#so having her ignore me or call me awful names or attacks me

[makkie-is-screaming]

Even my cousins ignoring me

[vintage-bentley]

David Tennant is a perfect example of how gender ideologists are their own worst enemy. Repeatedly, it’s their own awful behaviour that turns people against them. Look at JK Rowling: it wasn’t just what she said that got people siding with her, it was the reaction from gender ideologists. If they had just brushed her off and ignored her, I don’t think she’d be as relevant in the debate as she is now.

So now we have Tennant, hailed as an amazing trans ally to the point that he wins an ally award for textbook performative allyship. And he decided to call gender critical feminists “little whinging f------” (no idea what the f word is, this is from the Telegraph), continuing with “who’re on the wrong side of history and they’ll all go away soon”.

Women who are simply concerned about our sex-based rights. About the protection of women as a class in law. About the ability to organise together without the presence of male people, which is crucial for class consciousness and therefore feminist progress. Lesbians who are being told we’re bigoted for not being attracted to males, and that we need to change (who I mention because lesbians have been very vocal in this debate for this reason).

This is a heterosexual male who is looking at these women, and deciding that our very real concerns are just “whinging”. Because of course he is, our concerns don’t affect him. Of course he claims we’ll “go away soon”, presumably because men like him will silence us. This is the same shit that was being said about the suffragettes. About the Me Too movement. About any kind of feminist movement. That we just need to shut up and go away.

And we’re supposed to believe that this typical male view of women is super progressive this time, because it’s in the name of trans activism?

Less and less people are willing to believe that. More are starting to see the misogyny and homophobia that fuels gender ideology, all because the people who advocate for it are always so quick to let it show.

They are always so quick to claim that their biggest enemies are feminists, and not the violent men that actually wish them harm. They are always so quick to attack women first and foremost.

And people are noticing. They noticed when JK Rowling started to speak up, and they’re noticing now that a male celebrity has gone on record voicing hatred for feminists in the name of gender ideology. They’ll notice again when the next celebrity either speaks up or bashes women.

I hope Tennant enjoys his shiny ally award, all while his actions are causing women to turn against him and his cause.

[star1ight0]

Shouta Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada x PLATONIC KID!!

I crave comfort so here

Tw : Ed /sh

Not many people were aware of your relationship with your homeroom teacher and English teacher known as Mr. Aizawa and his loud husband Mic but they were your dad's. In the beginning of the year they both made it clear no special treatment would be given and you appreciated it a lot.

This also came with its ups and downs trying to fight the urge to hug you dad in front of class after villain attacks ect, as much as they'd both fight it they also struggled to accessively check on you when you all moved to dorms.

Having grown up always close to him after they adopted you from a abusive home. had its drags on you all You weren't entirely sure when this overwhelming feeling of despair started but it felt so shitty, you had no reason to feel this way you had a good life. Loving dads, a nice school and a few friends you hold dear to you. It was so long ago why was this still bothering you.

You remembered a conversation you had with your dad, Mic recalling how Aizawa was struggling with mental health and how it wasn't an effect of things around him but rather his brain chemistry. You looked at your phone debating on calling your family group chat to ask them for help but managed to talk yourself out of it resorting to crying on your closet floor.

After a few minutes of crying you managed to pull yourself together grabbing some clothes and deciding this was all in your head and you had no reason to feel so shitty. Heading out your room you feel a tap on your shoulder "it's past curfew kid" you turn around to see you father Hizashi looking around you you look back at him eyes still puffy "Sorry dad, just needed a shower" you say attempting to walk away when you feel a hand in you wrist "were you crying little listener?" You flinch at the childhood nickname your dad had given you "No, sorry just tired" you say pulling away "either your high or you were crying which one is it kid" He says pointing to your eyes "its nothing dad please just let me shower"

You pull away walking away leaving your dad in the hall alone. You took a long shower, trying to scrub off the memories of your past home. You get out the shower and go back to your dorm laying down on the floor ignoring the fact your bed was no more than 3 feet away. You look at your phone to see Aizawa texted you

You okay kiddo?

Yeah sorry for worrying y'all just a bad day

Are you sure

Yeah

If you say so, me and Hizashi are here if you need us. Now go to bed it's late

The conversation was short and to the point but you still felt the need to want to call him and tell him these awful feelings you were having.

A few days passed when you got an email from an all too familiar name, it was your biological mom. The very same woman who had given you physical and mental problems along with nonstop nightmares for 2 years. You had changed everything phone number, social media accounts anything that she could you to find you. Yet her name is in your inbox with a paragraph calling you names and threatening you. Everything felt so out of control like nothing you did to get away from her was enough. But she knew now, she knew what school you went to. 1-A had been on TV after all, you should have known it was only a matter of time. You looked at your phone blankly feeling your body shake and tears fall from your face. You reached for your pocket knife making a cut on your thigh it felt good like you finally had control over how you felt like you had control over something when everything around you was so chaotic. This was bad you knew that but it felt too good to want to care.

Overtime the threatening emails from your mother piled up only feeding the fear she'd find you and harm you, in turn causing more scars to be formed on your legs. You dads had quickly talked notice to you change in dimanar and talked it over amongst themselves and tried to reach out to you but it was all brushed off as a bad week or a bad day.

This began to escalate more than your lack of interest in food came about you seemed so tired too tired to even eat. This is where they drew the line. No kid of theirs would be passing out in training. They just couldn't figure out how to talk to you about this without you shutting down and shutting them out.

Monday morning training came about and you felt exhausted like your whole body was about to give out. This was only further proven when you passed out before training with Todoroki without him even activating either of his quirks. Both Hizashi and Aizawa rushed to your side as another student ran to get recovery girl. You woke up in the nurses office with both your dad's next to you looking worried out their minds.

"Recovery girl said you'd be fine.. as long as you ate and drank probably." There was a silence filled with worry and a bit of anger

"I'm sorry dad-" you were cut off by Hizashi hugging you, "please don't scare me like that kid" he said holding you as if you were gonna disappear. "Talk to us if you need to kiddo. You know we'll listen. "

You hugged him back going back to your dorm early as you were excused from all classes for the day, sitting on your floor you checked your phone to see another email this time from your biological father. Your mom texting you was one thing you knew in some way she didn't have the gut to actually hurt you but your dad, he'd hunt you down and kill you, metaphorically and literally. You felt a wave of fear washing over you and you sobbed standing up hands on your head pacing around your room crying and shaking. You reach for your knife once more sliding down the wall making a cut in an almost fully healed scar feeling that feeling of control comes back. You made a few more before stopping, taking a deep breath grabbing your first aid kit sitting in the same spot on the floor. Yeah, you felt stupid but not stupid enough to not clean this kind of thing. As you were cleaning up you heard a knock at your door

"Kid? It's us can we talk?"

Aizawa says still waiting at the door "Y-yeah give me a minute please!!" You shout rushing to put the first aid kit away and some sweatpants and throw your knife under the bed you wipe your face, and open the door

"Kid are you okay you look a little.. worse than earlier "

"yeah I'm fine just not in a great mood," you said looking at your phone placed in the far end of the bed. They both came Into your room sat on your bed and attempted to talk to you about what had been bothering you. The conversation went in circles before you placed your head in Aizawa's lap. Your dad Hizashi, was standing at the foot of your bed about to leave when he was stopped by a blood stain on the floor.

"Shouta, I think we should stay till she wakes up"

"hm. I mean I'm not against it but why ?"

He points at the blood spot on the floor and Shoutas eyes widen.

"they are knocked out right now so can you look for whatever is being used ?"

He nods looking around your room eyes landing on a pocked knife shining under your bed.

"here, I'll put it in our room," he says showing Shouta before closing it and placing it in his pocket, as he was above to leave he stopped by the light of your phone along with a name he recognized followed by a scowl.

"Shouta I'm gonna check their phone for something"

He gives Hizashi a confused look but unable to move because of your sleeping form he allows him to do so, you trusted them enough to let them know your passwords but they had never not trusted you enough to go through your phone. He opens the email, reading it and seeing ll the others. He made a face of pure disgust and walked toward Shouta showing him the inbox along with one of the emails it had.

Both had decided to stay in your room till morning, planning to talk to you about this night of unfortunate events. But this was cut short by the feeling of you hyperventilating in Shoutas lap. Hizashi gently shakes him awake and they both attempt to comfort you ultimately failing as you wake you shaking tears forming in your eyes. An all too familiar scene for your dad's to witness.

"it's okay kid, your okay" Hizashi whispered patting your head as Aizawa rubbed your shoulder.

"sorry i-"

"No apologies. We know everything so there's no need to hide anything from us anymore"

Shouta says looking up at his husband

"you could have really hurt yourself kid"

"i know I just - "You were cut off by a knot in your throat as you scrambled to find the words "Everything feels so out of control and I can control this you know?" Shouta nodded in agreement.

"Why did you come to us kiddo?

"i- I didn't want you to worry you. You guys had enough going on.."

You said your voice is still shaking between sobs.

"you'd never be a bother to us. It's our job as you parents to check on you and worry for you"

You all had a long talk about possible coping strategies and ways to communicate if you wanted to talk about something without feeling bothersome. A few relapses were bound to happen and they both knew this but did everything they could to ensure it didn't. Even if it meant letting the whole class know you were their kid so you could go in the teacher's wing of the dorms. You began slowly getting better with setbacks here and there, but by setting up a new email and talking more about what your depression episodes felt like, both your dads were able to help you through it

Yes it's messy I wrote 75% of this in one go and the other half after my shower. And it's like 12:58am

Requests are open but slow

Please reach out if you need to to!!

[melrodrigo]

favorite - t.c.

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a day of feeling useless, Tara’s the only one who can make you feel better.

Pairings: Slight Amber Freeman x Reader in the beginning, Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Am I projecting? Maybe. Tara’s my bbg 🫶🏻

Amber

YN - Why do you only want me when you have nothing else to do?

You bite your lip as you hit send, swiping out the app as fast as you can to try and quell the feeling of regret you know is coming.

Your lover of sorts, Amber Freeman, had been acting weird lately.

You’re not sure what to call the two of you, best friends that kiss each other? friends with benefits? two buddies in a situationship?

All very accurate descriptions, you think as you laugh bitterly.

It had been weeks of bliss at first, with flirty comments, secret kisses, and love notes stashed in your locker.

But for the past few days, she’s been awful. Gone are the nights spent giggling together on your couch while you watch a movie, gone are the butterflies whenever you see her name pop up on your screen.

She’s quiet. It makes you uneasy.

At first, you tried to ignore it, think to yourself she must be busy.

She loves me, she’ll answer, you reason.

Nothing hurts more than being proven wrong.

A - I think we should stop talking.

YN- What? Why? Can’t we talk this out?

A - I wanted to tell you a couple of days ago in person but…I’m sorry. I just don’t like you anymore. I met someone else.

You blink back the tears already welling in your eyes. You shut your phone off, refusing to answer, part of you hoping she might beg for your forgiveness after seeing you upset.

Nothing.

Your chest heaves as the hole in your chest deepens.

How could she? After everything you’d been through together. Especially after the Ghostface attacks last year, you’d hoped she cared a little more.

You’d been the one to warn her, even. When she told you she had feelings for you, you’d made her promise that she swore they were true. You weren’t taking a chance on a ‘maybe’.

But alas, your moon-eyed perspective had affected your decision-making skills. She’d told you she loved you, and that she was going to be your girlfriend, and you had believed her.

You fall back onto your bed. Hands pressed to your forehead harshly as you think.

You pick up your phone once more, ignoring all thoughts that tell you this is a horrible idea, and call her up.

-

“Hey. Thanks for coming.” You tell Tara as you step back to let her in. She’s dressed in an oversized AC/DC t-shirt paired with gray sweatpants.

