#and have you heard that not liking 'moonlight' is racist?

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Okay I know I promised a rant, but it came out like a bunch of bullet points instead, so sorry.

The time skip was entirely unnecessary and makes the job of writing a finale harder

Having the umbrellas split up again undoes all of the character development up to this point

The relationships between the siblings have changed in the interim and needs to be explained through clunky expositional dialog

Why is there no learning curve after six years of not having powers?

There is no reason to include children and it actually works to the season's detriment

The children are non-entities and only exist to motivate Diego and Lila, just like Claire in season 1

The entirety of season 3 was just a testament to how bad at parenting Diego and Lila would be

Watching Diego and Lila bicker about domestic disputes is just boomer humor at this point

Your target audience of queer people do not want to see the people they're supposed to root for abandoning their children

It would have been both entertaining and entirely in character to keep the Diego/Lila dispute to suspected infidelity

Lila moonlights as a FBI agent but Diego thinks she's cheating so he goes through all the woman scorned tropes

This way it subverts the trope and gives us more opportunities to see duplicitous Lila and himbo Diego

I really thought Nick Offerman and Megan Mullaly would bring the energy, but no

I've never seen three hilarious people be so unfunny in my life

I cannot take David Cross seriously as a villain. He is so unthreatening.

Luther is the only one allowed to keep his character development and I just kinda wish they let him keep his wife

Allison is back to being an unrepentant bitch and does not earn the family's trust back

With a title like "the unbearable tragedy of getting what you want", I thought the episode would follow Allison trying to feel like she deserves to enjoy her life with Claire and Ray while dealing with the guilt of selling out her siblings

Considering that her entire season 3 arc was backsliding

But what it actually meant was okay I guess we'll never know

I heard a rumor??? Allison I think I heard a rumor about this guy?

Can we please give Klaus a break

Klaus can now clip into pushing daisies episodes

Klaus is trying to escape from his Angel Dust prison

Five looks like he's twelve

I'm always going to be suspicious of a showrunner that's trying to manufacture situations in which infidelity/incest is okay

Can we please give Viktor something to do

I do not blame him for fucking off to the middle of nowhere

Emmy for Elliot for depicting transmasc rageyt665ikju

I wish elliot would remove my marigold

Viktor has the power every autist secretly wants: to rule the fucking universe

Viktor between you and me I don't think this family is worth saving

Idk if Ben's arc is racist but it sure don't feel right

It's fuckin SHORTER. Why does it feel LONGER.

The no volume balancing is really fucking annoying

It would have been interesting to see hargreeves interacting with more than just one sibling at a time per season

Is being in your family like being stuck in a constant apocalyptic nightmare? You might just be transgender 

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 8

And we're back! Are you guys getting my tags, the engagement dropped again. I know that in America there was the holiday but it kinda dropped off before that and I saw other blogs that didn't have their tags work at all. So let me know if you aren't seeing all my posts.

Steve talks to Keith, learns some unsettling news and Robin is awesome.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

****

Billy Hargrove was a racist, chauvinistic asshole with a savior complex longer than his dick, but he was also one hundred times the better man than Dr. Martin Brenner. Granted Brenner was scraping the bottom of the ocean, but Steve was grateful for not having had to deal with him when he was around.

He also knew that he wasn’t going to speak to the Dominus today. He was going to speak to his second in command, Keith Prince.

He didn’t like Steve, and Steve didn’t know why. But considering that despite the last name, he looked more like a toad than a prince, Steve had a pretty good idea the dude was just jealous of Steve’s good looks.

He walked up to the coven, bare ass on display, having just shifted.

“The fuck do you want, Harrington?” Keith snarled. “And why can’t you come dressed like decent folk?”

“Because I’m a werewolf, Keith,” Steve sighed. “The fastest way for me to travel is to wolf out.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You could always send Carol or Robin to do your dirty work. That is what keepers are for, aren’t they?”

“That’s isn’t happening in this or any life time,” Steve growled. “Not after you propositioned Robin the last time I sent her here on pack business.”

Keith just sneered. “What. Do. You. Want? I’m busy!”

Steve sighed. “Tell your Dominus that we may have the public school system to blame for the raise in hunters and to ask his thralls what they’ve heard.”

Keith scoffed. “He already knows about that shit and they don’t know nothin’.”

Steve’s spine stiffened at the tone and the fact that Billy already knew about the thing with Josh.

So either he had Lucy in his pocket, or there was a spy in his pack. Neither was an option he wanted to entertain.

Steve showed his teeth, forcing Keith to back down.

“You shouldn’t lie to an alpha, dumbass,” he snarled. “I can smell the stench of the lie coming off you like stale weed. You tell your Dominus that if he thinks he can push me around, remind him what happened to the last asshole who crossed me.”

Keith straightened up and bowed his head. “My apologies, alpha.”

Steve snapped his jaw at Keith before shifting back into a wolf. A wolf that could look Keith in the eye. He showed his teeth again and was gratified when he smelled the scent of urine wafting from the vampire.

He leapt through the door, leaving the scent of urine, lies, and fear far behind him.

*

Steve came back in time to see Josh off to his parents. He watched as Josh chatted happily with them over everything he did.

“…Did you know that a single werewolf could eat up to thirty pounds of meat a day? But not raw, that’s a myth...” Josh prattled on, his parents giving each other amused glances behind his back.

Steve turned to Tommy, the keeper that was hiding in the crow’s nest near the entrance.

“It sounded like he had fun,” he said, as Tommy leapt down in front him.

“Carol wanted to straight up adopt him,” Tommy said with a sneer.

“She always did have a soft spot for strays,” Steve murmured as Tommy fell instep next to him. “Especially strays that love shopping.”

Tommy nose twitched. “You went to that vampire mongrel’s again, didn’t you? I can smell him from here.”

Steve smacked Tommy’s head. “He’s not a mongrel just because he was made instead of born. Where are you kids getting these ideas? Jesus Christ.”

He snorted. “Whatever, I can still smell him.”

“I saw the mayor and visited the coven too,” Steve said dryly. “I was doing my duties as an alpha. There is something wrong in this town and I am going to figure out what.”

Tommy sniffed again. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t want Hopper back as the alpha anymore then most of this pack, so you better figure it out, before you get yourself killed.”

Steve pushed him playfully. “Shut it, Tommy!”

Tommy laughed. “I bet I can beat you to the center, no shifting.”

“You’re on!”

*

Steve was in his hut? Cottage? Living structure? He was never sure what to call all the little houses that was in the compound. Hell, he didn’t even like the word compound, really. It felt cult-ish. Which they weren’t.

Werewolves had tried living in towns for millennia and it never worked out well for the werewolves. They would get blamed for everything from failed crops, high infant mortality rates, and plagues.

So they started forming their own communities inside towns. Much like the Vatican and Italy.

Well whatever anyone called them, it was home.

Steve was at home, playing cards with Robin.

“So what did you think of Josh today?” he asked, drawing a card.

“I bet Tommy whined about it all the way back to the center of camp,” Robin said with a scoff.

“It’s actually fucking ridiculous how much the pack is so...so...” he threw his hands in the air frustration. “Fuck I don’t know the right word for it. But click-ee?”

“Clicky?” Robin asked. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You know, a click,” Steve said. “The jocks, the cowboys, the goths, the freaks. A click.”

“Ohhh...” she said. “A clique.”

Steve frowned. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

Robin half shrugged. “Sort of. But yeah, I’ll agree to the pack becoming more and more cliquey. It’s become very insular since...” she paused to think. “Actually I don’t when it started, but it’s recent. I just can’t tell you how recent.”

Steve hummed. “It’s becoming a problem and one I don’t know how to fix. I mean Josh and Chance here will help not only them realize that we aren’t monsters, but that regular humans aren’t monsters either.”

Robin nodded. “It’s certainly a step in the right direction. You need to get out more in the community. Do Q&As at the town hall and middle school.”

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. He placed all his cards down. “Out.”

“Skunked again!” Robin shrieked. “How are you so good at this game?”

Steve just shrugged. “Why not elementary schools?” She stared at him blankly. “For the whole Q&A thing.”

“Oh, that,” she said, waving her hand. “Because despite there being an actual werewolf in the school no teacher or parent would agree to you speaking to kids that young.”

Steve sighed. She was probably right. “’K, so middle schools and town halls help with the community at large but what about the pack?”

She just shrugged. “That’s something you should really talk to your alpha female about, you know.” She scooped up the cards and began shuffling them.

Steve sighed. He did know. But he also knew that Nancy was still very much a conservative when it came to pack dynamics. She had actually turned him down twice because she felt that the alphas should be mated.

It wasn’t until Steve asked her and she couldn’t come up with a logical, non-sexist reason why that should be the case that she accepted the role.

“I love her dearly,” he said instead. “But I just kinda want to spit ball some ideas with you that I can take to her. So I don’t look stupid.”

Robin shoved his shoulder playfully. “She doesn’t think you’re stupid.”

Steve scoffed. She really, really did.

“Okay,” Robin conceded. “Maybe a little.”

“There is also the little matter of the spy,” Steve grumbled.

Robin grimaced and chewed her bottom lip. “You know it’s Tommy, right? Please tell me you know it’s Tommy.”

Steve frowned. “No. Why would it be Tommy?”

She sighed and scooted close to him. “Steve, he’s been hanging on Billy’s coattails at school. He’s always talking about how great Billy is on and off the court. Hell, if I thought Billy liked boys I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Tommy was sucking his dick.”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “But I need to make sure. I just can’t go accusing people without proof.”

“I don’t think you should accuse him at all.”

Steve reared back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, dingus,” Robin said slyly. “You make sure to tell Tommy things you know you want Billy to know. Because a spy you know is better than one you don’t.”

Steve gave her a big hug. “I wish you were my alpha female.”

She hugged him back. “I know.”

“Have you thought about asking for the bite when you turn eighteen?”

She shuffled back a bit and put her hands on her knees and then nodded. “Yeah. I’ve talked to my parents about it. They’re uneasy about having a werewolf for a daughter.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry. Maybe the town hall meetings and the Q&As with kids will help.”

She nodded.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He kissed her cheek. “Between you and I we are going to change the world.”

She looked at him shyly. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Robin pushed his shoulder again. “You are such a sap.”

Steve laughed. “Yes, but you knew that.”

She looked at the scar on his neck and then reached out to touch it. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

He shivered at her touch. “I don’t mind it.”

“I do, Steve,” she said fiercely. “They hurt you because they were afraid of you.”

He sighed. “When my parents died, the Franklins were the only ones in town willing to take me in. The only people who knew about the silver collar they made me wear was just the three of us until I turned eighteen.”

“How did no one else know?” Robin asked gently.

“I only wore it when they were home at home,” Steve murmured. “I wasn’t forced to wear it at school. Just at home where I ‘might’ hurt them.”

“It’s still cruel.”

Steve just shrugged.

“Whatever happened to them?” she asked after a moment or two of awkward silence.

“Officially or unofficially?” Steve asked with a smirk.

“There’s an official story?” Robin said eagerly.

He laughed. “Sure is. They are currently on a business trip to...” he looked at his watch, “Tokyo, Japan.”

“What the hell?” she gasped excitedly. “What’s the real story?”

“Only Wayne and I know where their bodies are buried.”

Robin giggled and kicked her feet. “That’s amazing!”

Steve smiled at her fondly. She really was his platonic soulmate.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @bookbinderbitch @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @redfreckledwolf @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @goosesister @tinyplanet95 @anaibis @she-collects-smut @irregular-child

[badgirlcoven-official]

[partial ID: Comission info for The Owl House fanfiction writing comissions.]

Opening up writing commissions for the first time! I'm hoping to expand the payment options sooner rather than later but that'll take some time to setup properly.

For more examples of my writing you can find me on Ao3: @badgirlcoven_official

Full transcript under the cut!

The commission pages are over a screenshot of the Collector’s checkerboard and play area from Watching and Dreaming, the information is written in three different fonts and mostly in white with yellow titles on some pages. 

The first page, titled, “The Owl House fanfic commissions” has three sections each with a different commission type. They are as follows 

Requests+ 

You give me a prompt

You get one chance after it’s finished to request revisions

You pay for the minimum word count you would like it to be 

The prices are:

$10 for 1000+ words, $15 for 1500+ words, $20 for 2000+ words, up to $50 for 5000 words. 

Requests for $5 

You give me a prompt

I write my interpretation of that prompt to the best of my ability 

No revisions / I have full creative freedom 

Professional

0.018 per word (e.g $9 for 500)

Can provide a partial or full outline that you would like me to follow

Can specify dialogue or passages you would like me to include

OCs welcome! (character chart to be filled out will be provided)

2-5 revisions allowed

You set the minimum amount of words you'd like + the maximum amount of words you are willing to pay for

Page two lists what the author is comfortable with writing, split into two sections. 

Will Write: 

Depicted and referenced physical and verbal abuse

Mental illness + trauma 

Depicted and referenced religious trauma/cults

Referenced queerphobia 

Depicted and referenced ableism 

Plural characters! 

Trans and Enby characters (+ pronoun HCs!) 

Neurodivergent & physically disabled characters! 

AUs and canon divergences 

Won’t write

Smut/sex scenes 

Referenced or depicted sexual assault 

Depicted or heavily referenced self harm 

Drug or alcohol addiction 

Depicted fatal illness/cancer

Glorified depictions of abuse, self harm, or bullying 

Anything including incest, pedophilia/uncomfortable age gaps

Racist stereotypes + characters experiencing racism

Pages three and four include writing excerpts screenshotted from google docs, each different document having its own color and all of them in comic sans font for readability. The first page gives a description example whereas the next page shows dialogue excerpts. 

Description: 

As he ran, mist kissed his arms and face, leaving goosebumps all up his body. Nylon flapped against his shins and each new pace sent a shockwave of energy up his legs. Haggard breaths had his lungs feeling like a swing set and a dizziness tinged his every move.

Fog rolled in from the distance, the moonlight overhead was the only thing to disrupt the nautical twilight that submerged his surroundings. Without stopping, all he really saw were blurs and shadows streaking across his peripheral.

His footsteps made loud thuds and rustled the fallen leaves. Around him, the forest was anything but quiet. Loud chirping and croaking and hooting could be heard all around him, everything pulsing that little bit of life into his veins.

The deep blues of the forest should have been calming, the cold air running down his throat should have made him feel exhilarated. Instead, bile pooled in his stomach and his throat had begun to ache and his eyes to sting.

Dialogue #1:

"I saw the stuff he did to you, too…" they admitted, glancing sideways at him to check for signs of anger. "It looked like it hurt… I'd broken toys before—Uh, real toys not people— but I'd never been that mean about it so watching him do all that kinda scared me…"

Dialogue #2: 

Eventually, Hunter found his voice again. "Please don't blame yourself for what Belos did to you," he was speaking as much to the Collector as he was to himself. "It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault and what we have now is good so I forgive you."

He paused again to think about things. "You know that I'm real now and you're nice to me and that's all that matters now that Belos is dead."

Dialogue #3: 

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.” She came and sat down next to him, stretching her pajama-clad legs into the grass and wiggling her toes absentmindedly. “I dunno anymore either…”

She took a deep, quiet breath, and then let it out again, hugging her knees to mirror him and get comfortable. “So, why’d you come out here?”

Page five has payment info. The author is currently accepting payment in amazon gift cards while working on other options. 

A screenshot example is given of a page to send a digital e-card on amazon over email. 

The agreed amount should be addressed to badgirlcovenofficial@gmail.com. If the payment is over $20 you can send one half before and one half after receiving the commission. 

End of transcript.

[helenaheissner]

MAGICAL GIRL EXORCIST SQUAD (Issue #13: The Floodwater Comes For Us All)

“D’ya really wanna do this? Here? Now?” Winona asked, hands raised, palms flat, backing up further into the woods. 

“Honestly? When I first heard you’d escaped the Floodwater, all I could think about was this moment. And the moments afterwards I’ll spend ripping you apart atom by atom. So yes, I think I want to do this here and now,” Astaroth, or rather, Astra, said. Her black hellfire blade shimmered with white moonlight; her purple eyes hungry for blood. 

“Are you entirely sure about that? Because with that sword, this whole forest goes up in smoke, and that sounds to me like more attention than you want,” Winona said. There was no way she could take Astaroth in a one-v-one, not when she had that sword. So, she would need to either weasel her way around this or find some way to disarm her opponent. Thank God for my disarming charm, she thought with a smirk. 

