#(if only because he can't really do anything about it)

[hhbluedynamite]

...Oh, dear God...

Do I have some words to say to those people villainizing these characters...

First and foremost, I haven't seen much of Beastars (I think I've only seen the first four episodes), am barely involved in the Sonic franchise, never seen Homestuck, and don't watch...whatever show that lady is in (Doctor Who?), so I can't really say anything for the characters from those shows.

But as for the others...

Mabel: A...CHILD!!! Children are inherently selfish! It makes sense for her to act the way she does (and Dipper's the same way! He's selfish too!). She was also MANIPULATED BY A LITERAL DEMON to give him a very dangerous portal that she had no knowledge of its importance because such knowledge was withheld from her! But what about Dippy Fresh? She's basically replacing Dipper! Mabel didn't make Dippy Fresh! It was Mabelland! And she was also under its influence too! Mabel Pines was a literal child! You are villainizing a kid for being a kid who was scared of change and growing up (something I relate to, honestly)

Rose Quartz/PD: Oh boy...where to start. Before abandoning her old life, Rose was emotionally abused by the very Gems that were basically her sisters/mother! She was belittled, neglected, felt like she had no place there despite wanting to be a part of what was basically the family business. Did Rose make questionable decisions? Oh, yeah. Big time. But, does that make her a bad person? Hell, no. She's just flawed. Which is a very...human thing.

Beatrice: ...Really? People are villainizing her? Have they not played her route? She's frustrated that she's stuck in a small dying town, she lost her mom to cancer like two years before the main story, is basically getting sexually harassed by someone she can't fire, and her dad is kinda neglectful about her needs. I would be bitchy too!

Gangle: ...Are you fucking serious? We're villainizing someone whose dreams were freakin' crushed for being "unrealistic" and spent an entire episode going through mania? The woman whose Digital design is a representation of masking your actual emotions, including depression? And she was told that she was annoying and was better sad?! Who was so, damn close to Abstracting (which can be seen as a euphemism to suicide)??!!!

Did these characters do questionable acts or say things they shouldn't have said? Yes. Does it excuse their behavior? Not really. Does that make them villains? Hell, no. These are flawed characters, like everyone else!

...Sorry for the rant, to the readers and to the person who made this post. I've just seen this a lot with Mabel and Rose Quartz and it pisses me off...and I didn't know that it happened to Bea and now Gangle?!?!?

I have opinions about the recent gangle hate

[jakesyluslly]

sylus 𖹭 my headcanons

SFW

𖹭˙ his love language is physical touch. even when you're watching a movie with him, you can't focus because his breath tickles the back of your neck, he runs his big hands over your stomach and places soft kisses on your skin. at the end of the movie you can't understand what you're watching

𖹭˙ he does things he would never normally do because you ask him to. he let you put cute stickers on his motorcycle and helmet, he didn't even take them off. he even lets you put makeup on him (of course no one is supposed to see him) he has a soft spot for you, he can't say no to you

𖹭˙ he takes care of you like a baby. if he could, he wouldn't let you take care of anything, he would take care of everything himself. he helps you apply your nail polish, sometimes he even does your manicure because you bleed your cuticles. he kisses you after every move, he places tender kisses on your skin

𖹭˙ he never leaves you alone during your period. he can only imagine how painful your cramps are, but he does his best to make you feel better. he whispers sweet things in your ear, strokes your hair, makes you rest your head on his broad chest, caresses your stomach, his touch is gentle, kisses the top of your head, inhales the scent of your hair, makes the room smell nice, does whatever you want

𖹭˙ he enjoys preparing food for you, he makes you taste what he makes with his own hands. he puts effort into it, he looks at special recipes and thinks about them. he looks at you when you sit at the table and start eating, he tries to understand your thoughts about the food from your facial expressions. when he is sure that you like it, he just watches you during the whole meal

𖹭˙ he loves you as you are, he doesn't try to change you. he loves your childish side and your emotional side. he embraces you as you are with your scars and traumas. even if he can't take your pain away from you, he knows he can share it with you. he always shows his support for you

𖹭˙ he enjoys even the most ordinary moment with you. for him it doesn't matter where he is or what he is doing. even the simplest things become meaningful to him if you are with him. sometimes it's walking down an empty street, sometimes it's lying in bed. as long as he feels your breath on his skin, nothing else matters

𖹭˙ sometimes he wakes up before you and watches you quietly. he smiles as he looks at your peacefully sleeping face, gently brushes your hair out of your face, takes your hand and kisses you up to your wrists. he does it all slowly, without waking you. he realizes that he can look at you for hours, a smile appears on his face spontaneously

𖹭˙ you feel that he protects you even with his gaze. he envelops you with his eyes, he watches your every move carefully, he is always alert to his surroundings. in crowded places he brings you closer to him by wrapping his arm around your waist, he doesn't want anyone to touch you even accidentally

𖹭˙ you have cats that you feed together, and this is one of the moments that has meaning for him with you. you look with happiness in your eyes at the cats feeding their hungry bellies, and he looks at you. he feels himself drowning in the beauty of your heart. as you watch the cats, he approaches you from behind, hugs you and kisses your shoulder

𖹭˙ some days you both make little dates for yourselves on the balcony. he takes you in his arms and wraps you in a blanket. he makes you feel so comfortable and safe that you can behave however you want around him, you can tell him anything. he listens to you, he really listens. his eyes never leave you, from time to time he leans his head down and kisses your cheek, whispering “sorry for interrupting, it's hard to resist you. please keep going.”

𖹭˙ he spoils you, a lot. he likes to see you wearing the accessories he bought you, and that pushes him to buy you more gifts. your house is full of huge bouquets of flowers and stylish accessories for you. “i buy everything i think will look good on you. and the problem is, i haven't found anything that doesn't look good on you.” he says when you say you don't need more gifts

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did all it, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[tourturestarradio]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒✮

"𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐘𝐨𝐮!"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Monster trio! x reader!

Prompt: The gifts you give to the trio and the gifts they'd give you!

Warnings: just mostly fluff and fun

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

I feel like Luffy would treasure anything you gave him, like how he is with his hat

So he wouldn't mind whatever you got him and didn't understand why you got so stressed when it came to you getting him a gift

So on Christmas he was excited to see what you got him munching on gingerbread man

He absolutely SUCKS at getting someone a gift

He would think it a good gift and honestly you don't have the heart to tell him it's bad

Once you both exchanged gifts he had a bright gleam in his eye as he watched you open your gift

His grin grew much wider as you smiled at the small necklace he got you it had a little 'L' on it (Nami totally didn't throw away his gift and switch it out)

He hurried and unwrapped his gift his grin dropping as he sees a framed picture of him and his brothers, and two necklaces one with your first initial and the other one with the initials 'ASL'

You were worried you may have made him upset but when his arms wrapped around you tightly you smile as he tackled you into a hug, comedic tears running down his face

"Th-This is the best gift ever!" he shouted smushing his cheek against yours

Safe to say he liked your gift

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

I can't see Zoro as someone who gives thoughtful gifts, like at all...

He would "gift" whatever he found laying around

No joke he literally got you one of his weights put it in a lazily wrapped box and handed it over to you

It wasn't until AFTER Nami cracked her fist over his head that he started putting in more effort but ONLY for you

He would be stuck and would need help from Nami and Robin to get you a gift

But it wasn't of much help Nami spouting "get them something pretty! Or expensive!" and Robin stating "Get them something they like, or something with important meaning"

So he left the women figuring they wouldn't be of much help

And don't get me wrong he would know everything you liked and dislike

He heard alll your long rambles about what you enjoyed, what you hated, your favorite food, favorite drink everything and you would never know

Which is the only reason he was so stumped, he knew too much now he didn't know what to get at all so he bought literally everything he thought you would like hoping it would make you happy.

Now you on the other hand already knew what to get him, but luck wasn't really wasn't on your side as you made your way down to a shop in town but some petty thugs tried to rob you but you weren't fazed even in the slightest you just wanted to get back to the ship

But these guys really made it hard for you, they just kept pestering you, and it's not like you could do much because you left your weapon back on the ship

Zoro leaving a store, had spotted you being surrounded by some random men

He dropped the many boxes and bags seemingly appearing behind the men and cutting them down with ease

You smiled at him throwing your arms around his shoulders "my hero!"

Zoro pretended not to be fazed by your words but the small smile said otherwise

Later he showed you the gifts he got you but you sighed leaning on him "oh you're the best gift I could ask for" you said placing a little bow on his head

"So does that mean I can take all this stuff back?"

"No♡"

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

Tried to get you a ring.

I'm not kidding, he would be dead set on proposing to you, but when Robin said that'd be to much he dropped that plan, (he still kept the ring....just in case)

I could see him as someone who thinks too much about what to get you

It was very tiring for him so settled for something nice, something he was good at, cooking. Cooking like a little fancy dinner for the two of you

But that plan was also shot down when you trotted into the kitchen dressed in a cute Santa outfit while he was trying to cook

Coming up behind him, he knew you were there BUT he didn't know you were gonna touch him so he did a little when you wrapped your arms around his torso pressing your cheek again his back

He froze in his spot as if he had turned to stone, you peeked around him "Merry Christmas honey" you muttered sliding a box next to him, he could feel his heart rate increase as he heard your voice

Slowly turning to face you he knew he'd be blinded by your beauty but this! As soon as he laid eyes on you it was over

Falling back he kicked the bucket blood gushing from his nose

You only sighed at his antics as you went and got chopper

Upon waking up Sanji looked around "maybe it was just a dream..."

Oh but it wasn't looking to his right he saw a medium sized box on his nightstand

Placing it in his lap he saw a little note on top that read 'Hope you like love you!'

He smiled at the note and set it aside opening the box he was stunned on top there was a heart shaped locket, opening it it was a picture of you and him his smile grew bigger as he looked through the rest of the box, it was filled with memories of you and him mostly different photos

One stood out though, it was a picture of you and him, you were hugging his side and kissing his cheek as his face was beat red

Holding the picture close to his chest he smiled

You really were his one true love.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ��

A/n: I'm so mad I couldn't put this out on Christmas RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh

[cometconmain]

Just gonna point out here (targeted in the direction of anyone calling the CEO shooter a terrorist) that this constant slapping of 'terrorism' on shit that isn't by people in power who want to delegitimise acts of measured violence against specific people in power who actively caused the suffering and death this was about are making people stop treating that term seriously and I think that's a really big problem.

Nobody else died. Whoever did definitely kill the CEO didn't blow up an entire building to get to one guy. He didn't do a mass shooting of the building to get to the one guy. He didn't target random civillians and hold them hostage and sexually assault and slaughter them while planning killing as many people as possible regardless of what they've done or not done as individuals. He didn't attack a concert to get one guy. His only political statement with the murder was 'these people have been murdering us in the tens of thousands for decades and it's time they understood we've had enough through the only language they seem to understand because they ignored us when we were talking peacefully and went on killing us anyway because due process was never going to stop them when they have the game rigged in their favour.' And he made sure only the person responsible for these acts of horrific fatal negligence against innocent people was the one who died and no one else. That's not terrorism. At most it's assassination and we can argue about whether or not that's a helpful mindset to be accepting in the long term as much as people like but for fuck's sake people HAVE TO STOP labelling shit terrorism that isn't. It's watering the term down and people who are rightfully angry at being shut down at every turn when they do things that can't be swept under the rug (which applies to all kinds of non-fatal activism so don't come at me on that) are starting to ignore actual terrorism when it happens because their experience is that anyone using that word is just trying to remove the last shred of power a group has to stand up to their oppressors.

Do we have to just also make sure we consciously don't let ourselves redefine that term in either direction? Yes. But it's a two way street and everyone else misusing that word in the first place need to meet us in the middle in not waving it around slapping anyone and any activism they're made uncomfortable by like it's a wet noodle regardless of what the people they're slapping are ACTUALLY doing or not doing.

