#his dad never did anything to directly hurt him but was a bystander in it

[yardofangels]

Hi Iris! I just wanted to ask if you had any general head canons about König (your AU or just in general) that you’d want to share? Anything about his upbringing, love language, unhealed trauma ect. that you’d want to divulge? Also I absolutely love your writing. The way you write König is definitely one of my fav interpretations of his character.

OMGGGGGG IVE BEEN W A I T I N G FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM SO EXCITED YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND OSPDHVWEVNJWEGOH

thank you sm for your words!! im so flattered <333

for this one its going to be headcanons for my AU of könig. hope you enjoy!!

tw for implied verbal and emotional abuse, bullying, negative self-talk, mentions of locker-room talk, violence, and implied manipulation below the cut!!

könig's flaws and love language have a lot to do with his upbringing. don't get me wrong, it wasn't like what he'd heard of ghost's upbringing. könig had adequate food and shelter, and his parents never blatantly mistreated him. he was never kicked, or hit, never had things thrown at him; nothing was ever wildly hurtful.

but what he had suffered built up over the course of 17 years and had impacts that lasted much longer. shit that he's still trying (not) to work through today. shit that stayed deep within his psyche, that he came back to every time he failed and shit that whispered down his neck, telling him to push himself further.

from the outside looking in, he came from an entirely normal family. his mama and papa loved each other. they went to church every sunday, and beamed when people complimented how tall their boy was getting. könig was spoiled because he was an only child and never had to share the attention. he excelled greatly in the subjects of mathematics and science from the time he was 8 and received recognition for this at school.

but the outside never gets to see how bad you're hurting, does it?

he'll never forget the way his mother straightened his collar, scolding him centimetres away from his face, reminding him that if he gets anything less than a 19/20 on the upcoming test, he'll have no hope of being anything to them.

he still can't seem to shake the look on his father's face when his mother ranted and raved about how könig had tarnished their entire reputation by questioning the teacher's authority, how he was a disgraceful and humiliating child. the way his papa's bushy eyebrows pinched, and he ran a hand over his buzzed hair. the look that screamed 'if i say anything, she'll attack me too.'

none of it was loud. everything his mama ever did to him was only ever alluding to him being the worst thing she had ever done. it was the words, the mind games, and the inability to fight back. he was trapped as a youth. trapped in a household that yelled 'i love you', and whispered 'but only when you are my projection of what you should be.'

of course, it didn't stop there, either. he was torn into relentlessly at school, too. it was much like his home life, except with the added bonus of being thrown into trees and having his face dunked under sinks for extended periods of time.

y'know, typical kid stuff.

they grabbed at anything they could with him. his love of space, his braces (that never really did much to help his teeth in the end), his height, his size, his stutter. all of it. anything that indicated that he was different to the rest of the population was like a big, red target on his back.

what they did at school further cemented in his brain what he learnt at home.

you are worth nothing. you contribute nothing. you are nothing. all you are is an outsider. all you can be is an outsider. you are not attractive. you are not talented. you offer nothing. you are nothing.

this treatment from ages 0-17 is what led to his deeper flaws emerging from 17-25. his frequently infrequent contact with his mother and father, his tendency to distance himself from the other cadets, his daydreams of violence.

he didn't like crying. it sent memories of sobbing in the PE closet and into his pillow flooding back. he preferred to push it down, ignore it, and forget it happened. he would much rather be the first one out at target practice.

he still stuttered. so, he stopped talking. he resorted to closing his mouth, to wearing a bandana, to wearing a balaclava, to wearing his t-shirt. he liked fading into the background, even though his build wouldn't ever really allow it. he hated socialising. at first it was because it made him so nervous (it still does, but he won't admit that). he couldn't find the right words to make himself likable. after a while, he came to resent it. why was everyone else able to pick it up with such ease, but not him? where was the fairness in that? he eventually stopped seeing much point in speaking up more than necessary.

and girls never took interest in him during high school, so he didn't expect them to now. he was never upset with the women, he wouldn't blame them if they wanted nothing to do with him. it was his fellow cadets that drove him insane. talking of a new bird every day, objectifying them, degrading them. part of him wanted to join in; share this bond they seemingly had, talk about his own girl he used up. they made it sound so good. but a bigger part of him was wildly jealous and horrifyingly enraged at what they could say at times. it filled him with a fire that he couldn't quite understand.

this didn't stop him from a go on the local barrack bunny here and there. just to prove to himself that he wasn't entirely devoid of feeling.

he couldn't really pinpoint when the violence arose in him. it just. appeared to him one day. he realised while standing over another limp body that he'd killed someone and enjoyed it. that he'd taken their power away, just like his mother had done to him. his mother who had now disowned him for staying in the army for so long. his mother he wanted to destroy. his mother whom he could never destroy, so he destroys others instead.

eventually, he started pushing the limits everywhere he went. the more settled he got in himself as a man, the more he acted out. this is what landed him in jail. his rash decisions, his anger, his lack of all other emotion. it was eating away at him behind those bars, and he itched to take it further.

that itch only got stronger when he met you. you, who he now had to protect. you, who he saw meaning in. you, who saved him from being consumed by his darkness.

könig doesn't love in a particularly healthy way. i mean, i think that isn't too surprising given what he went through and subsequently put himself through. he loves possessively, he loves obsessively, he loves as if there is nothing else in the world but you and him.

to him, love has no definition. it has no 'right and wrong' other than hurting the person you love. if he has to hide something from you, it's because he doesn't want to lose you. if he has to use his words to twist your mind, it's so you never lose sight of him. if he has to protect you from the world, by any means necessary, it's worth it. if it's you, it's worth it.

he sees no problem in doing morally grey, or even impure things if it means you stay with him. after all, he loves you. you wouldn't deny him, would you? don't you love him too?

he knows it'll never get to the stage where you question him, though. he can see you are wholly dedicated to him. it's only more fuel to him being able to do what he wants to you. he knows if you were aware, you'd like it.

in terms of love languages, könig's biggest is physical touch. he just loves that skin-to-skin contact with you. he loves how much bigger he is compared to you, he loves wrapping himself around you, to the point where it almost looks like you two are one entity. you're just so soft and warm; he can't ever get enough of, in some way, having your skin on his.

aside from that, you'll often find that he shows his love in acts of service. anything from sweeping the kitchen to building a house, if he can serve you or protect you, he'll do it. he's unsure where this tendency came from in him. he just enjoys keeping busy.

he particularly appreciates words of affirmation from you. something he never really received growing up. he would never ask you to praise him, never even admit that he likes it. but when you slip the occasional 'you're so good to me, baby' or 'this is wonderful, you did amazing', he melts. he's a sucker for being told he's good enough, or that he did well.

könig sure as hell isn't perfect, but he's working on being better for you. he's doing what he can to make sure you never see the vulnerable child in him. the wrathful teenager. the uncaring man. he wants you to have the best of him.

and you do, because you bring it out in him naturally.

-------

yeah!! that's it!!! i tried desperately to not talk to much but there's just so much to say. so many things that this post could lead to.

thank you so much for reading this far!! pls reblog if you like it, and send in more requests!! it makes my day!!!

[more-stuff-of-pi]

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s  most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie​, @gigglyparker​ (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

[weasleypogues]

fight club (p.h.)

request: hii can i request smth angsty with pope ? maybe it could end well for both the reader and him but overall it’s just filled with angst and slow burn and tension ? ty xx

ofc lovieee!!! loving this pope recognition finally!! :)

this will be a two part becuause this was longer than i expected!!! part 2 here!!!

masterlist.

you literally felt like you could not sit still. anger was pulsating through your veins as you paced back and forth on the porch of the chateau. you also felt the piercing eyes of pope follow you back and forth as you struggled to form a cohesive sentence.

“it’s just- ugh! she can’t get away with this! she thinks because she’s a kook that i’ll be begging for her forigveness and shit like i’m a starving peasant just to save my reputation! i’m a fucking pogue, i don’t have a reputation to uphold!” you spat as your hands clenched together so hard you swear you were going to accidentally draw blood from your palms.

vanessa was a kook that you never had problems with when you were kids because you two had a friendship that was secretive and playful because of opposing groups. it wasn’t until middle school was when she ditched you, similar to kie and sarah’s relationship. thankfully for them, they sorted it out. however, vanessa was bitter and bitchy every chance she could get. 

“yes (y/n)! keep it fiesty! i wanna see you win a good cat fight.” jj egged you on.

“you’re gonna make yourself go crazy if you don’t just sit down.” pope spoke in a sterner tone than you would have expected. but as the rage filled you from vanessa, pope’s tone was not helping. you felt a tinge of hurt in your chest as he expressed his clear stress and annoyance with you. but you weren’t going to let it go that easily; not in this state.

“i’m fine just the way i am, thanks.” you responded just as passive-aggressively as he did. you literally had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes so you wouldn’t egg this on, because the last thing you needed was for pope of all people to be on your bad side. 

you heard him scoff from behind you and his footsteps faded away. you spun around so quickly, maybe even too quickly to play it cool, to just see a flash of him as he turned the corner. your eyes flashed to john b, kie, and jj who had expressions that were just as shocked as your own.

“what’s his problem?” you asked, expecting an answer real quick before you had to go investigate it yourself. your teeth grinded against each other and you felt your face and ears go hot. 

“he probably just doesn’t think this is worth it (y/n/n).” kiara stated, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and giving you a look that said don’t let it get to you. kiara shared a quick glance with john b and jj, which definitely did not go unnoticed by you.

“w-what was that? that little look you three shared?” you asked pointing your finger at them interchangeably and confused but angrily eager to find out. you raised your eyebrows, expecting another speedy answer as you finally turned towards jj who held his hands up in defense and bit his tongue. 

“cut pope some slack. you’ve been looking for trouble lately (y/n), it’s been keeping him on edge each time.” john b responded and slapped his hands on this thighs before getting up off the couch. you felt your cheeks get a little hot and your jaw drop slightly.

pope was trying to be protective of you. this was not a secret that you and pope were always flirty with each other but neither of you ever acted on it. both keeping the same sad mindset, if they wanted to, they would. everytime you talked about this with kiara and sarah at a girls’ night, they playfully judged you for thinking like that and tried to encourage you to just go for it. 

you took a deep inhale and relaxed your shoulders and face, feeling the tension ease up on your body. “she’s asking for it...look i don’t want to make pope upset or anything but vanessa can’t keep pulling this shit. she’s asking for her teeth to get knocked in.” you huffed out as you grabbed your backpack and phone to hop on your bike and head home. 

--

your grabbed your phone and backpack as you headed back outside to your bike. you didn’t even bother to text the rest of the group about catching a ride to tonights kegger because you were just a little fired up from earlier. they were your friends and if this were any other case, they would be backing you up. why is this time any different?

you’re recalling yourself getting ready. stud earrings because she can grab hold of hoops. your hair in two braids because there was less surface area for her to snatch onto. sneakers to make a run for it in case shit gets bad. 

what the rest of them don’t understand is that not only was vanessa mean, spoiled, and made your existence on the obx difficult, was that you had a bumpy past with her. more than just losing a friend. she made up a rumor based on fake ideas that she overheard her parents talking about. when she would run into you on the street with her other kook friends at the ripe age of 13, she would be a bystander as they spat insults your way. that always caused a strain in your friendship. 

until one day, she started the picking on first. she judged you on your family’s financial situation and said quote-by-quote “i heard her mom cheats on her dad with all of her little pogue friend’s dads. who knows, they could actually be related and we wouldn’t know. she’s a whore and i’m sure she’ll end up just like her.” tears still brim your eyes at that memory. you wouldn’t dare tell the rest of the pogues, whether it was out of embarassment or fear. it was best for them and their own minds that it was never brought up again. since then, it seems like constant torture from her. 

you pulled up on the beach and hopped off your bike as your tires were definitely not made for the sand. you laid it on a tree and made a b-line to the keg that john b was basically guarding. “thought we’d hear from you.” you heard kiara state as she sat on the sand and glanced up at you, squinting her eyes to keep the remaining sun from basically burning them.

“yeah well, just got a lot on my mind.” you responded. you didn’t want to be so abrupt with them but your blood was basically boiling with the idea of vanessa. john b stared between you and kiara and handed you a full red solo cup which you gladly took, taking a gulp.

“soooo...” jj started, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “cat fight tonight?” you felt a chuckle rise out of you as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll get front row.” you joked, sending a smirk jj’s way and taking another gulp. you felt a presence behind you and turned to be faced with pope. his facial expression had clearly changed from what you saw from him last time. he looked almost guilty and concerned rather than aggravated. 

“come to snap at me again?” you said, turning towards the horizon on the water. looking into his eyes right now was difficult. maybe because it was the idea that you knew some part of you wanted to snap at him for him snapping at you earlier but you couldn’t make another enemy. not tonight. 

“about that...can i actually talk to you for a minute?” pope muttered, instincitvely cracking his knuckles, clearly scared to tread on water. you felt your shoulders relax and your facial muscles follow suit. placing your drink and backpack on the ground you followed a few paces behind him, closer to the sand where the tide was rolling in. although he didn’t stop, he wanted this to be a walk and talk situation. 

you strolled beside him, both of your hands slightly brushing against each other every now and then. while neither of you took initiative to grab the others’ hand, neither of you pulled your hands out of that pathway either. that connection and touch felt nice. it was reassuring that his snappiness, along with your own, was out of love and protection of each other. 

“you won’t be happy with what i’m about to say...” pope started, basically holding his breath.

“so why say it, pope? i know it sounds bad to say outloud but, why not just let me fight her? she has made my existence so unbearably difficult on this island and has slandered my name and countless others of those i love too much and for too long. i’m sick of being a pushover and letting her get away with it because of mommy and daddy’s money. im done!” you blurted out, letting more info out than you expected. “why does it bother you so much? if this was topper and john b going at it, or rafe and jj? which keep in mind, both have actually happened, i’m sure you would be more hesitant to stop them.”

your strolling came to a sudden halt as pope took a step directly in front of you, face to face. he looked longingly into your eyes, somewhat darting back and forth between your own eyes to search for an answer to his questions or even an answer to yours. 

“(y/n)! i can’t see you get hurt. i know how badly you want to do this and how much it means to you but in the end, what is it going to get you? an even worse reputation among kooks, bloody nose, and a black eye? is it worth it?” pope rambled drasticaly. 

“it is worth it! and i’m so thankful that you care about me and my well being and everything in between but this is something that i have to do. once and for all. i’m not putting myself and everyone i love through this torture anymore. and if that means beating the shit out of her and getting a bloody lip and battered up on the way, than so be it!” you responded, using your hands quite animatedly throughout the performance. the waves seemed like the loudest thing on earth as you awaited an answer from pope. he looked defeated and anxious, knowing that there was no getting through to you for this. 

