smile.

“Yes, we are, I’ve got nothing to lose, right?” you took a sip from your drink,”And Aegon’s kinda nice actually, he took me out for pizza before we came here.”

“Did he now?” Helaena quirked her eye brow.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing, “she shrugged,”Just…be careful with him, alright? Remember what I told you.”

“I believe your words were he’s an unreliable whore.”

Helaena couldn’t help but snicker but she nodded her head.

“I know who he is, Hel, you don’t need to worry.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. Promise me you’re not going to fall for him.”

You had to laugh at that.“Can you give me some credit here? It’s Aegon for Gods’ sake, besides he’s not my type, my type is the one we’re doing this all for, remember? And speaking of Sihtric, is he here tonight?”

“I may have seen him by the pool earlier,” she grinned,”Looking particularly good in nothing but his tiny swim shorts.”

“Are you serious?!” your eyes widened and Helaena laughed.

“No but your face was priceless,” she teased and you hit her arm.

“He’s here though,” she then reassured you,”But he is wearing pants and a shirt, sorry to disappoint.”

“And Skade?” you asked carefully.

“Haven’t seen her yet actually, but I’m sure she’ll arrive any time now.”

You both made your way over to the garden, finding Aegon by the snack table.

“I’m off to the dance floor,” Helaena excused herself,”I’ll leave you to your boyfriend.”

You waved her goodbye and tapped Aegon on the shoulder. His face lit up when he saw it was you.

“Hey, honeybun,” he grinned.

“Are you going to call me every pet name in the book?” 

“That’s the plan, you can do the same for me if you want, girlfriend.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled at him all the same. You just couldn’t help it, even when he was annoying he was kind of endearing as well.

“Wanna find a quiet spot to sit?” he suggested.

“Sure, idiot,” you joked and followed him towards the house, surprised when suddenly Aegon reached back for your hand. You placed your hand in his and allowed him to pull you with him. 

When you walked up the stairs towards the patio you passed by Sihtric and Skade, explaining why Aegon had chosen to hold your hand and activate the plan.

They weren’t kissing or hugging this time and when you walked by your eyes met with Sihtric’s. It was brief but it was enough to make you feel flustered. You couldn’t stop your lips from curling up into a smile. He had never even looked your way before and now there he was, staring right into your eyes. And he looked more beautiful than ever.

Aegon chose a spot not too far away from them, making sure you were both in their line of sight.

As you sat down next to him he placed his hand on the small of your back, rubbing it softly, sitting deliberately close to you as he started talking about the latest movie he watched. 

The conversation was meaningless and unimportant but he made it look like it was the most intimate chat imaginable, leaning closer to make it look like he was whispering into your ear while he explained the movie plot, then casually putting a few locks of hair behind your ear and caressing your cheek in the process.

His eyes sneaked a peak over your shoulder, a satisfied grin on his face when he noticed Skade looking back at him as well.

Aegon’s hands were making it difficult for you to focus and that warm feeling in the pit of your stomach was back. You liked how it felt when he touched you and it was confusing you a little. But this wasn’t about Aegon, it couldn’t be, you didn’t want him that way. You were just so touch starved any form of affection from a guy would probably make you feel better, it meant nothing.

When he leaned in and softly kissed your cheek you shivered.

“You alright?” Aegon checked.

“Hmm,” you nodded and then he leaned in again, nuzzling your cheek.

“Touch me,” he whispered against your skin.

You didn’t hesitate and placed your hands on his stomach while you leaned into him. Aegon wrapped both arms around you, pulling you into a soft hug. You melted into him so easily, his body warm and soft yet firm at the same time. His left hand moved into your hair, gently caressing your scalp while the other rubbed soft circles on your back. You sighed into the hug and you could feel him smile against your cheek.

He held you for what felt like forever and at the same time it didn’t feel like long enough.

You avoided his eyes when you finally leaned back, his hand still cupping your neck and then he placed a soft lingering kiss on your forehead. Your hands were still caressing his stomach and chest, you just couldn’t will yourself to stop and this time he was the one sighing happily into your touch, putting a smile on your face.

