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osaemu · 5 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

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fullhalalalchemist · 1 year

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🚨🚨🚨URGENT PLEASE READ AND REBLOG

dec 13, 2022

we literally have just a few days to act. the senate is debating about putting KOSA, the Kids Online Safety Act, into the omnibus spending bill. if it is added, it WILL pass. despite the title and content of the bill seeming to be about protecting kids, we know everytime someone claims they are "saving the children" they have more sinister goals

which is why Senator Blumenthal is working with one of the biggest transphobes in the senate, Marsha Blackburn, to force this bill through, and claiming they are listening to LGBT voices when they are blatantly ignoring us.

essentially this bill gives every state attorney generals the power to remove anything they deem 'harmful' to kids online. you can see how a state like Texas or Florida would run with that, yes? it also forces you to upload your government ID online to access the internet. the bill will create a 'commission' led by handpicked members of the govt to oversee what is and isn't allowed online. it will lead to mass censorship of anything related to race or LGBT content. in a post-Roe world too? say goodbye to any abortion/sex-related info.

they are doing a shit ton of PR for this, including claiming they are listening to LGBT voices. i mean just look.

two weeks ago, 90+ human rights, LGBT, and tech orgs signed onto an open letter telling Senators NOT to pass this bill. in response, over 230 orgs led by the American Psychological Association signed a letter urging senators to. it's really fucking bad. like i can't sleep because of this. i didn't expect this to happen. we really really need people to speak up.

if this bill goes through it will literally kill off the internet as we know it

sign the open letter and petitions against KOSA here

the best way to fight against this bill is to call these specific senators (if you have dem senators, call them too)

nancy pelosi (202) 225-4965 roger wicker (202) 224-6253 chuck schumer (202) 224-6542 maria cantwell (202) 224-3441

call script below:

For Wicker only:

I'm calling because I'm asking the Senator to vote no on KOSA S.3663 from being added to the omnibus and being put through the Senate. The re-released text of the bill is still not adequate enough, and it's being rushed. This bill does not belong in an omnibus anyway. As a Gen Z, I also want to protect kids. I've been there. But this language is not ready yet. It should not move forward at all.

Hello Senator __:

My name is _, and I strongly urge you to oppose the dangerously misguided KOSA bill from being added to the omnibus spending bill. Bills like this should not be included in spending bills. Over 90 human rights and LGBT organizations have spoken out against this bill.

KOSA gives state attorney generals full power to sue any website if they see it has anything that is “inappropriate for children”'. For the past year, Republicans claimed everything LGBT is “grooming” children and we ended up with a shooting in Colorado and bomb threats sent to hospitals, NO senator should support a bill with vague phrasing like this. Before that, they successful removed books on race due to "CRT". This gives them a pass to do this to the entire internet. KOSA will only lead to more harm towards minorities and LGBT youth across the nation by censoring everything online.

The Heritage Foundation said they will use KOSA to target LGBT kids, specifically trans kids. In a post-Roe world, they will even use KOSA to censor resources on abortion. Anything they dislike will be targeted.

A bill this huge and this impactful should not be added to any spending bill. Even if it was a small bill, it has nothing to do with the omnibus spending bill and shouldn't be added at ALL. It needs more time being discussed. There should be hearings on it as well

We all care about kids mental health. We all want to hold Big Tech accountable, but this is NOT it. This will give Big Tech more power while taking away resources from the most vulnerable children. It is not the solution.

Please, do NOT support this bill. Do the right thing, and VOTE NO on KOSA.

#kosa #stop kosa #net neutrality #uspol #earn it act

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months

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Pluralistic is four

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and then SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Four years ago, I started pluralistic.net, my post-Boing Boing, solo blog project: an ad-free, tracker-free site that anyone can republish, commercially or noncommercially. It's been a wild four years, featuring over 1,150 editions, many consisting of multiple articles:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/

As a project, Pluralistic has been a roaring success. I've published multiple, significant "breakout" articles that popularized obscure, important, highly technical ideas, most notably "adversarial interoperability":

http://pluralistic.net/tag/adversarial-interoperability

"End-to-end" as a remedy for multiple internet ripoffs, including as a superior alternative to link-taxes as a means of saving the news industry from Big Tech predation:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/e2e/

and, of course, "enshittification":

https://pluralistic.net/tag/enshittification/

These are emblematic of the sorts of ideas that I've spent the past 20+ years trying to popularize in tech-policy debates dominated by technologically illiterate policy ideas ("abolish Section 230!") and politically illiterate technical ideas (so many to choose from, but let's just say "cryptocurrency"). They require that the reader come along for a lot of cross-disciplinary analysis that often gets deep into the weeds. These are some of the hardest ideas to convey, but nuanced proposals and critiques that work on both political and technical axes are the best hope we have of successfully weathering the polycrisis.

Blogging has always been a part of this project. For nearly 20 years, I posted nearly every day on Boing Boing – 53,906 posts in all! – taking note of everything that seemed important. Keeping a "writer's notebook" in public imposes an unbeatable rigor, since you can't slack off and leave notes so brief and cryptic that they neither lodge in your subconscious nor form a record clear enough to refer to in future. By contrast, keeping public notes produces both a subconscious, supersaturated solution of fragmentary ideas that rattle around, periodically cohering into nucleii that crystallize into full-blown ideas for stories, novels, essays, speeches and nonfiction books. What's more, those ripened ideas are supported by a searchable database of everything I've thought about the subject, often annotated by readers and other writers who've commented on the posts. I call this "The Memex Method":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Pluralistic marks a new phase in my deployment of the Memex Method. With 50K+ notes in a database, I've gradually turned Pluralistic into a forum for far more synthetic, longer-form work that pulls on threads from decades of research into nothing in particular and everything that seemed important.

Pluralistic is also an experiment in retaining control over my destiny – but not my work. Rather than hitching my ability to reach an audience through a platform that can be enshittified at the whim of a mercurial, infantile billionaire or their venal, callous shareholders, Pluralistic is published web-first, on a site I control, and then syndicated to every platform that matters to me. It's a process called POSSE (Post Own Site, Syndicate Everywhere):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/13/two-decades/#hfbd

I want to spread the ideas I fight for, so I post them everywhere, and license them Creative Commons Attribution-Only, encouraging others to repost them. Lots of small sites do this, but so do large ones. Notably, Wired picked up my first breakout piece on enshittification and republished it under the CC terms:

https://www.wired.com/story/tiktok-platforms-cory-doctorow/

This was a really interesting process. On the one hand, I didn't get paid for this feature, which did really well for Wired. On the other hand, nearly 30 years of writing for Wired makes me doubtful that I could have gotten this piece out in the form it emerged, without substantially toning down (or, if you prefer, neutering) the rhetoric that made that piece more persuasive. A commissioning editor from one of the largest newspapers in the world got in touch with me after it came out and said they wished they'd published it – but also that they knew they couldn't possibly have done so. By publishing the story first on my blog, proving its audience, and establishing its canonical form, I was able to get it amplified by a service with a much bigger platform than me, without having to compromise on the form.

That republication gave me the much-maligned "exposure" – but it also carried the message to places it wouldn't have reached on its own. I don't write – have never written – solely as an income source. As both an artist and an activist, connecting with audiences has always been co-equal in my mind with earning my living. That's why I don't do a lot of film-writing: it pays well, but most of it never sees the light of day. It's also why I stopped writing for ad agencies: it paid well, but it didn't matter to me or my audience. To mangle Dr Johnson: "No man but a blockhead ever wrote solely for money."

The open nature of this blog, with its many open syndication channels, creates multidirectional pathways for evaluating and refining my attempts at making my ideas understood and my art land. My posts often circle back to points I made earlier, incorporating useful feedback from readers and colleagues, sure, but also anticipating and rebutting those areas where critics have convinced others in various forums. Vanity searching is unjustly maligned: I learn a ton about how to make by work better by lurking in Reddit comments, Hacker News, Twitter, Slashdot, Metafilter and other forums. I also take a sneaky pleasure in knowing that the persistent trolls who reliably pop up to grind their weird axes about me (sometimes referencing blog posts I made decades ago) have taught me how to neutralize them in advance, and it's delightful to see them try their same old lines, only to have other commentators point out that my latest piece makes it absolutely undeniable how wrong they are. Living well is the best revenge, indeed.

Four years. I've been writing Pluralistic for four years. During that time, I've published eight books – and beyond any doubt, Pluralistic helped me get those books into readers' hands. But far more importantly, during that time, I've written nine books – and contracted for a tenth – as the Memex Method paid off again and again.

I don't know how long I'll do Pluralistic for, but I don't foresee stopping any time soon. What's more, no matter what happens to Pluralistic, I can't ever see giving up on the Memex Method, keeping notes in public and making them work for me.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#synthesis

#pluralistic #blogging #anniversaries #memex method

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wildlife4life · 2 months

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Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by super amazing @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @glorious-spoon @wikiangela @daffi-990 @tizniz @devirnis @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @spotsandsocks and @diazsdimples. Thank you all so much!

Alright, so I know haven't been as active since dropping the first chapter of NFL Buck. I've just been sort of down because that same day, the Super Bowl Champs had their parade and rally, and just after it ended there was a mass shooting. My younger sister was there with some friends and they got away unharmed, but when she didn't answer my message for a long 30 minutes, I truly thought the worst. I've just been so sad and angry for Kansas City, for the US really and I just couldn't get into the spirit of writing. I'm not getting into the politics of it all today and my sister is coming for a visit soon, so I'm feeling marginally better. KC Strong.

First chapter of NFL Buck has been dropped, but everything else I've posted for this fic can be found here. Here is a snippet from the Eddie Begin's arc of NFL Buck.

Hurricane Harvey was relentless for almost four days, bullying southern Texas with unforgiving wind and an exurbanite amount of rain. Houston fire department and so many others worked day and night to help those who had not evacuated. It was absolute chaos, and it blew through Eddie’s entire life. The storms had wreaked havoc on the cell towers, which meant service was spotty to none and radios became the main source of communication for rescuers. By some miracle, though, the internet connection at the firehouse held strong. It was slow and glitched out here and there, reminding Eddie too much of his time in Afghanistan. He watched his infant son grow up through a screen, with his very upset wife barely holding on and his parents hovering nearby, souring the video calls even further. Christopher was no longer a whimpering baby in his mother’s lap but looking at his saddened son on a glitching iPad screen with a tense Maddie sitting beside him, was too familiar. Add in the argument he had with Buck just before, and the threat of danger just outside the firehouse, Eddie was back to being a scared 19-year-old in war riddled country. “Dad, grandma said we’re not going to visit Buck anymore. That he’s too busy. And Maddie tried to call him, but he didn’t answer and…” The eight-year old’s voice trails off, his lips trembling. Eddie bites his inner cheek hard. This was on him. He gave into his mother’s worries and demands about traveling through Texas during the hurricane. Helena was too stubborn and being his mother, she knew every damn button to push, and Eddie was tired of fighting. So, he reluctantly agreed to cancel the visit and his mother grinned a little too sharply before stating, “I’m sure Maddie will enjoy having her brother to herself.” Another ploy to take Christopher and Eddie fucking fell for it. Then his mother took it a step further by graciously telling Buck and Maddie herself, that Christopher would no longer be joining them in Dallas and to enjoy their time together for as long as they need it. Eddie knew his mother didn’t approve of his relationship with Buck, more so than his previous one with Shannon. The only reason she kept her mouth shut was the potential back lash of upsetting Christopher. But she already succeeded in having a hand in driving away Shannon and she probably believed she could do the same with Evan.