If we decide terrorism is bad (and obviously actual terrorism genuinely is!!), and then decide anything involving any form of violent resistance in the face of increasingly violent oppression is now terrorism, what kind of message do we send to all the people who are basically being told they're not allowed to resist that oppression now even if the situation isn't changing enough from the peaceful measures because every time they come with an olive branch they're met by a policeman/soldier's baton/tear gas/taser or even bullet?

The longer we go without listening to people when they ARE talking, and shutting down all other avenues to reach change except for the violence we also condemn as blanketly wrong regardless of circumstance, the more enraged and violent those people will get. It's basic psychology and easy enough for people not experiencing that inescapable oppression to say kindergarten level shit like 'violence is bad; killing is wrong.' If someone tries to kill you in the street and necessary escalation to stop them results in their dying, is that wrong? But they were trying to kill you. Were you supposed to limit yourself and increase your chances of death because they had a family? What about your family?

There have to be nuances to this because the world is more complicated than the play room where all the toddlers who can't handle that nuance are. Little Tommy isn't stopping little Johnny from talking to him because he doesn't have that kind of power. An adult can step in and resolve the child-level issue and make Tommy listen to Johnny and teach them to handle conflict peacefully and respectfully.

That doesn't apply to the adult-level capitalist world where money over millions of people's lives is the norm and intricately rigged and enforced so it never changes through peaceful resolution (we can keep chipping away and we do make things more bearable than the rich people want to give us, but it's a constant and exhausting battle while in the meantime everyone we love is either dead, dying or at risk of dying around us every day this goes without being properly fixed). In a world where a homeless man can be murdered in cold blood on a subway train after the attack stopped, but a CEO who has killed a horrific number of people in cold blood himself gets shot and his killer made an example of to the angry populace who see this discrepancy and understand that the powerful are only trying to maintain their status quo, there is only so much saying "Please pretty please stop killing us. We're human beings. We've justified to you over and over again why what you're doing is wrong and you still kill us with no consequences and no end in sight but maybe if we just keep talking and expecting a different result it'll happen" can do to stop the status quo that is constantly being propped up by corporate and governmental interests.

No one actually wants to be in a civil war. Most of us don't want to kill people. Bringing the rich and powerful who have killed so many to justice through due process and a proper trial is always going to be better and healthier for our society than walking up to them and shooting them.

But if you give people no other choice because you will never see that proper trial by your own design...

What else are those suffering and dying meant to do? Just keep suffering and dying quietly? Accept this constant violence toward them only to have their desperate violence called unacceptable and wrong and terrorism while yours is quietly swept under the rug?

Never target innocents. Never try to wipe out an entire group of people for the actions of a few. That IS terrorism and unjust and unacceptable because it's unnecessary force against random innocent people. But if the few who are doing those horrific actions aren't being stopped by normal societal methods of dealing with them peacefully and they continue shutting down every avenue you try to take to make them face justice non-violently and you actively make sure only to target them that's not terrorism. That's being pushed to the brink and finally breaking the way everyone will eventually under that type of oppressive violence and then making sure only the people actually committing that violence against you receive violence in return. That's self defence.

This literally is the only course left in a truly dystopian system where there truly is no end in sight except through making it clear people can't take it anymore, because they don't let people express that peacefully either. What else are those people supposed to do when you will never go to trial and ALSO refuse to let due process and proper trials happen to those you want silenced?

Terrorism stopped sounding like a bad thing to us when people made it mean anything they didn't like. And that's seriously fucked up because actual terrorism where people are targeted indiscriminately for a political or religious statement really is wrong and fucked up and unnecessary and has to stop. It's never necessary to do that even if it's about fighting the status quo and increasingly violent oppression. You can do that without killing or even risking innocents. The guy who shot the CEO proved that. There's a middle line to walk here and we have to make sure we don't let people flopping labels around like wet noodles make us think that terrorism is just ok now because it's been applied so frequently to defence of the public both violent and peaceful in a system where they shut down all other methods of change they would have to listen to otherwise.

And the people treating it like a wet noodle only to go on to committing acts of violence and aggression to terrorise the public with no repercussions themselves have to stop doing all of that and all the shit this is about in the first place. We know what the authorities are doing with this public spectacle and all it's doing is making people angrier and happier to commit more violence. This is how you get more and actual terrorism, not less of it, because people with less care for those nuances are going to see you doing this shit and decide that makes it necessary to expand the crosshairs. (Again, people need to know the difference and choose not to do that; but you know these assholes will jump on that the second it happens to lend credence to their decrying of genuinely necessary and properly measured violence against them to stop their constant unrelenting oppressive violence against everyone else. And then all the bootlickers who have not yet experienced the leopards eating their faces will tut tut and decry everything too in support of the leopards all while those leopards are eyeing up their faces next.)

Honestly I'm pretty sure the Redcoats would have called the Americans fighting for their freedom 'terrorists' during the American Revolution if that had been something they could use to delegitimise the Americans' cause in the public eye. It would be interesting to see what they did say instead because it's unfortunately a very effective tactic people in oppressive power over others use all the time now. I wonder if people used to fall for it as badly back then too as they do in the modern era.

"I’m very concerned about my client’s right to a fair trial in this case.  He’s being prejudiced by some statements that are being made by government officials. Like every other defendant, he’s entitled to a presumption of innocence. But unfortunately the way this has been handled so far his rights are being violated. And as you know, Your Honor, there’s a wealth of case law guaranteeing his rights to a fair trial, but none of the safeguards have been put in place yet here — in fact it’s just the opposite of what’s been happening. 

He’s a young man, and he is being treated like a human pingpong ball between two warring jurisdictions here.

These federal and state prosecutors are coordinating with one another at the expense of him. They have conflicting theories in their indictment, and they are literally treating him like he is some sort of political fodder, like some sort of spectacle. 

He was on display for everyone to see in the biggest staged perp walk I’ve ever seen in my career. It was absolutely unnecessary. He’s been cooperative with law enforcement. He’d been in custody for over a week. He waived extradition. He was cooperative at all accounts. There was no reason for the NYPD and everybody to have these big assault rifles — that frankly I had no idea it was in their arsenal — and to have all the press there the media there. It was perfectly choreographed. 

And what was the New York City Mayor doing at this press conference, Your Honor? That just made it utterly political. And as your honor knows under Loro v. Charles, the Court of Appeals for the 2nd Circuit has held it to be clearly established that these staged perp walks to the media unrelated to a legitimate law enforcement objective is unconstitutional. And I submit that there was zero law enforcement objective to do that sort of perp walk. There’s absolutely no need for that whatsoever. 

And frankly, Your Honor, the mayor should know more than anyone about the presumption of innocence that he, too, is afforded dealing with his own issues. And, frankly, I submit that he was just trying to detract from those issues by making a spectacle of Mr. Mangione. 

And there are consequences to this. 

He has a right to a fair trial. And I just want to put on the record statements that the mayor made publicly about my client. Nothing saying “alleged” for example. And he said “I wanted to send a strong message with the police commissioner that we’re leading from the front. I’m not just going to allow him to come into our city. I wanted to look him in the eye and state ‘You carried out this terrorist act in my city, the city of New York that I love.’” And he wanted to show symbolism. 

Your Honor, he’s not a symbol. He’s somebody who is afforded the right to a fair trial. He’s innocent until proven guilty. And the mayor was talking to jurors — future potential jurors that elected him. Those are the people that elected him that he is talking to and calling this man a terrorist.

So, Your Honor, I just want to make a record of this and put everyone on notice that this has to stop, and my client is entitled to a fair trial and the presumption of innocence."

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 6 - The Last Goodbye

CW: Angst, thoughts of self harm.

Christmas is a tough time for me. Writing this part has really helped.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

A nurse shakes you awake. It’s a different nurse, one you don’t recognise. You prop yourself up getting ready to move but Johnny’s arms lock round you pulling you back up against him. 

“Johnny, there's a nurse here.” You say as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. 

“C’mon, don’t leave.” It breaks your heart. You force yourself to get out of bed. He sits up while the nurse walks over to do his obs. You bend down putting your boots back on.

“I mean it lass, please don’t leave, this room, or 141.” Your breath catches in your throat. Of course John told them. You hang your head. Guilt that's all you can feel.

“How do you think I can work with them again after-” it's pitiful the sob you let out, choking on the words. You can’t see good memories when you think of them, it's just pain. 

“I'll make them apologise. I’ll make them make it up to you. Whatever you want.” He says. You smile at his enthusiasm, you can’t blame him. The nurse finishes up, writing something in his chart before leaving. You move up to him and kiss him, he kisses you back, his hands grabbing your arms like he wants to pull you back in bed.

“I’m sorry Johnny, I need to go. I love you and Gaz. I always will.” He looks at you with pleading in his eyes. You have to hold it together, you can’t let him see you upset. Your hand goes up to brush his cheek. 

“I can’t love them right now. I can't, I'm sorry.” You let go of his face heading to leave the room. 

“Then me and Gaz will leave.” It stops you in your tracks, you turn back to look at him. 

“Johnny, you can’t do that. They’re your family, your brothers-in-arms. You’re not going to leave them, you can't.” You say, now you’re pleading. 

“They hurt you. I can’t forgive them for that.” 

“Yes you can Johnny, you have to, because I can’t.” 

“I’m so sorry they did this to you.” He says, you can hear the break in his voice even though he’s trying to hide it. 

“Yeah, me too.” You say as you leave the room.

______________

You’re in your room, packing, the duffle bag you unpacked less than a month ago is open again. It feels wrong throwing your gear in like you’re about to go home. You are about to go home, for a few months at least. 

John would only sign your transfer if you promised to see a therapist. You agreed to whatever he said, you just needed to get away. Talking to him was the hardest, at least with Simon he keeps himself to himself. John on the other time spends his time trying to apologise. 

Kyle has already been round asking if you need help. John has passed the hallway a few times, probably just to check on how you’re doing. He never says anything or offers to help but you can feel his presence. 

When Simon comes to the door the energy in the room changes. Hair stands up on the back of your neck, you turn your head slightly to see him as you fold your spare trousers up. 

“What do you want?” you say almost snapping at him.

“You don't have to leave.” Simon says. You look up at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, the only part of him he leaves exposed. His eyes just look dark, there's no love behind them. No hidden kindness.

“I do, I can't stand being in the same room as you. How the hell am I going to save you in the field?” You throw another shirt into the bag. 

“I want you to stay.” He says, you squeeze your eyes closed for a second feeling pain rise in your chest. Johnny and Kyle have already asked you to stay, they’ve already let their facades fall asking you as a partner, a lover, rather than a teammate or a person. 

“Then you shouldn’t have hurt me.” It comes out with a sob, you can’t help it. You clear your throat getting back to your bag. You hear Simon move behind you, his steps loud in the silence of the hall. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have hurt you.” His voice is low, you hear the croak in his words. You wipe the tears away as he talks.

You turn to shout at him but he's gone and a petrified looking soldier stands in your doorway.

"The base commander would like to see you."

________

You knock on the conference room door. Simon left before you, you spent a few seconds panicking. Why does the base commander need to see you?

“Come in.” You suck it up walking into the room. You look round, the base commander is standing at the top of the oval table. John and Simon are in chairs avoiding your gaze, you look at them for a second before waking up to the general. You step up to him, planting your feet on the floor putting your arms behind your back. 

You’re going to be professional, that's all they get. You don’t want to lose your job.  

“You’ve asked to move units?” The general asks.

“Yes sir.” You reply trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.

“As per the protocol I would like some feedback on your current unit-” He looks down at a piece of paper before looking back up at you. “-Special forces unit 141 led by Captain Price.” You swallow hard keeping your body locked in place. 

 “Captain Price is extremely professional and proficient in his field. He commands his unit to the highest standard. I can only speak well of 141 and it's ongoing fight against terrorism.” You say holding back the sob rising in your throat. It's rehearsed words, you don't even feel anything as they come out.

The general smiles looking over at Simon and John quickly before turning his attention to you. “You speak highly of your unit. Is there any reason in particular you’re requesting a transfer?” 

“Personal reasons sir,” you say. It’s the truth, they’re good at their job. You know that from personal experience. The world needs good counter terrorism units like theirs. For queen and country above all. 

