#if you’ve done none of the work and show up on Election Day to write in ‘Godzilla’ or vote for someone you know won’t win

[darlingknave]

If we get four more years of trump hell because of some stupid fuckin protest vote

god

not again

Please, his last term very nearly killed me

[vodika-vibes]

Midday Blooms - Lilacs and Daffodils

Years after the Sith took control of Coruscant, the Coruscanti Citizens live on a series of Space Stations surrounding the planet, waiting for the day when they're allowed to return home. When it's safe to return home. The Clones, elite soldiers born of the DNA of Lord Jango Fett, make up the large majority of the fighting force, though not the entirety. And after it comes out that Lord Fett had elected to side with Count Dooku, a fallen Jedi Master, and that both men were pawns of none other than Supreme Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, the men are freed from the chips, and any compulsions that would have them turn on the jedi, and the civilians they protect so ably. But even now the war rages on. The soldiers, and their Jedi Generals, rotate three month deployments to Coruscant, in the hopes that one day, they will be able to live on the planet that glitters over their heads. This is very tangentially a war story. Because I cannot write action. But I will do my best. Tagging: @starrrgazingbunny Ships: Marshal Commander Neyo x OC, Marshal Commander Bacara x OC

Nebula Space Station

Bell Manor - 10:00 am

“It’s only a matter of time,” Doctor Dee Bell said excitedly to his daughter as he waved his morning toast around over his head. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, that some of the jam had fallen off the bread and landed on his white jacket. “You’ll see, Talia! Someday soon, we’ll be able to resettle Coruscant.”

Talia shook her head in amusement, “Father, you’ve been saying that for years, and the soldiers are no closer to retaking Coruscant from the Sith today then they were when I was six,”

“Bah! That’s only because Lord Fett decided to throw his weight behind Dooku.”

“We’re fortunate that the Jedi figured out his plan before Palpatine enacted it,” Talia pointed out as she took a sip of her tea, and then made a face. Cold, yuck. “Though it’s a shame that Knight Skywalker decided to throw his weight behind Palpatine.”

“He’s an idiot. And he’s on the losing side.” Her father countered, “Why, even Senator Amidala has been denouncing his actions since the day he defected, and she’s the mother to his children.”

He trailed off as he finally remembered that he was in the middle of eating, and he took a bite of his, now plain, toast. And then he paused and squinted at Talia, “Don’t you have a Salon you’re supposed to go to today?”

“...No.” Talia lied, badly. Damn it, she was hoping he had forgotten about the Cunningham Salon. 

“Talia,”

Aw, man. The Disappointed Dad voice. 

“You cannot skip Betty’s Salon, she’s always so happy when you go and visit.”

“Yeah, but she’s awful.”

“She’s lonely.”

“She insults Ophelia constantly.”

“Maybe Ophelia deserves it.”

“Dad!”

“What? I know she’s your friend, but she is a bit of a wild child!”

“She’s calmed down a lot since we were in Finishing School, dad. You know she’s working at her father’s company now, right?”

“Is she really?” Her father looks surprised, “Huh, well. Even so, you should go get dressed for the party. You should wear the purple dress your grandmother bought you.”

“I look awful in purple.” Talia whined, acting much younger than her 22 years.

“Nonsense, you love purple. It’s your favorite color! And you look beautiful in it!”

“That’s worse! Betty will just accuse me of showing her up at her own Salon.”

“Nonsense. Now go and get dressed.”

Talia rolled her eyes, but allowed her father to propel her out of her seat and to the stairs. She supposed there was no way out of it now. Stupid dad actually remembering shit at inconvenient moments.

Still, it wouldn’t take her longer than, maybe, half an hour to get herself dressed and her hair and make-up done. Maybe she would go all out and put fresh flowers in her hair, rather than pulling it up into a fancy updo.

She would have to send Ophelia a message. Her best friend always was good at coming up with ways to make Betty look like the hag she was.

*********

Marshal Commander Neyo was not happy.

In his defense, he was rarely happy. Being a Marshal Commander often came with more responsibilities than rights, and he had spent the last three months on rotation on the front lines.

He was exhausted.

Down to his bones.

All he wanted to do was retire to the apartment the Government gave him, and sleep for the next 9 months, until his next rotation to Coruscant started.

But no.

He couldn’t.

Because Fucking Faie agreed to a fucking Salon.

He didn’t even know what a Salon was. A party of some kind, based on the fact that he was required to wear his dress uniform.

He scowled at the pure white uniform. It was perfect, of course, and covered in medals and awards that meant jack-shit in any real world scenario. He hated it. He was much more comfortable in his armor. Hell, even his blacks would be preferable to wearing that get-up.

“Don’t be such a grouch,” Faie said with a roll of his eyes. He was already wearing his dress uniform. “We’re going to be rubbing shoulders with high class ladies.”

Neyo considered shoving him out the window. He would probably get another medal of service for it.

“Lovely,” Bacara said in monotone, “Just how I wanted to spend my first day decompressing from battles. Schmoozing with the rich and lazy.”

“It’ll be fun.” Faie insisted.

“Your idea of fun used to be reading Reg manuals,” Neyo pointed out snidely.

Faie gasped, “He talks!”

The urge to shove him out the window got stronger. “Wow. It’s sad that you think you’re funny.” Neyo said.

Faie rolled his eyes again. Neyo hoped his eyes got stuck that way. “Look, we finally have rights. We might as well take advantage of them. Besides, Bly is coming too.”

Bacara’s fingers slipped on one of his buttons, “You managed to convince him to step away from General Secura long enough to flirt with rich ladies?”

“Of course not. General Secura ordered him to come.”

Oh. That made sense.

Wait-

“I thought Bly was about to rotate to Coruscant,” Neyo said absently, as though he was commenting on the weather.

“He was supposed to, but General Secura was injured, so her battalion and the Wolfpack switched places.” Bacara replied as he finished buttoning his jacket and made sure that his ribbons were straight, “Hurry up, Neyo. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can make our escape.”

Neyo was pretty sure that was a damned lie, but it was a nice lie, so he finally pulled his jacket on and started buttoning it. Stupid brothers. Always getting him involved in stupid shit.

Maybe there would be good food at this party, if nothing else.

******

Talia stepped out of the speeder and thanked her father’s droid with a kind smile. She had been in luck, mother’s lilac bush was still in bloom, which meant she had been able to weave the delicate purple flowers through her braid.

And they matched her dress and sandals. One point for Talia and none for Harpy Betty.

She cast her gaze around, and a bright smile crossed her face when she saw Ophelia waiting for her. She looked annoyed, though no one else would think that, as her friend had mastered the art of hiding her emotions behind a fan.

Her entire face brightened, though, when she saw Talia. Ophelia snapped her fan shut, and stepped over to her. “Tali, darling, I thought you weren’t coming!” She hugged Talia tightly.

“Sorry, there was awful traffic by the spaceport.” Talia smiled warmly, her gaze lingering on the crown of daffodils that Ophelia had perched on top of her neat, platinum blonde, hair. “You decided on yellow, then?”

Ophelia stepped back and twirled for Talia, showing off her vibrant yellow dress, “Betty told me that yellow wasn’t my color due to my hair,” She said, “So I decided to be petty.”

Talia’s smile became so achingly fond as she regarded her best friend of twenty years, “You’re always petty.” She said, warmly.

“Pssh. You were the one who suggested real flowers, rather than ribbons.” Ophelia grinned, “I already got a comment about my daffodils, from Anne, of course.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That it was unbecoming of me to try and show up Betty at her own Salon.” Ophelia rolled her eyes, “I could wear a trash bag, and still show her up.” She hooked her arm with Talia’s and tugged her towards the garden entrance, “It’s because she has the personality of a sewer rat.”

The pair stepped into the garden, and were immediately overwhelmed by the scent of roses. “Ew.” Talia whispered, “Roses, really? And red ones?”

Ophelia leaned in, “I heard that she’s hunting for a husband.”

“At a Salon?”

“Mm. She invited some of the men who recently returned from Coruscant.” Ophelia replied, as she cast her gaze around the garden, “Though I doubt they’re here yet.”

“Oh, Talia you made it-” Betty hurried over and stopped, her gaze locked on the flowers in Talia’s hair, and then her gaze drifted to the flowers in Ophelia’s hair, “You made it.” She finished, sounding very annoyed. 

“There was awful traffic, Betty,” Talia said sweetly, like she had no idea that Betty was annoyed with her, “I suppose it makes sense with so many men returning from Coruscant yesterday.”

Betty flushed, the unheard condemnation heard loud and clear. “Ophelia, I’m surprised at you. Did I forget to mention how washed out yellow makes you look at my last Salon?”

Ophelia smiled winsomely, her yellow fan coming out and snapping open in front of her mouth and nose, “Mother made this dress for me, Betty. Surely you don’t expect me to disrespect her?”

Ophelia’s mother was a fashion designer of some renown. Well, she designed the gowns that the ladies of the senate wore on a daily basis, so “some” renown was rather an understatement. 

“Your mother should know better than to dress you in yellow,” Betty sniffed.

“I’ll be sure to mention it.” Ophelia replied. “Come along, Talia. I see Elizabeth over by the tea, and I’m sure that Betty has other people she needs to greet.”

Talia allowed Ophelia to direct her over to the tea table, where Elizabeth most assuredly wasn’t. The third part of their little trio from Finishing School stopped coming to these events as soon as she turned 18. With her mother’s blessing, of course.

Talia and Ophelia hadn’t been so lucky, tragically.

“Have you spoken to Elizabeth recently?” Talia asked as soon as Betty was out of earshot.

“I have, she’s met a man,” Ophelia grinned wickedly, “A soldier, named Gree. Apparently he’s as sweet as sugar and dotes on her.”

“I’m glad for her,” Talia said loyally.

“I think it’s boring.” Ophelia whispered as she handed a teacup to Talia, and then took one for herself.

“Hm. Have you heard from your gentleman lately?” Talia asked, innocently.

Ophelia looked disgruntled, “He returned yesterday, but he said that he had been roped into something today, so I’m not going to see him until tomorrow at the earliest.” 

“You poor thing. How will you survive?” Talia teased.

Ophelia shot her a look, and then her shoulders slumped, “I haven’t seen him in three months, and I wasn’t even able to greet him yesterday because he has responsibilities. It’s not even fair.”

“As if your father would okay you going to meet a man, any man, on your own.” Talia points out as she snags one of the picnic tables for them to share, “You’re lucky your mother approves.”

“Mother loves him. She’s been designing my wedding dress since I was three, of course.” Ophelia said warmly, “Of course, the moment she finds out that I’m already married, all bets are off.”

Talia laughed. She opened her mouth to say something when there was a commotion from the entrance of the garden.

*******

Neyo decided immediately that he hated roses. He hated the look and the scent. And he really, really hated the woman who dressed herself to look like a rose. Who was simpering over Faie like he deserved anything more than being shoved out a window.

At least most everyone else was dressed in more pastel colors. He saw several pinks, quite a few blues and greens, and more than one pastel yellow. This woman was the only one wearing wine red.

She stood out. And not in a good way.

“Neyo, this is Miss Betty Cunningham. This is her party,” Faie said, his glare practically screaming at him to be nice.

“Nice to meet you.” Neyo replied in a flat voice, everything about his screaming I don’t want to be here.

He took it as a victory when the red woman faltered under his unimpressed stare, and she turned to focus her attention on Bacara and Bly…neither of whom were paying attention to her.

Bly was staring at his chrono, likely wondering how long he had to remain at the party to not be seen as rude when he left. Neyo was sure that General Secura told him he had to stay for at least an hour.

Bacara, though-

Huh. Bacara was staring at something across the garden.

Neyo followed his gaze, and landed on a young woman, dressed in vibrant yellow, with yellow flowers in her hair. A young woman who was well aware of Bacara’s stare, as her face was glowing red. Her companion, a young woman in pastel purple with purple flowers in her hair, looked like she was trying not to laugh.

Neyo glanced over at his brother, who was now playing with something around his neck. That something, Neyo knew, was a wedding band. Something Bacara had admitted to him late one night, after a particularly bad day on Coruscant.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Neyo hissed, “Go talk to your wife before she implodes.”

Bacara shot him a relieved look, and slipped away from the group of men, and across the garden. Laser focused on the yellow woman, who stood and greeted him with a tight hug.

Neyo was amused to note that the red woman flushed an angry shade of red when she saw that. He decided to take a note from his brother’s book in this case, and make a tactical retreat. 

Neyo found himself near the back of the garden, by a rather large, and gaudy looking, fountain. A fountain that was covered in red roses. What was with that woman?

“It’s hideous, isn’t it?” Neyo turned and flickered his gaze slightly down to regard the young woman standing several feet behind him, she smiled at him apologetically, “The Fountain, I mean.”

She stepped up next to him, her gaze remained locked on the fountain. She smelled softer, like the purple flowers in her hair. It was nice, compared to the overpowering scent of roses. “What is her obsession with roses?” Neyo asked.

She laughed, a bubbly noise that made Neyo want to make her laugh again. “The roses are new,” She said, once her laughter calmed, “Generally you can tell what kind of mood Betty is in based on the flowers she decorates her garden with.”

“And what do red roses mean?” Neyo asked warily.

“That she’s looking for a husband,”

Fuck.

She laughs again, and Neyo’s panic fades a little. “I don’t think you need to worry,” She reassures, “I think you intimidate her.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He paused, “Do I intimidate you?”

She released a thoughtful hum, and then looked up at him with a bright smile, “I’ve never been intimidated by a man in my life.”

That was…unfairly attractive, actually, Neyo decided after a moment of thought.

“Marshal Commander Neyo, of the 91st Battalion.” 

Her smile widened, “Talia Bell. It’s very nice to meet you, Commander.”

“Neyo.”

Delight flickered across her face, “Well then, it’s nice to meet you, Neyo.”

He decided, then and there, that he liked the way his name sounded on her tongue. Plans flickered through his mind, as his entire world shifted a little bit. “So, Talia,” He liked her name. It suited her, “What kind of flowers are these?” He brushed his fingers against one of the purple blossoms in her hair.

She considered him for a moment, and then she motioned for him to duck his head. Talia pulled a single blossom bunch from her hair, and lightly tucked it behind his ear, “They’re lilac blossoms,” She said, “And now we match.”

Well then.

A slow smile crossed his face, “If we match,” Neyo said slowly, his gaze locked on her face, “Then I suppose it’s okay for me to ask if you want to leave.”

She laughed, and leaned closer to him, the scent of lilacs swirled around them. “I know how to get to the back gate open,” Talia said brightly, “And there’s a nice little restaurant not far from here that has the best sandwiches on the station. If you’re interested?”

He was definitely interested. In more than just sandwiches. “It sounds like a good start,” He says instead, “Do you mind if I ditch the jacket at my barracks though?”

She shook her head, and then offered him her hand, her eyes sparkling in the midday sun. “Come on, Neyo. Let’s go have some real fun.”

Half made plans solidified into something solid. Something real.

Neyo smiled and took her hand, “Lead the way, Sarad.”

[hopelesshawks]

I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this. I’ve never written for any of the girls so I decided to make this one a musician!reader x Jirou! This was requested by @cattasticks and I’m sorry it took so long but finally here it is!

It’s pretty angsty with a hopeful but not necessarily happy ending

You’ll never forget the first time you met Jirou.

You elected not to go to college after high school in order to pursue music full time, a choice that had concerned and frustrated your parents. But you proved they were worrying for naught when just a year after graduating you got scouted by none other than Mika and Kyotoku Jiro to join their record label. From there it was a whirlwind of meeting with record execs and producers, writing music, and finally putting together a full-length studio album you could be proud of. The Jirous had been your mentors through the whole process, making sure you never drowned in the deadlines and minutiae of album creation. They’d even offered up their own home as a location for your album release party, pulling out all the stops to show you how proud of you they were.

It’s at that party you first met Kyouka. Her parents had been suspiciously eager to introduce the two of you, nudging you both with eyebrow waggles and winks. It had made heat rise to both your cheeks, but you’d never seen someone who looked cuter with cherry red cheeks and a bashful, embarrassed smile. By the end of the night you had her number and by the end of the month you two were dating.

It was all so perfect and exciting. Over the next couple years your careers blossomed, with Jirou finally getting the recognition she deserved as a hero and your songs finally starting to top the charts. You loved that you could show your girlfriend whatever you were working on and get genuine advice. The two of you even had jam sessions together on her rare days off. For your part in supporting her, although you couldn’t join her on missions, you were constantly talking about how proud of her you were on tour and in interviews. Every time her heroics made the paper you made sure to save and frame it or print out the online article. But as time passed the jam sessions became further and further apart. You’d ask her for advice about a song and she’d say she was too busy.

Then came The Fight.

“I’m not asking for much Kyouka! I’m sure one of your friends can cover the last hour of your patrol for you!” you had insisted, voice raising with exasperation.

“I can’t bail on patrol whenever you want me to, the city needs me!” Kyouka had fired back.

“I’m not asking for whenever I want you too I’m asking for one night! Is it so wrong for me to want my girlfriend to support me?”

“It’s just an awards show, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that it’s important to me! My tour starts soon so I won’t be home for awhile and I’d like to spend one of my last few days still in Japan with the woman I love supporting me in my career! It’s just patrol!”

“Just patrol? Patrol is a vital part of my actual career, award shows are a nice bonus for your hobby.”

Kyouka wished she could take the words back the minute they were out of her mouth but it was too late. You reared back as if struck, heart fragmenting in your chest.

“Wait, baby I didn’t mean it.”

Her words were gentle, pleading, but it was too late. As she reached out to try and touch you, you jerked away. “This isn’t working,” you mumbled, arms wrapping around yourself as if you could hold yourself together even though you felt like you were falling apart. “Don’t say that,” she whispered but you shook your head. “I’m done Kyouka, I just- I get that my job isn’t as important as yours in the grand scheme of things but it’s important to me. You used to get that but… but you’ve changed and I think we’re just too different now.”

With those final words you had left, sending a friend to pick up your things from her apartment the next day and then just a few days later you were off on tour.

It’s been six months since then and there’s an odd sort of grief that fills you as you step into the airport. You’re only in town for about a week to do three shows before you’ll hop in your tour bus and head to another city. Touring has been a nice distraction from your break up being back in the city it happened is dredging up feelings you neither have the time nor the desire to deal with. You spend all day preparing for your show, checking the stage is set up exactly how you like it, running through the set list, doing dry runs of some of the stunts and the like. By the time you head back to your apartment you’re pretty exhausted.

Which makes the fact that Jirou is standing outside your door waiting on you less than ideal.

“Please don’t, I’ve had a long day and I just want to go sleep,” you sigh as you step in front of your now ex-girlfriend.

“Just hear me out,” Jirou pleads but you don’t want to hear it.

“Move so I can get into my apartment,” you insist but she doesn’t waver, biting her lip in nervous determination before steeling herself.

“Look I know you said we’re too different but you’re wrong, I promise you you’re wrong!”

You scoff, seriously debating an attempt at physically removing Kyouka from in front of you, but she presses on anyway. “We’re not too different! I promise we’re not. We both love each other. That’s all that matters. So we’re no different and maybe I’m not the one but can you at least accept half? The half I broke that day? Can it at least be enough to let me in so we can talk?”

You give her a skeptical look, debating with yourself. She looks so desperate and you’re not sure you trust her not to hurt you again. But she’s right. You both love each other and even if love sometimes feels like a disease it’s enough of a similarity for you to hear her out. “Alright move so I can let us in,” you sigh and Jirou’s face lights up with hope and relief.

It’s not forgiveness or getting back together yet. But it’s hope.

And Jirou will take whatever she can get.

[mxpseudonym]

Too Many Questions

Pairing: Tommy x OC 

Reader Gender Expression: Male Reader (if you don’t mind straight up characterization)

Length: 4406 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None

A/N: Very self indulgent, it’s just an idea that came to mind. I’m writing a part two because this was getting too long for a tumblr post. Part II is sappy and possibly spicy, we’ll see. 