Her hair is slightly messy like she’s just woken up from a nap. You curse as you catch yourself thinking about how cute she looks.

“No problem.” She tells you without missing a beat, walking into your house and up to your room like it’s her second home.

You and Tara had a history.

All throughout grade school, you had the biggest crush on the brunette, but she never reciprocated. Not that you ever told her about it. Later, when both of you were in high school, she confessed that she liked you.

You were so confused between your feelings for Amber and for her back then, you ended up never giving her a clear answer. And after time, the two of you just started to drift away.

But you wouldn’t be able to say that the underlying feeling she was the one wasn’t always simmering within you.

Your feelings for Tara were something that could never be explained. Not even to your best friends over the years, who would hear endless rants about the girl.

She was just so, perfect.

Well- nobody was perfect; you knew that. She was always somewhat of a rebel throughout your school years. But you found her imperfections endearing, which only made her more human and in turn, more perfect to you.

It didn’t help that she also looked like an angel that had fallen from the skies.

In short, Tara Carpenter was an enigma. You’ve had crushes before, of course. But this one, you think will never go away. Whether you viewed her from a romantic or platonic lens, all you could feel was adoration. You were incredibly fond of the girl.

You snap out of your daze and follow her upstairs, closing the door behind you.

“So, you wanna tell me what this is about?” She says, not unkindly.

You play with the hairs on the nape of your neck as you answer her.

“I’ve just been feeling…sort of weird. I needed some company.” You tell her, somewhat awkwardly,

“And nobody else was free?” She prods, her eyes filling with an emotion you can’t quite place.

You look down shyly as you shake your head. “No, I wanted you to come.” You mumble, loud enough for her to hear.

You sneak a peek at her expression and relax once you see she’s smiling.

“Good. ‘Cause I’ve been missing you.” She says, grinning.

Her words make you feel like a weight’s been taken off your shoulders. Everything’s normal. Everything’s good.

You relax, moving over to join her on the bed.

“I missed you too.” You say.

She doesn’t miss a beat before she reaches for your TV remote and pushes herself further up your bed. She takes her hair out of the bun it was in and whips out her glasses.

She never likes to wear it because she thinks it makes her look nerdy, but you think it’s the cutest thing.

“You sure are making yourself at home.” You murmur, earning a soft slap from the girl.

“Hey! This is how you’re supposed to experience a movie.“ She says, nudging herself into your bedsheets.

You scoff as you join her and place your leg over her own.

“Who said we were going to watch a movie?” You challenge, raising a brow at her.

She shrugs, unserious. “I figured I’d take the lead. You need a distraction, and you weren’t doing anything…so.”

You nudge her with your shoulder one more time before settling in beside her, not willing to debate.

She scrolls on your TV a little while longer before you nearly leap out of your seat as you see your favorite movie pass.

You open your mouth to force her to pick it, but she buts in before you can get a word out.

“Yes, I know it’s your favorite movie. I’m putting it on now, shush.” She teases, smirking slightly.

You relent without a word.

Halfway through the movie, you can tell Tara’s getting sleepy. Her eyes droop and her head is falling further into the pillow.

You bite back a chuckle and pull out your phone, ready to take a photo that’ll surely embarrass the brunette.

She stirs in her sleep when the flash goes out, looking up at you groggily.

You panic and shove the phone underneath you, moving over to do anything to distract her. You don’t have enough time to think, you surge forward and press your lips to her forehead.

Her eyes widen, no doubt wondering what the hell you’re doing.

A forehead kiss? Yeah, that isn’t suspicious at all!

She’s still still under you, blinking slowly.

“Go back to sleep Tar.” You mumble against her skin, using a nickname you haven’t called her in ages.

It works though. You feel her physically relax and in the next few minutes, she’s fast asleep against you once again, this time with her arm wrapped around your waist.

You feel your cheeks get hot and thank the gods that nobody can see you.

You watch as the credits of the movie finally roll, and you feel the tiresome events of the day finally catch up to you.

You look down at Tara, studying her features. You want to reach out and touch her freckles, but you resist the urge.

Whatever Tara Carpenter was to you didn’t matter today, you reason. The only thing that matters is that she’s here, and she’s made you feel better than you have in months. Friend or something more, she’ll always be the one to brighten your day.

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Legit not tryna drum up drama but whats your beef with demilypyro? I follow you both but i guees not for long enough to be in the know.

We have beef with Demily like iHop has steak. Yeah it's on the menu, but we're no porterhouse. That said-

She has awful takes about pretty much everything from games to social issues, suffers extreme pick-me-ism, is like two steps away from being an open transmedicalist, and she's just extremely annoying. She seemingly can't go a month without saying some offensive shit about her fellow transwomen or letting her dutch upbringing show. Whenever people bring up that she did or said something shitty she hides behind her autism even when it's not relevant and wouldn't excuse it if it was. Or in case of her saying something racist again, her grandfather being Moroccan or whatever, so she's technically poc so it's automatically fine. Just ignore the fact she's speaking over Black and Latin American people who have actually grown up as such.

On top of it all she often weaponizes her follower base, getting them to attack anyone who is unlucky enough to talk about shitty things she's done somewhere she sees. I won't mention their names, but users have gotten dogpiled and sent death threats cuz of her. She's just immensely toxic and is almost categorically allergic to growing as a person.

None of this is even getting into specific shitty things Demily has done, like making fun of the looks of other transwomen calling them 'it' and such, or her saying passing makes her better at being trans than a transwoman who doesn't pass, or the most recent thing where she puts a transgirl hook up on blast for having ED saying it's gross.

There's funnier trans streamers on this site who don't suck. There's funnier trans vtubers on this site who don't suck.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

“are we going to talk, or are you going to keep walking away from me.” with peter parker butttt maybe with a happy ending :)

Don’t Be A Stranger

--genre: fluff & angst

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!gn!reader

--word count: 0.8k

--warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of being drunk, angst, fluff, language, peter is mean in the beginning.

--gif credits: the very talented, the very amazing, @sincericida

You wish you weren’t here right now, but you needed to be. Your friend, Erica, called you, slurring her words, and clearly not in the right state of mind to be out like this. As soon as she hung up, you made your way downstairs and walked to her location, the party only being a few blocks away. 

A crowded, smelly, and sticky house party was the last place you wanted to be tonight. You’re still in your pajamas, your current state barely making you the center of attention though, the people around you too gone to notice. 

The only person that did notice you was Peter, of fucking course, locking eyes with him from across the packed kitchen. You knew he’d been having a hard time lately, his temper teetering on the edge of madness. In the beginning, you thought that being there for him would be helpful, but god were you wrong. 

Peter blew up on you, and it wasn’t something that was resolved quickly. His words were not stopping as soon as he found something, or someone, to go off on. It seemed to never end, it was like his mouth was spewing hate, and it just so happened to reach you. 

Peter has never done anything like that before, never. So when it did, you stepped back in shock, how could your Peter say such awful things to you? There was a slight hesitation as you left his apartment, heading straight for yours. His voice was faint as you stormed out, hearing a soft ‘baby, wait’. That was a week ago. 

Seeing him at the party was the first time you’ve seen him since then, your heart beating fast and hard the second you two made eye contact. Setting his cup down, he starts to walk towards you, a sense of urgency in his step. You needed to find Erica, you didn’t have time for this. As if on cue, the girl you’ve been looking for attacks you in a bear hug. “(Y/N)! I’ve been looking for you all night,” her voice suddenly became very loud in your ear.

You hold her up, putting one arm around her torso, “I just got here?”

“Oh, right,” Erica’s eyes suddenly droopy, “I wanna go home.”

With that, you started walking very slowly towards the door until a familiar voice called out your name. Turning your head, you see your boyfriend, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. You ignore him and keep walking, Erica is too out of it to realize the situation at hand. 

Peter calls out for you once again, the noise level lowering as you three make your way away from the commotion, “Are we going to talk, or are you going to keep walking away from me?”

You were face to face with the door when he said that, taking a breath before twisting the handle and pulling it open. Without missing a beat you reply, “I don’t know, are you going to yell and berate me again?” 

You only make it a few steps past the threshold before Erica's dead weight becomes too much for you to handle, slowly pulling you to the floor. But Peter’s stronghold prevents you from fully collapsing. He’s situated himself on the other side of her, slinging her arm on top of his shoulder and wrapping his other arm around her back, his hand coming close to touching yours. Now you really couldn’t escape him. 

He wastes no time before speaking again, the silence of the elevator making you anxious “Bug, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. I want to use my shitty few weeks as an excuse, but truthfully there is no excuse for the way I spoke to you. God, I’m so sorry (Y/N). This will never happen again, and I swear by that.”

Making your way down to the ground floor, you gaze up at Peter with a conflicting look. You know that what he did was wrong, there’s no doubt about that, but why was it so easy for you to forgive him? He slides his hand towards yours, connecting you two together for the first time in a week. You hate to admit that you have missed his touch, the one thing that could make you crumble. 

“I accept your apology, but let’s get her home, she’s pretty out of it.” 

With a nod, you and Peter walk to her apartment, leaving her with her boyfriend who couldn’t make it tonight. 

Walking back onto the dark street, you look up at Peter. You grab his hand, “Sleep over tonight?”

He squeezes your hand, “We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “we’re okay, Pete.”

--author's note: a small break from the steamy hot smut! thank you nonnie for submitting this!! i'm always a sucker for some angst tbh, and i love peter;) keep sending in requests!! my inbox is open and my 200 follower celebration is happening right now babe, what's stopping you?? don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you see something you like. ok, bye ily<333

[queuestarter]

daybreak

(johanna mason x reader)

cw: none- just two girls in love

link to the request → grumpy x sunshine during training for the quarter quell

open to submissions/asks

You watch from across the room as Johanna strips off her training uniform and begins to rub oil all over herself. You shake your head in amusement and refocus on the conversion you’re having with your district mate and close friend, Beetee.

“I wonder what the reason they put the forcefield up this year is,” he comments offhandedly while observing a piece of wood as he attempts to figure out how to start a fire. You sit opposite him, not having much luck either.

You didn’t win your first games by fighting or learning survival skills. You won by appealing to the audience.

“Maybe someone attacked them. Or maybe one of the Gamemakers fell over the balcony,” you giggle, throwing down your two sticks as Katniss walks over to you.

You’ve never met her, but of course you know all about her. Who doesn’t at this point?

“Hello,” you friendlily greet her. She stands over you and Beetee awkwardly. “Do you know how to make a fire with two sticks? We’re awful at it.”

She sits down at the station with you. “Yeah, but I haven’t done it in a while. Let me see…” she grabs some sticks and begins to rub them together.

For the next ten minutes that you three spend at the station, a friendly rapport grows. You talk about many things, like the forcefield, productivity in your districts, and a few other topics. Eventually, she starts asking if you’re going to join any alliances.

“I think so,” you say hopefully. “I know me and Beetee are going to stick together. Johanna, too.” 

“Johanna?” Katniss asks, raising her eyebrows.

You smile, finding your girl across the room. She’s arguing about something with Finnick, shoving his shoulder and getting shoved back in response. 

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s just really, really great.” You can feel a blush growing on your cheeks which you hide behind your hands.

“I didn’t feel that way when I met her.” You furrow your eyebrows at Katniss.

“Oh. While I’m going to go see if I can try to make a lure with Mags. Beetee, want to join?” You want to be nice considering she doesn’t know about your relationship with Johanna and your girlfriend does come off as rude sometimes.

“Oh, yes. That could be very helpful,” he comments, getting up from his seat. “Thank you for helping us, Katniss. Maybe we would keep up that trend in the arena?”

Katniss nods, getting up as well. “I should see what Peeta is doing.”