With this fic, there are a lot of canon events with twists. The usual timeline does not exists. But I hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @bekkachaos @theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @buck-coded @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley @nmcggg

#seven sentence sunday #tag game #my wip #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #nfl #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #secret relationship #hurricane harvey #eddie begins au #prayers for kc #kc strong

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creekfiend · 7 months

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Hey, do you have family in Israel? Do you know whether they are alright?

sure, I do. in my experience most American Jews have family in Israel. When my family left their village in what is now Belarus, half of those leaving came to the US and half went to Palestine. (and those who remained were killed and that village does not exist anymore) I am not in close contact with the Israeli side but I expect I would have heard something if any of them had been hurt. Josh has much closer Israeli family as his brother Yoav and nieces/nephews all live there but they are also fine to my knowledge.

I appreciate the check in, but I will be perfectly honest with you that while it hurts my heart immensely that so many Israeli civilians have been killed, right now I am primarily concerned about the millions of people in Gaza without electricity or running water who have been ordered to evacuate or get exploded but who have nowhere to go. I am very, VERY concerned about the statements being made by the garbage fascists in control of the Israeli government right now openly stating their genocidal intentions on a scale that we haven't previously seen.

we are all triggered and traumatized as hell about everything, and by we I mean Jews, and I think it's understandable for us to feel that way. but I also am struggling a lot with the degree to which many of my fellow American Jews are making this ABOUT our big feelings of fear and anxiety. I understand that anticipating things becoming More Dangerous is something all Jews have had to do constantly forever. I understand that "position of relative privilege" is something that's extremely conditional for Jews and something that can be taken away at the drop of a hat. but... I don't know. I've been trying to think of anything coherent or helpful in any way to say for the past several days and coming up short. it's a nightmare. But it would be disingenuous to deny that it's a nightmare for me in ways that are removed pretty significantly from the ways in which it is a nightmare for other people.

my family is fine. I understand and empathize with the sentiments of "but what if my family becomes NOT fine?" especially when this is the largest mass killing of Jewish civilians since... well. and I am also enraged and terrified by the comfort with which many leftist gentiles seem to be practically celebrating those deaths. but I'm really preoccupied by the fact that millions of people and their families in Gaza are Not Fine in a huge and terrible way right now as we speak. this is not to say that it is a contest, but if I am doing triage, it is very clear to me whose leg is more broken right now. While acknowledging, again, that we are in a scary place globally regarding antisemitism.

Angry Jew on fb has been posting a lot of stuff that really speaks to how I am feeling right now. devastated by the horrible ways some of my people have been killed, and devastated also that inexcusable violence is being done, essentially, in my name. I hate to talk about this publicly because I also fucking wish American gentiles would kind of shut up about it a lot of the time, to be honest. and I hate feeling like I am giving anyone ammunition in their weird ideological internet fights about having The More Correct Opinion in the hypothetical trolley problem-ass situation that so many of them act like this is. the refusal to learn about any specifics of the situation in favor of just deciding it must be exactly like some other unrelated geopolitical issue that they feel they have a better handle on, and then just... overwriting the reality of the situation so that it matches up with what they are comfortable imagining in their heads. I have had to unfollow and block a lot of people lately.

I mostly talk to my safe Jewish and Muslim friends about this. and select few safe non-muslim gentiles.

Right now I am grieving for many reasons. Since you asked me about my personal connection I will tell you the main things I remember learning and feeling about this growing up. I've never been to Israel. Not close enough to my family there to visit, although my dad did, & never comfortable with programs like Birthright. I remember in the 90s my dad, who was an administrator at the school of Public Health at the local university, was helping put together programs that would bring Israeli and Palestinian universities and public health groups together to work on universal public health issues like helping ppl stop smoking, vaccination, etc. it was going really well at the time. he was going over there a few times a year to coordinate with the people running the programs there. he was really optimistic about it, & several other similar programs. this was back when Yasser Arafat and Yitzak Rabin/Shimon Peres were having a lot of talks that were seemingly productive and hopeful. like obviously it was hardly a golden age but it seemed like maybe Israel was moving away from violence. and then 9/11 happened and everything exploded and all the little programs simply disappeared and my dad never went back to work with anyone. and then fucjing... Netanyahu. and it seems like since then everything only gets worse and worse and further and further from anything other than horrible violence, and that devastates me

In high school I took a Mideast Civ class and one of my fellow students was a kid whose parents had been expelled from Palestine during the war and fled to America. what I remember being struck by when he talked about this was how his family's story was so similar to my family's story and a deep sense of shame and anger that people who had undergone what my family had could then make his family undergo the same thing. That's still a pretty big part of how I feel. I don't accept that that kid's experience was necessary to keep me or my family safe.

I'm just a guy. I try my best to learn as much as I can and listen to a large variety of people connected to this so I can have a more holistic view of things. I'm not making this post rebloggable for obvious reasons but since it's here on my blog, for anyone reading who is also feeling despair, here's some organizations that are good to follow & support if you are able (non-exhaustive obviously)

synagoguesrising.org Synagogues Rising is a coalition of leftist synagogues in the US who advocate for Palestinian liberation and who are currently begging the US government to work to deescalate military violence and provide humanitarian aid to people in Gaza

refuser.org Refusers Solidarity Network is a group advocating for Israelis who refuse to serve in the military as conscientious objectors

map.org.uk Medical Aid for Palestinians living under occupation & as refugees

Genuinely, thanks for asking about my family. if you also have family in the area, I hope they are also alright.

I want everyone to be alright. I know this is a lot of big baby feelings and no particular political ideologies or solutions and that's because I'm just one fucking Jew and I'm not an activist or a revolutionary and I kind of feel a bit like other online people could stand to admit more often that they're also just some guy and also not activists or revolutionaries. I sure have beliefs and I sure feel strongly about them, but man, right now I just want to express grief & anger & worry about how awful this government is and how many people they're going to kill and how much I wish it was not happening

my family is Ok.

eta: I'm reading this back and realizing that as a response to this ask it makes it sound like I'm saying that inquiring about the well-being of someone's Israeli relatives is like, inherently devaluing the well-being of other ppl and I very much am not saying that and do not believe that. I'm just enormously emotionally dysregulated and this got me kind of stream of consciousness about all of the things I have been chasing around in my brain about this.

#jewish #long post #israel palestine tag

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doodlemancy · 2 months

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uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhh

so here's the deal re: this fucking horseshit. god i hate this.

i, personally, have mostly given up on trying to dodge inclusion in AI datasets. the stuff i make generally isn't what they're looking for anyway and there's no real way to 100% avoid being scraped short of becoming entirely invisible online, which would um, lead to me having no money and dying. that's part of the cruelty of all this, but also, in a way, it's the same risk artists online have always taken; if you want people to see your work, you have to post it knowing that some of those people are fucking lowlife piece of shit scumbags who will try to resell it on redbubble or something for a quick buck. AI is just a new and exhausting way for garbagey people to stink worse. i am not in any way excusing that behavior or trying to imply people should not be mad about it or that we shouldn't condemn this move and fight back. "if you don't want your work stolen, don't put it online" is the kind of shitty Internet Tough Guy talk i've always hated since my dA days. it's as useless and heartless as telling people that if they don't want their bikes stolen, they shouldn't leave them at the bike rack. i'm saying that i, personally, will not let a bunch of soulless thieving shitheads drive me offline. i belong here. they belong in a wifi-proof dumpster.

nightshade and glaze eat my artwork alive. they make it look terrible. when you have to sell things on the basis that they look nice, it's a big problem when protective measures make them look like dogshit. my work is not a good candidate for these processes. even if that weren't the case, i don't have the stamina, especially right now while my chronic pain is flaring for the third month in a row and my adhd meds are scarce, to go back and shade/glaze everything, and it wouldn't work on reblogs anyway. given the way midjourney and its equally stinky siblings have already scraped years and terabytes' worth of image data from popular websites, it doesn't seem worth my time. if you think it is worth yours i am not going to like, yell at you. i am just one person. but i want to be clear about the kind of situations some of us are being forced into.

i think some of the doomsaying about AI and what it will do to us has been overblown-- they need you, for marketing purposes, to believe that someday their shitty robot will be as good at "drawing" and as practical to work with as a human-- but the consequences of "AI" (which is not even actually AI) are already real and visible and obvious to anyone paying attention. i unfortunately am not infinitely wise and powerful and therefore do not have an ideal all-encompassing solution to this deeply stupid problem that the Most Unlikeable Manbabies On Earth have imposed on us after NFTs fizzled out.

what i do have is a very large repository of nice anime and game screenshots i've taken, knowledge of many archives of nice public domain images, a computer that can run nightshade overnight or while i'm off doing other things, and, most importantly, near-infinite capacity for pettiness. i do kinda feel like the jury is still out on how well nightshade/glaze will work in the long run, but in the meantime, i suppose it wouldn't cost me a lot to... perhaps... every time i get Mad About AI™, channel that anger into dumping some thoroughly-but-not-spammily-tagged, high-quality, inconspicuous poison onto this godforsaken hellsite via a secret side blog. i could make a batch of poison ahead of time, keep it on my phone, use my Toilet Scrolling Time or my Public Transit Time to post and tag up an image here and there. it could be a fun challenge to try to make some pretty robot poison that some humans will still enjoy.

the other thing we need to poison at this point, IMO, is the word "AI" itself, by being loudly and mercilessly critical of any company that dabbles in it, the same way we all clowned on any company that pushed their luck with NFT/crypto shit a couple of years ago. we need to have every corporation terrified that association with AI will tank their sales and hurt their brand. AI must = number go down and lots of people screaming at you. companies will fuck around. we must provide the finding-out. we shouldn't have to. but we can!

so make sure to let tumblr know you hate this. maybe you could include this interesting link (tw child abuse) about how Stable Diffusion was trained on some extremely serious crime. or these screenshots of Midjourney devs just sort of admitting what their whole thing is, which i got here but which have kinda been spread all over since January.

spite and anger can be forms of hope. that's all i have to say, or at least all i'm willing to type with my left hand tonight.

#long post #big long sigh

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cheesus-doodles · 2 months

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Hello, it's been a while since I visited your blog, as the end of school and the beginning of adulthood have taken up more of my time recently. Nevertheless, I'm glad to revisit your blog and see new posts. It brings back memories of the old days when I was in the tokyo revengers fandom, spending weekends reading the manga and some fanfics on tumblr.

I don't think this question has been asked before, but I've always been curious about the personality of the author. I know there are descriptions in your posts, but I'd love to hear more about it in your own words. It seems more intriguing to me.

I'm not sure when you'll read this or what time it is, but I hope you continue to be as creative as you've been. Your posts motivated me to return to writing and develop my talent in that. ♡︎

hello again anon! welcome back to this little corner of the internet, I'm glad to you thought of here enough to return ^^ ahh the transition from school to workplace is definitely not easy, remember to be kind to yourself! super nice ask, yes I most definitely will keep writing as and when I have time, and I'm super happy to hear that my rants into the abyss have motivated you :) take care of yourself anon!

Also if I'm interpreting this correctly, I think you're asking about the personality of the reader? Do let me know if I'm wrong though, I'll be more than happy to answer any questions you have!

Masterlist

A Friend in Me: Chapters 1 | 2‎ | 3

‎

I have done the personality of Boss from the Red Dragonflies AU here previously, so I'll talk more about the nameless reader from A Friend In Me/Going Home here!

