#like. if i didn’t push myself to join organizations that had me make articles + if i didn’t find a job abt college essays and editing then

[slowdesire]

sometimes (almost everyday) i think about how i wish i was the kind of writer who has something meaningful to say and can write for free from the heart out of my own volition. but the reality for years now really has been that i only write consistently by putting myself in situations where others require it of me

[fallingsunflower]

BESTIES I'm so sorry - I hit my post limit waaaay earlier than expected! Some of y'all joined me on my backup account, (which I also hit the limit on lmao), but I'm back now.

I had over 400 asks to go through and I'll give you a warning that not all of them will appear (either because they were old or because they were topics we already answered). But here is a giant list of asks I compiled for you from when I wasn't allowed to post lol they don't really require my response but I found them entertaining to read. Hope you don't mind I've just put them all together in one post. It's also to save me from using up my 250 posts lol

"this is all so embarrassing like my god imagine when the promotion of the movie starts how horrible it will be for other people who made the movie too"

"SELL UR TICKETS TODAY WATCH THE MOVIE ILLEGALLY, next article we’ll be talking about these two assholes filing for bankruptcy. cheap harlots. don’t mess with your meal ticket."

"hate to say it but i defs think they‘ve got a sliver of the gp’s attention for five minutes"

"I am scanning through all these photos looking for just ONE where he looks like he's smiling and enjoying this. It's so crazy."

"I guess those are all the pics we’re getting right now. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they finish the Italy trip off with one more major Backgrid photo shoot."

"Olivia’s trending on Twitter but not Harry. Like it’s obvious who’s getting the PR gains here!"

"If they dont give us a 6 month or more break after this im gonna need them to pay for my therapy bills from now on bc of this damage no joke let me crawl back into my shit hole now 😑"

"The palce they at is referred to as “tuscanys best-kept secret”. Everyone point and laugh."

"she looks like she’s enjoying all of this. he looks like he wants to push her into the water."

"a few people said he’s keeping his shorts pulled up or covered in all the shots because of the Nike branding which they ask to not get photographed. What a setup."

"Man I knew the second those Tomdaya pics came out of them kissing and how they were trending so fast that HO were going to do something to 'top' them. Its pathetic /// FRRR. she probably hoped for the positive reactions that people gave tom & zendaya but unfortunately, miss girl got the opposite. when will they realize that nobody, but his fans, find them cute lmao can they just stop, it’s so embarrassing 😭😭😭"

"He really out here doing this with someone who almost old enough to be his mother, shiiiiiiiit. Sickening. Sick of these 2 for real now, i was fine with the good old blurry back content and whatnot but this? Crossing a line here nobody wanna see that shit and knowing how people feel goooooood damn."

"I aboslutely despise kendall for obvious reason but this one is actually worse than the hendall one bc you couldnt really see as much as now dis gos tang."

"She’s also wearing the cross necklace again. I feel like if that was so meaningful to her she wouldn’t risk loosing it in the ocean 🙄"

"guys have eyes on tmz. I Do not have tw now. they were so aggressive towards them"

"I'm sorry for Harry because you lost your damn mind bro"

"Now why the hendall pics are better ?? NO SHADE BUTT"

"I’m genuine confused like do they actually want dwd to flop or what? I just threw up in my mouth I sure as hell ain’t gonna watch their sorry ass movie. Is it supposed to flop? I’m so confused!"

"The match was not interesting enough so they cooked up something different especially since people were pointing out how they staged the PDA. And the page 6 article is out already!!!"

"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea"

"Is it just me or does harry's face looks really blank for someone out on a Romantic date with his alleged girlfriend.?"

"if thats it, harry hasn’t no game🤣🤣🤣🤣"

"so this is why the tabloids weren’t talking about the match pics! they didn’t have any value on their own. now with the yacht pics? my oh my they’re gonna get the clicks of their lives. her team was prob like “wait a sec we got something for y’all”"

"If they were models hired to act like a couple they wouldn't get the job......"

"Not them starring right at the camera in some of them help make it less obvious will you"

"HENDALL🤣🤣🤣is that uuuu"

"Harry’s ass crack thought it should make an appearance too."

"What a great day for team PR, happy Monday you guys! Let's pop the champagne 🍾🍾🍾🍾 P. S. They both need acting lessons, tbh"

"It’s quite interesting how everything that’s happened before I’ve seen predicted weeks/and in advance on blogs or fan accounts. Like his life has always been so predictable but damn"

"He was hiding the Nike check. That’s why his swim trucks are rolled up to an absurd degree even for him. He knew he was gonna get photographed."

"What I’m noticing is wether people like them together or not, everyone’s saying they’re aren’t a hot couple…there was more chemistry in the Kendall pics by far"

"i also find it weird that he’s not smiling in any of the pictures and it would be one thing if there were five pics from ten minutes of time but there are like 70 from an obvious extended period of time"

"It's interesting everyone involved is being Team Try Hard. Yet the universe says no. The last set of pics, Tom and Zendaya overshadowed. People even paid more attention to Angelina and the Weekend (even if business possibly). Fast forward to today and all this fakery only for Gwen/Blake to tie the knot. His team needs to get a clue. She needs to go. Harry needs to clean this up fast."

"Ok i looked at one hugging pic and one kidding pic and they could not look more stagged. It looks unatural ,strange and weird from all angles. You can clearly see from their body posture they are posing for a photographer from backgrid."

"Like I said in my ask a couple days ago the day we get kissing pics is the day that I believe this is all a stunt and I was right. They took a page out of hendall 2016 and it’s looks so forced and awkward. Hendall did it better cause at prater they had chemistry. They must be scared this movie is going to tank because they are pushing this way too hard"

"Real, PR, or whatever relationship it is, they’re fucking boring. You are on a yacht in Italy, can’t you have a little bit of fun? I can’t believe how boring they are, I just can’t. Even if it is just PR, can’t you make a fucking dumb joke so you can laugh or something? Do they have anything in common like to talk about or discuss or make fun of? I’d literally killed myself if I looked like that in a relationship. They are not communicating in any photos we’ve got. They are just walking, or sitting. Even when they hold hands or kiss or hug, they never communicate."

