#in ye good ol' days we would have so many interactions

[lily-ohfally]

Send me a ✎ and I'll draw your WoL interacting with mine!

If multiple WoL's and none is specified I'll draw one at random!

[junedenim]

at the heart of what the business is

part two

if you work with him every day, you might as well fuck him

warnings: smut, eating, blowing, fingering, fucking, etc.

word count: 4.7k

He looks like he has had one too many drinks and you're almost certain he hasn't been without a cigarette in his hand all night. His hair makes him look scruffy like a stray dog. You're filled with a desire to kick him, not out of cruelty, but to see if he'd react. He's got a shadow of stubble that looks like sandpaper. You think if you run your hand down his cheek, scratches would cover the palm of your hand. He's disgusting. Before walking down into the restaurant, he spat on the stairs, leaving a blob of salvia just begging to be slipped in. (You're disgusting; covered in a want for you to be that cement stair).

You two haven't taken to one another exactly. He hasn't acknowledged your presence and you scoff whenever he speaks. There's an obligation to work together but you don't have to interact with him outside of it. You don't hate him, you find him strange in a fascinating kind of way. He definitely hates you, at least you think.

He's across from you at the table though neither of you has made eye contact. He's talking with Ben and you're talking with Elizabeth. Except you and Elizabeth are watching him out of the corners of your eyes and talking about him. 

"Is he looking at me?" She whispers harshly.

You glance over. "No, he's still talking to Ben."

"What about now?"

"Still talking to Ben."

She groaned. "Whatever. I give up. He'll just be the one that got away." She sighed heavily and sank into her hand.

You laugh. "I don't think you're missing out on much."

She gasps. "He's so dreamy. What are you talking about?

You shrug and sip your wine. "He's always seemed a bit arrogant to me."

Elizabeth sneers, "You've never even talked to him."

You object to this. "I talked to him at work today and he was a prick." He ignored you and instead talked to your project partner, Jeff. You took the slight as misogynistic. A fact Elizabeth vehemently denied when it came to Alex. To Elizabeth, Alex was a god. He could have no faults. 

The wait staff came out with everyone's orders and the conversation dissolved into a more central conversation as Ed, everyone's boss, asked after his crew. He seemed to know every detail about everyone. "And Alex, how's that lady you're seeing?" Ed exclusively called people "lady" or "fellow." It amused you every time. You giggle into your napkin.

"Uh, um." He awkwardly moves in his chair. "We aren't seeing each other anymore." Elizabeth practically shakes the table in excitement, which causes you to laugh louder. Alex's eyes land on you and you turn red at the embarrassing idea he thinks you're laughing at the demise of his relationship. You cover it with a cough into your napkin, but it sounds and looks fake.

Ed looks solemnly toward Alex and says, "I'm sorry to hear that, Al." Ed and Alex have about 30 years between them but got along like they had gone to university with one another—a fraternity of brothers. You often felt work was a good ol' boys' club, even if Ed was a great boss and the company was diverse, the upper management mainly consisted of men. 

"Her loss," Elizabeth remarks.

The comment makes you burst into laughter again. You're flushed with red before you have time even to catch yourself. All eyes were at the table directly at you from the sudden outburst. You cover your mouth with your napkin again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You alright, little lady?" Ed asks.

You clear your throat one too many times for anyone to believe the act. "Yeah, yeah. Yes. I'm sorry. Ignore me."

"Nonsense," Ed dismisses. "Your father doing okay?" That's the kind of boss Ed was. Your father had several bouts with his health that caused him to be hospitalized a few times this past year. Ed was always forgiving with your work attendance.

You dip a hand in your glass of cold ice water and tap your wet fingers on your hot cheeks. "Yes, yes. He's been feeling much better this past month."

Ed cheers, "Excellent. Please give him my best." He lifts his wine glass up in acknowledgment.

"Yes, mine too." Your eyes dart across the table. Alex is leaning back in his chair, that burning cigarette in the ashtray the restaurant provided—you wonder how much he paid them to allow him to smoke in here—and his glass up in the air.

You nod silently and dive back into your dish. Your cheeks are still flushed with mild humiliation but also smiling at the hilarity of it all.

Elizabeth sighs beside you and whispers, "Well, he's looking at you now."

You lift your head, your eyes meeting his, locked in a stare. You swallow your food and lean yourself forward on your elbows on the table. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you," you try to assure Alex. "Just something Elizabeth said."

He waves away your apology. A smile cracks upon his lips. "That's alright. You can laugh at my misfortune if you want to."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't do that. At least I don't think I would."

His smile grows wider. The heat on your cheeks forces you to disappear into your glass of wine. He lifts his cigarette to his lips. You feel entranced by the smoke as you watch him exhale through the blur of wine. He's chatting away with Ben again, making him laugh at some joke you didn't hear. You've never not been intrigued by him. You just didn't think he was ever intrigued by you.

You filter through conversations with Elizabeth and listen to Ed's ramblings but your eyes always return to the man across the table. You swear he must have unbuttoned his shirt a button or two. His chest is exposed deeper. The chain around his neck is more visible and the pale skin of his chest unclothed. It was all a hypnosis wheel. 

Ed orders dessert for the table. Tiramisu. You feast away on your small cut. You lick your spoon eagerly tasting the mascarpone mixture. You feel his eyes on you and it ignites a lust in you that's undeniable. You're reminded that hate sex is the greatest form of passion. Well, you don't really hate him but you can fake it if it makes the sex that much better.

"Did you know tiramisu means 'pick me up'?" The question isn't necessarily directed at anyone, but your eyes are on him.

He has a trace of cocoa powder in the corner of his lips. It makes you giggle. You're becoming more and more endeared by it. You're convinced it's due to your newfound desire to bed him tonight. "No. I didn't know that one," he answered.

"It was created for pleasure-seekers." You try your best to pierce him with your gaze. "Ladyfingers is such an interesting name for a dessert. Who'd want to imagine eating fingers with cream?"

He chuckles at the remark before sinking back into his dessert. He glances up with a smirk and you return with a tight-lipped smile.

*

Ed leaves after dessert, paying for the tab causing his employees to cheer for him as he exits. Various people scatter. Some for the bar. Some head home. Some, like you, lean back in their chairs. You copy Alex's carefree mannerisms. Your hand fiddles with the stem of your wine glass. If you focus for long enough you think you could bore holes through his clothes.

Suddenly, Alex stands up and rounds the table. He stands before you. His hand grazes the empty chair Jeff left. "May I?"

"I don't owe the chair. By all means," you invite.

He places his glass down first, instantly forming a watermark on the cloth tablecloth. He pulls the chair out far enough for it to be turned to face you. He sits in it silently and takes a sip from his glass. 

"I liked that project of yours," he complimented with another swig of alcohol.

You can't help the smile forced upon your cheeks but you narrow your eyes. "My part or Jeff's part?"

Alex scoffed, "Jeff's a dickhead." You split into a peal of laughter, forcing you to cover your mouth once again. It incites a laugh from Alex too. "You've got a nice laugh."

You sip your wine to diminish the last ripples of giggles. "Oh, stop it. I've got a witch cackle going on."

He shakes his head. His hair is less styled than it was at work, growing unkempt as the evening has dragged on. It bounces with his movements. "No, no. It adds character. It's contagious."

You shrug. "Well, okay."

For the first time, you notice he has these beautiful eyes: downturned and brown. It's hard not to—the man gives good eye contact. "You're a good talker."

You snigger. "I'm pretty sure Jeff did all the talking."

Alex points a finger out from his hand wrapped around his glass. "Exactly."

His knee brushes up against yours. He doesn't seem to notice, but you sure do. The fabric of his suit feels luxurious against your bare skin. You're not sure what overtakes you. His eyes. His words. His hair. His hands. His knee. You reach down and place your delicate hand on his knee. A smirk covers his face and his eyes gaze longingly at you but he doesn't say anything. "Thank you, I suppose," you tell him.

Alex leans forward. His body practically huddles around you. If you wanted, you could nest in him. Take harbor in his suit jacket and stay there hibernating through winter. "Not sure if I'm allowed to say this," he whispers in your ear.

You turn your head and if you were an inch closer your lips would graze his. It might not be the most proper thing for him to hit on his subordinate. It wouldn't be right for him to leave you hungry either. "Go ahead."

He places his hand on your bare inner thigh, just above your knee. It's cold, still chilling from the glass. It's orgasmic, its effects. "Do you know how fucking hot you look?" His earnest tone makes you emit a horny giggle. "Seriously, pretty sure you're a pick-me-up."

"I could probably sue you for that," you joke.

His hand travels further. "Yeah, you probably should. I'm a piece of shit."

"We'll probably get fired if we move any closer to one another."

He pulls back slightly. "You mean, you don't want me to fuck you in front of HR?"

*

In the haze between the restaurant and his bed, you lost your dress and he lost his pants. He grabs your ass picking you up for long enough for you to land your back against his soft duvet. He tries to blanket you with his body but you stick your leg up, pressing your foot into his chest. "Lose the jacket," you command.

Alex is quick to shed. He wraps his hand around your ankle and lifts the foot to his lips, kissing the heel, then the ankle, slowly puckering his way to your center as he kisses your shin. He drops the leg and undoes the rest of his shirt, leaving him in just his underwear. You watch, propped up on your elbows in your lacy bra and panties. 

He covers you like a dark cloud about to rain down on you. His lips are softer than you imagined and his hands that caress their way up you are as rough as you imagined. His kiss is dominating and his figure is pining you down like you're on a bulletin board. His hand grazes over your clothed cunt. You moan into his mouth.

He pulls back and stands up completely. "Take it off." He gestures to your chest and his pussy.

You reach around and undo the hook. You slip your bra off and toss it off the bed. You reach down to the hem of your underwear but stop before pulling it off. "You too."

Alex listens, discarding his underwear on the wood floor. "You're a bossy bitch," he says. You let out a delighted giggle. "I fucking love it."

"I want to suck your cock," you announce. You sit up on your knees but wait for him to move toward you.

He puts his hands on his hips. "Okay, fuck." He comes closer and you crawl toward him. You wrap your hands around his shaft.

You look at him, eagerly. "Spit in my mouth," you say, leaning your head back and widening your mouth.

He looks slightly stunned but a smirk takes over his face. He wraps his hand around your neck and leans down, spitting directly onto your tongue. "You're a little slut, huh?" He asks it like a serious question as if you're sitting down for a job interview.

You shrug and take him into your mouth. He sighs as if letting out a breath that he's been forced to hold all night. You pop him off your lips and say, "You can decide at the end of the night."

He's large in your mouth. Your tongue moves around him in your mouth as you move up and back. His face is controted in pleasure and you're determined to continue it for as long as possible. You want to suck him dry. To take everything in him for yourself.

He has other thoughts. Roughly, he yanks you off of him by your hair. You land on your back, staring up at him like a beetle on its back unable to turn over. "I don't like you very much, you know," you tell him.

Alex snickers. "I know." It's a word battle of who can turn the other one on more with their insults. His hands move their way down your thighs and soon, his mouth follows. Alex buries his head between your legs. He starts off slow, lazily flicking his tongue around your heat, as if to test it. You shake at his touch, moaning and grinding your hips towards him, begging him to keep going. 

He scoffs, "You're so desperate." He trails his fingertips up your body, barely touching anything, soft strokes causing heat to gather. His tongue dances around your clit, teasing you, before finally giving in and allowing it his full attention. You tremble and he adjusts to a faster rhythm, a stronger pressure, finding just the right angle to make you quiver so hard he needs to hold your legs in place.

You're on the edge, arching your back, ready to fall over, when he suddenly lifts himself from your center and backs away to the foot of the bed. You groan and flatten out. "You're a fucking jerk, Turner."

He chuckles evilly. "Calm down, love." It brings a rare affection to the whole exchange. Of course, two seconds later he pulls you closer to the edge by your legs and flips you over, slipping a few fingers in you just for good measure. The thought of Alex fucking you right now is almost more than you can bare; the satisfied laugh he lets out only adds fuel to the fire.

He bends himself over to grab your breasts. You can feel his cock grinding against your ass, the pressure in your cunt growing with each passing second. You push back against him and he tightens his grip on your waist. Finally, he enters your dripping, throbbing cunt. Then, he slaps your ass. It's light. Probably won't even make the skin red but it makes you gasp, which encourages him more. 

He's bucking into you in such a provoking fashion it makes you loudly moan. He's stretching you out in a glorious way that adds such fervency to the pattern in which you're fucking one another. You're reassured that you feel as good for him as he does for you when he lets out a noisy, "Fuck."