I always imagined reader to be this rather socially awkward and emotionally sensitive individual, yet very friendly and easygoing person. Its not like you don't want to have friends - its not easy being the outcast in school, having to be the one looking in all the time and knowing that you weren't going to be picked for teams during physical education class, having to eat lunch alone. Not because the rest of your classmates and schoolmates hate you per se(before the arrival of your Toman boys and their interferrence, at least), but rather because barely anyone knows you exist.

You have never been very good at putting yourself out there despite wanting to know people and make friends, and when you do, you're always nervous and anxious. And this would lead to you believing that even the mere act of reaching out to others makes you a burden. You can't quite trust others on their word even when they were happy to make friends with you, continuing to think that they're putting on an act out of sympathy for you, and at the end of the day, you're simply troubling them.

Of course your confidence increases by leaps and bounds after meeting your Toman boys and seeing that you are actually capable of being sociable and putting yourself out there, and even after the same delinquents you called friends stripped you of your newfound confidence around your schoolmates, this doesn't deter you from attempting to find your own way in the world, much to the boys' chagrin.

In general, you would also be a pretty carefree and easygoing for the most part, happy to just be included in whatever that is going on. The reader I have in my mind when writing is always up for anything that her boys suggest, and despite your rather quiet nature, your sense of adventure hasn't been lost. Be it motorcycle rides in the middle of the night, or something more gut-sinking like watching the boys spar, you never really said no. And though you said you were okay with it, the Toman founders would try never to pick a fight in front of you - god only knows how you would react and they wouldn't want to have to deal with that.

Most definitely an easily manipulated person, you rely heavily on the emotions of the people around you to try and tell if you are being a good friend and if they liked you enough to keep you around. Which makes you susceptible to being influenced by the merest suggestion of unhappiness or anger at your actions, falling over yourself to correct yourself in a bid to stop that friend from leaving you. Even when you do eventually start to stand up for yourself - e.g. when you have someone to defend - enough pressure usually can still get you to fold like a wet paper towel, and it would be interesting to find out when you will finally draw the line.

It is pretty unfortunate that being the pushover you are is part of the reason why the yandere Toman boys like you so much (because you do whatever they want without complaint and pamper them in return for the bare minimum), so it will be a balancing game to try and prevent temper flaring; these are delinquents that you are dealing with at the end of the day, and even if they would hesitate to turn their fists directly at you, the darling of their world, everyone else around you is free real estate the moment you start misbehaving in their eyes. And boy, it'll be a matter of whether you give in first, or someone dies first.

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demodraws0606 · 4 months

Text

All i'll say is

Believing that Dr*am is a groomer does not mean you have any moral high ground to judge people who don't think he is.

This situation is complex and both side have pretty damning evidence on the other. You can't blame either side for believing what they believe.

You are ALLOWED to hate Dream, you are allowed to not feel comfortable around people who are fans of him. You are allowed to think he is a groomer without being attacked for it.

You are NOT allowed to tell people to end their own life or that they're a "pedo defender". Holding moral judgement about people you dont even fucking know personally in a situation like this is not helping anyone.

I'm not gonna say what I personally believe because no one's fucking buiseness. All I want to say is that the trend of judging people's morality in situation like this is just purely a way to make yourself feel better.

We live in the real world, sometimes situations aren't black and white.

Idc make assumptions about this if you want, internet genuinely has been fucking vile recently and my hope in people's critical thinking skills have sunk to an all time low.

This isn't even about Dream I'm gonna be honest although the issue is especially worse with him. You could replace him with a piece of fucking cheese and I would say the same thing.

It's not just Twitter, the internet from the beginning has instilled into people such a chronic fear of being a bad person, it's rotted people's brains.

Leading to shit like policing queer identities and supporting people's horrid behavior for the sake of feeling superior, of feeling like you're the one in the right.

I'm so sick of people constantly fighting eachother, it's disheartening to see the internet has just become like this now. I've had panic attacks thinking of how people would perceive me for opinions I DIDNT EVEN SHARE on the internet back in the day. For fucking enjoying content people saw as problematic.

People act like they're doing this to help people or a cause but let's be honest what good are you fucking doing beefing with random people on social media ? What are you acheiving ? You can't tell me people don't find personal satisfaction in feeling morally superior to someone.

Btw if you take anything in this post out of context or look into my other posts to try and assume shit about me, you are what this post is about. Fuck off and don't ever fucking interact with me.

Anyways, probably gonna take a break from social media outside of discord and youtube (idk if they count as social media but idc). Might change dependent on if I get hate for this post or not and if I something to brainrot about.

This rant was ruminating in my brain for a long time I'd argue even before the Green Bitch was in the picture but it definitely became the tipping point for me to realise that the majority of people on the Internet are just Awful.

#dream situation #rant #vent #i'm just Done #like literally people have been nothign but horrible lately #i dont fucking care about dream he could get off the internet forever and I Would Not Care #I care about the horrible way people have treated this situation #go ahead and try to assume i think dream isn't a groomer #i don't consider randos on the internet my friend #you don't have any right to judge my fucking character when you dont even fucking know me #that's all

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

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And In The Middle of My Chaos There Was You

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: You're a Naval Aviator at Top Gun, and you finally feel like your career is progressing. Sure, you have to fight to be heard and avoid being disregarded because you're a woman, but that's par for the course at this point in time. If only the men in your cohort weren't so pissy at being beaten by a girl. What will you do when you find yourself facing a situation you've only heard of in the news? Is your knight in shining armor, actually that? Or does he want to take advantage of you at your lowest?

Disclaimers: Female!Reader, All the warning above!

Warnings: There are quite a few warnings on this one! Near sexual assault, misogyny, Male chauvinist pigs, Hurt/Comfort, Jake is a dick at first, Sex, Angst, Crying

As a reminder, everyone's experiences are different. Everyone's experiences are valid. This is a fictional story.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CONSUME ON THE INTERNET. PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF IT IS TRIGGERING TO YOU IN ANY WAY.

Word Count: 4872

A/N: I'm insatiable, and I swear I need to be stopped. I have three WIPs shaking a spear at the writer avatar of myself in my brain right now, and I'm still churning out one-shots like this one. Top Gun Brain-Rot: 1, Star: -100

I was a little hesitant to post it because it's different from other things I've written, and I hope I've handled this sensitive topic wisely. This was an incredibly hard fic to write because of the topic.

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

The US Navy's Naval Fighter Weapons School, colloquially known as Top Gun, is the most selective program you can be selected for as a Naval Aviator, and you've finally made it. You've worked hard to get to this spot in your career. You've put in countless hours of training, learned from every single one of your mistakes, and perfected the flying style that gained you the callsign Hummingbird. Point being, you're good, you're damned good, and you're going to prove it. You've got an itch under your skin, goading you to fight for that trophy. You need it. You've been fighting the shackles of male dominance since you decided to become a fighter pilot, and this is what will prove to them you're where you belong.

The only problem is there are nineteen or so other pilots in your class all with the same urge bubbling under their skin. The worst of the lot is Jake Seresin, callsign Hangman. He'd been gentlemanly at first, opening doors for you, handing you your pen when you dropped it during lectures, not flirty, but nice. Then you'd gone up against him on the first hop and smoked him. You'd been the only person in your cohort to beat the Hangman. After that, when your name and callsign had been at the top of the rankings, the gentleman schtick had been shredded and discarded faster than a tissue in a windstorm.

He’s now the ringleader of a group of five or six men in your cohort who seem hell bent on bringing you down. It’s obvious by now to them that they can’t do it while you’re flying. So they try to be intimidating, peacocking and talking shit and looming over you like their physical presence alone would be enough to knock you from the rankings. You’ve heard it all.

“It’s because she’s pretty, y’know, boys?” His Texan drawl had spit those words out in the hallway in front of the locker rooms two weeks ago. “She must be fucking Admiral Simpson. There is no way she’d be at Top Gun otherwise, not how she flies.”

It was so fucking easy for them to say that. It’s the only thought in your mind as you keep your face blank and muscle your way through the group of them on your way to and from the locker room every day. They don’t have a glass ceiling they need to shatter to be heard. They can just open their dumb mouths and the world falls at their feet. You and Phoenix, in the meanwhile, the only two women in your cohort, have to go above and beyond. It’s your hard work and nothing else that got you to Top Gun. So why does it feel like a hollow victory whenever you out-perform on a hop and have to hear the vitriol pouring out of Hangman’s mouth? You’d thought there was at least one man you’d never have to worry about. Boy were you wrong.

Today was the day of hop 25. You hadn’t smoked all the boys in this one, and you knew it was because it exploited all of your weaknesses in the air. Hangman hadn’t given up the opportunity to hold his success over you either. He’d been in your space all day, and all you wanted to do was go for a run, take a hot bath and order greasy chinese takeout so you could stuff your face. Your failure feels like a blanket coating your skin as you tie your sneakers and pop your headphones into your ears.

It’s only a few minutes before you’re jogging down the beach. It’s a beautiful day and with each slap of your sneakered feet against the pavement you can feel your disappointment and anger melt away. Soon the only thing in your head is the rush of endorphins and your steady breathing. You’re about four miles away from your quarters on base when you finally stop running. Your legs feel like jelly as you drop to sit on the sun-warmed sand and chug some water. The beach has to be your favorite part of living in San Diego, at least temporarily. Being able to just sit in the hot sand and watch the pounding waves always takes you out of your head in a way that only alcohol and orgasms have before.

You’re startled out of your meditative state when a series of shadows blot out the sunlight in front of you. It’s three men staring at you. Their gazes are predatory, gazes heavy over your exposed legs, shoulders and midriff.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?” The first man’s voice sends shivers down your spine as you scramble to your feet. They’re about six inches away from you, but as you stand, you soon find yourself surrounded. A hand clasps your upper arm as the ringleader crowds into your space. You can smell beer on his breath and see unknown greenery in his teeth as he leers down at you. You can smell the sour scent of his sweat as he looms over you, corpulent and disgusting. All the hair on your body is standing on end as you try and fail to summon all of the confidence that you exhibit when you’re in a fighter jet. The ringleader’s ham hands plant on your waist, and that’s when your fight and flight response kicks in. You shove the other men’s hands off of you, throwing your metal water bottle into one of their faces for good measure. Then you kick the ringleader right in his family jewels. He falls with a satisfying thud and groan of pain and you’re left to try and run away.

Your adrenaline pounds as you jolt across the beach. You’re screaming at the top of your lungs with each step you take. You only get a few steps away before you’re stopped by a vicious yank to your hair. Your eyes water as you try to kick the men away. There’s a man holding your arms behind your back when you’re dragged back to the leader. His jaw is still clenched, face red and dripping sweat as he cradles his balls and tries to catch his breath.

“We’ve got a live one, don’t we gentlemen? Now why don’t we see what she has going on under that itty bitty sports bra. You’re just a little slut, aren’t you? Running down the beach in those tiny clothes?” You’re struggling when that hand rips your sports bra at one of the straps, but before he can put his hands on your skin, he’s being pushed away. His goons drop their grasp of you to go help the ringleader and you collapse to the sand clutching your tattered bra to you and watch your savior fight them off. It’s Jake! He’s already knocked the leader out and your heart is in your throat as you watch his fight with the other men. The struggle has brought other people to the sand and even the police. It’s a relief when the police officers handcuff the men and walk them away.

You’re just staring blankly into the ocean water when you feel soft fabric being handed to you. It’s Jake and he’s looking at you like he’s never seen you before.

“Hey, Hummingbird. Can you wear that for me, sweetheart? It’s getting cold out here. I talked to the police officers for you and gave them your contact info. They want to see us tomorrow.”

His first words send hot droplets of tears welling from your eyes. How can you do this? Be Hummingbird, the woman who can outfly any man on base while being the fragile creature you feel like right now? You note distantly how his face falls as you sob before him. His hands are gentle as he helps you put your arms into the sleeves of the shirt and buttons it until you’re decent.