"okay but did ya’ll see the pic of her diving in?? i can’t stop laughing 😭😭😭😭"

"they look horrifically awkward i cannot believe what harry is doing"

"“HEY PAPS COME GET A PIC OF US KISSING TO MAKE OUR RELATIONSHIP MORE BELIEVABLE!!!!!”"

"his ass is hanging out and her bra is almost off what in the hell"

"Hqs on a yacht like that? Mhmhmhm hmmmmm / I bloody well hope that’s not the extend of their acting. That’s dire! 🤦‍♀️"

"this is literally the most predictable “couple” to exist. first, people talked about them showing up the game, and they did. second, people were just talking about kissing pics... AND THEY JUST CAME OUT LMAOOOOOO"

"annnnnnnnnnnnnd there it is. YOU KNOW THEY KNEW THERE WAS A CAMERA."

"ok but where’s the pda or did that get made up? cause these have to be the most awkward pics i’ve ever seen which makes me feel better 😂 also i can feel the meme’s coming with the one of her diving off the boat"

"I call it how I see it they are both assholes and full of shit. Like do your fake kiss somewhere else I do not want to see it!"

"Can they at least act like they’re having a good time?"

"hahahaha I can't stop laughing with that photo of O it's literally her knowing she's being photographed and diving into a professional swimmer style😭"

"the pics are so organic that Olivia is looking straight at the pap before kissing Harry."

"he looked a lot happier with kendall in their yacht pics compared to today’s. i know that was PR too, but he was very smiley and seemed talkative. with this girl it’s like the complete opposite lmao."

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [0.7]

Masterlist

The sun was high in the sky, bright and casting everything in a flattering golden light. The grass blades beneath Eva's body pricked at her fair skin and Remington's hair tickled her spine, the May heat was blazing but she was happy as she proofread her latest article.

Remington had his white heart-shaped sunglasses on, and Eva was sure he must've been asleep from how still he was. She broke her attention from her laptop and looked over her shoulder, stormy blue eyes gliding over the expanse of his torso and the many tattoos that were like a gallery to his world. A gallery that she had the pleasure of enjoying just for herself.

With a sharp intake, Remington stirred when he felt he was being watched. And when he saw Eva's delicate face looking back at him, he smiled back, face thick with sleep but he looked happy.

"What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Just checking on you," she replied coyly, "You comfortable?"

"Yes I am. Had no idea you made such a good pillow," he grinned, to which Eva simpered amusedly, "How's your article coming?"

"Just proofing before I send it," she said.

"How much you getting for it?"

"Seven hundred and fifty bucks"

He gave a stirring whistle, settling down against her flank and closing his eyes, "Make that money, Eva,"

Eva was quiet as he nestled down again, but she kept her eyes fixated on his body. She admired the way the light bounced over the sunscreen-slick film on his skin, and how effortlessly pretty and cool Remington looked in contrast to the lush green grass beneath him. The tips of her fingers brushed at the cooler blades beneath her chest, fighting the urge to reach over and touch the ink on his bicep.

And just like that, a new poem jingled in her brain and sprinted to her fingertips. The poem was drafted in minutes, and as Eva read it over and over to herself she was at a loss as to whether she should publish it to her blog. She knew Remington had looked at her poetry, and she wondered what he would think if she posted a piece about him. Or what his fans would think if they happened to find her blog. Would people even know it was about him?

Nevertheless, she took another glance at his rising and falling chest. In her lens she looked at him like a muse, a piece of art that she wanted to record and worship with her words. And that feeling made her nervous.

... But it also had her simmering with excitement.

"You're still staring at me," he suddenly said, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

Eva rolled her eyes, though a sheepish grin spread across her own lips as she pushed her laptop across the grass, "Let me up,"

Remington's eyes snapped open again as he lifted his head so Eva could get to her feet, "You alright?" he asked.

"I'm just gonna' get something drink. You want anything?" she replied.

"I'm good," he threw his hands behind his head as he laid back down in the grass, "I'll guard your computer for you,"

Eva chuckled, "You're so brave,"

"Aren't I?"

Eva slipped her tank back over her bikini top, rubbing at the hot spot where Remington's hair had prickled over her skin. Her hand seemed to shake as she pulled back the glass sliding door, quickly slipping inside and finding Emerson sat on the couch with his notebook and variety of charcoals. Pepper was sleeping at his feet, but she perked up and tried to crawl to the top of the couch when she heard Eva's footsteps.

Emerson turned to his neighbour, "You okay, Eva?"

"Yeah," the small brunette replied, "Could I grab some water?"

"Of course," he smiled, "You know where the glasses are,"

"Thanks," she grabbed herself a glass of cold water and headed back for the door, stopping when she peaked over Emerson's shoulder and gazed in awe at the gothic victorian architecture covering two full pages in his journal, "That's so sick,"

"Thanks," he replied happily, "Did Remington tell you about our graphic novel?"

"He did. Did you illustrate everything?" she asked incredulously.

Emerson shrugged sheepishly, "I had a lot of help. I'll let you read the first copy that comes out, if you'd want"

"That would be awesome,"

It was then an idea stirred in the back of Emerson's head, "Do you write any fictional stuff?"

Eva shrugged, debating whether she should bring up her fanfiction hobby, "... I've dabbled,"

Emerson smiled, "Well, I'm planning to make these into a series. When we start drafting the next volume, would you want to work on it with us?"

Eva's heart nearly leapt into her throat, "You serious?"

"Why not?" he shrugged, "It's always more fun working with friends, anyway,"

Eva's face flushed, "Emerson, I'm honoured! I'd love to work with you guys,"

Over in the backyard, Remington shifted and sat up from his nap. He blinked his eyes a few times to get used to the sudden influx of light, then focusing in on the shadowy silhouette of Eva and Emerson in the house. He watched her smile, and the hand that wasn't holding a water glass came to rest on her chest. He wondered what they were talking about: probably art, the pandemic, the album party that was coming up this week.

Or was it possible that they were talking about him?

