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renaisguy · 4 months

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FORDE IN FODLAN. ✧

( og source link )

PERSONAL INFORMATION

NAME. Forde GENDER. Male AGE. 23 HEIGHT. 183cm / 6'0" CREST/HOLY BLOOD. None CLASS. Golden Deer Student AFFILIATION. Renais, Magvel

PERSONAL HISTORY

Magvel Year 782 ~ Born

Magvel Year 791 ~ Mother passes away. Starts raising Franz, as father is often away

Magvel Year 793 ~ Father is killed

Magvel Year 803 ~ Follows Prince Ephraim during the War of the Stones

Magvel Year 804 ~ Takes a vacation

Imperial Year 1180 / Magvel Year 805 ~ Enrolls at the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach

INTERESTS. Painting, Banter LIKES. Maps, Naps, Wading across rivers DISLIKES. Crying children, Expectations, Falling asleep and rolling into weapons

DINING HALL PREFERENCES

LIKES. Grilled Herring, Saghert and Cream, Fish and Bean Soup, Small Fish Skewers, Onion Gratin Soup, Sweet Bun Trio, Fisherman's Bounty, Fish Sandwich, Daphnel Stew, Vegetable Stir-Fry

DISLIKES. Sautéed Jerky, Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Sweet and Salty Whitefish Sauté, Fruit and Herring Tart, Pickled Rabbit Skewers, Super-Spicy Fish Dango, Cabbage and Herring Stew, Bourgeois Pike

TEAM TIME GUIDE

FAVORITE TEA. Albinean Berry Blend - Dried Albinean berries give this black tea its fragrance. The sweet, relaxing scent is popular among many

CONVERSATION TOPICS. A dinner invitation... / A place you’d like to visit… / Capable comrades… / Cats… / Children at the market… / Classes you might enjoy… / Cooking mishaps… / Dining partners… / Dreamy knights… / Exploring the monastery… / Favorite sweets… / Gifts you’d like to receive… / Heart-racing memories… / Likable allies… / Past laughs… / Perfect recipes… / Relaxing at the sauna… / Reliable allies… / Shareable snacks… / Someone you look up to… / The ideal relationship… / The view from the bridge… / Working together… / You seem well… / School holidays...

TEA TIME QUOTES

GREETING. ✧

“ It's a lovely day, isn't it? ”

FAVORITE TEA. ✧

“ It's such a relaxing day, isn't it? Sorry if I fall asleep, it means I feel comfortable around you. ”

FIVE STAR TEA. ✧

“ This is fancy stuff. I must be popular if you're giving me this... heh. ”

INTRODUCING OWN TOPIC. ✧

1. “ It's been years since I painted someone's portrait. l'm not sure I'm up to the task. ”Answer: Disagree, Sigh

2. “ When you're off duty, stop thinking about weapons and fighting. Relax, purge your heart of the battlefield. ”Answer: Sip tea, Agree

3. “ I wonder if there are landscapes that are gone now, only existing in my paintings. ”Answer: Chat

4. “ It's strange being someone's role model. I don't think it suits me. ”Answer: Praise, Disagree

5. “ People deserve happiness. There are some smiles I'd do anything to see again... ”Answer: Chat, Nod

6. “ Zzz... ”Answer: Admonish, Sigh

7. “ Everyone has a different type of energy. Some energies can heal hearts, others spread courage. Would you like to feel my energy too? ”Answer: Blush, Laugh, Chat

8. “ What's wrong with fooling around? Some people take themselves too seriously. ”Answer: Nod

9. “ My mother rejoiced more in my skill with the brush than in my skill with the sword. I understand why now. ”Answer: Praise

OBSERVING. ✧

“ I try to keep a smile on my face. There's always something to be happy about. ” “ You're getting pretty close, please don't tease me like that. ”

ENDING. ✧

“ This has been fun, I'll have to invite you next time... ”

MISCELLANEOUS DIALOGUE.

GIFT GUIDE

FAVORITE GIFTS. Landscape Painting, Floral Adornment, Riding Boots, Daffodil DISLIKED GIFTS. Forget-me-nots, Whetstone, Coffee beans

GIFT QUOTES

DISLIKED GIFT. ✧

“ I appreciate the thought, but this isn't something I'll use. ”

LIKED GIFT. ✧

“ A gift? Is there something you want from me? ”

FAVORITE GIFT. ✧

“ This is wonderful! If there's anything I can do in return, let me know. ”

LOST ITEMS

WATERCOLOURS. A variety of paints. It probably belongs to an artist.

BOOK OF TREES. A guide to Fodlan's fauna, with some doodles in the margins. It probably belongs to someone who likes nature.

EXAM PAPER. An exam that passed, with middling marks. It probably belongs to a student that's just doing 'ok'.

LOST ITEM QUOTES

OWNER. ✧

“ Thanks for finding this! I was wondering where it'd gotten to. ”

NOT OWNER. ✧

“ Never seen that before. I hope you don't think I'm so careless that I'd leave my things lying around. ”

MONASTERY QUOTES

CHOIR PRACTICE. ✧

(1) “ I'm not much of a singer, but I'll do my best. ” (2) “ I have no idea how to read this music, I should just copy my neighbour, right? ”

COOKING. ✧

(1) “ I'm a decent cook, as long as you're not expecting anything fancy. ” (2) “ I learnt to cook for my brother, I don't know where I'd be without him. ” (3) “ Nothing beats fresh fish, grilled on a campfire. This is good though. ”

TUTORING

INSTRUCT

BAD. ✧

“ Sorry, I don't think I'm having a good day. ”

Critique: “ Yes I know I messed up, give me a moment. ” ( AFFECTION DOWN ) Console: “ Hey, it's not the end of the world. ” ( AFFECTION UP )

GREAT. ✧

“ I think I understand... ”

PERFECT. ✧

“ Yes! ”

PRAISE. “ I should be thanking you, you make this fun. ”

TASKS

STABLE DUTY. ✧

“ Of course I know how to handle horses, they're- woah! Calm down boy! ”

WEEDING. ✧

“ This is strangely calming, isn't it? ”

SKY WATCH. ✧

“ I can't fall asleep up here, imagine if I fell... ”

CERTIFICATION EXAMS

FAILED. ✧

“ I told you I wasn't ready yet. Let me learn these things at my own pace, yeah? ”

PASSED. ✧

“ Look at me go! ”

UPDATE GOALS

SWORD. ✧

“ When I was young, I was something of a prodigy with the sword. I'll be the first to admit I've fallen out of practice, but while I'm here... Do you think I could focus on the blade for a bit? ”

RIDING. ✧

“ Combat skills are good and all, but they're not really useful outside of, well, combat. But horse riding is useful whenever you want to get somewhere. My brother would be so impressed if I learnt some cool tricks, what do you think? ”

FLYING. ✧

“ Renais doesn't really have wyverns, and even if they did they're such a hassle to tame. The wyverns here are a lot friendlier. The views from the skies must be beautiful, I'd love to get some experience with flying. ”

LEVEL UP

UPON REACHING LEVEL 99 . ✧

“ I've been working so hard to get here, do I get a vacation now? ”

BUDDING TALENT

“ I didn't think I'd enjoy this stuff... thanks for proving me wrong. ”

BATTLE QUOTES

WHEN SELECTED

FULL/HIGH HP . ✧

“ Whatever you say... ”

MEDIUM HP . ✧

“ If you insist... ”

LOW HP . ✧

“ Don't push me too much... ”

ENEMY DEALS 1 OR NO DAMAGE OR MISSES . ✧

“ Better luck next time! ”

CRTIICAL ATTACK . ✧

“ Sorry about this. ” “ You're blocking the view! ” “ Surprise! ”

DEFEATED ENEMY . ✧

“ Better than you expected? ” “ My work here is done. ” “ Oh, did you think I was asleep? ”

ALLY DEFEATS ENEMY . ✧

“ Amazing! Show me more. ” “ I weakened them up for you, yeah? ” “ With allies like you, I barely need to lift a finger... ”

ALLY HEALS/RALLIES . ✧

“ Thanks! ” “ Keep yourself safe too. ” “ Better get back into the action, I guess... ”

DEFEAT QUOTE

CASUAL . ✧

“ It... It was fun while it lasted... ”

CLASSIC . ✧

“ Don't cry for me... It's more than I... ”

THE ADVICE BOX

“ A dear friend asked me to paint her, but it's been over a decade since my last portrait. She has a smile worth painting, but I don't know if I'm capable of capturing it. What should I do? ”

>Tell her you can't do it. >Tell her it may take a few attempts before you're happy with it. ( AFFECTION UP ) >Practice by painting other people's portraits first.

#headcanons

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queenerdloser · 4 years

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so i’m going to type this out so i can hopefully purge it out of my memory & because there’s no better audience than.a bunch of strangers on the internet. tw for some gross conservative opinions i guess.

so quick context; my step-dad is a hardline conservative and my mom has basically swallowed his bullshit hook line and sinker. they are, both of them, extremely inflexible when it comes to their opinions and very unwilling to listen to anyone who disagrees with them. i’m living temporarily in their apartment since i just moved back into the country.

so they came home tonight for the first time since i arrived back from japan and we were having dinner. i brought up that my sister wanted to take a trip since kids are doing online schooling here, which my step-dad immediately jumped on how it was not good and my mom started in on how it was so terrible for kids and how “they” want to bring down education and how the entire situation right now somehow reminded her of fahrenheit 451. when i asked who the hell the “they” was, it became an increasingly convoluted rant about the oppressive government that is somehow restricting american freedom bc they might require everyone to have a corona vaccine... which my step-dad, with all seriousness, thinks could contain a microchip to monitor the population.

so i point out how insane this entire reasoning is (when asked why he thinks this, he basically just said “well BILL GATES backed a vaccine and he’s the ceo of microsoft!! so!!” and i was like ??? is that a logical argument or?? i mean i’m no bill gates fan but that’s a hell of a fucking leap to make) they turned around and started waxing on about how america was founded on FREEDOM (and i use all caps bc that’s literally how they talked about it). when i, again, pointed out that at america’s founding it was actually just freedom for white men, my step-dad was like “well that doesn’t matter!! are you telling me bc some people didnt have freedom it’s okay to take away my freedom now?” and my mom was in the background literally screaming at me about how i need to have loyalty to my country and how it’s written in the constitution that you have to be loyal or you can’t be a citizen (which is uh... very not true unless i’m misremembering the constitution) and i should just leave the country if i hated it so much. when i explained that being critical of my country is very different from being an actual traitor, she just kept repeating that i needed to be loyal and then couldn’t fucking explain at all what being “disloyal” meant.

(also they brought up how the protestors were trying to change the country and they shouldn’t be allowed to do that and when i was like “uh actually we have changed the country many times over. the founding fathers changed their country!!” my step-dad and mom were both yelling about how, actually, the founding fathers created a country as if they didn’t do it in direct opposition to the british and a big old fuck you to their mother country. my parents are both die-hard founding fathers supporters so i didn’t bring up the whole “i mean they were wealthy white slave owners so can we stop idolizing them” argument either - wouldn’t have been worth it.)

meanwhile my literally insane step-father is going on and on about how people die everyday so the government shouldn’t require a corona vaccine - it’s people’s own lives they’re putting at risk (ignoring, of course, that by contracting the disease without a vaccine they risk further spread through vulnerable populations that can’t be vaccinated for health reasons a la the return of the measles). i told him it was beyond disrespectful to people suffering from corona and the thousands who’ve died from it to diminish it to some bullshit “well people die everyday” argument and he scoffed and told me it didn’t matter bc more people died from car accidents than corona. (which, when i checked later, is also very much not true lmao)

okay, i pointed out, but there are regulations in place to make cars safer and lesson accidents, right? he then somehow made the very insane leap that the government has no right to require people to wear their seatbelts because the choice to not wear a seatbelt and endanger your own life should be entirely up to you and that it’s somehow a restriction of freedom to make it illegal to not wear your seatbelt. i didn’t say this at the time but now i’m thinking that i probably should have brought up that people regularly choose to flout this law anyway, it’s not a jail-able offense, and most of the time cops do not run people down for not wearing a seatbelt - so it’s a fucking moot point, bc it’s a law we regard as cavalierly as jaywalking. and not wearing a seatbelt and getting into an accident can cause other people to die or make things worse for other people in your car. and.... like yeah, i really DON’T care if the govt decides to create regulations that are designed to decrease loss of life even should someone decide they want to lose their life. saying “oh well someone should have the right to choose to risk their lives without that damn government interference” is a very wild argument. like sorry the govt wants you to stay safe and alive in your car, i guess??? how dare they try to lessen the loss of life and set regulations for drivers and car companies to follow?????????

anyway, this then completely unravels into me bringing up again that i explicitly don’t trust trump’s government with how they handle the virus & our real concern should be big pharma jacking up vaccine costs just bc they can and my step-dad went on a long diatribe about how vaccine research costs money and it’s totally cool if they decide to make the vaccine itself 3x the production costs. when i brought up (stupidly) that i thought the vaccine should actually be free if the govt is really going to require everyone to take it, he basically exploded and went on a long gibbering rant about how could i expect anyone to do anything for free, we might as well let everyone do their job for free! who’s going to pay for it? was repeated over and over again. he brought up free education and was not happy when i explained that i was very fine with my taxes going to paying for free education instead of military expenses.

finally, the icing on this very shitty hour of my life was my mom trying to tell me with all seriousness that trump is not an idiot, that i should respect him for being a “financial wizard” (literally her words!!!) and that i can’t criticize or disrespect him bc he’s a president. when i pointed out that a) i didn’t vote for him so i don’t actually acknowledge him as “my” president and b) that’s fucking insane, she started in how she didn’t “raise me this way” and that, once again, I was being disloyal to my country, that i was clearly uneducated and didn’t know anything about american history, and that i was being brainwashed and overtaken by propaganda. (when i told her flatout that the only one being brainwashed and overtaken by propaganda was her, she was also not happy.)

i brought up how trump wants to try to delay the election - my step-dad scoffed and asked where i got my information. the news, i said, bc i read the article from the bbc. THE NEWS? he said with complete disbelief. YOU CAN’T BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU HEAR IN THE NEWS. okay, i said with increasing disbelief that this was my life. well then how do you get your information? my mom chimes in with a hysterical: FROM MY GUT.