When you both leaned back it was your turn to look away and check if Sihtric had watched the whole thing. You couldn’t be sure but him and Skade seemed to be involved in their own intense conversation and neither of them looked very happy.

Aegon was looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he took a long sip from his drink. Neither of you spoke for a while and he didn’t touch you again right away.

The silence was adding to your confusion and then Aegon abruptly stood up,”I’ll go get us some more drinks.”

And with that he was gone, leaving you to sit by yourself. You waited for twenty minutes but he didn’t show and neither did those drinks. Tired of waiting you decided to head to the bar yourself, finding it empty and Aegon nowhere to be seen.

You sighed and opened the fridge behind the bar to find yourself a drink.

“Any more beers in there?”

The male voice made you look up and then your brain shut down completely.

Sihtric was standing right in front of you, a friendly smile on his beautiful face as he waited for you to answer.

It took an embarrassingly long time for you to find your words and get your mouth to function again.

“Sure,” you eventually managed and grabbed him a bottle from the fridge,”Here you go.”

Your hand was shaking a little as you gave it to him but either he didn’t notice or he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he smiled,”I don’t think I’ve seen you around at these parties before?”

You had expected him to just take the beer and leave you to it but he was actually trying to start up a conversation with you and you were totally unprepared for this. 

“I’ve been to a few,” you answered truthfully, trying to sound casual,”Maybe we just missed each other. I’m Y/N.”

Sihtric reached out his hand to you,”I’m Sihtric. Nice to see you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” you shook his hand and gave him a sweet smile, trying not to focus too hard on how warm and big his hand felt around yours.

“So, you are Aegon’s girl?” he then asked.

The words sounded very surreal coming from the guy you’d been crushing on for so long but you managed to just nod your head and smile,”Yep, that’s me. You know Aegon?”

”No but Skade, my..um…girlfriend, used to know him.”

“I see,” you took a sip from your drink, not breaking eye contact with him and you noticed he did the same. He hadn’t looked away from you since you’d started talking. 

He was gorgeous up close like this. And even better than that, he was actually nice.

“Maybe we should double date some time,” he then suggested, keeping his eyes on you for a little while longer until he finally looked away,”I’ll see around, lady Y/N.”

He stepped away but not before giving you a small wink and another smile.

You were frozen on the spot. Lady Y/N? Was he flirting with you? That was flirting, right? You’d been out of the game for a long time but you couldn’t remember guys just winking at you and giving you nicknames, unless they wanted to date you.

You were pulled from your haze when Aegon grabbed your hand.

“Hey, princess,” he smiled,”Sorry, I ran into some friends and got side tracked, I see you managed to get that drink.”

“Oh, I managed to get a lot more,” you laughed.

“Like what?”

“Like an invite to a double date with Skade and Sihtric.”

Aegon almost choked on his drink,”For real?”

“That’s what he said,” you shrugged.

“Oh, this is good, this is really good! Well done, baby,” he kissed your cheek again, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary, making your stomach flutter, again.

Just like last time you ignored it. 

Because this wasn’t about Aegon. Whatever this thing with him was it would fade as soon as you could get closer to the real love of your life, Sihtric, not Helaena’s dumb brother Aegon, that would be completely ridiculous.

“Hey,” Aegon laced his fingers with yours and pulled you from your thoughts. Then he leaned in to put another sweet kiss on your temple. When he looked into your eyes afterwards his gaze was intense and darker than before, you couldn’t drag your eyes away from him. 

For a moment it looked like he was going to lean in and kiss you for real. And for a moment you really really wanted him to, which was of course completely ridiculous.

“Come on,” he then smiled,”Let’s get you another drink, sweetheart.”

[lightwise]

Be There - Parts 1 & 2

Note: As I like to do (aka my brain holds me hostage until it is satisfied), I had to fill in a couple of moments that we didn’t get in S3 E4 - A Different Approach. I am approaching Tech and Echo’s absence as each character is aware of it so far—so whether he is dead or simply gone, mentions of Tech are not meant to imply that he is physically present in these scenes. 

