pleasehelpmycats

[numberonelittlechild]

-"LILIANA, YOU FOHOHOHOHOHOHOL!!! I WILL DESTROY YOHOHOHOHOHOU!!!"

-"Hmhm! Sure you will, blackie~!!"

Dang I was so struggled to make this- but... But hey! At least it's finished :3! Have the first tickle art I made! I will post here dudes! I hope y'all like it! XD! Also a little gift for my friend @jav-animations-👌💕

(don't worry, I have some tickle arts I'll post when I can :])

[m-jay-gee]

cant believe pinocchio found where the white women are at!!! so proud of him!!

[catboyrightsdefender]

*insert the usual horny comment*

[lee-pace-yourself]

[kpop-bbg]

[barcodeboyz]

My Top 10 Best ERB Verses

HM. Cleopatra (verse 2)

It feels like a crime to not include this verse because it drops one of the most brutal lines in all of ERB history. "You lost so many babies we should call you Miss Carriage" is a line that damaged Marilyn so bad she got 3 verses instead of 2. I've never seen a battle do that before. While it does not make the full list, it deserves recognition for being as brutal as it is.

HM. Joan Rivers (verse 1)

Although I agree with my placement of this verse, this is easily one of my favorite verses in the whole series. Joan is RUTHLESS, especially her disses against Bill Cosby. "My sex jokes offend, you're on the sex offender registry//Who you wearing right now? Is that state penitentiary?" is one of my favorite bar sequences in the series as well. I was first introduced to Joan Rivers after I watched her Gwar interview, and this performance of Joan is just spot on and great. I certainly think it won the battle; I just think it was stronger than Robin Williams' verse. With that being said, let's get on to the countdown!

10. The Cat in the Hat (verse 1)

What a way to start a list. I don't know about any of you, but I remember being a kid and seeing this episode for the first time and being absolutely blown away by the surprise rapping from the Cat in the Hat. Although it's arguable that Shakespeare won the battle, Cat in the Hat came through with serious punches that would have been complimented by better rap partners.

9. Walter White (verse 1)

This is the first of many entries on this list to feature a verse that could be interchanged with another verse from the same rapper. Walt had a fire line with the Shane comment, but his first verse is what cemented his intentions in the battle, which was to completely rip into Grimes' character. The Walkers line is also extremely creative to me, which puts it here.

8. Albert Einstein (verse 1)

As much as I want to place this higher, it fits in at number 7 because it starts out ruthless, then mellows out a little bit when momentum could have continued. "Take a seat Steve, oop, I see you brought your own," is a completely savage bar. The Wall-E line is also good, but I feel like they could have used Zach's energy here and shot up to 10. But it still makes this list because it is absolute savagery.

7. Babe Ruth (verse 2)

This verse encompasses what a rap battle verse should do; tear down the opponent with the truth, raise yourself and your accomplishments up, and provide absolutely ruthless (pun intended) lines in the process. Ruth does all these things, shaming Armstrong for his use of steroids, building himself up with his accomplishments in baseball, and getting one dirty punch in with the final line.

6. Mansa Musa (verse 2)

I am going to come out and say it, I was so hyped to find out Scru Face Jean was in an ERB. He is an incredibly talented rapper, and his commentary on other ERB videos is hilarious. He brought in that mix of humor and talent and dropped one of the hardest verses on this list.

5. J. Robert Oppenheimer (verse 1)

We are now at the point in the list where every verse has given me chills in one way or another. Peter absolutely nailed the Oppenheimer impression, with the very breathy rapping and educated way of attacking his opponent. From start to finish, the reason this verse placed here instead of his second verse was because of how well his introduction is made. "There is no balance" is a bone chilling portrayal of Oppenheimer from Peter, and the paired music add to the atmosphere.

4. Stan Lee (verse 1)/Walt Disney (verse 1)

I know, I know. Tying two verses from the same battle is a cop out. But I legitimately could not pick between the two. The musical accompaniment of an ERB is extremely important, and it is really shown here. The narrator hyping up the two combatants sets the tone for how the battle should be, and Stan Lee followed that tone perfectly with references galore, while also finding ways to punch at Henson. And Disney comes in here as well because it is extremely real to see; a lot of companies have been bought out by Disney, so seeing him come out as this all powerful being is fitting. This is one of the best battles they have ever made, and these verses both deserve their placement here.

3. Terminator (verse 1)

I was really stuck between this and my pick for 2nd, but ultimately chose this order because I found the next entry to have just a little more power to it. But that being said, this is one powerful verse. From the very beginning, Terminator is going to absolute war, which only gets more vicious as the verse continues. The final 4 lines of the verse ending with a reference to the movies is what sealed this placement for me, but the quick rapping, mocking Robocop's circumstances, and use of cgi really add to it.

2. Boba Fett (verse 4)

This battle was CRAZY. 8 verses in total, 4 for each combatant, with some lines that are straight up venomous from both sides. I ultimately chose this verse because of the quick rapping. I just think it works perfectly here; we've seen many examples of quick rapping throughout the ERB franchise, and I just think this is one of those examples that just shine through.

Hannibal Lecter (verse 2)

If you know me, you knew this was coming. I love Silence of the Lambs, and it was because this video introduced me to the character of Hannibal. Lloyd absolutely nails his mannerisms and speech patterns. As I said before this is one of those verses where I could have interchanged it with his first verse, but ultimately, I chose this one because it ended the battle and rebutted Jack's final verse, which was a little underwhelming in my opinion. And the lyrics here are just even better than his first verse in my opinion. "You prey on a prostitute and play with her body, I don't mind that you're naughty Jack, I hate that you're sloppy" is a bone chilling line, tearing into his combatant who spent his first verse building himself up without throwing any comments towards Hannibal. And that is just one of many lines in this verse that ultimately tear down Jack's verses.

Anyways, that's my list on the best ERB verses in my personal opinion. These are not necessarily my favorite verses, but rather the ones I felt held their own in battle and fought hard from beginning to end. I intend on putting together a list of the worst ERB verses, but I'm unsure when I plan on doing that. What do you guys think? Is there a verse you guys think should have placed?

[ares857]

internet find

[redgoldsparks]

I wrote a 12 page epilogue to my 2019 comic "Harry Potter and The Problematic Author" because I found, in 2023, that I had more to say. You can also find this comic on my website, and I have PDF copies available on etsy. I may sell print copies at some point in the future.

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

Full transcript below the cut.

PAGE 1

Part one: Ruddy Owls!

I was in fourth grade when the first Harry Potter Book was released in the US.

Panel 1: Sometimes our teacher would read it aloud in class. “Mr and Mrs Dursley of number 4 Privat Drive were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

Panel 2: I was 11 years old when Harry Potter finally broke through my dyslexia and turned me into a reader.

Panel 3: Every night in the summer before sixth grade I waited for the owl carrying my Hogwarts Letter. I cried when it didn’t come. “I have to go to Muggle school!”

PAGE 2

Part Two: Hats

I dedicated myself to being a fan.

Panel 1: I began collecting Harry Potter News article.

Panel 2: I asked my relatives to mail me ones from their local papers. I filled a thick binder with clippings.

Panel 3: I wrote my own trivia quiz

Panel 4: and participated in the one held annually at the county fair. “Next contestant!”

Panel 5: I usually got into one of. the top five spots. I won boxes of candy, posters, stationary, and once a baseball cap. (Hat reads: I survived the battle of Hogwarts).

Panel 6: In high school I sewed a black velvet cape and knitted many stripped scarves.

PAGE 3

Part Three: Double Trouble

Watching the last film in 2011 felt like the final note of my childhood. 

Panel 1: I remember driving home from the midnight showing thinking about the end of 13 years of waiting; wondering what would define the next chapter of my life. 

Panel 2: That same month I heard of something called Pottermore. “Okay, so there’s a sorting quiz… I already know my house! Patronus assignment? Mine’s a barn owl. Duh!" 

Panel 3: You can read the books again but with GIFs? Why? 

Panel 4: I lived in a place with very slow and limited internet at the time. Pottermore sounded inaccessible, but also boring. I never joined. 

Panel 5: "I’ll just read the actual books again, thanks." 

PAGE 4

Part Four: Sweets

In 2016, a series of short stories titled "History of Magic in North America” were released on Pottermore to pave the way for the first Fantastic Beasts Film. These stories display an extreme ignorance of American history, culture, and geography, but the worst parts are the casual misuse of indigenous beliefs and stories. Fans and critics immediately spoke up against this appropriation. Some of the most quoted voices included Nambe Pueblo scholar Dr. Debbie Reese who runs the site “American Indians In Children’s Literature”; Navajo writer Brian Young; Johnnie Jae (Otoe-Missouria and Choctaw), founder of A Tribe Called Geek; Dr Adrienne Keene (Cherokee Nation), a Professor at Brown University who runs the blog “Native Appropriations”, and writers N.K. Jemison and Paula Young Lee.