“i-” pope started before cutting himself off, looking deafeated yet again. he ran his hands over his face in frustration and as he let his eyes shine over the tips of his fingers, they locked with yours. you felt stuck in place and in a trance for a split second before you felt a pair of hands on your waist and soon enough, you were lip locked with pope. 

instantly you pulled away, your heart feeling full and your legs feeling limp. your hands made their way to his jawline, slightly caressing his cheeks and neck as you pulled him back into the kiss, elongating it. 

he pulled away, shocked yet proud with himself. you could not help the small smile that made it’s way onto your face as your cheeks felt hot immediately. “i can’t believe i’m saying this but...fuck it. beat the shit out of vanessa.” 

the small smile grew as a laugh escaped your lips. you were quick to grab his hand as you both made your way back towards the kegger that was becoming a little more dense as the minutes passed. sarah, kiara, jj, and john b’s eyes were quick to fall on your interlocked hands with pope. both of you kept quiet, playing it nonchalantly. but you couldn’t help but notice pope’s look to john b and jj, all with smirks lined up on their faces.

part two out later!! :) 

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the back (Part 5)

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Thank you so much for all your sweet feedback!

This chapter deals a little more with Lila’s manipulations and their first effects, and both Chat Noir And Felix make a move. With varying degrees of success.

Also, Felix would literally die for Maman Cheng’s Quiche.

- - -

Lila was fuming when she arrived at home.

“Who does he think he is?!”, she spit out between clenched teeth. “He had zero proof!”

And not only had her attempt to win Felix over failed, Hawkmoth hadn’t even sent an Akuma for her! That, or this goddamn beetle had caught it before it had reached her.

“What a dutiful little bug, aren’t you, Ladybug?”, she seethed on. “Always looking out for butterflies. Well, newsflash: you aren’t perfect! And as soon as you let one of them slip through, Volpina is going to kick your ass!”

That brought her thoughts to another pain in her butt and she threw her phone away in frustration. If it weren’t for that pigtailed goody two shoes, Felix would be writing poems of admiration for Lila by now. All these beautiful words, lost because that stupid Marinette couldn’t leave Felix alone. He was unreachable for her now!

Taking a deep breath, Lila tried to calm down.

Don’t do anything rash. We’ve come so far.

She still had Adrien wrapped around her finger. That boy was so eager to believe her, he threw all reason away for some pretty fairy tale. And as long as his father was with her, she had Adrien handled.

Still. Loosing her chance with Felix had... hurt her. She hadn’t realized she’d looked forward to their relationship that much.

Sighing she fell on her bed and grabbed her phone, going through his poems. She’d pictured how everything would go from the moment she’d looked through his bag. He would’ve been smitten with her writing, her poetry resonating with his. Once they were on their date at the Eiffel Tower, he wouldn’t have been able to deny how pretty she looked with the sunset illuminating her face, the wind in her hair... He would’ve intertwined his soft, slender fingers with hers and confessed how connected he felt to her. She would’ve blushed and told him to stop, but he would’ve written her a poem about his feelings for her and kissed her hand. Then they would’ve kissed, just as the sun disappeared and the lights at the tower went on. The rest of the evening, they would have talked about their shared affinity for words and tales, how they both could spin their audiences in webs of emotion and wonder - even though they used different mediums to accomplish that. He would’ve realized that they were the only ones that understood each other, that they were made for each other, that they were soulmates. How they were better than these silly children in their class.

She groaned and turned her phone off, not bearing to see his pretty poems now.

It was all Marinette’s fault! She’d stolen that future from her and Felix!

Lila froze.

Wait a second.

Since when did she give up that easily?! This was Marinette she was talking about! That girl didn’t have enough brain cells to walk properly! She was no opponent for her, Lila Rossi, the cunning Volpina! She was the Queen of Lies, the Master of Manipulation, Gaslighting and Illusions! If she wanted Felix, she’d get Felix!

With renewed determination, she got in front of her computer. She had some research to do!

-

“There you are, Chaton!” Ladybug greeted her partner. She was still smiling from her encounter with Felix, and determined that this patrol would go smoothly. Chat Noir replied with his usual smirk.

“If you don’t look energized today, My Lady! Happy to see me?”

She chuckled and landed next to him, on the rooftops next to the Seine.

“Come on, Kitty! This city doesn’t patrol itself, you know?”

“Actually, can we wait a few more minutes?” her partner asked with surprising seriousness. “I wanted to talk to you.”

She wanted to refuse - she still had to catch up on her missed history lesson, time was precious - but the pleading look in his big green eyes made her weak.

“Alright” she sighed. “But only shortly! What is it, Kitty?”

He hummed.

“You always call me these pet names. It’s so cute!”

“Chat. Focus.”

“Right! Uh, my dad is... the owner of a business, you know? Famous and renowned across France. He always has to look super professional, or his investors run over to his rivals.”

“Okay?” Ladybug tried to follow, unsure where this was supposed to go.

“You kind of remind me of him, sometimes! You’re both smart, and very serious about your work, and usually too busy.”

She didn’t know if he wanted to compliment or insult her.

“Anyway, my mom and I are very similar, he always says. She used to work for him, as a model. And when they fell in love, my dad was a bit worried a relationship with one of his coworkers might look unprofessional. ‘What would everyone say?’, and so on.”

“And then?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing. They got married and it worked out fine. No problems whatsoever.”

“Huh.”

Chat looked at her, obviously expecting something, so she added: “That’s... a very sweet story. Your parents sound very lucky.”

He beamed.

“Yeah! And luck is just our thing, right?”

“Uh, yes” she agreed carefully. What did they have to do with his parents. “But why are you telling me this?”

“I just wanted to let you know... I understand how important it is for you to look professional. And that I support you, always. You don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks?” She was positively confused now. “I don’t think anybody doubts our professionalism, but... that’s reassuring.”

“You’re welcome.”

He probably meant well, even though she didn’t understand what he was playing at. So when he closed his eyes and leaned in, her mind had yet to catch up. Only when he was actually pressing his lips on hers, it clicked.

She slapped him. Hard.

“Ow! What the-“

“Oh no, that’s my line, Chat! What the fuck?!”, she hissed out, wiping her mouth with her wrist. Chat looked up, his face shifting from shock to betrayal.

“I-I thought-“

“You thought what?! You can just kiss me out of the blue after I repeatedly told you I’m not in love with you?! What don’t you get about that?”

If he looked hurt, she didn’t care. She was tired of this, tired of his advances. For once in her life, she wanted him to listen and understand her!

“I- someone told me you were worried that-“

“Why are you so quick to listen to some bystander, but refuse to hear my very! Clear! Answer!”

“Your answer isn’t clear at all!”, Chat Noir yelled back, getting to his feet. “You say you don’t love me, but you’re acting like you do! You call me pet names, you flirt with me, you kiss me all the time! So either you enjoy leading me on, or you’re lying to both of us about your true feelings!”

“Aaaargh!”, she groaned in frustration, clasping her hands above her head, “You’re impossible!”

“No, I’m simply making my feelings very clear for you! We are partners, and we’re supposed to be honest with each other!”

She tore her hair. He was so stubborn, so obstinate that that he could do no wrong. She wanted to scream.

“Chat, I honestly don’t want you to kiss me.” she tried to keep it simple, lowering her voice to prevent herself from lashing out. But Chat certainly didn’t help at that.

“That’s okay! We can just hold hands, if you want to. Or go for Ice cream.”

“No! I don’t want any of that! Kwamis above!”

“Then what do you want?!

If she didn’t get out of here, she’d do something stupid. Slap him again, probably.

“Leave me alone, Chat.”, she pressed out, her voice breaking.

“What? We’re partners! You- We need each other!”

“I’ll handle patrol from now on.”, she ordered, leaving no room for discussion. “Until you can accept that I don’t reciprocate your feelings, we should only work together when necessary.”

She swallowed, throwing her yo-yo.

“Please, Chat.”

Then she was off, disappearing behind the buildings of Paris. Leaving a stunned, upset Cat behind. It took him a while before he could move, and even longer before he reached his home. Detransforming had never felt so draining to him.

“What the everloving Fluff were you thinking?” Plagg raged as soon as the ring set him free. Adrien groaned.

“Not now, Plagg. I really don’t feel up to this now.”

“You don’t feel up to this?” Plagg snarled incredulously. “I don’t feel up to this! I don’t feel up to anything! Ever! And even I can’t let you do something like this!”

“How should I have known she’d react like this?” the boy defended himself. “Lila said-“

“Volpina-Girl! You know she doesn’t like Ladybug! But somehow you thought her love advice is more credible than the answer Ladybug has been giving you for months!”

“But she’s Ladybug! And I’m her Black Cat! We’re completing each other.”

Plagg shook his head.

“Right now, you overgrown airhead, you are about to loose even the most platonic part of her feelings for you. It’s simple: that or nothing, Kiddo.”

-

Where Ladybug was lonelier than ever, Marinette was soaring high. After Alya apologized for not believing in her innocence regarding the poems, the others soon followed - much to Lila’s dismay. And the compulsive liar got even angrier after seeing how much closer Marinette and Felix were becoming. Marinette found that she didn’t care.

Felix was... odd. He spoke clear and directly, not caring if he sounded rude. He didn’t like warm temperatures, preferring to hide on the shady yard. He listened to classical music, but had beaten Marinette more than once at Freestyle Clash 2.

(“Rap is poetry as well!”, he had defended himself when she teased him about it.)

He also didn’t like crowds, or people in general. But whenever Marinette was chatting with her classmates, she found him listening attentively, even if his eyes were glued to his book. While he didn’t want to be actively involved, he wasn’t antisocial either.

And to be honest, she appreciated his silent company more than ever when her other friends became... overwhelming. Being around Felix was easy. His mere presence was calming, as if everything was in control.

“Girl, are you there? ‘Cause if I’m not losing my senses you’re staring at Mister Icecold instead of Sunshine Boy.”

Marinette blinked, pulled back into the real world. Alya was looking at her expectantly, eyebrows raised so high they almost vanished beneath her hair.

“I didn’t!”, Marinette insisted, but Alya rolled her eyes.

“Come on, you’ve been hanging out with him and him alone for the past week! What’s up with that?”

“Nothing! I just really like Felix, that’s all. You know I have a crush on Adrien.”

Alya’s eyes were scrutinizing but playful.

“Hm... If you say so?” She chuckled. “I should be glad. Frosty is kind of scaring me, actually. He’s so rude!”

Marinette huffed with arms akimbo.

“He’s just... honest! And hasn’t been around people much. He doesn’t mean to be rude, he just doesn’t want to lie for politeness’ sake either.”

“I don’t mean that. At least, not only that. He’s been glaring at Lila whenever she tries to speak with him.”

Marinette sighed. They’d talked this over at least a dozen times already, and while Marinette didn’t call Lila a Liar openly anymore, she did like to give hints. Which Alya successfully ignored.

“Just... let’s get to class. I don’t want to be late again.”

While Felix hated nothing more than talking during the lessons (“It’s disrespectful!”) he did communicate from time to time. Over the course of the week, they had developed an intricate language of stolen glances and discreet expressions that was comprehensible to them alone.

When Marinette fell into her seat next to him and replied “present” upon hearing her name from Mme Bustier, he gave her a concerned look from her to Alya.

Everything okay with you two?

Marinette shrugged and rolled her eyes.

Just the usual disagreement.

He huffed, concentrating on the lesson, but not without nudging her leg with his knee. His gesture for showing support.

“Before we continue with Napoleon, let me make an announcement.”, Mme Bustier caught her class’s attention. “Since you’ve all been so eager and hardworking during Monsieur Agreste’s bowler hat contest, I’ve been looking for another opportunity to let your creativity run free.”

She smiled at the front row.

“Since Lila has so generously helped me out, You now have the chance to participate in a competition called “Journalism Junior”, hosted by Alec Cataldi and Nadja Chamack.”

The class cheered and Alya high fived Lila, who smiled as Adrien patted her on the shoulder. A sharp pang in Marinette’s chest made her look away.

“If you want to enter the competition, you’ll have to create a report on something that greatly impacted you, until next Friday,” Mme Bustier continued. “It can be about your greatest inspirations or fears, a problem you want to draw attention to or something you want to support. Copying is as always,” a sharp glance at Chloé and Sabrina, “strictly forbidden! This is about an honest and genuine insight into Paris’ youth, so be true to yourselves!”

As soon as Mme Bustier finished, the class was alive with the buzz of excited students.

“Journalism! Not really my specialty, but sounds interesting.”, Marinette beamed at her gloomy neighbor. “I think I’ll do something about fashion! Or baking? Or media design?”

Felix only huffed and Marinette stilled.

“Is... everything okay?”

He blinked and straightened himself.

“Yes, of course. Journalism just isn’t my cup of tea.”

He leaned his head sideways.

“You should do something about fashion. You’re talking about it constantly, and I’ve seen your room. If something has an impact on you, it’s designing.”

“You’re right!”, she agreed, already thinking about what sketches she should work with. “Oh, will you do the report on your poems? No, wait, they’re personal. Your music then? I’ve heard you play the violin in the art room, it’s magical!”

Felix’ cheeks appeared a bit more saturated for a moment, almost as if he were blushing, but it disappeared when he shook his head.

“I won’t participate at all.”, he clarified sternly. “I’ve had enough people trying to peak into my life. But I’ll help you with yours. You’re horrible with deadlines.”

“True”, she grimaced. “But I don’t get why the behavior of other journalists should keep you from trying something out yourself!”

His fingers twitched, betraying that this was about something entirely else. A bit gentler she added: “Are you sure you don’t want to do something of your own? It’s different if other people try to drag your personal life into the limelight, or if you willingly share something on your own terms.”

“Hm...”, he murmured, before giving her one of his rare smiles. “You are exceptionally smart, Marinette. I appreciate your advice.”

She rolled her eyes. He could’ve as well written her a thank you letter, as formal as he was.

“Thanks. But don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re deflecting!”

She backed down anyway. Felix obviously didn’t want to share his thought process with her, but hopefully, he just needed some time.

Or maybe she was just misinterpreting his behavior and blowing things out of proportion. Wouldn’t be the first time for her.

-

Felix might not look the part, but he did think about what Marinette had said. She was right, of course. There was a difference between someone stealing his secrets, and himself sharing them. But to him it had always been technical at best, a mere incongruence in terminology.

Insisting on being involved in Mum’s company from an early age on had put him in the spotlight far more than he’d anticipated, then. When he took up modeling – the only way to help he was given, his mother didn’t want him to “waste his childhood with adults work” – he’d become a minor celebrity basically overnight. It hadn’t gotten better when he grew up.