Enjoy. 

Read both parts together here on AO3.

SPOILERS for season 3 of TBB ahead.

Part 1: Our mission isn’t over yet. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

Wrecker stared unblinking at the yellow transmission light as it lit up for the third time. Hunter had stepped away from the console for a brief minute to rest his eyes. This wasn’t standard procedure. When Echo or Rex or Phee needed to reach them, they usually used their wrist comms or the portable holo. The inbuilt console had been…Tech’s domain. 

“Uh, Hunter…you might wanna see this.”

A gruff sigh came from the pilot’s seat. “See what, Wreck?” 

The last beep finally entered Hunter’s consciousness as he tried to brush off the weariness that threatened to overtake him. So far they were only a third of the way around the sector found in the data from Setron. More time had been lost taking the cadets all the way out to Pabu too (not that he regretted the stop). His mind couldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop thinking through the next place they could look every time a planet turned up empty, but he could feel his ligaments starting to fray at the edges in protest. 

Wrecker would have pointed out that he had been falling apart at more than the edges for awhile now. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until they brought her home. He just needed to keep it together until then. 

“I…I don’t remember what the codes mean but…isn’t that…does this…”

Hunter rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to get them to focus enough to read the sharp white letters that had appeared on the dashboard. Two innocuous lines, in an old coding sequence that Tech had set up before…he blinked that thought away. 

OM.P53.NMR.2SR. BT.

Plan 53 (all comms silent for a stealth rendezvous). Nearest moon of Ryloth. 2 standard rotations. Be there. 

But it was the first letters in the sequence that caused his heart to stop in his chest. 

“I shall make it so that the first two letters of each of our names signify who is sending the message. They should always be the first letters in the sequence.” A tilt of the head and a push of the goggles up his nose had accompanied Tech giving a very pointed look in Wrecker’s direction. “That should be easier to remember than full code names, I hope.”

OM. Omega. It couldn’t be. It had to be. Nobody outside of the Batch knew this frequency—or code.

“It’s HER.” 

He gripped the edge of the console in a daze. How?? She had escaped? She had somehow found a way to contact them. She…she was alive.

“But…how do we know for sure?” Wrecker’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. “After all the luck we’ve been having…what if this is a trap, Hunter?”

The words Hunter had said before their failed mission to Eriadu haunted him now, thrown back in his face like a taunt. He knew Wrecker didn’t mean it that way, though.

“I don’t think it’s a trap. I really don’t think so. But either way…we have to try it.” He glanced at the chronometer on the dash and pulled up the coordinates to Ryloth. “Especially this location…only Omega would have picked here, where she met Hera for the first time. She knows it will be off the radar but easy to get to. We can just make it if we get going now.” He had barely swung the pilot’s seat back around before furiously punching in the coordinates. 

The Marauder’s engines picked up from their lull as they launched forward into hyperspace. Wrecker slumped into the seat beside him, staring out the flickering blue around them for a long moment. He had picked up Lula from her perch on Omega’s blanket at some point, and was passing her tenderly back and forth in his hands. 

“I really hope you’re right.”

They cautiously exchanged glances as the shock and adrenaline of the last few minutes wore off. For the first time in a very, very, long time, Hunter felt the faintest flicker of something he could call hope. But he didn’t dare let it burst into full flame. Not yet. 

Wrecker suddenly chuckled and clapped his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Ya know, we’re a mess. We really should clean up before we get there.” His voice lowered a bit as he added, “no reason making her worry any more than she probably already is at how rough we look.” 

Hunter scowled and pinched his brow. His brother was right. The lack of sleep and hygiene had caught up with them at this point, and they smelled worse than they looked. Omega would be able to see the wear and tear on their armor eventually, but at least they could be presentable to welcome her home. 

“Fine, I’ll go shower,” he huffed, giving Wrecker a strained grin that turned into a groan as he tore his limbs out of the seat. 

The view in the mirror only confirmed his disheveled state, and he groaned again as he tugged the bandana off his forehead and slumped against the fresher wall.