“What are you smirking about, girl?” 

“Oh, nothing.”

“Thought so,” Astra said. “Now, I believe you were about to explain as to why you’ve been harassing my Amanda.”

Winona’s smirk flowered into a cackle. “Fucking hellfire. What is it with deadbeat parents? They’re out for cigarettes for years, decades, even, but then they come back acting like they’ve been helicopters the whole time, like a few bits of lip service towards watching out for their kids makes up for all that negligence.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I mean shit, I’ve been stalking Amy for the past four years, but it takes you until now to show up? Shouldn’t you at least be carrying an oversized burlap sack with a dollar sign on it to cover all your child support?”

“Don’t start with me, kid,” Astra said, purple irises consuming the rest of her eyes. 

“I’m six hundred thousand years old,” Winona rolled her eyes. 

“And I’m six million. Everything’s relative,” Astra said, holding the edge of the sword to Winona’s throat. 

Oh, crap, Winona thought. Okay, time to bust out the truth-bombs. “Your daughter is a Magical Girl.”

“I know,” Astra grunted. Probably she did know, had known for a while, but still hadn’t figured out how to deal with that. Good. Winona could work with that. 

“Then you know you’ll have to fight her eventually, right?” Winona said. 

“Not necessarily.”

“Oh, and why’s that? You think you’re gonna win her over to your side? Your nice Christian girl daughter who has an actual family, an actual mother, who loves her to death? You think she’s gonna fall into line because the mom who walked out on her as a baby shows up and starts barking orders? How stupid are you?”

“Not as stupid as the girl mouthing off to someone pressing a hellfire sword to her throat,” Astra said, smiling with teeth. 

“My followers know I’m here,” Winona said. 

“So do mine.”

“So then this is how it starts? The Demon Legion versus the Army of Monsters, round one for the throne of Hell? Right here and now? Because if I die, my second in command has orders to slaughter all the pigs and let out all six hundred and sixty-six of my friends.”

“You’re bluffing,” Astra said. “You wouldn’t show your hand that easily.”

“Maybe not the old me, but as you’ve pointed out, I was in jail for over half a million years- it made me a little bit CRAZY!”

Wings of heavenly light erupted from Winona’s back, and a golden halo shone over her head. The wings clamped shut like a vice and wrapped around the handle of the infernal claymore, prying it from Astra’s hands, while the contact from the wings singed Astra’s skin and left harsh red marks. Astra stepped back, and when it was over, the sword was pointed at her throat. “Now I have a hellfire sword. Ho ho ho,” Winona said. 

“You know I have more of those, right, nephilim?” Astra said through grinding teeth. 

“I’m counting on it. And don’t be racist, you dirty fucking succubus.”

“Don’t start with me-”

“Or would you prefer ‘literal sex monster’? ‘Cause that works too. Maybe not as punchy, but still,” Winona said. 

“This isn’t over,” Astra said. 

“Damn right it’s not,” Winona said. “Now go. I still have plans for you, and much like with your smoking hot daughter, they’re harder to realize if you’re dead. So go scamper back to your dragon’s den, lick your wounds, and GO FUCK YOURSELF LIKE THE SLUT YOU ARE!”

Astra’s forehead-vein nearly popped. But instead, she vanished in a hail of purple fire. 

And with that, the Lady of the Legion was left alone with a sweet new hellfire sword. “Ho ho ho, bitch,” she said, twirling it about in her hands. Then, privately, she said, “I should really give Dad a call.”

***

Basketball practice freshman year, first on the court but last to play. It always started with Nicole and Travis, and if they were lucky it ended with them. The hazing wouldn’t stop no matter how good they were. If anything, that made it worse. Made Travis’ brother angrier and angrier. That and the fact that Nicole refused to do anything to stop him. Nick was a shield, not a sword- he couldn’t be used that way. And she could try as she might to shield the people around her, but it wouldn’t work. And she was already in a precarious position- if she screwed up, got into a fight, it might cost Mom her job. There wasn’t a right answer, which meant the right answer was no answer. Nothing could be done except to endure. And endure and endure and endure, even when Travis showed up to practice one day with a black eye on his face, and his brother Derek was grinning over it like he was laughing at a private joke. 

And this time, he looked at Nicole and said, “It is a joke. The joke is on you, you soft-hearted coward.”

He stood in front of the interior wall of the high school gym, only for a limo to crash through it and run him over. The driver’s seat opened, and Amy stepped out wearing a slinky black sequin gown and carrying a rifle. “Get in, loser! We’re going demon hunting!”

Nicole happily obliged, suddenly fresh from the salon and dressed to the nines, as Amy pulled her in for a makeout session inside a flying limo, soaring through a pink and blue void surrounded by unicorns playing the trombone. 

That was when Nicole woke up and got sad. 

“Why are you crying?” Cass asked, sitting in front of a television playing Super Smash Bros, wearing a flannel bathrobe and a towel around her hair. 

Nicole rubbed her eye and found she was in fact crying. Must’ve been the dream. Bad memories mixed with new feelings she wasn’t sure what to do with. She laid on a bed, beneath a yellow comforter in a room with golden wallpaper. The bed was pressed into a corner next to a window, out of which Nicole saw the beach, saw the sprawling expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, black and silver beneath the foggy night. A writing desk and chair sat at the foot of the bed, and a bookshelf packed with Marvel comics occupied the opposite corner. Just off to the side of that was a television and a Wii and a few bean bag chairs, as well as a makeup stand. The remaining wall consisted of a wardrobe full of clothes and a door that led out into the rest of the house. 

“I’d rather not say,” Nicole said. 

“Eh, fair enough,” Cass responded. She played as Samus, going up a platforming stage tearing through enemies. 

“Is this Amy’s room?” Nicole asked. 

“Yup. We’re at the Donahue house in Hull.”

“They live at the beach.”

“Nantasket Beach. Because they are filthy fucking rich.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Nicole said. “Where are the others?”

“Well, Debbi kind of had to come out of the closet. She did that right when we got here.”

“Oh boy. How’d that go?”

“It went incredibly well. Victoria and Patrick are about the chillest people to ever walk the earth. But Debbi started crying so Patrick and Victoria took her and Heather out for a drive. Said they’re going to buy booze for dinner tonight.”

“Oh wow. Sounds like an interesting night for Heather too.”

“Yeaahhh there’s meeting the parents and then there’s this. Anyway, the boys are here standing guard while Amy makes dinner.”

“Amy’s cooking?” Nicole said, her mouth practically watering.

“Yup.”

“I should go help,” Nicole said, pushing her legs off the bed. 

“Enjoy,” Cass said with a flat affect. 

Nicole stepped towards the door, but stopped and looked at Cass. “Hey. Is everything alright?”

Cass didn’t answer, simply button-mashed with greater severity.

“Cass, come on. Please,” Nicole said. “Talk to me.”

Cass paused her game, basked in the glow of the television in the darkened bedroom. She didn’t move her head, didn’t adjust her tone. “You don’t know me, Nicole.”

“No, but I’d like to,” Nicole said with a gentle smile. 

“... I didn’t pry when you said you didn’t wanna tell me why you were crying. So why can’t you do the same for me?” Cass said, still not looking at her. 

Nicole blinked. “O… Okay. Fair enough. How about some quid pro quo then.”

“How about instead you gimme some fuckin’ space, blondie?” Cass said, finally looking at her, glaring at her, practically snarling. And yet there were tears in her eyes. 

Nicole balked. Best not to push on this one. Still, she wanted Cass to be okay- from what little Nicole had gleamed, Cass had been through so much already. And she normally wasn’t like this- she was reserved, a bit standoffish, but not openly hostile. Something had happened, something she would need to talk about if she wanted to be okay again. But now wasn’t the time- press too hard, and most people would break before they bent. “Alright,” Nicole said. “But I’m here if you need me. And if you ever wanna know why I was crying, you can just ask. You don’t have to tell me about yourself if you don’t want to.”

And with that, Nicole left and closed the door behind her, trying not to hear the sobbing on the other side. 

She stood at the top of a staircase, one other bedroom and a bathroom occupying the remainder of the floor. There was one more floor above, presumably an attic, while below was another floor consisting of three bedrooms and another bathroom. In one bedroom was Damian, who was busy throwing darts. In another was Jason, reading a book. She descended the rest of the stairs, arriving on the first floor. To her left was a sprawling living room with a massive television and a shamefully large DVD collection. Timothy was watching Double Indemnity, and the fourteen year old paused and gaped as soon as Nicole walked by. 

Nicole waved. 

The boy’s jaw dropped. He retrieved a blanket next to him and hid himself under it. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s only within the past year discovered girls,” a voice came from behind her. 

Nicole turned to find Richard carrying two cans of soda. “Ah, I see.”

“Hey Timmy, get out from under there- you’re missing the part with the indemnity,” Richard said with a knowing grin. 

Tim poked his head out.

“Here you go, you little weirdo,” Richard said, handing his little brother a soda. “Now say hi to our sisters’ teammate like a gentleman.”

“Hi,” Tim said, his voice cracking. He put a hand over his mouth.

Nicole giggled. “Hi, Tim. Good to see you.”

He hid back under the blanket. 

“I see the affinity for blondes runs in the family,” Richard rolled his eyes. “I blame Dad.”

“Beg pardon?” Nicole said. 

“Oh, nothing. Just go easy on our sister. She’s nuts, but we care about her, you understand?” Richard said. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Nicole feigned.

“Sure, you don’t,” Richard said, cracking open the soda can. “Well, she’s in the kitchen if you wanna talk to her.”

Nicole nodded. “Enjoy your movie!” 

“Will do!” Richard said, raising his drink, then clinking it on the side of Tim’s submerged head. “Look here, Timmy. See how Wilder’s constructing this scene- it’s brilliant.”

Nicole followed the hallway into the kitchen, where she found Amy putting onions, carrots, garlic, and chicken into a big pot. They sizzled, releasing a tantalizing aroma into the kitchen. She poured on a generous spray of curry powder while everything cooked together. 

“Japanese curry?” Nicole asked. 

Amy jumped slightly, then said, “Yeah. Standard yellow curry. Glad you’re awake. How are you doing?”

“Not bad. A little stiff, but I’ll manage. Do you want any help?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you worked yourself unconscious again,” Amy said, stirring the ingredients with a wooden spoon and turning up the heat. “Twice in two days, in fact.”

“So?”

“So, I’m worried about you- you’re gonna hurt yourself. What if you pass out and miss a fight? Or, I dunno, a class or something? Or a cat stuck in a tree?”

“I’d be mortified,” Nicole said, rubbing the back of her head. 

“Exactly, now sit down,” Amy said, pointing at a wooden chair situated at the kitchen table. “You can taste-test if you want, but I’m handling this. It’s the least I can do.”

“What does that mean?” Nicole asked, sitting down. 

“Everyone else is dealing with heavy stuff right now,” Amy said. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I mean… You’re dealing with stuff too, Amy,” Nicole said. 

“Yeah, but… Debbi is doing something huge right now. Heather is supporting her. You’re working yourself to the bone everyday. Cass is clearly going through something else on top of all this Prophecy crap. My problems aren’t much next to all that. And honestly, this relaxes me.”

“You do look very Zen doing that,” Nicole said, resting her chin on the kitchen table. 

“Thanks,” Amy said. “Eight mouths to feed, Mom needed all the help she could get.”

“Makes sense. How are you feeling, though?”

“I… I think I’m ready to finish that conversation we were having yesterday,” Amy said. 

Nicole gulped, and a sickly-sweet sensation overtook her. “A-are you sure?”

“If you are,” Amy said, pouring two cups of water into the pot. “This will need a few minutes. Step outside with me?” 

It took her a moment, but finally, Nicole said, “Okay.”

Amy went into the mudroom off to the side of the kitchen and retrieved two white overcoats. She put one around herself and the other around Nicole, and Nicole felt the sickness start to diminish. It was all turning sweet.

They stepped onto the sand and walked barefoot on the foggy beach, stopping a few inches before where the water met the land. Low-hanging clouds drifted over Nicole’s skin, and it reminded her of flying. And of home. Not Manchester, but her father’s boat, the Sunshower. “You ever do any boating?” Nicole asked. 

“No, why?” Amy said.

“It’s just something I love doing, ever since I was a kid,” Nicole said. “My dad would be away for a while at a time, but then he’d come back, and we’d have a grand old time together, but I could always tell he didn’t feel totally at home on land. Like his sea-legs had overtaken his land-legs. So, over the summer, I’d start going out on the boat with him. We’d go to the coast and launch the boat, stay in a hotel for a week, come home with a haul of fish and sell it. It was freeing- no ground underneath us, just a wide-open sea to navigate. It could toss us about, try to get us to go one way or the other, but at the end of the day, it was all there for us, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Sometimes we’d be out all day and we’d watch the sun set into the horizon, casting this red and gold glow over the water, like we were bathing in the light.”

Amy smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“It was. Flying reminds of it, especially when the sun sets or comes up. There’s this freedom to it that I can’t quite describe but… Sometimes it’s like I never wanna get on solid ground again.”

“So what brings you back to shore? And back to the ground?” Amy asked.

“The people I care about,” Nicole said simply.

Amy gave a shallow nod. 

“So,” Nicole asked. “Aidan accused you of having feelings for me.”

“He did,” Amy said.

“Is it true?”

Amy paused for a moment, stared at the ground. A crab scuttled past them, returned to the sea where it belonged. “Yes. I do have feelings for you. And they’re… And they’re romantic ones. I like you, Nicole Nygaard. I’ve… I’ve never really felt this way about a girl before, at least not consciously. But you’re a girl, and I like you. And if that means that I like girls, then… Well then, I guess I like girls.”

Nicole’s head spun. She couldn’t believe it. This was insane. Her heart pounded inside her chest, and the reverberations shook her vision out of focus. A giddiness ran through her, a sense of validation and euphoria unlike any other she’d ever felt. She breathed in the salt-air, the fog tickling her skin. It was all almost too much, especially when a part of her, the rational, structural part of her mind, kept telling her to run away, that this was a trick, that she would only get hurt from this, that Amy hadn’t really changed. 

But I have, Nicole thought. 

Amy took a sharp breath. Then another, then another. 

“Hey,” Nicole said. “You’re okay. This is okay.”

“I… I just… I’m so scared. That was so scary,” Amy said. She was shaking, holding her arms together and rubbing them.

“Coming out? Yeah, it’s incredibly scary,” Nicole said. “Why don’t we go back inside, get you warm. Your pot is probably boiling by now-”

“No!” Amy said. “I just… Please. I need to know: how do you feel about me? You’ve had a whole day to think about it, same as I have. Please. Tell me.”

The words got lodged where the back of Nicole’s mouth met the front of her throat. She wasn’t sure how she felt- she was being torn two ways, and neither one seemed like a safe road to travel. “Amy, you’re… You’re really pretty. And you’re nerdy and funny, and you’re a sweetheart under the right circumstances. But I don’t know if this is a good idea- we’re teammates, and we’re roommates, and we’re friends. I don’t know if I’m comfortable risking all that-”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Amy shook her head. “I’m asking how you feel about me. That’s all. Not anything else, not practical considerations. I know I… I hurt you, when you were in a sensitive place. And that was wrong of me. But I’ve changed and I… I…”

She needs to hear it, Nicole thought. But do I? It doesn’t sound so bad, being with her. I don’t think she’d ever hurt me again, at least not deliberately. And it would help her. It would help her a lot if I could be that for her. She needs a rock, and she wants it to be me. 

It’s the right thing to do.

So why does it feel wrong?

Nicole reached out a hand. Amy took it. Her hand was warm and soft and steady. Nicole started, “I think, maybe, I-”

“Well well well well well. Well well well well well well well well wellllllll,” came a high, shrill voice behind them. “What the fuck do we have here? Amy, you lying little minx- you told me you don’t like girls.”

Nicole let go of Amy’s hand and snapped to attention. “Winona?”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” said the girl without any semblance of boundaries. She walked up to them, waving with both hands. 

“What the hell are you doing on my family’s property?” Amy spat. 

“Hey, last I checked this is a public beach,” Winona rolled her eyes, still marching towards them. “Now, seriously- what the hell, Ames? You’ve been holding out on me.”

“No, no I haven’t,” Amy growled. “Now get out of here.”

“Not until I get an answer- what’s this girl got that I haven’t? Why’s she your closet key and not me? C’mon- that’s not fair? Is it a race thing?”