“Well, your transfer is approved pending a psych evaluation. You will receive your new posting after said conditions have been met.” The general signs something then hands it to you.

“Do you have any other questions, sergeant?” He asks, you look down at the paper. That's it, it's official. You’re no longer part of 141. 

“No sir, thank you.” You say, he nods at you, you salute him, turning to look at John and Simon, both their eyes are on you. You look at them both then head for the door, you hope this is the last time you will ever see them.

______________

You’re walking to the exit of the base, carrying your heavy duffle bag over your back but it feels like a weight has been lifted. It’s only when you hear Kyle shouting for you the bag suddenly feels like it weighs 100 kilos. 

You turn to look at him, stopping in your tracks.

“You didn’t come to say goodbye.” He says, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

“I can’t. I can’t look you or Johnny in the eyes and leave.” You say, you’re trying not to snap at him. 

“Then don’t leave.” Kyle says. There it is again, the pain firing through your chest, like a stab to the heart. 

“Christ, Kyle. I can’t. I can’t look at any of you without wanting to run away, I could hurt you or-” Your voice is ringing in your ears. You’re hurting him. You’re screaming at Kyle and he did nothing wrong. Or maybe he did, Johnny and Kyle have been part of 141 for years. You joined a year ago. 12 months. 

You walk up to Kyle pressing your lips onto his, your hand wrapping around his waist. You kiss him deep, your tongue playing with his. You don’t care who sees. 

“I love you.” You say as you break from the kiss, pressing your forehead to his. “I’ll keep in touch. I promise. You and Johnny, if you want?”

“Of course I want that. Johnny too. I know you’re hurt but we’re here, day or night.” he says. You smile pulling away from him. You pull the duffle back bag tighter over your shoulder, turning away. 

“Go save the world Gaz.” You call walking out the base. He smiles at you, his hand running over his head. 

“Always!” he calls. There it is, the break. The crack in his voice, the tears down his face. 

You feel the guilt, you turn away heading over to the bus stop. You wish you could change things, make things better but you can’t. You can’t forgive John and Simon. Not now, not for a long time.

next Banners by firefly-graphics

[tubbytarchia]

on the topic of joel's rivalry with scott; wasn't LL!scott's kill justified on Joel, though? I feel like since Joel created so much chaos, Scott wanting to kill him and actually doing so makes sense. and in Limited life, wasn't Scott killing Joel fair again, since Joel kept trying/killing Scott? genuinely curious! I'm also a Joel fan and I agree w/your point on scott, but I feel like, while it was frustrating for joel to die to scott like that, it made sense (?)

(I'm sorry anon because I trust that you are genuinely curious and I'm trying desperately to put aside my bewilderment because I strongly disagree haha, if I sound mean please just take it as me being a very passionate Joel enjoyer please...)

Joel didn't get a single kill on Scott in LimL. Did he lead the charge? Barely. Everyone was going after Scott by the time that Joel was as well. He was no more responsible for going after Scott than half the rest of the server. The only notable kill Joel has gotten on Scott was in DL and Scott never references back to it so it's not like he's holding a grudge from that, whatever his reasons are for labelling Joel as deserving of being killed pretty much 6 times in a row, 5 of which were him, resulting in Joel's permadeath, are faulty at best. Joel legitimately has not done anything to Scott that others aren't also guilty of, Scott's insistence of having Joel dead really comes out of nowhere and the sheer magnitude of it is difficult to reason even disregarding that fact

In Last Life, yeah, I don't really care about that, that was standard death game happenings. The other instance I've been referring to instead has been Secret Life where Scott shares this similar sentiment he has in Limited Life as he kills Joel's second to last remaining teammate, and then him immediately afterward whilst taunting him about it. Just leaves a significantly terrible taste in my mouth following LimL. Joel did try and go after Scott in SL but largely only because of a task to do so. He was very happy to do it but he has never once succeeded, not even in Wild Life. Scott keeps putting Joel down and painting this image of him being deserving of his downfall when 1. Joel hasn't even tried to harm him in any notable way that Scott has referred back to until after this started and 2. he has never actually succeeded in harming Scott in any notable way after this started. And yet still Scott keeps referring to how Joel is after him for some strange reason that he can't possibly figure out, taking opportunities to taunt him and making him sound like a nuisance to his backside that he did nothing to deserve. It's incredibly frustrating when there's no justification I can see for the amount of loss he's caused for Joel in complete nonchalance. He spreads the idea that Joel is just evil and crazy (even though I'm sure he isn't even convinced of it himself, it's just beneficial for him) and should be put down like an animal for everyone's benefit and he's good at swindling people in that way to enforce his own version of events and beliefs however little water they actually hold

[olderthannetfic]

Ayyy, there seems to be a lot of older people among the regular commenters of this blog so I'm gonna shoot my shot and ask for advice.

Idk if it's just the clinical depression but I can't help but feel like I'm never gonna find love as a straight girl. I don't hate men at all -- I've been very lucky to be surrounded by decent dudes growing up but shit. Lookin at the state of the world rn... Gen Z dudes chugging misogynist bullshit at alarming rates, women like Gisele Pelicot going through unspeakable shit from their own husbands... it's hard not to feel cynical. On top of that the decent dudes I know irl are all taken, I don't wanna go on dating apps, and as much as I wanna fuck an older man no decent one is gonna settle for a depressed young woman who's a 4 at best...

It's not that i don't have fulfilling friendships or that I don't value them, I just want to love and care for (and get dicked down by) a decent guy who feels the same way. I've always wanted that and I don't think it's changing anytime soon. Feels impossible though. I'm not sure if I'm the problem (I'm plain faced at best, no fashion sense or charm to speak of, though I do my best to be polite and kind) or there's just shit going on I've no control over.

--

People will give you a lot of placating nonsense, but the reality is that the supply of reasonably okay straight women is much higher than the supply of reasonably okay straight men. Finding a fulfilling long-term relationship is always hard anyway, but man... straight guys really need to step it up.

That said, a lot of people in general and straight guys in particular learn a lot from the breakdown of their first marriage/long-term relationship. Just because a guy is listening to godawful manosphere podcasts today doesn't mean he's never going to be dateable later.

Research on dating apps suggests that your average guy responds to pics where women have a lot of makeup on by looking for a hookup, passes by the ones with no makeup, and finds the ones with a little lipstick or something but not heavy makeup the most dateable.

While it would be nice if appearance didn't matter, if you're really worried about this, there are some basic things you can do where you'll get a lot of bang for your buck: Find one lipstick you can stand and learn to apply it. I like Bésame Cosmetics because I am a nerd and they sponsored a local film noir festival. Peggy Carter's lipstick was from them. They have the advantage of being intensely pigmented, so a quick swipe gives full coverage. I hate having shit on my face in general, so that's helpful. If eye stuff is less bleurgghhhh than lip stuff, learn to apply eyeliner instead. There are some liquid ones I really like even if it takes some practice to get decent at painting them on. You don't need a full face of makeup or really much of anything to read as Hot Girl™ to people who don't know anything about makeup and aren't paying much attention. Yes, even if you're a 4 and it's not just the depression talking.

Charm is hard. Some things can be taught, but a lot of that's innate. Fashion, however, is not. You don't need to be a fashionista to look better than a lot of the people around you. Save your money for fewer, better outfits. Buy things that fit well and get things tailored. Don't settle for ill-fitting clothes that don't make you feel good. Look for natural fibers and clothing that will last a long time. (And if you think you have sensitive skin that cannot handle natural fibers, you need to go up several price points on your cotton. Just saying.)

You can also increase your chances by doing activities where you meet more people who might be a good match. This means finding hobbies that actually have straight guys in them and going to in-person things where you meet new people. (This sounds obvious and pedantic, but I cannot tell you how many women I know who want a boyfriend but only do social things that are 95% women and 5% gay men.)

But the biggest thing you can do to stand out is... well... work on that depression. Self confidence and obviously being in a good place in your life are very attractive. Also, the good catches who haven't been snapped up tend to be the quiet, shy people. If you have your own shit together enough to detect and pursue them, you have a better chance of finding someone great.

I get that ~fix your depression~ is not helpful advice, but working on yourself in both important and relatively superficial ways is something you can control. Meeting the right person is not.

It might help to look at this as a 5-10-year goal and/or a lifetime goal, not a "Oh my god, my life sucks this year" problem. Yes, there's shit going on that you have no control over, but if that's your career and mental health and so on, you can work on that and be in a different place in a few years.

Frankly, I think a certain amount of cynicism is warranted, but that doesn't mean there are no decent guys or that you'll never find one.

[backfliips]

Answered below the cut:

How many fics have you worked on since January?

I've worked on 9 since January, one of which I'm still currently working on and will be working on for the next few months, probably.

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

A lot of things! I think the biggest one is alternating perspectives.

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

Baldur's Gate 3, obviously, haha.

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Just the one, BG3.

What ships captured your heart?

Mostly Wyllstarion, but I also wrote Minscstarion and Halsin/Ulder Ravengard LOOOLLLL..... crack ships taken seriously are so good to me

What characters captured your heart?

Wyll mostly, and also Astarion.

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

Yes, all of the ones I've listed so far! The newest ones were Minscstarion and Ulsin LOOL I sort of was the flagship for both of those.

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What's Become of You, because that was the first long-form creative writing project I've ever done! I'd only done short stories before then, and then I sat down and churned out a novel-length fanfiction. it meant a lot to me to know that it was something I'm capable of.

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

Probably also What's Become of You, but all of the fics I've written have made me super happy. If they didn't make me happy, I wouldn't write them. Right now, the fic I'm working on (titled "Sorry For Your Loss") is really making me excited too, but I won't be posting it for a while.

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

Again, What's Become of You.

What fic was the most difficult to write?

The one I'm currently working on. Where What's Become of You basically already had a whole plot outline because it just follows the entire plot of BG3, Sorry For Your Loss is far more original and has required SO much outlining and re-outlining and re-re-re-outlining, and I've redone so many chapters from the ground up because I wasn't happy with them. It's been a real challenge, but it's one that I'm really excited to keep conquering >:^)

What fic was the easiest to write?

Keep Talking, for sure. That one's just brainless smut. Of course, that's made it my most popular wyllstarion fanfiction HAHAHAHAHA.... but that's how these things go.

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Shortest was Keep Talking, longest was What's Become of You.

What were your go-to writing songs?

The "deep focus" playlist on spotify hahahahaha I can't listen to stuff with lyrics much when I'm writing, and a lot of other background songs end up distracting me. Honestly, 75% of the time I'm just writing in silence.... or to the sound of a busy crowd. (Don't worry, I don't write anything NSFW in public.)

What was the hardest fic to title?

Health Potions (Or: If Only Someone Here Knew Cure Light Wounds). That one was a toss up, and as you can see, I still couldn't choose between two titles lmao

What's your favorite title of the year?

Probably A Haughty Spirit (Goeth Before a Fall) because that's a bible verse I chopped up and that just cracks me up a little bit. I have the title for an eventual sequel planned if I ever write it, which would be "To Be Humble (In Spirit with the Lowly)."

Share your favorite opening line

Do chapter opening lines count? Here's a sneak peek from Sorry For Your Loss.

Share your favorite ending line

Another chapter ending line from Sorry For Your Loss.

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

"He was the best-dressed homeless man in the city. Of this he was sure."

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

While working on my latest fic, a certain conversation went in a totally different direction than I planned, but I ended up really liking how it turned out. I had to go back to the drawing board for a couple things later in the story because of it, but I think it's way better this way.

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

Google Drive mostly. I like to write things on paper when I'm outlining, or when I'm feeling stuck. It keeps me from deleting things, and I care less about getting it Perfect that way.

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Finishing What's Become of You, definitely.

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

No, I wanted to get a cake for What's Become of You, but I had plans that day and that ended up being fun enough that I didn't feel the need to get a cake.

How did you recharge between fics?

Laying on the floor. I don't actually have a recharge method, I just write when inspiration strikes me.

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

Oh, yes. So much fanart lmao.