Please, please let this be real. I don’t know if I can bear another false lead.

They had crossed the galaxy five times at this point. He would a hundred more if that’s what it took. They didn’t leave their own behind.

Most of the time. 

His ears began ringing. The unbidden thought that had been slowly poking its way through his subconscious finally breached the surface. What if…what if Omega had been taken to the same facility as Crosshair. What if they had found each other? What if…she wasn’t alone?

Deke’s words had been painfully etching their way deeper and deeper into his heart since the boy had carelessly uttered them.

“At least you’re loyal.” 

If only he knew. Once Hunter had claimed those words proudly. It was the ethos he had lived by. Still wanted to live by. But…he wasn’t sure he deserved that label anymore. Too many mistakes had been made. He had failed too many times. 

Echo had told him once that their unbeatable streak on missions during the war wasn’t necessarily a good thing. And every time Hunter thought he was making the right decision, he ended up proving him right. He wasn’t prepared for the weight of failure. For the ways everything kept slipping through his clenched fists. For watching his brother point a rifle in his face and walk away. For not having the right words to bring him back. For all the ways he had to choose when there was no good choice to be had. For watching his entire world fall away. For picking shattered goggles up off the ground. For the dark and empty gunners mount that had been staring him in the face for five and a half months. 

Silver hair and a toothpick between thin lips suddenly floated in front of his eyes, sneering at him. Every choice you’ve made has been wrong. We’re all lost because of you. And then it shifted, the silver hair morphing into a scarred head and terrified, wide eyes that glistened with tears. Begging, pleading. Why weren’t you weren’t loyal to me?

No, no, no, NO. Hunter dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying desperately to stop the vortex spinning out of control inside his head. A sob escaped his lips as he collapsed onto the floor. He could never repair any of this. He didn’t know how. 

He sucked in a breath as he felt the faint pressure of a hand on his shoulder that couldn’t possibly be there. A clipped voice suddenly echoed through his mind. I have found that repairs, while daunting at first, simply take repeated effort and inclination in order to achieve them. It’s like a puzzle. The pieces are there, you just have to pay attention and take the time to put them back together. Steady hands. No Hunter, try moving it this way. See? I knew you could do it. 

If only he was here. Hunter wiped the traces of tears from his eyes as his hitched breathing slowly evened out. Whatever—whoever was waiting for them on that moon—he would have to face them. Whether it was a waking dream or another nightmare. He had crossed the galaxy five times in as many months. But he still hadn’t been able to outrun the pain. Hadn’t been able to outrun himself.  

It was time to try a different approach.   

Maybe not everything had to be lost. 

-----------

Part 2: You don’t know if they’re still alive.  

“They’ll be there.”

She had cut him off adamantly. The full force of her hope (her naïveté, he had called it just a few hours prior), pushing firmly against his gentle attempt at reason. 

Crosshair knew he wasn’t just trying to prepare Omega for the possibility that Hunter and Wrecker might not be waiting for them. For them? No, they would only be waiting for her. They had stopped waiting for him a long time ago.

No, his words were more an attempt at quelling his own twisted anxiety at the prospect of facing his brothers again. It had been…a year? More? Since he had stayed behind on that blasted platform. It felt like ten lifetimes ago now. So much had changed. He had changed. Or had he? 

 A staccato thud flung them out of hyperspace, the stolen freighter now drifting quietly past the two giant orange moons that guarded Omega’s choice of rendezvous. 

Still standing behind the copilot chair, his trained eye spotted the tiny speck of light coming from the open ramp of the Marauder. So they were alive. Of course. The tiniest twitch spasmed in Crosshair’s chest at the sight. 

That open door was for her, he reminded himself again. Not him. 

The girl stood unmoving as they touched down. Her spine straight, shoulders pulling down and back, and he could see the faintest reflection in the viewport of tears welling up in her eyes. 

The ramp began to lower and she suddenly came to life, arms and legs almost flailing in her haste to reach the ground. Though he could no longer see her face, as she paused at the last step Crosshair could tell that a weight had lifted from her shoulders. The weight of taking care of herself, taking care of him, getting them both to safety. 