Edit: It was irking my soul that I split this piece into two parts so I combined them and now Part II doesn’t exist. 

Tommy’s Betrayal 

--

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Tommy's eyes snapped away from their leisurely journey tracing the lines on the man's face to his cool, unyielding brown eyes.  

"Do you keep thinking about her because she was your last chance at salvation?"

The question was sharp and unavoidable. It was inappropriate. It was not a question at all, but a statement disguised in the most palatable way possible. Most importantly, it was telling. Who knew Tommy Shelby better than Jack Brewer? Only Polly Shelby, probably.

If he were honest, Tommy didn't even know how it happened. Jack was young, only just approaching his late twenties, yet he was the puppet master of London Town. His utterly charming but never quite polite disposition only helped unnerve gangsters and politicians alike when he monitored them like chess pieces. Rumors overtook facts, leaving the miraculous path Jack took from being a banker's apprentice to untamed royalty a mystery of folklore proportions. To add to it, Jack's boyish, handsome features made him unassuming.

"Don't mind the priss. He's just bein' a nuisance in the corner," Alfie Solomons grumbled as he led Tommy into the office. The rum runner nodded his head towards the back of his office, revealing a clean-shaven 22-year-old in an expensive suit.

"You're grumpy today, Alfie. You still skipping breakfast?" Jack asked, an airy arrogance to his tone. He didn't look up from the folder he was reading from while Alfie barked a sassy rebuttal, but when Jack did, his eyes locked with Tommy's. Suddenly he was standing and approaching the businessmen with an outstretched hand. His manner was as relaxed as his firm yet comfortable handshake. "Thomas Shelby, how are you? I'm Jack Brewer."

"I'd say nice to meet you, but I don't know yet." Tommy watched Jack's eyes sparkle.

"This has already made my day."

"Do you mind? We have a meeting?" Tommy motioned to Alfie, not bothering with many pleasantries. Jack looked to Alfie, a playful smile on his face.

"Alfie?"

"The kid's my partner anyway. He's a puppeteer and a walking omen if you can believe it," Alfie, in his own way, vouched for the boy.

"Anyone could have predicted the war between the Jews and the Italians. You just have to think," Jack said with a shrug.

"What kind of partners are you?" Tommy asked as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Jack's eyes flickered down to take in his figure for a moment, not minding for a second that Tommy caught the motion. He even looked him in the eye after.

"Alfie provides security for me, and I help him out with projects here and there. He can let you know which ones."

"Ah, there's a lot of trust between you then." Tommy nodded.

"Not really. We just understand each other. If I were to betray Alfie, I'd lose business, reputation, and all the dark rum I can swallow. If Alfie were to betray me, it would be in vain, and I'd make sure he wouldn't be able to leave more than a glimmer of false hope to his kin when he passes. Right, Alfie?" Jack looked back to Alfie, his smile still reposed and bright.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard you. Now quit your yapping and get over here, Tommy." Alfie motioned to the chair in front of him. Before he could, a hand reached out and placed itself on Tommy's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. It would have been warm if Jack wasn't seemingly wicked at heart.

"Don't worry, Tommy, I won't interfere. I've got work to do back here."

That was a good four years ago, and now Tommy sat shirtless on a chair in Jack's posh, surprisingly well-used kitchen. Just a moment ago, Tommy was musing about how he felt robbed. It took showing up at half past midnight with a knife wound to see Jack with mused hair, wiry glasses, and a long-sleeved thermal pushed up to his elbows. Now, Tommy was looking at that same boy as if he'd lost his mind.

"You've got a lot of balls, Jack, and you're toeing a fine line. Why would you say that?" Though it was a threat, Tommy in no way thought Jack would be intimidated. Just as he suspected, the young man remained unfazed by his tone as he clumsily splashed iodine on a cotton square.

"You've always wanted more than any man could have. You loved and married an aristocrat who betrayed you because she wanted the clean version of you, and you wanted to be that clean version. I believe we'd call that a pacemaker of sorts, someone to keep you going in a certain direction. Doesn't really work that way when you're the type to risk anything to meet your goal. But it was a good try. Be brave now," Jack said, mumbling the last part as he leaned in and focused on Tommy's arm. It was only a flesh wound, a narrowly missed shanking from a rival gang's guerilla attack turned into a jagged slash on his left bicep.

"You're an insufferable bastard," Tommy said finally.

"And you suffer plenty. Is that why you like me?" Jack's eyes shifted to meet the icy blue ones for a moment, and gave Tommy a cheeky smirk.

"When did I say I liked you?"

Jack thought to the many times they'd spent together in offices, various properties they owned, hotel rooms, and the occasional Bently. He nodded and gave a knowing smile.

"You're right. I'm presumptuous."

Jack could have just about anything he wanted- a spontaneous parade that would block traffic or a shady election alike. But despite their murky history, it was no secret that his favorite carrot on a stick was Tommy Shelby.

Jack would be dead if the tables were turned, and Jack had done what Tommy did to him. An attempt at betrayal that was now years old but still fresh in Tommy's mind by the power of something akin to regret. But Jack was a different breed of man, one that Tommy yet didn't have a grasp on.

"If you hadn't tried to betray me, you wouldn't be the opportunist I thought you were. And that would have been disappointing," said Jack after revealing what he knew back then, which was everything.

He didn't ask Tommy for so much as an apology. Instead, he was here handling Tommy like he was made of glass. Tapping the iodine against thickened skin was almost too gentle. It was unnecessary. Still, Tommy sat quietly and took it because it was past 1 AM now, and he was tired, and he liked it. In the glow of the kitchen lights, Tommy let his shoulders relax and his mind wander.

He always figured he'd end up at Jack's actual apartment. Not a safe house or his third most frequented London flat, but his real home. Thinking back to when Jack first opened the door, Tommy wondered if he'd gotten one over on the man. Jack looked surprised for a moment before rolling his eyes, holding the back door open, and telling Tommy the entry cost was getting his wound dressed. It wasn't every day he could outsmart Jack. Tommy spent a considerable amount of time pinpointing the address he'd been quietly holding onto for the better part of a year. Using it now gave away some leverage, but it was worth it to see this side of Jack, calm with the haze of sleepiness inside an equally quiet house.

Were they opposites? He often felt a pang of dreadful isolation, even when his family was bickering around Arrow house's large dining table. But Jack seemed so content in his home alone, not a soul around. He'd even sent his small staff of three away on holiday for the week to avoid being asked if he wanted tea throughout the day because it drove him up a wall.

Would he like to be in a place like this, Tommy thought? Padding through the house barefoot, a warming drink in hand. The bigness that signified luxury traded in for the gift of holding a conversation with someone in the next room and smell what's cooking from his bed. And with Jack. That would be something.

"That's why you let your guard down, isn't it?" Jack brought Tommy's mind back to the present as he finally secured the bandage. He always did that. "You're not usually this careless. Were you thinking about absolution? Did you see her again?"

"You talk too much. And thinking you're always right's going to get you killed."

"No, it's not. Aren't I right anyway?"

"No."

Jack hummed, looking Tommy over for a moment. He leaned down, one hand grasping Tommy's wrist, letting his fingertips graze over the delicate skin. The other found its place on Tommy's thigh, only the smallest indention made from his fingertips.

Jack leaned into him, centimeters away from allowing their lips to brush. Instead, he inhaled softly. His nose grazed against Tommy's cheek, then his jaw, down his neck to his collarbone then up again. Tommy could feel his heart rate speed up. How could this youngin possibly get a rise out of him like this?

"You don't smell like opium anymore, Tommy. I'm proud of you," Jack spoke softly in his ear and let his thumb stroke the inside of Tommy's wrist. Those for words made Tommy's chest leap. "That means you aren't hallucinating her because you're high. And it seems like a little more than just residual love."

"You shouldn't talk about her that way. You of all people don't have the right."

A warning.

Jack pulled away far enough to see the glossy eyes of the man he let in. It was a strange feeling to be looked at with undeserved tenderness, Tommy thought. Moreso, it was unusual to be cared for.

Are you sure you vetted your new house staff properly?

Did you take precautions at your new factory?

That ciggy's not your lunch, is it?

Whether in meetings, in passing, or on purpose, there were always questions for Tommy. And when Jack felt Tommy exceeded his usual recklessness, he let him know.

And now, Jack was asking more questions. Prying. He tilted his head slightly. A warning from Tommy Shelby wasn't to be taken lightly, no matter who you were. Jack just happened to take the weight in stride.

"I shouldn't talk about Grace like what?" Jack asked.

"Like you know how she was in this world, and how she stays with me now. You don't know anything about it."

"Tommy, you know I'm thankful to her for taking care of you. I was at the wedding, wasn't I? No ill will. This isn't about her anyway; it's about you. Who else do you talk to about her? You just keep it in, don't you?"

"Gonna refer me to another head doctor? Don't waste your breath," Tommy scoffed.

"I'm going to refer you to the best psychiatrists I know as long as we both shall live. I'll make you sick of me."

"Too late."

"Well, I have nothing to lose then."

Jack straightened, reminding Tommy that he was being held only because he missed the feeling as Jack went to the liquor cabinet. He muttered something under his breath as he grabbed two glasses. That's right.

Jack was condescending, smug, even mean at times when it came to business. But when it came to Tommy, the one who sat shirtless in his kitchen with his shoulders relaxed and eyes carefully observing him, Jack had never spoken words too sharp at him. It was unnecessary, Tommy thought, because he could take it. But perhaps it was more of Jack not wanting to treat him in a way that Tommy had to brace himself to take.

"That'll help you sleep," Jack said, placing the drink in his hand. Tommy stood, gulping the small amount of brandy with ease.

"Where am I sleeping?"

"So, you want to stay?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "I can call you a cab."

"Come off it, it's unbecoming to not host a guest in a house like this," Tommy motioned around him. The phrasing made Jack's cheeks warm. Unbecoming, like some sort of debutante being scolded.

"Is the most becoming thing to do offering you my bed?" Jack leaned in close once again, giving Tommy his big eyes full of faux innocence. When he wasn't in his high-end suits or talking quite frankly, Jack had to capacity to look adorable.

"Aren't you being presumptuous?" Tommy asked. Of all the things he could have said, Tommy didn't expect that to be the one that made Jack reel back like he'd been hit. The young man moved to lean against the wall and pointed to the stairs.

"I have several guest rooms. I don't know if the beds are turned down or what that even means, but they're there."  

It was late, Tommy remembered, and Jack wasn't energized enough to keep the banter going on. Not like this. Jack took a sip of his drink and waited for Tommy. He was always waiting for Tommy.

"Is your bed turned down?" Tommy asked.

"I just told you I don't know what that means," Jack said, setting down his glass then stretching. He let his arms rest above his head. The motion revealed a toned stomach and just how low on the hips Jack's cotton bottoms actually hung.

"So you'll have to come to check for yourself, old man."

At nearly 2 AM, the only thing either of them had the energy to do was sleep. Any other revelations about Jack would have to wait until morning, and Tommy wasn't disappointed.

As he moved Jack's head from his chest and arm from around his waist, Tommy found that Jack was dead to the world when asleep. He was also prepared no matter what, evident by the new toothbrush and folded note sitting in an empty glass on the bathroom counter. The message read, 'Tommy, suit in closet, red hanger.' Did Jack know he'd wake up before him? Tommy scoffed but dressed anyway.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Jack said through a yawn as he stumbled into the dining room at noon, where Tommy was sitting with a book and a coffee cup.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"It's fine. Taking all that smoke in your lungs is probably going to kill you," Jack said, motioning to the cigarette that was still smoking in the small ashtray on the table while he passed through to the kitchen.

"Taking its time, isn't it?"

"Don't say that. You're the only one making this fun."

"What?"

"This whole race to the top we've got going on in this city. Or the world, I guess."

"You don't have a legacy you want to leave behind when you grow old," Tommy asked. A moment later, Jack was standing in front of him with two water glasses and no willingness to accept no as an answer when he encouraged Tommy to drink.

"I'm not growing old. Someone'll get wise and kill me off before that."

Jack was as confident about this as everything else he said. He was more cynical than Tommy thought. He thought back to the one time he asked the man about the war and if he fought. Jack's answer always intrigued Tommy. Jack averted his gaze, and before quickly changing the subject, he said, "Just a bit." Whatever happened, Tommy figured it changed him.

Jack sat and made no mention of how the table's head was always his place, but Tommy could have it for now. He pulled a pastry from a dish sitting in the middle of the table and placed it in his mouth to free his hands. One picked up the paper that had clearly been read through, and one shamelessly commandeered Tommy's coffee cup. A bite of the buttery crust washed down by the coffee that made him grimace gave Jack the energy to try and read the paper. Tommy watched as the young man shuffled the pages, becoming more disgruntled by the minute.

"Why did you do this?" He asked Tommy, exasperated as he tried to find which loose insert continued the front-page story. Once he gathered it, he folded it together correctly and took a large bite of his pastry, only to be interrupted. Tommy tried to smother his growing smile and laugh to no avail. "What?"

"You're a brat."

Jack's eyes widened. He blinked for a moment, both because he never expected Tommy of all people to call him that and because he'd never seen the gangster laugh so heartily before. His mouth still full, Jack asked to clarify,

"A brat?"

"Through and through. Fussy from the moment you woke up," Tommy chuckled again. Heat crept up Jack's neck and face, but he let himself huff in amusement.

"I'm just particular."

It was a surprisingly eventful news week- horse races fixed to perfection and hollow speeches from political figures made to the public. And yet Jack found himself more interested in the unchanging man before him. He rested his chin in his palm and took Tommy in.

It was true that he hadn't expected Tommy to show up on his doorstep. But, if Tommy hadn't found his address by now, he would have been disappointed. Showing up like he did, however... Well, Jack had wanted to invite him on his own accord.

The whole thing with the Changrettas and ultimately Solomons was finally over, and Tommy could come back to him in London. They'd planned to meet on Tuesday, something about golf. Yet here, Tommy was instead, being somewhat of a nuisance. He hadn't asked if he could smoke in the house and didn't ask where the coffee was before he made. Not to mention, he handled his grouchiness with a bite of his own. A smile reached Jack's eyes and radiated through his body- this was an excellent second choice. It was like Tommy belonged there.

Almost.

"Try not to look so enamored; it's off-putting," Tommy spoke, not looking up from his book on... political influence? Something happened...

Jack reached out and placed a hand on Tommy's neck. His fingers moved up to feel the texture of his ridiculous hair cut, finally earning a glance. Jack could only imagine what Tommy would look like if he actually grew it out. The newspaper was an afterthought as Jack leaned over from his chair and pressed his lips against Tommy's. Soft, chapped, and chaste, but just what he needed all the same.

"Do I put you off?"

"All the time."

"Why are you wearing this?" Jack's hand moved to the collar of Tommy's shirt. Well, the shirt he got Tommy. The suit itself was expensive; a Belgian tailor with magic hands met Jack's requirements from the light gray color to the silver cufflinks.

"Didn't you tell me to?"

"Mm, I did. But if you're staying, then I'm just going to get you out of it."

"So straightforward."

"Says the man whose means of seduction involve alcohol, white lies about petrol, and some variation of 'let's fuck.'"

"Didn't say it was a bad thing."

"I'm making more coffee."

Jack had only placed his (formerly Tommy's) mug on the counter when the well-dressed man caged him in from behind.

"Are you not going to keep your promise?"

By nature, Jack was fearless in a way that surprised Tommy. If one believes death to be an inevitable luxury, there isn't a situation that could faze them much. In Jack's mind, either the consequence was easy, i.e., death, or it was difficult but something he'd get over at some point. Either outcome led the young man to do precisely what he wanted always.

The first time they kissed, they stood in Jack's office. Tommy was leaned against his desk, and Jack wasn't shy about leaning into him. Now in Jack's kitchen, he held that same energy. Turning in Tommy's arms, Jack wasted no time pressing their lips together again, with the older man meeting him halfway.

Tommy wasn't exactly sure how Jack managed. His kisses were dangerous- straightforward yet teasing, intense yet languid. It was helped only by the fact that they fit well together. Hands cupped a young man's face as a bold pajama-clad thigh moved between legs to press against the front of trousers. Thoughts of money were pushed aside as an expensive waistcoat was clenched between eager fingers, now a simple tool with a single-use: making them closer.

Even when he was dangerously close to light-headed, Jack considered this a worthy moment to push himself. The short breaths passed between kisses would have to suffice for now. For all Tommy called Jack bold, the young man couldn't help but let out a chuckle at how expertly dominant Tommy could be. A hand pressed to the small of his back, moving Jack and his eager thigh that brushed against Tommy's trousers closer while kissing down his neck.

"Enough," Jack breathed. Tommy looked up, unsure what he meant until Jack pushed their lips against each other again and let his hands rest on Tommy's belt. "Do you want a bed or a couch? Because I could have you right now, and I will if we go further."

The couch was closer.

Tommy's ability to concentrate was dwindling with each undone button. Open-mouthed kisses landed on every inch of available skin, making it a battle of moving fast enough to continue and not getting overwhelmed by so much contact after being touch starved. Maybe that was Jack's strategy. Sharp pain sinking into his shoulder made Tommy wince. It was a reminder that he'd been gone for a while. It was illogical and unnecessary to aim for exclusivity in whatever they called their relationship. Surprisingly, that's what made it all the more desperate.

"If I have a craving for Tommy Shelby, it doesn't matter who's around."

Jack ran a tongue over the indents of his canines and dragged it up his neck to stop and bite Tommy's earlobe.

"Hurry up," he breathed his command.

xx

"Did something happen?"

"When?"

"I don't know." Jack shrugged and tapped his cheek. Irritatingly patient, he was. They were in front of the fireplace in the den now, a fur blanket draped over them both as they laid in their underwear.  Early afternoon sun poured through the windows, illuminating the swirling smoke that left Tommy's lips.

"Then why ask?"

"Because I could know, but I always like to give you a chance to tell me voluntarily. It makes me feel less like you'd be lying to me every day if you could," Jack said, always casual, before stealing Tommy's cigarette. "Go ahead."

It wasn't that Tommy was interested in lying to the man all the time. In this instance, it was more that this was a problem Tommy got himself into and had to get himself out of. A problem that Jack had no doubt predicted like he predicted everything. Tommy thought back to his business with the Russians. Jack's first time in the Shelby Company Ltd. offices and Tommy's first time seeing the young man's face drop happened concurrently.

"Tommy," Jack almost sang his name, which only added to the tension. Tommy was a child about to be scolded for doing something he shouldn't have. "Am I too boring for you, Tommy? You had to go to the Russians?"

"A pest, always. Not boring though," Tommy said as he cleared his throat. He went to light his cigarette, giving it more concentration than required. Looking up, Tommy almost paused at the expression in Jack's eyes. There was no smile, genuine or otherwise, only the man he'd heard the haunting rumors about. What was the look he was getting? Annoyance? Disbelief? Frustration?

Instead of speaking on whatever it was, Jack placed a hand over his mouth and looked away. He swore under his breath and mumbled a few words before looking back. Maybe Jack should have told Tommy he was stupid and that the plan wasn't worth it. Doing something like this would be the nail in the coffin for any hopes of an utterly above-board business. But Jack, for once, chose his battle.

"That Tatiana Petrovna knows everything about you. The details of you being a widow, your brand of tobacco, the way you like to sin," Jack said instead. "And don't leave any weapons around. She's crazy."

Jack was good at being one step ahead or quickly recognizing when he wasn't and course correcting. But, though Tommy knew Jack wasn't a stranger to killing a man point-blank, there was still a grit that he was missing. Too eloquent and methodical to handle the Italians from New York. So he told Jack everything and how he was victorious using his Romani prowess. Jack wasn't the only strong one.

"Ah, so you're here because Polly threatened to lock you out of the safes again if you didn't take a holiday," Jack mused. That was his real question from earlier. Why the hell are you still here?