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

Just one! Wyllstarion Secret Solstice event, but I did art instead of writing for that one.

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

@foxflowering definitely!! She really helped me improve my writing so much and she was such a fantastic editor for What's Become of You.

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Keep writing Sorry For Your Loss, really.

What would you like to write next year?

I want to finish Sorry For Your Loss and do a couple more short-form Wyllstarion pieces. I have ideas! Lots of ideas!!!!

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Just wanted to say I LOVE your work! Especially with the inclusion of a black reader/character 😭🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

This is a personal lil thought of mine, BUT

John Price wouldn’t say he was dating a black woman, but there would be signs. Even though his style would be fine beforehand, He’d be dressing nicer, his hair and beard would always be well groomed and overall put together.

I think Gaz would be the first to peep something different from his Captain cuz he recognizes the work of his own people lol

And you're right because suddenly this man's beard is lined up too nicely and that damn hat is gone. Check it below the cut love.

Rating: gen audience

It all started a few months ago with a simple, "Hey Captain?" Johnny says, "Nice cologne, the hens in the media bay can't stop talking about it."

Price only shrugged, not really paying attention, "Just trying something new."

Kyle agrees, it's new, and he thinks it fits his Captain nicely.

Then, things escalate from that one-off comment.

Kyle is perplexed. Confused. Genuinely thrown for a loop because why is his Captain sporting a tapered fade that connects tastefully to his beard? With the side burns fading into the connect?

Kyle just shruggs it off as someone at his boss' super cuts trying and talking him into something new.

Only the new hair style stays and there are plenty of women and men staring at him with lust filled eyes.

The next thing Kyle noticed was the glittering shine of a simple gold chain around John's neck. It's thin, and within regulations, the clasps are too small for his co's large hands to actually put on. Kyle peeps the little gold cross that's just dangling there when he leans over the desk to point out things in their mission dockets. Hm when did he find religion? It's not really his business.

Okay what the actual fuck? Kyle is wondering where John heard the phrase "Do I look like Boo Boo the fool" to be able to understand that he needs to not answer that question with anything other than "no ma'am". They are working with another task force that's headed by an older black woman who's a force to be reckoned with. But that's beside the point because, since when did he learn that and whom did he learn it from?

John Price isn't one to actually keep up with eating lunch at work. Kyle remembers having to drag and threaten and get Simon and Soap to help him get their leader to at least try and eat lunch and not work through it. Nowadays? This man brings in lunch, and it's not what you expect. What Kyle is expecting, well...he's not really sure what he is expecting, but seeing this man eat a fried plantain sends him.

It all comes to a head when the four of them are leaving a debrief. They are shipping out at the start of next week. Set to be gone for like maybe a few months. Johnny is begging asking for them all to go out for lunch and Price only raises an eyebrow.

"Can't today Soap." Price says as they exit the office building. His eyes scan the parking lot, and a smile breaks onto his face at the sight of a shiny black car. "I've got plans."

Now Kyle knows how to put two and two together to get four. He's had his suspicions, but the reality of John Price even dating never crosses his mind. He really thought it was just the effects of him and Soap teasing him for being an out of touch old man. But no...he crosses the parking lot and opens the car door to help out a gorgeous brown beauty. There's no telling how old she could be because Kyle knows black doesn't crack (he's often called baby face...its why he refuses to shave off the little facial hair he has). Johnny is shocked and Simon just grunts out a small "huh?" as they watch their captain help his girl into the passenger side of the car.

"In hindsight." Kyle smiles and says as they watch the car pull off, "That new cologne he started wearing months ago should have let us know far before the tapered fade."

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 2) :

ANDREW :

"I'm not here for your entertainment" "but as expected you are talented enough to multitask"

"you are neil josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive. I don't care if you use this phone tomorrow. I don't care if you never use it again. but you are going to keep it on you because one day you might need it. on that day you're not going to run. you're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call."

"I'm not afraid of you" "that's why you're so interesting"

DAN :

"don't thank us, remember us. we're your teammates. we're here to help you with whatever you need."

"you've got us now"

"that was perfect. but don't do something that reckless again. we can't replace you. hear me?"

"neil, you can use the girls' shower while we're busy"

MATT :

"just try not to think about it until we get there. you won't do yourself any favorite if you spend the ride stressing out about things you can't change."

"if you don't have anywhere to go, I'll drag you home with me"

KEVIN :

"if you get hurt out there, you do something about it. you take it easy, you have coach pull you, you ask abby for help - I don't care. if you ever say 'I'm fine' about your health again I will make you rue the day you were born"

"neil has no place in riko's games. he is a fox."

"run. it's the only way you'll survive"

"you should be court."

"will you still teach me?" "every night."

"I will watch you. if you want to drink tonight. I won't let you say something you'll regret." "you'll be drunk inside an hour. then who'll stop me?" "I would stop drinking."

"you're not going. do you know what he'll do to you?"

WYMACK :

"why did you pay for stalls coach?" "maybe I knew you'd need them one day"

"neil, if you can't be here say so. abby can take you elsewhere until it's time to leave. get out of here and get some fresh air."

"what can I do?" "I don't know" "when you know, tell me"

"sometimes the world feels so big but then I'm reminded how small it is" "big or small just remember you're not alone in it."

"if riko really was behind it somehow, the blame is all on him. he chose to take out his petty rage on seth. he chose to cross a line. you didn't. you hear me? you didn't. don't ever blame yourself for seth's death. that it too dangerous a road to walk down. you keep your eyes on your own path and keep moving forward"

"neil" "I'm fine" "be fine inside where it's warmer"

"look I know I've always told you all to take your personal problems up with betsy or abby. I've said it's not my place to get into anything outside the court. I hope you've figured out by now I'm just blowing hot air. I'm not real good at being a shoulder, but I do have a working set of ears."

"help me" "let me"

"this doesn't mean anything. I'm still a fox." "of course you are."

NICKY :

"kid you're killing me. why do you always get that deer-in-headlights look when someone does something nice for you?"

"you worry about neil's career. I'll worry about his personal happiness."

"I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't reallt dan and matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you."

"there's obsession and there's dysfunction. you can't make exy your end-all be-all. this won't last forever, okay? you'll shine bright, then you'll retire, and then what? you gonna spend the rest of your life at home alone with all your trophies? you can't be just this, neil. this isn't enough to live for."

"thanks for taking one for the team, neil. you're a real friend."

"are we? friends?" "you are going to be the absolute death of me. yeah, kid. we're friends. you're stuck with us, like it or not."

"I only see that look on neil's face when someone tries to do something nice for him, but we all know kevin's as bratty as they come. what did you say, kevin, and do I need to defend neil's honor or what?"

RENEE :

"I am not the girl I once was but the shade of my old life will always existe inside of me. that is what helps me connect with andrew. I am hoping it will help me connect with you."

"I do not know your story. if you've trusted andrew with anything, he hasn't shared the details with me and he never will. but if you are as like us as we first predicted you to be, perhaps one day you can also come to see me as a friend."

"if either andrew or I can help you, please know we are here."

"and you neil? are you all right?"

[notbecauseofvictories]

50/50

Well, 2024 sure did...happen.

Anyway! I didn't set any sort of goal to watch 50 films and read 50 books this year, but that's where I ended up. Neither number is exactly accurate, and I'm leaving out television, revisiting what I've already read/watched, and all the ridiculous novels I pick up when I'm hungover, but still. I'm kind of impressed with myself. I didn't get to 50 books last year, and I don't think I've watched 50 movies in a year ever---but the more I watch them, the more I explore what they can do and communicate, the more I want to see. As a lifelong reader, it's interesting to explore a new kind of art, to try and intuit your way in through a strikingly different form of communicating the exact same humanness.

TOP FIVE 2024

FILMS

The Florida Project (2017)

Crimes of the Future (2022)

M (1931)

Something in the Dirt (2022)

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021)

It's been months and months since I saw The Florida Project, and I still think about it. The bright and artificial sherbet coloring of it; the dank and mold and shadows that linger around the edges....Actually, I think of all these films in terms of their aesthetics first. Not that there wasn't a story there, but because they all represent such a marriage with form. Consider Crimes of the Future with its fading decay, its browns and rust; M with its stylized, refined cityscape even in the greyscale of 30s cinema; Something in the Dirt where every shot is mundane, or fantastical or both; and We're All Going to the World's Fair, with the particular blue-grey loneliness of the internet age. Surely the benefit of watching a movie (as opposed to anything else) is being presented with something to watch, and I like when directors and creative teams understand that.

Honorable mention to American Psycho (2000) since I'm still a little insane about it---or maybe Corsage (2022) because whether or not it was a good movie, it was nevertheless the most uncompromising, brutal portrait of a historical figure I've seen.

BOOKS

The Rehearsal, Eleanor Catton

Big Swiss, Jen Beagin

Vintner's Luck, Elizabeth Knox

Wylding Hall, Elizabeth Hand

Diavola, Jennifer Thorne

Some people may try to tell you that horror is a discrete genre---I am here to tell you that it's not. All great novels are horror stories, and those listed above especially. From The Rehearsal's self-important artistes, to the therapy-speak Millennials of Big Swiss, to the musicians of Wylding Hall (who miss every sign that Something Is Happening) and the Pace family of Diavola (who deny that the signs mean anything, even after fleeing their vacation home in the night)....all these novels are a study in people experiencing something painful, even terrible. And yet, that provides incredibly fertile territory for their authors to explore the things that come with horror---complicity, desire for closeness, narration and performance, the open wound of family, the thin netting of modernity that keeps us from plunging into something older and darker than we can comprehend.

The only exception might be Vintner's Luck. Not because it's not there as a theme, but because the novel itself spans the narrator's life. By the time he's middle-aged he's committed so many errors, he can't judge too harshly when others do. In this respect it's almost an answer to the questions horror poses---not just how do you survive this? but how do you go on, having survived that?

Honorable mention to Dead Inside, by Chandler Morrison, because it was stomach-turning in the very best way. Echoes of Cipher by Kathe Koja---when an author really knows, really understands, how to wield grossness without shirking or apologizing for it, the result is delightful.

Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022 | Books of 2023

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

Summary: What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hosuk.

🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

📕 Number of part: 15/?

🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words. Tags will be added as the story is written.

👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Guys, this is crazy. I spent a lot of nerves writing this part. It was the hardest for me. It's also the longest of all the parts I've written. Please, at least there were a minimum of mistakes 🤏🏻 🙏🏻 In this part, we learn more about the clan in which Jungkook works. And oh my god, what is Jungkook going to do with Doohoon? 😵 Please let me know in the comments how you like this part 🥺🫠🫶🏻

🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you very much and love you🥰💜

⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 15. Who are you, Jungkook?

𓏧POV Jungkook𓏧

"She's pretty." - Jungkook hears his ex-girlfriend's voice from somewhere in the distance. Jungkook looks after you. He remembers your expression, you looked angry. But he can't really tell if it's because of Doohoon or because of his ex's appearance. He wants so badly to follow you, not to stand here and look at the face of the person he thought he would never see again in his life.

Ha Young hasn't changed much, her eyes as mischievous and playful as ever. She was never serious, like you, for example. She was indifferent to everything. She only cared about her image and the money she had to have in a constant flow.

Jungkook looks at his ex with an angry look. Who is she to judge you? She never loved you, and it always annoyed Jungkook.

Jungkook recalls the time when they were dating against his will.Jungkook remembers how they would fight every time Ha Young found out that he was talking to you.

"She looks much better in person than in the photo. I never thought I'd get to meet your precious bestie." - Ha Young says sweetly. Jungkook clenches his jaw. He's only here to find out what this woman is doing here, and why she's in the company of his former friend and now enemy.

He doesn't have time to listen to her thoughts on you. All he can think about is that you're alone and he's not there. Doohoon is here, which means he will try to get closer to you. He threatened to have you. Not in this life. Jungkook won't give you to anyone because he's become so greedy for you. He doesn't understand what these feelings are, but the thought of you being with another man drives him crazy. Not to mention Doohoon, who can only get you over his dead body.