He’d always felt like some sort of public property, a puppet for others to project onto, or a fancy building people went sightseeing for on weekends. More than once his mother had to hire security people to ensure he had some semblance of peace outside, without being bothered by fans or paparazzi. His father’s position and... attitude certainly hadn’t helped to give him some personal space. So, at one point... he’d simply stopped going amongst people. And he didn’t mind that!

But the week he’d spent with Marinette, or even Aurore and Marc, had made him realize that while he could be on his own... he didn’t want to, anymore. Not always at least. They were so... generous with everything, sharing help or stories or simply their company with him. Especially Marinette, without ever expecting anything in return.

He wanted to return something, though. Anything to let her know he appreciated her. To make her smile the way she drew out his own.

So when school was over, he waited for her to pack up her things and get ready to go.

“You wouldn’t happen to be free this afternoon?”, he asked quietly. There where a few other students left in the room, Rossi and Agreste among them, and while he’d never concern himself enough with them to whisper, he wouldn’t push his luck either. This afternoon should go as smoothly as possible.

Marinette smiled and nodded.

“Sure! Want to come over for lunch again? Maman made Quiche.”

He saw Adrien perk up four rows further, and Felix himself found his determination waver. The Dupain-Cheng Quiche was a work of high culinary art, as he’d learned the last time he’d visited Marinette. But no! He had to stay strong! This was for Marinette!

“Actually, I’d hoped you came back home with me for lunch.”

He fidgeted a little, which was odd for him since it usually annoyed him on other people.

“It’s as you said, I should try to share things willingly, on my own terms, and you... make me feel like it can’t be that hard.”

Her smile was replaced by a look of surprise and he mentally kicked himself.

“You don’t have to! It was just an idea, but it doesn’t have to be today. Or ever.”

Why would she want to have lunch with him if her parents were already culinary deities? His mere invitation after tasting their creations was an affront to their craft.

To his relief, however, Marinette didn’t seem to mind his proposal.

“I’d love to come over! I’ll just have to call my parents before.”

She gave him one of her playful smirks that usually came before reading him.

“You actually listened to me? I’m impressed!”

His slight pang of disappointment that he wouldn’t get his beloved Quiche today was drowned out by his happiness to enjoy her company a bit longer. When she turned away to call her parents, he realized he should probably give his mother a heads up as well. He sighed. Mum would be over the moon once she heard he was bringing a friend over.

What had he done?

-

Lila was prepared. She was cool. She was completely fine with Felix asking the walking mess named Marinette out for lunch. And the pen she’d snapped would’ve broken anyway, she was sure.

Not that it mattered. Pigtails could revel in his attention all day, for all she cared. It wouldn’t last.

“Madame Bustier?”, she called the teacher as soon as the other students were gone.

“Lila! Is something the matter?”, the woman asked her new official favorite student. “I hope you didn’t mind that I thanked you in front of the class. I didn’t want to put you in the spotlights so unprompted, but you were a great help and that should be acknowledged.”

Lila smiled modestly.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I just like to help out.”

Herself, first and foremost. The contest was merely a puzzle piece in her scheme.

“Speaking of that,” she continued, “I wanted to ask for a small favor, if it’s no problem.”

“Of course, Lila. What is it?”

“It’s Marinette.” she began, putting on a sheepish face. “We didn’t have the best start, and her behavior last week when I proposed to change the seating again... I think she still holds some sort of grudge against me.”

She paused for a moment, to let the hint settle before she continued.

“I wanted to help her out a bit, so we can become friends! She’s always so busy as class rep, and I fear that the contest might add some weight to her load.”

“That’s so sweet of you! What were you thinking about?”

She had Bustier wrapped around her finger, now.

“Well, I obviously can’t help her with her report.” she mused out loud. “I don’t want to influence her in any way, so she doesn’t get disqualified for copying something by accident. So I hoped I could help her with her class rep duties! Usually, Alya does that, but she’s so passionate about her report and I don’t want to distract her.”

“Very considerate!”, she praised. “What duties would you like to take over for now?”

Now came the important part.

“Oh, Kim has been sick for a while now.” she reminded her. “I wanted to bring him some of the work we did, and inform him about the contest. And the swimming team asked Marinette to bring him the bag he forgot last time. Would it be alright if you gave me his address?”

She seemed to think for a moment before searching for a list in her bag.

“Usually, I’m not allowed to give out personal information.”, the teacher confessed. “But I think in this case, we can call it an exception, don’t we?”

“Of course”, Lila agreed dutifully as she skimmed the list Bustier held out to her. LeChien, Kim... there. And directly above: Leanne, Felix. Smiling, she typed the address into her phone. Felix’ address, of course. Max was already bringing Kim his homework, and the forgotten bag was a lie.

“Thank you so much, Madame!”, Lila said genuinely when she put her phone away and walked towards the door. “Oh, one last thing! Would you maybe... not tell Marinette I asked for this? I want to surprise her.”

“Don’t worry!”, Bustier said cluelessly. “I‘ll forget you asked me for anything.”

“You are the best, Madame! Good bye!”

She didn’t her her teacher’s reply, she was already out of the door. Her phone was on and she pulled up the pictures she’d taken of Felix’ calendar.

He was meticulous when it came to organizing his day, and she was more than grateful for it. He would be home by now, and lunch with his mother would last until 15 o’clock. He’d made a note not to disturb her from 15 to 16 o’clock, since Madame Leanne was in a meeting. From 16 to 18 o’clock, he’d be busy with his violin lessons.

Perfect.

But before her plan could be set in motion, she had another little tale to spin.

“Nino!”, she called when Adrien’s best friend came into her sight. “Wait for me!”

He was alone when she reached him. This was almost too easy.

“Wow, everything alright, dudette?” Nino asked, concerned that she’d hurried so much to catch up to him. “You look kinda rushed.”

She smiled and waved it off.

“I’ll be meeting Jagged Stone soon, and I don’t want to be late. I showed him your latest tape by the way, and he was really impressed.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah! But I really have to hurry now. Could you maybe tell Adrien from me that he doesn’t need to worry. You know, because of the Marinette thing.”

Nino frowned.

“Wait a sec. Marinette thing? Is she or Adrien in trouble?”

Surprised Lila put her hand over her mouth.

“Oh no, he didn’t tell you? Oh, I messed up! I’m so sorry!”

“What did you mess up? C’mon, I’m not telling anyone.”

She looked from side to side, as if worried others might overhear.

“I’m sure he meant to tell you.” she started secretively. “It’s just that... he’s been worried about Marinette. He thought she acted so weirdly over my proposal that Felix should sit with us in the front, that maybe she doesn’t like him. He thinks Marinette is ignoring, or outright bullying Felix.”

“What? I mean, that dude is giving me the creeps, but Marinette is super close with him.”

She forced a smile.

“You’re right, I noticed that too! But, you know, Adrien has been isolated so long... he just doesn’t know how to read the atmosphere, you know?”

“Yeah, he’s kinda oblivious.”

“I just wanted him to stop worrying so much. He was really concerned when he thought Felix and Marinette might not get along.”

Nino gave her a thumbs up.

“Don’t worry about him, I’ll soothe his nerves. You go meet Jagged Stone!”

“Thank you so much!”, she said, and meant every word. He was really useful, even though he made her cringe. “Oh, but maybe don’t tell him you heard this from me. He didn’t tell anyone else, and I don’t want him to think he can’t trust me.”

“Sure thing, dudette!”

“Bye-bye, then! And thank you!”

Lila smiled as she ran off. Everything was fitting perfectly together. The best tool to keep Marinette away from Felix was her crush on Adrien. The best way to use her crush was his dislike of Felix, and his assumption he knew what was best for his friends. The closer he thought them to be, the more he’d try to spread his animosity towards Felix onto Marinette, who’d do everything to please him.

Now Lila only had to wait.

- - -

I’m happy over every reblog, Part 5 is on its way. Here’s the tag list:

@crazycookie13o @a-6-yearold-inside @sinfulfoxbeast @kuroko26 @sternsneeze @zeyheartstaylor @elliecake5 @kristycocopop @yamadochie @sofmimis @enigmaticagitator @offically-over-it @earth-demon @juhavs @omgelisahagemanuniverse @owllover132 @kaydenth3gayden @janaikam @mewwitch

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 2: Shots

Chapter 1<- 

I stared across the darkened classroom at my blinders. They were perched in captivity on my history teachers desk. Stolen away from me and promised release upon the end of class today. The teacher himself was blathering on about something that I didn’t find important about how history continues on today. It seemed rather a redundant point to make. Of course we were living history I mean at one point every person we learn about in history had been in their present time.

There was movement in the corner of my vision and I turned to see Mr. Hopkins had turned on the tv in the room. “...let’s see what’s on the news nowadays as an example.” after flipping past a couple static filled channels Hopkins finally found the news station he was looking for.

I was about to turn back to my thoughts when I caught what the reporter was saying “This is a live breaking report from the channel 8 news. Flying over Central Los Angeles Savings Bank. I can see multiple people lying on the ground. One appears to be a federal agent several bystanders also seemed to have been injured in the crossfire, where the shoot out between federal agents and suspected bank robbers is in progress...”

I felt like ice water had just been pumped through my veins. I froze completely in shock. I remembered back to just the other night when Don had asked Charlie for help tracking bank robbers. Could it be the same robbers? Could Don be in the shootout? Was he injured? The class continued to watch through a car explosion and more gun fire and more cops arriving. Even into the aftermath.

“I’m receiving confirmation that three people were killed in his tragic incident one of which being an FBI agent. ” The bell rang and Hopkins turned off the tv. Seeming only to have been half listening. Most of the students in the class only seemed to be half listening.

I however was shaking. I was terrified. What if it was Don? What if he was dead? Shot down in front of a bank. I swallowed the lump in my throat rising from my desk with the rest of my classmates. I sweeped by the teacher’s desk and rescued my blinders before heading into the hallway.

My next class didn’t seem at all important as I ducked into the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I pulled out my phone and speed dialed my father’s number. He didn’t pick up. I tried again. More of the same. I tried Alan; he didn’t answer either nor did Charlie. I repeated Don, Alan, Charlie. No one would pick up their phone. After hearing my father’s voice mail for the fifth time. I pocketed my cell and grabbed my backpack.

The hallway was clear as the final class of the day had already started. I headed straight for the exit. I was going to catch a bus to Alan’s house and get some answers. I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

“Abby Calvin” the voice spoke. I turned to see none other than the school principal smiling down on me with a fake grin. “Skipping class are we?”

“Sir I was-”

He held up a hand “this is the third time in the last two weeks you’ve skipped a class. It’s not happening again, come on” he led me to the office.

The rest of my time at school was taken up by me being talked at by the principal. I tried to explain what was happening multiple times. He wouldn’t hear it and I was given a note for Don to read when I got home. My stomach churned as I imagined him shot to death in front of a bank. I quickly banned the image and beat my imagination into submission.

I tried each of the men I called family again twice on the bus before I was let off at the apartment building. I hurried up to my and Don’s apartment and let myself in. I threw my backpack on the couch and turned on the news grasping for any information that it might tell me.

As I sat watching the various unrelated news streams and casters talking about things I could care less about. I felt a sharp pain hit my head like a rock and with a blink I suddenly wasn’t sitting on the couch in Don’s living room.

I was crouched by a fire. I could hear the rain. People were talking all around me, there was music, laughing. Then there were shots. They echoed loudly in-

I stood and shook my head like it was wet. Pushing away the intrusive memory. I grabbed my binders out of my pocket putting them on and taking multiple deep breaths to try and calm down. I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about her.

_________________ 3rd POV.

Don sighed sitting down on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. Tonight was not going well for him. His arm hurt and his head hurt. Worse he had just gotten back from talking to Agent McKnight's parents at their hotel. Nothing hurt worse than the look on McKnight’s mother's face when he told her what happened.

“I should be looking at mugshots, right?” Don voiced to Terry who was at her own desk nearby.

“Did you get a good look?” she inquired.

“Yeah, definitely” the man muttered in reply. Just then his phone rang. He pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. It was Abby he was about to answer it.

“Agent Eppes.” Don turned to see the forensic scientist had appeared nearby. “That piece of evidence you found at the scene. We know what it is”

“Excellent” he told her and glanced back at his phone declining the call from his daughter and making a note to call her back once he got a chance. Then him and Terry followed the scientist down to her lab. ________________________ Don reached the door to his apartment and began digging for his keys with a sigh. This case had taken a major turn and it was really late. He wasn’t here to rest though he was here to pick up Abby and take her to his father’s house. Alan could watch over her while Don worked late at the office on this case. As he turned the knob of the door he grimaced at the shot of pain his arm gave him. Then he entered his apartment and heard the immediate stomping of feet running to the door.

“What the hell were you thinking!?”

It took the FBI agent a moment to register the unexpected outburst to be coming from his daughter. “What?” he asked, confused.

“You were getting shot at!” Abby yelled walking up to him. “It was all over the news! An agent was shot and another was dead and I didn’t know who was who because you wouldn’t pick up your goddamn cell phone!” she yelled.

Don thought back to all the times he had dismissed her calls that day. He hadn’t thought anything about it at the time. However now he realized how stupid it had been not to let her know he was alright. “I’m sorry Abby I-”

“You could have been dead for all I knew!” she cut him off “and where would that have left me? Huh?” Her voice broke.

“Abby I risk my life everyday” Don explained trying to keep his voice level and calming.

“I know but you can’t just act like I’m supposed to be okay with it or just leave me in the dark to suffer you unbelievable jerk” she shoved him harshly in her anger.

“Abby. Abby. Abby!” Don tried to get her attention to make her calm down as she whacked at his chest and struggled against him in anger.

“I already lost my mom, I can’t lose you to Dad!”

Both parties froze at her last outburst. The anger in Abby’s face faded as she realized what she had said. “You just called me Dad” Don muttered.

“No no I said Don” Abby objected.

“No you said Dad” Don countered a small smile threatening his face. Despite the circumstance it was the first time she had ever called him that.

“No I said Don” the girl muttered.

“You called me Dad” Don let off a light chuckle.

“Oh shut up you stupid sperm donor” Abby grumbled as he pulled her into a hug.

“Are you done yelling now?” he inquired. Abby nodded into his chest. “Then listen cause the truth is I’m sorry I should have told you I was alright rather than just leaving you in the dark. I just- I’m still figuring out this father thing alright. We both are and I’m sorry but risking my life and possibly getting shot at is my job” Abby squeezed him tighter “but I will make this promise to you though. For every moment I am alive I will be fighting to make it back here to you. Alright?”