“I’m going to hug you, sweetheart. Is that ok?” Your nod is barely a bob of your chin when he wraps his arms around you. You’re crushed against his broad chest and as you curl into his skin you can’t help crying harder. He’s safe. Jake’s safe and he’s going to keep you that way. You don’t know where that bone deep surety came from. He hates you and he’s your rival. But you don't care right now.

All you can feel is his bare skin. You can hear the beat of his heart as he positions you on his lap and feel his hands as he wraps them carefully around your waist. The gentle caress makes you sob harder as you nearly scream into his bare chest. You feel scraped raw, like those men had robbed you of everything you are. It’s nearly dark out when your tears finally run out. In the half light on the beach you can barely see the man you’re curled into, but you can feel the steady whooshing of his breath as he holds you as long as you need.

Your voice is soft and hoarse as you pull away, “Thank you, Jake. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. I have sisters. I did what I would’ve wanted any other man to do for them.” You can see his jaw clench in the half-light as he nearly growls the words. “Did they hurt you?”

“The big one, he pulled my hair.” You can’t stop the catch in your throat as you think of what he did to you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me take you home?” He cradles the back of your head gently, long fingers probing the tender parts to ensure you’re not seriously hurt.

“Okay.” You’re still unable to look him in the eye as he slips you off of his lap and helps you stand. His hand is huge as he carefully envelops your hand in his own and walks you to his truck.

“Y’drove here?” Your voice is slurring, exhaustion haunting every movement as the fear and adrenaline fade away.

“Yeah, baby. I was going to grab dinner with a friend at a restaurant a bit up the beach. I always park here and walk up the beach to get there.”

“M’sorry, Jake. I spoiled your plans.” Your voice is quivering again as you wrap your arms around your waist.

“No. You didn’t, baby. Keeping you safe means more than canceled dinner plans.” He pulls the door open and carefully helps you into the cab.

Your heart is pounding. Jake Seresin is being sweet to you. He let you cry in his arms, he saved you from sexual assault, and now he’s making sure you get home safe.

“Your quarters are on base, right?” His voice is gentle as he tries to find your frazzled thoughts.

An irrational jolt of fear pulses through you at the thought, and you can’t keep yourself from letting the words from spilling past your lips. “Yeah, but I don’t want to go there. Please, I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

“That’s understandable sweetheart. I’ve been living in my brother’s apartment off base. Can I take you there?”

“Yes, please.” His jaw is clenched as he drives. You’ve shoved your shoes off and are curled up in the big bucket seat as you watch the light play over his face. It’s silent as he drives the truck and you must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing you know is you’re being carried carefully up a set of stairs.

“Jake?” Your arm is curled around his neck as he carefully carries you.

“You awake, baby?” He sets you carefully down on his front door mat as he unlocks the door and ushers you in. You’re a little curious as to how he lives, because even after a fistfight on the beach, there isn’t a hair out of place on his head. It’s a bachelor’s apartment, but clearly lived in. There’s a throw over the back of the sofa and a couple of dishes in the sink. When you stop your slow examination, you see Jake leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s smirking gently.

“Like what you see, baby?”

“It’s not what I’d expect from you, Seresin.” Your voice is straining to be light as you smile half-heartedly at him.

“Oh yeah?” His voice contains a shade of the normal teasing he usually uses with you. “What would you expect of me?”

Your voice is bitter and harsh as you chuckle mirthlessly, “Not a knight in shining armor, that’s for sure. The worst part is, I don’t even know what to think. You were nice in the beginning. Then overnight you turned into the biggest dick I’ve ever met. Why didn't you let them do whatever they wanted? You hate me anyways. If they did what they wanted to, I'd have probably dropped out and you could've gotten Top Gun.”

You’re not expecting the joy to leave his eyes. He’s serious now. You’re not looking at Jake Seresin anymore. This is Hangman. You can’t help the gasp as he tugs you towards him before he spins the two of you until you’re caged between the island counter and his body. His voice is a barely restrained growl as he looks at you.

“I want to win Top Gun fighting against you the whole way. Darlin', I don't hate you and I never meant a thing I said. I was just trying to get into your head. Not degrade your sense of self. Truthfully, you're the most captivating, intelligent, sweet-hearted, gorgeous woman I've ever met.”

Your heart is in your throat as you glance up at him. Each breath has your chest brushing against his.

“Never question why I saved you. You are the best of the best. This is just a blip in your career. Tomorrow we'll go give your statement to the police and get those asswipes all locked up. Then, you’re going to kick our cohort’s asses, mine included, and accept that trophy. And I’ll be cheering for you every step of the way.” He’s so close to you that you can see the different variations of mossy green swimming in his captivating eyes, and especially how he keeps looking at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Your voice is gentle as you cup his jaw, “make me forget what it feels like to have their hands on my skin.”

The first tender press of his lips to yours has you gasping, wrapping your arms around his neck as you melt into his embrace. His hands are gentle as he lifts you onto one of the barstools, tracing gentle patterns on your ribs as he slides his hands under the shirt he’d given you. You’re panting as he finds the torn fabric of your sports bra. Each gentle press of his fingers has your cunt clenching in need as he chases the phantoms of the unfriendly touches away.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” Your nod is gentle as you unwind your arms from around his neck. You shudder as he slips each button out of its hole and moan appreciatively when he finally pushes the entire garment off of you. You’re left with only the torn sports bra covering your breats and even that’s off shortly. His eyes are hungry as he gazes over the expanse of your skin laid bare for him. Jake drags you into another all-consuming kiss as his hands send heat shooting across your skin. His lips trail hot down your throat, laving across your pulse point before trailing wetly across your breasts. They latch onto one of your nipples, nuzzling, licking and sucking before he places another kiss to your mouth.

“Can I take you to the shower, sweetheart? We’re both covered in sand. Let me make you feel good in the shower.” His voice is a purr against your ear as his hands cup your ass.

“Yes! Please!” Your voice is breathy and high pitched as he picks you up. Faced with his hot skin against yours again, you can’t resist peppering kisses of your own across his shoulders, and collar bone. You feel delirious, swept up in the thrall of his warmth and the scent of his skin, something citrusy and light but woody with a touch of musk. Jake’s arms are like steel cages around you, but you’d like nothing more than to stay in them forever. That feeling of safety courses over your skin with each step.

He sets you on the bathroom counter, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air as he turns the shower on before stepping in between your parted legs. It’s in the bathroom light that you finally get to explore the full expanse of his bare torso. You’ve seen Jake topless before, when you’d been dragged out to compulsory cohort bonding activities on the beach. You’d marveled at the play of light over his torso and the light dusting of soft hair a shade or two darker than on his head, thankful that your sunglasses hid your gaze. But here, when it’s just the two of you, you let your eyes drink their fill. When your eyes drift back to his, there’s an amused glint in his eyes.

“D’you like what you see, sweetheart?” His hands find your ass, calloused fingers dipping below the band of your exercise shorts as he slowly begins to nudge the fabric down. You can feel the heat rising to your face as he exposes your sodden core to his gaze before discarding both the shorts and your panties to the floor at his feet. He wraps his arms around your hips before blowing a stream of air over your sensitive folds. It has your bare skin goosing with pleasure as he presses a kiss against each calf before stepping back so you can hop off the counter. Now you can see the considerable bulge in his exercise shorts. You can’t resist trailing your finger gently over it before stepping into the shower, calling over your shoulder, “I love what I see, Flyboy. Now are you joining me or are you going to stand there and look pretty?”

As you step under the stream of perfectly hot water, you can’t hide your chuckle as you hear Jake struggling to get the shorts off. You can feel all the stress of the day slipping off of your body and into the drain just as the last grains of sand do. Jake’s hands at your waist finish the job. You're tugged against his firm chest and your moan of pleasure as his big hands knead your skin is lost under the patter of water drenching the stall. His cock is hard and thick against your ass as he gently rocks his hips against you.

You turn in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck as you kiss him. Jake returns the kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. You can feel your body clench, muscles drawn tight at the promise of the pleasure his body can wreak on yours as he devours your mouth.

“Jump.” his voice is a sensual growl against your ear, and you’re only too eager to comply. He’s gentle as his big hands cup your ass. He presses you against the cool tiles of the shower and your shuddering moan at the contrasting temperatures is silenced with another all-consuming kiss. Jake buries his head between your breasts for several long moments, and his voice is absolutely wrecked when he speaks again, “You’re so beautiful, my gorgeous fiery, sweet girl. And I nearly lost you today.” His lips are indescribably tender as he presses kisses across your skin. Your fingers are buried in his soft hair as he sucks your nipples into his mouth nibbling and laving his tongue over tender peaks until your core is jerking against his stomach.

“Jake!” Your voice is a strung-out squeal as he pulls away from your breasts and lifts you higher.

“Put your legs on my shoulders and hold onto my hands. I’m going to eat you out until you scream my name. Now’s your chance, pretty bird. If you don’t want this, we can just shower and I can take you to bed.”

Your only response is to push his head to your core. The first swipe of his tongue over your heat has your back arching, core clenching as Jake eats you out with abandon. Your thighs are already quivering with the strain of not squishing his head between them. His nose nudges your clit with each thrust of his tongue into your heat and you’re reaching your orgasm impossibly fast.

“Jake!” You’re screaming his name, babbling about how good he makes you feel when you cum, thighs constricting as tight as a vice around his head before your body finally, blessedly, goes slack. Your knees are wobbly when Jake finally sets you on your feet. You cling to his waist, praying that your legs will cooperate enough to let you at least stand stably. You know you’ve got a dopey grin on your face when you look back at him.

“Y’ok, baby?” His voice is gentle as he wraps his arms around you.

“Yeah, better than. I’m good, Jake. I’m very good.” You’re smirking at him when he turns you until your back is pressed to his chest.

“Y’good enough to let me fuck you until we make you cum again?” As he’s speaking his hand is pressing wickedly between your folds, slowly fingering you. You don’t respond outright, too busy chasing the sensations his talented long fingers wreak on your body. You’ve forgotten what you should be responding to, in fact, when he stops moving his hands in their entirety. It’s when his hands tweak your nipples that your attention snaps back to Jake.

“Jake?” Your voice is gentle, half whining as he cups your breasts. “What happened? Why’d you stop?”

“You didn’t respond, baby. Wanted to make sure you were onboard with what I wanted to do to you.” His mouth presses kisses across your pulse as he waits for your eager consent.

“Jake.” This time, you’re moaning in earnest as you clutch at his hands over your tits. “Please fuck me, my darling, please. Want to cum on your cock.”

His groan sends heat through you as he places your hands on the wall before parting your legs.

“I’m clean, baby. But I don’t have a condom.” His big hand is splayed comfortably around your hip.

“I’m on birth control. Please.” You can feel the puffs of his breath against your damp shoulder as he nudges your clit with his cock before slowly pressing into you. Your pants turn into moans with each thick inch of him pressing into your walls. You’re seeing stars already at the constant assault of his length against your g-spot.

“Please! Please!” You’re babbling as he finally bottoms out in you, “You feel so good, Jake, please! Want to cum for you. Please, Please, Please!”

His hands are soothing against your hips as he caresses the hot skin before drawing his hips back. Jake’s infuriatingly slow, each slow glide and press into you has your toes curling as a jumbled mess of need and want and ache and pleasure washes over you. He doesn’t speed his thrusts until you begin to circle your clit with your own hand. The flutters of your wall around his length make him groan before he tugs you back against his chest.

