#i had to vote in secret this year to avoid getting kicked out which is so fun

[suttttton]

In honor of the somewhat unexpected experience I had voting today, fellow USAmericans,,,,,,,,, have your counties switched to using paper ballots this year? Or do I just live in hell?

[spurgie-cousin]

(cw: death, sexual abuse, molestation, child abuse) i know i'm a broken record but i need people to understand how awful it can be here in nowhere America for vulnerable women and girls. I have big religious communities on all sides of me, ranging from Amish to Apostolic to Baptist, you know how many of those girls under 18 end up pregnant on accident and want help they can't get???? where the BEST case scenario is they just had a secret boyfriend, which could get them kicked out of their entire family and community, and the worst is like, unfathomable abuse by their community with the exact same outcome?

abortion is now illegal in my state, so now if 16 year old pregnant Amish/Apostolic runaway gets the insane amount of courage required to ask for help from someone like me, we'd have to find a way to get a MINOR across one of two borders, both hours away, without their parents knowing what for. and I will tell you 99.9% of the time that is impossible. taking a minor across state lines can be a chargeable offense, so unless they can get permission to visit someone or go to some event, which they won't, they're either forced to have a baby or take matters into their own hands, which as we know can easily result in death.

and that's not to mention women below the poverty line, who are the sole caregivers for multiple kids and maybe work more than one job, when the fuck are they supposed to have time to spend 24+ hours and hundreds of dollars to get across state borders???? if they have another kid, and need benefits to support them, Republicans in this state will call them welfare queens and drains on the system, if they abort the pregnancy to avoid being "drains on the system" they are murderers, and all but inhuman killers, like it so beyond maddeninggggg and dehumanizing.

the last few years have felt like trying to bail out a sailboat with a spoon, like I am on my knees BEGGING everyone, but especially women in red states, to please for the love of God give a shit about struggling women and girls in your communities. please think of 16 year olds pregnant with their relatives baby who are stranded 3 hours away from any legal medical care that could help them, like for the love of God. there are so many more than you think and so many girls/women in even worse situations. please vote in their interest.

god American politics is such a depressing place that I TEARED UP seeing pro-choice rallies in Kamala's ads. the one area it will be so fucking refreshing to have a woman in charge is healthcare. And like let's be clear, health care for esp vulnerable women has been historicallly atrocious but as a reproductive healthcare advocate it's really felt like rural/poor/minority women have been getting consistently beaten down by both the public and legislators and phew. to even think of possible help and minor relief in that area makes me very emotional.

i'm very glad Kamala's team decided not to take the "moderate" route and just avoid talking about it like so many men do. she isn't perfect, i will continue to be very very wary about her and i don't think people should treat her like the Savior of America, but god. it would just be nice to get a lady in there for so many reasons, wouldn't it?

[shepherds-of-haven]

Lena, who would be drift compatible in a pacific rim AU?

Hmmm, good question! I don’t think I’ve ever done a Pacific Rim AU post, so let me give it a try (all Shepherds work in the Jaeger program):

Blade: a powerful but vengeful and brooding Jaeger pilot who’s known for being one of the few pilots to solo-fly a Jaeger for several missions. Has refused to take on a co-pilot since his older brother (his first co-pilot) was killed beside him in battle. Known for using lightning/plasma attacks, making him popular with the public--however, he refuses to appear in any public-facing PR campaigns, preferring only to fight and kill kaiju. 1st Jaeger: Coyote Lightning

Trouble: a reckless and headstrong hotshot pilot known for having a death wish and zero fear of kaiju. He was born into a family of Jaeger pilots and is eager to make his name distinct from his father’s, who is a veteran war hero of the First Contact Wars. His Jaeger is specially equipped with more explosive weapons than most. He was voted to have the best smile among the Jaeger pilots for three years in a row. 1st Jaeger: Atlas Striker

Tallys: a solemn and no-nonsense pilot known for her refusal to employ flash and cool maneuvers in battle, and for her refusal to join the celebrity culture surrounding Jaeger pilots. Few know this, but her family was killed by kaiju during the First Contact Wars and she joined the program out of revenge. She is motivated solely by bloodthirst for kaiju, and her Jaeger employs long-range attacks, making her an effective defensive pilot. 1st Jaeger: Echo Hydra

Shery: like Mako Mori, she is the daughter of the current director of the Jaeger program and therefore relegated to secretarial and administrative duties only. In the academy, she became known for her abilities to drift with almost any partner; however, she freezes in combat situations until she is paired during an emergency crisis with Riel, whose ruthless determination forces her into action.

Riel: a scientist and financier of the Jaeger program, he uses his vast wealth and expertise to work to develop better and more efficient technology (and weapons) for the Jaegers. He knows every Jaeger’s components from top to bottom and would be an extremely efficient and tactical pilot, but is adamantly a non-combatant until the kaiju attack the outpost he’s staying in, necessitating his becoming a sudden pilot alongside Shery as a last resort. 

Chase: a former thief/criminal who had his prison sentence commuted in exchange for becoming a Jaeger pilot. He was initially forced to fly solo because other pilots didn’t trust him and thought he would either run during battle or would refuse to put himself in danger to save innocents. However, he is one of the most popular “Jaeger Idols” in the public eye, earning fans everywhere with his sense of flash, fashion, and flair. He pilots as if he has a death wish, and his Jaeger has two blades installed into its forearms. 1st Jaeger: Lucky Corsair

Red: initially a scientist and academic who wanted to study kaiju behavior and the Breach from which they came, he was eventually recruited to the Jaeger pilot program due to his excellent combat abilities and due to the wishes of his friends, Pan and Neon, who became their own drift-partners. He is working with Riel to develop technology to allow Jaegers to either become invisible or to teleport very short distances. The prototype of this technology has led to the development of his signature move in battle, the Flashstep. 1st Jaeger: Garnet Dawn

Ayla: a headstrong pilot initially known for deviating from orders, she was also known for developing friction with her partners, leading to a never-ending roulette of pilots who would join up with her and then quit shortly afterwards. She is famous for a technique in which she spins her Jaeger at such velocities that she creates devastating whirlwind attacks. It’s rumored that she was trained in a secret Jaeger facility in a foreign country and later defected, leading to supposed assassination attempts by rival government agents. She always carries a bo staff with her in the Jaeger outpost, even in the canteen. 1st Jaeger: Cyclone Banshee

Halek: one of the first-ever Jaeger pilots, he initially flew and fought with his twin, Naolin, as his co-pilot. However, their many fights took a toll on Naolin’s body, leading to him retiring from the program. However, Halek continues to fly (even to the detriment of his own body) in order to avoid returning to civilian life, where an arranged marriage to a wealthy socialite awaits him. Thus, he is desperate to take on any partner, leading to... well, you’ll see down below. 1st Jaeger: Willow Titan

Briony: one of the most resilient and powerful Jaeger pilots to exist, she is known for fighting so effectively that she can push her body past the limits of most other Jaeger pilots. Her signature move is a superpowered punch that can send a kaiju flying more than a mile away. She performs body slams, punches, kicks, and whirling chain sword attacks with her Jaeger. However, she can have trouble controlling her own strength and momentum, a flaw little-known to the public until the strength of her will accidentally overrode her co-pilot and wreaked massive damage on a city she was protecting. As a result, she has become hesitant and fearful of her own piloting, as well as afraid to fly with others. 1st Jaeger: Valiant Orion 

Lavinet: a surprise Jaeger pilot and former model, she is the heiress to a massive construction empire: her father is in charge of building the Pacific Wall, a last-ditch effort by humanity to protect the coastlines from the invading kaiju. Although she could live in peace in one of the few safe zones left on Earth, she has  decided to throw her hat in the ring and become a Jaeger pilot, attracting media attention and fan adoration everywhere. Due to her father’s fortune and massive donations, her Jaeger is one of the fastest and sleekest to exist. To the horror of her superiors, she ordered her warmachine to be painted in pink and lavender. 1st Jaeger: Wildcat Renegade

Croelle: a Jaeger pilot who professes to only be in it for the money. Despite his selfish attitude and mysterious background, he is one of the most skilled and powerful pilots in the program, allowing him to stay on despite his loud insistence that kaiju will ultimately destroy the world. Few can manage to pilot with him for more than a few weeks due to his utter lack of respect for others. However, he proves his valor while running am (ultimately unsuccessful) mission to destroy the Breach, earning him a medal and a promotion to being the liaison between pilots and the people who run the Jaeger program. 1st Jaeger: Crimson Rogue

MC: idk who they would fly with, but my headcanon is that they would be a new pilot of mysterious origins who turns out to be able to communicate with and/or control the kaiju. Turns out they were developed in a secret genetic lab to be the first-ever human-kaiju DNA hybrid!!! And they have mutant superpowers as a result!!!

Drift Partners:

Blade-Briony: It turns out Blade’s total sense of control and dominating precision is a good match for Briony’s chaotic and uncontrolled power; her bubbly and almost indomitable determination also thaws his aggressive solitude and stoicism. Their Jaeger is named Coyote Sakura and its signature attack is charging a chain sword with plasma lightning and launching an all-out flurry of superpowered moves!

Tallys-Lavinet: Despite an extremely rocky beginning, these two mature and tactical pilots form a well-coordinated team focusing on long-range defense and rescue, with Lavinet handling close-quarters combat and Tallys handling ranged attacks. Despite their extremely different backgrounds, their measured ways of thinking and steely determination give them a lot of common ground. Their Jaeger is named Lattice Electra and its signature attack is throwing a huge Jaeger lance that is strapped to its back, spearing two kaiju at once!

Trouble-Chase: Trouble is the only pilot fearless enough, reckless enough, and daredevil enough to take on Chase as a partner without caring about his criminal background and reputation. Together, the two of them have a balanced mix of bravery and evaluation, although they are also both impulsive enough to completely disregard orders, leading to a friendship for the ages. Their Jaeger is called Spitfire Eden and specializes both in blades, fisticuffs, and guns!

Red-Ayla: Red is patient and well-mannered enough to tame Ayla’s brash temper and abrasiveness, forming a powerful and balanced team that becomes known as one of the fastest-moving Jaegers in the program. With Red’s speed and ability to teleport, paired with Ayla’s agility and wind attacks, their Jaeger is named Whirlwind Dawn, and they are often called in to rescue or defend the coastline. 

Halek-Croelle: Although Halek is initially paired with Tallys, his general passivity and laziness chafes against her thirst for revenge. He floats from partner to partner, eventually being informed that the next partner will be his last before he is ejected from the program. To his horror and dismay, he is paired with Croelle, and they get on like cats and dogs. However, Croelle’s utter lack of fear and pleasure in violence activates Halek’s berserk battle-rage, causing them to become an extremely formidable (if violent and unpredictable) team. Their Jaeger is named Redmoon Danger, and they are only called in as a last resort, as they will not stop fighting until every kaiju in the area is dead. 

Riel-Shery: The kaiju discover the Jaeger outpost in which the team resides, developing a two-pronged plan that requires keeping all of the active Jaegers away from base and preoccupied in battle. In the meantime, more kaiju attack the outpost base, threatening to destroy all of the superiors who run the Jaeger program, as well as all of the non-pilot personnel who reside on the base. Left with no fighters and reinforcements and faced with no other option, Riel and Shery climb into a Jaeger under repair, becoming pilots when they drift together for the first time. They manage to repel the Jaeger attack single-handedly and later join the team without academy training, meaning they are only deployed as a plan B. Their Jaeger is named Fox Spirit Rho and is known for its excellent analysis capabilities, targeting a kaiju’s weak spots and deploying a swarm of drones to help attack while the Jaeger fires powerful laser-cutter beams usually used in the construction of rockets. 

(That was fun, I hope you enjoyed reading!)

[nekoannie-chan]

The doubt

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 1946 words.

Summary: Brock has a secret, you think he cheats on you, but what would happen if you discovered the truth?

Warnings: Maybe sad.

A/N: My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English, if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

This is my entry to the @trashmenofmarvel ‘s Trashman’s 2K Trash Party with the dialogue prompt #13:

“Guess you were right about me after all”

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platform or language (I translate myself my own work). If you find any of my works in a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs are fine.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

You and Brock had been dating for about three years, contrary to what everyone said and believed, in their childhood, neither of you had what could be considered a true family, so since you started dating it was what you tried to form.

When Cap joined the team, you noticed that Brock changed his attitude somewhat, it was as if he was afraid, maybe he would be moved as a leader since he had directed Strike for many years or maybe he thought he would lose you, there were many girls who were trying to conquer the Cap, but you had no eyes for anyone but Brock.

While they were preparing dinner, your boyfriend's cell phone rang, you noticed that he had tensed.

“Is everything okay?”

He looked at you doubtfully, it even seemed to you that he had turned pale.

"Yes, I know I promised you it would be a romantic dinner, but ..."

"A mission," you concluded.

He nodded, you had that bad luck that there was always a mission, you checked your cell phone to see if you also had to go, there was nothing in yours, although sometimes you didn't go together.

“I promise you that...”

"Just come back safe, I love you," you interrupted.

"I love you," he said before leaving the place.

That's how it went, you sighed, you weren't angry, but if you thought Brock was acting weird.

The next morning Brock returned, it had been hard for you to sleep, as each time you had a separate mission it was difficult for you to sleep, more than anything for the fear of losing him, instead of when you had missions together you protected the each other.

Brock was the only one who had been with you in difficult times, whenever you needed someone he was there, like when your family had kicked you out of the house.

He always seemed to be very rude and cold, but with you he was different, he had always been loving and cared for you, so much that he didn't mind getting hurt in the missions in order to protect you.

You had managed to fall asleep two hours before he returned, when he entered the apartment, he observed you, he didn't want to wake you up, he kissed you on the forehead and left the flower that had brought you to apologize for leaving.

"Hi," you said sleepily.

“Morning beautiful.”

He smiled all the time he had been worried, in fact, he didn't want you to know his biggest secret, yes, he had told you practically all his life and everything he thought, wanted and so on, but there was only one thing he didn't, first because he didn't know how were you going to react, second because he was afraid of losing you, losing everything that you had built in all that time.

"How was your mission?"

"It was something simple," he said without giving further details.

The strange behavior of your boyfriend continued the following weeks you began to suspect that something had happened in that mission ... or there was someone else.

One day you noticed that there were some documents on the table, it looked like a file m Brock had forgotten, both of you didn't use to check the files, but this time you needed answers. You took the folder, you started reading it, you were in shock, and you couldn't believe what you read.

Brock was HYDRA, HYDRA still existed ... doubts began to appear in your head, had he really loved you or was it all another mission? Your life now seemed like a lie, what should you do?

You didn't even hear when the door opened and Brock entered.

"Honey now ... what's up?" He asked when he saw the expression on your face.

He saw the documents, tried to remain calm, his worst nightmare was coming true, he had never wanted you to find out, and he didn't want problems.

“Y/N I can explain ...”

“Explain what? Everything is very clear, Rumlow — you said furiously while waving the documents.”

“Y/N ...”

“What? Are you going to lie to me again? All those things you were telling me were a lie, you were simply looking for a way to cover up appearances” — you snapped furiously.

"No, I don't ... I just didn't tell you the whole truth, I love you"

"You betrayed S.H.I.E.L.D., you betrayed me, I loved you, you played with me, I don't even really care about you, I don't believe you, and all this ... all this was a lie, right?" Your voice began to break.

You managed to regain your composure, you didn't want to hear more lies, and you were very hurt.

“Y/N, I ...”

"Go, I don't want explanations, I don't want to see you again," you demanded.

"I didn't betray you, I'm not leaving, I need you to ..."

"Okay, so I'm leaving," you said.

You took your bag and left the apartment, he tried to stop you, but you didn't let him, then he started calling you by your name, you ignored him and left, you didn't want to hear any more lies.

It had been two weeks since you had left Brock, while you had returned to the apartment where you lived before, you didn't answer the calls or messages and at work you ignored him.

You had felt bad, you did a pregnancy test, it was positive, you were not sure to tell him, you still loved him, but you felt betrayed, you knew his past and you managed to understand why he had joined HYDRA, but you did not understand why he had not abandoned the infamous organization or because I hadn't told you.

Someone knocked on your door, you thought it was Brock, and you see through the peephole, it was Steve, Natasha, Hill and a man you didn't know, you opened the door.

“Cap, Nat, and Hill” you greeted

They entered your apartment, it seemed that they were bad, it also seemed strange that they were going to visit you, it was not as if you were very friendly with them.

“Where is him?” Asked Steve.

“Who?”

"Don't act as a dumb," Nat said

You looked at Natasha without understanding, that day you had not presented yourself to work so you had no idea what was happening.

"Rumlow," said Steve.

"I don't know," you replied.

It was logical that they asked you about him, they did not tell everyone about their separation, it was also not like you were interested in others knowing.

“How are you not going to know? Asked Steve.”

"We broke up two weeks ago," you explained.

They didn't believe you much, so they made you accompany them, they didn't speak to you, but somehow you knew that they believed you were also HYDRA when that was a lie, you were thinking about what you should do, you couldn't stop thinking about all those times that you and Brock had talked about having children, if he left HYDRA, maybe you could have a life as a family...

The Helicarriers had taken off, you sneak out to look for Brock, you had a bad feeling, and you saw him climbing the stairs.

“Brock!” You called him

He stopped when he heard your voice, for a moment he thought it was not real, he turned to make sure it was real.

“Y/N ...”

I was very surprised, I didn't expect to see you in this place, after all, that had happened

“What are you doing? What did you do? “You Asked.

"Guess you were right about me after all," he replied sadly.

"Brock...”

“Y/N, I have a mission, after finishing it I will explain everything ... if you want me to listen,” he asked.

"Let's go, let's go together," you proposed.

“Y/N…”

"I have a bad feeling, please let's go, I need you ... we need you”

“You need me? Who else? “He asked confused.

He thought you were on the side of Steve and S.H.I.E.L.D., who had sent you to convince him to leave HYDRA, he had too many mixed feelings.

"We're going to be parents," you finally confessed.

He dropped his gun, which echoed when he hit the floor, he didn't expect such news.

"You just say it to convince me, you're kidding, right?" He said completely dismayed.

"It's not a lie, I'm waiting for your baby," you said firmly.

“How is that...?

“Do you really ask that?

Brock looked at the stairs that climbed doubtfully, the internal struggle he was having was noticeable, he could not continue doing that mission, and he could not lose the opportunity of what he had always wanted.

"To hell HYDRA," he sentenced.

He approached you, kissed you, and picked up his weapon, they would look for them, he was sure of that, but they would find a way to avoid it.

"We have to get out of here as quickly as possible," he muttered.

It seemed almost an impossible mission, it was difficult to distinguish between friends and enemies, and Brock was trying his best to stay safe.

They had managed to get out of the Triskelion, Brock kept thinking where could go, evidently to any of the departments, they would probably look for you there, especially after he had betrayed HYDRA.

Suddenly they heard how they carried a gun

“Stop!” Ordered a woman

You both turned, it was Hill, Brock stood in front of you to protect you, and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt you.

"If you want to fight someone, it will be with me, she has nothing to do with this," Brock warned.

Neither objected when you were handcuffed and taken away for questioning, you might find some protection.

“What plans does HYDRA have?” Maria asked.

“I don’t know.

That was true, you didn't know anything about that organization, more than what you had read in the documents.

"Why you run away?" Natasha asked.

"We were going to run away from everything, leave everything behind."

"You were going to continue with HYDRA's plans," said the Russian.

"No, we wanted to have a new life, far from all this, to start everything from scratch."

"You lied, you said they were done," Maria said.

"I didn't lie, we broke up, but we reconciled, we are going to have a baby, I found out this morning, shortly before you arrived, as soon as I told him, he decided to abandon the mission he had," you explained.

“Did you know he was HYDRA?” Nat asked.

"Yes and no, I found out two weeks ago, that's why I had left him, I didn't really know what to do."

"What were you and Y/N doing as HYDRA agents?" Steve asked.

"Y/N didn't know about this, she's not HYDRA, she found out just a few weeks before," Brock said.