(i told my step-dad i read a variety of news articles and he told me he does too, but then he went on about how i apparently read the “wrong” news bc i happen to disagree with all of his insane arguments.)

i pointed out that i might like trump more if he was at all competent, compassionate, interested in doing his job, and not sexist, racist, and homophobic. my step-dad, completely unwilling to entertain the idea that he might be wrong, scoffed and said that trump wasn’t racist. okay, i said with the increasing desire to murder something. how is that something you can possibly say. my step-dad goes on to smugly assure me that someone who hires black people can’t be racist, actually. unsure of how to even begin dismantling this mind-numbingly bad logic, i countered with the assertion that trump has been openly racist on many platforms. my step-dad and my mom turned towards talking about how “noticing someone’s race isn’t racist!” and “isn’t your bias against white people actually racist?” and that’s when i fucking lost it, grabbed my keys and my phone and ran out of the apartment to go have a fucking panic attack in the fucking backyard.

this was like an hour. my mom was screaming at me for like half of it and my step-dad was yelling and they constantly kept fucking talking over me and going round and fucking round in circles or making nonsensical general statements (”money doesn’t grow on trees!” “what about FREEDOM?” “loyalty is everything!” and so on). there was a literal comparison of being required to take a vaccine to nazi fucking germany. (my step-dad, clearly displaying how little he thinks of my intelligence, had the gall to try to “explain” to me that they killed jewish people during nazi germany. yeah dude. i learned that in fucking elementary school. i’m aware.) i was told that i was “too young” to understand what i was talking about, that i had no critical thinking skills, that my criticism of my country was treasonous and that i should just leave if i didn’t want to be here.

i left for two hours. i’m still shaking bc i had a panic attack & then several smaller attacks while i was walking around my neighborhood trying to figure out if i should disappear until they went to sleep and how the hell i’m going to stay in their household until september, where i thankfully have alternate housing lined up. my mom just came into my room all remorseful, trying to get me to tell her where i was and apologizing in a way that didn’t actually apologize at all (”i’m sorry for what happened” she said, not all enunciating that she’s sorry for yelling at me, calling me names, undermining my critical thought, and basically being an all-out fanatical asshole for no imaginable reason. “and on our first night together, too!” she added, as if this happened somehow out of her control.)

i knew that living with them would be uncomfortable but i seriously had no idea that i would be standing there, making jokes and trying to calmly explain myself in the face of their loud vitriol. like. i wasn’t yelling! i think the only time i even snapped at them was when they tried to cut me off when i was talking. i tried to crack wise, to get them to see the utter ridiculousness they were spouting and yet!! they were both so violently, fanatically angry at me for just like... not thinking america is the greatest country in the world. not thinking trump is actually a good president. not agreeing that a corona vaccine is actually a secret ploy to microchip people for the oppressive government.

i left panic behind an hour ago & have crossed steadily over into anger but the fact is that if i have to have another “conversation” like that with them i will lose it entirely and i don’t know how i can live in this house and somehow do the mental gymnastics to avoid all “taboo” subjects. my mom clearly wants to pretend it didn’t happen, which is honestly her m.o. whenever we fight, but how the fuck am i supposed to forget her calling me a traitor and ranting at me about how uneducated and dimwitted i am?

god. i’ll probably delete this, but i needed to lay it all out. in case anyone was wondering YES people who think this utter bullshit do exist and apparently i’m so blessed i get to have one of them as my own fucking mother.

#liveblogging life #i dont want to be here anymore and i wish i had never left japan! this is so great and fun!#i think tomorrow i'm going to disappear to a coffee shop as soon as i wake up #i'll take the risk of being in a public space over my mother #thankfully i'm going up north on weds with my sister and staying up there for most of august #and then i'm house-sitting for one of my sister's friends for most of september #and with any luck i'll find an apartment of my own for october.... so i hopefully never have to live with these fucking people again

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siempre-bucky · 5 years

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Basically a Hallmark Movie|5|

Royal!Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: When the photographer reader is made to go to the country of Romania to see and photograph the coronation of the future king, Prince Sebastian, she must overcome her Grinch-like attitude. All before Christmas.

A/N: So excited to pick this story back up with all the Christmas excitement!!! With the Tumblr purge happening and with the threat of this not being shown in the tags I will not be linking to the previous chapters or the Series Masterlist! You can find it on my blog! It’s linked for the desktop and you can search ‘masterlist’ on mobile!!!! TAGLIST OPEN! Enjoy :)

“What is this about?” Sebastian questions as Anastasia as she leads him into her office Anastasia huffs and sits in her comfortable chair. She pulls out a large black book with the families royal crest engraved into the leather, the bearded man’s never seen that before.

“The ball Sebastian it’s a royal family tradition,” she reminds him as she flips to a page, her tone reeks of distaste.

“And I’ve skipped it for the past 12,” he responds with a satisfied smile before sitting down on the couch beside the window. He looks out at the snow as she continues to blabber how it’s important. His eyes boredly shift to the snow Y/N left her imprint on causing him to laugh at the fast its still there.

“Are you listening?”

“No.”

She growls and places her hands on the table, her red nails threatened to dig marks into the nice wood “I need you to focus,” she demands, her neatly drawn eyebrows furrow together in anger, the red in her cheeks making her red blush blend together.

Sebastian laughs at her reaction, he and his father would love to make Anastasia angry even if it angered his mother “Ok, ok, I promise,” he sits up in his chair and places his hands over his lap, poised as a future king should be.

Anastasia clears her throat and stares down at the plans on the embossed paper “This years charity will be the Bucharest Orphanage, all money raised will be given to the shelter for their yearly needs.”

“What about Christmas?” he interrupts.

“It’s not in the budget.”

Sebastian frowned “Not in the budget?” he questioned her with a low growl.

“They have just enough for food and necessities,” Anastasia matched his tone which commenced a staredown between the two royals. Sebastian hated playing the rank card, it made him feel like one of those snobbish jerks that shoved their ranks in people’s faces and that just wasn’t him. Yet this was Anastasia and it was fine!

“Need I remind you that I’m going to be your king in a matter of days, Scarlett will set up a tour of the orphanage for me tomorrow and I will evaluate the amount of decoration and presents needed,” he informs her through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” she spats, getting up quickly and storming off, a strand of curses escaping her lips. With a slam of the door, Sebastian smirks, pleased with himself. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Scarlett to meet him at the entrance, he shoves in back in his pocket and walks out the door admiring the Christmas decorations on the way.

“Your Highness, are you sure you want to be out in the cold before the ball?” Scarlett asks, looking down at her tablet when she sees him arrive. Sebastian grunts to himself, grumpy at the fact that another person wasn’t wanting him to participate in the Christmas spirit. Scarlett looks up and him and sees the angered expression on his face, immediately regretting her questioning. “I-uh, I will talk to Mrs. Saldana about your visit.”

“That’s better,” he laughs, examining the room. His eyes look forward and instantly smiles at the Tree Y/N finished, chuckling at the fact all the ornaments were towards the bottom and so close together.

“Sebastian,” Scarlett pokes his arm with her pen.

“Hmm?”

“Would you like to take someone from the press?” Scarlett knew the future king was developing feelings for the photographer, it was her rightful duty to force them on an outing.

“No. No press.”

“What about Y/N L/N?” He instantly perks up, hiding the smile by keeping his head low. He was taking the bait!

“Well I guess the orphanage could use the press,” Sebastian responded, taking another look at the tree.

The blonde woman smiled “Good, the camera I ordered for her was delivered a little earlier. You should ask her.”

“But her ankle.”

“She’ll be fine. Go!”

Sebastian took the hint and found the package, he thought of wrapping it but remembered her displeasure when she saw Christmas decorations, the plain Amazon box will have to do. He arrived at her door and paused suddenly. But why? His hands were scared to knock on the door, holding onto the brown box for dear life. His heart was racing, but he’d only just met her, he pushes the feelings aside and knocks loudly at the door. While he waits he shifts on the balls of his feet until he hears the door start to open.

Y/N’s face looks up in slight surprise, not thinking the king to be would be standing at her door “Prince Sebastian,” she greets with a smile.

“Just Sebastian please,” he kindly corrects her. She shyly nods and leans against the doorframe while nervously playing with her pink sweater.

“What brings you to my door?” she asks.

“Your new camera arrived,” he tells her, handing out the box. Her eyes light up when she takes the box in her hands itching to pry it open and play with it. Y/N fights the urge and holds it in front of her as he speaks “I’m visiting the orphanage in town and I am in need of a photographer…would you be interested?”

“Yes!” she nearly shouts from the excitement. The smile that emerges from his face makes her knees go weak, she’d pay good money to see that every day. “I-I mean I would be honored to take the photos.”

“Great, the car will be ready at 8, I’ll send Scarlett to get you,” he wasted no time in rushes away from her, leaving Y/N slightly confused.

She shuts the door behind her and grinned stupidly to herself, hobbling back to the bed where she would finally play with the new camera. “Hey Google,” she speaks, “call dad,” she tells her phone as she opens the box.

“Hi honey how’s Romania?” he asks excitedly when he picks up.

“Its fine, the uh country takes Christmas seriously. The Prince is like the king of Christmas.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to like Christmas again Y/N.”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders and inspects the heavy camera “No, its fine,” she dismisses his comments.

“You mom would be disappointed in you, you know how much she loved Christmas.”

“Damnit,” she whispers to herself, she knew he was right. “Yeah I know,” she answers sadly.

“Just give it a chance, have fun Y/N, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Alright, love you.”

“Love you too!” she hangs up the phone and leans back against the headboard, staring the Christmas tree in the corner. She turned on the camera and took a picture of it, reminding herself to thank Sebastian tomorrow for it…now, what was she going to wear for the event!

The next morning Sebastian stood outside the palace, rubbing his gloved hands together as he waited for Y/N to be escorted down “Nervous?” Scarlet asks, a smirk painted on her lips.

“No, I love children,” Sebastian answers unamused.

Scarlett points her pen to the stairs, making him look at Paul helping Y/N down the narrow steps. She stood out in a bright red pea coat, black pants, black flats, white gloves all brought together by a sturdy ankle brace “That’s what I meant.”

Sebastian didn’t respond to her, instead, he was rushing to the base of the stairs to take her hand “Thank you, Paul,” he thanks as he leads Y/N to the car. “How’s your ankle?”

Y/N smiles and holds on tightly, afraid of slipping on the ice “Better. Took some Advil so I’m ready.” He hums in response and smiling down at her while she looks forward, he’s thankful she couldn’t see the smile. She looked up to catch him staring, he didn’t shy away like he normally would but instead got lost in the moment.

“Your Highness, we need to leave,” Scarlett interjects, interrupting the moment even though she liked seeing the prince happy. It’s been a while since he’s smiled like that, the loss of his parents and a lost love took a toll on the man.

“R-right, will you sit in the back with me?”

Y/N blushes and nods “Sure.”

The orphanage was a large brick building in the middle of town, covered with glistening white snow that fell during the cold night. The excited crowd gathered as the luxurious black car with the gold trimmed Romanian flags pulled around to the front, pulling their photos out to document the occasion. “There’s a lot of people,” Y/N commented, tapping her fingers on her camera.

“I’m used to it…don’t you cover things like this?” Sebastian questions, waiting for the driver to open their doors.

“Yeah but never an international event let alone royal one.” When the doors open Y/N quietly thanks the driver and carefully steps out.

“Hey,” Sebastian calls from the other side of the car.

“What?”

Sebastian gives her a reassuring smile along with a nod “You’ll be great. Just think, all the other reporters at the palace would kill to do this.” Y/N nods in agreement, poking out her bottom lip. She watches him happily walk over to the crowd that lined up to greet him, the smile on his face when he hugs the kids and shook hands with the adults couldn’t be beaten.