“Winona,” Nicole said. “I don’t know what you’re doing here-”

“I followed you here, that’s what I’m doing here,” Winona said, smiling widely and giving the thumbs-up. “It’s because I’m stalking you, dearie.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Nicole said, eyes narrowing. What the heck was wrong with this girl?!

“I’ve been following both of you around for a while now. Mostly Ames and Cassie. You’re a recent addition to my portfolio, Nikki, though I’ve gotta say you’re really interesting in your own right. Any chance you’ll reconsider going out with me?”

“No,” Amy said. 

“Aw, Ames- speaking for others again? Why do you gotta make everything about you?”

“I’m calling the police,” Nicole said. 

“With what phones? You left them inside, remember?” Winona smirked. 

Terror rippled through Nicole. 

Amy stepped forward, fists balled. “Get. The hell. Away from my family.”

“Mmmmm no!” Winona laughed. 

She snapped her fingers, a blue burst of concussive energy exploded silently in Amy and Nicole’s faces, propelling them back into the ocean.

Nicole tumbled through the air, only to land in Amy’s arms. She’d fully transformed already, and a determined look was carved into her face by the night’s horrible circumstances. Nicole beamed at the older girl, who gave her a cocky grin. 

“We’ll make a cheerleader of you yet, Nygaard,” Amy said. “Now hurry up and transform so we can take this bitch down!”

“Right!” Nicole said, jumping from Amy’s arms and engulfing herself in God’s white light. She landed on her broomstick and skimmed the surface of the ocean as she launched herself towards Winona. 

Surrounding herself with Pink Light seemed to act like a sort of shield against attack- the only drawback to it was how quickly it exhausted her. She would need to be conservative with it, only summon her shield when an attack was actually upon her-

- like right now! Eep! Nicole thought as another blue-white missile launched at her. She swerved left and summoned the shield, and the missile winged her right side. The force of the impact shook Nicole through the shield, but she kept flying. She reached the shore and channeled white light into her fist and buried it in Winona’s gut. 

Winona grunted. 

And absolutely nothing else happened. 

Nicole’s face warped with shock as she retrieved her fist and launched another attack. She struck Winona in the face, only for the other girl to deflect it and throw her own punch, forcing Nicole to back up. More and more, until Nicole realized they were in the water.

Actually, they were over the water. Winona was floating just as easily as Nicole was. 

Nicole’s eyes bugged out, and her jaw dropped. 

“Not a demon, sweetie,” Winona said. “Not even a cambion like your little whore back th-”

She stopped when the fog rolling in from the sea became laced with shadows. A thick blanket of darkness settled around them, forming a circular wall. Winona performed a series of double-takes as she searched for a way out, while the circular wall formed a dome. 

Nicole punched Winona in the face, knocking her into the water. Winona flew out of the way of the water’s surface, white-light wings erupting from her back, a halo crowning her head, her eyes howling with heavenly light. 

“Y-you-you’re an angel,” Nicole said, jaw plummeting into the ocean depths.

“Awww, you’re so sweet, no wonder she picked you and not me,” Winona said. “To be precise, though, I’m a Nephilim. Born to one of the Watchers before the Flood. And I’ve been waiting a very long time for my day in the sun.”

Nicole flew upwards, and the Nephilim followed with a flap of her wings. Propelled through the sky, giving chase, fog and darkness on all sides.

From out of the darkness, a broomstick emerged, shooting out and nearly jabbing Winona in the throat. She swatted it away, and said, “Hah! Nice try-”

That was when Amy fell from the sky and buried the bottom of her foot into the top of Winona’s skull. The Nephilim grunted and fell to the ocean below as the shadows cleared. 

“Nice!” Nicole said, Amy shining in her eyes.

“Thanks!” Amy grinned. She stuck out her hands and painted the spot where Winona had landed below with another swath of shadows, trapping Winona beneath a sheet of darkness. 

White light exploded all around, dispelling the shadows as an angry angelic figure shot through the sky towards them. Nicole and Amy flew in separate directions, and Nicole jerked her head around to find Winona chasing Amy. 

Nicole turned and launched herself at the Nephilim. Even if she wasn’t a demon, she had to have some kind of weakness. 

Nicole summoned her shield and rammed into Winona, pushing them both below the water’s surface. 

That was when Winona screamed, exploding with heavenly light and pushing all the water around aside. A cavity was left in the sea, and Winona flew out of it. Nicole barely managed to do the same before the water came rushing back in. Her chest throbbed with exhaustion, but that seemed to have worked- Winona hated being underwater. 

Now to exploit that. 

“What do you even want?!” Nicole screamed. “Why are you doing any of this?! Why?”

“Because I need to,” Winona said, a pained smile gracing her lips. “And because I can’t do this without her!”

“Well you can’t have me!” Amy said. “Now get out of here!” 

Winona cackled. “Who’s gonna make me? You?!”

“YOU’RE GODDAMNED RIGHT I AM!” Amy screamed, charging Winona, a trail of shadows running behind her. Winona flew into the sky, and Nicole and Amy chased after her, zipping and zooming about as the Nephilim turned and pivoted and accelerated and decelerated. 

When they were far enough from the shore, Amy blanketed everything behind them in shadows. 

“You think that’ll stop me!” Winona said. “Amy, Amy, Amy- I’m a the daughter of one of the Sons of God- you think shadows are something I’m concerned about?! Uncle Samael held me in his arms as a baby and showed me right then and there that all you need to deal with shadows IS A LITTLE MORE LIGHT!”

A column of radiance erupted from behind the shadow wall, blinding Winona. Nicole clamped her eyes shut, but she heard Debbi’s voice cry out, “I COULDN’T AGREE MORE, BITCH!”

Nicole opened her eyes to find Debbi and Heather double-punching Winona in the gut and the face respectively, sending her tumbling backwards before she extended her wings and cushioned the fall. 

The four of them loomed over Winona. 

“Did you guys just get back?” Amy asked. “Where are-”

“The boys were waiting for us outside when we got back,” Debbi said. “They heard the explosions on the beach and loaded up the pets and emergency supplies into a car. Mom and Dad are already getting them to safety.”

“Oh, thank God,” Amy said, hand over her heart. “Wait, where’s Cass?”

“... We thought she was with you?” Heather said, face dropping with concern. 

Debbi and Amy both glared at Winona. “WHERE THE FUCK IS OUR SISTER!” 

“I dunno,” Winona shrugged. “You can’t blame me for every bad thing that happens to y’all- that’s just reductive. And fatalistic. And-”

“Nicole, hit me,” Heather said. 

Nicole happily obliged, tossing a softball of Pink Healing Light at Heather. Heather buried her fist in Winona’s face, and then again, again, again, again, until Winona exploded with energy and sent her flying back. And Heather simply leaped back into the fray, fighting mid-air as Winona blocked and deflected and threw her own punches.

“Nicole, we’re gonna need you to supercharge us,” Debbi said. 

“We still don’t know what’ll happen when I do that to you and Amy,” Nicole said. 

“Yeah, but we don’t have much in the way of options here- we’re fighting an angel for fuck’s sake!”

“Point,” Nicole said. “Float up to me.”

Into both her hands she channeled her Pink Healing Light, a boost of electrifying energy from deep within her soul, the part closest to God, the part that most intimately knew His love and His power. A rapturous, exhausting sensation pumped through her, and she put her glowing hands on the shoulders of both Donahue sisters. 

And forward they flew. Nicole took to the front and summoned more pink light to form her shield, the place next to her heart thrumming. Debbi and Amy flanked her, and Debbi shot a pike of white light forward. Mid-flight it erupted into a purple energy flare. Heather ducked out of the way of the energy-javelin, and it exploded right upon contacting Winona’s chest and sent her flying back. 

Amy did the same, and her shadows ignited into a black pyre, obsidian flames laced with golden edges, while the stench of brimstone filled the air. 

Nicole recognized it as Hellfire. And by the look on her face, so did Amy. Her visage warped with horror as the jet of black flame tore through Winona’s wing and sent her tumbling below the water.

For a second, it was over. There was nothing but the four of them levitating over the ocean, the horrible realization of Amy’s full power threatening to drag them beneath the surface with their enemy.

And then the explosion happened, launching a tsunami at them. It was a wall of oceanic wrath, rising at least twenty feet high and barreling towards them, towards the shore behind them, towards the homes both empty and occupied.

“Heather!” Nicole said. “I’m gonna recharge you. Can you-”

“Hell yeah I can!” Heather screamed. 

Nicole summoned one last burst of Pink Light and supercharged Heather. Heather launched forward and punched the tsunami with all her might, and the wave shattered and released a shockwave hurdling them all backwards. 

They landed on the shore. Nicole was bruised all over, sore in places she didn’t remember having. She willed the Light through herself, forcing herself to heal even as it exhausted her more and more. She got up and healed Debbi first, then Heather, and then she got to Amy. 

Amy stared at her hands. They were trembling as black flames spiked from them, and she breathed rapid, shallow breaths. 

The horizon was clear, Winona having evidently flown away. The stench of brine and sulfur polluted the air. Amy kept burning, and burning, and burning. “This is… I’m… I’m… Oh God. Oh God it’s true.”

“Amy,” Debbi said, “You don’t know that. You don’t know what this is.”

“What the fuck else could it be?” she whispered. “It looks like Hellfire. It smells like Hellfire. It ate through an angel’s wing, when your purple energy didn’t do the same. It’s Hellfire. I’m a cambion. I’m… Oh, God, no- I’m a monster!”

On instinct, Nicole grabbed Amy’s hands, the Hellfire unable to break through the shields of Pink Light. “Amy. You’re not a monster. I promise you. No matter who your mother is, no matter what your heritage, you are completely and beautifully human as far everyone else is concerned. You’re here with your sister, and your friend, and with… With me. Someone who cares about you more than you can possibly imagine. It’s okay. You’re okay. And no matter what happens, God still loves you. He loves all His children, you included. If He didn’t, he wouldn’t have made you a Magical Girl. So, remember that you’re okay. We all still love you.”

The Hellfire slowly died away as Amy sobbed and collapsed in Nicole’s arms. Nicole held her for a while, sitting with her on the beach and propping her up. 

Eventually, Nicole turned to Debbi and Heather. “Why don’t you guys go get the rest of the Donahues and tell them it’s safe to come back. After that, we should go look for Cass, make sure she’s okay.”

“That sounds good,” Heather said, nodding. 

“I don’t,” Debbi stammered, “I can’t just leave my sister like this.”

“Babe,” Heather said, smiling gently, “Nicole’s got this.”

And with that, the purple and green magical girls took flight and left them there. Nicole stroked Amy’s hair while she sobbed, and she knew at that moment that she wanted no harm to ever come to Amy again. No matter what, she cared for this girl. That scared her, that outraged her, and that confused her, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny. She wasn’t ready to admit it, and yet the words fell from her lips: “I have feelings for you too, Amy.”

Amy looked up at her with wide, wet verdant eyes. “Even though I’m a freak?”

“You’re no more a freak than I am,” Nicole said gently. “I promise you.”

“What’s gonna happen now?” Amy asked. “Everything I knew feels like a lie, and Winona is on the warpath. We’re not safe.”

“We’re never safe,” Nicole said. “That’s why we have to keep fighting. But right now… Right now we need to catch our breath and regroup. Together.”

Amy nodded, and Nicole held her there as the fog parted and the full moon came into view overhead, shining its light over the two of them as they kept each other warm. 

An ominous feeling crept into Nicole’s gut. Tonight was a warning. Things were on the move. Things were changing. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, and she wasn’t sure which of the night’s revelations scared her most. She swallowed it, and decided it could wait. For now, this was enough. It didn’t feel entirely right, but for right now, it was enough. 

[whereisyourpippinnow]

What exactly is "promoting obesity"? If you're talking about fat acceptance, that's a movement about loving your body because every body deserces love. Also fat doesn't equal unhealthy. Very thin people are likelier to be unhealthy than fat ones, and fat people actually live longer on average than "normal" weight people.

@andersonsland replied to your post “Can we all stop promoting anorexia and obesity?”

THANK YOU!

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Apologies (Sam x Bucky)

Lake house ficlet #4! 

938 words, mature. 

The sky is clear. Bucky can hear waves lapping against the dock, the sounds of his friends laughing around the bonfire out back, and until he heard the footsteps approaching, he was very close to happy. 

He scowls. “Are you tryin’ to sneak up on me, or some shit?” 

“Mostly trying to figure out if you were gonna bite my head off before I bothered sitting down,” Sam retorts, but he sits on the dock next to Bucky. 

“Did Steve Captain-America-face you into coming to apologize?” Bucky asks. 

“Apologize? Why should I apologize when you’re the one who —” Sam cuts himself off with a huffy sigh, and Bucky can hear him breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth, getting ready to try again. “Okay, can you just — I don’t get it, man. At first I thought you were just racist —” He cuts off Bucky’s indignant protest with a, “— but I know better. I just don’t get it. What did I ever do to you, huh?” 

“Nothing,” Bucky says sullenly. 

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole sometimes, but every time I come near you, you look at me like I’m strangling puppies.” 

Bucky heaves an irritated sigh and glowers up at the moon. He could explain — the way he used to have to hide, the way he grew up scared to show any sign of attraction to a guy, the way he might be overcompensating — but he really doesn’t want to talk about it. 

“Yeah, alright, fine,” Sam mutters, and he moves like he’s going to stand up. 

Before Bucky can think about it, he does something immensely stupid: he turns and grabs Sam by the wrist, leaning into his space, meeting his shocked gaze. 

“Fuck it,” Bucky growls, and closes the space between them. His mouth crashes against Sam’s in a clumsy, biting attack of a kiss. 

He hesitates, about to pull away, but Sam chases his lips and tilts his head just right to make the next kiss deep and slick and spine-tingling. 

Sam’s breath catches in the back of his throat. Then he’s hauling Bucky closer, kissing like he’s starving for it, tugging him down until they’re pressed together chest to chest, hips to hips, right there on the dock in the moonlight. 

It’s so frantic Bucky feels like he must be losing time again. All he gets is flashes: these sudden strobing moments of holy shit this is happening, a bruisingly intense kiss, teeth on his jaw, stubble scraping his throat… and then he’s yanking at Sam’s belt, because he’s really shitty at talking about his feelings, but really good at suppressing his gag reflex, and of all the things he could do with his mouth right now, this is the one he’s least likely to fuck up. 

“Oh, shit,” Sam hisses, and Bucky glances at him, half-convinced Sam is going to stop him as he flicks his tongue over the little bead of pre-come on the tip of his cock. Bucky exhales shakily and licks his lower lip, tasting salt. 

Sam doesn’t stop him, but he looks like he’s about to say something. Bucky cuts him off by laving his tongue up Sam’s cock, base to tip, wet and filthy — Sam lets out a long, ragged sigh.  

Bucky swirls his tongue around the head, sucking experimentally. Then he takes a deep breath and goes down, relaxing his throat, fighting the instinctive need to balk at the intrusion, until his nose brushes coarse hair. He lets the feel of it take over: Sam pressing hot and thick against his tongue, the musky scent of him everywhere. If he focuses on the sensations Bucky can almost ignore the part of his brain that’s stuck on this is happening. 

One of his hands is sort of hovering near Bucky’s head, like he’s not sure he’s allowed; Bucky grabs it and puts it where he wants it. Sam tugs lightly, testing, and Bucky moans — barely audible, but Sam must be able to feel the vibrations of it, because he lets out a choked cry and his hips jerk up like he can’t help himself. 

“Sorry,” he gasps. 

Bucky pulls off with a wet little pop, just long enough to say, “Don’t mind.” 

Sam babbles a string of curses up at the sky. 

Bucky just focuses on the way it feels, the way his lips are stretched and tender, spit sliding down his chin, wood under his knees, Sam falling apart under his hands. 

He can feel the moment Sam just gives in, lets go, his hips moving in quick choppy thrusts. His fingers twist in Bucky’s hair, and the sting of it makes him moan, and that’s all it takes.Sam bites out a curse and comes down Bucky’s throat. 

They’re both panting for a minute, their harsh breaths too loud in the night air. Sam looks like he might be as shocked as Bucky feels, but he can’t figure out whether it’s the good kind of shocked or not. 

Bucky’s torn between uncomfortable arousal and paralyzing anxiety, but anxiety is winning. He sits up, just like he was before Sam got here; he ducks his head, wipes his mouth, and tries not to freak out.  