After hours of an exhaustive interrogation, you could finally see each other again, now you had to wait until they made a decision about what to do, Brock assured you that he would do everything possible to mend everything he had done in the past.

"We have made a decision, due to the status of Y/N, we will protect them and say nothing about Rumlow, it will officially appear as one of the victims of the Triskelion, as long as it cooperates," said Maria.

“In what way?” Asked Brock.

"Giving information, where there are HYDRA facilities, the plans, whatever it takes to end them," Steve intervened.

"I will," Brock said.

Brock Rumlow would do anything to keep his family safe, the only one he had and ever had in his life and loved.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Decryption_Error: “Out of Reach”

Summary: Mr. Robot protects Elliot when Y/N pushes too hard; she’s left to wonder if she’ll ever see the man she fell in love with again.  

A/N: My tech lingo is gibberish—don’t @ me, tech peeps, unless you want to rewrite my dialogue because that would be super cool 🙃

Decryption_Error: All Chapters

Word Count: 4000

Tags: @sherlollydramoine​ @rami-malek-trash​​ @teamwolf2411 @limabein​ @txmel​​ @alottanothing​ @ouatlovr @backoftheroomandnotbelonging​ @moon-stars-soul​​ @free-rami​ @ramimedley​ @hopplessdreamer​ @sweet-charmie @polarcrystall​​ @hah0106​ @clumsybookworm18​

Warnings: ANGST, shouting, aggressive posturing and grabbing/hurting (let me know if I need to warn for anything else)

It was the second Monday of March which meant it was time for a monthly status report. This was one of the hundreds of meetings I attended in which I usually had a razor-sharp focus because this was the part of my job I missed. I missed having a direct role in operations, subverting attempts at data breaches, and working on scripts that would improve day to day operations.

I looked around the table and my eyes settled on the new Senior Manager, although I guess I couldn’t call him “new” anymore. Tim Millner-Brown had already weathered three anonymous hacks and managed to keep everything (and everyone) calm.

Since Dad retired in January and this was now considered a transitory time, it was all the more important operations ran without hiccups. I fixed my gaze on JaLeah, then switched to Ali as he began to speak about a new script to assess WiFi network vulnerabilities. As I listened, my mind flashed back to the meeting Colin and I had with Ali to reprimand him and a wave of disgust prickled through me. I swore to Elliot that his attackers would pay, but here was Ali, confident and happy, leading Elliot’s team.

Tim interrupted Ali, asking, “Why can’t a two-way handshake be enough? Less connections, less chance for an attack?”

Ali was quiet before he said, “Let’s get Alderson to explain. He’s leading the work on the new script.”

Jayne returned after a few moments, Elliot following her like he had been summoned into the principal’s office. He scanned the room, his eyes lingering on mine until I gave him a quick smile, reassuring him he was here to do what he did best.

Tim redirected his question to Elliot who thought for a moment before clarifying, “A three-way handshake is necessary to avoid half-connections. If one ISN changes their mind and doesn’t want to connect, the server doesn’t see the re-sent SYN so it thinks the ISN got its ACK and the connection was established, but it wasn’t—it won’t ever be closed. If we can cut the time it takes for the GTK to associate with a device, we can cut the time a hacker has to gain an access point.

“Without compromising data flow,” he added.

This was not the same Elliot who was ready to quit a year ago rather than give a presentation. I felt a swell of pride at how far he had come, the confidence he had gained. All he needed was someone to believe in him and to push him. And along with my swell of pride came a surge of anger as an image of Elliot, blacked out and bleeding in a broken server room, flashed through my mind.

“Tim, work with Elliot to determine how much time he needs, then work with Ali to find out how much that time will cost. I want a report by Wednesday. And if everything adds up, you can start on Friday—or should we make it Monday so as not to infringe on anyone’s weekend plans?”

My eyes never wavered from Ali’s face as I watched it pale, but from my peripheral vision, I could also see Elliot’s eyes widen. Then, Miles’ voice echoed through my mind on the day I was forced to appoint Ali as Colin’s replacement: You bet the house, and you lost.

But as long as I was in charge, Ali would know I’d never forget what he did. And in that moment, I wanted Elliot to know I hadn’t forgotten either. Never mind that the secret I was keeping from him was burning a hole in my stomach, pushing me to feel even more protective of Elliot than usual.

JaLeah smirked, but she played the placater better than anyone. She peppered Elliot with questions, then Tim dismissed everyone so he and I could go over his analytics.

“Thanks, Elliot,” I said, as he left the room, his lips turning up in a soft smile.

“The two of you are dating?” Tim asked as soon as the door shut.

I raised my eyebrow and turned to look at him.

“Yes?”

“So, it’s not against company policy to date someone you supervise?”

“Elliot and I were in a sort of unique circumstance. We signed a contract with HR, but I ended up being promoted almost immediately afterward, which eliminated the direct conflict.”

“Hmm,” Tim said as his fingers tapped on the folder in front of him.

“Why?”

“JaLeah is . . . well, she’s—”

“Say no more. Obviously I’m a proponent of shooting your shot in the workplace, but Elliot and I were sure to be super transparent about it. And that’s all the advice you’re getting from me. If you want to know if she’s interested, ask her.”

Tim smiled, and I felt like I saw him as a person for the first time instead of just as my replacement.

“And I would be happy to take over her evaluations in the event she is interested.”

Tim’s smile grew a bit wider and he thanked me, twice, before we dove into the data.

It was close to lunch time when Tim and I finished, so I sought out Elliot to see if he wanted to go out. As I walked toward his workstation, he was oblivious to the world, his eyes glued to the screen and his shoulders almost perfectly still despite the furious pace at which I knew his fingers were moving over the keyboard. A pang of guilt resurfaced for the thousandth time this month as I reminded myself I needed to make a decision about what I discovered.

Since I found the grand jury’s testimony, I had been conducting some “research” on my own. All 23 members of the jury, even the one who had voted not to indict, had been receiving the same amount of money for the past 13 years: 2,500 a month.

All 23 people claimed the money on their tax returns, but in 23 different ways—gas leases, oil leases, rental properties, gifts, renting their parking spot in the city, tips, bonuses, and on and on. It was clear someone had met with them and told them exactly how to keep this money under the radar. And if someone met with them to lay out the process for receiving money, then there had to be evidence of that meeting—or that person.

A part of me was dying to share this with Elliot, but another part of me was adamantly against it, afraid of what I would unleash within him if he was given the opportunity to pursue vengeance. My mind kept returning to who he was on the night of Dad’s party and wondering if I could trust that part of Elliot, that part who seemed ready to do something a lot more rash than scratch an itch or even just file a lawsuit. There was a part of Elliot, hell, there were still so many parts of him I didn’t know, didn’t understand.

What I did understand was that every time I looked at him, I felt guilty. And when Elliot’s eyes glanced up and noticed me, he stopped and smiled, a sweet, open grin and Miles’ words flickered through my mind again.

You bet the house, and you lost.

* * * * *

Time has a funny way of making decisions for you, especially if you’ve been riddled by indecision. Once enough time has passed, the control is going to be taken from you—the decision will be made for you, rather than by you.

By the end of March, something uncomfortable had settled between Elliot and me. He was growing distant, closed off, and I stopped working to maintain our open line of communication. The more guilty I felt about hiding the grand jury transcript, the less I wanted to see him. I knew I needed to tell him, but if I had found out about the juror payoffs, Elliot would be able to, and in half the time.

And everything could lead back to my father.

And something deep inside of me knew he knew—I didn’t know the how or the what, but I was certain he knew I was hiding something.

It was after 10:00 pm on a Thursday night when I got home from a dinner party, a business meeting disguised as a social gathering, something I never invited Elliot to anymore after his vitriolic rant.

I was more than surprised to find Elliot sitting on the floor near the balcony, the door open as a wet March wind blew in, smoking a cigarette as nearly half a pack of butts were already stubbed out in the ashtray I knew had been empty.

He was drinking a beer and he was clad entirely in black, topped off with his well-worn hoody, which was something I hadn’t seen on him in a long time.

His hood was up, probably to fight off the chill of the wind, but I wasn’t sure if the explanation was so simple tonight.

“Hey,” I said softly as I pushed the door shut behind me. “I told you I had a thing tonight, didn’t I?”

Elliot nodded yes, as his lips wrapped around the end of his cigarette.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, dread settling over me like a weighted blanket as I watched him take a long drag, the cherry flaring red in the dim light of my apartment.

I slid out of my coat and hung it up on the rack before reaching down to unzip my boots. As I kicked them off, I waited for Elliot to answer. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to change out of my clothes, maybe shower away the day, and go to bed.

Except the smarter part of me knew that wasn’t going to happen and filled me with a sudden desire to just  get this over with—just blow the lid off the box and let the scraps settle so we could get back to our normal.

But that would require fixing Elliot’s biggest flaw: his inability to move forward because he never really addressed the root of his problems.

I watched as he stubbed out his cigarette and tipped his beer back, finishing the last swallow.

I sighed in frustration.

“Either tell me what this,” I said as I gesticulated to and around him, “is all about or let me go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Where were you?”

I blinked, irritated because we just went over this.

“I told you where I was—at a dinner party. You know, those things I don’t invite you to anymore because you hate everyone?”

Elliot stood, reaching back to slide the balcony door shut. He didn’t take his hood down as he walked to the kitchen sink and rinsed out his bottle before setting it on the counter next to the others.

Chalk that up to something else out of character; Elliot never drank alone.

“You’re lying to me,” he said quietly, his back still turned.

“About the dinner?”

“No. Maybe? How am I supposed to know when you’re the one who’s always lying?”

“I can’t do this,” I said, running a shaky hand through my hair.

“You can’t do this?” Elliot said, his voice rising as he turned around. “You’re the one keeping things from me!” he shouted, his eyebrows raised, making his eyes look impossibly huge, and the cords on his neck standing out as he pointed his finger at me.

“How did you find out?” I asked quietly as I leaned on the counter, looking at the swirled pattern within the granite, unable to meet what was surely an intense gaze.

“I’ve been waiting, Y/N. Waiting for over a fucking month, wondering why you wanted to hide it from me. Wondering what else you decided not to tell me. Wondering if everything you have told me is just a way for you to manipulate me—”

My head shot up, my eyes finding his instantly as I asked, “Why would I want to manipulate you?”

Elliot didn’t answer; his eyes were dark, a stormy grey as they swirled with clouds of emotion. He felt betrayed, and I watched as his eyes settled on my tote that was sitting on the kitchen stool.

“You saw the transcript,” I said with a sad sigh. “You weren’t supposed to find out like that.”

I lowered my gaze back to the granite of the countertop, a strange relief pushing off that weighted blanket of dread. No more hiding. No more agonizing over whether to tell him.

The silence that followed my realization was dreadful, stretching out until my ears rang and my eyes blurred as I stared at the countertop.

“I can’t trust you anymore,” Elliot said, his voice cracking.

But that was the wrong thing to say. My nostrils flared as a thick, white-hot anger rose up in my throat like bile.

“You! You can’t trust me because I withheld something from you? Once! When have I ever done anything like this in our entire relationship?” I questioned, my voice bordering on shrill, so unlike my usual tone that it didn’t even sound like my own voice.

“You’ve broken promises.”

“When?”

“After the server room. You promised me ‘the fucking assholes’ would lose their jobs. And now one of them is my supervisor.”

I stared at Elliot dumbly until he dropped his gaze, leaning back onto the counter.

“We talked about that,” I said, my tone a few octaves closer to normal. “I offered to refuse to promote Ali. You told me things like that happen—it’s a part of the way to ‘enact change.’ You told me not to fight back against his promotion.”

“You promised,” Elliot mumbled, his knuckles growing white as his grip tightened on the countertop.

Once again, Elliot said the wrong thing. If this was all he could come up with, I was livid. Every thing he did that I had to work to let go of, to not make a big deal over, every hurt I had to swallow because I loved him, came rushing out.

“And how many promises have you broken to me? Fuck, Elliot! Not even promises. How many times have you bailed on me? Hacked me? Hurt me?

“No,” I scoffed, “You never meant to do it, but you fucking did do it. I have been so patient with you—”

“I’m not a child!” Elliot interrupted through clenched teeth.

“You’re pissed at me for something you told me to do!”

“I told you to withhold information about my dad’s death?”

“I needed time, Elliot. I needed to analyze the risk—”

“I’m not a piece of fucking data, Y/N! You can’t—” Elliot paused as he pushed off the counter and stepped toward the island. “You can’t analyze me. You can’t predict my next move or maybe that’s the problem? Maybe that’s what you’ve been doing all along? Manipulating me because you think you’re smarter than me.”

“That is not what I meant,” I said, my brows drawn and my mouth closing into a frown.

“You begged me to trust you and I knew—I fucking knew someone like you couldn’t be trusted!”

“Someone like me?” I shouted back, pushing away from the counter and marching around the island to stand in front of him. “Someone like ME? Surely you’re not going to throw Dad’s money in my face again. You’re starting to sound like a broken fucking record!

“You know what—no,” I said, shaking my head and turning away from him pacing to the balcony door before turning around and slowly walking back toward Elliot. “You don’t get to do this and get away with it this time. I can’t walk on eggshells while you get to be shitty to me whenever you have a bad time. Don’t you want to know why you’re like this? Don’t you want to know why you’re so paranoid, why you push away people who fucking love you? Don’t you want to know why you don’t trust anyone?”

I was a breath away from him as he began to withdrawal further and further into himself. And because I was watching his face, my eyes desperately pleading with him to see reason, I saw the change—Elliot looked away, seemingly in exasperation, and his eyelids fluttered so subtly that if I had blinked at that very moment, I would have missed it.  

When he looked back at me, Elliot Alderson was gone; now, I was met with the steel gaze of the same person who had demanded I leave Elliot alone as he sat on the floor of my closet during the Fourth of July.

I took a step back, my mouth dropping open as fear rushed through my body, my eyes filling with tears as I realized I was afraid of him—afraid of Elliot.

“You should be afraid, little girl,” he chuckled darkly, his voice low, the intonation different. “Now get the fuck out of here and leave him alone.”

“You’re—you’re in my apartment,” I stammered, still clinging to anger despite my fear.

He looked around, remembering, and he fixed a glare at me, his eyes unwelcoming as his jaw clenched, the muscles twitching before he moved toward the front door.

As I watched him walk away, my anger and fear turned to desperation. Darlene’s words rang through my mind, ‘If he bails on you, tries to push you away, it’s not really him.’”

It’s not really him.

“Stop—Elli—whoever you are! Please. Don’t go,” I pleaded. “Stay. Talk to me. Help me understand.”

He paused, his head turning to slightly look over his shoulder before he moved toward the front door again. I raced to it and wedged myself between him and the door, placing my hand over the knob.

“Stay,” I begged. “Don’t leave like this. After everything—please don’t leave us like this. I want to help you, Elliot—if you’re in there, come back to me.”

His hands flew up and slammed into the door on either side of my head.

I jumped, flinching as he leaned into me, his lips beside my ear as he growled, “I fucking warned you!”

“During the Fourth. I remember,” I whispered.

He pulled back and looked at me with those icy eyes.

“That was the first time you pushed too hard, came too close. I can’t allow you to do that, sweetheart. Elliot’s had enough time with you. It ends now,” he said as he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from the door.

I grabbed his arm and he shook me off, but I grabbed him again and pulled him back enough to allow me to wedge myself against the door again.

“I told you,” he yelled, his voice harsh and unrecognizable. “I can’t protect him if you keep forcing him to open up!”

I didn’t let my fear stop me as I pressed him.

“Protect him from what? Did someone hurt him? I read about what can cause—”

His hand flew against my mouth with enough force to knock my head against the door. He pressed hard and cut off my words.

Never did his eyes leave mine as Elliot’s would have, especially in a situation of such discomfort and intense emotion. Never once did he look away.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

I held his gaze, refusing to waver. He pressed harder, the pressure on the back of my head becoming a painful throbbing.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he asked, his brows nearly reaching his hairline.

I watch his face transition to a look of smug satisfaction as I manage to slightly nod.

He released his grip, and I deflated, the fight leaving my body as I stepped away from the door. I leaned against the wall before slowly sinking to the floor.

I didn’t raise my eyes as I quietly asked, “Are you going to keep Elliot from seeing me again?”

He sighed, some of the fight leaving him, too.

“Elliot loves you—this wasn’t supposed to happen, Y/N.”

As he said my name, my head jerked up, the syllables so foreign on his tongue I knew, without a doubt, that whoever was standing in front of me was someone completely different than Elliot Alderson.

“You have to understand that it’s my job to keep him safe. Not yours, not Darlene’s. No one else’s. No one else can keep him safe.”

“What about a psychiatrist?”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. If they don’t fuck him up with 15 different kinds of meds, they’ll just throw him in an institution. Is that what you want? Elliot locked up like some kind of sick-o creep?”

“I would never let that happen.”

“Daddy’s money gonna buy Elliot a happy little place in the Adirondacks? Get him a nurse, someone nice to take care of him like his worthless mother never could?”

“Is that why you hate me? I have money? Or because I consider Elliot family?”

“My job is to protect him, and I’ve decided you’re not worth the risk, sweetheart.”

Without another glance, he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

I buried my head in my hands, the tears I had held back throughout the entire ordeal bursting out in a harsh sob. I crawled over to the door and locked it, pulling myself up by the knob in order to secure the deadbolt.

Not that it mattered since Elliot had a key.

Not that it mattered since Elliot was being held prisoner inside of his own body.

And no one, except himself, held that key.

* * * * *

Elliot didn’t come to work on the next day.

And then he didn’t come for another three days.

When I read the email from Ali questioning Elliot’s whereabouts, I wasn’t surprised. I called him up to my office and had the secretary shut the door after she let him in.

Ali had the good manners to look concerned, but I could detect the haughtiness underneath.

“I’ve noticed that Alderson’s been out for the past few days. Can you provide some insight? He was the lead on our new WiFi scripts, as I’m sure you remember.”

The lie came much easier than any other lie in my life had.

“He’s had a death in the family, Ali. I suggest postponing the project until he returns. Ask JaLeah for someone who can handle white hat duties if your team needs another hacker.”

Some of the haughtiness fell from Ali’s face.

“Oh. Well, my condolences to him when you see him.”

“Thank you. Will there be anything else?”

“Nope—you’ve always got the answers, boss.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said as I rolled my eyes and offered him a crooked smile in an attempt to subvert his attention from the abnormality of Elliot’s absences.

Ali grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

The partial smile fell from my face the instant the door shut behind Ali, and I felt sick as my mind worked over my lie. I didn’t live my life in the shadows. I lived with integrity.

And I had just told a boldfaced lie, one that would surely make its way around the office, and if Elliot never came back to work, everyone would know I lied for my boyfriend.

What a fucking mess.

I had to see him; I had to try to talk to my Elliot, the one I was in love with, and not this other who seemed to want nothing more than for me to fuck off for good.

I made a promise to Darlene not to let Elliot bail, and clearly, the Aldersons took promises made to them seriously.  

[diyunho]

The Joker X Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 2

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1         Part 3        Part 4      Part 5

“That was very nice,” you whisper in The Joker’s ear. “I know you’re not sleeping,” you sigh and force yourself to get out of his bed after watching TV together for almost 3 hours. “I’m going, OK?” you whisper, not sure why he’s ignoring you. But you have a clue: he probably just wanted to avoid a huge fight with Emma or your father finding out about his cruel words regarding your illness. “Fine, whatever…” you admonish and exit the premises, upset he’s behaving like that since he offered truce a few hours ago. The King of Gotham is actually completely out, even if you believe otherwise.

It was awesome having him carry you in his arms and not protest when you kissed him; you have to admit you were disappointed he didn’t initiate anything once you ended up in his bed; you really thought he would. J let you snuggle to him and you hoped for more to happen, yet his lack of interest made you realize it was stupid to try and hint you wanted him. What is a 40-ish old man supposed to do with a 22 years old woman that playfully keeps flirting with him? In this case, obviously just enjoy a couple of movies which proved he doesn’t take into consideration your dumb crush.