"You have exactly one minute to talk." - Jungkook says coldly. He has to hurry to get to you, and he doesn't have time for anything else.

"In a hurry? Want to see your upset bestie? She's angry. She's probably dying of jealousy." - Ha Young said and smiled wickedly.

"You'd better speak to the point." - Jungkook says threateningly. Ha Young stops laughing. Jungkook's furious look makes her nervous. But she has a plan to follow.

"Don't get mad, champ. I was just joking." - Ha Young smiles sweetly as she looks at Jungkook. God, he's even hotter than he was before. Maybe she'll have a chance to get into his pants. She has no doubt that she's better than you in bed, and she could make Jungkook feel good. The sight of him now just makes her drool. "I want to smoke a cigarette. Can we go to the smoking room?" - Jungkook clenches his fists nervously, he's hesitant to go with his ex or not. Is he worried about you. He decides it shouldn't take long. A quick conversation and he'll be back with you. Besides, you're under the protection of Hoseok and Taehyung.

Ha Young walks in front, Jungkook walks a little behind. He doesn't look at her at all. He's holding his phone in his hand and checking a text from Hayato.

This guy belongs to Jungkook's group. He is Japanese by birth and lives in Korea. He speaks good Japanese, so he is very helpful in getting the devices back. Hayato writes that the devices were transported to Sapporo. And that Doohoon is personally supervising the transportation. Jungkook wants to curse. Doohoon, that dambass. He getting tired of him doing this shit.

Jungkook writes to Hayato to find out where the devices will be delivered to Spapporo. He also asks for information on how to pick them up.

The loud music and conversations fade away as Jungkook and Ha Young find themselves in a room in front of the restrooms. The room is large. It has sofas and tables with ash trays on them. There is a slight smell of cigarette smoke in the air. There are hoods working here.

Ha Young sits down on one of the sofas and takes out a cigarette from a small black handbag. She seems to have taken it only to have a place to put the pack of cigarettes. Jungkook stands at a distance. He doesn't want to smoke with her. Although he wouldn't mind smoking one to calm his nerves.

Ha Young takes a drag and then a thick cloud of smoke leaves her mouth. She takes another drag and then smiles with satisfaction.

"So is it true that you guys are fucking?" - Ha Young asks, her eyes radiating pure curiosity.

"Do you think it's any of your business?" - Jungkook replies dryly. Ha Young laughs. She takes another drag and blows out smoke.

"Doohoon told me you're fucking her. And that you've wanted to do it for a long time. You wanted to fuck her even when we were dating?" - She asks. Jungkook is angry. Not only is Doohoon a dumb asshole, he also has a big mouth.

"You were fucking Taejoon when we were dating." - Jungkook reminds his ex. "Is it worth it for you to bring up that time now?"

The reason they broke up was because of an affair. Jungkook met Ha Young at a club in Namjoon, the same club where he fought. She worked there as a ring model. They are the ones who carry the signs with the round numbers.

He remembers her flirting and seducing Jungkook. She was always hanging around him because he was the best fighter. Their romance started quickly because they instantly became passionate. They dated for over six months. Ha Young always supported and cheered for Jungkook. She was good at relationships and always knew how to make Jungkook feel good.

Jungkook doesn't know if he was in love with her at the time or not, but he enjoyed being in this relationship. He shared absolutely everything with Ha Young. She knew everything about him without exception. He also told her about you.

When she saw your picture and found out how you were talking to her boyfriend, she often made scenes of jealousy and asked Jungkook to talk to you less. He was angry at this request. He couldn't give you up for his girlfriend. You were his friend for a very long time and he had special feelings for you that no one could understand. You are someone who must be in his life.

But in order not to upset his girlfriend, he stopped writing and calling you first. He was happy to communicate with you when you took the initiative, but after a while your communication went down to a minimum.

When the "super fight" situation happened, Ha Young began to distance herself from Jungkook. While he was dealing with the police, she hardly ever came to see Jungkook at the hospital, almost never answered Jungkook's messages, and even less often answered the phone when he called. Then later he found out that Ha Young was hooked up with Taejoon. He was Namjoon's man. Jungkook found out that she had been fucking him for months.

Jimin was the one who helped Jungkook find out the truth about his girlfriend. He remembers when they broke up. He wanted to punch that Taejoon guy in the face, but Jimin stopped him. He told him that Taejoon was close to Namjoon and if he picked a fight with him, his boss wouldn't like it. And Jungkook would get into big trouble with Namjoon himself. And since Jungkook already has a big debt, there's no need to make things even more complicated. "Some cheap vagina isn't worth the trouble." - Jimin said at the time. It was a big blow to him and he had a hard time with the divorce. But working for Namjoon helped him quickly forget those hard times. Ha Young disappeared from his life, and then Jungkook decided that he would not have a serious relationship, certainly not with the life he had. One-night stands were the best solution.

But now, looking at this woman, he feels nothing. Despite her beautiful dress and makeup, she doesn't look attractive.

Ha Young didn't say anything. She was silent because she had nothing to say. Jungkook knows that Taejoon bought his ex-girlfriend. And he bought her very cheaply.

"So what? Is she better than me in bed?" - Ha Young asked, almost finishing her cigarette. She only had a few puffs left.

"That's none of your fucking business. Tell me why you're here with Doohoon. How come the two of you are here with him?" - Jungkook says rudely. He's already tired of this dialog.

Ha Young slowly finished her cigarette and put it out, throwing it into the ashtray. She stood up and walked over to Jungkook.

"You've become so hard to me. Have you forgotten how good we had together? Is it because of your bestie?" - Ha Young asked as she touched Jungkook's chest with her hand. She lowered her voice to sound more sexy. Jungkook looked down at her hand and after a moment, he pushed it. He didn't want her to touch him.

"Listen, Ha Young. Don't mess with my head. I don't have time for your empty talk and memories from three years ago. If you don't start talking now, I'm going to leave. I'll find out for myself why you're here. And God forbid I find out that you're here because Doohoon brought you here for some plan. You'll regret ever being born." - Jungkook says threateningly. His eyes burn with rage.

Ha Young feels her skin crawl at Jungkook's tone. She's both scared and excited. Has he always been this fucking hot? Ha Young smiles to hide the embarrassment Jungkook has caused her.

This is why she's here. She has a debt to Doohoon and to get rid of it, she has to fulfill her part of the plan. Right now, her task is to get him to talk so that Doohoon can talk to his lovely friend. And then she has to do something special. But she has to wait for a sign.

"Do you want to know why I am here, Kook?" - Ha Young asks.

"You wanted to tell me yourself, that's why we're here now." - Jungkook replies. He senses that something is wrong. Is she stalling or something?

"Actually, I'm here because of you." - She finally starts to speak. "I've been communicate to Doohoon for a long time. Like a year or something. Once... I was saved by Doohoon. The client was terrible, he... I thought I wasn't going to get out of there alive." - Jungkook's ex says with a desperation Jungkook doesn't believe. He scrunches up his face.

"A client?" - He asks again. "What do you do for a living?"

"I work as an escort." - Ha Young says casually. Jungkook nods his head with an indifferent look. Ah, nothing has changed. Instead of a cheap prostitute, she's become an elite one.

"I see. So what? Why are you here because of me?" - Jungkook asks.

"Doohoon told me everything about you. When I found out that you were fucking your precious bestie, I felt so terribly jealous. She always pissed me off. I guess she got what she wanted. Didn't she?" - Jungkook's ex said, her voice bitter. "I've been thinking about you, darling, ever since we broke up. I want you back." - Jungkook laughed softly. Is she stupid or what? What does she take him for if she thinks he'll fall for that fairy tales?

"Really?" - Jungkook laughed.

"Yes, dear, I came here not because of him, but because of you! Jungkook, I remember us. The passion we had." - Ha Young's eyes light up. She moves closer to Jungkook, her voice softer but provocative. "We could start over. I'm better than her. I know the real you." - Jungkook looks at his ex with contempt.

"You don't know the real me. And I don't want to have anything to do with you." - Jungkook says cold.

"You can deny it all you want, but I know you haven't forgotten me. We were perfect together." - Ha Young says. She hears her phone vibrate three times. It's a message from Doohoon. It's a sign, she just needs to wait a few seconds. Doohoon is supposed to text three messages when he's at the door.

Ha Young walks up unexpectedly and presses herself against Jungkook and suddenly kisses him. She captures his lips immediately remembering the feeling. They taste so sweet.

Jungkook is confused, he didn't expect his ex to kiss him. She grabbed his collar and clung to him with her lips. As soon as he comes to his senses, he pushes her away. But not too hard so that she doesn't get hurt. Ha Young smiles with satisfaction at Jungkook.

He raises his eyebrows. He wants to yell at her, but with his peripheral vision, he notices someone outside the smoking room door. Jungkook turns his head, and everything stops inside him.

Your dazed eyes seem to cut him to pieces. Behind you, Doohoon is standing, holding your shoulders and smiling. Jungkook thinks he's going to lose his mind. Are you here with him? Did you see everything?

Jungkook quickly walks over to you. But when he opens the door, all he sees is your back. You run down the hall to the exit. Jungkook urgently needs to explain everything to you.

But Doohoon is standing in his way. Jungkook is so angry that nothing can hold him back.

Doohoon sees you running away because you didn't want to talk to Jungkook. He turns his head and is one step away from Jungkook.

"What did you do, you bastard?" - Jungkook hisses. Ha Young runs after him. She stands silently behind her ex-boyfriend.

"Really, Jungkook, do you have an obsession with taking my girls?" - Doohoon provokes Jungkook. He is already shaking with rage.

"How dare you touch her bastard? I told you that if you lay a finger on her, you'll be begging for breath!" - Jungkook clenches his fists so hard that his fingers crack. Doohoon smiles. Come on, dumbass, it's almost showtime.

"I was just talking to my friend. You don't seem to share anything with her. I told her the truth about you. She was shocked that you belong to the mafia." - This is the last thing he says before he meets Jungkook's fist with his face. The blow is so hard that Doohoon falls to the ground. His eyebrow throbs and hurts like hell. Doohoon feels warm blood trickling down his cheek.

Jungkook is blinded by anger. He's ready to just beat the bastard to death. How did he end up next to you? How did he get the chance to talk to you? Did he tell you that Jungkook belongs to the mafia? Where is everyone? How did he set it up so you could see that kiss? He swears he's going to kill Doohoon today.

Jungkook climbs on top of Doohoon, grabs his hair, and punches him in the face. He puts so much force into each punch that Doohoon's face instantly bleeds. This is the bastard's payback for everything he's done. For the stolen instruments, for the harassment, for telling you things you were never supposed to know, for bringing that whore in here who kissed him in front of you.

Doohoon laughs. He's hurt, but he knows that now Jungkook is in trouble. He doesn't mind sacrificing his face for the sake of the perfect execution of the plan. The plan to ‘destroy Jungkook’. This idiot is like a rabbit caught in a trap.

"I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch!"- Jungkook shouts as he smashes Doohoon's face beyond recognition. "How dare you lay a finger on her?" - Jungkook is furious.

Doohoon could have really died today. But he is saved by the guys from the Namjoon clan.

Jimin is the first to run into the hallway and sees Jungkook punching Doohoon. Jimin tries to pull Jungkook away, but he's too strong. He shoves Jimin away and continues his work. Doohoon has to die so that Jungkook can finally live in peace.

Taehyung comes to help Jimin. People rush into the room. Yamada and his bodyguards. Jin and Hoseok are here. Ha Young is also among these people. She's the one who called for help. Jungkook is dragged away from Doohoon by force. Taehyung and Jimin can barely hold him, but Jungkook breaks free and screams.

"Let me go, I'll kill him." - Hoseok and Jin also run over to calm Jungkook down. Ha Young runs over to Doohoon and leans over him.

"Please call an ambulance!" - She begs.

Jungkook just can't be held back. He sees his friends and is so angry at them.

"Where the fuck were you guys? Why did you let him be around her?" - The guys look at Jungkook in confusion. Didn't he call them outside because he had something important to tell them?