"Something like that." Tommy nodded.

"What are you going to do when you start shaking again? And hearing things?" Jack asked, offering the cigarette to its original owner.

"I'll deal with it if it happens, and it might. Nothing gin can't fix," Tommy said. He reached for the cigarette, only for it to be snatched away and tossed into the flames.

"That was a test. You failed." Jack rolled to his side, propping himself up on his forearm.

"I'm not sick, hm? I've shut the door on the war. I'm not Arthur. I can manage." Tommy could feel himself warming with anger, no, defensiveness at the idea that everything he did was to be questioned.

"I'm not letting you run around here like a dog catching rabies."

"You don't have a say in as much as you think you do," Tommy reminded him. Jack smiled in response, his eyes lightening up. He shifted his fingers then brought them to Tommy's temple in the shape of a gun.

"Go to a doctor, or I'll kill you myself. Bang."

He made a shooting motion then pulled his hand away, blowing imaginary smoke from his fingers. Tommy wondered if Jack ever made jokes. No matter his tone of voice, he always said what he meant and meant what he said. There was no getting out of this.

"What, are you my father now?

"Would you like that?"

"Christ,"

"Not quite him, either."

--

Tommy Tag: @soleil-dor;  @amysteryspot​; @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Peaky Blinders Tag List: @lilymurphy03

[btsqualityy]

Scripted: Part 1

Namjoon x Reader; Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, President!Namjoon, Head of Security!Jimin

Warnings: (Reluctant) open relationship, mentions of cheating

“Congratulations to our newest President, who is going to do great things for our country, Kim Namjoon!” Yoongi announced, causing the entire room to burst out into thunderous applause. Yoongi then turned to his right, motioning at Namjoon for him to come up to the front of the room and say a few words. Namjoon shook his head at first but once the applause didn’t stop or let up, he looked over at you. 

“Go,” you whispered as you unwrapped your arm from where it had been resting around his forearm. “We wanna hear our President say a few words.” Namjoon just gave you a wide grin and after handing his flute of champagne off to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, he paced over to the front of the room where Yoongi was standing.

“First off, thank you Mr. Prime Minister,” Namjoon chuckled as he bowed towards Yoongi, who just swatted his hand dismissively. “I have to say that this day has felt very...surreal. This has been a dream of mine for a very long time. I’ve always wanted to help our people and do what’s best for them but when you start to work in politics, it’s not uncommon to become a little cynical about the world around you.

However, once I met my lovely wife Y/N over there,” he smiled as he gestured over to you. “She reignited the passion that I had for helping others, all by believing in me, my message and what I hope to achieve for our people. For that, thank you and I love you.”

“I love you,” you mouthed back, a soft smile on your lips.

“I’d also like to thank all of my supporters, which includes all of the people who worked on my campaign, who spent hours helping me write speeches, and even those who just talked about me to their families and friends. Without you all, none of this would’ve been possible and like I said earlier today in my Inaugural address, I am your President. The people’s President and I vow to always act in the best interests of my people.” 

The room erupted into further applause and you felt your chest swell in pride as you watched Namjoon turn and give Yoongi a tight hug. All of the late night’s where you stayed up to listen to Namjoon’s speeches, the late night flights from one province to another in order to campaign, they were all worth it for the humongous smile that had been on your husband’s face all day. 

“And there’s our gorgeous First Lady,” your best friend Momo Hirai squealed as she walked up to you, with Jeon Jungkook following behind her.

“Oh please, I’ve literally been First Lady for about 10 hours and I’ve done nothing,” you chuckled. 

“Still, the title is yours now,” Jungkook laughed.

“Speaking of titles, congratulations Mr. Minister of Economy and Finance,” you smiled, reaching out and pushing Jungkook’s shoulder lightly which made him blush lightly.

“Thanks. Namjoon hyung had talked to me about potentially doing it if he got elected to office, but I didn’t think it’d actually happen,” Jungkook huffed.

“Please, you’re the best at numbers and Namjoon knows that,” Momo spoke up. “He would’ve been an idiot not to appoint you as Minister.”

“Maybe but we’re still faced with a bunch of old geezers in the National Assembly who think Namjoon’s ideas are too modern and revolutionary,” Jungkook said. “Him getting elected was just getting our foot in the door. The real work starts next week.”

“You guys will be fine,” you shrugged as you scanned the room for your husband, a small frown appearing on your face when you saw him getting quite cozy with one of the young female staffers that had worked on his campaign. “My husband is nothing if not ambitious.”

“Hey, so when can I move into my new office?” Momo asked and you turned to look at her. “You did get me that one that I asked for after we took the tour of the Blue House right?”

“Of course I did and you can move your stuff in on Monday,” you nodded, looking back to where Namjoon was now making the young girl laugh. “I had to fight Namjoon for it, because he wanted to give it to Taehyung but I did it.”

“Taehyung’s already Namjoon’s Chief of Staff, he doesn’t need the extra perk of having the best office too,” Momo scoffed.  

“By the way, you do know that I expect you to actually work?” You questioned as you looked at her again. 

“Duh” she giggled. “I am your personal secretary.”

“I’m serious Mo,” you told her. “I have a lot of appearances and things that I’m gonna have to keep up with in the next few weeks and you have to be on top of it.”

“I got it Mrs. First Lady,” she nodded. “Promise.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you said as you handed both of the champagne flutes that you had been holding in your hands over to her. “My husband owes me a dance.”

“Show offs,” you heard Jungkook mumble as you walked over to where Namjoon was still standing with the young staffer, wrapping your arm around his as you looked up at him which slightly startled him. “What corny joke are you telling this young lady in order to make her fake laugh like this?”

“My jokes are not corny,” Namjoon chuckled. “I just reminiscing with Naeun here about that time that my speech got lost in Daegu and we had to stay up all night writing another.”

“Yeah, the time crunch was crazy,” Naeun giggled. “But we did it and you delivered it beautifully that day Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon smiled and before Naeun could say anything else, you spoke up.

“Hey, the night is almost over and you haven’t even danced with me yet,” you pouted, making Namjoon chuckle as he looked down at you. 

“Guess I have to rectify that then, huh?” He guessed and you nodded before he turned to look back at Naeun. “Excuse us.”

“Oh, of course,” Naeun quickly replied, bowing to the two of you before walking away. You had to resist the urge you had to roll your eyes, since you didn’t know who might be watching your interactions. 

“May I have this dance, First Lady?” Namjoon wondered and you smiled as you looked up at him and nodded your head. 

“Yes you may, Mr. President,” you responded as Namjoon turned and led you further onto the dance floor before turning back to face you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Today’s been a whirlwind, huh?” He whispered and you nodded your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“But it’s been amazing,” you replied. “I’m so insanely proud of you baby.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “And I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have gotten here if it weren’t for you.”

“You’ve always had the vision.”

“But the drive and determination came from your influence,” he finished. “There’s nobody else that I would’ve rather had by my side today.”

“Ditto,” you whispered, leaning up and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before the two of you continued to sway slowly to the music. 

...............................

“So are we all going to church tomorrow morning?” Momo asked as the two of you moved towards the front entrance of the banquet hall that Namjoon’s Inaugural ball had been held in, with Namjoon and Taehyung trailing behind the two of you and your security detail flanking either side of you. About two hours had passed since you’d managed to steal Namjoon away from flirting with one of his staffers and you’d been in a noticeably worse mood ever since, so you were happy when Namjoon finally suggested that the two of you call it a night. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to manage to pull ourselves out of bed after tonight but we’ll be there,” you replied with a nod. 

“And if you’re not, I’m coming and banging on the door of the fortress that you two call your new bedroom at the Blue House,” Taehyung spoke up, making you giggle at him.

“No need for that Taehyung-ah, we’ll be dressed and ready by 9am,” Namjoon said and you nodded in agreement. The four of you stepped outside, watching as the valets pulled a multitude of cars up in order to return them to their owners. You watched as a large and white stretch limousine pulled up in front of the entrance before you turned around to give Momo a hug. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered in her ear and she pulled away from you with a large smile.

“Until then, First Lady,” she chuckled, making you roll your eyes in response. 

“Have a good night Y/N,” Taehyung said and you smiled before kissing his cheek.

“Good night Tae,” you smiled. You then turned around and saw that Namjoon was holding the limousine door open for you. You wasted no time in sliding into the limousine, making sure that the train of your dress was inside as well before Namjoon shut the door behind you. He then walked around the back to the other side, thanking the security guard that was holding open his door before getting in as well. You sat back and made yourself comfortable as the driver started up the car and pulled away from the banquet hall and into the streets of Seoul.

About 10 minutes into the car ride, Namjoon finally spoke up for the first time since the two of you had gotten into the limousine.

“You seemed a little out of it during the last few hours of the ball,” he mentioned and you glanced over your shoulder at him from where you had been staring out of the window, shrugging your shoulders dismissively.

“Just tired, I guess,” you replied. “It’s been a long day.”

“You might wanna work on hiding that,” he muttered as he pulled his phone out of his suit jacket pocket, typing something into it. “You don’t want people to say that their First Lady is rude or anything.”

“Today was the first day that we’ve spent more than two hours together in what, three months?” You scoffed. “I’m not used to faking this for longer than that, so please forgive me.”

“For God’s sake, I’m not trying to argue with you Y/N-ah,” Namjoon sighed. “I just want to make sure that all of this isn’t for nothing.”

“Trust me, it won’t be my fault if it is,” you huffed. “I didn’t agree to all of this for no reason.”

“Right,” Namjoon said shortly and the silence fell over the two of you once again, although it was awkward now. After another 15 minutes, the limousine finally pulled in front of the Blue House, which was your new official residence. 

“Namjoon, wait,” you said when you saw him turn for the door, and he arched an eyebrow at you before raising two fingers to the window, which gave the security notice to wait on opening the door for him. “I wasn’t trying to argue with you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon shrugged.

“Joon, I’m serious,” you told him, and he gave you a small smile. “I know things are kind of tense between the two of us, but I don’t wanna fight with you.”

“I know,” he assured you, reaching over and squeezing your hand lightly. “Forget it.”

“Look, why don’t I could draw us a bath when we get inside?” You suggested, trying to extend an olive branch. “You can pop open another bottle of champagne and we can sit and soak for a while.”

“Sounds inciting,” Namjoon chuckled. “But I only came back here with you to make sure that you settled in alright.”

“What, do you have another party to go to or something?” You laughed softly.

“Actually, I’m going to see Naeun tonight,” he revealed and the smile on your face instantly dropped. 

“Tonight? Are you serious Namjoon?” You questioned.

“Y/N, I’ve planned on going to see her once all the festivities and events were done for at least a week now,” he told you.

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?” You demanded to know as you folded your arms across your chest. “If you had, I wouldn’t have expected us to spend tonight together.”

“I thought I did tell you,” he said softly as he moved closer to you, setting his hand on your thigh. “I must’ve just forgotten with everything leading up to today, and it clearly slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

“But do you really have to go though?” You questioned as you looked up at him, deciding to try a different approach to see if it would work. “I haven’t seen you much these last few weeks and I know that I’m not gonna see you much from now on so I thought maybe we could use tonight.”

“Sorry baby but she’s expecting me,” he shrugged. 

“But I’m your wife,” you shot back, glaring at him lightly. “Hierarchy, remember?”

“You remind me regularly,” he laughed but when he saw that you were still frowning, he stopped. “Look, I’m gonna go and stay the night with her because I promised her and I don’t like breaking promises. You know that.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed bitterly and Namjoon sighed heavily as he rubbed his hand over his face. 

“I promise, I’m gonna carve out some time for us before I get too busy, ok?” He said and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t make promises that you can’t keep Namjoon. You’ve already broken a major one, remember?” you hissed and he cast his eyes downward. “Have fun with your whore tonight.”

“Y/N-ah,-”

“Go straight to hell Namjoon,” you growled lowly, lifting your hand and flashing two fingers to the security, waiting for them to open your door before you hurriedly climbed out of the limousine. You were making your way up the front steps when you heard the limousine’s engine start up and you turned around to see it pulling away from the steps back out onto the street.

“The man becomes President and is still a fucking coward,” you grumbled to yourself as you walked into the house, security shutting the door behind you. 

...............................

Tag List: @toddsgirl27​ @leftieaquarius​ @joyfulkmusicfan​ @jennyjq

[creativeskullcreations]

Buddy’s Problem part 2

Okay! Part two is done! Part three probably isn't gonna be until after the New Year, though, but it should be the final part.

Enjoy the story, and have a Merry Christmas! :D

As it turned out, being a campaign manager was pretty difficult, especially when Buddy had to travel to a whole different town for it. Filbo lived in a small farming town called Kinsing. Several other members of the expedition lived there too, though Wiggle, Gramble, and Cromdo lived in Gippsenburg. Either way, apparently Filbo wasn't very well known, having moved to Kinsing recently.

That was useful, and Buddy could totally work with that.

First was getting him nominated, which was easy as anyone could throw their name in. Filbo actually did that himself, though he needed some coaxing from Buddy to actually put it into the box. They then went out for burgers(not Bungers, thankfully) afterwards. They were joined by Beffica, who was shocked that Filbo was running for a real political position.

"Like, seriously? That's awesome you squeeb!" She gave him a soft punch to the arm, which he winced at. She didn't notice, or maybe just ignored it. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Well, I mean, I ended up doing pretty good back at Snax- on Snaktooth, so I figured I might as well try for the real thing." He told her, rubbing the soon-to-be-bruise. "Worst thing that could happen is I'll lose to Robbzoni."

"Ugh, Robbzoni. He's the worst." She helped herself to Buddy's fries, even as he tried to yank the plate away from her. "He's the real reason we don't have anymore flowers by the roads. He kept stealing them, so eventually the town stopped replacing them."

"How the grump did you find that out, Beff?" Buddy asked before shoving the whole handful of remaining fries into his mouth. She just shrugged and went for Filbo's plate instead.

"I snooped, Bestie. Just like I always do. Did." She corrected herself quickly, looking away. "I, uh, used to do that."

"So..." Buddy searched for a new topic. "What do you do now, anyways?"

"Oh, I got hired as a reporter at CGN. It's a bit of a commute, but not so bad." She shrugged. "And my coworkers aren't so bad, either."

Ah, the rival for GNN. Buddy remembered all the fights that had broken out between reporters at events. He also remembered the time he raided their office with some of his coworkers and stole all of their paperclips. It was in retaliation for them stealing all the rubber-bands at GNN. Which was to get back at them for stealing all of CGN's staples.

Good times.

"Here." He dug out a bottle of pepper-spray and handed it to the shorter Grumpus. "You'll need this."

"Uh." She looked between him and the large canister. "... Thanks. I think."

"No problem." He took a long drag on his soda as the conversation drifted away from him. Which was just fine, as he was busy brainstorming anyways, writing down plans and ideas into his journal. So far he didn't have a lot, but he'd talk to Filbo about it later and see what they could do.

Maybe a party? Filbo always seemed to like them, back on Snaktooth, so maybe that would be a good way to win him some votes.

The rest of the time passed by in a blur. Events were held, debates, parties, even a couple of bake sales that reminded Buddy of his school days. Speeches were made, each carefully crafted to have the best effect on the small populace of the town.

Wambus was actually a big help with that. As a farmer himself, he knew what to say to get and keep the farmers on Filbo's side. So they ended up conferring with him a lot, which meant going to his and Triffany's house a lot.

He was a surprisingly good cook, honestly. The meals they shared there were some of the best Buddy ever ate. He really would miss those nights when everything was done here, but that was no reason not to continue the "quest" for Filbo.

It was one such night, where Wambus had grilled some delicious steaks and corn on the cobs. He also had some homegrown sauces that he'd brought from Snaktooth, which made Buddy a little uneasy. But, the older farmer seemed to know what he was doing with that so he let it go for now.

"You seem to be getting pretty popular, dear." Triffany was saying to Filbo as Buddy doodled in his journal. He flipped it around to show Wambus his idea of a steak-based Bugsnax, only for the farmer to just grunt in acknowledgement. That was good enough for him though and he put the book aside to eat some more.

"Heh, yeah." Filbo rolled his corn on the cob in some butter. "It's all thanks to Buddy, though. He's doing great on the whole 'campaign manager' thing."

"It's not that hard." Buddy shrugged. "Not like you're running for Minister of the Public or something. It's just a few events to plan, and, like, two debates."

"True, but it still seems like a lot of work." Filbo actually looked kind of concerned, but Buddy waved it off.

"It's... it's really not." He told them, even though it kind of was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's sleep, but it was definitely before Snaktooth.

"It would be tiring to be around all those people all the time." Wambus agreed. "I could never do that."

"Of course not, dear." Triffany agreed. "That's why you're a farmer."

"Yep."

Buddy watched the exchange with a small smile as Filbo took over the conversation, asking after the sauce crops. Whatever problems the couple had, he was glad they were working them out. He didn't want to even think about what would've happened if their marriage had broken up like...

Well, it wasn't good to dwell on it.

Wambus was right though; it was tiring being a campaign manager. He was almost glad the elections were ending soon, if only so he could get some more sleep. And then focus on finding a real job, as his savings were starting to run a little dry.

Still, as he watched his three companions, he felt content with how it was shaping up. Filbo was excitedly explaining all his plans for being Mayor, from replanting the flowers around the walking paths to finally getting the pot holes fixed. He even started explaining his plans to renovate the park in detail before Wambus finally reminded him to actually eat his steak.

"Oh, heh. Right." He cut a piece off, then opened his mouth to keep talking. Buddy took the opportunity to grab his wrist and shove the fork into his mouth.

"Eat it." He told him firmly, to quiet giggling from Triffany. Filbo shot him a glare, but obeyed, chewing quietly. Buddy then grabbed a forkful of his own steak to chew on, ignoring Triffany's pointed look.

The rest of the night passed without incident. In Buddy's opinion, it ended too soon. But then, it always did. And soon enough Buddy was back at his table in his apartment, drawing up more plans for the campaign. Luckily, the people seemed to really like Filbo. Or maybe they just hated Robbzoni that much more. Either way, according to the mid election survey Filbo was looking to be the popular candidate.

Still, he couldn't relax yet, there was still too much to do. The election itself was tomorrow. People would vote in the morning and the results would be announced both that afternoon, and in the next morning's paper. There would be one last speech before the vote though, and Buddy wanted to make sure it was perfect.

However as the time got later, and he had started the speech pretty later anyways, he found himself unwillingly drawn into sleep. Even as he tried to fight it off with copious amounts of caffeine, he inevitably passed out.

When he woke up, it was to Filbo calling him. In a panic, he grabbed his papers and raced out the door, practically flying down the stairs and into his car. He broke several traffic laws, but he managed to get to Kinsing Town Hall just barely on time. As he ran inside, he tried desperately to sort through the garbled mess of a speech he'd written.

He made his way to the backstage area, where Filbo was talking to... someone. Buddy felt like he should know the other Grumpus, but his exhausted mind just refused to make the connection. In any case, as soon as the Grumpus had left he was rushing up to Filbo, rapidly spewing apologies all the way.

"Sorry, sorry! I think I still have some time to, uh, to-to fix this? Maybe?!" His voice rose an octave and he quickly cleared his throat and tried to laugh off the rising panic. "I was up too late I think. Working. On this." He gave another short laugh, internally wincing at how off it sounded.

"Hey hey, it's okay." Filbo had to grab his shoulders, forcing them down from where Buddy had unconsciously hunched into himself. "I've got this one." He told him. Buddy blinked in surprise, hands lowering and almost dropping his papers.

"... You... you 'got' this?" Just what did he mean by that? Was Buddy unneeded? Had he been unneeded this whole time?

"Yeah. Since you've been working so hard lately, I figured I'd just, y'know, handle my own speech for today. " He gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, I probably should've told you sooner-Oh!" He jumped at something the Grumpus on stage was saying. "There's my cue! See ya later!" He gave a quick wave before rushing off to get on stage, oblivious to Buddy's aborted attempt to reach for him.