It warmed Y/N’s heart, she blamed the butterflies in her stomach on the holiday season of course. The sight in front of her almost made her forget her job, she raised the camera and started taking pictures of the prince. Following far behind him, taking as many photos as she could the warmth of the orphanage was a nice relief.

The prince's face fell, the inside looked so dull compared to the festive décor on the outside. The children remained cheerful as they played with the rundown toys, a Christmas movie playing on the television. “Your Highness, this is Zoe Saldana, she is in charge of the orphanage,” Scarlett introduced as they approached a woman sitting with the children. Mrs. Saldana greeted with a small curtsey and held her hand out.

“Thank you so much for having me on such short notice, ” Sebastian shook her hand kindly and looked around.

“It was no problem, we’re very happy you’re here,” she thanked him.

Sebastian walked around and evaluated the building, there was no question they were in need of help. Things were leaking and the heating was about to give out, Zoe told him how they live ration to ration, thankful for the few donations they receive. It truly broke his heart, the kids had no idea what was going on or what the adults were worried about. They were just focused on getting adopted and being children, he just wanted to make their lives a little easier.

“I have to admit there’s another reason I’m here,” he admits lowly not wanting little ears to hear.

“What’s that?” the woman asks, matching his tone.

“I know the ball we’re having tonight is to help with funds, but it was brought to my attention you have nothing left over for Christmas.” Zoe’s face grows sad, they only had one true Christmas when they first opened and they only had a few children.

“Unfortunately that’s true.”

“I will not let that happen again, I’m personally giving you all the décor and presents for a Christmas they won’t forget.”

Zoe chokes on her words but finally manages a sentence “I would be forever grateful.” They shake on the agreement and turn their attention to Y/N and Scarlett in the corner waiting for them to be done. “Are you dating her?”

Sebastian coughs, choking on air “I-I uh no, no,” he wheezes.

“I’m sorry I assumed, you’ve been staring at each other this whole time. Maybe take her as your date?” Zoe curtseyed one last time and walked away, leaving Sebastian with his thoughts. Scarlett looks at him concerned and rushes over, placing her hand on his back.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah I’m fine,” Sebastian answers, taking in short breathes. Scarlett pulls away and placed her hand back on her iPad. He finally calmed himself and started walking towards the car Y/N going into the car first.

“You were incredible,” Y/N comments happily, flipping through the photos that showed him playing with the kids. Sebastian looked over and smiled, she was extremely talented he was instantly impressed with her work. Their faces got closer as they gravitated towards the small screen on the camera, they both looked up at each other. He took the plunge as he continued to stare at her and the pink flush that formed on her cheeks due to the cold “Would you like to go to the ball with me tonight?”

She moved away from him and laughed “I would be happy to take the photos.”

“I-I wasn’t talking about photography. Will you be my date?”

“Date?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never been to a ball before.”

He leaned back against the seat and turned his head towards her “I’ve skipped it for the last 12 years, I basically don’t know what I’m doing,” he jokes, making her laugh in response.

“Sure, yeah why not.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes. Prince Sebastian, I will be your date to the ball.”

Taglist: if your name is italic it means Tumblr won’t let me tag you, I’m so sorry

@thatnikkixx @heimdoodle @goofygooberr @dxftprettyboys @yeeterbenjaminparker @fandom-addict-aesthetics @inmyworstlies @where-karina-gets-lost @mizz-kraziii @scarletthornrose @marvelousmendess @xxxxnatasha @dorkyallen @petersunderroos @shut-it-tinman @captain-maaarvel @5secondsof-beforeyouexit @niallandsebastianaremylife @iamwarrenspeace @lame-lozer @libbymouse @hadesgirl1015 @a-kiddo-with-a-doggo @dragoste-lunes @imaginesofdreams @captainradicalpassion @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @likes-to-smell-books @sebastianstanandremuslupin @inlovewith3 @iamariotgrrl @ynough @xceafh

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #royal!sebastian stan #royal!au #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #hallmark christmas movie #hallmark christmas #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic

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savegraduation · 5 years

Text

“But being a minor is only temporary!”

On the old Fourth Turning forum one day, a teacher who called herself TeacherOfMillies ("Millie" being a diminutive of "Millennial" popular on the board) started a thread in which she wrote about telling her son that he needs to "respect adults". Adina, a Millennial on the board, accused her of ageism. TeacherofMillies' response was:

Adina: Recognizing that minors have different capacities from adults and therefore do not deserve the same rights cannot be put in the same category as racism or sexism. A minority group is a group (such as sex, race or religion) whose membership is normally permanent. People who are born black stay black for life. Adolescence is not permanent. There is no discrimination here.

Then there was the old Pagan message board at AOL, where Brocéliande, a Joneser Wiccan with a 12-year-old son, told me that teens were not a minority group, because a minority group was by definition permanent, with the implied reasoning that discrimination on the basis of age was therefore acceptable.

It happens again and again when youth rights is brought up. Someone will bring up the -isms: sexism, racism, classism, ableism, and by extension, ageism. Someone will then bring up Murray and Herrnstein's The Bell Curve or other ostensibly scientific claims that some demographic groups are statistically more likely than others to be wise or have a higher IQ. Someone might say, "Statistics show that Asians are, on the average, worse drivers", or "Simon Baron-Cohen showed that men are better than women at systemizing tasks and women are better than men at empathizing tasks", or even, turning the tables, "Statistically, women are less likely than men to start wars; does this mean we should deny all men the right to positions of world leaders, even the gentler men, so the world will be safe from the risk of blowing ourselves up?" And then she or he will ask, "If it's not right to deny freedoms to deserving ethnic minorities, or deserving women, or deserving men, just because a large number of other people in their demographic aren't qualified -- it would be discrimination -- why is it OK to deny a mature 17-year-old the right to vote or drink just because some other people her/his age are immature?" And then some defender of the anti-YR position will fumble to defend it by arguing, "Being a minor is only temporary, so age is different from race, gender, or religion!"

Before I go any further into rebutting this argument, let's play this on an honest ground with our terms here. I prefer the term "demographic group" to "minority group". A group does not have to be a minority group to be discriminated against. Males are not a minority group, and the draft discriminates against males. Blacks are not a minority group in South Africa, where only 10% of the population is White, and apartheid discriminated against the Black majority. But males and Black South Africans are demographic groups, and prejudicial treatment against them is discrimination. Discrimination simply means treating someone wrongly differently because of her or his demographic group. And no one can argue with the fact that teens are a demographic group (as are seniors, for what it's worth!) When you say "minority group", you're really saying "demographic group that has traditionally been at a social disadvantage in the society/civilization in question" (in this case, the United States, or the West). So it's not "minority group", but "demographic group" that's the relevant concept here.

The first problem with this argument is that the impermanence of being a minor ("An American who was born Black could never wake up one day and be White all of a sudden!"), while making this different from other forms of discrimination, is not really relevant to the issue of whether discrimination is justified. One can pull up interesting differences when comparing two things, but just because those differences exist, it does not necessarily follow that said differences are relevant to right and wrong. For example, one might argue that in England, committing murder with a knife is different from committing murder with a gun because knives are legal to own in England, just not to use for murder, whereas guns are outright illegal to so much as possess. While this as a fact in and of itself is true, is this difference in any way germane to whether an Englishman killing someone with a knife is morally acceptable, or whether it should be legal to murder someone with a knife in England? Exactly how does the temporariness of membership in a group make discrimination defensible? I don't think that if that person became White one day and was finally allowed to vote because of it in the pre-1860's world, he or she would forgive and forget all the needless discrimination in the past!

Secondly, being mistreated during one's teen-age years will stay with a person for life. Your world does not become a clean slate again once you reach the legal age to do something; rather, the pain of discrimination from the past carries on.

A butterfly that flaps its wings when you are 13 will still have the ripple effect going when you are 40. For example, if 15-year-old Rachel's parents restrict her from taking the courses that competitive colleges like by refusing to sign her course selection form until it is whittled down to the dumbed-down classes that satisfy their anti-intellectualism, Rachel will have a very hard time getting into the colleges she wants by the time she's applying for colleges her senior year. As an adult, her opportunities will be limited against her will because of the choices her parents made for her against her will as a teen-ager.

In 2016, a 16-year-old boy named Gary Ruot was diagnosed with Leber hereditary optic neuropathy (LHON), an ocular disease that causes rapid degeneration and ultimately leads to blindness. The only hope for Ruot was a treatment called gene therapy, for which GenSight Biologics was running a trial for the treatment of LHON. However, the FDA had only approved the gene therapy LHON trial for patients over 18. By the time Ruot would turn 18, it would be too late, and he would be blind. Ruot's relative, Avery Wilson, posted a petition on Change.org, demanding the FDA lower the age for this trial to 16. Less than three months later, the FDA did the right thing and lowered the age for the trial, and Gary Ruot was saved. But what if the FDA had not reduced the age to 16? By the time Ruot was 18, he would be blind, and it would be too late for the gene therapy to save him. He could turn 21, 25, 30, 50, 75, and 100, and he would still be blind.

And what if your parents take you to get a circumcision before you are old enough to legally say no to an operation? Your foreskin isn't going to magically grow back once you reach the age of medical consent (which, in the U.S. varies depending on your jurisdiction, from 15 in Oregon to 19 in Alabama). Judging by the arguments ageists use against 12-year-old boys being allowed to say no to circumcision, you’d think they were convinced a boy’s foreskin will magically regenerate on his eighteenth birthday! Similarly, we're now hearing news stories about teens who live in states where under18s may not get vaccinated without their parents' permission researching vaccination on the Internet and often driving (or, if under 16, being driven by a friend) into states where minors do not need parental permission to be vaccinated. If some teen's Christian Scientist parents say no to a vaccination, and then s/he is exposed to the bacterium Bordetella pertussis or the rubella virus at 16, and catches pertussis or rubella, the teen will most likely die before her/his eighteenth birthday of a preventable disease -- are you seriously then going to defend this with the "But being a minor is only temporary!" argument?

The emotional enscarment that comes from being hurt by age-discriminatory laws will also last for the rest of one's life. If someone goes through a gulag school where he is subject to waterboarding, electroshock therapy, straitjacketing, and sensory deprivation, he may eventually be out of it as an adult, but by then the damage will be done. He will suffer the trauma for the rest of his life. Survivors of conversion therapy may be past conversion therapy, but by now they're 8.9 times as likely as their peers to consider suicide. Since I was 6, I suffered from a mental disorder called logaesthesia, where I taste words and have the sensations of swallowing them. The words I don't like I have to "purge" out by scraping my nails against my groin and then "vomiting" them up by carrying my nails over my abdomen, chest and throat. All the "socialization" I received in high school, all the being forced to do things, all the fascist comments that my behavior was "inappropriate" or "socially unacceptable", haunt me to this very day. I'm 39 now. Every day I still think back weekly to run-ins with authoritarian teachers that happened during my school years over both logaesthesia and other conflicts that came up. I have flashbacks, I bite myself, I slam my fist against my head, and punch my abdomen as if slicing open a watermelon, I yell. If I had only been given the chance to stop going to school, to live away from my parents, to move to Berkeley, I may have been able to get away from it before too much damage was done.

People who have been arrested under status laws may feel the effects of the arrest for the rest of their lives. Many employers would not hire a 30-year-old if they dug in his records and found he had been arrested for underage drinking at age 19. In California, where Proposition 21 eliminated the automatic sealment of one's juvenile record upon reaching 18, a conviction for breaking a city's curfew law at age 15 could put off potential employers. And the social stigma will attach to the arrested ex-minor from many people who know, firsthand or secondhand, about the arrest.

And what if you die during your teens? Then your adolescence will indeed become permanent. If you die before age 18, you will never have the chance to vote for or against a president. If you abided by the law stating no one is to drink alcohol until his or her twenty-first birthday, then you got drafted and went to war rather than dodging the draft, and got killed in war at the age of 20, you would die without ever having the chance to try alcohol. You think a belated "sorry" is going to make that OK?

The choices adults make for minors may even last beyond their terrene life and carry beyond the grave. For example, a recently deceased 17-year-old may have his organs harvested for donation against his consent. Or imagine that Blebdahism is the one true religion, that God is a Blebdahist and believes anyone who betrays Blebdahism is sentenced to Hell. But one young person who believes in Blebdahism deep down in his heart may have parents who are Sporgalists. In the United States, the parents may, by law, force their child to practice Sporgalism even though it is wrong, which would thereby condemn not only the parents, but also their child, to Hell for refusing to practice the rituals of Blebdahism. Since no one knows God's exact sentiments, one could not promise children that God would understand if they betrayed their religion only because they were forced; it could very well be that God thinks conforming to parental force is no excuse for not following Blebdahism, even for part of one's life, and still refuses to let those youth into Heaven, regardless. Of course, it may very well be that God understands people who betray their religion because of coercion by authority, that several religious paths lead to "Heaven", or even that Heaven does not really exist . . . but what if those aren't the case? Or suppose, arguendo, that God does let people into Heaven who practiced Sporgalism as minors but converted to Blebdahism as adults, but not people who were still practicing Sporgalism when they died. What if the child of Sporgalist parents who wants to practice Blebdahism gets hit by a truck at age 15? She'll never get another chance at practicing Blebdahism, and will be stuck spending an eternity in Hell. And the Blebdahist child of Sporgalist parents will probably be buried, in accordance with her parents' wishes, in a Sporgalist cemetery, where her body will lie forever . . . and ever . . . and ever.