“Oh, baby.” His voice is reverent as the new angle has your walls clenching even tighter around his length. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

You reach for his face, kissing the corner of his mouth sloppily as he picks up the tempo. You’re soon squished between the cold bathroom tile and Jake’s body as he rails into you with impunity. Your breaths are punched out moans and you can feel your second orgasm approach with an unparalleled intensity as Jake continues to piston his hips. You can hear the slapping of skin against skin even over the pounding water as Jake slides his hand between your legs and massages your clit. Your scream as you orgasm is prolonged and a thin, weak thing as the pleasure robs you of every thought.

You don’t come back to yourself for several moments. Jake’s carefully massaging shampoo into your scalp, fingers gentle against the tender parts. You kiss his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as his hands leave your hair to wrap around you again.

“You back with me, baby?” His voice is filled with such fondness and affection that you could cry.

“Yeah, I’m back, Jake.” Your smile is dopey and fond as he draws you into a kiss. “Did you cum?” Your hands are just as gentle as his as you stand on tiptoes to lather his hair just as carefully as he’d lathered yours.

“Yeah, baby. I came when you did.” He’s started to rub soap across your skin, something fancy that smells like oranges. “God, baby. If I hadn’t been so jealous or selfish, we could’ve been doing this a long time ago. I haven’t come like that in years.”

Your heart swells as you grab the soap from him and run your sudsy hands over his strong thighs and ass, putting in just the right amount of pressure on his back to make him moan before soaping his chest and soft length. He’s looking at you like you’re something special as you tip your head back and let the hot water wash all the bubbles away. While Jake rinses off, you stay cuddled in his arms.

The bathroom is steamy and warm as he drapes a towel under your armpits and pulls a hair dryer out. You melt when he turns the dryer on and uses the combination of warm air and his fingers carding through the bedraggled strands to dry your hair. It’s quiet between you as he leads you to his bedroom and hands you a soft t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to wear.

“Are you hungry, darlin’?” His hair is soft and mussed as he stands in the kitchen wearing just a pair of low-slung sweats.

“I’m starved.” You curl into his chest again as he pulls up a menu on his phone.

“What do you feel about Chinese food?”

You kiss him for that suggestion before pulling away to look at the menu. Jake hooks his chin over your shoulder as you laugh and playfully fight over the best menu choice. It’s light and easy as you sit on his sofa, sipping on wine and eating chinese food. You’re sure you could get used to this.

North Island Naval Base - 2 ½ Weeks Later

“It is without further ado, that we present the Top Gun Trophy to Lieutenant Junior Grade Jacob Seresin, Callsign Hangman.”

Admiral Simpson looks proud as he hands the plaque to Jake and you know Jake’s looking right at you as he smiles like he won the world. Your loss doesn’t bother you, not at all.

After that fateful night, things had been different between the two of you. One night of sex, mind-blowing, and Chinese food, greasy and perfect, hadn’t been the harbinger of change between you. Change had started the next morning when he accompanied you to the police station and waited as you’d given your statement to the police with your JAG representative by your side. It had been a relief to see the police throwing the book at your three attackers and to see their sentencing. You’d attended their trial two days ago and celebrated into the night with Jake as they’d each been sent to prison for assault of a military officer.

The biggest change had been during class. Jake was back to being the nice, perfect gentleman he had been at the beginning of your tour at Top Gun. He no longer heckled you or tried to bring you down using misogynistic remarks. He did still banter with you, but it was light and fun. And every night, he made love to you in his apartment while he called you “his beautiful fiery girl” or his “pretty bird”. He held you when your nightmares kept you awake and made you feel like you were perfect when you felt like anything but.

That’s why losing the Top Gun trophy hadn’t hurt so much. You won Jake at the end of it all. And you weren’t sure if he knew that he’d won you too. You're going to show him the next chance you get. Your entire cohort is grouped around him as you walk towards him to congratulate him. He’s been getting hugged all day, so you know it doesn’t look out of place when you wrap your arms around him and congratulate him. But you can guarantee that none of the others whispered in his ear that he had to eat them out to console them from the loss. That privilege is just for you, and it’s a consolation prize you’re very keen to claim.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #and in the middle of my chaos there was you #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #fluff #smut #top gun imagine #top gun smut #top gun fluff #angst #this handles some pretty serious topics #tw: sa #tw: attempted sa

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stayxlix · 1 year

Text

off the deep end. (01)

~(part 1) the sun and his moon~

pairing: rebel!felix x reader (f)

genre: non-idol au, post-apocalypse/dystopian au. wc: 8.2k

series rating: 18+ **minors do not interact**

chapter warnings: violent mature themes, mentions of murder/execution, death, oppressive government, fighting, gunfire, angst, suggestive content, brief mention of parent death, parental neglect, language, mentions of hunger/starvation, please lmk if i missed any!

a/n: this is my first time posting any of my work, so any thoughts/feedback are very much appreciated and welcome!! i’ve had the idea for this in my head ever since the maxident trailer came out so everyones vibe in this is based on that (with some inspiration for the whole setting/theme from the scars and miroh mvs because i love them both so much). i really want my work to be a kind of escape, and i have big plans for this one :) i hope you enjoy ♡

~series masterlist~

“there's an old story of the sun and the moon. the sun, who loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe. the moon, that sacrificed herself every night so that the sun could rise. maybe we were too much like the sun and the moon. deeply in love but too different to exist side by side.”

It had been a long time since he felt the sun against his skin like this. It was comforting, like an old friend, as the warmth fell against him through a break in the heavy fog above.

"Felix!" Chan came up behind him, breaking the silence. "I've been looking for you man. I think we've got something this time. Something big, but it'll take all of us and it wont be easy."

Felix stayed facing the sun. He closed his eyes and lifted his head toward it, resting his hands on the rough surface of the rooftop beneath him. Tuning out the older boy, just another moment was all he needed. Just a few more breaths, a few more beats of his heart. The wind pushed the hair out of his eyes. His freckles becoming darker with every second. Sometimes, on days underneath the sun like this, he wished he would melt away in it. On darker days he wished for the fog to consume him. He wished and he wondered. Was there anything more to this life? Would there ever be?

Felix breathed in deeply once more, letting it out slowly. His eyes were still closed but he could feel Chan beside him now when he spoke.

"I'll do it."

The world you knew today was very different from the one that you read about in books. You read them over and over again until you memorized the pages. Books filled with stories of nuclear wars and the unforgiving nuclear winter that followed, destroying nearly everyone and everything that had existed before. You read handwritten journals that described buildings so tall they were blanketed by the clouds above. They told tales of clear skies and green forests with creatures like aliens, moving pictures on tiny boxes meant solely for entertainment, and something called the internet that held the answers to any question you could ever imagine. All of that was gone now, kept alive by the images created in your head when you read those books. Sometimes you wondered if any of it had ever existed at all.

After the wars, the remainder of the world was condensed and split into 9 districts. As far as anyone knew, the only thing left outside of the 9 districts was barren land that held nothing but stories, carried by ghosts of the past. The 9 districts had been run by your ancestors for generations, currently under rule of your father. They were shaped in large rings, with District 9 at the center, also known as the "Inner Circle". The Inner Circle was where your father's palace, army, and the most wealthy members of society were located. The other 8 districts surrounded the Inner circle and each other, stretching miles upon miles until District 1. At the edge of District 1 stood a wall rumored to be a thousand feet high. It encompassed all 9 districts and therefore everything that was left of the world. Nobody knew what was beyond the wall and nobody dared to find out.

Ever since you were old enough to understand what it meant, you had hated being the daughter of the most powerful man in the world. The horrible things you had seen your father do kept you awake at night. The people he had executed, suspected of conspiring rebellions against him, lived on in your mind. Some of them barely older than you, some younger. He was all you could remember, your mother having died before you were old enough to know her.

For your entire life your father had told you that he did the things he did because he had to. He was only protecting you and the people he was responsible for, so he said. Another way he "protected" you was by keeping you hidden from the world outside. You grew up without any idea of what lie beyond the walls of the palace in District 9. To everyone outside, your existence was nothing more than just a myth.

As you got older, your father started to teach you things like how to fight, lead, maintain order, and hold a position of power through fear. Most importantly, he taught you that love was weakness, which is probably why he never showed any toward you. In a world like yours there was no time or opportunity for friends and certainly not for love. It wasn't like you were completely inexperienced though..There had been nights spent under the protection of darkness in hidden corners of the palace that involved racing heartbeats and forbidden touches. They were nights shared with guards in training or kitchen hands that you barely knew and none of them ever stayed. You didn't let them, for fear of what your father might do to them if he found out. Love was weakness, so you vowed never to let it get that far.

You did everything that was asked of you because you had no reason not to trust your father. Because you had no reason to question the things he told you about how the world works. Because blood is supposed to be able to trust blood, right? And he was all you had ever known, so you followed him blindly. You let him mold and shape you into a carbon copy of himself, until you couldn't ignore it anymore. A sinking feeling deep within you that what you understood about the way the world works was very wrong.

Lately, something had changed within you. You started to crave the truth. You needed real answers to your questions about the surrounding districts and it became clear that you weren't going to find them inside the palace walls. It was then that you decided you would do whatever it took to get them for yourself.

You knew the walls of the palace like the back of your own hand, including the labyrinth of underground tunnels beneath it. You had played in the tunnels as a child and were later taught to use them in an emergency in case a rebellion against your father were to succeed, not that he would let that happen. He was a busy man and spent the majority of his time locked away in secrecy behind closed doors, in the company of his most trusted military generals or advisors. Although he kept a close eye on you, he couldn't be with you all hours of the day and neither could his guards. With all of the training you had received, you were quite good at hiding from them when you didn't want to be found. When you have to be hidden from the world, you get used to blending in with the shadows. You become good at it.

As a result, over the past few weeks you made it a habit of sneaking out at night through the tunnels, beyond the palace and the Inner Circle. Under the protection of darkness and your hidden identity. In doing so, you were finally able to uncover some answers, although you had a feeling you had just barely begun to scratch the surface of the truth.

From the moment you stepped foot onto the cracked streets of the surrounding districts, it became very clear that the things you had always thought to be normal were a luxury beyond District 9. Despite having been kept hidden for your entire life, you knew that you had been born lucky. You just hadn't realized how lucky.

Wherever you went, light from burning fires flickered through the darkness in between broken walls, keeping people who huddled inside them warm. The guilt reached through you to your bones when you met dirty faces and sunken, tired eyes in the shadows of the night.

You hadn't expected the deep rooted hatred that the people had for your father in the surrounding districts, but you quickly came to understand it. You learned that the majority of the resources produced by the other districts and the little that was farmed from the desolate land was collected and kept for District 9. It was distributed among it's incredibly selfish inhabitants, which also happened to include yourself, although you didn't know it until now. They were considered the most "important" members of society, while those beyond were left to survive off of the bare minimum.

The people blamed your father and the generations of your family before him. They blamed the fortunate society members of District 9, and if they tried to rebel they would be labeled as traitors and publicly executed under the order of your father. They had a right to be angry. You were angry for them. You had no idea that this is how things were and you probably wouldn't have believed it until you saw it for yourself. The colorful picture your father had painted of a loving people who looked to him to protect them, take care of them, and keep them safe turned black in your mind.

The farthest out you could make it on foot in one night was District 7. Much beyond that and you wouldn't be able to get back to the palace in time before daybreak. You were also hesitant to go any further because of the possibility of what, or who, lie waiting in the districts beyond. You heard enough from rumors in passing about dangerous clans and bands of thieves who roamed the more remote districts. They wouldn't hesitate to cut the throat of an innocent for a piece of bread, a pair of shoes, or just because they felt like it.