PAGE 5

Rowling is famous for responding to fans directly on twitter, yet she did not respond to anyone calling out the damaging aspects of “Magic in North America.” Her representatives refused to comment for March 9 2016 article in the Guardian. She has never apologized. All of this, plus the casting of Johnny Depp and the specific declarations of support by JKR, Warner Brothers, and director David Yates left a sour taste in my mouth.

For further thoughts on the new films read The Crimes of Grindelwald is a Mess by Alanna Bennett for Buzzfeed News, November 16, 2018.

PAGE 6

Excerpt from Colonialism in Wizarding American: JK Rowling’s History of Magic in North America Through an Indigenous Lens by Allison Mills, MFA, MAS/MLIS (Cree and Settler French Canadian)

Although Rowling is certainly not the first white author to misstep in her treatment of Indigenous cultures, she has an unprecedented level of visibility and fame, […] One of the most glaring problems with Rowling’s story is her treatment of the many Indigenous nations in North America as one monolithic group. […It] flattens out the diversity of languages, belief systems, and cultures that exist in Indigenous communities, allowing stereotyping to persist. […] It continues a long history of colonial texts which ignore that Indigenous peoples still exist. […] In the Wizarding world, as in the real world, Indigenous histories have been over-written and our cultures erased.

from The Looking Glass: New Perspectives in Children’s Literature Volumn 19, Issue 1

PAGE 7

Part 5: Music

Panel 1: Also in 2016 I discovered two podcasts which radically altered my experience of being an HP fan. The first was Witch Please created by two Canadian feminist literary scholars Hannah McGregor and Marcelle Kosman.

Panel 2: “If it’s not in the text it doesn’t count!” “Close reading ONLY!”

Panel 3: They talk about Harry Potter at the level you’d expect in a college class with particular focus on gender, race, class, and the troubling fatphobia, fear of othered and queer coded bodies, violence against women, white feminism, gaslighting and failed pedagogy in the books. They bring up these issues not because they hate the series, but because they LOVE it.

PAGE 8

These passionate, joyful conversations went off like fireworks in my mind. I had never taken a feminist class before. I gained a whole new vocabulary to talk about the books- and the world.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: The second podcast I started that year was Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, created by two graduates of the Harvard Divinity School, Vanessa Zoltan and Casper Ter Kuile.

Panel 2: They read one chapter per episode through a theme such as love, control, curiosity, shame, responsibility, hospitality, destruction, or mystery. Like Witch Please, they are interested only in the information on the page, not thoughts from the author. The delights and failures of the text are examined in the context of the present day, and new meanings constantly arise.

PAGE 10

What does it mean to treat a text as sacred?

Trusting that the more time we give to it, the more blessings it has to give us.

Reading the text repeatedly with concentrated attention. Our effort is part of what makes it sacred. The text is not in and of itself sacred, but is made so by rigorously engaging in the ritual of reading.

Experiencing it in community.

“To me, the goal of treating the text as sacred is that we learn to treat each other as sacred.” -Vanessa Zoltan

PAGE 11

Part 6: Tooth and Claw

In October 2017, Rowling liked a tweet linking to an article arguing that trans women should be kept out of women’s bathrooms because of cisgender women’s fears. In March 2018, she liked a tweet about the problem of misogyny in the UK Labour Party which included the line “Men in dresses get brosocialist solidarity I never had.” The author of the tweet had previously posted many blatantly anti-trans statements.

Rowlings publicist claimed she had liked the posted by accident in a “clumsy and middle-aged moment.” Yet, in September 2018 she liked a link posted by Janice Turner to her column in the Times UK titled “Trans Rapists Are A Danger In Women’s Jails.”

Screencaps of these tweets can be found in the article “The Mysterious Case of JK Rowling and her Transphobic Twitter History”, January 10 2019 by Gwendolyn Smith (a trans journalist), LGBTQNation.com

PAGE 12

Excerpt from: Is JK Rowling Transphobic? A Trans Woman Investigates by Katelyn Burns

Ultimately, the answer is yes, she is transphobic […] I think it’s fair that she receives criticism from trans people, especially given her advocacy on behalf of queer people in general, but also because she has a huge platform. Many people look up to her for creating a singular piece of popular culture that holds deep meaning for fans from different walks of life, and she has a responsibility to handle that platform wisely. (Published on them.us March 28, 2018)

PAGE 13

Part 7: Home

At age 30, I’m still not over Harry Potter.

Panel 1: I’ve recently found a local bar that does HP trivia nights. “Poppy or Pomona?” “Poppy!”

Panel 2: I currently own an annual pass to Universal Studios so I can visit Hogsmeade.

Panel 3: I love talking to kids who are reading the books for the first time. “Who’s your favorite character?” “Ginny!”

Panel 4: And I’m planning a relisten to the audio books to next year to help me get through the election cycle. “Jim Dale, I’m going to need you more than ever…”

Spoiler from 2023: I did not do this. By mid-2020 JKR had posted her transphobic essay; we were in covid; I never visited Universal Studios again.

PAGE 14

But I do want to learn from her mistakes. I never want to repeat “Magic in North America.” As I write, I will do my research. I will consult experts and compensate them. If a reader from a different culture/background than me speaks up about my work, I will listen and apologize. I KNOW I WILL MAKE MISTAKES. But I will own up to them and I will do better.

PAGE 15

Excerpt from Diversity Is Not Enough: Race, Power and Publishing by Daniel José Older

We can love a thing and still critique it. In fact, that’s the only way to really love a thing. Let’s be critical lovers and loving critics and open ourselves to the truth about where we are and where we’ve been. Instead of holding tight to the same old, failed patriarchies, let’s walk a new road, speak new languages. Today, let’s imagine a literature, a literary world, that carries this struggle for equity in its very essence, so that tomorrow it can cease to be necessary, and disappear. (Buzzfeed, April 14, 2017) 

PAGE 16

Harry Potter is flawed, & JK Rowling is problematic. But the books helped me learn a lot: 

*One of the greatest dangers facing the modern world is the rise of fascism 

*The government cannot be trusted 

*Read and think critically

*Question the news: who paid the journalist? Who owns the paper? 

*Trust and support your friends through good times and bad

*Organize for resistance

*Educate and share resources with peers

*The revolution must be diverse and intersectional

* We are only as strong as we are united

*The weapon we have is love 

MK 2019

PAGE 17

PART 8: EPILOGUE

In 2021 I removed a Harry Potter patch I sewed to my book bag over a decade ago. I took 15 pieces of Harry Potter fanart off my walls. I got rid of my paperback book set, 2 board games, and 8 t-shirt. [images: a Hogwarts a patch with loose threads, a pair of scissors and a seam ripper]

Panel 1: Maia holding up a shirt with the Deathly Hallows logo on it. Maia thinks: “Damn, this really used to be my entire personality.”

Panel 2: The t-shirt gets thrown into the Goodwill box.

PAGE 18

I wrote my zine wrestling with JKR’s legacy in 2019, after her dismissive and racist reaction to indigenous fans and critics of “Magic in North America” and after she had liked a couple transphobic tweets. Since then, she has gotten so much worse.

A Brief Timeline (mostly from this Vox article)

June 2020- JKR posts a 3600 word essay making her anti-trans position clear

August 2020- The Robert F Kennedy Human Rights Org issues a statement about her transphobia, JKR doubles down on her position and returns an award they gave her

December 2020- JKR claims 90% of HP fans secretly agree with her anti-trans views

December 2021- JKR mocks Scottish Police for recognizing transgender identities

March 2022- JKR criticizes gender-inclusive language and legislation

December 2022- JKR retweets trans youtuber Jessie Earl’s critical review of Hogwarts Legacy, starting an onslaught of transphobic harassment towards Earl

December 2022- JKR removes her support from an Edinburgh center for survivors of sexual violence with a trans-inclusive policy and funds her own center which explicitly excludes trans sexual assault survivors

January 2023- JKR tweets “Deeply amused by those telling me I’ve lost their admiration due to disrespect I show violent, duplicitous rapists.” It got nearly 300K likes

March 2023- One the podcast “The Witch Trials of JK Rowling”, hosted by a former Westboro Baptist Church Member, JKR compares the trans rights movement to Death Eaters.

PAGE 19

What are The Witch Trials of JK Rowling?

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “It’s a 7 episode documentary style podcast hosted by Megan Phelps-Roper. Nearly every episode contains interviews with JKR as well as critics, journalists, historians, protestors and fans.