She had accomplished her mission. 

He had to admit, he was impressed by her. Maybe he was starting to understand a little of how quickly Hunter’s loyalty had transferred to her, how she must have driven them all crazy at first with her bright-eyed optimism and inability to take no for an answer.

She really was the best of them. 

He sighed as her words echoed in his mind—“I’m not giving up, Crosshair! I won’t let you either.” Her stubbornness was certainly the family trait, and perhaps surpassed his own.  

Those words had somehow burrowed into his chest and wouldn’t leave. But they hadn’t shocked him. He expected her to say them to anyone. They fit perfectly within the love and loyalty she showed everyone around her.     

What had shocked him were the ones she said later, after he had tried every tactic he could think of to get her focus off of him and onto her own safety. He had long since accepted what the rest of his accelerated lifespan might be—serving as a test tube and punching bag for the Empire he had once sought glory from. How fitting, really. It was his penance, for everything he had done. Everything he had failed to do. 

Why should he have a chance to live when...he sighed again and pushed away the memories threatening to engulf him. Long brown hair and a beard blurred white with snow. Round, yellow-tinted lenses blinking pointedly in his direction. The remnants of a skull chalked onto the back wall of a bunk—just enough dust left to stain his fingers. 

“None of us belong here.”

The Empire changed people. For the worse. But after all those months of isolation, all his attempts to drive her away, to keep his distance so she would stay safe—he never expected for those wide eyes to practically beam sunlight at him in that force-forsaken, grey haze of a prison. She had seen him, then. Truly seen him for who he was—and still believed in him. In all of them.  

She had tried to give him the same outstretched hand many times before—during their desperate attempts to flee the sinking facilities of Kamino; on the sun-soaked platform after. In that makeshift holding cell after Kaller, where all of this had started. 

He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—that she had offered it one more time, or that he was finally willing to try and accept it. 

Batcher whined from her corner of the cockpit, tilting her head hesitantly at Crosshair as he remained fixated, unable to move from the viewport. His musings faded as he saw a shift in the light; Wrecker’s large form had suddenly darkened the doorway of the Marauder. 

Crosshair dug his spine into the door frame behind him, waiting. 

He didn’t have Hunter’s hearing, but he didn’t need it. He could imagine just how loud the shout of joy was that Wrecker let out as he ran to meet his little—their little sister. A faint smirk threatened to tilt his lips as the giant of a man lifted Omega high above his head and spun her around, wiping tears unashamedly from his eyes. Crosshair expected nothing less. He was sure there were matching tears streaming down Omega’s face as she clung desperately to her—their brother.

But where was…Crosshair’s eyes narrowed as they caught movement inside the Marauder. Was he truly prepared to see the etched face of his former leader, brother—friend—once again? A now familiar yet terrifyingly unwelcome spasm in his hand told him he was not.  

Hunter emerged from the shadows, stopping before the overhead light could illuminate his face. 

He must have said something, before practically leaping down the Marauder’s ramp as Omega catapulted herself forward again. Crosshair’s eyes softened as he watched his stoic, touch-averse brother cradle the girl in his arms, his eyes closed, his hands shifting over her back as though he would never let her go. 

Could he blame him?

But the atmosphere shifted abruptly as Hunter pulled back, his warm smile and affectionate gaze at Omega turning into a wide-eyed, disbelieving gape as he lifted his eyes toward the freighter behind her. There was no way he could see him through the tint of the cockpit, but his other senses were more than adequate at that distance. Hunter had finally realized that Omega had not escaped alone.

Crosshair felt panic wash over him. His gaze shifted to the pilot’s controls. It would be so easy to take the wheel and disappear, leave them all behind once again. Omega was safe. That was all that mattered, right? He could ditch the ship and find work on some backwater planet, do his best to keep off the Empire’s radar.

Batcher slowly shook herself and stood up from where she had been napping the last few hours, her eyes never leaving his. His lips tightened into a thin line as they stared each other down.  

He finally let out a disgruntled sigh, shaking his head and crouching down until he could rest his hand on the curve of her head. 