“Man, you really don’t like using your words, do you?” Sam asks. Before Bucky can get defensive, Sam’s sitting up, leaning into him for another kiss. 

It’s unexpectedly sweet, and Bucky feels so light he could float. 

Sam pulls back just enough to give him a cocky, crooked grin before saying, “Apology accepted.” 

Bucky wants to make some sort of snarky retort to that, but he’s too busy smiling. 

[spideyspeaches]

My American roommate ↬ p.p

A/N: Since y’all liked this one so much <3<3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Desi!Fem!Reader

Okay so you’re both roommates. 

OMG THEY WERE ROOMMATES

You and your parents are busy walking with your shifting boxes.

May and Tony are present with Peter (because Tony’s not dead obv)

Your mother is being a typical Indian mother.

“Did you pack your pads?” 

“Yes ma!”

“Your virginity is safe na? I don’t trust these Americans, all they do is have sex. You concentrate on your studies okay?” 

You sputter, “YES MA, IT’S SAFELY LOCKED IN A BOX OKAY?”

Peter of course heard this. Super hearing dude

and cause you’re standing right outside the dorm

“Y/M/N people are staring!” Thank god for dads amirite?

May is crying cause her baby is so grown up.

“I’ll miss you baba (dad).” You hug your dad while your mom is rolling her eyes.

Her eyes are BULGING when she sees that your roommate has a dick.

“DEAR GOD AMERICA!”

And Peter is cute and stuttery cause he’s in LOVE with your complexion and hair and May’s just admiring your short kurta/ hijab/ veil/ whatever piece of clothing you want to wear.

I don’t think I’d wear a veil though.

“OMg honey the patterns are so pretty!”

“Thank you Ms. May!”

There’s tears on your side too.

Your mom is full on waterworks.

“Make sure you eat your breakfast okay? And don’t forget your medicine!”

But that’s culturally common. We all love our moms T~T

During college:

You had only seen American colleges in movies before.

But they were super fun!

And surprisingly enough

having a male roommate was not as bad as you thought it would be.

Peter was shy and supporting and

HELLA CUTE

And when that one time you had a glimpse of his abs

Jesus Ganesh fuck the virginity locked in a box. 👀👀

Virginity aside *cough* 

WATCHING BOLLYWOOD MOVIES WITH HIM

YOU HAVE TO TRANSLATE EVERYTHING 

Cause lets be real, subtitles can only be accurate to an extent.

“She looks like Princess Jasmine but with a pink dress!!” 

He’s talking about Deepika.

Baby trying to learn hindi songs cause you get all giddy when you hear him speak hindi/ your mother tongue.

It makes you wEAk.

You both dress up as Indian prince and princess during Halloween party at your college.

Ohh boy he looks hot in a Kurti 

He also tries to ask you out Bollywood style.

He fails but you find it cute and say yes anyway who will say no to those eyes?

FRAT PARTIES

Study sessions spent making out.

It’s not what you thought it’d be. It’s very slippery.

Him defending you when mean people call you UN or some racist shit like that.

“HEY YOU SEE HER? SHE’ BEAUTIFUL AND SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND AND I LOVE HER AND WE’LL MAKE BEAUTIFUL BABIES.”

“wait what?”

AHEM

Celebrating Indian festivals.

Cooking Indian food, PROPER INDIAN FOOD (No heat to Arabic and Pakistani owners tho :))

Him having to drink milk every two minutes cause it’s too spicy.

“Pff, I only put one chilli. Do you find this spicy? Wait till I make Biryani”

Spoiler alert: He’s on fire.

Singing old romantics like Kishor Kumar,

“Mere saamne wali khidki mein, ek chand ka tukda raheta hai.” You sing while kissing his nose under the moonlight. 

(Translation:  In the window across from me, A piece of the moon lives 🤔🤔 It sounds better in hindi bleh)

He was in awe even if he didn’t understand what you just said.

You cursing in hindi when you’re on your period

“ABE BHENCOD SARAK MERE RASTE SE!”

“What- what did I do?” he whimpered.

“I’m sorry Pete, just this MA KI KASAM NICHOD KE RAKH DUNGI WTF”

Just for the context, you’re playing Mario Kart. 

You on your period + Mario Kart is not a good combo.

Anyways,  before this gets too long lol, It’s really fun sneaking an American boyfriend past your parents.

It’s so fun EEEEEK BYE

A/N: HEHE <3<3

[105ttt]

Hi sorry if this was already asked before but could you explain a little further abt the things devsis has done?? I haven’t heard abt a lot of the stuff you mentioned I don’t mean to sound rude or anything I’m just genuinely wondering

I can tell you mean it genuinely, it’s okay! I’m happy to answer because you want to know. I’ll go through everything I said.

The Valentine’s 2021 fanart video, posted on the official CR YouTube channel, is a compilation of fanart drawn for Valentine’s Day that fanartists submitted. Some of the art submitted was chosen BY DEVSISTERS and put in the video, but not all art made it in. Two pedophilic ships, Red Bean x Snow Sugar and Roguefort x Walnut, were featured in the video. Red Bean x Snow Sugar was featured TWICE. Snow Sugar and Walnut are confirmed to be children while Red Bean and Roguefort are HEAVILY implied to be adults. Devsisters allowed the pedophilic ships to be shown in a fanart video for a holiday primarily about romantic love, therefore putting their seal of approval on these pedophilic ships. Despite fans saying it should be taken down, the video is still up as of today.

Related to the video and Devsisters’ promotion of fanart on official Twitter accounts, they are known to promote fanart that whitewashes the Cookies. This applies to not only Cookies like Cocoa and Mint Choco, who are clearly black, but also Cookies that are tan, like Alchemist. This approval of whitewashing has been going on for literal years, and when an artist was called out for a piece that Devsisters promoted, Devsisters sided with the artist and claimed that they should be respected rather than made to understand why whitewashing is bad.

Both the Dreamy Cookie Land event and the 2021 April Fools GingerBrave Trial contain sections that are known to harm photosensitive people by either giving them seizures or seriously hurting their eyes and causing immense discomfort and pain. While Devsisters altered the maps in Dreamy Cookie Land to make them less likely to hurt these people, the 2021 April Fools Trial has not changed. Devsisters should have made sure these maps were safe BEFORE publishing them to thousands of people (or more).

Devsisters misgenders its own characters on official Twitter accounts and in game notifications. Squid Ink Cookie was referred to as “she” on a Puzzle World Twitter post, despite this Cookie never having pronouns anywhere in the game. Mocha Ray Cookie was referred to with “she” in a game notification despite having no pronouns listed anywhere in the game, including cutscenes. Devil Cookie was referred to with “he” in a Twitter post despite the game canonically using only “they/them” for them. In addition, a statement from the Thai branch of the Devsisters team claimed that you can use any pronouns for a Cookie since they are born sexless (and they conflated sex with gender). This gives transphobes the “right” to misgender canonically nonbinary characters. Lastly, before the Guild update and before OvenBreak, Dark Choco and Cinnamon had no pronouns. After the Guild update, Cookies referred to Dark Choco as “he”, and in OvenBreak, Cinnamon’s Story uses “he” for them. This erases two canonically nonbinary characters, as cis people will see “he” being used for them and assume they are male rather than he/they nonbinary people.

Devsisters is not subtle about their homophobia, as well as their goal of appealing to cishets who hate gay people. They show their homophobia in how straight ships are treated compared to gay ships. Firstly, in the Valentine’s fanart video, there were mostly straight ships. I believe I counted only 4 or so gay ships, and 3 of these were either selfcest or pedophilia. Despite the majority of the art being shown being heterosexual, many people who regularly follow the CR tag on Twitter and Instagram claim that there was a lot more gay ship art submitted compared to the proportion shown in the video. The gay ship art shown was also ambiguous enough that cishets who hate gay people wouldn’t get mad at Devsisters, while some of the heterosexual art was blatantly romantic. Secondly, the treatment of ships like RaspRose and PrincessKnight, popular straight ships, is much better than the treatment of popular gay ships by Devsisters. For example, RaspRose got a merchandise item in a set of cups that also featured a cup with Sea Fairy and Moonlight and Orange and Lime. The RaspRose art on the cup is explicitly romantic. The art on the Sea Fairy and Moonlight and Orange and Lime cups are ambiguous or platonic instead, despite both of these ships being historically far more plausible and popular than RaspRose. Finally, Devsisters has been gaybaiting with Madeleine Cookie and Espresso Cookie in Kingdom, but they refuse to make them canon because that would be gay. Gaybaiting is homophobic in itself for using gay people as a way to advertise something without fulfilling the promise of gay representation. It’s also worth mentioning that they once gaybaited with Milk and Purple Yam on Twitter, but the art shown was not romantic at all, and only the caption hinted at a ship (and the caption was vague enough to be interpreted as the Cookies merely appearing in an art piece together).

Multiple black CR fans have spoken out and said that Purple Yam Cookie is a racist caricature of black men, ESPECIALLY when he is juxtaposed with Milk, a white man. Indian and Middle Eastern CR fans have spoken out and said that Yogurt Cream Cookie and Lilac Cookie are caricatures of Indian and Middle Eastern people. These are not debatable. Google the history of the portrayal of black men in non-black media, and you’ll see what I mean for Purple Yam. The evidence that Yogurt Cream is a caricature comes from the very fact that people compare him to Aladdin, specifically Disney’s version of the tale, thereby showing that their only exposure to Indian and Middle Eastern people is stereotypes in white media. Note also that Dark Choco Cookie is the stereotype of a solemn, lonely, strong black person, and this has leaked into the fandom so much that people draw them unrealistically buff and mostly draw them suffering from angst instead of having any actual character.

There was an IRL sex crime in South Korea perpetrated by a club called the Burning Sun, and a certain Guild named itself after that club and changed their usernames to the names of the people who committed these crimes. They were only forced to change their names by Devsisters AFTER people protested. They were NOT forced to disband the Guild or banned from the game. Keep in mind that these people named themselves after a REAL-LIFE SEX CRIME that harmed REAL WOMEN AND GIRLS, and the only punishment they got was a forced name change. Fuck Devsisters.

Lastly, the trigger joke. Back when Ion Cookie Robot and Cyborg Cookie were new, the official CR Twitter account made a Tweet captioned as “triggered”, and below that caption was a GIF of Ion Cookie Robot becoming angry and shifting to their Red Dread Costume, thereby implying that Ion Cookie Robot was “triggered” and became unreasonably angry. This was posted during the time when ableists were using the term “triggered” as a “meme”, which harms people with PTSD. The Tweet was deleted, and another Tweet was made that apologized for the previous Tweet, but this was only after backlash from fans. However, notice that Purple Yam Cookie is also a trigger joke. He has PTSD from being burned alive in the Oven for so long, and as a result he is easily angered (anger is his stress response). The game treats this as a joke and minimizes his suffering just because other Cookies were in the Oven (before coming to life). His anger is treated as unreasonable and unwarranted, and it’s treated as a joke. Does that sound familiar? Now take into account that his anger is juxtaposed with Milk’s “kind”, “gentle” demeanor. Yikes.

BONUS ROUND:

DevSam, a worker at Devsisters, once said that GingerBrave had a Costume in LINE that was a “sexy cat costume”. GingerBrave is a minor, and the Costume was literally not sexy at all. Why did they refer to him as sexy if he’s a minor??

Images from an official CR account showed a person dressed as GingerBrave giving gifts to a person dressed as Pink Choco Cookie, a Cookie associated with romantic love. This can be easily interpreted as romantic and is therefore pedophilic because GingerBrave is a child and Pink Choco Cookie is an adult. Why post this at all??

Buttershell Fox referred to Maple Panda with a word that was VERY close to a slur against black people in the original text of the Secrets of the Hidden City cutscenes. This was only changed when a popular Twitter user let everyone know about it and asked people to email Devsisters about it.

I can provide links and screenshots for proof if needed, but please DM me or send an ask to ask for these. I’m definitely forgetting other things they’ve done that are bad, but this already should be enough to raise eyebrows.

[shirari]

My moots as random stuff in my house

Headcanons by. Your lovely moot Hikari LMAO

Why am I doing this? Cuz I keep on associating hq characters as the stuff here as well and ur the victim now HAHAHJSJJDMSMS

Any who, forgive me for bothering you <\3

If I missed anyone, it's maybe cuz I'm still a bit timid to tag you??? If anything, pls hmu to be added cuz there are tons of stuff here aakwndksndjsndn. Non moots can ask for a haikyuu character tho.

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☆Oya @oni-girx

The coffee table

Cuz I'm always around the coffee table when I'm downstairs and never even bother eating on the dining table. The same way I'm always in groupchats instead of servers in discord goodbye-

It's hella messy on it too like?? Why is my febreeze down here wth put it back in my room-

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Kotarou Bokuto/Yuu Nishinoya (this place has so many random stuff on it like how Bokuto randomly goes emo or even radiates Noya's chaotic energy-)

☆Rosie @sookyshima

Well, my favourite old handbag my *mom bought me way back in the end of 2018.

It was bright red, but it's worn out now sadly.

The colour looked good with any of my outfits ngl, cuz i wear lots of dark colours lol

I cherished this handbag the same way I cherish my elder moot, Rosie <333

No I'm not calling you old. I'm just born too late🧍🏻‍♀️

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Tetsurou Kuroo (Red looks hot on him and the fact *Kuroo doesn't have a mother.... It hurts me a little bit)

☆Spencer @spiritingawaytoanime

The yummy meiji crackers I only occasionally eat.

I love the crackers but I only have it when I felt like it </3

Same as our interactions lately, very occasional but enjoyable uwu

Btw I was kinda confused... Who's elliot-

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Tsutomu Goshiki (I only simp for him whenever I actually feel like, especially when I scroll through general shiratorizawa content occasionally lol)

☆Lili @lilikags

For some reason, my dad's chamomile tea

Idk why but I literally smell fragrance tea when I see you around tumblr interacting or I'm just scrolling around 🤷🏻‍♀️

And I liked that, however it kinda intimidated me cuz it smelled elegant-

It smelled something like Chai tea. Anything classy actually.

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Akaashi Keiji (English breakfast sounds nice or maybe even Earl Grey :D)

☆Inez @shoyotime

The grandfather wall clock

It's old and classy, but it needs some repairs to work again.

I actually don't know why but it's one of the prettiest things I see in my house lol. So as you Inez :')

Some have said you're quite mature, so it makes sense in some way? Yeah :D

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Wakatoshi Ushijima (Wakatoshi radiates those dark academia vibes and I think it's really classy, me love)

☆Nova @mysterystarz

Your url makes me think of the star shaped fairy lights hung around my porch-

It's pretty so makes sense hehe

I'm getting sleepy as I write omg-why am I spending 1 whole minute on how do I elaborate

Okay screw it, you're simply the stars to Keiji's universe uwu

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Kourai Hoshiumi (Hoshiumi means star sea so-)

☆El @sugurus-princess

I say ur my black acoustic guitar cuz it fits ur blog theme :D

I literally waited years for the time I start learning guitar. Sadly, I don't really have time or motivation anymore cuz I've been so burnt out :')

Okay why th is Hikari Are (Haikyuu op season 3) moonlight version by BurnOut Syndromes playing while talking about my guitar omfg 😭

The song I was trying to learn recently was Pure Imagination :')

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Aran Ojiro (no I'm not being racist because my guitar is black, I cherish my guitar sm and I'm soft for Aran pls😭❤️)

☆Xy @xybi

Bread/The brand new bread maker my dad bought last week

Every time I see you around, I can smell bakery pastries like tarts and sweet buns for some reason. Oh and also cookies.

I ain't even Tanjiro/Gonpachiro but here I am smelling my moots auras in tumblr

Idk u that much so far but I guess u can be many things the same way pastries do. (sweet, salty, sour or savoury kinds of things like that??)

Haikyuu character I associated this item with : Tooru Oikawa (cuz I immediately thought of making milkbread when I heard about getting a bread maker lol)

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hikari's word. Wondering about your favourite as something random? Hmu at @hikaoi ! My writing blog for the headcanon. It's still empty so I wanted to fill it somehow for now hehe

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

definitive VERY SERIOUS ranking of MCU characters, best to trash

Gamora and Nebula - tied for first place because prickly, traumatized assassin women? that’s my shit. prickly, traumatized assassin women working through their issues TOGETHER and growing closer as sisters? YEAH, babey! that’s the shit! I love them and they deserved arcs that loved them, too. biggest injustice in the MCU.