'He didn't need me...' Quietly, Buddy dropped his speech into the trash. He then went for the snack table they had set up to get some coffee. 'I don't know why I even tried.'

The speeches were said, and then the voting happened. The surprising part, at least to Buddy, was that as they each voted the other members of the expedition would come up to them. A couple offered a "Good luck" or two, but none of them really left afterwards. They all hung around, and talked.

It made Buddy feel even more like he shouldn't have come. Filbo had plenty of people to keep him company for this, he didn't need Buddy Nobody did anymore.

So he sat just a little bit outside of the group, speaking only when someone talked to him directly. Other than that, he just drank his coffee quietly and wondered when would be a good time for him to leave.

It turned out never. The others never forgot about him for long enough for him to be able to slip away. Floofty in particular seemed intent on watching him, and they weren't blinking. He knew this because he straight up had a staring contest with the mad scientist, and they didn't blink once.

Soon enough, voting had closed and the votes were being counted. Poor Filbo was anxious through the whole thing, but never said anything about regretting running for mayor. Buddy was actually kind of proud of him for that, if he was being honest. He knew how hard the light blue Grumpus could be on himself, and he was glad he had gained some confidence at least.

Even if it was just another sign that he wasn't a help to him anymore. That he wasn't a help to anyone here anymore.

But, when they announced that Filbo had won, that he'd done it and beat out longtime Mayor Robbzoni, everyone present cheered. And not just the ones from Snaxburg, either, but everyone else who was hanging around. As everyone congratulated the new Mayor, and the MC announced when the official swearing in ceremony would take place, Buddy gave a quiet sigh into his coffee. Mentally, he ticked this quest as complete, but no new objectives came to mind.

"Hey, Buddy!" He looked up to see Filbo waving at him, and gave a small wave back. "We'll all going to Gramble's place to celebrate. You coming?"

Would he go? No. There wasn't anything for him to do there and besides, he had to get started on job hunting.

"... You guys go on ahead. I'll... I'll catch up with you later." There. Now he could go home and the others could get started on whatever came next for them.

Filbo hesitated a moment, searching Buddy's face intently. Then he shrugged and turned to follow the others. "Well, okay. If you're sure."

And then he was gone, along with the rest. Buddy put down his still full cup and stood up, dusting his fur off. He went to his car, a tiny little red thing that really needed to be traded in, and drove down the road back to Gippsenburg. He had a stop to make before he went home to his apartment, and then maybe he could finally work on forgetting everything.

[sugarsugarmoon]

Passion Project

Summary: artist!yoongi x poet!reader. yoongi and yn are friends that are attending the same university. in need of a muse for his latest assignment, yoongi turns to you for a rather intimate portrait.

Genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Warnings: some swearing, teeth rotting, heart aching, cliche ass fluff

a/n: This is my contribution to the @heartsforbtsnet​’s “The Chronicles of y/n” collab. It was tough for me to write only fluff, but I loved it. I love Yoongi 🥺. There will be an nsfw follow-up piece.

WC: 3830

Everyone always said “don’t go to art school,” and “what are you going to do with a fine art degree?”

You didn’t know, but you knew what you loved. Your passion is split between creative writing and film photography. You would give anything to be able to write poetry for a living, but you know that you’re no Rupi Kaur. Opportunities for poets aren’t very common. But you remained true to yourself, writing everything at every given opportunity.

You fell in love with photography at 13. You had saved up all of your spare money for a year to be able to take Film Photography 101 at the local youth center. From the first roll of film that you processed, you were in love. And now you’re here. Studying the things you love most.

You were filling an elective requirement and taking an intro to drawing course. Most of the people in there were musicians or writers or photographers like yourself. One of them was the music production and painting major Min Yoongi. You thought it was weird to see him in that class the first time you saw him there. Painters usually knew at least a little bit about drawing.

The first day of class, you’d gone around the room and said who you were and what you hoped to get out of the class. You had said your name and that you hoped to gain any skills in drawing at all. Min Yoongi had said that he struggled with still life, focusing mainly on the abstract in his paintings. He wanted to get better at figures. You could relate because you could draw a pretty decent mountain range, but a person? Forget it.

You knew Yoongi from around campus. A friend of a friend, kind of deal. You sat beside him and another Photography major that you get along with, Jeon Minju. Minju is sweet and silly. Yoongi is quiet and sarcastic. It was a weird juxtaposition that you found hilarious. Drawing might just be your favorite class this semester for that simple reason.

The class started out easy enough. Only drawing shadows. One continuous line drawing. Your favorite was playing with charcoal. It was just fun to manipulate and smudge. You loved playing with negative space and light. And getting your fingers covered made you feel like a child playing with chalk.

Yoongi and Minju were both good with light as well. Yoongi’s shadow drawings were incomparable with the rest of the class. You kept thinking to yourself that it was absurd he was here.

Until it came time for figure drawing.

That’s when you realized that though most artists can figure out light and shadows...figures are something completely their own. You listened carefully to every word from the professors mouth, trying to improve your craft. You were not great by any definition of the term, but man, were you better than Min Yoongi. His drawings looked like they were done by first graders who were trying their hardest to make anything look right but just couldn’t get it.

You tried to encourage Yoongi and not laugh at his drawings, but sometimes it was hard when the person in it looked like a straight up penis. 

“Dude,” you said to him once, “you’ve seen a person before, right?”

He had blushed crimson and turned away from you. You felt a little guilty about making him embarrassed, and you tried to walk it back. The damage had already been done, and he didn’t show you any of his drawings for 2 weeks. When he finally showed you one, it was so much better.

“Yoongi, honestly I’m sorry I made fun of you, but this is so good.”

It wasn’t “so good,” but it was pretty good. You wanted to boost his confidence. It seems to work all right, and he starts showing you more of his drawings. You feel a slight feeling of redemption inside at fixing your own mistake.

Over the course of the semester, you, Yoongi, and Minju spent a lot of time together. Something about bonding over the stress of not being good at drawing had bonded the three of you. Every Thursday you eat lunch together at the taco stand in the student center. You even organized a couple of movie nights, watching B-movies together and laughing at how terrible they are.

Birdemic: Shock and Terror was one of your favorites. The three of you had laughed so hard at it because none of it made any sense, and it looked like it was filmed on the cheapest piece of crap camera in the weirdest locations possible.

You sat in your living room, eating popcorn and chips, watching the movies together. It started out kind of awkwardly keeping your distance from each other. Minju on one side of you, Yoongi on the other.

You kept your shoulders away from both of theirs, tending to lean further toward Minju just because you didn't want to make Yoongi uncomfortable. You felt unsure about him at first. Soon you'd started to get to know him more, and you learned that he wasn't cold like he had initially seemed. He was funny and sarcastic. You loosened up. You didn't mind if your shoulder brushed his or if the two of you shared a snack, occasionally brushing finger tips.

It was comfortable, your friendship with Minju and Yoongi. The three of you nearly inseparable. Your schedule coincided with Yoongi’s more than Minju’s, so you ate lunch together nearly everyday, swiping into the dining hall and finding his friends or yours. They knew now to save 2 seats for both of you.

The two of you were nearly inseparable except for when you were in classes. He would meet you in the quad, paint splatters on his face and hands, beaming at you. It was such a seamless friendship. He was an introvert who was kind of over people. You were an introvert who was kind of over people. It just clicked. 

****

One night in November, you had a movie night planned with Minju and Yoongi. Minju calls you around 6pm panicking because she hasn’t finished one of her photography projects. You had finished it earlier in the week, and you offer to come down to the photography building to help her. She insists that she wants to do it on her own, but she won’t be able to make the movie.

You tell her it was no big deal and that you can reschedule for another time. You text Yoongi, and he asks if you still wanted him to come. At first you want to say no because you aren’t going to end up watching the movie you planned. Then you decide that it would be nice seeing Yoongi anyway. He is one of your best friends anyway, so why not?

When Yoongi arrives at your door, he’s wearing a gray beanie with a square, unamused gray smiley face on it. He has one AirPod in one ear. His slight frame is clothed with a gray hoodie with a white shirt poking out the bottom. He has on fitted, tapered sweatpants with a white stripe down the side. Quintessential cozy Yoongi.

He has a brown bag in his hand that you can tell is full of food. There’s a small damp spot on the side from condensation.

“I brought food,” he says with a shrug. 

He makes his way to your couch like he lives there himself. He tosses the bag down on the coffee table, plops down on the couch, and begins to rummage through the paper sack. He pulls out several different containers, each holding some of your favorite foods. You feel a weird feeling in your chest as you watch him sitting there, casually opening the lids on each of the takeout containers.

You shake off the feeling and sit next to him. You dig into the food, picking out pieces of oi kimchi with your chopsticks and popping them into your mouth. Looking at the table, you see that Yoongi got extra of your favorite, oi kimchi, even though he doesn’t like it very much. You smile at the sight of it then keep eating.

The two of you sit in near silence, chewing away on the samgyeopsal and galbi.

You turn to him and ask, “Do you want to watch a movie? It’s almost Thanksgiving. We could watch my all time favorite Thanksgiving movie.”

“Two questions,” he replies. “One: THERE ARE THANKSGIVING MOVIES? Two: YOU HAVE A FAVORITE!?”

“Well, one, yeah. And two, of course.”

You switch on the TV and click over to the hard drive that you have connected to it. You hover over the title “Thankskilling” and turn and look over at Yoongi. He reads the title and chokes slightly on his food. A satisfied smile spreads across his face, and he nods at you. Both of you turn your attention back to the screen.

The two of you laugh out loud immediately upon, “Nice tits, bitch!” being uttered by the turkey. Yoongi laughs hard out loud.

“Oh, I am so excited about this,” he utters.

The movie continues on, you and Yoongi laugh and add commentary as you watch. The tears brim in your eyes as you watch, and Yoongi grabs your leg hard as he laughs at “Gobble, gobble, motherfucker.”

You look down at his hand on your knee and stare at it for a moment. You feel weird seeing it there, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels warm, calming, and comfortable. Yoongi turns and sees his hand resting on your leg. He immediately pulls it away and looks up at you, cheeks turning pink. You turn away and try to pretend like you didn’t feel something in the pit of your stomach.

The rest of the movie, the two of you sit a little further apart from one another, still laughing and commenting the whole time. When the movie is over, you chat, turning slightly toward one another, joking about the turkey and school with one another.

After an hour, your roommate walks into the apartment from her study group with her friends. She looks up at the two of you on the couch and raises her eyebrows.

“Sorry, yn, I didn’t realize you had a date tonight. I would have stayed out longer.”

You feel the heat coming to your cheeks, and you drop your head. “It’s not a date. It’s just Yoongi,” you snap as quickly as possible.

You don’t look at Yoongi at all, so embarrassed by Jinhee’s comment.

“Well, I gotta go,” Yoongi mutters awkwardly next to you.

He gets up and stalks out the door quickly past Jinhee. He barely tosses a “goodbye” your way as he makes his way into the hallway. You glare at your roommate, and when she closes the door you roll your eyes.

“Thank you so much for making that as awkward as possible,” you say and begin cleaning the food off the coffee table. You sulk off into your bedroom as soon as you have cleaned up. Jinhee shouts sorry after you.

***

Near the end of the semester, the professor assigns you a project. Any medium that you want to use to draw. 5 human figure drawings.

Passion.

That’s it. That’s the whole prompt. He didn’t give you any more information. He just said passion. When asked by students, he did say that it could be the same figure or 5 different figures. Any size. Any paper. Any style. And an author’s statement about the techniques used and how it represents passion.

Easy enough. But challenging in so many ways. You decided to draw your 5 best friends - Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin. The passion there would be the different passions you see within all of them. Jungkook’s passion for boxing. Jimin’s passion for baking. Hoseok’s passion for dance. Namjoon’s passion for social justice. Seokjin’s passion for acting. Together, the five of them were the most passionate people that you know. They were chasing their dreams, and it helped you feel like you could absolutely complete the assignment.

Yoongi was a different story. He seemed panicked from the moment the professor said that it was figure drawings. You could see him wracking his brain for something that could represent passion to him. You wanted to grab his hand and comfort him, tell him it would be okay.

You and Minju chatted excitedly after that class about the ideas that you had. Yoongi lagged behind, dragging his feet slightly. At the lunch table in the dining hall, Yoongi seemed distracted, poking his food and barely eating.

“Yoongi, what’s your deal, man?” Minju asks, a small smirk on her face.

“I’m not sure,” he says in a faint voice.

Minju turns to you and shrugs. You keep working on your bowl of cereal. You know it’s not the most nutritious meal, but hey, you’re in university. This is the time to eat cereal for every meal. You aren’t sure what you could even do for Yoongi, and you’re pretty sure the project is getting to him. He was fine before class started.

“Hey, Yoon, is it the project getting to you?”

“I just don’t know what to do,” he grumbles.

“Well, that’s okay, Yoongi. You have some time,” Minju pipes.

You stuff another bite of cereal into your mouth, looking between the two of them. You aren’t sure what you could even encourage him to do because you know him, but you don’t really know his passions beyond painting and music.

“Maybe you could draw something that has to do with painting?” you ask between bites.

“I just don’t know,” he says and turns his eyes back down to the plate in front of him.

The three of you sit in awkward silence eating your food. You are unsure how to comfort your friend, but you don’t want to push him any further. When lunches ends, you all go to your classes, saying brief awkward goodbyes.

*******

You hardly see Yoongi except for in class over the course of the next two weeks. He’s a little distant and stoic in class, so you just focus your attention on drawing your final project. You love the way that the shadows you create on the paper show the love and beauty within your friends. They aren’t perfect drawings, but you see each of your friends in each of the drawings.

For your artist statement, you decide to describe the technique and medium normally but write the statement about them into poems. 

Seokjin. Charcoal on paper. The faces you wear Hide the pain within you You put on each of your masks Dazzling the crowd Your eyes sparkle They tell the story Of your life And the thousand others You play

Namjoon. Graphite on paper. Someone said You couldn’t do it When in reality You were doing it all along You hold up the world Against the light To see it for what it is Examining it like a researcher Like a warrior You won’t stop

Hoseok. White charcoal on black paper. Your movements Fluid Like water Dancing Lapping at the shore

Your passion Love Like the moon Pulling Pushing the passion from within you

Jimin. Graphite on paper. Like the cinnamon roll. You are warm and sweet. Filled with love and spiciness. Without the tang of the cinnamon, The sugar would be too sweet. Without the sugar, The cinnamon would bite too hard. You, like the cinnamon roll, Are a comfort A joy A love To be savored.

Jungkook. Charcoal on canvas. The sweetest and softest. The kindest and brightest. The golden boy. The strongest and the fiercest. The boldest and the truest. My golden maknae.

You looked at your drawings and the pages, the short poems. You feel a pride inside that swells in your chest as you breathe deeply, looking down at it. The way that you feel like the aura of each of your friends radiates from the pages. Even from the black and white, you can feel Hoseok’s orange, Seokjin’s pink, Jungkook’s red, Jimin’s purple, and Namjoon’s blue. The warmth of them jumps off the page.

You wonder to yourself how Yoongi is doing.You send him a text, and he doesn’t respond. You assume he’s working hard on all of his classes because it’s the end of the semester. Personally, you’ve put together a portfolio of 200 poems and completed a photo folio. You were burned out, and you felt like the drawings took the most time for you. You can imagine that with painting and drawing, Yoongi is swamped.

You see him on the day that you’re supposed to have a gallery walk for all of the classes final projects. He isn’t in the room at first when everyone starts setting up, their pieces and their statements displayed together. He jogs into the room a little late with papers stuffed under his arm, pressed against his side.

He lays out his drawings hastily and flops down a paper in front of them in the last open spot. He doesn’t greet you and Minju, but you figure he’s just stressed. The class begins, and you make your way around the room. You read each artist’s statement carefully, feeling self-conscious about yours when you read the explanations that your peers wrote. Much more in-depth about the topics and the subjects. You worry about your grade.

You make your way to Minju’s, and you smile at the drawings of cameras and photographers. Minju is so committed, so passionate about photography. You can feel her smile in each of the drawings. They’re not perfect, but they are pretty good. Minju was the most talented of the three of you. The smile creeps across your face again as you read the words detailing her love for photography, the way a camera feels in her hand, the joy she feels when the developer starts to reveal the image.

When the timer goes off, you continue to move. There are a few more that you read before you arrive at Yoongi’s. You stare at the pages, your eyes darting around the page at each of the features. Your breath catches in your throat, and your stomach does a flip. There’s no way.

On the pages before you, you see the curve of your own nose and cheeks. The way your hair rests against your collarbone. The glitter in your eye. You can’t mistake the face and body that you see in the mirror every single day.

You snatch the artist’s statement off the desk and pull it close to your face. Your eyes scan the words as tears start to well your eyes.

Passion. To me passion is the way that you can watch any B movie and find the good in it. Passion is how you write poem after poem, searching for the precise word. Passion is the way that you want to capture every beautiful moment on film. Passion is your smile as you read a text from your mother. Passion is the way that you bite your fingernails when you’re thinking hard. Passion is the way that your pen moves on the paper as your forehead crinkles. Passion is the way you make me feel. Passion is you. Graphite on paper.

You can’t stop the tears that fill your eyes, and your heart is pounding in your chest. You turn and scan the room. You can’t see Yoongi through the sea of bodies across the room. The feeling overwhelms you, so you decide to take a moment in the hallway. No one will notice you're gone.

Once in the hall, you take a deep breath. You hear a shuffling down the hallway from you. You snap your head toward the sound, and there stands a cat-like man in a black sweatshirt and a gray beanie. He’s looking at you with a sadness in his eyes, and the tears start to fall from your eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, walking toward you.

You shake your head unable to form the words.

“Did you see it?” he asks, timidly. “Oh my god, you hate it!”

He turns his face away from you, but he doesn’t walk away. He brings his thumb up and wipes a tear away from your cheek. You sniffle and wipe the tears from the other side. Your eyes finally meet his.

“No, I didn’t hate it, Yoongi. So far from that.”

A light spreads to his eyes and across his face. “Really?”

“Yoongi, those things that you wrote. Did you mean that?”

With a smile on his lips, he gently grabs your chin and says, “I meant every single word of it. Over the last few months, things have seemed...lighter. Brighter. You’ve done that in my life. My paintings are more bright, with warmer colors. Hell, I’ve been whistling. You make everything seem okay. Honestly, yn, you make me so happy, it’s stupid.

“Yoongi, I feel the same way. You should read the sappy poems that I’ve been writing. You have changed me for the better. I look forward to talking to you every day. I light up if your name shows up on my phone.”

You mean to say more, but at that moment, Yoongi tilts your chin toward him and presses his lips against yours. His mouth is soft and pillowy; the sweet minty flavor in his mouth draws you in further. You kiss him more deeply and wrap your arms around his neck. When the two of you separate, you smile at him. You can’t help but be reminded of Cho Chang in Harry Potter. You kiss the boy that you like so much while there are tears on your face.

The classroom door clicks, and you hear a familiar voice from the room.

“Oh god. It’s about time you too,” Minju calls toward you. She giggles then you hear the door click shut.

“As much as I love this moment, we should probably get back inside and get back to class,” you whisper against Yoongi’s lips.

“I don’t want toooooooo,” he whines and kisses you again.

You pull away from him and lace your fingers through his. You pull the reluctant man toward the classroom. He whines and moans the whole time, but eventually, he gives in and enters the classroom with him.

After the class period is over, you and Yoongi walk down the hall with Minju, you two holding hands. You kiss him on the cheek, and Minju murmurs, “gross.”

“I don’t even care what grade I get,” Yoongi says. “I got the best possible thing from that class.”

He looks at you and both you and Minju, and the two of you groan at the cheesy comment.

“What? I mean the ability to draw better,” he laughs. “Oh!? Did you think I meant you? Look, you’re great, but I mean...I’m an amazing drawer now.”