Remington took a glance at her macbook, the screen having just fell asleep. Curiosity got the better of Remington, he wondered why Eva kept glancing at him between her writing. He checked again and Emerson and Eva were still having their conversation, and Remington reached over and tapped the touchpad, bringing the laptop back to life. Eva's main page was her article about dog fighting and the people who ran these gambling rings, but Remington clicked on the open Tumblr tab. A draft of a new poem stared back at him, and before he knew what he was doing he was reading it word-for-word.

"You sleep soundly, protected by the company of

snakes, angels, and demons.

They guard your organs, flesh, and muscles.

Without moving eyes they watch the world pass you by

While you're none the wiser, drunk on beer and sunstroke.

The breath that leaves you fans over a crest of regality, valiance,

The summer grass tries to scratch away the frowns of the skulls on your arms,

You've come too far to continue to be sad.

At least, that's the impression I get.

I like your homage to the illuminati: that little triangle below your intestine

forever searches for lies and enlightenment.

Or maybe you just decided that it looked cool?

And I love that angel, clinging to your spine as you dive into the four corners of hell

Yet it drags you back to the surface, reminding you of the better qualities you have

that overshadow the bad ones.

Your body is a gallery, and I've bought myself a ticket.

I only planned to take the basic tour, a brief introduct --"

Remington quickly clicked back to Eva's article when he heard the door sliding open again, but Eva had caught him snooping. She looked down at him quizzically.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her standing figure blocking out the searing sun.

Remington glanced back at the screen, "Reading about the bastards who exploit defenseless animals and force them into fighting for monetary gain," he replied quickly, "Very profound work,"

Eva had the mind to know he was spouting straight bullshit, but she didn't press on, "Thank you," she set down her water glass and started to pull off her shorts.

"Your thirst quenched?" he asked.

"Yes, and now I'm going to go for a swim," she smiled, "You're more than welcome to join me,"

Remington sat back as her tank top fell to the ground, revealing the small flower tattoo on her ribs peeking out from the band of her bikini. Eva stood at the edge of the pool, shook out her hair, and dived head first into the crystalline water. Remington smiled to himself as he stood up, his heart thrumming as fast as a hummingbird could bat its wings when as the words he read fluttered behind his eyes.

She was writing a poem about him.

Eva emerged from the water just as Remington took a running start, and without warning, cannonballing into the water beside her. As she wiped the water from her eyes more had splashed over her head. Remington broke out of the water seconds later, laughing when he saw the scowl on Eva's face.

"You're so fucking chaotic!"

"You love me,"

The album was to drop this Thursday at midnight, and they were going to stream and celebrate its release at Sebastian's place with a party. A small party, with Daniel, Andrew, their mom, and their girlfriends.

And of course, Eva had been invited.

Remington assured her it was just going to a small casual affair, and all she needed to bring was her "gorgeous smile". Those were the words he used. Nevertheless, Eva had a constant flutter in the pit of her stomach as Thursday neared; annoyed because no matter what she pulled out of her closet she seemed to have nothing to wear, and popping advil because her period decided to pay her an early visit the morning of the party.

Remington continued to check Eva's Tumblr and Instagram pages now and again, wondering if she had posted the rest of that poem. He felt a little guilty about snooping, and he wondered what her reaction would be if she knew he had looked. Or perhaps she already knew that he had and she was only letting it slide because she didn't want to talk about it. And as he stood in the shower on the morning of the party, not snapping out of his thoughts until Emerson banged on the door loudly for his turn, Remington began to realize he wanted Eva so much more than he should have for a friend.

Pluto lay diligently at the foot of Eva's bed while she worked, wearing a face mask to hopefully keep her period acne at bay. She read through her most recent poems, a shiver crawling up her spine every time she read them. It was scary because within the last few days, she realized Remington had become the muse she examined and picked apart in her pieces. It wasn't that she hadn't written about boys before, she had, but they didn't elicit the same excitement Remington did when he touched her; or when he was even near her.

In the two and some months she had come to know him, Eva's world had grown so small and yet exploded so suddenly in such little time. Remington was a firecracker of wild colors that splattered across the folds of her brain and drew her into him like a moth to the light. She wanted to watch him move, work, and no matter what she wanted to make him smile. After listening to his music, she knew how badly he needed to be happy. And there was a part of her that wondered what it would be like; how would he be with her if they started a relationship? What's it like dating a rockstar? She imagined the day-to-day wouldn't be very different from how they were now: great friends just one step further on the scale of intimacy.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. She wanted him.

✧✧✧

Remington's tongue tingled as he approached the complex courtyard in the late evening, his gaze flying to her balcony to hopefully get a small glimpse of Eva. He smashed the call button for her apartment and waited for her sweet voice to pick up.

"Yellow!" she answered happily.

"It's your friendly neighbourhood psychopath," Remington smiled as he spoke into the speaker.

Eva chuckled, "Come on up! I got the door open,"

The front door clicked and Remington slipped inside, his mask over his face as he waved to the landlord who was too nose deep in his newspaper to give a damn about him.

He pulled his mask down and knocked first before entering Eva's apartment, first being greeted by Pluto who leapt out of his bed and began to rub himself against his pant leg. Remington scooped him up in his arms.

"It's good to see you too, buddy!" he cooed at the cat, "Are you coming to the party with us? Maybe if we ask nicely your mom will take you?"

Remington's attention diverted from Pluto when he heard Eva walk in from behind. Turning around, any words he had were suddenly stuck in his throat when his eyes fell over her. Just when Remington thought she couldn't look any more gorgeous, she blew all his expectations out of the water in a body-hugging black, white, and red plaid dress, white sandals on her feet and her short hair loose and wavy. She only had on mascara and some eyeliner, but in his opinion, Eva didn't need any more than that.

She was absolutely beautiful.

Her smile faltered when Remington hadn't said a word, not even a hello, "... You're looking at me weird," she said, bordering on panic as she glanced at her dress, "Do I look weird? 'Cause I can go change --"

Remington quickly snapped out of it, "N-No! You're fucking gorgeous," he gaped, "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare like that --"

"No, it's okay," she assured him, smiling sheepishly as her heart skipped a beat, "You look really good, too. Yellow suits you nicely,"

Remington chuckled, continuing to cradle Pluto as he glanced at his pants, "See -- me and Emerson got into a debate. I say they're yellow, he think they're lime,"

Eva shrugged, "Regardless, they're on the citrus spectrum," she grinned, going to grab her purse, "Are you sure I can't bring anything? Like a bottle of wine, or --"

"Nope! Seb's got all the alcohol we'll need," he replied, "You can bring Pluto if you want, though. Emerson's gonna' bring Pepper,"

"He's better off here where I know he'll be safe. Over there, I'll constantly be worried if he's trying to tear up the carpet or... or eating another shoe," Eva shook her head.