Alex is holding onto your shoulders as he pounds into you from behind, each thrust making it even more intoxicated. He thrusts slowly, hitting the spot, his fingers digging into your hips. His cock slicked wet, covered in you. He grunts, pounding with more force.

He pulls out, flipping you over again. You wrap your legs around his back when he enters you again, groaning at the feeling of his hard cock once again meeting your warm pussy. He moves deeper, pushing himself all the way in. He leers over you and says, "I want to come in your mouth. Can I do that?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, but can you make me come first?"

"Fuck yes." His pace is brutal but charged. You're clawing and desperate. You don't think you've ever been this desperate before. He's caused something in you that you can't label. He's shaking, trembling, and losing his rhythm. He's sucked you in and you're panting before he hits that back pocket and has you collapsing. 

He lets you ride out your high with your hips shaking around and your back arching before he pulls out of you. "Come here." He points to the floor below his cock that he is palming. You drop off the bed to your knees and hold your hands on his hips as he pumps himself. He shoots spurts out of himself landing on your tongue. As he comes, you pull yourself forward, shoving him down your throat as he finishes. His fingers claw in your hair and he's moaning and grunting curses out. 

His grip softens and you fall back onto your butt with a sigh. "Holy shit."

Alex chuckles and reaches down to help you stand up. "Good?"

The room is filled with panting and you decide to shrug your shoulders instead of verbally responding. He chuckles and slips off into the bathroom.

You stand in his room, naked and unsure of what to do. Your skin feels cold now that it's lacking his touch. You're unsure what to do. Whether to slip around the covers or slip out. You have plans tomorrow so it seems logical to go home.

You dress yourself and meet him at the door of his bathroom. "Oh," he utters.

"I'm gonna head home."

He nods. He has slipped boxers on and looks so meek. The power that he possessed in his suit is lost. He just looks small and soft. "Okay. You're welcome to stay."

You shake your head. "I should get home. I have some things I have to do early tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I'll see you at work on Monday."

"Yeah, yeah. Have a good weekend."

"Yeah. You too."

*

You want to be a siren. You won't lie that your attire on Monday wasn't intentional, wearing the shortest skirt you can get away with to the office. It covers you enough for when you bend over but it doesn't leave much to the imagination. Besides, it's Monday, a day you spend mostly in your cubicle so there's little need to dress a certain way. You've come in hungover and in your pajamas on Mondays before so a short skirt and a tight white shirt will make little difference.

You find him in the copy room. You're collecting your printed work and he is standing with a mug of coffee, leaning over one of the copiers. You watch his back. His shoulders are high and his finger firmly jabs the digital screen on the copier repeatably. 

"Do you need help?" You're not sure why you ask it. You had intended to stay silent and collect your work but he's muttering to himself and you take pity on the poor guy.

Alex turns quickly to look at you. He blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. "Uh, no. I think I got it."

You giggle at his flustered behavior. "Okay."

It seems to soften things and put a smile on your face as you walk to the printer to collect your items. You look over and his finger continues to hit the screen. His face is contoured with frustration. "You sure you don't need any help?"

"No, I just..." he sighs and steps back. "I just can't get the thing to copy."

You place your stack of papers down and look over. The screen is on the copy page and you press okay. The machine buzzes and begins to scan his paper. You look back and he's looking at you all sheepishly. "You've worked here how long and you don't know how to work the copier?" 

A smile seems to come to his face as you laugh at him. "I usually have Jess do it." Right, his assisstant. "She's out sick today."

"Do you need any more help?" You offer.

He shakes his head slowly. "No, no. I'm good. Thanks. Thank you."

"No problem," you tell him, picking up your stack of papers.

You head for the door when he says, "You look nice today." You turn around and his back is to you again. His shoulders are down. The tense that was once there has dissolved away. He's cocky again.

"Thank you."

He turns around slowly to full face you. He leans his back against the copier. "What about me?"

You ask dryly, "What about you?"

"Aw, come on," Alex says. "I can't be so bad. I wore my nice shirt today for you." He's got a white button-down on. It looks exactly like the one he wore on Friday and you can't tell if he's mocking you or being truthful.

You bite your lip. "You look handsome."

"Well," he looks down at his shoes, "I like that skirt of yours that you're wearing." Alex feigns this shyness like he can't look you in the eyes. Then, he'll stare you down and tell you he wants to fuck you. It's very contrasting.

"Uh-huh," you sound. "You're very assertive."

He lets out a chuckle. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

You narrow your eyes. "You are the one hitting on me in the copier room."

Alex hums. "Yeah." He grabs his copies and walks over to you. "That's interesting." He grazes by you, passing you, and opening the door.

"What are you getting at?" You ask.

He turns back. The door is only open a crack but his head peeks through just right in the open slot. His smirk grows and that glint in his eyes only grows brighter. "I like your skirt." He ducks out.

You're forced to stand still, taking a moment to digest what has occurred (and drench the thirst he's left). You shake him off your mind and head back to your cubicle. 

*

An hour later, a knock sounds on your cubicle's wall. You turn and there's Alex.

He invites himself in, not that there is much room to be "invited in." He leans against the edge of your desk. "I'd really like to touch base with you," he says.

"I'd really like that, too," you say, tempted to tell him to move his ass, and continue, "But I'm just swamped with this right now."

He glances at the Amazon website open on your computer and you nearly bury your face in your hands—rookie mistake. 

He looks amused by the display. You feel like a child making up excuses to not do their homework, but you can't avoid him forever, that much you know. 

"Ten minutes, I swear," he says.

You cock your head back. "Oh, I think you finish a lot quicker than that."

Relief washes over that he laughs at that. You're desperate for things to not grow more awkward. "I remember things differently. But seriously."

You sigh, "Alright, lead the way."

His office smells like him. Cologne, coffee, and cigarettes. There are unfinished mugs of coffee scattered around the room. He has no pictures on his desk, the height of mystery, but has several posters on the wall of projects he has worked on. He sits down in his desk chair and gestures for you to stand beside him so he can show you something on his computer.

You follow his hands, his pointed finger, as he explains his idea to you. Your head is filled with much different thoughts that don't concern the project or work. He's asked you a question, he's looking up at you waiting for an answer, he's calling your name, and all you can think about are his lips.

You lean down and kiss him, trying to fuse some idea in him through the transmission of lips. He wraps his arms around your waist and to fix the height difference with him sitting down and you bent over he pulls you into his lap. You swing your legs over to straddle him and he whispers into you, "We really shouldn't be doing this at work."

"I know," you whisper back. "But I've only ever had a cubicle before and I'm taking advantage of a closed door."

He's kissing down your neck and any concern about what you're doing or about to do at work seems to fade into the background. "Well, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? I don't think we'd get away with that."

"You want to finger me under my skirt?" You offer.

He kisses up to your ear, his teeth fiddling with your earlobe. "What about what I want?"

"Oh," you sigh, "I think this is what you want."

And then, Alex's fingers slip under your skirt, under your silk panties, finding your slit with ease. He breathes a silent groan against your neck as he slips a finger inside your pussy. He comments on the wetness. "Anticipating this, huh?" Sliding in and out, in and out with ease. He slowly draws his hand back up, rubbing soft circles around your clit. You tremble, swirling her hips against him in a matching rhythm.

If it hadn't before, all thought goes out the window. 

Alex pushes your skirt up around your waist. He lifts you both up, propping you on his desk. You gasp when he guides you to spread your legs further apart, pushing in two fingers and then three. You're arching back and shaking with pleasure, so he goes in deeper and harder. He curls his fingers inside, which causes you to grab a tight hold of his neck, moaning in his ear.

You can feel his boner rub up against you and you're certain you've knocked over his cup full of pens. He slides his hand up your dripping core, slowly moving his fingers up and down your clit. You jerk forward, and he holds you steady, quickening the pace. He hits the spot just right and he keeps hitting it and hitting it. "Don't stop," you beg and he doesn't.

Your whole body jerks forward as the orgasm rips through you. You hold yourself up against his shoulders as you try to catch her breath. "Fuck," you exhale. You relinquish your hold on him and let go. "I've never done anything like that before."

"What? Orgasm?"

You laugh and push him back. You notice the protruding boner in his pants. "No, have sex in a place that could get me fired."

"Oh," he laughs.

Your eyes widen at his reaction. "You've had sex at the office before. Ew. I think I should report this to HR."

"Hush now. Let's just say a lot happened before you worked here."

"Yuck," you let out again.

Alex sits back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. "I've never gotten a blowjob here before."

You snort. "Subtle."

Alex moves his hands down and undoes his belt. He pulls his zipper down and looks up at you like a cocky little bastard. 

You nod. "Real subtle. Shall I grab Ben to take care of that for you?"

"Come on. A bit quid pro quo." He exposes his dick, laying hard on top of his zipper.

"That is definitely sexual harassment," you say as you get on your knees.

You take him in your mouth and it feels just as good as it did on Friday, except it's different. It's softer and he isn't forcing your head down on him, instead rubbing the back of it, fidgeting with the tips of your hair. He moans and you're more determined than ever to taste him again.

"You feel so fucking good," he tells you. 

You dive into him, taking him to the back of your throat. Your nose brushes his pubic hair, something that tends to be unappealing, except he smells nice. Something you find even weirder. You suck on him like he's a bottomless mimosa brunch. You lick him like a melting popsicle on the hottest day of the year. You want to consume all of him, but you'll take just this part.

He's close, grunting and pulsing in your mouth. There's agony and pleasure written across his face. His cum washes down your throat. This time you taste it on your tongue. It lingers as you swallow it down. He is slumped against his chair. His head is thrown back and he looks blissed out. You stand and tuck him back in his pants for him. He kisses your elbow as a thank you. "That'll get me through my meeting with Jeff." 

"You better not be doing that with Jeff."

*

a/n: i don't mean for all my fics to have semi-public sex or whatever, they just do.

[veezm0]

whos ur fav fossil from rise

Dude.. I love them all LMAO

Peepaw (Leo) is great because. You know, we get to know so much more about him since he's at the beginning of the movie. I love his drive to do good, but that can translate to the bad mindset of pushing himself further and further every day just to do better. ..And I feel like he has a lot of pent-up guilt in that ol' brain of his. Honestly, I love Leo all the time, so saying I love Peepaw isn't hard at all. I just hope he's doing alright. I think he needs a hug.

Boomer (Donnie) is a bit elusive since we don't know much about him as of now. Other than he wears those HORRENDOUS overalls. So all I can say for him is that I hope he didn't let the stress of everything break him down too far, and that he still interacted with his family even if it overwhelmed him. Don't hide out in your lab, Dee, it's not good for you. They all miss you. I bet he was so badass in battle though. His tech would have been a huge asset in the war.

Geezer (Raph) is in the same situation as Donnie, in the fact that we don't know much about him. I'm sure he gave great hugs, though, and always put the safety of the Resistance above everything else. Winning is important, yes, but keeping people alive in the moment is important as well. If not just to keep morality alive, then to help win the war in the long run. Even through it all, he keeps up his loving big brother attitude and tries his best to make time for his brothers. Always thinking of his brothers.

Fossil (Mikey) is. I don't have many words for him. I feel so much on his account. Going back to that concept of brotherly love, that scene at the beginning of the movie showed just how far he would go for them. Leo told him to sacrifice himself, and he did it. No questions asked; hardly a protest at all. He just... did it. I doubt that was his first choice- I don't think he ever would have chosen that for himself if he wasn't outright told to. He did it for his brother, and he did it for the hope of a better world. He would do anything for that chance of happiness again.

[minijenn]

UF Preview

Yeah so I started working on Magic and Mystery. Kind of keeping it as a mix of the old version of these chapters, with a completely new second half that I think ya'll will really enjoy. For now, enjoy the kids interacting with the Gems who are just ya know, early UF, shady af.

---

As the light faded, the Crystal Gems appeared, hot off the heels of another successful mission. Pearl and Amethyst shared a proud smirk, while Garnet stood between them, a bubbled gemstone hovering over her hand. Much like she’d done with the centipeedle a few days ago, she sent the bubble to somewhere unknown with a mere flick of her wrist. Just one of the many peculiar, impressive feats the Gems could apparently pull off. 

“Hi, guys!” Steven hopped up from the couch, running over to meet them. 

“Oh! Hello there, kids!” Pearl greeted. She offered the twins a polite wave as they followed after Steven, still amazed by what they’d just seen. “What are you both doing here?

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Amethyst chuckled. “You got tired of hanging around the shack with Stan, so you came up here to chill with us instead, right? Can’t say I blame you. The old guy can be a bit of a drag sometimes.”