Thor - absolutely excellent. amazing work. distinguished slut vibes and a radiant beam on sunshine in this shithole world. again, never saw Endgame, but he deserved better.

Sam Wilson - going strong since 2014, babey. just an all-around great guy, good for him finally getting his own show. will I be watching it? absolutely not. not a force on god’s green earth could make me care enough to pirate a marvel television show in this the year of our lord and savior 2020, even if he is a very cool dude with wings. 

Bucky Barnes - all the fun of Steve but no moral quandaries because everything bad that he did happened when he was being controlled by nazis and he feels really bad about it uwu

Peter Parker - yes OBVIOUSLY the movies did Peter dirty, we’ve all seen a fucking essay about it, making him Iron Man Jr was wack and being poor doesn’t look like that, but he’s cute and fun and I like Tom Holland, who was the emotional anchor who forced me to keep giving a sliver of a shit during Infinity War. Far From Home was pretty not good but would I see another Spider-Man movie? fuck, maybe.

Steve Rogers - idk I just think he’s neat. really love how he’s shaped like a dorito and hates nazis.

James Rhodes - I don’t think Rhodey’s ever said or done anything that wasn’t iconic and for that he deserves to be exactly one spot above his idiot best friend.

Tony Stark - I hold possibly the most unpopular opinion on Tony Stark on this entire hellsite, which is that he’s just fine. he’s fun sometimes, he’s irritating sometimes, he made some points during Civil War. he should probably lose more points for being a former war profiteer but if I started digging into comic book logic too much I’d have to change my url because Batman cooperates with cops and endangers children, so idk.

T’Challa - I don’t remember a TON about T’Challa’s actual personality because it’s been like 4 years since Black Panther came out and he had like 2 lines in Infinity War, but he’s a powerful nerd/jock multiclasser who spends most of his time surrounded by women who are very smart and dangerous and much cooler than him and I really respect that.

Natasha Romanoff - Natasha is difficult to rank because for a long time her dominant defining characteristic was being The Girl One, which means she has a different personality in pretty much every movie, and it was never interesting. if Marvel had rubbed two brain cells together and given her a solo movie between 2012 and 2015 she might have fared better, but alas. press F in the chat for Nat’s potential.

Groot, Rocket, Drax, Mantis - I love these funky socially incompetent aliens. more of them, please.

Bruce Banner - only interesting in Ragnarok when he’s Thor’s anxious comedic foil and boyfriend; thank you for that small gift, Taika. I never saw Endgame because I love myself, so I don’t know anything about professor Hulk and I don’t want to.

Peter Quill - fun in theory but loses points for being such a painful walking embodiment of the extremely heterosexual “idiot manchild gets hot competent gf by virtue of being white cishet protagonist man.” shut the fuck up she’s way too good for him.

Wanda Maximoff - despite all of Joss Whedon’s best efforts I really liked her in Age of Ultron and then my love for her just decreased with each subsequent appearance. like Natasha she was increasingly a different character each time; by Infinity War she didn’t have her accent anymore as if Elizabeth Olsen realized nobody else on set would remember or care about Wanda’s previous portrayals. on god I liked her so much that I was even down to root for her and Vision but then the majority of it happened offscreen and lost me forever. 

Pietro Maximoff - mmm watcha saaaaaay

Hope Van Dyne - cooler than Ant-Man but not by much. should have been a lesbian and kissed Pepper Potts in the moonlight. 

Carol Danvers - fuck dude idk, I’ve never seen a movie she’s in lmao

Ant-Man - the recurring joke with this bitch seems to be “haha can you believe he exists? that’s dumb!” and it is. it is dumb. why did we need him? it could have all payed off with him crawling up Thanos’ asshole and exploding but we didn’t even get that. bullshit. 

Vision - man, fuck, I tried to put him higher on the list than Peter Quill and I couldn’t make myself do it. that’s how goddamn boring Vision was. and you know what? fuck it, we’re putting him lower than Pietro, too. and even Ant-Man! we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here and he deserves it because I can’t think of one thing this dude did that I enjoyed other than being bad at cooking when he was trying to impress a girl.

Doctor Strange - I’m not going to make a Benedict Cumberbatch joke because that’s low hanging fruit but all I know is that this is the dude who’s mean to Tony in a horny way for five minutes of Infinity War. I never saw his movie, heard it was racist tho. and they didn’t even learn their lesson before they made Iron Fist! smh bombastic colonialism.

Clint Barton - last place because in the absence of a personality or interesting character arc I’m forced to judge him on the fact that Jeremy Renner radiates bad vibes and that in Endgame he gets a makeover that makes him look like he’d call me slurs for telling him to stop hitting on 16 year old girls at a gas station.

[occidentaltourist]

And yet, for all the catharsis and validation that the airing of grievances was intended to provide, to one specific community, the #OscarsSoWhite Oscars is still remembered for one thing: three silent Asian children in tuxedos onstage, standing in as the PricewaterhouseCoopers accountants who tabulate the results (because Asians are good at math, get it?) and also moonlight as iPhone sweatshop workers. (Elsewhere in the telecast, presenter Sacha Baron Cohen went rogue with a joke about "hard-working yellow people with tiny dongs — you know, the Minions.")

That a night so painstakingly dedicated to racial wokeness would ignore the Asian contingent for all but a lazy sight gag outraged the community, and to those inside the industry, it was a wake-up call that told Asian Americans exactly where they stood: This is the closest you'll ever get to the Oscars stage.

Fast-forward five years: Minari, a drama about a Korean immigrant family in America, is up for six Academy Awards, including, crucially, two for acting. Two of the five nominees in both the best actor and best director categories are of Asian descent, with the latter race all but assured to go to a Chinese woman, Nomadland's Chloé Zhao.

To an uninformed observer, the leap from punchline to contenders might seem like a fluke, but the overdue awards recognition (which includes Parasite and The Farewell last season) is simply a high-profile manifestation of how Asian American presence in the industry has changed. Representation in pop culture has increased from one milestone every couple of decades (25 years between The Joy Luck Club and Crazy Rich Asians; 21 between the broadcast premieres of Margaret Cho's All-American Girl and Fresh Off the Boat) to, well, a handful of major projects in film and TV each year. But more significant is the interdisciplinary coalition of Asian Americans behind the scenes who are finding strength in numbers and making their collective voice heard. And, ironically, they have that racist Oscar joke to thank for bringing them together.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Ghost Hunting with An Outlaw

Summary: Arthur sets out to seek the legendary ghost train. But it wasn’t his idea, this journey is led by Eleanor Ivie.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2208

A/N: The third prize for my follower giveaway for miss @writingandsins​! Babe you are so very gracious and as you know I enjoyed writing El for this. Please enjoy <3

Arthur struck a match against the heel of his boot, the bulbous end sparking for a split second before becoming engulfed in flame. Bringing the lit match up to the cigarette he grasped between his lips, the far end caught ablaze as he took a deep inhale. The earthy smoke filled his lungs before curling out from the spaces of his barely opened mouth, leaning his weary shoulders against the brick wall of the Rhodes bank.

He took a second drag, savoring the flavor for a moment. It’d been a long, stressful week filled with failed heists and high tensions amongst the camp, often breaking into arguments. Micah’s sneering and blaming him for the miserable failure of a recent robbery, Arthur visibly bristled and nearly wrung the damn asshole’s neck right then and there in camp if it hadn’t been for Dutch.

That was just an hour ago. Arthur had stomped away to the edge of camp with the intent to drink his frustrations away. That it until he’d been approached by someone, eventually convincing him to provide company for a trip into Rhodes.

There weren’t many people that could calm the raging beast inside him, and fewer people he trusted to be angry around, yet he had a soft spot for Eleanor. Her tender touch on his bare forearm provided an instantaneous shift from a boil to a mere simmer. Her voice like wind chimes to his ears, carrying with the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves. She asked him to accompany her to town for a shopping trip.

It wasn’t his favorite chore, but it took his mind off of things. He agreed almost immediately, the gratefulness plain in his voice. The two saddled up to head to town.

Arthur didn’t need anything, not really. Hell, he was content on just standing outside while she carried on with her business. So he kept to himself, silently observing the flow of traffic before him. Carriages and trotting horses stirring up the russet dust, coating everything with a slightly red tinge. The whistle of the train carried over the roofs to signal its depart. The old Confederate veteran yammering on about the North sounded from across the street.

Lemoyne was one of his least favorite places thus far. The land teeming with racists and inbred families, he always headed into town with gritted teeth. However the tense edge in his jaw was absent, even more so when his eyes flitted to the familiar red hair that appeared from the general store. Her arms laden with goods, he immediately started forward to help, even when he didn’t need to.

Eleanor smiled at him, allowing him to relieve her burdened hands as the two of them walked over to their horses. “Thanks Arthur,” she said.

Arthur glanced sideways at her, shooting her a half-smile of his own while he placed her purchases into her saddle bag. “Got everything you wanted?” he asked.

She nodded in response. Arthur noticed her smile widened, a familiar look on her face that he associated with an adventurous thought. This piqued his interest yet said nothing, knowing it would be her next topic.

“That, and even more,” she began with a spark of excitement in her voice. “While I was in there, I heard the shopkeeper talking to someone else about a supposed ghost train.”

“Ghost train?” Arthur repeated, turning to face her completely. “Ain’t ever heard o’ that.”

Eleanor mounted her horse, which Arthur followed suit with his own. As they trotted down the dusty road, she spoke again, “Apparently, it appears very late at night, not too far from here. Sightings of it are far and few in between.”

Arthur listened. He wasn’t a complete skeptic as he’s witnessed some questionable sightings throughout his travels, but an entire train as an apparition? “So I’m guessin’ you’re gonna try n’ find it,” he stated.

A wide grin crossed Eleanor’s face. “And I’m asking you if you want to go with me,” she replied.

Arthur expected this. Often times Eleanor did ask him to accompany her adventures, her favorite going on “collection runs” to procure seemingly useless items, but she found interest in them for whatever reasons unknown to him. It may not be a bank heist or stagecoach robbery, yet Arthur couldn’t complain. It allowed him to have some sort of relaxation from his normal duties.

This however was a new request. He briefly considered it, wondering if it would be a waste of time or a true story. It may just be all a wild goose chase, but Eleanor rarely showed disappointment even when plans didn’t work in her exact favor.

After today’s frustrations, he supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea, if it meant keeping himself occupied. He nodded and said, “Sure, what time exactly?”

“3 am,” she said nonchalantly. When his eyes widened and he scoffed in exasperation, she just shrugged and added. “Is it too late for you?”

Arthur sighed. “Guess not.”

The smile reappeared on Eleanor’s face as she said, “Good, then we’ll leave at midnight.”

---

Aside from a few snide comments, Arthur managed to avoid Micah for the next few hours. He kept himself busy with some of the heftier chores. After a helping of Pearson’s stew and a couple of drinks along with some hearty storytelling around the campfire, day shifted to night and everyone slowly began to turn in. He kept an eye on the time, occasionally stealing a glance over at Eleanor. She met his eyes and smiled, her own green hues sparking with excitement each time.

Soon the clock struck midnight, and Arthur quietly made his way to the outskirts of camp, where Eleanor and their horses waited. She was already mounted when he reached his horse.

The two of them set off just moments later, ducking through the woods until the dusty road appeared beneath the bright moonlight. Urging their horses into a lope, they steadily rode side by side, following the path while the calming nocturnal melody of nature surrounded them.

Arthur glanced over at the tracks that sat somewhat further away from them. Too familiar with trains, he tried to imagine the large iron horse with a ghostly glow, except it seemed impossible. He shook his head, reminding himself why he was out here. “So where exactly is this ghost train gonna appear?” he spoke up after a few minutes of silence between the two.

“It’s up by the New Hanover border,” Eleanor replied. “And it only appears on a clear night, we’ve lucked out with the weather.” She glanced up at the sky.

“That seems oddly specific,” Arthur mused with a touch of skepticism. “You sure this ain’t jus’ some made up story?”

Eleanor looked over at him, combatting his pessimism with a smile. “I happen to think it’s real, Arthur. If it’s not, then we’ll just go back to camp.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, only to bite back as it resonated on his tongue. If it was just a story, it would have been just hours of wasted time. He would have thought this with most people, yet Eleanor’s almost childish curiosity and sense of adventure was like a breath of fresh air, temporarily distracting him from the pressures of the gang. He decided to continue to humor her.

It took a fair bit of time before Eleanor slowed her horse, and Arthur followed suit. The soft terrain of Lemoyne gave way to the large rolling hills of southern New Hanover, the state sign signifying the border in plain sight. The horses came to a stop beneath the shade of some trees. Eleanor dismounted and checked her watch. “1:30, we have some time.”

Arthur slid off his horse and looked around. The full moon cast a silver wash against the landscape, illuminating everything within miles. Aside from tiny creatures skittering across the grass, they were alone.

The two of them sat and spoke for a while. Mundane topics, new collectables Eleanor had come across or anything interesting Arthur found on his travels. Their conversations died down and a little while later, Arthur’s fatigue became more apparent. He fought the weight of his eyelids, until Eleanor assured him it was okay to sleep for a while.

It only seemed like minutes of sleep when a gentle hand roused him back to the present. He pulled open his bleary eyes to see Eleanor standing over him, her red hair surrounded by a silver halo from the moonlight. His heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, five minutes left,” she murmured to him, her face bright with anticipation.

He blinked, snapping from his brief daze to clear his throat and stretch out, his body stiff from leaning against the thick tree trunk. As he got to his feet, he rumbled with, “Already?”

She chuckled softly, that beautiful smile crossing her lips again. “Yes, Arthur. Join me and we’ll watch out for it.”

Rubbing the last dregs of sleep away, Arthur fell in step with her as she came up closer to the tracks. The two stood side by side, staring out at the pathway. His eyes scanned across the worn iron beams which reflected a dull sheen. He thought about the countless trains he’s robbed in the twenty year span of his run with Dutch. Train tracks were a familiar setting for him, and it almost felt as if he were about to do it again. His heart began to beat wildly beneath his ribs in anticipation. Why?

“What’re you thinking about?” Eleanor’s quiet voice pierced through his thoughts.

He looked over at her, noting those green eyes staring back at him with curiosity. “I’ve robbed a lot o’ trains, Miss Ivie. Ain’t have much business with ‘em other than travelin’. Gotta say it’s strange bein’ here, but I’m curious to what we’ll find.”

“I don’t think trying to rob a ghost train would do you any good,” Eleanor joked with a light giggle. “Either way, I’m hoping we see something interesting.”

That prompted a small smile from Arthur. The prior hesitation he had about this whole journey was slowly melting away. A few more moments passed by of silence, and Arthur found himself straining to listen past the song of crickets and owls.

Eleanor kept her eyes fixated in the distance, hope radiating from her. She checked her pocket watch with a furrowed brow. “3:01. I don’t –”

A whistle pierced the air, the unmistakable breathy pitch of a train. Arthur nearly jumped, automatically turning his attention to the source. At first he saw nothing, until an artificial golden light further illuminated the tracks before them. He blinked and squinted, attempting to see around the glow. It was just too far off to see the locomotive properly.

Eleanor’s elated gasp sounded from next to him. “I think that’s it!”

“May jus’ be a passin’ train,” he quietly suggested, his eyes never moving as the vehicle closed in on them. The light seemed very clear, and the ground vibrated with the telltale sign of power moving across the surface.

The closer it grew and with Arthur’s eyes adjusting to abrupt change in scenery, he naturally searched for the iron body blended in to the cobalt sky above. A dense fog seemed to roll in behind it, churning in with the plume of smoke billowing from the stack.

A slight chill seemed to penetrate him, sparking a shiver traveling up his spine. He breathed out a visible puff of precipitation. Even if they were close to New Hanover, there was no reason for such cold.

To his surprise, the dark iron was replaced with a milky white glow.

He frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. This didn’t seem normal.

The massive locomotive rolled smoothly along the tracks, the ground ever quaking beneath them. Arthur stepped back as it slowly chugged past them.

He could see the landscape through it.

A hand gripped his upper arm. “Arthur! It’s… it’s –” Eleanor tried to say, her voice quivering in excitement.

“It’s real,” he murmured, his unblinking stare fixated on the transparent cars. “How in the hell…?”