Panel 2: Maia speaking. “In episode 1, JKR speaks more candidly than she has previously about being in an abusive marriage. Her ex-husband hit her, stalked her, broke into her house overlapping with the time she was writing the first three HP books.”

Panel 3: Maia speaking. “What she went through genuinely sounds horrific. I have a lot of sympathy for the kind of life-long traumas those experiences leave.”

PAGE 20

HOWEVER.

It is clear from reading the June 2020 essay on her blog and listening to the podcast, that JKR still to this day feels unsafe. Despite her wealth and privilege she moves through the world with the mindset of a victim. And the group of people she finds most threatening are trans women.

Or rather, she is afraid that allowing trans women in women’s spaces invites the possibility of male predators entering those spaces.

Here’s a direct quote: The problem is male violence. All a predator wants is access and to open the doors of changing rooms, rape centers, domestic violence centers [...] to any male who says “I’m a woman and I have a right to be here” will constitute a risk to women and girls. - from The Witch Trials episode 4 as transcribed by therowlinglibrary.com, March 2023

Image: A stem of Belladonna with flowers and berries.

PAGE 21

Let me introduce here the term: TRANSMISOGYNY. The intersection of transphobia and misogyny, this term was coined by Julia Serano in 2007. Scout Tran, on tiktok as Queersneverdie said: “Transmisogyny occurs in people who have been previously hurt by traditional misogyny. Who have been driven to hate men or at the very least to be scared of men. They will sometimes take out that rage on trans women. (March 2023)

JKR claims to care for trans women and understand they are extremely vulnerable to assault and violence. In her 2020 Essay she wrote: “I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe.”

So she cares about trans women… just less than cis women, and she’s willing to throw all trans women under the bus because of her unfounded, prejudice fears.

PAGE 22

Panel 1: Maia speaking. “JKR claims to have seen data that proves trans women have presented physical threats to other women in intimate spaces, but never cites sources. She also uses “producer of the large gametes” as a definition of “woman”.

What about transmen and nonbinary folks?

Panel 2: Maia leaning on a stack of all seven HP books, the first four Cormorant Strike books and The Casual Vacancy, gesturing to a series of quotes with a tired and disgusted expression.

I’m concerned about the huge explosion of young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning. * [...] If I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. -June 10 2020 essay

I don’t believe a 14 year old can truly understand what the loss of their fertility is.

-Witch Trials episode 4

I haven’t yet found a study that hasn’t found that the majority of young people experiencing gender dysphoria grow out of it*. -Witch Trials episode 7

*No sources cited

PAGE 23

It’s hard to over emphasize how fixated JKR has become on these topics. As of the date I’m writing this, 14 out of her 20 most recent tweets (70%) are in some way anti-trans. She tweets against Mermaids (a UK based trans youth charity), against trans athletes, against gender neutral bathrooms, and in support of LBG Alliance- a UK org that denies trans rights while upholding gay rights. Here are some gems from her archive:

“People who menstruate.” I’m sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud? -June 2020

War is Peace. Freedom is Slavery. Ignorance is Strength. The Penised Individual Who Raped You Is a Woman. - December 2021

And in response to someone asking “How do you sleep at night knowing you lost a whole audience?”

I read my most recent royalty cheques and find the pain goes away pretty quickly. -October 2022

PAGE 24

Hashtag Ruthless Productions a queer nerd podcast company created a great guide on ethical engagement with HP. Image: the two hosts of Hashtag Ruthless productions, Jessie (They/she) and Lark (he/him).

Stop buying all official HP Products: books, movies, games, toys, etc, Universal Studios tickets, food, merch.* Boycott any new TV series or movies. Instead: buy the books and DVDs used. If you still want to wear HP merch, buy fan-made. Engage only with fan content: fic, podcasts, fanart, wizard rock, etc. Show transphobia is bad for business. None of this will change JKR’s mind. But the Fantastic Beast series was canceled and after record Pottermore sales in 2020, they fell in 2022 by 40%.

*She gets a portion of ALL tickets. In 2019, this was her largest income source. Read the full guide: hashtagruthless.com/resourceguide

PAGE 25

As late as 2019, I was still reading JKR’s murder mystery series. But by the fourth book my experience began to sour.

Panel 1: Maia holding a copy of Lethal White. “The only gay character in this book is a government official who gropes his staff?”

Panel 2: “The only genderqueer character is misgendered and portrayed as a whiny faker?”

Panel 3: “The only Muslim character is disowned by his family over gay rumors?”

Panel 4: “Even the women aren’t portrayed very well…”

Panel 5: “Why is the main female character defined by the rape in her past?”

Panel 6: “Wait, what happens in the rest of this series…?” Maia scrolls on eir phone.

Panel 7: “Is the series heading towards an employee/boss relationship?”

Panel 8: “And has a man wearing women’s clothes to commit assault?”

Panel 9: “Yeah, I’m done. I’m never reading a new JKR book ever again.”

PAGE 26

And as for JKR herself?

As tempting as it might be to tweet your frustrations at her, I don’t recommend it. In 2021, she tweeted, “Hundreds of trans activists have threatened to beat, rape, assassinate and bomb me.” Getting hate online feeds her sense of victimhood and she waves it as proof of her moral high ground. Instead I suggest you block her on twitter, then delete twitter, go to the library and try to find a new book that feels magical.

Stack of books: In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan, The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, Gifts by Ursula K Le Guin, Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane, A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik and Gideon the Ninth by Tamsin Muir.

PAGE 27

In “Emergent Strategy” adrienne maree brown writes: You do not have the right to traumatize abusive people, to attack them, personally or publicly, or to sabotage anyone else’s health. The behaviors of abuse are also survival-based, learned behaviors rooted in pain. If you can look through the lens of compassion, you will find hurt and trauma there. If you are the abused party, healing that hurt is not your responsibility and exacerbating that pain is not your justified right.

PAGE 28

Seeing anyone over age 12 wearing HP merch now makes me uncomfortable. Are they ignorant or actively a TERF? I hate wondering how much money JKR has probably poured into anti-trans legislation… This zine is a culmination of my slow breakup with a story that once brought me joy. Now it just makes me angry, tired and sad.

Image: Candle in a fancy holder burned down to less than an inch.

Maia Kobabe, 2023

[inkskinned]

there are days that it is hard, and unfair, and some horrible part of me wishes i could have been born in a different world. i love being queer, i hate how others react to it. when i first came out at 15, my mom whispered: please don't say that. your life would be so much harder.

it is harder.

it is also a tuesday, walking my dog. we are both skiving off of work, and yes both of us have dyed hair and pronouns. mine is patchy - it was my first time trying bleach; i didn't have enough. theirs is a resilient toadstool green. a little girl comes up to us and asks um, excuse me? is your hair real? 'cause jason says you're a fairy.

it is sunday brunch, all of us talking over each other, overfull on love. she is trying out a new name today, and we made her a cake with today's name scrawled in shaky purple letters. she laughs so much she cries and then gets frosting in her hair. someone young at a different table keeps giving us these large, wide eyes: the same look we have all been on the other side of. the kind that says, breathless: wait, is that possible?

it is a half-fight in a supermarket because he loves "dance moms" and says abby's tiktok is funny and meanwhile i think the children in that show should be allowed to sue abby lee miller for child abuse. i tell him that it led to the casual acceptance of child harassment for mainly adult views; and then i am standing, suddenly, in someone else's thrown soda. there's a white lady standing there, furious, saying something about hell-on-earth. i had forgotten i was wearing stuff with pride colors. and then it is this: he had just been casually arguing with me - and within an instant, he squares his shoulders and goes after her like i am his sister

on saturday i sat in a circle while beca played with my hair and we were all over 30 and we laughed about how much happier we are being this old, how much more we appreciate our community. 25 minutes from now, we will be on stage to dance in baggy beige clothing, but for now we look on with envy to the dancers in loud-and-bright buttondowns. where are they getting these shirts! i cry, distraught. everyone laughs. one of our friends has a mushroom witch hat. this would have been cringey in high school, probably. instead we are all delighted with each other; happy just to be here and alive and moving

it's that last week my new friends cried with joy for me when they heard i'm getting top surgery. every so often i have the honor of being the first person someone feels comfortable enough to tell. i'm trying to make long fluttery butterfly wings to wear to pride; but i don't know anything about fabric or dye, so my friends have been sending me their personal advice.

i think in a different poem i would talk about how sometimes you walk into a room and put the mask back on. but i'm sleepy and my whole brain is fuzzy so i think in this one, it's a monday, and my dog and i took a nap on a couch, and i had missed texts from friends. i used to wake up lonely. i think this poem is about walking into a room and seeing someone and just knowing, the way you just-know-sometimes, and then giving them that little smile, and seeing them light up with joy and relief. it is how we always seem to be able to find each other in a crowded room. how we always seem to make friends with each other before even we know-it-to-be-true. it is saying: we're very different people; but i belong to you.

it is harder, yes. but it comes with a built-in family.