“Alright” Abby nodded as they stepped apart. “Donald”

Don sighed “Dad things not staying huh?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it” Abby replied with a smirk that mirrored her fathers.

“And here I was actually liking the idea of being called Dad” Don murmured. They both chuckled lightly. _______________________ Abby POV.

Me and Don pulled up outside Gramp's house and loaded out of the truck. Alan came out to meet us near immediately with a look of concern clear on his face. “Donnie, you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. It’s fine- ow! Ow!” he exclaimed as his father touched his injured arm. “Look it’s just, my arm’s a little sore.” he addressed the blatant concern on Alan’s face. “I got a- a scrape during an incident.”

I rolled my eyes at the lame excuse coming over to their side of the driveway. “A scrape? From what?”

“Well, a bullet, if you have to know” Don muttered with a sarcasm very much like my own.

“A bullet oh my g-” Alan exclaimed immediately.

Don quickly spoke over him “but it’s not… dad, please listen to me, okay?Just relax. We had an arrest go bad, and we lost an agent, okay? And three people died”

“It was all over the news” I added “check your voicemail I left messages”

“My word” gramps breathed out in shock.

“Now I’m dropping this one off and looking for Charlie. Where is he?” Don questioned.

“He’s out in the garage with Larry.” the other man informed. “He’s upset. I can see why now.”

“What’s he doing in the garage?” Don asked, confused. I had to admit I was confused as well last I heard they only used the garage for storage and laundry.

“He’s just working on that problem. You know.” Alan spoke directly to Don. “the problem he can never solve.”

“The P vs. P thing?” Don inquired.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” gramps nodded.

“Aw man” Don groaned in aggravation. I got the sense there was more going on here than I was privy to.

“Wait do you mean P vs. NP?” I looked between the two men. “The millennium prize problem?”

Neither seemed to be listening to me as Don started trucking toward the house. “Where are you going?” Alan called after him.

“I got to talk to him.” the son replied “I need a new equation”

Alan seemed as though he wanted to say more but Don had already disappeared into the house. “What’s the problem with Charlie working on P vs. NP?” I asked.

Alan sighed and looked to the ground “It’s not Charlie working on the problem that’s well the problem Abby. It’s why” I thought on it for a moment but was still not sure what he was saying. “Come on” he finally spoke up. “I’m assuming you haven’t had any kind of dinner yet” I nodded and followed my grandfather inside. ________________ 3rd POV.

Don came storming into the kitchen from talking to Charlie. It was aggravating after everything that happened with McKnight and the shootings. Charlie should be motivated to stop these guys but instead he just such down. Don was a kind of frustrated that only his little brother could make him whether it was rational or not and he knew it.

“Are you okay?” Don turned to see Abby perched sitting cross legged on the kitchen island. She was eyeing him quizzically.

“Yeah” he answered immediately “no.” he answered honestly “been better” he finally decided to go with. Abby nodded and bit her lip in a way that for half second made Don feel like he was looking in a mirror before he brushed the thought away “what are you doing in here?”

“Thinking” the girl replied honestly holding up her blinders which the man could infer she had just removed. “Gramps and your partner Terry are in the living room. She’s nice. I thanked her for the books she got me for my birthday.”

Don nodded and let out a breath feeling his irritation slowly ebbing away “yeah I’ve known Terry for a long time”

“Really?” the girl inquired.

“Yeah about ten years. We met in the academy” he explained.

“FBI academy?” she quizzed further.

“Yeah” Don nodded and a small grin came to his face “what you think I learned all this on the streets. Trial by fire style?”

Abby laughed slightly. “Well I don’t know I’ve only known a real FBI agent for the upside of a month”

Don scoffed and looked to his shoes. “Yeah”

“Is Charlie helping with this bank robbing case still?” Abby inquired, glancing toward the backdoor through which Don supposed she must have been able to hear the shouting.

“Apparently not” Don grumbled. “All he wants to do is work on the stupid P vs. P thing he’s completely shut down.”

“I can’t really blame him for being worried” she stated “and neither can you Don. You could have died and Charlie’s the one who sent you to the bank where the shooting happened.”

Don sighed and looked at his daughter quizzically “yeah I know but like I told you it’s my job to get shot at and I can’t change that. The more he helps though the less likely it is for that to happen and he just doesn’t want to help”

Abby looked like she was about to respond when the door to the kitchen opened and Terry stepped in “hey Don sorry to interrupt but we have to get back to the office.”

“Yeah coming” the man replied to his partner. Then turned to his daughter “I’ll see you later kid”

“Bye Don” the girl replied.

Don nodded and followed Terry out of the kitchen. Thinking in the back of his mind that he really wished she would have said Dad. __________________ Abby POV.

I walked slowly down the stairs of the house heading for the living room. Two books in hand that I wanted to read. I was mildly preoccupied with my own thoughts to the point that I didn’t realize Charlie had returned from the garage until I was about to turn the corner. I paused out of sight of the two men in the living room as the younger spoke.

“Dad. I’ve been working on a problem.” he explained “P vs. NP, it can’t be solved.”

“I think you knew that when you started” Alan replied wisely flipping through his paper.

“I could work on it forever, constantly pushing forward, still never reaching an end.” Charlie admitted. I bit my lip realizing I shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation however my feet wouldn’t move from the place they had planted themselves.

“You know, sometimes you want to think that things don’t end.” gramps mused “but they do.”

“When mom was sick I couldn’t stop working on it.” Charlie’s voice was breaking and I felt something clench in my chest. I had gathered enough knowledge about Margaret Eppes, my grandmother, to know she had died of cancer about a year ago. None of them really talked about it in excess. It was still fresh in their minds. Like my mom’s death and the state of mourning it procured were still fresh in mine.

“Yeah. I know.” Alan spoke to Charlie gently. “I didn’t get it. Uh, not then. And your brother sure doesn’t understand why you spent the last three months of your mother’s life working on a math problem.” I shifted on my feet listening despite my growing urge to leave “But Charlie, you mother she understood why. Because she knew how your mind worked.”

I finally pried myself off the wall and left the house. I wandered through the yard to the garage. My mom knew how my mind worked to. Even though she couldn’t think like I did she always understood why I behaved like I did. She knew what was in my head. _~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_ 3rd POV.

Abby sat another book on her already read pile. Grabbing a new one from her, going to read pile. She had just opened the cover when there was a clearing of the throat from the entrance to the small nook she had claimed in the back of the library.

She looked up to see her mother standing there, arms crossed. “Busted huh?” The girl asked. 

“Uh huh” the mom responded. Removing her purse from her shoulder she sat down across from her 14 year old on the floor. “I got another call from the school. You know most moms when their kid ditches don’t check the library first.”

“But you know better” Abby commented with a smirk.

“Yeah I do kid but you still have to stop skipping school even if it is to go read books” Janice stated.

“But the classes are pointless and boring” Abby objected. “They want to either put me in the need help classes because of my spotty elementary school education or in equally boring regular courses and then are shocked when I ace it all” Abby explained adamantly. “It’s patronizing”

Janice sighed “I know I asked again about the advanced courses but they are still sticking to their plan” 

“If they’d just give me the chance I could show them” Abby muttered.

“You’re a brilliant girl Abbs one day people will see that” Janice reassured. “But you still have to go to school” Abby groaned “Hey, hey it’s not just about the school work maybe you could make some friends. You know you can’t hide in the library forever. Eventually you will run out of books. Especially at the rate you read” 

Abby nodded “yeah I know. But people are well… people” 

Janice smiled slightly “yeah they tend to be like that. What are you reading there?” 

Abby glanced down at her book. “I don’t know haven’t started it yet” 

Janice smiled “alright then you read I’m going to grab a computer and do some of my school work for my new online classes” 

“Mrs. Wiat wasn’t kidding about homework never ending was she?” Abby commented as Janice got to her feet the woman chuckled lightly with her daughter. _~_~_~_~_~_~_~_ Abby POV.

I was sitting in the garage with my blinders on just absently thinking when I heard someone else walk in. I raised up the blinders to see it was Charlie. He plopped down in the chair nearby and grabbed his laptop.

After a moment he glanced up at me “Abby’s why are you sitting on the floor?”

I shrugged “it’s comfortable”

The man wasn't interested in discussing the topic. “So your millenium problem.” I gestured to all the boards around us. “Are you going to keep working on it?”

Charlie froze in the typing he had been doing. “I don’t know but, it can wait”

“And Don can’t” I finished his thought. Charlie nodded slightly and continued on his computer. I half wanted to talk to him about my mother for some reason. As I felt he might understand. I wanted to tell him that my mom got it too. However, I didn’t want to reveal that I had overheard him earlier, nor did I want to upset him. “The numbers are easy aren’t they?” I finally voiced after a moment “easier than people anyway. Answers to questions and a solid foundation. Easy to hide in.”

“Yeah” Charlie breathed in response and looked up at me “but we can’t hide in the numbers forever can we?”

“Nope” I muttered, popping the p. We were silent for a moment with the exception of Charlie’s mouse clicking.

Then Larry, Charlie’s friend and fellow CalSci professor, entered the garage. “Well,” he voiced upon his arrival, “I was heartened to hear that you’ve shifted your focus off P vs. NP.” he meandered further into the garage “So tell me what is it that I can help you with?”

“I failed” Charlie admitted and I snapped my attention back to him. “I failed to notice something significant. These robberies display certain highly eccentric characteristics.”

“Okay” Larry murmured, taking a seat on my other side a top some stuff “well how so?”

“Many were conducted in under two minutes, but in many cases,” Charlie explained “the perpetrators remained on the premises far longer despite having the money. Why would they wait around?”

“Don’t know.” the cosmologist replied “leaving quickly would seem to be the essential strategy when fleeing a felony.”

“Or any kind of crime” I added. “It’s risky cops could show up”

“You see this game, Larry? Abby?” Charlie pivoted his computer screen to show he had been playing Minesweeper. “You have to clear mines without blowing any up. Each time you’ve cleared a square, a numerical value is revealed. That number tells you exactly how many squares containing mines are directly adjacent to the square. This allows you to predict where the next mine will be located. And then the more boxes revealed, the more accurately one can predict the location of the mines.” he finished explaining the game and then continued with its relevance “the pattern used in these bank robberies is similar to this same type of problem-solving pattern. These robbers have used the banks they’ve been robbing to tell them which ones to rob next.”

“To what end would criminals be playing Minesweeper with banks?” Larry posed the same question rattling in my brain.

“I don’t know,” Charlie admitted.

“Are they using it to find high cash sums.” I suggested.

“No the takes varied, some as low as one hundred dollars.” Charlie objected thinking.

“Well then you’ll have to gather more information on your robbers” I pointed out “see what they’re after.”

“Information” Charlie murmured then quickly stood up closing his laptop with a snap. “I have to go.” with that he had dashed from the barn.

“It seems you’ve inspired him young Abigail,” Larry sighed.

“Don’t call me Abigail please” I asked the professor “and I don’t know what I did to inspire him”

Larry made a humming noise as I got up from my seat on the floor. “Well does it matter how in the grand scheme of things really?” he asked philosophically. “Whether you meant to inspire him or not it is still the outcome” I nodded lightly in agreement. “So if not Abigail what would you prefer to be called?”

“Abby” I stated thinking it was rather obvious considering everyone else just called me Abby.

Larry let out another humming noise. “You know you are quite a unique being”

“Thanks” I murmured not sure where he was going with this.

“You have a mind such as your uncles but your traits portray your father in quite a respect for you only having known both for a month. A true statement of nature versus nurture” Larry observed “you are an enigma”

“Okay” I sighed “then call me the enigma”

Larry nodded and stood up “very well then” and with that he left the garage. I hoped he realized I wasn’t being serious. _______________ “Here you go, Pop.” Charlie called walking out of the kitchen with a bowl in his hands. “I got it.” he sat it down “now you got it.”

“Thank you,” Alan replied.

“Spoon” Charlie stated holding up the utensil.

I scoffed “I think he knows what a spoon is Uncle C”

My uncle gave me a look and messed up my hair with a small shove like gesture as he went to sit down next to me. He didn’t sit however as just then the main door opened. “Hello” my father called.

“Donnie!” Alan greeted getting to his feet. “Wow, it’s good to see you.”

“Oh, you guys ate. I’m starving” Don voiced coming into the dining room.

“Ah there’s plenty come on” Alan objected quickly.

“Yeah?” the agent clarified “did Terry call, tell you guys what happened?”

“Yeah, she said you arrested every suspect.” Charlie informed shuffling back toward the kitchen. “Only one shot fired, huh?”

“That’s impressive.” I mused “snipers are cool.” Don gave me a look as he made his way to the seat at the head of the table “sniper math is cool” I emphasized pointedly.

“One? How’d you pull that off?” Alan inquired.

“We knew roughly where’d they’d try to hit the next shipment,” Don explained as Charlie disappeared to get him some food. While I turned back to consuming mine. “And I knew they’d have an escape plan.”

“That’s very clever.” Gramps declared digging into his dinner.

“Out thinking the bad guys” I voiced “that’s got to be fun”

“Keep talking like that and someone might think you want to join the FBI” Don muttered giving me a look.

I shrugged and held up my hands in a defensive gesture “hey I don’t even know what I’m doing once I escape high school” I explained “don’t go pegging me to early”

“And I don’t think I can take two members of the family dodging bullets for a career” Alan voiced.

“Yeah well, I guess I was inspired by Mr. Heisenberg” Don continued as he went to grab a beer in the kitchen. “Just like Charlie here suggested”

“Heisenberg?” Alan gave Charlie a perplexed look. “You mean, the physicist?”

“Yeah” Don called in reply.

I chuckled lightly as Charlie took the seat next to me “Don goes to confront a bunch of crazy and armed bank robbers and your pep talk is about the movement of subatomic particles?”

“Yep” Charlie replied simply. Me and Alan exchanged an amused look. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes” Alan replied. “I guess it did.” There was a moment as Don joined us at the table and we all turned to our food but Alan “I’m telling you,” he began “if your mother could see you two guys now, she would be… so happy” he voiced and turned to me “and Abby. She would have loved to have known you”

I smiled lightly as the brothers exchanged a look themselves. “How are you doing on your P vs. P thing?” Don inquired after a moment.

“NP?” Charlie corrected with an amused breath.

“Sorry” Don murmured.

“I’m not pursuing it anymore.” the mathematician declared.

“No?” the agent questioned.

“I got plenty of problems to work on,” Charlie explained “ones that I think I can actually solve.”

Don nodded “Glad to hear it.” The two clinked their glasses and Alan raised his. I grabbed my glass of water as well and we all knocked glasses in the center taking a sip. As normal table conversation resumed. I found myself smiling. I was among family.