Thirdly, lost time is never found again. Everyone only has a finite time to live -- at least until human life extension technology is invented, and we don't know how soon that will be. If the first 18 years of a 90-year life are spent in chains, that's one whole fifth of your life -- lost forever. Say a girl named Danielle wants to wear dreadlocks starting at the time she begins high school in September of 2016, at the age of 14 years and 6 months, but her school clamps down and forbids her to wear dreadlocks because they are against the dress code. Danielle graduates in June of 2020 at the age of 18 years and 3 months. She is then free to wear dreadlocks, until she dies the day after her eightieth birthday. She got 61 years and 9 months to wear her dreadlocks, but if her high school hadn't disallowed them it would have been 65 years and 6 months of her life. God is not going to magically add 3 years and 9 months to her life, allowing her to live to 83.75, to make up for the years she could have spent dreadlocked but was wrongly denied the right to.

An election only comes once. A person born in 1980 would not get to vote until 1998, and the thousands of decisions voted on in 1996 and 1997 did not have that person's say. He may get to vote on 1998 propositions or in the 2000, 2004, 2008, 2012, 2016, and 2020 elections, but it is already too late for him to vote in the Clinton-Dole election of 1996, which is lost forever in the annals of history. For any of the bad decisions of voters leading up to the current day, there’s a possibility it could have been avoided being passed had more young people, those who were 16 and 17, been allowed to vote.

Fourthly, ethnicity is the platonic prototype of a demographic variable and racism of discrimination, and every other demographic variable about humans has something about it that makes it different from race and unique from other demographic variables.

Take gender and sexism, for instance. Gender is a universally recognized trait; the gender someone is assigned at birth would be the same across the world in more than 99% of cases. Someone's race may be labeled as Mulatto or Mestizo or Black in Cuba but Hispanic in the United States. In one society, having sex with another person of your gender automatically makes you gay, whereas in another society, it is viewed as natural to experiment even if you are straight, and a third society may have no concept of "sexual orientation” whatsoever. The legal ages for things differ from country to country. Someone with epilepsy is viewed as disabled in modern countries but as having special, supernatural powers in the Hmong culture, and what is seen as ADD in the context on one culture is "normal" in a traditional nomadic culture. But everywhere around the world, someone with a penis and testicles is assigned male at birth and someone with a vagina and ovaries is assigned female at birth. (Defining someone by their karyotype -- XX vs. XY vs. various trisomies and polysomies like Klinefelter's syndrome -- is a twentieth and twenty-first century development, and even then, fewer than 1% of births are ambiguous or "intersex" when external genitalia, gonads, and chromosomes are taken into account.) Some people turn out trans, and there are some special gender categories, such as the berdaches/Two-spirit people in Native American cultures or the Thai kathoey, or ladyboys, in some cultures, but even then the person's biological sex is still acknowledged. Even in the relatively trans-friendly United States, the Selective Service system still has laws on the books requiring transfemales to register but denying transmales registry, because gender assigned at birth is so hardwired into the law. In 2002, in the case of In re Estate of Gardiner, the Kansas Supreme Court ruled that a man and a transwoman could not marry, because the transwoman was male before the law and Kansas did not recognize same-sex marriages at the time.

Religion and religious discrimination are unique because unlike other demographic variables, people choose their religion. No one chooses to be male, or Chinese, or gay, or 23 years old, or disabled (unless they deliberately stab their eyes out or jump off a height to make themselves paraplegic). But people have control over what religion they practice, and this makes religion different.

Sexual orientation and homophobia are different because sexual orientation revolves around certain behaviors, and behaviors that certain factions and individuals believe are immoral at that. No one gets arrested for the mere condition of being African-American, or female, or teen-age. No one believes that blind people will burn in Hell. But many nations still have sodomy laws on the books making gay sex illegal (this included several U.S. states as late as 2003). Many churches teach that LGBT people will burn in Hell after they die. There are no controversial behaviors that are defining of Blackness, or defining of womanhood, or defining of adolescence. But sexual orientation is about what someone does just as much as what she or he is.

Disability and ableism are different because a disability can render someone by definition unable to do something. An example would be paraplegics being unable to do work that requires you to walk on feet. Men are generally stronger than women, but there are amazonian women and plenty of weak men. Stating that 20-year-olds are too immature to drink but 21-year-olds are mature enough to drink is a loose generalization. Some psychologists, most notably the White Charles Murray and the Jewish Richard J. Herrnstein, in The Bell Curve, make claims that average IQ of African-Americans is lower than that of Whites, which is in turn lower than the average IQ of Asians. There are disputes as to whether these statistics come from culturally biased IQ tests written by upper-middle-class White males, and many people believe there is no difference in intelligence among ethnic groups at all. Others believe that different ethnic groups and different genders have different tendencies towards strengths and weaknesses, such as Dr. Simon Baron-Cohen's theory of female empathizing and male systemizing. Whether the Bell Curve statistics are legitimate or not, though, no one can deny you find bright people and dim people -- even a few autistic savants with extremely lopsided abilities -- in all racial/ethnic groups. But blind people driving? This form of discrimination based on disability is recognized as "bona fide discrimination", and actually is legal in certain cases in many jurisdictions across the world. On the other hand, forbidding an epileptic to become a lawyer or refusing to let someone with cerebral palsy into your cake shop would most certainly not be bona fide discrimination, and pointing out this way disability is different from other demographic variables would not be an acceptable argument.

Socioeconomic class and classism are different because class is mutable (yes, possibly temporary!) in some societies but not in others. If you live in present-day Nashville or Los Angeles, you can rise to the top echelons just by being a great singer or actor. If you lived in Edwardian England, on the other hand, being a prole pretty much meant you were stuck being a prole, all your lower-class ways and mannerisms hard-wired into your identity. Rising in social class was very difficult.

Every rights movement has its own hurdles to overcome, and people who shout, "But this is different!" cause every rights movement to have to start at square one. A good example is Martin Luther King's niece, Alveda King, who fights against the gay rights movement and argues that homosexuality flies in the face of "family values" and therefore cannot be compared to the Civil Rights movement. Youth rights, like women's rights, LGBT rights, disability rights, and civil rights for ethnic and religious minorities, are human rights, and human rights supporters today don't say that being free from anti-Islamic discrimination isn't a human right because people choose their religion, or that being free from sexism isn't a human right because sex is a biological reality instead of just a social construct.

Finally, the transience of temporary pain or damage has never excused hurting people. As someone on the forum for National Youth Rights Association (NYRA) once wrote about people you argue that discrimination against teens is acceptable because minority is temporary: "Someone should give them a hard punch in the face. After all, it will only hurt for a little while". Damage can be temporary (even though damage caused by ageism is NOT always temporary), such as the 7-year-old who gives his baby sister a bad haircut, knowing it will grow back. But, as Martin Luther King famously stated in 1963 in his Letter from Birmingham Jail, "Justice too long delayed is justice denied". Perhaps no infliction of suffering should be illegal because life itself is only temporary, and therefore all of a person's suffering will one day come to an end?

"But!", you say, "What about the definition? You can't deny that a minority group is a permanent group, like female, or Chinese, or lower-class, or Hindu, and therefore teens are not a minority group!"

Putting aside the "minority group" vs. "demographic group" issue, the problem is this: what you've got here is an ad hoc definition. It's what logicians call the definist fallacy. Let's look at the definition of "minority" (definition 3a) in Merriam Webster's Webster's Unabridged: "A part of a population differing from others in some characteristics and often subjected to differential treatment". No mention of the membership in that group being permanent. Next, Wiktionary defines "minority group" as: "A group that forms only a small part of the population, whether it be for ethnic or other reasons". Still no mention of being permanent. Finally, for something different, let's look at the Collins COBUILD dictionary's definition (definition 2): "A minority is a group of people of the same race, culture, or religion who live in a place where most of the people around them are of a different race, culture, or religion". This excludes age, but this definition is so narrow that it also excludes such undisputed minorities as lesbians, transgender people, and the blind! Does that mean the U.S. government should feel free to round up gay people or people with bipolar disorder, since they're not protected by the definition of "minority group"?

As a matter of fact, some published, professional authors have referred to youth as a minority group. In 1971, Edward Sagarin edited a book titled The Other Minorities, which consisted of essays concerning the minority status of non-ethnic minorities: there are essays on women, gays, teens, the elderly, the disabled, criminals, and even intellectuals as minority groups. From pages 95 to 107 is Edgar Z. Friedenberg's essay "The Image of the Adolescent Minority". In it, Friedenberg writes: "In the most formal sense, then, the adolescent is one of our second-class citizens. But the informal aspects of minority status are also imputed to him. The 'teen-ager', like the Latin or Negro, is seen as joyous, playful, lazy, and irresponsible, with brutality lurking just below the surface and ready to break out into violence. All these groups are seen as childish and excitable, imprudent and improvident, sexually aggressive, and dangerous, but possessed of superb and sustained power to satisfy sexual demands. West Side Story is not much like Romeo and Juliet, but it is a great deal like Porgy and Bess." Friedenberg recognizes how facile stereotypes of teen-agers are about as respectful as the old "minstrel show" stereotype of African-Americans.

"But!", you object, "I'm just saying teens aren't a minority group!" Then if the question of whether teens are a minority group isn’t relevant to whether anti-youth discrimination is acceptable (and it isn't, given all the other problems with the "temporariness" argument), then why are you even bringing it up?

Teens are a (very often) oppressed demographic group. Discrimination against teens is still discrimination. The fact that unless you die before your twenty-first birthday you will not be underage forever does not justify your parents dictating what high school courses you will take, or you being denied the rights to medical consent, or you getting arrested for breaking curfew or underage drinking, or you being denied the vote at 16. So please don't use this argument.

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its-love-u-asshole · 6 years

Text

Twelve Hours [Ch. 5]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Summary: Kuroo Tetsurou has dealt with a lot since he was eighteen, each year bringing the same depressing challenges on the same depressing night. He expects this time to be no different, but the universe is trying desperately to prove him wrong in the most bizarre ways imaginable. So screw it, Kuroo’s only choice is to buckle in and hope he doesn’t die. Easy enough. And hey, with some new allies at his side, maybe he has a chance. Who knows? At least Kuroo is sure of one thing in life when it comes to March 15th, and he stands by this unwritten law, no matter what happens:

If you try to kill pizza delivery boys on Purge Night, you’re irrevocably a bitch.

Rating: T

Tags: Purge AU, mentions of violence but nothing graphic or too bad, no character deaths here okay, this is borderline crack and idk what I was thinking, first meetings, other characters, shenanigans and just…a lot of fun (it seems angsty but its not)

Note: I’m back with another update! In spirit of all the excitement for kurotsuki week I figured I’d post today! But I’m also doing something for Monday’s prompt (and hopefully some more), so I’m super excited! Thanks so much @emeraldwaves for reading this over, and I hope everyone enjoys!

AO3

The tires screeched to a slow halt as Terushima pulled the car into a gas station stall, and the bright artificial lighting did nothing to make them blend in with the surroundings. Their huge, black as tar SUV looked like a giant ink blot against the bright blue colorings of the signs around them, and as Terushima cut the ignition, they all stayed put.

No one dared open a door yet, instead listening for signs of trouble, of anything.

It would've been normal to see some debris, hear some yells nearby, hell maybe even see people raiding the small store. That would've been easier to deal with and process.

Silence...Kuroo was not good with silence anymore. Judging from the way Tsukishima straightened up, neither was he.

Ignoring the way Futakuchi's hand tapped anxiously against the glove compartment, Kuroo followed Tsukishima's gaze.

He peered out through the half-tinted windows, noting the strange pristine condition of the station. The small snack stand in the center looked immaculate, untouched, the displays standing straight and organized with a plethora of snacks and useless magazines.

No other cars were around, unless they counted the abandoned ones across the street, which had been stripped of their parts.

Now, Kuroo knew it was probably rare for people to be getting gas during the Purge (like...c'mon), but to see no one set the alarm bells off in his head. This was so stupid.

More than that, this was not good.

"I don't trust this at all," Tsukishima said finally, echoing Kuroo's thoughts. "Be quick about it."

Though Tsukishima's gaze was occupied, the words were clearly addressed to Terushima, who jumped in his seat, hitting the roof of the car. Such finesse. They were in good hands.

Futakuchi turned to his friend, tense, and a silent telepathic showdown seemed to go on between them. After careful observation, Kuroo concluded it was of the elementary school caliber.

'You go.'

'No you.'

"Seriously?" Suga muttered, and yeah...Kuroo could only imagine what it was like to deal with this on a daily basis. Mind numbing, he guessed, since Suga simply started playing sudoku on his phone.