The more you analyze this night, the more you’re inclined to vote for the exact opposite of what you did: you should have kept your mouth shut and refrain sharing intimate matters with him.

I guess sometimes genius truly skips a generation …

*************

3 Weeks Later

You didn’t come to the mansion in the last 3 weeks: when J woke up the next morning after your visit, you were gone. Emma informed him you waited for her to catch up and then went home; he wondered if you left because of what happened or if there was no reason for it at all. One thing’s for certain though: The Joker got the slight impression you evade him, especially since two days ago you dropped Emma off then raced out of the property in a hurry when you noticed he was coming out of the house. The skid marks on the pavement were a pretty clear sign you didn’t want to linger at the place you normally enjoyed hanging out at.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean you can escape The Clown Prince of Crime forever.

“OK,” Emma gives you a soft nudge in the restaurant owned by her parent. “You gotta help me out,” she pleads to a skeptical Y/N. “I insisted we have lunch here for a good reason: my dad brought his wacko-on-and-off-girlfriend and I can’t stand her; I need backup. Please flirt with him and say that stuff you usually say!” she giggles. “You have my blessing to go crazy, I swear you won’t hear a peep out of me! It will be hilarious to see her reaction!” she pushes you and it’s too late to escape the unwanted rendezvous you had no clue about until now.

You are already at the table and didn’t have a moment to take in your best friend’s proposal: you wish you had a warning about this plan of hers but Emma impulsiveness and surprise element runs in the family.

Maybe she thought you would love such a funny challenge…

Yeah… not really...

You know Mara anyway and bumping into her alongside J is not enjoyable to say the least, mainly due to the odd atmosphere you hope his daughter won’t notice.

“Hi daddy,” Emma pulls her chair and you take a seat by her muttering a faint hello.

“Hey kid!... … Miss Crane,” he sneers and you intensely stare at the menu in front of you without blinking.  

“I didn’t see you in forever,” Mara addresses you and you indifferently glare at her. “I must say you look terrific: you are glowing! What’s your secret?” she snickers and you duly inform:

“I’m dying. I’m sure you remember I have terminal cancer; my dad makes my meds and they do help somewhat, thus the glow.”

“As long as you’re not contagious,” the woman underlines and Emma gasps at her affirmation.

You smirk and reach over to touch her forearm, softly digging your nails in her skin.

“I am and now that I touched you, you’ll die too!”

You get up from the table while hearing The Joker saying something but your ears are ringing so you can’t discern a word.

“How can you say stuff like this?!” Emma reprimands and you calmly take a small ampule from your pocket, open it and pour some dust in the palm of your hand.

“I was just expressing a concern,” Mara gesticulates and you bend over, blowing the fine ashes in her face.

“What the fuck?!” she quickly brushes the ticklish powder off her cheeks, worried at your action. “What is this?!”

“Nightmare,” you scoff. “One of my father’s top products. I recently assisted him make it stronger and there’s no antidote. Don’t worry though, it won’t kill you and it will wear off in a few hours. Plus, it’s not contagious. Enjoy!” you leave the gathering and Emma follows, enraged things didn’t go as planned yet she can’t blame Y/N.

Since the restaurant is closed to the public due to his owner’s presence, there’s not a soul around besides J that can hear Mara’s terrified screams once the wicked hallucinogen kicks in: it’s called Nightmare for a good reason!

*************

6:02PM

“Knock, knock,” The Joker enters Scarecrow’s lab, already in a foul mood.

“Not a step further!” his movement gets halted. “Sterilize yourself if you want in: I’m making more capsules for Y/N,” Crane points at the numerous ingredients on the counter.

“Your lab is huge, if I stay right here…” J tries to convince Jonathan although he’s aware he has zero chances: it never succeeds but his stubbornness prompts him to fight the request each time.

“No!” your father firmly rejects the proposal. “Sterilize yourself and come help me!”

“Where’s your daughter?” The King of Gotham starts washing his hands in the sink by the glass sliding doors.

“She went to stay at the cabin. I got lectured,” your dad huffs, scolding in the next second: “You’re not done! More!” he commands and J reprises the cleaning process required by his very obliging host.

“Ugh,” he mumbles and continues. “Why did you get lectured?”

“Apparently, I buried myself in this place and she hates it. I also got threatened that if I don’t stop trying to find a remedy for her incurable disease, she’ll quit taking the current medications. I received orders to call Evelyn and beg for reconciliation also,” Scarecrow briefs a gratified King of Gotham:

“I guess we both have someone in our lives we can’t neglect,” The Joker dries his hands, puts on latex gloves and snatches an immaculate lab coat from the hanger nearby.

“What am I to do?...” Crane whispers. “Let my daughter die without trying to save her?...” then immediately snaps out of it. “Hair net!!!!” he shouts at The Joker, annoyed he’s trying to skip it.

“For God’s sake,” J complaints … still does as required. “What’s in for me in exchange for my services?”

“What do you want?”

“Two vials of your new, improved Nightmare formula. I witnessed it at work today and let me tell you, that stuff’s amazing!”

“How did you witnessed it at work?! It’s not released on the black market yet,” Jonathan carefully measures the quantities for your medicine.

“Oh, funny you should mention,” the evident sarcasm makes your father pay attention. “Y/N used it on Mara earlier today and she totally lost her mind! I had to lock her up in the pantry at the restaurant with three of my men guarding the door! She went bonkers!!!”

“Sorry,” Scarecrow’s flat tone irritates J. “I guess either you or Mara did something Y/N didn’t like. Welcome to my daughter’s shit list,” he cordially emphasizes.

“You shouldn’t talk to me like this,” The Joker fixes his green locks under the hair net. “One of these days I might become your son-in-law, you know Y/N showers me with her undivided affection.”

“Over my dead body!” Jonathan shrieks and The Clown Prince of Crime seems delighted.

“Hmmm… I can arrange that.”

“Just shut up and help me, would you? What am I paying you for?! Y/N needs more capsules; she’s almost out. Can you tell Emma to take this to her? I’m gonna let her chill, she’s still mad at me.”

“Wimp, you’re afraid to confront her,” J rolls his eyes and Scarecrow is not the one to be intimidated by his guest’s nonsense:

“Says the man that freaked out and searched the town for hours thinking his daughter run away when in fact she was asleep behind the rose bushes in the backyard at their mansion.”

“I didn’t freak out!” The Joker sulks at the unwelcomed reminder.

“Of course you didn’t,” Jonathan serenely replies. “Now fill out the capsules with the amount I already weighted and don’t mess up! I’ll verify your performance.”

“Give it a rest!” J growls. “Emma left for New York; she’ll be there for a couple of days. I’ll take this to Y/N.”

“Don’t think so,” he gets cut off. “I’ll send one of my couriers.”

“I’ll do it for free.”

“Why?”

“I have a score to settle,” J confesses to Scarecrow’s dismay. 

“If you hassle my daughter, I’ll create a plague designed only for your genes and I’ll exterminate you from this planet!”

“Imagine this is not the first time I’m threatened with a pathogen manufactured to ensure my demise,” The Joker hints even if he doesn’t have to.

“She is my daughter,” Crane explains, entirely understanding the reference. “The branch doesn't fall far from the tree; she knows I would so you’d better watch it!”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, right?” the pushy menace concentrates on his task, adamant in finding a way to see you no matter what.

**************

8:31pm

The Joker drives on the narrow path leading to the cabin, stirring left when a car coming from the opposite direction hunks at him.

“Heeeeyyyyy, Mister Joker!!!!!” someone yells and the other SUV accelerates past J’s yet he has enough time to recognize the aggravating pest: Sam aka Bane’s son. A few unpleasant phrases are grumbled regarding the encounter when another detail sets off the pissed King:

Y/N is racing towards the cabin after recognizing her best friend’s dad vehicle; you came out to say goodbye to Sam and take a walk when your idea abruptly changed.

“Are you kidding me??!!” J grinds his teeth while watching you stumble in the grass, then energetically gather yourself up and sprint inside, slamming the door behind.

“Wow!” he exclaims while parking close to the stairs, unsure on how this day will evolve; so far it goddamned sucked.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker taps at the heavy oak door. “Open up, I have your med!”

Maybe if you don’t engage he’ll leave.

“Is this how you thank me for delivering your pills?!” he gets worked up, thumping intensifying.

“Leave the package on the porch and go away!”

“Oh, she speaks!!!” J instantly snaps. “Open up, it’s cold out here!”

“No it’s not,” you call him out on his bullshit.

“You owe me apologies for what you did to Mara!” he demands, cringing at your defiance.

“Ha! When hell freezes!!!”

“What was Bane’s son doing here?” he tries a different strategy, definitely losing patience.

“None of your business!”

“I brought dinner,” J adds because that’s the last ace in his sleeve. “From the restaurant… your favorite. Aren’t you hungry?”

Does the silence mean you’re giving in?...

“Did you bring strawberry crepes too?”

“Yeah,” The Joker lies since he naturally forgot about desert.

The door faintly creeks and you unlock it, finally letting him in; you’re hesitant about your judgement and snatch the two paper bags out of his hands: the small one contains capsules, the big one harbors foam containers with the foods you like.

“Where are the crepes?” you frown at the lack of the delicious treat.

“I have this suspicion you’ve been avoiding me,” J talks about the reason he’s there without answering your question.

“I’m not…”

“Then why don’t you come to the mansion anymore, hm?”

His gaze circles the living room, involuntarily noticing the blood stained tissues in the trash can by the couch.

“Did you have another episode?” The Joker inquires. “Should I call your dad?”

“No…I’m fine…”

“Are you sure?” he insists and you unwrap the plastic utensils, sniffing.

“It’s not a big deal, it happens more and more often… I wish Emma was here,” you wipe your teary eyes and J bestows his infinite wisdom upon the young woman.

“Well, my daughter’s not here and I’m not renowned for making people feel better,” he twists the cap of the bottled water near him. He takes a sip then gives the container to the confused Y/N. “I’m not sure if this will help, but you can touch something my lips touched.”

You smile at his offer, kind of happy he’s using one of your catchy lines.

“What’s this? Reversed flirting?” you pout and drink from the bottle, placing it on the table afterwards.

He doesn’t bother to respond besides apathetically mentioning:

“I’ll spend the night; it’s dark outside and I don’t want to end up in a ditch.”

“It’s summertime, still sunny,” you highlight the indisputable truth to a guy that couldn’t care less.

“I’m tired. Crane pressured me to work! Did you know he took advantage of my kindness and made me sink a couple of hours in his project? What project you ask?” J cracks his neck although you weren’t curious. “I helped made your treatment,” he blurs out and your blank attitude irks The Clown. “You can compensate me by letting me crash here for the night.”

“I’m 100% sure my dad already compensated your efforts,” Y/N utters.

“Why was Sam here?” the earlier question is reprised in order to distract you.

“Are you jealous?” you nibble on your lasagna and J snarls:

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Then why do you have to know?”

“Professional interest,” the vague disclosure scores absolutely no credits with the feisty Y/N.

“That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” you shake your head and decide to unravel the mystery. “He picked up an item for his father. Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite,” you tease and The Joker protests.

“I’m not worried! I don’t even care! Can I sleep here?” he switches the topic and has to boast: “We can party all night long like we did last time!” J sassily reveals; he believes you’ll mock yet it’s not the case.

“You’re very late to this party…” your voice dies out and The King of Gotham is aware what you’re referring to. He digs his fork in the fresh salad, reassuring on a whim:

“Better late than never…”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

[somefinelipstickonthatpig]

Of Tunnels and Light Fic #6, Zestiria - AtlA AU

[Read on AO3]

In order to avoid the ever-encroaching Fire Nation, Sorey and the gang need to sneak out of the valley surrounding the mountaintop city of Omashu. Luckily, the Sparrowfeathers know intimately well the songs and tales of the "Secret Tunnel" that cuts straight through the mountains.

o - o - o

“Ohhhhhhh my gooooooooshhhhhhh! Would you look at him? Would you just wook at ‘im! He’s adorable, yes he is!”

“You probably shouldn’t get too close, Rose.”

“Aw, he’s harmless!”

“Right now. Atakk isn’t known for being friendly to anyone else that isn’t Lailah or Sorey.”

“Oh, but I think we can make an exception for me, right? Because you’re just so cute and friendly! Aren’t you?” Rose deepens her voice and puffs out her cheeks as if she were talking to a baby as she squeezes the sides of Atakk’s snout. From where Mikleo stands a few feet away, it looks more like she’s hugging his giant nose. 

“Aren’t you sweet, you big, adorable, scaley, big, winged, big dragon, you?” 

Mikleo fists his hands at his side and huffs. “Rose!” 

“Lighten up, would ya, Mik?” The merchant-turned-ally turns to toss a grin over her shoulder. Her hands rub all over the snout of a very happy, contended black dragon. Atakk rumbles, a sound not too unlike a purr emanating lowly from his chest. “He’s like a little pupling. He’s fine.” 

Atakk rolls over and kicks his claws into the air. The surrounding forest shakes under the toss of his weight; trees shudder and shake loose idling birds. Leaves flutter slowly to the earth. Mikleo blows off the one that fell on his nose and rolls his eyes. 

Rose squeals.

“Then again, maybe it’s just Fire Nation assholes he likes,” he mumbles and, despite what Sorey and Lailah said about keeping watch as Rose was finally introduced to Atakk, turns around to wander back to camp. 

o - o - o

“We’ll have to cut through the mountain.”

“What? Are you kidding me? That’s the last thing we should do. You’ve heard the stories about the tunnel, right?” 

“We only sing them twenty times a year--”

“--and whenever the spring comes because spring brings romance and romance brings paying audiences,” Eguille finishes, his voice overlapping with Dezel’s dry tone. He turns to Dezel and shakes the map in his hands so that it rustles very loudly in the forest clearing. “That tunnel is a tunnel of death. We’re not guiding the Avatar through a place that could potentially kill him.”

Sorey turns the instant he hears a rustle of leaves. A broad and relieved smile breaks out on his face. “Mikleo. How’d it go?”

“Well, Atakk seems to have a new best friend.” Mikleo tries not to sound too glum about it. He plops down on the log next to Sorey and props his chin in his hand. “But I think I traded one annoying situation for another. Doesn’t sound like things are going too well over here either.”

“Yeah…I hope Lailah is having better luck than us with the twins and getting food.” 

Dezel sighs as if this conversation is taxing him. “He’s going to die anyway if we take the main or back roads. There was a reason we had to leave Omashu.”

“I know it as well as you do. If the Fire Nation takes Omashu…”

“So you don’t actually disagree with me.”

Eguille sighs and rolls up the map. In lieu of an answer, he turns behind him. “What do you say, Sorey? You’re the one we’re trying to smuggle out of the way of the Fire Nation’s raids. Do you think this entire crazy venture is worth risking the tunnel?”

“Tunnel?” 

As Eguille walks over to unroll his map before them, Dezel mutters, “There’s a secret tunnel, known only through legends and folktales, that cuts through the mountains surrounding Omashu. As occasional performers--at Rose’s behest--we’re well familiar with the songs and tales.”

“Does that mean you sing?”

Dezel’s mouth quirks at Sorey’s question. Mikleo’s pretty sure he saw Eguille’s eyebrow give a funny twitch. 

“I want to hear the song!” Sorey asks with fisted hands. Mikleo’s pretty sure those are stars he sees in his friend’s eyes.

“No.” Eguille shakes his head and quickly rolls up the scroll. He straightens to a stand and turns around. “Besides, that has nothing to do with determining our way out of this spirit-forsaken valley. If we want to get away from Omashu and the encroaching Fire Nation, then we need to decide how.”

“Well, you know what my vote is.”

Sorey and Mikleo turn around. Rose stands behind them, her feet shoulder-width apart, with her arms crossed proudly over her chest. She winks at them and then with a flourish of miming a guitar solo, belts unceremoniously, “SECRET TUNNEL!” 

Eguille slaps a hand over his face. Mikleo stifles his snicker behind his hand.

Sorey gasps excitedly. “Is that the song?”

“You bet it is!” Rose grins. She makes a dismissive gesture. “I mean, more or less. Usually I make Eguille sing; he’s got the much better tenor. But that’s besides the point!” With no warning, she squats down behind Mikleo and Sorey and loops an arm around each of their necks, sticking her head in the space between them. “With you two along, it’s practically a no-brainer for us to take that Secret Tunnel, because we’ll be out through that labyrinth in no time!”

“Labyrinth?” Mikleo asks at the same time that Sorey wonders, “How’s that?”

“Uh, duh, ‘cuz the legends always say that if you trust in love, then you’ll make it through okay.” 

“Trust in--” Sorey looks to Mikleo immediately.

At the same time, their faces burn bright red. Mikleo looks away first, stuffing his hands in his lap.

“See?” Rose straightens up and claps her hands in the center of their backs. “With you two dorks around, I think we’ll be just fine.”

“It’s not--” Mikleo tries to say but Rose has already stepped around the log, her attention on Eguille and Dezel as they talk about travel plans.

In the awkward silence that follows her departure, Sorey risks a glance at Mikleo’s profile. His eyes fall to his bare neck. 

They still hadn’t talked about what happened that night in Omashu.

Sorey doesn’t think he knows what he wants to say of the bubbly, twisting feeling in his gut. He doesn’t know what he wants to say about, “Hey, sorry I freaked out and went all Avatar state when you got hurt,” or “Hey, do you want me to make you a new necklace? Would you even wear a new betrothal necklace? We aren’t eight anymore, but I think maybe my feelings about you haven’t changed so much as deepened, but now I kind of wonder: does a necklace even encompass everything I feel about you now?”

The words never come.

“It’s just a legend. Right?”

Sorey blinks, eyes snapping back up to Mikleo’s. His friend’s eyes seem lost in the shadows of the trees far beyond their camp. “What?”

“Nothing.” Mikleo stands up with a heavy sigh, not meeting Sorey’s eyes. “We’d better get everything packed.”

“Right…”

o - o - o 

Atakk is afraid of the giant, gaping tunnel. Sorey isn’t sure what to do to calm him down, especially when even Lailah seems to be at a loss. They both walk with one hand on either side of the dragon’s belly, bringing up the rear of their wandering group as they stride deeper and deeper into the tunnel’s maze. Floating above their free hands, palm-up, are small balls of fire.

It’s Mikleo’s idea to use a map and mark the directions they came from. He borrows a blank scroll from the Sparrowfeathers’ cart and scribbles furiously at every turn. Every once in a while, his tongue peeks out between his lips when his face tightens in confusion.

Sorey thinks it’s adorable.

When they find their tenth dead-end, Dezel sighs. “This isn’t working.”

“Course not.” Rose doesn’t sound the least bit surprised; with both hands clasped behind her head, she seemed to be the epitome of relaxed. “The legends don’t say to uh, try and create a map of the tunnels’ twisting labyrinth and maybe you’ll find your way out.”

Mikleo spins around and glares.

Rose shrugs. 

They retrace their steps.

When they arrive at the previous intersection of tunnels, Mikleo gets into a heated debate with Rose and Eguille, one in which Dezel occasionally throws his two cents into. Sorey straightens the same instant Atakk does--a thing Mikleo chalks up to the strange connection the two have--until Sorey worryingly mutters, “Hey. Guys, you hear that?”

Atakk grows more agitated. He wriggles and backpedals, eyes scanning the many surrounding dark tunnels. 

Felice cups her hands around the back of her ears. Her twin answers for her, quiet and frowning: “No.”

Sorey’s eyes snap to the same tunnel Atakk’s does. “I think there’s--”

With an ear-piercing shriek, a giant mole-bat launches itself out of the shadows with mad flaps of its two, veined wings. Its mouth is open as it flies for their faces, teeth gleaming sharp in the dark. 

Rose yelps and squats low, covering her head. Eguille throws up his hands in front of his face. 