[sapphire-strikes]

I Looove the dynamic of Habit Kamal and FK. Thank you for writing so much for them! I was wondering... What do you think Kamal's first impression of FK was? At the habitat he was so anxious and he seemed to helpless - I can't help but think FK helped him become a better and more confident person after the big event happened... But what about before that

• He'd been fighting with himself about the whole situation ever since it went down. Maybe he was too harsh with Habit, he was a pretty sensitive guy after all. He'd been far to nice with him for far to long and that hadn't gotten him anywhere. The things he was doing weren't right, none of it even made sense for a mental health retreat!

• Why even put an ad out looking for a dental assistant if you weren't going to be doing any dentistry. Kamal swallowed hard at that thought, pushing away the fact that he might already know the answer.

• Bor-Habit was unhinged sure, but he wasn't a bad person, that was something Kamal at least thought he was sure of. In fact, that was the only reason he'd stuck around for as long as he did.

• It was too late to change things now though, right? He could just put all of this behind him and move on with his life. All he had to do was walk out the gate and never come back. Unfortunately, he found himself unable to complete that simple last step. Because if something really was wrong, then he'd have moved on being one of the only people that could have stopped it.

• Kamal's conscience wouldn't let him leave but his anxiety made him too damn scared to actually do anything. So he settled on a substandard inbetween; waiting it out to see what would happen.

• It had been what, a few weeks now since his fight with Habit and things in the Habitat had remained monotonously unchanged.

• The Doc himself had gone eerily silent on top of that. Maybe that was for the best. Knowing Habit; the big guy was probably sulking in his office, too frustrated and uncomposed to actually do anything. Those weird little PSAs even stopped airing and Kamal started to feel hopeful that maybe Habit was actually giving up on this whole silly idea.

• Then you showed up. He didn't even know the Habitat was excepting any new members. Habit had even mentioned cutting off applications to see how this first batch of "patients" worked out. He could only assume this was the doctor’s way of trying to kickstart things again. Smashing all hope that maybe this place was actually going to shut down. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little annoyed by a new arrival considering his current situation.

• After a few days the rumors started to make their way up to his spot on the balcony. Looks like this new member has been making a name for themselves.

• Along with this rise in activity came the return of the PSAs. This time around though, something wasn't right. Boris was getting annoyed, Kamal could tell. Hell, you'd have to be a moron not to be able to.

• Kamal actually figured that would be it for you. You'd see the not so subtle threatening messages and go into hiding just like him and Wallus. However the very next morning Borbra was excitedly showing off her brand new Y'owl to everyone on the terrace. Unfortunately the purveyor themself stayed up all last night trying to catch it and wasn't around to join in on the fun.

• It didn't really seem like much at first but day after day things in the Habitat started to change. He never went down much further than the apartments but Lulia kept him pretty well informed and the PSAs alone gave him enough information to figure out what was going on.

• Soon the Carnival and the Lounge reopened as well and it almost seemed like every day more and more color was returning to the dreary Habitat. People eyes gave way to a kind of spark when they'd talk about you and anyone that crossed you path seemed to have a sort of glow around them.

• You and Habit had this weird little rivalry going on. It was terrifying but hilarious. You'd improve something around the Habitat and Habit would follow your action up by trying to show you up or by denouncing your behavior.

• Apparently you'd been refusing to eat anything from the lounge and your snarky comments about the poor supply management must have been overheard because by the next day the lounge received what, according to Jimothan, was more stock than the lounge had room for.

• That's what was so funny about it! Habit didn't care about making people happy, at least that's what Kamal figured at this point. He was just childish and jealous that you were doing his job better than him!

• It wasn't long after that that he'd finally get the chance to meet you himself. Not to sound rude but you didn't look like much at first. You were surprisingly normal looking compared to the other people around here. You didn't seem to pay him much mind either when you stepped up to the highest part of the balcony, gazing out over the edge through the missing bars.

• He could only assume it was you, the person everyone had been referring to as the flower kid. You didn't look like much of a kid per say but he guessed the term of endearment matched your actions. Maybe you were some kind of beatnik?

• If it wasn't for the way he unconsciously gasped when you leaned precariously over the edge you might not have even noticed him.

• You looked nervous at first but his own anxious prattling seemed to help you loosen up a bit and soon you got to talking. Gosh, you were a weird kid. Definitely not the type of person to find in a self help resort of all places.

• To think...you'd actually find him a tooth brush. To be honest, up until that moment he didn't think he cared what you were getting yourself into. But after helping him fix his teeth you just collected yourself calmly and went to move on like it was no big deal. In that moment he couldn't think of the last time someone had just done something for him. So he spoke quite unceremoniously in what he assumed was his own half assed attempt to talk you down from the mountain you didn't know you were climbing.

"Habit?" You questioned him as if not understanding what he was getting at. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that guy wants to kick in my teeth", you continued half joking."

"You'd be surprised how not far that is from the actual truth." Kamal mumbled quietly. So you weren't oblivious to Habit's annoyance.

"I'll be honest, I don't know what I did to piss him off but if he wants me to leave he can ask me himself." Your tone wasn't challenging, it sounded more confused than anything. "I've been here almost two weeks, I just really want to talk to him at this point."

"Careful what you wish for, kiddo, but.... Kamal paused, "he's really not that bad a guy when you get to know him."

"Hm?"

"Heh, never mind. I do got a question for you though. What's someone like you doing in a place like this in the first place? You've obviously got enough positivity to share." His question seemed to catch you off guard and you looked to be searching for an answer. After a moment however you just shrugged wordlessly. "Fair enough fair enough."

• A while after that you made it a habit to stop by and say hi to him when you were making your rounds around the Habitat. It hadn't occurred to him how much he'd actually began to worry about you until you pulled a particular stunt.

• You came up to say hi like you usually did but instead of heading down to the apartments you stared wistfully over the edge of the balcony. He was about to tell you to be careful but didn't get the chance when you jumped through the missing bars and down into the courtyard.

• Kamal rushed down the ever daunting stairwell at a speed he didn't think was possible only to find you standing unharmed at the bottom. How did you - did he just - why??? 

• After that he regained the courage to start walking around the Habitat again. He didn't have to worry about Boris coming down. The big guy talked a big talk when he was behind that puppet but Kamal new him well enough to guess he wouldn't be coming down from his tower any time soon, at least not while you were still here.

• Apparently at some point amongst your little back and forths with Habit you even staged a little mock election for president of the Habitat. While it started out as a one sided joke on your part, Habit actually went through the trouble of having the fake campaign posters Putunia and Tim Tam had made around the Habitat torn down and replaced them with ones of his own. (All of which were quickly vandalized with marker mustaches and devil horns)

• While the whole thing started as a joke, it was just a testament to the fact that you had the whole freakin’ Habitat on your side, even those stupid Carlas. All you had to do was ask them and they'd let you into restricted areas or even forgo escorting you to your room at "beddy time" when you'd try to stay up. 

• The whole beddy time situation was something even he was too scared to mess with. You on the other hand didn't seem to mind ending every night passed out in the courtyard.

Kamal settled down pretty early one night and was just dosing off when he was startled awake by a distant scream. Had he been more awake, he'd have surprised himself with the guts he showed as he rushed out into the dark without a second thought to find the owner of the voice. He hadn't even made it to the stairs when a body crashed into his own. After stumbling for a moment he finally focusing on the panicked figure in front of him.

"Kid, what's the-"

Before he could finish you lurched away from him. "Kid, kid! It's okay it's me!" He spoke quickly, reaching out to steady your shoulders before you tripped over yourself

"K-kamal?"

"Yeah, it's just me, little buddy..." He gave you a reassuring smile as you finally seemed to be taking in your surroundings "Was that you who screamed? What happened?" Unfortunately this question struck the wrong cords as you quickly seemed to remember why you were running in the first place.

"Th-there was this-this...thing...down in the courtyard!" You backed away from him a few steps, pointing down the stairwell.

"Calm down. What kind of thing?"

"Some kind of, I don't know...some kind of shadow thing!" If you weren't still freaking out you might have noticed the way Kamal's face straightened in realization as soon as those words left you mouth. His attention was soon turned back to you though as he shifted into damage control mode.

"Okay, you're okay though right y-" Just then Kamal noticed the way you had been holding your left shoulder, his eyes trailing up to the small abrasion on your head above your temple. "Wait wait wait, did Ha- did this "shadow thing" do that to you?!"

"N-no, but I-", you were interrupted by a rush of lightheadedness but was steadied by Kamal before you could fall over.

"Lets...get out of the open and get you patched up, this "fresh mountain air" is giving me a headache. You can tell me the whole story once your nerves have settled a bit. " You could only offer a shaky nod, stumbling a few times as he seemed to be leading you in the direction of his room.

After instructing you to sit on his bed, Kamal got to work cleaning up the small wound on your head. It wasn't actually too bad, just a shallow scrape with a lot of bruising.

"You see a few hours ago Tim Tam snatched Millie's golf club and stashed it somewhere in the courtyard. We searched for it all day but we couldn't find it anywhere and Mil was getting really upset so I promised her I'd find it for her by morning..." Kamal listened quietly, putting a bit of pressure on your sore shoulder to see how you'd react. "It was getting dark and I was about to give up, but then I saw it up in that big tree by the corner."

"Don't tell me; you climbed up to get it, didn't you?"

"I...yeah. I'd almost made it the whole way up when I started feeling groggy and after a minute I must have blacked out, cause the next thing I know I'm on the ground looking up at the stars.

"You fell out?! Is that why you screamed?"

"No-no, I couldn't do anything at first, I was so out of it." The color drained from your face as you continued. "My vision was fading in and out but I think the pain in my arm was keeping me awake. It hurt so bad but I still couldn't move....it was terrifying."

"Sounds like it..." Kamal finished his inspection and sat beside you when he noticed your growing discomfort.

"That's when I saw it. It was out of the corner of my eye at first but it kept getting closer. I thought for sure I was hallucinating, because I couldn't hear any footsteps and the next thing I know it's standing over me... It was...some kind of...shadow. Then...it reached down and-and started trying to pick me up! That...that must have been enough to get my adrenaline pumping cause I screamed and kicked it right in the stomach! Then...I pulled myself to my feet and ran..."

"And that's when you ran into me huh?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry I just..."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad ya did actually. Your shoulder should be okay, just a little sore for a while, try not to sleep on it, kay?" You once again responded by nodding quietly.

Shoot, you were really shaken up...not that he could blame you. It was a bit jarring actually; to see the infamous flower kid so scared. Stupid Habit and his stupid laughing gas. Stupid him for helping that maniac load the stuff into that stupid machine!

While he had all night to sit there and curse himself out, he was brought back to reality when you stood up beside him.

"I should probably head back to my room... Whatever it was was probably just another one of Habit's tricks to get me to follow curfew anyways." One thing Kamal was sure of; he was not a fan of the despondence in your voice.

"Actually!" He jumped from his spot to stop you, "Why don't you crash with me for the night? No reason to got trudging around in the dark."

"That's sweet but I'll be fine really."

"Ayy, c'mon it's no trouble. I'll sleep on the futon. 'Sides, won't it be kinda fun throwing the green guy for a loop? You ain't out and about, you ain't in your room; he'll be up all night tryin' ta figure out where ya went!" While Kamal never considered himself good a cheering folks up, the small smile you cracked had to count for something.

"Only if I get to sleep in the futon, I don’t want to impose..."

"You're twistin' my arm here, kid, buuut...I guess I can compromise, for the sake of irking a common enemy." The small laugh he got out of you mad him feel happier than he would have been able to admit with a straight face. You really had a way of making folks care about you, kid, and he was no exception.

• That night shared something in common with the night of the Big Event

Kamal was scared, he was always so scared; until he saw someone that was just as scared if not more than him. It's easy to be scared when the only person you're worried about protecting is yourself. But even after finding out Habit was involved that night, seeing someone like you beat up and frightened because of him made him angry. The same went for seeing you walk out of those gates, mouth bloody with Habit in tow.

• He's always going to be a little angry at himself for it taking seeing your courage the night of the Big Event for him to fully realize it. He never would have thought himself brave enough to almost uppercut Habit, let alone have the patience to invite him to come along back to his place with the two of you afterwards at your request.

[purplesurveys]

1269

Last thing you bought online? Did you like it? OMG OMG so I got Angela an Army Bomb!!!!!! for her birthday!!!! It was HELLLL looking for sealed ones that were already onhand, but fortunately I was able to find one from this really nice seller a few days ago and the shipping was quick as well. I’m just a little worried because the outbox has a little dent on it :( but it was the best onhand offer I could find so I got it before anybody could call dibs. I still hope she likes it! I got her batteries too so that she can try lighting it up as soon as she has it. :D

Could you date someone who didn’t drive (and didn’t show an interest in ever getting their license, either)?  I feel like this is such a petty thing to make a big deal about...if they knew how to commute or any other way to get to their destination, I don’t think this should be a problem. It would only be an issue to me if they refused to get a license in a very I-generally-lack-ambition kind of way.

How would you react if your artwork became famous?  I don’t have any to show off to begin with. I love appreciating art, but creating it was never a forte of mine.

Would you get your nipples pierced?  No, I don’t plan on getting any piercings. How many people know your birthday?  Outside of my family, my best friends. I think everyone else relies on Facebook to be reminded, which is fine with me.

Has anyone ever tried to ruin a relationship you were in?  No. Quite the contrary, really...I was sometimes informed about red flags taking place, which of course my stubborn ass ignored.

Have you ever watched a whole hour long infomercial?  Probably, as a kid. The channel from which I used to watch WWE aired these really long infomercials so I would watch those while waiting for like Raw or whatever show was going on after.

What is your current MySpace song?  I never hung out on Myspace. I had an account, but I was too young for it so it wasn’t long before I got bored.

What is your favorite kind of meat to put on your sandwich?  Pulled pork or fried chicken.

Which one of your exes do you feel like you have the most chemistry with?  I only have one ex.

How do you feel about people who make Facebook profiles for their pets? I find it really cute. But I personally wouldn’t put in as much effort lol.

Have you ever personally known a pair of conjoined twins?  Hmmmmmmmm I don’t think so.

What was the most disturbing thing you have ever heard your mother say? She threatened suicide in front of me and my dad in a very calm way when I was around 11, I think? Maybe 12, idk. I haven’t actually thought about that moment in an extremely long time until this question. I’ll move on now and shove the memory at the very very back of my head before I get sad.

Is there something in particular you like to look at photos of? What is it?  Aside from members of BTS (lol), interior design inspirations.

Chewy chocolate-chip cookies: like or dislike?  Ooh, love. When I bite into a cookie it hassssss to ooze chocolate, otherwise I would be underwhelmed.

If your boyfriend/girlfriend wanted to dress only in the opposite sex’s clothing, would you support that? If not, would you leave them?  Support.

Do you think your grandmother is/was beautiful?  They both are.

Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on?  Anything that has to do with writing (except poems), I guess? I like being able to give people advice and tips when it comes to that.

When was the last time you got all dolled up?  Last July when we had a big PR media launch thingy and I couldn’t afford to look like shit on Zoom.

Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.)  Never.

Do you have a criminal record?  Not criminal but it’s possibleeeee that I have some kind of record on my license from the time I got stopped by an officer in Alabang, lmao. It was a minor offense from a tiny part of the town so I don’t actually know if they filed it, but it’s possible.

Last person you took a nap with?  I don’t really nap with other people. I hate falling asleep in front of others to begin with.

Does seeing your mother cry automatically make you feel sad as well?  No.

Do you think someone likes the same person you like?  I don’t like anybody.

Do you want your life to stay the way it is right now forever?  No, I do not want to stay in a pandemic and not get to maximize my life the way it’s supposed to be enjoyed forever.

Have you ever been to craigslist.com?  I’ve never checked it out; idk if we have that here?

What about eBay?  I also dunno if they operate here so no, I’ve never bothered.

Have you ever used Nair?  Not Nair, but I’ve used Veet before.

Are you medicated?  Nope.

Do you shape/fill in your eyebrows?  I never do stuff to my eyebrows except shave them.

Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex?  Several articles of clothing were left behind here, yeah. I never had the chance to give them back because I stupidly thought we were going to get back together eventually. By the time I moved on the timing was already off, so the clothes stayed with me untillll...just a few days ago, actually – when I finally cleaned up my room and got rid of a bunch of knickknacks that accumulated here over the years, including all her shirts and sweaters and stuff.

Could you make a statement about anything political?  The 2022 presidential election landscape looks like complete shit and I’m nearly at that point where I want to stop giving a fuck about this country’s future.

Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate?  No.

Do you get the feeling something good will happen in your life soon?  I think I’m already living in it, haha.

Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche?  Sure, but cliché is also hit and miss for me. I love Titanic and Love Actually, but I cannot stand movies like Me Before You and The Notebook. I guess it depends on certain executions, like the acting, screenplay, casting, etc.

Have you been to McDonald’s in the past month?  No, not inside. We did drive-thru within the last month, though.

Have you ever slept over at your best friend’s house?  Not at Andi’s, but I have at Angela’s.

How often do you go bowling?  Extremely rarely. I can’t tell you the last time I went bowling.

Last time you were in an apartment?  Like 2007 when I visited my aunt back when she still lived in one. None of my friends have their own apartments.

Have you ever seen a live seahorse?  I don’t think so.

Would you like to have your own yacht? I mean I wouldn't say no if you offered it to me for free, but I'm not exactly interested in one. < Same.

Winnie the Pooh or Tigger?  Tigger always made me laugh as a kid.

What’s the unhealthiest thing you’ve eaten today?  Luncheon meat, I think? I didn’t go overboard with the junk food today.

Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink?  Hm, not that I can recall.

What is something you’d be happy to receive as a gift, that doesn’t cost a lot?  A bag of the salted egg chips that I really like costs like 30 bucks, or roughly 60 US cents.

What kind of music does your significant other/crush like to listen to?  I don’t have any irl crushes, can I use a celebrity crush instead? HAHA he’s heavily into jazz and whenever he gets asked for music recos he always gives jazz artists from like the 50s and 60s.

Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were?  Gab. Dark brown.

Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? The Big Bang Theory and Friends; and then I also liked humming to the themes of Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, and BoJack Horseman. The Phineas & Ferb theme was also a lot of fun to sing along to.

Do you eat dessert after dinner? No, I never do that. I’m usually already full after dinner, and we don’t always have sweets at home anyway.

Have you ever had too much to drink and felt embarrassed about your behavior the next day?  Sure.

When you go out drinking, what do you prefer to drink?  Cocktails. I very rarely go for hard drinks/shots, especially if I brought my own car.

What was the last animal that you saw?  Dog.

What was the last thing that you said to one of your siblings?  I just told my sister I was done using her laptop so she can have it back. My Memories of 2020 DVD turned out to be region-locked so I have to use her laptop every time I want to watch it :(

What is the most expensive thing that you’ve purchased that you paid for:  My Map of the Soul photobook cost me around 5k in total.

What is your favorite messaging program?  Messenger.

Do you eat fast food more than 5 times a week?  Wow no. Aside from being extremely unhealthy, that’s also a LOT of spending??

Have you ever almost drowned?  Yes.

Have you ever learned something shocking about someone through Facebook?  I mean I’ve had to learn about more than one family death through my Facebook feed, which sucks but is nothing I have control over. Otherwise the most shocking thing I’ve seen is probably classmates from high school having their own kids, but at this point I’m used to it already.

What’s the scariest living animal that you’ve petted?  I’m not really afraid of carrying/petting animals especially if there’s a guide or expert nearby, but the most daring one was probably the crocodile I volunteered to hold in Palawan.

Do you remember the first conversation you ever had with the person you currently have feelings for?  Not at all.

Do you dread certain days of the week? If yes, what day/s and why?  I hate Mondays for obvious reasons lol. I don’t know anyone who is actively cheery about reporting back to work.

If you eat oatmeal, do you have it plain or do you have certain toppings that you like to add to it?  I never eat oatmeal. I had that every single day for breakfast from like kindergarten to 4th grade and I vowed never to take a spoonful of it again.