Chapter 3 -> 

[fuck-bowers]

Like Bees to Honey (Henry Bowers x Reader)

request: hello! if you’re requesting right now, could i have an imagine where the reader is friends with the losers club but she’s dating Henry in secret and one day they find out by seeing them making out or something? i need more Bowers 😍

A/N: thank you @kaitlinlexiexx for the request!! I hope u enjoy!! I even put a bi jealous richie in here for the fun of it

tw: abusive parents, injury

If Henry Bowers was a bee, you were the honey.

Of course, if the Losers heard a statement like that, Richie would scoff and remark that Bowers was more like a hornet than anything else, and Eddie and Ben and Stan would laugh, and sure, maybe they were all right about that. Yet no one would argue that you were certainly like honey - soft spoken, caring, shy, and truly sweet. Most everyone who met you liked you, and those who liked you would grow to love you. This included Henry, to everyone’s dismay, but mostly Richie’s.

“I know all that ‘opposites attract’ shit, but it’s still just fucking dumb. What the hell do they talk about? They have nothing in common at all.” Richie mused, a little louder than a mutter, flicking a match and lifting it to the Virginia Slim between his lips. 

Richie and Bev stood behind the school, waiting for the others to get out of class. They watched you walk together, exiting the gym.

Beverly chuckled out smoke. “Not sure they do a lot of talking, to be honest,” she teased.

Bev had a hunch her reply would only further infuriate him, and her assumption proved to be correct as Richie rolled his eyes and flipped her off.

She giggled to herself, the joviality of laughter suddenly stained by a tinge of sadness. Richie had liked you for years. Sure, he could’ve made his feelings a little clearer, like ask you out, or do more than tease you every second of the day you two were together - but Beverly stared at her best friend and took in a deep breath that primed for a long sigh, noticing how he hadn’t even tried to crack a sarcastic smile after giving the bird.

This all could’ve been avoided, and it was something you tried your hardest to keep from the Losers club as a whole, but it’s only a matter of time until a secret that huge comes out.

Of course, in the theoretical situation that you were a bee and not Henry, Henry would not be honey, but vinegar.

Henry Bowers and his gang had never occupied your thoughts for more than merely seconds at a time, and you’d only be reminded of his existence whenever the Losers club encountered him. You’d heard endless complaints and stories of his depravity through every Losers club member, but only met the bully they referred to on a fateful trip to the Quarry, after school on the first hot day in months.

“Could it be fucking hotter out here?” Richie groaned to no one in particular as the eight of you approached the famous jumping-off-point, a place you were still terrified to jump off of. Having arrived so soon after the final bell rang, you all assumed that you’d have the whole Quarry to yourselves - you assumed wrong.

“Are you kidding me?” Eddie groaned, peering over the edge. “The fucking Bowers gang is here.”

Soon enough, you and the rest of the club followed Eddie’s lead, all shooting glares down at the four boys rough-housing in the water below.

“Fuck you, Henry!” You heard a voice cry in the midst of laughter, though you were unsure who exactly it came from. You weren’t sure which one Henry was.

“Which one’s Henry?”

“That one.” Richie answered, pointing indistinctly. “The one with the ugly blonde mullet.”

Instantly, you saw him. He was pushing a towheaded kid below the water, only to let him up sputtering and then push him down again. The other two boys were watching and laughing.

“Oh look, they’re drowning each other.” Stan sarcastically remarked.

The comment was left unheard by you, due to your inability to focus on anything other than Henry’s arm muscles flexing, pushing the blonde kid underwater. Finally, the light-blonde boy tackled Henry into the water, resulting in more distant laughter from the other two.

Suddenly, one of them looked up.

“Hey, what do you fucks want?” The heavier-set bystander called, staring up at the eight of you. The others beside him followed his lead, all looking up at the same time.

“Fuck.” Eddie cursed, immediately backing up and running in the direction of where you’d came. The rest of the Losers quickly followed.

You were the last to leave, still staring at Henry Bowers.

“Come on down, sweetheart! The water’s fine!” He called, hand at the side of his mouth, staring right at you. The rest of his gang laughed as you realized that you should probably run away as your friends had. You did.

You weren’t sure if Henry would remember you after that, being up so high, never having met before. He did.

As you ran, you felt an immense wave of guilt. Henry was partly responsible for making the lives of the Losers Club much harder than they needed to be. And there you were, ogling him.

Bees aren’t attracted to vinegar, flies are. In that moment, you felt more like a disgusting, barbecue-loitering fly than a honeybee.

Vinegar attracted you, regardless of what you were. After that day, everything had changed.

You figured, looking back, that nothing would’ve ever happened between you two if your mom hadn’t dropped you off for school that morning. Having taken the bus nearly every day, it was definitely out of the ordinary for you to pull up in front of the school in a red pickup truck, directly after the bell rang. You would’ve walked from your house that morning, had last night not been so nightmarish.

Henry stood with his friends, the same that you saw goofing around at the Quarry, and with most students starting the walk to their homerooms, they seemed to be the only people watching you. A part of you was thankful for that. You were in tears - the less people watching, the better.

Your mother gripped the steering wheel with one hand, and put out her nearly-finished cigarette with the other as she stared at you.

“Honey…” She trailed, staring at the deep, splotchy bruise sitting on your jawline. Makeup had done nothing but mute the blue into a hideous grey. The fuschia tones were uncoverable.

You thought you saw tears in her eyes.

“Don’t say anything at school, okay? Tonight we’ll ice your bruises, they’ll go away before you know it.”

The bruise was an “accident” rather than a lovely gift from your father. This wouldn’t be the last time you had to endure his rage, that your mother continuously tried and failed to protect you from.

Bidding a soft “okay”, you got out and shut the door, unable to keep the tears from flowing.

Patrick had mumbled a ‘holy shit’, noticing your injury before anyone else. Henry was the second to notice the discoloration on your face.

“That must’ve hurt like hell.” Vic murmured, looking at Henry. “Isn’t she the girl we saw at the Quarry the other day?”

Henry knew that you were, but he didn’t say anything. You tried to keep your eyes down as you passed, but the ominous, invasive feeling of every single member of the Bowers gang watching you pass by was too much to ignore. You stopped.

“What? What the fuck are you looking at?” You hissed through tears, looking up to meet Henry’s eyes directly. Your gaze darted to Patrick, then to Belch, and back to Henry.

The moment was terrifying - these guys administered bruises to the whole school, or at least that’s what the rumor mill said. Why were you suddenly so bold?

You continued walking, but you heard footsteps follow.

“That bruise is pretty fucking hard to miss.” Henry’s voice answered.

Stopping in your tracks, you slowly turned around.

Expecting a fight, you put on a grimace - but Henry’s expression was nearly understanding, and something lingered behind it that removed any anger you felt.

“I know that.” You lamented.

He didn’t move, hands in his pockets.

“Who gave it to you?” He inquired in a low tone.

You rolled your eyes. “How do you know I didn’t fall on my face?”

Silence. He stared at you, and a flicker of pain crossed his expression that made you drop the act.

“My dad.” You answered.

The admission was quiet, embarrassed, shy. You already went against your mom’s wishes, and not even five minutes had passed. Why did he care?

“My dad’s like that, too.” He replied.

“Our dads are assholes.” You tried to joke, cracking the smallest smile at him, wiping your eyes.

You knew it was a nice gesture on his part, establishing a sort of solidarity, even though you didn’t know him well enough to feel validated. The way he looked at you was ultra genuine. Without realizing it, the two of you had held eye contact for about five whole seconds.

“Do you wanna…” Henry turned around to look at the guys, looking down the street beyond the high school. He faced you with his hands in his pockets, resembling a nervous little boy instead of a tough-as-nails bully.

“You wanna ditch with us? We were gonna get some food, see a movie… or somethin’.”

Looking back at the guys, they seemed confused, but unquestioning. They weren’t about to refuse you, or deny Henry.

After you only smiled as a reply, Henry smirked himself. “You wouldn’t have to answer all those questions about your face until tomorrow.”

You chuckled.

“I’ll probably have to answer more, going around town with you guys and looking like this.”

Henry laughed in response, and after an extra second of staring between you two, he motioned you to follow him. It was a done deal already, and he must’ve known it.

“Come on, babe.”

Those words led you not only to the Blue Trans-Am and a day full of fun, but into a life where you had to hide how much you liked, maybe even loved, the head of the Bowers gang.

“I can’t go to fucking prom with you.”

“Why not? You can’t dance?”

“Shut up, you know why.”

“Just tell them.”

“I can’t.”

Henry had you up against a wall of lockers inside the boys’ locker room, one hand on your ass, the other up your back, mouth wandering over your neck and biting where it pleased. He pressed against your frame, eliciting a light moan from you.

“Henry…” You sighed. “We shouldn’t be doing this here, anyway.”

You’d been used to handsy exchanges in the back of Belch’s car, behind the Derry Cinema, the library basement, anywhere deemed safe enough by you to warrant a ten minute session of kisses and touches that you wished would last forever. Today’s rendezvous was bold, but not exactly smart. You had a feeling something bad was going to happen.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you in class.” He admitted, voice low and hot. You smiled at the thought of it.

“Yeah, still, this is super risky.”

“It’s hot, and you know it.”

“What if a teacher walks in?”

“Then we have detention together.”

You didn’t have any classes with Henry, which was both a curse and a blessing, as though you couldn’t see him as often as you wanted, no one in your friend group suspected either of you even spoke.

It occurred to you that with Henry being so eager to be around you, he might genuinely have a crush or even more on you - when he grinned against you once more and scattered all your thoughts into stars. 

In an instant, the entire locker room seemed to evaporate and it was just the two of you - or so you’d hoped.

“Why do you use your locker when you have fourteen fucking fanny packs?” Richie teased in the hallway adjacent to the approaching locker room, Eddie scoffing and turning around to face his snickering companion, as well as a smiling Stan and Bill.

“I don’t have fourteen fanny packs, I have two. Well, three. They all serve different purposes.”

“There’s nothing you could keep in one locker that you can’t keep in three fucking fanny packs.”

As they opened the door to the boy’s locker room, anticipating to be alone, they turned the corner right as Eddie started his reply, right as they headed down the same row of lockers that you and Henry made out at the end of.

“I keep all my jackets…”

The four boys stopped in their tracks. Henry actively had his hand snaking down the front of your shorts, your arms around his neck like he kept you from falling through the floor.

The second you heard Eddie’s voice call out from the blue of your hypnosis, you pushed Henry off of you, his back hitting the adjacent wall.

Instantly, you locked eyes with Richie.

“In my gym locker.” Eddie croaked.

Guilt washed over you in an instant. Bev had hinted multiple times that Richie “probably” had a thing for you, and based on the look in his eyes, you knew she had a reason to mention it so often.

Eddie, Stan, and Bill appeared to be in a state of near shock, Eddie’s expression the most terrified.

“What the hell.” Eddie murmured.

Looking regrettably back to Richie, you noticed that he was no longer staring at you, and instead had brought his gaze to the floor.

After a long moment of hesitation, you prayed that someone would say something to break the most uncomfortable silence you’d ever participated in, and right as the silence was broken, you wished just the same that it had only continued.

“Hey guys. We’re dating.” Henry announced, as a matter-of-factly. After turning to you with a smug grin, walked away and through the exit to the gym. 

Well, now they knew.

Unsure of what else to say, wanting to crawl underneath a rock and die rather than stand before your four good friends, the picture of embarrassment, you walked past them and towards the entrance to the hallway. You weren’t sure what would happen after that, and only hoped that you’d be able to even speak to them again after that terrible event unfolded.

“I don’t know how she expects us to move past the fact she’s shacked up with the worst dude in the school. She could’ve picked like, anyone. And she picks him.”

The other Losers had arrived, fresh from their sixth period classes, and Eddie was the first to put in his two cents for the day. Eddie’s take on your relationship with Bowers only brought Richie farther down into despondency, feeling like the fucking loser that Henry always said he was.

Beverly, who learned about the situation directly after Eddie came running from the direction of the gymnasium, was unsure of what to think. Sure, you didn’t know the full extent of Henry’s ability to be the biggest asshole imaginable, but she assumed you would’ve found out soon enough and left him. Every time Beverly saw you two together following ‘the incident’, it seemed there was no trace of his malice. Henry could’ve blended in with every other guy at school, had his reputation not been known by every other student, forcing him to stand out.

“Something’s really weird about all this. I haven’t seen Henry’s goons hanging around him in days.” Beverly noted, staring across the commons at you, holding Henry’s hand.

“Yeah, only Y/N.” Stan added.

It would’ve been a time for Richie to put out his cigarette and yell about how they were focusing on this for too long, that school had just gotten out for the day, that they should go do something, anything. Yet he didn’t move, eyes glued to you from far away, unable to focus on anything else until Beverly put a hand on his knee, looking up at him from a couple steps down on the stairs. Richie’s solemn expression broke in a small, sad smile.

“I’m sorry, Rich.” She quietly bid, almost mouthing it, knowing the guys weren’t totally aware of Richie’s adoration for you.

Richie sighed, looking back at you from across the room. You had no idea that any of them were there.

“Thanks, Bev.” He muttered.

In that moment, Rich regretted that day at the Quarry, regretted telling you about Henry, regretted ever meeting you and introducing you to the other Losers.

Watching you turn a corner with your boyfriend, he sighed, knowing he didn’t mean it, not even a little bit.

He could taste a bitterness like vinegar in the back of his throat.

[thelittlepalmtree]

Can we please stop calling Ships we don’t like abusive?

I so very often see this argument against ships that people dislike and I find it not only harmful but a bit ridiculous. This is going to be a very long meta about a lot of ships that I don’t personally ship. I’ll tag only the ones that I speak positively of. 

So, let’s talk about why it’s bad to call a ship abusive that’s not abusive. First of all, there are people in this world that are in abusive relationships. This may seem like an obvious statement but I think a lot of fans forget that. If you have ever been in an abusive relationship you know how difficult it is. There are essentially three kinds of abuse. Physical, emotional, and sexual. If we’re talking  romantic relationships the last is the one that might be a little difficult for people to identify, however usually an informed party outside the relationship can help clarify it for anyone who feels they might be sexually abused in a sexual relationship. It’s bad to call relationships that are moderately healthy or just mildly dysfunctional abusive because it sort of creates a one level system where everything is black and white and guess what, friends, that’s not the real world. Many young people are a part of a fandom. Imagine being sixteen or seventeen having never dated anyone and being told that if your partner asks you to give anything to the relationship they’re abusing you. Do you think it will be easy to distinguish actual abuse from fandom bullshit? I doubt it. 