[spicymancer]

So just wanted you to know, "yellow" is a common slur against Asian Americans and so Huang Feng, being a Bruce Lee (whos an Asian man) clone and all could raise some eyebrows to your intentions. And before i get accused of white knighting, i am Asian

Thanks for reaching out! This is honestly something that might be important to discuss and I appreciate your attempt at broaching the subject delicately. More after the jump.

So to start. I am also Asian. Specifically Chinese American.

As an American born Chinese, I have a weird relationship with my Asian heritage. I have a bad accent when I speak Chinese and most of my upbringing and cultural understanding is very American and western-centric. So I have certain biases at play here that I fully acknowledge. My experience is not universal. But these characters are drawn from that experience.

Huang Feng is a reference to Bruce Lee's performance as Kato in the Green Hornet. Dà Huángfēng being a Chinese term for a hornet.

The character is also narratively implied to be a secret moonlighting identity for the Yellow Ranger in my made-up sentai team. (Who, due to my own decision to always refer to the characters by their Ranger color, is literally just called Yellow by the other members of the cast.)

This is also a reference. Specifically to one of my greatest inspirations, Thuy Trang (Rest in Peace), who played the original Mighty Morphin Yellow Ranger. She was one of the first "Cool Asian Characters" that I encountered in media targeted at me as a child, problematic color choice aside. I sincerely adored her and her giant robot Saber-Toothed Tiger.

To be honest I have a complicated relationship with "Asian Themed" characters in media. So often saddled with cliché stereotypes: Martial Arts, dumplings, nunchucks, etc etc.

But the thing is, even as I roll my eyes whenever I see the Fighting Game character that is The Chinese One who wears a rice hat and a qipao. Or when one is literally just Bruce Lee. I do also immediately main that character. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure. Taking what representation I can get with mixed feelings. Similar to my enjoyment of sexy anime girl art even though it's all rooted in pretty uncomfortable sexist and objectifying aesthetics. A lot of my work comes from a place of exploring my own sexuality/identity. These characters are, partly, my own attempt to explore Asian themes and ideas for myself.

I would love to say that I'm trying to "reclaim" the term or something but I'm just some internet artist drawing cute anime girls and monster smut. For me, playing with these clichés is just another way of being self-indulgent.

Not really defending these creative choices so much as explaining my perspective on them. I totally understand if all this turns folks off! I fully respect those who don't vibe with my work and wish them all the best. It's a big internet and I'm sure they can find something super great to enjoy elsewhere!

Anyway, sorry for the long rambly post. Despite the fact that I'm posting this on Tumblr, I am not super mentally equipped to engage in Discourse, so forgive me if I don't respond to the tags on this.

So I'll just leave y'all with a neat article by Kat Chow discussing the history and usage of the color Yellow in regards to Asian Identity.

[liberalsarecool]

Lee Atwater would be proud.

Republicans are addicted to disrespect and racism. The white hoods are now red hats.

#VoteBlue

[skzdarlings]

02. sharing a bed series ; skz ; lee know

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.

-

pairing: lee know/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.

inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.

-

There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder.  Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing. 

The noise is not why you are still awake.   Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt. 

You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived.  You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone.  Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.

The argument you started. 

All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience.  Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry.  You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control.  You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him.  He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.

Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.      

You didn’t cry.  You didn’t let yourself cry.  Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that. 

Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain.  You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho.   The rain is coming down pretty hard.  You hope he gets back soon.   Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside.  He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour.  You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out.   The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following.  It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched. 

He turns abruptly, looking right at you.  There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back.   An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you.   I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think.  The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall.  Your heart pounds.   That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides.  You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.

He turns off the lights.  Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent. 

You exhale.  It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns.  You hear him moving about in the dark.  You lay straight as a board, your back to him. 

You stare through the dark at nothing.  You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak.   You just breathe. 

Minho climbs into the bed.  It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company.  He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt.  He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down.  It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe. 

The rain has slowed.  It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.  

The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense.  It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating.   You swallow. 

The argument was your fault.  Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault.  You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure.  You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry.  No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask.  Hug me, hold me, help me.   You don’t know how to ask for the things you want.   So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.  

It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over.  You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind.   He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second.  Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face.  You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I shouldn’t have said that shit.  I don’t even know why we were fighting.  Just call it my fault, okay?  I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”   

He is trying to joke with you.  His friendliness is what gets you.  Even after everything, he is still so good to you.   

You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying.  It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it.  Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back.  He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion.  “I was just kidding.  I’m sorry.  Take a free slap.”  He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it. 

It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears. 

“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.” 

Understanding fills his expression.  You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest.   He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt.   You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing.   You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.  

“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say.  Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now.  “I know it was stupid and it made you mad.  I just felt like I was gonna explode.” 

Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you.   That’s why you did it.  Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone.   His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.

He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back. 

“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute.  “I was just worried.  And…”

You peek up at him.  He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard. 

“I was jealous,” he says bitterly. 

“Jealous,” you say.  “Of me?”  

“Yes.”  He gives you a very sarcastic look.   “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no.  Obviously not of you.  Why do you always torture me like this?   Go cry on the floor.”  He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him. 

You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder.  Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying.  Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy.   It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks. 

“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly.  “We didn’t do anything.  He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”

“Keep stammering.  It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”   

“Minho.”  You slap his chest.  His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission.   You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth.  “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze.  You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”

Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.   

“No,” he says.  “No.   You’re just saying that to bully me.  I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”   

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet.  “Ahhhhhhh.  I should be shot!”  

You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.          

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Oh really?”  He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line. 

“Well.”  You burst into laughter all over again.  “Maybe just a little!” 

He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you.  Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin. 

“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail.  He just grins and continues his attack. 

Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed.  You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too.  Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you.   You are both out of breath, both smiling.  His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push. 

The room feels quiet, the silence again tense.  But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before.   It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.     

You do not push him away.  You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull.  His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head.  He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed.  Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them.  He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you. 

The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue.  He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard. 

“Wow,” you say softly.  You look at him.  His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke.   You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers.   “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”

He grins at that. 

“Oh,” he says.  “Really?” 

“Yeah.”  You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm.  He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist.  You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much.  “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say.  “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”

His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows. 

“Garlic?” he asks.  “The garlic got you hot?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting.  “You already made me cry once tonight…”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he says.  “Sure, okay, let’s play.  I made you cry.   I should make it up to you?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.”  He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips.   Then he abruptly pulls away.  He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.   

Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows.   He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“What is it?” you ask.   

“Hmm?”  He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one.  “What?  I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason.  Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”  

“Ahhh, I hate you!”  You flop back down, covering your face with your hands. 

Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs.  He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on.  He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.  

You hear the rustle of fabric.  Curious, you peek between your fingers.  Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips.  That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling.  Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off.   It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly.  “Your turn.”  He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers.  “Come on.  Hurry up.” 

Your brain has short-circuited.  It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it.  You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him.   You are checking each other out, looking up and down.   Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open. 

You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there. 

You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.

“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you. 

“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”

“You said everything I do turns you on.”  He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp.   Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours.  His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you.  “So,” he says.  “What else then?” 

“Oh.”  You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you.  “Um.  Well.  Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—” 

Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh.  He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.    

“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic and driving in reverse.  I’m learning so much.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” 

“That would be very rude,” he says.  “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.” 

“You—wha—ohhh—”

You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest.  You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho.  By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.   

You don’t even have time to overthink.  The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.  

You will figure things out.  You always do.  Right now, you let yourself lose control.   You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you.   You trust him completely.  Surrender is easy.   

The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor.  He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder.   He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs.  When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place. 

When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre.  Again, your fingers find his hair.  He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously.  Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task.  It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.  

When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back.  He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge.  Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite. 

He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.   

“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts. 

You playfully cuff the side of his head. 

“That good?” he continues to tease. 

You roll your eyes but smile.   You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked.   Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—

“Oh,” you say.  You look down at the same time as him.  A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants.  “You already—”

He flops down beside you and sighs.

“Sorry,” he says.  “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.” 

“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh.  You roll over to rest your head on his chest.  His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back.  You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass.  You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came.  “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.” 

Minho came from eating you out.  Of course you think it’s hot. 

And of course he has to be Minho about it. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic. Driving in reverse.  Premature ejaculation.  Uptight was definitely the wrong word.  I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”

“Ugh!”  You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke. 

He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind.  This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times.  All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it. 

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper. 

“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again. 

You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms. 

[love-that-we-were-in]

betting on all three for us two

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none

author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you

1. 

The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 

You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 

It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.

Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 

While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 

“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.

You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 

“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”

You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.

“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 

Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 

Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.

Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 

“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 

“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 

He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 

“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”

You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 

“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 

Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 

You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.

“I will take that deal.”

2. 

You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 

The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 

Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 

“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 

“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 

Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 

“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 

“What?”

His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 

You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 

This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 

“I just think that hat is stupid.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 

“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 

He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 

You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 

When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 

3.

You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 

Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 

There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 

He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 

It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 

You’re kind of obsessed with it. 

An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 

“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 

“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 

Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 

In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.

More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”

“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 

“I know.”

In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 

+1.

Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 

“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 

In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 

“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 

“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 

You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 

*

Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 

“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 

“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 

“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 

“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 

“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”

She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.

Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 

Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 

“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 

Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 

“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 

You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 

“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 

There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 

Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 

“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”

“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”

“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.

Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Third Place Poll

Propaganda...

Colonel Brandon (1995):

Alan Rickman has the sexiest voice. Just listen to him reading poetry to Marianne at the end to witness how hot he is.

Alan Rickman simply embodies the truth of Col. Brandon in a way that no one else every could. It's the perfect merging of actor and role. He brings the perfect combination of honor, decency, sensitivity and passion. He is the ultimate mensch.

Brandon propaganda in which even the film's director agrees that Brandon is sexy.

More Brandon propaganda! This photo could only be published in black and white because it would have been too powerful in color (the original color version is currently being used to provide electricity for a medium sized town in Devon. It's THAT powerful).

The brim of the hat falling over his eye. The casual lean. The hunting rifle slung across his leg. The puppy bestie. The fact you know he could row that boat while you watch and wish you were the boat.

From Emma Thompson's diaries which she kept while they were shooting Sense & Sensibility. Emma Thompson said vote Colonel Brandon.

The man has just heard her sing for a minute and he’s positively awestruck!

also adding his adorable adorable smile just bc i can.

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

64.media.tumblr.com

Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

GIF by elinordash

[mama2bears]

Starting Over Again - Chapter 2

Pairings: Tyler Owens/F. Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, a few cuss words, fear

Back to Chapter 1

Chapter Two

“What's the plan for today?” Lily asked as she joined Tyler and Boone at the table, waiting to order their breakfast.

“I am going down to Wichita Falls to pick up the new recruit,” Tyler said. “Dexter and Dani are coming in today. Dexter said it looks like we might be getting a big outbreak tomorrow about three hours north of here, outside of Oklahoma City.”

“Are we packing up and moving north then?” Boone asked.

Tyler nodded, “Why don't you and Lily get us packed up and meet Dexter and Dani at the hotel outside of El Reno. I'll head down to the bus station and meet you there tonight with the new recruit.”

Lily and Boone agreed to the plan and the group finished their breakfast and prepared for their day.

* * * * *

You stared out of the bus window as it neared Wichita Falls. A million thoughts were running though your head. Did Lee file charges against you? Was he looking for you? Could he find you here?

“Next stop, Wichita Falls, Texas.” The driver announced as the bus turned into the station.

You picked up the small grocery sized bag next to you that had two shirts and two pants in it, a gift from the librarian's daughter as she dropped you off at the Knoxville bus station. It was only yesterday, but it seemed like forever.

As the bus stopped and the doors opened you stood slowly, your body still sore from the many beatings, the last was only three days ago. You put your hand to your face and feel your swollen check and split lip. You know you look a mess and for a brief moment, you wonder what your new boss was going to say. You only hoped he didn't ask too many questions.

You step off the bus to a bright sunny day. A few people got on, but you were the only one getting off on this stop. You scan the parking lot, wondering if this Tyler Owens would remember to come pick you up. Maybe he figured you were going to be too much of a burden and went with someone else instead.

Then you spotted it.

A red Dodge Ram that was obviously customized to withstand a tornado. Next to it stood a man in a white cowboy hat, flannel shirt, jeans and boots. He looked more cowboy then storm chaser.

You take a deep breath and force a smile on your face as you head towards him.

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” He smiled brightly and extended his hand. His smile faded when he noticed the bruises.

“Hi, Tyler?” You shook his hand.

“That would be me. I am glad we are done with the Mr. Owens stuff.” He offered her a smile but concern was etched on his face, “What happened?” he asked softly.

You looked at him fearful for a moment before responding, “The reason I left Tennessee.”

He eyed you and the small bag of clothes in your hand, “Is that all you brought with you?” he asked.

You nodded, “Not much, but I am here and ready to work.”

Tyler opened the door of the truck and held it for you. You smiled softly and carefully got in, unable to hide the grimace of pain as you pulled yourself into the truck.

Tyler closed the door and got in the drivers side. He sat there for a moment, looking at you with a clenched jaw. “He know where you are now?”

You shook your head, “No, and I don't want him to. Is that a problem?”

“Nope,” Tyler shook his head and starting the truck, “If he shows up here it won't be a warm welcome for him.”

You smile gratefully and settle down for the ride.

“It's about two hours drive to the hotel.” he told you, “Looks like a big outbreak is possible tomorrow near Oklahoma City, the team is meeting up there and settling into a hotel for the night. You hungry?” he asked.

“Kinda.” You shrug. Truth was, you were starved, but you didn't want to be any more of a burden then you already were.

He smiled at you and nodded, turning on the radio. He had a million questions, but for now, he figured you weren't ready to answer them.

* * * * *

Lee was furious. He stomped in front of the police station. “Why the hell can't you arrest her for theft!” He yelled! “She took my wallet, my truck and $500 from my bank account!”

“Sir, she is your wife. She has a right to half of everything. Even if her name isn't on it. She has the right to use your truck, which we found safe in a parking lot along with your wallet and everything in it. She has a right to at least some of the money in the account. Legally, we can't do anything about it.”

“Well, can't I at least report her missing? She is missing after all!” Lee stated.

“We will look into it, but if she left on her own free will, there is nothing we can do.” the officer stated. “I'll take down some information and we will let you know if we find out anything different.”

“I'll find her myself!” Lee sputtered before storming away. He would find her, and she would pay, along with whoever was helping her.

* * * * *

Tyler pulled into a small roadside diner, “This place has some really great food.” He smiled at you.

“Good,” you give him a small smile back as you both exit the truck. Like a true gentleman, he holds the door for you entering the diner.

As you take a seat in a corner booth you pick up a menu from the table. “They have amazing meatloaf! Burgers are really good too,” he stated, “The team stops here often when we are chasing out this way.”

“Good afternoon. What can I get you two to drink?” The waitress asks, eyeing your bruises and Tyler suspiciously. She was familiar with Tyler and the Tornado Wranglers and was certain they had nothing to do with how you looked, but she was curious as to what the story was.

“Sweet Tea.” Tyler said.

“Same.” You give her a smile.

“Coming right up.” The waitress stated.

“So, I was thinking, “ Tyler stated, “Let's stop at the store and get you a few things, first of all, a phone.”

“I can't afford a phone right now. I think I have enough for the hotel room though, if not, maybe I can just crash in the truck?”

“Don't worry about the room. The team handles our hotel rooms when we are chasing. We get double bed rooms and bunk up.” he told her, “but you have to have a phone, it's just, not safe without one. It's your connection to the team and ours to you. It's your warning system when a tornado is near.”

You nod, “I understand, I just don't know if a phone is affordable right now., but I do need to pick up a few items.”

Tyler looks down at your flip flops and grins, “Yes, like a decent pair of shoes.”

You offer him a small smile as your eyes meet his. You didn't trust him, but you wanted to. His voice was kind and gentle, his smile lit up the room, and those sea green eyes of his were full of kindness. He had a way of making you feel comfortable.

“What is the pay like?” you asked, something you probably should have done before accepting the job, but all that mattered at the moment was that you got out of Tennessee.

“Pay?” Tyler asked, “Um..what pay?” he cracked a grin at your horrified face. “I am just kidding...” he paused as the waitress approached the table with your drinks.

“Ready to order?” she asked.

Tyler gave you a look, “Ready?”

“Meatloaf with mash potatoes and green beans.” You looked at Tyler, half expecting him to be angry. It had been several years since you were able to order for yourself.

He smiled, “I'll have the meatloaf too, but with baked potato and pintos.”

The waitress wrote down the order and headed back to the kitchen.

“Now, where were we?” he questioned, “oh yes, the pay.” he flashed you a smile. “Like I said, rooms are part of the pay. Food, we sometimes pay for our self and sometimes we just pick up meals for the team. When we are chasing Dani normally handles all the food. She is head of our merchandise.”

“Merchandise?” you question.

“Yeah, we get paid when we submit footage to a weather station. National Weather Service also pays us for the time we are out chasing. Dani and Dexter, he's one of our scientists on the team, they sell merchandise out of the RV and we use those funds to help feed the storm chasers and people effected by the tornadoes.”