What is the funniest or strangest thing you’ve ever heard somebody say in their sleep?  I dunno. I used to keep a log of the things my ex used to say in her sleep and a great deal of them were hilarious, but obviously I deleted that note a long time ago.

Choose one - Butterfinger, Milky Way, Snickers:  Butterfinger.

Do you use Mozilla Firefox? Nopes.

Who is your favorite person to hug? Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever had to have a mug shot?  Nope.

What was the last thing you carried to your room?  Kimi.

When was the last time you had a late night phone call?  WELL over a year ago.

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Tagged by: @neurosismancer​

Name: If you know it, you know it. If not, you’ve probably got no shortage of things to call me anyway.

Gender: *siiiiiigh* Goddammit, I’m tired. Potted version: Two of us in here, one woman, one agender using he/him pronouns, and the whole combined entity uses they/them and goes “enh, I guess” to the idea of “demi-woman” as a gender.

Star sign: Sagittarius. Or Ophiuchus, if we’re doing the sidereal thing, which I have a certain affection for because of who it pisses off.

Height: 5'4″/163 cm

Time: 10:41 PM US Eastern Daylight Time as I type this.

Birthdays: ...do people other than my mom have more than one? Anyway, it was a few months ago.

Favorite band(s): Are we doing this again? Anyway, I’ve recently looked back in on Triakel, Garmarna, and Hedningarna, who’ve been quite active while I was gone.

Favorite solo artist(s): Similarly with Kepa Junkera, who seems to average releasing/guesting on three albums a year. The last I’d checked in on him was in 2008 when Etxea dropped, and it took me about four days to listen to everything he’s put out since then. That’s a lot of accordion. (My dad rather liked him, even if he did have a habit of ‘humorously’ mispronouncing his name as “Creepy Junkie”, and I couldn’t help but think he would’ve liked some of the new material—one of the few occasions where I’ve felt anything other than relief that he’s gone.)

Song stuck in my head: Bok-Espok by Kepa Junkera, which he seems to reprise every other album. Which means I’ve heard it many, many times this week.

Last movie I watched: None recently, no.

Last show I watched Last game I played: I don’t watch TV, so let me hijack this question like I usually do. I’m currently partway through the When Twilight Strikes demo, and while I’m thiiiiiis close to offering my services as a local consultant for the NYC stuff and found the “exotic beauty” kind of tone to Blane’s initial description somewhat uncomfortable, it’s otherwise been great fun, and I’m looking forward to future updates.

When did I create this blog: 2013. April, if I’m not mistaken.

When I post: Post post? Not often, it’s just about wall-to-wall reblogs around here.

Last thing googled: "shaped like a friend”, because I was curious about how long ago that phrase was coined. The Internet was unhelpful on the matter.

Other blogs: Nope! I’ve been Team Let It All Hang Out since day 1.

Do I get asks: Sometimes, usually when I’ve posted an ask meme.

Why I chose my URL: Paul Celan, “Die hellen/Steine” (The bright/Stones) Celan’s good, you ought to read him. Depressing, mind.

Followers: 324, which IIRC is more than double what I had a year ago. Dragon Age fandom is probably responsible for quite a lot of the increase. I can only imagine what the people who followed me for my DA diaries think of me now!

Average hours of sleep: 6-7. A bit more when I’m not waking up early for work, but not by much.

Lucky number: 7, I’m boring.

Instruments: Not anymore. Somewhere among the infinite possibilities of the multiverse is a timeline where I’m not cursed with cloth ears, tiny fingers, and bullshit lung capacity and was able to get reasonably good at something. Maybe an instrument, maybe singing. I liked singing.

What I’m wearing: My black pajama pants again, this time with a galaxy-print T-shirt in ace flag colors. (I needed some purple shirts to go with the purple skirts in my summer wardrobe, and I was like, “I know what’s purple!”)

Dream trip: No. I’m done.

Favorite food: All of them, leave me alone. OK, not all of them, I’m actually kind of picky and a lot of fruits and vegetables that I used to like now make me violently sick, but you get the idea. I do make a point of ordering mofongo on special occasions (and Election Day), though. Good stuff.

Nationality: American. Mom thinks I might be eligible for a Greek passport, but I’m not so sure, especially since she was naturalized here years before I was born.

Favorite song: You know I’m not going to give this an actual answer, but here, have a song: Stina by Triakel, which I haven’t found an English translation of but is definitely catchy as hell.

Last book I read: Currently about halfway through Arkady Martine’s A Desolation Called Peace. What an incredible book, she’s somehow gotten even better at writing since the first one. In particular, I’m going to be shoving it in the face of anyone writing about a child being raised for rulership, like a crown prince in a monarchy—the characterization of Imperial Associate Eight Antidote (bright, socially and politically aware, and eleven goddamn years old someone please hug this child what are you doing to him) is one of the highlights of the whole thing so far.

Top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: Oof. Teixcalaan might not be so terrible, if I were Teixcalaanli of reasonably comfortable socioeconomic status. (Oh, stop, no way in hell was I the only one idly wondering what I might use as a Teixcalaanli name by halfway through the first book—how’s Fourteen Reflection sound?) I’m starting to feel like the Star Wars universe would be a lateral move, and if I can petition to specifically be plopped into an Alexander Freed novel, at least my self-destructive tendencies will be beautifully rendered in graceful prose. And in the universe of AJ Hackwith’s The Library of the Unwritten, I’d be curious to see what my hypothetical creations would look like (though creators aren’t supposed to see them, at least not while alive).

Favorite color: Burgundy? Purple? Silver? White? Black? I’ve got a few. Basically, if it’s not green or orange, I’m probably OK with it.

[yandere-lovehotel]

Can we get a part two of that demon x reader story you wrote please??? 👀👀👀

I'm so happy that someone wanted a part two. I was contemplating writing a part two anyways but I'm happy to see someone requesting it. This is SFW and is shorter than part 1 but I hope you enjoy it

Warning: pregnancy with A bit of a pregnancy kink. Just a little bit though.

The only noise to be heard in the bathroom was your retching as you bent over the toilet. Marzath watched you fondly as he knelt beside you, holding your hair back.

It's been three months since he brought you here. Human pregnancy was so strange. He's seen plenty of pregnant women over his long life, even women impregnated by another demon. But this was his first time actually experiencing it. And he was...excited.

The idea that all your cute little mood swings and curious craving were because of him brought the strangest feeling of pride. He loved seeing your belly growing in order to carry his child. It made you feel so undeniable his. Just seeing you filled him with such unfamiliar feelings. He's never felt this attached to anyone before. Fond, yes. Amused by, yes. But this was the first time he ever wanted someone. He wanted to claim you, to keep you. He wanted you to be his and now you were. Nothing would take you from him.

You were his and he was very much yours. He would give you (almost) anything if you just asked. He was completely at your mercy. He would let you break him apart and put him back together if it made you happy.

He was brought out of his musings by your coughing, signaling the end of your bout of nausea. He cooed comforting words at you, ignoring how you tried to squirm away from him. It didn't matter how much you wanted to get away from him. You will never leave.

He helps you to the sink to wash your mouth before he elects to pick you up. One arm under your legs with the other supporting your back. You put up a small fight, the chain cuffed around your ankle clanking and jingling as you kicked your legs. But even you knew that the fight was futile. Even if you could escape his grasp, you wouldn't really make it anywhere. Not with the chain and not in your condition.

Marzath laid you gently onto the bed, pausing briefly to caress your cheek. "Do you feel better, my dear?" He asked. You didn't even look at him, staying silent and still. He chuckled at your small act of defiance. No matter. Instead he simply moved his hands to the small bump of your stomach that was just starting to grow. Extending just a small bit of his power allowed him to see it. The small barely there glow of his child's soul. It was too early to tell much about it, but feeling it there, just one more bit of proof that you're his, made his chest swell with affection. 

He knew how you felt about him, that you hated him, that you wish you never met him, and how you probably hated this child as well. But none of that mattered. Truthfully, he would prefer that you returned his feelings. That you wouldn't flinch or fight or ignore him. But he had you for the rest of eternity and that was all that mattered. Besides, he has all the time in the world to change how you feel. Maybe you'll never love him the way he loves you, but you'll at least learn to enjoy his company. It may take centuries but he was willing to wait. He loved you too much to let you go.

He raised your shirt, paying no attention to the way you tensed at the action. He placed his head atop that little bump, dark hair falling around you, knowing he won't feel or hear a thing but wanting this small intimacy. He felt himself start to purr, deep in his chest.

"I'm sorry that I've been gone these last few days. Some demons simply don't know when to quit so I had to deal with a few pests. I've missed you so much while I was away. Having you in my arms again makes me feel whole again." Several weak demons had been sniffing around his territory, having heard of the pregnant human he had brought back. The fools had planned on getting their hands on you and using you to threaten him. He made sure that they suffered for their ideas.

This closeness to you and the child you both made together made him feel content. It was so rare that he felt that emotion. Powerful demons like him often had very few people they could relax around. Your scent, your voice, your skin. Everything about you made him feel happy and serene. He wanted nothing more than to simply hold in his arms and cherish you forever.

Though he hadn't know it at the time, his first meeting with you had sealed both of your fates. He was obsessed. When he was away from you all he could think of was returning to your side. He wanted to spend every moment with you, showing you the depth of his feelings.

For so long he had been bored. Lacking in something to make eternity worth living. Your very existence changed that. You held his very soul in your hands. And how cruel that you want nothing to do with it.

He began to doze off, something he only began to do when he met you, which signified how at ease you made him feel.

___________________________________

You were in hell. Literally and figuratively. At least you assumed you were physically in hell. You weren't about to ask him. The only time he took you outside of this room was to show you that you weren't in the human world anymore. But right here, right now, this was your own personal hell. Chained to a bed with the chain long enough to move about the room uninhibited but completely unable to leave.

Every second of every day since you woke up here was spent in this room. There was plenty to do. Marzath had been planning this room for you for quite some time and had left you entertainment to keep you busy. There was a TV that you had no idea how it managed to work in this place but it did. There were books and games that changed once you were done and bored of them.

There was an attached kitchen that never seemed to run out of food.  It seems Marzath went the distance to make sure you had everything you needed.You were even allowed limited internet access provided Marzath was in the room with you.

The room was luxurious. The bed was large and soft to the touch. The sheets and pillows made of silk. The food was always high quality and delicious. Your clothes were beautiful and comfortable. The bathroom made and filled with every luxury you could want.

But all of that did nothing to change the fact that you couldn't leave. It did nothing to erase the feeling of the chain around your ankle. It did nothing ease the feeling that he was always watching you. And it did nothing to take you away from the reality that you were trapped by a demon and pregnant with his spawn.

'A gilded cage is still just a cage' you thought to yourself. You could still feel Marzath's head pressed against your stomach as you lay there, quiet and unmoving. The feeling of his horns pressed against you had become a familiar sensation. This was far from the first time he had done this and it would be far from the last.

You could feel nothing but disgusted. He had taken you from everything you've ever known and locked you away like a prize. He ignored you how you felt. Touching and holding you when your skin crawled at the feel of his skin against yours. You ignored him at every turn. Never reciprocating his affection. Never giving him any hint that you felt anything but disdain for him. Never even speaking to him if you didn't have to.

You supposed it could be worse. Marzath could be a cruel and mean and violent. But he wasn't. He was kind (as kind as demon could be) and gentle. You hated it. You hated how nice he was to you. You didn't want him to sit by your side and comfort you as you gag into the toilet or sink. You didn't want him messaging your swollen feet and ankles when he noticed them bothering you. And you definitely didn't want him acting so... domestic with you.

He would press his face to your stomach and whisper and purr and act so happy. He would sit next to you while you read or watched TV and try to talk with you. He would hold you while you slept and rub circles on your back when you couldn't fall asleep.

You held on to your anger. Reminded yourself that he tricked you. That he brought you here against your will. But deep down, in the part of your mind that your stubbornly pushed away, denying its existence, you knew. It was only a matter of time before you gave into the sweet words and gestures. But damn it if you wouldn't hold out for as long as you possibly could.

In these moments you could really only think. Think of everything that led to this moment. Every decision, every mistake you made. It was your own fault that you were here, as much as you hated to admit it, even in your own mind. You should have never called upon him. You should have never made a deal with him. You should have simply let go and move on from the past but you didn't and now look at where you are. Trapped, isolated with the crazed demon that took an interest in you and pregnant with that same monster's child. You had no way out.

And now you had an eternity to look forward to.

[btxtreads]

ANOTHER TAG ASHJHJASD

extra long tag game (aka a tmi that no one particularly cares for)

tagged by @txthearteu​

tagging @markhyucknorenminchenji​ @qtsoobin​ @beomberry​ @txtdiaries​ and other people who wanna do it idk

ONE

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

of course, none other than king943 hSJADJSAJHAS. He’s a little secret I’ll let you all in on: the first person I actually noticed in TXT was,,,,,,, Kang Taehyun hSDHJAHJSDAHSA but he wasn’t my bias. I just thought he was cute (also amused me bc my BTS bias was Taehyung and I found a guy named Taehyun cute), but I didn’t stan them then. I started stanning when I saw ONE DREAM.TXT where they talked to BTS and found them really cute and endearing. Looking into them, they were wild, and chaotic and so fun and also i got rEAAAALLY attached to Soobin. So here I am. There u go, my stanning story.

TWO

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

what’s your unrealistic goal for life?

becoming a famous actress or singer hJSHADJSA

if you had known that we would be in a global pandemic, what’s one thing that you would’ve done before things shut down (if they have for you)?

Went to a theme park. I miss going to theme parks 🥺

what’s an unconventional thing that you carry around with you when you go out?

hmmm most of the time i just go out with just my phone and money unless I need to bring a bag due to safety concerns/more items needed. So I’d say nothing unconventional.

favourite type of plushies and why?

God do I seem boring hsahsajjsa but i wasn’t too big on plushies. I had a gigantic teddy bear named Justin when I was a kid (it’s a bear with shades that my brother gave me) and I used to buy plushies whenever I’m in disneyland, it’s all in my sister’s reading lounge. The only plushie in my room now is a Mollang doll wearing like a blue shirt/dress, it’s my favorite rn It’s squishyyyy

favourite song right now?

right now, it’s Work It by Sabrina Carpenter.

something that you’ve always wanted to learn?

Dancing (i literally suck. i have no idea how. no joke), Vocal Lessons (had some lessons briefly for like a year but i stopped and want to take some again), music production, acting, hosting

tell a funny story about yourself (or just something that you’ve witnessed)

ok okok so one time in our class groupchat we were talking about class elections for officers. There were muse votes and some people were saying they want me to be the muse but i didnt want to bc i was busy with work. Then they started saying that they want me to be the muse and this guy that i rejected be the escort. while this is happening, i was simping hard for soobin in another chat. anyways, i got everything mixed up and accidentally sent the soobin simp stuff to the class chat and everyone thought i was simping for the classmate i rejected i was so asHAMED.

headphones or speakers? why?

speakers! idk i just like blastic the music loud.

craving any food right now? what are you craving?

anything with cheese

which music streaming platform do you prefer? why?

spotify since its free for me askjjksad someone pays for my subscription lmaooo

😌✌️

questions from cj to me:

android or apple? why?

APPLE because im loyal 😌 and i guess im just used to it so its easier to use for me + all my gadgets at home are mac

words of affirmation or physical affection? why?

I think there should be a good balance of both. The words will have the ability to give you this sense of comfort and satisfaction and you know just overall a peace of mind when you hear the right words??? and physical affection bc sometimes it’s just better to get a hug or a kiss isntead of talking yk? actions speak louder than words sometimes

bean bag or rocking chair? why?

Honestly, this would depend. If I’m reading a book and feeling very vintage with a hot cup of coffee, definitely a rocking chair. If I’m watching TV and basically just chilling I’d go for Bean Bag. I like maintaining the atmosphere.

do you view a half-filled glass as half-full or half-empty or an in-between? why? (go as deep as you can)

I view it as in-between, because there’s always room for improvement. There’s always things to change, and consider, and make better. There’s no such thing as perfect.

If someone were to grant your wish right now, what would it be and why?

Please stop corona right now and let everyone go back to their daily lives and please let me attend a TXT concert bls im begging on my kNEES

if someone were to give you anything you want right now, what would it be and why? (something that can be held)

Give me Soobin I just want to give him a hug. this is valid i can hold him

favorite season and why

Winter! Even if I’ve never experienced snow or winter before, the whole idea of snow is just really fun and endearing to me. One of my bucketlists is to see snow in real life. I think it has to do with the fact that I’ve always been this person to prefer the cold over heat.

what made you enter tumblr?

I’ve always been here! Just not in kpop tumblr. I’ve since deleted my old accounts and shame  but i came back to write. It’s always been so stress-relieving to me, to write without any expectations on my back because I’m thinking about grades or a competition. Also Soobin simping is a daily thing and I gotta release it somewhere man

are you happy with where you are in life right now? why or why not?

Yes. I may not be the richest or the prettiest, or smartest or whatever, but I have a good family that loves me. I have good friends that support me and I have TXT and BTS to help me cope when things get overwhelming. I have a job that gives me a little bit of income (it’s not too common for college students here to get jobs like in the US, most of them just focus on acads) and all the means to continue my education amidst the pandemic. So really, I’m grateful for where I am now.

to see the boys in real life but for it to happen only once in your lifetime, or to meet the boys via online fan meeting as many times as you can in your lifetime? why?

Why do you have to do me dirty cj,,,,, prolly online. I may not get to hug them or anything but I get to talk to them still. As may times as I want to. And as a girl whose sanity literally just depends on Soobin giggles rn it’ll be very therapeutic to me to see them and talk to them as much as I could, even just through a screen.

QUESTIONS FROM ME TO YOU:

Cinema or Netflix? Why?

Fire or Rain? Why?

What’s the worst experience you’ve had as a KPOP stan?

How do you handle stress?

Favorite Disney Princess and why?

Which fictional character do you say you relate the most to?

How did you get into KPOP?

What kind of merch you got 👀

Would you date a KPOP idol? What would you do if you do date one? (doesnt have to be your bias, just wanna see what y’all would do)

Would you rather be with someone you love but doesn’t love you back or be with someone that loves yu but you don’t love them back? (Or, as the Filipinos would say, Mahal ko o Mahal Ako)

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

PERSONAL

name: -

nickname: rina

birthday: - 

zodiac: gemini

nationality: filipino

languages: english, filipino 

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: 5′2 like 2 years ago, i probably grew like an inch or two 

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: --

meaning behind my url: bts and txt fanfics to read hasjhsahj

blog established: ,,,,, i cant remember askjjksdjkdsa but the blog is only a few months old!

followers: 384!!! love yall 

FAVORITES

favourite animals: b u n n y y y y y

favourite books: CAMP HALF BLOOD SERIES BY RICK RIORDAN IM ZEUS’ DAUGHTER YALL

favourite colour: black, blue, purple

favourite fictional characters: Percy Jackson, Jaron from Ascendance Trilogy, Chimmy!!! hihi

favourite flower: white roses

favourite scent: coffee

favourite season: winter

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: 3-5 or 8-10.

cats or dogs: dogs because cats scare me

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee!!! especially if it’s iced and sweet

current time: 12:21 AM

dream trip: California. Look I have the visa, pls miss rona. just leave so cali can just let me IN

dream job: actress or singer

hobbies: writing, reading, watching crackvids

hogwarts house: gryffindor

last movie watched: Work It (bc it has sabrina carpenter ahshsahsa i have low standards when we talk about Sabrina)

last song listened to: Helpless - Hamilton OBC

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1

random fact(s): if given the chance again, I would go on a date in high school. Also try to exert more effort in my appearance back then i looked like an honest to god M E S S (tbh i still do but now i have eyebrow liner on) hsajhsajhh

FIVE

10 things I can’t stop listening to (at the moment)

Run Away - TXT

Work It - Sabrina Carpenter

Euphoria - BTS

Song Cry - Yeonjun

Helpless - Hamilton OBC

Satisfied - Hamilton OBC

Journey to the past - Anastasia OBC

Lost in the Woods - Frozen OST

Perfect Song - Sabrina Carpenter

Friends - BTS

[petracore101]

The Conflicting Narratives in RWBY V7

We’ve officially reached the end of the volume, so I’d like to share my take on why the final episodes were so controversial, and how the wild variety of reactions to them is rooted in the conflicting narratives of the volume. (And, to close a very long post, a hopeful note).