You don’t talk to Katniss again until the next day of training. 

You’re sparring with one of the trainers, having decided that it might actually be important this time around to work on your physical skills rather than just relying on your brains and public appeal. 

When you finish the spar and are bent over trying to catch your breath, you feel a hand cup your ass. You let out a gasp of surprise.

“Johanna!” You shriek as you return to an upright position. Ignoring the shocked gazes of the people around you, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her in for a quick kiss. “You can’t just scare me like that when I have a deadly weapon in my hands!”

She looks beautiful with her signature smirk on her face. “I just wanted to let you know how good you were doing. And let everyone know that you’re mine.”

You giggle uncontrollably, holding onto her for a few more seconds. With one final kiss to her smiling lips that end up more on her teeth than anything, you back away from the sparring station to allow other people to enter, namely Finnick and Katniss. Katniss has a look of disbelief on her face.

You say a quick ‘hello’ to them before Beetee is calling your name from across the room. “Can you identify the metal that comprises this beam? It seems to be steel but the density is all wrong.”

As you walk across the room to help out Beetee, you can hear Johanna talk to the two others, none of them being too quiet. 

“What a woman,” she says, causing you to smile once more.

“You two are…? Her?” Katniss practically hisses.

“Why not?” Finnick teases. “Johanna needs something good in her life.”

“Shut up!” You turn your eyes back towards your girlfriend just in time to see her try to knock Finnick over. 

This is what it means to be in love

-

[danganphobia]

Hiii 👋 Saw that you're taking requests. Have you seen the second prompt on the "angry confessions" post? I think it suits laishuro nicely 🙈

"I can't leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?" Toshiro grumbled.

Laios laughed sheepishly. "I mean, I'm fine so it's okay-"

"No, it's not okay!" It was nightfall in the dungeon, taking shelter for the night when Toshiro had asked Laios to see the healed wound on his forearm from the golem attack that occurred earlier, taking the party by surprise. Toshiro and Namari saved the day, and if it weren't for them, Laios would've been crushed to a pulp. "Not when I feel like I'm going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you've hurt yourself."

Laios went silent, watching Toshiro examine his arm. He nervously glanced at Toshiro's angered face, eyebrows twitching, worrying at his lower lip.

"Ah..." Laios chuckled, a faint blush on his cheeks, scratching his head. "Sorry about that. I really worried you back there."

Toshiro glared at him, unable to fight the urge to reach over and tug on Laios' stupid nose, watching him squirm and whine in protest.

"Worry is an understatement, you fool!" Toshiro hissed, careful to not wake up the other party members. "I'm always running all over the place, saving you, you should be able to save yourself..." He ranted on, and a long exhale escaped his lips. "And what if something were to happen, and none of us are around?"

"Shuro," Laios called his name, his voice so gentle it caught Toshiro off guard. Toshiro gathered the courage to look his nuisance of a companion in the eye, ignoring how it made his chest tighten, his throat dry, and his heart pound. Was Laios' eyes always so captivating, like bathing in pure gold? "I'm never worried when I get hurt, because I know you'll always be there to save me. You protect me, and for that, I can trust that you'll be by my side, right?"

Toshiro opened his mouth, gawking. Laios blinked in confusion.

"Why's your face so red, Shuro?"

"Such nonsense!" Toshiro exclaimed, vexing. "You are a skilled warrior, so act like it, for God's sake!"

Laios laughed. "Aw, thanks! So are you!"

Toshiro could just strangle the man right here. No one would know. That was if Toshiro tried as hard as he could to hide Laios' body. Party members looked out for each other; they protected each other. He couldn't just leave Laios to die, throw him to the wolves. Skilled or not, someone needed to keep an eye on his blindspot.

It just so happened Toshiro had to be his knight and shining armor. If he had told Namari about this, she'd just poke fun at him for pretending he didn't care. You'd save him in a heartbeat and you know it, she had said once.

And it wasn't just her, sometimes, Falin thanked him for protecting Laios every now and then. Marcille as well.

They trusted Laios to be Toshiro's responsibility, and there was absolutely no other way to put it.

Toshiro scooted away from Laios, lying on the blankets, feeling himself grow weary.

"Toshiro," he mumbled, turning to his side. Laios hadn't lied down yet, feeling his presence looming over Toshiro's form. "My name. It's Toshiro."

Laios hummed, before he repeated, slowly. "Toshiro."

"Yes. Toshiro."

"So, then, it's not Shuro..." Laios figured. Then, he gasped, startling Toshiro. "Shit! I didn't realize I've been calling you the wrong name all this time! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Keep your voice down you imbecile," Toshiro scolded, hearing rustling as Laios got into his blankets, unusually closer to Toshiro than before. After Laios went quiet, he confessed, "I don't know why. Everyone had gotten used to it already..."

"Well, I can get used to Toshiro," Laios insisted, stubborn as always. "Besides, I like Toshiro a lot more. Sounds pretty... Toshiro... Toshiro..." He murmured to himself, trying to memorize every syllable, so it would permanently burn into his mind. He sounded content, determined, as if he had nearly forgotten everything else that happened today.

Another blush blossomed on Toshiro's cheeks in the dark of the night.

send me a prompt and i'll write you a drabble!

[fortjester]

okay, everyone's being really vague on my timeline discrepancy post from earlier, and idk if anyone else has made a post/theory abt this, but i also don't care. i'm gonna rehash this, mostly for my own benefit, but everyone is welcome to also come have a look and tell me if i'm missing smth. this post does contain spoilers for htn, so reader's discretion.

so, timeline clarifiers, per htn subheadings. let's start easy. this is the earliest date given in htn in its entirety:

parados (act 1) is the chapter where Harrow talks to Ortus in River bubble Drearburh. it's the second (chronological, not linear) chapter we read in the book at all. it's set 13-12 weeks prior to leaving for Canaan House, per gtn timeline details. it is the first time Gideon's name is explicitly redacted (or as i like to call it, Ortuscorrected).

if we ignore the (upcoming) discrepancy's date, the next earliest subheading date following parados's is, conveniently:

epiparodos (act 5) is the chapter immediately preceding/following Harrow's lobotomy, as told from Ianthe's perspective. while the setting is not explicitly stated, per Harrow's narration from chapter 45 (act 5) and the Upon Coherence letter in chapter 4 (act 1), we can glean that Harrow lobotomised herself 3-4 days following Gideon's death on the First House, which would mean they are still on the Erebos (and would argue that the Heir's stay at Canaan House lasted roughly three weeks to a month before Cytherea was killed).

the next (linear) date subheading:

chapter 1 (act 1), nine months. in this chapter, Harrow is stated to be on the Erebos, in a hospital wing. she has been given Gideon's longsword and is battling the awful psychic powers Wake's revenant (inside the longsword) is using on her, likely as an attempt to kill her so she can follow the thanergetic link into Harrow's body and use it for her own means (killing John) (this is mostly conjecture, but i see no other reason for the sword to have this effect on her, bar her lobotomy sparking a vomiting response as opposed to an intercranial hemmorhage response to the memory of Gideon). in the few chapters following this, Harrow is told about Resurrection Beasts, hears the Body speak to her for the first time in eight (estimate) years, recieves the Upon Coherence letter from Ianthe, and is nearly smothered in her sleep (or so it seems). at this point in the narrative, the only OG lyctor she's met is Cytherea, who is dead. she meets Mercymorn as she's being rolled onto a shuttle bound for the Mithraeum. it is only once on the Mithraeum that she meets Augustine and G1deon. during G1deon's entrance, he informs them bluntly that Resurrection Beast #7 is "just under ten months" away.

the next subheading is both chronological and linear, even though the exact placement in the timeline is somewhat unclear:

chapter 12 (act 2), six months. at this point, Harrow, Ianthe, and John have been on the Mithraeum for an unspecified amount of time. Harrow has killed twelve planets. she and Ianthe have been being tutored by Augustine in swordsmanship and understanding the river. in chapter 13 (act 2) Ianthe makes a crack about Harrow making it to her room from the docking bay without being assassinated. Harrow spends the next four chapters giving basic biographies for Mercymorn, Augustine, and Ianthe, as well as speaking with the Body, and revealing the truth of her conception to John.

now comes the discrepancy. the next timeline clarifier, per chapter subheading, is chronological, but oddly not linear:

chapter 19 (act 2), ten months. TEN.

this would place chapter 19 (act 2) prior to Harrow's lobotomy (nine months and twenty-nine days before; per epiparodos, act 5), which doesn't make any sense, because chapter 19 is the chapter where G1deon's first attempt on Harrow's life is recounted. he attacks her in the kitchen on the Mithraeum, quite clearly stated to be only a few days after she arrived on board, and she only narrowly survives the attack because Mercymorn intervenes, to her apparent disgust.

now, could it be that the attack in the kitchen is not explicitly specified to be the initial attack in question? could it be a sleight of hand on Muir's part to say that the first atatck came before Harrow even arrived on board teh Mithraeum, and then recount a completely different one? could the first attempt on Harrow's life actually be the attempted suffocation on the Erebos from chapter 4 (act 1)? i don't believe so. the suffocation is a bookend to the Upon Coherence letter scene with Ianthe, and there isn't even any scene break in the chapter to indicate shifting time between Ianthe's exit and Harrow's subsequent discovery of the fingernails she embedded in the wall in her attempt to defend herself against her attacker, mid-suffocation.

every other timeline clarifier in htn (of which there are nine remaining) makes sense and follows the narrative both chronologically and linearly - apart from the subheading of chapter 45 (act 5):

chapter 45 (act 5) is the River bubble scene where Harrow and Ortus rehash their guilt to each other, and Abigail announces her intention to exorcise Wake's revenant from the bubble. the subheading is vague where no other heading has been, stating only "an amount of time", despite the chapter preceding this one linearly (chapter 43, act 5) having this subheading:

logically, there should be very little time passing between the scene where Harrow comes to fully inside the bubble and sees it for what it is, and reuniting with Ortus properly. the only connection I can see between chapter 19 and chapter 45's discrepancie's is that both chapters make use of the Second House crest, 19's in reference to G1deon being the one to attack Harrow, and 45's no doubt being in reference to Harrow's realisation of G1deon's real name and the as yet unconfirmed connection he has to Gideon herself.

so, what's the fucking deal then? is it a woeful editing mistake? is it a cipher of some kind? is it a product of Harrow's canonical schizophrenia? I certainly don't know, but it's bothering me so much, and I just had to make sure I wasn't making it up in my head. anyway. woe, conspiracy theories on a book published three years ago that likely someone has already talked about be upon ye. whatever.