Dezel throws up a gust of wind that buffets the mole-bat, knocking it up and away before it can sink its teeth and claws into anyone. As if he had stirred a hornet’s nest, a dozen more mole-bats immediately drop from the ceiling and flutter together in a swarm. The mole-bats form a cloud of unearthly, cacophonous screams, gushing out from the tunnel and over their heads.

Atakk freaks.

Roaring loud enough to drown out the panic of the mole-bats, Atakk darts away from Lailah and Sorey’s hands, backpedaling in a mad haste.

“Atakk, wait--!”

Atakk thrashes against the walls, squirming and screaming. The bellows rising up from his chest augment the moment he realizes, beady eyes wide, that there’s no escape. There’s no sky. There is only the earth and this tomb and already, Atakk had been uncomfortable in this underground tunnel; now, it is suffocating and terrifying and Atakk wants out--wants out--wants out--

Sorey presses the heel of his hand to his temple with a quiet groan.

In a flash, Mikleo is at his side. “Sorey!”

“Calm him down!” It is perhaps the first time they have ever heard Dezel raise his voice beyond a murmur. “That damn dragon is going to bring down the entire ceiling if he--”

A sudden crack drowns out the rest of his words. It booms, reverberating throughout the underground cavern. Two more thunderous cracks follow, and then giant, lumpy chunks of rock drop. 

In a brilliant spin that fans out the ends of his black coat, Dezel jumps. 

It is the last thing Mikleo and Sorey see before they are flung to the side by a mighty gust of wind.

Dust fills the chamber.

o - o - o

Atakk’s screams have quieted into pitiful whines. His claws scrape and pull against the piled stone in front of them. Mikleo and Sorey hold onto each other with wide eyes, fingers fisting tightly in the dirtied blue other’s water-tribe wear.

It is so, so quiet on this side of the cave-in. It would be so, so dark without Sorey’s fire.

“Should we help him?” Sorey murmurs.

Mikleo can still taste a filmy, grainy layer of dust on his tongue, coating his mouth and drying his tongue. He shrugs weakly. “I’m not sure what good it would do.”

“Sorey! Mikleo!”

Sorey jerks up to his feet. He stumbles over to the mountain of rocks. “Lailah! Lailah, we’re here! We’re both here and okay!” With one last, meek wimper, Atakk collapses against the stone and slides down to the earth. Sorey swallows and bends to put his free hand on the side of his head. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried!” There’s a pause before Lailah’s muffled voice reaches them again. “Yes! We’re all fine, thanks to Dezel’s quick thinking. I imagine you’ll learn that trick yourself sometime, Sorey!”

“Y-yeah…”

“In the meantime!” Rose’s voice drifts over. “It’s no use trying to dig through this. We’ll meet you on the other side of the tunnel, all right?” 

Mikleo’s presence is warm as he joins Sorey’s side. “The other side?” he sputters. “How?! How, exactly, are we supposed to find our way out when the tunnels themselves keep on changing! This is impossible!”

“No, it’s not! You just gotta trust in love, my dude!” Rose calls back. “Sing the song if you want! You know the words by now!”

“I’m not singing!”

“Then that’s Sorey’s loss!”

Sorey’s ears burn bright red. He thinks he sees Mikleo’s face tinged red, too--or maybe that’s a trick of the firelight still burning above the palm of his hand.

“You guys will be fine! Trust me! Or rather…” Rose pauses dramatically and then adds, “Trust in love.”

Mikleo groans and shouts, “Rose!” but Rose’s laughter grows distant. When he grabs at the stone and calls for her again, there’s no answer. “This isn't funny!” he adds and with a huff, he pushes away from the pile. “Fine. Whatever. If she’s going to be like that and we’re on our own, then we’ll just…we’ll…” 

“Mikleo?”

“C’mon, Sorey. I don’t think we’ve tried this tunnel yet.”

“O-okay. C’mon, Atakk…”

Atakk makes a pitiful sound but lifts himself from the ground to slunk after them.

o - o - o

The tomb is the last thing Sorey expects to find in these Secret Tunnels, but the one thing Mikleo was most anticipating. With help from Atakk, the heavy round stone blocking the entrance is shoved aside and immediately, eras-old, undisturbed dust wafts over them.

“Eugh. Gross.” Mikleo scrunches his nose up and coughs.

“But so, so cool,” Sorey breathes and when Mikleo looks to his friend’s profile and sees the wonder in his green eyes, he starts to smile.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess.”

Sorey turns to Mikleo to give him one bright grin, before he bounds down into the crypt. Mikleo follows.

In the antarctic tundra of the South Pole, Sorey and Mikleo have had little exposure to underground tombs and crypts and dusty rock walls covered with hieroglyphs. This feels like hallowed ground: two sarcophagi in the center of the chamber and two giant statues carved into the wall at the back, bent into a tender kiss. The ancient stones whisper stories to anyone willing to listen. Mikleo and Sorey have never seen anything like it.

“I think I want to keep this close to my heart,” Sorey murmurs, voice lost as if he were in a happy dream. “Y’know?”

“You want to keep close a tomb?” Mikleo chuckles. 

“You know what I mean!” Sorey huffs and when Mikleo has to press a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing more, Sorey turns away with a sheepish smile. “I just think there’s something so neat about this. We were so, so afraid of being lost forever in these tunnels and then, all of a sudden, we found something incredible. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Well, the timing surely is convenient.”

“Yeah. And maybe it’s silly, but I think if I weren’t the Avatar, maybe I would like to find more cool, forgotten things with old stories. I think I love exploring,” Sorey whispers. Mikleo watches him, something tightening in his throat as Sorey’s fingers trace the tragic romance of Oma and Shu on the cavern wall. “I think I love this.” 

Mikleo doesn’t know why his chest feels tight and at the same time so warm. Why is he, in turn, so happy to see Sorey so happy? Shouldn’t they be frustrated and hungry? Afraid? Why, of all things, is he only glad to hear Sorey talk about something he loves?

Because I think I--

Oh.

Mikleo’s breath hitches in his throat.

Oh.

Sorey doesn’t notice. His hand not occupied with keeping a fire going continues to trace the tragic romance of Oma and Shu. 

Mikleo’s fingertips brush his bare neck.

“Sorey.”

Sorey lifts his gaze from the wall. “Yeah?”

“I think…I think you should let the fire go out.”

“What?”

Mikleo turns around, violet eyes burning in the firelight like iridescent burgundy. Sorey can’t take his gaze away, not when his childhood friend looks at him with such intensity and certainly not when Mikleo presses himself so close to his side. Sorey feels his heart flutter high in his throat. 

“It’s okay,” Mikleo breathes. He gently takes Sorey’s hand holding the flame. Sorey turns bright red. “Let it go out.”

“Mikleo--”

“It’s okay.” Mikleo feels a thrill of pride at managing to sound so calm and so sure, so steady, despite the fireworks show his nerves are putting on at their close proximity. “It’s love. Right? The only way out is love. We have to trust it.”

“Okay.” Sorey swallows hard.

And there it is: the smallest tense of a slender eyebrow--a bend just near the curve of his eye--that probably tells Sorey a million things about what Mikleo is really feeling in this moment. Sorey has known Mikleo his entire life, far long enough to recognize what that flicker probably means, what that crack in the careful mask of his cool composure reveals:  that he is afraid, that he is nervous. That he isn’t sure about what is to come. Uncertainty has always put Mikleo at his most uncomfortable; he is a young man of careful planning and thoughtful action. Not spontaneity. He is not Sorey.

And yet, if he could be just as brave… 

“Sorey,” Mikleo begins, his voice soft and small. He can feel his own cheeks begin to burn. “...do you…love me?”

There’s a beat.

A brief snapshot of time where Sorey stares at Mikleo and Mikleo hesitantly raises his eyes to gaze back.

And then--

The fire goes out the same moment Sorey leans forward.

o - o - o

“Hey! You guys made it! See, I know you would!”

Sorey and Mikleo turn away from the dry valley ahead. Up in the sky high above, Atakk happily curls and uncurls, a slender, dark string sailing through the thick clouds at his leisure. His shadow passes over them as Sorey lifts a hand and jogs over to hug Lailah once she has slipped down from the giant badger-mole’s back. Over Lailah’s shoulder, he smiles at Rose and her Sparrowfeathers as they, too, descend from the back of two other badger-moles.

“You guys made it out okay, too!” Sorey passes a glance over them once the badger-moles have retreated into the tunnels. He can’t see any signs of injuries. “How did you get those badger-moles to help? That’s amazing!”

“We sang,” Rose says and puts her hands on her hips to sneer at Mikleo. 

Mikleo rolls his eyes.

“How about you two?” Lailah’s hand cups Sorey’s face. She tilts his head left and right and Sorey laughs. “You didn’t get hurt, did you? How did you get out of those tunnels?”

Sorey’s face reddens. “Well…” He looks to Mikleo.

After a long moment, Mikleo shakes his head. “That’s our secret.”

“Yeah, right. Ha! I bet you two--” 

Immediately, Eguille plants a hand over Rose’s mouth, dragging her by the arm ahead of the group. The bottom of Rose’s boots leave twin divets in the dirt as he marches along. “Let’s just all be glad we’re finally free of that spirit-forsaken Secret Tunnel and get on with our lives, yes? Yes,” he says.

“Agreed,” Dezel rumbles. He stops in front of Sorey. “Now that we are out of the valley, we should begin making our way for the Northern Air Temple. I will teach you airbending as we travel, but you should know that it will do you well to learn among your predecessors.” 

Sorey looks up to Dezel. “My predecessors?”

Dezel nods as if this is the end of their conversation and what he has said makes complete sense. He strides ahead. Lailah giggles and follows on his heels, motioning for Sorey and Mikleo to hurry.

Sorey looks to Mikleo.

Mikleo shrugs back and smiles. After a moment, he sticks out his hand.

Sorey takes it slowly and intertwines their fingers easily. Perfectly. Finding every space in between the other to weave and to hold. 

When they walk forward, it's together.

[moon-yeongjun]

Chuseok || Mu Jun

Summary: On Chuseok, the Baes and Moons gather as is tradition and a secret is revealed... 

@baenxietydad

JUN: 

Chuseok. 

Normally, Jun loved Chuseok. It was the one holiday that Jun could always afford to come home for with no guilt, to enjoy Eomma’s cooking and play games with his siblings. Last year’s Chuseok he had to spend it with Tiffany’s family and missed his own in the very fibre of his bones. He called Eomma and talked to her for two hours, nearly crying a few times, but of course, holding it all in. He had been looking forward to this Chuseok, then. Even though Abeoji would not be here...there would still be food and games and the Baes would come over like they always did--and Korean would flow, and the house would smell like egg batter, and he’d be...home.

But this year Chuseok came on the heel of Jun’s greatest shame. All the rich, delicious delicacies of Chuseok, the gifts, he didn’t deserve any of it. He woke up and wanted to walk out into the fields-- banish himself if Eomma wouldn’t. 

He couldn’t, though. Tradition was tradition, town scandal or not. Eomma found him feeding the chickens and gave him his to-do list for the day, mentioning the Baes would be over before noon.

So here he was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Onions actually. They burned his eyes, making him sniffle and  turn bright red. He looked up from the cutting board as he tried furiously to blink the onion-stench from his eyes when he heard a knock.

Ah, it was Mu-yeol hyung, sent in here by Eomma no doubt.

“It’s the onions!” Jun declared instead of hello, sensitive about the tear that rolled down his cheek. “Aiya, come here and take over, I need a break.” 

 MARLIN:

Mu-yeol clicked his tongue like he was admonishing Jun and quickly took over chopping the onions. Aiya, you’d think humans would evolve and immunity to the gasses onions give off considering they use them in cooking regularly.

“Fun fact-” the ‘about fairies’ bit was silent  “-onions don’t bother us. Evolution was kinder to us.”

He gestured to the counter with some shavings of veggie peels on it. “Scoop those into the trashcan before noonim yells at us both.”

Yells was used liberally here, as Eun-jung was more likely to go ‘omo, boys what a mess!’  and quietly do the spot cleaning herself while Jun insisted they were ‘about to do it, eomma!’

“Yah, you really took something out on the onions, didn’t you?” 

 JUN: 

Jun rolled his eyes at his hyung, though it was a good-natured kind of gesture (for Jun, at least). Of course fairies were unaffected by onions. You know, sometimes he wouldn’t mind so much being something like a fairy. It seemed idyllic from where he stood-- a kind community, lots of holding hands, one specific thing to do, even if that was, eh...garbage-talent! Or something. But anyway. 

He obeyed his hyung and put the food waste into the food waste bucket, since he would add it to the Moon’s compost pile later. Then he moved to the drawer to pull out another knife. He’d go for the mushrooms, eh. 

“Ah, just getting warmed up, hyung,” Jun said almost cheerfully. With a snort he took his place next to Mu-yeol and put the mushroom’s on another cutting board. “It’s election season. Plenty to be upset about, eh.” He began his furious chopping again. 

Yes, the election was what got Jun worked up. Nothing else! 

 MARLIN:

“The election? Oh.” Mu-yeol nodded slowly.

He almost forgot about that seeing as he never cared enough before last year. His son of course had only been going to human school for a year so it was just last year he cared enough to vote. If he recalled correctly he’d voted for Hades Acheron.

This year? He didn’t even know what seats were going to be open or who all was running yet. Of course that had yet to be announced but he imagined townsfolk had heard gossip of who may run.

“Are you looking to run?” He asked Jun, an eyebrow quirking up.

JUN: 

“Ha!” Jun barked at his hyung’s ridiculous question. 

Honestly, he could laugh even harder than that.

Jun, see, never had political aspirations. Politics were a bastard’s business-- necessary evil, yes, but not for him. Before his market was attacked though, he had hoped to help Al McWiggin with a campaign. Now? He wasn’t sure. It might be too dangerous. His store was targeted already. What if Swynlake went after his family next? What if Tae-yah was harassed at school? Jun fretted over these questions, and cursed himself for even caring in the first place--for ever wanting to make Swynlake better. 

Why did he care about Swynlake when Swynlake did not care about him? 

“Please, don’t you know we’re public enemy number one right now?” Jun said bitterly as he swept his mushrooms into the boiling pot. He reached for the carrots next. “I run, I get chased out of town with pitchforks.” 

 MARLIN:

“No? No, I didn’t hear. Who could be mad at your mother?” Mu-yeol wrinkled his nose in disbelief. Eun-jung was the kindest, most loving person. “Or is it you? You can be...abrasive.”

As Jun’s hyung, he can say something so brutally honest.

“Of course, part of that is our culture. We're blunt people. What makes you think people are so angry with you?” 

Being in the Hollow, he hadn’t heard of the vandalism. 

JUN: 

He scoffed again.

Was it a good thing that his hyung was clueless? Maybe, maybe not. Mu-yeol didn’t really count when it came to Swynlake. He avoided the town unless he was 1. Working; 2. Watching his son dance; or 3. Picking up Korean-specific groceries from the Moon Market. He had not come by recently and so he did not see the RACIST accusation nor did he go on Twitter or read the newspaper. Maybe it was a good thing talk did not reach the noisy dance halls of Pixie’s then? Or Jun should not count his luck. 

He began to furiously chop the carrots. 

“The store was attacked, hyung. A girl--she hated my petitions against vampires--against vampires, you know, the one many people signed! And so she vandalized the Market!” Jun brandished the knife very unsafely as his anger grew. “She said I was racist! I’m not racist, eh, I just don’t like vampires. You don’t like vampires!” Jabbed the knife toward Mu-yeol. “But I’m not racist. But no, now everyone is saying that we are unfriendly to Magicks and some are saying they won’t shop at our store-- but we are not, eh, we’ve never--we serve anyone who comes in, vampire, werewolf, fairy, sorcerer, we have never turned away a customer--all because I just wanted to make Swynlake safe against dark magic, dark magic, not all magic-- so I’ve ruined my entire fami--ah!” 

He hissed and his hand jerked away. He’d sliced into his skin with the knife as tears had blurred into his eyes once more. At least now he could blame such tears on the pain. Jun spat a very explicit Korean curse as he made to move over to the sink.  

 MARLIN:

Now, Mu-yeol was about to tell Jun it would be okay but then he had to go and damn near slice his hand off and that kicked him right into healing fairy mode. Jun swore and Mu-yeol followed him to the sink and turned it on so the water would rinse the cut. 

“Hey, hey, sh it’s okay. Don’t think about it.” Mu-yeol said gently. “I’ll fix it, give me your hand.

With her bare hand - which was not human medical practice - Mu-yeol took Jun’s hand in his and waved his other hand over the cut which in one motion stopped the bleeding. To seal the cut however he had to rest his other hand on top of Jun’s until it felt like they held sunbeams in their hands, complete with a little golden glimmer.

He pulled his hands away, still covered in Jun’s blood, and nodded to the hand. “Good as new.”

And with a flick of his wrists so that his palms faced up Jun’s blood disappeared from his hands. “And clean.”

 JUN: 

“Daebak.”

Jun did not say this.

He’d grumbled the entire time Mu-yeol tended his gash, tears stinging in his eyes. He had not heard the kitchen door open. He did not see Eomma enter. Only now he heard her soft exclamation. Jun jerked his head to see her holding freshly picked cucumbers from Appa’s garden. She had obviously brought them for Mu-yeol and Jun.

She had also, obviously, seen Mu-yeol perform magic. 

“Eomma,” Jun blurted and instinctively stepped in front of Mu-yeol as if he could hide--

Eun-jung blinked several times and then scurried toward them. “Aiya, already using both our cutting boards! Where am I supposed to cut these, hmm?” 

Jun blinked. He glanced at Mu-yeol--

Eun-jung pushed her way between them. “Junnie, the gim please.” 

“Eomma…”

“Stop standing there with your mouth open, you’ll eat a fly,” Eomma huffed. She looked at Mu-yeol. “Does this kid have rice stuffed in his ears? What?” A pause. “Are we still pretending I don’t know?” 

 MARLIN:

Mu-yeol stood there frozen like an ice block as his eyes flitted between Jun and Eun-jung. He used magic. He used magic on Jun (to help him!) and she didn’t even flinch. Apart from a soft exclamation of sur— no, not even surprise. She’d sounded impressed. Amazed? But not surprised.

And most importantly she didn’t seem angry. 

“I— what. Wait, what.” Mu-yeol finally stammered, looking at Jun as if to ask if he knew she knew. 

“You knew?” He asked quietly, barely above a whisper. “And you don’t care? For how long?”

 JUN: 

Jun watched his mother sigh, then smile gently at Mu-yeol.  

They had a rule in their household, very vague as to apply to many things. The rule was this: don’t talk about it. It could mean the recurring billywig blight that kept attacking their lettuce. It had meant Abeoji’s cancer. It definitely meant the many strange clients the Moon Market served, ‘strange’ applying to couples like Simba and Berlioz and to fairies like Mu-yeol. While these things were not altogether strange to Jun, he understood his parents’ stubborn silence as a conditional acceptance, for Swynlake had been what Abeoji could afford, and now that they were here-- it was home, flaws and all. They must respect those flaws. 

At least, that’s what Jun thought. Now? He felt like he’d just sliced his whole thumb off, even though the pain had vanished. What the hell was going on, eh?! 

“Oh, I don’t know!” Eun-jung said as she shrugged and laughed, though something in her sweet eyes remained sad. “Nam-minnie would always lose his hats, running around the store! You two aren’t so clever as you think. But you never said anything; I didn’t think you wanted us to know. It isn’t our business.” She shrugged a second time as she skinned the cucumber down. 

“You’re okay with it?!” Jun blurted. 

Eun-jung shot him a glare. “Eh, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because!” 

“They’re the Baes! What was I going to do, stop talking to them?” And though Jun knew she did not mean to, his Eomma blushed and looked back at her cucumbers, sucking her teeth as though Jun was ridiculous.

But--he understood at once. It was like he had always thought, the same reason why Jun had never said anything, following the rule of the Moon household to the strictest letter. The last thing he had wanted to do was take away one of Eomma’s friends. She hadn’t wanted to lose Mu-yeol, either. 