The two of them fell into silence as the train continued to pass them by. The vibrations, the noise, everything seemed tangible except for the damned thing itself. Every reasonable explanation in his head simultaneously flung out the window with the very real arrival of this spectral creation. The fog curled around their feet, a cold wind akin to an Ambarino mountain breezing by the two.

He searched for any signs of passengers, human or otherwise, to no avail. He couldn’t focus on any single area, proven too transparent to take a closer look.

The train soon passed, taking with it the fog and frigid air. Arthur stared after it, his curiosity itching to follow.

“Where do you think it’s going?” Eleanor sounded.

“Who knows,” he responded, folding his arms in thought.

“We could follow it,” she stated thoughtfully, stepping toward the horses. She paused and looked back at him. “That is, if you want to.”

Aw hell, what else has he got to do? He offered her a smile and walked over to her. “Ya got me out here, might as well.”

Eleanor’s smile mirrored his own.

[9thbutterfly]

thank you for indulging me <3 tell me something about imagine a forest, please? And then pick something you really want to talk about and tell me about it, too. The thing that you put on this list and thought "This is cool, I hope someone asks about this"

Imagine a Forest actually came out of a tumblr prompt! Let’s see if tumblr will allow me to put a link here. What I was going to do (but ended up never doing, because I ran out of steam just after the introduction) was have all sorts of people (but mostly queer people) run away to the forest and form their own society there - the people outside of the forest would be scared of of all the witches and elves and whatnot in the forest, but in truth, all of them were just queer people living their best lives.

Imagine a Forest.

Not any forest, riddled with hunters’ and mushroom-seekers’ paths, down by the stream or up on the hill or out among the fields, easily crossed in an hour or two.

No, imagine a Forest, of the kind that lies at the heart of most worlds worth writing books about, the  kind that is sometimes named Fangorn or Aldheorte or the Rain Wilds, and sometimes just the Forest, because there is only the one.

Imagine a vast nation of trees, as big and bigger than the kingdoms of men. A sea of green that stretches far beyond the horizon. Imagine trees, centuries old and higher and wider than the puny trees of orchards and boulevards could ever dream of being.

Imagine a Forest that is populated by more than wolf and bear and boar, by more than deer and fox and bird.

Imagine the hundred-thousand myths that are told about the Forest – of the witches that heal and curse, of the fairies full of dangers and strange gifts, of dwarfs in their underground cities, of dragons and their legendary wealth…

Imagine that people who venture into the forest are driven out by strangely-dressed, not-quite-human figures, and others are found under the eaves of the forest, killed by arrows fletched with colourful feathers, and some are never seen again dead or alive.

Imagine the markets that sometimes spring up by moonlight, where you might barter chickens for shining gemstones, and a sack of grain for wolf pelts and a bolt of cloth for a deadly poison.

Imagine children growing up knowing that if they do not obey their parents and the church, the fairies will steal them away – and yet some of them will not and can not obey, and for some of them, the fairies will come indeed, and others will wait for them many a night, and in the end venture out to find them of their own free will…

For my own choice, hm... I don’t know if Wirü Timay’a/Tell Me, Sister is *cool*, but it was the thing that got me back into rereading my stories and wanting to write again this year.

It is another Kivailo world story, and characters are all Kivailo - an ethnic minority in a country that I made up as a teenager because I, uh, needed people to do awful things to. I think I mentioned when talking about Goblins that I meant to make up a country with an awful and racist government? Most of that racism was directed against the Kivailo, and part of that was attempting to erase most of their history and culture.

Enter the Ivyleafers, an informal group trying to preserve the Kivailo language, mythology, history and many other kinds of knowledge while giving young and unemployed people something useful to do... and there is also a lot of hiking involved, a lot of visiting small remote villages, which I started daydreaming about in these travel-restricted times - and that dragged me back into the Kivailo world a few weeks ago.

I never wrote much of Wirü Timay’a, but it would have had many quotes of songs and stories in my Kivailo conlang, and much travelling, and silliness, and tragedy, and tentative steps back towards happiness and new love and a better future.

I spent that summer running wild, more than ever. I had long since explored the Taly forest, hiked up and down the Shao to the edges of Talymay, explored the New Quarter and much of Ternin town… dragging a few other kids along, who mostly weren’t too comfortable with wandering around Ternin town, or even on my own. Looking back, I know I was lucky that nothing ever happened to me…

I was only fourteen, and I couldn’t stand the thought of another nearly four years confined to Talymay – now that there was no more school to occupy my time, I longed to be out there in the hills even more. I started following the groups going out to pick plums and berries outside of town – sneaking along after them until they’d gone too far to send me back before I showed myself to them.

I got into lots of trouble that summer, and lost all my beads. Who knows how I might have ended if Nicidulai of the House Daranoi hadn’t taken me under her wing. She heard me sing some silly song while we were out picking sloes – a long song about the meaningless things we had learned at school, which my classmates had all worked together at the end of our last year. I believe I was the only one who could recite it in its entirety. I had followed Nici and her group in secret, of course, but once I’d showed myself, I always worked alongside them, and I guess the only reason my House didn’t just lock me up at home was that I always brought home a sizable harvest.

I’ve never asked her, but I think Nici was planning to test me when she started to sing herself. I didn’t speak much shinnai at that time, but by the time she’d sung the song for the second time I could remember most of the words and when she started singing it a third time – looking like she was totally absorbed in her work and singing only for herself – I started to sing along.

Fox, lord of thieves,

In his blackthorn castle

On a rocky throne he sits

Mossy cushions underneath….

She approached me later, on the way home, and asked me if I’d  ever heard of the Ivyleafers.

‘I have,’ I told her somewhat grumpily, wondering what she wanted.

Nicidulai was blunt about it. ‘Ever thought about joining?’

[allisondraste]

Writer’s Review

Thanks for the tag @kagetsukai.  This was a fun trip down memory lane.  My first published work was In January of 2008 and it was for Inuyasha and my most recent works have been for Fallout 4, but for the funsies of direct comparison, I chose my first Dragon Age fic (published in 2010 when I was SIXTEEN GAH) and a very unintentionally similar scene I wrote back when I started Temperance in 2019.  ;D

Rules: Post two snippets of your writing. The first should be one of the oldest examples of your work that you can find (the older the better!), and the other has to be an excerpt from something more recent. Compare the two side by side to see the difference between what your writing looks like now and how it did then.

In return I shall tag @potatocrab @laurelsofhighever @adventuresofmeghatron and anyone else who might wish to cringe at their own old writing.  As always, no pressure.  I’m just following the rules. 

I’m gonna stick this under a read more because it’s very long. 

Excerp from Hunger, a short fic for my warden Eliya Surana and Alistair. 

It sounded again. It was more recognizable this time. It was a laugh or a chuckle. It sounded human, or possibly elven to her ears. The thought of bandits waiting like tigers ready to pounce upon them and cut her throat, then Alistair, Leliana, and Morrigan (if they dared). Then they'd rob the camp and leave the corpses to the darkspawn and beasts of the forest.

They thought of being decapitated didn't sit well with the red headed elf. In a rush of fear and adrenaline, she leaped forward toward whoever was laughing and charged up and electricity spell holding it to whatever she'd made contact with. She hoped to scare whatever it was into submission. She didn't understand how successful she'd been until she looked down.

She was straddling what was definitely human, definitely male, and definitely…

"HOLY CRAP IT'S YOU," she said with an embarrassed yet relieved shout as she held the spell to the man's face and it had revealed his identity. It was Alistair and she'd obviously startled him.

"No, no don't hit me! I bruise easily," he said putting his hands in front of his embarrassment flushed face.

"I'm SO sorry," she said not thinking to get up off of him in her disgruntled state, "I thought you were a bandit and you were going to cut my throat and then kill everyone else and take all of the FOOD. Why were you laughing?"

"I was… uhh… laughing… err…at… haha… you," he said in a meek manner like she'd kill him if he said it, "Though now I know to never ever ever EVER do that again EVER."

Eliya gave him a confused eyebrow raise, her pointy ears twitching slightly in a quirky involuntary manner. "At me? Why?" She wondered if it was because she was elven. Despite being accepted by the humans in the Circle, she had lived in Denerim for awhile and was quick to accuse humans of racist beliefs. She hadn't thought Alistair to be… that way after being around him for several days, but she had to question his motives.

"No, no, its not what you're thinking," The stunned boy said apologetically. Alistair obviously knew what she was getting at, "Its not because you're an elf. I swear it! I heard you rattling around and talking to yourself. I thought it was funny because I knew what you were doing. It seemed like déjà vu for me because I went through the same hunger thing. I… couldn't help it."

"Oh," Eliya said with a relieved chuckle, "That's good because I really didn't want to beat you up."

Alistair laughed but when he saw the stern expression on the girl's face he stopped. "Wait are you serious," he questioned.

Eliya looked sternly for about five more seconds but then busted into a hysterical laughter.

"We're even now," she said between laughs. And they sat there laughing at the predicament.

Excerpt from Chapter 3 of Temperance, a scene between Liss Cousland and Alistair 

The air was slightly too cold for her liking, teeth chattering as the wind nipped at her cheeks and nose.  Despite her discomfort, she found the courtyard ideal, ferns and flowers illuminated only by moonlight. She wondered how the plants survived the frost that coated them each night, the hardy little things.  Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and allowed her muscles to lose their tension.

The calm lasted only briefly, as she heard a rustle in the grass behind her and footsteps approaching.  She turned on her heels abruptly, balling her hand into a fist, and jabbing forcefully in the direction of the noise.  A man’s voice yelped in pain, and there was a thud as the figure, now in focus, fell to the ground. Liss moved to restrain the potential attacker, sitting atop him with her fist at the ready.  

“No no no!  Please don’t hit me again, I bruise easily,” the man, whose features Liss could now see more clearly, pleaded.

He was a young man with sandy hair, brown skin, and dark hazel eyes wide with shock and perhaps pain at the punch she had landed against his torso.  He did not appear to be armed, or dangerous for that matter. Then again, she knew better than to let her guard down.

“Who are you,” she demanded, fist still at the ready, “And why were you sneaking around in the courtyard?”

“My name is Alistair,” he answered nervously, “I had come outside for some air, as one does, and I noticed that someone else was out here.  I, uh…well I was hoping not to alarm you. I guess we see how well that worked out.”

“Alistair?” The name sounded familiar, and she stood up and stepped back as she realized who the young man was, “The Alistair?  King Maric’s son? The Grey Warden who helped stop the Blight? That Alistair?”

He stood up and dusted the dirt from his pants.  “The one and only.” He grimaced as he attempted to straighten up his posture, massaging the place on his abdomen where Liss’ fist had fallen. “Maker, that hurt.  Who are you, anyway? Do you always go around attacking people?”

“I’m Elissa Cousland, and I’m so, so sorry,” she laughed nervously, bringing her hands to her face to hide the embarrassment.  “I just couldn’t sleep, so I came outside for a walk. I heard footsteps, and I thought- well… I don’t know what I thought.  It’s been a long year, and I’m a little on edge.”

“I’ll say,” he said pointedly, before flashing a grin, “I think it’s safe to say we’re all a little on edge, what with the war and the Blight.  Better to punch first, ask questions later, huh?”

“I suppose,” Liss answered, still laughing at herself, “Though it’s probably not the best way to make friends.”

I did not even realize that I’d accidentally rewritten a similar scene with different characters, under slightly different circumstances.  I get a HOOT out of rereading Hunger because there are so many anachronisms and so much telling instead of showing. I think I’ve also gotten better at taking a deep point of view and letting the character lead me rather than standing at a distance from the POV character.  I’m glad to see I enjoy having Alistair tackled by cagey women for a decade now.   This was fun. 

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC ≽ VI.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 7.1k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The sun was gone, but its light reached for the last bit of sky it could find. The road was practically deserted, I passed a total of four cars on my ride to 18th street. 

My father's motorcycle felt foreign under my touch, and as much as I wanted to make it mine, I couldn't find its compassion. At any minute, I felt it would flip on me, shutdown, or crash. I was riding with no helmet and prayed no police would pull me over. As much as I wanted to race down the road, I took the ride with ease. I could not act relentless, the world was not in my favor as of late. 

Coming up on Charming street, I spotted an old Chevy Impala that was tinted dark. It wasn't black, but it appeared that way in the moonlight. The extravagant ride stood out like a sore thumb in a small town like this.

Once he spotted me, as well, he proceeded to turn on his engine. I parked on the opposite side of the road, and his headlights flashed on as mine went out. My eyes scouted the environment, peering over both shoulders, as I unmounted the bike. Even while knowing that this road would be vacant at night, my paranoia was louder than any voice of reason. 

My feet paced quickly for the passenger seat. I pulled on the handle and almost had a slight heart attack to find that it was locked, I pulled it again, yanking it out of temporary distress. Upon closer observation, I noted his car was a deep moss color before finally hearing the click of the lock open. 

"What the hell is this?" I questioned, while plopping into the seat, and swiftly shutting the door. 

"What?" Romero asked, clueless.

"This," I gestured to the vehicle that encased us. He glanced about as if he could not see what I was suggesting. "This car- it's obnoxious!"

The seats were a custom leather, a soft cream color. Personal articles decorated the car’s interior space, novelty items, and religious emblems. "What? Are you infiltrating the cartel?"

Agent Romero stared at me with puzzled eyes, shortly before a chortle erupted from his lungs. He raised his hand at me as if to ask for a minute, while he allowed his giggles to run their course. However, I was not laughing.

"That’s racist,” He pointed out in the midst of his laughter. He leaned forth, stretching his hand to tenderly stroke the skin of his dashboard. "Don't hate the car,"

One would think that I would be more understanding given my choice of lifestyle. Except, for the fact, that my brain was screaming with anxiety and frustration.  

"You couldn't pick something more... appropriate?" I said trying to push my emotions away. Romero shifted the gear into drive, and pulled out of the parking space.

"What? Like a police car?" He joked.

I don’t know if it was just by comparison, but Romero seemed to be in a rather good mood tonight. I, on the other hand, was a panicking mess in the seat beside him. There was little to no tolerance for joy on my side. Any trace of it registered into further panic and uncertainty. It was apparent in the way my leg bounced in place, and it was noticeable enough for it to catch his attention. 

"Try to remain calm," He said in a tone of encouragement. 

I was in no place to accept guidance. The last thing I wanted to hear was the cliche crap that everyone knew how to spill. We were here to do a job, one that risked my life in every possible way. I didn’t want his encouragement, I wanted his understanding. If he was going to use me to his advantage, he needs to know that I had the most to lose. My life was on the line, in more ways than one. 

"Can you at least tell me where we are going?”

As much as I wanted to sit in silence, I had to fill him in on everything that had happened since our meeting this morning. 

"Down Riverside road," I tried to reduce the coldness in my voice. 

I rolled my head against the headrest, squeezing my eyes shut, and attempting to dismiss all of the tension and panic from my consciousness. It was seemingly coming from nowhere and yet, everything stressed me more. 

My entire life, I only ever heard stories of things the club did. They always came from third, outside parties that were biased against them. I told myself a number of things to find reason in the terrible stories I heard. 

Bangtan wasn't full of doctors or lawyers, they were blue-collar guys. The way we saw it, they were out there risking everything to protect our way of life. Everyone knew they cut some corners, sold a few things on the side, and asked for their money in violent ways. It was all to get a few extra bucks and perks. When you lived in a community like that, everything seemed normal, even crime. There were never any outsiders with a different perspective, never.  It used to make me proud to have the kind of father I did. 

Though, now I was the outsider with a new perspective.

I was terrified of what I might see, the corrupt and brutal choices that they could make. I was afraid that Bangtan really had turned into the gang Romero mentioned. Comparing a group of individuals I always admired to some of the foulest scum I’ve learned about would be earth-shattering.

"Do you mind filling me in?" He asked after I failed to, myself. 

My eyes reopened, and found him focused on the road ahead. He held the steering wheel with a single arm at the twelve o'clock position. He was mostly a combination of darkness and a dim outline. The fake lights from inside the car did little to illuminate him.

"After our meeting, I ran into two of the club members," I began to explain, reliving the event like a movie in my mind. "We witnessed a deal go down, and they handled the situation as you would expect."

He wasn't looking in my direction but I could tell he was paying close attention to my words. Not only for information on the club but information on me. 

"What were you doing?" Romero was concerned about my behavior in the field. He had a right to be, but it still bothered me. 