In their defense, Kuroo did not want to be the one to do this. Not just because of the potential murder, but because this gas station had just about the worst prices he'd ever seen.

I'd rather be stabbed.

Apparently, the other two didn't feel the same way.

Kuroo rolled his eyes when their hands came up, leaving fate in the hands of rock paper scissors. Wow. If it had been Kuroo, and he had to die knowing it was all because of a rock paper scissors game, he'd rise from the dead before accepting it.

He'd pull his own soul right back from the devil himself.

Two stressful rounds later and Futakuchi was declared the winner, smirking due to his expert rock over scissors strategy. It really made Kuroo want to applaud, the true decision making skill couldn't be overlooked.

"It almost makes me want to cry," Tsukishima said, and Kuroo snorted, watching those bright eyes drift back towards the street. Something about watching Tsukishima's brain work hadn't failed to fascinate him.

Always observant, no matter where you are, huh?

In the back of his head, Kuroo wondered how much Tsukishima truly remembered about him, if he'd been analyzed all those years ago without knowing. The musings were cut short by a less than comfortable Yamamoto.

"Can you guys stop stalling? The longer we're here the worse the risk is!" He yelled from the middle row, and all Terushima did was simply raise his hand in a 'can you not' gesture.

If anything, the people in the car would kill each other before anyone else could.

"I don't wanna gooooo," Terushima whined, glancing out on the desolate cement plain before draping himself over the middle console. Futakuchi scooted away, like he was disease ridden. "It's too creepy."

True, but...

"Hm, then maybe you shouldn't have wasted so much gas making wrong turns," Tsukishima hummed, and Terushima raised his middle finger (not that Tsukishima was even looking at him).

"Are you ever going to let that go? News flash, the jokes are getting old."

Pft. Even Kuroo knew the jokes weren't the point, and he adored Tsukishima for it.

"It's not about making jokes, it's about shaming you," Tsukishima stated bluntly. "Also, I let it go when I got in this car."

Despite the need to make a Disney reference, Kuroo's pettiness won out.

"Ditto," Kuroo said, and Yamamoto turned on him, raising an accusatory finger.

"Hush you! It wasn't even your house! You didn't have to come!"

And well...yeah, but it was Tsukishima's house. Tsukishima who got all his jokes and protected him and was all around amazing. So uh, Kuroo was in his right to be mad on his behalf.

"Eh," Suga joined in. "I'd be pretty mad if someone broke my boyfriend's wall."

Again with the boyfriend...

Kuroo's entire face bloomed red, and while he'd never object to being mistaken for such an angelic being's boyfriend, he didn't approve of his own feelings being so blatantly stated for everyone to hear. Especially not when said feelings had hit him like a ton of bricks only in the past few hours.

God. He was turning back into a naive freshman, swooning over every hot guy. Though, Tsukishima wasn't just a hot guy.

Beside him, Tsukishima glared, his own cheeks heating up in a way Kuroo couldn't help but fixate on. The blond's reaction was significantly more violent too, with the way his head whipped around from where he'd been observing the streets to glare at the rest of the car. It made Kuroo's heart race, even as the denial spewed from both their lips.

"He's not my boyfriend," they insisted at the same time, and Kuroo spared a side glance the blond's way, noting his refusal to focus on anything other than the leather seat in front of him.

The tips of his ears turn red when he's embarrassed...

Kuroo, completely fixated, almost didn't register Futakuchi's response. Sadly, it was hard to miss it.

The brunet made a fake, shocked choking noise, his palm flat against his chest. "Oh wow, very convincing! What are you guys? The main pining couple in a romcom?"

"Well that was very specific..." Tsukishima muttered, staring back out of the window, but his obvious lack of comment on the accusation made Kuroo's blush deepen further.

"Shut up!"

"Can someone just get gas please? Last thing we need is some freaks showing up for free blood," Suga sighed, his game long forgotten as the minutes past. Regardless of the bickering, they were all still on edge, so much so they kept their voices low. As ridiculous as the night was, it was still the Purge, it was still real.

"You mean like them," Tsukishima said, tapping his finger against the glass. Freezing, the rest of the group looked to where he was pointing, and immediately groaned at what they saw.

Two figures, faces masked with eerie clown features, stood on the other side of the street staring at them. Just...staring. They stood distorted and tilted, but even with the lame poses Kuroo marveled at how stone like they were, their heads on tilting every now and then in intimidation.

Motherfuckers.

"Great, we waited too long, now what?" Terushima whispered, eyes not leaving the potential murderers.

"Maybe they're just taking a break," Tsukishima said, and the rest of the car, sans Kuroo, looked unamused.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Yamamoto asked, and his tone could've been bottled and packaged as pure disbelief.

The blond only shrugged. "Well you didn't laugh so I guess not."

It wasn't funny, it was hilarious. Never change.

"Maybe we should move on," Futakuchi suggested, squinting at the way the figures stood. They couldn't afford to do that, and from the way Tsukishima glanced at Kuroo, he knew it too.

"No," Kuroo said, seriousness kicking in. They didn't know when they'd find another empty, working station. Unfortunately, the risk needed to be accepted in this case. "Go take care of it, if they move, we'll shoot."

The sentence made his throat close up, but he stuffed his own reluctance down until it burned. Self-defense, he reminded, self-defense. Tsukishima nodded next to him, expression grim but not unwilling. The blond was already unholstering his weapon, like he was so comfortable with it, so used to clutching it tight.

The rest of the car tensed, but that was fine. It was okay if they weren't ready yet. Kuroo had been referring to himself and Tsukishima anyways. Their innocence around this night had been taken already. Some of Terushima's had too, from the way he steeled himself, hand on the car door handle.

Kuroo inhaled, looking at Terushima expectantly. The other nodded, glancing at his friends one last time, and Suga reached forward, gripping his shoulder in comfort. It never got easy, seeing people thrown into danger, but this time Kuroo was here to help.

They all glanced back out to where the figures stood, and one of them raised a hand, causing Tsukishima to flinch. But he just waved slowly, a friendly gesture corrupted by the menacing air.

"Bastard," Terushima sighed under his breath, getting ready to jump out of the car with his wallet. "Alright, let's do--"

"Wait!" Yamamoto's voice made them all jump, the sound sharp enough to cut the thick fog of nerves around them. Kuroo heard Suga's breathing stutter.

Terushima stared at him, eyes panicked. "W-what?"

They all waited, looking at Yamamoto and anticipating some sort of advice or observation. Only Tsukishima's eyes stayed locked on the figures outside.

With no trace of laughter in his eyes, Yamamoto met Terushima's gaze head on, ready to spill words of warning and care. "I need you to get me a Snickers bar."

Kuroo should've known better than to expect so much from this car.

The vehicle descended into silence and oh--oh okay, maybe he should be concerned about the way Suga wheezed just then.

Even Tsukishima, will his ready-to-kill demeanor, couldn't not throw his hands up in defeat.

Kuroo didn't know what to feel. Annoyance? Awe? Admiration?

He was gonna sit out on this one.

It took about ten more seconds for Terushima to completely process the words, his mouth opening and closing like a fish until they finally settled on the most reasonable question: "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No wait, just hear me out--"

"Fuck you I won't hear you out!" Terushima went on, his voice hushed but incensed, and Tsukishima just shook his head and waved back at the killers. Yeah, call them over. End it all. Yamamoto raised his hands in placation, but Terushima wasn't having it. "I'm about to go risk my life against Hannibal and Dexter out there and you're asking me to get you a fucking chocolate bar?"

"First of all, you're probably giving those guys too much credit...." Yamamoto offered, which did not make things better but...

Agreed.

"And okay I was just thinking, I was too nervous to eat before we left and if we have to fight more dudes later, I think it would be a good idea to get some food in me." Yamamoto looked around the car for support, but everyone was steadfast in ignoring him.

Kuroo busied himself with other thoughts as much as he could, so much so he had to resort to the car ceiling. Man, this is some nice interior.

"Screw you, if you want it so bad, you get it," Terushima said, and it would've probably helped them all. Yamamoto was by far the most muscular of the group, though he hadn't shown any of the necessary violence Kuroo expected.

"Oh, well that's just real nice. You can't walk twenty feet to grab me one candy bar?"

"It's hard to do anything with stab wounds," Terushima said, gesturing to various parts of his body which apparently would soon be severed.

Kuroo wasn't so sure.

"If they stab you, some people get more creative than that," Kuroo said, and again, Tsukishima raised his finger in agreement.

Suga, eyes dead to the world, turned back to him, shaking his head. "Who hurt you?"

"Life."

"I'm not getting you a Snickers bar," Terushima said with a finality that made Kuroo actually wonder if he had kids. He felt like he'd just been denied McDonalds on a road trip.

Yamamoto was tough though, and his words were almost more ominous than the freaks standing across the street. "If you don't, you'll regret it."

"Oh god, I'm so scared. What--what are you gonna do? Kill me?" Terushima laughed, going as far as to slap his knee, and if Kuroo was being honest he would've gladly gone outside himself just to end this whole conversation.

"You'll see, and you'll regret it." And with that, Yamamoto folded his arms, ending the conversation. Kuroo knew this was far from over, but they kinda had more pressing things to deal with.

Eight more hours of this shit. Eight.

"I'm fucking sure," Terushima muttered, finally opening the car door. At least the tension and fear from earlier had mostly dissipated. Now he just looked pissed.

That’s right, channel that anger.

As if sensing it, Tsukishima probably felt it was his duty to help the cause. That or he was just a little shit, and Kuroo adored him either way.

"Hey if you change your mind, get me one too," the blond called, tapping his nail against his gun impatiently.

"I'll take some chips," Suga said.

Fuck it. "Push Pops please."

"I hate all of you," Terushima said, and with that, he slammed the door without caring who might here. Damn, be that way.

Shockingly, the guys across the street seemed to jump at the actual movement. Granted, no one in their right mind would get out of the car wearing nothing but yellow sweatpants and a high school jersey during the Purge but Terushima was a special person.

The wannabe murderers watched, like they all did, as Terushima fumbled with his wallet, dropped it twice, got his card declined, and struggled through his brain for his pin number.

Yeah, they had to see all that. It was upsetting, and if it had been Kuroo, he would've spared the bastard. He was having a night.

But no shots had been fired, so maybe they were just there for intimidation only. Either way, Tsukishima stayed trained on them, gun in hand.

Honestly, with the kind of confidence the blond exuded, Kuroo would feel safe even if they were in a shitty 1998 convertible with three flat tires, as long as Tsukishima was there next to him.

Yamamoto obviously didn't see the beauty of that though.

"Isn't that a little intense?" He said from the row in front of them, twisting just as Tsukishima raised his gun a little higher. The windows weren't so tinted that the men across the street couldn't make out the bodies inside, or Tsukishima's gun. As one stepped forward, they halted immediately at the sight of it before backing off.

"Calm down Rambo," Yamamoto said, but his voice trembled too much to leave an impact.

Tsukishima sighed, rolling his shoulder. "First of all, you've clearly never seen that movie--"

"You--"

"Second, these are rubber bullets." Jostling the gun a bit, Tsukishima's frown grew. "As if I'd let such insignificant people weigh on my conscience."

The unspoken "it's heavy enough as it is" did not go unnoticed by Kuroo, and he wrapped the detail away. There was no judgement on his end, only respect. Nothing he learned about Tsukishima turned him away, if anything, each new fact pulled him in closer.

"Oh, that's cool of you," Yamamoto said, but his brows were still furrowed like more questions were on the tip of his tongue. Kuroo could relate, but at the same time, Tsukishima had proved enough he'd share in his own time.

No one in the car knew that though, so Suga trudged on, curious. "How many times have you done this?"

"Yeah, you sure seem to know a lot," Futakuchi added from where he was tapping his shoe on the dash. Kuroo wondered if they were really listening, or if this conversation was pointless filler until Terushima got back.

Speaking of...

Tsukishima's shoulders tensed as Terushima opened the door, jumping in and locking it immediately after. Kuroo hadn't noticed he'd finished. Guess Tsukishima wouldn't get to answer, but maybe that was best.

Calmly, Kuroo laid his palm flat between Tsukishima shoulder blades, waiting until he felt the muscles relax under his hand. It might've been too forward, too intimate, but it was his instinct and he had to trust those on a night like tonight.

Exhaling, Tsukishima turned back to him, and...oh...please always look at me like that.

"Hello? Hello! Are you guys listening to me?" Terushima's voice came in a hushed whisper from the front. Kuroo had no idea how long they'd been staring at each other but...

"No,” they both responded at once, because honesty was the best policy here.

"I swear, I'm this clos--"

The loud clang across the street made Terushima's threat turn into a high-pitched shriek, but Kuroo hardly tensed. Oh right. Those guys.

One of them must've hit one of their weapons against the nearby fire hydrant. Attention whores.

"God, can't they wait their turn," Kuroo muttered, and naturally, only Tsukishima found it even remotely amusing.

He was right though.