Remington shrugged as he set Pluto down, "Just as well, I don't think he and Pepper like each other," he said.

"Oh really? What gave that away?" Eva asked in mock disbelief, "The constant hissing, the yapping, the growling? The cat's staying here,"

"Sorry bud, I tried," he said to Pluto. The tabby spun his tail before striding off back to his bed.

Eva took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, "He'll be fine," she sighed.

Remington cocked his head, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, "It's that time of the fucking month again and my stomach does not like me,"

He swallowed with uncertainty, "... It's just a period thing, right? You're not losing taste or smell or anything, right?"

"No, it's just a period thing," she assured him, "I'll be fine. I feel like shit, but I just need some fresh air and some good music,"

"Lucky for you, I can provide all of those things. And just to reiterate, you look fantastic," he said.

"You're sweet," she smiled, slinging her denim jacket on and clutching her purse, "Shall we?"

"We shall," Remington quickly held the door open for her, "After you, my lady,"

"Why thank you, kind sir,"

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Unification Church babies dying and members starving – as they follow the orders of Sun Myung Moon

▲ Moon with his 1959 birthday cake at Chongpa-dong in Seoul. Pak Bo-hi is on the right, Eu Hyo-won is on the left.

The Family Federation for World Peace and Unification is another name for Sun Myung Moon’s organization.

Steve Kemperman: “Sharon related the story of the early days of the Korean Church—couples had sometimes left their babies in garbage cans to die. I’d heard about these tragedies before from the higher-ups and understood that there’d been barely enough food for the parents to keep from starving to death. But why then, asked Vick, had Sun Myung Moon continued to receive the choicest foods?”

Lord of the Second Advent (1981) by Steve Kemperman (page 20)

_________________________________

This testimony, given in the early 1980s, confirms the starvation.

Mrs. Kang Chung-won (36 couple), the wife of Lee Jae-seok

“We witnessed on the streets. In 1970, we left our children behind and went pioneering again for three years. This was the beginning of the tradition in the Korean Church, today, whereby all Blessed wives must go pioneering for the same period. After witnessing and doing itinerary work around the country I returned to my home. Immediately Father ordered me to work with the Woman’s I.F.V.O.C. and that is where I work today as the General Secretary.

Having attended Father until now, I think that those of us who still remain are those who submit themselves completely to Father’s words, those who have no self and those who are concerned only for the fulfilment of God’s will.

I was raised as a daughter of a rich family, and after receiving the Blessing I have suffered more than I can ever express in words. When I was pregnant with my first child, I was sent out witnessing. I had nothing to eat so I sometimes went to the mountains and gathered wild vegetables to eat. While I was witnessing, I fainted on the street from lack of blood. I once had no place to go and had to spend the night in the room of one of our members. At times I had to stay in a place like a storage house with many students. I endured these difficulties, however, because I knew that Father, too, had gone through much suffering. When I thought about his having walked the way of restoration through indemnity, my only thought was to accomplish his will for him. Father had told us that those who were rich before joining our church had to indemnify this by going through much poverty.

I kept these words and I went through the typical indemnity course. I would witness, with my baby son on my back. He became seriously ill. Because of malnutrition, he was always getting sick. I had no money to take him to a hospital so I took him to a Health Clinic for poor people. The doctor there felt so sorry for me that he gave me several years supply of vitamins for my baby.

In 1966 when our church began a movement to quadruple our membership I worked very hard because as the wife of a church director I had to stand on the front line. When we collected used articles to raise money for witnessing, I worked harder than anyone. Once on my way home from having visited the house of a member I suddenly felt all strength go out of my body and I fell down on the street. I began to sweat cold sweat and the right side of my body became paralyzed. Someone passing by stood me up against a fence and went to contact my church. Our members carried me into a room.

We had no money to go to hospital, so we locked the door to the church and prayed together. “Father, what shall I do if I am like this? Your glory will be hidden within me. I am not thinking of myself but of your will when I ask you to make this body whole again.”

After a week of praying like this, I recovered completely and started working again. My husband also worked so hard that he caught T.B. and sometimes vomited blood, but he never left his public position and maintained it to the end. When I look back upon my life I myself wonder how I could have come through such a difficult course without stumbling. Although I am not worthy, I have tried to become a person who can appear without shame on a page of history. I worked hard for the day when my children would ask me “Mother, what did you do for God’s will when we were small?” and I would be able to answer them with pride.

To help my husband I became a door to door salesman, I carried merchandise around in a cloth sack and sold them. I opened a dress shop, a small Chinese restaurant and sold guns.

One time I became so tired that I collapsed on a sofa and water shot out from my cheek like a fountain. I went to a skin doctor and he told me that this sometimes happens as a result of fatigue. He said that if the water had gone up to my head I would have died. He told me that God must be protecting me.

Even after giving birth to a baby, I didn’t have the chance to rest my body for a long time, because I had to keep working. During the effort to quadruple our membership, we came into contact with two ministers and had a revival meeting with them. This became the beginning of the Super Denomination movement.

I worked very hard at the dress shop to support my husband while he pushed forward, in spite of all opposition and persecution, to reach the ministers who were reluctant to attend our seminars. With the help of God my business went well but I never used any money for myself, never even making any clothes for myself.

Even while doing business I witnessed on the street and in the countryside whenever I had time. I always told my employees that I would not be doing that business forever and that if I were to be commanded to do public work I would have to comply.

Finally from December 1, 1970, I began the three year witnessing course. At the time my children were six, four and ten years old. Also I had not yet returned the money I had borrowed to open the dress shop. I couldn’t afford to be away from the shop for even an hour, but I left it behind and went to my witnessing area. A few days later I received a letter from my husband. He said he had always known that I was brave but had never thought that I could be as brave as this.