“Oh, that's really nice that you guys help each other out and the victims.”

Tyler smiled, “That's what we do. We're a family here.”

“So is the pay we get from chasing split or a set amount?” you question.

“We split it. With the funds we get from the YouTube channel along with the National Weather Service and any footage we sell, you are probably looking at around $2500 a month each.”

“Wait..YouTube channel?” you question, fear gripping you.

“Yeah, The Tornado Wranglers! Have you seen us?”

“Um, no.” you shake your head, “Listen, I don't want my name and face out there...”

Tyler looked at you full of concern. “I understand,” he said softly, “It won't be a problem. Boone is our tech guy and is in charge of the YouTube channel. I'll make sure he knows not to get you in any of the content we load, okay?”

“Thank you.” you give him your best smile.

“Now, that we got the pay and hotel business out of the way,” Tyler said, “Let's talk about getting you a phone and some clothes and things.”

“I'll get what I can...” you started, but Tyler reached for your hand. You jumped out of instinct and quickly pulled away.

“Sorry,” he pulled his hands back, “Let me help you, Y/N.” he said softly. “We are a family now. We are here for you, the whole team, okay?”

You nod, “Thank you. I really appreciate that. I am sorry, it's just...well I am not used to this. For the last five years I have had to walk on egg shells and ask permission for everything. It's going to take some getting used to, being free again.”

Tyler gazed at you with his green eyes. 'God, she is beautiful he thought. Even with the bruises, he saw your beauty. The way your hair fell around your face, the kindness and sense of adventure hidden in your eyes, the soft smile that dared to spread across your lips.'

His eyes locked on yours and you saw worry and concern flash across his face, “Y/N, let me help you, okay?” he said gently. “You need the phone for the job. We got to have a way to communicate if we get separated. We got to be able to get weather warnings.”

“Okay.” you nod nervously, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the eye to eye contact.“Can I...I mean..I...um, I am going to the bathroom, okay?” You ask nervously. You knew it was okay, but it was just a habit you had gotten into. With Lee, you couldn't move without permission.

Tyler gave you a soft smile, “You're safe here, you know.” he said softly.

You gave him a small smile and headed off towards the restrooms.

He watched you walk away, vowing to beat the shit out of whoever hurt you if he got the chance. Taking out his phone he called Lily.

“Yo, what's up, Ty?” she answered.

“Listen, I picked up Y/N. She...um....well, she has had it rough. Someone was beating her. I don't know who, I don't want to press.”

“Poor girl,” Lily said softly, “No wonder she was in such a hurry for this job.”

“Did you guys get the hotel rooms yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, Dani and I just finished putting our stuff in. Dexter and Boone are bunking together...I guess that leaves you and the new girl.”

“No,” Tyler shook his head, “I don't think she'd feel comfortable with that, and I can't say that I blame her. Can you get a fourth room?”

“Sure, Boss. I'll go add a room on for us.”

“Thanks,” Tyler said, “We'll be there in a few hours. I am stopping by Walmart and picking up a phone for her and letting her get some things she needs.”

“See you soon,” Lily ended the call.

* * * * *

You stood in the bathroom just staring at yourself in the mirror. No wonder people looked at you. Some of the older bruises were faded, but your lip was swollen as was your cheek. You had a dark bruise across your neck and some down your arms. Your hair looked a mess. And that was just what people could see.

You washed your face off with cool water and ran your hand though your hair. So much had happened in the past twenty four hours. It all seemed like a whirlwind and you didn't know what was going to happen next. What you did know, was that there was something about Tyler. He was the first man in a long time that you almost felt comfortable around. His voice was kind and gentle when he spoke to you. His eyes were full of kindness and concern. You almost felt safe with him. Almost.

It was true, you felt more at peace here, being far away from Lee, however, fear still held a grip on you. Would he be able to find you? Would Tyler and the team accept you? Where were you going to stay when the job was over and everyone went back home?

“One thing at a time,” you told yourself before heading back to the table.

You arrived just as Tyler was putting the phone down.

“You okay?” he asked as you sat down.

“I will be.” You offered him a smile.

Just then the waitress arrived with your food. You thank her and begin to eat.

“The team has rooms for us,” Tyler said between bites, “Like I said, we normally bunk together, but as it pans out, it would have left you and me sharing a room.”

You look at him a bit uneasy.

“Don't worry,” he added, “I asked Lily to get us an extra room. Our team has a total of six members, including you.” he stated.

You nod, thankful to not have to be sharing a room with him, or anyone else for that matter. Not right now. Not yet.

“There's Lily, she's our drone operator. Then Boone, he's the tech guy I told you about. Dani is the one I told you about that sells our merch and Dexter is the scientist. This is probably going to be Dexter's last year with us, he is looking to move to a nice sunny beach somewhere.” Tyler smiled, “That's another reason I was looking for someone else. Kate and Javi were two other members and they are starting a family, so you won't see much of them. Javi might pop in from time to time, but it's just the six of us right now.”

You nod, knowing there would be no way you were going to remember all of this, but you would do your best to remember everyone's names and positions. You only hoped that they liked you and you like them. You hoped this was the brand new start you were hoping for.

* * * * *

An hour later Tyler was standing in front of the store working on setting up a phone he had brought for you. You were quickly making your way though the aisles picking up only what was needed for the first few days...toothbrush and paste, brush, deodorant, bubble bath, socks, shoes, underwear and bra, a pair of pajamas, and a few more changes of clothes.

“Hey, Ty, we have a slight problem,” a text came across Tyler's phone from Lily.

He dialed her number, “What's up Lily?” he asked.

“I tried to get another room, but they are booked. I even asked some of the other chasers if they were willing to bunk up and free up a room. None are, their rooms are already packed as it is and no one wants to bunk with another team.”

Tyler sighed, “Well, I can't say that I blame them. Okay, it's no problem. I'll just sleep in the truck for a few nights.”

“You sure, I mean, maybe Dani and I could double up in a bed and give the second bed to Y/N?” Lily asked.

“No, there's no need for that. Tomorrow looks to be an action packed day and we all need our best nights rest. I've slept in the truck just fine before. Let everyone have their own bed.”

“Your choice,” Lily gave in, “I am sorry, Boss. I tried. I wasn't thinking about the new member being a woman. I should have asked about the fourth room before.”

Tyler smiled seeing you approaching the check out. He was glad to be getting ready to hit the road again. He was never one for shopping, in fact, he hated it. He would rather face an EF5 tornado then to go shopping.

“It's okay Lily. No worries. We're getting ready to leave the store now and will be there soon.”

“Hey, is that all you need right now?” Tyler asked from behind you, making you jump.

“Yeah, this will do at least for a few days. Really, all I want is to get cleaned up and be in a soft bed.”

“Well, let's get going then.” Tyler stuck his card in the machine before you could pull any cash out of your pocket.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he finished paying for the stuff you picked out.

He smiled softly at her, “Making sure my newest team member is taken care of.” he handed you the phone. “It's all set up, I've added my number in there and the number of everyone on the team. I've set it up to issue weather alerts for our current location and I've sent your number to the team member's phones.

“Thanks Tyler,” you smile at him as he picks up your bags and carries them towards the truck.

Why does this feel so different with him? You were actually beginning to feel comfortable around him, at ease even. It was as if you had known him your whole life and didn't just met him a few hours ago.

Tyler Owens kinda felt like home to you. A home that you hadn't known in a very very long time.

********

Chapter 3

*********

Tag List

@itsdesiree86 @sarah-bear706318 @darksparklesficrecs

[rootedinrevisions]

One of Them Girls

SUMMARY: After a long day of Tornado chasing, Tyler Owens and his crew head to a local bar to unwind. At the end of the bar sits a woman who sparks Tyler's interest. Despite her initial reluctance, Tyler's persistence leads to a playful evening of banter, pool games, and dancing. As the night progresses, the barriers between them begin to fall. INSPIRED AND LOOSELY BASED ON THE SONG "ONE OF THEM GIRLS" BY LEE BRICE.

You were sitting on the patio of the local bar, enjoying the evening air and the company of your friends, when the sound of a truck engine caught your attention. Turning your head, you saw a red Dodge pickup truck pull into the parking lot, its exterior covered in gear and storm-chasing equipment. The truck's driver, a familiar face.

It was Tyler Owens, the charismatic storm chaser who had dubbed himself the Tornado Wrangler with over a million followers on his YouTube channel. You'd seen his videos, filled with thrilling footage of him chasing down tornadoes and navigating wild weather. He exuded confidence and energy, and he clearly thrived on the attention.