"Babysitting some bimbo who was with us," I muttered annoyed at just the thought. I could have left it there but I knew I couldn't lie to him. "Until, I saw a PB member approaching them..."

He recognized the tone in my voice, and took his eyes off the road for a second to ask,

"What did you do?" He sounded like an angry parent, on the verge of lecturing.

"What was I supposed to do?” I attempted to remain calm. I thought he might see things from my point of view. “I had to interfere, or they could have been hurt." 

"You shot him?" He asked in disbelief and quick anger.

"Not dead!" I clarified, defensively. "I!- I just injured him."

I could see his demeanor change, that good mood I suspected earlier was gone. His fist tightened around the steering wheel, veins popping and outlined by the faint lighting.

"Are you insane?" His voice was rough, bossy, and cold. "You're an unauthorized federal agent and you fired rounds, on the street, in the middle of the day?"

I found myself, once again, being lectured about the same event. I was criticized for saving lives and doing my job. Neither of them were in a place to talk down on me.

"I did what I had to do!" I yelled. "If it wasn't for that- we would have no idea that the PB was cooking meth in Blackburn. We wouldn't have the exact address and time Bangtan was planning their retaliation."

I reminded him of the facts, what actually mattered at this moment. "If you wanted a traditional agent, then you should have gotten one!"

Romero didn't say anything in response. He didn't know what to expect from me. I was raised with a set of beliefs that were different than his own, but that was exactly why he needed me. 

I was here because of my connection and inside knowledge of the club. I knew how they thought and operated, I could speak their tongue. What I did today, established trust between me and them. One that I certainly needed,  after learning about Yoongi's suspicions. If he could doubt me, so could have the rest of them. Bangtan didn’t believe in coincidences and they left no loose ends. I could no longer raise any more suspicions.

"Take the next left," I sighed, after taking a moment to notice our surroundings. 

"Riverside road is still up ahead," He stated as if I didn't know.

"I know that," I said bitterly, wondering why he continued to question me. "This is another way there. If we go down that way, there is a chance we might run into the club."

That was the last thing we needed. The house was in a rural part of town, at the very edge of Blackburn by a lake. Not many people lived by that area, and with a car like this, we would be suspicious for sure.

-

The roads on this side of town were made of only dirt, they were bumpy and uneven. The night fell heavier, with the tension of the forest, it crept on a single side of the path. The lights beams were soft, we couldn't see more than three feet in front of us. Romero worried about the condition of his wheels and took the drive gently. 

"That's got to be it," I muttered, staring out the window. 

Romero drove the car slowly past a driveway that led to the house. It was small, red brick, and cabin-like. It was invisibly ordinary. 

To common folks, there was nothing about this residence that raised eyebrows. To the trained eye, however, a small detail stood out instantly. "Look at that- industrial filters,"

They were large black tanks that were attacked to the side of the home. By the looks of them, they were cooking deadly amounts of meth. 

"Any sign of life?" He asked as he was keeping his eye on the road in front of us. 

"The lights are on, but the blinds are shut," I informed him. There was only a blue pick-up truck beside the house. No other vehicles in sight. "The club will be in a black Nissan NV200." 

It wasn't long before some trees cut my line of sight from the property. I leaned back in my seat and looked at the surrounding area. "Turn into the field right here,"

The car bounced as we went off the trail. The left side of the house was blocked by a few oak trees and bushes. It wasn't dense enough to cover the house, but just enough to set the property boundaries. In the dark, it was the perfect place to hide behind. We were at least twenty yards from away. 

"Now, we wait," Romero muttered to himself with a sigh. 

He shut off the engine, the interior lights went dark, and we were hidden in the night. 

"Do you have the papers?" I said, turning to look at him. The only light source came from the nearly full moon in the sky. It was pale on his tan skin. 

"In the glove compartment," He instructed, keeping his eyes on the house.

I leaned over and popped open the chamber, where a stack of papers and a few CDs, was all I could feel with my hand. The contract was stapled together, but it was difficult to make out the small print in the dark.

"They agree with all your terms. None of the information you give us on the mc can be used against them in a court of law. However, any drug-related crime that may occur with the Camilo Cartel is still our jurisdiction."  

I planned to stop that before it could happen. If it got that far, then I have already failed them. 

"What are their conditions?" I asked, knowing very well that they would have a few. 

"That you don't withhold any information," His voice was skeptical of that happening. He turned my way but looked back forward before I could do the same. "You also can't take part in any illegal activity, or report yourself as a D.E.A agent." 

The D.E.A was very particular about their image, having someone like me on their team, had to be kept confidential. But I didn't care. I wasn't doing this for any kind of recognition on their part. 

"I'll also be administrating you a drug test every week for the remainder of the investigation," When considering my past, it was no wonder why Romero and the higher-ups were cautious. “If any of these rules are broken, the deal goes out the door.”

I was an agent who was never meant to see the light of day in this job. I was a gamble, and they desperately needed the odds to go in their favor. 

I was being observed on either side of this situation. My will had to be strong to voluntarily put myself in this position. Trusted by no one, and yet, needed by everyone- I was the help no one wanted to thank. 

I grabbed the pen that was sticking out of the cup holder between us. Turning to the very last page, where at the bottom, was a line waiting for my signature. 

When I scribbled my name onto that piece of paper, I felt as if I was sighing my own death certificate. 

"(Y/n)..."

His voice had shifted into a low pitch, steady and cautious. I turned to see what had triggered this behavior. I followed his gaze, out his window, to the dirt road we had just stirred out of. There was a black van stalking down the path, with its lights shut off in the middle of the darkness. 

"Oh shit," I whispered. Even from this far away, at night, I could make out Taehyung's familiar head through the passenger window. "What do we do?"

"Nothing." He was firm, eyes glued to the movement of the approaching vehicle. "Absolutely nothing,"

He looked back at me to ensure that what he spoke was understood thoroughly. "No matter what happens- we cannot interfere, (Y/n)."

That meant, even if someone got hurt. 

"Okay," I responded. 

Though, I worried that my emotions were still much out of my control. I wanted to do my job, but I was being asked to stand by and do nothing. 

"They're passing the house," Romero stated. 

It was getting more difficult to see through the thin patch of wilderness that protected us. The road, directly in front of the driveway was almost impossible to see. Especially, with such a dark vehicle and no headlights. 

"They aren't going to park in the driveway," I thought as I spoke. "The van would be right in the line of the crossfire." 

"But if they leave the driveway open, there is a chance for the PB to escape." He contradicted. 

They must have known that, so why would they do it anyway? Were they that confidante that they could take them out? 

Our eyes stared into the darkness of the driveway. The dirt leading up to the house was visible enough to see shapes and shadows the ground. We watched for any sudden movement on either part. I also tried to foresee the plan that Bangtan had in motion.

"Unless they want them to," I suggested.

"What are you talking about?" He wasn't very convinced. "This is supposed to be retaliation for the shooting at your house."

"But killing foot soldiers who run a small lab isn't much of a statement." I know the idea didn’t make any sense, and I didn't know what the right answer was but there was something we were missing. I was sure of it.

"A lab in Blackburn, (Y/n)." He sounded annoyed by my doubts. "That goes against their deal, of course, they are going to kill everyone in that building!"

Romero simply assumed that I was sugar-coating the events that were about to take place. That I didn't want to see Bangtan for the killers they were. But I knew that they were much more than that. 

Brains before bullets. 

That is what hung behind the table of their meeting room. They weren't some unorganized street gang. There was a reason they had made it so far in the arms dealing business. 

I wasn't known for holding my tongue during an argument, however, we both were quick to do so. 

There were four male figures quickly approaching the house. They were dressed from head to toe in black, shielding their face, and wearing ski masks. There was a large gap between where they stood and the red house. 

"Where are the other three?" Romero asked as we continued to watch. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could make out shadows in the bushes at the front of the driveway. 

Based solely on height and posture, I thought I could make out Jimin and Taehyung. The other two could have been Jungkook and Yoongi. Though, that didn't matter for long. The figure I deemed to be Taehyung, looked back to the bushes, where I had seen the shadows. He seemed to be making sure everything was set. 

Then he nodded to the others beside him.

All four figures brought a KG9 below their chests. Their aim was the building right in front of them, and the night seemed so calm before they pulled the trigger.

Fully automatic weapons ripped through the silence, the flashes coming from their muzzles were like the Fourth of July. 

Even this far, the sound surprised me. It illuminated the surrounding ground as if a lightning storm had formed on Earth's surface. The details of their black clothing were visible with every burst of light. I could make out each individual set of eyes glowing in the dark. 

The windows into the house were pierced and shattered by the ammunition. The boys began to step back, slowly, keeping their fingers tight around the trigger. It didn't take long to hear the response of those who were inside. 

The front door was kicked open, out came pouring about five or six PB members. All they had to buy them some time were a few FN-57s while they made a run for it. By that time, the four bodies were seeking cover behind a large stake severed tree trunks. The other three came out as their replacement, returning fire while the others reloaded. 

The PB made it into their truck, two in the front, and three in the exposed back. All of them continued shooting except for the one in the driver's seat; his shadow was frantically attempting to get the engine started. The wheels screeched dirt into the air, almost as loud are the gunshots.

The truck shot down the driveway, threatening to run over anything in its path. Though the blasts remained, I couldn't see any indication of injured bodies. 

"What the hell is this..." I heard Romero say as the scene unfolded right before our eyes. 

All of the seven boys gathered in front of the house. Three of them ran into the open residence, while the rest stayed on the lookout. 

"They aren't going after them," I stated. I felt relieved seeing that the dangerous part had passed. However, the question remained, what were they going to do now?

"This doesn't make any sense," Romero sounded irritated. 

My eyes remained on the outside figures, taking note of the tall man with long legs. The others seemed to be working around him. Namjoon was the only one who ever stood that way, with so much authority.

The other three members came out of the house shortly. It appeared to have exchanged some words as they walked down the porch. They didn't appear to be worried about any other unwanted company. They felt safe enough, that they removed their masks. 

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were the three that searched the house. They gathered around the rest of the guys in conversation. 

"What the hell are they doing?" Romero asked me directly. He looked at me as if I had all the answers. 

"I don't know, " I assured him.

In between the group, stood Hoseok, with a black box in the grip of his hand. We watched carefully as he handed the mysterious case to Jimin. Jungkook stood at his side and encouragingly patted his shoulder.

The group disbanded. Everyone began to make their way back down the driveway, their feet racing to the shelter behind the bushes. 

Everyone, except for Jimin. 

He, instead, returned into the house with the case in his hand. I thought about anything and everything in that house that could be valuable. Something that would be worth risking their lives to obtain. The only thing in there, that could be worth anything, was the methamphetamine they were manufacturing. 

"They're taking the drugs," Romero reached the same conclusion I had. But why would they? Bangtan did not need it.

"They're going to sell it themselves," He told me. The tone of his voice was almost positive as if he was happy for me to see them in a bad light.

"No," I replied, even though it wasn't a question. "That can't be it,"

When I looked at Romero, he was watching me with aggravation, my constant denial of all his claims were frustrating him. 

"(Y/n), look at them!" He raised his tone. "They didn't break into a drug lab to leave empty-handed!"

His words fell on deaf ears, there was nothing he could say to change my mind. I knew, in my gut, that it wasn't the case, but I couldn't escape the dreadful feeling beside it. 

"If you can't start to see them for what they are- we're going to have some serious-"

"Wait-" Just then, the idea clicked in my head. My heart began to race, like a drum line marching in my chest. The dread in my stomach was replaced with pure terror. His racing figure was running out the front door. I gasped, 

"Jimin!" 

It was as if daylight had emitted from the house. It was as blinding as the sun and powerful as a volcano. The explosion trembled the atmosphere, the ground rumbled and shook the vehicle. Romero's arm reached over me, instinctively, shielding me from any threatening shock-waves.

The house was set ablaze. It was an empty shell of stone, consumed by smoke and fire. There was so much smoke that it was difficult to see any details on the ground. It was a sight straight from the underworld. 

After the initial fright, a new one consumed me entirely. 

"Oh my god, Jimin..." 

I re-assembled in my seat and directly lunged for the door. My hand wrapped around the handle and it clicked open.

"(Y/n)!" 

Romero surged forward, grasping for the base of the window, and slamming the door shut. "You can't."

"B-but he-" I stuttered with panic.

"He made it out of the house, (Y/n)." He tried to soothe me, spoke to me calmly and reassuringly. 

"What the fuck is he thinking?!" My head spun with a muddle of fright and anger. "Why wouldn't he use a remote detonator?! Is he insane?!"

I yelled as if Romero would care about their well-being. He watched me panic and fear for the safety of Jimin. I continued to search for movement through the cloud of dust and smoke.

"Maybe... there was no time?" He suggested, trying to figure it out for profiling purposes. "This was just decided today."

I understood that they felt the need to act fast, but that didn't mean they had to act recklessly. Putting Jimin's life in danger like that was idiotic. The worst part was that it was probably his idea in the first place. I could imagine him declare that he had it perfectly under control. 

"Look," Romero called.

A strong wind had come toward the property, blowing the smoke toward the back of the home, and leaving the front clear for sight. I made out Taehyung's form running toward the house, where, getting up from the floor was Jimin. 

I sighed a deep relief in my chest that was almost overwhelming. Taehyung ran up to Jimin, placing his hands on his shoulders and checking on him. Once Jimin reassured him that he was alright, Taehyung assisted in getting away from the burning building as fast as possible. 

"Goddamn idiot..." I cursed him for scaring me. I never wanted to so badly hurt, and embrace, someone in the same breath. 

-

After that, the events that followed were rather simple. Bangtan gathered themselves and left the property as soon as Jimin was on his feet. Even in that rush of violence, it was nothing compared to what they could have done. All they left behind was a single drop of the rage that fueled them. That was the warning they were leaving for the PB.

Agent Romero and I didn't speak much on our return to 18th and Charming street. There was tension inside of the vehicle that made the silence appear like the best selection. 

I assumed we were both left with a confusing haze in the back of our heads. Nothing of what we expected had happened tonight. His knowledge of a field agent didn't assist him in this investigation. Neither did my connection with the members of the club. We were left to re-think everything we thought we knew. 

"How did you know?" He asked out of the blue. We were merely two blocks away from my drop-off point. 

My gaze turned away from the deserted stores that drifted away, as we passed them by. His exterior appeared unbothered as if he had continued our streak of silence. 

"Know what?" His question was unclear. 

He remained expressionless and without any new movement. I almost questioned if he said anything at all, but he was only hesitating. 

"How did you know Bangtan wouldn't kill them?" He asked more specifically. He asked as if I had some kind of psychic vision into the future. 

"I- I don't know," I replied, honestly. I could have explained it as some kind of outlaw intuition. "It just didn't feel like they would..."

I knew that wasn't helpful, nor something he wanted to hear. His distrust in me came from the connection I held with the club. Especially now, I've been home after so long. But it was the truth, they weren't as thoughtless as outsiders thought. 

It was easy for Romero to group Bangtan with every other organization he's dealt with before. That would be his downfall, though. Bangtan was different. 

"Why would they wear masks- if they planned on killing everyone?" 

Romero turned his head at my rhetorical question. That detail was the only thing I took notice of. However, I wasn't sure when I precisely figured it out. 

"So, why didn't they kill them?" He asked, actually looking for my opinion this time. "Why would they let everyone go and just blow up the place?"

That was the question we needed to figure out. I understood that it wasn't the typical response for a gang. Especially for Bangtan, who were capable of doing much more damage. 

"If they covered their identities, then it means they don't want the PB to know it was them," I stated the obvious. Romero nodded his head and agreed. 

"Who else could they blame it on?" He continued the train of thought. 

"The Camilo Cartel is the only significant group that is fighting against the PB," I mentioned, as they were the only ones that mattered. Was Bangtan trying to put the blame on them?

"Blowing up a lab and letting people escape in the process, isn't part of the cartel’s MO," Romero pointed out. "They are more 'cut off your limbs' type of organization."

The visual idea gave me chills. "Do you think the club would know that?"

"I don't know, maybe it could have slipped their mind," I thought to myself, recalling back to their brilliant idea of manually detonating the bomb from the inside, instead of having an outside detonator. 

When time had passed after my words, I figured he didn't need any more convincing of my observation. We continued our silent drive.

The street was exactly as we had left it hours ago. No cars in sight and the only light came from the street lamps that lined the sidewalk. His car came to a gentle stop and lazily pulled into the curb. 