Of course, Districts 8 and 7 didn't compare to the Inner Circle by any means, but at least some skeleton of a society lingered there. Many of the buildings still stood, although their walls were weathered and broken down. Thick grass wove in between cracks like stitches holding them up. Some buildings housed small "shops" where families would trade or sell anything they could scavenge the material to make, just trying to earn enough coins for scraps of food or a blanket to keep warm. There were "schools" held in large dirt fields where children used sticks to draw in the mud. There was a tavern that you liked to visit in District 7 that was almost always empty, but the beer was…drinkable and the bartender was kind.

There was no running water so it had to be collected on foot. No electricity. No rent to pay because nobody owned homes, they just settled where they could. Trading coins between each other for whatever goods they could get their hands on. The roads were so weathered and broken that it didn’t really matter that there were no cars, aside from the occasional military vehicle that passed through the landscape carrying your fathers guards. Always patrolling, always watching. You had a few close encounters with them on your outings, although you had managed to remain unseen thanks to the shadows cast by the moon.

Many of the people from the outer districts spent their days in fields, growing whatever they could from the desolate land. They were paid sparingly by your fathers guards when they came in military vehicles to collect the produce. Many of them didn't work at all, trying to survive and live off of the land themselves. Some travelled on foot between the districts to scavenge for anything to keep their loved ones alive. But it came with a price, the further out you went the more dangerous and less civilized things became. The less life there was, no matter how many humans you ran into. At the edge of it all lie District 1, mostly made up of prisons that held those lucky enough to be left alive by your father. Although, you had a feeling that if you asked them they wouldn't consider themselves very lucky at all.

Tonight, you made your way out through the tunnels wearing clothes borrowed from your only friend Jisoo, a palace maid that you had grown up with. As soon as you stepped off of the palace grounds, your ears were met with only the sounds of your heavy breathing and your feet as they hit the earth. You were a good runner and welcomed the fresh air as it burned your lungs. You ran miles until you found yourself somewhere in District 7 once again. It was a little further out than you usually went, in an area where you probably shouldn't have been.

You stopped at a quiet candlelit tavern with a hanging sign that displayed scribbled writing promising "fresh" water and beer to those that could spare a few coins. The only other person in the small space aside from the bartender was an older man with a gray beard and tattered clothes, slumped over across from you at the other end of the bar.

You stayed a while before tossing the bartender a handful of extra coins to pay for the man’s drink, and a very generous tip. Before he could inquire further about how a young girl like you had come to possess so many coins, you got up and exited the building through the missing doorway. The moonlight welcomed you and the gentle breeze felt good against your skin, sticky from air that was always humid and thick. It was rare to feel a breeze at all so you dropped your hood, closing your eyes. You put your head up to let it settle against you. The light from the moon shined so bright through the clouds that you could almost feel it on your skin, reaching out to envelop you.

After a moment you continued on, leaving your hood down, it’s not like anyone would recognize you anyway. You turned the corner and found yourself at the entrance of a quiet alley where the gravel crunched beneath your feet. Thoughts ran back and forth through your mind as you desperately tried to come up with any way that you could use your position to help the people outside of the Inner Circle. It seemed impossible. You could try to reason with your father but as soon as you revealed what you knew and how you came to know it, he would probably lock you up forever. After all, there were very few people that knew of your existence and you doubted that anyone except for Jisoo would miss you…

“Shit..” you mumbled to yourself after realizing that you had gotten so lost in thought you hadn't been paying attention to the time as it passed. You were definitely going to have to sprint now to make it back to the palace in time before the sun began to rise and someone noticed your absence. After stretching your already tired legs, you turned to start the long journey back but before you could take another step, a dark figure came running around the corner into the alley at full speed.

When he saw you he stopped in his tracks, sliding on the gravel. Underneath a yellow hanging lantern and the light from the moon you could make out the surprise on his face. He obviously hadn’t expected to cross paths with some girl alone in the middle of the night on the way to wherever he was going so quickly. His entrance was so abrupt and brought so much tension to the air that you froze in place, staring back at him with your mouth open slightly.

The boy was wearing a hood, his face partially hidden in the dim glow of the lantern. Despite that, he seemed to be around your age and even in the shadows his features were undeniably attractive. He had dark hair with long strands that fell loosely into piercing brown eyes. You noticed a black bandana wrapped tightly around one of his arms, however you couldn't bother to take your eyes from his to get a better look at it.

You stood facing each other, both unsure of your next move, when a group of voices echoed from somewhere in the distance. The voices were followed by muffled footsteps drawing near. Shifting uncomfortably, the boy in front of you quickly untied the banana wrapped around his arm and put it into pocket of his black hoodie. The pounding footsteps and harsh voices behind him turned into shouts that grew louder with every second.

With swift movement he turned to look behind him and then back to you. As if something gave him an idea, he began to walk toward you. Your eyes widened further with every step he took, until there was less than an arm's length left between you. You didn't even have time to reach for the knife hidden in your waistband before he took his hood down and grabbed your shoulders. His touch was surprisingly gentle as you let him push you slowly into the wall behind you. Still breathing heavily from the chase and even closer now, his breath fell hot against your lips. Trapping you underneath his gaze, he kept his eyes on yours for a moment as if he was searching for something in them, before lowering his head. Without warning, he crashed his lips onto yours.

Your first instinct was to shove him off of you but the way that his soft lips moved against your own, the way they tasted, had something inside of you craving more.

You had been kissed before but never like this.

The men who had been chasing him finally made their way to the entrance of the alley where they stopped. His back was to them but you could see them well enough through half lidded eyes to spot your family crest on their uniforms. They were your fathers soldiers with large guns held in their arms. You wondered what they could possibly be doing out here in District 7 so late at night, chasing after the boy who currently had his lips pressed tightly to yours. Whatever it was, it didn't look like they were planning to let him live once they caught him.

Before they had time to recognize you, or the boy they had been chasing, you put your fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. He followed your lead and moved his hands to your waist, deepening the kiss and completely blocking their view. Cold rings on his fingers pressed into bare skin where your shirt had lifted up slightly. His tongue ran across your bottom lip and you tightened your fingers in his hair. A deep sound from somewhere within his chest escaped his lips when you pulled on the roots.

The kiss had absolutely consumed you. It was captivating, magnetic. So much so that you had forgotten your surroundings entirely, until you heard movement at the front of the alley. The guards must have decided that you were just two drunk lovers who had stumbled out of the nearby tavern moments before, because after one of them shouted something that you couldn't quite comprehend over the pounding of your heart in your ears, they began to move again. Raising their weapons and storming off, leaving you alone with the boy in the alley.

The kiss lasted a little longer than it needed to before you pulled away, pushing him off of you, taking note of the way his toned muscles tensed underneath your hands. You just hoped it was dark enough that he couldn't see the way your cheeks flushed.

He seemed a bit surprised and you were sure it was because he probably hadn't expected you to kiss him back, especially not the way that you did. After turning to make sure that the soldiers had gone, he looked back to you. Your faces were still only a few inches apart despite you breaking the kiss, and his appeared as though it had been hand carved by some higher power above. It was the first time you had looked at his features well enough to appreciate the freckles that decorated the soft skin underneath his eyes. Eyes that held a sort of intensity that you couldn’t even begin to describe.

There was something in them that pierced all the way through you to your soul. A kind of familiarity almost, that you couldn’t quite discern, but god did the way he was looking at you right now make you certain you would have done anything for him in that moment. No matter the cost. He hesitantly brought his thumb up to run it over your bottom lip, wiping his own saliva and the kiss off with it. You thought briefly that he might lean down to kiss you again and you probably would have let him, although you'd never admit it.

Instead, he spoke.

"Thanks." His voice came out barely above a whisper but it shattered the silence.

It was much deeper than you had expected, sending chills up your spine. You also detected the faintest hint of an accent, leading you to believe that he wasn't from anywhere around here at all. Accents varied the further out you went from the Inner Circle and his was noticeable with just the one word.

He lingered for a moment there with his thumb on your lips before stepping back, pulling his hood up. Without another word or giving you the chance to respond, he turned to go.

His pace picked up into a jog as he made his way around the corner, out of the alley, and back the way he came. You stood there staring into the darkness until the sound of his footsteps faded into the night, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.

Only his taste on your tongue to remember him by, along with a sinking feeling that your world would never be the same.

It had been exactly 2 weeks since you crossed paths with the boy in the alley and it had been exactly 2 weeks that you hadn't stopped thinking about him. The unfamiliar sense of safety that you felt underneath his piercing gaze. His freckles that you took note of only after your faces were just inches apart. His plush lips and the way they felt against your own. His voice. You traced your fingertips along your lips, moving them down to where he had gently gripped your shoulders before leaning down to kiss you. When you closed your eyes you could feel his touch, permanently burned into your skin.

You hadn't gone outside of the palace grounds since that night for fear that you'd see him again. Or maybe you were afraid to admit that you hoped you would. Why had he been running from your fathers guards? They wouldn't have been there unless it was serious as they only became involved in something when it was directly related to your father and his orders.

Did you do the right thing in helping him to hide from them? Right and wrong were so muddled in your head at this point that you weren’t sure if it even mattered anymore. You weren't even sure if you were capable of doing the right thing considering the blood that ran through your veins.

One thing you were sure about is that in that moment something was pulling at you to keep him safe. Something bigger than right and wrong.

Sighing, you got out of bed, the sky was still dark in the morning hour, the palace ground cold under your feet. Today wasn't just any day, it was one you had been dreading. It was the day that your father had planned to throw a grand ball at the palace where he was going to finally reveal you to his most trusted advisors and the rich society members of the Inner Circle. Up until now, the only people who knew of your existence were within the palace walls. The staff, your father's army, guards, your trainers and tutors, all sworn to secrecy. Up until now, you were a ghost in the palace, regardless of your position as his daughter. But that was about to change.

Your father had decided that it was time for you to have a larger part in ruling the 9 districts beside him, and to do so you would need to be officially introduced to the world.

Was he finally going to tell you the truth? That he wasn't the righteous leader that he claimed to be, but a ruthless monster who stole resources and left innocent people to fend for themselves beyond District 9. Would he tell you the price he continuously paid to destroy anyone and anything that threatened his authority?

No, he wouldn't. As long as he lived, he wouldn't.

Even though he wanted you to stand beside him now, you knew that it was just for show. Even after your face was revealed, your influence in how things were run would remain nonexistent.

You had accepted it. You accepted the fact that all you could do for now was play along until you could come up with some way to use your position to help the people outside, but you didn't even know where to start. Sure, becoming leader of the 9 districts some day after your father was gone would allow you to change things, but you didn't have time to wait that long. They couldn't wait that long.

Letting out a frustrated groan you rubbed your temples, feeling a headache already coming on. You just had to focus on tonight and get through the ball despite the fact that the thought of so many eyes on you, permanently associating you with your father and his regime, made your skin crawl.

You stepped into the corridor outside of your bedroom after freshening up and gave a small wave to Jisoo who looked even more stressed than usual as she buzzed by you. Her arms were full of lavish decor to set up for the festivities. As you moved through the palace, staff hustled around you making their way to the grand hall where they were setting out desserts alongside rarities including fresh cuts of meat, cheeses, and drinks with real fruit in them. It made you sick to think that nearly everything being used to set up for tonight had been taken from the surrounding districts. You wished you could give it all back to them. To the starving families. To the old bartender who had been kind to you in District 7. To the boy with the freckled face that you kissed in the alley outside of it.