Behind him, an older RV rolled up, its loudspeaker system blaring country music that added to the lively ambiance of the bar. The driver honked the horn, grabbing the attention of everyone on the patio. Conversations paused around you, and heads turned to watch the crew make their entrance. It wasn't every day that a storm-chasing team rolled into town, and the buzz of excitement in the air was contagious.

You watched as Tyler got out of his truck, a crowd of excited fans already gathering around him. The man who appeared to be the cameraman of the operation jumped out of the passenger seat and ran around the front of the truck just as Tyler exited. Tyler opened the driver's door and stood up, bracing himself with one hand on the bars surrounding the truck and raising the other hand in the air to acknowledge his fans. A bright white smile spread across his face as he placed a cowboy hat on top of his head.

"Hey T, tell the folks how you're feeling?" The cameraman, Boone, called out, pointing the camera at Tyler.

Tyler looked directly at the camera and said "I'm feeling pretty good, Boone." He then turned to the crowd, his energy infectious, and called out his catchphrase, "And if you feel it..." he paused, letting the crowd finish the line with a loud, "Chase it!"

Tyler, clearly enjoying the moment, amped up the crowd even more. "I said if you feel it, chase it!" The crowd responded with even more enthusiasm, their voices echoing around the patio.

"Oh, it was a beautiful day," Tyler declared, his smile widening as the cameraman stopped recording. With that, Tyler and his crew began to make their way into the bar, being slowed by fans trying to get an autograph or picture with Tyler.

Back inside the bar, you and your friends had returned to your usual spot at the end of the bar. It had been five or ten minutes since Tyler's crew had pulled up, and they were just now making their way inside after taking photos and signing autographs. You were mindlessly peeling the label off your Bud Light bottle as your friend talked about her most recent breakup. Though you nodded occasionally, your mind began to wander, tuning out the conversation.

Your gaze drifted across the room, landing on Tyler as he made his way towards the bar. You took in his appearance, noting every detail. His dirty and worn boots and his blue Wrangler jeans fit better than should be legal. His button-up shirt was damp from a day spent in the rain, clinging to his frame in a way that only accentuated his rugged charm. The signature cowboy hat atop his head and that ever-present beautiful smile completed the picture.

As you continued to watch, Tyler's eyes met yours from where he stood about halfway down the bar. His grin widened slightly, and he shot you a playful wink. You raised an eyebrow, unfazed, and turned back to your beer bottle, peeling the label with renewed focus. One of your friends, having caught the exchange, nudged you with a teasing grin.

"Really? Not even a blush for THE Tyler Owens?" she whispered, loud enough for your little group to hear.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "He's just a guy, right?" you replied, playing it cool despite the flutter in your chest.

Your friend's eyes widened in disbelief. "Just a guy? Have you seen his YouTube channel? He's a legend!"

"A legend for making jeans look that good," another one of your friends added.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Legend or not, he's still just a guy."

Your friends laughed, and the conversation continued, but you couldn't help sneaking another glance at Tyler, wondering if he was used to getting such a non-reaction.

About half an hour had passed since Tyler and his crew had settled into the bar. You were perched on a bar stool, peeling the label off your second Bud Light bottle of the night. Your friends had migrated over to the jukebox, dancing on the makeshift dance floor the bar owners had put together, leaving you alone at the bar.

You glanced up and saw Tyler walking towards you, that ever-present grin on his face. He approached casually, stopping in front of the stool next to you. "Is anyone sitting here?" he asked, his tone light.

Tyler took a seat, his charm turned up to the full volume. "I'm Tyler," he said, as if you didn't already know.

You played along, giving him a slight smile. "Nice to meet you, Tyler. I'm (Your Name)."

"It's a pleasure to meet a real-life angel," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed out loud, rolling your eyes. "Wow, that's original."

He chuckled, unphased by your reaction. "Can I get you to dance with me?" he asked, nodding towards the dance floor.

You shook your head immediately. "No, thanks."

Tyler leaned back slightly, still smiling. "Come on, just one dance."

"Nope," you replied, your voice firm but still amused.

He tried one last time, his persistence evident but not overbearing. "Are you sure? I promise I won't step on your toes."

You shook your head again, and Tyler finally raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Maybe another time then," he said with a wink. "Enjoy your night, (Your Name)."

He stood up and headed back to where his friends were, leaving you with a curious mix of amusement and intrigue about the lengths he'd go to win you over.

As soon as Tyler walked away, your friends quickly made their way back to you, their faces lit with excitement and curiosity.

"So, what did he say?" One of them asked, practically bouncing on her toes. "What did he want?"

You took a sip of your beer, trying to play it cool. "He just wanted to chat and asked me to dance."

Your friends' eyes widened in shock. "He asked you to dance? And you said no?"

You nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Yep, I told him no."

They stared at you as if you'd just revealed you were a secret agent. "Are you serious? Tyler Owens? Most women would kill for a chance to dance with him!"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "He's just a guy, remember?"

Your friends shook their heads, laughing and exchanging incredulous looks. "You're unbelievable. But hey, at least you got his attention!"

You chuckled, enjoying the playful banter, and took another sip of your beer. Despite what you had said earlier, you were secretly hoping Tyler would make another move. Or at least try to.

You were leaning against the wall near the pool tables, watching your friends play a game. The bar's dim lighting cast a warm glow over the tables, creating a cozy yet competitive atmosphere. Tyler spotted you from across the room and made his way over, his grin still firmly in place.

"Hey," Tyler said as he approached.

"Hey Tyler," you said returning his smile.

"Looks like you aren't too busy, how about a game of pool?"

You glanced at the open table and raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure...but what's the wager?"

Tyler looked intrigued. "Wager?"

"Yeah," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. If I win, you pay for my next drink, whatever I want."

Tyler's grin widened. "And if I win?"

"You get that dance you were asking for earlier," you said with a smirk.

He extended his hand, and you shook on it. "Deal."

You started the game by playing the role of a novice, pretending not to know the rules or how to handle the cue stick. Tyler, ever confident, offered you the opportunity to break.

"Want to take the first shot?" Tyler asked with a grin.

You picked up the white cue ball and placed it in the center of the table. Looking over at Tyler, you asked, "Is this where it's supposed to go? I've only played once or twice."

Tyler's grin widened. "You're doing perfect so far. Just hit it towards the other balls with a good hit."

You took a deep breath and struck the cue ball. It cracked again the racked balls with a satisfying thud, scattering them across the table. Tyler's eyebrows shot up as he watched them spread, clearly impressed.

"Well, that was a good break," he admitted, though he assumed it was just a stroke of luck.

You lined up for your first shot, aiming carefully. As you sent one of the balls rolling smoothly into a pocket, you looked over at Tyler with a playful smile. "Am I doing this right?:

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not just doing it right - you're making me look bad."

With each shot, you continued to maneuver the balls with impressive skill, all the while maintaining your guise of a casual player. Tyler's initial confidence slowly gave way to a mix of admiration and mock frustration as he realized you were far more adept than you'd let on.

In the end, you won decisively, with a victorious smile on your face. Tyler threw up his hands in mock frustration."Alright, you got me. Guess I owe you a drink."

You laughed, returning the cue sticks to the rack. Tyler led you back towards the bar. "A man's nothing if not true to his word," he said guiding you to the counter.

He flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink for himself before turning to you, "And for the lady, what'll it be?"

You made your choice, and as Tyler paid for it, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. The playful banter and easy chemistry between you were quickly becoming one of the highlights of your night.

As the night wore on, the bar began to clear out. People slowly paid their tabs and headed home, leaving the once bustling room quieter and more intimate. The music had softened, creating a relaxed atmosphere that almost felt private.

All your friends had left by now. One of them had offered to stay so you wouldn't be alone, but you insisted she go home. "I'll let you know when I get home safe," you promised.

Before she left, she teased you, nudging you with a grin. "You better tell us if anything happens with Tyler!"

You rolled your eyes, amused. "He's just a guy, you know. And we are roommates, so you'd definitely find out if anything happened."

"Should I leave a blanket and pillow on the couch for him, then?" She teased before giving you a quick hug and making her way out of the bar.

Your attention shifted to Tyler, who was now alone at the bar. His crew had left, and he seemed to be enjoying a rare moment of solitude.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to him. As you approached, you asked, "Is anyone sitting here?" Gesturing to the stool next to him.

Tyler looked up, surprised by your move. "No, go ahead," he said, his smile returning as he gestured for you to take a seat.

You sat down next to him, feeling the subtle shift in the night's energy. The bar's quiet hum and the soft light made the moment feel unexpectedly intimate.

As you settled onto the stool next to Tyler, the soft lighting and the quiet hum of the bar created a cozy atmosphere.

"So, how were the storms today?" You asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Tyler leaned back, taking a sip of his drink. "Eh, they were okay. Nothing too dramatic. No big tornadoes or close calls like the viewers love. Just a regular chase day."