“Didn’t I tell you to get the gim?” 

Jun made a face. “Eommmaaaaaa.”

 MARLIN:

Eun-jung knew. 

Either she’d always known or she came to know and it didn’t matter to her, because she still invited them over for Chuseok; she still let Nemo sleep over with Tae; she still gently scolded Mu-yeol for telling Nemo to always help with dishes when he sleeps over. 

Had it not been for his being well-versed in Korean human culture, where showing the emotions he wanted to display now was frowned upon, he might have burst into tears and hugged her. He still almost did. 

“Tae eomma…” he said quietly — of course getting back to chopping onions because Chuseok meals waited for no touching revelation — “And you...don’t have any questions? It’s okay if you do. I owe you that much for intending to lie.”

 JUN: 

Eomma went quiet for a moment, but her hands didn’t stop. The knife banged against the cutting board as she sliced up the cucumbers, her movements quick and even. Jun watched, but those hands did not hesitate. Eomma did not seem to be uncomfortable either-- just focused on her task. Though he would be the first to admit that there was more he didn’t know about his parents. After all, he hadn’t known this! He’d foolishly kept a secret he didn’t need to keep. All this time, thinking he was protecting the Moons-- yah, what good was his gesture now? 

Though he wondered. About Abeoji. What about Abeoji? 

Eomma glanced at Jun first, probably sensing the loudness of such thoughts, but then smiled at Mu-yeol. 

“Eh, only if you want to share. I’ve lived in this town too long, I know such things are sensitive. It’s best to be polite.” 

Jun’s cheeks heated, hearing the lecture for him in it.

“Though--” she paused again, dropping her eyes. She tried to sound casual. “Can all fairies do that? What you did for Junnie? Is that why you look so young?” 

MARLIN:

That was the one thing about Korean human culture that really, truly, clashed with fairy culture. The whole ‘don’t ask about anything’ thing. He gave her permission, with his previous statement, and was incredibly thankful she did bite the bait, if only nibbled at it.

He chuckled low in his throat and got back to cutting vegetables, albeit slowly, before Eun-jung scolded him for just being a decoration in her kitchen.

“Not all fairies, only fairies like me. We’re all born with what we call Talents, and that’s our magic. Mine is healing, just like my youngest brother and one of my grandfathers. My parents were - are, they’re still alive - a Scout talent and Pixie Dust talent. Which means my father helps protect the Hollow, and my mother harvests and maintains the pixie dust supply for the whole Hollow. I look so young because once we hit about twenty-five we age slower than humans; a fairy’s lifespan is generally 150-200 years. Our Hollow Queen or King lives for centuries. My father is 103 and my mother is 75.”

Mu-yeol awkwardly cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was probably a lot.”

 JUN: 

Yah, talk about overexplaining. Though Jun only thought that because he was so used to underexplaining-- to excuses and hand-waving and looking the other direction. All such things became habits and habits were hard to break, even when there was no reason to keep them now. He saw the same behavior in his Eomma-- as she blinked and looked uncertain as to react to any of that. 

He wondered if she was thinking about Abeoji. 

Jun was thinking about Abeoji. 

Jun was thinking about how he had begged Mu-yeol to do something, and Mu-yeol said that he could not. It was hopeless, of course it was, and it was not Mu-yeol’s fault, but bitterness filled Jun anyway as his hyung spoke of living so long after healing Jun’s hand like it was nothing. Why did some creatures get such blessings when humans were forced to labor for the mere handful of years? Abeoji had only been sixty-one. Sixty-one. And he was gone. 

After a brief pause, Eomma nodded as though no such pause occurred. “Ahhh, I know about talents, of course. I did not know they weren’t all-- I though it was all in nature and we could get you to help our tomatoes grow.” Her eyes twinkled, all in jest. “But healing, yah, that’s very important. You must be so respected.” 

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol had already unloaded on Jun how very much not respected the Baes were in the Hollow, so he wasn’t sure how to answer Eun-jung. 

“At the clinic I am.” He didn’t lie because that was true. 

This was Eun-jung’s first Chuseok without her husband. He wouldn’t depress her by telling her about why outside of the clinic he and Nemo were a little...not everyone’s favorite. 

“Talents are unpredictable. None of my siblings have the same as my parents. But, Nemo is the same as his mother was. It just depends. On what, I’m not sure.”

JUN:

Jun was still watching his eomma as if she might transform in a moment-- turn from the sweet woman he knew that she was into the woman who ripped the covers off the bed and started shouting at her children if they stayed asleep for too long.

But of course Eomma didn’t. Why would she yell at Mu-yeol? There was no reason to yell at Mu-yeol. They were very different people, his eomma and his hyung, and yet it seemed there was enough similar between them that they both wanted-- to be kind to each other, to forgive each other for the things they might disagree on. 

It made Jun’s heart felt so soft and tender. He rubbed at his chest. Maybe it was just heartburn. 

“Ooooooh, I see. Well, that’s children for you anyway. Junnie takes after Appa, doesn’t he?” she smiled at Jun and turned Jun’s whole face red.

Jun sucked his teeth as if he were disagreeing.

“Who knows why they do? Eh, Junnie, start rolling these.” 

Jun had no choice to come forward to arrange the gimbap. 

Eomma turned to face Mu-yeol then-- and her face looked much more serious. “Mu-yeol ssi, I do hope… I think-- I am sorry,” she finally settled on. She bowed her head slightly. “If you felt that our family would not welcome yours if we knew about your heritage. I think, when we were younger… Yoon-seok and I, there was a lot we didn’t know how to talk about. There’s still so much. But I hope you will still feel safe here.”

[kunalsoriginals]

Pearls of Wisdoms for Pakis

Beloved Janta of Pakistan,

I would also like to share a secret with you, which you might never apprehend from a person from any other country, especially from an Indian. We LOVE YOU, We are obsessed with you. We enjoy infatuation comparable to that of a 14-year boy who has one on a girl living in his neighborhood, like that teenager whose heart warms up with the girl's sight. Still, he tends to tease her or plays whimsical pranks on her. It is his way of showing his affection.

Accept it, my fellow former Countrymen, you guys are in deep love with us as well. I have felt it first-hand. You folks love watching our Movies and fantasy our starlets. Sing Bollywood songs while proposing to your love. Ache to enjoy Mumbai and Delhi's nightlife. Some of you would even love to reside permanently here for a better future. There is also constant discrimination in every viewpoint; it may be Cricket or politics; in all honesty, you think of our day and night.

Keeping this indefinable affection for each other aside for a while, there is a bitter revelation that you people will have to accept and even feed it in the brains of the future generations to come. I am sure that maximum people over your side of the border should by now have conceded that India will never ever surrender Kashmir in your Lap. It won't be possible in at least another century ahead.

You see, in the manner where India's GDP had expanded from 10 Thousand Crores in the 1950s to more than 10 Lacs Crores in 2019, our sentiment of Nationalism has additionally, grown in a comparable pattern. There was a phenomenal hike in this feeling after India's general elections 2014 onwards; the reason for such an increase is unknown to me. So, the moral is, with such a vast Nationalism level in the hearts of the Aam Janta here, I don't think so parting away an inch of land to anyone would be possible.

Won't it look dishonorable for us in the front of the entire world if we lose the land to you guys who are quite behind then us in all the aspects? You will have to accept that technically both our countries are 73 years old this year. Over this side of the border, we have gradually upgraded in all aspects a Nation has to grow. I could virtually challenge you in where you guys can prove to be better in any improvement zone. This is the land wherein the year 1981 Indian Actor Amitabh enacted on the evergreen song "Dekha Ek Khawab " and his Dame Rekha in the movie Silsila hence parting away with Kashmir is painful to us as it will not only hurt our Ego and furthermore offer grief to Amitji.  

Forget the BJP led NDA, Even the Congress-led UPA cannot think of such a gormless deal. The primary reason is that they want to come into power next term too to provide Public service. Now you people only tell which government will be such dimwits to kick their own rear and be signed on the history textbook of 10-year-old kids as the People who gave away Kashmir.

Realize this, Pakistani Government, Your Army and also ISI can't withhold the idea of getting the region of Kashmir in your Nation's Map, even they know that your national flag will never rise in Capital of Srinagar but since it was an Inaugural Political Agenda when your Country was created in where the principal objective of this agenda was to collect vote from you guys and funds from other countries in the name of Kashmir. It is their lollypop for you fellows that their respective parties if came in power, an ideal environment will be created where; a newly wedded couple from Lahore can drive to Srinagar for their honeymoon without a stamp on their Passport and enjoy a bite of Kashmiri Apple laying in the front deck of a Shikara in Dal Sarovar. It's All Fake, acknowledge it, and move on.

So to my Indian friends,

There was a massive inspiration for me to compose this article. It was shocking that it came from the other side of the border. In the great Indian lockdown of 2020, I who was ideally workless like many of us all, I went through many videos of this Pakistani Newsreader and Political Debate Show Host Dr. Fiza Akbar Khan on YouTube. By her venomous language, the passion for thrashing India and people over here and that high pitched voice made me think of another Indian Debate Show Host.  I am convinced that they are unquestionably biologically related to each other. So I should not have a problem with her blabbering rubbish towards my Country as her Bhaiya here likewise.  

But I have to admit that her language did hurt me because, unlike her Bhaiya over there who trashes Pakistan in the English language, she uses Urdu, which sounds quite similar to the Hindi language to illuminate unpleasant garbage, the reason is entirely psychological for me being hurt. For example, If somebody calls you a Motherfucker, you might not be offended in the same manner if you are called Madar***d (Pardon my Language).

This Pakistani Anchor goes on and on that How Poor, Uneducated, Physically and Mentally Weak, Shelterless, we Indians live in this Country where our economy is going into the drain. We are foolish people to elect Shri Modi as PM of our Country and that too twice. There is a vast level of discrimination on minorities over here. The world's biggest Democracy is over. In the distant future, if Kashmir is not given to them its freedom, then Islamabad will be the next capital of Pakistan and India.

Can you believe this, she has mentioned all this on her show and that too in a language which can easily pierce in our heart. Let's not get also angered about this and start calling her names. She is just doing her job. She is giving favored content to people of over there what her Bhaiya is doing over there.

As pragmatic as I can get about whatever she says on her show about us, I just can't accept it, I am too egoistic as an Indian to even reply or curse on her Video on YouTube comment section. Hence, I planned to dedicate this entire blog to Dr. Fiza Khan, whom I seriously don't mean to offend as Women, her Nation, and especially not her Religion and would like to give her some advice.

Avoid Echoing about Nukes: A round of applause towards Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan for building Nuclear Weapons, a program from a stolen uranium centrifuge design and a network of grey-market suppliers. But stop jabbering in your show that Pakis can nuke India in case a War erupts between us. Even If Jinnah Sahab from Heaven above commands your Arm Force to it, they will effortlessly deny his orders and don't stress. We likewise won't squander our atomic weapon on you. These weapons are like those expensive Portraits which you can proudly hang in your Living Room, but can't take it out on a date. Stop even using the word Nuke in your show.

Comparison between the PMs: PM Imran Sahab seems to be a jolly good fellow who also appears to try to administrate better than any other PMs or Military leaders of your Country. Let me tell you bluntly that there is no comparison with his Counterpart over here; in fact, he even doesn't stand anywhere nearby India's previous Prime Minister.    

Paki's Diplomatic Policies Debacle: This is a typical miscue. You and many colleagues of you have repeatedly misguided your Citizens that Pakistan can easily use the benefit of its diplomatic relationship with a few First World Country and pressurize India on Kashmir Issue. Well, Honey, This is an open challenge to your PM, along with Mr. Qureshi Sahab go to any so-called super Power for assistance or call end numbers of meeting in OIC ( Organisation of Islamic Cooperation ). Nobody will be ready to intervene in the Valley issue for one of the main reason, Why would any country create enmity with the Country will more than 100 Million Population which is a significant business open doors for their corporates.

Playing Second Fiddle: I initially watched your Debate show of earlier years. You always mentioned the US as your elder brother and will still stand next to you along with Saudi Arabia. These were the two countries which you saw as your personal ATM. Lately, these ATM machines stopped removing Cash and Kinds, which they earlier showered on your Country, so you bashed them and accused both these Super Power for adultery. These started leaning towards us. Then you went to China and become a Virtual Puppet who dances on their tunes. Now the problem arises that the entire world started forming against your elder brother and accused them as the creator of the Pandemic of 2020. So you began a rigid assembly against them as well, and now your nation is in an arrangement for another development with Malaysia and Turkey. Understand this dear Fiza ben that in distant future you will have to abuse these two countries also while your government will go and beg to some other countries, maybe North Korea.

Last but not least, which I have already mentioned why Kashmir will never be part of Pakistan earlier in the blog. Read repeatedly till the concept is glued by heart, and if possible, explain it to your people there.

Defense products will be purchased in the name of Kashmir. For Fiscal Year 20-21 Defense expenditure of Pakistan is 1,289 Billion Dollars. India's expenses on the same would be around 66 Billion Dollars. Can you believe these Figures? This Moolah could otherwise be used in Infrastructure and improving the lifestyle of citizens of the respective Country. Civilians and Soldiers' blood will be shed on the name of Kashmir. Approximately 120000 deaths have been registered since 1989, which also includes unsympathetic deaths of militants and terrorists. Television Media will go on with Live debates inviting aficionados and enthusiasts to increase their TRP on the name of Kashmir. Newspapers and magazines will publish viperous articles vocalizing each other's blame for being troublemakers on Kashmir's name. Many commercial Movies and Web Series will also be produced on Kashmir's name. Still, by endeavoring all means of Peace or War, this dream of some of yours will never be fulfilled.

[napoleoninrags]

President Barabbas

The mob chose a mobster. Elections have consequences.

by Greg Olear

"Easter is a very special day for me ... Easter Sunday, and you'll have packed churches all over our country.” —Donald John Trump, 24 March 2020

I WAS RAISED Catholic, which meant that every Sunday, come hell or high water, we went to church. The Catholic Mass is extremely rote. There’s a lot of call-and-response, a lot of standing up and sitting down, a lot of the same material, repeated over and over and over again. The Apostles’ Creed, for example, has been recited at Mass, in much the same way, since it was codified at the Council of Nicaea during the reign of Constantine the Great, a mere 17 centuries ago.

The best day of the liturgical year, in my recollection, was Palm Sunday. The priest always shared the same story: Pontius Pilate, the Roman prefect, appeared before his subjects in Jerusalem on the occasion of Passover, and agreed to free a single Jewish prisoner. The mob had to choose: should Pilate free Jesus, the alleged “King of the Jews,” or Barabbas, a notorious criminal? Whereupon we, role-playing in the pews, would cry, WE WANT BARABBAS! My brother and I shouted with gusto, to my mother’s extreme annoyance: WE WANT BARABBAS! And so the killer was set free, and Christ condemned to die.

I didn’t know at the time that this passage, perpetuating as it does the “Jews killed Jesus” myth, was used for centuries by anti-Semites to justify their despicable deeds. I never interpreted it that way. To me, the story is about how mobs, led as they are by riled-up morons, can easily be fooled and manipulated into voting against their best interests.

The 2016 election is a recent example of how the angry masses, presented with a clear choice of good guy versus bad guy, chose unwisely. It’s not fair to either party to compare Hillary Clinton with Jesus Christ, and Pontius Pilate did not use the Electoral College system in determining whom to pardon, but notorious criminal Donald John Trump is absolutely President Barabbas. The mob went with the mobster.

Three years into the Trump Administration, and a shocking number of the president’s associates are either in prison, about to head to prison, under indictment, or under investigation. There is Paul Manafort, Trump’s campaign chair, currently incarcerated. There is Michael Cohen, Trump’s longtime personal attorney, fixer, and bagman: ditto. There is the treacherous Michael Flynn, awaiting his sentence (or, perhaps, his pardon). There is Trump’s longtime buddy and shadow campaign advisor Roger Stone, soon to toddle off to the hoosegow. There’s also those who have not yet been indicted because of the nefarious machinations of the corrupt Attorney General, William Barr: Rudy Giuliani, Jared Kushner, Mike Pompeo, Mike Pence, Mick Mulvaney, Erik Prince, and Trump’s lousy kids Ivanka, Eric, and Don Junior.

What is remarkable here, aside from the obvious fact that Trump cavorts with an uncanny number of crooks, is that none of these people has flipped. Manafort pretended to, only to ratfuck the FBI. Flynn, too, lied to investigators. Only Cohen gave up some dirt—but how much did he really surrender? The thing is, the rest of these people aren’t nearly as hard. Trump wants to pardon Roger Stone because he knows him well enough to know that he will sing to stay out of the Big House. Jared Kushner, aka Boy Plunder, has done so many illicit things that he will keep FBI agents busy for years; is Mr. Ivanka really not going to flip to avoid prison? And I can’t imagine Don Junior exhibiting the same trollish swagger around Cellblock D.

Trump’s partners in crime are all selfish assholes. They have no real loyalty. Giuliani, for example, loathes Trump with every fiber of his noxious being. He’s only protecting him out of his own self-interest. At some point, to preserve themselves, these fuckers will all turn on each other, and it will be the end of Reservoir Dogs all up in here: a bunch of petty crooks threatening to take each other down.

So why haven’t they?

A big queen sits in the middle of the stalemated chessboard, preventing all movement. The queen’s name is William Barr. He is the titular Attorney General of the United States, but his actual function is to slow-roll the Department of Justice from its takedown of Trump and his co-conspirators. To that end, he holds up witnesses. He stymies evidence from being sent to prosecutors. He cock-blocks US Attorneys, sure as he cock-blocked Mueller. He kicks the can and kicks it again and again and again, hoping to run out the clock. Barr has been so successful that the GOP is not even remotely worried about the bad stuff coming out. He’s gummed up the works so badly that we couldn’t even get witnesses at the fucking impeachment trial.

With a big, fat cork in the bottle of evidence, Trump and his fellow criminals do not have to fear retribution from law enforcement for as long as he stays in office. The only danger now is if they turn on each other. If they respect omertà, they are golden. Thus it is in all of their interests—Trump’s, but also Pence’s, McConnell’s, Pompeo’s, Kushner’s, and so on—to stay the course. These people will do anything, including exacerbate a global health crisis, to not get caught. They don’t care if we die. Repeat: they don’t care if we die. As Mr. White says in Reservoir Dogs: “The choice between doing ten years and taking out some stupid motherfucker, ain’t no choice at all.”

What are they hiding?

In Trump’s case, generations of criminal involvement with the mob—first La Cosa Nostra, later the Russian mafiya. His grandfather was a minor pimp at the dawn of the organized crime era, but Donald’s father, Fred Trump, was, as Lincoln’s Bible tells us, “a businessman front for the Genovese crime family.”

To best understand Fred, just track his rise from single-family home construction to big residential developments. From Shore Haven (1947) to Beach Haven to Trump Village, all were done with known mafia partners, in Genovese-controlled territory, and eventually with a fully Genovese-owned construction company (HRH Construction).

When the Russian mafiya began rolling in, they landed in Fred’s properties and partnered with the Genovese on some big ticket scams. This was also during the time that Fred and his attorney Roy Cohn set up S&A concrete (via Nick Auletta)—a joint venture between Tony Salerno (Genovese boss) and Paul Castellano (Gambino boss), so that donald could build in Manhattan. Remember donald’s quote, “Even my father, he said, you don’t want to go to Manhattan. That’s not our territory?” That’s because Manhattan, for construction, was Gambino territory. They controlled the concrete and unions. And Fred was a very loyal, shrewd front for the Genovese. To get his idiot, greedy kid into Manhattan, Fred and Roy Cohn had to get those two mob bosses to agree on a joint venture.

When the Russian mafiya pushed out the Italian mob after the fall of the Soviet Union, Donald Trump began laundering money for unseemly Vor associates of Semion Mogilevich. The Russians extended him credit when no US bank would touch him, and he remains in their debt—a fact the Mazars and Deutsche Bank documents will reveal, which is why Trump has moved heaven and earth to keep said documents secret.