I have been opposed by society, expelled from school and criticized by all people. The reason I have been able to come through even the most difficult course is that I always think of how Father has suffered so much more in order to do God’s will and that I will endure anything for him. As long as the living God exists, I will accomplish his Will.

This is how I have come this far and this is how I will continue into the future. All of you are going through many difficulties now but let’s endure and become victors before God.”

_________________________________

Why love matters – Sue Gerhardt

More hungry Unification Church members

Unification Church children sent to orphanages in Korea, or left behind in the US

The baby was very small and undernourished

Another mother, Shin-hee Eu, gives her testimony

VIDEO: Eu Shin-hee spoke on Japanese TV, and her son, Gap Yoon-gil, was also interviewed about being sent to an orphanage.

“Children … taken from the parents and placed in nurseries for three years,” Margie Laflin.

Jacob House: A Chorus of Sorrows: Limi Bauer (podcast Part 1)

[lesbianecrivain]

Retourne-toi!

Summary:  Denise decides to travel, hoping to take her mind off everything, only to end up doing more work as she makes the mistake of admiring a castle that has remained hidden from humanity for years.

AO3 link HERE! 

(I’ll be posting all of the chapters on AO3. If you liked this, check that out more often because updates would be there. This is not too related with the game. F/F pairing)

Warning for a little bit of violence when OC remembers her childhood. Also, should I continue this? Reviews and kudos are highly appreciated!! 💕

Now, let us simp for the tall vampire~

------------

Chapter 1: Wandering Traveller

The wars never stopped. Up until today, humans still fight amongst themselves for silly reasons instead of working together to be united. Anyone would want to take a break from all these wars. Especially someone who had done everything they could to, at least, lessen or slow the effects of these unending wars. So, that is what Denise Rodriguez is going to do. She took a break from everything, flew back to her country hoping to feel snow again. She really loves the snow despite having low tolerance for cold. If lucky, there might be children on the street who would be willing to play snowball fight with her. A smile broke the straight line on her lips at the thought, heart warming at the images of children smiling as they throw the snowballs at each other. She couldn't wait to reach their destination, she made sure that the place is snowing this time of the year. Having been born from the tropical side of the planet, snow can quite be something desirable for someone like Denise. Something spectacular and worthy of attention and praises.

Here Denise was, sitting by the window seat and staring at the bright cloudy yet calm view outside, a small smile playing on her lips as the plane continued heading towards its destination. Only a few more hours until they reach Europe. Her heart bloomed at the thought of returning to a land that it acknowledged as home more than her land of origin.

When Denise opened her eyes, the sun was not shining anymore. A grin crept up to her face. The person beside Denise stared at her weirdly before going off with their own life. Denise couldn't care less though, she is finally back and she would never allow a mere stranger to ruin her vacation here. She will be staying here for some time, taking the opportunity to stay here for as long as she'd like to. Perks of dual citizenship. She badly needs a break from handling a lot of environmental issues and having to provide for hundreds of students, she almost forgot about her corporation. Yes, when she says she needs a break, she needs a damn break. From everything, especially her other country that has been a shit show ever since she became aware—this having started when she reached twelve years of age, and she is in her early 30's now. It has been a long time yet within the years she lived in her country, not even a single road in her street has been fixed.

"Alright," She muttered, bracing herself while her hand gripped her baggage tightly. "Romania, here I come!"

Denise went straight to her house and after organizing the stuff she brought, she glanced at her phone. There laid on her bright screen, 19:34 in black as her eyes wandered to the other time zones as well. The way to her house was splendid, she can't help but to marvel at the various infrastructures that passed as she rode the taxi despite seeing them for the nth time. She has observed how great the difference is between this foreign land and her own, and then she was again further disappointed with her own land. Enough of that, she is here to free herself of worry, Denise reminds herself, eyes quickly ridding of all the gloom and anger as they caught sight of the marble structure that she has been longing for ever since she departed from this land two years ago. She has always been a regular here the moment she found out about this place, around seven years ago. They just served the best pizzas Denise has ever known to exist, though that could change when she further travels across Europe in the future.

"Miss Rodriguez!"

Denise smiled at the chipper servant and greeted them back just as gleeful. She is glad to know that they are the same servant from two years ago. Even the other staff smiled at their guest, knowing how prominent she is in this place, seeing that she is a regular customer here and actually treated them properly than how other customers would, disregarding them as if they were lower than them.

"Denise!"

Her head turned toward the all-too-familiar light voice, almost squeaking, as soon as their eyes caught sight of Denise. A wide grin set itself comfortably on her lips, turning around to open her arms, preparing to envelop whoever had greeted her.

"Sophie!" Denise was too slow to react as the other woman practically threw herself in her arms. "Looks like someone had missed me," she chuckled, patting Sophie on her small back.

"You damn bet I do," Sophie pulled away but the smile on her lips was relentless. "I told them all to prepare your favorites as soon as you informed me that you will be coming here, and it seems like I am not the only one who missed you,"

Confusion was briefly on Denise's face then her eyes darted behind Sophie. There she saw people carrying a tray, enough to feed all the people inside, with smiles plastered on their faces. Denise knew herself that she couldn't finish it all by herself. Sophie seemed to close the restaurant earlier because the only people here are the staff, herself, and Denise, their guest. Warmth spread through the small woman like a drop of milk spreading lightness to a black coffee.

"Y'all," Denise shook her head in disbelief. "C'mere, let's eat. I cannot finish these all by myself!"

The place was filled with laughter, the faint glow of gold surrounding the place and adding to the calming and light atmosphere. They all took a seat on the long table with Denise on the head and Sophie on her side while the staff sat along by them. They all looked genuinely happy, as if this was the only time they could take a break from all the stress the day has brought upon. The wide grins, sounds of soft laughter filling the room, and the gleam in each of their eyes were enough to take Denise's worries away, even for the briefest moment.

"Y'all didn't have to do this," She told them, shaking her head.

"But we wanted to!" chorused most of the staff while some just kept smiling at her. Sophie then raised a brow in her direction. "Save your irrational guilt, sunshine," she told the small woman who seemed to be rethinking her decision of informing her of her coming. "We missed you and here is our way of showing you. So, shut up and eat, young lady, we've got so much to catch up on."