Part 1: What Drives a Narrative?

Before we can dig in, we’ve got to talk about how narrative arcs progress. Typically, stories are driven either by their plot (and thus focus on an external goal or enemy) or by their characters (and thus focus on internal struggles and growth). Though almost every story has a bit of both plot and characters driving the narrative, they’ll usually fall primarily on one side or the other.

At first glance, RWBY seems to fall into the plot-driven category. The characters are essentially working to stop Salem and save the world. But I would argue that it is actually a far more character driven show. The first 3 volumes are devoted to establishing our main characters, their internal struggles, and their motivations for what they do. Only after all that buildup are we told the true ‘mission’, but even then our characters do not revolve solely around that goal. We spend v4-5 exploring the personal trauma of each character, and only return to pursuing the plot goals in v6. That volume, too, was largely character driven, with our heroes confronting the potential futility of their mission and how to overcome that internal conflict. But, ultimately, these character-driven arcs are all set within one overarching plot-driven story. And that makes RWBY a complicated show to write.

It is in this inherent complexity that I think the conflict around V7 resides. The first 3/4 of the volume is almost exclusively character driven- with interpersonal relationships and internal struggles taking the vast majority of screen time. The team’s reactions to Mantle and Robyn, Ironwood’s development, the Ace Ops’ views on teamwork and friendship, the Schnee family dynamics, and Penny’s return/emotional conflict are all deeply personal character-driven arcs. But, like all of RWBY, this is set against the backdrop of a plot-driven main conflict. The goal is ultimately to keep Salem & co from doing to Atlas and Remnant what they did to Beacon. And though we focus on the character driven story elements at first, the end of the volume must wrap up the plot. And so the must narrative become more plot-driven.

Part 2: Satisfying Character Arcs

The (arguably) biggest challenge when balancing character and plot-driven narratives is to ensure that the choices the plot needs characters to make are set up or explained by their internal and interpersonal characterization. If you start with a plot-driven story, you need the resulting character reactions to satisfy the plot lines you set up. If you start with a character-driven story, you need the concluding plot elements to satisfy the character arcs you’ve established. Basically, character motivations must naturally lead into what the plot requires. Otherwise the story you tell just isn’t satisfying, and you leave your audience feeling confused or cheated. Weaving those elements together can be incredibly challenging, hence why most stories let one or the other drive the narrative.

In v7, RWBY failed to adequately show how the character arcs in the first part of the volume would motivate their plot-required actions in the final few episodes. While the plot’s direction was somewhat clear from the start, the character-driven narrative simply did not organically tie into the plot-driven one. So, while the final episodes make perfect sense from an external, plot-grounded perspective, they do not make sense from an internal, character-grounded one. How well this goes over with an audience is really perception based, but I’ll get there in a bit. For, now, let’s look at some examples of what I mean:

Ironwood’s plot-driven narrative is that of a general willing to do whatever it takes to stop the greatest threat to mankind. Despite authoritarian tendencies, he tries to work with RWBY&co, and eventually learns to trust his fellow leaders and work with them in a last ditch effort to save his cities. But he is pushed past his breaking point when Salem uses his compassion against him to threaten everything he’s charged with protecting. In a final bid to keep from losing on every front, he betrays his new allies and abandons many of his people to protect the relics and those he thinks he can still save. Now, that progression makes sense. The plot works, it seems like a solid arc. The problem is that his character-driven narrative does not set that ending up. In the early volume, we see him repeatedly face down impossible odds, choose to trust those around him rather than silence them, and refuse to give in to fear even when confronted with his biggest PTSD trigger. We are never shown a moment where he gives into fear, or sacrifices lives to save others, or even acts on some suspicion towards RWBY & co. We are told about past actions, and we can thus infer what the plot implies about him, yes, but the character narrative does not establish the conditions for his final plot plot choices.

Clover has a similar issue. The plot tells us that he’s a top special operative, wholly devoted to Ironwood and willing to follow his orders into anything. He tries to reach out to Qrow, to form a working relationship, but typically does not see professional partnerships as personally meaningful. When given an order to arrest Qrow, he does so without question, certain his general has due cause. And when Qrow won’t go quietly, he does everything in his power to take him in by force. Again, all that makes sense, from a plot perspective. But that does not match the character that the early volume developed. Instead, almost all of Clover’s characterization centers on Qrow. He is kind and flirtatious with him, has virtually no interactions with anyone else, and Ironwood is rarely even mentioned. Clover’s relationship with Qrow characterizes him as easy going and reasonable, and they do not show any focus on his devotion to Ironwood or even to following orders. Because he’s only ever developed on screen by his interactions with Qrow, that’s the only character driven narrative we have for him. So while his plot arc makes sense for the character concept and plot beats, it isn’t supported by his characterization.

The same could even be said of Qrow, who chooses to work with Tyrian to stop Clover when he can’t get Clover to stop attacking him. The plot essentially tells us that he thinks it always comes to this with his friends, that Qrow will always choose to do what he must to survive and keep fighting. But Qrow’s v7 characterization has been about fear of hurting those he cares for, and relief at being around someone he might not inherently endanger. Even with Raven, he never aimed to truly hurt her, even when she sided with Salem. The past several volumes, his journey has been about learning to let those he loves be near him- which he has done with RWBYJNOR. There were no character moments in v7 indicating that he still had massive doubts about that choice. And he’s certainly shown no indication that he would ever work with someone he despised, especially not against someone he cared for. While his plot makes sense for a tired older man who’s used to being alone and has already lost so much, his previous characterization in this volume simply does not match the decisions the plot demands he make.

Likewise, Robyn’s willingness to square off with Clover on the airship makes sense for her plot. She’s the rebellious hometown vigilante hero, passionate and willing to fight for what she believes in. But her characterization has repeatedly shown that she knows when to back down and live to fight another day, when to manipulate those around her to get what she needs, and when to run so she can do more good elsewhere. We’ve never previously seen her turn to useless violence out of anger, even when pressed (as with the cargo blockade or election night). Her primary concern has always been show to be the people of Mantle, and she’s always smart about placing herself in the optimal position to help them. And she’s very good at finding another way when faced with horrid choices. So choosing to fight Clover in a tiny airship (while a completely justified response), doesn’t match the character we’ve seen established. That character might have ditched the plane to go help Mantle, might have convinced Clover to let her get to Ironwood, might even have convinced Qrow to fight back against Clover. But trying to take Clover out when the odds are entirely against her, and Tyrian’s still a threat? That choice only matches her plot.

In some ways, the Ace Ops as a whole have a similar problem. Though, for them, it is more that we got very little initial characterization, and not much screen time showing their relationship with team RWBY. This doesn’t bother me as much, because they are truly just side characters, but it does make the personal stake they seem to have in their battle with RWBY seem odd. Again, the character narrative did not adequately set up relationships between them, so when the plot demands they feel personally betrayed by RWBY’s dissension, it falls a little flat.

While none of these choices are really out of character when taken in the context of the plot, they are not actions that would naturally arise from the character narrative. And so, regardless of how many plot points there are telling us that the character will act this way, it still feels inorganic because we’ve never seen them act this way. The arc might make sense in the plot, but it’s not satisfying.

Part 3: Perception of Narrative

How a moment feels to the audience is dependent on how they’re engaging with the material. There are lots of ways for a viewer to engage with a show, but they are generally focused on what lens the audience member is using to view the narrative. For the purpose of this discussion, we’ll compare people who see stories through the eyes of a character(s) and those who see them through the context of the plot. Neither is inherently better, but both offer distinct perspectives on the narrative.

When viewed through the lens of plot, v7 is a coherent and well executed story arc. But because the plot-driven and character-driven parts of the narrative in v7 often don’t match up, people who view the story through the context of plot see a very different story than those who are viewing it through the eyes of the characters. This is particularly true if the characters an audience member engages with have been characterized differently by their internal struggles than by the plot. Some characters (like team RWBY, for example) have had plot actions which are largely consistent with their characterization and internal motivations. So viewers who see the story through their eyes may not see any major discontinuity in the narrative. But other characters (like those in part 2), made some choices in the last few episodes that do not follow naturally from their previous behavior. Though there is plot justification for these inconsistencies, viewers seeing the story through their eyes will still find the discontinuity jarring. And that impacts the perceived validity of the narrative.

And thus we get some parts of the FNDM furious over inconsistent or poorly written character arcs, while others see them as perfectly in character and well written. And again, neither perspective is better. They are simply viewing the story with entirely different context. And because v7’s final episodes did not smoothly transition from a character-driven to plot-driven narrative, that different context creates conflicting perceived narratives.

Part 4: Writing and Sacrifices

So how did we end up its such a big difference in how the narrative was perceived? Well, I think it has a lot to do with RWBY getting a new writing team.

Don’t get me wrong- I’m SO glad they’ve brought on some new writers. They absolutely needed more hands on deck, and some of my favorite moments this volume have come from the new folks at the writing desk. But learning to work with a new team is a hard process. Balancing this many characters and story arcs is hard even when you only have to communicate with yourself, and the more people you add, the harder it gets. Weaving together character and plot driven narratives is never easy, but trying to do so with a writing team that is still learning how they work together? That’s damn near impossible.

Overall, I think the team did an incredible job, especially since it was their first volume together, and they were taking on a massive amount of material. But I do think that they bit off more story than they had time to chew. Limited runtime makes it challenging to fit in enough connecting tissue without sacrificing other aspects of the story they wanted to tell, and honestly I’m not sure it would even have been possible if they’d been working together for decades. This was a somewhat short volume, without many long episodes. We started with a lot of characters- RWBY, JNOR, Qrow and Maria- and then added Pietro, Penny, Ironwood, Winter, the Ace Ops, the Happy Huntresses, the Schnee family, the Council... Not to mention juggling Watts, Tyrian, Cinder, and Neo. There just wasn’t time to establish all of them, let alone weave all their motivations and identities into a coherent plot.

I don’t think there was any way for the writers to give everything the screen time it needed to develop. We didn’t even have time to introduce everyone to each other, even with most character growth postponed to allow time to show us a few key dynamics. Already established dynamics (like those among RWBY and JNOR) aren’t given a lot of focus, because they can just be inferred. So we got a volume where most of the main cast has a flat or nonexistent character arc, and side characters whose brief moments of characterization have to focus on humanizing them and getting the audience interested, rather than establishing a precedent for their future decisions. And all the rest gets told to us outside the on-screen events of the volume, or through rapid/fire exposition. Which works well for some people, and is still good from a plot-focused perspective, but throws others entirely out of the narrative because it doesn’t allow for a character-driven one.

I get the feeling that the writers were faced with limited time and a lot of story to tell. And so they chose to sacrifice some continuity in character development in order to fit more of the plot they wanted, rather than lose any plot points or spread out the arcs. And while I understand the reasoning behind that choice, I’m not sure that the sacrifice was worth it.

Part 5: A Personal Note

For me, the most interesting and uplifting thing about RWBY is how much the character’s choices are their own. Despite living in a world that seems built to force them on a certain path, they stubbornly continue to choose their own destinies. Even in the face of destruction, their choices always matter. I love that in a story so focused on destiny, choice is ultimately the greatest power the characters have. It’s such a beautiful message, and it’s a big part of why I love the show. So to have their internal motivations overlooked for the sake of plot feels, well, wrong to me. As if it contradicts the very core of the story’s meaning.

This volume’s conclusion has left me feeling... disappointed. The message of the plot still matches the story I fell in love with, but, for me at least, that message is undermined by the way we got there. The journey will always hold more meaning to me than the destination, and the characters more importance than the plot. That said, RWBY is still one of my favorite stories, and a journey I am glad to be on. I hope that the writers will learn from the criticism of this volume’s end, as they have from criticism in the past. I’ll keep loving and supporting this show, it’s characters, and it’s creative team. And I’ll keep hoping that the next chapter in this story will be better than the last.

Because, ultimately, that’s what RWBY means to me. That it’s worth it to keep on hoping, to keep on loving, to keep on opening your heart to the world. To just... live.

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 11

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,817

Warnings: none

It's been a long time since I rock and rolled

It's been a long time since I did the Stroll

Oh let me get it back let me get it back

Let me get it back baby where I come from

(x)

The shrill ring of an alarm clock awoke the couple on Sunday morning. Elle's hand shot out from under the covers, frantically trying to turn it off. After a few seconds of fumbling and silent cursing, the alarm ceased it's screeching. Peaceful silence filled the small bedroom of her apartment, and for a moment he thought of just drifting back off.

He was persuaded out of this thought as he felt a pair of lips press to his neck and a few stray curls tickling his cheek.

"Time to get up," Her voice was full of sleep.

"But it's so warm here," He responded, wrapping his arms around her naked waist.

"I know, I wanna stay too, but we've got work to do," She laughed as he nuzzled his nose with hers.

"We could hold class here, I could teach you a few things while still under the covers," He teased, his calloused hands running further down her body.

"Babe," She half-scolded him, biting back a laugh as his beard tickled her neck as he kissed her.

"I know," He sighed dramatically, letting her break from his hold. The two crawled out of bed, their bodies tensing when greeted with the chilly morning air.

She walked to the bathroom while he retrieved a pair of sweatpants from his bag. He was unfolding them when he felt a sharp smack across his rear. He turned to see her smiling up at him, toothbrush in her mouth.

"Can you blame me?" She asked.

He answered by grabbing a handful of hers before giving her a light smack.

"Brush your teeth, dear," He smiled back. She rolled her eyes but retreated back to the bathroom.

He finished getting dressed, a grey t-shirt from his boot camp days and a pair of sneakers that didn't get much use other than working out in the minuscule station gym.

He switched places with Elle, brushing his teeth and slashing some water on his hair while she got dressed.

He met her in the kitchen, where she was pulling out a frying pan and a carton of eggs. She was wearing a blue tracksuit and a N.O.W. New York chapter t-shirt with a pair of converse.

"Scrambled or Over Easy?" She called to him.

"Over Easy," He answers, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and throwing a few slices of bread into the toaster.

He retrieved the morning paper from the hallway while she turned on the radio. The voice of Carole King drifted from the speakers and filled the kitchen as she cracked the eggs into the pan.

He retrieved the newly toasted bread and set it on the table. He grabbed some plates from the cabinet and held them out so Elle could scoop the eggs on to them. They sat at the table together, her feet in his lap.

He read from the morning paper as they ate, with her adding commentary every once in a while.

"Election Day is coming up, they seem to be writing about it like Nixon was already re-elected,” He shared, absentmindedly moving the egg around in his plate.

"Ugh, I hope not. He's kept us in this war for too long," She scoffed.

"He's been pulling troops out though, it sounds like he is ending it soon,"

"This close to Election Day?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "We'll see what he does after the 8th,"

"So you're for McGovern then?" He asked, putting the paper down so he could finish eating.

"I mean I was hoping Chisholm was gonna be the democratic candidate but McGovern seems pretty strong too," She explained. "Chisholm was an assemblywoman in New York City, did some great stuff there. And it would have been cool to see a black woman as president,"

"Do you think America would be ready for that?" He asked.

"Probably not, but times are changing. I hope to see at least one in my lifetime," She finished her orange juice and poured another glass. "In the meantime, McGovern would end the war, he's been against it since the beginning. No offense to you of course,"

"None taken. I went because it seemed expected of me. Military family and all. And I probably would have been drafted if I'd waited," He explained. "I was 18, didn't really know what was going on, just that I was going to help those in need,"

"And once you were there?" She asked. He realized that he'd never really talked about his service with her before. He could see now the contained curiosity in her face, like she'd been wanting to ask but was unsure of his to brooch the topic.

"I didn't really know why we were there. We didn't seem to be doing much. I barely saw any action. We mostly were in the jungle, keeping watch and being bored. Probably one of the reasons why we came back so quickly,"

"I heard much different stories in college. Not that I don't believe you, but protesters always made it seem like you guys were slaughtering innocent people everyday,"

"I didn't experience that in my time, but I've heard other stories from other people. Some just won't talk about it at all, they freeze up. I don't think anyone really wants to stay though,"

"So you don't think we should be there?" She asked. He paused, thinking about it.

"I don't know if my opinion matters. They aren't going to pull out of Vietnam just because I have an opinion,"

"I think it matters. You were in the thick of it, your opinion probably matters the most. You fought in a highly controversial war that's still going on, and came home to a very divided country. There's protests and media coverage, it's almost impossible to not have an opinion at this point," She stated.

He ran his hands over her feet in his lap. He knew she had strong opinions, he appreciated it. But he didn't himself. He pushed any thoughts of being in Vietnam out of his head, didn't want to think about it. She was making him consider it.

"As I said, I'm not sure if what we're doing over there is helping. Nixon says he's pulling out troops, which is probably for the best. We could be using that money back home,"

"Yeah I think so too," She said quietly. He went back to eating and she poked him with one of her feet a moment later.

"Hey," She called. He looked back up at her. "Thanks for talking to me about your service, I know it must have been hard. And you know that I love you no matter what, right?"

"Yeah," He smiled, tickling the bottom of her foot, making her squeak. "And I love you even if you’re going to protests and making my job harder,"

"Peace and love man," She put up the V symbol with her fingers.

"Just don't run off and become a Hare Krishna. You can't pull off bald," He gets up and kisses her forehead. They both laugh.

"It's almost nine, do you want to start heading over?" She asked him, clearing the table after they were done eating.

"Yeah, let's go," He agreed, helping her set the plates into the sink. He'd volunteered to do dishes later.

They got into his car and drove towards the station. The streets were quiet, with most of the shops being closed for the day.

"Everyone must be in church," She noted, staring out the window as they drove.

"Yeah, it's pretty quiet out here on Sunday mornings," He noted.

"It was like that in Indiana too," She said, "New York was never quiet. Someone was always out and about. And I lived in a pretty diverse neighborhood so we had a lot of different religions around,"

"They do say it's the city that never sleeps," He mused.

"Something always seemed to be going on. Buffalo too, to a lesser extent. That’s were I wen to college upstate,” After a beat of silence she switched topics.

“I took a self defense class when I was home on break once. There was a studio offering a women-only class uptown,"

"Did you ever wind up needing to use them?"

"No, I was pretty fortunate that way. And at home I was always with my brother or friends so no one really bothered me,"

"So you gotta be a little rusty then. I want you to show me what you learned when we get inside," He instructed. "I want to see what I'm working with,"

"I think you've seen what you're working with," She teased, running a hand up his thigh as they pulled into the precinct parking lot.

"You really are trouble," He sighed, cutting the engine and ignoring the pressure building. "Save that for later, we got work to do,"

"You love it," She whispered, pulling him into a kiss by the collar of his jacket. She leaned over the seat to reach him better. Her hands wandered down his chest before settling near the fly of his jeans. Before she could go any further he ran his hand over the polyester covering her ass and gave her a quick smack.

"That's enough," He murmured, his voice pitching low enough to send vibrations through his chest. "Let's get inside, we've got a lot to cover,"

She smiled at him and touched her nose to his before climbing out the passengers side. They walked quickly into the station, getting out of the frigid morning air. The buzz of the fluorescent lights hummed above them as they walked down the deserted halls. Flip explained that the station wasn't as busy on Sunday's, especially first thing in the morning. A lot of the guys were at church or home with their families. Who was left was mostly newbies scattered between the office and patrol duty.

He led her to a room near the back of the station, holding the door open for her before flicking on the light. It was a mid-sized room with a few mats on the floor and a punching bag hanging in the corner.