"Maybe we should leave," Suga suggested, and everyone else fiercely agreed, considering all the ground they had yet to cover. Well, almost everyone.

"Did you get my Snickers?" Yamamoto asked, the tremble in his voice gone.

Wow.

"Get out of my car," Terushima deadpanned, not bothering to turn around and grace Yamamoto with any form of expression. At least Kuroo knew Terushima could be cold when he wanted.

But knowing the threat held no bite, Yamamoto just sighed forlornly to himself, crossing his arms and staring out the window. "Fine, but I told you you'd regret it."

"Yeah, can't wait." Terushima chuckled humorlessly, and without giving the warning any more thought, they peeled out of the station, watching the strangers until they were nothing but specks behind them.

They did regret it. Yes, they, as in all.

The silence which had enveloped the car the next twenty minutes would've been normal, standard even given the pressure on all of them. Suga continued to drain his phone battery by playing app after app, and Kuroo fidgeted at the obvious skittishness there, manifesting in the form of Suga cursing under his breath with app switch after app switch. He didn't bother silencing the game's noises, and each one seemed faster and faster than the last. Even still, nothing could distract Suga enough for him to stick to it for longer than five minutes.

No one said anything, if they even heard the high pitched pings at all.

Moving on from that lovely image...

From where Kuroo sat, he could see Terushima's autopilot-like stare out of the windows as he routinely checked all his mirrors, but the pensiveness there told Kuroo the blond's mind was on everything other than driving.

Which yeah...not what he as a passenger wanted to see, but breaking that freakish concentration would probably cause them to swerve into the nearest telephone pole, so nah. Futakuchi steadfastly read the car's manual, maybe because he'd realized neither of them truly knew how to drive this behemoth, and Yamamoto...Yamamoto just stared out the window, searching for something Kuroo didn't feel the need to know about.

So yeah, maybe not a traditionally normal silence, but a fitting one nonetheless.

Oh, but Kuroo sensed it, Kuroo knew something was amiss, but he just couldn't pinpoint it until it was too late. Tsukishima must've though, from where the blond sat beside Kuroo, eyes sharp and stuck on whatever the fuck Yamamoto was trying to find. The blond never missed those mannerisms, and maybe Kuroo should've taken a page from his book, and then he could've saved them all the headache.

The first gas station they passed, with its turned over kiosk and scattered litter, was the spark that lit the kerosene drenched air of their quiet ride.

He heard Tsukishima's sharp inhale as Yamamoto's eyes widened like a predator's, and Kuroo's brain finally got it. Oh, that's what he was waiting for.

"Wow, that station sure looks full still--"

(It didn't.)

"--perfect opportunity to get me some food. A candy perhaps. Chocolate. With caramel. Starting with an S..."

Kuroo could see the moment Terushima visibly tensed, and then the exact moment where his brain flashed the 'stay put or murder' option in front of his eyes.

Suga looked up from whatever pinball shit he was currently losing to stare at his seat buddy with nothing but "I wish we'd left you at home" written on his face. The game noises continued even as Futakuchi threw his manual back into the glove compartment.

Kuroo didn't say shit.

Not yet. But errr, looking back, he probably should've. Because oh, that little interruption was the first of many.

Every gas station they passed, every single one elicited some sort of comment, some sort of demand from Yamamoto which gradually chipped away at Terushima's patience.

"Oh look at that, another empty station, how rare."

"Hey that kiosk isn't as far away from the pumps this time, ey Terushima think you'd walk ten feet instead?"

"Sure wish I had some food right about now."

"Snickers."

And oh, just the one word was worse than any sass imaginable, it was similar to a punch.

Suga tried fiddling with his door to leave, to find it had a child proof lock. Kuroo didn't know which was worse, the discovery or the insult it carried.

Anyways.

It got to the point where every time the neon sign of a station gleamed in the distance, they all winced, dreading the words out of Yamamoto's mouth.

"Why are we in this car?" Kuroo whispered, barely audible, and Tsukishima just shook his head.

"Fuck if I know."

In actuality, it was probably better they act as petty and foolish as usual as opposed to drowning in the sorrow and violence of what they were traveling to do. Terushima needed the distraction before he thought himself into a hole, because for once, treating the matter seriously wasn't always the best option.

That being said, fuck this.

In the distance, another gas station sat, like it was crafted and ordained by the gods themselves. Why. This is worse than waiting for the damn 7 P.M. sirens.

The instinctual need to bolt made Kuroo feel like one of Pavlov's dogs, and he wasn't even getting food for this kind of mental torture.

And that was him, god knew what Terushima was thinking. (Judging from how emotionless his eyes peered into the darkness, not good things).

Kuroo gave him...eh, about five more blocks before he snapped.

Oh. Whoops. Looks like I lost that bet.

"Sni--"

Terushima spun around in his seat, and damn, they all leaned back. "If you fucking say you want a Snickers bar one more time I'm going to turn this car around and--"

"And what? Put another hole in his house?" Yamamoto's finger shot in Tsukishima's direction so fast it could've taken out an eye.

"Um..."

Yeah if Tsukki is speechless, we're all fucked.

"You're making a difficult situation like twenty times harder. You realize that right? Don't you know what holiday it is?"

"How dare--"

"Because it's not fucking Christmas!"

Tsukishima looked to Kuroo with wide eyes, and they were almost impressed. Huh, so Terushima did have a bite to him (when he wasn't a puddle on the floor anyways).

"Should we be trying to stop them?" Kuroo whispered, but before Tsukishima could answer, Suga's hand came between them.

"No...no, no. Let them do this, it's healthy."

"That's a word for it."

Yamamoto powered on, and okay, Terushima hadn't checked the road in at least two minutes. "This would've been a lot easier if I'd gotten my Snickers..."

"Do--do you really wanna keep doing this?"

"I'm just saying, if you had just walked to the kiosk--"

"Because I will stop this car and come open your door, so help me god."

"You could barely get out to get gas, I'd like to see you try it."

"I'm--fuck you! I'll end you!"

"I'm already dying of hunger! Finish the job!"

It went on in much the same fashion for a while, the only changing variable being Kuroo's growing concern for their safety.

Good thing no one else was driving on these roads.

Eventually Terushima did agree to pullover and let Yamamoto get his damn candy bar, but as he munched on the snack, the bickering only accelerated. Whatever, maybe they all had also realized how much better it was to complain about insignificant things than to worry themselves to death.

Bored with the useless arguing, Kuroo sat back, content with returning to his new favorite pastime: watching Tsukishima.

And no, it wasn't creepy. Tsukishima watched him too. So...ha.

To his disappointment, the blond's eyes had drifted though, his soft face twisted into a scowl as he stared at the seat in front of him. All thoughts of nougat and caramel were forgotten in Kuroo's head.

The blond's face had returned to the way it had been after they'd left the first station, stiff and concerned. Tsukishima sat back, detached from the conversation, eyes narrowed as he watched the empty streets pass by. Yamamoto's gas station rant apparently hadn't been enough to shake off whatever brewed in Tsukishima's mind, and Kuroo needed to know.

Tsukishima was the most experienced with the Purge out of all of them. If he had a bad feeling, they couldn't ignore it. It was only then Kuroo noticed the blond's hand hadn't left his gun holster, probably not since they'd left the first station.

Not comforting in the slightest, but that was from his point of view. Who knew what Tsukishima was going through.

Without thinking, Kuroo moved closer to him, placing his own hand over a weapon which he usually hated having to touch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he whispered, leaning in. Much to his satisfaction, Tsukishima met him halfway, foreheads almost touching. "Did you forget something?"

He knew it couldn't have been so simple, but the need for false hope hadn't totally left him in all these years. Tsukishima must've sensed that, because the hardness in his eyes softened, flooded with compassion Kuroo knew he was blessed to see.

As soothing as that was, the blond didn’t baby him with hesitation or fluffy words. "Something's not right," the blond whispered, and finally, Kuroo felt his blood run cold.

He swallowed thickly, even as the pointless conversations from the other car rows drifted into their space. His focus was solely on Tsukishima.

"What do you mean?" Kuroo's own face hardened as his hand gripped the blond’s, his no-nonsense mode turned back on full force. "Did you see something?"

Tsukishima shook his head. "No, but that doesn't mean anything.”

Yeah, he was right, and it made things twice as terrifying.

“Kuroo...why wouldn't those guys at the station attack us? It doesn't make sense. No one is just standing around tonight, there has to be a purpose to it." The question sounded more like Tsukishima’s own way of processing his thoughts, not as if he was actually interested in Kuroo’s response. Not in a harsh or condescending way, but in a way that told Kuroo the blond had already made up his mind and couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

That wasn’t good.

And yet, Kuroo tried.

Shaking his head, he tried to calm him. Tsukishima was overthinking this, he was being too protective, that’s what he told himself. "Intimidation maybe? Tsukki, some people are just douchebags with no balls, they didn't have it in them to--"

"They were too confident Kuroo," Tsukishima cut him off, tone giving no room for Kuroo to argue. It made his breathing stutter as the words penetrated his thoughts. Problem was yeah, Tsukishima was probably overthinking, but Kuroo couldn't imagine him being wrong. "They stood there, vulnerable, but like nothing could hurt them. They didn’t need to attack us, not yet."

"But--"

"That's not normal, and you know it." Tsukishima looked behind him as an afterthought, shoulders tense, and he was met with nothing but empty alleyways. No threats. No indications of foul play. Everything looked alright, even though he knew nothing ever was.

So why did Kuroo feel so on edge now? Why was he so convinced they needed to gun it out of there?

Kuroo didn't want Tsukishima to be right, but he also knew gut feelings shouldn't have been ignored. Not tonight.

And as Suga tried to interject between the rest of the bickering car, oblivious to Tsukishima's warnings, the blond leaned into him, driving his point home. "Intimidation is nothing without an attack. An end result. I…I would know.”

The blond closed his eyes tight as the next words left his mouth, features trembling, and Kuroo already dreaded them. “I've done it before."

And Kuroo froze at the exact moment they crossed the next four way intersection, barely having time to take a breath before their car was hit from the side, jolting them off the road.

#kurotsuki #adri writing #tsukishima kei #kuroo tetsurou

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driftsetadrift · 6 years

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SO I HAVE A COOL IDEA

Like I’ve played with it before but I fell in love with like a weird idea about like, a transformers colony nobody knows about in the universe.

So after thinking about that MegaDrift kid from the other day my brain wandered into an Idea I really like. So the kid (tentatively names ‘gunblade’ mostly cause i suck at names) comes from a colony planet of Transformers. A Scientist group vacated from Cybertron during the decline of new sparks.

They were looking for a way to continue their race without the method they were currently using (ripping them out of the matrix) But of course, most of the ones doing it were fine with their method and like ignored and dismissed them. So obviously they left.

And what the colony did, was take a lot of their research and just left to a new home, hidden away. Most people thought they were dead and never bothered looking. Of course their first priority was establishing a comfortable home for them to live in, and continuing their research that they carried with them, developing very unique tech that the rest of the race doesn’t have. After a while though it was time to go back to a main major issue they had, that all cybertronians had, the slow extinction of their race.

After ages of experimenting with growing blank protoforms and empty sparks without much success, they realized if they had a few genetic samples, not just some recorded coding, they might be able to ‘clone’ into existence a mixed spark. They had a few members seek out battle fields, collect energon samples and book it back. After a while they had quiet a few viable samples and started mixing them, combining coading and physical strands of CNA and eventually, “crafting” a new mech. The first few were crafted as ‘adults’ and their sparks collapsed under the weight. They changed tactics and started growing them in smaller protoforms, that are upgraded periodically as sparks stabilize.

Gunblade is one of these successful Crafted Mechs. Along with others. (I have two other named characters so far but I’ll get back to them.)

They are raised by the scientists and those that came with them. They made sure these young mech were combat ready, and fully understood the ramifications of the actions taken to make them. But otherwise were treated kindly and as a result, despite some of their ‘parentage’ most of the ‘kid’ are pretty decent people. Gunblade and Saline were sent out at some point to bring back their ‘Parents’ after the war so that the colony could ask for forgiveness for steeling and using these mechs CNA and possible ask for help.

Now about the named Crafted mecha ‘Kids’

Gunblade (again tentative name) Megatron and Drift. Sent to find specifically Megatron if he could. Generally a good guy when relaxed. He has a winning smile and oddly enough a eye for beautiful things. Overconfident in any kind of Challenge, he has a no quit, balls to the wall attitude and tends to drive in head first. Very reckless fighter, but skilled. Has a Large difficult to wield *actual* gunblade like weapon... that he’s not great at yet. However the creation process left him with serious rage issues inherited from both Megatron and Drift(Deadlock) that he still has issues dealing with 6 wheeled armored very fast vehicle with mounted blasters is his alt

Saline(Also tentative) Optimus and Ratchet (With a fragment of Wheeljack for stability) Sent to find Optimus. A femme who is a quick study, blazed through medical training and found it boring, despite being amazing at it. She prefers taking apart and reassembling things, especially guns. Despite this she still takes her duties seriously, as long as she is on duty. A bit of a lush, and strongly opinionated. She has no filter, and will tell you exactly what she is thinking. Charismatic, she can get just about anyone to follow her lead.