"Alright, Soph," Denise sighed in defeat yet the grin never left her face. "Y'all dig in too! I'm tipping all of you extra because y'all look extremely happy right now," and that warms my heart, Denise wanted to add but didn't want to sound cheesy or seem like a softie as she wasn't either of those.

Sophie hummed her disagreement. "Ugh ugh, this one's on the house! You keep eat—"

"No." interrupted Denise with a frown. "The least I can do is to pay and leave a huge amount of tip for you all individually, and no Sophie, this is not up for a debate."

Denise was determined and Sophie knew that there is no way she can convince the raven-haired woman when she is determined. She shook her head and released a sigh. "Fine, you are lucky you're handsome."

Denise was thankful for her brown complexion that a blush didn't appear on her cheeks at the sudden compliment. She wouldn't want to be blushing in front of anyone. She coughed, "So, how's everything with you?" She said, clearly dismissing the compliment and hoping that her friend wouldn't push it.

"Eh, nothing eventful while you were gone. Same old same.." Sophie shrugged, mind wandering to the events in her life in the past two years that Denise was gone. "How about you, busy bee? I've seen you on some article while I was surfing the net last night.." She grinned then teased the smaller woman, nudging her softly with her elbow, "You're really doing something big out there! Planning to contribute positively to the world along with a bunch of other stuff!"

At this, Denise's hand crept to the back of her head where her palm was able to feel her shaved head, all while she huffed as she smiled. Maybe it was the time where she joined in one of the protests against the passing of a ridiculous nonsensical bill. "I'm not doing 'something big', you silly," She rolled her eyes at the exaggeration. She doesn't want anyone thinking that what she is doing is grand, especially with all her wealth. "I'm just doing my responsibility as an inhabitant of this world.." She shrugged, and in her defense, she really was although Sophie has told her a lot of times that she is being a hero by doing so. But, Denise had quickly countered that what she does is not a heroic act but her moral obligation as a human. It would be natural to want to help in any way you can, at least that is how Denise thinks, which further amazes Sophie.

"Well, whatever you say," Sophie took a sip from her glass. "How long do you plan to stay? And tell me all the places you'd go to!! Maybe I can tag along if you want to or if I've got the time..."

"I think I'm gonna stay for a while and go to the old times.." Denise explained when confusion crossed Sophie's expression. "I plan on visiting this ancient village. I heard that the sceneries there are spectacular.. I'm going for this old-y vibes for my book that I'm currently writing.. and I plan to take pictures as well." Then she showed Sophie her phone which displayed the village she is referring to. The other woman nodded approvingly at her choice as she kept scrolling through the pictures.

"Well, what exactly are you looking for?"

Denise shrugged as she put her phone back to her pocket. "Nothing really specific.. If I go there and feel it, I would immediately take a picture. I hope to find an abandoned infrastructure or if I'm lucky enough, maybe a castle?"

Sophie grinned at her. "Look at you being all things at once," elbow nudged Denise again, urging her to shake her head. "I really wonder how the hell you're able to do all your responsibilities at once!"

Denise rolled her eyes. "That is why I'm taking a break, silly."

A chuckle bubbled its way out of her throat. Laughter filled the room along with the small conversations among the staff and themselves. Having this unfold in front of her prompted another smile on Denise's lips as one word screamed loud in her mind;

Home.

—————

Denise would have already started her travel, or adventure as she likes to call it, the day after she met with Sophie; however, works keep holding her back and as a result, she has been occupied by them for a whole week, unable to do anything exciting and relaxing other than to play her musical instruments or catch up on series. Why couldn't she just bring her stuff along with her so she could work when she reaches wherever she wants to go? Denise isn't certain if the area she plans to go to has internet or even supply of electricity. Either way, she finally has finished all her follow-up tasks, releasing a sigh—whether it be from relief, exhaustion, or both—as her palm pushed down the screen of her laptop.

"Fucking finally," She sighs again, leaning back on her office chair. She rubs her eyes before closing them. The silence in her home provided a calming effect after her long day of work. Imagine coming here to relax only to be haunted by those damned works. The city was calm. The loud sirens fading from a distance, honking of the car horns, and sometimes a loud chatter would bloom from a small crowd, created a soft cadence lulling Denise to sleep on her position that she would surely regret next morning. But, whatever worry she may have for tomorrow was left unthought of as the night progressed with much ease she hasn't had for quite a while.

The same calm she has been seeking for.

The following morning, the dull ache on her back was quicker than her eyes to open and be aware of their surroundings. "Dammit," grumbled Denise with her voice hoarse. She slowly stood up, still groggy from waking from such a deep slumber that she hasn't had for a while. Her hand immediately reached to rub her back, seeking for relief albeit brief, before she proceeded to go to the bathroom to clean herself. After doing her morning routine—cleaning herself, exercising then eating breakfast, Denise started prepping for her long journey. She had informed Sophie that she will be gone for quite a while and that her brunette friend may occupy her house during her leave, to which the restaurant owner quickly agreed to—saving both of them time and money.

Denise felt like a scout because of all the things she is going to bring with her. She nearly brought her house with her. Better ready than not, she thinks to herself as she packed her razor that she uses to keep her head shaved. Along with that are the various tools she deemed necessary (she brought her toolbox), and some weapons that are easy to hide and bring, for precaution. She also packed a lot of foods and clothings, and of course, money. After packing all of those stuff, she went to put her portable generator on the back of her van, just in case.

When she is satisfied with everything, Denise ceased her movements before sitting on her couch, a sigh escaping past her lips before she could even think of it. She took a deep breath and then closed her eyes, letting the silence envelop her in its tranquilizing arms. The comfort se found in silence started reminding her a moment from her childhood. Something she didn't want to remember. It was midnight back then and she jolted up from her bed because of the tingling sensation in her abdomen. Realizing this, she stood up and went downstairs, only to halt on her way as she heard a whimper below— on the living room where her parents sleep. The lights were off but the soft glow emanating from the television was enough to show her father strangling her mother. At that very moment, Denise completely forgot about her bladder's needs and went straight back to the bedroom she shared with her siblings as silent as she could. The confusion, fear, anger, disappointment, and sadness that she felt that night were too overwhelming. Since then, she promised to herself that she would never marry or have children if she would only act like her father.

