#is it encouraging or alarming that his first act was an effort to satisfy both the bipartisan law and the wishes of the tiktokers? idk

[fakenewsfactcheck]

I know this is an old post, but my blog is new. So I'm fact-checking whatever news-related posts I come across.

plus this turned out to actually be fascinating, holy crap.

Did Israel ban TikTok?

No. The countries in which TikTok is banned are Afghanistan, India, Iran, Kyrgyzstan, Nepal, and Somalia.

It's also worth noting that while Israel did ban state-owned media outlet Al Jazeera, so did Palestine.

Did "the Zionists" ban TikTok?

It's unclear what exactly this means. But I'm going to make an educated guess that this is the non-Jewish definition of "Zionists," essentially meaning "an imagined global movement of Jews in support of genocide," and that it's a U.S.-centric reference to the United States' recent controversial ban on "distributing, maintaining, or providing internet hosting services for a foreign adversary controlled application (e.g., TikTok)."

This is really two separate questions:

Did Zionists push this bill through?

No. This bill was a bipartisan effort, which had bipartisan support from its start, and was co-sponsored by a Republican and a Democrat.

OpenSecrets lists all the groups that did lobbying on any specific bill, and how many times.

ByteDance Inc (the company that owns TikTok): opposes

Oracle (the U.S.-based company that TikTok offered to move all its data to): opposes and hosts TikTok's data in the US

PEN America (a writers' union): opposes

Issue One (a campaign finance reform group): supports

Competitive Carriers Association (a nonprofit group for small/local telecommunications companies): unknown, "'monitored and discussed with congressional staff regarding' the FCC’s so-called rip and replace program for Chinese tech equipment."

Dell Technologies (the computer company): unclear

60 Plus Association (a conservative seniors group that lobbies for a free market and small government): supports

The American Principles Project (a racist far-right group that also opposes trans rights): supports

Lenovo Group (the computer company): unclear; FWIW, it's also a China-based company

American Civil Liberties Union (free speech etc.): opposes

Americans for Prosperity (a Koch-funded libertarian group and one of the most influential think tank/lobbying groups in the U.S.): supports

Foundation for Defense of Democracies (a non-partisan foreign policy research institute): supports

Republican Jewish Coalition (focuses on getting Republican politicians to care about issues that affect Jews): supports

State Armor Action (I am picturing suits of armor here, but apparently it's a very small group that focuses on potential security threats from the Chinese government): supports

SAA also operates as the TikTok Coalition, which is also listed as lobbying in support of the bill

Hadassah Women's Zionist Organization (lobbies on issues that affect Jewish women): unknown, likely opposes

Heritage Foundation (the far-right group behind Project 2025): supports

Jewish Federations of North America (an umbrella org for Jewish community organizations): supports, on the grounds that TikTok has fueled antisemitism

Anti-Defamation League (a Jewish org that fights for civil rights and against hatred of all marginalized groups): opposes

Alphabet Inc (Google's parent company): unknown

Electronic Frontier Foundation (fights for free speech and an open internet): opposes

Microsoft Corp (the computer and software company): unknown

NCTA The Internet & Television Association (represents enormous cable/internet providers and entertainment companies like disney and at&t): unknown, lobbied on unspecified portions of the TikTok bill pertaining to the cable industry.

According to Politico, the tech companies were largely "working on the bill" by answering lawmakers' questions about technical issues. Likewise, the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) and Hadassah, the Women's Zionist Organization, were answering questions, particularly addressing antisemitism on TikTok and the allegations that the push for its ban was a Jewish conspiracy.

Since the ADL opposed the ban and Politico grouped them together in its analysis of lobbyists, it seems likely that Hadassah opposed it too.

Politico links to this ADL explanation of the conspiracy trope:

Conspiratorial claims about Jewish influence in the media are nothing new, dating back to the Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, one of the most notorious and egregious antisemitic texts of the early 20th century. Allegations of Zionist media control are also widespread on both the far-right and the far-left, on social media and at demonstrations—most recently, at protests against the Israel-Hamas war.

Did TikTok get banned in the U.S.?

Yes, and now not yet. The law that was passed in 2024 went into effect on January 19, 2025 - the last day of Biden's administration - and while I've been writing and researching this, the ban has already gone into effect and then been TEMPORARILY lifted.

Specifically, the ban "prohibits distributing, maintaining, or providing internet hosting services for a foreign adversary controlled application (e.g., TikTok)." In fact, ByteDance's other apps, Lemon8 and CapCut, are still banned.

The ban went through a series of court cases. Courts agreed that ByteDance doesn't have First Amendment rights because it's a foreign company, and were unsure whether and to what degree the First Amendment even applied in this case.

The Supreme Court unanimously upheld the ban. Then, according to CNN:

...Trump had said [on Truth Social] he was considering a 90-day extension in the ban to give him time to work out a deal to sell the app to a non-Chinese owner. In his post, Trump said he would seek a 50-50 joint venture between TikTok’s existing parent company, China-based ByteDance, and a new, American owner.

Why did they ban TikTok?

Initially, I was going to say that in my opinion - not research - I would attribute a good 60% of the bill's existence to two evergreen bipartisan issues:

Lawmakers Don't Actually Know What A TikTok Is

They Also Don't Understand Social Media At All

Partly, the issue is confused by numerous legislators talking about it in rhetorical, ideological terms without concrete information about what the problem is.

However, I was eventually able to ACTUALLY FIND INFORMATION ON WHAT THE FRIGGING PROBLEM IS. Which is a goddamn miracle tbqh. Someone please teach these people how to communicate.

Maybe the CCP could help them with that?

The basic argument lawmakers made for the bill is, "we don't want the Chinese government to have data on the location and interests of individual Americans." The arguments in favor of it are long, so I'll highlight the main points in green.

The Foundation for the Defense of Democracies, a moderate think tank that analyzes international politics, says:

The theory goes that TikTok is owned by a Chinese company, ByteDance, which is itself beholden to the Chinese Communist Party, and the Chinese government control over TikTok gives the Chinese Communist Party direct access to the data of these 170 million Americans, but more importantly, gives them the ability to manipulate the algorithm to drive the national security interests of China into the social media drive reading of the 170 million Americans. And separately, you could look at research that shows you that a disproportionate amount of Americans under the age of 35 get their primary news source from these social media applications. Look, I think it's important here to recognize, FDD has been working this for about four years, we've been supporting legislation working it, but the key organization in this is the Network Contagion Research Institute, NCRI, at Rutgers University. It's the one that, when TikTok was transparent, which is no longer the case, and that should worry you, that TikTok's immediate reaction to criticism was to reduce transparency, but when they were transparent and you were able to understand the relative availability of messaging on TikTok versus a similar sized grouping of Instagram accounts on certain issues that matter to China a lot, the available feed was significantly biased towards a Chinese [government] interpretation, which is to say, questions about Uyghur genocide and Uyghur freedom were 11 times more likely on non-TikTok applications than on TikTok.

In my opinion, that's an extremely important point. The Chinese government has put millions of Uyghur Muslims in concentration camps, and forced even more into slave labor, over the past decade.

This seems like it should be a top issue on places like Tumblr or TikTok, and across the progressive movement in general.

It seems like the kind of issue where people would be sharing ways to avoid buying products made with slave labor (like not buying from Shein and Temu, or sharing which industries and brands have the largest problems) and trying to actively fight back against the Chinese government's active silencing of Uyghur voices.

Instead, there's almost no awareness or activism around it.

NPR reported last April,

Beijing has stepped up its online information operations in recent years in support of its broader goals, experts say.... For example, in a handful of 2022 midterm races, Beijing sought to boost candidates seen as pro-China and counter those seen as opposing its interests, according to a December report from the ODNI. More recently, those efforts have shifted to exploiting existing partisan divides in the U.S. That includes "the Chinese actually going into U.S. audience spaces, masquerading as Americans, and posting inflammatory content around current events or social issues or political issues," said Clint Watts, general manager of Microsoft's Threat Analysis Center. ...Microsoft and ISD both linked the posts they identified to Spamouflage, a long-running Chinese network of fake accounts across social networks including Facebook, X and TikTok. Spamouflage accounts have previously pushed attacks on pro-democracy protesters in Hong Kong, praised China's COVID-19 response, and posted videos with AI-generated news anchors promoting Chinese leadership.

As in the U.S., China's goal is to undermine democracy, said Chihhao Yu, co-director of the Taiwan Information Environment Research Center (IORG). He said the strategy is to "create an alternative worldview for Mandarin readers in Taiwan, of course, but also around the world for Mandarin-speaking communities.

And FDD wrote a piece published in the Free Press that explained further:

...And we are absolutely hooked, with 16 percent of teens using it “almost constantly.” Today, 69.7 percent of Americans aged 12–17, 76.2 percent aged 18–24, and 54 percent aged 25–34 use TikTok. By tweaking the TikTok algorithm, the CCP can censor information and influence Americans of all ages on a variety of issues. It can shape what facts they consider accurate, and what conclusions they draw from world events.  If you doubt that the CCP would introduce bias—against Israel, against Jews, against the West, or anything else—into apps under its de facto control, consider that on October 31 The Wall Street Journal reported that Chinese web platforms Baidu and Alibaba have wiped Israel off the map—literally. The two most widely used mapping programs in China show the outlines of Israel’s territory but do not label it as Israel, and may not have for some time.

(The WSJ piece specifically says that China's maps erase both Israel and Palestine, even though smaller countries like Luxembourg are clearly labeled by name.)

We know for a fact that the CCP uses TikTok to push its propaganda and censor views that diverge from the party line. Reports have confirmed that TikTok spied on journalists who wrote negative stories about TikTok. Via TikTok, Chinese state media pushed divisive information about U.S. politicians ahead of midterm elections. Numerous reports have found TikTok censoring and suppressing content about Xinjiang, Tibet, Tiananmen Square, and other issues sensitive to the CCP. TikTok has also suppressed content about LGBT issues, and even temporarily blocked a teenage American Muslim activist who criticized the CCP’s treatment of Uyghur Muslims. [emphasis mine] ...ByteDance leadership has made it clear that it can manipulate content, and therefore minds, at the behest of the CCP. In 2018, the CCP suspended ByteDance platform Toutiao because it “post[ed] content that goes against socialist core values.” In a fit of groveling self-criticism, the founder of ByteDance apologized for failing to respect “socialist core values,” “deviat[ing] from public opinion guidance,” and “fail[ing] to realize that socialist core values are the prerequisite to technology.” Following this, ByteDance announced a new strategy to hire 4,000 extra censors and integrate “socialist core values” into its technology.  

Socialist core values sound great.

Until you learn that according to the Chinese government, those values include:

constant government surveillance;

a police DNA database that can identify any man in the country;

police databases that track the movements of all Muslims and anyone who has ever protested;

mandatory state-run malware programs that track the movement and online activity of anyone who enters the country and everyone who lives in China;

literal slavery;

actual concentration camps;

and genuine imperialism. As in, China considers parts of the Philippines, Vietnam, Japan, Nepal, Bhutan, India, Indonesia, Malaysia, Mongolia, North Korea, South Korea, Myanmar, Singapore, and Brunei, large parts of Laos, and all of Taiwan and Tibet, to be China's by right. And the Chinese military hacked into Japan's most confidential military files for months in 2020-21, and has fired missiles into Japan. And the Chinese government has increasingly hacked into critical infrastructure in the United States, Guam and elsewhere in the Asia-Pacific, including communication, transportation, and utility systems -- evidently pursuing development of capabilities that could disrupt critical communications infrastructure between the United States and Asia region during future crises.

As the China Law Blog said in 2021:

The Chinese cyber-insecurity system is designed to make all networks of any kind open to access by the CCP and its agents. This access includes collection and use of all data available on every network operating within the borders of the PRC. For a foreign invested enterprise, this means access to and use of all technical data that crosses the Chinese border.

By 2022, half the surveillance cameras in the world were installed in China - over 400,000,000 of them, in a system that lets the government see anything happening outside at any time. In conjunction with its ability to monitor anything people do on their phones, this gives the Chinese government near-complete monitoring of people's lives.

Another neighbor told me how much she regretted taking her camera down. Her grandson was too fond of playing online video games, so she decided to disconnect her home internet, and when she did, her surveillance camera went offline, too. Not long after that, someone poisoned and killed all five of their dogs.

TL;DR:

China has developed incredibly detailed and far-reaching abilities to monitor what people in China are doing on their phones (and elsewhere).

It has the method, and the opportunity to do the same for people outside of the country. There are no privately-owned companies in China; the government ultimately owns and controls all of them. It has access to any data it wants from any company that does business in China.

It also has the motive to track the location, movement, interests, and communication of people in other countries, and to manipulate the information they have access to on apps like TikTok, which it has a history of doing.

To give just one example: it's increasingly clear that Uyghur forced labor is an integral part of China's economy.

Slavery and profit are powerful motivators. Massive global awareness of, and opposition to, forced labor in China would cause a lot of problems for its government.

In my opinion, banning TikTok is a good idea. (And using RedNote instead is definitely not.)

If anyone wants to see what he decides to do (90-day extension? Something else entirely?) ABC News is liveblogging his every move here, and I'm sure there are many others doing the same thing.

A final note:

As I write this (3:44 pm Pacific), he's had a desk set up for him in the Oval Office where he'll sign a ton of executive orders live, but he's busy chewing the scenery onstage first.

As you watch him sign what will no doubt be a lot of wild garbage orders (again, my opinion here) remember this:

Trump's top advisers, including his incoming DOJ leadership, are preparing for a storm of legal challenges to some of his most controversial actions, one top adviser told ABC News. "We're going to get sued on all of these things," the adviser said, adding that the volume of litigation is expected to be a full-time job for Trump's Department of Justice. During Trump's first administration, he faced upwards of 400 lawsuits challenging his actions. His advisers anticipate more than that this time around.

these zionists know that no one believes in their propaganda that they're spending billions to spread so they ban tiktok and al jazeera. now that people are able to see through their hypocrisy they are invading rafah to mass murder palestinians. they have bombed hospitals and kindergartens and mosques and bakeries and destroyed aid warehouses and killed and tortured and raped palestinians. i doubt a state has ever commited so many war crimes. zionist evil knows no bounds.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Could you do Fort Max and First Aid for the oxygen loss?

Seriosuly loving it, angst and comfort/fluff is the best combination lmao

It is the best combination and those are two of the best boys so I am ON IT! Fort Max is in part eight listed below, but here's First Aid!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: You're Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

First Aid

·Ever one for new experiences, he'd been quite enthusiastic to have a human join the crew, and perhaps it was his penchant for thoroughly appreciating every unknown he came across that had led to your fast paced courtship. The bot had simply demonstrated an almost overwhelming fascination towards you from day one, and in short time the connection between the two of you had been discovered through his efforts. Now you were nearly inseparable. Off days and breaks are always used for bonding, and today is no exception. Atop his lap as he sits comfortably, you happily listen to his enthusiastic and commentary filled reading of a Wrecker's Declassified, loving how he has the most obvious and adorable starstruck look while doing so. You could listen all day just to see his schoolboy crush play out before you.

·For him, having someone who listens and values his opinions without hesitation is enough to get his spark humming. He's rather accustomed to being passed over for bots with more experience and fame, so seeing your eyes focused on him with such rapt attention is... well, it's just nice. Finding you exceptionally adorable doesn't make it any less sweet. Being human also means a great deal of his favorite topics are new to you, so he gets to introduce you to all the wonders of the Wreckers, something that he loves every moment of. It's also not unpleasant to have your tiny body close to his, practically snuggling against him... Cuddling is something more or less new to him as well, so having it at all is yet another wonder you've brought to his life. There's a vague hope in the back of his processor that he'll be brave enough to suggest sharing a berth someday, just for a nice nap together, as he's not yet been brave enough to ask such a thing of you.

·Unfortunately, the universe has very little respect for his plans. Accustomed to interruptions as an always on call medic, he can't help but be a little frustrated when Ratchet starts comming him out of the blue, but he knows better than to show it. Something serious must be going on if their CMO needs assistance. Still in your partner's lap, you watch as he answers the communication, quite used to sudden messages like this pulling him away. It's a part of dating a medic; but nothing about this seems standard. First Aid shifts his expression to one of concern as the voice comes through the comm in broken static, though he's experienced enough to put together what little there is. A warning of failing systems gets him moving on instinct, his arms scooping you up as he moves to stand, and the instructions to head to his emergency stations is almost unnecessary when the line goes dead.

·You're surprised but not offput by the sudden change in your position, if only because being swept into his arms is... very nice. That doesn't prevent you from knowing something is off though, and thankfully he is just as aware of you as he is his responsibilities as a medic, more so of you to tell the truth... A calm visor reflects your face as he lifts you close to relay the situation. Something is wrong with the ship, he explains, and it's bad enough that Ratchet made a preemptive call for medical bots to get moving. That means he needs to get to the medical bay, and before you can ask he brings up the possibility of you coming with him. Worry is just perceptible on his face as he hesitantly expresses that having you there would be safer, and thus he'd feel better... The bashful look is so cute you momentarily forget the danger to give him a reassuring kiss on his faceplate while accepting the proposition.

·Ignoring the stars you make him see with a tiny smooch, he gets right to work, securing you in one arm and ensuring his room is locked before heading out. He can't help but feel protective as he does so, almost like your guard against the threat that feels omnipresent in every hallway. You feel the same, and he can tell by how you hold him tighter in his grasp, something that stirs his spark with almost overpowering affection. It's enough to make him certain he'd fight like a Phase Sixer to protect you... For your part, a similiar drive to keep him safe is present, despite the difference in size between you. Hopefully you help him feel a little more secure as the two of you move through the eerily quiet hallways.