"It's not much, but it's useful to brush up on stuff from time to time," He explains.

The musty smell of the room hits his nose and he tries to ignore it. They throw their coats by the door and walk to the center of the room.

"So what's first, coach?" Elle asked, pulling her curls out of her face with a hair tie. They settled in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, remaining as unruly as always.

"First, tell me what you know," He stood in front of her, hands on his hips.

"Well, its mostly ju jitsu," She explained. "It was a lot of using other people's strength to your advantage. Like if someone is trying to punch you you can use that arm to launch yourself away from them,"

"How so?" He was genuinely curious, he hadn't heard of this technique.

"Put your arm out like you're coming at me," She instructed, her body positioning itself for action.

He stood there, unsure of how much force he should use. He didn't want to accidentally hurt her.

"You can just do a slowed down punch if that helps," She offered.

He complied, throwing a gentle punch her way, just far enough away that his fist wouldn't connect. She grabbed his extended wrist with her left hand and put her right hand under his armpit, using his force to propel herself past him. He hadn't fully registered that she was behind him when he felt a nudge on the back of his knees.

"From here I could get a good head start on running away, or I could attack you. Maybe knock out your knees, or kick you in the balls, something that would throw you off," She explained, moving back in front of him while she let her fingers trail across his waist.

"That's good," He praises. Elle was a small woman, she was decently strong but still on the easier side to overpower. She would have a lot better chance to get out of a situation by doing moves like that.

"What else you got?"

"I can fuck up your wrist if you grab me,"

He chuckled, not out of disbelief, but because he loved how she would talk. She had a mouth that would've rivaled anyone in his platoon, but she was much prettier.

"Just grab you?" He asked.

"Yeah, get a good fistful of my shirt, and you don't need to be gentle. I won't be," She winked at him.

He took a breath and stepped toward her, fisting his large hand in the cotton of her t-shirt, right by the collar. She grabbed his wrist and dug it further into her chest at an angle, causing a sharp pain to run up his arm. He let out a surprised grunt and tried to use his other hand to push her away.

"That's enough Elle," He gritted out, and she let go of his arm. He shook it out, letting the pain dull before inspecting his wrist. "What did you do? That fuckin hurt,"

"I compressed your wrist," She explained. "Here, I'll do a slowed down version, I won't hurt you this time,"

He cautiously offered his hand again, which she balled up back into a fist at her collar.

"What I did is I bent your wrist so your palm was against me, and then trapped your hand in my armpit at that angle so you can't move. I then bent your elbow and used my hands at the back of your elbow to drive your wrist into me as I drive my weight down. If I kept going, I could probably break your wrist. Or at least do some damage to the tendons," She broke down the steps for him, moving in slow motion to demonstrate where her hands were going.

He watched in silence and, as promised, she didn't put the pressure on his wrist. When she was done explaining, he let go of her shirt, allowing her to smooth it out.

"That's pretty clever," He told her. "Maybe I'll teach those to the guys. You can never be too safe,"

"You could bring me to the office one day, I could kick everyone's ass," She grinned at him.

"You just might, detectives spend a lot of time behind desks. We could use the exercise," He admitted. "Could I show you some stuff now?"

"Sure, tell me what you know," She crossed her arms and waited for his instruction.

"Do you know how to throw a punch?" He asked.

"I can punch," She said simply.

"But can you throw a punch effectively, there's a difference," He started to explain. "Here, punch me in the chest,"

"You sure?" She seemed unsure of his request.

"Right here," He patted his right pectoral. "Hit me as hard as you can, it's okay,"

She took a breath, focusing on the spot his hand just touched. She bounced back and forth on her toes for a moment, one leg in front of the other. She wound up her right arm, drawing it back before quickly propelling it into his chest.

He let out a small grunt, she let out a louder one. It hurt a little, but her technique was sloppy. She shook her hand as she took it back, her knuckles red from impact.

"That was a good start, but the way you hold your hand is slowing you down and could hurt you more than your target," He took her hand in his, manipulating her fingers.

"Curl all your fingers in like this, it'll protect your joints because they're tucked away. You see how no finger sticks out more than another?" He pulled his hands back so she could see before he continued. "Next, don't tuck in your thumb like you did before , keep it under your knuckles out of the way. But don't hold it there too tight, you could fuck up your wrist on impact,”

"Now, when you're throwing your punch, keep it fluid. Anything too jerky or tight isn't as effective. Now you take your first two fingers and push those further forward. They're stronger, they'll lead the punch," he showed her with his hand how to bring the index and middle finger ever slightly forward in the first. She mimicked his movement.

"Now I want you to hit me again, but this time, as soon as you connect, bring your arm back to your body. It keeps you out of my reach, and it's easier for you to strike me again if needed," He patted the same part of his chest as before.

She nodded and got into position, she took a moment to flex her muscles in her arms, getting them ready. She threw the punch quickly, it landing with much more force than before. He braced himself by throwing a foot back, and she brought her arm back as quickly as it shot out. It hurt that time, the technique giving her more force.

"Better. Much better," He complimented, voice slightly strained.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her facial expression shifting to one of worry.

"I'm fine, it's supposed to hurt. Next time you throw one of those, go for the throat or the nose. It'll hurt a lot more,"

"Can do coach," She nodded. "Have you got anything else?"

They ran though a few more basic techniques. He had her throw some kicks at the punching bag, and teaching her to break out of a tackle. The latter eventually turned into a tickle fight, with Flip running his fingers under her shirt and along her waist until she was gasping from laughter.

"Flip! Quit it! I give up!" She yelled breathlessly, both of them laughing until it hurt their stomachs.

They barely heard the door to the gym open until a voice broke them out of their play fight.

"Well what do we have here?" An excited voice inquired.

Flip looked up to see officer Landers towering over the two of them, a sly smile covering his greasy face.

"Zimmerman, are you smuggling girls into the precinct? I hope you brought enough to share with the class,"

"She's allowed to be here, I'm teaching her self defense," He stated firmly, he was in no mood for the officers shit. And was definitely not in the mood to share.

"If thats what self defense classes look like, I might have to sign up for one. Are you free for another session after this?" Landers asked Elle, who looked ready for murder.

"If you don't mind being a punching bag," She shot back, her voice barely holding back any venom.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" Flip asked his coworker.

"Mmmm not at the moment, just got off shift. Maybe I'll stick around and watch the lesson," He leered.

"I think we were just finishing up, actually," Elle removed herself from under him, brushing past Landers to retrieve her jacket.

"Oh I won't be any bother sweetheart. I'll wait my turn," Landers called after her.

He got up soon after, following her lead, his coworker trailing behind. He threw on his jacket, catching up to Elle and putting a hand around her waist protectively. Landers called a few more things after them that they pretended they couldn't hear. He quickly got tired and went off in the other direction laughing to himself.

"Is it illegal to assault an officer if he's a creep?" She asked him, letting him continue to hold her as they walked.

"Yeah, unfortunately. Don't mind him, he's mostly harmless," He told her.

"Mostly? You know what? Forget it, I don't want to know, it'll just make me angry," She shook her head.

"So do you feel like you'll be able to do something like what I taught you if you were in trouble?" He asked.

"Yeah, that was helpful. Thanks babe," She looped an arm around him as well. She opened her mouth as if she were to say more but then closed it. They walked in silence to the car, climbing and settling in.

“Where to now?” He asked. “Home to practice under the covers?”

“You’re insatiable,” She swatted at him, grinning from ear to ear. “Maybe the diner first? That workout got me pretty hungry,”

“Diner it is,” He smiled.

He turned on the engine and pulled out of the Lot, taking the route through town. He turned the radio on and let her fiddle with the dial to find a station. She finally settled on a song with screeching guitars and thundering drums.

"Oh I love this one!" She exclaimed, turning it up.

"What is this?" He asked, slightly jarred by the loud music so early in the day. It was only noon after all.

"Led Zeppelin, you haven't heard of them yet?" She asked. He shook his head and she laughed. "Do you live under a rock?"

"You've seen where I live, thank you very much," He sasses. "I didn't take you for the rock and roll type,"

"I don't think I have a type with music, I just like it all," She says. "My brother was just telling me the other day that he's getting into Led Zeppelin, he saw them in concert a few months ago with some friends. Said it was the most fun he's ever had,"

"Are you sure he hasn't gone deaf since? I bet those guitars are no joke in person,"

"You're just an old man," She teased. "He's doing fine, for the most part. A week ago he was at the bar with a friend and the police raided it. It was a gay bar, and the police aren't too friendly with the patrons there,"

“Is he—” Flip began to ask.

“Yeah. Alex is gay, not that my family knows. I only found out by accident really, ran into him and his ‘friend’ one night,”

He sat listening, knowing he couldn't offer much to the conversation.

"He's of age, and knows he should be able to have a drink where's he's comfortable. He refused to leave and an officer punched him and dragged him outside with the friend. And it's not like he can report it to the police, because it's the NYPD who assaulted him in the first place. He had to tell mom and dad that he got it from a mugging and now they dont want him going out anymore,"

"Is he okay?" He asks, not knowing what else to ask. He felt ashamed that someone would do that, someone who he shared a job with.

"He's fine, just pissed. Like, so many of these gay kids are coming to the city because it's like a safe haven for them. Gets them out of their white picket fence suburbs. But they still can't really be themselves. My brother isn't hurting anyone with how he's living his life, and yet he can't even get a beer without being assaulted," She was getting angry, her voice raising as she continued to speak.

"I don't even want to think about what would happen if he lives in a town like this, with an active KKK chapter. Gay and Jewish? What kind of life would that be for him here? Part of me wants to tell him to just come live with me, get a break from our parents, but the other part knows he wouldn't be any better off here,"

“You sound like you miss him,” Flip noted.

“I do. But I’m not gonna have the money to go back home for a while. I spent a lot on the move here, even after selling all my furniture and getting cheap stuff here I’m still struggling to get my savings in order. It’s gonna be a while before I can see him in person again,”

“You’ll get there, I’m sure he understands,” He took a hand off the wheel to rub her shoulder in assurance. “I could teach him how to shoot a gun or something, if he ever comes out here,”

“Phillip Zimmerman don’t you dare,” Elle laughed at the thought. “The last thing I need is my baby brother running around the city with that knowledge. I think my mother would faint,”

“I think you’ve done far more that would make your mother faint. Does Mrs. Blum know about your long list of rebellion?”

“What mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Her lips twisted into a sly smile.

“You’re trouble,” He murmured lovingly as they pulled into the parking lot of the diner.

“I’m your trouble,” She shot back as the two of them climbed out of the car.

She reached for his hand as they walked toward the chrome plated building, he gladly took hers.

“My trouble” He thought to himself with a smile. “Absolutely worth it,”

—————-

NOTES

Did you know that jiu jitsu was used by first wave feminists as a self defense technique? And that self-defense classes became more popular with women in the 1970s and 1980s? With Elle being a N.O.W. member, I would assume she’d take at least a class or two.

The 1972 presidential election was fascinating for a number of reasons. Nixon using the war as a way to get reelected, the beginning of the watergate scandal, McGovern’s vice presidential candidate having to drop out because of a mental health scandal. It was a whole mess!

The American Psychiatric Association didn’t remove homosexuality from it’s list of psychiatric disorders until 1973. The Rainbow flag won’t be created for another 6 years.

Taglist: @ladygrey03​ @tinydancer40

[stellarmegs]

I’m soo bored. I’m gonna do a survey like in the MySpace days.✨💜

1. What’s your favorite Tv show? Sons of Anarchy,

90 Day Fiancé, Its always sunny

2. Have you ever smoked a cigarette? Yep everyday

3.Do you own a gun? No but I should get one

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic? Vanilla or Strawberry

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? No I got to the Dr. so much for the MS it’s like second nature

6. Do you like hot-dogs? No

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee Specifically Starbucks Cafe Verona

9. Can you do push-ups? Probably not Haha

10. What’s your favorite meal? Mashed potatoes, grilled chicken strips with Adobo on them and peas

11. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry? Diamond cross necklace

12. Favorite hobby? Doing makeup and hair color and shopping haha

13. Do you work with people who idolize you? What kind of question is that? No I don’t work

14. Name a trait that you hate about yourself? I worry way to much about everything

15. Middle name? Mary

16. Name 3 thoughts at this moment: What should I do after this?, I used to love these surveys, No ones going to be read this anyway

17. Name 3 things you bought yesterday: Candle, Nail Polish, and cigarettes

18. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink. Coffee, Tea, and Water

19. Current worry right now? Merlin my cat he’s sick

20. Current hate right now? This election!

21. Favorite place to be? My bedroom, The beach, and shopping

22. How did you bring in New Years? At home

23. Favorite place to go? Ulta, Sephora, Target

24. What is your most recurring dream? I have a few and they’re long and weird I’m not writing them out it will be to long

26. What color shirt are you wearing? Black and leopard

27. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? I actually hates sheets I have a fitted sheet and a comforter and sure I’ll sleep on a satin fitted sheet

28. Can you whistle? Yeah

29. Favorite color? Purple and Black

30. Would you be a pirate? No

31. What songs do you sing in the shower? Not really maybe once in awhile

32. Favorite girl’s name? Autumn or Lydia

33. Favorite boy’s name? Dean

34. Who is your loudest friend? Don’t have a bunch of friends

35. What’s in your pocket right now? I’m wearing leggings

36. Last thing that made you laugh? Funny cat picture

37. Bed sheets as a child? The Little Mermaid and Trolls

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had? Slamming my finger in the car door when I was little and my finger nail fell off

39. Do you love where you live? Yep

40. How many TVs are in your house? 3

41. What is your worst habit? Smoking

42. How many dogs do you have? None I’m a cat person

43. Does someone have a crush on you? Probably my fiancé haha

44. Do you own slippers? Yep lots of them

45. What is your favorite book? Dreamseller by Brandon Novak

46. What is your favorite candy? I love candy it’s hard to pick one probably Carmellos or Werthers caramels

47. What is your favorite sports team? New Orleans Saints

48. What song do you want played at your funeral? Hmmm probably Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd

49. What were you doing at 12 AM last night? I think sleeping

50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up this morning? Coffee and caramels

51. Do you think you and your best friend will be friends in 10 years? I think so

52. What could you eat any day of the week and never get tired of? Noodles, or pizza

53. What's the craziest thing you've done? A lot of thingz

54. Someone knocks on your window at 5am, what do you say? What do you want?

55. Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? Yes

56. Would you rather be at the beach or lake? I like both but beach

57. Last thing you ate? Pancakes

58. What are you doing after this? Idk work on my collage or read my book

59. Your song of the week? LiL Peep-you and me

60. Have you ever cried from being so mad? Yes

61. Are you happy with the choices you've made? Not all of them

62. Are you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago? Yes

63. Is there anyone you know with the name Mike? Yes my fiancé

64. What color are your eyes? Green

65. How tall are you? 5’7

66. What do you have planned for tonight? Watch 90 day fiancé

67. If you could have one wish right now what would it be? To get lots of money

68. How many pillows do you sleep with? There is 4 on the bed but I only actually sleep on one super thick pillow

69. What was last thing you drank? Black cherry water

70. How many pets do you have? 2 Merlin💙 and Sam💛

71. What are you listening to right now? The office on Tv

[songaboutexiles]

We are the majority

I'm a quiet person. Chill, you might even say. But today, I'm here to declare that I. AM. DONE.

I've had a song stuck in my head for days. The first lines are: "We are the majority/You are the minority/Fuck your lies and fuck your greed/We are the majority." So let's unpack that, shall we?

First, let's talk about the minority. The dangerous, hate-filled, orange-idol-worshipping minority. What, you think that just because they elected Trump, they're the majority? And that fact bestows upon them some kind of high ground, with the rest of us running madly along trying to keep up and hold the small ground that we have under our feet? Bullshit. They are doddering fools: racists and homophobes and xenophobes. Oh, my. They were fed a 24/7 diet of Fox News and demagoguery designed to appeal to their basest instincts. They have been gaslit into throwing their fanatical support behind a tin-plated despot while simultaneously working against their own best interests.

None of this is a coincidence. Never for a moment think it is. The systematic defunding and dumbing down of the U.S. public school system has devastated this populace, making it seem like critical thinking is for libtards. They have pastors, fueled by the frenzied, mouth-foaming remnants of the 80s Moral Majority (more on that in a moment) shoving the prosperity gospel down their throats every Sunday and Wednesday. They have been taught that the more money you have, the more God loves you and hates everyone else.

If you combine a shitty educational system and a money cult, you get what we have right now. You get a group of people who are blind to irony, deaf to lies, and mute when confronted with proof of their own inferiority. Every failure must really be a success, if you stand on your head, pray hard enough, and squint your eyes up really tightly. Otherwise...well, where does that leave them? It leaves them exactly where they've always been - either drowning in systemic poverty or holding the keys to the secret playgrounds of the 1%. It's the same old story, second verse same as the first. It's the rich exploiting the poor and/or the ignorant, all to line their own pockets. Tax breaks for corporations and billionaires, no universal healthcare, no reform, no progress. Certainly no progressivism. Moving forward is scary, and they are cowards looking for an easy high off their own sense of superiority.

But they are not the majority.

We are.

The opposition has co-opted (stolen) the concept of morality since before the days of the Moral Majority. Think about that for a moment. Remember the old joke "The Moral Majority is neither." The poison fruit of those seeds has choked every area of public discourse. Combine that with the implicit (or explicit) belief that poor people and different people are bad people, and here we fucking are in 2020.

They don't own morality. They don't own a majority voice. Their morality has always been toxic, and devoid of even the most basic human kindness. How many have dashed themselves bloody on the rocks of their morality? Have you? I have. I'm betting that you know rather a lot of people who have tried beyond all reason to shove themselves inside the narrow, toxic definition of morality. We could have a long debate here between morality and ethics and I'd be writing for days. But this isn't grad school, and you aren't stupid. You know what I'm talking about - the Evangelical, Dominionist Christian ideal of morality.

This is all part and parcel of their ultimate goal - to quash violently all forms of expression that exist outside their cruel, hard, unfeeling paradigm.

To make everyone else feel ashamed, while they congratulate themselves on their piety and their fanatical worship of a false idol.

Do not let them make you feel small. Do not let them make you ashamed. Do not let them make you feel cowed.

Because, you guessed it, you're the majority. We are the majority. We open our arms enthusiastically to the othered, to the desperate, to the oppressed, to the different. We are people of color. We are queer. We are the disabled. We are Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Jewish people, Atheists, Pagans and more - because we do not ever close the book on a list and say "these are the people we love." If you are the marginalized, the disenfranchised, the brutalized, the bullied, the abuse survivor, the mentally ill, we are allies. We are a community. We are strong. We don't need an idol to rally around. We rally around the weakest and most vulnerable people and stand as a shield against the encroaching darkness.

And that, my friends is moral (and ethical). We are not just the majority. We are the Moral Majority. Do not cede the high ground, not even for a moment. Not even for your Grandma or your stepdad or whoever it is trying to put you in your place. Your place is wherever you define it. It's the ground beneath your feet. It's the fucking Oval Office. We own the future. When you doubt that, remember everywhere you look, in ways as quiet as a whisper or as loud as a megaphone, you are not alone.

It's ridiculous to say we must take our country back, since it's only an infantile and strident minority holding it hostage. However, here we are. Show up in November. Stand in line for seven hours if you have to. Get your mail-in ballot (if they let you). Strap on your mask and hit the pavement and don't leave until you've cast your vote.

Because I have a secret. I want the minority to be defeated so utterly that they are forced to question for once in their lives. I want the minority to ask their fallen idol why they've been brought so low. I want them ASHAMED. They have acted shamefully, and I want them to feel it. I want fucking Nazis to crawl back into their rat-infested holes and be too afraid to show their faces in public. I want them to understand in no uncertain terms that they ARE the minority - the aging and tarnished and loveless minority.

We are the majority.