Because the Russian mafiya works hand in glove with the Russian government, Trump is also, as Hillary Clinton correctly told us four years ago, Putin’s puppet. His ties to Russian intelligence (Putin, remember, is ex-KGB) go back decades. Recruitment of Trump by the KGB began in the Reagan Administration; for all we know, his succession of ex-Soviet-bloc wives better reflect his allegiance to the Soviets than his taste in women. He is also connected to the Russian organized crime via his friend Jeffrey Epstein, a collector of kompromat and money launderer for arms dealers; Epstein’s longtime partner was Ghislaine Maxwell, daughter of Robert Maxwell, the spy and former business partner of, yes, Semion Mogilevich.

Trump’s underworld ties were all there in 2016, barely below the surface, for all the world to see. Wayne Barrett wrote about them for the Village Voice. Robert Friedman alluded to them in Red Mafiya. Craig Unger covers them closely in House of Trump, House of Putin. The mainstream media knew damned well what the guy really was, but chose to equate Trump’s years of actual mobbed-up crimes with HRC’s email server. The result? Every half-wit Fox News watcher proclaims, with a straight face, that Hillary, not Donald, is the crook!

Truth: Trump is a notorious criminal, a serial rapist and sexual assailant, wholly owned by the mob, controlled by the underworld and the Kremlin. He is a latter-day Barabbas—and because of the whims of a riled-up mob, he’s now, somehow, the President of the United States. Make no mistake: If he thinks it will help him avoid prosecution, he will order the churches open for Easter without qualm or hesitation. In his calculus, Jesus gave up His life for us, so we should give up our lives for Trump. He will happily pervert the holiest of Christian holy days to get what he wants. To this monster, nothing is sacred..

[suckasstakenames]

Craig and Those Guys Week: Day 5 - Sleepover 💤 🎮

The third and final oneshot I wrote for @craigandthoseguys-week !! Craig POV this time!

Thank you for reading!!

----

Token’s residence has always been the favourite hangout, so it was expected that the votes were unanimous when our group decided where to have our highly anticipated boy’s night. My house usually had adult guests over during the evening, Tweek’s parents don’t leave us alone at his place, Clyde wasn’t a very good host, and Jimmy’s parents had completely banned any of his friends from going over because of the aftermath when they went out of town once. Playing fantasy in fourth grade had it’s consequences.

Mr and Mrs Black even decided to take a spa trip so that we’d purposely have the house to ourselves. Risky, but I guess Token is reliable enough to make sure the house is in pristine condition by the time they get back. Even if the rest of us aren’t.

After the four of us shared a car to get there, we were joyfully greeted by Token at his front door and led up to his room. Only it wasn’t Token at the front, it was Clyde, who excitedly (and pretty rudely) barged right in front of us all. We’re all equipped with sleeping bags and rucksacks, each carrying a different assortment of things. Well...besides the essentials.

We collectively decided that I would be in charge of bringing booze to the occasion. My parents were the only ones who didn’t give a shit if I hoarded a large amount of alcohol, so there was no debating it.

Clyde had brought a TON of junk food. He regularly had a pantry stocked with all kinds of goodies (when he wasn’t scoffing it himself) so he just grabbed whatever he could find and stuffed it in a bag.

Tweek was in charge of DVD’s. Being the anxious wreck that he is, we figured it would be best that he picked the film selection so that he didn’t get too disturbed by anything. I did help him out a little, though.

And lastly, Jimmy took it upon himself to come up with any backup plans, incase we got bored with anything. We had no doubts that he would think of some fun shit to do, or bring something that would entertain us. After all, we’d do anything to avoid going to sleep early.

Token had a good amount of food and entertainment himself, but we thought it was only fair to handle our own, since his parents were being so accommodating to us. Plus, he had every video game console thinkable, and a good game selection at that. We were more than prepared.

~

Walking into Token’s oversized bedroom, Clyde drops his backpack on the ground and launches himself onto the kingsized bed starfish style.

“You know you’re not sleeping there right...?” I remind him.

“Unless you’re s-s-spooning with T-Token.” Jimmy jokes from behind me.

Clyde just nuzzles into the bed even further. “I’m sure he’d be happy to have me.”

“Uhhh like fuck I would...” Token retorts, “Your ass is on the floor.”

Clyde turns onto his side and attempts his sexiest pose (which, believe it or not, wasn’t sexy at all). “Don’t be like that baby~”

“Just get over here and unroll your damn sleeping bag” Token says, throwing the sleeping bag directly at Clyde’s head with perfect aim. The impact sends him flying backwards. I thought Clyde was supposed to be the sporty one out of us? He can’t catch if his life depended on it.

Tweek stands next to me, shaking his head and smirking. It definitely isn’t a first for us to witness antics like this; we’re so used to it, it’s unbelievable. I take his rucksack off him and put in down next to mine.

“Here, I’ll take care of your bed.”

“Ngh! Craig, I’m fine doing it myself, really!”

I ignored him and started to set it up anyway. But the little shit went over and grabbed mine instead. Tweek can be a stubborn fuck sometimes, but it wasn’t all that much of a bad thing.

We’d all laid out our sleeping bags in a line (in front of the television, of course) as the sun was just about to set outside. Mine was on the far left, with Tweek next to me, Clyde next to him and Jimmy on the right. We changed into our pyjamas and nestled into our sleeping bags, Token sitting down right in the middle of us. Damn right were we gonna make this a proper conventional slumber party.

Token switched the TV on and some animal documentary was showing. There was a lioness with some lion cubs and it was telling the story of their survival.

“No way?! You’ve got the Nintendo Switcheroo!” Clyde exclaims out of nowhere, making us all jump out of our skin. He crawls over to the console to investigate. Token looks pissed off as Clyde’s big-ass head was blocking some of the screen, and he seems kind of invested in the lion story.

I sigh. “…you did NOT just call it a fucking Nintendo Switcheroo..."

“Of course he’s got one man! He owns everything!” Tweek jokes.

“Yeah, p-p-pauper.” Jimmy stutters. Token just blows a raspberry in response.

“We need to play Mario Kart. We’re playing Mario Kart. Right now.” Clyde dictates.

I groan and roll my eyes. I thought that game had died many years ago…however…when it WAS a thing, I did kick some serious ass.

Fortunately the game box was staring him right in the face, so he started trying to set it up, taking out the disc and trying to figure out how to switch the console on.

Meanwhile the documentary was getting pretty dramatic, as a group of hyenas were closing in on the mother lion and her kids. She was fighting them off, but then the narrator explains how she left behind one of her babies while doing so. It shows one of the hyenas circling the cub like a shark.

Tweek yells out, turning his head away. “Oh god hurry up Clyde!! It’s gonna eat the cub!!”

“I’m trying!!” Clyde whines, pressing any button BUT the correct one. It was clear he wasn’t a fan of the documentary either by how frantic he was being.

The hyena started closing in on the cub.

“CLYDE!! PLEASE!!” Tweek holds his hands over his ears, trying to completely shut it out. I try and comfort him while looking over at Token as if to say ‘don’t just sit there, help him’. He does exactly that and crawls over, pressing a button on the side with ease. Thankfully, the channel automatically switches over and the game console loads onto the screen. I feel a giant exhalation of relief coming from Tweek, who finally withdraws himself from burying his face in my chest.

~

Eventually the title screen appears with the familiar Mario Kart jingle playing. Jimmy starts to wiggle along to it, which, of course, persuades Clyde to dance too. Tweek and I decided we’d share the controller and take it in turns since there could only be four players at once.

When it came to selecting our characters; Token picked Mario, Jimmy went for Toad, and Clyde settled for the ‘Fly Guy’ (Shy Guy). I let Tweek pick our character and he went for Yoshi.

The first course was selected and it was one of the basic Mario stadium courses. Tweek passed the controller to me and the race began. Clyde and I zoomed off ahead, Token went at a normal start, and Jimmy pressed the button too early and caused his kart to blow up.

“Fuck…f-f-f…f-fuck a duck.” Jimmy curses.

I end up taking the lead by quite a bit, Clyde chasing me in second. He’s super competitive; the kinda guy who leans in the same direction as he steers. He was constantly targeting me; sending red and blue shells in my direction at any chance he could. Typical.

The race ends with me in 1st, Clyde in 2nd, Token in 5th and Jimmy in 8th.

“Loser chugs his beer!!” Clyde makes a terrible suggestion. Jimmy rolls with it anyway, grabbing a can of beer and impressively chugging while Clyde and Token count from 10 down to zero. Jimmy can be a real dark horse. Well…maybe not when it comes to Mario Kart though.

Race number 2 is some sort of jack-and-the-beanstalk type level. Tweek takes the wheel this time, and it proved to have been a bad idea. The road has a lot of holes and tight corners without barriers, and Tweek somehow managed to fall off every single one. It even got to the point where the CPU in first place was lapping him.

Of course, he was very vocal about this. “Jesus are you kidding me?! How are you supposed to make that turn?! HOW?!”

Token ended up in 2nd place, Clyde in 4th, Jimmy in 5th, and Tweek…in last place. Before the other guys could even suggest it, I grabbed my can of beer and chugged for ten seconds. They just looked at me dumbfounded, including Tweek. Like hell was I gonna let Tweek chug his beer; I don’t even think he’s opened his can up yet. We’re a team, and I’m the one who’ll be taking the consequences.

The next race came around and it was one of the Bowser castles. Clyde struggled in this level, while Token, Jimmy and I were in the top three. Clyde, after somehow blaming Token for his loss, ended up coming 9th and chugged his beer like there was no tomorrow.

The last stage loaded up…Rainbow Road. Of COURSE Tweek had to get the two difficult courses... I kept my beer in my hand ready to chug again.

The race starts; there goes Clyde. Plummeting into the void below.

Jimmy starts off pretty well but eventually starts to lose his skill when it comes to the tight corners.

Token is a little better than the other two, but he keeps getting hit with items from the CPUs and ends up being knocked back in the placing.

With Clyde in last, Jimmy in 11th and Token in 9th…where does that put Tweek, I hear you ask? Well... Tweek was driving so slowly and cautiously that he managed to dodge the majority of the corners. Then he got a bullet item on the last lap and soared his way right into 2nd place. He even gave an excited little fist pump when he crossed the finish line.

“…...I think that victory alone deserves a chug from all of you.” I insist, slinging my arm around Tweek. He chuckles in response.

After a few groans and eye rolls, the three of them reluctantly chug their beer while Tweek and I counted down from 10.

~

A couple hours later and Jimmy had decided that we were going to play drinking games. How old were we again?

Tweek even agreed to it, intrigued at what kind of secrets were going to be revealed during this.

“Never have I ever…gotten arrested!” Token starts.

Well…we’ve all been in trouble with the police at some point, but actually arrested? Hmm…I’m sure I got caught with something illegal once. I drink anyway.

Jimmy drinks due to causing grievous bodily harm to his ex girlfriend, Nancy.

Clyde drinks due his whole involvement with the Nazi zombies and stealing the green goo from the government.

Tweek doesn’t drink because he’s never actually been arrested. Of course, he’s still been in trouble with the police like the rest of us back in our ‘vigilante’ days.

Next it was Jimmy’s turn. “N-never have I ever been awake for more than t-t-twenty four hours.”

Clyde doesn’t drink. The dude can’t function without at least 8 hours of sleep.

Token takes a sip while telling us about how one time he’d spent all night studying for finals and then worked a 12 hour shift the next day. He makes way too much work for himself sometimes...

Tweek and I both drink. Do I even need to explain Tweek’s reasoning?

“Uhhh…never have I ever…broken somebody's heart.” Tweek takes his turn.

Fuck, another shot for me. I had no regrets when it came to making girls cry when I was younger. He manages to catch the other three out too; Clyde and Token even clink their cans together, sighing disappointedly. We’re a gang of heartbreakers.

Clyde is up next. “Never have I everrrr…..sent a text to the wrong person!”

Nobody else drinks but Jimmy; I figured he would be pretty flippant in that area.

But then I realised something.

“…wait…that is horse shit.”

Clyde looks at me bewildered. I whip out my phone and bring up Clyde’s texts. I can feel Tweek’s chin resting on my shoulder, taking a peek.

“3 weeks ago. Wednesday, July 10th. 9:24pm. ‘hey babe u looked gorgeous on ur recent instagram pic, u got nice legs’.” I look back up at him with a blank expression, Tweek chuckling next to me.

Clyde goes completely silent for a minute, his face flushing bright pink. Jimmy and Token laugh a little too, Jimmy putting his arm over Clyde in sympathy.

“Are you s-sure he doesn’t just think your legs are nice, C-C-Craig?” Jimmy winks at me.

“Jimmy…when have I ever showed my legs on Instagram.” I scoff.

“There’s a first for everything!” Token jests.

~

In the early hours of the morning we find ourselves sprawled across the floor in our sleeping bags, watching All Dogs Go To Heaven - a film that Tweek had chosen. He was resting his head on my lap, and when it neared the end of the movie, I noticed him sniffing. I reached down and wiped away the tiny bit of water that had appeared under his eye. Meanwhile, Clyde had used up an entire tissue box, Token wasn’t even watching the film because he was cleaning up after Clyde, and Jimmy was making fun of every little aspect of the film.

When the movie finished we moved right onto another one; some cheesy comedy that Token had suggested. Mainly because Tyler Perry was in it.

Clyde was asleep within minutes; mouth wide open and snoring like a pig.

It didn’t take long for Jimmy to doze off too, clearly not impressed with the humour.

Token was now in his bed, snickering to himself and eating potato chips. From the angle he was at, he probably didn’t realise that all four of us were completely disinterested in the movie.

Tweek was snuggled into the side of my neck, slowly drifting into dream world. I drew circles on his back with the tip of my fingers, using my other hand to play with a strand of his thin blonde hair. A few years ago this would have never been a thing; there’d only be the four of us, with Tweek hanging out with entirely different cliques. Luckily the guys were quick to accept him into our group once we started dating, and treated him like one of us immediately.

I guess that’s one of the many things I can thank them for.

----

[berlinaura]

Last spring in Finland I attended a course “German for those who are going to have an exchange year”. They told us about the stages which one usually goes through during an exchange. As far as I remember, the stages were roughly somewhat like this: firstly one views everything and everyone better than in their home country and everything is super interesting and fun. This basically means that the everyday life hasn’t kicked in yet. The next one is getting annoyed at everything and everybody. Comparing the country to your home country and maybe even feeling like it would have been a better idea to just stay home. After this comes the stage of adaptation where one gets used to customs and stops comparing everything to one’s home country. Last phase is coming back to home country and seeing it in a new way. And of course telling stories of the exchange year to friends and family until they are bored to death. 

I remember thinking two things when we were taught about this. Firstly, who the hell would go through a phase of hating the country they go to? It seemed so irrational. The second thing was “Now that I’ve heard about this stuff, I can rise above it and use my brain and self-knowledge to avoid it. Yeah... As you might guess, it did not happen. I admit, during last few weeks I have spend a huge amount of my time wallowing in “WHY DO YOU DO THIS LIKE THIS” “Why can’t you do it in the right way” “What the hell is wrong with Germans!”. Mostly my frustrations have been related to my university. The mornings I am usually in a good mood. I drink my coffee, get ready (I have started to care more about what I wear and how I look like now that I am in Berlin hahaha) and go to school. All in all it takes me around 45 minutes to get from my home to university which includes walking, tram and S-Bahn. The way there and back are usually my favorite bits of the day. I enjoy watching people, traveling through Berlin in S-Bahn and listening to music. On the way back from university the people in public transport are usually going to pubs or parties so it’s nice to see happy and lively faces. I try not to overwhelm myself with school even though I feel like I need to be constantly studying to keep up. The thing is, even though the courses seem a bit challenging, partly because I am not used to academic English and partly because I am studying in a new study field, I find all of them interesting and genuinely think they are useful. I think I will shortly find a balance because now I feel super drained after every day and still feel like I have the “responsibility” to do fun things and go to places whenever I am not studying. It’s like a freshman year all over again. 

So, what has happened after the last post? Quite a lot. I was on a Wanderlust trip to Dresden in October. We also visited a famous bridge (Bastei) in Saxony. The views and the scenery were incredible! Dresden was also very cozy and historical city. It was a lot smaller than I expected. We only had a few hours to browse through the city but we could easily reach the most important sights by just walking. On the bus we opened bottles of wines we got from Lidl and played some car games with the people who sat around me. I suggested searching “questions to get to know each other” so on the few hour way back we just simply shared our biggest secrets and fears as if we had been knowing for a long time. The french boy sitting in front of me got  interested as I mentioned we are throwing a sitting here, so he wanted to help. We formed a committee of 5 people for a sittning, planned it in a cafe and contacted international office. Their response was rather dry and due to International office organizing a similar event in December, we decided to postpone the sittning and start planning it again in January.

Wanderlust trip was good because everything was already planned and sorted out for us. We just had to be on time to catch the bus. I already booked another wanderlust trip to Magdeburg in December. They have a Christmas market there. I also want to see the city that was my other option to have an exchange year in. By the way, I am super glad I ended up choosing Berlin over Magdeburg. 

The next day me, the Austrian girl who sat next to me on the bus and her friend went to see a light show in the city centre. There is this light festival held in Berlin where they project things onto famous buildings and monuments. The one projected on Brandenburg gate left me speechless. They projected things like collapsing of the wall, JFK’s speech and techno culture of today’s Berlin.

One Friday evening my friend, my roommate and her friends decided to go to a burlesque show. The bar was super fancy as was the show. I just couldn’t get my eyes of the woman who performed. She danced to a remix of Britney Spears’ Toxic so naturally I had to ask her after the show if she liked Britney Spears. She said they only picked it because they needed something that people would recognize but at the same time something that isn’t the actual song. :( She was amazing tho.

In October I also went to see Prinz Pi live at Columbiahalle. I’ve never been to this venue before and it was so cozy! Man the concert just got better and better and I just had goosebumps for like half of the show. At the encore Prinz Pi said something in the lines of “You know.. The next place I go to.. You don’t want me to tell the audience that the audience of Berlin was dull? Go crazy then!” and I have never seen an audience getting so hyped during a song (”Gib dem Affen Zucker”). I got inspired of this so I already booked a ticket for Sido’s Christmas show in Columbiahalle. Actually I tried to go to his normal tour’s concert which is actually today, but I thought too long and it got sold out. People were asking 200€ per ticket (the original was around 45€) so I gave up. Then I decided to go to his christmas show but AGAIN thought too long because they are held in 20.-22.12. and I needed to sort out my flights to Finland first. But one day I decided to go to eventim’s page to see if someone was selling their ticket (they were, but overprized again) and I saw that there was one original ticket on sale even though it was sold out before. Someone had cancelled their ticket and some forces of the universe told me to refresh that page at a right moment. So now I have my ticket and just can not wait for it!

In the beginning of November I went to Prague to see my friend. The train ride was only 19 euros and I could easily do my homework and watch Kotikatu there. Priorities were sorted out! I navigated to Revnice where we went to a local brewery and shared things about our lives. The beer was the best beer I have ever had in my life which is sad because I literally can’t get it anywhere else than from there. Damn brewery! The next day we played board games, ate well and went swimming. My friend introduced me to a new thing: putting honey in a coffee. At first I doomed the though: ew, who the hell does that? Honey belongs to tea, not coffee. Then I tasted it and... it was delicious. It is yet to discover if it because of the honey or their super fancy coffee maker. Then we went to the brewery again and played a Czech card game called “bang”. I think I got the gist of it and even won the game once. On our last day we were just sightseeing and went to a concert together. The songs were translated to me and for a moment I felt super ambitious to learn Czech. I don’t want to miss out on funny songs just because I don’t know the language!