·The protective instincts First Aid has honed in his career as a medic give him a half second warning that danger is inbound, but all he is able to do in that time is curl around you protectively when the world seems to shake itself asunder. Hard floors meet his back in a painful rush, and you're similiarly jostled against him, though thankfully the worst of the blow is softened by his reflexive brace for impact. Tremors continue to rock the ship once you both realize you're on the ground, but a great cacophony of noise fails to die down when the shaking does. It's not a noise you've ever heard before; though you can compare it to metal being torn, the echoing and overbearing sound is at a scale you can't even comprehend.

·First Aid, having a natural coolness under pressure, is able to collect himself even as the situation continues evolving. The alarm begins to go off as he gets himself off the floor, and he notes that had it not the entire crew would probably still be mobilizing. There was no way anybot didn't feel what he just happened to be a front row spectator towards. While being on a ship of soldiers meant backup would soon be available, he had a few concerns that just couldn't wait for the guards to be scrambled. With one path to the medical bay now inaccessible, and you being so vulnerable, he needs to get somewhere safe to plan. He holds you close as the first open room becomes a makeshift shelter.

·Still reeling from the shock of everything, you find yourself atop a table in one of the Lost Light's many maintenance rooms, watching as First Aid attaches a portable operating flashlight to his helm. Before you can ask a single question the light is covering your body as he looks you over, asking for clarification on your basic functions while checking for injuries at the same time. Only when he's satisfied you're stable does the opportunity for speech present itself. Half expecting another massive tremor to hit at any moment, you ask what on earth made the ship move and sound like it had hit a Titan sized can opener, and his visor darkens with worry. You take hold of his hand to reassure and encourage him.

·The explanation is a bit rushed, but understandable; the ship has been ambushed, no doubt the enemy is preparing to board through the makeshift docking station they just created, and enemies will soon flood in... Also, most of the ship's systems appear to be offline. It's bad enough news that you feel suddenly woozy and need to sit back on your little table. Seeing you afraid drives First Aid into action, his processor working overtime to formulate a plan that will get you to safety, though admittedly the situation is a tough one. It's only when he takes proper stock of his surroundings and notes the monitor station that an idea takes shape.

·Intent on finding a clear path, he lays out his plan as he starts typing, explaining his thought process as he hacks into the virus addled program to get what he needs. Though you find solace in his confidence, the surprise from before is still wearing you down. Exhaustion seems to be the only thing you can truly comprehend... First Aid breaks through the enemy programs holding information back, but his victory proves short lived when the many systems start showing their current status, and his triumph turns to horror at one in particular. Critical to your survival, the atmospheric generators are among the malfunctioning systems. Oxygen levels are dropping by the minute. Without a word, he turns on the spot and begins looking you over again, earning a cry of surprise as he scoops you up.

·Alarmed and confused, you haven't a clue what might have spurred the usually in control bot to act so rashly, and have to sputter out the question when your clouded head fails to settle. Something like an explanation pours out of him, but there's very little you understand due to an increasingly sluggish mind. The growing exhaustion alarms him further. There's precious little time before you reach critical levels of oxygen deprivation, and the hypoxia has already rid you of the ability to process the situation... An ache in his spark is joined by one in his head as he tries to formulate a plan, and when he is left with only a long shot, he's forced to take it for your sake. There's a shake in his hands as he cannibalizes the room for parts, throwing together a makeshift air scrubber that will generate just enough breathable oxygen to get you to the medical bay. You smile as you watch him make it, suddenly too tired to stay awake but wanting to watch him craft, if only because his ingenuity is one of your favorite traits. The pleasant haze is still there even as he lifts you again to bring a makeshift oxygen mask to your face and begin running.

·All he can really do is hope, but there's precious little optimism in his spark as he makes the journey to the medical bay in a blind run, not running into enemies by sheer luck. The countless mistakes he's made so far are all that exist beyond your terrifyingly expressionless face. It's distracting enough that he's surprised when the team of Autobots appears from nowhere, particularly as Ratchet is amongst them, but before the CMO can say a word First Aid is pleading with the more experienced medic for help. He feels like a student on their first bad rotation in a hospital ward, facing the possibility of death for the first time, only a million times more agonized because you're on the line. The older bot is mercifully understanding as he gently takes you and guides him back to the medical bay, where he enters a fog and settles in to his job without conscious thought. He sees everything; Ratchet stabilizes you with proper equipment, wounded bots start to come in with news the battle is over, the systems maintaining the ship all come completely online... None of it registers.

·All he can think of is how he failed. The machine he built could have been more effective, he should have predicted oxygen issues from the start, and had he not been distracting you with his foolish interests to begin with... It physically hurts, but he doesn't allow himself even a moment of reprieve from the self admonishment, and dedicates himself entirely to your wellbeing. Every tiny facet of your recovery is microanalyzed, down to the thousandth of a percent. He won't risk losing you to more of his mistakes. It's bad enough that he doesn't permit joy to show on his face when you finally begin to stir, not even cracking a smile when your beautiful eyes finally blink open and you look into his visor. Your own expression, however, immediately shifts to one of exhausted but emphatic relief. Seeing the bot you love alive after the chaos you remember enduring is more than you could have asked for.

·He can't help but be incredibly gentle as he asks how you feel, his affection too strong to ever suppress in its entirety. But you can see the struggle in his actions, having become so accustomed to his presence that the out of character reservation is as obvious to you as a fireworks display, so you quickly ask if he's okay after everything that happened. The innocent question actually makes him flinch. Not a moment later he breaks and loses the calm air of a medic, collapsing into a nearby chair to confess that your injuries are his fault, caused by a myriad of failures he can't reconcile. Head in his hands, he's caught off guard when you make an effort to move from your little bundle of blankets and tubes keeping you stable.

·Before he can say a word to stop you, he is silenced by a little hand taking hold of his digit, and though the mask is firmly fitted you still speak loud and clear enough for him to hear the firmness in your voice. As lovingly as you can, you insist that he stop what he's doing. Loving him is worth any risk, but because he's as resourceful and brilliant as he is, you had made it through a situation most wouldn't have survived. The rest of the universe may not always see his worth, but you do every time you see him. Growing dizzy from the force of your conviction, you're gently shushed and encouraged to lie back, yet to your exhausted delight First Aid appears anything but pained as he works. Adjusting your blankets and tenderly ensuring your comfort, he doesn't need to say thank you through anything but his actions. As always, you've brought him back down from that exhausting despair he grappled with so often in the past. After all, he must be capable indeed to have earned the love of someone so wonderful and unique. The least he can do is show his gratitude in a gentle brush of his thumb over your palm as you drift back to sleep.

[timextoxhajima]

Grounded: Level 4

Level 3 | Level 5

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader

Taglist: @jaehyvnsvalentine​​ @licorice526 @lolwhatameme @felixn-recs​​

[A P R I L 2 0 1 9]

The date was the 4th of April, 2019. It’s almost like Yeonjun knew, and that was exactly the reason why he had invited you to go watch TXT’s Inkigayo stage. 

They were used to it, being nominated for top two but never winning, even after two years. It sucks to watch them wait nervously for the results to come out, the thought ‘it won’t be us’ floating about in their heads despite those stage smiles and those strong fronts. 

You were finally pulled to your feet with your hands over your mouth when the results were finally broadcasted, and Jisung’s face gave it all away. Then, there was your ex-classmate, whose lips were hung agape, and Chan’s eyes that were filled, not with surprise but with the sheer amount of gratitude he had for the job he was finally doing after 7 years of training. 

You were here for TXT, but Yeonjun knew you were rooting for Stray Kids. 

A frown comes over your face when the desire to just break out into ugly sobs overwhelms your entire respiratory system. The camera pans, and all you see is Seungmin jumping with joy with his arms around Changbin and Minho.

The smile on his face was irreplaceable. The same way Earth’s moon could never be replaced. Not by Jupiter’s Moons, not by Saturn’s moons, nothing. It’s like the stars aligned based off their hard work and God finally said, you all deserve to reap the rewards of your efforts. 

The tears tumble over your lower lids when you see Chan cry, then Jisung cannot regain his composure, with Seungmin and Changbin following suit. But your eyes cannot leave Minho. 

He is happy. 

He is proud.

He is standing where he was born to be. 

Each scene plays out like life was running in split seconds, and you could absorb every moment of it, and yet before you know it, TXT comes back to their dressing room where you were waiting. 

It is written all across Yeonjun’s face that he’s just satisfied with himself that he didn’t invite you for nothing. But something surprising surges through you, and it motivates you to throw your arms around Yeonjun in a bid to express your gratitude.

“Whoa!” Your weight shoves him back a few steps, and his arms come around your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Shaking your head, you can hear his racing heart beat from the adrenaline of being on stage. The other members are packing up, so you aren’t really bothered when your tears start to stain his shirt. “Just... thank you, for inviting me today.”

“Aw, come on. It’s nothing. I just had a gut feeling they’d win today, thought you would like to witness that for yourself.” 

The panic starts dripping into the warmth he’s providing you. It’s the same feeling you got when Minho had encouraged you to persist on for your performances. 

You pull away, eyes tilting upwards to meet his. 

It takes you exactly two seconds to realise that you’re more comfortable looking into his eyes than Minho’s, which is alarming. 

“But anyway,” He releases you, and the lack of physical contact sucks some disappointment out from you. “It’s time to go, unless you want to wait for Stray Kids.”

“I...” Minho has his career now. I can’t make him choose, right? It’s time to let go. It’s time to move on. It’s time to forget about him. “No, it’s fine. I can text Hyunjin later.”

“What?” There’s a gentle frown on his forehead; you already know what’s running through his head. “What about Lee-”

“I can ask Hyunjin to forward the congratulations to the whole group, it’ll be fine.”

It’s not fine. Because I know how much Hyunjin is going to hate it. 

Back in the comfort of your bed (though you would very much prefer the one you have at home), you scroll through your chats, searching for Hyunjin, and unironically noticing that your chat with Minho was almost non-existent anymore. 

You stare at the screen for so long, it blacks out, now feeding you with your own dark reflection. The light from the corridor that’s the only thing illuminating your room was a speck white in your irises, even in the reflection. 

Shutting your eyes, you let the content of the texts sink in - who was Hyunjin kidding? Who were you kidding?

Had there anything between Minho and I, it would’ve happened, right?

Now that he’s an idol, there’s nothing that could happen between the two of you. 

What’s JYP going to do if one of his newly debuted idols get into-

No. 

It’s not going to happen. Because Minho doesn’t have feelings for me the same way I had feelings for him.

I don’t need Minho anymore.

You put your phone on airplane mode and await the next day. Training, training, and more training. 

It’s not like he ever needed me anyway, right?

[J U L Y 2 0 1 9]

What the fuck am I even looking at?

Just what the fu-

What the fucking-

“y/n,” Soobin wraps his fingers around his phone despite it still being in your hold. “Can I- Can I have my phone back- Please-”

Just who does he think he is? Prancing around in that stupid white top to some deep jazz music-

He finally snatches his phone away from you, and you’re left with the rigidity of your knuckles folded and crumpled like you were still holding it. 

[Stray Kids : SKZ-PLAYER] Lee Know "DAWN(새벽)"

“What, cat got your tongue?” Beomgyu snickers, just missing a harsh swipe of your hand from you. 

“Cut it out,” Yeonjun comes from behind and shoves his head forward playfully into a head lock, ruffling his hair. The sight of both Yeonjun and Minho stirs the lazy, but very difficult-to-put-to-sleep creature in your heart. Though one of them was just dancing in a space in a video on the screen, it feels like both are yearning for your attention. 

Of course, you’d never admit it to anybody. Not even yourself. 

“No, I’m just... Surprised.”

Taehyun’s in a game with Kai, but he still manages that sneaky look at you above his phone. “Surprised that he’s got individual content or surprised that you still get affected by what he does?”

Kai sucks his lips between his teeth, the attempt to hide his cheeky grin futile. Soobin watches you roll your eyes and shake your head to yourself, empathising with you. 

“I’ve got an idea-” 

“I don’t think I want to hear it, Gyu-” Aggressively shaking your head, you throw him the meanest glare you can conjure from your eyeballs. 

“How about you go to JYP and surprise him? Congratulate him on his individual content?”

It piques the members’ interest. Now, even Yeonjun was giving you those eyes that said “hey, that’s not such a bad i--”

“No,” The leather sofa creaks a little when you push yourself off it, removing yourself from the dressing room where they were having rehearsals for KCON 2019. 

“Aw, come on,” Yeonjun’s groan sounds like a puppy begging to go on a walk. Ironic that it’s coming from an older boy that much taller than you, that much more respectable than you. “It’ll be fun. They’re going for KCON in LA in August and I’ll be back by then. We can bring them a basket of fruit or something.”

“I might just go with ‘or something’-”

“Let me rephrase that,” Yeonjun points to you with that mischief in his eyes, coming between you and the door of the dressing room. “We can bring them a basket of fruit, you can have a chat with Lee Know, wish them good luck on their trip to LA and we’ll be on our way. All you gotta do is order that basket and by the time we come back from KCON New York, we’ll be good to go.”

You squint at Yeonjun, slightly suspicious of how hard he’s selling you the idea, until you remember that he’s got a heart of gold, the kind that’s making you feel confused and at an absolute loss of words. 

“I’ll go with you,” He leans forward a little, hands on your shoulders and slightly shaking your frame. “I’ll ask Changbin for this favour, tell him we’ll be dropping by and keep it a surprise for Lee Know, how does that sound?”

No. I don’t want to be in the same room as you and Minho, God damn it.

Your lungs deflate and your shoulders slump, gaze avoiding his for a split second before they resign and turn back to him. 

“Yes!” Yeonjun clenches his fist and holds them before his chest, his head thrown back in triumph. “You’ve all seen it!” Suddenly acting like he was in a play, he wraps an arm around you and gestures out into the air, not engaging any of his members who were all occupied with their own phones. “On the road to redeeming your friendship with Lee Know!”

Finally releasing you, he runs his hand through his hair and struts across the room. The words reach you, despite him walking away and they still somehow sink into your bones, but you can no longer contain the whirlpool of emotions swirling around like a tornado in your gut. 

“Man, y’know how frustrating it is to watch that conversation between you and Lee Know go down? Time to set this right...”

And his voice fades out slowly, only because you can’t help but compare the likes of Minho and Yeonjun. Both boys have your heart, but one doesn’t need you, and the other’s trying to push you to the latter. 

What a fucking mess. 

After TXT leaves for the stage again, you are left to return to BigHit to continue training - you scored an A for dancing the last evaluation round, but a B for rapping and a C for vocals. 

Not a great start.

The trainee manager comes to pick you up, updates you on the progress your fellow trainees have made, but none of it gets into your head. 

Your phone’s just given you a reminder of your private Instagram’s memories, and all you can process are Minho’s face appearing over and over and over again back when you were both back-up dancers for BTS. 

First, the only thing that’s running through your mind was how precious memories are. Grains of sand that fly away in the wind or get washed away by the ocean when it comes by the shore - always existing but never always around. His little bunny teeth that shone under the light of the back-up dancer’s dressing room, and his habit of sticking a napkin to his forehead so his facial oil wouldn’t glisten with the sweat. He’s taking his time to munch on his burrito while scrolling through his Instagram, completely unaware of your mindless zooming in on his face - it’s something his members like to do now too. 

When you see a picture of yourself on his back on the last day of being BTS’ backup dancer though, that’s when the tears start to gradually covet the surface of your eyeballs. The pinches in your chest present themselves as deeper breaths when you try to control and maintain your composure. The trainees’ manager probably going to look at you weird when he sees you crying at your phone silently. 

But how can you not, when all the memories with Minho seems so far away, they feel unreal? They feel like dreams you had that were forgotten over time; they feel like cotton candy when they melt in your mouth. Sweet, then nothing. 

Maybe he’s just another chapter in your life that’s ended. He was just here to show you what you could do, and not stick around to watch you succeed at it. 

Maybe this was it. 

[A U G U S T 2 0 1 9]

“Is that the one and only Choi Yeonjun standing in JYP territory?!” Changbin’s loud voice echoes down the hallway before your sunbae can complete his request to the lady at the lobby of the building. 

“Having fun training for KCON?” Yeonjun pulls back from the counter, previously leaning on it.

“They’re with me, thanks,” Changbin leans over one of the barricades and informs the lady, who presses a button and the barricades whir open. “Tell me about it. It’s been such a busy year. How have you been? You just came back from...”

“New York.”

“Right, right. Ours is in LA so,” Changbin trails off as he presses the lift button before turning to you. “You are... Hyunjin’s classmate, right?”

“The one and only,” You extend your palm to Changbin, who takes it with some slight surprise. 

“Do your members know we’re here?” Yeonjun’s innocent question was short of being interrupted by the lift arriving. 

“Nah, you wanted it to be a surprise right?” Changbin grins at the both of you through the reflection of the lift doors. The plastic wrap of the gift basket in your hands crinkle under the pressure of your grip. 

“Man, isn’t this fun? You get to show up, unannounced, give everybody something and then make up with Lee Know!”