[joekeerys]

Not trying to attack you here with this, just a genuine question- if you say canonically Aegon had committed few crimes: what about rape? We see the direct aftermath with Dyana but there are several things specifically in the show to directly and indirectly imply she is not the only victim if we want to set aside book canon for a moment. Such as Alicent saying basically saying he did it “again”, the way that Aegon sort of leers that the servant girl as early as ep 7 at Laena’s funeral, and some say the shot of Helaena’s maids specifically shown becoming uncomfortable when Aegon enters the children’s room in s2e1. Beyond that, he is a man who frequently patrons establishments like the children’s fighting pits, so I think that also speaks to his character. The way I see view him, Aegon is a people-pleaser for the small folk when it is easy and convenient for him (ex. him holding court s2) but he lacks skill or ability to see beyond his own impulsive desires

an implication is not enough for me to assume he’s done something. so if we’re talking show canon only, dyana is obvious enough and the only one i’m only going to be accepting as actual canon. but i never took alicent saying “again” to mean that, i took it as him being a drunken boy who is consistently doing things that might bring shame or embarrassment to him/his family. it’s not the first time we see alicent confront him in almost the exact same way, it happens after the pig incident with aemond as well and that was hardly comparable to dyana.

so, what have we seen rhaenyra do? kill an innocent man so she could marry daemon. cause the starvation of the smallfolk (resulting in riots and death) with the blockade and then send food so she can be hailed a hero. encourage the death of hundreds of targaryen bastards for her cause and look on in awe while not only them but her keepers were slaughtered. not to mention (laenor claiming them as his own aside), she is willing to lead the realm right back into another succession crisis by trying to put bastards on the throne because what she’s worried about is having the throne now. are these actions that you see as fit of a ruler? being that short-sighted?

aegon, despite not wanting the throne in the first place, is trying. call it ignorance, call it a need to be loved, but the food shortage was first addressed with him speaking to the smallfolk on the throne and he was willing to listen and help. he was right about the blockade, he was right about harrenhal, he was right about securing the support of grover tully, and he was right in saying it’s important to keep the smallfolk happy. he even showed more initiative than rhaenyra in wanting jaehaerys to attend the council meetings so he could prepare for rule, when we see rhaenyra dismiss her heir time and time again.

refusing to take aegon seriously on the basis of his frivolity is a mistake. i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again: what if you have the name, the dragon, the heart, and the instincts, but no one will give you a chance to prove yourself? i think it’s unfair to say he’s unable to see beyond his own desires when the entire reason he’s on the throne in the first place is because he was told it was his duty. was that not the biggest sacrifice he could’ve made?

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 ★ || b.c

★ summary: an accidental confession gone wrong, and fate forcing you to meet the one person you never wanted to see again.

★ characters: bang chan, cannon y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), holland (the sweetest gay idol in the entire world)

★ warnings: lots of hurt, the reader is an idol, and his stage name is Mars (for the sake of the story, reader also has a last name), so much heartache, grab your tissues bc channie is about to break your heart...this story doesn't follow exactly how chan became an idol, so for the sake of the story, he moves to korea after high school, internal homophobia, mentions of depression, reader has an anxiety attack :(

★ word count: 3.7K

★ requested?: yes, thank you to @cheeseflirty47

★ binnie's thoughts: ohhhh this one is a doozy, yall... i love writing angst so much, and i'm no stranger to rejection and heartbreak, so this is gonna be a little personal for me, so i hope i do it justice...I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BUT I STRUGGLED SO BAD

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

Having a dad who grew up with his best friend from diapers all the way into adulthood, meant that you were required to get along with his best friend’s son. It didn’t matter if you and Chan liked different things, you had to get along with him, according to your old man. Lucky for the both of them, you and Chan got along perfectly. You were both born in the same month, just 3 days apart, with Chan being the older one. You two did everything together growing up, mischievous little boys who rolled in dirt and played with bugs. As you got older, you both realized how much music meant to you.

Music was a staple in your home, your mother was in her school’s choir, and she was in theater. Your father was in a band that he formed with Chan’s father and two other friends, and they would perform for the neighborhood whenever there was a cookout or barbeque. So it was no surprise that you picked up on their musical talent, at such a young age on top of that. 

You and Chan were going on a fishing trip while your mom was on a three-day trip with her middle school music class. You and Chan are playing with the wrestling figures that you brought along with you in the back seat, the two of you making punching noises with your mouths as your characters duke it out. The radio plays softly in the car, your dads making conversation as the car rolls smoothly on the road. Suddenly, your favorite song in the entire world, The Girl is Mine, by Michael Jackson featuring Paul McCartney comes on the radio and you gasp, immediately kicking the back of your dad’s seat. 

“Dad, turn it up!” Your voice calls out, ignoring the super important heavyweight champion match you were previously having with Chan. Chan just pouts, he was so so close to winning. He had your character pinned in a finishing move, and was about to count to three. 

Your dad turns up the radio a little with a shake of his head. You wiggle from side to side in your seat, the music taking over you as you begin to sing the lyrics. As your little voice fills the car, Chan’s dad looks at your dad with an incredulous look. Since when did you have such a good singing voice, and why are they just now hearing it? 

“What? You didn’t know my boy had the voice of an angel? Believe me, I was surprised too.” Your dad says, a cocky tilt to his voice. Chan’s dad lets out an awed whistle. 

“He sounds real good, mate,” Chan’s dad starts, taking a sip of his soda as he looks at you belting your heart out in the back seat, “Do you think he’d be famous one day?”

Your dad has definitely thought about you growing up and becoming famous one day. He would be so proud, but he would never force you into a life of fame if it wasn’t something you wanted. “Yeah, but I feel like it’s too soon to think about that, you know? He may not even want to be a singer when he gets older.” Chan’s dad hums, and then he hears another voice joining in on your singing, although it’s much quieter. He breaks out into a smile, knowing that the voice belongs to his very own son. He knows Chan is shy about singing in front of people, so he’s glad to know that you bring out that side of him. He's really happy that you and Chan are close. 

Things remain the same as you and Chan get older. You both have ventured into high school. You still hang out with Chan every single day, you study together after school, and then you ride your bikes to the park and you play a little bit of soccer (or football, whatever you want it to be) until it’s time for you to part ways for dinner. 

Things do change when Chan gets a girlfriend. Vanessa Clovers. A pretty girl with wavy black hair that stops at her shoulder. She has tan skin, probably from playing softball for the school. She had soft blue eyes hidden behind a pair of thick glasses, her teeth covered in silver braces. She was known as one of the prettier girls in your grade, everyone wanted to get with her. Well, everyone but you.

 Chan had expressed interest in her to you before, and you felt this weird rumble in your stomach. You just dismissed it as you being hungry, and you clapped Chan on the back, encouraging him to go talk to his crush. As you watched him approach the girl, you turned back to your open locker, your eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling so… angry. You turned your attention back to Chan, who is deep in conversation with the girl. She’s laughing at something, her arm coming up and playfully slapping Chan’s arm. You close your locker quietly and rush off to class without Chan, something you’ve never done in your life. 

You were guilty. You were guilty because you hated Vanessa. You hated her because she had something you so desperately wanted, she had Chan. She got him before you did, and she makes him happy. You want to be the one to make Chan happy in that way. You want to be the one to kiss his cheek and hold his hand. You hated her for no good reason, she never did anything wrong to you. She was actually nice to you, and oftentimes tried to have a decent conversation with you. All you could really do was muster a fake smile as the ugly green head of envy consumed your being. 

Considering that your birthdays were only three days apart, it only made sense to combine your birthdays together. This year was really no different. You shouldn’t be surprised when Vanessa shows up to the party, a black gift bag in her hand. She makes a beeline to Chan, who’s standing at the grill talking to his dad. She wraps her arms around Chan, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and you can hear a soft happy birthday, baby, fall from her glossy lips. You roll your eyes before you could stop yourself, looking down at the table you’re sitting at. You all of a sudden don’t want to be here, not when you can see Chan and Vanessa sucking faces just a few short feet away from you. Your younger sister must know that something is bothering you, because she walks over with a slice of cake. 

“Stop moping around like an idiot, it's your birthday party too, remember?” She says, plopping down in the seat next to you, setting down her own slice of cake. You’re so glad she’s here, she always knows when something is bothering you. She always gives you something you like, rolling her eyes while telling you to, “get over it, loser.” All you can do is chuckle at her bluntness, your arms tugging her close as you hug her. She may hate when you hug her or pretend to give her a kiss, but you know she’s glad to have you as her older brother. 

“I’m not moping around. I just don’t feel like celebrating, that's all.” You say, stabbing the red velvet cake with your fork, placing the small bite in your mouth as your sister lets out a scoff mixed with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her dramatics, watching as she points her plastic fork at you. 

“You’re just upset that your only friend is busy with his girlfriend. You feel like this birthday isn’t for the both of you, you feel like it’s only for him.” She says, hitting the nail on the head. It makes you cringe internally. 

You’ve never been good with change, whether it be drastic change or something as small as dinner plans being switched to something else. It always throws you off, making you groan dramatically (dramatics run in your family unfortunately) and complain about the sudden changes. 

“I hate how well you know me, Liz.” You mutter, tugging at your hair as you indulge in the delicious cake in front of you.

“I would consider it a blessing, big bro.”

You should consider today to be a good one. Vanessa is out of town for some family trip, meaning you have Chan all to yourself. Which is why you should be happy, but you aren’t. You and Chan are chilling out in his room, the only sound in the room being Chan strumming on his guitar. You can faintly hear the hums coming from his mouth, his body swaying side to side as he plays. The two of you haven’t said much to each other, just a short greeting and a side hug. You can’t help but feel like a stranger in the room you’ve been in dozens of times growing up. 

You look around the room, noticing the changes Chan has made to his space. Something pink catches the corner of your eye and you turn your head to look at it. A shirt, a tank top to be more specific. You already know whose it is, and it makes your stomach turn knowing that she’s been here. 

Did she sleep in your spot on the bed? 

You shake your head to get rid of the idea of her sleeping in your spot on Chan’s bed, the churning feeling becoming stronger, making you want to spill your lunch. You decide to just focus on your phone, scrolling through social media. This goes on for hours, until Chan’s phone rings loudly in the once quiet room, scaring the both of you. 

“Fucking hell,” Chan mutters, grabbing his phone. He lights up when he sees who's calling, his cute dimple appearing on his face. You watch him with a soft smile, wishing that it were you making him smile like that. 

“Hey, gorgeous! How’s your trip?” Chan says, holding his phone up to his ear. You try not to listen to their conversation, knowing it isn’t your place to be nosy. But, you are your mother’s son, you can’t help it. You listen as they talk, your heart breaking as Chan talks to Vanessa with such intimacy. 

As their conversation comes to an end, you’re stuck with your thoughts. Thoughts of wanting someone so desperately that you would do anything to be with them. You would change every single thing about yourself if it meant Chan loved you the same way you love him. You don’t stand a chance against someone like Vanessa. She’s everything you aren’t. Maybe things would be different if you had been born a girl. If only you weren’t attracted to the same gender, maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You wouldn’t be hanging on to something that will never be, a small fire of hope so close to being blown out by the harsh wind of reality. 

“Man, I miss her so much.” Chan says, placing his phone down as he looks at you with this lovesick puppy look on his face. It makes your head hurt knowing it’s not directed at you. 

The words spill from your lips before your brain has time to stop it. 

“I love you, Chan.” 

No. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Your body burns with anxiety, your eyes feeling wet as tears gather. Your mouth is dry, your jaw slack. You start to sweat as you look at Chan’s face. 

You can’t deny the look in his eyes. Humiliation, disgust. Oh, no. You start to sweat, your hands shaking slightly. You can’t seem to bring yourself to do anything.You’re frozen, eyes locked on Chan as his own eyes dart around the room. 

“You know I’m in a relationship, and I’m not into guys.” He says, not looking at you. What he says next makes you want to crawl into yourself and rot away into nothing. His voice is harsh, his tone like a rock. He’s never spoken to anyone like that, much less you. 

“Even if I were into guys, I wouldn’t date you. You’re my best friend and you’re like a brother to me, that’s just weird.” 

You can literally taste the disgust in his voice. So potent and loud, it makes you dizzy. You bite back a sob, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. You feel like if you attempt to even say anything, you will throw up. 

“Besides, Vanessa was telling me about how you don’t like her. She said she heard you talking bad about her to your sister at our party. What the hell, Y/N?” Chan says, his expression quickly switching to angry. 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You know she’s lying, you have never said anything bad about her. Well, not out loud. You want to defend yourself, but your mouth won’t move. Your brain is screaming at you to say something, anything. All you can do is look down at your shaking hands as Chan scoffs at you.

“You aren’t even going to deny it? So what she said must be true. I can’t believe you, Y/N! She’s never done anything wrong to you!” 