You wondered what life was like for him. Was he hungry? Did he have somewhere safe to sleep at night? A family to protect? You shook your head as if the action would help you to physically push him out of your thoughts.

But he was persistent.

The day passed quickly and before you knew it you were being poked and prodded into an extravagant red gown with a tight corset that made it difficult to breathe.

"I dont understand why we need to make such a big deal of this..” You complained to Jisoo as she put the finishing touches on your hair after the others had left.

"You know...I bet your father is going to keep an eye out for potential suitors…" she trailed off, giving you a soft smile.

“What do you mean?" you inquired, eyes wide. And Jisoo laughed.

"For marriage! He's going to want to pick someone for you who will be an asset to your family in the future. To help you keep the districts in order after he's gone. I hear there's plenty of matches lined up and just wait until they see you."

She was right, you did feel pretty in the dress despite how incredibly uncomfortable it was. But how could you even pretend to care about any of this right now, let alone marriage to some stranger who, for all you knew, could be even worse than your father. If that was even possible.

"Before tonight my existence was just a rumor..How can any of them want to marry me!?" you asserted.

"When your father is…." she trailed off again clearly trying to come up with the right words to use. "-when your father is who he is, do you think it really matters to them who you are?"

One thing about Jisoo is that she was never afraid to tell you what she thought. Unlike the rest of the staff in the palace, who walked on eggshells around you because of their fear of your father.

You fell silent after that, contemplating her words. After putting the finishing touches on your hair she gave you a tight hug and left to allow you a moment to yourself before the ball. You wondered what your life would be like if you were married and your goal of finding some way to help the people outside felt even further away.

Somehow the boy from the alley made his way back into your mind. A life with him certainly wouldn't involve tight corsets and suffocating lies. But then again, you didn't even know him. He was just a fleeting moment. A glimpse of something beyond the life you had always known, and while your lingering thoughts of him were a welcome escape from reality, they would fade with time.

He had probably already forgotten about you.

Later that evening you stepped out atop the grand staircase overlooking the great hall. Although the space had always been one of your favorites, it was exceptionally breathtaking tonight. The hall was like a breezeway, connecting two main parts of the castle. It was made entirely of glass, including a glass ceiling that you could see the night sky through. The warm golden lighting and massive chandelier added to the beauty of the space underneath. You noted the higher than usual number of armed guards on duty as they lined the hall, dressed in black with large guns rested in their arms.

At the start of the event your father had joined you at the top of the staircase above the growing crowd below. He was as stoic as ever in a sleek black suit and it was the first time you had seen him in a few days. He was always so busy that it wasn’t rare for a week or two to go by without speaking to him at all. Lately he seemed even more distracted.

Shortly after he joined you he began to speak to the crowd below, thanking them for their presence tonight at this monumental occasion. Voice commanding, expression devoid of all genuine emotion. Although tonight may have looked like a celebration on the outside, it was all business to him, all everything ever was. You looked out over the citizens of District 9 gathered below in their flashy outfits and eccentric hairstyles. Some of them wearing the only jewels and diamonds left in the world. You cringed when they clapped and cheered for you, the future leader of the 9 districts.

It was going to be a long night.

After the speech ended (and the exaggerated applause died down) you reluctantly made your way down the stairs. You maintained composure just as your father had instructed and he tightened his grip on your shoulder if you spoke too much to the eager guests. You were to come off as refined and elegant but authoritative and commanding, like him. It was of the utmost importance that you portrayed that tonight as it was the first time that you were meeting with anyone from the public and you needed to earn their respect, not that you actually cared what they thought of you. You would never be allowed to show the side of yourself to them that you showed to Jisoo. You rolled your eyes to her across the room behind your fathers back throughout the night, sharing silent laughter, as she made sure that the guests glasses stayed full of wine. Jisoo was your only friend and the only one who really knew who you were, but even she didn't know everything.

As the hours dragged on you were paraded around and introduced to all of the most important faces and names in District 9. You thought your wrist might actually fall off if you had to grab onto one more sweaty hand of a boy your age far too eager to touch you and personally introduce himself to your father.

Just as you decided that you physically couldn't take it any more and were going to need to find a moment to slip away before you actually lost your mind, the lights flickered.

They flashed on and off for a moment before going out completely.

The hall fell dark for no more than 10 seconds, illuminated only by the moon and the candles dispersed throughout. Haunting silence flooded the space.

When the lights returned whispers began to spread through the hall like wildfire. Your fathers guards shifted uncomfortably, hands falling to their weapons. You noticed a few of them make it a point to pick you out of the crowd, locking their eyes on you. Your father was across the hall where he had been engrossed in a conversation with a short man sporting a leopard print coat that touched the floor. You watched him scowl and excuse himself from the man, moving with urgency toward a small group of guards nearest to him, not bothering to look for you.

Before you had a chance to process what happened next, a deafening sound spread across the hall like thunder. The vibration was so strong that it shook the floor beneath your feet, shattering a pane of glass from the ceiling above. It was as if time had stopped with all eyes trained on the falling glass and then, like turning on a switch, the pieces shattered against ground and chaos ensued.

The next thing you registered was what sounded like muffled gunfire, followed by the glass walls of the hall shattering to pieces around you. Smoke began to fill the room from cans that were thrown in from the darkness outside, through broken spaces in the glass.

Shortly after the smoke began to collect, six..seven..maybe eight figures dressed in all black with bandanas covering the lower halves of their faces appeared. They rushed in through the broken glass walls, as if they had materialized from the night itself. The intruders moved swiftly, yelling to each other although their voices were barely audible over the screaming civilians.

You fixed your eyes on the bandanas they wore. Why did they look so familiar? Who were they? Where had they come from and how had they even gotten onto the palace grounds, let alone inside it??

Thoughts spiraled inside your head, too stunned by the scene before you to let you move. You caught sight of large guns held by two of the eight boys, one with a stocky muscular build and one that appeared to be leading the group. It was even more surprising when you observed a group of your father's guards run up and make contact with the boys, tossing a couple of them their own guns. You blinked rapidly but it did nothing to erase the scene that played out in front of you. The palace was easily the most heavily guarded place in all 9 Districts, but it had never occurred to you that any of the guards would dare double-cross your father.

Maybe not everyone was as afraid of him as you had thought.

Had they been the ones to help the boys gain access tonight?

The smoke flowed in waves around you, growing heavier as more cans were dropped into the hall from backpacks that a couple of the younger looking boys wore. Civilians screamed and cowered under tables in fear while you stood with your eyes trained on one of the boys in black whose figure looked a little too familiar.

You had to give it to them, the smoke was a smart cover on their part. Visibility in the hall had become so low that your father's men were holding back from shooting at the boys, for fear of striking a civilian.

You kept your eyes trained on the eight as they rushed toward the grand staircase, turning over tables and shooting occasionally at expensive looking objects and the glass around you with their borrowed weapons. They weren't aiming at people and didn't seem to be trying to hurt anyone. It was almost as if they just wanted to spread fear, feeding the chaos. Fights broke out between your fathers guards and it was incredibly confusing because you couldn't be sure which side any of them were on at this point.

Between the smoke, fighting between guards, occasional gunfire, and scrambling civilians, the boys succeeded in making their way to the top of the staircase. When they did, you witnessed two of them break from the group, the apparent leader and his well-built counterpart from earlier. As if it had been carefully scripted, the two quickly left and broke into a run heading deeper into the palace.

The guards below remained focused on each other, your father nowhere to be seen. The six boys left at the top of the staircase turned and pulled out objects from their backpacks. The objects they withdrew looked like tubes that they opened to slide out large banners. Each banner was dropped over the staircase landing, and together they displayed a message. The words painted in red.

TURN EVERYTHING UPSIDE DOWN

THERE IS NO PLACE FOR YOU HERE ANYMORE

THIS IS OUR DISTRICT NOW

Your eyes widened and you turned to look for your father, a guard, anyone, to see some kind of reaction but at this point the air was so thick that you could barely make out the writing on banners that had been dropped. The only reason you could see them through the smoke was because you were so close to the bottom of the stairs. It was obvious that the banners were meant to remain to be seen when the smoke cleared. It was a message to your father and the citizens of District 9, a message to you.

Just as quickly as they had dropped the banners, the remaining boys were joined by the other two, returning from wherever they had gone within the palace. They shared a quick word between themselves and with a command from their apparent leader, they began to urgently make their way back down the staircase.

Civilians continued to scramble and claw their way around you in panic. Emerging from the smoke, a large burly man covered in purple silk robes ran into you while trying to make his own escape. He crashed forcefully into your shoulder without looking back, causing you to stumble on your dress. Unable to regain your balance, you fell into the person running by you on the other side. They caught you before you hit the ground, letting out a deep grunt when you collided. When you looked up to meet their eyes your mouth dropped.

The air was ripped from your lungs when you made eye contact with the boy who had kissed you in the alley two weeks ago. He was dressed in all black like the others, with a bandana covering the lower half of his face and a heavy weapon strapped to his back. Even with half of his face hidden, you would have recognized the look in his eyes anywhere. He quite literally hadn't left your mind since that night, and here you were in his arms now.

He was one of the eight.

Still in disbelief, you moved quickly out of his hold, standing up to get a better look at him. He didn't seem to recognize you at first but when he pulled down the bandana to take a breath you saw his expression change from confusion to realization.

You held his eye contact wearing the same dumbfounded expression on your face and you knew. You knew. There was no doubt in your mind that it was him. His freckles had been revealed when he pulled down the bandana, the same one he had been wearing around his arm that night you first met. The dark brown hair that fell down into his eyes was pulled up at the back. When his gaze fell to your family crest on the necklace you wore, realization that he hadn't just kissed some random girl that night but the daughter of the most powerful man in all 9 districts spread over his face. You swear you saw the faintest hint of a smirk make its way across his lips when he looked up at you.

His eyes held a different sort of intensity compared to when you first met. There was something dangerous within them now and although you had been confident that he wouldn't hurt you that night in the alley, you weren't so sure that was the case anymore.

For a moment he looked as if he was going to say something to you. Hip lips parted slightly but before he could speak, one of your fathers guards came up behind you and grabbed your arm tightly, pulling you with such force that you jerked back. The guard pushed your head down and began to drag you with him. You struggled in his grasp to turn your head, watching as the boy from the alley stepped forward. He seemed to briefly contemplate following you, but again before he had the chance to move any further, another one of the eight emerged from the smoke. They began shaking his shoulder to gain his attention.

"FELIX! Can't you hear me?! What are you doing?! They're everywhere man we need to go NOW"

Felix.

Snapping back to reality, he quickly replaced the bandana over his face and tore his eyes from yours. They turned to make their way back to join the others when the boy, that you now knew to be named Felix, narrowly dodged a bullet as it whipped by his head. You moved to see where it came from and yelled at the guard who had hold of your arm moments before, his gun now raised beside you.

"Are you crazy?! You could hurt a civilian!"

Of course, you didn't actually care much about the civilians scrambling around you. It was just that you swore you felt your heart stop when the bullet barely missed Felix's head.

The guard ignored your words and went to aim at the boys again but before you even had time to think about what you were doing, you moved and stepped in front of him. The cool barrel of the gun pressed against your skin. You turned around where Felix met your gaze again. His eyebrows arched in surprise, obviously taking note of you putting yourself between him and the gun. To anyone on the outside it would have looked like you were protecting him.

Were you protecting him?

You mouthed "go" and if you had blinked you would have missed the nod he gave you in return. Without wasting another second to risk being shot at again, he spun around, following his comrade into the smoke. They moved quickly out of sight with a herd of your fathers men running after them. Many of the guards from earlier that appeared to have been working with the boys lay motionless on the ground now.