Now let’s talk about what abuse actually is. I should mention that I have never been in a relationship, however I have witnessed many abusive relationships and have an emotionally abusive parent I still live with. I’m also studying education and have learned extensively what the effects of abuse are on development and growth of a child. It’s that working knowledge I’m going with but you can also go here for some better information. But when it comes to fandom I want to talk about my idea of abuse. Now, listen, I get that we are living in a post structuralist world and we’re all bound to have our own personal beliefs on abuse and whatnot. However, to be quite honest I feel like my elaborate definition of abuse is the best one. It is also at the crux of my argument so if you don’t like what you’re reading just click out please. 

Alright. So to me abuse is essentially about one thing, the desire to control another person. As a human being without Jean Gray-esque superpowers you cannot control another being’s actions or decisions directly. However, some people did not learn this or do not want to learn this. They use the indirect means of emotional, physical, and/or sexual abuse to exert indirect control over another person. That intent to control (whether conscious or unconscious) is key to this problem. It is normal, for example, to have arguments in a relationship. However when one party feels that they must agree with the other because a) argument would be futile or b) there will be severe consequences if they don’t then that crosses a line. For example, let’s say two people are going to Lowes to pick out paint for their living room. A healthy couple might have an argument about the paint color that results in either compromise or someone getting their way. An unhealthy couple will likely not argue or if they do it will be clear that the abused party never had a chance of getting the color they wanted. The argument is not the problem, it’s the dynamics of the argument. Not every bystander will be able to see this either, it’s built on a long history between these two people. What may look like an unhealthy relationship could be perfectly healthy. What may look like a healthy relationship could be very unhealthy. 

Another aspect of abuse is neglect. Personally I don’t know why someone would choose to be in a relationship with someone they don’t like, but apparently it happens. Now, remember what’s important is that power dynamic. So, when I was in high school a lot of my friends dated each other but didn’t like each other and would break up in a few weeks but do the same thing later. That would not be classified as abuse to me because neither partner felt obligated to stay in the relationship. Neglect often comes in when one person doesn’t have the same feelings as the other person does but still wants to keep the relationship perhaps due to conveniences. 

The third part of this is that abuse is cyclical. Abusive partners are not all bad all the time or more people would leave. Typically an abusive partner will be fine most days or do those little things that chip away at your soul (Backhanded compliments, unfair expectations, “teasing” or bullying) then they will have an episode in which they become totally irrational. That will usually be followed by a grand apology (my dad often offered us money to forgive him). Once you forgive them they will be better than usual and then slowly progress back to stage one. One of my friends who I believe was in an emotionally abusive relationship told me recently that she remembered the “good times” because sometimes her partner would be horrible and shout at her for hours and other times he would be there for her and incredibly supportive. A lot of people think that this is a ploy of some sort to keep your partner, but I personally believe that abusers feel genuinely guilty for being so cruel. That makes it much easier to believe and forgive them and much harder to say no to them. 

So now that we got all that out of the way let’s talk about some ships. Let’s start with Jarley because I think this is a ship that is very different between the movies and the comics. In the comics this ship is hands down abusive. Harley is actually something of a distasteful caricature of an abused wife. She goes back to a partner who can’t stand her until she’s useful to him and inconveniently just won’t die. However throughout the comics she’s evolved into a wonderfully flawed, growing person who is dealing with the effects of such an abusive relationship. What’s interesting about this ship in the movies: they took out the majority of the actual abuse. Now I know there was a scene where the Joker slaps Harley, but given that that scene did not make it into the movie and also that we do not have context for that scene I am not going to treat it as canon. 

There are still problematic aspects, the Joker and his men torture Harley (though she does provide enthusiastic consent to the torture), and the joker throws her into a vat of bleach (again with her enthusiastic consent). You may think that this is inherently abusive because the actions here harm Harley. I see the side of that argument, but let’s just examine it further. The thing is, Harley abused the Joker first. She took advantage of her position as his therapist. And I think that is really important to note. As a counsellor you cannot develop feelings for your patients. Developing those feelings means you need to send them to a different counselor instead. This is because counsellors have a lot of power over their patients. In Suicide Squad we saw shots of the Joker in a straight Jacket. Harley presumably had control over his daily schedule and medications as well as access to any personal information on file or that she divulged from him. She could recommend treatments as well. It’s unclear whether she exercised this control, however the very fact that she had it constitutes an unhealthy power dynamic already. On that theory, you could argue that the initial violence the Joker and his gang perpetrated towards her was payback, or a way to make the relationship even. He had resented her former abuse of power and therefore tried to hurt her, but developed feelings for her at some point and then saw her as an equal. IN THE MOVIE itself, after Harley becomes Harley as we know her (after their weird dance in the toxic vats) there does not seem to be a lot of abusive behavior on the part of either of them. Any analysis of the ship that doesn’t take that turning point into account is part of this “I don’t like it so it’s abuse” problem. We need to look at all facets of the relationship. 

Let’s talk about another relationship that people tend to call abusive. Brucetasha. I should point out that I do NOT ship this at all. However, it is just not an abusive ship. First of all, the two were never canonically in a relationship. They talked about being in a relationship, they considered being in a relationship, but they were not in a relationship. In fact most of their interactions are about how they can’t be together. Now, there’s a lot about how Natasha called herself a monster because she couldn’t have kids. Yes this is terrible, but considering that Bruce did not say this to her, it could not be considered abuse. You may also say that she violated his trust by turning him into the Hulk. Yes, she did do that. However her aim was not to exert control over him, but to save people’s lives. It was a “gun to your head what would you do” situation or a train problem situation. Think about couples who must violate each others’ trust due to issues of security clearance or because they have high-end jobs in competing companies. These may be forgivable offenses or they may not be, that does not make a couple abusive. 

And thirdly, let’s talk about Karamel. I know, I know, everyone (me included) wants Lena and Kara to get married and have a horde of Kryptonian babies. However, the ridiculousness of arguing that Kara and Man-El were in an abusive relationship is honestly why I began this post. First of all, Man-El is not a bad person just because he’s a man. He grew up in a sexist culture and made great great strides to overcome his cultural training. It is incredibly unfair to expect people to be one hundred percent politically correct one hundred percent of the time. People need to learn and grow and I honestly felt the show did a good job of showing that. Kara didn’t just roll over and let him have his way every time, or even most of the time. She pushed back whenever he was jealous or controlling and she took her time entering the relationship. I would also like to point out that Man-El did not pursue her, in fact, she had to drag it out of him that he even had feelings for her. He did everything he could not to pressure her into a relationship until he found out that Kara felt the same way and only then did he try to make it work. Man-El very rarely tried to control Kara except when he was concerned for her physical safety. Think about relationships in which one person is a police officer, is it unreasonable for a cop’s partner to sometimes feel frustrated with the risks they take on their job? I think it’s reasonable to expect your partner to take time to get used to you constantly being at risk, the same goes for superheroes. I’ve also seen the argument that if Man-El was really a good person he would have gone with his parents and made Daxom a better society. I think it was made clear that his mother was abusive (I mean she killed his father for disagreeing with her and tried to force him into a marriage). In such a relationship you do not have any control. I doubt very much that he would have had any real chance to change Daxom’s culture while his mother was in charge. Beyond that, it takes centuries to change a culture, just look at America, we’re still trying to figure out Slavery. Is it reasonable to assume that he would have been able to turn Daxom into a benevolent nation overnight? I don’t think so. I really fail to see how any aspect of this relationship was abusive. Would I date Mon-El (if I were straight)? No. Chances are you wouldn’t either. Was he the right person for Kara? I personally don’t think so. Was he an amazing 100% fantastically PC person all the time? No. People are not like that. I’m not asking you to date someone like Man-El or who makes you uncomfortable. I am asking you to realize that not everyone is perfect, and a Journey like Man-El’s is so important to show. He went from being exactly the kind of person that most people find to be the pillars that hold up the patriarchy to being a fairly enlightened partner. I hope young girls see this to know that boys are not walking monsters, but that you can get through to people with education and patience. 

I hope you’ll be more responsible when throwing the word abuse around. 

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

ah i almsot forgot: warning, the following has mainly snarky opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

and we’re back to our scheduled programming

time to be rendered unconscious against your will you lil shit

-

“i hardly think anyone could pass out from eating something like this”

clearly you dont know what world youre living in, Sadmad.

...also he... might be allergic, guys. ever thought of that? 

-

yes, EAT! EAT OR WE WILL HARASS YOU, POSSIBLY INNOCENT BYSTANDER!!! YOU THINK YOU HAVE RIGHTS???? CRAM THAT SHIT DOWN YOUR THROAT BEFORE I DO!!!!

-

...uh;

-

FIVE IS NOT AN OCCUPATION!!! EAT ANOTHER BUN AS PUNISHMENT!!!! REGRESS FURTHER!!!! HFKJGU;SUUSRSO 

coping jokes aside holy shit 

don’t hurt this tiny boy!!!

-

i hope you all feel guilty for being such pricks.

look at him. he's curled up under his jacket like a traumatized baby 

at least this personality... sort of aligns with how DID is supposed to work? But now i just feel even worse. Someone get that kid a teddy and a juice-box, stat!

-

“Its clear that none of his personalities could be the killer!”

A) one of the three could still be lying

B) there’s four so far, what’s to discount a fifth? triggered by... i dunno, a reefer brownie.

C) I'm actually glad he's not the killer anyway just wanted to point out the possibilities youre discounting there

-

i love that theyre playing the goofy X people music for a traumatized five year old who witnessed a horrific murder of a loved one.

-

“I believe the person who laid the cards out is the very person who killed the victim” WELL.... DOY.

-

“How quickly you move onto a new theory when your old theory proves false!”

WELL.......... DOY

-

I love that theyre all just yelling and screaming about murder while the tiny child cowers behind the bench

hello??? anybody with compassion anywhere? maybe in the gallery? a bailiff? anybody???

-

“his emotions are spiralling out of control! something must have really frightening him”

maybe 

THE FUCKING MURDER????

athena youre a psychologist; dont you know anything about calming people down or at least putting them at ease? youre gonna put scars on this kid’s scars!

i mean at least Cody Hackins was fairly fearless and defiant about what happened to him and only really broke down once it dawned on him what he’d actually seen. Owen is clearly very, very upset.

-

i passed out *image promptly closes eyes*

-

“poor kid, he's absolutely terrified of something”

KDJFKLDGDGL

“whatever it is, it might be the root of his out of control emotions!”

DSHFA;SLGHOHSO GIRSHG’ 

-

“see, all we got out of this boy is a tale he dreamt up”

fuck off sadmad

-

(sigh) Owen’s on his side, Shisho’s laying down, just get to it already

-

“rotating your thinking about?”

“oh! you mean turning your thinking around!”

“yeah, whatever...”

(SNERK)

-

“like the forehead, perhaps”

is that... just a random location or is it actually going to come true

also, back at the office, Apollo winces and he can’t figure out why

-

oh yeah its definitely gonna come back.

-

WHOA; OK, MANHANDLING 

MANHANDLING, NOT GOOD

STEP AWAY FROM THE ATTORNEY, BLACKQUILL

yeah just fucking manhandle the stressed out anxious girl. you piece of shit.  i knew me being your friend wouldn’t fuckin last.

-

“MOTIVE, OPPORTUNITY, EVIDENCE??? IS THAT ALL IT TAKES TO MAKE YOU STOP BELIEVING IT YOUR CLIENT?!”

to be fuckin fair, cuckoo, thats usually what loses most cases.

-

would phoenix manhandle athena?? would he berate her and shake her into doing her best?? i highly doubt it.

-

“prosecutor blackquill was just giving me a pep talk, thats all!”

athena thats unhealthy

-

legitimately simon’s been nothing but unpleasant this entire time. its fun to watch him wreck sadmad’s shit but he needs to keep the hell away from athena. whatever protective, elder-brotherly instincts he had for her in DD seem to have stayed in DD.

-

man I'm looking back at my previous commentary and i was. i was just so optimistic. how foolish. franziska, bring down your lash upon this foolishly foolish fool.

atcuall dont i bruise like a peach

-

jeez now I'm imagining Super Dad™ Phoenix Wright cross examining Owen with Athena instead and it’s melting my cold, hard heart

-

“unfortunately, i spy nothing of the sort”

again Sadmad acts like if he doesn't see the answer, then it’s nonexistent 

not very monk-y of you, Sadmad.

-

gotta admit, i love this unique murder weapon

ive actually nearly suffocated under soft, cold, gloopy stuff and lemme tell you, its not fun.

-

...i love that simon took that logic-attack for us 

maybe the animators just wanted to play his OH SHIT animation again 

-

i know it looks like i pick on everything but in fact i edit these down. sometimes i take out whole statements because i rationalize them and realize that theyre actually plausible and i let them slide. so just, y’know. if you think I'm just blindly going at it, i am actually giving this game the benefit of the doubt. you just dont see it.

...if you read these

...uh

-

they used the pre-prepped noodles in the fridge. c’mon guys, as athena would say: Andale!

-

“perhaps the victim was simply playing with the cards, and they hold no other meaning”

oh NOW THEY COULD BE UNRELATED TO THE CASE

OF COURSE, NOW THAT IT’S CONVENIENT TO YOU

you sack’a shit

-

nice cliffhanger, kid.

Oh well; I’m partially glad that the poor lil guy can get a rest, and partially upset that his last two surfaces put him through intense anguish. maybe get Uendo drunk and go to the theatre or something, guys. poor baby could use a pick-me-up.

-

n no–– rise from the ashes flashbacks–– RISE FROM THE ASHES FLASHBACKS

THE LUNCHBOXES

SO MANY LUNCHBOXES

AAAAAHHHHhhhhi gotta give bucky a hand; being drunk and riding a skateboard while supporting a tower of bentos isn’t an easy feat

-

ew slurping 

-

and simon extends his douchiness to the guys he's even shafting Athena for.

just, fuckin, lighten the fuck UP simon, CHRIST

-

TIDDIES

seriously tho; we haven’t had a proper boob joke in ages. actually Geiru kinda reminds me of April May...

 Meanwhile we’ve had several testicle references, a drunk guy, and the bloodiest overarching plot the series has ever had. I think we’ve left Ace behind and graduated to Edge Attorney

-

 to be fair the judge could totally be talking about her actual rubber balloons, considering his childlike personality at times. so maybe ITS YOU, SADMAD, WHO’S THE VULGAR ONE!

GET YOUR MIND OUTTA THE GUTTER!!

-

bloooon. i think Drifloon says that, too. Is that a japenese onomatopoeia or something? 

-

ooh he sadMad

heh

i guess its up to simon’s brilliant mind tricks to save us again..?