You can’t even defend yourself. You sit there as Chan expresses his frustrations to you, his words hitting you hard. He hates you now. All because of some girl that entered his life two years ago, when you’ve been there the whole time. 

“Get out, Y/N. I can’t even look at you right now.” Chan says, opening his door and motioning for you to get out. You hesitate, your legs feeling like the stiffest bowl of jello as you stand. 

The tears don’t stop as you make your way out of the Bahng household, ignoring Chan’s mom as she greets you from the living room. She hears Chan’s door slam and she frowns. Something must have happened, the two of you have never argued. Of course the two of you had little disagreements as kids, but it was easily solved with talking and hugging. She knows this is not a talking and hugging situation. 

You rush home, your vision blurry with salty tears that sting. You enter your home, making a beeline to your room. You close the door softly, not wanting to alert anyone of your arrival. You don’t want to see or speak to anyone. You try to catch your breath, choking on the sobs that come out of your mouth. You grip your chest, feeling your heart racing under your hand. Your heartbeat reverberates in your ears, your body shaking as you drop to your knees. You hear voices in your head, berating you for confessing to Chan. They call you names, they point out your flaws, your weaknesses. 

You wish it would stop.

You honestly didn’t expect to meet Chan again. Especially not after your debut as a solo artist in South Korea. You recently made your debut and everyone loves you. You go by Mars, one of your nicknames growing up. You’re known for singing soft songs, the words relatable and full of emotion. Your debut album was a hit, causing you to gain fame fairly fast. Your fans liked that you were authentic, not some tasteless blob molded by an entertainment company for money. You were also one of the first openly-gay idols. 

That day you left Chan’s house was the last time you ever saw him and his family. Just a few short months later, they packed up and moved to South Korea. When you found out, it broke your heart, knowing that the last interaction you had with your best friend was a negative one. 

Your sister had found you in your room, you were struggling to breathe as your entire body shook. She immediately called for your mom frantically, not used to seeing you in such a panicked state. Your mother managed to get you to calm down, helping you breathe properly before you passed out. After that, she took you to see a doctor, and you were diagnosed with anxiety disorder and a mild case of depression. Your mother was supportive, she got you into therapy and you slowly got better, but there’s still times where you don’t feel 100%. 

Which brings us to now. An award show. Everyone is there, all of the people you idolized were right in front of you, and a few of them actually expressed excitement about your debut album. You thanked them, telling them that their music inspired you to start making music yourself. 

As you’re sitting in your seat talking to Holland, another idol under your label, and a fellow openly-gay idol, you hear some commotion coming from behind you. You turn your head and see a group approaching you. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but when your ex-best friend and previous (he still is) crush is in the front, you tend to freak out a bit. Your eyes go wide and you whip your head to face forward, causing a laugh from Holland. 

“What’s got you so freaked out? You didn’t see a ghost, did you?” He asks, turning back to see what you were freaking out about. All he sees is the group Stray Kids, taking their seats behind you. He turns back around to you, taking in your wide eyes and the way you bite your bottom lip. The pieces start to come together.

“Oh,” he starts, “You are totally crushing on one of them.”

“What, no way! That’s ridiculous!” You sputter, your face heating up. 

Holland just laughs, his hand clapping you on the shoulder. 

You sit on a stool in the middle of the stage, a large piano in front of you. You are belting the words so passionately, the lights shining down on you, heating your body up, making you sweat a little. Everyone in the crowd is moved by your performance, but every time you open your eyes, you keep looking at Chan. 

His face is unreadable, almost as if he knows the song is about him and not some old flame like you claimed in every interview. The lyrics just feel too familiar to him, his mind going back to his teenage years with you. He misses those times with you, laughing and messing with your little sisters. He feels bad for how things ended between you, and he wishes he could apologize. He’s heard your entire album, he’s had it on repeat for weeks. He’s not an idiot, your debut album is about him. He has to find a way to talk to you and apologize. 

Finding you was easy. He catches you backstage after your performance, watching as you talk to a pretty blonde guy. You’re smiling, toothy and bright, and he feels his heart skip in his chest. Where did that come from? He walks towards you, catching your attention. 

He watches your eyes go wide, your entire body freezing as you stare at him as if he grew two heads. He thinks you look silly like that, and he can’t fight the smile on his face. 

“Y/N, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He says, mentally kicking himself for being so damn awkward. 

You hesitate, your eyes looking everywhere but at him. You noticed that Holland isn’t at your side, and you remind yourself to flick his forehead when you see him. “It has.”

“Do you have a moment to talk? Maybe we can get some dinner and catch up?” He asks, his voice hopeful as he tilts his head at you. Your heart flips at the way he looks, his brown hair flopping to the side. 

You wonder if this is a good idea. You could easily get hurt again, but you would also like some closure. There’s so many questions running through your head, it makes you dizzy.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Dinner sounds nice.” 

You and Chan leave after the awards show, and you go to a secluded sushi restaurant. The air is awkward, but it passes quickly when Chan brings up the time you both filled his parents bathtub with frogs you captured in the mud. You can’t help but laugh, reminiscing about your wild child days. 

“Y/N, I missed you. So much.” Chan says, his eyes on you, not once looking away. You feel your face get warm, and you try to fight the smile creeping onto your face. 

“Chan, I missed you too. But I can’t forget how you spoke to me that day. It really hurt that you believed Vanessa over me.” You say, ignoring the aggressive bounce of your leg as you tell him how you felt that day. 

Chan cringes when he hears that name. “Right, Vanessa. We actually broke up not long after I…kicked you out.” Chan says, and you gape at him. 

“If you don’t mind, why did you break up?” You ask, picking at the loose strings of your sweater; a nervous habit you picked up from your anxiety. 

“It turns out she lied about you being rude to her because she was jealous of how close we…were.” Chan sighs, taking a sip of his drink as he rolls his eyes. You were right all along. She wasn’t to be trusted. 

“I always knew she was the jealous type. She thought I couldn’t see when she would glare at me whenever you and I would talk,” You say, pointing your chopsticks at him. “I never said anything bad about her, that was Liz.” 

Chan laughs at that, knowing that your little sister had quite the attitude. It makes him miss Hannah and the rest of his family. 

“You aren’t still mad at me, are you? Because according to your album, you sound like you hate me.” Chan asks. “If you aren’t mad, then I’d like us to pick up where we left off as friends.”

You thought about it for a second. You would finally have your best friend back in your life, but not in the way you truly desired. Could you live with that? Sure, it can’t be too hard. You’ll always have other people in your life. 

“Yeah, we can go back to where we left off. We’re brothers for life, right?” You ask, a gentle smile on your face as you look at Chan. He smiles back and you both make a toast to rekindling a once broken friendship between brothers.

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 6

It’s late, or early. She isn’t really certain. She is more than sure she's exhausted.

MJ is dragging her feet trying to get home at three in the morning. She’s ready to pass out after the shift she'd had at the pub. It had been a long night and it doesn't help that she's been on edge at work since some creepy man had tried to attack her. Not the highlight of her time working as a bartender.

The police did eventually show up and apprehend the man. Andy and Lars had stayed behind to call him in and also explain what happened. Her lead manager that had been dismissive of MJ's worries was promptly fired after. The owner apparently was not made aware of any of her concerns. Lars also wasn't alone as the bouncer anymore. The owner had hired two security posts for every night now, hoping to dissuade another incident.  

MJ's therapist had more than enough to unpack with her that month. She did feel leaps better after the owner profusely apologized about the lead manager ignoring her worries. That made her feel more supported.

Truly after her long shift, she just wants to go home. She was making plans to herself to put on her big hoodie and crawl into her warm bed after the hottest shower. Maybe even have a little snack. 

She slides her key into the door and is almost drooling at the thought of her soft, plushy bed. She shuffles in and trips over something in the entryway. She looks down and almost screams when she sees Hobie leaning against her wall and bleeding out on her floor. It looks like a crime scene with the lights off.

She throws her bag on the ground and turns on her light. She squats down in front of him checking his pulse making sure he’s alive. She moves to grab his face, holding it gently to make him look at her. His face was dirty, caked in blood and grime. Blood dripping down his forehead and lips. 

“Hey, hey, Hobie. I need you to look at me right now.” She pleads, voice a little pitched.

He barely peels his eyes open, he’s looking at her, but not really. More like he’s looking through her. He grunts in response. His eyes are blurry and she doesn't think he knows where he even is. 

“How long have you been here?” She asks moving his hand to look at the wound he’s been clutching at his side. There’s a decent pool of blood underneath him that looks to have been sitting there for a while.

“Couple a minutes, an hour… I don’t know…” He murmurs, his head lolling off to the side. His eyes start closing again, clearly a losing fight to stay awake. Which she needs him awake because she has no idea if he has a concussion. 

“Hey, nu-uh, you can’t do that right now. I need you to be present with me okay? I don’t know where you’re hurt.” She whispers to him. She holds his head back up, forcing him to look at her. Her brows furrowed in concern.

He nods his head, struggling to keep his eyes open. He's only half listening to her, but he is doing as she asks. 

Since finding out Hobie was Spider-Man he had started a habit of using her home like a 24/7 clinic. The first time he rolled into her home she yelled at him as he tumbled face first into her rug. She had to learn how to clean and dress wounds on the spot. She chastised him all the way through it. He scared the living daylights out of her and on top of that he just sat there laughing like it wasn't a big deal.

This though, this is the worst she’s seen him. There's so much blood and he doesn't look okay at all. His eyes can't focus on her and the distant look in his eyes scares her.

She moves to grab her medical kit, “What happened?” she prods trying to figure out what trouble he got into. 

“Not a big deal,” He tries to shrug but hisses in pain, “just got nicked by the Goblin is all.” He replies slurring his words together.

She bends down next to him and gives a disappointed look. “It is a big deal if you’re bleeding out on my floor.” She tells him with a slight scoff. “Can you take your shirt off or do I need to cut it?” she asks him digging around for her safety scissors.

He gives a soft chuckle but does as he’s told. His top clings to his skin and it's sticky where his bloods dried. He groans in pain as he peels the dried blood off of him with his top. “We should go on a date before I strip for ya.” He teases.

She rolls her eyes, “If you’re coherent enough to joke I should be meaner to you.” She mumbles to herself.

She grabs some alcohol to clean up his injury with from her medical kit. She soaks up a soft hand towel to start cleaning around his wounds.

“Oh come on, ya love it.” He says reaching for her hand so she’ll look up at him.

Her fierce gaze flashes to him and his face falters a bit. She knows she's being harsh, but she's never seen him so beat up. It scares her. Maybe it's because she childishly believes he's invincible. This is a hard moment as she realizes he can get hurt.

“What I would love right now, is for you to shut up so I can clean you up enough for you to take a shower without bleedin’ all over my bathroom.” She states giving him a pointed look. 

He nods his head silently and lets her work.

She cleans the area surrounding his wound, he’s mostly stopped bleeding but it’s a nasty gash. Once it’s clean she can disinfect. She looks closer at his wound and assesses his face too. He’s got a few good scraps along his brow bone and one of his piercings definitely looks like it’s caused some damage. Almost like his eyebrow piercing ripped out.

She quietly continues to work, ignoring Hobie’s grunts and hisses of pain as she cleans his face. Her brow furrowed in concentration. She's afraid if she pauses and looks him in the eye she won't be able to finish. She wants to scream at him to be more careful, but she also just wants to hold him tightly and protect him.

“Anywhere else that was bleedin’?” she asks him softly.

He shakes his head no. She pats his thigh reassuringly. “Go take a shower and let me know when you’re done. I need to bandage you but you need a shower first.” She tells him.