The guard beside you dropped his gun and replaced his death grip on your arm, dragging you with him once again. He was furious that you had ruined his shot, however he still had the chance to do something worth being recognized by your father if he was the one to get you to safety.

You looked back at the hall in the hopes of catching one last glimpse of Felix, but he and the others were already long gone. They would have escaped back the way they came, through the shattered glass walls, with your fathers men close on their heels. They were probably being hunted right now in the darkness outside.

Please. Please just let them make it out.

You begged with your thoughts to whatever higher power might be listening in. You couldn't explain it but you needed them to make it out alive. For some reason, the thought of a lifeless Felix joining the other bodies that lay motionless on the ground made your stomach churn.

The thought of him being dragged back alive for your father to deal with made it worse.

The guard turned a corner with your arm still in his grasp and the sounds from the hall faded with every step you took. He made his way down the corridor before throwing you into a room at the end, locking the door behind him. You shook the knob but it was no use. Sliding your back down the door you sat crumpled against it, your red dress spread out around you.

None of it made sense. Why would the boys risk their lives to send a message? Then again maybe it wasn't about the message at all. You remembered when two of them left the group after making it to the top of the stairs, heading briefly into the palace. Had the banners and the chaos they created actually been meant to act as a distraction? If that was the case, why had they really been here tonight? How had they even come into contact with your fathers guards outside of the palace and how had they convinced some of them to betray him?

Why was he with them?

Felix.

His name rolled off of your tongue. He was the enemy. You knew that. You should know that. But something made you step in front of a loaded gun to keep him safe tonight.

Maybe you weren’t on opposing sides. After all, you didn't really have a side anymore anyway…Not that he would know that. As far as he knew, you were just like the rest of them.

After what felt like hours of sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, you were about to doze off when the lock opened with a swift click behind you. You stood immediately, backing away when the door opened and you were met with the same guard from earlier who had locked you in the small room.

“Its over. I’ve been instructed to take you to your quarters until further notice. The palace is on lockdown.” He motioned for you to come out, clearly irritated that he had been the one sent to collect you.

“My father-“

“-is alive” he cut you off. “And no, I didn’t tell him what you did getting in front of my shot like that. Stupid girl. It would have been worth the civilian risk to get at least one of those bastards,” he huffed.

Did his words mean that they made it out alive? You made a point to mask any trace of concern in your voice when you spoke.

“They got away?” you paused before adding “all of them?”

“Yes all of them. All eight. They had a vehicle waiting just outside of the palace gates and they were gone before we could get to any of ours. How the hell they got access to one of our vehicles and convinced some of our own men to double cross your father nobody knows. At least the traitors got what they deserved.”

You shuddered looking away. The men that had betrayed your father must have known their fate was inevitable, and yet they thought whoever those eight boys were and what they stood for was worth sacrificing their lives.

You turned back to the guard as he spoke again, putting on your best attempt at masking the relief that washed over you when you heard the boys had made it out safely. All of them.

“As for the eight rebels we will find them. Under order of your father we will find every single one of them and I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes when he gets his hands on ‘em. Now come on, I said let’s go.”

The tone in his voice told you that you weren’t going to get anything else out of him right now, he wasn’t exactly your biggest fan to begin with, so you stepped out through the doorway. Your footsteps were the only sound, echoing throughout the eerily silent corridors while the two of you made your way through the palace. Up stone steps, you walked deeper in the direction of your bedroom.

Only one thing remained on your mind as you replayed the events of tonight over and over in your head.

Him.

Felix.

You couldn’t ignore that from the moment he disappeared tonight, part of you desperately hoped you would see him again. You were afraid the same part of you would be willing to do whatever it took to make sure that you did, and that terrified you more than anything in this world ever had.

Part 2

#lee felix #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #lee felix au #stray kids fanfiction #skz angst #stray kids angst #lee felix angst #stray kids x reader

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moonlayl · 7 months

Text

This...got super long and to be clear nothing I have experienced nor will ever experience will come close to the horrors that Palestinians are facing right now. I just need to say that and make that clear, but these are just things I've been wanting to say for a while now.

Just a thought that came to my head, but I remember arguing with lots of liberals before about how I don't really support the idea that people shouldn't be able to say anything they want (except obviously spreading misinformation especially if you're in certain professions), even hate speech not because I ever want to hear hate speech, but because I can't trust any government to decide what hate speech is, and I was told to give an example

I remember at the time saying "what if one day, me speaking about Palestine starts to become classified as antisemitism or terrorism?"

I was told that was silly and would "obviously never happen" (I didn't believe them and called them naive at the time)

well....looking at certain countries right now, trying to ban Palestinian flags, ban common Palestinian/muslim sayings, ban any peaceful protest in favour of Palestine, even looking at imprisoning/fining people etc.... is kind of just proving my point.

Like most of us don't feel included or part of any western communities even if we're lived here our whole lives for so many reasons and it almost always boils down to us being Arabs/muslim.

can't speak for non Arabs and non muslims, but a lot of us feel this way.

seeing how fighting for the people who need it the most (2000+ Palestinians have been killed. 800 of them being children. 45 families completely wiped out, entire bloodlines, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, children, nephews, nieces, grandchildren, etc....like this is actual genocide. their entire family tree has been completely wiped form existence) is being banned or branded as "terrorism", or we're losing our jobs, or we're being silenced, like it says a lot about theses countries and the governments that run them.

They tried to suspend humanitarian aid to innocent people of Gaza for the love of God!! Thank God there were 5 decent countries who voted no!

Israel gets away with every goddamn crime and ANY "condemnation" of any warcrime it commits is just talk, while they continue to aid and support it.

How am I supposed to trust these governments, and MY government to decide what's acceptable and what's not when I know that during the most critical moments that matter the most, they won't be on our side, and they'll side with oppressors because they themselves are just that? That the little I can actually do for Palestine and any other country could be completely taken away?

These are "democratic" countries by the way, or they're supposed to be, and sure we can challenge all these things but there are things even we can't do. the onslaught of propaganda shared everywhere by the same news stations that refuse to invite Palestinians (and refuse to air the few times they do) and refuse to fact check their content, or report on what's actually happening in Gaza, can't really be stopped. We can do our best to spread what's actually happening, and to correct false information, but the damages have been done.

And its getting harder and harder to hear form the people of Gaza because of the bombs, cut of electricity, cut off internet access, and also, you know, the fact that the people sharing news are being killed one by one.

There's also many social media platforms completely erasing anything about Palestine. suspending our accounts and hiding our posts. I can't believe I'm saying this but maybe it's a good thing Elon Musk took over twitter because at least I've been able to talk about Palestine as much as possible without nay censoring and I'm still able to. Palestinians are still able to share their stories and the reality yon there. And sin't that crazy? Elon musk is kind of doing something right???

And you know something else? Israel killed one of their own journalists, and those people weren't able to properly report on it. They couldn't directly say it was Israel that killed one of their own workers. Like....its crazy (and they're cowards). Israel also killed 12 UN workers.

That crime is not making as many headlines as the fake stuff did. Those "journalists" and "reporters" who repeated false information (that resulted in far too many people believing them and suddenly being okay with genocide) are still working. they still have a job and they're still out there spreading more propaganda.

this post isn't well written because I'm just putting out my thoughts and what I've witnessed but to make one thing clear, I won't ever silence my voice or allow anyone to silence my voice when it comes to something like this, and i'm not afraid of what they'll do, but isn't so fucked that I could actually lose my job and have trouble finding another one for supporting the oppressed? Like isn't that just..disgusting?

Like what's that supposed to tell me other than majority of western countries are against us? It's not exactly surprising because I've known this, but everyone being VERY open about it is kind of tough to witness ngl.

Like this is not a complicated issue. if you have any morals and you're not biased against Palestinians/arabs/muslims already, then this is a very clearcut case. Israel is an apartheid state. Israel is and has been committing genocide and ethnic cleansing for literal decades and its been doing it long before Hamas came into the picture. Israel's war crimes and treatment of Palestinians is the reason Hamas even exists in the first place. you can condemn Hamas while also recognising that Israelis have no right to that land and that nothing justifies their never ending crimes. Palestinians are demanding for their rights ot live, be citizens, have rights and freedoms, and have their land that was brutally taken from them. None of those things are unreasonable.

You know what is unreasonable? the world deciding Israel is suddenly gonna be a thing and expecting Palestinians to just be okay with it. You know what is unreasonable? Palestinians being painted as the bad guys for "not wanting to share" when they literally shouldn't have to (especially because of the obvious scams of all those "treaties" and "agreements" that all gave every benefit to Israel)

Like the whole world literally let this happen and supported it and cheered for it. Some stayed silent but are showing their real colours (which those of us who haven't been blind have already seen) now.

We've got girls crying about how "they want to kill us T-T" at a university campus because people were protesting in support of Palestine, while a six year old boy was killed in his own home for being Palestinian. In the same country.

We've got celebs talk about how scared THEY are while 800 Palestinian children have been murdered.

We've got celebs posting "pray for Israel" while using pictures of Gaza in ruins or Palestinian children looking at rockets in the sky.

It's insane.

We had a protest for Palestine the other day. People were telling us to go back to our country. They were telling Palestinians to go back to their country.

....that's....that's what they want? Like we're very much aware of how much we're not wanted here just to be clear, and Palestinians across the damn globe would do ANYTHING to be able to go live in their homeland. except they can't. Israel won't let them. That's part of what we're fighting for. Any jewish person can go get a citizenship easily in Israel (even if they've never stepped foot in the country and none of their ancestors had either) but people who were born in Palestine or who's family owns property there can't get it in at all. It's absolute insanity.

I'm not sure how to end this but on every level this has been horrific. But despite that, the propaganda, the genocide, the threats, the whole world being against us, that's not gonna stop us from fighting for the oppressed and standing up for them. It's not gonna stop us from going out into the streets and no words can explain the bravery of everyone who continues to stand with Palestine but especially to the Palestinians who continue fighting and resisting (despite everything they've been through). Continuing to use our voices, donating, protesting etc... is the absolute least we can do and its our responsibility. and I truly, from the bottom of my heart wish the absolute worst for everyone who disagree with this. Like you guys are gonna pay for it. Maybe not today maybe not for many years maybe only in the afterlife (because I do believe in it) but it's gonna happen and every Israeli supporter or zionist is gonna deserve every second of it.

If you're silent, if you try to throw the "two sides" bs, and if you try to act like Palestine and Israel are in any way equal, you're included in this.

You're part of the problem.

Silence is compliance.

And screw every government that supports Israel in any way. Screw the double standards, the hypocrisy and the absolute cruelty towards innocent Palestinians.

I can't speak for everyone else but no matter what happens moving forwards, I'm never gonna forget this and I'm never gonna forgive.

I'm gonna keep trying to do everything possible which unfortunately is not much and thats frustrating on every level but I'm gonna keep doing it. feel free to unfollow/block me, but I'm not gonna stay silent about this ever. and I'm not gonna entertain any bigot or zionists either. it's gonna be a straight up block.

my asks are open, and my page is currently full of information, this site is as well, but I'm not gonna entertain those who clearly care very little bout genocide, because if you haven't opened your eyes by now, I doubt anything I say will change that. you're welcome to go through my blog or send me a polite ask (can't promise I'll get to it right away but I'll try) but I'm not tolerating pointless arguments that are basically me just repeating that Palestinian people deserve to live in their own country with all their rights and freedoms while the other person disagrees. I prefer not to argue with those who are depraved.

#free palestine #layl.text #anti israel

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