Flit/Flick - Megatron and Starscream. -Unstable- Developed a strange twitch they hoped he’d grow out of. Instead as he aged it got more intense. Always worse the more tired he gets that eventually it makes him motionsick. He cant keep fuels down. No treatment that the colony has found actually help him, spending half his time sedated. Literally. He spends a week in recharge and a week awake. Bye the end of the week he’s purging his fuels again, but he refuses to be put on permanent stasis until something is fixed. The twitch also grounds him. He can take very short supervised flights that usually don’t last more than half an hour. *Serious crash risk* They are desperately trying to fix the poor mech, who has despite everything, managed to remain hopeful and ultimately *pleasant*. (probably because he was never raised in vos or anywhere near stuck up seekers he never learned to be a stuck up seeker)

Most of the kids pick their own names, they are given numbers as newsparks, and told when they come of age, they can pick their own name. Usually by the time they pick their names they already have nicknames so most of the time they just use those. But not always. Sometimes you get wha they think is a cool name and it just ends up, cheesy.

#crafted mechs #au idea #colony idea #idea

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briarjay · 7 years

Text

RWBY crack headcanon/theory

What if Sienna Khan is Adam Taurus’ step mother?

What follows is a completely crack-pot headcanon/theory about Adam and his family. A sort of backstory for Adam...

(that being said, idk if you should take this headcanon 100% seriously. i thought it was interesting to give light to why Adam is so messed up).

As a child, Adam’s birth mother was killed by humans. After this, his father was looking for a way to change the White Fang to be more aggressive to get revenge or get more leverage. This is how Adam’s father meets Sienna Khan. So we all know Mr. Belladonna (Blake’s dad) is the leader of the White Fang. Mr. Taurus and his son are already apart of the White Fang, but they introduce Sienna. This could also be where Adam first meets Blake, as a young kid or young adolescent. That would give Blake’s bond with Adam more meaning if they were friends as kids and Blake could truly see Adam slowly change.

Sienna and Mr. Taurus mary after becoming well known members of the White Fang. Mr. Taurus and Sienna work together to try and convince Mr. Belladonna that the White Fang needs to step up or nothing will get done. Mr. Belladonna is very weary, but he insists the White Fang should continue peaceful protest.

During a public protest, Mr. Taurus and Sienna use it as a way to get Mr. Belladonna killed so they can take over the White Fang and begin violent protests/riots instead. Their plan backfires. As soon as Adam realizes what was happening, he has to witness his father get killed. The protest was now a riot once this plan was over. Sienna made her move and took control once things backfired. What no one knew, not even Mr. Taurus, was that Sienna had already gone behind everyones back and got some White Fang members on her side, so that if her plan worked, she could take over the White Fang alone. In his last breaths, Mr. Taurus feels betrayed by his wife. Sienna then retakes her true name: Sienna Khan.

Adam thinks the humans killed his father, but didn’t know that Sienna did it. Turns out, Sienna used Mr. Taurus’ feelings of his wife’s murder to get through the White Fang faster. Adam does not know this. He then decides to cling to his step-mother and begins learning from her how to be violent and that all humans must be purged in order to get the faunus back on the world map.

Years go by and Blake joins Adam in the new White Fang faction because he told her about his dad and that he needed Blake for support. So Blake leaves her father for Adam. But Blake doesn’t realize Sienna’s influence until Adam outright shows his true colors during some robberies and attacks. Blake then asks Adam why he was being so cruel to the innocents. Adam doesn’t give a clear answer because he didn’t want Blake to say anything bad about his only family left, Sienna.

Adam and Blake eventually become a couple, although Adam didn’t openly put a label on it. Adam just relied on Blake for emotional support because he was stressed. But Blake was still uncomfortable seeing Adam hurt people who didn’t provoke. Even when people did provoke Adam, he replied with over the top rage and violence. Blake, deep down, could not handle Adam’s changes, but the more she tried to bring it up, the more angry Adam got. This is when Adam began to abuse Blake emotionally and mentally. Whenever Blake tried to warn Adam or tell him to stop, Adam used his romantic feelings for her against her. “Why are you hurting me, Blake?” Was a common phrase he’d ask her whenever she tried to rise against him and his ways. “Don’t you want to support me? The one you love?” Words like this manipulated Blake into staying quiet and to stay by his side even though she was clearly against what he was doing.

Although Adam never physically hurt Blake, his words caused her enough pain. Adam would belittle her the more she spoke up. But after insulting her and she’d comply, he would praise her compliance with sweet words, telling her “I only have you, Blake.”

Since Sienna still liked using people, she gave Adam a very high rank and he was now capable of being a leader of his own section of Sienna’s White Fang.

By now, Adam was completely loyal to Sienna and her ways. He was completely convinced that Sienna was doing the right things. Still, Blake tried again to tell him that maybe Sienna was going over board, but like always, Adam shut her down each time, only to be sweet to her when she stood down.

By the time of the Blake Trailer, Blake was already stressed enough that she knew she had to get away. She had seen Adam, her childhood friend, her lover, turn into a monster. She realized he was using his tragedies to do wrong instead of rise from his sorrows. She knew Adam was using his losses as excuses to act out with rage. By then, she had already tried so hard to make him see a different side...her side...But he never once wanted to hear it. This is why Blake used the train mission to finally leave Adam. Part of her wished he would have gone after her. Part of her wished Adam would have snapped out of it, realizing he would lose her...But Adam did not. He chose the White Fang over her, someone he claimed was his only support besides Sienna...someone he said was the only one to see a “sweet” side to him...But he still didn’t go after her, further proving to Blake she had lost the Adam she fell in love with all those years ago as a young White Fang member.

After Blake left, Adam didn’t let anyone go out and look for her. He drowned himself in self pity and only pushed it away to push the White Fang agenda. The White Fang’s mission was more important than Blake...Blake, someone he thought betrayed him, betrayed the entire faunus race. To Adam, Blake was a defector. He may have started out sincerely loving Blake, but it twisted into something ugly. Now Adam is truly a beast: he only cares for himself, his step-mother’s plans, and faunus being the true race. Sienna being his guardian twisted his world view. Sienna was all he had left, so what choice did he have? His mother was killed when he was very young. His father was killed too. And all because of the humans. He clung to his step-mother’s plight because it was just like his own: Make the human race pay. Let’s just hope he doesn’t find out Sienna was the one to set up his father’s death to push her own White Fang agenda...

But this is just a crack-pot headcanon and theory...

#rwby #rwby theory #rwby thoughts #adam taurus #adam x blake #blake and adam #adam and blake #adam taurus rwby #adam taurus headcanon #rwby headcanon #rwby theories #white fang #the white fang #sienna khan #rooster teeth #blake belladonna #blake rwby

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Entry 21 - Hope and Hopelessness

February 12, 2019

Dear “Diary,”

Have I mentioned that this entire thing was an ill-advised and not properly thought out endeavor? That it largely only exists because it’s incredibly easy to make things on the internet, and if this has required even an ounce of more effort from me it would have never happened? I mean, you might have just assumed that. It isn’t something I hid that well. And the impetus was that I fell in love with someone. It’s a tale as old as time, so they say: soul falls in love with another being however ill-advised it may be and then starts an online journal so that other souls on the internet can hear the rantings and ravings of someone who has more emotions and words than sense.

In my defense, however, there is a part of me that felt compelled to purge myself of all the dysfunctions of days gone by. I wanted to make an accounting of all my past failings as step one of overcoming them. It made sense in my mind. It meant that I had a better chance of being in her orbit, or at least deserving it.

And I’m well aware how problematic that looks in text and that it probably wouldn’t sound much better if I said it aloud. Some things just resist words. And really, I can’t explain what it’s like to be around her. But she makes me think, somehow, that I’m not worthless or forsaken by whatever deity created me. Like every disappointment or pain I ever suffered was worth it. Because it led me to her.

Last Friday, she told me I didn’t need to order gluten-free meals for her anymore. And I thought it was her way of letting me down gently. That—while I had never been all that open or honest about my feelings—I had left enough bread crumbs that she might have put the pieces together.

She told me in her usual fashion: coming up to my desk with a smile on my face. But looking back, it seemed forced. Somehow. Even typing that, I need to take deep breathes and steady myself.

Look, I’m not good at talking to her. She’s beautiful. IN THE CONTEXT OF THIS BLOG I CALL HER THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD AND THAT IS NOT WITHOUT REASON. So these gifts, these meals, were the only consistent way I had to woo her. It was my way of confession my feelings to her without actually changing the fabric of our reality to something I couldn’t handle. It meant seeing her happiness and excitement. It meant being in love without the consequence.

She stood in front of me, smile of questionable merit plastered across her face. “I just want to let you know,” she said. “That I think I’m going to start bringing my own lunch.”

That was the moment my heart broke, though—to be fair to her—she had more to say. It was about her health, she said. It wasn’t great or quite the contrary, which had been the case for some time, but she was going to take it seriously now. And where did that leave me? With my heart crumbling to dust and four more hours left in my workday. Lunch was, like, thirty minutes later. So I just went into the bathroom and fought back tears.

I love her. I have for a while, and it felt like she was taking that away.

Cue the shame. Knowing that for reasons I’ve never discussed on this blog my chances with her were unlikely, I had always told myself—or promised a stand-in for her—that I would respect her answer no matter what. Or, as I phrased it, my main priority was her happiness and nothing else. If she couldn’t be happy with me, then she shouldn’t be with me.

But there was I, facing that very real rejection and my world fell apart all the same.

I want her to be free. Maybe other partners she’s had or her family didn’t feel that way, but I wanted to be better than that. Except I wasn’t. As if I needed another reason to hate myself.

Somehow, and likely partially because of the secretive nature of my emotional breakdown, my supervisor didn’t see me leave for lunch, so she assumed I didn’t take it, and I got sent home early. It didn’t matter that I had a bunch of stuff to do. I ran at the chance. I raced home just to lay in my bed and stew in my self-loathing.

I laid in bed and wept for what felt like hours, calling out to the God I thought I knew for His help. I didn’t want to lose her. I didn’t want to even lose the ability to love her from a distance. Because, after all, she had made my life make sense. Just to know her, to finally have a sense of hope and peace after all the things that had gone wrong in my life. And suddenly, it was gone. She was gone. And I felt nothing but heart when I had always sworn I would find peace in her joy, even if that joy was without me.

Did I know her smile was fake? I didn’t believe her claims, which is a problem in and of itself. I thought it was me. I had I had somehow overplayed my hand despite how little I was actually playing or that I was being punished for some grave sin in my life. Sure, there are many of them. But I didn’t think any of it was worth a lifetime of misery, of never knowing what it was like to just hold her, heating up the body that natural ran cold with mine that naturally ran so hot.

So what happened? A few days prior we had started talking about desserts and I mentioned a gluten-free brownie recipe I used to make for Ada all the time. Current crush doesn’t know all the details about Ada, just the important ones: that Ada is a ghost from my past who couldn’t eat gluten and triggers a certain anger in me by the mere mention of her name. It used to be “by name and allergy,” but she was helping me through that. Anyway, during that conversation, she asked me to send her the recipe. I had promised to do it, but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

And that moment was as good of a chance as any. It meant a clean break. Kind of. So I emailed it to her, completely with a few of my extra margin notes.

The next day she emailed me a thank you, voicing her hopes that in four to six months she’ll be able to make it. My broken heart quickly reassembled itself just to stop. Maybe I’m being naive, but that detail made everything feel real. Like it wasn’t about me but genuinely about her health.

I saw her yesterday, and she does look a bit more frail than I remember. My word, I hate myself. I don’t deserve her. In almost losing the ability to love her from afar, I just proved how little I deserve the glow of her soul.

For you all that are reading this, if I warn you know that things are only going to get worse not better, would you find it in you to stick around or ever think I could be redeemed?

I hope she’s well. I hope we can both be well, but even as I type this—as I confess to that moment of selfishness—I can’t help but think about what it would feel like to hold her as we lay in bed with the snow falling outside.

She’s not mine. I know that. But I’ve given her the responsibility of anchoring my soul. How dare I?

Digitally yours,

Alex

Support the blog.

Find my whole story on shareddiaries.online/red

#romance #love story #love #heartbreak #diary entry #online journal #shared diary #journal #creative writing #original work #writing #writblr #blog

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computacionalblog · 6 years

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Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race

Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race http://www.nature-business.com/nature-far-right-candidate-jair-bolsonaro-widens-lead-in-brazils-presidential-race/

Nature

Image

Jair Bolsonaro, a far-right presidential candidate in Brazil, outside his congressional office last year. His poll numbers have increased after he was stabbed while campaigning in September.CreditCreditLalo de Almeida for The New York Times

RIO DE JANEIRO — In the last days of Brazil’s splintered and divisive presidential race, most of the 13 candidates stumped across the country, sparring in debates and broadcasting attack ads in a last-ditch bid for votes.