"I am so ready!!" Denise practically bounced as she moved, hopping like a bunny on a meadow, as she stepped into her huge van. She decided to bring some of her musical instruments and some of her books to have something to keep herself entertained. Sophie stood by her doorway, waving and smiling at her as she drove away and into the unknown.

Denise had promised that she would take a lot of pictures so that when she shows them to her, Sophie would feel as if she were with her all along her journey. She hasn't reached her destination yet, however, the tall trees she kept passing by as she was hours into her drive were always able to amaze and put a smile on her face. Nature has always been enough to make all her worries drift away, one of the reasons why she does all her best to take care of it. She is a devoted environmentalist, writing articles about the issues regarding nature in her free time while also using her resources for further development of restoration of deforested lands. It may seem like a big work, just like what Sophie insists because it truly is, but for Denise herself it isn't. She loves what she is doing, she wouldn't feel the exhaustion if she weren't mortal. Unfortunately, she must take breaks every now and then for her to be able to continue doing her passion.

After two days of driving and taking breaks to get some sleep, Denise finally arrived at the said village. She immediately felt the atmosphere she needs for the inspiration of both her book and its cover. The village itself wasn't grand, quite the opposite. The way of living here seemed to be simple almost as if the people here are still living in the olden days, and she thought it is possible that they still are. She parked her van near the entrance of the village. The village was small so she didn't bother bringing her van inside, for it would be easier to leave it outside of the village. She greeted the people who met her eyes with a small smile, hoping that they are not hostile to tourists. Thankfully, she felt welcomed enough although some just glanced at her and didn't really pay her any attention but at least no one scowled at her. She doesn't plan on staying here for too long. In fact, after she bought some supplies and asked for the elder for permission to take pictures and after taking pictures, she was already bidding her goodbye and gratitude to the elder before she hopped back to her van.

Something in the north caught her eye as she scrolled through the pictures she's taken, which pulled her gaze away from her camera. The sun was still up, there's still time for her to travel further and find a place to park her van safely— she doesn't need to spend night in a hotel or motel since her van is big enough to host, but she still needs a place to stay for her security. Denise carefully placed her camera back to its place, securing it, then proceeded to drive further up north. What caught her eyes is the enormous structure that seems like a mountain covered in snow on top, a perfect scenery to add to her choices. But as she neared the said mountain, another caught her sight. This time, she also completely forgot what it is that she went for as she was utterly amazed by the sight in front of her eyes.

Her mind couldn't think of anything except;

Perfection.

A castle. It hadn't been in the map nor did the elder of the village informed her of this. It wasn't even on Google when she searched for this area. She thought that maybe this beauty was meant to remain hidden from the outside world. The reason behind for this possibility? She couldn't care. All she could give a damn about is that she finally found what she is hoping to see. So, she did what any people would do. She took her bag and her camera before stepping out of her van—making sure to bring the keys with her, after she parked it in front of the gates.

"Woah," Denise couldn't help but gape at the infrastructure.

Jackpot, she internally celebrates.

The structure seemed to be a mixture of both Gothic and Romanesque style, with its round walls yet pointed arches and stained glasses. Overall, the castle was impressive. Its walls were enough to tell about its age, which to Denise's opinion, this castle might have been built around 18th century. She went to the gate, searching for any doorbell or anything that would notify the inhabitants of the castle—if there were—of its visitors, only to find none. But, luckily, she found out that the gate is left unlocked. Maybe, the castle is abandoned? Denise thinks then smiles as she proceeds further outside the castle grounds. The gate squeaked as Denise pushed it slightly just enough for her figure to fit perfectly.

Denise walked around as if she were strolling around the zoo for the first time, gaping at the size and the details of the castle. The castle emanated a vibe she can't quite put her finger on. She wasn't sure what it was but she felt calm and relaxed. This is perfect for my book, she thinks as she turned around once more to gape at the place. She felt like a person entering an aquarium for the first time, amazed by all the aquatic creatures.

When she was in the middle of the property, not inside the castle yet since the outside was a wide space that would have been green if it weren't winter, Denise finally pulled her camera to her chest. Hesitation kept holding her back. She doesn't want to take pictures without the owner's or at least the caretaker's permission, but whom would she ask if there seemed to be no one to ask for permission? Denise felt as if she just invaded the property despite not going fully inside the castle. She felt horrible, knowing that she must desert the place because she doesn't have the permission to be here, yet the curiosity and wonder in her became stronger than the guilt she felt creeping in her earlier. And soon enough, the latter completely overthrew any hesitation she had.

"Just one picture," Denise promised to no one in particular, trying to drown the voice in her head that screams at her to just walk away. "Let me take just one picture of this masterpiece, then I will leave." Her eyes closed in concentration as she did her best to drown any guilt creeping in her. Obviously, she didn't listen to the rational part of herself as she went to crouch and angled her camera where it covers mostly the upper part of the castle together with the plain sky and the snow falling.

It was perfect, the shot she took was splendid. Denise smiled to herself as she dusted herself off while getting up. A smile graced her face before she could even process it. She took another look at the single picture she took, after all she promised that she would only take one picture then she will go away, and that is what she is about to do if it weren't for the picture she took. The curve on her lips was immediately set straight.

Something caught her eyes the longer she stared at the picture. There. In one of the castle windows, there stood something—someone, she wasn't sure which, but it seemed to be a figure dressed in white and smiling down at her? Denise shook her head, closed her eyes then took a deep breath before looking at the picture again, squinting her eyes at it. It was still there, the...she wasn't sure what name to put to it... The creature? Either way, it doesn't seem like this castle is abandoned at all. She took one last glance at the part of the castle where she also caught the figure. There was no one there. Not the dress, not the smile, not the figure, nothing. Only darkness. Weird. Maybe it had been one of her imaginations? But she looked at the picture and the same figure was smiling at her. It couldn't be her mind's doings. Maybe the castle wasn't abandoned at all, and maybe she could ask for permission? All while Denise thinks what she could do to be more polite to whoever is living inside the wondrous castle, standing dumbly in the middle of nowhere, another thought occurred to her. This one she didn't like;

What if they're not human?