Last weekend there was a celebration in Berlin due to it being 30 years from the fall of Berlin wall. It was a bit similar to the light festival. We were out with friends two nights in a row and found a super cute place in Prenzlauer berg: Houdini. They have Indian food and cheap cocktails. We continued the evening to this living room looking place that was connected to a Späti. The Späti-drinking culture is something that is missing from Finland. Here Spätis are these small shops that mostly sell drinks (beer, soda, water, cider and so on) and candy.They are open late which is actually where the name Späti (Spätkauf = late shopping) comes from. There are often benches and tables where people can enjoy their drinks which are cheaper than in normal pubs of course. The Späti man asks if the beer is to be enjoyed in the living room and adds a small fee if it is. And there’s a bottle opener on the counter. Everything is sorted out so in my opinion Späti-drinking is a good way to go out and get drunk with small budget. 

Yesterday we had an excursion with my German class. We went to Berlinische Galerie which is a museum of contemporary art. They had an exhibition of Bauhaus, the art/design/architecture Academy in pre-WWII Germany that affected modern design and architecture. We were walking around and filling up a worksheet the teacher gave us. I enjoyed it so much and everything seemed so pleasing to the eye.

 Afterwards we went to a open stage event which was basically a talent show. There were 10 acts of which everyone had 10 minutes to convince the audience who voted for a winner. We also had beer and wine counter there naturally. My favorite was this one dude in tight ballet outfit who preformed a circus act which was funny and impressive at he same time. His background music was swan lake but the dude sang along in a terrible way which made it less serious. Then he juggled with 6 balls and every time he messed up, he cried out in a dramatic way. Then at the end of the show he turned his back to the audience and we could see he was digging something from his crotch and then he turned around and swiped of sweat from his face with a pile of tissues he had as a crotch-filler the whole time. The tipsy audience laughed so much that the winner was pretty much clear at that point. The dude who went after him performed a horrible keyboard improvisation and his face screamed “ I am sorry to be here, I just want to flee!” hahahahah. The act that came second was funny as well, they performed “Let it go” but with a German translation, the google translate type of translation. Conclusion is: the audience wants to laugh at talent shows, not see real talent. 

On top of all the events I have also been attending the hiphop dance class I think I told about. The teacher is super funny (and hot :D) and the dancing is so intensive and so much fun! I look terrible, though but it’s not the main point here. I might continue this hobby when I get back to Finland.

Now I have to start packing my things because I am going to Szczechin (Poland). I heard it is a city where Berliners go to shop because it is cheaper there. I feel like this trip can be either a massive success or a terrible flop. Time shows... 

[sweetheartjeongguk]

love letters

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: high school au, fluff, minimal angst

rating: g

warning(s): insecurity, slight jealousy

word count: 2.2k+

summary: you’ve held his heart in your palms since the age of eight years old, but there was a difference between true love and wishful thinking. 

masterlist

He writes you the first letter at the tender age of eight years old.

It is filled with numerous grammatical errors and multiple ink streaks from him forgetting that he can’t erase pen marks. He signs the bottom as “Joonie” because everybody calls him that.

Everybody being his parents and his sister.

The next letter is written when the two of you are graduating middle school and heading to the same high school. He is extremely ecstatic that day when he finds out, kicking his feet up and down and jumping high on his bed until the springs yelps in agony (more so, when his sister barges into his room and screams at him to stop bouncing or else she’ll take away his Pokemon cards). Needless to say, Namjoon bottles up his excitement and lets the words flow onto paper, all summed up with a shaky “Kim Namjoon”.

The third letter comes nearly a day after the homecoming dance. Namjoon is forced to go by his best friend Seokjin who ends up vomiting on the dancefloor after eating a few bad shrimps and has to be picked up by my mom. Namjoon writes about this in full concern, hoping that you would share his worries too.

Not that you’ll ever see these letters, but Namjoon would like to think that despite not knowing Seokjin that well, you’d feel sorry too.

He also comments on your beauty that night – how the yellow dress you wore brought out your smile and the lipstick was a nice shade of red.

‘You looked like a princess that night. Kind of like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. I wish I could have told you that myself, but you wouldn’t want to be seen by a guy like me.’

Namjoon tries to write a fourth letter, but he finds himself unable to do so. He watches you from a distance – seated at the back of the cafeteria, vaguely listening to Seokjin’s rant about the cost of school lunches while staring intently at your figure as you walk across the room to your friend’s table. Ever since your debut at the high school, you’ve been dubbed popular royalty by pretty much the entire student body. Boys grovel at your feet while girls are desperate to be called your “best friend”.

Call it wishful thinking, but Namjoon likes to think that he understands you. He likes to think that he can understand your emotions better than your “friends” can, better than the boys who claim to be in love with can. While Namjoon could very well be sucked into the “boys-who-are-hopelessly-in-love-with-you” category, he likes to think that he’s different.

He hopes that, given the opportunity to get to know you, you’d start to feel the same way.

That night, he writes you the letter. He recalls the look on your face in the cafeteria when your friends are joking around you and aweing at your every move. He could see the pain in your eyes at the insincerity. He could see your longing for more, for something real.

‘It’s okay to feel sad and anxious. It’s okay to feel like you’re fighting against the entire world. Just know that I’ll be by your side when the time comes. I’ll fight for you.’

His fifth letter is written at the back of Biology class during a boring documentary about biodiversity. The side of his hand smears at the pencil markings, but he’s too desperate that he doesn’t seem to care that grey stains his skin. Today, you come into class late, your hair a tangled mess and the lipstick smudged at the corner of your mouth. If you had looked closer, you could have seen that the concealer over the reddened mark on your neck didn’t cover a thing.

Namjoon feels a sharp pang in his chest – no doubt, jealousy – but he also feels anger towards himself, more than anything.

‘Why am I too cowardly to do anything? Why must I force myself in the distance while you drift further away?’

This time, he signs off as “KNJ” – someone mysterious, someone unknown.

Exactly what he is to you.

For a while, he stops writing you letters. It feels awkward to write to you now. Looking back on his old letter, he’s ashamed of the way he thought of you. You weren’t his – everyone knew that, Namjoon especially. This is why he stops writing to you – in an attempt to collect his thoughts and not spew them out of the pages like an immature teenage boy. Seokjin would disagree and say that ‘Yes, we are immature teenage boys’, but Namjoon still enjoys a little blissful ignorance once and a while.

The two of you are reaching the end of your junior year, heading closer to your last year of high school. Soon, you will be off to college, off on your own separate paths.

He overhears one of your friends’ conversations that you had been planning on going to a university in America. You have been desperate to study abroad and to experience a culture so different from your own. This is no secret to everyone – even the janitor knows. Namjoon decides to play it safe and aim for a university closer to home, possibly even in Japan if he tries hard enough.

He tries to ignore the innate feeling to pick up a pen and scribble down his thoughts as they rush through his brain and spill onto the paper. He tries taking an extracurricular afterschool despite his teachers telling him not to overload his already-packed schedule. He takes his dog out for walks almost twice as long as usual, in hopes that the cool breeze and scenery will force him to forget. He even takes a minute to text Seokjin back, even during his scheduled My Hero Academia binging.

No matter what he does, you always seem to creep back into his thoughts.

The start of senior year kicks off before Namjoon could even take a breather. Homecoming is shoved down their throats, demanding for school pride and support for the upcoming homecoming game. Namjoon sees on the senior board that you have been nominated for homecoming queen. He has no doubt that you’ll win and even puts in a vote with a heart at the end of your name in the little bucket at the front of the cafeteria.

When you finally do, he’s sitting there on the bleachers, clapping alongside everyone else. He smiles at the look of complete surprise on your face as you walk down onto the field with your partner Jung Hoseok to receive the obligatory crown and sash.

As you link arms with Hoseok and wave at the crowd, Namjoon gulps as your eyes meet.

Your stare lingers until Hoseok nudges your side and pulls you in for a group photo. Namjoon sighs (from relief or dissatisfaction, he doesn’t know which) and starts down the bleachers to head towards the parking lot. Seokjin is waiting by the car for him, and Namjoon gets in without another word, ignoring the look of bemusement on his best friend’s face.

Certainly ignorant of the wandering eyes that had been watching him from the bleachers for quite some time.

His sixth and final letter is written hours after prom. Once again, he is forced by Seokjin (as well as his parents) to attend. Something about it being “one of the most important moment in your high school career, nay, your entire life!”

He could have told Seokjin (and his parents, primarily his mother) that he was overreacting, but he didn’t exactly want a smack in the face to leave a big bruise on his cheek before the “big day”.

Namjoon sits on the gym bleachers, awkwardly holding onto a flower corsage that his mother bought for him to give to his so-called lovely date. He didn’t want to mention to her that he may or may not (emphasis on ‘may not’) have asked someone to the dance, but the teary smile on her face is too precious to destroy with his devastating news.

The flowers are a simple yellow color – a symbol of happiness and sunshine. Yet Namjoon is sat here with no one to share it with.

Seokjin is dancing it up with his date amidst the large crowd of teenagers by the DJ, making her laugh with his ridiculous rendition of the Chicken dance mixed with some other obscure dance move that is certainly outdated. The gym is filled with sweaty teenagers either standing around while waiting for someone to ask them to dance or grinding it up and making the teachers stew angrily at the blatant provocative moves.

Namjoon twirls the flower in his hand, pausing to scratch behind his ear and scan the crowd for anything interesting to watch. Suddenly, the visual of Seokjin crowd-surfing isn’t enough to satisfy his entertainment needs. No one seems to pay him any attention as they pass by, shouting over the loud music or laughing drunkenly. Namjoon scrunches his nose when he catches a whiff of the strong alcohol, but he stays silent in his seat. He couldn’t care less about what those people were doing – besides, what he is doing isn’t any special either.

“Mind if I sit?”

Namjoon turns with widened eyes at the sudden voice. More specifically, your voice.

You stand at his right with a hopeful expression on your face, wearing a fluffy peach dress with matching heels. Namjoon wipes his sweaty palms on his pantlegs in an attempt to rid his mind of his lovesick thoughts.

“S-sure.” Namjoon stammers.

“Thanks.” You settle down next to him, fluffing up your skirt in an attempt to avoid catching it on your heels.

The two of you sit there in silence for a few minutes – Namjoon trying hard not to sweat profusely and you bobbing your head to the upbeat song playing throughout the gym.

“So…” You start, shocking Namjoon back into reality. “Where’s your date?”

“My…date?” Namjoon asks stupidly.

“Yeah, your date.” You point at the corsage in his hands. “Isn’t that for her?”

“Oh…” Namjoon’s gaze shoots down to his lap where the sad excuse of a corsage lays. “Y-yeah, my mom got them for me, but I-I couldn’t tell her that I…”

“…didn’t have a date?” You finish.

“Y-yeah.” Namjoon chuckles nervously. “I know, it’s stupid, right?”

He half expects you to agree and laugh at him too, but you do nothing of the sort.

“Of course not!” You frown. “I think it’s sweet!”

“R-Really?” You nod, your frown replaced with a cheeky smile.

“Yellow’s my favorite color, so you get extra points for that.” You wink.

‘Oh, god, I feel like my heart is about to explode in my chest.’

“Any girl would be lucky to be given flowers by the one and only Kim Namjoon.” You continue as you fiddle with the rings on your fingers.

“Y-You know my name.” Namjoon stutters, fumbling with the flower in his hand and nearly ripping out a couple petals as a result.

“Of course, we’ve been in the same classes since elementary.” You hum knowingly. “Also, between you and me…”

Namjoon waits for your next words, his heart pounding in his chest. He wouldn’t be surprised if he died in the next five minutes.

“I’ve heard from Seokjin that you like me.”

Namjoon pales.

‘What the fuck, Seokjin?’

“Actually, not really.” You backpedal on your words. “Seokjin was telling his girlfriend about you and it just seemed to come up. She’s one of my friends so…”

Scratch that, Namjoon is about to die in approximately five seconds.

“What?” Namjoon awkwardly laughs. “He’s just lying, he just says all that to rile me up.”

Namjoon’s crooked grin falls flat when he sees the expression on your face drop. “Oh…I’m sorry then.”

You shift in your seat, suddenly wanting to leave and never face the boy ever again.

‘Seokjin, you said he liked me!’

As you begin to rise up from your seat, Namjoon starts to panic.

‘Shit, this isn’t supposed to be happening!’

In the span of the five seconds that you begin standing up, Namjoon has already visualized the future.

You ignoring his very presence at graduation and proceeding to move out of the country, never to see him again.

Namjoon decides that it’s not a future he’s willing to live in. Not if he had anything to say about it.

“Y/N, wait!”

You turn on your heels to face him again, your face flushed from heat and embarrassment.

“Seokjin wasn’t…wrong.” Namjoon watches as you raise an eyebrow. “I…”

‘Suck it up, Kim.’

Taking in a gulp of air, Namjoon begins to speak again, but the soft touch of your lips to his cheek startles him into silence.

You pull back, the familiar grin pulling on your lips.

“You busy this Saturday?”

“Um…no.” Namjoon coughs. “Why?”

“Good.” You turn on your heels again as you begin walking towards your group of friends that stay clustered next to the food bar. “Pick me up at 6! We’ll go see a movie!”

Namjoon stammers as he shoots up from his seat, clutching onto the corsage for dear life. “What movie?”

“Your pick.” You mouth from across the room, turning back around to dance with two of your friends.

That night, Namjoon rushes upstairs and throws his suit jacket on his bed. He instantly picks up a pen and begins to write.

‘This is a start of something unknown, but I’m no longer afraid. I’m no longer scared of taking hold of your hand and telling you how I feel. This time, it’ll be different. This time, you’ll see the real me.

Signed, Joonie.’

[shyeehaw]

Van der Linde Gang in College

Choice of degrees HCs

Dutch: Politics degree. He has the charisma and is well spoken. I would vote for Dutch! He’s dynamic and would succeed in the versatile politic setting, also many times he used his voice to motivate others. Although we don’t know if he would follow his Robin Hood days or will weight more to the outlaw side. Let’s just hope this time his plans actually work, for the greater good.

Hosea: he strikes me as a dedicated person to his studies. Calm and precise he would be a good architect. A visceral job like this would give Hosea a sense of fulfillment, his projects would actually impact in the life of many others.

Arthur: He would be one of those students that even when it’s midway through his course would doubt if that’s really what he wanted. I can see Arthur being torn between veterinary medicine or a design degree. At the same time he is excited to learn all about different species, he fears that his connection to animals might not be enough for him. Albert Mason would be his classmate in some classes, and so would Kieran. With a design degree he would feel more fulfilled as he would be able to create not only for him , but to the other’s benefits as well.

John: He lived a tough life and grew up on the streets, John knew exactly how the bad side was and he never wanted to get back at doing those things. When time came, he didn’t wanted to spend years of his life with his nose on a book, he found pointless to just memorize things that other people already knew. He wanted to actually do something meaningful. He got a spot at the police’s academy. Training for years in the hope of someday avoiding young kids fall in that kind of life he had before.

Abigail: She convinced John to live a decent life didn’t she? He woke up early every day to mend fences until his back was about to snap in two. Highly persuasive with her sweet words, she would do just fine with a marketing degree. Abigail has the right proactive attitude that this profession needs.

Bill: People never let him forget how bad he is with words. But he is actually pretty smart with numbers. What a waste would he be locked away in a room doing just that. Bill would prosper with a agriculture degree, with which he would be able both to work in the field using his strength, getting his hands dirty and using his natural aptitude for mathematics.

Javier: Fashion degree! Javier is very versatile and just like Arthur he second guessed his choice. He ended up picking a history degree in mexican culture, a way he founded to keep the love for his homeland always burning. He would be an active member of the political debates groups and be responsible for organizing collective acts to help improve life in Mexico countryside. He is a very engaged student. In his spare time, he will attend to music workshops.

Micah: In which field almost anything is valid? Where the competition is always ferocious? What’s the modern translation of a merciless lifestyle? Micah would have a degree in business and management. A title he got from his father, Micah was a prospect to inherit a big company built on blood and secrets. What could suit him better than being able to be rude to everyone “under” him without any consequences? He never cared for it before, and his not going to start now when his about to be CEO.

Lenny: This sweet boy wants a job that will allow him to help people but without having their lives at his hands. Lenny is hard-working and focused, so he would end up getting an English degree, in hopes to someday become a teacher. He is patient, kind and funny. The type of teacher he wish he had when going through college.

Charles: He is a deep and compassionate person, and I can see him choosing an physiotherapy degree. At first he thought about a psychology one, but being and introvert and sometimes finding being around new people too draining, he choose the next good thing to help others. He’s strength helps him lift his patients and aid them to do their exercises. It’s a long process that he finds so rewarding when it’s done. Being able to notice other’s improvement makes him genuinely happy.

Sean: All right, he will admit that he just needed to enter in a course, any course really. All his energy made a lot of degrees impossible, even game design, one of his options, required a level of attention he didn’t had. For some weeks, he even enrolled in a P.E course but the brodudes had their own little posse, and didn’t liked Sean, making fun of his jokes and skinny body. He found himself in the audiovisual communication course. Initially it was all a part of his plan to take over YouTube with his gaming videos, but slowly he started getting interested in experimental techniques, being able to go as crazy as he liked. People actually looked up to his carefree techniques.

Sadie: Sadie is not want to stay still and do boring stuff. With this in mind she kept seeking careers that would give her a sense of adventure and excitement. Archeology seemed good as any guess, she was lured by all the traveling she would get to do, but the job itself was too still. She then chose a crime scene investigation degree, solving those crimes and bringing closure to the victim’s family was something that kept Sadie going. Never a boring day at work, always something new to uncover.

Karen: A body positive queen, Karen pursued a esthetician’s degree. She is great at making people comfortable on their own skin, always looking forward to make young girls embrace their natural beauty. Her bubbly, talkative personality won over the hearts of celebrities even when she was still an intern in training. That brought her a status of beauty guru on Instagram.

Tilly: Ambitious and diligent with her studies, it was written in the stars that Tilly would have a bright future. Her dedication paid of by earning her a spot in a prestigious medical school. She has many traits suitable for this profession. Empathic and understanding, she is leaning towards the pediatric specialization, but not only that, Tilly is practical and good under pressure, which makes her stand out among her classmates.

Mary-Beth: A life among books was all that Mary-Beth could dream of. But she also knew how difficult the publishing industry is. So not only she now studies creative writing improving her already natural skills, and flirting with new genres, she decided to get a degree in library sciences. A way to secure her financial independence and be surrounded by the things she loves the most. The work as an intern at the library is lovely, she gets to meet new people who shares the same interest at her and contribute so everyone gets access to books.

Mrs. Grimshaw: Let’s go ahead and admit that Susan likes to be in charge. He was not born to hear others telling her what to do. When choosing a degree, she kept that in mind. The one that she showed more interest was in people’s management and Human Resources. Where she could delegate all she wanted. But not only that, Susan likes to analyze who is better suited for each task. Great at reading people, she will do great in her field.

Molly: Oh, elegant and classy, Molly! Her sense of aesthetic is on point and that lead her to a life of famous trendsetter on the internet. But she thinks that’s not a real job, so, looking to put her good taste in things at a use, she ends up getting a degree in Jewelry design. Uniting her passion of expensive, beautiful things with artistic talent. 

Kieran: All he ever wanted to do with his life is to be around horses. They brought such peace and joy to Kieran that he knew his life would have to follow this path. He started pursuing a Large-Animal vet, with a minor in equestrian studies. It was even better than he imagined, he was fascinated by every aspect from animal nutrition to the actual care of horses. Being a responsible, calm person made a lot of his teachers very pleased.

Trelawny: Captivating and a social butterfly, Josiah had no doubts about looking for a career in communication. His charming personality was very suitable for a journalism degree. He knows his way around words and the most terrible news don’t sound as awful coming from the charismatic (future) anchorman. I wouldn’t mind having his face on my TV every night.

Pearson: Truth is didn’t mattered if he loved cooking for people, as people didn’t loved his food. He didn’t knew if was the improvising or just the plain lack of formal knowledge, he was never taught, just jumped on it. Tired of people giving the food piece by piece for the dog, Pearson pursued a degree in Gastronomy. Finally being able to dive deep in the dishes he was trying to master for years. Pearson is a simple, rustic man and most of the students gave him a hard time for him not being sophisticated enough. He doesn’t mind, at least his foods fills more than the gap of teeth, like theirs.