"I apologize about before," He said before I made a move to the door. I watched him sigh in the seat. "I just thought that you-"

"I know," He didn't have to explain himself. It was easy to see that his trust in me was delicate. "You aren't the first person to question everything I do." 

I didn't mean for my exit to sound so dramatic, but there was nothing else he could say. I knew how to function under the opposition of those around me, it wouldn't stop me from doing what I had to do. 

I let the passenger door shut behind me. A cool breeze ran up my arms as I stepped onto the empty road. My father's Dyna sat, waiting for me, exactly where I had left it. 

The streetlight above illuminated the bike, like a sentence from God, its metallic structure reflected the luminosity. I mounted the machine, its seat feeling cold under my weight. 

"Hey," Romero had rolled down his window. His face was almost canceled by the shadow that his roof cast. I met his black eyes. 

"Next time, I'll listen to your judgment," He spoke with a bit of shame in his voice. "You did good work today... thank you." 

I rode off feeling satisfied that night.

-

The night had gone by quickly once I returned to the House of Cards. I arrived at the crowded bar but was vacant of any comforting life. There wasn't much left for me to do than to sleep for the night, in hopes, of being a different person in the morning.  

It didn't take long for daybreak to come by the sheer curtains of the two windows. The light illuminated my face, making my body stir within the sea of bed-sheets. I had forgotten the benefits of getting a good night's rest. 

I also underestimated the blessings of a warm hot shower. All the past tension and worries of the past few days were stripped away with the heat. After the events of yesterday, I was expecting today to be more on the ordinary side. I was praying for it. 

It was early in the morning, and the bar wouldn't be open until noon. Which meant I had until then to be alone and collect my settling thoughts. There were so many blurred lines I could not see the edges to, where I stood in certain situations. My job, the club, my worries, the doubts; they all seemed to merge into one. An unhealthy mixture of morals that contradict one another, they fought for the steering wheel that was my life.

When I stepped out of the room, feeling rejuvenated, I thought I would walk into a peaceful, empty space. However, I was met with a quite disturbing sight, instead. 

"Mornin, sweetheart." 

Jaeeun was seated at the edge of the bar. She wore a pair of reading glasses, resting low on the bridge of her nose, and a stack of papers in her hands. Even the terms of endearment that came from her mouth seemed to be demeaning. 

What had I done to deserve such misfortune?

"Morning," I replied shortly after the shock, walking toward the back of the bar, where the coffee machine had become enticing. 

There was a freshly brewed pot already made, the black liquid was threatening hot, and a third of the way full. I found a few empty mugs right beside the machine and poured a cup tentatively. 

"There's some food there," She spoke directly behind me. 

I looked over my shoulder and spotted the plastic bag not far beside her on the bar. The bag held no identifying writing, simply a 'thank you' printed in red. I was wary of accepting food from Jaeeun. I could not see her missing out on a chance to poison me. My suspicious eye was no secret. "Namjoon brought it,"

She rolled her eyes at me as if she would actually bother, but I was sure she would. The possibility of her lying crossed my mind. However, my stomach was rumbling for anything, even if it was poison. I would die happily for whatever smelled that good. 

I took a seat two stools from her, using a napkin as a coaster, and digging into the bag. It was a standard breakfast platter, barely at that point between warm and room temperature. My mouth watered at the sight.

While I stuffed food down my throat, Jaeeun remained silent and inspected her documents, and my mind began to wonder. 

"Namjoon's here?" I tried to remain casual as if Namjoon wasn't one of the topics raging through my mind. Jaeeun saw right through me, of course.

"He was," Her eyes remained glued on the paper. "He mentioned I would find you here,"

The bitter tone in her voice was a clear indication that she was not pleased with my new living arrangement. Hell, if it were up to her, I wouldn't be living at all. 

"I'm not staying here for free," I felt the need to explain myself. 

"Believe me, I don't want to know how you'll be repaying him." She said suggestively. 

Heat rose to my face immediately, as I had trouble swallowing my food at her words. I imagined, in her head, I was doing all I could do to be close to Namjoon. Though it was not completely wrong, it was not for the reason she thought.

"It's not like that," I muttered, embarrassed that the words embarrassed me in the first place. "I'm going to be helping him with the bar."

The scoff from her lips seemed unconvinced by my statement. She simply thought I was lusting to ruin her life. Explaining that it was not all about her would be a mission impossible. Her narcissistic behavior would not allow her to believe anything else, even if it was the truth.

"What are you even still doing here?" She spat, finally blessing me with her piercing eyes. "Do you really have nothing to go back to?"

One would think I would have grown accustomed to Jaeeun’s spiteful words. But there was always something about her that just struck a nerve. It was a never-ending argument with her, and I had even lost my appetite.

"You know, you seem to be spending a lot of energy worrying about my life." I wished I was as composed as her, but my anger was rising to the surface, and she loved to see it. 

"I don't care about your life," Jaeeun smirked and removed her glasses, making sure nothing would distort the resentment emanating from her eyes. "Just the people you dare to touch." 

She settled her feet on the floor underneath, her leather heel boots clicking on the tile surface. Her body followed in walking toward me, wanting me to squirm in my seat, with each step. She granted herself the open seat beside me, giving our conversation the attention I didn't want.

"Namjoon has enough going on," She warned me. "He just lost a father for the second time." 

She pulled out a single cigarette from behind her ear, holding it between her fingers and looked at me like I was nothing. "He already inherited his responsibilities- he doesn't need his burden too." 

Sometimes I underestimated just how terrible she could be. Her lips painted dark stained the foot of the cigarette. A lighter flickered a heat source for her to enjoy her taunting with an extra kick. 

I swallowed my temper and dared to remind her,

"I'm not the one looking for him." 

 She continued to hold her poker face as if she already knew. Her porcelain cheeks hollowed in with a smooth drag, nicotine was like oxygen for her lungs.

"His head is twisted, he doesn't know what he wants." She justified him, smoke escaping passed her lips, unworried. 

"And you do?" I asked her to see the absurdity that I did. "You can't dictate his life forever, Jaeeun."

I was gravely mistaken. Jaeeun believed, wholeheartedly, that she could. Namjoon might not have known but his mother's influence was always there. In her eyes that was not about to change. My very doubt meant challenging her. 

"I’m his mother, and until I am dead and cold, I'm going to do anything I have to do to protect him." Her voice went from taunting to threatening. The words practically hissed out of her mouth, then I remembered what Jimin told me.

"I must really scare you, huh?"

I found a smile sneaking onto my lips at the thought. Jaeeun was much less frightening when she let her emotions seep through, it reminded me that she was human as well. 

"You're a greedy whore," Her black eyes leaned in, her poisonous tongue whispered like an empty threat. "And bad shit happens to greedy whores."

Her aggressiveness only confirmed my suspicions. 

She flicked her young cigarette into my mug of coffee, tainting the drink with its ash, before rising from her spot. While watching her walk back to her stack of papers, I realized I was not left with the same drained feeling that our conversations had in the past.

In the stillness of our talk, I began to see us for what we truly were, just two little girls fighting for the attention of a man. Even with her age, it never stopped being that, and I was going down the same path. 

In a normal relationship, two people entrust each other to respect the love that they share. That meant listening, understanding, and being faithful. That, however, was not the deal when it came to an mc like Bangtan. Women were objects to share, possessions to show off, comfort to lean on when times got hard. If you were able to marry one of them, you got the title of old lady, which just meant you belonged to one specific member. But even as with an old lady, their picking of women did not stop, if anything, it increased. Groupies that hung around the club wanted nothing more than to get that title. The security that a relationship was supposed to give you was nonexistent.

Jaeeun had been the president's old lady, that came with a lot of respect and constant threats. It was a fight for your place, or someone might take it, which is why she was so defensive. I don't think she was ready to give that up just yet.

"How did you handle it?" I was curious about how someone could live like this for so many years. If I had never left, I probably wouldn't have noticed. "This life is intoxicating- it kills you from the inside out while giving you the best high of your life."

Jaeeun didn't respond aggressively to the question. In fact, it appeared to cause a deep stage of nostalgia, taking her back to the struggles that this life brought her. True wisdom conceived by the most painful teacher- experience.

"There are only two ways an old lady makes it in this life," She answered quietly. When her eyes locked with mine, I found a different kind of hate within them. "You tell her nothing or you tell her everything."

I imagined neither option was comfortable to live with. But I knew that if you loved the man, then you learned to love the life. Then there was no truth you couldn't handle. 

"You have no idea what it takes- what it will cost you to be his old lady."

Jaeeun looked at me with pity, with actual pity from a place of true understanding. 

"Old ladies can make or break a club, (Y/n)." She shook her head. When she spoke, it was no longer an attempt to scare me away. For the first time, I felt that she was being sincere, even if it isn't what I wanted to hear. "You'll ruin him."

"You don't know that," But neither did I. 

I had always been so disinterested in love. This way of life dissolved any chance for trust. The choices seemed to be, live as a fool or be doomed to die alone. Jaeeun had made her choice a long time ago.

"I know that you need someone to tell you the truth," She once again approached me. This time, as if she wanted to comfort me from her own words. "Namjoon and you, together, are a recipe for disaster." 

The silence that followed had never been so tormenting, the notion of not even knowing why was alarming. Why? Why when I wasn't even supposed to care? Namjoon represented everything I hated about this life; the secrets, the lies, the sexism, the violence. He was forbidden, just like my rightful place in the club. 

Why did I only want what I could not have?

Then, like the sick joke that was my life, the doors to the bar opened, and his presence came into the room. I didn’t have to even turn around to know, for certain, that it was him. I only ever felt this way when he was around.

"You should get out while you have the chance, sweetheart." Jaeeun whispered as she walked past me.

In a tunnel-like hearing, I could make out Namjoon and her greeting each other. She informed him that she was on her way out. The words they spoke faded in and out as I realized Jaeeun was giving me no time to contemplate. She would be leaving us alone, forcing me to make a decision right here, right now.

The doors closed, and I could feel it was just the two of us now.

Masterlist ≽

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1960

Under the cut.

Marty Robbins – “El Paso” -- January 2, 1960

Why have I heard this song a lot? It's not my parents' kind of thing, or my grandparents'. Anyway, this time the narrator is the murderer. He killed another man out of jealousy that a woman, who might not even be his woman, had a drink with the other man. It's a pretty okay old-fashioned country song, but it'd be better in Fallout: New Vegas.

Johnny Preston – “Running Bear” -- January 18, 1960

This. Thing. Is. An. Abomination. Fake tribal chants. Through the entire thing. They form the beat. And then there's a swing trumpet. And it's about a Romeo and Juliet situation, but the singer sounds like he thinks he's singing a goofy novelty song. I didn't know this song existed, and now I have to re-evaluate what I think the worst #1 is. I think this one takes the spot from "Having My Baby."

Mark Dinning – “Teen Angel” -- February 8, 1960

No, not Earth Angel, sadly. This guy's girlfriend ran to the railroad tracks to get his high school ring and got squished. He doesn't sound all that broken up about it. He doesn't sound capable of feeling any emotions, really. Very bad song.

Percy Faith – “Theme From A Summer Place“ -- February 22, 1960

It's a pretty instrumental, but a bit too gloopy for me. I looked up "A Summer Place," assuming based on the music it would be a light and frothy movie about young people in love. Uh... not really. But it ends happily. Also it has a message about not condemning young people for having sex, so that's good.

Elvis Presley – “Stuck On You” -- April 25, 1960

Though his voice sounds cartoonish to me, Elvis still feels like a breath of fresh air compared to most of what he's surrounded by. In 1960, he had more oomph than nearly anyone else on the charts. Anyway, you've heard this one. It's fine.

The Everly Brothers – “Cathy’s Clown” -- May 23, 1960

This one still got radio play on the oldies stations when I was a kid. It's got a beat, the music and beat change up, and the narrator sounds appropriately bitter after a bad break-up. I wouldn't seek it out, but I wouldn't change the station either.

Connie Francis – “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool” -- June 27, 1960

Here we go, someone besides Elvis with a real spark. The narrator can't seem to leave this person who keeps cheating on her, and she sings that someday, her cheating lover will find someone they truly care for who will be untrue, and then they'll understand what she's going through. She sounds pretty happy about it. It's not Connie Francis' best song (that's "Who's Sorry Now"), but it's not at all bad.

The Hollywood Argyles – “Alley Oop” -- July 11, 1960

Oh right, I forgot for a moment, I hate 1960. This song is dumb. It knows it's dumb and revels in it, and I hate it.

Brenda Lee – “I’m Sorry” -- July 18, 1960

The narrator didn't realize it was cruel to play with other people's feelings until her own heart was broken. Possibly she was the girlfriend of the narrator of "Everybody's Somebody's Fool"? The song isn't as good though, mostly because of the spoken word section, which is cringe-inducing.

Brian Hyland’s “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” -- August 8, 1960

I can't believe I'm only up to August of this stupid, stupid year. When does Motown get here already? Ugh. Stupid, leering, creepy novelty song.

Elvis Presley’s “It’s Now Or Never” -- August 15, 1960

Good, it's Elvis again. Except this is a huge slice of fromage. Elvis was better than this. His belting is impressive, but it should be in a better song. I'm bored. Elvis was never one of my faves, but he should also never be boring. I hate this year.

Chubby Checker’s “The Twist -- September 19, 1960

THANK YOU GODS AND LITTLE FISHES. You know this song. You've danced to this song. This song is truly great. Possibly the rest of 1960 up to now had to suck so much for this song to come out.

Connie Francis – “My Heart Has A Mind Of Its Own” -- September 26, 1960

Did Connie Francis ever sing about anything but heartbreak? She can't get over someone who loves her. She doesn't seem too broken up about it this time. There are lots of mariachi horns. I can't associate mariachi horns with heartbreak. It could have been a good song, but Connie Francis' total nonchalance and the mariachi horns make it pretty bad.

Larry Verne – “Mr. Custer” -- October 10, 1960

This is supposed to be funny. It's a racist novelty song that seems to hate everyone and everything. I return the sentiment. Put this one in the bin with "Little Bear." Cripes 1960 sucked.

The Drifters – “Save The Last Dance For Me” -- October 17, 1960

Okay, all of 1960 didn't suck. There were a handful of very good songs among the dreck, and this is one of them. The narrator is happy that his wife (likely) is dancing with other guys, he just wants to remind her who she's going home with. It's got a nice Latin beat, good violins, and a singer who shows actual emotion. And the emotion isn't a simplistic one; he sounds totally happy that his wife is having fun flirting and dancing with other guys. But he knows that sometimes people get swept up in the moment and make mistakes. He's cheerful, not nagging or possessive. I like it.

Brenda Lee – “I Want To Be Wanted” -- October 24, 1960

A teenage song about wanting a boyfriend who adores her. It's... okay. I would probably have identified with it hugely when I was 15. Though I would have scoffed at how dated it sounds. I'm more tolerant of how it sounds musically now. But, though I understand the sentiment, it's still pretty overwrought. I guess now that I'm middle-aged and I've got what she wants my main feeling is that she needs to calm down and live her life rather than obsessing over finding the perfect person to spend a million years with when she's still a kid.

Ray Charles – “Georgia On My Mind” -- November 14, 1960

Aah that's the stuff. What is there to say about Ray Charles' version of this song? How do you describe perfection? Moonlight through the pines. This must have been a revelation at the time. It still is.

Maurice Williams And The Zodiacs – “Stay” -- November 21, 1960

"Oh won't you staaaay." I can't listen to this song without trying to sing along, and making my throat hurt in the process, as I'm an alto and I can't reach those falsetto notes. It's a fun song and a classic. Maybe Ray Charles fumigated 1960 and now it will be good?

Elvis Presley – “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” -- November 28, 1960

Yes! Elvis was a dramatic singer, and this is a dramatic song. Like everyone with an instinct for dramatic performance, he knew that true drama is often found in quiet and contemplation. He's soft throughout, and only half-belts at the end. There's a spoken word interval, but it's the kind of song in which you've already been seduced, so it's enjoyable. Plus Elvis knows how to speak it -- no embarrassment at all. Excellent. This is the kind of song that makes me understand Elvis mania.

BEST OF 1960: "Georgia On My Mind"  WORST OF 1960: There is an embarrassment of putrescence here. At the end, it's a tie between "Running Bear" and "Mr. Custer."