“Um… well, we’re technically supposed to be working down at the shack right now…” Dipper admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“But what Grunkle Stan doesn’t know won’t kill him!” Mabel chimed in much more cheerily. “Maybe. Probably. Hopefully. I mean, he is pretty old… Hm…”

“Ha! Skipping work to have fun instead? Turns out you two are cooler than I thought,” Amethyst elbowed both of the twins as she pushed her way past them toward the kitchen. “Which is crazy; I never thought anyone related to Stan could be “cool”.”

“I hate to say it, but I can’t help but agree with Amethyst…” Pearl interjected, a diffident frown on her face. “While I usually wouldn’t approve of anyone shirking away from their responsibilities, you kids are probably much better off spending your time up here instead of at that so-called ‘Mystery’ Shack.”

“Oh! Oh!” Mabel’s hand shot up into the air. “Do you guys have any real mysteries here?”

“A few,” Garnet said vaguely. 

“Oh yeah?” Dipper asked, instantly curious. Between lake monsters and manotaurs, he hadn’t gotten a chance to investigate the Gems as much as would have liked. And what better place to start than here, in the very temple they called home, getting answers straight from the source? “Mysteries like… whatever’s behind that door over there maybe?” 

He pointed to the large, elegant door that stood behind the warp pad, marked with a star and a gemstone resting on each of its points. “Oh, you mean the temple?” Amethyst asked, sticking her head back out of the fridge as she rooted through it. 

“The temple?” Dipper repeated, confused. “I thought we were in the temple.”

“Nah, this isn’t the temple,” Amethyst corrected. “This is just the house. It’s kinda like a lobby to the temple, actually.”

“Wait, so does that mean my room is part of the lobby?” Steven asked. “Maybe I should set up a welcome desk for when visitors come by, just like a real lobby!”

“Anyway…” Pearl continued. “The temple serves as our base. Garnet, Amethyst, and I live inside of it, while Steven has his own room out here. At least until he becomes more accustomed to using his Gem.”

“Yep!” Steven perched his hands on his hips, taking up a bold pose. “And when I do, I’ll be able to go in there any time I want, right?”

“Yes,” Garnet answered before Pearl could protest. 

“Wow! I bet there’s so many cool things in there!” Mabel exclaimed, excited. “Mind if we take a peek?”

 She attempted stepping past the Gems to get a better look, only for Garnet to step in the way to halt her advance. “That’s not a very good idea.”

“What? Why not?” Dipper asked. 

“Um… well, the temple… It’s a bit… dangerous,” Pearl explained, frowning awkwardly. “Especially for… non-Gems-” 

“Non-Gems, pfft, just say it like it is, P,” Amethyst cut in. “It’s waaaay too much for plain ol’ humans, like you guys!” She jumped in between the twins, ruffling their hair as she let out a laugh. In light of the circumstances, her “joke” wasn’t one that either Dipper or Mabel found very funny. 

“Amethyst!” Pearl scolded, appalled by her rudeness. “But yes… The temple really is no place for humans. We’re sorry, but we just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

“But don’t be so down about it!” Amethyst encouraged as soon as she noticed the frowns on both of the twins’ faces. “At least you guys can still hang out here with Steven.”

“Yeah!” Steven exclaimed, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “And you guys are welcome here any time!”

“...Thanks, Steven,” Dipper returned with a half-hearted smile. Still, he couldn’t quite keep his sights off the temple door, longing to get even just a peek at whatever lay beyond it. At the secrets the Gems seemed so keen on keeping completely to themselves.

[invested-in-your-future]

They had to take a breather to develop characters. Hard to do with Salem's threat looming over them.

Plenty of fictional works manage to cram good ol' character development in even the most tense of the situations.

Honestly its rare to even find a fictional fantasy or contemporary world where some threat isn't looming over characters or the world isn't ending. How would character development happen then if the characters are running out of time against unbeatable threat?

By realizing that narrative progression =/= time passage.

The cool thing about fictional stories and overall fiction, is that passage of time is completely up to the control of the writer.

A character can reflect on a lifetime of achievements in split second. An entire book can take place during the exact same single hour but from different perspectives.

And again, RWBY knows this. Half the V3 transpires in literally less than a day. The whole finale takes up barely few hours. Even in the bad volumes the narrative uses the convenience of skipping ahead quite often to "get past" writing specific bits of story or to not have to deal with things.

The show already avoided dealing with so many issues, both outwardly between characters and inward, that its all boiling over. It doesn't take a filler padding dimension to actually have characters interact or emote or actually self-reflect or to make all those Chekov's guns go off.

The fact that they genuinely thought "we need to take the characters LITERALLY OUT OF THE PLOT so we can deal with this "character stuff"" is damning for writers. Like it's literally treating CHARACTERIZATION OF YOUR LEAD CAST as nothing but a sidequest.

And as for them doing this to develop characters...

But. They. Haven't????

Like AT ALL?

V9 does touch upon on some of surface-level issues, but also avoids like majority of core issues the show has never dealt with.

It starts by establishing few SHOCKING facts

"Ruby is Traumatized" - well gee, who would have known, its not like that's literally been obvious since V3. Does she reflect on Penny? LOL. On her worldview kind of falling apart? LOL. On the nature of her relationship with her team and how all of them have changed as people? NOPE ITS ALL FINE YOU ARE FLAWLESS BBY, TRAUMA AIN'T REAL. YOU DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT AT ALL.

"Blake and Yang have unresolved issues" - Yes. Again. V3. Final Scene. They have issues they have never really spoken about. Issues that were set up but then got no progression as the characters just stood around. And guess what? They don't in this volume either. The show just sidesteps it. Because the personal character issues ARE STILL IGNORED - Has Yang dealt with her aimlessness and identity search and actually processed her trauma, her conflicting feelings about her overall role, her mother, her sister and everything else that has literally piled up for years? NOPE. Has Blake actually dealt with the moral conundrum she was living? Has she figured out what exactly she wants to do? NOPE. Have they both faced abandonment issues they have? LOL.

"Jaune feels bad" - well gee, that's a new one. Its not like ~70% of the show's screentime is telling us this for some reason rather than focusing on actual lead cast. Its okay, any consequences he managed to somehow get will be undone by MAGIC.

And beyond that? Weiss? PFFT. Penny's unfortunate fridging? PFFFFFT. The actual progression of characters being the focus? PFFT. Here's bunch of new absolutely nonsensical lore that completely breaks suspension of disbelief instead. How do you like talking animals in goofy alternate dimensions run by a tree?

Its like whoever wrote this took cursory glance at like Volume 1 character moments and went "this will do"...and then the lore about magic tree gods was vomited all over the result

If anything V9 tells us they won't Develop characters.

Let me sum up what V9, intentionally or unintentionally, says:

"Self Reflection is bad. Having flaws is BAD. Good People don't have flaws nor have to deal with psychological trauma nor have to question the morality of their actions or nature of their world. A mean evil being whispering on your shoulder is all that psychological trauma is and as long as you just reaffirm that nothing you did ever affects you or defines you it will all go away, especially if you have magic god tree available to plot device you. Whatever good or bad decisions you made don't matter. People enabling your behavior, flaws and escapism is what it means to be a good friend. Even passage of time and losing years meaninglessly doesn't really affect you or change you because you are not allowed to change and will go back to normal via a plot device. Acceptance and understanding of one's emotions, thought patterns and problems, one of fundamental elements of therapy (or really any sort of healing) is BAD. You don't need coping mechanisms of any sort if you ignore issues being there! Actually exploring your relationships with others and any sorts of issues and trauma there is BAD and you should just pretend its all fine between you all. Even facing your trauma is BAD - you need to avert your eyes, listen to the voices telling you you are flawless and move on. After all there's Absolute Unchanging Truth of Right and Wrong. There's absolute definitive way to view the world and yourself. There's only the True Way To Be Yourself and the rest is Lies. Whatever trauma or issues you have stems from LIES. Who needs self awareness? Who needs change? Who needs any sort of progress if an unchanging(literally) Divine Higher Will can just tell you what you are supposed to do with your life next?

All of that stuff about facing your trauma, picking yourself back up and the necessity to keep moving forward because nobody else will do that for you and you need to persevere through hardships(You know the specific thing Monty Oum wanted to focus on)? Who needs that when Greater Divine Beings Tell Your Perfect Flawless Existences What To Do and you don't ever need to change or grow as people or face your trauma and issues"

The purpose of entire V9, the purpose of the Volume upon which the very fate of RWBY franchise's continued existence hinges is all about telling you that NOTHING IN THE SHOW MATTERS and characters won't ever change or develop and will remain exactly the same till the day they achieve their Purpose.

Its yet another volume that literally doesn't matter. Just like majority of the show past V3. Just pretending the lead characters figured out their issues offscreen is better than what V9 gives us.

[savelockwoodandco]

Hi Admin, hope everything is fine with you, because I truly need your insight.

Whilst I understand that we must approach a battle with high spirits, the way the world goes and with it the media industry really saddens me.

Are we really gonna get the show back?

Do we think CF or the Strouds will really tell us to stop if they think all is over?

I might be far too cynical, but for the Strouds any publicity brings more people to the books.

As for CF, it's still free publicity.

I know that of course none of them will ever be straightforward with us - if anything is happening behind the scenes - because they can't, I guess, but where does the Clowning stop and become simply Delusion?

I keep looking at CF reply for their 5000 followers, and I get it, it looks sus. But are we building a castle made of thin sand out of it?

I'm sorry, Admin, I don't want to upset you. :(

I will still support the show campaign, but I'm so, so, so sad about everything...

Hi Anon! Thanks for the question, and no worries, you didn't upset us! We've got decades of experience in this media game (and in cancellations specifically), and we understand that it can be challenging and frustrating at the best of times.

We totally get being discouraged due to the state of the media industry. It's never been a particularly kind nor relaxed space, and everything about it seems to have been heightened within the last decade or so. What's good -- acknowledging the impact that actors have, the ability to tell stories that would have gone unseen in years past, feeding fan interaction through behind-the-scenes looks while filming and the newfound safety of transformative works (i.e., fanfic) -- has become really, really good. On the flip side, the bad parts of media -- encouraging division and in-fighting, poor treatment of non-administrative professionals, the blind-eye to any profit beyond exponential growth -- have gotten worse.

This isn't a doom-and-gloom statement, though -- these things come in cycles. The Hayes Code Mentality is coming back into full swing, but at least we're past the point of forcing actors to get married in order to promote their films. Some things improve, some things fall back, lather, rinse, repeat. We get being discouraged due to the media landscape -- but remember, all problems are temporary, and bad things will come and go just as often as good things. The good things, the progress, the encouraging changes are no less good simply because they're accompanied by uncertainty.

And if we had to pick a mission statement for answering this ask, I suppose that would be it. There are so many good and encouraging things that have happened -- watch this space, as I (tumblr mod) am going to have Twitter Mod, in all her beneficence, grab me some screenshots from Twitter to show off good/hopeful/encouraging things that have happened recently, since not everyone (including me!) is on Twitter -- that, while we may encounter doubts, disappointments, and uncertainty, it would be as foolish to throw everything out as it would be to assume that we're completely in the clear.

Recency bias, negativity bias, and plain ol' uncertainty have a way of reminding us that there's still doubt and uncertainty surrounding us in this campaign; at times, to borrow a quote, we can feel like we're braving a storm in a skiff made of paper. When a day, a week, two weeks, or more pass without Absolute Confirmation of being picked up, it's easy to lose confidence, to become discouraged, and to believe that nothing we do matters.

And yes, to just simply get sad. And that's okay, that's normal and understandable.

To answer the question posed at the beginning of this ask: yes, we still firmly believe that we're going to get our show back. So many good things -- Nice Things -- have happened and continue to happen (once again, watch this space for a screenshot-heavy post about those things!), that I think it would be wrongheaded to ignore them.

Yes, CF would tell us if there wasn't a chance. It's not really 'free publicity' to encourage people to support a campaign to save a show that they don't have a stake in.

And yes, they make Lockwood and Co; but without a second season, there's no opportunity to make more profit off of it -- sales off DVDs only apply when the show will be put on DVD, after all, which is increasingly uncommon for streaming-premiered shows. Positive word of mouth of "oh they made that really good show that netflix unfairly cancelled" -- a true statement -- only goes so far when negative word of mouth -- "they led fans on when they knew there wasn't a chance" -- is the trade-off.

CF isn't a huge company, they need that positive word of mouth to draw in viewers for current and future projects. On top of all of that, they're human. It's tempting to see every business, no matter the size, as a soul-sucking machine that wrings fans dry for profit, but that simply isn't true, especially of smaller outfits.

The same goes for the Strouds -- there was so much of a rush for the books when the show first came out; people had to wait weeks and weeks for more copies to be printed and sent out through Amazon/Barnes & Noble/other booksellers, and libraries had hold lines for months. That fervor only holds out so long, though, without something concrete -- another season -- to keep it up. In this age of 'receipts', Stroud isn't going to risk his reputation (and provide a lot of clean-up work for his agent) by stringing us alone without any hope.