Swanson: He was kicked out of his theology course, never showed up sober. That’s it. Currently studying philosophy instead and actually enjoying himself. Orville has many thoughts that can be deepened by getting this degree. He looks forward to a get a minor in counseling though, to help others there were in the same place he was a few years ago.

[hamburgergod]

deancaswc: @hamburgergod vs. @amirosebooks Prompt: “I would be lucky to even have a chance with you.” Pairing (s): Dean/Cas Word Count: 1.8k Rating: General Tags/Triggers: canon compliant, fluff, jukebox Summary: Dean learns, with gentle nudging from Cas, to pursue what he wants.

[AO3]

“Aw, sweetheart.” Dean moaned. “God damn, you’re beautiful. I would be lucky to even have a chance with you.”

“Dean,” said Sam. “Stop fondling the glass and let’s go.”

“I am not—”

“You were,” Cas said.

“Wha—No I wasn’t!” Dean gave a tattering huff as Sam and Cas walked away. “Guys, come on!”

Dean wistfully looked back at the beautiful figure of a jukebox displayed at the front of the store, searing her image into his eyes for just a little longer before he hurried to catch up with them.

Dean knew it was Cas that was walking towards him while he himself was under the Impala, giving her a good ol’ tune up. Dude really had to get better looking shoes than those fugly expensive pair of Blundstones.

Cas stopped beside him and nudged one of his legs with a foot. “If you wanted it so much, why didn’t you buy it?”

“Buy what?”

“The jukebox.”

Dean’s hand stalled for a moment. “I mean, where would we even put her? She’s too big.”

“We have enough space in the bunker.”

“Well, who knows whether I could actually set that thing up to work? I could be pouring money down the drain for nothing.”

“I’m sure you’d learn.”

“Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Dean rolled out from underneath the car and wiped down the wrench he was holding. “We don’t really need a jukebox. We already got a record player and Sam’s shitty ass iPod speakers.”

“Dean. You’re making excuses.”

“I—” Dean flushed. “I’m not! I’m just trying to be realistic here.”

Cas raised an eyebrow with a Look and Dean fidgeted with the wrench in hand, avoiding his piercing all-too-knowing eyes.

“Look, it’s not like I’m actually gonna go out and buy this thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because… Because! You just don’t go out and buy something like that. And it’s not good to have real thoughts like ‘oh where would I put her’ or ‘how many songs could she hold’ or whatever when I’m not even gonna buy her.”

Cas gave him a skeptical look.

“That’s just how humans work,” he added.

Cas narrowed his eyes further but he usually never argued when Dean pulled the ‘humans just do things this way’ card. It was a dick move but Dean just wanted Cas to get off his dick. Figuratively. Obviously.

But for some reason, Cas was just as persistent to see this argument to the end this time around. “Dean, you don’t need to hold yourself back on every thing you want.”

“I’m not!”

“You are. There was the jukebox, then the suit of medieval armour you were fond of, and that food processor that seemed to get you going for a while.”

Dean rubbed his cheek with a sigh only to remember the grease on his hands and grimaced at the tart sticky pull on his face. He had half a mind to joke ‘now look what you’ve done’ but he didn’t say that. He shrugged. Under the buzz of the brightly lit garage lights, there were no secrets he could hide. “It’s just what I’m used to, I guess.”

“To what?”

Dean’s hands were filthy. “When I want something, and I mean really want something, it’s… I try not to think about it too much.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just never have.” Dean took a daring glance up at Cas. He gulped. “If I think about it too much then my head climbs up and up and up… and I end up with huge expectations. Usually don’t work out so well. My own damn fault,” he said with a tight smile.

Cas’s face fell and along with it, Dean’s heart to his stomach. Why couldn’t Cas ever laugh these things off? Always so god damn sincere. “Dean, you’re still allowed to want things.”

Bold of Cas to say something like that, the pinnacle of what Dean—

Dean waved the thought away, and he was about to wave Cas off with a flippant comment when Cas stepped right into his space just then, close enough for Dean to see the deeper lines on Cas’s face that had developed over the years. He raised a hand over to Dean’s cheek and for that second Dean sucked in a breath and held it, his heart beating in his ears. Cas gently wiped off the grease that was streaked across his face.

“If you ever change your mind,” Cas said ever so softly, “about the jukebox or anything else, I promise I’ll come with you.”

Dean stayed like that, frozen with Cas’s palm warm against his cheek.

“Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay,” he added just for good measures.

Cas flashed a brief smile and he slipped away out of the garage, every step he took against the concrete floor simultaneous with Dean’s heartbeat.

Dean stood there uselessly for a while longer, taking a moment to thumb over the spot on his face.

Still warm.

It took Dean a month or two to think it over, to really think it over and go through every reason on why he shouldn’t buy this jukebox only for Cas’s words to echo back to him. It took him a while longer to actually muster up the courage to knock on Cas’s door. But he did eventually knock on his door, and when he did, Cas was there on his feet, ready to kick back in the passenger seat on their drive to the store where they saw the jukebox.

“Someone probably already bought her,” Dean said mostly to himself on their way over.

“It might still be there,” replied Cas anyway, ever the optimist.

“Dude, did you even see her? She was fucking gorgeous. You’d have to be a fool to pass up on her.”

Cas gave him another Look and this time, Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, alright. Whatever, dude. I was a fool.”

“At least you know now,” said Cas.

In a way, Dean was sure it didn’t even matter if the jukebox was gone or not. Well, maybe it did, but Dean felt… light. Like he could achieve anything he put his mind to. It was the most free he’d felt in years and the whole drive over to the store, Dean only hoped to god that he wasn’t too late in making this choice.

Maybe Chuck was listening though he doubted it, or maybe the universe was finally granting him one thing in his life that he wanted, but the jukebox was still sitting neatly in the display as if she’d been waiting for him to take her home the whole time. It only took a few minutes and a pair of shaky hands to purchase her, a few more to load her up in the car, and there Dean was, driving back home with something he chose for himself. Not for Sam, not for dad, not even for mom, but just. For him.

“Where will you put it?” Cas asked.

Dean tapped his thumbs on the wheel to no particular rhythm. He grinned. “I have a place in mind.”

Cas helped him to carry her over as Dean explained.

“Sam doesn’t know about this place yet. Actually, you’re the first person in here so hey, welcome to the uh… the Cave. Dean Cave? I still have to work on the name.”

Dean flicked on the lights and stationed the jukebox to the side where she fit in perfectly while Cas looked around the room. Dean didn’t have much in here with only band posters and album covers adoring the walls, but the jukebox made for a pretty sight in the otherwise empty room.

“When did you…?”

Dean shrugged. “I always wanted a room like this, to sort of hang back with a beer and play pool or whatever. It’s not much and I don’t have a lot to fill up the space right now, but I just… went for it anyway. And hey.” Dean chuckled. “Turns out, acting out on what I want is a lot more exciting than just thinking about it.”

Cas smiled all soft and knowing and this time, Dean didn’t ignore the flutter that came from the sight. He did fumble with the quarters but nobody could fault him for that. “Anyway, let’s give ‘er a whirl.”

The previous owner sure had some good taste and Dean recognized a number of songs. He picked whatever first song he was familiar with, which happened to be Entre Nous by Rush. As soon as he plugged the number in, the electric piano and the beats of the drum and the guitar filled the room along with Dean’s heart, and Dean was just glad that they decided to do this whole ordeal while Sam was out.

“Pretty good, right?”

Cas grinned and nodded, walking towards him to peer over his shoulders. “I know that one,” he said, pointing out Ramble On. Dean had put it into Cas’s Zeppelin tape. “Play that one next.”

Dean nodded, his lips so much drier than it was moments ago as he queued up the song. For a while they stood side by side with their shoulders snug against each other, letting the music wash over them. Entre Nous faded away. For all he’d done for it, Dean hoped that the universe was ready to grant him one more thing. “Hey, Cas?”

Cas was so god damn close to his face that Dean could practically count every one of his eyelashes. “Mm?”

“Thanks for... well. You know.” And Dean leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

With almost comical timing, Ramble On started playing as Cas slowly turned his head, wide-eyed as he registered what’d just happened and… and a smile spread slowly over his lips and he leaned forward slightly, leaving just enough space for Dean to come forward and accept should he choose.

Dean licked his dry, dry lips, with Robert Plant cooing softly in the background. It was almost time for the chorus.

And this time, with their hand linked over the jukebox, Dean leaned over and kissed Cas properly. Cas’s arm wrapped around his waist and pulled them closer, deepening the kiss with another breath taken between them. Dean only realized he’d closed his eyes when he opened them again, and Cas was grinning at him with his lips red and sweet from their kisses.

“Did that meet your expectations?” Cas asked.

Dean blinked, and huffed even as his face grew hotter to match the shade of Cas’s lips. He nodded, hoping that his grin was as bright as Cas’s. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

And he was sure, as they kissed again, that the universe had nothing to do with it at all, but it’d been just them all along.

[taehyvnggs]

Jeon Jungkook // Stepbrother

A/N: I’m weak and this is cheesy as heCK but honestly I wrote this in 3 hours bc I thought of it on my drive home and I needed this out of my system ASAP.

Summary: You’ve been good pals with Yoongi and his friends for quite some time now. You know nearly everything about each other, except for the fact that Yoongi has a stepbrother named Jungkook. And well, you met him today.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Like one swear word

You stand in front of a large white door.

Your close friend, Yoongi, invited you over a little bit ago for game night and told you to come as fast as you could. Instead of going over right away, you threw on some comfortable clothes and stopped by the store to buy some cookies.

It also took you awhile to figure out where Yoongi’s house is because he’s only invited you over once. It doesn’t help that whenever you two hang out, it’s either always at your place, the school, or some random restaurant that Yoongi found on Yelp. Considering he didn’t provide his address in the text, you were left trying to remember how to get to his house using a memory from five months ago.

But it’s alright because you’ve made it.

You ring the doorbell and wait for the door to open.

In a few seconds, it opens and Yoongi is grinning widely at you. “Y/N!” he cheers, pulling you into the house. You haven’t seen him this giddy in a while. “You brought cookies!”

You nod as you kick your shoes off and navigate your way around his neat house. Your socks slide across the hardwood floor and you meet Yoongi’s friends over in the dining room. It seems like they’re currently working on a jigsaw puzzle. Everyone has their own section of the puzzle and Hoseok surprisingly has a lot done.

Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin are helping each other find pieces while Namjoon and Seokjin tell them to hurry it up because the timer’s going. Are they actually trying to complete a puzzle within a certain amount of time? Are they crazy?

For a while, Yoongi was the only friend you had that’s older than you. When you two partnered up for a project, you became really good friends. Because of that, he introduced you to his friends, who all liked you a lot. They unanimously voted for you to be integrated into their friend group. You didn’t protest, which is why you’re pretty close with them today. They love you and treat you like a little sister--especially Taehyung, who gives you his jacket when your shirt is “too revealing.”

The boys are so protective over you that when you go on dates, they tag along, thinking that you don’t know. If the date is going really well, then they send Seokjin over to flirt with you, which makes your date uncomfortable and not want to go on a second one.

Still, you love them.

“Y/N!” Namjoon shouts giddily, waving you over so that you can sit next to him. “What took you so long?”

“I brought cookies,” you answer him, “and Yoongi didn’t tell me what his address was.”

“This is common knowledge!” Yoongi argues as he takes a seat on the other side of Seokjin. He glares at you before sliding over a puzzle piece to you. “Now, we have thirty minutes to finish this five hundred piece puzzle.”

“When did you start?” you ask, looking for pieces of green forest that might fit with your piece.

Seokjin laughs and shakes his head. “An hour ago.”

“You guys aren’t even close to done! How do you expect to get this done in thirty minutes?” you exclaim, now frantically scouring the pile for forest pieces. “Have you guys been goofing off this entire time?”

Namjoon bites back a smile, pulling down his black beanie so that it practically covers his eyes. “You know who we are! We can’t stay on task for ten minutes if our lives depended on it!”

“You boys are too much,” you mumble.

Twenty minutes later you are all screaming while searching for pieces that might fit together. Jimin has given up, slapping puzzle pieces out of others’ hands when they think that they’ve found “The One.” Everyone’s either screaming out of anger, panic, or hopelessness. The person that’s the rowdiest is Hobi--he won’t stop screaming. You’ve only been able to fit three pieces together, which is really not progressive at all, considering everyone else had at least thirty pieces.

“I need some water,” you say, sliding out of your chair and find your way to the kitchen to grab a water bottle.

Once you walk in, you see a tall black-haired boy standing over the sink, drinking something from a cup as it dribbles down his chin and maneuvers its way down his neck. He sees you from the corner of his eye and stops drinking to wipe the liquid away with his sleeve.

You’ve never seen this guy in your life. If you’ve ever seen him prior to this, you’d definitely remember. He’s pretty good looking.

“Hi,” you say shyly, suddenly realizing that guy is a stranger in Yoongi’s house. You decide that it’s a good idea to take initiative and start interrogating him. “May I ask who you are?”

It’s probably best to seem casual, so you shuffle over to the fridge as he answers you. “I’m Jungkook. Who are you?”

Now he’s the one that sounds skeptical. Why is he the one that’s skeptical of you? He could be a burglar...and armed. Yoongi locks his doors--how could this Jungkook guy get past Yoongi’s extreme security system? You can’t even get into his phone because his password is twelve characters long!

“Y/N,” you answer, opening the fridge and taking a water bottle from the second shelf. “So...what are you doing here?”

Jungkook starts laughing, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his white sweater. “I live here!” he says between laughs, not making eye contact with you whatsoever. He’s trying his hardest to avoid your gaze.

“I thought Yoongi lived here,” you mumble, taking a sip from your water bottle. Well, if he doesn’t live here then that makes sense as to why Yoongi rarely ever invites you over. Maybe he lives with Hobi and Seokjin. He’s always at their house anyway.

The guy stops laughing, but he can’t wipe the smile off of his face. “You really are clueless, aren’t you? Yoongi’s my roommate,” he adds on.

“Roommate?” You cock your head and purse your lips. “Yoongi never told me that he had a roommate.”

“What an ass,” Jungkook huffs, rolling his eyes and leaning against the marble counter. “He doesn’t tell you anything about me at all?”

You shake your head. “I guess not. This my first time witnessing your existence.”

“Jeez, I go to America for one semester and Yoongi fails to mention me to his friends,” he groans.

Your eyes light up after hearing about America and you change the subject. “America? How was it? I was thinking about studying abroad there in two years!”

“It was really nice! I made some really cool friends!” he says, suddenly not upset with Yoongi. “I was at a college in New York City so I have some really cool pictures of the city!”

“I’d love to see them,” you say. He walks over to you while pulling his phone out. He unlocks it and opens his gallery. “This is Times Square.” Jungkook enlarges a picture so that you can see him giving a peace sign to the camera. “I took a trip to Oregon with a few friends of mine and this is In-N-Out. I didn’t understand the hype until I had this.” He pulls up a picture of a hamburger that looks huge.

“Was it really that good?”

“It was so good,” Jungkook says, moaning at the thought of a burger. “Oh, and here’s a picture of my first pizza in New York! It cost me twenty-five dollars and tasted like cardboard but I loved every second of it.” The next picture is of him biting into a pizza.

None of these pictures are selfies, so he must’ve made friends easily while he was there. He seems like a likeable guy, so you don’t doubt that it was easy for him to meet others. You literally just met him now and he’s talking to you like you’ve known him for years.

“I’d love to study in New York,” you say in awe, admiring the pictures he’s showing you. “What’s your major?”

“Business administration,” Jungkook answers happily.

“Huh, I didn’t take you for the business type,” you reply.

He laughs and looks at you. “What did you think I was?”

He looks so good. How is it possible that you’ve never seen him before now? How could Yoongi keep his roommate a secret from you? Do the other guys know about Jungkook?

“You seem like the music type.”

“Like Yoongi?” Jungkook scoffs and shakes his head. “Never in a million years.”

Suddenly, Yoongi shows up with Taehyung. By the look on his face, you can tell that he knows what he’s done wrong. When Jungkook notices Yoongi, he crosses his arms and gives him a death glare.

“Is there any particular reason why you’ve been avoiding telling your cool friends about me?” Jungkook asks, patting your back and startling you.

Yoongi replies by scowling at Jungkook. “Fine. Jungkook, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my stepbrother, Jungkook.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stepbrother? They’re both related? It’s one thing to hide the fact that he has a roommate, but a brother? How is it possible to even hide that fact? Is Yoongi crazy? How could this do any harm to you?

“Wait, you’re brothers and you didn’t tell me this?”

Jungkook taps his foot and glares at his brother. He doesn’t look too happy with Yoongi. Well, if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t be too happy either.

“Y/N, don’t get too close to other boys. They have cooties,” Taehyung says as he makes his way over to you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you away from the scene that’s about to go down.

You let Taehyung pull you away. “What, you don’t like me knowing about Jungkook either?” you ask when you’re brought into Yoongi’s quiet and neat room.

He shrugs and you both sit down at the foot of Yoongi’s bed. “Well, Yoongi thought that you’d use him to get closer to Jungkook if he was brought up. Most girls do. He was just being wary Yoongi. Don’t be mad at him.”

“You know, I have feelings.”

“Yes, and it’s my job to protect you from the boys that will crush your feelings to bits!”

“You’re not always going to be there to protect me, Tae. I appreciate the gesture, but I really don’t think that Jungkook would break my heart.”

“Oh, Jungkook would never break your heart. He’s a big softie and you two would get along so well. Hoseok said so; he said that your personalities are compatible,” Taehyung says, putting an arm around you and pulling you close to him. “I think that Yoongi also didn’t mention it because he was scared you might break Jungkook’s heart too.”

“Is he really worrying over the fact that Jungkook and I might have feelings for each other after just meeting for the first time?”

Well, maybe you do have a little tiny crush on Jungkook, but that means nothing! You met the guy twenty-five minutes ago! It’s probably only lust.

“I dunno. Have you seen the guy? He’s a cutie.”

You blush and nudge Taehyung. “Stop it! You don’t want me to fall in love with him either!”

“Let’s go. I’m sure they’re done talking to each other.”

You follow Taehyung back to the kitchen and only Jungkook’s in there. He gives a small smile to both of you.

Tae waves to Jungkook. “It’d be nice if you joined us for game night,” Taehyung says to the lone boy. “We’re playing COD now.”

He walks off and you join Jungkook in the kitchen once again. “So, I was told that Yoongi didn’t tell me about you because he was scared I’d use him to get closer to you.”

“That’s funny. He told me that I’d break your heart,” Jungkook replies with a smirk on his face.

“I’m susceptible to heartbreak, I suppose. The guys take it upon themselves to protect me from negative feelings,” you explain, blushing wildly. “They’re my mentors in the ‘Game of Love.’ They always make sure that they’re there when I’m on a date and think that I don’t notice.”

Jungkook laughs. “Seriously? They did that to me!”

“No way. Did they always try to make the date go horribly wrong in order for there not to be a second date?”

He nods. “Yes! One time, they went into the kitchen of a restaurant and put salt in my water! When I drank it, I spit all over my date!”

“Those guys...” you mutter, shaking your head and trying to hold back a laugh. At least someone else knows how you feel when the boys interfere with your love life.

Jungkook pulls out his phone again and holds it out to you. He wants you to put your number into it. “Well, why don’t we go on a secret date and not tell the guys? I mean, I’d love to get to know you and I don’t think I’d ever be able to spit saltwater all over you.”

You giggle and nod before taking his phone and typing in your number. “Sure, but don’t talk too loud--Hoseok has ears like a hawk.”

“Then I’ll text you details later. For now, let’s go play some damn COD. I thoroughly enjoy kicking Jimin’s ass in that game.”

And with that, you both are off to the living room, where the screams of boys get louder and louder.

Oh, and your date?

It went smoothly. Fortunately for you, Yoongi approves, and the boys have decided not to sabotage your dates anymore.