"Buddy, calm down!" - Jimin finally says when Jungkook is pressed against the wall and breathing heavily. His hands are bruised and covered in blood. His face is also smeared with Doohoon's blood.

"What's going on here, Mr. Jeon?" - Yamada asks. Jungkook is out of his mind. He ignores the party host's question and turns to Jimin.

"Where the fuck is she?" - Jungkook is still breathing heavily. He is released, he stands up straight and his posture is tense.

"I saw her get into a taxi." - Jungkook hears Jin's voice. Jungkook takes off running, passing all the people who came to help Doohoon. When he reaches the half-conscious Doohoon, he stops. Ha Young defends his partner and several of Yamada's guards tense up with their hands on their guns.

Jungkook looks at his ex with contempt as she so desperately defends Doohoon.

"I swear, you fucking bastard. I'll blow your head off if you ever show up near Y/N again." - Jungkook throws in a final word and walks out of the hallway. He leaves the restaurant to find you.

***

Your hands are shaking. You feel something painful squeezing your chest, preventing you from breathing in properly. Tears are running down your cheeks, forming a wet path. Each new tear runs along the established route, hot on the trail and instantly cold.

Your head hurts, from crying and an endless stream of thoughts. Oh God, you're going to go crazy.

You bought a ticket for a night flight to Korea. Your first thought when you realized who Jungkook and his friends really were was to run away. Are they the mafia and who knows what's in their heads? Maybe this trip to Japan is some kind of mafia business. What if you get hurt because of them? You have to run away, right?

You haphazardly stuff your things into your suitcase and beg yourself to get out of there before Jungkook comes. You knew he would. Maybe that's the only thing you know about him. Because it turns out you don't know the man at all.

Jungkook is working for the mafia. These words sound so absurd and it didn't fit into your mind. Your Jungkook, the one you've known since childhood, the one who could smile so warmly and sincerely-how could he be connected to this world? Could he really kill people? A whole bag of guns - isn't that strong evidence that he can?

Your relationship with Jungkook turned into a kind of disaster that threatened to break your heart. You succumbed to the feelings he aroused in you. The image of him kissing his ex was tearing you apart.

You see this picture before your eyes, and his words "mine" echo in your head. You are in so much pain. You pressed your hands to your chest and felt a very dull pain. Tears don't help at all, it seems to only get worse. Why did he say those things? Why did he do that to you? Why did he make you fall in love with him? It's not fair. Why did you find out that he belongs to the Mafia and see him kissing his ex one night? Does fate dislike you so much that it's cruel to mock you?

You ran from bathroom to room to get your things. You were getting ready for a party so fast that you threw everything around. Now you need to spend time putting it all in a suitcase.

Almost as you're packing, you think you should call a taxi to take you to the airport. You grab your phone and enter a request into the taxi app with shaking hands.

You hear the door of your room knocking and you freeze. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Your breathing is rapid. You know who it is.

Jungkook runs into the room and sees you. You're crying and you're almost packing your suitcase. He notices that you're dressed in black jeans and a warm sweater. The dress he bought you is lying on the bed.

Your eyes are frightened. You look at Jungkook and your hair stands on end. He's not wearing a coat, just his suit. His hands are smashed and covered in blood. There is also blood smeared on his face. His gaze was intense, and his eyes were dark, as if a storm had settled in them.

Your heart clenched at the sight. It was him, but at the same time not him. The man standing in front of you seemed like a stranger.

"What are you doing?" - His voice was low, almost hoarse.

"I'm leaving." - You say. Your voice trembles and he scratches at your throat.

"Baby no." - Jungkook says desperately. "Please let me explain everything to you?" - He walks toward you.

"Stay away from me." - You ask with fear in your voice. But Jungkook doesn't hear you. He approaches you and grabs you in his arms. You feel as if you've been frozen. You can smell Jungkook's perfume. For a moment, it seems that this is the most ordinary hug that has always been accompanied by this wonderful smell of citrus and lemongrass. This is your favorite smell. But it's all an illusion. This is not the same hug. Jungkook is not the person you know. Who are you, Jungkook?

"Let go." - You cry.

"It's that bastard Doohoon. He set this whole thing up..." - Jungkook explains. Jungkook holds you for a moment longer and takes your face in his hands. His heart breaks at the sight of your crying eyes. "Baby. My favorite little girl. Please, please listen to me. I'll explain everything to you..." - He's begging you so desperately, but you think you've had enough. Enough of all the darkness that shrouds Jungkook's personality.

You are on the verge of an emotional breakdown. You can't see that face in front of you anymore. You pull out of his arms and silently go to your suitcase. You have already called a taxi. You just need to take your things and leave.

"You're not going anywhere!" - Jungkook shouts. He's angry again. He throws your suitcase on the floor and all your things fall out. You are frozen. Jungkook's eyes are furious. You feel fear choking you. You start to cry harder.

"Please." - You cry softly. "Let me go... I'm... I'm afraid of you." - Jungkook almost faints. Why does your look remind him of all the people he's tortured when he needs to extract money or information? Are you really afraid of him? But he would never hurt you in his life. He is so angry about everything that happened that he probably looks like a monster. You look at him like a monster and your eyes are full of fear.

Jungkook is breathing heavily. He doesn't know what to do, but he doesn't want you to leave. He wants to explain everything to you. But do you want to hear him? But it looks like he can't hold you today. You're going to leave anyway, he knows. His world was falling apart right in front of him, and he didn't know how to put it back together.

Jungkook silently walked out, leaving you alone. You quickly gathered your things and left the hotel without a word.

***

When you arrived in Korea, you went straight to Suwon. On the morning of the day after Christmas, you were on your way from the airport to your hometown. You absolutely could not go to Jungkook's apartment. Everything there would remind you of him. You want to forget everything you've learned about him as much as possible. Your emotions get the better of you, you can't think straight.

Your parents were pleasantly surprised by your arrival. Almost from the doorstep, they thanked you for the Christmas gifts you had mailed to them before you left for Japan. Your parents also tried to ask you about your vacation in Niseko, but you lied that you were very tired from the road and would show them photos later. All of your parents' questions about Jungkook were skillfully ignored.

A few days passed. You kept getting texts from Jungkook that you didn't read and calls that you didn't answer. You even wanted to block him once because he called so often that it made you angry. But this morning you haven't received a single text message or call. In your mind, you're excited. Did he really leave you alone? But you were a bad liar. When the whole day passed and Jungkook still hadn't made himself known, you were upset.

Your oppression was so noticeable that your mom was worried. She asked what was wrong but you couldn't tell her. You lied and said it was just a stomachache. But it was really your soul that was hurting.

You lay in bed and thought about Jungkook. He's not the fucking guy you knew. He's a mafia guy. He probably tortures people. He probably uses brute force. Or a gun.

You have a clear image of him in your head, with a mischievous smile and a gentle gaze. You remember his arms hugging you. You just can't imagine those hands holding a gun and killing someone. You cry again because you are torn apart by feelings and common sense. You want him to be with you right now. He would hug you with his face buried in your shoulder, as he often did, and tell you that he would always be there for you. That it was all a bad dream. That he doesn't kill people and that it was just a mistake. You miss him so much that you want to crawl out of your own body. You don't know what to do. You ask mercy for yourself. You can't sleep without him. You are not full when he is not around.

On the other hand, your common sense says that Jungkook is dangerous and he really puts you in danger if you are around him. Knowing the world of crime, it's a constant threat and risk. You get scared. Jungkook must have been on the verge of death more than once. Your heart is squeezed with incredible pain. What should you do? Talk to him? Ask him to leave this world? Will he be able to do it? Your head is bursting with thoughts.

You get an idea. First, you need to find out everything about the RUN NOIR clan, and you have the opportunity. Despite the fact that it's almost three in the morning, you text your sunbaenim from first-year. Kim Ji Sung is a master of his craft. He is a journalist to the core, so if you need to find some hard-to-find information, this man is a real find. You are lucky to have known him. He taught you what a journalist should be, and you managed to get a lot from him during that year of your first year and his last.

So you were one hundred percent sure that he would help you. You write a short message saying that it's a matter of life and death and that you need detailed information about Namjoon and his clan. From the very beginning to the present day.

The night passes and you only fall asleep in the morning.

You didn't get as much sleep as you would have liked. Your eyes opened on their own at 9 am. You stayed in bed until eleven until your mom called you for breakfast.

You checked to see if Ji Sung had read your text. He had, but he didn't reply. You were nervous. Should you remind him about you again? You texted him and waited.

Your mom sat down at the table with you, having finished setting it. Your father was not at home, he was away on business.

"Are you okay, my daughter? Do you have such bags under your eyes? Are you not sleeping well?" - Your mom was worried. You were embarrassed. It was so obvious how you were hurting.

"I'm fine, mom." - You said softly, smiling. "I was just on the phone for a long time. I've lost my normal sleep rhythm with this vacation." - You turned back to your plate and lowered your head so that your mother wouldn't see your depressed mood. Mom started eating breakfast, believing your lie. She told you about Dad and where he had gone. Suddenly she started a conversation that you had been avoiding since you arrived.

"I've been wanting to ask you, dear. How is Jungkook? Did you come to Suwon together?" - Your mom asks with tenderness in her voice. And you feel like you've been electrocuted. The mere sound of his name sets your heart into a frantic gallop.

"No. He didn't come because he has a lot of work to do." - You try to speak calmly. Even though your pulse is pounding loudly in your ears.

"He's so busy all the time. Yonok is so worried about it. She complains to me that she sees her son once a year. You should talk to him. He should come more often." - Your mother said without reproach in her voice. It sounded more like a request. You mumbled that you would try to talk to him. But it doesn't seem like it's going to happen because you know the reason why he comes so rarely, and you don't know if you'll ever see him again.

"I haven't seen him in probably three years. Yeah, the last time was at your graduation. He must have gotten so handsome. He was always such a handsome boy. Does he have a girlfriend now? Yonok didn't tell me anything about whether he had a girlfriend or not. But he might not have told her." - Your mother talked about Jungkook nonstop. You lost your appetite. You decided that you should either change the subject or just leave.

"Mom..." - You called out. But she didn't seem to hear you.

"You know, I went to visit her recently. She asked me about you, and I showed her your photos. She said you've become so beautiful. Yeonok said that Jungkook should pay attention to you. She wouldn't mind if we became family. I support her completely. You know how much I love Jungkook. He's such a good boy. You've known each other since childhood. Don't you make a perfect couple?" - Your mom looks at you and meets your dumbfounded gaze. Even your moms are there too. Why does everyone around you think you're the couple to Jungkook? Is it all your "loving look" fault? But you're more surprised that your moms were discussing it. If they knew what was going on and who Jungkook really is. Would they have wanted him to be your boyfriend?

You are saved by the ringing of the phone. It's Ji Sung. When you see his name, you grab the phone and run to your room. Your mom can't know what this conversation is about. Closing the door behind you, you pick up the phone.

"Hello, Sunbaenim." - You greet.

"Hello, my precious Hubeh." - You hear your sunbae's cheerful voice. "We haven't talked for so long. When I saw your message, I was so happy until I read its content." - He laughs into the phone, you laugh back. "In where are you get into huh?"

"I'm sorry I didn't write to you sooner. I'm sorry. I promise to fix it." - You apologize sincerely. If Ji Sung were standing in front of you, you would bow low. "I didn't really get into anything. But I need information about these people. Can you help me?" - You said with hope in your voice.

"Do you even know who you're asking me to get information about?" - Your sunbae asked seriously.

"I do. They are connected to crime. Sunbaenim, please, I know you can get any information you want. I just need to know who these people are. And how dangerous they are." - You say pleadingly.

"Y/N, I can tell you without any information that Namjoon is very dangerous. And also 6 people close to him. He's a mafioso who holds almost all of Korea. He is definitely unrivaled in Seoul." - Ji Sung says. You're getting anxious. How bad is it?

"Really? And who are the six people who are close to him?" - You wonder if you can find out anything. You hear Ji Sung laughing.