“Lee Know?” The name draws a frown upon Changbin’s face. He looks lost for some moments before you can imagine the lightbulb that brightens above his head. “Ah- You’re that trainee that got casted by BigHit who was in the back-up dancer’s dance crew for BTS.”

A weak smile helps you ease his guess.

“Right, right, right, right,” He nods, eyes slowly gravitating to the ground, then the words are so low, you don’t think you were supposed to hear it. “Ah... so you’re her.”

The lift doors open to a floor where you can hear the booming - though muffled - music from inside a studio, and you can hear the makings of a group of boys trapped in four walls. Changbin had barely gotten the door open when you hear Jisung yelling at someone for pinching Jeongin’s cheeks. 

“Oh!” The maknae was the first to see you coming through the door behind Changbin, and before Yeonjun. “Noona-”

“Surprise!” Yeonjun yells from behind you, raising both his arms into the air. “I hope we aren’t interrupting anything important. Changbin said today was just a more chill training day for you guys.”

Chan is the first one to greet Yeonjun. “No worries, we were just having a break.”

“This is y/n, in case you didn’t already know her. We brought something for you,” Yeonjun nods to the gift basket you almost forgot you were holding. 

“Oh! Yes, right. This- This is for you to share,” Awkwardly handing the leader the gift basket, Felix and Seungmin come by to help with the gift, thanking both you and Yeonjun at the same time. 

“You didn’t have to,” Chan watches his younger members scramble to the pot of gold. “I’m surprised you even have time to come here.”

Yeonjun grins and rubs the back of his neck with some slight exasperation. “No, we had time. It’s fine. Also, do you happen to know where-”

“Yah! I leave for 10 minutes and you guys just sto-” 

The entire’s room attention is drawn towards the second door on the far left of the studio, and Minho enters with some bottles of water with Hyunjin trailing behind him. There is a heavy, awkward silence in the air when everybody watches you lock eye contact with Minho, whose feet are slowly but surely inching forward to the crowd. 

“Hyung!” Changbin is the first to break the tension, dashing over and throwing an arm around him. “y/n and Yeonjun just dropped by to hand us a gift basket to wish us luck on our LA KCON trip.”

“You,” Hyunjin leaves the bottles of water on the floor and heads for you, pulling you into a head lock and ruffling your hair. “When were you planning on visiting?” He whispers into your head, only loud enough for you to hear. 

“I didn’t know I was expected, dipshit,” You struggle a little before you feel his grip around your neck loosen, standing straight up again to comb down your hair. 

Hyunjin crosses his arms across his chest and glances at Changbin introducing Yeonjun to Minho whilst Chan was busy handling the younger members. 

“Well, for one thing, I know nobody was expecting Yeonjun. I can’t say the same for you.”

Your hair slaps your face when you whip your head to look at Hyunjin, whose attention is now smugly stuck on Minho. 

The man did not look happy for some reason. 

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

musical master, play harder and faster. spinning me up in your silky cocoon.

summary: requested: Um can I request Andy fucking your mouth like he promised and some more?

warnings: some oral shit, very light bondage (yes, this is a set up for another part that i will eventually write)

word count: around 2,900

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: another anon who deserved better! you requested this forever ago and i’m sorry i just got it right. but thanks for the request, it was different!

There was just something about mornings with Andy. You’d been in relationships before and enjoyed waking up next to someone, getting that little extra togetherness alone. It was always an innocently intimate and sweet experience.

With Andy, it was neither innocent nor sweet. With a body that looked like his, it was always guaranteed filth. Weekend mornings were always creative given that you both had more time together, they tended to range from disgusting, humiliating, wicked.

Like the time he wouldn’t let you come until he was satisfied with how much you had begged, that rounded out about three hours later. Thinking back on the things you had said, about how badly wanted him, what you were willing to do for him, you still blushed. Or when he discovered he really had a thing for role play—you would have thought the last thing he would want to pretend to be was your lawyer, but you were wrong. He liked you acting as the grateful client who would do anything to repay him for all the wonderful things he had done for you. He’d spanked you the first time you added in a bit about how he helped you divorce your husband, but that was whatever. Generally, he didn’t care to create the exact scenario, he just liked you on your knees, staring up at him, mouth opened.

But it wasn’t always so elaborate, such as the mornings when there was very little time. Sometimes, you both just woke up and were immediately touching and clinging. It was desperate and greedy, but it was all soft, slow, whispered words.

That was this morning. He’d woken up first and stayed silent until you were conscious. He had been more than fine just laying with you, listening to your breathing, playing with your hair that was sprawled out on the pillows.

He leaned in first, eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed yours. You were the one that turned away and played completely innocent when he shot you a confused look. You took one of his hands and brought it up to your lips, kissing every single knuckle, then his palm, his wrist.

You pressed your hand to his shoulder and he settled onto his back. You climbed over him, straddling his stomach as you repeated kissing the opposite hand. You peeled off the thin shirt you were wearing and his hands immediately sought out your breasts. You leaned into his touch a little, arching your back as you slid your hips back, pressing your panty-clad cunt over his hard cock.

He squeezed your breasts hard and you rolled your hips again. He began pinching your nipples, eyes flitting between yours and where his hands were working. He didn’t want to hurt you too much, but he did want a small whimper. Once you gave it to him, he spread his hands out once more and gripped them roughly.

You let your head fall back as you continued grinding over him. This wasn’t going to last much longer, you knew the alarm clock was going to go off any second now because the sun was just starting to peek through the blinds.

When it did, you both startled. He reached over immediately to hit the snooze option, but you quickly hopped off the bed before he could pull you back to him.

“Hey,” he protested.

“Get ready for work, I’m going to start the coffee.”

He said absolutely nothing as you pranced through the room and toward the staircase.

“And don’t take long,” you warned.

When he came downstairs, pouting, he was all dressed and ready for work. His suit was dark blue, his tie was burgundy, all these colors that looked so good on him. You didn’t feel too bad about teasing him anymore, you were going to make it up to him anyway.

“What was that?” he asked, joining you at the counter where you had just set your mug down.

You turned to him, hands pressing to his chest. “You don’t remember?” No, you would bet he did not. You weren’t surprised either. You said a lot of things, made a lot of plans, as did he. It wasn’t overly important seeing as you both had the rest of your lives together to achieve those plans.

He narrowed his eyes.

You grabbed the end of his tie and spun it around your fingers a couple of times, lifting your eyebrows pointedly.

He blinked and then, with no hesitation at all, he was whipping his tie off. He turned you away from him and gathered your wrists with the tie. The knot was messy and he was probably going to have to cut you out of it if you ran out of time.

He faced you to him and gently urged you to your knees. He chose to trap you between him and the island in the center of the kitchen. The first time he had fucked your mouth and pinned you against the bedroom wall, you were pleasantly surprised with how rough he could be. The following morning when you had told him how much you liked it, he looked like he fell in love with you all over again. It didn’t happen often because he preferred letting you take your time with your mouth around him, but sometimes he was feeling particularly controlling.

You watched closely as he pulled his cock from his pants and stroked himself several times. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

You looked up at him as you did so and he fed you his cock. His brow furrowed and one hand gripped the edge of the counter as he watched. His skin slid against your tongue painfully slowly and you opened wider to encourage him to give you more.

He didn’t stop even when he hit the back of your throat. He only paused for a moment when you gagged softly, but you hummed to let him know you wanted him to keep going.

Until your nose was pressed against his pants, he continued sliding down your throat. He pulled out until only the tip of his cock was in your mouth and then thrust back in with a little more force, your head just barely knocked against the island.

You had to be mindful, he was about to go to work. You couldn’t make a mess of his pants because he would end up being late, not that anyone would care if he was a few minutes late for the first time ever. But you also wanted him wearing these pants so he would have a constant reminder throughout the day.

He reached down, fingers tangling in the hair at the back of your head. It was less to hold you where he wanted you and more to keep you in line. At the start of your relationship, Andy had looked at this as some huge favor you were doing for him, he couldn’t possibly imagine that you liked it. The first time was the sweetest you had ever seen him, so sweet that even all these years later, you could still melt about it.

He had talked you through it, making sure you would take it slow and careful. He was literally choking you with his cock in your throat, so he had stressed the importance of breathing through your nose and fully when he was pulling out. He reminded you not to tense your jaw so much because you would be unnecessarily sore by the time he finished. He told you to communicate with your hands, holding his thighs meant you wanted more. If you pulled your hands away, that meant you needed him to slow down. If you needed him to stop, which you never had, he told you to touch his hand that he would always have on your head.

This was the first time he had ever felt comfortable enough to bind your hands. That was why he was staring so intently at your face, he wanted to make sure that he didn’t cross any lines.

You began sucking and he took that as his cue. He rocked his hips, letting you find your rhythm for a moment. He would pull back, you would either suck or briefly wrap your tongue around the head of his cock, then he would slide back in until your body moved with your gag reflex, until you choked for a second or two, and then he would repeat.

The harder you sucked, the cleaner you kept the scene. It wasn’t that Andy didn’t like the messy times. He would get so damn sappy and intimate after he used your mouth like that. The clean times, on the other hand, where you weren’t drooling, where there were fewer tears, where cum wasn’t slipping out of your mouth and down your jaw and neck, were a different kind of special to him. He was obsessed with all that effort you had to put in, and how willingly you put it in, just for him.

You loved looking up at him during this. You loved seeing him struggle to keep control. You loved seeing his jaw set when he wanted to make a sound. You loved seeing when his mouth would drop instead and he would let out these breathless moans or grunts. You loved getting lost in his adoring gaze and his moving hands.

He noticed instantly when your eyes filled with tears and he started cooing at you. “Baby, you’re being such a good girl for me right now. Your mouth is so fucking good at taking my cock.” His fingers gently swiped at your cheeks and he paused, asking you if you wanted him to continue. He knew you did, he was just a tease.

But you were too high on this to be thinking rationally. As he wanted, you frantically blurted out pleas that he couldn’t understand.

You only caught his smirk for a second before he was pulling his hips back.

He took the base of his cock in his hand and you knew exactly what he was going to do because he loved doing this to you. You, however, hated it. Okay, you didn’t hate it, but it was almost impossible to not get extremely messy.

He pushed back in until you gagged and then pulled his cock from your mouth. ���You doing okay, baby?”

You swallowed quickly and nodded. “Yes.” Your throat hurt but you couldn’t have cared less. Once he got home from work, you would feel better. Your voice would be raspy but not overly so and Andy would do anything he could to make you speak because he loved hearing it.

As he moved back in, you opened your mouth to accommodate him as well as you could. Once more, you choked on him and he pulled out completely. “You like sucking my cock?”

“Yes.” And because you were stunningly obedient, you opened your mouth for him immediately.

He arched an eyebrow. “How much?”

Your mouth fell shut as you contemplated an answer. Normally, he didn’t ask you things that couldn’t be answered with one word. “A lot.”

He hummed.

“A lot,” you insisted. “Sucking your cock gets me so wet. I love when you let me do it. I would do it every night and morning if you would let me.”

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?” He didn’t need an answer then, he just shoved in until it was too much for you and then backed off.

You were struggling to keep swallowing on time and his cock was dripping with your saliva. He was keeping you balanced with his hand on the back of your head and you were grateful, you were dizzy and your knees were aching.

“You want me to come?”

“Yes.”

His hips thrust forward and you gagged. You were drooling from the corners of your mouth when next pulled out.

“You want to taste my cum, sweetheart?”

You whimpered. “Please.”

He slid his cock down your throat again, his pace neither slow nor gentle. You couldn’t see him through your tears, but you felt the heat of him as he leaned over to grab the edge of the counter over you. The back of your head was pinned completely against the island and you were choking noisily, almost violently, it was the first time you realized how wet you were. Between your thighs, your skin was slipping each time you tried to press your legs together.

His thrusts were becoming erratic, shameless sounds pouring from his mouth between his chanting of your name. Despite having his cock in your mouth, tears and saliva running down your face, being on your knees completely naked for him, you still blushed when he told you that you were so good at this, made for this, actually. It was never demeaning when Andy claimed that your body’s purpose was to please him because you knew he felt the exact same about his for you.

He wasn’t a religious man or a spiritual man, and you were sure the idea of soul mates would make him roll his eyes, but there was something deep about the way he spoke of your relationship. He didn’t shy away from letting you know that you were it. You were his one, and trying for anything else would be a waste of his time. Alternatively, when he was in a darker mood, when he was pressed to your back, hand wrapped around your throat, fucking you into the bed or the wall, the couch once, he always let you know that you also belonged to him. No one else would do it for you.

When he was coming, his hips stilled, buried down your throat as far as he possibly could be. You swallowed around him, breathing when you could, but it was not a priority. If you were to pass out this way, you knew neither of you would mind. Only Andy mattered in that moment, making him feel good. You weren’t in the most comfortable position, but any complaints you had were soothed by the taste of him.

He was coming down slowly but forced himself to move because he knew you were taking a lot. His hands came to your face where he brushed away your tears once more. “Baby?”

You turned up to him, vision still a little blurred.

With a couple of slow, parting thrusts, he pulled out with his hand on the base of his cock. He was dripping with cum and saliva. “Wanna clean me up a little, baby?”

Eyes locked on his the entire time, you gave him the smallest, gentlest licks until he placed a hand on your cheek and murmured a ‘thank you’. You watched him tuck himself back into his pants and then looked up at him again.

He pulled you onto your feet, quickly lifting you onto the counter by your hips. “I could call in.”

You scoffed. “No. You can fuck me as soon as you get home, but you have to go to work.”

“Mm.”

You arched your eyebrow at him. “Can you clean me up a little?”

He hummed again, taking a paper towel from the roll on the counter. He began with your mouth, cleaning whatever remained from your jaw and then giving you a soft, searing kiss. As he moved the paper towel down to your neck, he dropped his mouth to close over one of your nipples.

You sighed, back arching to bring you closer to him. “Andy, baby—”

You received a parting bite and then he moved over to the next. As he bit and licked and switched between your breasts, he had to use both hands to wrestle the tie off you. In the end, it was probably lost, the knot wasn’t coming loose even after he’d gotten your wrists free.

You waited on the counter for him while he went upstairs for a new tie. You were numb in some places, like your knees and your arms, and burning in others, like everywhere else. You would be counting down the minutes until he was home again.

He smiled at you as he made his way back into the kitchen.

You lifted your eyebrows when he neared you, swatting his hands away to tie his tie for him. You liked doing it, it always made you feel a little classic Hollywood. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

You snorted. “Yeah, babe, I know. We’ve been married for a while now.”

“Really, though. Anything you want, you should ask me now. After what you just did, how could I say no? So, a new house, even though you know I’m very partial to this one, a vacation, a lot of diamonds. Name it, sweetheart, I will give you anything.”

“Okay,” you scoffed, somewhat nervous. As you finished the tie, you worried your lip with your teeth. Now or never, you supposed. If there ever was going to be a good time to ask, it would be now…

He took your hands, eyes locked on yours, and began scattering small kisses all over your skin. This man was literally asking you to let him spoil you. What had you done to deserve someone so beautiful and kind?

“Okay, I want a puppy.”

He froze eyes a little wide.

You lifted your eyebrows at him.

“Oh…wow, look at the time.” He made a show of glancing over your shoulder at the microwave. “I should go.”

“Are you serious?”

He kissed you chastely. “Bye, babe.” He was rushing out before giving you the chance to respond. “But thank you for this, really appreciate it. Um…I will eat you out when I get home. Okay? Stay naked.” Then he was out the door.

Okay.

requests to be tagged:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic

[inspired-by-the-music]

Your Fool (Jonghyun)

requested by my shinee anon! requests are encouraged, please read my guidelines before submitting your request

Genre: fluff, kinda humorous

Word Count: 1406

Note: this is a part of my ongoing shinee drabbles storyline! to get the full impact of the story, I suggest that you read the other installments.

You knew Jonghyun was excited to talk to the other SHINee members on the radio; that was all he talked about for weeks. 

“Just promise you’ll listen, okay, Y/N?” Jonghyun begged, looking up at you from the foot of the bed. “Even if you’re busy, please listen.”

“Alright, Jjong.” You smiled as you rubbed his shoulders tenderly. “I promise— even if I’m really busy, I’ll listen to you and the guys.”

You were on the bus home after work when your phone alarmed you— with both a preset reminder and an enthusiastic text from Jonghyun— that the radio program was about to start. 

By the time you fished tangled headphones out of your purse and plugged them into your phone, you were instantly greeted by Jonghyun’s laughter. That sound alone convinced you to abandon your planned relaxing evening at home. You couldn’t stop imagining how Jonghyun would smile if you visited him at the radio station, so even though the trip would lengthen your bus ride, you decided to chase the daydream.

However, shortly into the broadcast, you noticed something was off about the guys. Jinki could barely finish a sentence before being interrupted harshly by Minho, and Taemin had talked three times at the most. And you could tell from how quickly and delicately Jonghyun frequently changed the topics, the conversation was much more tense in person. 

Despite Jonghyun’s attempts to keep the peace at least until the end of the program, Key finally demanded, “Yah! What’s the matter with you three?” after Minho’s most recent outburst. 

When granted the opportunity to openly air his grievances, Minho remained silent, and Jinki made no efforts to defend himself. Taemin, on the other hand, immediately answered, “Minho keeps kicking me under the table because, obviously, he wasn’t satisfied with kicking me in the face the other day.”

Ignoring Key’s stifled laughter, Minho retorted, “I told you that was an accident. I’m only kicking you now because I know who you’re texting, and you should be paying attention to our conversation!” “This isn’t the time for all this arguing,” Jonghyun spoke into his microphone over the chaos. You could imagine him running a frustrated hand through his hair. 

Key seconded, “I agree, you guys should cut it out, but I have two questions. First, why was Taemin kicked in the face? And second, how does that explain the tension between Minho and Onew?”

“Taemin was kicked in the face because he was being a sneak,” Minho explained shortly. 

Jonghyun reminded, “I thought you said it was an accident.” “It was.” And without further comment on the Taemin incident, Minho said, “Onew ruined my anniversary. Would you believe that he walked into a restaurant— for a date I arranged with my girlfriend’s friend— and gave my name to the hostess when he realized he needed a reservation?”

You couldn’t fathom the glare Key must have received for laughing. As if to apologize, Key said, “I mean— I can believe it, but I don’t think it was right or anything.”

“It gets worse,” Minho assured. “By now anyone who follows any kind of celebrity news knows hat Onew acted like— actually, I don’t even know the word to explain how clumsy he was. But he did all of that in my name, so I can never make a reservation at that five star restaurant again!”

“That’s not so bad.” Jonghyun spoke softly. “You don’t have to go to a nice restaurant to have a romantic date.”

“That’s not the point! What he did was selfish, and he hasn’t even apologized!”

Jinki finally spoke, “Hey! I did say I was sorry!”

“Yeah! And then you concluded with some bullshit about how you would do it all again to see that girl smile at you!”

You recognized Jonghyun’s furious breath. “Yah! Watch your language!” He scolded, and you wondered if he swatted at Minho. “And since this has turned into some weird conversation about this scandal— I don’t think what Onew did was that bad. Sometimes when you really like someone, your mind goes a little blank, and you do dumb things to make them happy.”

“Yeah!” Taemin agreed eagerly, as if speaking from experience. Then, like a child seeking guidance, he asked, “Jonghyun, have you done anything like that with Y/N?”

You blushed at the mention of your name.

“Of course,” Jonghyun answered immediately. Then, through laughter, he clarified, “I mean, I never stole anyone’s dinner reservations, and I’ve never wrecked a five star restaurant.”

Jinki interrupted with a sarcastic “Thanks Jonghyun, I’m grateful for your support,” which earned laughter from everyone, even Minho. 

“So what embarrassing thing did you do with Y/N” Key asked.

“Ah. . . Y/N, I know you’re listening, so promise you’ll still love me after this.” Following encouragement from his members, Jonghyun began, “So, you all know Y/N wrote a book—”

Minho jumped at the opportunity to tease, “How could we ever forget? You were obsessed with it.”

“Wasn’t that before you started dating?” Taemin questioned. 

Jinki corrected in a wise tone, “That was before they even met.”

“Right,” Jonghyun verified. “So I was recommending it to everyone. And I ended up going to one of her book signings. I was wearing a mask to avoid causing a scene. I had this whole little speech prepared about how much I loved her art and how it moved me. But when I finally got up there, she recognized me by my eyes.”

Key hummed, “That’s romantic,” and you smiled at Jonghyun’s retelling of the beginning of your love story. 

“She asked if I was Jonghyun, and I nodded, so she started gushing about how I’m her favorite artist. She was saying all these beautiful things about how sometimes I’m all she can stand to listen to when she’s lonely— and I was so close to crying, I completely forgot my speech. So I ended up reciting something Key said about the book-”

“Yah!” Key suddenly yelped, causing you to falter as you stepped off the bus. “So you mean Y/N is supposed to love me?”

“No!” Jonghyun disagreed instantly. “We were already in love! We were just soulmates who hadn’t met yet!”

Minho grumbled, “Well, that’s still not the same as Onew stealing my reservations.”

“My point is— wait, I just thought of a better example. For Y/N’s birthday, her mom sent these beautiful flowers to our apartment. And I woke up early to make breakfast and to check the mail and all that, so I was the one who brought the flowers in. Y/N walked into the room and assumed I bought the flowers. She looked so pretty, I couldn’t think clearly enough to explain that her Mom sent them.”

“You’re being too mushy,” Jinki groaned.

“Yah! This is what happens when you love someone!” Jonghyun defended himself but laughed nonetheless. “Anyway, then her mom called to ask if the flowers arrived safely, but Y/N was like—” Jonghyun cleared his throat and mimicked your voice, “‘I only got flowers from my sweet, precious Jonghyun.’” And once the other guys’ laughter died down, Jonghyun continued, “But her mom didn’t press it. But then later, she texted to ask if I’d taken credit for the beautiful birthday bouquet.”

Taemin squeaked, “Ah— just hearing this is embarrassing me.”

“Did you tell Y/N the truth? Or apologize to her mother?” Minho asked. 

“Of course I didn’t tell Y/N!” Jonghyun elaborated, “I was humiliated enough already! And I offered to pay her mom for the flowers, but she said I could repay her by loving Y/N. And, you know, that’s not really all that difficult.”

“So,” Minho hummed, trying to derive a moral from Jonghyun’s ramblings. “What you’re saying is, I should forgive Onew as long as he loves his girl?”

“That’s what I would do,” Jonghyun advised. Then, to Jinki, he said, “But you should probably apologize to the restaurant, Onew, and maybe not make a habit of stealing people’s reservations.”

“But Jonghyun—” Taemin interrupted softly. “This flower thing happened a long time ago, right? You don’t still do stuff like that with Y/N, right?”

“Taem, Y/N’s birthday was last month,”  Jonghyun admitted matter-of-factly. “I’m always a fool for her, that’s just a part of love.”

And that last sentence is why you smiled as you waited for your precious fool in the lobby of the radio station.

[l000ey]

the queen and the jester → r.d

pairing; song mino x rae dara (ft. dong youngbae and mentions of lee chaerin, park bom, min hyorin and kwon jiyong)

summary; Red needs to forget everything and Mino wants to helps her

warning; bad language

note; yes, they fucked but Mino is not the only one Red has had sex with after her breakup with GD.....

2014

People smiled and laughed happily as they talked to their friends or acquaintances while Red was sitting there with a glass of the strongest alcohol she could have found in the bar of the huge hotel where they were celebrating the end of the year party. She sighed and turned to see her best friend when she felt that he was sitting next to she.

"Are you gonna stay like that all night?" The girl shrugged at the question. Taeyang sighed as he looked for Chaerin but she was very busy dancing with Hyorin and Bom, he made a face that showed his displeasure when he saw his leader dancing with that girl he had brought to the party.

He looked at the brunette only to realize that she was also looking at Jiyong and that model devouring in the middle of the dance floor. Dara sighed and drank another swallow from her glass. "I think I'll go home."

"But there is only one hour left for it to be New Year" With his right hand he gave a slight squeeze on her leg, trying to give her encouragement but she ignored it by going back to drink another drink "D, stay. Do not give him the satisfaction of seeing you wrong. "

"I think he's already satisfied enough." She pointed out how the girl intertwined her fingers in the rapper's hair and bit his lips. She let out a bitter laugh and stood up, alarming Youngbae.

"Uh, uh, where are you going?" He got up too when he saw her staggering, helped her sit down again.

"I need a cigarette, maybe two or three." She opened her purse and pulled out a packet of tobacco next to a cigarette lighter. The white-haired man sighed again before snatching the bag, earning a complaint from the best "Yah, give me that."

"No" He said curtly.

"Youngbae, please. I need to get out of here, I want to go home.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hid her face in his stomach, the singer growled looking for someone to help him with the twenty three years old baby. The only one who seemed to be in his five senses was the rapper of the group of boys who had debuted about a year ago, what was his name? Oh, yes, Mino.

"You" He pointed to the boy, who was sitting at a few tables beyond. The dark haired man frowned and pointed, Youngbae nodded "Come here."

"Yes, hyung?" Mino waved at him but Taeyang stopped him.

"I need your help, have you drunk?" The boy denied and he smiled "Perfect! Well, you're going to help Red get home. "

"Ah, I'm not so drunk." Red, who was watching them still sitting in her place, frowned annoyed. "I do not need a babysitter, Youngbae."

"Oh, believe me you need it." He handed the bag to the young man and helped his friend get up while she complained nonstop. Mino frowned without understanding anything, his sunbae looked sad and did not understand the reasons why she could be but nevertheless remained silent. The older one looked at him. "Help her get home and then come back if you want. If you do, I'll talk to the CEO to give you a solo album. "

Red rolled her eyes at the exaggerations of her best friend, snatched the bag from her hoobae and picked up a cigar ready to be smoked. She looked at the dark haired man "Are we going?"

"Eh, yes." He nodded quickly receiving her bag again and started to walk to get to it but his hyung's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Take care of her. She's not anybody, you know?” He nodded and started running toward the girl who had stopped at the door as soon as she realized he was not following her.

Both walked in silence through the hotel corridors until they reached the elevator. Red sighed as soon as Mino hit the button that would take them down.

“Mino”.

"Yes?" He turned quickly to see if she needed anything. He inspected her with his eyes, curious about his senior, but everything seemed fine with her, so he waited for her to speak.

"Can we go somewhere other than my house, please? I do not want to be there, I need fresh air.” She did not look at it for a second as she spoke, her eyes were lost on the floor of the elevator.

"But Taeyang hyung said that ..."

"I know what your hyung said, but I want to breathe and if you're going to be my babysitter at least does that for me." Her green eyes finally settled on him and all he could do was nod. He was afraid to screw everything and have her thrown him out of the agency. He approached the panel and pressed the button on the sixth floor making the girl look at him confused. "What are you doing?"

"I rented a room because I thought about drinking until I forgot my name so we can go there. You can smoke, there is a terrace. "He explained before leaving the wall and standing in front of the doors.

"Wow, I did not even think about asking for a room. Very clever, Song” The boy smiled at the words of the eldest and offered his hand to help her out of the elevator. They walked hand in hand to the room where Mino had to let her go to open the door. He let her pass first in a gentlemanly act. Red smiled to see the room, it was beautiful "You can go back to the party if you want, I will smoke a while and then I will go to my house. Do not miss the fun because of me. "

Mino laughed leaving the bag on one of the bedside tables after closing the door "It was not a fun party. It was pretty boring, I would say. I'll stay and when you want to leave I'll take you home. I promised hyung that I would take care of you."

"Well, thanks." She smiled at him, running the curtains so she could have access to the terrace. She turned around and looked at him still smiling. "And stop talking to me in a formal way, we've known each other for many years, I think we're close enough to talk to me like that."

He followed her to the terrace. "You're older than me and everyone knows you do not like honorific so I had to be respectful in some way." He watched her take off her heels and throw them away from her. He laughed thinking about how cute she was doing that pout looked when he saw the wonderful views of the Seoul night that the room had.

"Thank you for bringing me here." She looked at him, ignoring the fact that she had caught him looking at her and smiled at him and then looked again at the illuminated city. "It's just what I needed."

He followed her example and sat in the other chair. "I'm glad I was helpful."

Silence filtered again between the two, the only thing you could hear was the cigarette burn and music away from the party a couple of floors above. Dara sighed letting out the smoke, her sigh caught the attention of the rapper, who turned his head to look at her.

"C-can I ask you something?"

The brunette laughed "You've done it but yes, go ahead."

"Why are you so down? It's been a while since I've noticed it. You almost never smile and if you do it is a fake smile, you just drink and smoke and spend most of your time in your studio or at home "He looked at her worried" Is everything all right? "

Just as he said, she forced a smile, feeling her eyes watering so she looked away from him. Mino did not stop looking at her for a moment so, despite her effort to keep the tears out of sight, he saw her cry. He got up and knelt by her side while rubbing her arm trying to comfort her.

"Hey, it's fine. You can cry if you want. "He trailed his other hand down her back and hugged her while she hid her face in his chest. A few minutes later she stopped sobbing but both continued in the same position "Do you want to tell me what happened?".

"Jiyong and I have broken up and the son of a bitch has brought a slut to the party. He was eating her mouth in front of me!” She exclaimed and shrugged closer to the warm body of the boy" I know we're not together anymore and he's free to do whatever he wants but I do not know...show some respect at least? "

"He should have waited a little longer to take someone to an event at the company." The black-haired agreed, she nodded away from his arms causing a cold to immediately spread through his skin.

"Exact. Thank you.” She accepted the handkerchief for which Mino had entered the room and carefully cleaned her face but could not continue because the boy took it from her hands and began to clean it.

"Let me do it" he murmured and began to spread the silk over her skin carefully, with too much care, as if she were the most precious and weak thing that he could have in his hands and that he should take care of. "I think hyung is stupid, not only for today but for leaving you. He's crazy about leaving a queen like you without a king. "

Dara moved slightly away from his touch leaving his cleaning job in half. She looked into his eyes and frowned thinking about why the hell she should have fallen in love with Jiyong instead of Mino. Without realizing her lips were already glued to his and her body was sitting on his lap.

She moaned when his tongue entered her mouth. She quickly brought her hands to his hair, that hair so well combed and cut that since she had seen it had made her want to run her fingers through it and ruffle it. The fireworks began to explode in front of them and the shouts of happiness of their record companions sounded in the distance. 2015 had already arrived.

Mino broke the kiss by separating from her, very little but for them it felt like being millions of miles away from each other. He looked at her confused.

"Help me to forget him, please" She whispered and he, even knowing that this would bring consequences, nodded before returning to stick his lips with hers and get up with her in his arms. He walked with a determined step towards the room where he approached the bed and placed her gently on top of it.

Mino pulled away to take off his shoes while Dara unzipped her dress. He came quickly to her after he had discarded his jacket and kissed her again before helping her to get rid of that dress that looked very expensive although he did not regret to see that under the dress there was a fine lingerie. He bit his lower lip with such force that it seemed that at any moment he would bleed, the brunnette took him from his tie and pulled him closer to her. He joined her lips again while she unbuttoned his shirt. Mino's mind kept telling him that this was probably a dream and that he enjoyed it because he would never experience such a real dream again.

"Mino" She sighed his name when his lips took hold of the skin of her neck, he growled happy to hear his name leave her lips and continued sucking her smooth and soft skin. He spent minutes on each part of her body, did not leave a corner without kissing while whispering how beautiful she was making her sigh happily.

He pulled away from the skin of her stomach and looked at her, eyes closed and moaning for him. He smiled and went down to kiss her on the lips this time.

"Mino” She whispered again when the kiss broke.

"Yes?" He pulled their sweaty foreheads together as his hands danced around the curves of her body.

The look she gave him said too many things, said he would help her, that she needed love, that she missed her family, that she felt...empty but she did not say anything of that.

"Mino, fuck me." She said instead.

Hours later the boy looked at her back where that stupid tattoo rested while she slept soundly after her attempt to forget Kwon Jiyong. Mino grimaced without stop looking at the tattoo, that tattoo that was famous throughout Asia, that tattoo that symbolized the eternal love that the king and queen swore to have before all but that in the end it would only be a scar on the skin of the queen that would remember her for life to the king.

And Mino did not like that because he knew that this, what had just happened and for what she asked so much, would be nothing more than a secret story that would be between them and that soon she would run into the arms of the king as soon as he was, realized how stupid he is and asked for forgiveness. And then there would be him, the funny but lonely jester who loves the queen in secret like many others.

He sighed and turned around, ready to say goodbye to the beautiful but tragic night that had just passed in front of him.

[lizartgurl]

Back To You (Aqualad x OC)

A very self-indulgent AU that is actually great fodder for my muse

@sand-son @betteonit @the-shadow-of-atlantis

PART TWO.

(part one)

Tim and Mara sat on her bed, watching as Emma flitted from one thing to another.

“You sure you don’t want any help?” Mara asked, pointing at the pile spilling out of the one industrial-grade duffel bag she was advised to take.

“I’m fine!” Emma said nervously as she shuffled through the walk-in closet she shared with Mara, trying to decide between two different blue shirts.

Tim sighed, sinking down into the thick down comforters as he rested his laptop on his chest.

“You aren’t trying to see which color Kaldur would like best, are you?” He asked.

“I am not!” Emma insisted. She discarded both shirts and snatched up a pink turtleneck instead.

“Why are you so mad at him?” Mara asked, tossing aside a peach lollipop for a watermelon lollipop on her bag of dum-dums.

Emma didn’t know why the question made her want to laugh.

“Because, Mara, you’ll learn when you’re in a relationship, that there is a certain amount of trust to be expected between partners. And when that trust is broken, you have to question whether that relationship is what you thought it was.”

“Didn’t Rick say he wanted to trust you though?” Tim pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s not the point!” Emma threw a few more pointless items on the pile.

Mara bit into her lollipop, “Then what is?”

“I don’t know!” Emma threw her arms up in the air, sending her pile flying. She fell face-first into her bed with a groan. “Why did I say I’d do this?”

“Because you like Kaldur!” Mara exclaimed, waving her dum-dum like a fairy wand.

“Not anymore, Mara,” Emma muttered into the quilt. Seizing the opportunity, her beloved cat, Justice, leaped onto Emma’s back and curled up, ready to sleep close to his favorite human.

Tim sat up and patted Emma’s head, “But you do still care about him.”

“Well yeah, even if his plan was stupid, he still did a lot to save the world,” Justice hissed irritably as Emma propped herself up on her arms, staring out the window at the gardens of Wayne Manor, green slowly fading to brown already. However cold the New England summers got, Canada was going to be even colder.

“So you do still like him?” Mara waved a cherry lollipop in Emma’s face tauntingly.

Emma snatched it up with a grin for her little sister, “If you say that one more time, I’ll kick you out of my room,” She tickled Mara’s ribs as they both burst into laughter.

“Save me, Tim! Save me!” Mara begged with dramatic flair.

“Okay,” Tim turned his laptop for both of them to see. “By doing research on various areas of Canada, specifically the ones JSA-ers are known to protect, I have put together a list of various things you may need to be able to enjoy yourself while tolerating Kaldur and surviving in the Canadian wilderness.”

Emma stopped tickling Mara and examined the list.

“Tim, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“You can prove it by letting me turn your room into a private study while you’re gone,” Tim sat up tall and folded his arms proudly.

“As if!” Emma shoved the laptop back at him as Mara beaned her brother with a pillow.

“There’s like fifty studies already in the manor! You don’t need another one!”

“Yeah, but they’re too far from my room,” Tim almost whined.

“Do you really want Mara to have free access to all your files and crap?” Emma nodded towards the closet, connecting both girl’s rooms.

Tim sighed in defeat, “You have a point.”

“Just ask Bruce to open up another study! Even if he won’t, Alfred will,” Mara shrugged.

“Okay, but later. Now, we have to go through everything on this list,” Emma said.

Tim and Mara grinned up at her, “Oh, so now you want our help!”

Emma shrugged, sorting her big pile into smaller piles. Satisfied by how calm she was now, Justice settled into her lap. Emma’s heart jolted, and she held her cat very close. She could still remember the day after she got her powers, when Rick came to her with a kitten that Bruce had found in the alleys of Gotham during his nightly patrol.

“Emma?” Mara asked, sliding down to sit next to Emma on the floor.

“You okay?” Tim joined them, shutting his laptop.

Emma let Justice go and sighed. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time she did that today.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” She sighed.

Mara hugged Emma tightly. “If you’re sad about it, and you don’t like Kaldur anymore, then why are you going?”

Emma pulled Tim into the hug. “I made the choice to be a hero a long time ago. To protect others who couldn’t help themselves. Kaldur may be able to protect himself, but after all he’s been through, he’s going to need all the support he can get.”

“What if he has to stay there? Forever?”

Emma stopped in the middle of rolling up one of her graphic t-shirts. “I don’t know, Mara. Maybe after he’s settled in, I’d come back.”

“That’s mean.”

“Look, no one asked you, Tim!” Justice meowed in agreement, and Emma threw one of her old stuffies at Tim. He caught it in his hand.

“Hey, isn’t this the dragon that Kal-”

“Hey guys!” Rick grinned as he leaned against the doorframe. “Are you all having fun without me?”

“Richard!” Mara leaped up to hang off his leg. She loved it whenever Rick came over.

“Can you please tell Emma to stay if she hates Kaldur so much?”

“I don’t hate him...” Emma stammered.

“You act like you do,” Tim snorted.

Emma sighed, “I don’t know what I’m feeling. Everything’s just happened so fast.”

“How are you doing?” Rick asked. He boosted Mara up onto his shoulders.

Emma debated on telling them, but she really shouldn’t be making a big deal out of it if she wasn’t going to need them for the foreseeable future.

“It’s the anxiety. It’s been acting up ever since we took down the Reach.” Rick and Mara nodded understandingly.

“And got Kaldur back?” Tim added insightfully.

Emma sighed, though it came out more like a groan. “I can’t make up my mind about anything, and I feel like I have to make a decision immediately, but I can’t ever decide. I thought maybe getting away from everything would give me time to think.”

“Well, how about you think over a nice, warm dinner of Alfred's?” Rick prompted, making finger guns at the bedroom door, “I'm pretty sure he was making chicken alfredo with pasta in honor of your big mission.”

“Yuck!” Mara mimed barfing.

“Mar, if you get anything in my hair, I will force feed you an entire jar of Alfred's alfredo sauce.” Richard threatened.

Mara screamed and jumped off the bed, running up the hall and down the stairs, Richard hot on her heels.

Shaking their heads, Emma and Tim followed.

With Richard and then Barbara over for dinner, the table was a bit fuller and the entire manor looked a bit brighter than usual. Bruce even talked and laughed a little bit, and he really did try to finish his meal before he finally gave in to the police radio feed coming in through his earpiece. He wanted them to join him as soon as possible.

After dinner was finished and Alfred had made everyone help with clean-up, the others made to follow Bruce to the cave.

“Good luck you guys, watch each other’s backs,” She said, not putting any effort into her encouragement.

“You’re not coming with us?” Mara’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

Emma hugged her, “You’re almost twelve now, Mara, you can’t really do puppy-dog eyes anymore.”

The younger girl huffed. “It was worth a try,” She grumbled.

“I’m going to need all my energy for tomorrow,” She did her best to smile.

Barbara hugged her tightly. “Any last words you can give me about the team?”

“Sheesh, Babs, don’t make it sound like I’m dying!” Emma scolded.

“You might as well be,” Rick snickered. Emma punched him in the shoulder.

“Seriously though, everyone’s so different from everyone else. If you respect them and show that you trust them, they’ll do the same for you.” Emma nodded. Richard tugged at his collar, uncomfortable for only a split second.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Babs asked.

Emma really wished people would stop asking her that. She was starting to doubt herself.

Emma nodded, waving them towards the stairwell hidden behind the grandfather clock.

“Someone’s gotta make sure Kaldur doesn’t kill himself trying to uncover another plot to take over the world after he gets cabin fever.”

“Hey, It’s Canada!” Richard grinned at her, “How bad can it be?”

-

The sun was just barely up when Emma’s alarm clock (and Bruce) woke her up. Justice woke up when the bed shifted, and stayed awake long enough to bop his forehead against Emma’s. She ducked into Mara’s room, lightly kissing the sleeping girl’s forehead in goodbye, and retrieved her duffle from the closet. Even Alfred was still asleep.

“How was it last night?” She asked, getting in tone of the Wayne’s least-conspicuous cars with Bruce.

“Not too bad,” Bruce turned the key in the ignition. “I told Commissioner Gordon that Nightingale is retiring, for now.”

“And what’s Emma Grayson’s story?” They turned on to the long, lonely road, leading towards Gotham. Emma’s home from the majority of her life.

“The paparazzi knows you like to avoid attention, so that should cover it for maybe a month or two. Tim has your instagram programmed to post some faceless photos of you hanging around the manor with him and Mara, and Justice. Then, when everyone starts getting antsy, I’ll send the jet to Uganda and announce that you’re helping with charities there for an indefinite time. They’ll eat it up, and keep your identities separate.”

Emma exhaled. “Sounds good.”

Bruce made a quiet exclamation, remembering something, and retrieved a paper bag from the backseat without taking his eyes off the road.

“Alfred packed that for you and Kaldur. After that runs out, you’re on your own for cooking.”

Emma snorted, “It’s not like I’m as bad as you.”

The jeep picked up speed as they made it through the city and onto onto the bridge connecting Gotham Island to the mainland New Jersey and Bruce almost grinned. “Just don’t burn the house down. It’s hard to come by a good safehouse these days.”

Ignoring the turning in her stomach, Emma examined the bag’s contents, and immediately devoured a cinnamon roll. Infinitely better than the protein bar she planned to settle on for her breakfast.

They drove in silence for an hour, crossing into New York, past the hills, and down an old dirt road deep in the woods. Emma was too nervous to sleep. Could she really do this? After all that had happened, could she stay in the same house as Kaldur for an unspecified amount of time and still stay sane? She wanted to get away and think, and this was the first opportunity that popped up. She wouldn’t have to worry about typical mission stuff, it would be the emotional toll rather than the physical.

“We’re here.” Bruce stopped the car with a jolt that yanked Emma from her thoughts. The car was parked beneath the umbrella of the trees, but just ahead was a clearing, and with the growing daylight, Emma could make out the gray helicopter that was producing the chopping sound that suddenly filled her ears. Bruce grabbed her bag for her, and she shouldered her backpack.

“You’ll promise to take care of Justice, right?” She said before the noise grew too loud.

Bruce sighed, “So long as he doesn’t claw up my good suits, then yes.”

Emma rolled her eyes, “You can just buy fifty more!” She laughed when she saw Bruce’s grin, but that was before the shades came on. Batman in disguise.

She almost didn’t recognize Wildcat without the catsuit. He stood alone with Kaldur next to the helicopter. Bruce handed Emma’s things to Ted, and he tossed them on the helicopter.

“Well, no point waiting around any longer. Come on kids, the sooner you two are hidden away the better,” Ted hopped in the pilot’s seat, and Aqualad glanced at Emma before climbing in one of the other available seats.

“Nightingale,” Batman grabbed her shoulder before she could decide whether or not she really, absolutely, definitely wanted to get in the copter.

“Be careful who you trust. Tell no one who you really are.”

Emma nodded. That much was obvious.

“No cable, no laptop, no phones. Use landline sparingly. No credit cards, either. Don’t use anything that they can use to trace you.”

He handed her a thick, white envelope.

“This is your allowance for the month. We’ll get your next spendings to you eventually.”

Confident he’d finished his lecture, Emma turned to board the helicopter, but he stopped her.

“Emma, remember, this is for Kaldur, not you. If you can’t handle it, you let us know.”

Emma hesitated before nodded.

“I love you, Dad,” She said quietly.

Bruce just nodded. “Stay safe, Emma.”

He had vanished before she even reached the chopper.

[big-stupid-jellyfish]

i accidentally even more

for neavi and doc who both fuel my attempts at writing about shinsou hitoshi in class a.

1,9k words, shinsou, tokoyami, dark shadow, graphic descriptions of depression

Shinsou was getting used to the dormitory, but no amount of preparation made him ready for Tokoyami's room. He expected a certain kind of... atmosphere in a room belonging to a teenager who unironically wore a choker and painted his nails in black, but some elements of decor were plain too distracting. Shinsou stared.

"I have exhausted all embarrassment from how others react to my room back on the day when everyone decided to visit each other's rooms," Tokoyami noted with dry sarcasm, unfazed by his classmate gawking at the surroundings.

Tokoyami's sense of humour was scarce, often hidden in vague metaphors or mild self-deprecation. When Shinsou noticed that, he thought he rather liked it.

"What kind of a highschool student has a fake sword hanging on the wall of his room anyway?" Shinsou dared to take a jab, hoping it sounded friendly enough to be harmless.

"Aesthetic," Tokoyami nodded to himself solemnly. "And it's not fake." His tone was light, and feathers on his crest puffed a little. Smiling wasn't really an option for him, with that beak instead of mouth, but he was expressive enough.

Slightly encouraged by a somewhat successful attempt at small talk, Shinsou returned his attention to the textbooks piling on the table. The class was split into pairs for a small project due next week.

Shinsou didn't enjoy collaborations: his classmates always seemed to make more effort than him, or more easily achieved things Shinsou struggled with, or the matchups were plain unpleasant to deal with. He was cautious of his current assignment in the new class. His assigned partner was several tiers above Shinsou, he understood that. So Shinsou's primary goal was to not disgrace himself in his first serious academic project.

Dark Shadow flickered on the table, comically small, despite the fact that it was lit by a table lamp - the only source of light in the room in the moment. Shisnou wondered if the entity wanted attention, willingly exposing itself to the bright light that was supposedly withering it. Tokoyami made an expression - feathers puffing, unblinking eyes trained on Shadow squarely - that Shinsou guessed to be a frown, and the entity crawled down the table. For a moment it seemed as if it wanted to throw a textbook with itself, but it didn't, just hiding behind Tokoyami's chair and mimicking his pose perfectly. Or maybe shadowing him.

Not for the first time Shinsou wondered how Tokoyami's quirk worked. He saw a lot of unique quirks, got closer to understanding how others used their talents ever since watching students compete at Sports Festival, but almost all that information was merely tactical intel. He couldn't compete with someone who could blast his face off before he greeted his opponent.

But a quirk that created a sentient companion for life? That got Shinsou's attention in ways more than about just learning how to evade the attacks while trying to get his opponent talking.

It was almost shameful, but Shinsou was intensely curious if he could brainwash Dark Shadow.

Not really a thing one can ask the classmate casually about.

"Does it misbehave?" Shinsou asked, apparently unable to hold his mouth shut.

Tokoyami looked back at Dark Shadow, and Dark Shadow turned its head beack in perfect sync, but there was still impression that the entity behaved this way deliberately, and there was no need for it to act like a real shadow. Funnily, Tokoyami and Dark Shadow both cast their own shadows. Shinsou felt a little crowded with this many dark figures in one room with him.

"Yes, it does." Tokoyami's feathers flattened on his head, as if he was embarrassed. "It depends on the light level," he said and noticed Shinsou automatically casting a glance at the dark room, questioning him silently. "I prefer to keep it dark most of the time so I can get used to Dark Shadow being strong and resisting. So I can control it better," Tokoyami explained seriously.

It did make sense, Shinsou thought. The entity behind his classmate snipped something rude about Tokoyami, and Shinsou wondered for the first time what was it like, to live with something sentient and constantly battling for control.

"Was it hard earlier?" Shinsou dared his luck. Tokoyami seemed to not mind his questions. Maybe he was too polite to tell Shinsou to knock it off and not pry. Shinsou tried to push that thought away.

Tokoyami cocked his head, resembling a magpie more than ever.

"Almost all my childhood I had to sleep with lights on until I learned to suppress Dark Shadow in my sleep," he said. Suddenly, he turned to Shinsou sharply and asked: "Was it hard for you earlier?"

Taken aback, Shinsou blinked at him for several seconds. Memories of childhood, confusing and upsetting, rose from the depths of what he wished to forget.

He understood the concept of trading facts and information, though. He asked Tokoyami personal things, it was fair for him to ask Shinsou back.

Shinsou laughed awkwardly, putting his hand on the back of his neck in awkward habit.

"Let's just say that when you can brainwash people since age four, the hardest part is to learn that you are in fact brainwashing people." He didn't intend to sound that cynical, but he couldn't help it. The memories were biting too hard him right now, faces of his parents - blank, scared, resentful - too bright before his eyes.

He stared at textbooks, thinking that if he didn't open his mouth, they'd just do their assignment instead of sharing unpleasant details of their upbringing.

"Sounds terrific," Tokoyami said curtly, and didn't pry further. Shinsou envied his sense of tact.

A loaded pause filled the poorly lit room. Dark Shadow was curling behind boys, pretendingly disinterested in conversation.

"It is uncertain if Dark Shadow is me," Tokoyami said, unprompted. "My parents' quirks are nothing like it, and they couldn't afford quirk examination." He looked back again at Shadow looming over him, then cast a glance on Shinsou who sat in his chair still, unsure why Tokoyami was sharing these particular detail. "Sensei always insists on training quirks themselves. I can't help thinking that once I reach a certain level of control of it I'll hit the ceiling. Unless I know what Dark Shadow really is."

Shinsou mused on his words. Quirk examinations were expensive, as he heard, and not very reliable. He wondered why Tokoyami sounded expectant just now, but then he remembered Aizawa's speech when he insisted that Shinsou's quirk could help others with developing their powers. He wanted to laugh at that, at the implication that apparently one of his classmates took this speech seriously.

But Shinsou couldn't deny that this way his curiosity would be satisfied.

"Funny. I was just thinking if it's possible to brainwash Dark Shadow," he smiled crookedly, deliberate choice of words used in hopes to scare Tokoyami away. The idea was stupid. Dangerous, too - Shinsou supposed that if he was to mind control his classmates and order them around to use their quirks, that should be happening under teachers' supervision.

Dark Shadow appeared in their line of vision, holes of its eyes drilling Shinsou. It was entirely possible it was keeping quiet precisely because Shinsou was around.

Tokoyami noticed his companion intruding them silently.

"I'd try it," he said. "You can feel the person you're controlling, can't you?"

Shinsou nodded, still not quite believing his classmate was serious about this.

"I'm against it," Dark Shadow finally opened its beak to protest, turned to its owner.

Shinsou noted it was trying to avoid even accidentally answering him. But it talked. That was good enough.

"If you're against it, I can brainwash Tokoyami and order him to order you around, it's no big deal," he poked at Dark Shadow.

"Wha-" Dark Shadow snapped at him, indignant, and Shinsou felt the pull of his quirk webbing around the entity. He managed to notice Tokoyami's alarmed expression, clearly shocked at implication of him being brainwashed, but he focused on Dark Shadow instead, not wasting time in fear of missing the window when mind control could be activated.

It didn't struggle, surrendering to his quirk, deflating a little under Shinsou's control.

The feeling was weird, as if trying to contain nothingness in his hands. It didn't respond to his thought to move.

"Raise your right ha- uh. Wing," Shinsou tried verbal command, and Dark Shadow obeyed. He turned to his classmate to watch his reaction, but he saw that familiar blank expression on unusual bird face. Tokoyami was affected. His right hand was up in the air, pose identical to his shadow.

Sharp stab of fear pierced Shinsou. He released Dark Shadow - or rather, released Tokoyami - and hoped he didn't make a mess. Was he too quick to use his quirk at the slightest opportunity? Was he that stupid?

Dark Shadow arose in whirlwind of darkness around them, knocking things off the table. Shinsou's panic worsened: what was that reaction? Was Tokoyami still affected by brainwashing? But Shinsou didn't feel anything, no link to his classmate.

Loud clap startled both Shinsou and Dark Shadow. Bright light filled the room, subduing Dark Shadow, and it withered. Squinting, Shinsou thought distantly though thick veil of panic, that the lightswitch reacting to clapping was a brilliant design solution to Tokoyami's circumstances.

"I can clap hands, too," it complained in small whiny voice.

"Shut up," Tokoyami answered sharply. He was shaken, hands still together, fingers intertwining nervously. Shinsou felt as subdued as Dark Shadow, recognizing the discomfort some of his mind control victims manifested.

What a mess he did, didn't he?

Tokoyami cast a sideways look at Shinsou. It was impossible to tell if he was mad.

"So it is me," Tokoyami said after a long pause filled with fear. "That's good to know." He turned to Shinsou and said: "Thank you."

That was so ridiculous Shinsou couldn't help laughing.

"You're thanking me for accidentally brainwashing you?" He asked him sarcastically, fear still choking him. He didn't have a license to use his quirk out of school, he remembered only now. It was entirely just to expel him on spot right now.

Tokoyami watched him curiously.

"No. That was unpleasant," he admitted. "But I estimated that this was a risk, too. I thank you for providing me a piece of knowledge about me I needed."

Shinsou couldn't really comprehend Tokoyami right now. Words made sense, but they didn't compute.

"And you're not mad?" He asked his classmate skeptically.

Tokoyami made that magpie gesture again, his head titled slightly, as if he couldn't comprehend Shinsou in return.

"No, I'm not." He paused. "It could be useful if we did that again. In more controlled environment. There is a potential benefit of being forced to merge with Dark Shadow like that again."

Shinsou shook his head. It sounded insane.

Still, he got pangs of curiosity. Was that nothingness confined to physical form really Tokoyami?

"If that makes you happy," Shinsou shrugged, trying to downplay his own agitation. "We have an assignment to do, though," he reminded them both and stood up to pick up scattered textbooks.

Really, he should've known better than to get excited at offers to have any kind of business with him.

"After it, I think of asking sensei to help us arrange more of... this," Tokoyami said, helping him. "If you agree."

"If you really think it's gonna do any good," Shinsou replied flatly. He was dismayed at how easily he wanted to believe he could do any good to help others.

He thought he'd have time to persuade Tokoyami to revise his decision later.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Great Minds Think Alike (Riverdale - Jughead x OC) Part 8

Pairing : Jughead x OC

Synopsis : A new girl arrives in town around the time of Jason Blossom’s accident. That alone makes her suspicious and unlikeable to most people. Jughead has every reason to investigate on her, the timing is too perfect, right? And it has nothing to do with the young girl’s odd yet charming way of always seeming to find her way back to him, no matter the situation.  

Word Count : 2.7k

MASTERLIST

Part 7 <<< >>> Part 9

“What do we do?” Iris asked in a shaky voice, still unsure of what she saw.

Could her eyes play tricks on her? Could it be the weed? She hadn't smoke nearly enough to hallucinate the dead body of a boy whose appearance she didn't even know. In their state of shock, the two teenagers instinctively sought comfort in each other's presence and Iris could fairly say that she had never been this physically close to Jughead in all the weeks they spent together.

“Should we show ourselves?” She asked when she didn't get an answer the first time. “Maybe they need help.”

“No,” Jughead snapped. His arm was still around Iris' middle, preventing her from attempting to walk away. “Kevin's the Sheriff's son, he'll call him. They are in no danger, we should go now or we'll get in trouble.”

“But-” Iris began as she turned around to look at Jughead.

“I said no, Iris,” Jughead repeated. His eyes were stern, his body stiff in a way that alarmed Iris. “Not to sound dramatic, but I think you severely underestimate the situation. We could get in serious trouble if somebody sees us here. I don't want to spend the night in custody for the murder of Jason Blossom.”

The girl remained quiet but Jughead saw that she wanted to protest by the way she pouted and glared at him.

“It's the second time we are on a crime scene, it's beyond suspicious at this point!”

“Are you saying I'm your suspect number one now?” She whispered angrily, her voice lace with venom like never before. “I know I'm on your list, Jug, I'm not stupid.”

A sigh fell from his lips. Now wasn't the time to argue. Nor the place.

“That's not what I- never mind,” Jughead said. “We need to leave. Immediately,” he insisted when he saw Iris open her mouth – probably to protest and argue further or tell him to go fuck himself.

He didn't care what she had to say right now, all he wanted to do was go as far away from Sweetwater river as possible before the first police cars arrived. She would thank him later for no letting her drunken, high self get involved in a murder case.

“Stop! Stop!” Iris almost shouted out loud and pulled on Jughead's arm to make him stop but he was stronger than her.

“Why don't you scream louder so they'll hear us!” Jug asked in a disdainful scoff as he turned his head around.

“I might do it you don't let me go!” She warned him and dug her heels in the ground. “We are not leaving.”

“You're a reckless little brat!” Jughead accused her with his pointer finger.

“And you're a selfish coward!” She replied. “How can you leave Kevin alone with a corpse! You've known him all your life, was it wrong with you?!”

“If I'm not good enough for you fine! Go! You're the one who's been acting all clingy since day one, I never forced you to hang out with me!”

He was being unfair and he knew it but the words wouldn't stop spilling out of his mouth until hurt was painted all over Iris' face. She stepped back – and thus realized Jughead had let go of her somewhere during his hateful comment. It was ironic how she had fled a party because there was too much drama, only to be swept off her feet by yet another drama shitstorm.

“Do you realize how nasty that was of you?” Iris asked. “Because it really was. All I'm saying is that we should wait around until we're sure this is being taken care of. I know it's not our problem but I thought you might be on board – if not for your friend, at least for your bloody novel!”

“Kevin's no-”

“I know,” she cut him off. “He's not your friend. No one is. I get it, and I'll fuck off as soon as this is over since I'm so clingy.”

Not another word was uttered between the two of them until the cops arrived, quickly followed by the Coopers and the Blossoms – who Iris only recognized because the first were standing behind Betty and the latter had the same fiery ginger hair as Cheryl and her late twin.

“I'm getting out of the dark, do what you want,” Iris briefly informed Jughead and she only heard an exasperated sigh coming from him before she walked away. How can one be so stubborn and self-centered?

Soon enough, all of her classmates were gathered around the crime scene, each of them harboring various expression of shock and grief on their face, but all noticing Iris step out of the shadow with her puffy dress and dirty shoes.

They share this look of wariness but their empty eyes quickly darted back on the body the coroner was taking away. Iris could feel the tension prickling in the air between Betty and Archie and the sadness emanating from Cheryl who couldn't even muster up tears at the moment. Veronica stood aside with her mom and when she saw Iris she discreetly scooted closer until her arm was around her shoulders.

“This is a hell of a Homecoming night,” she said gently, not a trace of humor in her voice. “I think we all deserve a break after the last twenty four hours.”

“Yeah, couldn't agree more,” Iris answered distractedly. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the two boys leaning against the Sheriff's car. Moose was in the middle of a lengthy explanation while Kevin's eyes were set on... Iris.

“Why is Kevin staring a hole in your head?” Veronica asked just when Iris wondered the same.

“I don't know,” she said with a frown. “I don't think he likes me.”

“Nonsense,” she replied immediately. “There's nothing to dislike about you, besides you barely talked to him.”

Her hand was still reassuringly stroking her back and Iris had to wonder: what was Veronica trying to comfort her for?

*

“Did you- eh- did you do something to Jughead?” Someone asked from behind Iris, making her jump away from her locker.

Her heart was racing when she turned around and met Archie Andrews' worried gaze. He looked distraught and small despite his large shoulders and varsity jacket.

“Do something?” She frowned and put her last book in her bag. “Like what? Kill him in his sleep or talk badly of his beanie?”

“I don't know, but like- he's been acting... weird,” Archie said, seemingly not satisfied with his choice of word.

“And Jughead acting weird is weird because...?” She encouraged him.

“He's more aggressive and I noticed you ate alone at lunch,” he told her with a shrug.

A week had passed since the discovery of Jason Blossom's body and Iris found it slightly funny that Archie only noticed now that she and Jughead hadn't spoken a word to each other – and were apparently a bit grumpier than usual. Even she couldn't deny she was in a mood since their argument.

“We had a small disagreement, nothing unfixable,” Iris reassured Archie despite not having any certainty. She figured it was enough to get him off her back, but even oblivious Archie seemed to see through her act of carelessness.

In all honesty, so many things happened in a week that making up with Jughead seemed like it should be the least of Iris' priorities at the moment. The police investigation, Betty having a breakdown because Archie doesn't return her feelings, Cheryl being arrested for the murder of her own twin brother, Veronica running here and there in hopes to win back Betty's friendship after her little misconduct in the closet with a certain ginger boy. The atmosphere at school was sizzling with aggressive tension, fights happened, arguments, people tiptoed around each other.

Iris wanted to hide under her duvet and never get out ever again – at least not until graduation. There was so much pretending – people put such a conscious effort into not thinking too hard about the current events that Iris felt like she was walking among a bunch of ostriches with their head buried in the sand.

“But hey,” she tried to offer Archie a genuine smile. “You two made up!” She gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. “I'm happy for you.”

“Yeah, I think I finally understood his point of view and we both agreed that I acted like an idiot,” Archie admitted with a slight blush and he rubbed the back of his head, looking away.

“Well, he has nothing to envy you in that department,” Iris snorted. “How are things with Betty? Not too awkward?”

“We're fine, I guess,” he said hesitantly. “I mean, it's not like it used to be, but we'll get there eventually.”

“Give it time,” Iris advised him.

“That's what Veronica told me too, but I can't help but feel guilty.”

“There's no reason for you to feel guilty about this, it's out of your control – and it's nobody's fault if you don't feel like that for Betty. I know she'll understand, she just has to wrap her head around the idea. Girls need time to push aside their feelings. The heart knows no logic.”

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “I better go, the others must be waiting for me,” he informed her and gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder as he said goodbye and walked past her.

“Later,” Iris said and headed outside.

Everybody must have gone home by now – most cars where gone from the parking lot. She froze as soon as she heard a familiar sound coming from the girls' locker room. Iris stopped behind the closed door and pondered the pros and cons. She tried to recall which girls she saw leave earlier and who might still be inside and her conclusion was that it must be either Betty or Cheryl – but she knew that Betty didn't leave because she worked at the Blue & Gold after class.

She knocked on the door and called Cheryl's name, immediately making the sobs come to a stop. It's the second time she would find Cheryl crying – or rather, it was the second time she dealt with a crying Cheryl. The time first she didn't so much find her than run after her when she fled from the pep rally.

“Go away!” She shouted through the door. “Can't a girl have a moment alone?!”

“It's me Cheryl.” There was no answer. “Can I come in?”

The first time she listened to Cheryl's sorrows, it concluded on her admitting she hated Iris at first sight because she looked like such a hobo with her saggy clothes and already bad company.

“Jughead is bad company?” She had asked and Cheryl's flawless hair whipped around as she turned her head to meet Iris' eyes.

“Are you kidding? You committed social suicide on your first day of school,” she had replied with a credulous look in her eyes. “You're deader than Jason.”

“Well, nobody's mourning me, so I guess he has it pretty good.”

This is what made her smile again and they silently agreed never to mention what happened here ever again – Iris and Cheryl parted ways and didn't tell anyone about their secret locker conversation.

Now the scene was playing again.

“You may come in,” Cheryl said after a while. When Iris entered, she saw her red eyes and slightly runny makeup. She must have rubbed away her tears before letting her come in.

“You look like you need to let out a little steam,” Iris observed after a moment of silence. A look of offense crossed the ginger girl's features. “We're not throwing a pity party in the locker room again. If you want to vent to me, we're doing it over a milkshake.”

“What's with the bossy tone?” Cheryl stood up and asked defiantly.

Arms crossed over her chest and chin up, she looked even taller than she was. In some twisted way, her stubbornness and pride reminded Iris of Jughead.

“You're not the only one who's got shit going on, and I can't deal with any more of it on an empty stomach. So are you in or am I going to have to sit alone at Pop's?”

“What? Did the sad breakfast club kick you out?” She snapped. “You should know I'm no booby prize, you can't use me to replace your dumb friends.”

“You've got it backwards. I'm not trying to fill in a void with your friendship Cheryl, I'm offering you mine.”

Iris adopted the same defensive stance as Cheryl and the two girls stared each other down until Cheryl settled on a quiet 'fine' and led the way out of the building.

“But I refuse to be seen in your old wagon,” Cheryl warned her. “We're taking my car.”

Iris had to admit she had been drooling over Cheryl's red 1961 Chevrolet Impala convertible and it surprised her that she hesitated before agreeing to sit in this beauty.

“You'll need to drive me back here then, so I can get my car back.”

“Are you coming or not?” The stunning ginger asked her impatiently as she tapped her neatly manicured foot on the ground.

She opened the door to her car and jumped in before Iris had time to answer – not that she was going to say no.

“This is not us hanging out, this is strictly for mutual benefice and we are not friends,” Cheryl said five minutes in the ride.

“Thanks for the clarification but I think I caught that on my own,” Iris said sarcastically, squinting her eyes at the setting sun. It was fall already and the days grew shorter each day.

“You're brighter than I gave you credit for,” Cheryl chirped happily, glad they were on the same page. “Maybe you're not a lost cause.”

“Be still my beating heart, did I just hear something akin to a compliment cross your lips?”

“Don't get used to it,” she snapped. “We're not here to talk about you. This is about me and my loss.”

“Of course;” Iris smiled humorlessly. “I imagine you are not a huge burger fan, but I'm starving. You can take all night to tell me about your beloved J.J. as long as I get my food.”

A small, almost too fleeting to catch it smile cracked Cheryl's mask of impassibility. Iris said nothing for she knew that if she dared point it out, she would never get a chance to see it again.

What she did see, clear as daylight though it was already getting dark, was the scene playing out before her eyes when Cheryl parked her car in front of Pop's. Through the window Iris could make out her friends' faces, laughing, sharing a good moment, and suddenly she realized that she hadn't been invited. She wasn't part of the sad breakfast club. Betty leaned over the table, her body shaken with laughter at something Archie must have said and she bumped into his shoulder. Sitting across from her was Jughead who smiled and silently observed his friends, while Veronica sipped her chocolate milkshake and tried not to spill any when she laughed with the others.

“Someone looks bitter,” Cheryl observed before climbing out and shutting the driver's door. “Can't have it all, newbie. Having friends, avoiding drama, good grades, pristine reputation – you've got to make your pick.”

“I pick mind your own business Cheryl,” Iris said with a glare. “Like you said, we're here to speak about you.”

Taglist: @bathshebaa  @deanackles67 @myteenwolf-world @mumblr-of-tumbir @devilishcloe @bettysreid @angelicawastaken @rebellioncass @adorableninja @scattered-glances @ri-verdale @ice-wolfie @bubblegumcat229 @murderyoursoul @morixeddu @emptyporsche @lucifer-the-cuddler @challenge-accep-ted @scattered-glances @fantiomaticsupertolkienlover @-episkey-

[misfits-of-zaun]

Contamination

At first, there's just darkness, and a brief interim of uncertainty as to whether his plan has succeeded. Then he sees the starry cosmos, the unicorn on the treadmill,  and he doesn't need a face to feel the smile of satisfaction curling up through his essence. Being intangible is... interesting. He has to relearn how to exist, for the rules on this plane are palpably different, and it takes time. That doesn't bother him though; time is something he has plenty of.

A consistent (and rather unexpected) part of his new little world are the voices, muffled and distant as though being heard underwater, along with jets of light and disturbingly bright-coloured creatures bursting out through the wand; clear indicators that the wand is both active and in the possession of someone who knows how to use it. High overhead he sees his answer; the two halves of the wand crystal, glowing yellow and green respectively, clumsily fixed back together but with an unmistakable fracture dividing them. Well then. It was fortunate that his sole intention in cleaving the wand had not been just to break it apart, or else his entire plan would have been thwarted by a teenager and some crafts glue. Admittedly he had not expected this, but no matter, he can adapt. He is still fused with the wand, which is the most important step, and he has the advantage of being presumed dead. The girl is powerful, but easily manipulated, and as she already has the book of spells in her possession it's only a mere matter of waiting until she reads the right chapter to give him control. He can work with this.

Without a corporeal body, there's nothing to stop him from ascending upwards in much the same manner as the spells, and rise up out of the wand to regard the surrounding environs. Unlike the spells, however, his essence is chained firmly to the location of the wand. Which, in this circumstance, is in Star's hand, being brandished at a mixing bowl in the Diaz' kitchen. After a mere few minutes of observation, it becomes swiftly apparent that she has a propensity to use magic for a wide array of mundane tasks that most definitely do not require magic, with wildly varying results. It is petty, Toffee thinks, lazy, an inevitable consequence of an immature mind. Of course she takes her power for granted. But she's not the only one with a connection to the wand, now, and Toffee is keen to test his influence. 

Reaching out with his essence, he touches the unicorn, which shudders and stumbles mid-stride; encouraged, he increases the pressure, until the unicorn's eyes glow green and it staggers to a halt, consequently nearly falling off the treadmill. For a brief moment, the spells stop coming. Then his control wavers and the unicorn breaks free, resuming its relentless sprint with more vigour than before. Still, Toffee feels satisfied at what he has learnt. He practices his new-found skill – there are, after all, countless opportunities to do so, as Star does so appear to love using her wand constantly for the most trivial of purposes – and observes the effects with clinical interest. Then, of course, he considers alternatives. If he can stop the wand from working... can he also prompt the opposite, and cause it to discharge spells without its caster?

He tries this when Star is sleeping. She sleeps with the wand under her pillow. The vindictive satisfaction when his efforts finally produce a concussive green blast that catapults her clear across the room is immense. This power, too, he practices, although he is mindful not to do so too often. He does not want to push her to the point of calling her mother for assistance. Interestingly, she seems profoundly unwilling to do so (a tidbit of information that he can most certainly use to his advantage.) Perhaps it is due to his lack of education in the finesse required for more refined casting, perhaps it is due to the currently tenuous nature of his control over the wand, but he is incapable of discharging any other spell. A mild disappointment, and potentially inconvenient, but ultimately not a serious issue. Knowing that he has influence over the wand at all is a promising start. 

The next stage is opening some form of communication. Once again, there is more than ample opportunity, as the girl has her wand on her all the time. If she's not casting spells, she's spinning it between her fingers or using it in place of some miscellaneous earth object or gnawing on it absently (an act which makes Toffee cringe.) She even takes it into the bathroom with her. Toffee remains within the void of the wand on such occasions, but even that doesn't drone out her off-key singing in the shower or her panicked exclamations when she drops the wand in the bathtub. However, he takes his time with this particular step; in part because he is waiting for the most opportune moment to make his presence known, but also in part because he's not entirely certain as to how it will work. Given the innate connection between wand and user that he has managed to embed himself into, he is relatively confident that if he projects himself enough to 'speak', he will be able to make himself heard. However, this is where the gambit comes into play. If she recognises his voice, or manages a miraculous leap of intuition that her wand is possessed, she will distrust anything he has to say. And while her trust is not necessary, it would be a convenient means for progression. With that in mind, his most tactical option is to present himself primarily as harmless, and secondarily as helpful. Given her track record, it's feasible that she is gullible enough to buy it. If not, well, he has other means of achieving his ends that are not quite so saccharine.

In the end, the opportune moment arises when she and her disappointingly predictable friend land themselves in yet another monster brawl. It doesn't appear to be on Earth, which is of no surprise; the princess' casual abuse of inter-dimensional scissors is almost as frequent an occurrence as her abuse of the infamous Butterfly dynasty heirloom. (She drooled on it in her sleep last night. Toffee has never felt quite so disgusted and appalled by an adversary before now.)

“RAINBOW TOPHAT AVALANCHE! SUPER RAINBOW DOLPHIN SLAP! TURBO TICKLING TORNADO!”

Her form is sloppy, her spells are chaotic and nauseatingly colourful. Toffee would actually feel offended at how she managed to catch him off guard enough to blast off his arm, if not for the fact that what Star lacks in finesse and focus, she apparently makes up for in creativity and an alarming amount of raw power. He observes with dispassionate interest; of course, her reliance on the wand for combat is obvious, and she is prone to leaving herself open to attack whenever she becomes distracted. Spotting an impending punch from the side that she has not, Toffee decides now is as good a moment as any to test whether she can hear him, focuses, and projects a single word:

“Duck.”

[emlydunstan]

How Fentanyl Hysteria Leads to Harmful and Ineffective Drug Laws

My only experience with fentanyl was when I was pregnant. I was on a hospital bed writhing in agony when a nurse injected me with the synthetic opioid commonly used for pain management in laboring women. The drug calmed me and I soon gave birth to a healthy baby girl.That was before fentanyl moved from the hospitals to the streets, tainting the illicit drug supply and ratcheting up an already alarming death toll from overdose.Since then, deaths from synthetic opioids (mostly fentanyl) have begun a steep climb, jumping 540% in the past three years alone. More than half of the opioids in the U.S. are now laced with fentanyl and the fear surrounding the drug is palpable. Some people claim you can overdose on the drug just from touching it. As a result of this hysteria, many first responders are afraid to respond to overdoses for fear of coming into contact with fentanyl. Meanwhile, states are scrambling to pass laws responding to the ever-changing landscape of fentanyl and its many derivatives.Alice Bell, who works to reduce overdose deaths through Prevention Point Pittsburgh, a syringe exchange program, says that there are reasons to be concerned about fentanyl. In Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, where her program operates, the opioid was involved in 20% of deaths in 2014. In 2016 the number tripled to 63% and today fentanyl is present in 74% of drug-related overdose deaths.“Fentanyl is much stronger than heroin and other opiates,” Bell explains. “It is easy to get a high dose without realizing it… Because it is fast acting there is a smaller window before people [overdose].”What Is Fentanyl and How Is It Dangerous?Fentanyl, a synthetic opioid created to mimic the effects of natural opioids (which are derived from opium poppy plants), was first introduced in 1959 as an anesthetic and pain reliever for surgery and cancer patients. It wasn’t until 2014 that unregulated forms of fentanyl began arriving in the U.S. from China. Because these analogues are cheap to buy and highly potent, they’re often mixed into supplies of other illicit drugs, such as heroin, cocaine, or pills. People buying or selling drugs on the streets may have no idea whether the product contains fentanyl, or how strong it is. This lack of knowledge has contributed to skyrocketing rates of overdose deaths across the country.As Bell explains, because illicit fentanyl is mixed into other drugs in unregulated environments, it is hard to mix it uniformly. Thus, one person might get a very strong dose while another might get a weaker dose, even though both samples came from the same supply. Bell likens it to “mixing pancake batter and getting chunks.”But although Bell acknowledges the dangers of a fentanyl-laced drug supply, she also emphasizes that much of the panic surrounding fentanyl and its effects is misleading—including false rumors about Narcan-resistant fentanyl or people overdosing just from touching the substance.Dan Ciccarone, a professor at the University of California, San Francisco who has spent the last four years studying fentanyl, agrees that while there are reasons to be concerned, responding to the challenge with policies rooted in fear and misinformation only makes matters worse. He points out that the problem is not so much fentanyl itself, but the fact that it’s being added to other drugs in unknown amounts.“We have to take some of the hysteria and the irrationally out of it,” he says. “If we say the problem is heroin and heroin contaminants, [we] treat the problem differently than if [we] say it’s a new drug and it’s killing our teenagers.”How to address the fentanyl-related overdoses is a question vexing many policymakers. In the past few years, state legislatures have spun off in wildly different directions. Some have attempted to curb overdoses through the introduction of 911 Good Samaritan laws and expanding availability of naloxone, syringe exchange programs, and treatment options for people who use drugs problematically. Some have implemented diversion programs and sentencing reforms designed to keep people who struggle with addiction out of jail and to connect them to programs that address the root cause of addiction. Others are enacting ever-harsher penalties for crimes involving fentanyl. In fact, many states are doing all of these things at once, oblivious, it seems, to the fact that some of these new policies contradict or even cancel each other out.Opioid Confusion and Contradictory Drug PoliciesIn 2017, Louisiana passed a bill that reduced prison sentences for drug possession convictions. But the same law created a new mandatory minimum sentence for illegally possessing opioid painkillers (such as fentanyl). Maryland likewise enacted legislation in 2016 to reduce penalties for drug users and sellers, but the very next year created a new penalty for drugs containing fentanyl that extends prison sentences up to 10 years. In 2017, North Carolina cracked down on synthetic fentanyl and created a task force to reform opioid sentencing laws in literally the same bill. On the federal level, the passage of The First Step Act, which reduces mandatory minimum and three-strike laws, came on the heels of the former Attorney General’s declaration to relentlessly prosecute every case involving any amount of fentanyl.In essence, many governments are passing laws that lessen penalties for opioid-related crimes, while simultaneously enacting laws that further criminalize fentanyl (an opioid).For Michael Collins, Director of the Office of National Affairs at the Drug Policy Alliance, the confusion stems from a desire to respond and a lack of knowledge about the most effective way to do so.“Policymakers feel pressure to do something,” he explains. “In the absence of public health measures that they are familiar with, legislators will dust off their Drug War playbook and go towards punitive measures…certainly there is no evidence that those penalties will decrease overdose deaths.”Collins’ explanation echoes my own experience as a lobbyist advocating against drug-induced homicide laws in North Carolina. Like many states, North Carolina is responding to increases in fentanyl-related deaths by introducing legislation that would allow prosecutors to charge people with murder if they distribute a drug that leads to an overdose. It’s a typical punish-first response that not only is proven ineffective at reducing overdose deaths, but could potentially increase overdose deaths by negating the state’s 911 Good Samaritan law, which was enacted in 2013 to encourage people to call 911 to report an overdose. If lawmakers agree that fear of being charged with possession of drugs is enough to deter someone from calling 911, surely they see that fear of being charged with murder would even further discourage life-saving medical calls.But, as I discovered, it is hard to reason with a politician, a prosecutor, or a law enforcement official who is under intense pressure from their community to “do something.” Of course to address the problem of people selling drugs that lead to overdose, we need to tackle the underlying factors that lead people to sell drugs in the first place, such as the need to support a personal drug habit or lack of economic alternatives. But proposing solutions such as more drug treatment centers, jobs programs for low-income neighborhoods, greater investment in vocational education…all these are high-cost, long-term solutions. And officials are being pressured to find answers now.Increasing penalties against drug dealers is quick, relatively simple, and the cost is picked up by local court systems, not by the politicians who passed the law. Better yet, harsher penalties sound like a solution that satisfies the public’s need for accountability.Incarceration and Stricter Laws Cause More Crime and DeathsThe problem with using the criminal justice system to address complex issues like drug use is that we imagine the system to be far more effective than it actually is. We probably wouldn’t celebrate laws that incarcerate more people if we realized that locking up one drug dealer merely causes another to take his place. We probably wouldn’t be so anxious to pour billions of dollars into law enforcement efforts to disrupt drug supplies if we realized that U.S. illicit drug market is estimated at $100 billion annually, while law enforcement only seize between $440 and $770 million in drug money per year—around 0.5% of the total value. We might not swallow the $1 trillion price tag of the War on Drugs if we realized that after all this money spent and all the families disrupted from incarceration due to nonviolent crimes, drugs are now cheaper, more plentiful, and more deadly than ever before.To effectively lower the demand for drugs or decrease overdose deaths, we need to think outside the box.Alice Bell explains, “If you want to encourage people to avoid more dangerous drugs, you have to allow people access to less dangerous drugs.”That is certainly not a solution that politicians want to hear. It doesn’t “sound good.” But it would do far more to reduce overdose deaths than all our efforts to slap people with longer prison sentences. We need to help politicians confront their fear of drugs and to understand that drugs always have been and always will be a part of our communities. We might as well accept reality and direct our efforts towards making drugs less deadly, in the same way that we accept the risks of driving a car, but also try to prevent accidents. Most people age out of addiction—if they live long enough to do so. There is no reason that taking a hit of a mood-altering substance should be akin to Russian Roulette.Conservative economist Milton Friedman once said, “Only a crisis—actual or perceived—produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around. That, I believe, is our basic function: to develop alternatives to existing policies, to keep them alive and available until the politically impossible becomes the politically inevitable.”Fentanyl may be that catalytic crisis needed to produce change. In that case, we should work to turn tragedy into opportunity.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 https://www.thefix.com/how-fentanyl-hysteria-leads-harmful-and-ineffective-drug-laws

[pitz182]

How Fentanyl Hysteria Leads to Harmful and Ineffective Drug Laws

My only experience with fentanyl was when I was pregnant. I was on a hospital bed writhing in agony when a nurse injected me with the synthetic opioid commonly used for pain management in laboring women. The drug calmed me and I soon gave birth to a healthy baby girl.That was before fentanyl moved from the hospitals to the streets, tainting the illicit drug supply and ratcheting up an already alarming death toll from overdose.Since then, deaths from synthetic opioids (mostly fentanyl) have begun a steep climb, jumping 540% in the past three years alone. More than half of the opioids in the U.S. are now laced with fentanyl and the fear surrounding the drug is palpable. Some people claim you can overdose on the drug just from touching it. As a result of this hysteria, many first responders are afraid to respond to overdoses for fear of coming into contact with fentanyl. Meanwhile, states are scrambling to pass laws responding to the ever-changing landscape of fentanyl and its many derivatives.Alice Bell, who works to reduce overdose deaths through Prevention Point Pittsburgh, a syringe exchange program, says that there are reasons to be concerned about fentanyl. In Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, where her program operates, the opioid was involved in 20% of deaths in 2014. In 2016 the number tripled to 63% and today fentanyl is present in 74% of drug-related overdose deaths.“Fentanyl is much stronger than heroin and other opiates,” Bell explains. “It is easy to get a high dose without realizing it… Because it is fast acting there is a smaller window before people [overdose].”What Is Fentanyl and How Is It Dangerous?Fentanyl, a synthetic opioid created to mimic the effects of natural opioids (which are derived from opium poppy plants), was first introduced in 1959 as an anesthetic and pain reliever for surgery and cancer patients. It wasn’t until 2014 that unregulated forms of fentanyl began arriving in the U.S. from China. Because these analogues are cheap to buy and highly potent, they’re often mixed into supplies of other illicit drugs, such as heroin, cocaine, or pills. People buying or selling drugs on the streets may have no idea whether the product contains fentanyl, or how strong it is. This lack of knowledge has contributed to skyrocketing rates of overdose deaths across the country.As Bell explains, because illicit fentanyl is mixed into other drugs in unregulated environments, it is hard to mix it uniformly. Thus, one person might get a very strong dose while another might get a weaker dose, even though both samples came from the same supply. Bell likens it to “mixing pancake batter and getting chunks.”But although Bell acknowledges the dangers of a fentanyl-laced drug supply, she also emphasizes that much of the panic surrounding fentanyl and its effects is misleading—including false rumors about Narcan-resistant fentanyl or people overdosing just from touching the substance.Dan Ciccarone, a professor at the University of California, San Francisco who has spent the last four years studying fentanyl, agrees that while there are reasons to be concerned, responding to the challenge with policies rooted in fear and misinformation only makes matters worse. He points out that the problem is not so much fentanyl itself, but the fact that it’s being added to other drugs in unknown amounts.“We have to take some of the hysteria and the irrationally out of it,” he says. “If we say the problem is heroin and heroin contaminants, [we] treat the problem differently than if [we] say it’s a new drug and it’s killing our teenagers.”How to address the fentanyl-related overdoses is a question vexing many policymakers. In the past few years, state legislatures have spun off in wildly different directions. Some have attempted to curb overdoses through the introduction of 911 Good Samaritan laws and expanding availability of naloxone, syringe exchange programs, and treatment options for people who use drugs problematically. Some have implemented diversion programs and sentencing reforms designed to keep people who struggle with addiction out of jail and to connect them to programs that address the root cause of addiction. Others are enacting ever-harsher penalties for crimes involving fentanyl. In fact, many states are doing all of these things at once, oblivious, it seems, to the fact that some of these new policies contradict or even cancel each other out.Opioid Confusion and Contradictory Drug PoliciesIn 2017, Louisiana passed a bill that reduced prison sentences for drug possession convictions. But the same law created a new mandatory minimum sentence for illegally possessing opioid painkillers (such as fentanyl). Maryland likewise enacted legislation in 2016 to reduce penalties for drug users and sellers, but the very next year created a new penalty for drugs containing fentanyl that extends prison sentences up to 10 years. In 2017, North Carolina cracked down on synthetic fentanyl and created a task force to reform opioid sentencing laws in literally the same bill. On the federal level, the passage of The First Step Act, which reduces mandatory minimum and three-strike laws, came on the heels of the former Attorney General’s declaration to relentlessly prosecute every case involving any amount of fentanyl.In essence, many governments are passing laws that lessen penalties for opioid-related crimes, while simultaneously enacting laws that further criminalize fentanyl (an opioid).For Michael Collins, Director of the Office of National Affairs at the Drug Policy Alliance, the confusion stems from a desire to respond and a lack of knowledge about the most effective way to do so.“Policymakers feel pressure to do something,” he explains. “In the absence of public health measures that they are familiar with, legislators will dust off their Drug War playbook and go towards punitive measures…certainly there is no evidence that those penalties will decrease overdose deaths.”Collins’ explanation echoes my own experience as a lobbyist advocating against drug-induced homicide laws in North Carolina. Like many states, North Carolina is responding to increases in fentanyl-related deaths by introducing legislation that would allow prosecutors to charge people with murder if they distribute a drug that leads to an overdose. It’s a typical punish-first response that not only is proven ineffective at reducing overdose deaths, but could potentially increase overdose deaths by negating the state’s 911 Good Samaritan law, which was enacted in 2013 to encourage people to call 911 to report an overdose. If lawmakers agree that fear of being charged with possession of drugs is enough to deter someone from calling 911, surely they see that fear of being charged with murder would even further discourage life-saving medical calls.But, as I discovered, it is hard to reason with a politician, a prosecutor, or a law enforcement official who is under intense pressure from their community to “do something.” Of course to address the problem of people selling drugs that lead to overdose, we need to tackle the underlying factors that lead people to sell drugs in the first place, such as the need to support a personal drug habit or lack of economic alternatives. But proposing solutions such as more drug treatment centers, jobs programs for low-income neighborhoods, greater investment in vocational education…all these are high-cost, long-term solutions. And officials are being pressured to find answers now.Increasing penalties against drug dealers is quick, relatively simple, and the cost is picked up by local court systems, not by the politicians who passed the law. Better yet, harsher penalties sound like a solution that satisfies the public’s need for accountability.Incarceration and Stricter Laws Cause More Crime and DeathsThe problem with using the criminal justice system to address complex issues like drug use is that we imagine the system to be far more effective than it actually is. We probably wouldn’t celebrate laws that incarcerate more people if we realized that locking up one drug dealer merely causes another to take his place. We probably wouldn’t be so anxious to pour billions of dollars into law enforcement efforts to disrupt drug supplies if we realized that U.S. illicit drug market is estimated at $100 billion annually, while law enforcement only seize between $440 and $770 million in drug money per year—around 0.5% of the total value. We might not swallow the $1 trillion price tag of the War on Drugs if we realized that after all this money spent and all the families disrupted from incarceration due to nonviolent crimes, drugs are now cheaper, more plentiful, and more deadly than ever before.To effectively lower the demand for drugs or decrease overdose deaths, we need to think outside the box.Alice Bell explains, “If you want to encourage people to avoid more dangerous drugs, you have to allow people access to less dangerous drugs.”That is certainly not a solution that politicians want to hear. It doesn’t “sound good.” But it would do far more to reduce overdose deaths than all our efforts to slap people with longer prison sentences. We need to help politicians confront their fear of drugs and to understand that drugs always have been and always will be a part of our communities. We might as well accept reality and direct our efforts towards making drugs less deadly, in the same way that we accept the risks of driving a car, but also try to prevent accidents. Most people age out of addiction—if they live long enough to do so. There is no reason that taking a hit of a mood-altering substance should be akin to Russian Roulette.Conservative economist Milton Friedman once said, “Only a crisis—actual or perceived—produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around. That, I believe, is our basic function: to develop alternatives to existing policies, to keep them alive and available until the politically impossible becomes the politically inevitable.”Fentanyl may be that catalytic crisis needed to produce change. In that case, we should work to turn tragedy into opportunity.

[alexdmorgan30]

How Fentanyl Hysteria Leads to Harmful and Ineffective Drug Laws

My only experience with fentanyl was when I was pregnant. I was on a hospital bed writhing in agony when a nurse injected me with the synthetic opioid commonly used for pain management in laboring women. The drug calmed me and I soon gave birth to a healthy baby girl.That was before fentanyl moved from the hospitals to the streets, tainting the illicit drug supply and ratcheting up an already alarming death toll from overdose.Since then, deaths from synthetic opioids (mostly fentanyl) have begun a steep climb, jumping 540% in the past three years alone. More than half of the opioids in the U.S. are now laced with fentanyl and the fear surrounding the drug is palpable. Some people claim you can overdose on the drug just from touching it. As a result of this hysteria, many first responders are afraid to respond to overdoses for fear of coming into contact with fentanyl. Meanwhile, states are scrambling to pass laws responding to the ever-changing landscape of fentanyl and its many derivatives.Alice Bell, who works to reduce overdose deaths through Prevention Point Pittsburgh, a syringe exchange program, says that there are reasons to be concerned about fentanyl. In Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, where her program operates, the opioid was involved in 20% of deaths in 2014. In 2016 the number tripled to 63% and today fentanyl is present in 74% of drug-related overdose deaths.“Fentanyl is much stronger than heroin and other opiates,” Bell explains. “It is easy to get a high dose without realizing it… Because it is fast acting there is a smaller window before people [overdose].”What Is Fentanyl and How Is It Dangerous?Fentanyl, a synthetic opioid created to mimic the effects of natural opioids (which are derived from opium poppy plants), was first introduced in 1959 as an anesthetic and pain reliever for surgery and cancer patients. It wasn’t until 2014 that unregulated forms of fentanyl began arriving in the U.S. from China. Because these analogues are cheap to buy and highly potent, they’re often mixed into supplies of other illicit drugs, such as heroin, cocaine, or pills. People buying or selling drugs on the streets may have no idea whether the product contains fentanyl, or how strong it is. This lack of knowledge has contributed to skyrocketing rates of overdose deaths across the country.As Bell explains, because illicit fentanyl is mixed into other drugs in unregulated environments, it is hard to mix it uniformly. Thus, one person might get a very strong dose while another might get a weaker dose, even though both samples came from the same supply. Bell likens it to “mixing pancake batter and getting chunks.”But although Bell acknowledges the dangers of a fentanyl-laced drug supply, she also emphasizes that much of the panic surrounding fentanyl and its effects is misleading—including false rumors about Narcan-resistant fentanyl or people overdosing just from touching the substance.Dan Ciccarone, a professor at the University of California, San Francisco who has spent the last four years studying fentanyl, agrees that while there are reasons to be concerned, responding to the challenge with policies rooted in fear and misinformation only makes matters worse. He points out that the problem is not so much fentanyl itself, but the fact that it’s being added to other drugs in unknown amounts.“We have to take some of the hysteria and the irrationally out of it,” he says. “If we say the problem is heroin and heroin contaminants, [we] treat the problem differently than if [we] say it’s a new drug and it’s killing our teenagers.”How to address the fentanyl-related overdoses is a question vexing many policymakers. In the past few years, state legislatures have spun off in wildly different directions. Some have attempted to curb overdoses through the introduction of 911 Good Samaritan laws and expanding availability of naloxone, syringe exchange programs, and treatment options for people who use drugs problematically. Some have implemented diversion programs and sentencing reforms designed to keep people who struggle with addiction out of jail and to connect them to programs that address the root cause of addiction. Others are enacting ever-harsher penalties for crimes involving fentanyl. In fact, many states are doing all of these things at once, oblivious, it seems, to the fact that some of these new policies contradict or even cancel each other out.Opioid Confusion and Contradictory Drug PoliciesIn 2017, Louisiana passed a bill that reduced prison sentences for drug possession convictions. But the same law created a new mandatory minimum sentence for illegally possessing opioid painkillers (such as fentanyl). Maryland likewise enacted legislation in 2016 to reduce penalties for drug users and sellers, but the very next year created a new penalty for drugs containing fentanyl that extends prison sentences up to 10 years. In 2017, North Carolina cracked down on synthetic fentanyl and created a task force to reform opioid sentencing laws in literally the same bill. On the federal level, the passage of The First Step Act, which reduces mandatory minimum and three-strike laws, came on the heels of the former Attorney General’s declaration to relentlessly prosecute every case involving any amount of fentanyl.In essence, many governments are passing laws that lessen penalties for opioid-related crimes, while simultaneously enacting laws that further criminalize fentanyl (an opioid).For Michael Collins, Director of the Office of National Affairs at the Drug Policy Alliance, the confusion stems from a desire to respond and a lack of knowledge about the most effective way to do so.“Policymakers feel pressure to do something,” he explains. “In the absence of public health measures that they are familiar with, legislators will dust off their Drug War playbook and go towards punitive measures…certainly there is no evidence that those penalties will decrease overdose deaths.”Collins’ explanation echoes my own experience as a lobbyist advocating against drug-induced homicide laws in North Carolina. Like many states, North Carolina is responding to increases in fentanyl-related deaths by introducing legislation that would allow prosecutors to charge people with murder if they distribute a drug that leads to an overdose. It’s a typical punish-first response that not only is proven ineffective at reducing overdose deaths, but could potentially increase overdose deaths by negating the state’s 911 Good Samaritan law, which was enacted in 2013 to encourage people to call 911 to report an overdose. If lawmakers agree that fear of being charged with possession of drugs is enough to deter someone from calling 911, surely they see that fear of being charged with murder would even further discourage life-saving medical calls.But, as I discovered, it is hard to reason with a politician, a prosecutor, or a law enforcement official who is under intense pressure from their community to “do something.” Of course to address the problem of people selling drugs that lead to overdose, we need to tackle the underlying factors that lead people to sell drugs in the first place, such as the need to support a personal drug habit or lack of economic alternatives. But proposing solutions such as more drug treatment centers, jobs programs for low-income neighborhoods, greater investment in vocational education…all these are high-cost, long-term solutions. And officials are being pressured to find answers now.Increasing penalties against drug dealers is quick, relatively simple, and the cost is picked up by local court systems, not by the politicians who passed the law. Better yet, harsher penalties sound like a solution that satisfies the public’s need for accountability.Incarceration and Stricter Laws Cause More Crime and DeathsThe problem with using the criminal justice system to address complex issues like drug use is that we imagine the system to be far more effective than it actually is. We probably wouldn’t celebrate laws that incarcerate more people if we realized that locking up one drug dealer merely causes another to take his place. We probably wouldn’t be so anxious to pour billions of dollars into law enforcement efforts to disrupt drug supplies if we realized that U.S. illicit drug market is estimated at $100 billion annually, while law enforcement only seize between $440 and $770 million in drug money per year—around 0.5% of the total value. We might not swallow the $1 trillion price tag of the War on Drugs if we realized that after all this money spent and all the families disrupted from incarceration due to nonviolent crimes, drugs are now cheaper, more plentiful, and more deadly than ever before.To effectively lower the demand for drugs or decrease overdose deaths, we need to think outside the box.Alice Bell explains, “If you want to encourage people to avoid more dangerous drugs, you have to allow people access to less dangerous drugs.”That is certainly not a solution that politicians want to hear. It doesn’t “sound good.” But it would do far more to reduce overdose deaths than all our efforts to slap people with longer prison sentences. We need to help politicians confront their fear of drugs and to understand that drugs always have been and always will be a part of our communities. We might as well accept reality and direct our efforts towards making drugs less deadly, in the same way that we accept the risks of driving a car, but also try to prevent accidents. Most people age out of addiction—if they live long enough to do so. There is no reason that taking a hit of a mood-altering substance should be akin to Russian Roulette.Conservative economist Milton Friedman once said, “Only a crisis—actual or perceived—produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around. That, I believe, is our basic function: to develop alternatives to existing policies, to keep them alive and available until the politically impossible becomes the politically inevitable.”Fentanyl may be that catalytic crisis needed to produce change. In that case, we should work to turn tragedy into opportunity.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 https://ift.tt/2TVdaz2

[cathygeha]

REVIEW:

Romancing the Scot by May McGoldrick

The Pennington Family #1

 Goodness me! This was a book well worth reading! I am so glad there is a new series by this excellent husband-wife writing team! I could not stop reading once I began and even with a house to clean, menu to plan and guests arriving tomorrow – I had to finish this story and write the review tonight!

 I can’t imagine being seeking refuge from certain death only to find myself locked in a box and transported for days without food, water, light or hope of getting free. The fact that Grace emerged from what must have felt like a coffin without losing her mind is a testament to her strength of both body and mind. She continued to shower strength throughout the book and what strength it was whether applied to getting well, used in self-defense or determining what tack to take next – she was an impressive person that I wouldn’t mind calling friend.

Hugh Pennington was shocked when he found Grace inside of a box he expected to contain parts for a balloon he planned to fly. Her status was near death and his action quick in finding help and someone to help her survive – if at all possible. With his employees, sister and a doctor to assist things were tough and go but…Grace did have a fighting chance.

 This is definitely a romance with intrigue, spies, danger, death and a whole lot of history that I found fascinating. I didn’t know Napoleon had a brother and didn’t realize that the Irish immigrated to Scotland. I was fascinated by some of the legal cases mentioned and references to the wars that were fought. I was reminded of bigotry and how it has reared its ugly head throughout the ages. I loved Hugh’s sense of fairness and responsibility as well as his gentle but masterful touch. I found Grace to be a woman to emulate. I found Jo’s situation sad and am happy to know that her turn for a second chance at love and happiness will arrive in book two. I have read other books by this author and loved each one. This book was rich and complex and a delight to read.

 Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

ROMANCING THE SCOT

by May McGoldrick,

E-Original published by Swerve

Publication Date: November 14, 2017

ISBN: 9781250166906

Price: $3.99

 Description

In this stunning series starter by USA Today bestselling author May McGoldrick, meet the new generation of Penningtons...five brothers and sisters of passion and privilege. Enter their aristocratic world…where each will fight injustice and find love.

 Hugh Pennington—Viscount Greysteil, Lord Justice of the Scottish Courts, hero of the Napoleonic wars—is a grieving widower with a death wish. When he receives an expected crate from the continent, he is shocked to find a nearly dead woman inside. Her identity is unknown, and the handful of American coins and the precious diamond sown into her dress only deepen the mystery.

 Grace Ware is an enemy to the English crown. Her father, an Irish military commander of Napoleon’s defeated army. Her mother, an exiled Scottish Jacobite. When Grace took shelter in a warehouse, running from her father’s murderers through the harbor alleyways of Antwerp, she never anticipated bad luck to deposit her at the home of an aristocrat in the Scottish Borders. Baronsford is the last place she could expect to find safety, and Grace feigns a loss of memory to buy herself time while she recovers.

 Hugh is taken by her beauty, passion, and courage to challenge his beliefs and open his mind. Grace finds in him a wounded man of honor, proud but compassionate. When their duel of wits quickly turns to passion and romance, Grace’s fears begin to dissolve…until danger follows her to the very doors of Baronsford. For, unknown to either of them, Grace has in her possession a secret that will wreak havoc within the British government. Friend and foe are indistinguishable as lethal forces converge to tear the two lovers apart or destroy them both.

EXCERPT:

Romancing the Scot by May McGoldrick

Looking the shipping crate over for damage and seeing none, he retrieved an iron crow from a workbench. Jo was standing inside the doors, eyeing the box doubtfully from a safe distance.

“Come closer. It won’t bite.”

“Not a chance. From the smell of that thing, a person would think you’re importing cadavers. Have you also taken up being a Resurrectionist as a hobby?”

He patted the crate affectionately. “This sweet thing has been sitting in the bowels of a ship from Antwerp. You know what the hold of a ship smells like?”

“Actually, I don’t.” She held a handkerchief to her nose and drew closer. “But I think you’re correct with the reference to ‘bowels.’”

Hugh took the first nail out. “Well, stand back, since you’ve become so prissy. Though I recall a younger version of you leading the rest of us through bogs and marshes that smelled no better.”

“Of course! But as I recall, we had frogs and turtles and the occasional dragon that needed hunting,” she replied with a smile. “Very well. Open it and let’s see this treasure of yours.”

Prying off the top took him only a moment. Throwing it to the side, he pulled back the tarp that covered the basket and then stared curiously at the dark green rags bundled at the bottom.

Leaning in, Hugh’s enthusiasm evaporated as a horrid realization settled in. This was no pile of old clothing. A shock of blond hair. A shoe. A hand. The body of a dead woman lay curled up in the gondola.

“Bloody hell.”

“What is it?” Immediately, Jo was at his side. “Good God!”

Hugh climbed in and crouched beside the body. He took her hand. She was cold to the touch. His heart sank. The crate had been shipped from Antwerp. To be trapped for so many days with no water, no food, in the cold and damp of the ship’s hold. He had no idea who this woman was or how she came to be in here.

The thought struck him. Perhaps it wasn’t an inadvertent act. Perhaps she was murdered and her body had been dumped into the crate.

Dismay and alarm clawed at him as he pushed away the matted ringlets of golden hair. She was young. He lifted her chin. The body had none of the stiffness of postmortem. He stared at her lips. He may have imagined it but they seemed to have moved.

“Bright . . .” The whisper was a mere rustle of leaves in a breeze.

The fingers jerked and came to life, clutching at his hand.

“She’s not dead,” he called to Jo, relieved. “Send for the doctor. I’ll take her to the house.”

His sister ran out, calling for help, and he lifted the woman. She emitted a low groan. Her limbs had been locked in the same cramped position for so many days. Hugh propped her over the side of the gondola.

“Stay with me,” he encouraged. “Talk to me.”

Holding the woman in place, he clambered from the basket and then gently lifted her out, cradling her in his arms. She weighed next to nothing.

As they went out into the rain, he feared she was about to die. The exertion of trying to breathe showed on her face. He’d seen this on the battlefield. The final effort before death.

Starting up the path, he stumbled, not realizing the woman’s skirts were dragging on the ground. He staggered but caught himself before they went down. Her head lolled against his chest, her face gray and mask-like. She appeared to be slipping away. It would be a shame that she’d survived the crossing only to perish now.

A dagger point of anger pierced Hugh’s brain as he recalled another dismal day when he’d lifted two other bodies, wrapped in burial shrouds, from a wooden box.

“Talk to me,” he ordered. “Say something.”

As he made his way up the hill toward the house, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky above Baronsford. Thunder shook the ground and the sky opened, unleashing fierce torrents of rain on them.

His wife. His son. Hugh hadn’t been there for them. They’d died as he and the British army were being chased by the French across Spain. He’d been trying to save his men’s lives, not knowing that those most precious to him were suffering.

“You’ve survived a horrifying ordeal. Give me the chance to save you.”

The woman struggled weakly in Hugh’s arms, and her head tipped back. He watched as her lips parted, welcoming the wetness of the falling rain.

“We’re almost there.”

“Bright . . .” she murmured.

He looked into her face and saw she was trying hard to open her eyes.

“Yes, brighter than that crate,” he said, encouraged by her effort. Any movement, however small, gave him hope. “And you’ve been in there for Lord knows how long.”

  Author Bio

Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May McGoldrick) weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Publishing under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written more than thirty novels and works of nonfiction for Penguin Random House, Mira, HarperCollins, Entangled, and Heinemann. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English in northwestern Connecticut. They are the authors of Much Ado About Highlanders, Taming the Highlander, and Tempest in the Highlands with SMP Swerve.

 Author Links

Website: www.maymcgoldrick.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/MayMcGoldrick

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MayMcGoldrick

 Buy Links

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0746MLYFZ

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/romancing-the-scot-may-mcgoldrick/1126839723

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/isbn9781250166906

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/romancing-the-scot

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=7v8tDwAAQBAJ