Everyone involved in this, from the production studio to the author to us, the fans, has a vested interest in not just creating buzz but in actually making a S2 happen. Simply from a business standpoint, it's better business to supply an in-demand product than to not. Attention spans -- and business experts' opinions of attention spans, which is almost more important -- are famously short nowadays. Businesses cannot and do not plan on a small injection to produce long-lasting loyalty and results -- and when they do, like Netflix has been, it bites them in the rear repeatedly.

The sad, sorry fact is that they can't be open and transparent with us about renewal efforts, you're completely right about that. The legalities of contracts and deals within the media industry demand absolute silence until the ink is dry, and sometimes for a bit after that. To use a recent example, the showrunner for Warrior Nun tweeted in March that the show being saved would be because of fan efforts to make it happen. A full 3 months later, he was allowed to announce that the show had officially been picked up. The wheels of media move slowly, but they move.

When does clowning become delusion? The only situation where it would would be if CF came out and told us to stop and that there was no chance. Barring that, it doesn't become delusion. We like to toss around the term 'clowning' -- and it's a fun term that we, the mods, use regularly -- but all we're referring to is the process of distilling what we see into tangible data.

I don't mean to make it sound like some scientific process, but...isn't it? Isn't this all some grand experiment in the name of a grand hobby?

We plot, we plan, we infer, we record, and at the end of the day we turn all of that effort into tangible results. Those results -- trending every single day since cancellation, usually with multiple hashtags/phrases, numerous articles written about the show, its cancellation, and the efforts to save it, a petition with nearly 25k signatures, award nominations, you name it -- are very real, and very helpful.

While ultimately we can't sign the contracts or enact the business deals that will cement our pick-up -- trust us, if we could, they'd be signed by now -- we can provide strong reasons through our engagement for business to want us. The higher we raise demand, the more of a no-brainer providing supply -- a second season -- is.

To all of LockNation, we thank you for your continued efforts. Your tweets, posts, fanart, fanfic, hashtags, signatures, articles, and most importantly, your relentless cheerful dedication, mean the world. We heartily thank you and we heartily encourage you to take breaks, to take care of yourselves. We're confident that, in the future, we will be able to look down at our little skiff made of paper and find that it was made of sterner stuff than we thought.

We're confident in the continued future of Lockwood and Co. We can do this. Look to other successful campaigns; we may have months to go, but we can get through them and come out the victors on the other end.

[hollow-dweller]

Talk Shop Tuesday: as someone who is involved in a lot of fandoms (and has seen a lot of horrors), has there been a significant shift in how fandom is today compared to the “good old days” as much as people say?

there are. SO MANY.

to start and to be entirely clear, there is no good old days of fandom. there are things i miss about fandom tendencies of the past, which i'll get into, but as many many many marginalized fans have and will continue to say, Ye Ol' Fandom was as much if not more of a cesspit of racism, misogyny, and queerphobia as it is today. because fandom platforms were more diversified, they were also more gatekept--and i mean actually gatekept, not just "people are mean about this thing i like" gatekept. to an extent this was necessary--fandom itself was much more culturally stigmatized, and existed largely in a legal gray area, so fandom spaces needed to be semi-closed communities for their own protection. however, if you were a fan who tried to bring up systemic fannish issues--such as racism--you could and would be kicked out of whatever fannish space you were in, and there would very rarely be other places to turn.

also as a caveat: this is not anywhere CLOSE to a comprehensive view of the changes in fandom nor the myriad factors that contribute to those changes. fandom is a cultural ecosystem existing within a broader cultural ecosystem, and the ways those things interact with and inform one another are literally innumerable. anyone who claims they know the One Thing That Ruined Fandom is oversimplifying the issue. anyone claiming they know the Twenty Things That Ruined Fandom is oversimplifying the issue. fandom is a living system, and living systems exist in a constant state of change.

but broadly speaking, i think there are two major changes that have informed The State of Fandom.

Consolidation of Fandom Platforms

as mentioned, fandom used to exist as a variety of closed or semi-closed forum spaces, blogs, archives, and other websites, each dedicated to its own fandom or, more often, subsets of a particular fandom. authors/artists had their own sites, particular ships had their own sites, fic had its own sites, art had its own sites, discussion/meta had its own sites, and any or all of these could be hosted in any combination across any number of websites depending on the fandom. some of this was the result of the structure of the early internet, and some of it was, as mentioned above, a function of necessity.

as the internet evolved and fandom platforms became consolidated, this necessarily changed fandom norms and behaviours. the way we write fic is different because of the advent and dominance of ao3, the way we construct meta is different because of the nature of sites like reddit and tumblr, the way we build community is different because of sites like discord, etc. notably, most of the changes we've seen are not created by social media or mass fandom platforms, but rather enhanced by them. ship wank, whether masquerading as legitimate analysis or not, has always been a cornerstone of fandom--it like all things is simply much more accessible to people now than it used to be. the subdivision of fandoms into different subgroups, even within a ship or media, has also always been a thing--people form friend groups with like-minded people and that's normal, actually. the types of conversations and conflicts fandom has have not changed that much--just the places and manner in which we engage with them.

modern fandom platforms are both more accessible and more comprehensive than they ever have been--so fans can more easily than ever be exposed to different corners or subsets of fandom. but also. fans can more easily than ever be exposed to different corners or subsets of fandom.

The Scarcity of Long Running Media and the Dissolution of the Monoculture

the type of media that fandom now orients itself around has changed drastically as a result of changes in the broader media landscape, and this also changes fandom norms and behaviour. it is increasingly more rare for a fandom to develop over the course of years, because long-running serialized (or even episodic) narratives are becoming less common. tv shows especially are released with vanishingly short promotion cycles, and with less and less certainty of continuation. creators have to therefore hedge their bets--the binge model means there is no room to pivot mid-season if things aren't working out, and the lack of certainty around renewal means that seasons have to be relatively close-ended in order to try to deliver a satisfying experience. similar trends affect book publishing--we are seeing fewer and fewer multi-part series being released, and fewer books dominating cultural discussion in the way blockbuster series of the past have.

thinking of cornerstone megafandoms of the past (and present), we tended to see a couple essential elements that contributed to both fandom engagement and sustained fandom activity: they were released over a longer period of time, and they took up a larger portion of the dominant cultural landscape. the Harry Potter books were released over a period of ten years and were, of course, a huge cultural moment. Twilight was released over a shorter period of time, but was similarly a cornerstone of the monoculture, enhanced by the immediate and almost-eclipsing (heh) release of its movie counterparts. The X-Files was released over the course of, again, a decade, and they will be releasing new Star Treks until the mountains crumble into the sea and the stars turn to dust. these fandoms all have greater and lesser degrees of longevity and output, but they and fandoms like them all had the benefit of time and cultural dominance in order to enable the development of the fandom.

this is not universal (nothing i'm saying is universal), but fandoms nowadays tend to be a lot shorter-lived and migratory simply because they have less material to work with and less time in which to work with it. Voltron, as one example, was a megafandom that developed rapidly and burned out quickly, and while it had a decent amount of material, its eight seasons were released over the course of two and a half years. fannish momentum can only be sustained on so much material for a certain period of time, and fannish investment is necessarily going to be curtailed if fans live in uncertainty about the continuation of their favourite media.

this also is reflected in the type of fanworks that we see proliferating. while AUs were not absent from Ye Old Fandom, i do think they were a lot less common/prominent. the longer release cycles and difference in structure between releases (open-ended finales as motivation to hook viewers into the next installment that they knew/were pretty certain was going to happen vs close-ended finales that hedge bets if a series is cancelled) led to a lot more speculative fanworks set within the canon, imagining what was going to happen next. a famous example is of course the HP fandom's Three Year Summer--the period of three years between the release of the fourth and fifth Harry Potter books that was intensely productive for that fandom. fanworks in that period were famously long and plotty canon divergence/canon speculation works branching from the return of Voldemort in book four, and that tendency towards long and plotty canon-based or canon-adjacent fanworks persists within the HP fandom to this day.

fandoms nowadays do tend more towards works that are stripped from their canon contexts (the infamous coffee shop au, media fusion aus, modern setting aus, no powers aus), and while these works did exist in Ye Old Fandom, they were both more rare and their reach was more limited.

Some Kind of Conclusion Because This Is An Essay Now I Guess

to present a synthesis scenario: a particular trope is generated and popularized by one fandom. due to its presence on consolidated platform sites, it becomes ubiquitous within that fandom, spawning further derivatives, copycats, reimaginings, and variations. as people migrate from fandom to fandom, both as a result of the media landscape itself and the ease of doing so on social media/multi-fandom sites, the trope or AU spreads to other fandoms, and is again further transformed by those fandoms. this continues ad infinitum.

this pattern is not limited to tropes in fanworks--it is applicable to every element of fandom, from discourse to meta to creative works to behavioural norms. the state of modern fandom is interconnected to the platforms on which fandom is hosted and the media on which it is based. no longer is the one common unifying element of fandom the source media--the unifying element is fandom itself. this is why we see, for example, people stating they get involved in fandoms for media they have no experience with--they do not know the source text, but they know fandom.

i could literally go on and on--i didn't even touch on things like the destruction of the fandom fourth wall, or the relationship to the practice of filing off the serial numbers, or the existence of BNFs (actual BNFs not people like you seek who just Have Friends and Make Things), or the connection to nostalgia, or the relationship to commentary and analysis-based fandom outlets such as rewatch podcasts, or-

there are literally so many elements here. i could talk about this forever. i probably will be talking about this forever. please god someone let me out of here HELP-

[gemsofgreece]

I'd like to drop in an opinion of someone from Eastern Europe about this whole "West vs. East" thing that American, British (and sometimes French) media/public loves to put out, seeing that they are the absolute (if we aim for these definitions) West compared to South and East of Europe: those are completely inapplicable ideas stemming from the West alone.

Like, I don't understand why it's so hard for the ultimately Western countries to understand that hell of a cultural mix going on around East and South (respectively and individually, not mashed together) of Europe is not separated into the simple categories of West and East, especially not in the Western idea of a "progressive West" and "barbaric East"; a lot of our countries have always been Eastern-leaning and only got pulled into this whole narrative of Western society recently. And a lot of us are still only notably Western, being excluded on many occasions as not being Western "enough".

I'm sorry for such a disconnected rant, I hope my point ("Western idea of how West & East interact in Eastern and Southern Europe is absolute bullshit") was clear regardless. I'm happy to see you talk about this crap, I hope you take good care of your mental health. I can't comprehend the issues of the Greek state in terms of Western treatment of your country fully, but it's relieving to see that others are speaking out on the issues East and South of Europe seem to be both going through.

Have a lovely day!

Yes and also I am not exactly sure what “western culture” is supposed to stand for. More human rights? Blandness? Money? I always thought the financial and social progress and protection of rights in the West is a matter of many sociopolitical and economical parameters that are not the same to what a culture is. And like you said, this progress is fairly recent (in the long run of history) and it is not directly or straightforwardly linked to any particular culture or civilisation.

Culture does not operate in boxes, it is a fluid and continuous evolution of people’s expression and it does not fit into categories. The conditioning that occurs lately with which the west attempts to westernise East and South Europe is embraced by some people but what those people actually embrace is an opening to more short term opportunities for economical growth and social progress. This is why it is a sociopolitical phenomenon in its origin, except it has cultural repercussions as cultural influences are naturally invading alongside the welcome social reforms and they impact the younger or more impressionable people.

Since you wondered about Greece, its case is a little different. The way it is perceived in terms of cultural orientation is very funny and unique. Geographically, Greece along with Cyprus is the most southeastern culture of Europe. Politically and culturally, you will see that Greece is officially considered a part of Western Europe!!!

This placement is honorary. Yes you read this correctly; honorary! Honoured to be considered part of the west for being the good ol’ “cradle of the western civilisation”. Thank you so much. In short, Greece is an eastern place which everyone has silently agreed to mislabel as western simply because they dig the ancient influence that much.