"Y/N, you've always been inquisitive. But in the case of the RUB NOIR clan, this could be your fatal mistake." - Sunbae warns you. You have no choice. You need to take a risk to find out who your friend really is and whether you can help him leave this world.

"I'm begging you, Sunbae. This is important to me. I will owe you a debt. You know that one day you may need me very much." - You don't back down.

"You're still stubborn, I forgot about that." - Ji Sung says with a lament. You laugh into the phone. "Are you so desperate such terrible trouble on your ass? Do you have a boyfriend in their custody or something?" - You can hear your heart beating. Yes, he is. But he's not your boyfriend. Friend? You can't call Jungkook your friend anymore.

"You could say that. I'm going crazy with this. That's why I'm asking you so desperately. I need to know who these people are." - The lie falls from your lips so easily. You pause for no more than a few seconds. "Namjoon and these six people close to him." - You wait for a response. When you hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone, you hope that your lie has worked.

"Okay." - Your sunbae agrees. "But you have a very big debt to me. Because Namjoon can cut off my balls just for digging up information on him. And you, at best..." - For some reason, he suddenly fell silent. You were wondering what would happen to you if Namjoon found out that you asked sunbae to get information about him. But Ji Sung didn't finish his sentence. "I'll send you an encrypted link to download the file later this evening. When you get it, text me and I'll delete everything." - You were happy. Your eyes lit up in anticipation of knowing who they all were. Because you were sure that Jimin's name would be among the 6 people close to you.

"It's a deal. I'll be eternally indebted to you if you do this for me." - You said. Ji Sung smiled.

"Don't say such words. Being eternally indebted to me will be your curse." - Sunbae joked.

"I'm willing to endure that in exchange for very detailed information." - You promise. Ji Sung laughs again.

"We have a deal. I'll be in touch." - He says and hangs up the phone. You feel elated. You look at your phone and realize that Jungkook hasn't texted or called you for two days. This instantly spoils your mood. You go to chat with Jungkook and see his last message from two days ago.

09.21 PM 🐰 Jungkook: Baby please pick up the phone.

You look at his name and see the last time he was online. 5 minutes ago. He was online 5 minutes ago, but he didn't text you. You sadly lock your phone and go back to eating breakfast, which has already turned into lunch.

You finish your breakfast and help your mom with the cleaning and washing up. Your mom says that she is going to pickle a crab, she mentions that Jungkook loved her pickled crabs, and you start to get angry that she tells of him so often. Your mom asks you to go to the local supermarket and buy some food for tonight's dinner. Since she will be cooking the crabs, she can't go yourself.

You immediately agree, going to the store will be a great opportunity to clear your head. You go to the bathroom and take a quick bath. You get dressed and go to the store.

It takes about 20 minutes to walk to the nearest supermarket. You walked down the snowy street in your hometown where you used to go to school every day. Along the way, you met some friends and had a nice chat.

Finally, after buying everything on the list your mom wrote you, you returned home. You offered to help your mom with the pickling of the crabs when you came back from the store. She was almost finished cleaning the seafood and said she could do it herself. The marinade was ready, all that was left was to season crabs.

"If you want, you can help me prepare dinner. In the meantime, go do your own thing." - Your mom said gently. You agreed and went to your room.

You didn't do much of anything. You lay in bed, watching a drama, interrupted by your phone. You checked for texts from Ji-sung and Jungkook's online presence. He was online a lot today, by the way. Right now you look at your phone screen and see "online a minute ago". It's strange that he logs in so often and doesn't even write to you. He terrorized you for two days, and now he won't even send you a smiley face.

You felt a sadness that filled your entire consciousness. You blocked your phone in frustration and fell face first on the bed. How terribly you want to see him. To fall into his arms. To breathe in the smell of his perfume and forget that this horrible world exists at all.

The day passes almost in vain. Somewhere in the evening, when the sun went down and the frost outside became stronger, you felt that you were freezing. You got up, found a warm orange sweater and put it on. You also put on your socks because you had been walking around barefoot all day. You were about to leave your room and go to your mom's when you heard your phone vibrate. You had a small hope that Jungkook had texted you.

You grabbed the phone. The text wasn't from Jungkook, but it was just as important. It was from Ji Sung. You wasted no time in reading the message. There was a link. You clicked on it and a file was downloaded to your phone. When it was downloaded, you immediately texted Sunbae and he deleted everything. Before you opened the file, you received another message from sunbae.

05.12 PM Sonbae Kim Ji Sung : It was worth me all this effort. You are now my eternal slave 😁

You wrote a reply:

05.12 PM You: I'll do my best for you too Seongbae 🥺

You couldn't wait any longer. Sitting down on the bed, you opened the file. It was detailed about Namjoon and the "6 close to him":

Kim Namjoon - Leader.

Role: Chief strategist and leader.

Tasks: Developing clan development plans and setting long-term goals.

Organizing business operations and ensuring their efficiency.

Controlling financial flows and providing a "cover" for illegal activities.

Managing relations with other groups and authorities.

Profile: The founder of the RUN NOIR clan (translated as "Running in the Dark") and later the Mono Corp. He is cold-blooded and extremely intelligent. Namjoon is able to foresee several steps ahead, and his leadership is based on respect, not fear. He is an idealist, but his methods are often brutal when it comes to achieving a goal. He is passionate about art. The slogan of his clan and corporation is: "Run the world with art, rule the streets with shadows". He owns 26% of “Moro Corp”.

Min Yoongi - Shadow Leader

Role: Advisor and executor in the "shadows."

Tasks: Control of information flows and operational security of the clan.

Performing the most delicate and risky tasks that require skill.

Liaison with the criminal underworld outside of Seoul.

Characterization: Yoongi is older than Namjoon, but recognizes his leadership because he believes in his vision. Almost no one in the clan has seen his face and he owns 24% of “Mono Corp”.

Kim Seok Jin - Technician and financier

Role: Responsible for technology and financial fraud.

Tasks: Organizing cyber defense for the clan.

Conducting financial transactions, including money laundering.

Providing access to advanced technologies for other members.

Personality: Gene is jocular and seemingly carefree, but he is actually a genius in IT and finance. His knowledge and connections in the tech world give the clan an edge over the rest. He owns a 12% stake in “Mono Corp”.

Jeon Hosok - Supply and Logistics

Role: Head of Supply and Transportation.

Tasks: Organizing the delivery of illegal goods, including weapons and drugs.

Controlling the network of couriers and carriers.

Providing cover for illegal operations through legal business.

Characterization: Hosok always seems cheerful and frivolous, but he is a master at what he does. His cunning and talent for improvisation allow him to solve any logistical problems. He owns a 10% stake in Mono Corp.

Park Jimin - Businessman

Role: Curator of legal business.

Tasks: Management of a network of elite restaurants, nightclubs and gyms.

Organizing illegal fights and ensuring their profitability.

Communicating with investors and maintaining an ideal "clean" image for the public.

Characteristics: Jimin is charismatic and sexy, and has an innate talent for business. His charm helps him make lucrative deals, but his sweet exterior hides a dangerous and relentless personality. He owns a 10% stake in Mono Corp.

Kim Taehyung - Insider in the military police

Role: Source of access to military police information and resources.

Tasks: Using his status as a special forces officer to obtain information and cover for operations.

Organizing clan protection in case of threats from the police or other law enforcement agencies.

Participation in the elimination of "difficult" targets.

Characteristics: Taehyung is a two-faced man: to his colleagues, he is a professional and reliable officer, and to the clan, he is a dangerous and resourceful ally. He owns a 7% stake in Mono Corp.

Jeon Jungkook - "Brute Force"

Role: "Dirty worker."

Tasks: Racketeering, debt collection and elimination of undesirables.

Controlling the security and safety of the clan.

Organizing physical support for other members' operations.

Characteristics: Joined the clan almost four years ago. Participated in illegal fights organized in one of Namjoon's clubs. Has a debt to Namjoon. The amount of the debt is not disclosed anywhere.

You just can't believe what you just read. What killed you the most is that Taehyung is among these "6 close people". Your heart is broken because you thought he was almost a saint. He is also connected to the mafia and you feel sick.

Jungkook does the "dirty work" and you're not surprised. But it says here that he has debts. What is the amount of this debt? And why did he become a debtor? There are more questions than there were before.

You get goosebumps from the description of these people. You know most of them. And most importantly, these are the people in the mafia clan who keep the whole of Seoul in fear. The scariest thing here is that Jungkook is among these 7 people. Good lord, how? How did your best friend, a promising taekwondo fighter, the son of ordinary businessmen become such a man?

Your mother's voice brings you out of the state of prostration you've fallen into because of the information about the mafia clan.

"Y/N! Come downstairs, daughter!" - She shouts at you from somewhere on the stairs leading to the first floor. Her voice is joyful and excited. You block the phone and hurry downstairs. You hear her voice speaking happily to someone. "I'm happy to see you..."

You come down the stairs and freeze, grabbing the railing. No. It can't be! Jungkook.

He's sitting in the living room on the couch next to your mom. She's care him, and Jungkook smiles shyly at her. He's dressed in all black as usual, but he's not wearing any outerwear right now. He's wearing a black sweater and black sweatpants. His bangs are combed to the front and have a slight parting. You look at your best friend and your heart threatens to jump out of your chest. Your fingers and toes go numb. You missed him so much. Tears well up in your eyes, but you stand motionless at the first step up the mountain.

Jungkook notices you and your eyes finally meet. You look into those big black eyes, similar to Bambi's, and you see something familiar and so necessary in them. Jungkook smiles at you lightly.

"Hi, baby." - He says in his trademark Jungkook voice with a hint of apology and playfulness.

↰ Previous chapter ● Next chapter ↱

[thewitchblue]

"I told you not to touch that."

You had warned a very curious Tim repeatedly. This one wasn't anything harmful. You simply didn't want him touching your potions. It was a very annoying potion to make.

You had left it boiling on a burner while you got a snack, but Tim shut off the burner to touch your half-baked potion. You had no idea how long he's had it off the burner, but it wasn't boiling anymore.

"What does it do?"

He didn't have the guts to do anything but hold the boiling hot beaker. At least, not in front of you. He felt like he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It was SUPPOSED to be a present for Jason, jackass. Now it's ruined."

You aggressively took the breaker from Tim and borderline slammed it down on your windowsill. You stormed over to your burner and turned it on again. Maybe you can salvage it. It had stopped boiling because Tim was too curious for his own good.

"Oh."

Tim looked embarrassed. You didn't bother to tell him it was liquid weed, so Jason could stop stinking up the manor when he smokes.

You were sick of getting accidentally drugged because Jason left brownies out without a "do not eat" sign. You think Jason secretly likes drugging people, but there was an unspoken agreement: shut up and leave the drugged person alone.

You were hoping this potion would get him to go to you instead of some shady drug dealer, but Tim doesn't need to know any of this. This is between you and Jason.

"Do me a favour and never touch my stuff. My next potion won't be so friendly."

You grumbled. You were the family witch. Yes, the stereotypical potions and general magic. You learned from Constantine and Zatanna how to use spells, but potions are where you shine.

You are called The Alchemist at night and are feared mainly due to how prepared you are. You had a potion for anything and everything.

The villains actively avoid you as a result of your preparation. You're seriously more prepared and paranoid than Batman in a lot of cases.

Scarecrow is the only one salty enough to go after you. He wanted you as an apprentice, but he's not getting anywhere by kidnapping you on the occasion. Come on, just give him one potion that he can replicate if he can't have you on his side!

Joker found you boring, Bane doesn't want to tango when you take away his muscles with a potion, Ra cares more about physical combat, and the list goes on. It's ridiculous, truly.

You were actually quite close to Poison Ivy, however, and she supplies you with various plants for you to use. You even send her photos to update her on how the plant is blooming with a thank you text (yes, you have her number, score!)

Being a Wayne helps with the potions as well. You can get you an endless supply of various metals, chemicals, and powders to work with alongside the plants. You often question if you are on a government list somewhere. It doesn't look good to order 15 kilograms of gunpowder and potassium nitrate.