...yehhhh i knew it

-

...huh. didnt expect that. impressive use of air...sword... skill. 

-

IM NOT A KOORAHEENIST, SHE’S NOT GONNA HEAR ME ANYWAY.

-

i know what theyre building up and yes, i am super excited to see all those balloons pop

-

...i gotta ask tho, why does Athena think those balloon animals are bad?? theyre extremely intricate and they look a lot more like the thing she promised than most of the ones ive seen.

-

aw no the cake disappeared. i want a huge explosion at the end!!

-

“I’ma cut ya, witch!”

...

.....

........

i uh, i have to um,,,,,,, go now

-

SHES GONNA CUT OFF A TIT

GIRD YERSELF ATHENA

-

me, into my DS mic: HOLD IT. Hold IT. Hold it. hold it... hold it... bold it

athena; HOLD IT 

-

simon: athena youre stupid do something. I'm not helping you.

simon: this time I'm going to do something, but god forbid you dont run with it

i dont think we’ve ever had a co counsel add something to the testimony for us before. we’ve had them hint at answers and interrupt trials to get us out of tight spots, but never directly ordering something like that. Guess that proves just how highly BK thinks of Athena’s abilities......

-

ooh the cakes back and there was a pop

im super ready for this

-

shit thats a strong balloon. i wouldn’t advice biting very thing plastic...

-

............

the... fuck???

sadmad: here is what will prove that Geiru IS NOT the murderer!

(geiru reveals buckwheat allergy and ACUAL RED HAND)

how the fuck does that help your case, Sadmad?? We know that the killer used the dough to kill the master by suffocating him with it. Pointing out that she came into contact with the dough, WITH HER HANDS, IS PROVING SHE DID IT.

YOU JUST GOT HER CAUGHT LITERALLY RED-HANDED.

HOW DOES THIS HELP YOUR CASE??????

-

ok well apparently she could die just by being in the room but if we look at how badly her hand has reacted, and is still reacting, Geiru should probably have at least some difficulty talking if “breathing in the flour” was dangerous. If her hand reacted that badly from minor contact, her throat should be shut like a steel trap. what I'm saying is, she’s probably lying about the severity.

-

“As if I would do anything so underhanded”

oh sad-‘trigger my enemies into yielding’-mad, youre hilarious 

-

y’know i just realized, it is a little insensitive of Taifu to make/buy/keep soba around the place. if Geiru is this deadly allergic, he’s risking killing her simply because he can’t give up his precious noodles. thats like living with someone with a deadly peanut allergy and being all “can’t get enough of my PBnJ!!”

-

its time for

Off!

Brand!

Logic!!!!

-

oh. its not. ...ok

-

hang on didnt she say the dough was udon already, or am i misremembering? if she did and everyone just forgot, thats a little sad.

anyway, i guess thats... an alright twist. i still say that saying your witness is allergic to something and showing a reaction on the body part associated with the murder is stupid thing to do.

-

“dont lose your nerve now. keep charging forward or you'll feel my blade at your back”

I'm just gonna let that speak for itself.

-

ah THERES the off brand logic. and we’re finally gonna talk about those fucking noodles in the fridge. its been a long time coming.

-

i like that ‘ramen’ is a third choice every time

-

that was a pretty involved murder. “alright, kill the old man, hmm hmm... make a dish that i’m deathly allergic to to throw of the scent; just gotta get the cooking! make sure Uendo doesn’t wake up and catch me in the act~~ get rid of the dough in a way that is probably time consuming, lalala~ and there! Blooooon, the perfect crime!”

how much time did she have??

-

also how much blood did she lose form that knick on her forehead? if its enough to permeate an entire clump of dough, she should probably need a transfusion.

-

simon: dog pun. have you figured out the twist yet???? DOG PUN, BY THE WAY. JUST SO YOU KNOW.

-

all the balloons are there. its time.

-

seriously, thats gotta be a lot of blood. I'm getting Gingerdead Man flashbacks.

-

“i wanna thank you, simon. without your constant abuse, i wouldn’t have been scared enough to succeed for fear of what would happen if i failed!”

-

...its a bit premature for breakdown animations; the police haven't gotten back to us about the dough...

-

...i didnt like this balloon explosion as much as i thought i was going to. this is kinda just... uncomfortable.

-

you know, she shouldn’t have resorted to murder or blaming the crime on an innocent, but I feel like Taifu should’ve.... I dunno, either Trained her properly or let her down easy instead of forcing her to be a sexy balloon clown.

It’s clear she really, really wanted to succeed her father’s name, (which I'm a little confused about; was he one of Taifu’s students? What is Uendo’s real name then? what is any of their real names...) so I’m sure that if she just practiced enough, she’d probably be able to do what she needed to get to that level of entertainment. And if she couldn’t, letting her down easy and encouraging her to find something she actually liked instead of making her do... um... balloons would probably be a whole lot less nasty.

also wtf uendo; what did whet ever do to you

man all of these people were kind of dicks. except bucky. the guy who came to his trial drunk.

-

Sadmad: Hmm.... upon further deliberation... seeing as you won... I believe I shall afford you a basic sense of human respect.................. 

Athena: thats all I ask, prosecutor sadmahdi!

-

heyy he’s sobered up! or should I say... SOBA’D UP AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH but seriously i don’t think they’ve said drunk or hungover once in this entire case what the fu

-

“no way... i almost got convicted out of convenience?” you, larry butz, maggey byrde and a shit tonne of other characters in the series. its actually a fairly common occurrence.

-

“he didn’t give her the name because he wanted geiru to find her own calling in life...”

...you know. after foisting a sexy balloon routine on her. to encourage her to quite entertainment. 

obviously Taifu was using the Simon Blackquill approach to encouragement.

“making udon was his way of showing his support of her in her new endeavour”

...what does that... mean

“oh, i’ll make safe dough instead of the stuff THAT KILLS HER to prove that i support her!”

genius

-

“So this entire situation happened because of a misunderstanding? How sad...”

i think you mean,,, hhhh

i hate misunderstanding plots so so much

-

this entire case is just “he was being an asshole to ENCOURAGE you, see!! now you HAVE to forgive him!!”

newsflash: no i dont. you know what works better than fear tactics, threats and coercion? 

BEING ACTUALLY SUPPORTIVE

-

“he probably used some tough love on you so that the shop wouldn’t just go belly up”

I SAID SUPPORTIVE. ARE YOU DEAF???

-

see? athena is being a little misguided but at least she's using a positive -food- to try to accomplish something.

“i’ll make sure its got all the TLC Master Toneido would’ve packed in it, too!”

you got it! one ice-cold, bitter, al-dente bowl with a side of vinegar, comin’ right up!

-

no athena!! brand loyalty!! mr eldoon will never forgive you!!!

-

“do us all proud, bucky”

or else

(flashes air sword)

-

Athena: I wonder if this gave me any experience as a lawyer...

Simon: HAHA WRONG, IF I HADN’T BEEN THERE YOU’D HAVE HAD THE SHIT KICKED OUT OF YOU. YOU SUCK, ATHENA, AND YOU DO EVERYTHING WRONG. FUCK YOU~!

see what annoys me about this is that when I first played Athena, I had some issues with her being too inexperienced to be a proper lawyer, especially with her court-related PTSD which could seriously endanger her clients.

However... Why are they bringing up her lack of experience in the one case (it’s not even a full case) in a game that isn’t even about her? And ignoring all the progress she made in Dual Destinies?

The way they’re talking about it is as if theyre setting up some kind of sequel; ‘you need to improve athena, you need to practice’. Which would have been all well and good for one of the cases in the first run of her own game... but Athena has been and continues to be a side character to Apollo and Phoenix. Rather than this moment coming at a crucial moment in her own game, it comes out of nowhere during a case she got last minute, couldn’t have prepared for, and is abused throughout.

what I'm saying is, the ghosts of DD past has come to haunt us. They introduced Athena too early and are bungling up her character development. Lawyers need a full set of games to let them grow. Just make an actual Apollo Justice 2 or Athena Cykes 1, but don’t insult us by pretending that this five minute shit actually did either of them justice.

-

Simon: I hope you stay shitty so that I can always win

brilliant.

you know, usually when a character is jerk with a heart of gold, that ‘heart of gold’ thing is supposed to show up at the end.

-

i was going to ignore the horrible joke but then Widget said “ROTFL”

what a... great way to end this....... great case

-

and so we close this one off, and for a case about tasty food, it sure left a bitter taste in my mouth. 

[sandyferal]

Heat between us

Just a Lego Batjokes fanfic (idk if it takes place in the legoverse or what)

Might be stupid and out of character but please give it a chance!

     "Is that everyone?“ 

     Batman stood in front of the flaming building, inspecting the people he had just heroically rescued from the fire. Usually he wouldn’t be doing something like this, but Barbara had asked him to do more around the community than just fighting crime and she said things like this would be a good place to start. Robin stood at his side, holding several animals that he had pulled out of the building.

     "I think I saw someone on the 5th floor!” Said one of the bystanders. 

     "Dad, I can go get them!“ Robin said eagerly.

     "No, I got this,” Batman said, reaching for his grappling hook. “You just find something to put out this fire. I’ll be back in a minute.”

     With that Batman swung up to the 5th floor and burst in through the window, sending glass flying everywhere. For a minute he looked around, trying too find anyone. Then he heard the familiar voice, not addressing him, but calling out.

      “Harley!”

     Batman moved towards the voice, realizing how much he regretted going into a fire with his outfit on. He was sweating a great deal in the heat that pressed in on him in waves, and though he wouldn’t admit it he could feel fatigue starting to grow. Finally he found the source of the voice.

     "Joker!“ Batman said, readying himself for a fight despite his discomfort. 

     Joker turned, clearly surprised to see his enemy there.

     "Batman? What are you doing here?”

     "Um, I’m here to stop the building fire and save people duh.“ Batman looked at Joker suspiciously. “So did you do this?”

     "Well,“ Joker’s eyes darted around for a second. "I mean there was this whole elaborate plan I had, but yeah I did accidentally set the building on fire in the process.”

     "Accidentally?“ Batman said sceptically. "How do you accidentally set a building on fire?”

     "It’s easier than it sounds ok?“ Joker said defensively.

     "Whatever,” Batman made to grab him. “Let’s get you out of here and back to-”

     "Wait!“ Cried Joker before Batman could touch him. "Harley is still in here somewhere, I can’t leave her!”

     The heat was getting to Batman, his thoughts were muddled by all the noise and discomfort and he didn’t want to stay in her longer then he had to. But he guessed he couldn’t just leave Harley here to burn, he was a hero after all.

     "Fine!“ Batman snapped. "I’ll help you get her, then you’re under arrest.”

     Joker made no arguments and instead the two of them started searching through the building for Harley. After a minute of two Joker started to panic. The building was starting to collapse and they still hadn’t found her. At long last, Joker’s cries were answered by a:

     "Mistah J!“

     The two men rushed to the voice, but in their hurry they didn’t notice something in the corner of one of the room. Joker reached a door and pulled it open to reveal Harley. The two embraced and turned back just in time to see the explosion behind them.

…

     Everything was fuzzy, Batman couldn’t remember what was going on. He only felt pain. Pain and… heat.

     Heat! He remembered the burning building now. And the Joker… The Joker was there. In fact as his vision cleared he could see the Joker was right in front of him. Why wasn’t he doing something about that? He should do something but when he tried to move the pain intensified.

     Now his hearing was starting to come back. The Joker was saying something to him.

     "Bats, are you ok? Please, please tell me he’s OK.” Then he noticed that Batman was looking at him. “You’re awake! Are you hurt, can you get up?”

     "What- what are you doing?“ Batman asked.

     Joker was doing something around his middle. He could feel a rubbing feeling where his pain was most intense.

    "You’re bleeding, I’m just trying to slow it down.” Joker said, tying something around Batman’s middle

    Batman winced as pain came back. Inside his head he was panicking sightly. He hadn’t felt this helpless in a long time and it made him angry. What he wanted was to feel some kind of control.

     Now he felt himself lifted up, first on one side then on the other. He looked around. Harley and Joker were carrying him through the building.

     "Why are you helping me?“ Batman asked.

     "You’re my greatest enemy, what would I do if you died?” Joker said

     The statement triggered a realization for Batman. He frowned and looked at Joker.

     "Joker we haven’t actually fought for months.“

     At that moment there was a crash in a room next to them. The door opened and Robin and Barbara burst in with a hose hooked up to a large blaster. Harley, Joker and Batman ask for a face full of water before Robin realized they were there.

     "Padre!” Robin cried.

     He ran towards Batman and gave him a large hug. This caused Batman to let out a small cry. Robin let go quickly.

     "Padre?“ 

     "He’s bleeding bad.” Joker said. “Should probably call an ambulance.”

     "I’m on it!“ Robin ran out of the room.

     "I’m fine really.” Batman said with a groan.

     "No you’re not.“ Barbara said. "Come on let’s get you out of here. And don’t think you two are going anywhere.”

    The group exited the building. When they reached the ground Harley and Joker set Batman down. While Barbara went to work putting the rest of the fires out in the building, taking Harley with her, Joker sat quietly next to Batman.

    With the heat gone and his head clearer, Batman realized how odd the Joker was acting. He was being so quiet and tame, and not even in a wierd suspicious way. It was unsettling.

    “What’s up with you?” Batman asked.

    “What? Oh nothing…” Joker said. “You’re going to be OK right?”

    “You know you seem awfully concerned.” Batman said suspiciously.

    “Well, I did that to you.” Joker gestured at Batman’s injury. “Not directly but still. I mean I’ve been fighting you for so long, but I didn’t think I could hurt you. Nothing ever does.”

    “Yeah well, don’t expect this to happen often. I mean this is wierd, we’re not even acting like enemies right now.”

    “And you were right. We haven’t fought in a long time” Joker said. “Even though we’ve still seen each other.”

    “Y'know it’s almost like you don’t hate me.” Batman said quietly.

    Joker blinked. Then he turned to Batman his eyes wide.

    “What?”

    “It’s almost like,” Batman continued. “You feel the opposite of hate towards me, like you…”

    “Like I love you??” Joker asked, sounding like he was amazed at the idea. 

    There was a silence between for a minute. This was actually unexpected. Batman had expected Joker to deny it right away but wasn’t. Batman glanced at the Joker who was turned away. Even through his makeup it could be seen Joker’s face was turning pink. 

    Now Batman was starting to get embarrassed. Did Joker love him? Under his cowl he could feel his face heating up. This time it wasn’t because of the fire.

    “I actually never thought about-" 

    He didn’t know why he did it, maybe the heat really had gotten to him, maybe it was blood loss, or maybe he just couldn’t stand the tension, but Joker never finished his sentence because Batman’s lips were suddenly pressed against his.