Having said that, since the formation of the modern Hellenic Republic, the Greeks were indeed determined to more or less follow through with all the reforms and policies that would shape the society according to the western principles. This is why you will often see Greece ranking in between western and Eastern European countries regarding various social, political and economical markers. This all began even before the Greek revolution - the Greek nation had to adopt a western orientation in order to fight off the Ottoman Empire effectively and win the sympathies of west Europe. Most Greek expats of power had fully embraced and prospered in the western ideals of Europe and did their best to bring them to the Greek subjects of the empire. It would be thus unfair to claim the West actively forces the westernisation of Greece - Greeks have been consciously oriented towards the west all the last centuries. The problem is that the West stands bewildered before the various and potent eastern elements of the Greek civilisation - at times it chooses to ignore them and at times it demonises them (ie Byzantine Empire, which ironically was far more secular than many western nations at the time). The worst consequence of this is an effort to fabricate a strong bond to the ancient culture while expelling all the eastern elements as compromise for which Byzantine and Modern Greeks are responsible, distancing them from their heritage as a result. And the worst, many Greeks have internalised this, inevitably welcoming also unproductive influence like other Eastern Europeans.

The responsibility lies with the Greeks to understand that their culture does not fit any box the West feels comfortable with and it does not have to. I don’t care so much what westerners think as seeing young Greeks being clueless enough to feel sorry for not being “western enough” or thinking that eastern elements first invaded the culture with the Turks.

It can be said for so many countries that they are not leaning either eastern or western exactly in this made up spectrum and Greece is certainly among the ones that this can be said about the most.

Have a great day too! ☺️

[askbensolo]

Ben, did you ever eat bugs when you were younger? Y'know like you were channeling your inner Anakin

Yes. Yes I did. As well as other things. Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is. I don’t know why I did that, but hey, the heart wants what it wants…

Oh my gosh. Dude. Wanna hear a college story? ‘Cause I ate a live bug in college. In fact, I ate five of them.

I’ll set the scene. Good ol’ UNaboo. Junior year. My first year, actually, since I transferred in. A fall semester party. The Osk Trill Osk frat house. Enter Ben Solo, twenty years old, tall but scrawny, still in his ugly sweater era, dragged into the tableau by a twenty-one-year-old Treeso Wonga, his new friend from NHS 101: Introduction to Nonhuman Studies.

“I don’t think my mom would want me here,” Ben says, fear in his eyes, a college junior with a freshman soul. “Is it like in the holofilms? Are people gonna be, like…doing stuff?”

“Relax, Solo,” says Treeso, pushing him forward with a solid hand to the back. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We’re here to have fun!”

Osk Trill Osk is a co-ed, mostly-Gungan fraternity. Ben, at this time, has mostly only ever interacted with humans and near-human species, and even those he has barely interacted with. We’re looking at a guy who was homeschooled from age five, practically lived in his bedroom till nineteen, and can count all the friends he’s ever had on one hand. And now he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of a loud and crowded room with a bunch of eighteen-to-twenty-two-year-olds, but he feels like he’s twelve.

The others are friendly enough. They offer him drinks and they offer him things that aren’t drinks and one girl who’s maybe already had a bit too much to drink thinks he’s cute and offers him something else. But the looming threat of Leia Organa-Solo hovers over the boy, along with his own anxious inhibitions and fairly cautious nature, and he declines them all.

“I’m, uh, not twenty-one yet,” he says, naively thinking the excuse is watertight, but a rousing chorus of “neither are we!” shatters the illusion at once.

“I mean, I like following rules,” he says instead, with eyes so big you could read the humiliation in them from a lightyear away—but no one else in the room is in a state to be that observant. Nor are they in a state to spend even one of the brain cells they’re all trying to kill off on thinking about what a loser Ben is. But Ben, however, now has many brain cells that have devoted themselves entirely to this purpose, and he spends the next hour stressed-out and sober, thinking about what a loser he is, and how he can prove he’s not.

Enter the blue slug-beetles, which someone suddenly brings in a crate of, much in the same way one would bring in a six-pack of beer. There is a series of cheers from the Gungans in the room.

The slug-beetle is a bright blue insect about the size of the palm of your hand, and has the curious distinction of being native to both Naboo and Tatooine, with the ability to thrive in both wetland and desert. On Naboo, they are found in the eastern swamps, crawling in the mud amidst the roots of the pelote trees. They are a Gungan delicacy, and Gungans, with their strong teeth and long tongues, are well-suited to cracking the beetles’ hard shells and slurping up the juices. Treeso and several other Gungans begin to do so immediately, while some of the non-Gungan guests look on, some with fascination, some with disgust.

Ben Solo is not a Gungan. He is, however, an absolute freaking idiot. Through some insane inspiration, he decides that he is going to prove how cool he is by being the first human to eat a blue slug-beetle. He puts his hand in the crate.

It’s alive, first of all. These slug-beetles have been prepped for consumption by the removal of their wings, the stubs of which are clipped off in straight lines and flitter nervously as the beetles struggle vainly to survive another day. But even without flight, Ben’s beetle squirms in his hands, its several legs tickling his palms as he tries to prevent its escape.

This moron, frantic not to embarrass himself by having to chase a slug-beetle around the room, finally gives up on figuring out how to eat it. He settles for slapping his palm against his mouth, throwing back the beetle like a handful of pills. The legs tickle his tongue instead of his hands. In a panic, he champs down on it to end its life, and swallows it, the hard fragments of shell scraping the insides of his throat on the way down.

And guess what? Nobody freaking saw.

Damn.

So then. Of course. What other conclusion is there? He has to do it again. Reluctantly, he reaches once more into the crate of crawling beetles.

Mind you, this buffoon is fully sober. He has nothing and no one to blame for his stupid decisions. He’s just…like that.

He picks up the second bug. Probably, he should have stopped and waved and said something like, “Hey, guys, watch me eat this bug!” (though in retrospect, I’m kind of glad he didn’t), but this dude had pretty bad social anxiety at the time, and such a prospect was unthinkable.

So…Ben Solo eats his second slug-beetle. And again. Nobody freaking sees him do it. Although it does go down a little smoother.

Well. Now he’s committed to the bit. Committed enough to grab a t-h-i-r-d slug-beetle,��but for some reason not committed enough to say “hey guys watch me eat this bug” because that would involve calling attention to himself, which is exactly what he’s attempting to do, except no, he doesn’t want to make himself noticed, he just wants to be noticed.

Third slug-beetle goes down—similarly unseen. It’s looking like Ben prayed too hard at the beginning of the party for people not to look at him, because, yeah, that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Sure, he could just call it there and shrug it off and laugh at himself for eating three slug-beetles for nothing, but…you know? The sunk-cost fallacy is one hell of a drug.

He’s getting the hang of it. Down goes the fourth beetle. One of the Gungans looks at the crate and goes, hey, where’d all the beetles go? They went fast, huh? And Ben Solo’s like, oh, someone’s looking, now’s my chance. He grabs the fifth bug and puts it in his mouth and imagines the sweet, sweet taste of notoriety.

Well, he was getting the hang of it. But at this point, this stupid neophyte college boy is sweaty and dehydrated and has nothing in his stomach but hydrochloric acid and five blue slug-beetles and a bunch of social anxiety and his body decides, yeah, okay, show’s over, we’re done here. Pack it up, boys.

So, everyone’s watching when Ben Solo slaps his hands over his mouth and stumbles over to a conveniently-placed garbage can and keels over and…you know, un-eats all the bugs.

“Yooo, I thought you said you weren’t gonna drink!” says Treeso, pulling back my hair while I freaking die, and someone else says they can see why I don’t drink, since we’ve only been there an hour and I’m already losing my guts. And from that point on everyone thinks I’m just, like, the worst lightweight ever.

And? To this day? No one will kriffing believe me that I ate five bugs. Like…seriously?? If I was gonna lie about myself for clout, you really think that that’s what I’d be going with?? Ben Solo, the bug-eater???

Anyway…yeah. I present myself before you. Ben Solo, eater of bugs.

[shewritesforlove]

I reread Diolomatic Relations (x) for the umpteenth time today and had a thought.

Teenage Lan Wangji had a reputation, even back then, for being something of a hard-core disciplinarian. I mean, if I remember write, Nie Huaisang even warned Wei Wuxian to watch out for "Not Lan Qiren, but his prized pupil, Lan Wangji", or something to that effect, on the first day they arrived.

Now yes, that reputation might be only within Lan Sect walls at that point (Nie Huaisang knowing because he'd attended the lectures multiple times), but think about it!

We never really got to see him interact with anyone other than Wei Wuxian in Canon for that time period, and well, Wei Ying has always been Lan Zhan's exception. (Who else managed to get Lan Wangji to draw his sword within minutes of meeting them when No Fighting is one of the Lan Sect rules?!)

So, what if it's even more of a thing than assumed?

Would even be hilarious if it turned into A canon-divergent AU.

Because I can definitely see:

Somebody making trouble and Lan Wangji showing up with that disapproving stoic face of his, only for Wei Wuxian to show up, and Lan Wangji just freezing from the onslaught of "Wei Ying!" pinging in his head, and by the time he remembers the troublemakers, they're long gone

Of course, eventually someone realizes that when Wei Wuxian's around, he sees absolutely nothing else and this is how Wei Wuxian befriends all of the Lan Sect (and probably his entire peer group) all in one go

Only, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian catch on eventually (they might be dense, but they aren't stupid). Lan Wangji would probably find out via the good ole fashioned, unintentional family intervention. Big brother's amusement that he's finally learning to let some of the minor infractions slide... and Wei Wuxian would probably have to overhear some of the Lan disciples talking, getting it literally spelled out for him, for him to figure it out

Dunno if Wei Wuxian would think it all a great joke or if it would be a golden nugget of truth that smacks him in the face, but we all know he'd act on it immediately. And Lan Wangji, well, now he's ready for it. He might still have no idea how he really feels for Wei Wuxian, but he's got one of two options: get stricter or foster a less hostile image, and well, even dense as a brick, Lan Zhan likes Wei Ying

So the counterattack begins: suddenly it's not that Lan Wangji doesn't notice anything, it's that when Wei Ying is around, he dishes out slaps on the wrist. All the while, of course, Wei Ying is determined to see how many of Lan Zhan's buttons he can push before that jade facade starts to crack

In true WangXian fashion, though, things only come to head in the Cold Pool somehow, and ribbons (both blue and red) get involved. I have no idea which verse I'm working with, but accidental teenage handfasting in a cage because of bunnies and ancestors is appealing and amusing (tho, I've never been all that amused by Yin Iron)

Only, they cone out the othersidr United, dammit. They both know what they did and the consequences they're going to have to deal with, because contextually, it wouldn't make sense for Wei Ying to not realize there's something off about the ribbon's meaning (seeing as to test Lan Zhan's "kindness" regarding broken rules, he'd have to pay really, really, close attention to said rules)

And so Wei Ying comes out with a new bracelet and Lan Zhan with a naked forehead, and the scandal shakes the Lan Sect upside down, but it quickly makes for changes--- because I forget what fanfic I read where something similar went down, but in the scene where Jin Zixuan got punched, Wei Wuxian felt the ribbon when be clenched his fist and remembered restraint at the last minute and that is *chef's kiss* beautiful, and so Wei Wuxian gets to stay and finish out the year

And Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji go night hunting when they get that far into the lectures, and Wei Wuxian trips into the baby Lan section at some point because he totally would, and throughout all of this the couple starts earning this distinctly unique reputation: Wei Wuxian is Lan Wangji's only soft spot.

[askthecosmos]

FINALLY!! AN INTRODUCTION!!

(WORD DUMP AHEAD!! HAVE FUN READING!!) After a few months of consideration, a few weeks of even more consideration, and a whole weekend of planning- Ask The Cosmos is FINALLY here!! Oh, right, screaming into an endless voice doesnt always get peoples attention.. Hm.. Oh well, just an excuse to introduce everyone to the many MANY worlds of Cosmicanity, and just what this blog is! So what even IS Ask The Cosmos/Cosmicanity? Short answer! My OC writing! Longer, cooler answer! Cosmicanity is a very lengthy tale centered around the affairs of beings higher than gods(dubbed "Divine" or "Divinity"), and the Goldview/Underside conflict around magic users. A lot of this is written by yours truely(Shawn!! @cosmichaze01 !!), but I also have a cowriter who owns a good over half portion of the characters, and has helped me get this far with my writing (Cates!! @breeloved !!)(This literally wouldnt be possible without her, so huge huge thank you to you if youre reading this!!) This blog, however, is the more interactive, fun way of telling the story!! So how do these asks work? Well, the same way any tumblr ask blog of ye ol' days worked! You got a question for the characters? Ask em! You got an OOC question? Ask! All we ask is that you're mindful of how you speak in the ask box, and you dont get too carried away with how you interact!! (So basically, no hard NSFW- I dont mind a raunchy joke or two, but please be mindful!!) Wow! So what if I want to make fan content? Go right ahead! There are a few rules since this is an OC ask blog, however, ZERO NSFW CONTENT! As of writing this, the writer is infact Not An Adult! And the main character is sort of also Not An Adult! Plus, thats just weird!! So please, be smart and dont go making that of some random's characters! TAG US!! I would LOVE to see the works you make based around these guys(and Im sure Cates would too!!), so make sure we see it!! Tag any fanart with #AskTheCosmosFanart OR #CosmicanityFanart to ensure it gets seen!! Feel free to specify characters and all that, too! (or use the regular tags.. whew, to be honest im not good with this tumblr stuff!) OUR OCS ARE NOT YOUR OPINIONS!! Please do not use the likeness of any of the characters featured to spread any hurtful or controversial political opinions!! Where else can you be found? Since this is a side blog, I'll probably mostly be reblogging stuff on my main, @cosmichaze01 (Please also go there if you have any serious inquiries!). This blog is also shared on my Twitter (@ SundropGalaxy), where you can ALSO ask asks! I also have a HEAVILY WIP Toyhouse account, but be warned! Spoilers ahead there! (CosmicHaze01) For a sort of "other", more urgent catagory, please DM my main for my Discord! That should be all for now!! IF I think of anything else, I'll be sure to throw it on here! Have fun asking!!

[lone-wolf-no-more]

Life is Like a Box of Legos...You Build with What You Get

Tuesday, February 21, 2023

Another moment that was a painful today. Selling my Legos. 30 plus years of memories in that box, and some lucky guy on Facebook Marketplace bought it off me for a song.

I mean, I don’t want to ruminate on it. Yes, I can buy more Legos...someday. But...no. I have to fight that thought. The VERY reason those little plastic bricks had any significance to me was the people behind those memories. That’s it. If anything, one has to sometimes do painful things in order to grow and move forward.

I’ve often found that when I am around loving people, doing the things that truly matter to me, that truly fulfill me, that the things I have to give up (more like, the process of putting the past behind me) isn’t anywhere near as hard or painful. Which plays into what I’ve been thinking about technology, and my relationship with it, and my connections with people online.

The loss of the past only feels as painful as my sense of lack of hope and optimism for the here and now, and the future. I hold onto the past, because it seems so ideal, so much better than what I have in the here and now. And we as humans hold onto those symbols of the past, as if they were they themselves contain the past and the times we reminisce over. We forget, once again, it’s about the people around those memories that made them what they are. Not merely some pile of plastic bricks, or a house with four walls, or even a yard with some trees and basketball net.

And the believe that the only reason that thinking about putting technology and “online relationships” to the sidelines is such a painful proposition to me, is because it’s by and large made up a huge part of my reality. My sense of the “outside world” and everything else has largely come through a screen.

Even as a child, I remember that while I welcomed the times of meeting other people, of doing group activities, of playing with the neighborhood kids (good ol’ 90’s vibes all around), I would often find myself being drawn to being isolated, while staring at a screen. I have too many memories of myself choosing to avoid social interaction, and instead flying that virtual helicopter, commanding that fake army, or trying to keep Mario dying for the 100th time. I see now that those patterns of being very sensitive and a bit socially inept in new situations, together with a past history of being misjudged as a young man, have really conflicted with my ability to just not care if people see things different than I do, to just be comfortable in my own skin, and not care so much about how I measure up to others’ standards.

To this day, whenever I’m around when a disagreement or misunderstanding happens (whether it be online, and especially, in person), I get so incredibly uncomfortable. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make things worse, and then end up blaming myself. I do realize that part of that also stems from me having schisms, so to speak, between myself and others, and having them dislike or distance themselves from me. I guess you could say I’m always wondering, “Oh no, did I do or say something wrong yet again?”

Circling back to what I was saying, I do think too much of my childhood was me avoiding living real life, even though I did “allow myself” to live it at times, and those ended up forming some of the best memories. But then I’m constantly asking myself this question: “To what end?” To what end was my frolicking, my Lego building, my escapism, my fort building, whatever it may have been? Yes, I know, I must be more kind and forgiving to my “former self”, but I 100% know that I didn’t grow up fast enough. Back to what I was saying several posts ago, there must be that child-like wonder and playfulness, but it should be tempered with a very real sense of living “real life”. To me, that means showing kindness and sacrifice to others in your words and actions.

I may only be 32, but I still have more than enough regret that I lived too much of my life selfishly. The childhood escapism stretched into my teens and twenties. It wasn’t uncommon for me to leave home on my bicycle, and spend hours at the local library. That very well may have been the “ideal drug” for me at the time. I was able to waste hours on YouTube and elsewhere (hello, NewGrounds and MiniClip), while still not feeling entirely isolated.

But I lost track of the times I would go home, be alone even more with the videos I downloaded and took back with me, or the DVDs, or the freeware video games I had hunted down, and then go to sleep feeling worse. And then waking up, dreading the next day. I honestly don’t know what’s worse: biking long quiet stretches in the countryside just to be alone more, or being alone in suburbia, where you feel so closed in and stifled.

It’s a strange dichotomy. You hate being alone, to the point that it can outright crush you, but then you feel ill at ease around others, because you feel that you have nothing to offer, like life is more than just going from one gathering to the next, it’s more than just filling up your time with learning knowledge.

Again, truly living to me, is making everywhere you go better, maybe even just that room you’re in right now. Truly living is exploring and discovering life, and the world, together with others, it’s about building things and growing together in the real world. Because life spent alone with listlessness and regret is a horrible thing.

So, what are my biggest struggles right now? Simply forgiving my past self, and putting the past behind me, namely the past I had not even 5 years ago. And then beyond that, looking ahead to the future with optimism and hope, deciding that I can and MUST make decisions that will lead me to seeing my life as fulfilling and purposeful, and rejecting the stuff that just simply doesn’t help towards that end. Yeah, I get that this still seems like an abstract idea.

But circling back to what I was saying about technology, in this day and age, it is increasingly easy to try to replace that emptiness in our hears with more podcasts, more videos, more Discord servers full of people who we will probably won’t see face to face.

If the answer was technology, why are we less happy now, less fulfilled than we used to be before the internet and the age of smartphones helped crush our child-like sense of awe, of creativity, of hope, of optimism?

It’s time for me and whomever reads this to do some deep soul searching. Because at the end of the day, when I finish the novel I’m reading right now, Captain Nemo and Professor Aronnax will have parted ways with me, and they will remain fictional characters. This isn’t me saying fictional books are bad. No, especially since they help to foster those very things I listed above. What I’m saying is that it’s time for me to stop substituting escapism and vicarious living for accomplish great things in the real world.

I know quite clearly that I just basically had you drag an anvil through mud there. Hopefully this served some good purpose, and the next entry will reflect more of that hope and joy I so clearly desire.

Until the next entry, todaloo. :)

^This is to help temper the more serious nature of this post. Handel's music (especially the piece this movement is from) has been precious to me ever since my family bought a CD with it when I was 7.

[thejospring]

Honestly, Jo admired you for being able to stand doing this. She'd done waitressing in her days, and even some cooking, but cooking and serving at a carnival must be one of the worst jobs she could imagine. Not only was it probably a pretty cramped space, she couldn't deal with so many hungry people in a row. That's why she liked her job. Yes, there was some interactions with the public but mostly the interactions were with the cars and that was perfect.

Knowing how it would be, she made her way to a quiet spot with your knowledge, which was good as it allowed her to find a nice spot. And she was definitely grateful for the food. Who doesn't love a good ol' burger? Especially to celebrate the 4th of July. "You need to get more American now that you're here. This is the perfect occasion.'

She didn't care much about winning those silly games in themselves.If you decided to challenge her to beat you, that would be another story..As it stood, she didn't care to win some plushie or some badly made piece of technology or some horrendous decor. "Nah, Ali, all our conversations cannot end up talking about how old we are. I refuse. We are going to have some fun!" she said, slapping your knee to be convincing. "That's really fucking good by the way."

event starter for @thejospring "I'm off in five minutes." Ali tells you from behind the counter of the food truck, where three people are waiting to be served. It's 9pm and the stall is finally running out of stock for the day, which had been the craziest by far. Americans were so loyal to their patriotic celebrations, let's just say Ali didn't expect burgers to go out of stock in a food truck. How could it even be possible ? However, he served the three last meals, grabbed the ones he had prepared for the two of you on his way back to the huge bin behind the truck, and met you at the other end of the carnival, where people could sit and relax before heading back into the frenzy of the town-wide party. "Sorry, I know I said five. I added ten more to test our friendship." Ali declared with a smile when he sat down next to you in the grass. "I want to have fun tonight." Ali continued while biting on a chip. "Although I must warn you that I have zero skill concerning stuff like darts, popping moving balloons or holding a gun." Ali smiled like he was guilty of something. In fact, if you intended to win anything, you probably should find another partner to go to the carnival with, because the most Ali had ever won was a tiny diddl plushie back in 2008 when he took a trip to Berlin. And that is without taking into consideration his whole-day shift at the food truck, from which he was knackered. Just as he finished his food, Ali laid down on the grass, letting out a huge sigh. "Ugh, I thought I was going to die in here. We need to take my adrenaline up if you don't want me just sleeping here like an old man in the middle of a summer afternoon. God I'm an old man."

[nat-20s]

8 for jmart?

#8- constantly cheacking their messages for words from the other

what else was I gonna do? here's some classic ol' season 3 pining babey

Hello Martin. This is Jon. I have gotten a new phone after losing my last one, please put in the new number.

It's a simple message. Straightforward, factual, and utilitarian. There is no reason that pressing send should make his heart race. There's especially no reason that the second he sends it off, he's tempted to lie on the deeply uncomfortable, likely bedbug infested motel mattress staring at his screen until he gets a response. Sure, he's sick of being overseas, and he's sick of being so isolated, and he's sick of running, but he's not...desperate for what little companionship can even be provided by words on a screen.

He does miss Martin, though. He misses Tim as well, but in a manner that's significantly more complex and knotted than the simple desire to be around him.

God, when did he start wanting to just be around Martin? He started being aware of that want when he was at Georgie's, but he has no idea when the want itself actually started. That was probably something he should examine. Technically speaking, that is something that he has time to examine, but he doesn't want to examine right now. Right now, he wants the comfort of perhaps one of the only people out there that doesn't want to kill him, or use him, or both.

Martin, whether through somehow sensing Jon's discontent from nearly 4000 miles away or, more likely, through a general dutifulness inherent to his character, only takes a few minutes to reply. Oh good! it'd been a little bit since hearing from you, we were somewhat worried. putting you in my contacts as we speak :)!

Saying that "we" were worried is almost certainly generous on Martin's part, but Jon feels no need to point that out. Instead he turns on his side and stares at the phone. He particularly focuses on the smiley face, ridiculously charmed by the fact that, despite everything, Martin hasn't lost his predilection for emojis. Two years ago, he would've rolled his eyes, maybe thought something snide about professionalism. It wouldn't have been fair, as Tim used to do the same thing and he thought nothing of it, but he wasn't fair back then. Now, he simply wonders if he can get away with sending one back.

Before he can respond, Martin sends another message. Are you actually alright? I realized I was kind of assuming that losing your phone was the only reason you were MIA, but is anything else going on?

Damn. He tends to forget how perceptive Martin can be. What, exactly, Martin had perceived in that first message, Jon couldn't be sure, but apparently there was something that tipped him off to the..eventful last week he'd had. He really, really doesn't feel like getting into all of that right now, especially not over text, so instead he replies a mostly truthful I'm fine.

Then, squinting at the screen and realizing that might come across as a dismissal, he adds, Well, other than trying not to contemplate the general sanitation practices of a motel that clearly hasn't updated it's decor since the 70s. I'm suspecting the sheets are much the same.

He doesn't know how Martin will react to the message. He can't see the face he'll make, won't know the tone of his voice. However, he likes to imagine that Martin will at least smile. Maybe he'll even give that breath of a laugh, the one that sometimes happens when Jon's being lightly acerbic and it's not directed at him. He doesn't know, but he does hope for it. Martin texts back Oof. Maybe sleep on top of the covers tonight, yeah?, and Jon thinks that he might have guessed Martin's reaction correctly.

Christ, who knew all it took was a combination of jetlag and threats to turn him into a sap. He needs to sleep. He really needs a deep, proper, uninterrupted sleep, one lasting a minimum of eight hours and ideally closer to fifteen. Checking the time, it would be a fairly reasonable time to sleep, especially with the early start he has tomorrow. He considers sending off a quick good night message, but then has the realization that as reasonable as it is for him to be asleep right now, it's just as unreasonable for Martin to be awake. Are you alright? Good lord, Martin, it's almost 4am over there. Did I wake you?

Barely 30 seconds pass before he gets back no, you're good!

A beat, then a follow up message. I've had a irregular sleep schedule since I was like 16. A lot of evening and night shifts had a lasting impact u know? Working at the institute made it a bit more consistent but it's still p rare that i sleep the same eight hours night to night.

Jon's starts to text back something sympathetic; he's had his own struggles with both in- and hyper- somnia, but his phone buzzes in his hand before he can finish it.

Sorry! That was uh probably more information than you wanted.

Well, that just won't do. Even if there wasn't a part of his brain that had recently started collecting facts about Martin like they were precious jewels instead of mostly mundane stories, he doesn't want Martin to think he can't talk to him about things outside of the standard bounds of coworkers. Not at all. We're friends, Martin, I enjoy learning about you.

His brain wants to catastrophize the second he presses send. For the first minute that Martin doesn't reply, he doesn't let it. After the second minute, he allows the minor worry to become more severe. Had it been too much? Were they friends? Jon certainly thought so, but what if Martin wasn't in the same boat? Their interactions had been entirely friendly for months now, but what if that was just Martin being polite? God, what if Martin still thought of Jon as his boss, nothing more?

Ten minutes. It takes ten minutes for Martin to finally respond, and Jon has almost called him four times to explain himself. Ten minutes, and the first response is only Oh!

Then: Cool

Well, that's not a "piss off and die", but it's not exactly comforting. Jon doesn't know how to reply, staring at the words on his screen and not entirely sure if he's fucked up or not. Fortunately, Martin's not done responding, and the next message is much, much better.

Hey uh. Feel free to say no I know it's getting late over there but. Im not getting back to sleep for the rest of the day and itd be nice to actually hear you. Would you be okay with a call?

Without a moment's hesitation, he texts back Yes!, exclamation and all, because he's become someone he barely recognizes. The phone rings just as immediately, and he feels his entire body relax at Martin's first "Hello?"

Things are difficult right now. Things have been difficult ever since the promotion that was a curse in disguise. The world is filled with monsters he barely understands. He wishes he was home despite the fact that he barely recognizes it, as filled with tension and strife as it is. There's so much to discuss, so many things they should be hammering out. But right now, the threats are not pressing. Right now, he can hear about the bad true crime documentary Martin half-watched before he got Jon's texts, and Jon can bitch about the three different "pip pip cheerio" comments he's gotten since coming over seas. Right now, and for the hour before Jon drifts off, breathing slow and deep, he can pretend that this is an ordinary phone call, in an ordinary world, between two people who simply miss each other an extraordinary amount.

[curmudggeon]

Southern Hope (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

❝ If by any chance...in another lifetime, we happen to see each other again, I'll come and find you. And I'll make you fall in love with me, over and over again ❞

In which romance novelist, Mary-Beth under the pen name of Leslie Dupont, writes a coming of age love story based on her favourite gang members in the past, You and Arthur.

Trigger Warnings; Violence | Blood | Angst | Sexual Intentions

A/N: This is a project I've been working on for quite a while. I had the idea in mind when I had the chance to experience the musical composition of Aaron Copland's quintessential American Dream, 'Appalachian Spring' -one of my favourite pieces with such a beautiful storyline. And I wanted to retell it in the form of a book that is available on my Wattpad (ongoing) for you to enjoy from Mary-Beth's POV. I hope you show love to this book as much as I loved writing it. Have a sneak peek at the prologue!

Read on Wattpad here for more chapters to come!

PROLOGUE

Leslie Dupont; Mary-Beth Gaskill

Lemoyne, Saint Denis

November 1907

-

“Mademoiselle Dupont, we expect your next manuscript to be submitted by next summer. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Here we go again

Mary-Beth sighed as her editor, Céline Laurent, had warned her once more for not meeting the deadline to her books. She was in a crucial position in her life. After her debut as a romance novelist, The Lady of The Manor was an instant best-seller across the country. It was the kind of thing she specializes in, silly ol’ romances.

“I promise you, I’ll get it done by then.” Or maybe, at least not for now. She shouldn't have promised something she couldn’t keep, especially in the meantime.

“I’ll take your word for that, if you don’t meet the deadline by then. Y’know what will happen to your contract, Leslie.” Céline stood at the door frame of Mary-Beth’s office with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.

She knew exactly what she had meant. In fact, she knew the consequences on the back of her head when she first signed that contract with her publishing company. Two more books were requested of her. Or else she would be evicted of her apartment and be forced to live along the streets of Saint Denis for the rest of her life. A life of luxury slipping between her fingers.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mary-Beth disclaimed, the moment her editor slammed the door as she left her office. Heaving yet another exaggerated sigh, she crosses her arms on the grand rosewood desk, flopping her head on top of it. “What am I going to do now…” She murmured into the crevice of her arms.

Mary-Beth was in the middle of a major writer’s block for a few months now. She lost sight of that imaginative space of hers, consisting of the most swoon-worthy romances to the picture-perfect life she portrayed through her characters. A part of Mary-Beth that her readers absolutely adored. But, her head was now a clouded space of everlasting void. It was difficult for Mary-Beth to come into terms of writing again, but she couldn’t quite identify what had put her into this position.

Once she gathered the courage to write again, it all came crashing down like violent tidal waves when she came face to the daunting blank page of nothingness —almost drowning her.

It was as simple as that. Come to work, have a cup of tea, sit down, and a blank page.

Every. Damn. Time.

Maybe it was because she was already nearing her mid-thirties, and she hasn’t found someone to sweep her off her feet. Maybe it was when she first held Tilly’s baby that she found the need to be a mother someday. Maybe it was the overwhelming response towards her writing, she felt the need to hide away into an abyss. Or maybe she couldn’t stop thinking about the time she had come across John again after so many years that the memories just come flooding back.

Or maybe, just, maybe. It was because it’s November.

The most dreaded time of the year. November, in which the seemingly fearsome Van der Linde gang had officially broken up. Guns were fired, ties were broken and deaths were grieved. An unforgettable, painful memory.

She would often think about campfire songs, the girls and, Miss Grimshaw’s constant nagging about undone chores. Oh, how best of friends Céline and Miss Grimshaw would have been if she had heard Mary-Beth had been slacking again. It was her coping mechanism, think more about the good times to get rid of the bad ones.

Mary-Beth remembered when she took in her hands at being a matchmaker. Prancing around the camp, she would eye her two best contenders. You and Arthur.

She knew from the start when you had laid your eyes on each other for the first time, she could see through the inexplicable connection in between. You were both extremely awkward when it came to small-talk or addressing each other as you walked by across camp. However, it never stopped Arthur to come to camp as soon as he could just so he could see you, even just for a second.

The conversation would often start with Arthur while on his way to Dutch’s tent,

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Yea sure…”

—and that would be it.

At the same time, every single day, at the course of sunset.

You poor socially inept fools.

Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen would always see the interaction happen in the middle of their afternoon chores. Grinning from ear to ear. They would elbow each other whenever there was something different about the correspondence.

One time, you would walk past him, suddenly kissing him on the cheek and scurrying away.

Arthur would stop in his tracks, stunned, with a hand-over where your kiss tingled on his skin. Then he would look back at you as you laid down, smiling to yourself against a tree with a book in your hands. And Dutch would yell his name, knocking him out of his stupor before he noticed he was staring for a little too long.

The girls would start applauding for your heroic performance, it was like a groundbreaking plot twist Mary-Beth couldn’t wait to write about when the idea came into mind.

The both of you were like a walking excruciating slow, slow-burn romance novel. That was when Mary-Beth would cue in her entrance as matchmaker as soon as the interaction slowly died down. Your story had to have a happily ever after in her book.

She would pester you and Arthur separately, mentioning each other’s names and slipping in hints of romantic intentions from the other side so the both of you can address whatever this relationship was.

Mary-Beth knew it was a mission accomplished the night Sean was rescued back to Horseshoe Overlook. When she stood aside of the camp watching Dutch and Molly ballroom dancing into the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of you and Arthur behind them. Running into the woods, hand in hand, giggling to yourselves like prepubescent teenagers.

After that night, it was a considered job well done when your chance encounters slowly turned into planned ones. He would take you on dates, and you would show him affection like nobody’s business. A perfect couple, your American dream.

Until it became a nightmare.

And Arthur had passed,

your Arthur.

Ever since then, Mary-Beth wondered what had happened to you. Were you still alive after all these years? She couldn’t imagine how hard you must be coping with the news. Or what if you didn’t know at all? Even when she asked John and Tilly, they said you disappeared that night he passed.

Not even a single trace. Where were you?

Mary-Beth dismissed the thought out of her head, lifting her head away from the desk. She had to let go of these memories for her own well-being. For what seemed like yesterday were merely years ago. But it couldn’t have hurt to reminisce just a bit, for old times sake.

The story of You and Arthur was unwritten, left to collect dust from the lack of content. The perfect example of a sepia-tinted photograph, forgotten. Mary-Beth believed the both of you deserved something much more than a devastating ending. She wasn’t as ruthless as the other authors she had met that held an iron fist when killing off their characters. Mary-Beth wasn’t like that.

And the idea came to mind. She was a romance novelist for a reason; to fulfil all the possibilities for the unconditional love you shared.

And so Mary-Beth picked up her beautiful fountain pen,

She began to write on the great desk in her quiet room.

To write the most beautiful story of the century,

You and Arthur. Arthur and you.

A perfect couple. The American Dream.

A life that could have been so much more,

A life to remember…

[realcube]

❥ HOW HE CONFESSES

characters ❥ mikey, draken & baji 

tw ❥ the beach, bad driving, mentions of murder and cursing 

cr ❥ requested by anon

a/n ❥ i’ve not read the manga yet :’(

MIKEY 

♥ his love language is shoplifting for you <33

♥ like okay.. in writing it kinda sounds pathetic compared to all the other shit he does but like.. he goes through the effort of personally picking up your favourite snack from the grocery store —instead of getting his toman underling to do it for him — and hiding them under his shirt 

♥ and he thinks about you the whole time he is sprinting away from security 

♥ if that isn’t true love idk what is 

♥ today wasn’t any ol’ day tho, snacks and sweets were going to cut it 

♥ instead, he went for the big shiny rock on a ring he keeps seeing the window of the rock shop on the high street

♥ it was pretty, for a rock, but not pretty enough for anyone in their right mind to think it’s worth £10,000/$14,000/ ¥1,500,000!!!

♥ however, after hearing that price from a salesperson, he knew that stupid rock ring was exactly how he’d win your heart <3 

♥ it was a challenge and it had him working overtime, but after pulling some strings, doing a couple favours, and maybe even inadvertently killing some people (you never know 🤷‍♂️), he managed to get his hands on the pristine stone, which he had come to learn was called a diamond, which was why it was so expensive 

♥ the guy who did him the favour of stealing it initially asked if mikey was planning on proposing and mikey said yes —since asking you out on a date is technically a proposal — and the dude didn’t even question it, he just said good luck

♥ and that sort of energy was exactly what mikey needed right now as he stood behind a wall near your lunch table as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do 

♥ all your friends had left yet you were still sitting there alone since mikey texted you and asked for you to wait behind, and the fact you actually did filled him with hope from the get-go

♥ “(y/n)! there you are!” mikey greeted as if he didn’t know exactly where you were this whole time. why was his heart thumping so harshly in his chest? and why did he suddenly feel overwhelmingly embarrassed? i mean, he’s not done anything worth being awkward about.. yet.

♥ he didn’t understand. he never usually gets this way around people. but then again, he shouldn’t be surprised since he knew you were an exception from the beginning

♥ “hi, mikey.” you hummed, head propped gently on your arm while you slipped your phone away, “why did you want to see me? is something wrong?”

♥ the slight concern he detected in your voice was enough for him to immediately blurt out, “oh, no! nothing like that! everything is great; i am great and i, erm, hope you are too.” he announced, somewhat glad that your only reaction was a blank stare as it meant he doesn’t feel inclined to explain himself 

♥ “so, uh, i was just wonder if you..” he started, clenching his jaw as he mentally reassured himself. the fact that he felt embarrassed about feeling embarrassed made things infinitely harder from him. he took a deep breath, and spilled

♥ “do you want to go out on a date with me sometime?” he basically screamed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and emptying his left pocket onto the table in front of you so that his special gift would accompany his proposal 

♥ he closed his eyes as if that was going to protect him from rejection, but before he was able to silently rebuke himself, he heard faint sobbing from where he dropped his present 

♥ upon opening his eyes, the shock from the sight before him was enough to give him whiplash

♥ in an unfortunate turn of events, he must’ve emptied the wrong pocket because sitting on the table in front of you was not a diamond ring, but rather a sherbet dip he bought to share with you if you said ‘yes’ to his proposal 

♥ and his suspicions were correct, you were the one crying 

♥ ....

♥ waIT WHY ARE YOU CRYING mikey panicked, frantically looking around for someone who might’ve hurt you, or perhaps someone he’d have to send to A&E

♥ “are you okay?”