But Jair Bolsonaro, the populist, far-right candidate leading the pack, spent much of the final stretch in a hospital bed, convalescing from a near-fatal stabbing, occasionally posting selfies and shaky videos in which he looked feeble and groggy. His near-disappearance from the political stage only increased his lead: polls suggest Mr. Bolsonaro will trounce opponents in the election on Sunday.

His success has defied the laws of political gravity. Until recently, Mr. Bolsonaro was a provocateur on the fringes of power who accomplished little as a seven-term lawmaker, but made headlines by calling for a military dictatorship and verbally attacking women, gays and people of color — in a country that is mostly nonwhite.

Until early August, he did not even have a running mate because traditional parties and politicians found him toxic.

But much like President Trump and populist leaders around the world, Mr. Bolsonaro has tapped into a deep well of resentment at the political establishment. He channeled Brazilians’ anger over staggering levels of corruption and crime, presenting himself as the only candidate tough enough to solve them.

“Brazilians want a hero,” said Daniel Machado, a professor of political marketing, referring to Mr. Bolsonaro’s vow to take radical measures to fix Brazil.

Millions of voters see his inflammatory positions — he has called women ignorant, told a female lawmaker she was too ugly to rape and questioned why women should earn the same salary as men — as straight talk from a man who is not afraid to say, and do, what is needed.

Image

Women demonstrating against Mr. Bolsonaro in Rio de Janiero. The sign says, “I am a woman and I will only vote in who respects me.”CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

Mr. Bolsonaro has promised to confront the violence that killed a record 62,517 people in 2016 by making guns easier to obtain and by giving the police greater authority to kill. One of the candidate’s sons recently posted a photo simulating the torture of an opponent. Mr. Bolsonaro’s running mate, a retired general, has said a military intervention may be the only way to purge the country of its corrupt political system.

“We need to break that system together,” Mr. Bolsonaro, 63, told followers earlier this week during one of his daily live videos on Facebook.

A year ago, most power brokers in Brazil regarded Mr. Bolsonaro’s presidential bid as fanciful, deeming him too incendiary to take the helm of the world’s fourth largest democracy. Veteran political strategists and analysts thought his appeal would ebb as the campaign season officially kicked off in August.

After all, Mr. Bolsonaro is also the most reviled contender in the field, with a 45 percent disapproval rate. But as Election Day approaches, centrist candidates with larger war chests and robust networks of support are seeing their political base drift toward Mr. Bolsonaro.

His popularity only grew after he was stabbed while being carried by supporters during a political rally in September. The assailant told police officers at the scene that he was carrying out “an order from God,” which led investigators to question his mental health. But the attack played into Mr. Bolsonaro’s message about the need to get tough on crime, analysts said.

And now that he is the established front-runner, powerful political players — including Edir Macedo, an evangelical pastor and television magnate, the powerful agribusiness coalition in Congress and market-minded elites — have pledged their support.

Detractors say they see authoritarian tendencies in Mr. Bolsonaro, a former Army captain who has vowed to appoint generals to several prominent posts and has spoken with admiration of the military dictatorship that governed Brazil from 1964 to 1985.

“If we are to take seriously the things that Bolsonaro has said in the campaign, in my opinion Brazil’s democracy is in grave peril,” said Lilia Schwarcz, a prominent Brazilian author and historian who teaches at the University of São Paulo.

Image

Bolsonaro supporters at a rally on the Copacabana beach that was scheduled to coincide with an anti-Bolsonaro demonstration in downtown Rio de Janiero.CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

But many of his backers argue that he represents the only way to defeat the most powerful and corrupt presence on the Brazilian political scene in recent years — the leftist Workers’ Party, which governed from 2003 to 2016.

When the presidential race got underway, former President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, a charismatic former metal worker and founding member of the Workers’ Party, was the front-runner by a wide margin. Many Brazilians, particularly the poor and the working class in this deeply unequal country, identify with Mr. da Silva personally and long for the prosperity they experienced during his tenure. He stepped down in 2011 with record-high approval ratings.

Since then, the party’s standing has slipped. Mr. da Silva’s successor, Dilma Rousseff, oversaw the deepest recession in Brazil’s history. She was impeached in 2016 for obscuring a budget deficit.

And Mr. da Silva — like many of Brazil’s most prominent politicians — became embroiled in the sprawling Lava Jato, or Carwash, investigation into corruption that took place during his time in office. After he was sentenced to 12 years in prison for corruption and money laundering, the courts ruled that he could not run for office.

So less than a month before Election Day, the Workers’ Party officially nominated Fernando Haddad, a former education minister and mayor of São Paulo, betting that Mr. da Silva’s base would transfer its allegiance to him. This was effective enough to push Mr. Haddad — a 55-year-old economist, lawyer and history professor with little national name recognition — into second place in the polls.

The matchup between Mr. Bolsonaro and Mr. Haddad has crystallized a bitter societal divide in Brazil that has widened in recent years amid the economic woes and public disgust at bribery schemes that tainted much of the political and business elite.

While foes see a Bolsonaro presidency as potentially catastrophic for the country’s young democracy, his supporters warn that returning the Workers’ Party to power would put Brazil on the type of ruinous path that has engulfed neighboring Venezuela.

“I lived through the era of the dictatorship and not even then did I witness so much hate, so much division, so much aggression,” said Clara Strauss, 79, during a recent demonstration against Mr. Bolsonaro. “It’s not characteristic of Brazilians.”

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Protesters gathering for a “Women United Against Bolsonaro” march last month in Rio de Janeiro.CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

Roughly 77 percent of Brazilians regard their government as widely corrupt, according to a Gallup poll released in September. The poll, which surveyed 1000 people and has a margin of error of 3.6 percent, found that Brazilians are deeply skeptical of the integrity of electoral system, with only 14 percent saying they believe elections are honest.

Brazilians are distrustful of more than just politicians. Like Mr. Trump, Mr. Bolsonaro has sowed skepticism and at times outright hostility toward the press. He has dismissed critical stories — including investigations into his real estate holdings and a messy divorce — as “fake news.” That approach has resonated with many Brazilians who see large news organizations as beholden to the elite.

Karine Neder, 45, an interior designer from Belo Horizonte, the capital of Minas Gerais state, said she started leaning toward Mr. Bolsonaro as media coverage of him became increasingly negative in recent months. She became a fervent admirer as Mr. Bolsonaro vowed to take drastic measures to restore security, like tougher prison sentences.

“We live in a country where you can’t watch the national news at night without being afraid of going to work the next day,” she said after attending a rally for the candidate in Rio de Janeiro.

While rivals enjoyed considerably more free airtime on television — which is allocated according to a political party’s size — and spent heavily on polished ads, Mr. Bolsonaro proved very adept at using Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube to reach voters.

“He had the time and this new, unfettered space to occupy the collective imagination,” Mr. Machado, the professor of political marketing, said.

Bolsonaro fans created hundreds of group chats on the messaging app WhatsApp, which has become a prodigious channel to spread misinformation during elections in Latin America.

Mr. Bolsonaro is considered a conservative for his hard-line approach to security, his staunch opposition to abortion rights and his disdain for the type of affirmative action initiatives the Workers’ Party created to chip away at Brazil’s steep inequality.

Image

People waiting for the start of a march in Copacabana in support of Mr. Bolsonaro in Rio de Janiero.CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

But how he would manage the economy — the world’s eighth largest — remains unclear.

Mr. Bolsonaro and his surrogates have offered few detailed policy prescriptions and have backed contradictory positions on central issues, such as whether large state enterprises should be privatized.

The policy blueprint on his campaign website is heavy on exclamation marks and short on details. “Our strategy will be to adopt the same actions that work in countries that are booming, with jobs, low inflation, wages for workers and opportunity for all,” his policy document proclaims.

Mr. Bolsonaro has reacted with exasperation when interviewers have pressed him for details on how he would handle the economy, which is only now emerging from the recession.

“I’m an artillery captain,” he barked during a recent televised interview on the Globo News network. “Why would I talk about the economy?”

Many experts see him as ill equipped to tackle complex challenges that will ultimately need to be addressed, including pension and tax reform.

“The military, when they took power in ‘64, and established a dictatorship, had a plan,” said Heloísa Starling, a historian at the Federal University of Minas Gerais. “We may have disagreed with it, but they had a plan. He doesn’t have a plan for the country.”

But that has not fazed investors. They appear to have faith that Paulo Guedes, a University of Chicago-educated economist whom Mr. Bolsonaro has said he would appoint as finance minister, would push market-friendly reforms and rein in the social spending that mushroomed under the Workers’ Party. As Mr. Bolsonaro has surged in the polls, markets have rallied, with stocks and the real currency rebounding.

As a Bolsonaro victory has appeared increasingly likely, ardent opponents have rallied online and in the streets under the motto #EleNão, or Not Him. But the demonstrations have not dented his support, which has left many of those who ardently oppose him feeling despondent.

“We used to think that rights that have been conquered were rights that had been consolidated,” said Ms. Schwarcz, the historian. “I’ve concluded that we were being foolish. We must continue fighting for them.”

A version of this article appears in print on

, on Page

of the New York edition

with the headline:

Far-Right Candidate in Brazil Widens Lead in Race for President

. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

Read More | https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/05/world/americas/brazil-presidential-race-bolsonaro.html |

Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race, in 2018-10-07 10:43:09

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Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race

Nature

Image

Until early August, he did not even have a running mate because traditional parties and politicians found him toxic.

“Brazilians want a hero,” said Daniel Machado, a professor of political marketing, referring to Mr. Bolsonaro’s vow to take radical measures to fix Brazil.

Image

Women demonstrating against Mr. Bolsonaro in Rio de Janiero. The sign says, “I am a woman and I will only vote in who respects me.”CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

“We need to break that system together,” Mr. Bolsonaro, 63, told followers earlier this week during one of his daily live videos on Facebook.

Image

Protesters gathering for a “Women United Against Bolsonaro” march last month in Rio de Janeiro.CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

“We live in a country where you can’t watch the national news at night without being afraid of going to work the next day,” she said after attending a rally for the candidate in Rio de Janeiro.

“He had the time and this new, unfettered space to occupy the collective imagination,” Mr. Machado, the professor of political marketing, said.

Bolsonaro fans created hundreds of group chats on the messaging app WhatsApp, which has become a prodigious channel to spread misinformation during elections in Latin America.

Image

People waiting for the start of a march in Copacabana in support of Mr. Bolsonaro in Rio de Janiero.CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

But how he would manage the economy — the world’s eighth largest — remains unclear.

Mr. Bolsonaro has reacted with exasperation when interviewers have pressed him for details on how he would handle the economy, which is only now emerging from the recession.

“I’m an artillery captain,” he barked during a recent televised interview on the Globo News network. “Why would I talk about the economy?”

Many experts see him as ill equipped to tackle complex challenges that will ultimately need to be addressed, including pension and tax reform.

A version of this article appears in print on

, on Page

of the New York edition

with the headline:

Far-Right Candidate in Brazil Widens Lead in Race for President

. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

Read More | https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/05/world/americas/brazil-presidential-race-bolsonaro.html |

Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race, in 2018-10-07 10:43:09

#Nature of Business in the Current Market

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internetbasic9 · 6 years

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Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race

Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race Nature Far-Right Candidate Jair Bolsonaro Widens Lead in Brazil’s Presidential Race https://ift.tt/2zVUgQZ

Nature

Image

Until early August, he did not even have a running mate because traditional parties and politicians found him toxic.

“Brazilians want a hero,” said Daniel Machado, a professor of political marketing, referring to Mr. Bolsonaro’s vow to take radical measures to fix Brazil.

Image

Women demonstrating against Mr. Bolsonaro in Rio de Janiero. The sign says, “I am a woman and I will only vote in who respects me.”CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

“We need to break that system together,” Mr. Bolsonaro, 63, told followers earlier this week during one of his daily live videos on Facebook.

Image

Protesters gathering for a “Women United Against Bolsonaro” march last month in Rio de Janeiro.CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

“We live in a country where you can’t watch the national news at night without being afraid of going to work the next day,” she said after attending a rally for the candidate in Rio de Janeiro.

“He had the time and this new, unfettered space to occupy the collective imagination,” Mr. Machado, the professor of political marketing, said.

Bolsonaro fans created hundreds of group chats on the messaging app WhatsApp, which has become a prodigious channel to spread misinformation during elections in Latin America.

Image

People waiting for the start of a march in Copacabana in support of Mr. Bolsonaro in Rio de Janiero.CreditMaria Magdalena Arrellaga for The New York Times

But how he would manage the economy — the world’s eighth largest — remains unclear.

Mr. Bolsonaro has reacted with exasperation when interviewers have pressed him for details on how he would handle the economy, which is only now emerging from the recession.

“I’m an artillery captain,” he barked during a recent televised interview on the Globo News network. “Why would I talk about the economy?”

Many experts see him as ill equipped to tackle complex challenges that will ultimately need to be addressed, including pension and tax reform.

A version of this article appears in print on

, on Page

of the New York edition

with the headline:

Far-Right Candidate in Brazil Widens Lead in Race for President

. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe