#definitely doesn’t deserve any of the outrage though like worse shows have come and gone to little fanfare and people are doing the most

[imasimpforshanks]

omg I am so sorry I completely forgot to put the alphabet 😅 E C J M T for Shanks for the angst alphabet! thank you and sorry for the mistake! ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Shanks

a/n: hiii! Thank y’all for requesting! To the second anon, I went with Shanks (I hope that’s ok!!!) 💗💗💗

LOLOL THIS MY HUSBANDDDDD 💍😍

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

It would depend on how much he felt he could have prevented it. However, Shanks understands all to well just how cruel the world can be. He can’t constantly be in control of everything, so although it would be devastating, he would have to realize that this is reality.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

Shanks would use the excuse that he is a Yonko. He’s no good for you, and you deserve so much better than an infamous pirate who only brings danger. While these are just excuses - ways to make breaking up with you easier - he really would be speaking from the heart. Shanks has always felt this way but never voiced it, but now it’s finally time to let you go.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

He leaves for long periods of time and refuses to you along. You know he’s only doing it for your safety, but it hurts that he doesn’t think you’re strong or responsible enough to join his crew on their voyages (note: he doesn’t actually think you’re not strong or responsible – his pirate life is just extremely dangerous, even as a yonko).

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

He’s seen and experienced a lot of death in his life so he’d be a able to cope with it a little better than others would. Even so, your death would still be heart-breaking (he would mourn privately though). Now, if he literally saw you get killed in front of him then RIP to the person who killed you because they will be the one/s to die next.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

Shanks is quite an open book. If he’s angry everyone knows. If he’s happy everyone knows (etc.). But, if I really had to pick one… I suppose it would be sadness or grief. He feels obligated to put on a front for his crew (although they can see right through it). He tends to let out his sadness and grief when he’s alone.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

He tends to crack jokes before your fights can escalate into anything too serious. Sometimes it’s intentional, but other times it’s just his personality shining through. And rather than serious fights there’s just a lot of teasing and taunts between the two of you.

If you were to have a serious fight, it would be about both of your safety (As would most fights with any of the One Piece characters).

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

More often than not, Shanks finds himself able let go of a LOT of shit. But the one thing he can’t seem to stop feeling guilty about is his failure to show up to Marineford on time. He knows he’s not directly responsible for Ace’s death, but that doesn’t stop the overwhelming guilt. If only he had gotten there a few minutes earlier.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

Coming back to you after each voyage is something he always looks forward to. However, that happiness is short-lived when he realizes he has to leave again in a few weeks. It’s always so painful having to say goodbye again.

I don’t think he would be too different during a break-up. Perhaps he may crack a few less jokes, but other than that, his personality and demeanour when around others remains the same. It isn’t until he’s alone that he lets his smile fall.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Undoubtedly, he’d be concerned, but he knows you’ll pull through (you have to pull through). So, after that initial concern has passed, he’ll be feeling all types of pissed off. Whoever, or whatever, injured you will pay – and honestly, he may not even deal the perpetrator himself (his crew is already on it - you are like family to them).

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

I honestly think Shanks is just the type of person to just tell you if he’s jealous. But he wouldn’t say “uhh I’m feeling a little jealous” or anything along those lines – no. Instead, Shanks puts on a little pout and does a massive fake sigh until you finally ask him what’s wrong. That’s when he hits you with the “I guess my attention just isn’t enough for you”, and you’re like “HUH?? MF WHAT?” He’s literally such a child HAHA.

But, if there’s one particular person he really does not like you being around and they won’t leave you alone, then he is not at all opposed to just shoving his tongue down your throat right in front of them. That’ll definitely get the message across.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Shanks may be a goofy and laid-back individual, but he will resort to violence if the situation calls for it. So, it is very likely that Shanks would kill for revenge. Maybe he wouldn’t necessarily do it himself. But, if he orders it, it’ll definitely happen.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

Gol D. Roger’s death was probably one of the greatest losses in Shanks’ life. Roger is the reason Shanks is a pirate today, and young shanks was absolutely broken by his death.

(hard to write much for this one seeing as shanks’ character is still quite a mystery to us!)

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

One time he completely forgot a date night that you spent SO LONG planning. It wasn’t just any date night either. It was a date you planned on his final night before him and his crew had to leave again for a while. You spent hours waiting for to show up, but he was nowhere to be seen. Finally, he showed up at your place, breath reeking of booze. You just looked at him and it hit him (he was like “OH SHIT”). He started apologizing profusely. He didn’t try to make any excuses, he completely owned up to being a shitty boyfriend. But, the moment he knew he had well and truly fucked up was when you just nodded and waved good night to him, wishing him safe travels – you didn’t cry, get visibly angry you just left alone. Shanks knew that was far worse than any yelling.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?)

I literally am not joking when I say this but I think Shanks practically drinks till he passes out so even if he were to get nightmares he wouldn’t wake up LMAOOOOOOOOOOOO (ok maybe I am joking with this one but also kind of not).

In all seriousness though, I don’t think Shanks has nightmares very frequently. It’s gotten to the point where any fear or things of that matter that could be nightmares for him, have become so common in his life that he almost finds it not frightening to think about.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

He would get mad at you for placing yourself in unnecessary danger. He’d call you stupid and irresponsible, even though he doesn’t really mean any of those things – it’s just the image of him potentially losing you forever is replaying in his mind and it absolutely terrifies him.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

You saw him get serious serious once before. Like the kind of serious where he uses his conquerors haki and everything. It definitely caused a bit of a change in your relationship as it was terrifying to witness. You’ve always known Shanks was strong and intimidating when needed, but that moment really showed you what it meant when people called him an “emperor of the sea”.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

Not wanting to openly express his sadness and grief in front of others can be a very unhealthy quality. Shanks doesn’t allow himself good enough opportunities to express him emotions in a safe and healthy manner.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

(First of all WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO REJECT SHANKS ANYWAY LIKE HUBBA HUBBA I LOVE HIM ANYWHOOOOOOOOO…..) Shanks is the type to just shrug it off. He’d be a little disappointed, bc c’mon the hottest most amazing person he’s ever known just turned him down! But he knows not everything in life goes how you want it to. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and this just happens to be one of the things he’s lost. So ultimately, he’ll just shrug it off. (he will definitely get teased by his crew though).

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Shanks has no self-inflicted wounds. But he does have a scar across his left eye given to him by Blackbeard. He also has a missing arm which he (heroically) sacrificed as he saved lil Luffys life (does a missing arm even count as a scar?)

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

He’s never given you any reason to not trust him. He’s always open and honest with you. Well, as honest as he can be without placing you in any danger. Trust was something needed from the get-go of your relationship because he would be gone for long periods of time. The two of you wouldn’t be able to last without trust.

Oh, also if shanks ever did do anything to break your trust you best believe his crew will beat his ass (especially Benn). You’re family to them.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

My god does he want to see you. He would give his other arm just to be right by your side in an instant. He’s gone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. Shanks loves his crew, they’re a lively bunch and he trusts them with his life, and vice versa. But they’re not you. They don’t provide him with that same feeling of home that you do. Sure, this could be fixed if he let you join the crew on their journeys, but he absolutely cannot place you in that kind of danger. You’re already in enough danger as it is simply being in a relationship with him.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

Rather than lashing out at you, Shanks tends to give you the silent treatment. He looks at you without a word and just turns away. He does this in an attempt to make you feel guilty and as if everything is your fault.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

There isn’t much that makes Shanks feel weak. But, being unable to be near his s/o is one of the few things that does make him feel weak. It’s a constant struggle between wanting to have them around him constantly, but also not wanting to place them in any danger. Ultimately, he decides that not placing them in danger is the better choice, despite how much it pains him.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

Shanks can handle being picked on and ridiculed himself, but he will not tolerate that sort of behaviour towards his friends. The second someone goes after a friend (or someone else he cares about) they are done for.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

LMFAOOOOOO WHY DID MY BRAIN AUTOMATICALLY THINK “his arm back” OOP-

I’M SORRY BUT I LITERALLY CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN HIS ARM HAHAHAHAHAH

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He’d try to crack a few jokes to at least help you feel better. Other than that, he just tries to make the most of your final moments together.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 27. Ice and Band Aids

'You deserve to be fought for, remember that’ - The Better Man Project

I prayed that it looked innocent from afar, because from where I was standing it felt very dangerous. Harry to one side, hand to his locked jaw, looking away. To the other, Christopher, hands in his pockets, eyes going from me to the ginger, brows furrowed.

Both men looked hostile, shoulders squared back, an annoyed, aggressive look on their eyes.

The silence was tense.

“Christopher?”

“Bonjour.” He greeted, spinning his hat in his hands. His hair was longer, but other than that, he looked the same.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I may not be royalty, but I’m not trailer trash, either, bunny. I know people.” He said.

It was definitely the old nickname that shook me out of my shock, and brought me straight back into reality: my ex-boyfriend, almost fiancé, standing next to me in a place swimming with the upper class and the world’s press, while the man I was in love with watched.

“That’s not what I meant.” I explained, rispid.

“So this is it, huh?” He asked, coldly, looking between me and Harry, his grin, hostile.

“This is what?” I asked.

“Him.” He replied, pointing his chin at Harry in a dismissive manner. “He’s the one?”

“Chris.” I sighed, already dreading where this was going.

“May I help you?” Harry asked, his tone dripping with disgust.

“Oh, you’ve helped me plenty.” Chris replied, his tone matching Harry’s. “Helped me dodge a fucking bullet.” He added, looking at me, sarcasm all over his manner.

“Christopher, I–” I stuttered, trying to think of something to say that would end this as fast as possible.

“No need to explain, bunny, I get it. Clear as day.”

“I think it’s time for you to go, man.” Harry interrupted, stepping closer, putting himself between me and my ex.

“Yeah, go on.” Christopher said, stepping closer to Harry himself until he was staring up at him. “Really easy to play the big man after you steal someone else’s girl, isn’t it?”

“Christopher!” I interrupted, outraged, but whispery, terrified people would notice how deeply darker the energy had gotten around us. “That is not what happened.”

“I’m sure you’re so used to getting your way your whole life,” Chris added, mocking, “nothing’s out of reach for the little prince, right?”

“You’re really embarrassing yourself here, dude. I’d take my losses and go if I were you.” Harry told him, voice steady.

“Oh, but you’re not. You people couldn’t take a day in the life of a normal person, not after being coddled your whole life. But here’s the thing, buddy,” Christopher said, somehow managing to take one more step closer to Harry, “you think you can do what you want because of that little silver spoon you were born with, but never forget you might have lucked out being born at the right family, but you were born in the wrong order, my guy. At the end of the day you're too down the line to matter.”

“Chris!”

“Any room you walk into, people don't see you, they just see granny, don't they? You got nothing else. You are nothing else.”

I braced myself, took in a deep breath, and stepped closer to them. “That’s enough.”

They both ignored me.

“And I think you know that, too, don’t you? That you’re nothing?” Christopher asked. “No wonder you had to go after Maggie, conveniently right after her brother died, of course–”

I sighed, staring around, feeling useless.

“I think it’s time for you to shut up.” Harry told him, louder now.

“–how else would you make yourself feel you have anything to offer? Not work, surely, little prince is too good for that, so let’s latch on to a royal who actually lucked out and got some power now.”

“Ma’am, maybe we should go?” Joyce asked, lowly, to my ear.

I looked back. Though our staff had stayed behind when we moved to the hallway, our security had followed, as it was their job to keep an eye on us at all times, even if by far. Harry’s security, for example, were watching from a few meters behind us. They didn’t seem to notice how badly things had progressed – as both Harry and Christopher were keeping their tone very low – but they were still standing in a way to shield us from view to other people.

“Get Harry’s security.” I asked Joyce.

“I will, but you should come with.” She replied. “Wait back inside with the others while we handle this–”

“Joyce, now.” I demanded, and she hurried away.

“I think we’re done here.” Harry added, looking past him, down the hallway, and already reaching out his hand for mine.

Christopher stepped up between us, blocking his way.

“Did you try to cozy up to Louis too, before he died? You were his type.” He looked at me, now grinning, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. I leaned back. “Pity the throne isn't made of dick, right? Lou would have loved it then, right, bunny?”

Harry shoved himself back between me and Christopher. “Okay, this is over.”

Chris shoved him back one step. “Oh, is it, little prince?” He asked, laughing, humorless. “If you say, we must obey, right? God forbid you encounter someone who doesn’t bow to your every wish!”

At this, Harry’s security finally showed up.

“Sir?”

He raised a hand, stopping them in place. They didn’t approach more. I wanted to punch someone.

“You really are a fucking dick, huh?” Harry asked him. The light of anger in his eyes was the only thing that betrayed his calm.

“Shouldn’t have stolen my girlfriend if you wanted me to kiss your ass, asshole.”

At this, he shoved Harry again, but this time Harry wasted no time in returning a punch directly to Christopher’s face.

“Oh, my God.” I gasped.

A lot of things happened at the same time: Joyce pulled me back. Harry’s security officer stepped in, but wasn’t quick enough to stop Christopher from returning a punch against Harry. Next thing I know, we’re all being held back, one or two meters apart from each other, each by a security officer.

“That’s assault! I’m going to fucking sue you so hard your fucking grandchildren will be paying up!” Chris spit out, clenching a hand to his left eye.

I looked at Harry, who’s cheekbone had a small scratch; he was flexing his hand from the punch.

I stepped towards Christopher, shaking off Joyce’s hand on my arm.

“Try.” I dared him. “There’s four witnesses here who saw you shove him twice and call him names multiple times. Harry was acting in self-defense. Any court will find you guilty of inciting violence, intimidation, maybe even assault of the third degree. I don’t know what you learned in Law School, Christopher, but I think you may even serve time for that.”

“Maybe you’ll go to jail, and then you’ll be someone’s bunny.” Harry said.

Christopher attempted to lunge at him again, but Harry’s officer held him in place, and he gave up quickly enough.

“Breaking up with you was my choice, Chris.” I told him, stronger now. “If you don’t think I am able of making my own choices without another man being involved, then that’s on me for taking so long to realize how little regard you have for me.”

He rolled his eyes, scoffed, and gave Harry another dirty look. Then he shoved off Harry’s security officer’s hold on him, and took off towards the elevators.

“Jesus Christ.”

I looked back at Harry, whose face was being held in place by one of his security officers. He gently shrugged the man’s hands off.

“I’m fine.” He said.

“Harry, I am so sorry.” I said, pushing past Joyce towards him. “This is–He is–I mean.” I sighed and groaned at the same time. “I am so sorry.”

His hand gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “This isn’t on you, Mary. At all.”

“Stil, what are we going to do? You have a scratch on your cheekbone, that’s going to swell and get red, it may look like you have a black eye.”

“Relax, I can handle it.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

“Sir, we should probably leave.” His security interrupted. “We can’t be sure who witnessed this, and the longer we stay the clearer your wound will be.”

“That’s what I mean!” I said.

“Okay, I get it.” Harry sighed. “For the record, he barely touched me. It’s not that bad.”

“Her Royal Highness is correct, it’ll get worse, especially the longer you don’t ice it.” His officer added. “If we wait, they’ll have you pictured arriving normally, and leaving with scratches.”

“Scratch, one scrath!” Harry corrected. “Fine. Get Edward and secure a way out.”

Joyce approached me again. “Ma’am, we should go back inside.”

“What? No, I–”

“It’s okay.” Harry said. “It’s okay, Mary. You should go ahead, you don’t want to be associated with this.”

My heart sank with guilt. “I should be. It’s my fault.”

“No, it isn’t–”

“How isn’t this my fault, Harry?! He’s my ex. This whole thing was about me!”

His secretary arrived right then, interrupting his rebuttal.

“We should leave right now.” He said. “While the race is on and fewer reporters will be expecting exits.”

Harry looked at me, longingly.

“Ma’am,” Joyce insisted, “we should join the others.”

I looked at Harry, whose eyes were still on me, feeling my heartbeat heavy in my throat.

His security officer came back.

“We’re ready to leave, sir.” He said. “We’ll take the stairs down.”

Harry continued to look at me in a desperately sad way. Finally, he sighed, a smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I guess I’ll see you around.”

I nodded. “I’m sorry, again.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I get it.”

I wondered, briefly, if he thought I was apologizing for something else. Maybe the thing he had just said that was still echoing in my head.

“We should really get going.” His secretary insisted.

“Fine.” Harry said, rispid, before giving me another quick smile. He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, and closed it again. “Take care.” He said, before being quickly escorted to the stairs by his team.

Joyce cleared her throat after they were all gone.

“We should go back, ma’am, before you’re missed.”

“Yes, thank you, Joyce. I get it.” I replied, instantly feeling guilty over my tone, but filing out quickly, without looking back.

I had a few certainties for the rest of the afternoon: one, my outfit was, apparently, a statement. I knew this because I overheard two women talking about me in the bathroom when they didn’t know I was in one of the stalls.

Two, Cadie and Auguste, and everyone else, knew nothing about what had occurred with Harry and Christopher. I even asked Joyce if my other security officer, Pierre, had seen anything, but apparently he’d been guarding the doors. And, as Joyce assured me of her silence, I didn’t have any explanations to give to anyone.

And three, I had to talk to him. There was simply no way I could go home without talking to Harry about, well, not about what had happened exactly, but definitely about what he had said. And I knew, even as I spent all the following hours thinking it over, I knew exactly why I shouldn’t talk to him. It was impossible not to know when I had been told over and over before.

And yet, there I was: outside Kensington Palace, barely a couple of hours after he had left Ascot, sitting in the car trying to decide if I should follow my heart, or if I could go back home and live with the regret.

My phone chimed once, letting me know I had a new message. It was from Cadie:

‘Guards have been informed and taken your ID. You can go in.’

I sighed. She and Auguste were in a separate car, and I had another with my two security officers. I had sent Cadie to the gate to inform them I was here and give them my passport.

‘BTW Auguste is really insisting we go home.’

I rolled my eyes to the dark and made my choice. I typed a reply for her:

‘Go home, I’ll be fast, but there’s no need for you to wait.’

I waited for her reply on the edge of my seat, wondering if whatever Auguste had to say would make me change my mind. But the reply never came. We just saw their car take off. Then Joyce and Pierre looked at me.

“Ma’am?” Joyce asked.

“Let’s go in.” I decided.

The guards let us in, and took a look at the car just to confirm we were who they had been told we were. We were then pointed in the direction of Harry’s Cottage.

When we parked in front of the cottage, I realized I wouldn’t need to knock. I felt stupid – of course security would tell him he had a visitor. So I stepped out of the car, and met him in the sidewalk. Each step closer gave me more dread.

The area around his left cheekbone was slightly swollen, and redder. The scratch was red enough that left me no doubts that it was bleeding, even if just a little.

“I’m fine.” He said as a greeting.

I shrugged. “I’m sure you are. I only came for a drink.”

He grinned, nodded, and ushered me inside.

Strangely, it felt like coming home. I walked into his house, his slightly messy house, with the jacket he’d worn today thrown over the couch, dishes still to wash in the sink, and fresh, unfolded laundry on a basket by the stairs, and I felt an immediate sense of relief. Like I could stop being proper and regal. As if now it was safe to step off of my heels and be myself.

It was a dangerous thing to feel at home with a man I wasn’t supposed to love.

“Make yourself at home.” He said, unknowingly rubbing salt to my every wound.

“Okay.” I replied, kicking off my shoes, and leaving them by the door with my handbag. “Why aren’t you icing that?”

He sighed. “It’s just a scratch, Mary.”

I quickly pulled off my hat, and the half-a-dozen bobby pins keeping it in place, and made my way to the kitchen, finding an ice tray in the fridge.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. I know it was scary and all, but–”

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t a big deal!” I said, knocking the tray to the sink after washing it. I looked back at him, softly as an apology of sorts for the loud tone. “It was awful. He dragged you into something that has nothing to do with you, put you in a terrible and dangerous position, not to mention being horribly rude and offensive!”

“I can handle it–” He started, but stopped himself when I groaned in response and turned back to the sink to get a handful of ice out of the tray.

“I don’t care that you can handle it. Of course you can! I can, too! That’s not the point!” I said. I found a clean kitchen towel to wrap the ice in.

Harry walked to me, and leaned against the kitchen sink.

“You’re right. It sucked.” He said. “But, can I ask you a qu–God, what–!” He complained when I touched the ice to his face.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“It hurts!”

“Just keep the ice to it.” I insisted, holding his hand in place. “Or else it’ll stay swollen longer.”

“You’re right. It sucked.” He said. “But, can I ask you a qu–God, what–!” He complained when I touched the ice to his face.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“It hurts!”

“Just keep the ice to it.” I insisted, taking his hand and holding it over the ice to keep it in place. “Or else it’ll stay swollen longer.”

I held my hand to his jaw, keeping his head in place, adjusting his hand holding the ice to the wound as he winced. I held my hand over his for a moment, then removed both to look at the scratch.

“We should clean it.” I said, my voice coming out softer than I had intended it. “To be safe.”

His eyes were on my lips, which they didn’t leave as he nodded, gulping.

I stepped back and grabbed his first aid kit from where I knew it was, under the sink. As I went through it, looking for gauze and, well, really just doing nothing to give myself time to breathe, he moved closer to me, leaning on his side against the counter by my side, facing me.

“I’m sorry.” I said, looking down at the box. “I’m just really angry right now and I… I don’t don’t know what to do with that, and I know it’s not your fault, of course, but it frustrates me to no end that you’re not.”

“Who says I’m not?!”

I looked at him, finally. He was closer than I had realized.

“You’re too calm to be angry.” I complained.

“I’m calm because you keep apologizing to me.” He said. “And if there’s one person here who I know did not ask for this, it’s you.”

“You didn’t, either–”

“No, I kind of did.” He said, scratching his brow with his free hand, avoiding my eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, even if you disregard the countless times I wished I could punch that guy in the face before today, I did punch him first.”

“After he said a thousand horrible things.” I countered.

“No, I think if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been kind of hoping for the chance to punch him for a long time.” He sighed. “So I wasn’t exactly eager to diffuse the situation today.”

I regarded him, silent, trying to understand what he’d just said.

“Why did–” I started, weakly; confused. “Why would you want to punch him? I mean, you know what? Nevermind.” I shrugged. “You should feel proud you saw him for who he was before I did.”

I wet a piece of gauze in the sink, and pulled him by the arm to the kitchen table, sitting him in a chair facing me.

“As sexy as it is when having you man-handle me like this,” he said, smiling charmingly, “I can tell you’re still mad.”

I touched his hand, removing it from the scratch, and dabbed the gauze over it to clean it. He winced.

“I thought you said it didn’t hurt.” I teased.

“Shut up.” He grinned. “But, please, continue. You were saying I was so smart for seeing him for who he was before anyone else.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Maybe it’s less about you being so smart, and more about me just being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb.” He said, simply.

I sighed, tapping the scratch with a dry piece of gauze now. “Well, what would you call it?”

He seemed confused. I sighed, tired.

“I’ve known Christopher for most of my life. He was my first crush, my first kiss, my first boyfriend. Hell, my only boyfriend! I was going to marry that guy! You know how serious that kind of decision is for people like us! And I was, for like, the last two years of college up until last year, I thought I was going to marry him!”

The ice was dripping on the table now, so I grabbed his hand, placed it over the gauze, and took the ice to the sink, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly on the way.

“I wasn’t just in love with him, I genuinely liked him. I thought of him as a good, cool person.” I looked back at him, “I don’t know that guy that we saw today, and I don’t believe people can change that dramatically that fast, which means he’s always been a dick, and I just didn’t see. I didn’t see it! So much so that I almost married him. How stupid is that?!”

I bit my lip, feeling my nails scratching my palms in frustration. I took in a deep breath again, and found a bandaid box in the first aid kit. I walked back over to Harry.

“And I didn’t even do anything while he went off on you like that.” I shook my head in disappointment. “I was such a coward.”

He reached out and held my hand in his. “You did nothing wrong.”

I smiled at him. “I thought we established saying that didn’t help.”

“I’ll keep saying it until it does.”

I sighed, still smiling, but still frustrated as Chris’ words swirled around my head. I removed Harry’s hand with the gauze from the scratch, taking a step closer to him so I could see it better from up close. I felt his eyes on me, and a warm puff of air as his breathing grew heavier. I avoided his eyes. It felt safer.

I grabbed the ice from him, a little more forcefully than necessary. Remembering just how absurdly offensive Chris had been, I let out a huff of anger. Harry blinked, patiently.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” I said, quickly. “It's not worth it.”

“You’re right. But you’re angry.” He insisted. Still, I was quiet. “Okay. Truth or dare?”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “Not now, Harry.”

“Oh, we can refuse to play, can we?”

“…we never discussed that specific rule.”

“Okay, then pick.”

I sighed. “Truth?”

“Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

I straightened up, allowing my bubbling anger to come to surface.

“Fine! I’m thinking about what would have happened if we hadn’t broken up. I’m thinking that that part of him would have come out eventually, and what would have set him off? Me? Our children? What would he have done? Who would he have hit if you weren’t there? And more importantly,” I heaved a heavy sigh, “how dare he accuse you of all those things?! He doesn’t know you! He doesn’t know us, or our story, and everything that happened between us! He said all of that bullshit based solely on me breaking up with him, and seeing us talking! Nothing else!”

The kitchen was silent as I breathed heavily, still holding the ice to his cheek.

“…I just need to say it.”

I looked down at him, who was staring off into the wall.

“I think I know what you’ll say, but I need to say it, anyway…” He gulped. “It’s not true. What he said. You know that, right?”

He looked up at me, tentatively. I let my hand fall from his face.

“Harry…” I started, weakly. “Of course. Of course, I know. He–Christop–Ugh!” I put–no, threw the ice down at the table, angrily. “How could I have been so blind?!”

I ran both hands through my hair in frustration, pulling it a little. I looked back at Harry, took a deep breath, and let my arms fall to my sides.

“Harry.” I started, softer, pleading, “He was projecting. He was probably trying to save face, because that’s what I accused him of doing when we broke up.”

His brows furrowed up at me. “Really?”

I sighed. “He… I don’t think he did it on purpose. I don’t think it was a big, evil plan, or anything like that… I don’t think he realizes that’s what he did. But he… He didn’t seem to care about me or our relationship until after Louis died. Like the sacrifices he would have had to make weren’t worth it unless I had a title that held actual power.”

His expression grew from confusion, to anger. “Are you literally fucking kidding me?!”

“…no. Again, I don’t think he knew that’s what he was doing… But he didn’t want to marry me until it meant he would have a bigger role within the royal family. And I said that when he proposed.”

“Wait, he proposed?!”

“Oh, man, we really need to catch up.” I joked. “In front of both our parents, and my sister.”

“I think I read something about that in the press, it seemed too ridiculous to be true.”

I smiled, humorless. “Believe me, the real thing was worse.”

“That fucking…” he mumbled. “Dick. That fucking dick.”

“Relax, it’s over.” I shrugged.

“Now I wish I had punched him harder.” He added.

I watched him for a few seconds, biting my lip, before it became too hard to stop myself from breaking into a smile.

“Well, at least you punched him.” I said, taking another step closer, standing between both his legs to ice his cheek again. “I just stood there, like an idiot.” I framed his jaw with my other hand, pulling his face slightly up so I could see the wound better.

Though my eyes were firmly in his cheek, I could feel his on me.

“I should have done more.” He complained, sounding strained. “I should have stopped him before he talked about your brother. That was way over the line.”

I bit my lip, gulping, wishing like hell I could tell him the truth about Louis’ sexuality, and about how confused I was, wondering if Chris knew something about it he had never told me.

But then, I realized. “Louis would have laughed in his face.” I told him, smiling myself. It made him smile, too.

“What do you think he would have said?” Harry asked. “If you told him about what Christopher did today.”

I considered this for a few seconds.

“He would have found the nearest bottle of booze and had us toast to the bullet I dodged.”

I was being sincere, but the minute Harry laughed, I did, too.

“And then would have spent the rest of his life asking for praise for being right about him.”

“Really?” He asked, serious. “I thought he liked him. Your whole family seems to.”

“Chris is just part of our context…” I shrugged. “But after the second time we broke up, Lou never defended him the same way the others did. He always said I deserved better.”

I took the ice from his cheek, and dried it with the clean part of the towel.

“I think it’s better.” I declared. “I think we should go with a band aid and maybe icing it a little more.”

I opened the band aid box, realizing it was all kids’ band aids. I looked at him, inquisitive.

“It’s my nephew’s.” He shrugged, blushing.

“Right.” I nodded, unconvinced, and slightly amused. I took out two, and offered it to him. “Trucks or superheroes?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

I carefully placed a spiderman band aid over his cheekbone, coming closer to make sure none of the glue was touching his scratch.

“A superhero for the hero who defended my honor today.” I teased, making him smile.

Making sure the band aid was secure in place, I caressed his cheek, and then continued to do so a little more than necessary. It was just… It was so easy to look at him like this, standing right over him, his legs around mine, his face in my hands, a perfectly innocent excuse for it all.

I allowed my thumb to travel from his cheekbone to his nose, and then down to the corner of his lips.

“I’d defend your honor anyday.” He added, whispery, his warm breath joining mine.

I didn’t remember being this close to him before, but he certainly felt close now.

“There’s something I’m wondering.” He said, still just as softly, just as carefully.

“Yes?”

“Before… you said…” He gulped, eyes going between mine and my lips, blinking rapidly. “You said he dragged me into something that had nothing to do with me.”

I nodded, slowly, hands still framind his jaw, thumb to his lower lip.

“He shouldn’t have accused you of anything.” I said. “You did nothing wrong. What happened between Christopher and I, it had nothing to do with you.”

He nodded only slightly. His eyes traveled to mine, too close now.

“So it had… nothing to do with me?” He asked. “At all?”

I bit my lower lip, closing my eyes in frustration.

“I…” I sighed. “We had a lot of problems. Problems I had been ignoring for a long time.”

When I looked back at him, he had a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips; it felt nice under my thumb. His skin was warm now, all traces of the icing gone.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He said.

Feeling way too weak for this, throwing all caution to the wind, I traced his lower lip with my thumb, my eyes following the line attentively.

“I forgot your question.” I whispered, watching as his smile grew, teasingly, into a grin.

I felt him lean forward, closer to me.

“Should I ask again?” He asked, the words falling from his lips as his nose touched mine, delicate.

With one short move, easier than it should have been, I touched my lips to his, softly. Two seconds, then gone. I pulled back, only slightly, opening my eyes to see his closed.

“Does this answer your question?”

He didn’t answer mine; one swift move and his hands pulled me by my waist to him, just as he stood up, crashing my lips into his in a fury. His arms wrapped around my waist, hands splattered on my back, up and down, as if getting to know each centimeter of me they could reach.

My hands slide down his jaw to the back of his beck, tugging at his hair, allowing my walls to come falling down as his body met every inch of mine as he kissed me strong and fast. His hands, wide and firm in my back, rubbed against my sides, but stopped at my hips, questioning.

I pulled back, leaving my forehead on his, a breathless smile on my lips.

Bringing my hands back down, I traced his lapel, finding the first button of his shirt. I undid it, and looked at him, before undoing the next one. And the next.

His lips stretched into a smile and he leaned down, tugging me closer, kissing me again, with renewed energy. His hands slid down my hips, finding my buttcheeks, and with one firm move he lifted me towards him, to sit on top of the table. I wrapped my legs around him.

“By the way,” I added, as his lips found their way to my neck, “I’m falling in love with you, too.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: Y’all. I know I’ve dropped the ball here. I totally stopped with the previews and have been posting very late on mondays (technically tuesdays I guess), thank you SO MUCH for your patience! Being an adult sucks balls. BUT AT LEAST WE ARE FINALLY HERE! WHAT DO YOU THINK????? PLEASE LET ME KNOW. Also, what do you like? you know, seggs scene wise, full details or fade-to-black? I’m flexible. I love reading them (and writing them) but always feel super self-conscious writing them, so let me know? And thank you for reading, as always! Two last things:

1. Last week I forgot to ask, what do you think of Harry’s poem?? 2. Has anyone noticed anything familiar about Adrien’s storyline in NY, dating a celebrity out of nowhere? Just wondering.

DROP ME A MESSAGE THANKS FOR READING AND FOR BEING YOU AND FOR BEING HERE HAVE A GREAT WEEK!]

[jcmorrigan]

In Defense of Archibald Snatcher

Oh, wow, we’re coming up on almost the sixth anniversary of The Boxtrolls, my favorite film of all time, and though the fandom for it seems to be either dead or in hibernation, I still have the torch lit.

I actually have been of the mindset of the opinion/s I’m about to present here for all those six years, but never really thought it prudent to lay them out until I recently had a friend I was recommending the film to who I warned about some of the elements considered “problematic” and I offhandedly mentioned that I could do a whole essay about why they don’t bother me and said friend replied with a desire to want to hear it because we share infodump for infodump, so here we go, I’m poking the hornet’s nest surrounding a controversial film with a dead fandom.

But if you were on Tumblr back in the heyday, you might’ve seen the reaction to this film when it first debuted. Specifically, what a lot of people honed in on wa that the villain, Archibald Snatcher, employed a dragsona to be able to push his agenda and implement his evil scheme. There was outrage. There were accusations. There was lambasting. And above it all, one question hovers: was this transphobic?

I want to start, before we get into the weeds, by saying that if you are anywhere on the LGBTQ+ spectrum and you were offended by this film or this character, your experiences are completely valid. I’m about to present the counterargument in language that assumes my take is fact for the purpose of not having to write fifty thousand clunky disclaimers, but analytical as this may be, it IS an opinion, and if you don’t think it’s right, then hey, that’s super valid, and I’m not gonna try and change your mind, because if you’re hurt, then you’re hurt! You just may want to nope out of this post right now because I’m about to lay out my observations and thoughts to the contrary of the accusations of this being homo/transphobic.

First of all, the obvious facet that comes to mind is how strange it is that we only ever saw the word “transphobia” put on this phenomenon rather than “homophobia” when using a female alter ego as a disguise or a performance art is not the same as being a woman assigned male at birth. One only needs to take a look over at RuPaul’s Drag Race to see examples of this culture. Lots of gay men wearing dresses. No women perceived male.

All the same, I will say that on the surface, adding any kind of queercoding to the story’s villain, who the audience is supposed to boo and hiss at, looks really, really bad on paper. However you interpret it, Snatcher is definitely queercoded. He openly flirts with the man he’s trying to trick as a means of getting what he wants, he displays sincere enjoyment of wearing the dress, and he runs the gamut of flamboyant hand gestures. But if you dig a little further, there’s even more to the story: his tale is one of a man who desires to pass as one of the elite class in his society, but is held back by something he can’t change about himself no matter how he denies it.

Let’s look at the rest of his story. Snatcher is in pursuit of the White Hat: the ultimate status symbol. To that end, he’s decided to otherize the Boxtroll population of the town and play upon the culture shock in Cheesebridge to convince the humans of the “upper world” that the Boxtrolls are predatory monsters who must be killed. This sounds like a pretty black-and-white good-and-evil scenario, right? You’ve got your population of innocent sweethearts being attacked and your genocidal racist orchestrating their destruction. But there’s a third layer still: Lord Portley-Rind, the chief White Hat himself. Lord PR is actually the worst of the lot. It’s because he doesn’t accept Snatcher that Snatcher feels he has to resort to this tactic. He demonstrates open hatred of the Boxtrolls and of Snatcher (”I’m not sure who should be more worried: the Boxtrolls or us!”). There are implications in how he treats his daughter that he’s a textbook sexist who believes there are men’s roles and women’s roles in society and nary the twain shall cross. And he’s the rich guy controlling the entire city and letting children’s hospitals and crumbling bridges go to waste by spending the budget on frivolous cheese. In short, Lord PR is basically the ur-example of a nightmarish fictional Republican (and oh, how I WISH he hadn’t been so prophetic).

I’m not saying Snatcher was justified or good. No. He’s in no way redeemable. But over the course of his interactions with Lord PR, you can see just how much society’s elites treat him as inhuman or like a dirty buffoon. He’s looked down upon, he’s insulted even when he’s doing the “service” Lord PR desires, he’s rejected until he’s gone above and beyond his contract and I think it’s even a little bit implied that Lord PR would’ve reneged on the whole deal if the mob hadn’t cheered for Snatcher in the end. So what you have is a prim and proper billionaire who subscribes to gender roles telling a man of the lower class, obviously economically downtrodden, that he doesn’t deserve what Lord PR has.

The idea of meritocracy is woven throughout the film. Listening to the speech in the background of Snatcher’s anaphylactic attack, while the visuals are focused on Eggs rescuing Fish, you can hear Snatcher rambling about how his father told him that if you work hard, you will receive a White Hat, but he worked hard all his life and got nothing. One of the White Hats literally says he got his through being rich. It’s not hard to infer that Snatcher has figured out how broken the system is and realized the only way to win the game is to cheat.

But there’s still one more thing holding him back from his victory, something that actually trips him up when he achieves what he wanted. Cheese is presented as another status symbol: the rich eat it and are connoisseurs of its flavor. Snatcher is deathly allergic to it. The goal he’s chasing, he can’t even have without threat to his own life. His reaction is to pretend he isn’t allergic and to expose himself to having allergic reactions on the regular to show how much he’s ready to become part of the elites. I’ll reiterate: Archibald Snatcher wants to join the elites, but is held back because of something about himself he cannot change that only matters because the upper crust said it should.

Okay. So we’ve established the man is gay, or somewhere on the queer spectrum. How is this not really, really horrible?

Because the narrative invites you to feel some sympathy for him. No, not for his actions or any secret soft side or tragic backstory (that’s a job for the fans), but because he is chasing a dream he cannot attain. Perhaps the film’s biggest shortcoming is how little consequence comes to Lord PR in the end, because Lord PR, for all intents and purposes, is the worse villain on the board. Snatcher’s ploy is to take the class below the one he inhabits and paint its members as the bad guys: a nuisance that must be exterminated for the betterment of society. And we’ve seen this. We’ve seen plenty of real-life examples of have-nots turning on have-lessers because the haves benefit from oppressed groups infighting and being distracted from who holds the money and the power. A lot of times, you see that while intersectionality is definitely something we need to pay attention to, racism, sexism, and homophobia are not concepts that are all explicitly linked. If you experience one, that doesn’t mean you don’t project one or two of the others on other people - particularly if you’re trying to make yourself feel better about the discrimination you face.

When you look at the hierarchy, Snatcher is, I reiterate, a very bad person. But he’s also a victim. Not as much of a victim as the poor Boxtrolls, who get the malice trickling down from both the Red Hats and the White Hats, but he is a victim. We see him mocked, laughed at, turned away. And though he’s not redeemable, there are aspects in which he is sympathetic.

But what about Frou Frou? What about that particular disguise?

Well, for one, it’s used to make yet another allegorical statement. Snatcher is able to get attention paid to him if he weaponizes female sexuality - though it is a very shallow attention that largely results in the straight men of the town swallowing his propaganda while also objectifying him. Most of the comments made on Frou Frou are slimy, smarmy “compliments” on her body from the White Hats. Lord PR’s wife harbors a distinct distaste for Frou Frou because her husband most certainly prefers ogling Frou Frou to actually paying attention to their marriage. Frou Frou is a propaganda vehicle to make it look like more than one person is on the same page as Snatcher; Snatcher himself drives the action of his scheme and gets the dirty work done.

It’s also worth noting that if you take away the implications, villains using alter egos to trick their nemeses is a tale as old as time, from sea witch Ursula making herself more supermodel-esque in order to marry the prince to mythological Loki actually crossdressing much in the same vein in order to fool the Frost Giants. There’s a reason disguise masters and shapeshifters are intriguing villain archetypes: because we’re always a little bit afraid that someone isn’t who they say they are, and because - yeah, I’m about to go here - I think we all wish we could shift shape ourselves to take on new forms that suit the goals we’re trying to accomplish, even if that means “fooling” others. So it’s reasonable to think Laika wasn’t aware that there was any queercoding to even be had here - but I do think the crew was aware, and not in a malicious way.

However, watching Snatcher’s scenes as Frou Frou, there’s something that comes across in his character that you don’t see so often when he’s presenting male: he’s legitimately having fun. He dances, he flirts with the crowd, he adds more flourishes to his speech, he gets sassy. Frou Frou is a means for him to express himself, to allow himself to be feminine when he has built his philosophy on needing to do “what a man does” (he repeats this at least twice) in order to achieve greatness. He can be a little more himself when he’s Frou Frou, even though Frou Frou isn’t him. Taking a new identity that’s allowed the other half of the gender roles allowed in Cheesebridge (which runs on a binary because it’s run by the White Hats) lets him act a little less like what he needs to be to be taken seriously and a little more like he has freedom.

Put this back in context of the greater narrative: given all the parallels we’ve seen, it’s safe to assume that Cheesebridge, as a whole, is not accepting of deviations from gender roles, whether it’s being open and proud of your LGBTQ+ identity or simply wearing the clothes that don’t belong to your gender. Snatcher is taking an enormous gamble here by using Frou Frou at all. On one hand, it’s a calculated risk; he knows if he can appeal to Lord PR’s unchecked sexist libido, he can secure another avenue to being heard. On the other, however, it’s not really much of a leap to say this is something he wants to do, someone he wants to be more like, and isn’t allowed to, and since he’s cheating at the game anyway, he might as well go all the way and do what he wants with his life.

I’ve seen a lot of people take issue with the scene where he reveals himself to Lord PR and comparing it to some actual homophobic/transphobic media. And again, if that still stands to you as your primary analysis and emotional reaction, then feel free to turn away, reject my analysis, and know your thoughts and feelings are completely valid. But I think this scene differs from your usual “person with male parts tricked you into thinking they were a woman” scene in a couple ways.

For one, Snatcher decides to out himself on his own. To Lord PR, it’s when he’s got nothing left to lose. Again, when he realizes the game is broken and the odds are against him, he takes control and decides to be himself a little more. Now everyone knows he likes to act a dragsona because he wanted them to. But also, earlier on, when he revealed himself to Eggs, it was again on purpose. Eggs didn’t figure him out. Snatcher needed Eggs to know the level of the threat he was dealing with: that he was the person Eggs has been running from since the start and is no less dangerous in a dress. It’s always been of his own volition. There’s no “I thought you knew” or disrobing to see a body that doesn’t match expectations - Eggs ripping Snatcher’s wig off is maybe a little iffier, but again, in context, that’s him trying to show Snatcher’s identity, not as a man but as Archibald Snatcher, to expose the corruption, and Snatcher actually plays it completely off because he’s that good of an actor.

Which brings me to my second point. There’s only one person who reacts in an “Oh, gross!” manner to this revelation, and it’s Lord Portley-Rind. The one we’ve established is sexist, homophobic, and your textbook Rich White Straight Cis Man. The one at the top of the food chain. The one who’s been objectifying Snatcher and acting like a slobbering pervert about Frou Frou from the beginning. The homophobe realizes he has been a little gay. The sexist realizes his objectifying a particular person he perceived female has consequences. And this is why to me, that scene is actually hilarious. Because I don’t feel like I’m laughing at Snatcher’s expense. I’m laughing because Lord PR just got called OUT, and this is exactly the kind of discomfort that is karmic given how he’s treated his daughter, his wife, and everyone in his city who’s needed him.

Cycling back to when Snatcher outs himself at the ball, Eggs doesn’t really seem to care that there’s a gender-role-play involved here. His concern is not that this is actually a man; his concern is that it’s specifically the person who he knows is trying to ruin everything. Same with Winnie when Eggs passes it on. Eggs trying to reveal Snatcher to the crowd doesn’t even begin with “Frou Frou is fake,” but a line I will never forget: “Archibald Snatcher has lied to you all.” Not even drawing attention yet to the fact that he’s in the room. Starting out by having everyone remember that guy they are all sure ISN’T there and pointing out he’s bad news.

To look at Lord Portley-Rind’s “Oh my God! I regret so much!” as a dig at Snatcher is to say that Lord Portley-Rind is the lens through which we should be viewing this story, which it most certainly isn’t. The lens is Eggs and Winnie. Adjacent lenses are Fish, Shoe, and Jelly. Lord Portley-Rind is an antagonist to every single character in this film save the other White Hats.

Which is why if this film falls flat anywhere, it’s in letting Lord Portley-Rind get away without consequence. I think I can take a guess as to why this primarily happened: it needed to wrap up in a little under two hours, and dismantling systematic oppression and abuse of socioeconomic power can’t be done in a two-hour escapade. I still wish he were at least villainized a little more, as that’s where the narrative was leading up to that point. One of his earliest scenes with Winnie foreshadows that he will have to choose between her and the hat, and it takes him two tries to make the right choice. This story, until the very last act, has not supported him being a character to like or sympathize with, even in such subtle ways as Trout and Pickles stealing his hat and running around with it to taunt Snatcher - showing that a symbol is really only a symbol, and doesn’t indicate your worth. Anyone can put on a hat. Lord PR has just been brought onto an equal footing with them, if only for a moment.

Okay, so why have this whole three-layer narrative anyway? Couldn’t we have made this story more clear-cut between the Boxtrolls and White Hats, with no queercoded villain to get in between?

Yes...but I’m not sure that would have been best for the viewing audience. And there’s plenty of precedent as to why Laika thought it was a move for the better.

Queercoded villains are in every aspect of our fictional and fandom lives. Here’s a bitter pill to swallow: all your favorite Disney villains are queercoded. All of them. “But Frollo’s arc is about - “ Being a man in a religious system afraid of being tainted as sinful for being attracted to the wrong person. “Gaston, though, is - “ Very chummy with LeFou, and I’m talking the animated versions. They’re all colorful, flamboyant, foppish for the men and full of socially-unacceptable strength for the women. These were the cornerstones of our childhood nostalgia and characters we still feel culturally attached to.

It’s not just in Disney. Are you a fan of musical theater? Well, then your favorite villain probably got a big song and dance in which they wore some glitter. Classic lit? Google the name of your favorite literary canon villain and “queer theory” and see what happens.

I don’t think we can really say this is good or bad. On one hand, it’s not great that a marginalized group can only see themselves in the character we’re supposed to hate. On the other, though, we don’t always hate that character. Villains hold a unique place in our culture. They do bad things, horrible things, but the story can’t take place without a conflict, and we like when that conflict has a name and a cool design such as a tall, imposing sorcerer/witch in flowing robes - or perhaps a tall, graceful man in a long red coat and a towering crooked top hat.

I’ve had lots of friends and trusted Internet reviewers talking about how queercoding in villains can actually be really empowering. If you’re a fan of the villain, you get to see a power fantasy in which someone who has something very big in common with you gets to enact karma on others for wronging them! You get to wear the cool robes, sing the fun song, do things that are not really legal or acceptable! I think a great analogy is if you check out the book “Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers” by Sady Doyle. It’s primarily about sexism rather than queer issues (though it does touch upon them!), but examines how women throughout pop culture and storytelling history have always been the witch, the monster, the demon, and how that sucks, but it also means that women have a great pile of fictional power fantasies to pick from to indulge in. It’s the same principle. I myself may not be same-gender-attracted, but I am asexual, and still waiting on my glamorous villain who uproots society as revenge for being forced to do something analogous to having a sexual relationship...*taps wristwatch*

Meanwhile, queercoding is not as prevalent in heroes. And I think that’s where everything’s tripping on its own feet. Because a gay villain among a bunch of straight heroes does look pretty bad. Are some of the heroes queercoded as well, though? Well, that’s just realistic diversity. People are gay, and there happen to be some good ones and some evil ones here. I don’t think Snatcher’s dragsona is entirely unproblematic, but I do think it could have been mitigated a lot with more implications that Eggs and Winnie might be queer in some way (and believe me, I choose to interpret them that way, because the more the merrier).

The thing is that in pop culture as of late, there seems to be a trend to scrub away all villainous queercoding because it’s seen as a black-and-white issue. To go back to the Disney villains, do you feel like the live-action recreations of Jafar, Scar, and Gaston are missing a certain je ne sais quoi? Well, think about it through this lens and it might be that you savez quoi after all. They’ve all been made incredibly straight as of late, with off-the-record actor confirmations about having obsessive crushes on the film heroines. I can’t speak to why this has happened; there’s a lot of history behind any given social movement, and I haven’t managed to really unpack this one. “Blame Tumblr” is too easy; I would want to know who were the loudest voices, why they said what they said, and what was the intended accomplishment, not to mention if this had built on other social-media or real-life platforms over the years and was influenced by any outside source by news or marketing. I can’t say why queercoded villains are being burned; I can only say it’s happening. And it was happening big-time in 2014, when The Boxtrolls was released.

I also feel like I would be remiss to mention that The Boxtrolls is based on “Here Be Monsters,” which I believe to be one of the worst books I’ve ever read, bar none. That version of the story has...pretty much everything that’s perceived to be in the film version’s text as problematic. Frou Frou is presented as something to laugh at Snatcher about throughout, largely because everything about Snatcher is presented to make him seem gross or like a buffoon. There’s a whole scene of the hero rifling through his desk to find soiled underwear. Not to mention that the original purpose of Frou Frou in the text was to manipulate the town’s women by dictating the fashion trends they should follow and the beliefs they should hold in order to fit in. This is something that does need commentary on it, but in that text in particular, it seems like the women are silly and easily swayed, and that they’re the town’s weak link because they’re slaves to fashion. The Boxtrolls completely flips this around so that the town’s weak link re: Frou Frou is the rich MEN who objectify women, particularly the men that happen to be in charge of the whole town, and looking at that divide alone tells me how much care was put into this adaptation at every level.

So why’d I do this, besides having a friend who wanted to read it? Because Archibald Snatcher is legitimately one of my favorite fictional characters. Yeah, I know, he’s a horrible person and terribly racist, and no, I don’t think his demonizing an entire people is anything to be emulated. But on one hand, there are places where I not only empathize but identify with him, particularly where it comes to living out the majority of one’s life trying to live up to a meritocracy - I did everything right, so why am I not on top? He’s also just fun and satisfying to me. He’s the exact brand of evil I eat up. He’s quippy, flamboyant, sadistic to a point, and altogether enjoying his job way too much. Even though he isn’t in power all that long, he is a power fantasy for me, too - wishing I had his talent to talk my way into others’ hearts by saying the right thing, and maybe cultivating a little bit of that I didn’t realize I had (but not to use for evil purposes). I loved him from the moment he turned up because of his sheer dynamic presence - his drawn-out vowels, his sinister smile, his silver-tongued manipulations - and to this day I find him an inspiring character when it comes to writing fiction, both in the realms of fanfiction and original villain creation. You could say he’s a comfort character to me. And maybe this has been the delusional rambling of a woman trying to protect a character she likes for surface reasons by spelling out what look like analytical points of discussion.

But I don’t think Laika was trying to be mean-spirited or homo/transphobic in their character creation. I think they were trying to make an engaging villain who had some layers you could pick at to see more about the narrative as a whole and the message of societal corruption and how the way to overcome it is to be true to yourself rather than defined by your status: a lesson Snatcher fails at the finish line when Eggs gives him one last chance to “make you.” And ultimately, if you really and truly did like Archibald Snatcher, you’re not wrong or invalid in the least.

[the-quiet-winds]

Terrors Don’t Prey on Innocent Victims (part one)

no one asked for probably the darkest fic that @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i have ever written together, but here it is

serious warnings though: stalking, threats of violence, actual violence

[Part 1: Tell Me You Love Me]

it started off innocent enough. 

katherine would find a couple comments on her instagram every day, saying that she’s beautiful and an inspiration and all sorts of nice words. 

then, things started to feel weird. the fan, whoever they were, started to become more insistent, creepy and borderline malicious words popping up on katherine’s screen four to five times a day.

back when they were simple compliments, katherine would give them a like as a sign of gratitude, but as the messages got stranger she didn’t feel comfortable doing that any more. the fan, however, seemed to take issue with that.

“why are you ignoring me?” one comment reads. “i was only trying to tell you how special you are.” eventually, katherine blocks the account, but within the hour a new one had been created and was commenting asking why they’d been blocked.

it didn’t take long for jane to notice the shift in katherine’s demeanor. she stops posting as frequently on social media, specifically her instagram, and every time her phone lights up or makes a sound, she physically winces. 

jane decides to rip the bandage off and ask her right away. she sits down on the couch next to kat, who is staring at her upside-down phone on the table with a nervous lip bite. 

“hey, love,” jane says quietly. “what’s going on with you?”

katherine looks up at her, startled. “hm? oh, nothing.” her gaze darts back to her phone again and her leg bounces anxiously, and jane frowns.

“sweetheart, i know something’s up. you can tell me, kat.”

katherine looks from her phone to jane then back again, and her eyes are wide and nervous. she’s silent for a few seconds, an internal battle of whether to tell jane or not playing in her mind.

without a word, kat picks up her phone and opens instagram, before showing jane her DMs. that one ‘fan’ had sent messages on messages trying to get katherine to respond, some of them borderline sexual and creepy. by the time jane looks up from the phone, katherine is in tears.

“oh, love,” jane pulls her into her arms immediately. “love, i’m so sorry. have you reported them?”

“i’ve tried,” katherine half-sobs. “they just keep coming back.” jane keeps holding kat close, running a soothing hand over her back, but her mind is fiercely angry. how someone could send katherine these messages was beyond her, especially under the guise of being a fan. a wave of protectiveness rushes through her and she murmurs soft reassurance to katherine, already trying to think of ways to stop this person from messaging her daughter any more.

“it feels horrible,” katherine whimpers. “they won’t leave me alone.” 

jane is outrageously angry, but keeps her touch soft and soothing and she strokes katherine’s back and hair. she delicately kisses the top of her head.

“we’ll sort this out, kitty-kat. i’m telling you,” jane murmurs, softly but firmly. “nobody’s going to harm you, not on my watch. and not on any of the other queens’ watch either.” katherine clings to her even harder, her tears flowing faster.

“you promise?” she asks, voice shy and childlike.

“of course i do,” jane promises. “i will protect you.”

unfortunately, jane is only human, and no one could possibly foresee what would come that night. 

past midnight, when darkness blankets the sky, katherine is peacefully sleeping, but it doesn’t last very long. she is awoken by a loud crashing noise. even in the blackness, she could make out the broken glass on the floor and gaping hole in the window. in the center of the glass pile sits a brick, dark and red, with a message taped to it. 

“you can’t get rid of me, kitty-kat.”

katherine can’t even find the voice to scream. instead, she just runs, runs to jane’s room and bursts in. jane, already waking up from the crash, immediately sits up at the sight of katherine.

“love, what’s the matter?”

katherine was obviously distressed, face pale and body trembling. she can’t speak, instead falling into jane’s arms and bursting into tears.

“shh,” jane hushes. “what happened?”

katherine can’t talk, tears and fear overpowering her entirety. jane simply holds her tight, running a hand over her hair in attempts to be soothing. 

“what the hell is this?” aragon and cleves burst into the room, tailed by parr and boleyn. in aragon’s hand is some square thing...it looks an awful lot like a brick to jane. 

with a heavy gulp and a shudder from katherine, she realizes that’s exactly what it is.

when jane reads the note attached to the brick rage fills her mind. she pulls katherine onto her lap and cradles her like a child, arms soft but with a face like thunder. this person, whoever they are, had gone too far. not only had they invaded their home, their safe sanctuary, but they’d used the nickname that should only be used to make katherine feel loved. a glance around at the other queens lets her know that they are just as furious as she is; they might not know the full situation but it’s still clear that katherine was being targeted by somebody, and nobody messed with katherine and got away with it.

cleves and aragon’s faces darken significantly at the realization. there’s something malicious going on that everyone can sense, even the calm and resolute parr is nearly shaking with anger. 

“hush, lovey, hush now,” jane tells the shaking girl in her arms, trying to keep her voice soft and calm. parr quietly steps over and whispers in jane’s ear, “try to get her to sleep, then we can talk.”

the other queens leave the room to give katherine some space. jane keeps holding her, soothing her with gentle words and kisses to her temple while katherine sobs her emotions out. eventually, katherine is all cried out and her eyes start to droop closed from exhaustion. jane doesn’t want to leave her in the room alone, worried about katherine waking up afraid or even worse, the person coming back. however, she also wants to work out what’s going on and how to solve it, so she gently tucks katherine in to jane’s bed and creeps out, leaving the door open so she can hear if there were any disturbances.

when she reaches parr’s room, an interesting sight is awaiting her. 

some of the low lights are on, illuminating the four queens in the room. boleyn and cleves are sprawled on the bed, scrolling through the multiple profiles of the person in question. aragon is pacing the floor, debating with parr if calling the police was a next step, while parr herself is at her desk on her computer, researching any similar events. she doesn’t know if she’s relieved or frustrated that there’s nothing to be found. 

jane weakly leans on the doorway, katherine’s emotional outburst taxing her as well. “we’re not safe here,” she finally says. “she’s not safe here.”

“that’s why we need to call the police,” aragon nods. “it was bad enough when it was just online, but they’ve actually found where she lives.” parr sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“i want to agree with you, aragon, and i think the police should be told, but i don’t think it’s going to be enough. the only prosecutable thing they’ve done is vandalism, and that isn’t going to get them a sentence. we need to do something more to protect her.”

“none of the profiles comment on anyone’s stuff except howard’s,” boleyn chimes in. she shudders slightly as she scrolls down. “some of it is so creepy.”

cleves nods in agreement, uncharacteristically quiet. “there’s like 10 of them, all saying the same vile things.”

jane’s legs feel weak, her stomach sick, everything horrible and wrong happening all at once. 

“there has to be something we can do,” she insists. “we can’t just wait for them to do something else.”

“but there’s nothing we can do right now, jane,” parr says quietly, staring vaguely towards her desk. “we just have to keep katherine safe as best we can.”

jane wants to go back to katherine to make sure she’s definitely alright; in fact, she wants to never let katherine out of her sight again. “i think we should go somewhere,” she says. “get katherine out of the house where they can’t find her.” her fist clenches with anger without her realising. “she deserves a place where she can be safe.”

“we could try,” parr says uneasily. “but if they find her again, i’m not sure what we could do after that.” she digs her thumbs into her temple and sighs. “god, this is so messed up.”

“you’re not wrong, parr,” boleyn calls from the bed, making a disgusted face at one of the comments. “listen to this, ‘you’re too talented for this group. maybe a solo career? or a duo, i’ll come too lol.’ what the hell?!”

aragon opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by a dog barking outside. their neighbor has a dog, a friendly bulldog named rufus, but he never barks. especially in the middle of the night. they glance out the window. 

there’s a person standing in the deserted street, dressed in black from head to toe. their face is concealed in shadows, but there’s definitely something sinister. 

“‘if you all want to talk, i’ll be waiting here,’” boleyn suddenly says. she shows her phone to cleves, where she had received a direct message from this particular person just a second ago.

“this could be a trap,” parr says evenly. “it’s the perfect way to get everybody out of the house and have katherine here alone.”

“...but it could also be a chance to find out who this creep is,” boleyn finishes the thought. “i don’t want to talk to some faceless stranger in the middle of the night,” she adds. “but it’s still an option.” one by one, they turn slowly to look at jane, who at this point is almost sheet white and leaning heavily against the doorway.

“i’ll go,” she says with as much conviction as she can muster. “cathy?”

“i’ll come too,” she answers. jane nods weakly to her, then looks to the other three. “stay here,” she commands, “keep each other safe. keep an eye on her and us. if anything looks wrong, call the police.”

“no one will hurt her. or us. that’s a promise,” aragon says. 

jane nods again before leaving the room, followed by parr. she goes into her own room, where katherine lays asleep, faded tear stains on her cheeks. jane can barely hold herself together as she bends over and kisses katherine’s forehead. “they will keep you safe, kitty-kat,” she whispers so softly she can barely hear herself. “mama loves you.” 

in an instant, her demeanor changes. she turns to parr, a dark fire in her eyes. “let’s go see what this bastard wants.”

the two leave the house, parr with some pepper spray tucked into her jacket pocket just in case. boleyn watches them out of the window, having promised to yell to the other two if it seemed like jane and parr were in any trouble.

the figure doesn’t move as they approach, and as they get closer they can see the person is wearing a mask. the hood of their jacket is pulled up over their hair, and they’re even wearing gloves; it would be impossible to identify them from their appearance.

“what a shame,” the person says as they approach. their voice is rough and decidedly masculine, but still young sounding. “the two irrelevant queens. it would have been nice to at least see aragon or boleyn, or even...,” he rubs his hands together with a demented glee, “queen kitty-kat herself?”

parr has to physically hold jane back. “you have no right to call her that!”

“calm down, sweetheart. i don’t want to hurt her.” his voice is light, jovial, even. 

“you just want to do other vile things, huh?” parr snarls.

“not vile, never vile,” he says, with the air of someone explaining a very simple concept to a child. “no, an angel like her deserves to be appreciated properly by someone who truly sees how special she is.”

“and that someone is you, is it?” jane practically spits, her normally soft voice now unrecognizable.

“that would be correct,” the man says calmly. ���we have a spiritual bond, you see. she might not know it yet, not with you poisoning her mind, but she will see the light one day.”

“you rotten, disgusting little cockroach!” jane yells, lunging towards him. parr grabs her arms and holds her back. 

he tisks. “violent, are we? wouldn’t want sweet little kat caught up in all this anger, now would we...,” he pauses momentarily. “‘mum?’”

“don’t you dare,” jane hisses, almost managing to pull out of parr’s grip. “don’t you dare-”

“it’s actually quite cute,” he interrupts, and although they can’t see his face they can almost hear the smirk behind his words. “all this mother and daughter talk, i mean. as if you would ever be good enough for someone  so beautiful and perfect, someone like kitty-kat.” his voice reaches an almost dreamlike tone. “tell me, is she just as perfect up close?”

“you don’t get to know anything about her!” jane hisses. “nothing! you deserve to rot in jail for what you’ve done.”

he feigns an offended gasp. “such hostility from such a kind woman. i hope you aren’t like this with kitty-kat. what’s that thing you always say to her?” his voice lowers to a soft whisper, so very like the one jane uses every time she says the words he then repeats. “mum loves you, kitty-kat. in this life or any other.”

jane freezes, completely still, and parr lets go of her arms in concern.

“how- how could you possibly know that?” jane says, voice faint.

“what kind of person would i be if i didn’t know everything there is to know about my kitty-kat?” he says, in a tone that sends a shiver down both of their spines.

“she’s not yours,” jane spits.

“not yet,” he shrugs. “but she will be, you mark my words.”

without parr holding her back, jane flies at the man, an uncontrollable rage overtaking her. she draws back her fist but he grabs her wrist, seemingly unfazed by her attack.

“hm, i think you’re going to have to break your promise,” he hums. his grip tightens on jane’s wrist enough for her to let out a quiet whimper of pain, and parr, who had been approaching with her hand reaching for the pepper spray, freezes, not wanting to make him hurt jane any more. “looks like mummy can’t protect kitty-kat after all.”

he pauses, and a malice fills his voice. the imaginary smirk fades, replaced by what could be thought of as a snarl. “i will be back, and kitty-kat will be mine. just you wait.”

he harshly releases jane’s wrist and she stumbles back. he turns to leave. 

“you horrid bastard, you will never, ever touch her!” jane half-yells. 

there’s a moment when everything is absolutely still. then he whirls on his heel, his hand rising and colliding with jane’s cheek, sending her down against the asphalt. he leans over her threatening. 

“i’d like to see you try and stop me,” he growls. “stay out of my way, or i will kill you, jane seymour.” 

then he runs off into the night.

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13@tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians@thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess@beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears@theartoflazy @justqueentwo  @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars@beautifulashes17@jarneiarichardnxel@idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago@mixer1323@boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance@boleynthebunny@krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 16

Not even being sick this week could stop me from getting this written - though I must say it did slow me down... Bleh! Hopefully a bit more sleep and cough drops and I’ll be good to go!

Reading this to some of my friends really helped. Not only did they give me some good ideas, but also I noticed a lot of things about my story as I went through it. There are a lot of things I thought I’d made clear, but didn’t, or thoughts I was going somewhere with, but have kind of abandoned. This is definitely a first-draft process for me- but posting it as I go has REALLY been helpful. Not only do I feel more accountable to keep writing, but the feedback I get is really worth its weight in gold. I know I’m not a perfect writer and I know this is a first draft, so I am open to constructive criticism or recommendations, so feel free to let me know what you think - you’ve no idea how much it does for me!

First Chapter       Previous Chapter         Next Chapter

****

“It's going to take time. Time and parts. Both of which are a bit tight lately, all things considered.”

That's not good. Not what you want to hear from a mechanic.

“How much time are we talking about?” Captain Salora's gaze wandered from the mechanic to the rest of the Rock Base docking Bay. Unlike the last time they'd visited, it was full - very full, and very busy. All the bays were. There had been very few ships that had made it out of the battle without intense damage.

“We're doing what we can with what we have on hand,” the mechanic, a tired-looking tibet replied. Its long red fur was matted and covered in oil. “We’re waiting on a shipment now, parts, supplies, assistance. As soon as they arrive,” they gestured with a long, hairy red arm to the vast, very full docking bay, “we’ll be able to get all this sorted out.”

Captain Salora glared at the scene. What a mess. With a sigh, she turned back to the tibet. “And how long until help arrives?”

The mechanic picked at a small matte on their arm with their wrench. “Who’s to say? I expect that it will be coming in at different times. Some of it is coming from Karcheer, some from Earth- and not all their ships are warp-capable yet. The earliest shipments should be here within a solar rotation or two.”

“Very well. Is there anything my crew and I can do to help until then?”

“Honestly,” the tibet stretched his arms behind him before straightening back up, “The best thing to do now is just to sit tight and let us work. Once the shipments get here, there’ll be more to help with.”

“I see. Thank you,” Salora turned to leave. “If you’ll excuse me then.” She headed toward the hangar’s exit. The claws on her feet clacked dully against the stone and metal floor. Her crew. Or at least what was left of her crew. They’d lost nine during the attack, including the humans. She’d lost nine.

As she walked through corridors, she spotted a familiar shape slumped in a corner. Internally, Salora braced herself back up. Nine of her crew were gone, if that was her fault or not was not important now. She still had to be the captain for those she still had. They needed her as much as she needed them.

“Thurrin,” the small booka lifted her head, her fur brightened a bit, “What are you doing out here? Where is everyone else?”

“Everyone… oh,” Thurrin pawed the sleep from her eyes, “They’re still up on level twelve. When I slipped out, it looked like almost everyone was just about asleep. I just… I needed some time alone to think, so I came down here.” Her fur darkened again. Salora tried to hide her frown, it was a rare sight to see Thurrin’s fur so dull, and it was not a sight she liked to see.

“Do you...” the small booka sounded like she was trying to not let her voice break, “Do you think they made it? Is it possible they could have made it? The humans and Jebannuck? Is there any possibility that they’re still alive?” Salora had wondered the same question, though not as much or as deeply as Thurrin obviously had. Part of her felt a little guilty for that, though it was safe to say she had a lot of other issues vying for attention since the attack. Jebannuck Sefra was one of her most trusted and reliable officers, his absence these past solar cycles had certainly left a hole. She had tried not to think much about its permanence. The humans, though she hadn’t had much opportunity to bond with them, had seemed endearing in their own ways. They certainly did not deserve their supposed fate.

“I’m sorry Thurrin,” she paused. She didn’t want to have to be the one to say this, but it had to be done. It was in the best interest of the rest of the crew if Thurrin finished the grieving cycle sooner rather than later. But still. “I… I suppose it might have been a possibility, but not a probability. We lost a lot of good Confederation soldiers. The blast to the ship could have killed them, and if not, the vacuum could have taken them.”

Thurrin kept her eyes down, absently watching her back paws. It was silent for quite a while. Thankfully, no one came down this section of corridor, it was just silent.

“Captain,” Thurrin muttered hesitantly, “Is it bad if… am I a terrible person if I…” small flickers lifted off from the tips of her ears. Her fur really looked like a dying fire now, about to go out. She gasped a quick breath and began sobbing, “It’s the possibility that’s killing me. The not knowing. I just… I just wish I knew if they were gone, I just wish I could be sure so I could- so I could mourn them properly, but instead - instead I’m stuck somewhere between hope and grief and it’s - it’s tearing me apart!” Captain Salora pulled her head back. This was not what she’d been expecting. Thurrin was usually so collected, so bright and cheery. She’d never seen her lieutenant like this.

“Am I a terrible person if part of me just wishes I knew they were dead? I hope they’re not - oh frewan I hope they’re not! But... I know - I know they must be.” Her tail lashed angrily, “But, but what kind of person wishes they knew their friends were… were…” She buried her face into her arms. Her whole body seemed to try to squeeze in on itself. Her tail, usually a long, bright puff of faux flames, wrapped tight and small around her.

Salora was unsure of what to say. What wouldn’t make things worse?

As an Akeno, Salora was not usually one for physical expression, but as a captain over several various species, she’d learned the importance touch has among many of her crew.

She rested a claw on Thurrin’s shoulder. For her own people, such contact would be outrageously intimate and inappropriate, but for bookas, well, it was probably nowhere near enough. It was a start though. Thurrin seemed to notice it. Her fur flickered slightly at the touch.

“Thurrin, they were your friends. What you’re feeling now is… well it’s painful, but it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. You are not a bad person for wanting closure, for wanting to mourn for them.” Thurrin raised her head up to look her captain in the eyes. For a moment, she looked like she might say something. Instead, she leaned into Salora’s crouched form, trying to bury her fur into the captain’s side.

Salora froze. This was… new. And a bit uncomfortable. Quite uncomfortable actually. What was she supposed to do now? This was a lot of touching. Thurrin’s fur was warm, which felt nice, but still, she tried to not let her discomfort show. Thurrin must have sensed it anyway. She pulled back quickly, a mortified look on her face. Her fur blazed up in flashes of bright oranges and yellows.

“Oh, Captain, sorry I’m - I’m so sorry, I… oh that was so unprofessional! I was so - I’m such a mess! I’m sorry!” In a mad scramble, Thurrin was up on her hind legs, fidgeting with her front paws. She looked at the ground as she slowly shuffled backward, still murmuring apologies.

“Thurrin,” the murmuring and shuffling stopped, “It’s alright. You’ve nothing to apologize for, you’re alright.” Salora stood back up, her legs thankful to be fully-extended once again. She rested one hand on Thurrin’s shoulder, the touch helped calm down the embarrassed flickers in the booka’s fur. “Come on, let’s get back up to level twelve. I think we both need a rest.”

They walked in silence most of the way. Thankfully, the corridors remained deserted for the most part. When they reached level twelve, Salora stopped in front of the door where the majority of the crew had been assigned communal quarters.

“Thurrin, I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I wish I could tell you for sure what happened to them. I wish I could give you hope, or at least help you find closure. I’m afraid all I can offer is a listening ear if you need one, and whatever comfort I can give. Please don’t feel like you have to go through this alone.”

Thurrin nodded, her eyes flickered for a moment to meet Salora’s before dropping back down to her paws.

“I was told we will have a few solar cycles before more supplies come in. Until then, I suppose we have a few days reprieve. Try to get some rest.” She turned started towards the door to the quarters she had been assigned, but paused and looked back at the smaller crewmember. “If you need anything Thurrin, feel free to ask me. Anytime you need.”

“Thank you Captain.”

What a ship! Wenona could not get enough of just how… how elegant it all looked. The way the doors seemed to open like they were gliding on ice, the way the lights blended seamlessly into the ceiling and walls, heck, even the occasional service panel seemed to hang on the walls like a piece of fine art. This was a nice ship! And she wasn’t just saying that just because she’d started to get used to Simmo’s scrappy ‘Junk Lego.’

It was aggravating how nice this ship felt as she took in the sights while they were led through the maze of corridors. Partly because she wanted to stop and admire, mostly because she couldn’t due to the fact that she was handcuffed and being led by armed guards.

Just before they’d been escorted from Simmo’s ship, Jebannuck had told them to remain calm. No matter what, remain calm. She and Mike were not individually allied with the Galactic Confederation. At the very least, their status as civilians should insure certain levels of care.

That's what he'd said. As Wenona and the others were marched through corridor after gorgeous corridor, she felt like staying calm might actually be feasible. Except for the fact that the only reason they were aboard this masterpiece of engineering was because they’d basically been brought here by gunpoint.

Oh yeah. No that really takes the “fun” and “calm” out of things.

To be honest though, this was probably the best “prisoner” treatment she’d received so far. Not that that was hard to do. The guards, who looked like large featherless birds, ushered them along with calm, emotionless expressions on their narrow yellow faces. Their eyes, which to Wenona looked a little too large for their heads, mostly stayed locked straight ahead, though Wenona noticed a few would occasionally shoot a glance at her or Mike.

Fantastic, we’re celebrities all over again. Better that than test subjects. She turned her head just enough to be able to look back at Simmo in the corner of her eye. The guards on her side caught the motion and nudged her forward. She would have growled at them, had it not been for the fact that they were carrying blasters. Best not risk it. Not yet. Instead, she gave them the meanest glare she could muster and kept walking. It didn’t take much longer to arrive at their destination.

Well it wasn’t the bridge, or at least it didn’t look anything like any bridge she’d been in lately (and she’d been on a surprising amount of bridges in the space of really not that many months). Instead, it looked more like a throne room? Do aliens have throne rooms? They must, there was a giant chair. On top of that sat a very important-looking alien.

Unlike the guards, this alien was covered in regal-looking orange and red feathers. They were dressed in a long elegant-looking sash that draped down to the floor. A few large feathers on the end of its tail and near the back of its head were tipped with purple. It’s body shape vaguely resembled a sloth with a long sweeping tail, though the shape of its body was where the similarities ended. It was not cute. It was not slow. It had a slight predatory look to it. Definitely not a sloth.

The guards stopped about three quarters of the way into the room and dipped their heads.

“Sir, the crew of the trespassing ship, as you ordered.” Four of the guards bowed and tipped their heads up before retreating back to the door they’d all just come through. What the heck was that? Some sort of salute? Weird. She turned her head back to look at the alien that apparently had been the one to summon them all here.

It leaned forward in its throne. Its massive eyes were a piercing yellow that matched the gold of its crown. Wenona stared those eyes down, refusing to look down or away. If this creep wanted to intimidate her, it was going to have to do better than a staring contest!

Then it started to laugh.

Or at least it sounded like it could be laughter. It reared its head back and it was making hacking and clicking noises, so either it was laughing it having a coughing fit.

“Humans! By all things bright and shining, you were the last beings I was expecting to find out here.”

Wenona looked over to Mike, who looked like he had the same confused expression she had.

“My, my,” the feathered alien continued. It’s voice was deeper than she expected. It echoed  around the throne room and felt… warm. “I knew your people were space-faring, but this is quite a distance from your home world. Earth, isn’t it?”

It took a few moments before Wenona realized the alien was actually waiting for an answer. “Uh, yes. Earth,” she nodded.

“Excellent,” the alien stood, never breaking its stare as it took a few steps toward them. Wenona shuffled uneasily at its approach. It didn’t seem to be noticed. “My name is Fleet Commander Rozar.” He slowly continued walking closer, seemingly enthralled by his new guests as he was able to get a better look at their disheveled appearance and still-not-quite-healed wounds. “You look like you’ve quite a story or two to tell.”

Wenona continued to stare silently at him. She felt she should say something, but no words came to mind. Not that she really had any desire to say anything anyway.

Mike finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, I guess that’s one way of putting it. We’ve definitely had a long couple of months, or partecs, or whatever it is that you guys use to tell time.” Rozar’s stare shifted slightly to Mike. “It’s been a lot of time, is... what I’m saying. Since we were home.”

The Fleet Commander nodded slowly before turning sharply to a guard waiting behind him. The guard, a gray-ish hulking figure with skin the texture of tree bark, stood at attention as Commander Rozar began gesturing to him in some sort of sign language. The gray figure gave the same weird salute as the other guards and marched out of the room.

Wenona and Mike shared a worried look before glaning back at Jeb. The sefra showed no emotion on his streaked gray face, but nodded to Wenona as the Commander turned back to them, mouthing the words, ‘say it.’

“Commander Rozar,” the gold eyes locked on to her again. Stick with the plan, stick with the plan. Wenona took a deep breath before continuing, “My name is Wenona Peters, this is Mike Rockwell. Whatever you and the Galactic Confederation have between you, we are not a part of it. We’re civilians in all this.”

The corners of Commander Rozar’s mouth twitched upwards as he focused on the four of them, ending up on Jebannuck. “Smart, sefra, very clever. Am I supposed to fall for that? I do hope you aren’t underestimating the Empire. We are not as ignorant of your affairs as the Confederation would like to believe. You’ve blocked us for decapartecs - from trade with the Synx System, from the calciar and trubinian mines, from expansion to the Outer Coun Sector,” Rozar’s tone remained dangerously calm and even, but Wenona noticed his feathers on his neck were starting to ruffle a bit. “You kept us blocked us from Earth, made sure you were the only option of allies for the humans to make after what you saw what they did to the Kahsk fleet.”

Wenona caught Mike’s head jerk to look back at Jebanuck. The Kahsks. That had been what had started all this mess. Their invasion, their failed invasion had been years ago. Their technology, reverse engineered and altered by NASA, Near Star, Boeing, and many private companies were what had finally sent humanity into the stars. What did the Burnti Empire know about the Kahsks? And more importantly, what did it have to do with her and Mike now?

Commander Rozar saw the confused looks of the humans and paused his rant to turn back to them. “Oh yes, we know about Earth’s alliance with the Galactic Confederation, as misguided and uninformed a decision as it was,” he jeered back at Jebannuck, who looked like his tough, expressionless facade was starting to crack. Wenona wasn’t sure if the trembling she saw was from anger or from his wounds that were not completely healed. “Perhaps,” Rozar continued, “we can still do something about that.”

With a quick nod from Commander Rozar, several of the yellow guards that had escorted them before rushed up and surrounded Jebannuck. He gave a grunt as the guards began moving him toward a door on the side of the room.

“Jeb!” Mike yelled. He started towards him but was stopped by the guard next to him.

“Bring him back!” Wenona dodged her own guard and slapped away the reach of another. She grabbed one of the guards pulling Jeb away and threw them to the floor. Her own guards caught up and pulled her back. She kicked the legs out from under one and elbowed the other in the face. It screeched in pain and was about to retaliate when Mike appeared seemingly out of nowhere and punched it in the gut.

Another guard grabbed Mike’s bad arm and twisted it behind his back, pushing him to the ground. He yelled in pain, but the guard did not let up as he pinned him down. Two more guards tackled Wenona. Using her own move from before, they kicked her legs out from under her and held her arms tightly at an awkward angle against her back. Blasters were now out and hummed quietly as they charged up.

In all this, Commander Rozar didn’t move. He hardly seemed fazed.

“Fascinating,” he drawed out each syllable. The three guards they had downed groaned and struggled to get back kup. “For being just ‘civilians in all this,’ you both seem to be eager to protect a Confederation officer.” In the corner of her eye, Wenona noticed Simmo, still standing where they’d all been brought in. There were no guards around her. Perfect! She could get them out of this! She could- but she didn’t move. She just stood there, staring at the spectacle, still as a statue.

“Simmo!” The montauk focused on her, but still made no move to help. Any more words she had died on her lips. She… no. Her stomach fell. What was she thinking? Why should Simmo help? Their alliance was one of forced circumstances, and the circumstances had changed.

“Apparently I still have much to read up on about on how humans form bonds,” Commander Rozar chuckled to himself. “How very interesting.” His feathered tail swept side to side smugly behind him. “I must warn against such behavior in the future. You’ll quickly find out escaping here won’t be so easy as overtaking a small Montauk smuggler’s ship.” Wenona’s breath caught as she stared at the Burnti Fleet Commander. Her mind didn’t seem to completely grasp what she’d just heard. Did he just-? How did he know? What?!

“Don’t fret, Human Wenona Peters, Human Mike Rockwell. As it currently stands, you and your little friends are my guests.” With a nod, the guards hauled them both back up to their feet, though they didn’t let go of their holds on their arms. “As guests, I expect a certain level of civility and decorum. Further… outbreaks… in behavior would not be recommended.”

Next Chapter

[goblinsneversaydie]

unpopular opinion

okay i know i talk way too much about game of thrones on this account, but, am i the only one who actually somewhat enjoyed most of the last episode? here’s my opinion on it ;

Varys ; varys died true to his character arc, say whatever you want about how ‘he shouldn’t have turned on dany that quickly’, because that has been his character throughout the entire show. varys doesn’t serve kings and queens, he serves the realm and only wants what is best for the powerless and common people. he only followed dany because he saw her as a just and fair future ruler, but overtime, he has seen that that is just not the case anymore. so he did what varys has always done, switched sides and gone for the outcome that he thought was best, even if it may get him killed. he has always been treasonous, i mean, he was the master of whisperers and had no problem conspiring against the people on the throne before, because he realized that they were only making the world worse. varys’ entire character arc has led to this, him finally being caught and executed for his actions, even though they came from a good place, because that is his role in the game.

Cleganebowl ; while I do wish it was longer, I understand that they didn’t have much to work off of. at that point in the show, gregor was quite literally a man-made monster, a zombie of sorts. he felt absolutely nothing and nothing an average man could do, could stop him. he even killed his own maker without so much as a second thought. it’s been established that gregor was always the bigger, stronger brother too. so pair those two things together and it’s not a good mix. I believe that they did the best they could, without making sandor look like a little bitch by getting his ass beat (which most likely would have happened in all actuality) and making gregor the winner. in the end, it was a nice sequence and I, though not entirely happy that our dear Hound died in the end, felt like it was a good way to finally kill off gregor and it really felt like a heroic action on sandor’s part. it was obvious he realized there may not be a way to kill his brother, so he took the leap, risking his own life knowing fully well he would die, and they both went down together.

Mad Queen ; yeah yeah, I know I know “oh white stark stan” “you’re stupid to believe any of it” “dany hater” “you probably want arya or jon on the throne” “misogyny at it’s finest”. one, i’m actually not a huge fan of the starks, sure i love them, but part of me is kind of waiting for one of them to die in the finale (perhaps only wishful thinking), and i sure as hell do not hate dany. her entire arc has been lovely to watch and i actually LOVE the mad queen route, although i can agree it was rushed. i actually like this side of dany, this is the same person that was giving that speech to the khals’ in dosh khaleen, that fire in her eyes and the smirk she wore. she said she would break the wheel and kill the bad people, and in her eyes, if you actually think about it, kingslanding was full of bad people to her. they would never love her or cheer for her like the people of mereen and they would never followed her loyally like the dothraki and unsullied. she would be just another pawn in the game, another royal that will come and go. none of them would accept her with open arms, they would all choose cersei. they wouldn’t ever care about her, because of her family’s legacy, so fulfilling that legacy and being the mad targaryen they so obviously want to see, is literally the perfect route for her. and before you come @ me with the whole “but she could have been a role model” thing, personally, i think she could be one either way. i mean, come on, do we still worship disney princess guys? a majority of people don’t, in fact, many women like the villains more. the evil queen, maleficent, cruella, they are bad bitches that do bad things because they know they’ll win in the end; or at least they think they will. it’s the same thing here; yes, young girls won’t be able to look up to her, but should young girls even be watching this show? as for another point, I actually do see the whole “mad queen hints” thing, as she did many many questionable things and you cannot doubt that she has lacked emotion in times where she should have felt the most. I just wish we got to see more. more of mad queen dany, more of her going off the rails, more of her attitude evolving slowly from the hero to the conqueror. that’s all. but overall, if we had more development through the seasons, mad dany for the win.

Cersei and Jaime ; HEAR ME OUT-I understand that jaime’s arc has been about him getting better, in many eyes, but to be honest, it’s a full circle arc. many of our characters will die as they were in season one, look at the hound and varys, for that instance. jaime died as season one jaime, and there’s nothing wrong with that. i know that everyone is extremely upset because jaime should have stayed with brienne, i agree, and he would have, if this weren’t game of thrones. but it is, and in game of thrones, there is no happily ever after. where was this outrage when a pregnant woman was stabbed to death on this show? or when a little girl was burned at the stake on this show? exactly. to me; them dying together was the best way to end their arc, maybe not in the way it happened because ahem, prophecy, but, together? most definitely. cersei and jaime were the beginning of this show, they were the ones who started in all, they deserved to go out together. one cannot live while the other dies.

[floralseokjin]

—off limits | 08—final (m)

you've been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can't ignore the sexual tension that's simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings | drama, light angst, mentions of sex, romance & fluff :’) (and me crying because my baby is over) words | 8,330

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: 08  ✓

“That’s for thinking you can get away with fucking my sister right under my nose!” 

Time stood still, your brother’s words ringing in your ears as you stared at him, his face like thunder. You couldn’t believe what he’d just said. It was like someone was praying a cruel joke on you. And you couldn’t believe he’d said it in front of so many people. It was humiliating.

“Kyuho!”

Seokjin’s voice brought you back to reality and your gaze fell to him instead, eyes wide in fear as you saw how panicked he looked. It just showed you how serious the situation was. It was either let Kyuho believe you’d been seeing Yoongi or tell him the truth. There was no other option. Not now.

“No, don’t try and stop me, Jin,” your brother bit, shrugging off the hand that Seokjin had placed on his shoulder. “He’s my friend and he’s been messing around with my sister behind my back!”

“Kyuho,” you got out finally, an edge to your voice like you were trying to persuade him to calm down. You needed to deter the moment just so everyone could leave, because you were not telling him the truth in front of an audience.

“Don’t even look at me,” he told you instead, and you sighed, gazing over at Yoongi now, who was still clutching his cheek. You instinctively reached out for him, wanting to inspect the damage.

“Don’t touch him either,” Kyuho ordered, and that’s when you lost it.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you fumed, turning back to him, unable to keep your voice down. Because he had jumped to conclusions, Yoongi was hurt. He’d punched his best friend before even trying to get to the bottom of things. How had he even worked all this out anyway?

“Yoongi has a girlfriend. Why would I do that? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I saw you walk out of his room together.”

Guilt washed over, face paling as you met Seokjin’s eyes again. He looked just as guilty as you, but he didn’t need to. This was your fault. You were the one who had been stupid enough to think sneaking around at a party was a good idea. If you’d just used your brain for one second you would’ve seen it wasn’t clever. And now Yoongi was getting the blame for something he hadn’t done. He was being a good friend to Jin and now you’d made him get hurt.

“Everyone,” Seokjin suddenly shouted around the room, gaining their attention…even though there wasn’t any need by now... All eyes were on you.  “—get the fuck out. Party’s over.”  

Slowly, everyone begun to shuffle out, an awkward silence filling the room when Seokjin turned the speakers off and you all waited impatiently for them to leave, but at least Kyuho knew to stay quiet, and he begun to pace around the room while the last of the guests trickled out. You kind of wished you weren’t alone because you didn’t want to tell him the truth… Even though it was the right thing to do, you were scared of how your brother would react. You definitely hadn’t expected the violence.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Kyuho suddenly asked Yoongi when the crowd had past and it was just the four of you left.

The aforementioned had stayed quiet this whole time and you admired the way he hadn’t ratted you both out straight away. He was too nice for his own good. You watched him look cautiously at Seokjin and then the latter sighed extremely loudly, rubbing his forehead continuously as he spoke instead.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Look, dude,” Kyuho shot, turning to him. “I know you’re trying to stick up for him, but I’m your friend too.”

“There’s nothing to stick up for,” Jin continued, looking up again now and you could tell by his face he was about to confess. He looked uncharacteristically serious, like he’d accepted his fate, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Yoongi hasn’t done anything—”

“Don’t try and lie for him—

“I’m not.” He insisted, an edge to his voice and his gaze brushed over your seated form for a moment, hesitation in them, checking if you really wanted to go through with this. You give him a little nod.

It was now or never. Seokjin took a deep breath.

“Yoongi hasn’t been seeing Y/N… I have.”

There was an awful silence that followed as it took a while for the confession to sink in for Kyuho, his face twitching a little before his eyes widened and then all of a sudden he was diving for Seokjin.

“Stop!” Yoongi suddenly shouted, jumping from the sofa to come between both guys, hand on Kyuho’s shoulder as Seokjin stood his ground and tried to convey his apologies.

“Just calm down a moment and take a breather,” Yoongi told your brother.

Which turned out to be the wrong thing to do, because Kyuho soon realised that Yoongi was too calm. Way too calm for someone who had just gotten blamed for something he knew nothing about…

“You knew?” Your brother scoffed, looking hurt for a moment before anger spread across his face again. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I only found out a couple of weeks ago,” Yoongi mumbled, dropping his hand to scratch behind his ear, feeling guilty and awkward.

“Well then I’m glad I hit you,” he fought, almost childishly. “I was going to apologise for getting it wrong but—who else knows?”

“No one—” Seokjin went to cut him, but Kyuho saw red immediately and pushed Yoongi out the way, brandishing his finger.

“Don’t fucking speak to me, you—

“Kyuho, please!” It was your turn to try and stop him now, pushing your way between their bodies, eyes begging as you looked at you brother. “Please listen to me, okay? We can I explain everything.”

He must have seen how genuine you were being because his stern face faltered, but that didn’t last long when he saw Seokjin’s hand hold your waist protectively—instinctively.

“Get your hands off her!” He shouted, eyes flashing with anger and before you knew it he was charging at Jin again.

“Come on then,” Seokjin shouted back, standing his ground, like he knew what he deserved. “Hit me! I deserve it. Hit. Me.”

“Please don’t,” you couldn’t help but beg, holding onto Kyuho’s arm. You didn’t want anyone to get hurt. This wasn’t what you’d wanted. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Kyuho paused again, his face looking manic, it didn’t help that he was drunk too, and you wished you’d just hadn’t come tonight. You could never make him see sense when he was intoxicated.

“Someone better start fucking talking right now,” he ordered, shooting separate looks at all three of you, before he rounded on Seokjin again, pointing in his face. He flinched, but stayed still, his face unnerving.

“You think my sister’s fresh meat that you can get your hands on, huh? Grown bored of all your other conquests so you have to go after my sister?!”

As well as his accusations angering you, his attitude was just as maddening. He was acting as if you weren’t here.

“I have a name, Kyuho,” you shot. “I’m not your property.”

“Jin’s my best friend,” he said quietly, before directing another question at the mentioned. “Why would you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry, man,” he replied sincerely, attempting to take a step closer. “It just happened, and I couldn’t stop it.”

That only seemed to make your brother scoff, rolling his eyes. “So, what? Your dick just fell into her?”

You winced at his use of crude words, but didn’t have time to dwell it, not when he was asking the most incriminating question yet…

“How long has it been going on for?”

You and Seokjin both took nervous glances as one another, which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Tell me, now,” your bother hissed, sensing the hesitation in you both.

“A few months,” Seokjin mumbled.

“Months?!” He outraged.

You fell into awkward silence, unable to know what to do or say to make it better. This was just getting worse by the minute, and you could tell Seokjin was reluctant to carry on just because your brother was acting so difficult. He probably wouldn’t listen to sense.

“Look, you have every right to hate me Kyuho, but please believe me when I say I care about Y/N. We’re not just messing about. It means something.” Seokjin finally said, deciding he was really going to have to try, regardless of the outcome and he walked closer to your brother cautiously.

“You think I’ll fall for that one?” Kyuho chuckled dryly. “How many times have I heard you use the same line on oblivious girls?”

Seokjin turned wide eyed to you, looking mortified. “That’s not…” he trailed off, panicked, “that’s not what I used to do.”

He didn’t need to explain himself to you. What mattered was that you knew Seokjin cared about you and wanted to be with you. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t stringing you along for some sordid gain. He was telling the truth. However, Kyuho didn’t believe him.

“Oh, fuck off,” he stopped him, harshness in his tone. “Stop trying to manipulate her anymore than you already have done.”

“He hasn’t manipulated me!” You raged, unable to stop yourself.

“Well, isn’t this just priceless,” he clapped his hands dramatically. “Well done, Seokjin.”

“Look, believe what you want, but I really like Y/N,” he sighed, finally as if he was losing patience.

“Kyuho, he’s telling the truth,” Yoongi added, voice low.

“Shut the fuck up,” Kyuho bit. “This has nothing to do with you. You knew and you didn’t even tell me. You just let Jin get away with it.”

“Yoongi was just being a good friend,” Seokjin tried to explain when Yoongi put his hands up in surrender.

This was just a big, huge mess. Everything you’d wanted to go right had gone the complete opposite. It was spiralling out of control and you were wondering if you had both been just very deluded. Regardless of how much Kyuho’d had to drink tonight, something told you he would’ve never been okay with you and Jin. Being sober wasn’t going to help his rationality… He wasn’t going to change his mind. And he proved that with his next words.

“Well, it’s nice to know where his loyalties lie—We’re going home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” you stood your ground when he turned back to you. “I want to stay here and talk this through.”

It was stupid, but it was worth a try.

“Why? There’s nothing left to say,” he laughed bitterly. “Jin’s been found out for being the biggest snake and now it’s over. He’s not my friend and this ends here.” He added, looking between you and Seokjin, making it very apparent what he meant by that…

“No it doesn’t.” You gritted out. He wasn’t telling you what to do. “Kyuho, you haven’t been listening. Me and Seokjin like each other—a lot, and we want to be together.”

“Oh, my god,” he exclaimed, eyes raging in Seokjin’s direction. “You’re sick dude.”

Seokjin frowned in confusion, mouth opening and closing as he tried to get a word in edgeways, however, Kyuho was still going on.

“You really think he wants to be with you? He’s just using you, stringing you along!” He barked at you, and his words hurt.

You knew they weren’t true, but to know your brother thought them was enough to make you uneasy. Kyuho thought he knew Seokjin more than anyone, and while yes, that had been true—they had been friends for a while—he knew nothing about you and Seokjin. What had happened, the semi-break up, the reconciliation, the confession… It was all genuine. Seokjin wanted to be with you, and you wanted to be with him. Kyuho wasn’t going to stop that.

“No I’m not—

“It’s just sex—

“I love her!”

The room begun to stretch in and out, like the ground was spinning beneath your feet, ears buzzing with the shock confession. It was all you could hear, and your whole body was in shock, heart drumming like crazy in your chest.

“It’s not about using her, for sex or whatever the hell you think—I want to be with her properly because I think I’m in love with her.”

You managed to look at Seokjin for a moment, despite your panic and saw his face was red, mouth open, eyes wide, fists clenched at his sides. He looked adamant, and you decided then and there he was telling the truth. He looked so insistent, sounded so determined… He loved you?

Kyuho even looked speechless for a moment, eyes just as wide, expression jarred. Maybe this was it…maybe he would see how sincere his friend was being… But—

“We’re going home—”

“I’m not a child,” you yelled when he grabbed your arm, attempting to tug you to the door.  “I don’t want to go—”

You couldn’t go now. Not when Seokjin had confessed such a thing. You wanted to talk. You wanted to say it back. You wanted to hug him, console him…and as if he sensed that too, he went to reach for you, wanting to keep you with him too.

“Hey, she said she didn’t want to go—

“Back off!” Kyuho cut him, face in his, teeth bared. He looked really scary and you weren’t surprised when Seokjin let go immediately.

“Get out of my face before I hit you, and I swear, I won’t stop. So do yourself a favour and don’t test me.” He threatened, his breathing loud and effected with anger. The confession had done the complete opposite of what it was supposed to have done.

Seokjin tried again to reach for you but this time Yoongi stopped him. A comforting, reassuring hand on his shoulder as he spoke in his ear.

“Man, just leave her go. Let everyone cool off.”

It was probably the right thing to do. You should go home with Kyuho and then try to talk to him in the morning, make him understand. But leaving Seokjin after such an admission was hard, your heart heavy as you took one last look at him before Kyuho was slamming the door behind you both.  

❁❁❁❁

“Fuck,” Seokjin said under his breath, head in his hands as he let his weight fall onto the sofa. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I going to do now?”  

“Don’t fucking cry because I’ve had enough shock for one night,” Yoongi told him straight, sitting in the chair beside him, clutching a bag of frozen peas against his cheek. “I can’t believe I got hit for you—look at my face!” He exclaimed.  “How am I going to explain this to Eunji?! The whole party thinks I’m fucking Y/N.”

Yoongi’s statement made him feel a little mad, he didn’t like people talking about you like that, but at the same time, he felt guilty as hell. Yoongi had gotten the blame and been hit, while he had come off unscathed…or close to as unscathed as possible—maybe on the physical side, but not when it came to emotionally. He’d lost you and one of his best friend’s both in one night. In just under an hour!

He sighed, looking up to view his friend. “I’m sorry, Yoongs. It just all happened so quickly I didn’t know what to do.”

Yoongi regarded him, pity in his eyes almost. “I told you sneaking around wasn’t a good idea.”

He was right, but was that really the bigger issue? He had been living in a dreamland all this time. Kyuho was never going to except it, regardless of how it had all gone down, or how much sneaking around there was or wasn’t.

“Would if have even mattered?” He spoke. “Deep down I knew Kyuho wasn’t going to understand.”

A silence fell between them both as they felt sorry for themselves and one another before Yoongi spoke again. His tone dubious.

“You do realise you just told her you loved her, right? That was super dramatic, man. You even shocked her.”

“Fuck,” Seokjin groaned, head back in his hands.

It wasn’t like he was regretting it, it was all just a lot to take in. He hadn’t even realised the words were coming out of his mouth until they did, pushed to the limit, desperate to make Kyuho see how genuine he was.

“I didn’t even think you knew what love was,” Yoongi quizzed.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “I don’t think…but like, just the thought of her leaving me is making my heart clench up, or something—I can’t even explain it,” he carried on, unable to stop as fresh emotions bubbled to the surface, “and when I’m with her it feels like it’s going to explode out my chest…I don’t know.”

“You love her then,” Yoongi nodded, matter-of-factly. “I mean, probably—If you feel like this.”

“What do I do now?” He asked pathetically, wanting an answer to a million and one things.

“Just wait a bit, until Kyuho calms down and then try again,” Yoongi suggested. “If you’re serious about all this he has to realise soon.”

“You’re right,” He nodded, psyching himself up.

That was definitely the best option. He needed to show Kyuho how serious he was about you. Keep on persevering and not give up. He loved you. This feeling inside his chest, it wasn’t going to go away. It was foreign and if he was being honest, scary. Scarier knowing you hadn’t said it back, but that couldn’t be helped, he had thrown it all on you at an awkward time. But now he needed to prove himself to everyone. He was the man for you. He wasn’t going to give up. The fear of losing you was too much…

Yoongi shifted, standing up. “You gonna be okay on your own?” He asked, and all Seokjin could do was nod.

“Okay, good, because I have to call Eunji and explain quickly before someone else tells her.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologised again, feeling like the shittiest friend that ever graced the earth. “If you need back up, hand the phone to me, I’ll explain everything.”

Yoongi give him a lopsided smile and tapped his shoulder comfortingly. “Thanks, Jin,” he added, Seokjin automatically thanking him too before Yoongi walked to his room. One thank you could never be enough, but it was a start.

Seokjin sat in the living room for god knows how long, taking moment after moment to collect his thoughts. He was in love with you? He really was? Even he was shocked at himself, but he couldn’t ignore these feelings any longer. Ever since you’d gotten back together and decided to tell Kyuho, ever since he’d asked you to be his girlfriend—ever since he’d ended things with you because he was scare, actually… It all meant something. He just hadn’t realised it until last night in his car, when you’d had the talk and decided that was the last night of secrets…

“Cat got your tongue?” You teased, looking down at him from your position on his lap.

Of course, one kiss had turned into more, and those kisses had turned into something else entirely. He couldn’t help it, he just wanted you, in every way.

Although, these days sex meant something else entirely to him. It was weird and probably lame to think it, but it was true. Sex had just been for pleasure, fun, something he thought little about when jumping into bed with someone, but with you… Of course, it had been like that at first, but after the weeks went by, it begun to change. He wasn’t just having sex with you because it felt good, he was having sex with you because it brought you two closer together. The one act that had the ability to make you feel like one. You were mesmerising, beautiful, and he couldn’t believe he had the power to make you feel good. Somehow, you wanted him, just like he wanted you…

And he did want you. More than anything. It was both shocking and ordinary at the same time, because yes, him falling for a girl was a foreign musing, and of course, that had been weird to him at first, but he had become so adjusted to you over the weeks that it was just perfectly normal and ordinary that he should feel this way now…

It was a slow burn, a build up, one he never saw coming, yet now seemed inevitable. There had always been something about you, from the moment he’d first laid eyes on you at that party, before he knew you were Kyuho’s sister. That’s why he couldn’t stay away. That’s why you were so special to him.

“Hm?” He noised, blinking a couple of times as he tried to come to. He had been deep in thought, soaking in every ounce of your beauty and wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. That’s why he was speechless, uncharacteristically silent. “No,” he shook his head. “I just…I’m just looking at you.”

His voice seemed off, effected and quiet, as if you’d sucked all the confidence out of him and he was left the most vulnerable. But despite that, he felt powerful, strong. You gave him energy to be himself, the person he wanted to be. Just for you.

“Your eyes were glazed over,” you accused, suspicion in your tone, smirk on your face.

“They weren’t,” he insisted, and if they were it was just because he was so lost in thoughts of you he couldn’t concentrate.

“Ah, fuck,” he moaned quietly, when you begun twisting your hips around him, a heat building up in his groin as a twinge flew through him.

When had sex ever felt this intimate before, as he clung to you, desperate for more. It was like every nerve in his body was on fire, he could feel everything, invisible sparks vibrating off him, contacting him to you.

“Mmm, you always fill me up so good,” you murmured in his ear, hot breath making him shudder and he reached for you head, weaving his fingers through strands of your hair, making you look at him as he spoke.

“You always feel so good—Now, shush,” he told you, kissing your mouth, feeling his heart jump at the contact. “Kiss me.”

It wasn’t like he wanted to shut you up. He just didn’t need words to help him, to make him feel good. He didn’t need praise anymore, because you were his praise. Just you, existing, wanting him. He wanted to enjoy this moment. One last time before you both had to face reality. It was almost bittersweet, but he couldn’t feel sad, nor could he regret, because there was something else floating around in his chest and clouding his mind… Something deeper, something foreign. Something he’d never felt before, that’s why it caught him off guard. Made him feel so strange…

Love…

Seokjin’s phone buzzed in his pocket, forcing him out the memory of last night and he quickly fought to pull it out, hoping it was from you. It was.

01:35am [You] 

— hey, hope you’re okay — that was pretty wild :( — we should probably lay low for a bit and I’ll try to speak to Kyuho…

Seokjin felt a knock of disappointment for a second before he told himself to grow up. He knew that was going to be the case. Yoongi had told him, he’d even told himself, but hearing it from you just made it seem more real. He needed to wait, be patient, if he wanted this to work out. Because he did.

Last night when he said he would respect Kyuho’s wishes, that if he didn’t want you guys together he would leave you alone, he hadn’t been thinking straight… Now he knew he couldn’t give up on you. He needed to make Kyuho see that he was serious. He needed to try everything before he gave up entirely. Would your brother rather you upset and heartbroken? Because Seokjin knew, if Kyuho could see things your way, everyone would be happy.

Kyuho was his best friend, but you were also now just as important, if not more… He was in love with you. That meant something. And he wouldn’t stop trying to make Kyuho see that.

01:39am [Seokjin] 

— don’t worry about me, i’m fine. I’m more worried about you. I’m sorry I messed everything up… — and that’s probably a good idea. We’ll be fine, okay? Speak to you soon x

He would just have to play the waiting game. He could do it. Leave Kyuho cool down and then try again. And again. And again, if he had to. He could easily stay away from you if it meant all of this would work out in the end. He’d miss you, but he’d do it.

01:41am [You] 

— you didn’t mess anything up, ok? x

Seokjin smiled to himself as you tried to console him, although he couldn’t help the mild panic that stirred in his chest when he realised you weren’t sending another message… Was he expecting you to bring up the love word too…? Maybe… However, he told himself he was being silly. So much had happened tonight and he knew you were probably overwhelmed. But that didn’t stop him from feeling nervous. So many things were up in the air, and he couldn’t see a happy enough ending right now…

It was almost four days later when Kyuho spoke to you again. You could’ve probably tried first, but you could tell by his face, from the times you’d seen him during dinner and bumping into each other in the hallway, it probably wasn’t time for that. He’d obviously had enough time to sober up since the night of the party, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything in your favour. However, what did you expect when you hadn’t spoken to him and tried to explain everything? To make him see things from your point of view.

After texting Seokjin that night you hadn’t attempted to message him again, and thankfully, he didn’t message you either. It wasn’t like you didn’t miss him, because you did, you just knew secretly conversing with him probably wasn’t going to do you any favours in the long run. It would just add to the sneaking around and you didn’t want to lie anymore.

Even though for the last day and a half you had been trying to psych yourself up and confront Kyuho, surprisingly, he was the one who spoke to you first. Maybe it had been a case of crossed wires…he thought you weren’t talking to him and you thought he wasn’t talking to you, but tonight when he knocked on your bedroom door and you invited him in, he looked almost sheepish, and for a second, a dash of hope flew through your chest… Maybe it would all be okay.

“Hey,” he greeted lowly, not meeting your gaze.

“Hi,” you said, watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything else, just stood by your door awkwardly, and you grew bored of the silence.

“You haven’t told mom anything.”

The one thing you’d been confused about. You didn’t know why you were expecting him to tell her straight away. You didn’t even know if she would be mad upon finding out… She thought Jin was a nice guy, but nice enough for her daughter? Who knew. But it did surprise you Kyuho hadn’t said anything, even though by this point, you knew she’d realised something was up between her children. You were usually always chattering around the table at dinner, but for the past three nights there had been a frosty silence.

“She doesn’t need to know,” he shrugged immediately, attitude back and your heart sunk. It seemed like nothing had changed…

You knew what you had to do. Speak to him honestly and openly, one on one. No shouting, no drink, just you and your brother having a civilised conversation to try and make him see where you were coming from.

“Kyuho,” you started, tone as firm and stable as you could get it, because in all honesty you had been upset for days, but you wouldn’t cry again. “I know you’re mad and upset, and whatever else right now,” pausing when he scoffed quietly, and you swallowed, trying to remain calm as you opened your mouth to carry on.  “But whether you except it or not, I like Seokjin—I more than like him.”

That felt odd to say out loud. Even though you hadn’t explicitly said you loved him, you knew you did. You couldn’t tell if Seokjin’s confession had made this whole situation worse or not. It definitely made it more upsetting, but if anything, deep down, it made you want to fight for your relationship more. If you hadn’t known it was the real deal before, you definitely knew now.

It still felt like a dream, but just knowing he loved you made you insanely happy. You’d wanted so badly to tell him you loved him too in the texts you’d last sent, and you nearly had, but something told you it would be better to confess such a thing in person, just like he had done.

“And he feels the same,” you continued.

You brother didn’t move, but you saw his mouth twitch. Was that a sign of giving in? if he thought this was all just going to go away and you’d get over it, he was wrong. Maybe he was finally seeing how serious this was to both you and Seokjin.

You sighed, sitting forward from your bed to watch him carefully. There was only one thing left and he needed to hear this.

“Look, I know that you’re just being a good older brother, and I appreciate that. Dad not being there for us means you think you have to protect me twice as hard, but I’m an adult now, I know what I’m doing.”

It was true. Deep down you knew where he was coming from. He’d always been overprotective when it came to you, and secretly you’d always known why but hadn’t said anything. He was trying to double up. Act as not only an older brother, but a father too. And for that you were thankful, but you didn’t need protecting anymore. And especially not from Seokjin.

Kyuho finally made eye contact, your admission shocking him. He looked like he knew what you were saying was true, but he still had his doubts, you could tell that by his eyes.

“But,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I know what Jin’s like. He’s my—was my best friend. I know how he treats girls.”

The use of past tense didn’t go amiss and it hurt you to hear that. In some ways it felt like you’d ruined a friendship, even though you had never wanted to do such a thing, and that was another emotion to add to the shedload that weighed on your shoulders—guilt.

However, you couldn’t have him say such a thing about Jin either. Yes, Kyuho knew him better than anyone, but he hadn’t been there to see the change him too. You also knew what Seokjin used to be like, but that didn’t mean he was an awful person. So what if he liked to hook up with girls and never wanted a relationship? That was a lot of guys in the world, a lot of women too! It didn’t matter. If only your brother would open his eyes to change, he’d see that too. People could mess around with multiple people and then fall for someone later on down the line. It wasn’t impossible.

“Why? Because you treat them the same?” You asked, cocking your head and he opened his mouth in surprise. “Is that why you’re so mad? Because you can’t imagine yourself falling for anyone right now, so you think Jin can’t either…?”

It all made perfect sense. You’d heard the way Kyuho spoke about girls, far worse than you’d ever heard others…friends, Yoongi, or Seokjin. Your brother was still single and enjoying it, and you didn’t hold that against him, but he needed to understand that it didn’t mean everyone thought like him. Sometimes you just meet someone, fall for them, and all that goes away. Kyuho just hadn’t met that person yet…

“I didn’t think he could too. I didn’t even want him to fall for me at first. It just happened with time. But it’s real, I believe that,” you admitted freely, knowing you had to be honest.

“He went behind my back—you both did,” he shot defensively, and you had to admit, he looked genuinely hurt. Maybe that was another reason as to why he was being so difficult.

“I know, and we’re so sorry,” you apologised, wishing he’d just sit down instead of stand up. It was making you on edge, like he could storm off any moment and your chance would be gone.

“If I’m going to be completely honest, me and him, it was supposed to be a little fun and then it was meant to stop and no one would find out. It was an adrenaline rush, sneaking around, but then it got more serious, and we decided we had to tell you because we wanted to be together.”

It was all rushing out now and you couldn’t stop yourself. It felt good to finally get this off your chest, no more secrets holding you down.

“We were actually gonna tell you after the party last week, but well…”

“I beat you to it, and mightily off the mark too,” he surprised you by chuckling, and you nodded quickly, a wry smiling forming at your lips. He had definitely been off the mark. You and Yoongi? Laughable.

“We hated lying to you, but we were scared you were gonna be angry,” you explained.

“I was—I am,” he insisted, but his slip up seemed to show he was at least cooling down a tad…maybe you were finally getting through to him?

“Have you seen him this week?” He asked suddenly, when you’d both dipped into silence.

You shook you head, trying hard to keep the surprise off your face. “We’re done sneaking around—and I wanted to at least try and talk to you before Seokjin and I decide what to do.” You needed to add that because you needed to show him it wasn’t over.

“He’s messaged me, y’know,” he told you “—and called, a lot. He really wants to explain this all to me.”

“Then let him,” you said, “see how serious he is.”

Just hearing that Seokjin had been actively trying to get Kyuho to listen warmed your heart, further validating this was worth fighting for.

“I’m like the devil keeping you apart or something,” he half-joked, and you raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not keeling us apart, my conscience is.” You swallowed slowly, knowing what was about to come out of your mouth needed to. You’d already made up your mind about this, and even if it seemed like you were maybe getting through to him right now, you still couldn’t take your chances.

“Kyuho, you’re my brother and I love you dearly, and I don’t want to hurt you, or ruin your friendships, but I love him too.” You paused again, hearing the words fall from your mouth, liking the way they sounded.

“And I won’t be able to end it with him, if that’s what you wanted—unless he was the one who told me no—because I know he doesn’t want to come between us, but otherwise, we’re going to be together, whether you like it or not.”

There was a silence as Kyuho regarded you, hearing your words loud and clear. They couldn’t get any clearer than that, and he remained stoic, you were unable to read his face, to see what he was thinking right now.

Finally, he nodded, smiling a little. “I admire your honesty,” he told you, before turning to leave, and you wondered if you’d done enough to convince him? You hoped so because you didn’t want any animosity between you anymore, you just wanted your brother back—and you wanted to be with Seokjin.

“I’ll bear it in mind,” was the last thing he said before he left and shut the door.

Seokjin was going stir crazy. It had been six days since everything and Kyuho was still ignoring his messages and calls. He’d waited a good two days before he’d even attempted, but when he hadn’t heard anything from you, he begun to get restless and that’s when he decided to blow up Kyuho’s phone—not that it was having any effect.

He was getting ignored. He couldn’t handle it. He was so desperate to make him see the truth and he was getting nowhere. His last option was to just go around your house—he didn’t want to, because that could make more problems, but he was running out of options. He missed you. And he didn’t want to get ahold of you, in case he ruined everything there too. The whole point of telling Kyuho was so that there weren’t any secrets anymore. He couldn’t risk that. His only choice was to speak to Kyuho.

So imagine his surprise when his door buzzed that night and he opened it to find him stood on the porch…

“K-Kyuho…” He stuttered in shock.

“Can I come in?”

“Um, yup,” he nodded, not knowing how to take this. On one hand, Kyuho didn’t look angry anymore, but on the other, he still looked tense and unapproachable.

Stood inside the living room, things only got more awkward, just remembering back to the night of the party and all the uproar that had gone down…

Seokjin tried to rack his brains of things to say, which was stupid because all week he had been practising like crazy, even writing things down on a piece of paper… But now his mind was empty, and he panicked, wishing Kyuho would start this all off.

He had to wait 5 minutes. Five painful minutes.

“Do you love Y/N?”

The question rang in his ears. It took him off guard, although he should have been expecting it. That was the most important thing, right?

“Do you really love my sister? Because the Kim Seokjin I know doesn’t fall in love with anybody.”

He jumped to it, knowing he only had one chance. “I do—I mean, I am,” he corrected himself.  “I am in love with your sister.”

It still felt crazy to say such a thing. The words alien, but he meant them. He more than meant them, he believed them, he felt them…

“I don’t know how to make you believe me—don’t even know if she believes me, because I’ve never told her before that night. I didn’t even realise I did, until it was coming out my mouth.”

He felt honesty was the best policy, because Kyuho was bound to see how genuine he was being.

“Well, you better make her believe you,” Kyuho dead panned and Seokjin froze, eyes wide, not believing his own ears.

“What?”

“If she doesn’t believe it, you better try your hardest to make her see you’re genuine, otherwise I’m going to be angry.”

“…You look sort of angry right now, if I’m being honest,” Seokjin regarded him hesitantly, because he sure as hell didn’t look happy. His stare was hard and his stance was defensive.

“I am angry.” He shot. “You snuck around with my sister behind my back, for weeks, months. Of course I’m fucking angry.”

“I know that, and I’m sorry for betraying our friendship like that,” Seokjin rushed, apologising quickly. “You can hit me if you want, I deserve it.” He told his friend, standing straight, wincing automatically, waiting for some sort of blow.

“I’m not going to hit you,” Kyuho sighed. “Y/N would be pissed at me.”

Seokjin hesitated, dropping his guard. What did this all mean? He was okay with you and him? Or not? He needed to know, the suspense was killing him.

“So…” he begun delicately, “where does this leave everything?”

“Well she told me that even if I don’t accept it, she’s going to be with you anyway—so looks like I’m going to have to accept it.”

He didn’t sound entirely pleased, but the words were coming out his mouth…and he wasn’t absolutely raging like last week… This was a step in the right direction. He felt relief flood over him, beaming from ear to ear as he viewed Kyuho, desperate to thank him.

“Dude—

“I’m still not a hundred on this,” he interrupted, and Seokjin’s face turned serious, nodding in understanding. He knew that would be the case. It would take time to trust him with his sister.

“But I’m choosing to believe you, because you may be a dick when it comes to girls sometimes, but I know you wouldn’t lie to them and break their heart.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jin insisted, agreeing like his life depended on it—it did. “And I would never do that to Y/N. I care about her so much.”

“Good,” he shorted. “Then look after her.”

“Thank you, you don’t even understand how much this means.” Seokjin relieved, happiness washing over him and Kyuho finally managed to give him a little smile back, and with that, he remembered something…something as equally important.

“W-where does this leave us?”

Kyuho sighed a little, but he didn’t seem annoyed. “It’s gonna take time, but…if you’re going to be part of the family, then I need to learn to forgive and forget.”

Seokjin exhaled in relief. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something to hope for. It couldn’t get any worse than this. “You’re my best friend—you and Yoongi, and you mean the world to me.”

“Aw, fuck, Yoongi!” Kyuho suddenly exclaimed, eyes wide.  “I need to apologise to him. Is he pissed?”

“Nah, he’s fine,” Seokjin chuckled at his reaction, smiling warmly. Something small, just to hold onto…until things got back to normal. “Although Eunji’s pretty pissed you bruised his goddamn cheekbone!”

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking guilty. “Damn. Remind me to never drink again?”

“Duly noted,” Seokjin grinned.

On the seventh day, Seokjin text you.

19:23pm [Seokjin] 

— are you busy tonight? Want to come round to talk? x

Although as tempting as that sounded, you knew you shouldn’t rush over there immediately. You knew you had told Kyuho you’d be with Seokjin regardless of his blessing, but that didn’t mean a part of you wanted to give your brother more time… Although, it had gotten better since your talk. You were back to making small talk now, and tonight you were even both in the lounge after supper, your mom working a late shift which always meant you ate take out…

You’d thought about brining up the conversation again, but something was holding you back. Once you’d read Seokjin’s message around eight times, unknowingly glancing up at Kyuho every now and again too, he addressed the problem.

“Who was that?”

“Seokjin,” you replied with a moment of hesitation, but you knew honesty was the best way to go from now on. If you wanted this to work out at both ends. “He wants me to go around and talk”

“Don’t keep him waiting then,” he shocked you by saying. “He’s probably been rehearsing all day. I told him he can’t mess up.”

Your brother was trying to sound casual, as if what he’d just said wasn’t a big deal, but you saw straight through him, and such a strong emotion of happiness flew up your body, you thought you may burst into tears right then and there. Either that or squeal like a pig. You chose the latter.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Kyuho,” you screamed, getting out your seat to rush over to his and hug him. He reluctantly accepted. “You’re the best big brother in the world.”

“Okay, stop now,” he chuckled awkwardly, prying you away from him. “Before I change my mind.”

You grinned sheepishly, eyes watering you were so ecstatic. You were so sure you would have to carry on your relationship without his blessing, but knowing that he was at least trying to accept it—because you could tell by looking in his eyes, this was still hard for him—made you feel such relief. You knew you had hurt him by keeping this all a secret—you and Jin, but now you had the chance to make it up to him, together.

“Really though, thank you so much,” you beamed.

“No problem” he nodded. “Now off you go, don’t keep him waiting.”

It was your turn to nod as you made motions to move, shoving your shoes on with haste and grabbing your phone. “Oh, but…” Kyuho added, making you turn around in curiosity to see him grinning. “You can tell mom the news because I’m not.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes a little as you waved him off. That could be a problem for another day. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“I won’t wait up,” he called after you, but you were already out the door.

❁❁❁❁

You practically sprinted to Seokjin’s in record time, typing mid gallops to tell him you were on the way and by the time you were banging on his front door, you were out of breath and red in the face. Probably looking a complete mess, but you didn’t care, not when Seokjin was flinging the door open to greet you, relief flooding his eyes when he saw you stood at the threshold.

“Hi,” you smiled, walking inside as he held the door open.

“Hey, you,” he smiled back, unable to take his eyes off you, as if he was afraid you were a mirage.

In fact, all you could both do it seemed was look at one another in the hallway. You didn’t move, you didn’t blink, just gazed at each other with sickeningly happy grins on your faces.

“I missed you,” he spoke finally, tone breathy and quiet.

“I missed you more.”

“Not possible,” he shook his head and then finally, you were in one another’s arms, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

He smelt great and you inhaled loudly. It had only been a week, but you’d missed him dearly. Besides, this was the first time you’d been together with no weight on your shoulders, and it felt good. So good in fact, you were kissing now, his mouth flush to yours, warm and gentle, and you couldn’t get enough—you never would. Kissing him always felt good, but tonight it felt different, it felt right.

“We were supposed to talk,” you giggled after a moment, pulling away sheepishly. You had gotten waylaid by his presence, but you just couldn’t help it.

“You’re right,” Seokjin giggled back, out of breath as he kissed your lips once more and then moved to your nose, your cheeks and finally your forehead, cupping your face as he drew back to look you in the eyes. “Kyuho’s really okay with this.”

It wasn’t a question, more like a disbelief, and you nodded, unable to stop yourself from kissing his mouth again, voice a whisper when you finally spoke. “As okay as he’ll ever be.”

“I’m so relieved,” he groaned, knocking his head back. “We can finally be together, no secrets.”

You watched him for a moment, it hitting you that you’d never seen him look so happy, and you needed to ask it, you needed to know for sure…

“You mean what you said?” You murmured, watching him as he frowned a little in confusion and you added more. “You love me?”

“I, uh…” He suddenly looked awkward—embarrassed, as a blush grew on the apples of his cheeks, and your heart jumped about as you watched him nod eagerly. “I did. I’m in love with you.”

You grinned wide, clutching around his neck as you flung yourself against him again, overcome with emotion. You kissed him again, applying so much pressure you nearly bowled him over, and he grabbed ahold of your waist, rooting you both to the ground.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say it back sooner, it’s just everything was up in the air, and—

“Hey, it’s fine,” he interrupted, eyes dark in concern. He didn’t want to hear you apologise for something so trivial, you knew that, but you’d felt guilty these past few days and you needed him to know that. “I understand,” he told you.

You stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, time standing still. There was probably a few more things you needed to speak about, but for now, there only seemed to be one thing on your mind that was the most important, and you clung to his neck, pulling his head down so he was level with yours as you spoke the words you’d wanted to say for a long time…

You hadn’t let yourself even think them up until this week, even with everything that had happened, because to you it seemed a foreign concept, something slightly out of reach, inconceivable…until the night of the party… But it was true, and it was real and you were beyond contented.

“I love you,” you told him, dragging each syllable out, imploring so much emotion into them you could taste it.

Seokjin beamed, gripping your waist tighter, cheeks rosy and full, eyes crinkled up like crescents as he repeated the words with just as much devotion.

“I love you too.”

[looselucy]

November

Of course I chose to exit my room at the exact moment that Zayn’s woman from the night before was sneaking out of his room. Of course that happened. I figured my life was one long, awkward, and exceedingly unfunny joke. “OOP!” I popped, nearly bumping into her. “Sorry.” “Sorry.” She returned.

She moved to the door and started tugging on the handle, making me stop my journey to the kitchen and watch her awkwardly trying to escape. The image in front of me was all too familiar living with Zayn... and Mike... and Tally, to be honest. “You need a key.” I told her awkwardly. “Brilliant.” She huffed sarcastically, spinning around to me. “Well will you give me a fucking key then?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes and laughing lightly, in shock that she had spoken to me like that, and my hangover was far too heavy to deal with it. “Maybe if you had some manners, babe.” I groaned impatiently. I continued down into the kitchen, ignoring her as she cursed at me. I needed a cup of tea. It was too early, I was too rough, and I was probably still in a foul mood thanks to how terribly the evening before had ended. I went to flick the kettle on, leaning against the counter, just waiting for her to follow me into the kitchen, which she soon did, huffing to herself as she took one step in. “C’mon.” She groaned. “I really want to get out of here before he wakes up.” “Say please...” I teased. “You’re such a bitch.” “Say please, and I’ll let you out.” I could tell she was strangling me in her mind, and it only fuelled me more as I stood smirking to myself, and by that point it was actually kind of curing my hangover, just a little, thanks to the fun I was having winding her up. Yeah, she was outrageously pretty, but that seemed to be as far as it stemmed. ”Please.” She eventually huffed. I laughed again and began walking back towards the hallway, bashing my shoulder against hers as we crossed paths and I sauntered into the hall. “I love manners, don’t you?” I beamed sarcastically. I could hear her mumbling some sort of profanities about me as I got to the door and unlocked it for her, swinging it open and curtsying her as she left, giving her the fakest smile I could possibly conjure as she exited, rolling her eyes at me one last time for good measure. As soon as she had even one foot out of the door I practically slammed it shut and went back into the kitchen, grateful as the kettle boiled and I began making myself the well-deserved cup of tea. I heard a door open in the hall, and I gripped my eyes shut, praying it wasn’t Harry. “Has she gone?” I felt so much relief hearing Zayn’s voice, turning around and giving him a tender smile, before returning back to my expert tea making. “Yeah. You want one?” I offered. “I’d kill for one.” He slugged over to me, rough as hell. “I wanted her number.” I grabbed a cup from our pile of cups, being the sharing kind we all were we just kept a stash of mugs for everyone to use, varying in sizes and designs. “You didn’t. I just had to deal with her, and trust me, she was an absolute nightmare.” “Never mind.” He leant next to me. “How ya feeling?” “Pretty poor, but been worse.” I chuckled. “How ‘bout you?” “Really bad. Massive comedown.” We heard another door opening, and I was definitely expecting it to be Harry that time. But, to both of our surprise, it was Ringo. Ringo had exited her room. Ringo was there. She was a rare sight. ”Hi.” She murmured shyly. “Y’alright, Ringo?” Zayn smirked. I swear he flirted with her every single time. Not that she wasn’t pretty, she was! She was very petite, miniature even, her cheeks were always a bright shade of pink, her face completely natural other than the septum piercing in her nose, cute mousey-brown hair. But it somehow felt as though he was trying to make her even more uncomfortable than she was around us all anyway. I wasn’t entirely sure that was his intention, but it certainly didn’t help the situation. Zayn was that type of person, he knew he could walk into a room and have every straight girl in there at his feet, and he loved it. Zayn literally aimed to leave a trail of broken hearts wherever he went. Ringo was just another part of that. “Mmhm.” She nodded awkwardly. “You want a brew?” I asked her, as friendly as possible. “No, thank you.” She squeaked. I always wanted to go the extra mile with Ringo. I wanted to be her friend, I really did. But she was literally the most withdrawn person I had ever met in my life, which to be honest, was not easy to live with. She had built up walls I wasn’t sure we could tear down, especially considering how rowdy the rest of us were. I realised then, I didn’t even know her last name, never mind if Ringo was her real name. I lived with the girl and I didn’t even know her damn last name. “What’s your last name?” I asked her. She was a little thrown by my question as she routed through her food cupboard, but she quickly answered. “Sparks.” ”Ringo Sparks?” Zayn chirped. “That is one of the coolest names I’ve ever heard.” Yet again, another door opened, and the third times a charm, because soon Harry sauntered unenthusiastically into the kitchen, butterfly tattoo on show, hair messy, tight skinny jeans still on from our previous evening. I also couldn’t avoid spotting the bruises on his knuckles. I cringed at the memory; cringed at the entire idea of him. “Mornin’.” He said glumly. “Harry, listen to this.” Zayn said as I finally finished the drinks. “Her name is Ringo Sparks.” Harry looked down to Ringo, a confused expression pushed upon his features. He then turned back to Zayn, whilst pointing a finger to her. “Is this the girl you shagged last night?” He quizzed. “No!” Zayn chuckled. “You live with this girl.” “Oh!” Harry baffled gleefully. “Cool name.” “Thanks.” She blushed. “And over here, we have Pippa Payne.” He grinned as he strolled my way. “Shame in her eyes thanks to her shit name.” I blew a raspberry to him, which within seconds was just entirely embarrassing, and everyone looked at me as if to say, as if that was your comeback, as if that was the best you could do. Even Ringo gave me that look. I passed Zayn the tea I’d made him, and finally turned fully around to stare at the room, Harry stood close to me whilst he filled his pint glass with water from the sink, Zayn on my left, and Ringo stood with her feet facing inwards in front of me. She had stuck around longer than she usually did. So I decided to try a little harder, since she was. “Ringo, me and Zayn are going to watch a film tonight in the theatre. You’re welcome to join us, if you want.” “Oh.” She simply fumbled. “Where?” Harry got himself involved. I didn’t reply to him, I just took a sip of my tea as a way to avoid it, even though it was boiling hot and I regretted the decision almost immediately. But thankfully, Zayn did speak for me, even though I wished Harry wasn’t getting himself involved in our plans. “They do a free screening of some really cool films every Sunday in the theatre on campus. We go as much as we can. Me, Pip, Tally, Mike and Grace.” “Who the fuck is Grace?” Harry snorted. “The girls whose room you stole!” I barked. “I didn’t steal it, Pip-Squeak. I didn’t even want to live here, anyway. And it got ten times worse the fucking second I met you.” Most the time it was like Harry was trying to wind me up, but then occasionally he would spit a comment like that, with so much truth, I was aware he disliked me, even hated me, just as much as I did him. And I also hated how uncomfortable it made Zayn, who genuinely was really getting on with young Harold. Things were beginning to get uncomfortable. Ringo scurried off into her room with a bag of crisps and not another word, leaving so it was just the three of us in the kitchen. I moved away from Harry with my warm cup of tea in hand, biting the burn on the tip of my tongue, and sitting myself down on the sofa. Harry and Zayn stayed propped against the kitchen counter. “How come you live here then?” Zayn had to ask. “I got kicked out of my old flat. Used to live in the same building as Louis.” Our flats were great, some of the best we could have been given, but I knew the halls Louis lived in were even better. They were bigger, a little more modern, actual en-suite showers as opposed to our communal ones. “I didn’t know you knew Louis!” Zayn chirped, always giddily fond of his course-mate. “No, I don’t. He just heard about what I did when I got kicked out.” Of course I was intrigued, but I refused to show any interest in Harry and his life, because I was stupidly stubborn, and I wanted nothing to do with him. No more than was needed to stay as sweet as possible with Zayn, anyway. “Why’d you get kicked out?” He couldn’t help but smirk. “I... got into a bit of a fight with someone who lived in my flat. It got out of hand, to be honest. Even though I was completely in the right. Obviously, my word against his.” I forced out a huff from my nose, rolling my eyes and taking another sip of tea, knowing from experience that Harry started fights for no reason whatsoever, and I was glad they kicked him out because he must have deserved it. All I needed was to figure out a way to get him kicked out of our flat. “What did he do?” Zayn continued his questions. ”Doesn’t matter. I don’t wanna talk about it. But he deserved everything he got.” Harry said firmly. I continued to scoff to myself, hoping to do it loud enough so he would hear me and know how little I thought of him, and that I had him completely figured out after I saw him hit that random guy the previous evening. Suddenly a vibration went off in my pocket, jiggling against my keys and taking me away from the situation as I weakly pulled the item from the depths of my dressing gown, my face completely dropping as soon as I saw who was finally getting in touch. “IT’S LIAM!” I screamed. “Why does she shout so much?” I tried to ignore Harry’s words. “IT’S FUCKING LIAM!” “He’s finally got in touch?” Zayn beamed on my behalf. “HE GOT IN TOUCH IT’S LIAM HOLY SHIT!” I answered as soon as I was done yelling, but then continued yelling, too excited. “LIAM! YOU’RE RINGING ME!” “I am.” I finally heard my brothers laugh again. I skipped off excitedly into my room, wanting a little privacy to finally speak to him. I hadn’t spoken to him for months, not really. We had managed to text one another every now and then, but he was traveling, so it was a struggle. I hadn’t actually heard his voice since long before I moved to university. He was making his way across the world. When he was strapped for cash he would live in hostels or grim hotels and work in bars and cafes or wherever he could, to save up a little, and then he would move again. I don’t think he missed home, but he missed his family. “HOW ARE YOU?” I yelled again. “Calm down, Pip!” “I can’t! I’m so happy, Liam. It’s so nice to hear your voice again! Where are you?” “In Peru at the minute. It’s amazing. How’s uni?” I could hear him smiling down the phone, happy to hear my voice as much as I was happy to hear his. We hadn’t always been close; when we were young we practically hated each other, like most siblings. I guess I only kind of caught on that I missed him when he went off to uni. I was only thirteen at the time, and looking back, it felt pretty young to have my brother taken away from me. I went through my teenage years without him ever really being around, and he, as an older brother, wasn’t there to look after me. We grew closer thanks to that, and now I was eighteen, and he was twenty-three, we were both older and so much closer. I wished we could have got closer whilst actually being around each other, but there was no denying he was one of my best friends. “Yeah, it’s alright. It’s a lot of drinking, and I’m not really the best drinker.” I sighed. “How’s the work side of it?” “Good. Not too hard yet.” “And the people? One of the greatest parts about uni is the people.” “Yeah, you’re right. The people are fantastic. Except one. Just had some guy move in with us because Grace moved out, and he’s a total knob-head.” “Well, that’s expected too. Look on the bright side though, in second year you won’t have to live with him.” “Very true. That’s exciting, I suppose. But honestly, how’s the traveling going? Do you miss me?” “It’s amazing. Honestly, I could do it forever. The only downside is missing you, and mum and dad, obviously. But yeah, kind of never want to come home.” Even though there was a part of me that was jealous of his lifestyle, I also knew that I probably couldn’t do it. I was extremely family-orientated, I didn’t want to go too long without my family around me, because even Liam being gone was a big strain on me. I wanted everything typical, marriage, babies, a home and a family. It was all I’d ever wanted. Traveling the world would have been fine, if I wasn’t completely desperate for all those things. “Fine, don’t.” I played. “Never liked you anyway.” “Yeah, yeah.” I could almost see him roll his eyes in my mind. I spoke on the phone to him for a good hour, only catching up for a small part of it before we started speaking and laughing about the most mundane things imaginable. But that was one the best things about me and Liam. We had been in each other’s lives, literally since the day I was born. I had so many memories and personal jokes with him, conversation easily flowed. It did make me realise how much I missed him, though. I found myself silently wishing he would come home. + + + They were showing Submarine at the cinema. I mean, that was good for me, mainly because Alex Turner wrote the soundtrack and he was my ultimate celebrity crush. But I was finding it hard to enjoy even that, when I had Harry Styles bobbing his leg up and down next to me. I mean, he must have been making the whole row of seats shake, I couldn’t possibly have been the only one who was getting frustrated by it. I glanced promptly to Mike, who was sat next to me, and he seemed unfazed. I then moved my head forward, to see Zayn and Tally who were next to Harry, and they too, seemed unfazed. I mentally cursed them all, damning them in my whirring head, then slumping back into my seat, making sure to give Harry the wickedest glare I could as I sunk back into my place. He noticed, shooting a confused, scowling stare to me, looking me up and down with disgust. God. I wondered why I had ended up sitting next to him. Everyone knew we hated each other, so why had it ended up like that? I was about ten seconds away from throwing a complete fit. “What?” He whispered foully. I placed my hand on his knee and forced his leg to come to a stop, holding it down with force, giving him a fake smile before continuing to watch the film, my false grin having been used much more frequently since he moved in on Wednesday. It hadn’t even been a week. Not even a week, and he was driving me insane. I steadily raised my hand back up, enjoying the still for a split second, before I spotted his evil little smirk, and he started bobbing it up and down again. “I hate you.” I whispered, my eyes on the screen. “Does this annoy you?” He leaned a little closer my way. “Everything you do annoys me.” ”SHH!” Someone behind us begged for my silence. I swear I was being relatively quiet. I turned around and glared into the crowd, unsure who had done that to me, but ready to fight whoever it was. “You need to work on the pitch of your voice.” He sniggered. He was always smirking. Always. Winding me up was a complete pleasure to him, because he was guaranteed to get a massive reaction from me. So that’s when I decided, to just stop reacting to him. To just shut up and let him do his thing, to try and remain calm and collected, even though that wasn’t a natural thing for me. I was always pretty dramatic, even I knew that. So I just ignored him. I could see his eyes watching me, soon becoming confused, just waiting for me to react to him, and I could tell how annoyed he was when I didn’t. He so desperately wanted a rise out of me, and I refused to give him one. I didn’t turn his way again for the remainder of the film. Not snapping at him, was going to be a difficult thing, but if it meant he calmed down a bit, I was more than willing to give it a try. Once it was over, we were all lazily walking out of the theatre, Zayn raving about the cinematography, and everyone else just kind of listening to his comments about it and trying to educate ourselves. He probably should have been studying film, no matter how good he was at art. It was literally a five-minute walk back to our flat, and we were all in pretty high spirits. I’d thankfully found myself as far away from Harry as physically possible without completely separating from the group. Mike sighed to himself, slinging his arm over my shoulder, standing at around 6’5, ridiculously tall. “I felt like that film was about me.” Woe spilled from him flamboyantly. “What?” Tally giggled. “My mum and dad have a fucking wreck of a marriage, and I fall in love with every girl I see. Literally all of them. Any girl without a second head and I’m like, yup, would probably marry her. I’m hopeless.” “My mum and dad have a wreck of a marriage too!” Tally giggled, okay with it. “My dad cheated on my mum, and she knows, just ignores it! Freaks me out.” “I think everyone’s mums and dad have wrecks they call marriages.” Harry joined it. “I think every single family is fucked up.” No one argued with him, even though I shot him the most disgusted look possibly to date, everyone seemed to agree with him. “Bullshit!” I had to cry. “My mum and dad have a great marriage! They’ve been together years and honestly, they’re so in love it makes me sick. I can’t wait to get married and have that.” I looked across the group, feeling a little uneasy. Zayn’s parents were divorced. Mike and Tally’s had horrible marriages, which had messed with their heads. I didn’t know about Harry’s parents, but judging from his ideas about marriage, his was probably a similar tale. “I can’t think of anything worse.” He continued to scowl. “I refuse to believe people can just be happily married and stay that way.” “Well you’re wrong!” I tutted. “Each to their own...” Zayn tried to lower the tension. “There’s more proof of my argument being correct than there is for yours, Pip-Squeak. Look at the people you’re with.” “It doesn’t mean it can’t happen for the people who really want it!” Me not reacting to him hadn’t lasted long, at all. “You think Zayn’s mum and dad didn’t really want it?” He was on the verge of laughing at me. “You think they got married for a laugh and didn’t work hard? Same for Mike and Tally? Sorry, but your heads in the clouds over there, babe. You’re only going to disappoint yourself.” Mike tugged me even closer to him, because he knew how I felt about that kind of thing, and how excited I was to grow up and make a family. He knew what Harry was saying would be bothering me, and it really was. One, because it was Harry. And two, because he was right. There was a lot more proof in the world that such happy endings didn’t happen as commonly or as easily as I dreamed. Yet my mum and dad were a shining example of the opposite, and I was happy to have grown up with that. ”All families are fucked up.” He said again. “I just... I just don’t think that’s true.” My voice had cracked. With rapid speed, I went from yelling to being painfully inaudible, and everyone noticed. Everyone took it in. The rest of the walk was unsurprisingly quiet, people uncomfortable around me. And they couldn’t comfort me, because they were all on Harry’s side, I knew that much. They just weren’t horrible enough to throw it in my face like he had. Once we were back in our building, that was the moment I caught onto the fact that elevators magnify awkward situations. We all crammed into the tiny thing, which jolted enough with one person in there. The five of us stood shoulder to shoulder as we went up to the top floor, Mike coughing once or twice, probably on purpose, because he was that kind of guy, a total lovable fool. As soon as we were inside, I finally spoke again. “I’m going to bed.” I tried to ignore it was merely 8pm. “Night, everyone.” “Night!” They all called back, pretty much in sync, all but Harry, of course. I got into my room and locked the door behind myself, groaning loudly. I think that was the first time that I found myself genuinely wishing he hadn’t moved in. I was losing my mind after a matter of days, withdrawing myself, choosing to go to bed at 8pm just to I could avoid his company. It wasn’t like me, and it wasn’t what I was used to. I started preparing myself for a good nights kip, realising I hadn’t had a good sleep in days and maybe, going to bed so early was actually a good idea. I walked into the tiny room which held my toilet and grabbed my toothbrush, a little gutted that I would have to leave my room to use a fucking sink, which was situated alongside the communal showers, but it had to be done. I opened the door to the hall and saw, that everyone else had retreated to their rooms. I liked to think it was because I left. Like they couldn’t cope without my company. Like I was the glue of the group. Deluded. I shimmied down the hall and through the kitchen quickly, flicking on the light to the shower room as quickly as I could. It hummed and flickered, blinking back to life, before it was lit, dull, unexciting, revealing the ugly room. I went and stood in front of the sink, preparing my toothbrush and using a baby-wipe to get all the makeup off, watching my face in the mirror. A few seconds later, I caught view of Harry in the mirror as he walked in behind me, dropping his head as soon as he realised he wasn’t alone, probably wishing he had left it a few more minutes so we didn’t have to have another encounter, and I wished the same thing. He awkwardly stood at the sink next to mine, his hair scraped into the most pathetic bun you’ve ever seen, it was literally a few strands of hair tied on the top of his head, useless, there for show. A part of me thought he might apologise for being a complete bellend, but he didn’t, he just started brushing his teeth, and so did I. That awkward silence continued for a few minutes, until we were both done, finishing in time with one another. I began walking out, before he called to hold me back, obviously finally having something to say for himself. “Pip-Squeak?” I turned around with an unpleased and unenthused look on my face, wondering if he would ever drop that nickname. “What?” “We should probably stay away from each other. I’ve just got a constant headache now, and I can’t be fucked.” He huffed, glum. “I actually tried to make an effort with you, Harry. You’re the one who always starts a fucking argument.” “Look who’s starting the argument right now.” My nostrils flared as I continued to look his way, not dropping his eye contact once. I was beyond happy to stay away from him, I wanted nothing more, but that kind of thing was near impossible now he lived with us. He was getting involved with us and what we did, there was no escaping it, no matter how much we denied that fact. But we could try. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” I complied. “Fine.” “Fine.” I turned and marched back to my room as quickly as I could, probably even more wound up than I was before, regardless of the fact we had both agreed to call a day on our loathing and just leave one another be. I slammed my bedroom door shut as soon as I was on the correct side, and then turned to face the direction of his room and stuck my middle fingers up to it, as childish as ever. + + + I waited for Zayn to finish his lecture, swinging my legs off the boulder I was sat on. We were in the art section of the campus, so the amount of art that was easy to sit on was in high numbers, even though that probably wasn’t what their purpose was, that’s what everyone did. It was bright out, bitterly cold thanks to the month and the fact we were edging closer and closer to December, but the sun was shining and I was feeling relatively chipper, given the mood I was in the evening before when I went to bed, and given it was a Monday. Because even though I always had Mondays off, they just have that vibe, don’t they? After around ten minutes of patiently waiting, Zayn strolled outside, beanie on, leather jacket and Doc Martens, and he definitely looked the part. And then, to both my joy and dismay, Louis followed close behind. I hadn’t seen him since the apparent kiss we shared, even though no matter how hard I had racked my brain since learning the information on Friday morning, I still had no recollection of it. He looked even better than Zayn. He was obviously ignoring the cold weather in his black and white vans top, tight dark grey skinny jeans clinging to his legs, perfectly white vans on his feet. I was swooning, my head so light I thought I may fall off the structure I’d placed myself upon. The messy hair, the stubble, everything about him was just appealing to me. I clambered off the rock with a little stumble, seeing them both smile wide when they spotted me. “You came!” Zayn smiled. “I did.” I cooed back. At the same time the previous week, Grace had been by my side to pick up Zayn at the end of his Monday lecture. That week, I wasn’t so lucky. “You alright?” Louis asked when they both came to a stop in front of me. ”I’m good yeah. Are you?” ”Yeah, brilliant, thanks.” “Actually,” Zayn began. “I just need to nip for a wee. Give me a minute.” He began jogging off to the building he’d exited from not even a minute before, looking back over his shoulder and giving me a wink, and it sunk in what he was doing. My eyes went wide as I looked back to Louis, trying to act as nonchalant as I possibly could, but there was no hiding my state of panic. Louis however, was a confident soul, and after smiling coyly my way for a moment, he spoke up. “So… I hear you don’t remember our kiss.” I dropped my face into my hands immediately, finding it physically impossible to wipe the smile off my face, but it was pure shame I was feeling. I figured in that moment, since I was surrounded by overconfident boys, maybe it was easier for them, maybe they didn’t succumb the pressures of society quite as easily as girls did, since we’ve been tainted with that bullshit from day one. I then decided, quite quickly, it wasn’t the time to think about such social issues. “Oh god.” I groaned. “Was it that bad?” He grinned. “No!” I bolted my head up again. “Well... I don’t know, I genuinely don’t remember. But I imagine it was very good. Thank you… for kissing me.” “Maybe I’ll do it again at some point. When you’ll remember it.” If that didn’t have the implications that he wanted to kiss me when we were both sober, then knew I would be rendered entirely useless, and it would be extremely clear that I could not read between the lines. I would be a total lost cause. I blushed a thousand different pinks all over my stupid body. “I don’t think I would argue with that.” I somehow spat out. “Glad to hear it.” He continued to grin. Zayn jogged back over to us, probably too eager to hear the gossip of what had gone on in his short absence than actually give us the time to create gossip worth hearing. “We good?” He asked eagerly once he was close, rubbing his hands together because he was a cunning little thing, and also because it was pretty cold. “Yeah, we’re good.” I smiled. “Let me know when you’re out this week. I’ll join you.” Louis spoke, looking at me. ”Will do, man. See you tomorrow.” Zayn chirped. They slapped their hands together, their arms tensing as they pulled it into a hug, and my eyes remained engrossed by Louis, fascinated. And as he walked away, he gave me a wink, shockingly different to the wink Zayn had given me only minutes before. And I think I blacked out.

[randomfandomimagine]

Almost (Thomas x Reader)

Character: Thomas

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader

Title: Almost

  Requested by anon:

Hi, can I please request an imagine similar to the one you wrote with Minho where he gets struck by lightening in the film, but could you possibly make it instead with Thomas where y/n gets struck by lightning instead and everyone mainly Thomas newt and Minho get super worried for like 5 minutes and think she's actually dead? Could you just like draw it out and have them really stressed out cos she's super weak from stress of the scorch? Sorrrrry if this is weird I just love your writing... x

  A/N: If any of you are interested in the imagine I wrote about Minho, which is similar to this, it’s called ‘Smoking Hot’ ;)

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. Because we all knew that I was the weakest of the group, the one that always needed help. Newt told me there was nothing wrong with needing help and that I shouldn’t be ashamed to let them help me. But he had said that to cheer me up, because Newt was always nice.

They didn’t mind me being weaker, they considered me a little sister and enjoyed taking care of me. But I was fed up, I just wanted to be like Teresa: strong, determined.

So when we arrived in the Scorch and we had to bear those ridiculously high temperatures and the damn bright sun burning our skins… It wasn’t good for me.

I was stressed, irritable and weak. Which made me be even angrier.

“How are you holding up, Y/N?” Thomas worried as he walked next to me.

“Fine” I angrily replied, even though my bitterness wasn’t directed towards him.

I was bitter toward the world. A world that had brought us there, a world that had gone to klunk and where everything was wrong. A world were my friends and I had to fight to survive and even when we escaped that awful Maze we weren’t free yet.

“Keep it up, you’re doing great” He fondly patted my back, trying to encourage me.

Out of everyone, Thomas had been the one to keep his eyes on me the most. Even if I noticed Newt threw sneaky glances at me and Minho checked on me every now and then. But Thomas was walking next to me and wouldn’t leave me off his sight.

“Are we there yet?” I avoided Thomas’ glare, asking anyone who could answer.

“Almost” Newt replied, looking over his shoulder to me.

The blond dedicated me one of his friendly grins. But unlike in the Maze, when it brightened my day, this time it didn’t help. It just reminded me of everything that was wrong with the world.

“Hang it there” Thomas placed an arm around my waist, which was just enough for me.

I knew he was trying to help, but I was fed up with their condescending behavior. I hated that they believed I was weak, and overall since they were right. But I was tired of being weak, I would pull through it.

I wanted to show them, to let them know how strong I could be. So I just pushed Thomas away.

To be honest, it felt like the blood was boiling inside my veins. Like an uncontrollable anger was taking over me and all I could do was wait until it stopped.

“I’ve had enough of this!” I shouted at him, taking it all on the person that deserved it less. “Stop treating me like I’m useless, Thomas!”

“You look tired, I just wanted to help you-“ My friend tried to defend himself, but I wasn’t done venting.

“Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t be as strong as you boys, and just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m worthless!”

“Hey, no one ever said that, Y/N…” Winston tried to soothe my fury, but it was no use.

“Stop looking at me like that, all of you!” I felt how my hands were shaking due to my outburst, I just wished I could put an end to it.

“Oi” Newt walked closer to me and observed me sternly, gravely. “Easy, love, we’re just trying to help”

“Yeah, don’t be a slinthead” Minho observed me, outraged.

Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I felt the urge to cry. I just looked down and heaved a few deep breaths until I managed to calm myself down.

“I’m sorry” I lowly said, barely having the strength to speak anymore. “I’m so stressed and so done with everything…”

“Well, I want to punch something” Minho began to say, nudging me in what I thought it was a friendly gesture. “But you don’t see me beating the klunk out of anyone. So take it easy, shuck face!”

“It’s alright, Y/N” Newt rubbed my arm kindly. “We’re all bloody exhausted”

I looked up slightly, just enough to glance at them. As soon as my eyes fell on Thomas, I needed to avert them again.

“I just need a moment” I told them, still looking down at the sand of the Scorch.

All of my friends began to walk, giving me the privacy I needed. I began to sob as silently as I could, ashamed that they might hear. I needed to have a cry, then I promised myself I would sober up.

“You okay?” Thomas’ voice came, being him the only one who stood behind.

Afraid that my voice would give me away, I just nodded. Only then did he walk away.

I took my time to cry a little, let all that pent up anger and sadness out and stop bottling it. As soon as I felt better, I caught up with them.

*

I was seriously fed up, I was losing hope and I didn’t even want to keep going anymore. I had lost any motivation to continue our journey, I forced myself to move because that way I had something to do, but I walked by inertia.

“How are you doing?” Thomas had been walking beside me all the time.

At least I was grateful because my friends were looking after me, it didn’t make me feel weak anymore. It reminded me of the fact that they could be my strength.

Everyone kept an eye on me: throwing glances in my direction every now and then, asking if I was doing okay and if I needed any help since I was definitely the one that wasn’t exactly holding up the best.

Thomas, on the other hand, never left my side. Since the beginning of our long, arduous and never ending journey, he was there right by me.

He was there, supporting me and giving me strength when I thought I didn’t have any left.

I didn’t really have the energy to reply, so I just shrugged. I knew that simple gesture would be more than enough to answer his question anyway.

I glanced at him, analyzing the look in his eyes. It saddened me.

I realized what he was thinking. He felt bad because he had known me in the Maze, he knew how carefree and such a chatterbox I was despite all we endured, despite all our obstacles. So it probably hurt him to see me like this.

“Just a little longer, Y/N” His voice was serious and neutral, his face had no trace of a smile yet he somehow managed to comfort me slightly. “We’re almost to that warehouse”

Indeed, we could see a warehouse in the distance. Even though it wasn’t the coziest of places and didn’t look very welcoming, it was our only shelter in the middle of the vast nowhere that was the Scorch.

Seeing as it didn’t necessarily cheer me up, Thomas did something I would have never expected him to do. He held my hand.

His rough but sweet touch felt extremely reassuring and uplifting. So I thanked him by smiling a little and squeezing his hand to tighten the grip a little.

I decided to lead him on and let out a bit of a playful joke to lighten the mood for once.

“This can’t get any worse, can it?” I should have known I was tempting fate, because jut as I was uttering the last word, a very loud thunder broke out in the sky.

“A storm…” Thomas observed.

“Not just any storm” Newt told us, motioning for us to hurry.

It was a very violent and loud storm that made us cringe in fear every time lightning hit ground.

“Run!” Someone in our group yelled, and even though we didn’t really know who, we obeyed.

Many screams were heard in our group when the lightning fell near us. The storm was brutal, and it was a grave danger to all of us.

We all ran how fast we could, every one at a different speed.

I was terrified out of my mind, finding myself missing the emptiness of the calm Scorch during the day. Even with the burning hot sun over our heads.

Then it arrived unexpectedly and all at once. An immense pain that filled me from head to toe, an electrical current that shook my whole body and made every fiber of my being ache and become sore without even moving.

Then I felt myself falling limp to the ground, but I couldn’t really see anything because my eyes had shut themselves and wouldn’t open.

I heard voices calling my name and footsteps quickly inching closer.

But before I could made sense out of anything that was happening around me, I submerged in a darkness deeper than the one behind my eyelids.

*

I frowned when I felt someone shaking me violently, interrupting my empty and blank rest.

“Y/N, come on!” They shouted, but I couldn’t pinpoint who that voice belonged to.

I tried to speak up, to tell whoever was bothering me to stop what they were doing because they were staring to make me feel dizzy.

Why was no one else stopping them?

I groaned a little to complain, since that was all that I could manage at the moment. It was only then when I realized that I could actually open my eyes too.

But I felt too tired, so I just tried to move my arms first. With a lot of effort, I ended up dragging my hands until they met with another pair of hands, which held me by the collar of my shirt.

At last, they stopped shaking me when I touched them.

Then I felt like I was suffocating, so I took an urgent deep breath that provoked a coughing fit and a pang in my lungs. I closed my eyes tighter until it passed.

“Y/N” Came a shocked but relieved whisper.

I opened my eyes when I realized I knew who that was. I recognized his voice.

“Thomas?” I mumbled, almost too low to hear myself.

Everything was dark around us, but I could make out his facial features thanks to a very soft light coming from flashlights. Overall his furrowed brow and his anguished glance.

“Bloody hell, Y/N…” Next to him, Newt heaved a deep sigh.

“Those were the longest minutes of my entire life” Thomas sighed too.

“We thought you died!” Frypan exclaimed behind them.

“Almost…” My voice sounded rough and hoarse as tough I hadn’t spoken in years.

My throat felt dry and my chest felt heavy and tense, it was a little hard to breathe.

I tried to sit up once I realized I was lying down, but I groaned in pain when the wave of sore muscles awakened.

“Klunk” I muttered as I tried to ignore the pain in order to actually sit up with the help of Thomas and Newt.

“Shuck, Y/N is tough as nails!” Minho patted my shoulder.

Very softly, considering who we were talking about.

I heard many whispers and sighs of relief as everyone realized I had survived the shuck lightning hitting me. Barely, but I did.

Thomas threw himself to hug me, relieved and still frightened. His hands and arms shook against my back as he squeezed me tight, clutching to my body for comfort and seeking solace.

“Glad to see you’re okay, love” Newt messed up my hair fondly.

“That’s relative, Newt”

“The lightning gave you your sense of humor back, it’s a shuck miracle!” Minho had to be a smartass as usual. But when he saw I gave him a glare he smirked and winked at me, friendly. “Welcome back, you shank”

“Thanks” I absently said, realizing that Minho was right.

Why did I suddenly feel like joking around again, like I used to back in the Maze? Probably because I had almost died and it put everything into perspective.

Yes, the Scorch was harrowing, exhausting and horrible. But at least I was alive.

We all looked at each other for a while, thanking whatever superior forces the fact that I was alive.

Newt was the first one to try and help me up, but Thomas and the rest followed immediately. Thomas’ hands held me firmly but tenderly, gently but urgently.

Somehow, I knew that after all that, it would get better. Not easier, not safer, but just slightly better.

Because I had survived a shuck lightning bolt and I had my friends with me. And I had Thomas, who I knew would never leave me.

[mysecretchapbook]

Please, 223, 226 and 260 with Draco.

“Shut Up and Kiss Me”

Draco x Reader

“Let me buy you a drink?” “Look at that. I’ve never seen your face get so red.” “Shut up and kiss me.” 

In the days approaching your Sixth year you found yourself in staying in a rather deserted Hogsmeade. Due to your family’s work obligations, you were being put up in a small room in the village until school started. It was your first taste of complete independence and, while you missed your friends at school, you wished you had more time before it started. Day after day you wandered the streets of the village and peered into the shops, read books on benches outside the Bakery while you ate treacle tarts and sipped lattes. One peculiarly lonely night you decided to go out to have a drink. You put on a simple dress, you didn’t feel like trying to put together an outfit. For once, you were pleased with the way your normally uncontrollable hair looked, so you were out the door within minutes of deciding to go out. It was not your intention to go to the Hog’s Head. You knew it probably wasn’t the best place for you to be by yourself, but for some reason you couldn’t quite name, you were drawn to it. 

You sat down at the bar. You weren’t exactly sure what to order. You had tasted your Mother’s elderflower wine before, so thats what you politely asked for. You looked quite different than the other patrons here. Though they were few, they were quite loud. One burly looking man was telling a story about a brawl he was in while holding a cold mug up to his eye like an ice pack. There was a striking, tall witch in the corner whose beauty was not the only thing startling about her. She kept muttering to herself and would occasionally yelp out an exclamation. You tried not to stare at any of them. You could handle yourself if somebody gave you any trouble, you were certain. You would just whip your wand out of your boot and cast one of the many jinxes you’d learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You began to leaf through the defensive spells in your mind and you imagined scenarios in which you would use them. 

“Of all the people I could have expected to see here, you were not on the list,” somebody said in a low drawl behind you. You nearly leapt out of your seat. Draco Malfoy’s eyes were locked on yours. You could hardly put together words. He laughed, baring his teeth. “Nervous?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow as he appraised you. 

“No,” you laughed uneasily, “I was just…deep in thought,” 

You’d known Draco all throughout school. He never payed you much attention, until last year.  He started to occasionally throw a whistle in your direction as you walked past or say outrageously flirtatious things in front of the entire class while you were trying to do your work. It all seemed so fake to you. Why would Draco Malfoy be interested in you? Once you had asked your friends why they thought he toyed with you so much. “It’s probably the way you react,”

“What do you mean?” you asked your girlfriends.

“Well…You barely do anything. You basically ignore him. He probably doesn’t like that. It’s a challenge for him” 

You didn’t want to be a challenge for him. You didn’t like him. Sure, he was absolutely gorgeous, and quite clever, but he was mean. That was really the only word for him. 

“What brings you here, anyway?” He asked, as if he had a right to know. 

“I was just leaving actually,” you said, rifling through your purse for some money. 

“Oh come on,” he laughed, “You can’t hate me that much,”

“No really, I was just leaving,”

“Come on, where do you have to be? Let me buy you a drink,” you could tell that he had already had a couple drinks that night. His eyelids looked heavy and his smile was too bright. 

You had trouble saying no to him. “Fine,” you said, sitting back down. 

“So…Y/N Y/L/N…” His voice was low and slow, like he was tracing every consonant and vowel carefully with his tongue. “What brings you to The Hogs Head tonight?” 

You had planned to be completely evasive, but you didn’t see the point. At least he was being nice. “I’m staying in Hogsmeade until school starts. What about you?” You asked. 

“Running a few errands,” he said definitively and immediately changed the subject. “It isn’t exactly smart for you to be here alone, you know,” 

“And why is that?” you said, looking around the room. You knew perfectly well why you shouldn’t be here alone. But you didn’t need protection, you could defend yourself if need be. You took a sip from your wine glass and felt the drink slip down and warm you. 

“Because you’re a beautiful woman and beautiful women don’t usually go lurking around in dank bars on their own. No matter how good they are in Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

You could feel your cheeks glowing in the darkness. Not only had he called you beautiful, but he had also complimented your ability. He’d never done that before. He laughed. 

“Look at that. i’ve never seen your face go so red,”

You could feel his eyes on you and they burned. “Why do you always do that?” You asked, since you were alone with nobody for him to show off to. you thought you had a right to know why he was always playing with you like that. Like you were the butt of a sick joke. 

“Do what?” 

“Call me beautiful, say outrageous things to me in front of your friends, whistle at me as I walk by? I understand you’re trying to be funny or whatever, but it’s been old since the beginning and it’s honestly mean,”

“How on earth is it mean?” his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and he looked highly irritated. 

“Because! It’s like you’re always trying to get a rise out of me. It’s not like you actually believe any of the things you say to me. You’re using me to entertain your friends and it’s really not funny. It’s really embarrassing. Like, I understand I’m not the most gorgeous creature but you don’t have to highlight it in front of the class every day for your own enjoyment.” you argued. 

He looked taken aback. The cocky smirk had left his face and his eyes had a strange look in them you’d never seen him wear before. “I never meant it that way,” he looked deeply lost in thought. 

“Pardon?” You said, your heart hammering fast from the rush of demanding your explanation. 

“I really did mean those things. I know it made the guys laugh, and sometimes I got carried away, but they were laughing at how I was always failing to win you over. They weren’t laughing because they thought I was teasing you. I think you’re really good looking,”

“Well that’s not the way to show it,” you set your jaw, but your face was warm with blush. This time he didn’t tease you about it. “Making a spectacle out of me…”

You sat in silence and finished your drinks. He ordered your second. You were already feeling the affects of the first. After stewing in your silence for too long, you downed your second drink. He watched and chuckled as you did so. You ordered a third, he copied you. 

“Y/N Y/L/N at the Hogs Head…Still can’t believe it,” he laughed into his third glass.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” You groaned. 

“Because; you’re a good girl. I’ve seen your grades. You’re always nice to everyone, your professors all like you, for the most part… It’s just surprising”

“Well it’s not like I came here to be all self-destructive. I was just bored.”

“What,  you already finished pre-reading the books for the Term?”  

“Oh shut up,” you laughed. You were starting to teeter on the edge of drunkenness. You found that the two of you had much more to talk about than you anticipated. He had you laughing out loud more than once. Once you finished your drinks he stood up. “Wanna take a walk with me?” He said, using his chair for leverage as he stood. 

“Sure,” you said and he began to pay for both your drinks. “Oh it’s okay I’ve got mine,” you said, reaching into your purse. He put his hand on yours to stop you. You liked to pay your own way, but didn’t see anything wrong in accepting his offer, so you just said thank you. 

“You’re better company than I thought,” you noted, unable to wipe the giddy, tipsy smile off your lips. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he smirked as he held the door open for you while you walked outside. The air was more brisk than was seasonable. It felt good in your lungs. 

“Well you’re actually quite funny when I’m not the butt of your jokes,”

“Oh come on, you know that’s not what I meant,”

“I don’t know. You might need to convince me,” 

“You just want me to shower you with compliments,” he teased. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but he was laughing. 

“And don’t I, who have endured so much by your hand, deserve just that?” you said, placing your hand regally on your chest. He laughed, the sound of it made you giddy. 

“Fine.” He smiled, scuffing the ground with his heel as he walked. “I think you’re very pretty, I like the way you use your want to put your hair in a twist while you’re reading. I also like all this bantering with you. I like to look to see if you’ve beaten me on tests and I use you as motivation to study harder so I can beat you.” He chuckled. You’d never heard his voice sound like this before. It wasn’t showing off, it was unmistakably honest and it made your breath catch in your chest. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you giggled, curling your hair behind your ear and fidgeting with your hands as you walked down the middle of the road. 

“I dunno.” He was smirking, “Evidently I’ve done some damage, and you see, I like the way your cheeks burn when you’re blushing. Perhaps I should continue,” 

“I can’t decide if this is better or worse than before,” you joked because taking compliments wasn’t ever your strong suit. 

“Really? Should I continue? So you can be sure?” He was toying with you once more. “Because I could tell you how I have gone searching for you in the library before and I always see you at the same table. I could tell you how cute I think it is when you have your legs all tucked up under you and you’ve got both elbows on the table while you’re studying. 

“Draco stop-

“Or how captivating it is to watch you brew potions because your eyes grow so focused and you get this cute little crease between your eyebrows”

 you had stopped walking a long time ago. You were standing in the middle of a deserted street. You turned to face him, your face was curved into a bemused smile. 

“Draco” you said, grabbing his arm as you laughed lightly. 

“Or I could tell you”

“Draco,” you said. He paused and you drew in a breath, unable to stop yourself from smiling as your lips parted to say “Shut up and kiss me”

[theemichelleb]

When They See Us (Netflix) - Miniseries Reflection

To be honest… I have no idea how to start this post.

A few weeks ago I watched Ava Duvernay’s interview on the Breakfast Club about this miniseries and how she came about taking on the challenge of telling this unbelievably difficult story. Our community is affected by these tragedies all too often and it makes it hard to want to have children that will have to grow up in a society that will never see them as children. Ultimately, I just want to put a thank you out there to Ava Duvernay for checking her DMs and responding to that message she got from one of the victims of this ridiculous justice system and running with the opportunity to shed light on this horrible part of their history.

“When They See Us” is the true account of what happened to Antron McCray, Yusef Salaam, Raymond Santana Jr., Kevin Richardson, and Korey Wise in 1989 when they were falsely accused, charged, and convicted of the tragic beating and rape of Trisha Meili, a white woman. This four-part miniseries walks us through the eyes of the boys from the night they were in Central Park until the day they are exonerated of all charges and released back into the world. Part 1 exposes the unjust tactics and tools used to interrogate and trap these boys in lies of committing a crime that they had no idea existed. Part 2 walks us through the trials of all 5 boys and how the justice system brings no justice to black people no matter how blatantly untrue a story being told against them can be. Part 3 shows us a snippet of what Antron, Yusef, Kevin, and Raymond endure during and after their release from prison; trying to integrate into a world that refuses to accept them because of these false allegations. Finally, part 4… we see the tragic circumstances and situations Korey Wise experienced for 14 years being moved from prison to prison trying to survive with a target on his back that NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE.

As a black woman I can never understand the tragedy of having that type of target on my back to the degree our men must live with it, but I can be angry for what they are doing to our men. This story is known… there are no spoilers to give or disclaimers to provide. If you don’t want to know my opinions on certain parts of this because you feel it may ruin the watch for you I understand, but please watch because this story NEEDED to be told. I don’t want this to be considered a review but more of a reflection because no matter the scale this affects us all, including myself. If you feel it’s “too hard” to watch or don’t know if you can “handle it,” they don’t deserve to have their story out there for you to not watch. Take your time, but watch… no excuses.

There were so many parts that hurt to watch and I’m often told I’m heartless because of my inability to cry at emotionally tear provoking movies or tv shows, but this broke me. I made it through the first 3 parts with anger and frustration but no tears, taking breaks and pauses in between watching. It’s going to take anywhere between 1-3 days to work through the series; approximately 5 hours altogether. For some, it may take longer. That’s how real it gets.

Watching Korey’s story hit me the hardest; that was what finally made the tears fall. The depiction of his truth and struggle was the hardest to witness yet the easiest to relate to. Not many of can say we’ve been directly arrested and blamed for a crime we’ve had nothing to do with, but anybody can relate to the fear of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and having something like that happen. Korey Wise went to the police precinct to support his friend, Yusef, and was left there. Not too long after being left he was used as a scapegoat to make this absurd story make sense to any other white person that would listen. Considering these boys were already being treated as animals it’s hard to believe the scenario could get any worse but lets add in the fact that he’s sent directly to prison, not a juvenile detention center, and beaten countless times by grown men that are actual rapists, murderers, felons, and so much more. Korey’s story is going to hit the hardest… just be prepared.

Watch this with your kids, your younger siblings, your older siblings, mentees, whomever you hold dear to you because this is real, and EVERYBODY in America needs to see what really happens to our boys. This isn’t something that you can turn away from and pretend as though it’s not happening everyday from police shootings to racial profiling. We wouldn’t change our skin even if we could, but America does need to change it’s privilege…

These boys were interrogated for hours without their parents. Parents were suckered and punked into handing over their kids to the system. This outrageous individual that is often referred to as the President of the United States, current day, was on news channels, taking out ads to have the death penalty imposed on these children that didn’t even know what truant or rape meant. Let’s be realistic… who in their right mind believes any BLACK MAN would willingly admit to raping a white women if they knew exactly what that meant? No man… and you think these five 14-16 year old black and brown BOYS understood what they were admitting to, alone with no parental guidance? Sitting in a precinct hungry and wanting to go home?

One question here… when has a rape EVER been THIS important to police? Rape gets overlooked, forgotten, disregarded, and ignored more often than it should even now with more resources than were available in 1989. Don’t be fooled… had that woman in the park been black and the supposed assailant a white male, there wouldn’t have been this much traction to find the attacker, let alone to create 5 attackers out of a crime scene that clearly only had evidence of their being one. This was a clear racial attack targeted at minorities that couldn’t protect themselves… more specifically blacks in America that have ALWAYS been discounted and created into animals that couldn’t possibly be human beings.

Linda Fairstein was disgusting, right along with Elizabeth Lederer, Robert Morgenthau, all of the cops that were gathering up boys, and the detectives in the precinct that coerced false confessions out of 14 year olds. Disgusting doesn’t even give justice to the horrific things these five went through, and the worst part is the shock value is gone. We’re not surprised at how the justice system fails and frames our people, it’s what we expect and that’s disheartening. You may watch and wonder how can we protect our children against a system that’s centered around seeing them fail, and I don’t have the answer to that. Knowledge is power, however. This takes me back to “The Hate U Give” and how Starr’s father teaches his children the hard realities of dealing with law enforcement and being black. Give your kids as much knowledge as possible to protect themselves; tell them don’t say anything without having you present, don’t resist or struggle unnecessarily, and don’t admit to anything especially something they haven’t done or don’t have any knowledge of.

Points that struck a nerve and hit me the hardest while watching:

Nancy Ryan should have pushed harder to take the case or have somebody else work the case because Linda Fairstein had a personal vendetta she was trying to resolve. I don’t know if she was a victim of rape or knows somebody closely who was and that made her act the way she did, but somebody needed to put her on a leash. I truly believe Nancy Ryan should have been that person, but I am happy she was the one that handled the confession from the real attacker in 2003. I understand the attempt to try and set Linda straight after everything, but babygirl waited a little too long to try to check somebody that flew off the deep end 4 years prior.

The black cop that tried to keep the detectives from interrogating Kevin after his mother left not feeling well… sir you could have pushed harder. I understand the remorse you probably felt by stepping back and watching that happen, but I’m sure there’s plenty of things you could have said to somebody or done to address the fact that they knowingly interrogated him ignoring the fact that his mother was sick and was coming back after getting her medication.

The audacity to connect Kevin’s eye being swollen and scratched to the struggle the rape victim put up when in reality he had a black eye from being smacked in the head by a cop with a helmet while they were tackling and herding black boys up like they were cattle… and this is NEVER addressed during the trial.

Antron’s father, Bobby, disgusts me. This man knew how the system worked because he had been locked up, but instead of protecting his son he forced his son to admit to being involved with raping that woman to keep his job and lifestyle up. I understand he’s passed on and God rest is soul where he is, but that struck a serious nerve with me. Protect your children at all costs, because nobody else will.

Yusef’s mom, Sharon, was a lot for me. I understand she was trying to protect her son, but this entire situation was bigger than just her and Yusef, especially when Korey ended up in this trying to look out for her son. No disrespect to any mothers out there because I definitely understand wanting to protect your baby, but they were all babies and they all needed protecting.

Ray’s step mother needs something… a beat down is what comes to mind, but I’m a lover not a fighter.

And just overall, the evidence that was missing, the stories that didn’t match up, the DNA sample that matched NONE of the boys, but some how they were still convicted.

There were so many other moments other than just that that even make writing this and reflecting on it almost as hard as it was watching it.

There has been a lot of buzz around this miniseries and for good reason. Ava Duvernay took her time on sculpting this and telling their tragic story in a beautiful manner. The actors portraying every person involved did such an amazing job and I can’t even begin to imagine how it must have been stepping into the shoes of anybody in this plot line; especially one of the five men that stepped up to tell their story in hopes that it would be heard and they would be recognized. All five men are hard working and it appears they are thriving despite the tragedies they endured to get to where they are present day. Again, I charge anybody that has decided this is too much to watch to reconsider. It may be hard to watch, but this is our history as black people and these men deserve to be supported by our community no matter how painful it may be to witness. The hardest part was going through it and they handled that part long ago, now, we should stand behind them and their efforts to stop this from happening to anymore of our children.

I recently saw a video from Clint Coley with him in a rap battle against some white cops and one line stood out to me… “You can’t say all lives matter, cause the black ones don’t.” Nobody should be able to watch this and continue to think our justice system is fair and protects all citizens. The thing white people will never be able to relate to is the fear that they may get that call one day about their son and they won’t be able to do anything about it. White boys are coddled and treated as though there’s every cure in the book for anything wrong they do, but black boys are thrown into jails and treated as adults with no comfort, support, or benefit of doubt. All lives can’t matter when that’s the reality of the world we live in.

So, do your community a favor… do your future sons and daughters a favor… do yourself a favor and watch “When They See Us.” It will make you mad, it will make you afraid, it will make you cry, but it will throw more fuel to the fire inside you that should be anxious to make a change for the generations coming after us. They will watch what you did and move accordingly. They will appreciate how you supported our community and follow your lead. They will be stronger for it, because that’s what you’ll teach them to be.

Be D.O.P.E. Support our men.

Release Date: May 31, 2019 Where I watched: Netflix

[flauntpage]

Refs, DOPS, and Ops Are Botching the NHL Playoffs

The Stanley Cup Playoffs are the busiest time of year for everyone in the hockey universe.

The players are subjected to a two-month grind and the media has to feed the beast on a daily basis. Arena workers, some of whom are pulling double duty with the NBA playoffs, are putting in overtime. The people who work for teams doing things like booking travel and coordinating schedules have to be ready for multiple scenarios as series conclude. Everyone has more to do during the playoffs.

Well, almost everyone.

While mid-April is the start of a hectic stretch for most, it seems that referees, along with the NHL's Player Safety and Hockey Operations departments, have already checked out for the off-season. They still don their uniforms or suits, but they may as well be on a beach. The work that was getting done during the regular season is piling up during the postseason, and no one at the league office seems to mind. They're still around, but they're long gone.

So: who out of those three groups is doing the very least in their jobs? I've ranked them in descending order, from the busiest, and therefore least damaging, NHL employees to the worst.

Oh look, a beach ball. Photo by Bob DeChiara-USA TODAY Sports

3. Officials

If you've watched a full NHL season, you know that the standard of officiating changes from the regular season to the postseason. A penalty is a penalty in the regular season; in the postseason, a penalty is a penalty depending upon the score of the game, time remaining, how many power plays a team has had, and which Fall Out Boy song played during the most recent stoppage. These are the excuses we've come to accept from officials as beaten-down consumers of the NHL product.

It seems like that standard has fallen even lower during this year's playoffs.

There are certain penalties referees have always had to call, like the delay of game for puck over the glass. That one remains a staple, but other usually sure things, like high-sticking infractions, have disappeared. Referees apparently have become so derelict in their duties that eating a stick is no longer an automatic penalty. Now it depends upon all those contingencies that used to apply only to hooking and tripping.

Go through some of the non-calls in just the conference finals: Nashville goaltender Pekka Rinne playing the puck outside the trapezoid, Ryan Johansen cross-checking Ducks defenseman Josh Manson through the boards seconds before the Predators' tying goal in the final seconds of regulation in Game 4, and, most recently, Tommy Wingels delivering an elbow straight to the face of Scott Wilson.

As bad as officials have been, though, they at least have put in some work during the playoffs—or at least, they've put in more work than the next group on the list.

2. Player Safety

We're still working along the lines of the same unspoken agreement we have with the officials, but instead of game situations dictating penalties, it's star or series status that determines if an illegal play will merit supplemental discipline. If you sense that referees don't want to influence the outcome of games with a two-minute penalty, that feeling is 30 times greater for people doling out suspensions—or not, as the case may be.

It's either that, or NHL players have been so well-behaved in the playoffs that there has only been one suspension-worthy offense in 79 games. Who can be sure which is the truth?!

That single suspension was the result of DOPS succumbing to pressure last month to give the Blue Jackets' Matt Calvert one game for cross-checking the shoulder/neck/head area of Tom Kuhnhackl during the final minute of a blowout. They let it leak through friendly media types that there would be no punishment, but then had a change of heart and decided on having a hearing for Calvert.

Matt Calvert after cross-checking Tom Kuhnhackl, which would eventually earn a suspension. Photo by Charles LeClaire-USA TODAY Sports

The latest outrage took place on Sunday afternoon. It was a 7-0 game between the Penguins and the Ottawa Senators when the Senators forward Tommy Wingels, with intent and malice, delivered an elbow to Pittsburgh forward Scott Wilson's head. The violation was as clear as day, but DOPS decided against suspending a depth forward for an elimination game. If that doesn't get you out of bed on a Monday morning to work, not much will.

But even with referees turning a blind eye to crime like a corrupt cop in a mafia movie and Player Safety more interested in doing literally anything besides holding a hearing, only one person has made the NHL look worse over the past six weeks.

3. Colin Campbell

I mean, who else would it be, really?

Hockey Operations, not Player Safety, handles things like Anaheim Ducks captain Ryan Getzlaf shouting a homophobic slur at someone on the ice during Game 4 of the Western Conference Final last Thursday. We're all adults here, so: the word in this case is "cocksucker." The NHL was vague when it came to explaining the specifics of the incident, and we don't know who was on the receiving end of the word. What we do know is it was serious enough that an on-ice official (this is why they are third on this list) felt compelled to report it to the league, and the league felt it was worth a $10,000 fine.

Getzlaf in Game 4. Photo by Christopher Hanewinckel-USA TODAY Sports

In a similar situation during last year's playoffs, Andrew Shaw of the Chicago Blackhawks received a one-game suspension for screaming the word "faggot" at officials.

As my Twitter mentions this past week so tactfully explained, there is no other interpretation when it comes to the word Shaw used but, as numerous internet people insisted on pointing out, the act of sucking cock is not limited to men; women do it, too. Therefore, Getzlaf screaming "cocksucker" on the ice was not a gay slur, and that's almost definitely why the 64-year-old Campbell deemed the word "inappropriate" instead of "homophobic." In conclusion, per these Twitter linguists, everyone who is mad should find a safe space in Cucktown or whatever.

Even if you believe that Getzlaf's word exists in an ambiguous place, you can't tell yourself that's what happened here. An official heard the word and felt it was used in a manner that rose above the Motherfucker/Asshole Standard and deserved punishment. And the only way that word would deserve punishment in the eyes of the NHL is if it used as a homophobic slur. Therefore, it absolutely has to be treated exactly the way Shaw was treated last year.

That doesn't just mean the NHL dropped the ball by failing to suspend Getzlaf one game; it dropped the ball by not using the incident as a chance to educate Getzlaf, other players, fans, and really anyone about that specific word and why it's on the same level as the word Shaw used. It's clearly needed.

I had never thought of this word as anything but your average swear word. But it's not. It's more than that. And maybe Getzlaf didn't know that, either. We'll never know based on his apology, which is the kind you give when you accidentally say, "Shit, we're out of fucking beer?" at a children's birthday party:

"Obviously a situation like that, where I'm on the bench by myself, frustration set in. There was obviously some words said, you know, not necessarily directed at anyone in particular. It was just kind of a comment. I got to be a little more responsible in the word I choose."

"Definitely as a father, as somebody that takes a lot of pride in this game and the respect for it, it's tough to see somebody refer to it as what TSN did. I didn't mean it in that manner in any way. For that to take that route was very disappointing for me. I do accept responsibility and I accept the fine. We talked to the league and I understand that it's my responsibility to not use vulgar language. Period. Whether it's a swear word or whatever it is. We've got to be a little bit more respectful of the game, and that's up to me. I accept that responsibility and we'll move forward."

So while Shaw showed genuine remorse for what he did, Getzlaf had a more "boys being boys" vibe to his postgame apology, and that was only an option because Campbell and the NHL didn't do their job. Instead of someone pulling aside Getzlaf and saying, "Hey, I know what you think you mean when you say that, but if just one person feels you're demeaning a homosexual man (or a straight woman, really) when you say that, you need to knock that off," the NHL simply washed its hands of it and moved forward.

And that's Campbell's fault. Yeah, there are other people who share blame, but Campbell had the opportunity to raise the issue and decided against it. Maybe it's because he's like most straight men and has never given that word and its repercussions a second thought. You won't find a better argument for having more diversity inside NHL offices to raise these sorts of issues, before they become a public embarrassment, than that.

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