The family doesn't know any of this, but then again, they don't know much about what you do. They rarely ask questions about your potions except nosy Tim, who refuses to leave your room until he knows more about whatever potion you are making at the time.

"I was curious!"

He tried to defend himself, which failed as you retorted,

"And you could have had your finger dissolved if you touched it! For the brains of the family, you really are stupid."

Does he have no sense of self-preservation? Why on earth would he touch a mysterious liquid? Survival of the fittest indeed.

Tim scoffed. How else is he supposed to find out more information if he knows nothing about the process? You had all your potions memorised! No recipe book, no paper trail, you even have a witch/magic users pack between Zatanna and Constantine, so they won't tell the family anything. He can't even identify all the plants you use so he could test them.

"You're lucky I make weapons for you guys. Some of this stuff takes weeks! I have 9 of you guys running around, using MY supply because you guys don't use your potions wisely. What if I needed the paralysing potion for Bane, but uh-oh, you stole it from me, so I can't do anything."

Tim had no excuse. He's, admittedly, stolen more than a handful of potions to reload his weapons, and he's not the only one. He tried to smooth over your irritation. In a nervous tone, he said,

"I'm sorry. I would be surprised if you didn't notice the missing potions, though."

Damn right, you'd notice it. What kind of alchemist would you be if you didn't notice your missing stash and resupply? Granted, you also have the power of bullshit spells that you learned from John and Zatanna, so you aren't entirely helpless, but it's annoying reaching for an imaginary potion on patrol and needing to trudge all the way home just to restock.

"I think you need to keep your hands to yourself. I might have to redo this potion now. Please tell me you didn't touch the potion itself."

You wouldn't know how to handle a high Tim Drake. You tried to keep your eyes on him while putting your potion back on the burner. Is the weed in his bloodstream, or are you safe to continue your drug cooking?

He gave an awkward smile. He may or may not have smelled the potion. It smelled like a freshly mowed lawn, and the tiny sip he took tasted like an apple. When all you got was silence, you groaned and said in disbelief,

"Oh, fuck, of course you did."

Just your luck. The drug will hit Tim any second now. You ran a stressed hand through your hair before turning to him and saying sternly,

"You are going to sleep on my bed and let the potion run its course. Do. Not. Leave. This. Room. Got it?"

Tim looked confused, but what does he know about magical potions? If you say let it work through him, he'll follow instructions. He sat on your bed and then it hit him.

"Woah, what the hell did you do to me? Were you trying to lace Jason with something?"

You frowned and physically pushed him onto the bed. You quickly swaddled him like a baby in a sea of blankets.

He can not leave this room. Bruce would murder you. You were supposed to be the good one. The only one who caused no problems (to their knowledge).

"Tim, look at me."

Tim did not, in fact, look at you. He was distracted by all the plants you have in your room. Did someone drop off more plants in the time he's last been in here?

"Did you get more plants?"

You huffed. You didn't. They have only grown since he's been snooping in your room. You tried to get his attention by snapping your fingers and calling his name,

"Tim?"

When he continued to look around with rapidly reddening eyes, you squished his face in your hand and forcefully pushed his face until it faced you.

"Tim, you are going to sleep. I'm going to play some music for you and we are going to forget all about this when you feel better."

You can make a potion to erase recent memories. Tim can't know you are making drugs in your room. Nobody can know except Jason.

You decided to turn on some calming music in hopes he would drift off, which seemed to be working as his eyes drooped, and he smiled at you like he knew something you didn't. He was lost in his thoughts, clearly.

You wondered what was going on in that big brain of his. It didn't matter. He can blaze in blissful peace while you deal with his mess.

You kept the music quiet and soft like he was at a spa. You hoped the combined warmth of the blankets with the soft music would work faster.

With a sigh, you stood up from your position at his bedside. This is not good. Tim needs to learn when to leave your stuff alone. What if you boiled his blood or poisoned him? It's best to leave the witchcraft to the witch.

You watched him like a hawk. His thoughts seemed to be slowed and sluggish. You supposed you can bottle your potion after all. Should you put a dropper on it? Normally, your potions soak through the skin and clothes, but you were extremely careful with this one.

You gave his forehead a small kiss once he fell asleep. You went to your bottles while shaking your head in disapproval. You were very happy with the results of the potion, not so much with the tester. You would hate to think about what could have happened if you didn't swaddle him. Would he be walking around high and babbling about funny potions? Probably. He was already hallucinating pleasantly by the time he passed out.

You were so lucky that Tim didn't get the potentially dangerous symptoms. You can handle a mellowed out Tim, but not if he was going through psychosis.

After successfully bottling and hiding the potion, you pulled out one of your memory potions.

You felt bad drugging him then making him forget about it, but you can't have him telling anybody, whether accidentally or purposefully.

You know you could just tell Bruce that Tim touched a memory potion on your burner, and he'd believe you, but why draw in the eyes of Batman? He would want to know about all future potion making.

You frowned as you put one drop on his forehead and watched it sink in. He won't remember any of this.

You were a bit overprepared, but you were Batman and Constantine trained. Of course you'd have some weaselly way out of accidentally drugging someone.

Oh, John would be so proud of you.

[artbyblastweave]

Is it weird that, the more posts you make about how being a genre fiction protagonist would suck and ruin your life (posts I love and think are great), the more I want to go full "No, suck eggs, Alan Moore, being a superhero is cool and good, actually?" I can't tell if it's mindless contraiantism or an actual point.

I think it's an understandable impulse, because there are absolutely strains of very-online genre-fic and cape-fic critique that, if taken super seriously as a blueprint for how fiction ought to be written, would basically amount to the Wertham Scare with a social justice gloss, and we don't need a second one of those. If a person bins the entire superhero genre as "irredeemably fascist" or anything similar, for example, I start paying extremely close attention to the implicit back half of that proclamation, the part where they lay out what part of that condemnation they consider actionable. The censorious should be made to eat their own black markers. You can do whatever you want forever.

On the other hand, you really can't get around what happens to a lot of escapist genre-fic- cape-fic in particular- if you apply any kind of scrutiny or big-boy grown up emotional or moral logic to it whatsoever. It wasn't built to survive that level of scrutiny, it wasn't built to still see publication 80 years after the fact- and indeed, stuff in that space that isn't seeing active mass-market success, John Carter and the like, that tends to get judged basically as harshly as I think it deserves. There really isn't any way around the fact that we're all playing Frankenstein with the innards of mass-market children's stories. And moreover I feel like there's an offputting mealy-mouthedness to a lot of the contemporary big-two output that notices the cracks in the foundation and tries to have their cake and eat it too, having capes that beat bad guys up but in a markedly progressive way. A certain level of pessimism and cynicism is often the only believable way to get those wires to connect if you're trying to make your spandex crowd interface with real-world cynicism. (Superman is ironically one of the Big-two properties that I think most consistently threads this needle. Batman has a harder time due to the billionaire thing. The X-Men are turbofucked and have been for a while.)

Astro City is one of the capethings that I think hits the best balance on all of this, and nonetheless one of the worldbuilding beats that does a lot of the heavy lifting on believability for me is that the Nixon Admin executed the setting's Captain American analogue on trumped-up charges as a show of force and as a distraction from Watergate. Because he would! He would do that! "What about Nixon" is a fantastic litmus test for this kind of thing IMO- even if the answer is that he was the head of a cult that built a mutant-powered flying saucer to take over the world with, that's still better than dodging the question entirely, or having Superman suck off Reagan like Byrne did.

[yurinaa-world]

Hi! Could you make an artist reader? Basically a painter who draws his partner or cats, etc?

With the characters Aventurine, Sampo, Moze, Dan Heng (I'm using this with a translator so I don't know if it's spelled correctly...)

2#"𝓓𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Aventurine, Sampo, & Moze x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's an artist

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫Dan Heng's part is here: 💫

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

“Not bad, not bad at all. You really know what catches my good side.”

It was supposed to be a gift painting of him, your delicate, nimble fingers first sketched it out before picking out colours and finally taking a brush and painting over the canvas sketch with extreme eye for detail.

He always loved to barge in whenever he felt like it, but now it is a very bad moment! He saw it when you were almost finished! Seriously, you wanted to surprise him so badly. You whirl around cheeks already flushed from the intensity of your concentration, now burning hotter with embarrassment. 

"Y-you weren’t supposed to see it yet!" you stammer, instinctively moving to shield the canvas with your arms, though it's far too late. He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

"Oh, come on. You can't blame me for being curious. I mean, you’ve been holed up in here for days, looking all suspicious."

He goes silent for a bit, staring at the painting for a while…

He's sort of left completely speechless by you.

“Wow, what detail. How about I put this up in my office.” he grinned, while you completely protested the idea because you weren’t finished 

“No way! It’s not finished.”

💫𝒮𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝒦𝑜𝓈𝓀𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇-𝒯𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓃"

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He whined and cried till his throat went dry, but even then that wouldn’t stop his extremely annoying cries. All while you listen and skim through your supplies, nit-picking at what you need all while your canvas is stood in front of a Sampo who’s tied to the chair. 

“Dear Sampo just wanted to make some profits, and those paintings have been there for years, I was just doing you a favour!”

You only sigh at his words. You don’t like to sell your painting, especially with a vendor like Sampo of all people. It may have been ancient yet you didn’t want to get rid of it.

the idea that it may be hanging on a wall in some random place, bought by Sampo’s tricks at a higher price, gave you an unpleasant feeling in your mouth. “You are something, you know,” you whispered, taking a palette knife and twirling it around in your fingers. Not for a show of power—even if you’d like Sampo to see it that way—but because it helped your mind stay focused.

At an exaggerated rate, Sampo shrank back while his chair was making a squeaky noise, signifying his discomfort. “I mean, come on, be realistic, let’s think logically about it! I’m only the middleman in the process here, attempting to make your raw talent the new trend!” 

“You’re right, so in turn for your service I decided to give you something to sell as well.” you smile with joy, as you sit down on the chair in front of my canvas, which makes him sweat dearly on what you’re about to do. 

You lean back, tilting your head as if to get a better view of your subject. “You’d make a... striking muse, don’t you think?” Sampo’s cheeks flush a deep red. “Striking? I—I mean, I am a good-looking guy, but—wait a second! What kind of striking are we talking about here?” 

“You're right, someone would like a painting of a guy like you, I wonder in what position though,” you mutter that last part but you know he heard “Your beauty will sell for millions just like you wanted.”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

“Moze.”

One call of his name and he’ll be landing at your feet to see what you need him to do. Appearing behind you, his hands gently landing on your shoulders—still scaring you to death, before whispering “You called” under his breath, yet loud enough for you to hear.

Immediately turning around and clasping your hands with his, along with a giant smile on your face. “Moze! Could you be my subject!”

He (easily) caved and became what you needed him to be most, your subject in your painting. He’s so awkward when posing! You had to personally move him around a couple of times since he’s made all of the poses you put him in awkward somehow.

Which leaves you to have your hand on your chin, staring at him with a precise gaze, that is the same as his, yet, yours was made to find beauty in hopeless things.

 “Hah…how should I pose you.”

Taking his one hand in yours while your other hand goes to his hood, you gently pull it down, revealing his slightly messy hair. “You hide so much behind this,” you say softly, smoothing a few strands away from his face. 

“I think… maybe something natural,” you mumble, tilting your head to examine him from another angle. You guide him to sit on the chair near the window, where the soft light filters through the curtains. “Lean back, like this,” you murmur, adjusting his shoulders to relax against the chair. “And look out the window… like you’re lost in thought.”

Moze does as you say, his hands gripping the edge of the chair a little too tightly. You shake your head with a small laugh and pry his fingers loose, placing one hand on his lap and letting the other dangle over the side of the chair. “There. Try to look more relaxed.”

He’s honestly trying the best he can, his shoulders less tense and face less serious—even though that’s basically all he knows to do. “Thank you.” You smile gently at him before pecking him on the lips as a thank you, before finally starting at your sketch.

He can’t forget your pretty smile. He helped you. He wishes he had his hood on now.

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