He groans but lets her help him stand up. “Don’t leave a mess in there alright?” she teases him lightly.

“No promises, I’m pretty grimy.” He jokes as he shuts the bathroom door.

She smiles and turns to grab the discarded pieces of his suit. She throws them in her washer and waits to run it when she can grab the rest of it from the bathroom. She moves to set up the couch for him to sleep on.

There’s no way she was letting him go back this late after just dressing his injuries. She grabs her spare sheets and blankets, preparing the couch for him. She throws one of her pillows down for him as well.

She hears the bathroom door creak after a while and turns to see him poking his head out. He already looks a lot better. Relief washes over her and she relaxes a bit. She grabs the medical kit again and goes to wrap him up.

Hobie leans his weight against her bathroom counter. He's just in a towel wrapped lazily around his waist.

She takes a deep breath and adjusts her eyes up. She forgot to give him clothes. Her face is burning but she tries to refocus on bandaging him.

“You look better already.” She comments. She grabs the gauze and bandages to wrap him. She’s so close to him, eye level with his broad chest. She should be used to it by now but her ears are burning. She can feel his eyes on her, and he gives a halfhearted chuckle.

“I feel better that’s for sure.” He murmurs.

She starts to wrap him, eyes trying to keep focused on her task, and not lower to where the towel is barely hanging on his hips. She's definitely not looking over his toned body. She can keep her eyes focused, this is not the time to be checking him out. 

She’s so intentional with every motion. She’s slow and deliberate, making sure she treats his wounds correctly.

She doesn’t notice him move until she feels him brush her hair off her shoulders. The action has her taking a shuddering breath. She looks up at him questioningly.

His own face is in scrunched up in thought. He keeps her hair between his fingers as he looks lost in his own head.

She finishes wrapping his chest before looking back up at him. She gently uses her hand to make him turn to look at her.

“So serious, what’s rattling around in that brain?” She tries to joke, but it falls into more of a genuine question. Her voice quiet.

He looks at her face and meets her question with silence. Contemplating his own response. He stares at her and he’s doing that thing again. He’s looking at her in a way that feels like he’s peeling back layers of her soul, exposing herself to him. She feels barren and unguarded, it scares her.

“Nothin’. Just thinkin’. Brain got all rattle remember?” He says softly tapping his brow. He immediately regrets it, hissing as he hits his own injury.

She gives a soft giggle and lets it slide for the moment. She reaches up, “Let me bandage that, your piercing got pretty fucked right there.” She tells him focusing her attention on that.

He hums in agreement. His hands coming down to grip the counter edge. His grips is so tight it leaves small cracks along her counter. Clearly trying to hide how much he's been hurting tonight. He's a good patient in that he never complains, but sometimes she wished she did. Maybe he just has a high pain tolerance or maybe he just doesn't want her to worry. She'd worry regardless though.

At the end of the day, she'd still rather him crawl into her window every night regardless of his injuries. At least she'd know he was alive. See his chest rise and fall as he breathes.

When she’s done she looks at him, his eyes have just been burning holes into her. She flushes for a moment, she was so lost in thought she didn't notice him staring. Their faces are so close, too close. She swallows hard and takes a step back, “I’ll uh, I’ll grab some spare clothes you’ve left here before… I can just throw your suit in the wash.” She tells him softly, her face burning.

She turns to go into her room, grabbing his clothes and returning to shove them in his hands. He hands over his own dirtied and blood-stained suit to her.

“Thanks Mariana.” He tells her softly pulling her into him with a one armed hugged. For someone so injured, his grip was still strong. 

A chill runs down her spine at him using her name, “It’s no big deal.” She mutters returning the embrace.

She moves away to close the bathroom door and she leans against it. Her head hitting the door as she looks up trying to control her rapidly beating heart.

He can’t keep looking at her with those big brown eyes that crack her open. If he does she might have to acknowledge the fact she’s starting to like him.

She doesn’t think she can handle those far too big feelings right now. So, she shoves them down, under the surface. She can’t think about him like that.

[wakandas-vibranium]

Wednesday Nights || Part Four

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, time skip, angst, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems a bit choppy. I am not a fan of time skips. Four chapters down, one more to go. Thank y'all for reading. Please like, comment, and share!

part one

part two

part three

part five

“Mom!” 

You awakened with a jolt, in a cold sweat in your new living quarters. You'd been suffering the same nightmare for 20 years. You had to witness your mother turn and attack your father, turning him. Then, before they could attack and turn you, they were both gunned down. 

That was 20 years ago and you still weren’t fully recovered. Your luck finally started to come through these last six months. 

You were walking alone in the winter cold. The cold air was stinging on your skin as you traveled down the icy river. 

Six people on horses surrounded you and grilled you so badly that you thought they were going to kill you. One of the men on the horses yanked his bandana down over his face and screamed your name so loudly that he startled the horses and a few of the others with him.

“Y/N!” Tommy called as he hopped down from his horse, running over to you. Even though his hair was longer and he'd grown a beard, you recognized Tommy right away.

The blood rushed to your face so quickly that you almost passed out. You thought he was dead. You assumed all three of them were all dead. You peered over Tommy's shoulder at the other riders as he drew you into a crushing hug. You didn't see Joel. Was Joel still alive? Was he even here with Tommy?

You rode back with Tommy on his horse, relieved to be off your feet. You'd been walking for weeks. You were in the dining hall eating with Tommy and his new wife, Maria. She was gorgeous and a little intimidating, but she made small talk. 

You couldn’t help but notice her body language and the way her lips would thin into a straight line and shoulders would tense at any mention of Joel. Tommy let you know as soon as possible that Sarah didn’t make it. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, but managed to keep it together. Before today, you already assumed she died. 

“It’s not like your brother is the best at making decisions,” Maria mumbled, fighting back an eye roll. 

Tommy was sharing with you some of the things he and Joel had to do in order to survive. You’d done similar things and a few worse things. You weren’t one to judge and you weren’t going to judge Tommy and Joel. They were the only family you had left. 

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You snapped, no longer able to ignore the jabs Maria kept taking at Joel. 

And the fact that Tommy just sat there and let her insult his brother really pissed you off. Not so much Tommy, but Maria's uppity demeanor got under your skin. Who the hell did she think she was? Good for her if she never had to stoop so low to survive in this shitty post-apocalyptic world. Good for fuckin' her, you thought.

Tommy leaned forward and whispered something into his wife's ear. She cringed and glanced at you before apologizing. Tommy opted to change the subject and asked you what happened to you on breakout day. 

“My parents turned right in front of me. Before I could even comprehend what was happenin’ to ‘em they were shot dead.” 

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was awful. Your parents were taken from you too fast. It was unfair. 

“Then I hauled ass across Austin to try and get to you, Joel and Sarah. None of you were answering your phones so I figured it must have been happening around y’all too.” 

You had a severe panic attack once you realized that you were well and truly on your own. You were lost. You didn’t know what to do without any of them. How were you supposed to survive in a world when your favorite five people no longer existed? 

“Eventually I ended up working with a small group of nine people to help find a cure for whatever this was. I worked with doctors, nurses, scientists on this. We were desperate to find a cure. Tommy, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but we’ve exhausted every single possibility and nothing. There is no cure for this.”

“Wow.” Tommy said, sighing deeply at your newfound news. He had held out hope that there was a cure, but he wasn’t shocked that there wasn’t one. 

Enough about you. Tommy told you that Joel was alive and I just missed him by a few weeks. 

“Where is Joel?” 

“Ellie—the young girl he’s with is immune. Joel took her to a hospital — a firefly post so that they could use Ellie’s blood to make a cure.” Tommy explained cooly. 

“What?” You uttered lowly. You had your fair share of run-ins with the fireflies. Enough for a lifetime, and each instance damn near cost you your life. You had the awful pleasure of meeting their leader, Marlene. She had an impressive right hook, but your left was a lot meaner. 

The nine people you'd been traveling with for the past 20 years were all dead.  The majority were killed by clickers, while the others were killed by firefly bombs. You were furious and alone. On a mission to find Marlene, the leader of the fireflies.

You were determined to kill her where she stood. You'd had a few run-ins with Marlene, and they always ended bloody.

You didn't belong to FEDRA or the Fireflies. You were part of a small group of surgeons, biologists, nurses, and medical researchers. You were the only immunologist on the team. Shortly after the outbreak, all nine of you got together to try to find a cure. You clung to them after you assumed Joel, Sarah, and Tommy were no longer alive. 

After your parents were killed, you attempted to drive across town to Joel's house, but the highway was already shut down. You'd also overheard from an officer that Joel's neighborhood was a hot zone full of infected people. You were devastated. You had no family left within a matter of hours.

You last saw her and her band of fireflies in Atlanta about a year ago. She ordered her men to blow up a couple buildings where you and the rest of your group were hiding from FEDRA. You barely escaped with your life. Everyone else who was with you died. Blown to smithereens.

“There is no fuckin’ cure, Tommy.” 

“But Joel said—“

“—Well whoever told Joel and Ellie that is a goddamn liar. They’re gonna kill that poor girl and it’ll have been for nothin’.” 

Tommy chewed on his lip, pondering your information. He was probably even more worried about his brother now. As he should be. Joel wasn’t safe with the fireflies. No one was. 

“Is there any way to contact them?” You asked, still hopeful.

“They’ve been gone for a month, Y/N,” Tommy admitted, hesitancy heavy in his voice, “Joel said they’d come back once they were finished.” 

“Hopefully Joel realizes that Ellie will die and they’ll come back.” Maria reasoned, shooting you a small smile. 

“This isn’t good.” You exhaled sharply.

Anyway, that was five months ago. You were still with them in Jackson. It was a safe community that actually thrived plus you weren’t going to give up the opportunity to see Joel again. 

You were with Tommy in Jackson for almost six months now and still no word from Joel or his whereabouts. 

You were starting to get discouraged. 

You didn’t know it, but off in the far distance, Joel and Ellie were making their way back to Jackson.

You just needed to hold on just a little while longer.

[mere-mortifer-writing]

Imagine Being Loved By Me ♡ Sanji x Nami ♡ Explicit

♡ Read on Ao3 ♡ Rating: Explicit Minor/mentioned ships: Sanji/Conis; Sanji/Robin; Sanji/Vivi Wordcount: +15k; 4 chapters total Summary: A version of events where Sanji has enough game to pull a woman on every island they visit, and Nami watches from the sidelines as it becomes increasingly difficult to say no to a man everyone is else yes to—a man who would prefer her above anyone else. Main Tags: experienced!Sanji/virgin!Nami; jealous!Nami; pwp; porn with feelings; 5+1 structure

♡♡ Chapter One ♡♡ | Click to read more

I. The strangers

It comes to Nami as a surprise that Sanji’s love for women is not, in fact, a purely theoretical delusion.

She’s sure—she’s willing to bet her hard-stolen money—that back at the Baratie he was not getting laid. From what Nami observed back on the fateful day when they met, and the stories she then heard from Sanji’s own mouth, something was crystal clear: the clientele of the restaurant that Sanji called home was either too high-brow or too brazen to go for a gangly eighteen year old who was quite bad at being a waiter. Between his desperate flirting and the little baby fat left to round out his face, he might as well have had a stamp on his forehead spelling Virgin.

Then Luffy turned her existence into a whirlpool of danger and hope and fighting and success, and Nami got a little too busy rebuilding a life she was proud to call her own to worry about Sanji’s sex life, or inexistence thereof.  

It’s in Whisky Peaks that the issue is brought once again to her attention. 