    It wasn’t long, but it wasn’t quick either. And when it was over Batman immediately regretted it. Why had he done that? Batman didn’t kiss people, especially his greatest enemy. But still he was interested, how would Joker react to this?

    There was a few seconds where Joker was stunned, then finally he uttered one quiet word.

    "Oh.” A smile spread across Joker’s face, and he clutched at his head with his hands. He uttered a louder and more excited “Oh!” and looked at Batman.

    Batman’s eyes darted around. “Nobody saw that right?”

    “No Bats, your secrets safe with me.” Joker said, still grinning widely.

    “Stop looking at me like that!” Batman said, his face heating up intensely. It was now pink from the blood that had rushed up into his cheeks.

    Before either of them could say anything else they heard the wail of an ambulance approaching. Robin had returned and brought the ambulance with him.

    “I brought an ambulance!” Robin said. “You’ll be ship-shape in no time!”

    “Uh, thanks but I don’t think I need-” Batman paused. Robin was staring at Batman’s face with a puzzled expression. “What are you looking at?”

    “Well it’s just,” Robin touched his own lips. “You’ve got something red on your lips Padre.”

    Batman’s eyes widened and he shot a look at Joker, who wasn’t meeting his gaze but was still smiling.

[aselkie]

Dear Sakura

So hey, I’m actually writing this to you straight to my Tumblr instead of inside you (the journal) directly. That’s because you’re currently in one of the boxes upstairs with the rest of my belongings waiting to go back into my room once the carpet is fitted. And the reason that I don’t just go and get you is that I am sitting in the living, crying my eyes out and I don’t wanna draw attention to myself because that will just bring out the questions of “Are you okay?” and “How can I help?” which may end up with me spilling my guts out metaphorically or I’ll end up sobbing even more and I don’t want that.

Anyway, my insecurities are rearing their ugly, ugly head. Hence the crying.

Basically, since my room is empty and being done up, I have been sleeping in my brother’s room. Which means it is a little bit of a mess right now because I hadn’t picked up my clothes in a couple days. Well, cue brother coming home and taking some of his stuff up to his room. The first thing he does is shout “What the Hell have you done to my room?”

So I go up and see the clothes and to me, it’s not a big deal. Every few days or so, I pick up all the clothes and put them away - not that there is really any space to put them away but whatever, I’d pile them up on top of the drawers and shit and I’d deal with it properly when I was moving back into my bedroom. 

But then he starts yelling about how I’ve “made such a mess” and about the fact that I am an “adult” and shouldn’t be doing this kind of shit. But like, that is one of my major flaws. When it comes to my bedroom, I am really untidy. I am lazy. I know this. I hate this about myself but it is how I am. 

Anyway, he’s yelling about that and my natural defensiveness starts and I start yelling back counters without thinking so I end up stuttering and stop-starting until mum comes in and tells us to both be quiet. But brother can’t leave it alone, he argues with mum about me, repeating his arguments; I’m an adult now, I shouldn’t be like this, it’s his room and an adult shouldn’t make a mess of their own rooms, let alone someone else’s room. 

BUT THAT’S A THING I WANNA REMEMBER AND POINT OUT! 

It is not his room anymore. Not technically. It will always probably be partly his room but he does not live here. He has his own flat. He doesn’t live here anymore. That room will always still technically be his, I guess but he doesn’t use it as he doesn’t live here. Of course, I point this out and mum points it out but still, he reiterates his arguments, since he obviously has no idea that they are basically playing into (?) some of my biggest insecurities. 

I am insecure about many things. Many physical things. Many mental things. But one of the biggest ones is definitely how I feel inferior to him. In my eyes, brother is the golden child; the star; the perfect son. Whereas I feel like I am a disappointment. Like in comparison to him, I am worthless and stupid and sometimes, like my parents would have been better off without me, and only my brother. 

So when my brother, the one that I feel like I will never live up to, start criticising me or yelling at me, it always boils down ultimately to this insecurity. Then there’s the fact that I am also insecure with how I feel like I am a failure when it comes to adulting. When it comes to looking after myself. And brother criticising me by insinuating that I am not an adult or shouldn’t be an adult, or not acting like an adult, just hurts. It’s one insecurity picking up another one and just beating me with it. 

Anyway, Sakura, eventually, I did what I always feel is best and I removed myself from the situation. I got everything that I would need for taking him home and just sat on the kitchen sofa as brother talked about his trip away (while borrowing my car.) to my parents. Then he was finally ready to leave to we had an awkward 15-20 minutes as I drove him home where he got out of the car without saying anything (to be fair, neither did I but I was still wallowing in my anger, my annoyance and my fear (?), I guess?). 

When I got home, I almost got yelled at by dad, when he asked if we talked on the drive to brother’s and I said “No, because I didn’t particularly feel like having a yelling/screaming match while I was driving” to which he responded with something like I didn’t have to then yell at him. Which resulted in my angrily muttering to myself as I got into my pyjamas that “of course, cause he never yells at the bystanders or the innocent people when he’s angry, no because he’s a calm, cool and collected person (!)” 

Mum then tried to make me feel better. She said that brother was the one at fault and that I shouldn’t be mad. But she doesn’t understand the insecurities and stuff that I feel. Which is good because I don’t really wanna share those weaknesses with anyone except you, Sakura. 

But mum trying to make me feel better made me start crying and, thankfully, I’ve stopped now but I still feel like I could burst into tears at any moment so… I dunno, if shit’s good or bad right now. I just feel crappy. 

But that’s probably it for now, Sakura. I’ve vented to you (in theory I guess, not sure if I’ll handwrite or print this and stick it in the journal to keep everything together, I might) and I think I feel a little better. I’m gonna go watch some YouTube now and maybe go to sleep early since I’m getting my hair cut tomorrow.

Catch you later, Sakura. 

-S [22:23 27/08/2017]

[anangryally-blog]

I'm very pissed off.

I learned a lot about patience and empathy when I was young.

I remember my mom pulling imaginary patience out of her heart and tossing it to me when she could tell I was low on it. She would toss it across the room and even though it was invisible I could actually feel it working. I’d go from emotional to stable with just a few handfuls. Real, live magic. Of course now I understand it was a placebo effect. This understanding, though disappointing, has given me the confidence to understand my emotions and do my best to control how I react to them. I’m not always good at taking the ‘high road’. I do not always choose to be calm. I argue. I get emotional. Typically I do what most people do - I make a decision and my pride glues me to it no matter how right or wrong it is. The tragedy of being human. But often I struggle to commit to a single belief or side because “what if I’m wrong?” Shouldn’t we all be asking that question? I want so badly to do what’s right but what’s right for me can be wrong for someone else.

At least I know that much.

I’m not sure what to say right now about everything happening in our country. It’s very difficult to remain composed, smart, and thoughtful when you’re simultaneously outraged. I can’t picture my moms handfuls of patience being thrown in my direction and I find it impossible to see the other side. I think I’m right, but what’s right for me might not be right for someone else.

Right?

I’m not so sure anymore. Sometimes there IS a right and a wrong and no grey space in between.

I got labeled a liberal or a democrat or a hippie or whatever else I’ve been told I am because of my focus on people. Had nobody ever thrown those labels at me I’d be hanging out somewhere in the middle. When my dad was a State Representative I’d hear him talk about all the political drama amongst the other reps. He would bring up controversial bills they were going over. Sometimes he’d talk about one and I’d think, “I don’t know what the issue is there, that one seems pretty great.” The republicans are for that one. Oh. “I don’t know what everyone’s whining about with this one, it seems very helpful.” The democrats are for that one. I see.

Sometimes politics obsess over money. Sometimes politics obsess over people. Lately it seems to be obsessing over the need to choose one over the other. This is where my composure gets a bit lost. This is where my label gets put on me. I am a dirty dirty liberal because I choose people. I will always choose people. I sincerely do not understand how I could be wrong here.

I have never been in a position where someone told me I couldn’t do something, until recently when some of my rights became threatened because I am a woman — a rant for another time. Can I get married to the person I love? Yes. Can I go to school? Yes. Can I see a police officer and know he or she will protect me? Pretty confidently. Can I travel the world? Yes. Even despite speaking only one language? Yes.

What would I do if anything in my life was taken from me from a total stranger?

…What would YOU do?

Call me overreactive, but I would be So. Fucking. Angry. If a stranger told me I couldn’t do something that had absolutely nothing to do with his or her life I would want to hurt that person. I would feel violent. Protective. Confused. Misunderstood.

I have the privilege to say, “fuck you, this is my life.” I have the privilege to not NEED to consider these questions. I have the privilege of knowing my family is safe and happy.

I could choose to be silent during times of injustice. I have the privilege of making that choice even though I’m aware that not everyone around me has the same comforts.

But I don’t choose to simmer down.

Because I’m not a piece of shit.

I’m a fucking human and so are you and so are 7 billion others. Seven. Billion. Seven billion adorable, tiny babies have been brought into this world and cried and laughed and grown up.

Not a single one of these 7 billion asked to be here. Not a single one requested to be born into any particular life.

Call me a crazy, illiterate, liberal bitch but my brain cannot grasp how some people think it’s FINE to fuck with another persons life FOR NO REASON.

And don’t give me a single “reason” that has to do with money or a book or petty personal preferences, because if it doesn’t directly affect the roof over your head, the clothes on your back, or the people you love, then it doesn’t fucking matter.

I am sick of being patient, calm, cool, collected, composed, indifferent, and peaceful. I am sick of saying, “Oh woah I’m sorry I forgot to fact check that part of this issue. I didn’t realize it was going to be so detrimental to your livelihood to let a gay man marry the love of his life. I didn’t realize saving boat loads of drowning children from Syria was going to make your house too crowded. It must have escaped me that all your efforts toward helping EVERY kid have a good life is compromised now because so many of them are being aborted. I can’t believe I forgot to think about the effectiveness of a wall while I ignorantly considered putting my tax dollars instead toward free education for all the non-aborted kids. I’m out of line, I’ll go do some more reading.”

Enough of that.

Fuck you guys. Seriously fuck every single person who thinks any of the inhumane things Donald Trump and his supporters are doing is okay. Fuck every single person who has the audacity to say “Liberals want free handouts” as if none of you have ever needed any kind of support EVER in your lives. And if you’ve never needed support then it means you were given hand outs PROBABLY FROM WEALTHY RELATIVES.

I don’t have any patience left because I am educated. Has anyone ever taken a history course? Has anyone ever been taught that history repeats itself? Does nobody care about the parallels between Hitler’s agenda and Trump’s agenda? Has anyone researched psychology? Does anybody know about the Stanford Prison Experiment? Did you comprehend the results and what they told us about human behavior? Have you heard of the phenomenon the “Bystander Effect”?

I don’t have any patience left because I am empathetic and I don’t live in a magical little bubble all by myself. I don’t separate my humanity from the humanity of another human because read those words and recognize how fucking absurd it would be to do that. It’s important to me to occasionally think “what would I ACTUALLY do if I were in their shoes?” Because I am a liberal bitch who is on the right side of history and I’m definitely not going to see a side that promotes oppression and regression.

I don’t have any patience left because I am American and I fucking love what my country was meant to stand for. Remember the statue of liberty? Do you remember where she came from (hint, she is not made in America)? Do you know what she stands for? Remember how we got here? You know how fun it is to go on ancestry.com and find out all the different countries your great great grandparents came from? WE ARE ALL IMMIGRANTS AND REFUGEES. Do you know the difference between the words UNITED and DIVIDED. Guess which one we chose to put in front of our country? UNITED. Remember?

I don’t feel comfortable living my happy life day to day anymore when so many people are affected by the political corruption. Do our politics not reflect our ethics? So many people keep telling me to forget about the politics. Stop worrying, Have hope. Don’t get so mad at the people you love for supporting different things.

I’m not pissed off at people because they are republican. I’m not pissed off at people because they voted for a candidate they thought would give us palpable, necessary change. I’m not pissed off that people are protective of our borders and of our economy. I’m not pissed off that we keep an eye out for terrorists. I’m not pissed off that people don’t want their hard earned money to go to someone else.

I’M PISSED OFF BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE OKAY WITH HURTING OTHER PEOPLE. I’M PISSED OFF BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE PRETENDING SOME OF US ARE SOMEHOW BETTER THAN OTHERS.

I’m not angry about politics. I’m angry about ethics. And I don’t give a fucking shit if we are related by blood or if we have known each other for twenty years or if you volunteer at the animal shelter on the weekends. I don’t want anything to do with anybody at this point who thinks it’s okay that our president is not-so-slowly following in the footsteps of a man who gave us our largest genocide in history. I don’t want anything to do with anybody who thinks it’s okay to prevent me from getting birth control or from stopping an unwanted pregnancy. I don’t want anything to do with anybody who thinks it’s okay that racism is still an enormous issue. Nothing that’s happening right now is okay. And me trying to understand how that escapes so many people is like trying to justify slavery, the holocaust, rape, murder, child abuse, and everything else that we KNOW is wrong. There is no grey area in there. This isn’t a situation where we ponder the different sides. This isn’t about economics or politics.

I don’t support violent protests. But I don’t support silence either. I don’t want terrorists here. But I refuse to label 5 year old Syrian children as terrorists.

I don’t tend to be an extremist in any way except that right now I’m extremely protective of the people around me who don’t have my same privileges for the dumbest fucking reasons in the universe. I am unapologetically at a zero tolerance point right now. I am in FULL ally mode. I will not choose to live my life regularly because I get to. I am going to utilize my position to be here for all the people around me as best I can. I’m not going to stop complaining. I am not going to dramatically move to Canada because I actually want to make America great again, but for real this time and not on Trumps hateful agenda.

This is a terrible time for our country. And if you don’t see that, open your fucking eyes. And if you’re okay with that, remove yourself from my life because we no longer have any reason to be connected. You are supporting a divided frame of mind and the only part of that I support is you dividing yourself from me.

And if you’re scared or pissed off or confused or trying to figure out how to help, I’m here doing the same thing, always available to talk and find solutions.

I might not be able to create any huge difference, but I’m an ally for refugees, minorities, women, LBGTQ, everyone! My eyes are open always when I’m out and about and I am more than ready to stand my ground for both myself and my peers. I stand behind what I believe in and I’m done being patient.

So if you must keep asking when we will accept this presidency or when we will calm down or why I am still up and arms about everything or how on earth I can shut people out for mere politics, understand that to me and many other people in this country (and also the world) this is about ethics. And we won’t go away until it stops.

This will be in history books just like all the other shitty, unethical events our country has dealt with. Which side of history will you choose to be on?