You nodded, intrigued. "That's too bad. I guess those big moments are what makes the videos so exciting."

"Yeah, they definitely get the adrenaline pumping," Tyler agreed, his gaze shifting from the bar to you. "But enough about me. What's your story? What are you doing in a small town like this?"

You considered his question for a moment before answering. "Actually, this is where I grew up. I graduated a while ago and didn't really know what I wanted to do next, so I stayed on the farm to help my parents out while I figured things out."

"That sounds pretty grounded," Tyler said, his tone genuinely interested. "So, what's next for you? Any big plans?"

You shrugged. "I'm still figuring that out. For now, I'm just here, helping out."

Tyler nodded thoughtfully before turning the conversation back to himself. "And what about me? How did I end up wrangling tornadoes?"

"Yeah, I was curious about that," you said. "How did you get into storm chasing?"

Tyler's eyes lit up with a mix of nostalgia and passion. "Well, I've always loved storms. Ever since I was a kid, they fascinated me. But it wasn't until a few years ago, after a really bad close call during a bull ride, that I decided to make a change. That bull ride nearly ended my life, and I figured if I was going to be on the edge, I might as well do it in a way I love. So I put together a crew of close friends and started recording our chases, and one viral video led to another. Before I knew it, 'Tornado Wrangler' just stuck."

You listened, captivated by his story. "That's pretty amazing. It sounds like it's been quite the journey for you."

Tyler chuckled, a hint of humility in his voice. "Yeah, it's been a wild ride. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, and soon you found yourself delving into more personal topics.

"So, do you have a girlfriend or anything?" you asked, trying to keep the tone light but curious.

Tyler let out a thoughtful sigh. "Not at the moment. I get a lot of attention from fans, but being on the road all the time makes it hard to really connect with anyone."

You nodded sympathetically. "That sounds rough. It must be hard to balance everything."

"Yeah, it's a challenge sometimes," Tyler agreed, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "What about you? Any interesting stories from your love life?"

You laughed softly, a hint of self-depreciation in your tone. "Oh, my love life - or lack thereof - is pretty sad, to be honest. It's hard to find anyone in a town this small, especially when you've known most of the guys your age since preschool."

Tyler raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? So you've never met anyone that you were interested in? That sounds like a tough situation."

"It is," you admitted with a shrug. "And I'm not exactly the type of girl guys usually choose first. I'm a little quiet and shy, and a lot of guys think I'm stubborn and hard to break through to."

Tyler chuckled softly. "I'm sure that's not entirely true. Everyone's got their own charm, even if it's not always obvious at first."

You smiled, appreciating his attempt to reassure you. "Thanks, Tyler. I guess we all have our own struggles."

"Definitely," Tyler agreed. "But it's nice to have someone to talk to who gets it."

The conversation continued, with both of you letting down your guards a bit more, enjoying the rare moment of honest connection amidst the bar's quiet backdrop.

The night was winding down, and the bar was now a quiet sanctuary with only a few patrons scattered around. The soft music playing created an almost magical atmosphere. You felt a sense of calm settle over you as you looked over at Tyler, who was leaning against the bar, eyes catching yours.

With a mix of anticipation and nerves, you softly said, "You know, I think I'd like to take you up on that dance," you said, surprising him with your decision.

Tyler's eyes widened, and a genuine smile spread across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with excitement.

You nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves and excitement. Tyler slid off his bar stool and extended his hand towards you. With a deep breath, you took his hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving you a look as if seeking confirmation. You returned the gesture with a gentle squeeze, letting him know you were comfortable with the contact.

Tyler led you towards the dance floor, his steps confident but gentle. As you reached the floor, he carefully placed one hand on yours and moved his other hand to your waist. The touch was light but firm, and he drew you closer, though your chests didn't quite touch yet.

The two of you began to sway side to side in time with the music, the silence between you punctuated only by the soft melody playing in the background. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

As the song moved into the second verse, Tyler's hand slid from your waist to your lower back. With a careful and deliberate motion, he pulled you gently into him, closing the distance until your chests were touching. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and the rhythm of the music guided your movements.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart, and as you swayed together, the intimacy of the moment grew. Tyler's grip was tender yet secure, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as you both moved in sync.

The dance was slow and tender, each movement a soft conversation between your bodies. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a dance that spoke volumes without needing words.

As the dance continued, Tyler's touch grew more confident. His hand on your lower back slid up to your waist, and you instinctively wrapped both of your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. The move felt natural as if you were meant to be in this close embrace.

Tyler's hat, which had been perched atop his head, was suddenly tossed aside with a casual flick of his wrist. It landed somewhere out of sight, but you didn't notice. All your focus was on him and the closeness you shared. His forehead gently pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. The sensation was intimate, his breath soft and warm against your skin.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as you both maintained this closeness. Tyler's eyes, now only inches from yours, were soft and focused. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours synchronized with the rhythm of the music, creating a soothing, rhythmic dance that was more than just physical.

The space between you was filled with unspoken words, a quiet intensity that neither of you needed to voice. Every subtle movement, every shift of his body, seemed to deepen the connection you both felt, making the dance a private exchange that was as much about the closeness and shared warmth as it was about the music.

As you swayed together, the intimacy between you deepened. Tyler's movements became slower, more deliberate, and he began to lean in just a little closer, his face coming nearer to yours. The moment felt charged, his intention clear as he seemed to be inching towards a kiss.

Your heart raced with anticipation, the closeness and warmth of his breath mixing with a subtle thrill of excitement. Tyler's lips were almost close enough to brush against yours when suddenly, the bartender's voice cut through the intimate silence.

"Last call, folks!" the bartender announced loudly. "Everyone needs to pay their tabs and head on out!"

The interruption was jarring, and Tyler halted his movement, his breath now mingling with yours in a mix of warmth and surprise. He straightened up, giving you a sheepish grin. "Well, I guess that's our cue," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You both laughed softly, the tension of the moment dissipating as the reality of the bar closing in on you settled. Tyler gently released his hold on you, and you reluctantly began to move away from the dance floor, the spell of the moment broken but not forgotten.

As you made your way back to your barstool, you reached into your purse to retrieve your wallet, only to realize with a sinking feeling that your roommate must have grabbed your bag by mistake when she left earlier. You had hoped to settle your tab without any trouble, but now you faced the awkward situation of having the wrong purse.

You turned to the bartender, who had been a friendly face during your many visits. "Hey, I think I've got the wrong purse," you said, trying to hide your embarrassment. "Is there any chance I could come back tomorrow to pay for my tab?"

Before the bartender could respond, Tyler stepped in with a grin. "Hey, don't sweat it," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "I'll take care of it."

You started to protest, but Tyler gently cut you off. He slid his card across the bar and gestured to the bartender. "Put both tabs on this," he said with a wink.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but nodded, taking Tyler's card and beginning to process the payment. You looked at Tyler, a mix of gratitude and surprise in your eyes. "You really don't have to—"

Tyler just shrugged, his smile playful. "Consider it a token of appreciation for the dance. And hey, I owe you a drink, remember?"

You chuckled, touched by his gesture. You and Tyler stood outside the bar, the rain starting to pick up around you. You exchanged numbers with a smile, your fingers brushing against his as you typed in your contact details. He gave you a quick, friendly hug before pulling away, saying, "Goodnight," and heading towards his truck.

You watched him get into his truck, then pulled out your phone to call a taxi, only to realize you had no signal. You sighed, glancing around the deserted street, the dark and the rain making the thought of walking home less appealing. The house you shared with your roommate was only a ten-minute walk away, but the weather was less than ideal.

As you began to make your way towards the street, the sound of a horn blared through the night. You turned to see Tyler's truck pulling up beside you. He rolled down the window, his concerned eyes finding yours. "Hey, what are you doing out here?"

You explained the situation, your voice a mix of frustration and resignation. "My roommate took the car home, and I can't get any signal to call a ride. I was just going to walk—it's not far."

Tyler shook his head, a firm yet gentle tone in his voice. "No way. Get in, I'll give you a ride." His expression made it clear that he wasn't giving you a choice, and you knew better than to argue.

You climbed into the passenger seat, shivering from the cold rain that had soaked through your clothes. Tyler noticed and reached into the back seat, pulling out a hoodie. He offered it to you, but you started to decline.

"It's fine, really—" you began, but he cut you off, insisting as he pulled the hoodie over your head.

"Just put it on," he said gently but firmly, ensuring you were snug and warm. The hoodie smelled faintly of him, a comforting mix of cologne and the outdoors.

You settled into the seat, the warmth of the truck's interior a stark contrast to the chilly rain outside. Tyler glanced at you, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips as drove off into the night.