Before everything goes to shit, between one beer and the next, she notices first that their group has drifted apart for the night. When living in close quarters as they all do on the Merry, spending some time away from one another is a matter of sanity, and whether or not they lose it—Nami in particular is feeling the fatigue of being the only woman in the crew, despite the luxuries that this fact provides: a private room, the assurance that no-one will barge in the bathroom when she’s showering, and Sanji’s unwavering belief that a lady should only eat her favourite food, handmade for her every day. 

It’s not a bad life. Sanji’s cooking veers on the side of excellence even on a bad day, and his advances—she would not admit to this if her own life were on the line—are a good counterpart to all the rough-housing the boys get into on a daily basis. All the flowery compliments to her “otherworldly beauty” aren’t that annoying if the other option is listening to the other three men workshop names for their attacks and fall into screeching laughter at the stupidest options they come up with.

So now, finally on dry land, they’ve all taken the opportunity to ignore their crewmates’ existence for a couple of hours. Zoro had stuck with Nami for a while, but now he’s strayed gods-know where—probably working in private on creating his next hangover. With little effort Nami also spots Luffy, somewhere to her right, eating double his body-weight in meat under the terrified stares of the pub’s owner. A glance behind her, and there’s Usopp, who has gathered a crowd that hangs from his lips as he spins whatever yarn he came up with on the spot.

And then there’s Sanji, who’s got two girls hanging off his arms and many more surrounding him. He’s got his usual lovesick expression, cheeks bright red from his flustered pleasure at the women paying him attention. One of the two plays for a moment with the lock of blond hair that falls over his eyes; Nami catches the exact second that Sanji falls in love, his lips stretching into a goofy smile. 

He’s gotten quite handsome. The group of women at his table seem to share the sentiment, since they are all acting as willing victims of his awful pick-up lines, touching his arms or giggling when he makes a joke.

Nami spends the rest of the night drinking all the locals under the table. 

II. Vivi

Vivi is beautiful beyond words. 

As soon as she reveals her true identity, her status as a princess becomes all of a sudden obvious in every detail of her persona: of course, of course she is, with her silky hair in such a rare colour, falling in gentle waves around her perfect figure—you can just picture her posing for a royal portrait. She’s got a soft voice drenched in love for her country, she’s got a radiant smile, and most of all she has an ever-present sadness in the sweet, cool grey of her eyes. It’s like she was genetically engineered to inspire both admiration and a deadly wish to protect her at all costs.

So the laws of nature command that Sanji falls in love with her at first sight. It’s such an obvious fact of life that no one thinks of warning Vivi herself that he’s going to act like a fucking idiot around her (always and forever), and that she no reason to worry because he is, at least in this context, quite harmless. 

It’s only after Nami catches the tail-end of an interaction between the two that she thinks of having a chat with her. This is the first time since she joined Luffy’s crew that she gets to spend an extended period of time with another woman, and since they both have similarly impressive body measurements, they even get to share clothes. Nami has decided days ago that they’re the bestest of friends, and best friends should talk about boys and giggle about how foolish they behave around pretty girls like them, and then cuddle and fall asleep in the same bed. The last point will not be further analysed. 

The pathetic scene Nami bears witness to is Sanji down on both knees, his shirt unbuttoned so low he’d be better off using it as a cape, kissing Vivi’s hand, possibly as a thank you for accepting the snack he prepared for her. Vivi says something with a smile, to which Sanji responds by falling back until he’s sprawled on the floor. 

Someone exits from the kitchen door behind her. “He’s so hopeless,” she hears Usopp comment, and then the loud slurp of him drinking something through a straw.

Nami turns to him with one raised brow. “I’ve seen how you blush when she so much as glances at you.”

“And I’m being so cool about it,” Usopp responds, slinking away with his long nose turned up.

Nami snorts, and when Sanji ends the theatrics by sprinting back to his feet and leaving Vivi to enjoy her food in peace, she makes her way to her.

“Hi, Nami,” Vivi greets her, leaning back on the lounge chair as Nami settles down next to her. “Want a taste?”

“No, no.” Nami waves off the offer of the dainty arrangement of melon and cured ham Sanji prepared. “I’m sure Sanji’s making something for me as well.”

“You know, I think I made one off-hand comment about loving sweet and savoury tastes together,” the princess comments. “And he remembered! Isn’t that incredible?”

Perfect, she doesn’t even need to introduce the subject. 

“Aren’t you used to this sort of treatment?” Nami asks, genuinely curious. It’s difficult to imagine Vivi having to scrap for affection in whatever beautiful castle she lives in. 

Vivi sighs, and sticks another piece of melon in her mouth, chewing slowly and with a pleased moan, going as far as sucking the juice from her fingers right after. Nami thanks every single deity that might or might not exist that Sanji is not there to witness the scene, or he might have become the first documented case of spontaneous death from nosebleed. 

“I guess,” Vivi says, like she just didn’t do something Earth-shattering or anything. “I’ve been away from Alabasta for a while, you know? Being pampered like this reminds me of home, it’s nice. Although…” Nami watches in horror as Vivi diverts her eyes and bites her bottom lip for one terrible moment. “Everyone back there still treats me like a child. To have a man treat me as a woman, instead—i-it’s different, you know?”

“I can’t believe it,” Nami whispers, her eyes sliding away from the sight of Vivi shy and flustered over a serving of cut fruit and ham to stare into the nothingness on the horizon. This doesn’t even approach the worst Sanji can do. Nami has been personally offered by him anything that goes from a full-body massage to his literal life in service of protecting her—if melon got Vivi in this state, she’s doomed. Completely past saving.

“What? Nami, what is it?” Vivi flicks her ponytail over her shoulder and leans down closer to Nami, whispering in a conspiratorial tone, “Is Sanji, uh…off-limits?”  

Nami makes a noise akin to a mortally wounded tea kettle. 

Vivi blinks. “I don’t know how to interpret that.”

“Okay, you know what—this is a good opportunity to solve this mystery,” Nami exclaims, steam-rolling over the last five seconds of the conversation. “You’re a girl.”

“Correct.”

“A beautiful girl, a girl who could have anyone she wanted.”

“Aww!” Clapping her hands once before pressing them on her heart, Vivi blushes in delight. “Thank you, Nami! You’re also very beautiful!”

From not too far to their left, under the mainmast, Zoro interrupts his own nap to open one single eye, and sets it first on Vivi's back before sliding his gaze to Nami, eyebrows raised. There’s no judgement nor outward signs of interest, but Nami, terrified of finding out that Zoro is also a pig and a pervert, kills the homoerotic undertone before it can fully bloom. Tragically. 

“Yep, thank you. My point was, you’re all three of those things and yet Sanji’s bullshit is having an effect on you? I need to know the how and why.”

Zoro catches Sanji’s name and goes back to sleep with a slightly disgusted grimace on his face. 

“Well…” Vivi hums, lost in thought for a moment, and starts playing with the ends of her hair. She twirls the soft locks around her fingers, and Nami sees it happen live in front of her eyes: first, a shy smile tugs at her lips; then whatever gentle blush was brought around by Nami’s compliments becomes a furious redness that spreads even down the princess’ neck. “I don’t know why you react so negatively to him, if I’m being honest,” Vivi confesses, still not looking at Nami but imagining instead something Sanji-related that is possibly turning her on. While the man isn’t even in their vicinity. “He’s very sweet and sincere, I really like that in a guy. And also—”

Nami’s eyes go wide of their own accord. Here it possibly comes, the answer to all her doubts. “And also?”

Vivi shrugs, and stuffs another piece of melon and ham in her mouth. “There aren’t many blond men in Alabasta. I find him quite exotic.”

“Oh, that’s a relief!” Nami says, collapsing onto her back on the floor, pleasantly warm from the sun beating on the wood all day. “You just have shit taste, got it.”

It’s not the universal answer she was looking for, but at least now Vivi’s weakness for Sanji in particular can be explained away with her crush on him would die if I pranked him with hair dye in his shampoo.

She has to concede—silently, in the depths of her heart, undisclosed to non-authorized personnel—that Sanji’s bright, pure blonde is, indeed, a rare and pretty sight. 

III. Conis

Conis is extremely pretty, and the first human female Sanji lays his eyes on when they arrive on Skypiea, and if that wasn’t enough, she then completes the trifecta by being so obviously, so awkwardly into him that even Nami is rooting for her.

Not that that’s strange, or worthy of note. Why shouldn’t she root for her? Nami doesn’t care. She hopes she has a grand all time with Sanji! It’s not even a shock anymore—Nami has since long understood that it doesn’t take much for random girls to take a liking to tall men who cook very well. Since Vivi shared her fundamental expertise on the matter, Nami has to also add “fair hair” to the list of positive adjectives.

If cute sweet angel Conis wants to encourage Sanji’s sluttiness, Nami is happy for them both. 

Before the Strawhats’ stay on the sky island kickstarts the end of a civil war between the inhabitants, Nami is sure that Sanji works his magic on Conis when she isn’t  looking. He has ample opportunities even during that first lunch, the one Nami doesn’t stick around for because she’s very busy discovering how phenomenal of a waver rider she is. It’s only after days of pure terror, during which the entire crew takes turns almost dying a bunch of times, that Nami sees the two interact again—and this time, not in the presence of Conis’ sweet father in front of a cup of tea. 

Interact is way too gentle of a word for what she actually stumbles on. 

It happens during the huge, days-long party that everyone still alive takes part in to celebrate that very fact. The happiness about the end of war times overrides menial factors like “decency” or “sobriety” or “not having semi-public sex”.

Nami is focusing on winning the battle against sobriety in particular, always ready to beat her own record of how many grown men she can humiliate in a drinking challenge. At one point Chopper shoots her a lethal dose of sad puppy dog eyes, which she interprets as please don’t completely destroy your liver.

“Alright, alright,” Nami acquiesces. “I’m taking a break, doctor’s orders!” 

The three Skypeians she was drinking with boo her and then break into laughter when Nami stumbles straight into one the guy’s wings, getting a mouthful of feathers—in her defence the only light comes from the huge bonfire, which surely is aesthetically pleasing, but the dancing flames make it difficult to see where you’re putting your feet. Also, she’s shitfaced drunk because she didn’t take into consideration how the altitude would fuck with her alcohol tollerance. 

“Send the other sea-dweller to replace you, the scary dude with the swords!” one of the men calls behind her. 

“Why, you want to ask him where he puts the third one?” Nami jokes. Satisfied with the wild laughter she gets, she leaves the group with Chopper in tow, holding his tiny hoof to make him feel useful. They stop where there’s more fresh hair, and less screaming people. To him, she says, “You know, if Zoro does join those guys you should keep an eye on him. He never knows when to stop.”

Chopper nods sagely, and smiles up at her. “That’s called alcoholism.”

Nami blinks a few times before she finds how to reply. That’s a dark thing to hear from someone who looks like the most popular design in a line of cute animal plushies. “Yep,” she settles on, “Good luck fixing that. I’m taking a walk to clear my head, alright?”

“And drink some water! See you later, Nami!”

As Chopper sprints away, Nami stretches her arms and gives in to a loud yawn. Four days of non-stop festivities and she’s about to hit her limit.

She walks aimlessly, with her mind mostly empty apart from the intent of keeping away from the crowd, and the fresh night air quickly helps her sober up a little. While it’s a shame that so much of the ancient city crumbled during the fight with Enel, Nami does find the ruins quite comforting and peaceful, and as she passes by them she touches the moss that has grown on the older ones, wet from the night’s humidity. The party becomes a pleasant background noise, joyful but muted by the distance, and it’s the animals’ furtive movements in the nearby trees, or the more clear bird calls that ring from high above, that fill the air.

Nami smiles, closes her eyes, and sends a message of thankfulness to whoever’s listening that all her friends are okay, in the end.

“Mmh, Sanji, aah—”

The peace is shattered. It dies painfully at her feet when Nami’s eyelids spring back open, and a truly terrified shiver runs down her spine. 