“I know, I know.”

She growled a little and then licked his hand, pointedly ignoring the scowl he gave in return. 

“I’m done running. Promise.” 

He achingly stood back to his full height and turned toward the back of the ship. He could almost feel Hunter’s shocked gaze still on him. Whatever message Omega had sent them, they clearly hadn’t been expecting him to walk down that ramp after her. After all the wrong choices—how could this one possibly go any better?

The tremor took over his hand again. But he suddenly, faintly, felt the pressure of a familiar, slender hand on his shoulder. And another, firmer grip cradling his trembling fingers, easing the shattered nerves. A pulse he thought he would never hear again thrummed next to his own for the briefest of seconds. 

He had nothing left to lose. 

It was time to try living again. 

Divider by the lovely @dystopicjumpsuit ✨

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Bored and in Need of Entertainment (Supernatural One-Shot)

Sam Winchester x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You're bored and it's Sam's turn to entertain you.

Fic type: fluff/crack

A/N: I actually looked up shit to do in Lebanon, Kansas for this HAHA

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels @nervoussystemss (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Saaaaam," you called loudly, swinging around from the other side of one of the Bunkers' supporting pillars and into Sam's line of sight. If only he'd look up just a little over the edge of his laptop. He wouldn't, though. He knew that tone. "Sam."

Sam let out a tired sigh and replied with an equally tired: "yes, dear?"

You took another few steps closer, slowly coming up the stairs to stand on the other side of the table. Sam watched you do this, waiting on a response. When you got to the table and still hadn't said anything, he raised a brow in question.

"I am what the kids might call- bored," you finally replied, slowly leaning over the table and settling with your hands propping your chin.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam snorted, looking back down at his laptop. He was researching. You were technically supposed to be researching too, but the ol' brain just wasn't having it today. "Why don't you go annoy Dean. You know he loves that."

You stopped for a moment, considering it, but then settled on Sam being too good to pass up right now. Besides, Dean was in his room with his headphones on head-banging to rock music right now. You'd need nothing short of a miracle (or, perhaps, a visit from Cas) to get his attention.

"Yeah, I could, but you're sitting there unassumingly. How could I resist such a delicious temptation?"

This pulled another sigh from Sam, who paused his typing to process your words before he continued on with it again. A futile attempt to get you to leave him alone, you're sure. If Sam thought he was doing any more work tonight, he was sorely mistaken.

On this note, you got back into action, pulling your knee up to climb quite gracefully onto the mapped table-top. Sam did his best to ignore this, typing away. You leaned over the top of his computer, checking he wasn't working on a document that needed saving. Confirming that he wasn't, you gave him a Cheshire's smile and slowly pushed the lid closed.

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair, only a little irritable. You snickered as you pushed the laptop aside and unbent your legs to sit over his edge of the table.

"See, I could annoy Dean, but you're so cute to irritate," you teased, pulling his chair closer. Sam quietly cursed Dean's forced decision to replace all the standard chairs with office chairs. He said they were better for his back, but it was really because they had wheels. Despite this, he allowed you to pull him closer.

"Alright," he acquiesced fondly yet warily. Hmm. Maybe he was tired of researching, too. "What do you want?"

"Let's go somewhere," you said, smoothing the collar of his flannel affectionately. "There's that market you've been wanting to go to? What is it, uh, Ladow? Ladow's Market? Yeah. Let's do that."

"Really?" Sam scoffed in disbelief. "You want to go to Ladow's Market. What did you and Dean call it- the 'Local Garbage Auction for Hippies'?"

You blinked, and Sam's hands came to rest on your hips, the warmth bleeding through your clothes.

"Yeah, that might have been a bit harsh," you agreed.

"Alright, then," he said, patting your hips. You were regretting this decision already, yet you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "Let's go. You ready?"

You beamed at him, pleased as punch as you hopped off the table and nodded. Sam gestured for you to lead the way towards the garage. If you were sneaky, you might be able to nick Baby before Dean noticed. If he knew where you were taking her, he'd definitely say no.

"You betcha."