♥ “yeah.” you whispered, your light chuckle enough to prevent mikey from worrying any more, “i’m just..” you stuttered, smiling fondly at the blonde, “i’m just really happy. i thought you’d never ask.” 

♥ it was impossible for mikey to conceal the sigh of relief he breathed as he slumped down next to you on the bench, “thank god. i thought someone had threatened you or something.”

♥ “threatened me? why would they do that?” you innocently cocked your head to the side, rubbing your eyes as you did so. 

♥ oh, yeah. mikey hadn’t been fully transparent with you about his.. current employment. as far as you knew, he was a full-time student at ‘toman academy’ and he had a part-time job babysitting (which was hardly a lie, in his opinion)

♥ so you didn’t really know about how he was the leader of the tokyo manji gang or any of that

♥ originally he thought it was fine to keep it a secret, but now that you were officially his partner it would be immoral to not let you know about his affiliation with the gang 

♥ so he decided to tell you over a sherbert <33

♥ “so, are we official?” he cooed, ripping the lollypops out of the bag and popping one in his mouth while offering you the other by tapping it against your lips lightly 

♥ “yep.” you smiled, taking the lolly into your mouth with a smile, glad that he didn’t bring up your little waterworks a few second ago 

♥ but in all honesty, he was preoccupied wondering what the most appropriate way to phrase ‘i am the leader of a gang of delinquents’ would be 

♥ poor little mikey brain working on overdrive 

♥ he decided to pull out the ring, since he still had to give that to you, so while you were entranced by the fat gem glistening under the light in mikey’s possession, he began, “so, babe, do you think being a gang leader is hot?”

DRAKEN

♥ he honestly didn’t have a clue how to ask you out

♥ in fact, he didn’t even know that he had a crush on you until mikey pointed out all of his weird behaviours around you 

♥ so his first instinct was to go to mikey for advice when thinking of ways to ask you out 

♥ but the only idea that mf was to get ‘will you go out with me, (y/n)?’ tattooed onto his ‘thick skull’ and ofc draken wasn’t about to do that

♥ although he did consider it for like.. a minute

♥ (he was like.. hmmmm... well, the tattoo guy does owe me a favour so... maybe i could get it for free?)

♥ (or permanent marker might work???)

♥ anyway, he eventually decided to ask you out the good ol’ fashion way!! by just telling you how he feels

♥ however, once he explained this plan to mikey, he was scoffed and said ‘good luck with that’ in the most condescending tone of voice

♥ draken’s initial instinct was to simply beat up mikey and go ask you out anyway, but this conflict ran deeper than just him and mikey bickering about trivial issues- his whole relationship was on the line! 

♥ so after hearing the leader out, he finally decided on the most appropriate way to confess — just like how all the dudes in the animes mikey and him and watched did it 

♥ by giving you flowers and chocolates <3

♥ and mikey even offered to come into the store with draken and help him choose the goods since mikey was a self-proclaimed ‘love-expert’

♥ draken obviously denied his offer but he came along anyway 

♥ “ooh, ken-chin! look at these ones, they’re on sale.” mikey gasped, happily grabbing a pack of heart-shaped chocolates off the shelf, ripping them open and stuffing his face, “and they are delicious too!”

♥ paying no attention to the fact that mikey had essentially already committed a crime since there was no way he intended to pay for those chocolates, draken mused while eyeing up the rest of the sweets, the bouquet of flowers he had already chosen tucked under his arm, “valentine’s day was a week ago, that’s probably why they are on sale.” 

♥ “draken?” 

♥ a familiar voice from the end of the aisle caused draken to avert his gaze from the chocolates displayed in front of him and instead search for the source of the voice, which happened to be you standing innocently with your basket in-hand

♥ “ah, (y/n),” draken tensed, immediately shoving the bouquet of flowers behind his back at hopefully out of your sight as he put on a forced smile to distract from them too, “what a nice surprise seeing you here.”

♥ “hm?” mikey chimed in, unable to vocalise his curiosity through the chocolates stuffed in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from trying, “is that the (y/n) you were talking about? the one you were going to conf--” 

♥ “that’s enough outta you.” draken hissed through a fake smile, shoving mikey into the next aisle, which happened to be the snack aisle so, entertained, he decided to stay put

♥ “oh, is that your friend mikey?” you inquired, having only ever heard about mikey through rumours up until now. though none of them exactly matched the image you saw just there

♥ “yep, he’s pain sometimes, but he’s still cool.” draken muttered, awkwardly rolling on the balls of his feet as he waited for a deity to save him from this interaction —  not that he didn’t want to talk to you, it’s just that every second you spend with him, the less likely it becomes that his confession will go as planned

♥ and you only confirmed that with your follow-up question

♥ “i see you’ve got flowers, and you’re looking for chocolates. who’s the special someone?” you teased, poking draken’s cheek playfully (which is one of the many things he only finds comfort in when you do it)

♥ “oh, no one.” he hummed, his coy smile doing a number on your heart rate

♥ “how about you? who is that card for?” he inquired casually, gesturing to the classic pink ‘i have something to tell you... <3′ confession card that was only in-stock during valentine’s day season, that was sitting atop the groceries in your basket

♥ a cocky smirk tugged at his lips — as if to say ‘i won’ — while he watched you become increasingly flustered right in front of him. it was adorable

♥ but he thought it would stop there; stop with him winning the teasing battle, you getting all sheepish then leaving but that apparently wasn’t your plan

♥ instead, you lowered your head and outstretched your arms to give him the card (which was still in the wrapping plastic) 

♥ “red-handed. i bought these with you in mind, draken.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “but if you don’t accept then that’s fine too, have a nic--”

♥ “who said i don’t accept?” draken grumbled, almost as if he was annoyed, as he took your card and examined the card thoroughly for a couple seconds

♥ then suddenly, he froze. the shock of the realisation leaving him stunned to the point where the only thing he could do was shift his eyes from the card on to you and utter in a terrified tone, “this isn’t, uh, this isn’t a confession, is it?”

♥ you shrugged, “i guess, it is.” 

♥ “damn it.” draken cursed, glaring at the snack aisle and hence mikey, for giving him this stupid idea

♥ “is there a problem?” 

♥ “no.” draken said through gritted teeth before pulling out the bouquet his had hidden behind his back, “but i was meant to confess first.”

♥ your jaw dropped, leaving draken concerned for a second until you instantly pulled him in for a tight hug; another thing he admired about you was that you gave hugs like you were in the mafia, strong enough to cut off his airflow

♥ “double confession!” you squealed, absolutely delighted that draken not only wanted to confess to you, but he had the same idea to come to the shop and buy stuff beforehand

♥ “i guess so.” draken chuckled, handing you the bouquet of flower as soon as you pulled away, “these are for you.” 

♥ you gasped, smiling at how he managed to remember your favourite kind of flower after a single off-handed comment you made ages ago, “thank you!” you hugged them to your chest, “have you already paid for them?”

♥ “no.” draken replied simply. “but they are still yours.”

♥ sometimes it slipped your mind that draken was part of a literal gang since.. he just seemed so normal and humble 

♥ but on some other occasions, it was painfully difficult to consider draken anything close to ‘normal’

♥ and one of those moments was when he was trying to convince security he was pregnant with a flower-baby, and when that evidently didn’t work, he just made a run for it with mikey, whose pants pockets were filled with sweets that trailed behind him where ever he ran

BAJI

♥ he didn’t even ponder about how he was supposed to confess to you for over a second

♥ the idea just came to him instantly and he went with it

♥ the only question he asked was ‘how can i show them how badass i am without bragging?’ and he immediately came up with an answer and rolled with it, no questions asked 

♥ and there was no planning or anything done beforehand either, he literally just texted you ‘where are you?’ at like 7PM and when you replied ‘the park’, he hopped on his bike and sped over 

♥ like he didn’t even ask which park.. he just guessed.. but he guessed correctly 

♥ your heart almost stopped as you watched a chunky motorcycle come speeding towards you at such a rate that all you could do was brace for impact and kiss goodbye to your relatively peaceful live

♥  however, at the very last second it swerved around you and came to a halt, allowing the rider to extend his free hand to you, “hop on.”

♥ the voice was all to familiar and you weren’t surprised at all to see baji with his signature ‘i could kill you’ grin plastered on his face 

♥ as your heart rate slowly began to return to normal, you cried, “what do you mean ‘hop on’? you almost ran me over!”

♥ he unclipped his helmet and tossed it to you, “safety first.”

♥ “did you even hear what i just said?” you grumbled, putting on the helmet anyway 

♥ “i think you said something about how excited you are to finally go out with me.” he mused, shuffling forwards slightly to give you more space to sit on behind him, like a true gentleman /s

♥ “no.” you replied simply. 

♥ though you initially had no intention of going anywhere with him, you still found yourself reaching your leg over his bike to take a seat behind him, “where are we going?”

♥ baji shrugged, chuckling slightly as he felt you gently wrap your arms around his hips, “don’t know, but hold on tight.” he warned, revving his engine and taking off without another word

♥ perhaps you were the fool for getting on a motorcycle with baji and letting him take you to an undisclosed location, but you trusted him enough to know that he wouldn’t try to drive you off a cliff or put you in danger.. or at least, that is what you hoped

♥ however, if it wasn’t a rival gang that kills you, baji’s driving definitely would

♥ he drives like a madman and left you with no other choice but to cling onto him for dear life, since if you didn’t bury yourself into his side, you’d probably fly off with all sharp turns he does around the other cars/bikes

♥ it was like being taped to the top of a vehicle in mario cart

♥ eyes squeezed shut, you yelled over the harsh blaring of the wind, “slow the fuck down! where are you even taking me?” 

♥ baji was having fun, but he was getting the feeling you weren’t..

♥ usually he doesn’t care about what other think but this was the first time he was taking you out, he didn’t want you to think of him as a maniac driver, or else you might not want to come with him ever again

♥ “if you open your eyes, you’ll see.” he uttered, slowing down slightly so the noises weren’t as harsh 

♥ taking his word for it, you hesitantly pried open one of your eyes and turned your neck so your face was no longer pressed against his shoulder

♥ and honestly, you were glad you did. passed the edge of the road, you had the perfect view of the beach below, the sea gently glistening under the orange sunset 

♥ now that your nose was free from only breathing in baji’s sickeningly strong, wild spice body spray, you finally able to enjoy fresh ocean air 

♥ “the beach.” you mused, smiling down at the completely deserted sandy shore, which looked so beautifully peaceful in contrast to how busy it was when you usually come 

♥ “no shit.” baji chuckled, his eyes remaining glued to road, despite how much he wanted to see your reaction

♥ you let out a defeated sighed, leaning against his back, “but it’s closed.”

♥ baji nodded, “yep, that means we’ve got the whole place to ourselves!”

♥ before you could question what baji meant by that, he steered off the edge of the road and down the steep hillside which led to the beach, though it definitely was not meant to be drove on as there were several warning sign at the side of the road, warning drivers about the hill

♥ “baji, what the fuck?!” you screamed over baji’s amused laughter, similar to the way you’d laugh if you were playing GTA, rather than playing with actual human lives

♥ “isn’t this fun?” he yelled back, enjoying how the wind felt against his skin as he maneuvered his bike down the steep hill 

♥ honestly, you weren’t sure whether you enjoyed it or not, but as soon as the bike came to a smooth landing upon the soft sand of the beach, you found yourself silently wanting to do that again

♥ “well, how was that?” baji asked, immediately hopping off the bike on his own only so he could offer you a hand

♥ accepting his hand, you stepped off the cycle only to notice that your legs were shaking, yet you oddly liked it, “that was.. okay.” you murmured, not wanting to feed his ego but also unable to lie to him.

♥ “great.” he uttered, leaning forward to carefully unclip your helmet for you and sling it over the handle of his bike

♥ “so,” he started, looking around the beach for any stray cops or surveyors, “what do you wanna do?” 

♥ he felt a light tug on his jacket sleeve, causing him to look down and meet your pleading gaze, “do you think we could go out again? some other time, maybe?”

♥ all baji did was laugh, resulting in you become sheepish for a moment, until he wrapped his arms around you picked you up for a hug, “obviously!”

♥ you smiled, your cheeks heating up slightly, “nice!”

♥ “anyway,” he started, placing you back down and dashing off towards the sea, “loser owes me lunch!”

♥ ignoring how he gets lunch either way, you immediately sprinted off behind him, watching as he dramatically fell over a large shell and face-planted into the the sand

♥ being the kind friend you are, you ignored him and continued running towards the water, only for him to grab your ankle and trip you up too

♥ “ha!” that is how he shows affection <3