Behind what’s left of a stone column, which looked so pleasant and harmonious and lovely five fucking seconds ago, some girl just moaned Sanji’s name. In the best case scenario, Sanji is also present on the scene. 

The theory is confirmed when a low murmur, unmistakably a male voice, follows, and then both the girl and Sanji giggle and moan some more, because Nami knows what both a giggle and a moan in Sanji’s voice sound like. They come out of his mouth whenever Nami praises his food or generously accepts his jacket if it’s too cold out. 

She should walk away. Her legs don’t listen. Alright, then if not away, just not in the direction of the moaning and shuffling of clothes and whispered sweet nothings. 

Nami’s walking straight to it, because she’s still drunk and there’s no fucking way someone else is making him sound like that—wait, what? 

Before she can makes sense of her train of thought, and the mild anger simmering at a low boil in her stomach (could be the sky beer or whatever the fuck she’s been drinking all night), she’s already both approached and rounded the Godforsaken Column of Public Indecency, and she’s presented with the nightmarish vision of Sanji, his hair so wild that for once both his eyes are visible, leaning back against the rock, with fucking Conis, duh!, sitting on his legs. 

The couple hasn’t spotted her yet. Nami exists for a few seconds in a fugue state where she doesn’t move a muscle to leave, and stares instead at Sanji’s hands wrapped around Conis’ waist over the fabric of her usual white dress, spanning the circumference of it so easily his fingers meet again on either side. He has the most lovestruck look Nami’s ever seen on him—and she would know, she’s been the cause of many—while he bounces her on his lap and ohmygods they’re not making out they are having sex!

“Fuck! Shit! Sorry!” Nami practically yells, breaking out of her stupor with sudden violence. As the two lovebirds startle in unison, she slaps both hands over her eyes while trying to retreat, which is not a good strategy because not two steps later she falls back on her ass. “I didn’t know—” Liar! “—sorry, sorry, you guys keep going!” What?!   

She knows in that moment that no god is real, just like Enel wasn’t, because not one of them strikes her dead and ends her misery. She has to regain her vision if she intends on running the fuck away without cracking her skull open, although such a possibility now sounds like the optimal course of action. 

“Nami-san,” she hears Sanji say, with the tone of a man facing the choice between the death row and a terminal illness. The way it mixes with the obvious arousal due to having his cock inside another person, right now in front of her, makes for a weird combo.

“I heard—nevermind what I heard, I didn’t want to interrupt but also like maybe get an actual room,” Nami babbles, trying to stand up and turn around at the same time so she can avoid another eyeful of Sanji’s fucked-out face and pretty, tiny Conis sat on his lap. 

“There are no more rooms on the island,” Conis mumbles. Right, because everyone’s home was destroyed. Nami has the decency to feel bad for reminding Conis that her life as she knew it is over forever. She’s very clearly trying to distract herself from the fact. Sanji, meanwhile, must have fallen in a meditative silence at being caught literally with his pants down. 

Nami sprints away from the scene, possibly breaking the speed of sound. 

Chopper will have to forgive her if she’ll be aiming for an alcohol-induced coma for the rest of the night.

[gloombeauty]

This is what Halsey posted the other day in her instagram stories. I posted it on my page, sharing my opinion how I didn't think Columbia Records would be happy to see this kind of anti-semitic messaging coming from one of their own artists. The entire Halsey fan community on this platform attacked and bullied me. I had to stop following them and block them. People who I thought were my friends. Horrible backstabbing anti-semitic monsters. All I stated were facts. The CEO and COO are Jewish. The A&R person at Columbia is Jewish. Clive Davis is the founder and is also Jewish. Halsey's manager is Jewish. But according to Halsey fans on here, that makes me a racist because I stated the fact these people working on Halsey's career are Jewish. It got so bad I had to change my name. Maybe you have better luck posting the facts.

First of all, you should never delete your opinion on your blog. If people don't like what you have to say, they can easily skim past your page or you can make them fuck off by blocking them.

I have no problem telling Halsey fans to go choke on a baklava before I click on that block button. The fact that Halsey fans in general lack their own personality and decided to be one of those "they/them" and "bi" this or that or whatever - just because their idiotic hero is all those things, is very telling. These people aren't even teenagers anymore. They are in their mid 20's - early 30's. They grew up with Halsey. The hilarious part of all this is that Halsey isn't any of those things. She's not bi and she sure as hell isn't a "they" but you know how annoying Millennials and Gen Z are. They find a problem and drama for everything. Halsey's whole brand has always been the annoying loudmouth obnoxious social justice warrior. You would think that having a kid would stop all that foolishness but no - she's chooses to be a one of those "they" people. Even after popping a baby out of her actual vagina.

In my opinion, Halsey is plummeting fast when it comes to her music career. She's lucky her makeup line is doing very well because as far as her music? That is a dead on arrival effort. I don't think Columbia will be able to pull a Capitol Records - taking an almost two year old song (Without Me) and throwing it into a new album (Manic) and stealing the hit single's successful streaming numbers and sales. That's how Manic didn't flop. But does anyone (outside of her psychotic fan base) truly gives a crap about Manic? Hell no. The reviews for that album were mostly negative. Pitchfork even said what an awful album it was and she went on Twitter wishing the basement where Pitchfork is located would crumble. What she didn't know is that Pitchfork is located at the Freedom Tower in New York City. That's the same location the Twin Towers use to be. The same Towers that were destroyed on September 11, 2001. How stupid did she look saying something like that? Very. She hasn't used Twitter/X as much as she use to after that. She was too busy exploiting Evan Peters on her IG at the time.

She had the gift of Trent Reznor and Atticus Finch producing her album and it bombed. Usually, everything Trent touches turns to gold, but what he produced for Halsey flopped. It flopped hard. A first in Trent Reznor's career. That means a lot of people just don't like Halsey. Imagine had it been Amy Lee instead of Halsey? It would have made a big difference.

Now, as much as Halsey's fans like to ignore this fact (or stay stupid - your pick) the people running her music career now are all mostly Jewish. Ron Perry, the present CEO for Columbia Records is Jewish. Halsey's manager, Jason Aron is Jewish. When Jason was posting about supporting Israel, donations, his family in Israel, etc. - Halsey's psychotic fans came into his IG page and started threatening this poor man's life. They were calling him an evil Zionist and other disgusting choice words.

Halsey's fans are demonic and yes, they are all antisemitic. Except maybe for a very small percentage like 0000.1% of the fanbase. The only Halsey fan that I seen on Tumblr that is normal, sane and not antisemitic is you. I'm sure out there, on other social media platforms there's more nice fans like you. The thing is, they aren't obnoxious or demonically loud as the antisemitic ones who scream "Free Palestine!!!" on every Halsey post.

That's why I feel Halsey posted this disgusting Gaza/Palestine propaganda garbage on her IG. To appease her disgusting fan base, who are 99% antisemitic. She's going to need them to buy/stream her new music. If she doesn't do well, Columbia will drop her in a heartbeat. The same way Capitol chose not to renew her contract. Capitol are dicks for what they have done to Katy Perry and Sky Ferreira, but look at all the money they spent on If I Can't Have Love, I want Power. Close to 25 million dollars - and it flopped! The next single she released So Good flopped. That's why they refused to renew her contract. I don't blame them at all.

So now, more then ever, she will need all her little antisemitic fans to support her new music.

Also, knowing that her manager is Jewish, why would she ever post something so disgusting against his people? I'm sure Ron Perry didn't celebrate that IG story either. He's probably sitting somewhere regretting that he signed her.

Do yourself a favor and block every single Halsey account on Tumblr. Trust none of them to be "your friend" because they aren't anyone's friend. Get a real friend in the real world. Finding friends on Tumblr isn't it.

[bonefall]

The experience of just casually reading Warrior Cats and something like the Bumble scene just comes out to metaphorically whack me in the head and make me ask what the hell just happened. I’ve been mostly enjoying Dawn of the Clans, been liking most of the characters, but the Bumble just feels so out of left field. It’s also really confusing narratively as well. A conflict where Tall Shadow wants to protect her cats against Clear Sky’s cats could be really interesting, and some sort of mind game subplot with Wind could be interesting as well, but the Bumble scene is just such a contrived and poorly written way to convey whatever the hell is happening.

Considering the new story team took over during this part of the arc, I can imagine that so many things got bungled plotwise. The mountain cats being kind of wary of things associated with the twolegplace due to dogs and monsters and the supposed untrustworthiness of twolegs as well as the death of Shaded Moss is something I’d at least be willing to buy as to why they would be at least a bit wary around Bumble, but every previous indication of their feelings about kittypets felt more like “I don’t get why cats would stay with twolegs” rather than “kittypets all suck actually.”

Also I think the whole Bumble situation goes against a large theme of the arc about a group of cats from different walks of life banding together, and the trials and tribulations they face. Given the rapid pace of Warrior Cats’ books releases, I’m not surprised stuff like this slips through the cracks.

I completely and utterly reject that this is a problem of the new writing team. I hear that in just about every 3rd comment about DOTC's awful writing. This sprawls back just as far as Sun Trail and you can't hide from it-- Sun Trail was the exact moment of onboarding for the team as confirmed by James Noble, with them having enough influence on this arc as to push Gray Wing's death off at least 2 times.

And everything shitty about Gray Wing goes right back to Sun Trail

Possessive of his love interests and where they go? This trait of Gray Wing starts in Sun Trail, with Storm, and eventually with Turtle too when she decides he's treating her like ass and Bumble's making a good offer.

Excusing his brother's garbage actions, completely ignoring the tone of wider scenes? Starts in Sun Trail, when he has a casual chat with Clear Sky after almost being murdered by Fox, killing him, being disavowed, and Storm evaporating

Misogyny? Storm AND Bright Stream were fridged in the same book.

Abuse apologia? Storm is in an argument with Clear Sky, her movement and freedom being restricted, in the very scene we find out she's pregnant. "He's just being protective" passed all around, leaving because he's being godawful, and her dying horribly because he was right all along about Her Needing Him. She dies apologizing to him.

Xenophobia? The Tribe cats distrust kittypets almost immediately, even being attacked by rogues, with Gray Wing hating Bumble the second he sees her (probably because she makes Turtle Tail happy).

I don't remember if he calls Bumble fat in Sun Trail but if you make me go back into it for evidence I'm going to Hunt an Erin

Sun Trail has a high note near the end, with Gray Wing announcing he is Thunder's father now. It's one line, not actually showing us anything about how good their relationship is. It's already strained by Thunder Rising. Gray Wing learns the same lesson about his brother being the devil at the end of every book and it never sticks

It was never good about families, it was never good about ableism, or abuse, or misogyny, these cats were jerks from practically the beginning.

And no I also completely reject that this arc at any point, let alone as a "Larger Theme" was about "cats of different walks of life banding together." When?? When they gave Wind and Gorse a ridiculously hard time about joining? When the Tribe cats pressured them to change their names to 'fit in'? When the Moor group was pissed off that Turtle spent the winter in Bumble's house and almost didn't let her back in?

When Clear Sky was shown as a Big Savior for kindly bringing civilization to all these lawless rogues, or was it when he was being portrayed as a bully who "didn't care" who fights for him when Snake and his stinky breath come on screen?

Or was it when they were fighting One Eye and Slash, two pure evil foreigners they had to conjure out of the ether because they decided that Clear Sky's sooo sorry now, getting rid of their main antagonist because they REFUSED to have a member of the Good and Wonderful Tribe cats remain a villain?

No, no no no no. The Bumble Debacle isn't out of left field, it's the whole goddamn arc. It's just the most egregious, undeniable moment of DOTC's ghoulishness and the part that puts its flaws on full display