[weasleydream]

The freaking worst working day of my life

AYAAAA I’m finally back! I’m just so freaking happy! 

Despite my long absence I still don’t know what to write here so I’ll just warn you: mention of sexual tension but nothing big really. Oh, and writing this gave me the idea to try something only based on this game between George and Y/N with the tension, would you guys like it? 

Anyway, enjoy! 

Masterlist 

(gif not mine) 

George was a very serious guy when it came to his work. He was as passionate as his twin, Fred, and could stay entire nights developing new products. No, his seriousness wasn’t in doubt. But, it’s true that when I was in the shop with him, he could be a bit...distracted. The fact that I worked in there didn’t really help. Result? Some days, we spent more time in the back shop snogging than helping Fred. These days, the poor guy couldn’t do anything and had to resign himself, but the guilt always pushed us to offer Fred a day off the the next day. Yeah, we weren’t monsters. 

However, this time, we would have to offer him a week off, because I was unable to take my hands off my boyfriend. In my own defense, he didn’t ask me to. We were currently in our shared room, in the flat, because Fred had had enough of our “disturbing noises”. Let’s say things were… Well, there was an undeniable sexual tension between us, since we had had the wonderful idea to bet we would be able not to do anything in bed for a week. Stupid. But the worse wasn’t that, no. The worse was the teasing. And Merlin knew George was excellent when it came to the teasing. I had to be at least as good as him, and I was pretty sure I had succeeded because earlier this morning, he had pushed me against the wall in the back shop and had kissed me passionately, groaning he couldn’t wait anymore. We had joined our room and let’s just say the bet was far from us. 

“Maybe we should go and help Fred.”

I was feeling guilty because he was once more alone. George didn’t seem to share my compassion for his twin because he groaned.

“He’s fine…”

He tightened his grip around my waist while sticking his nose in my hair. I installed myself more comfortably against his chest and closed my eyes, ready for a nap. 

My plans fell through as soon as Fred called for us. I was ready to yell him to shut up when he called a second time, with a serious tone that alarmed us. George and I rushed downstairs, joining Fred and a man who couldn’t be anyone else than the Minister for Magic. 

I had seen his face in the Daily Prophet. He was Fudge’s successor, Rufus Scrimgeour. He was looking down on the shop, raising his eyebrows when he saw the muggle products. He continued his inspection a few seconds after our arrival and eventually consented to look at us. 

“Let me introduce myself: Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic.”

“I’m Fred, this is my brother, George, and Y/N, his girlfriend.”

He shook Fred’s hand, then George’s but didn’t even look at me.

“I am here because you might know the situation we are facing. Our employees need protections. They are afraid, but we need them at the Ministry.”

George and I exchanged a look. What the hell did it have to do with us? Fred seemed to think exactly the same because he interrupted the Minister.

“We are perfectly aware of the situation. Why are you here, sir?”

“I’m here to ask you to provide us 500 Shield Hats as soon as possible. I expect a first delivery the next week in person. We will discuss the details at that time. Goodbye.”

He shook briefly the boys’ hand, ignored me once more and left. I realized the door was closed, and, deep in thought, went to open it. Some customers entered, asking loudly what just happened. No one answered them, though, because Fred and George were as thoughtful as me. 

“Are we gonna accept?” asked Fred.

“I don’t think you have the choice.” I responded. “He made it pretty clear.”

“I really don’t like his manners.” grumbled George. “But Y/N’s right. We can’t ignore this. Plus, we’re gonna gain a great amount of money.”

The following week was devoted to the fabrication of the Hats. It was a long process, because the Protecting Charm had to be straightened several times. However, the Shield Hats weren’t the only products we had to produce: the shop was still open and had an incredible success. It was full of children all days long and before the opening and after the closure, we had to clean everything, fill the shelves and make some Shield Hats. What a hell of a schedule. 

However, we soon found out it was all worth it. Four days after Scrimgeour’s visit, Molly sent us an owl. In her letter, she was congratulating us for the article in the Daily Prophet… Article that none of us had had the occasion to read. We had received it but it had been immediately put on the counter. George grabbed it, opened it, and a big smile appeared on his lips. 

“Look at this!”

He shoved the newspaper under our noses. Half of the page was occupied with a picture of the boys grinning in front of the shop. It was after its opening, I was still at Hogwarts at this moment. Underneath the picture, an article traced Fred and George’s childhood, telling some pranks they had pulled at school - I didn’t really know how they could know that - and it boasted the quality of the Weasley products. The end of the article described how concerned by the wizarding world’s security they were, and how, in their great kindness, they had offered to supplied the Ministry in defense products.

“That’s great but -” I started. 

“We offered them? Are they kidding? Don’t tell me I’ve ruined my sleep schedule only because I’m kind!” exploded Fred. 

George, who obviously hadn’t read the article yet, frowned. 

“Offered? I guess we’ll have some explanations to ask…” he muttered.

The week was finally over and we had managed to produce a hundred Hats. All three of us were exhausted but, as we had understood, we didn’t have any choice. The day before the delivery, I was making diner in the kitchen while Fred was organizing everything for the next day and George was cleaning the living-room.

“Guess you’ll owe me another day off.” said Fred after a particularly long yawn. 

“Why? We’ve helped you all week long.” replied George. 

“Because I’m the one who’ll go to the Ministry tomorrow.”

“I thought you two would go.” I frowned while making sure the vegetables weren’t burning. 

“I thought all three of us would go.” replied George. 

We burst in laughters, and I couldn’t help but notice it seemed a bit hysterical. I guess we were really tired, that’s probably why calming down was so difficult. We eventually managed to do it and a heavy silence took place. 

“Seriously, you both should go.” I said. “It’s pretty clear Scrimgeour wants to see you two, and he doesn’t give a damn about me. Plus we can’t let Verity alone here and it would be stupid to close the shop on a friday.”

“You’re not wrong,” sighed Fred. “George, what do you think?”

“I don’t like the idea of letting you here alone.” replied George. “Not because I don’t trust you, you know I do!” He added quickly when he saw my frown. “Just because… I don’t know, with everything happening out there…”

“You’re not wrong too.”

“By Merlin’s pants Fred, you’re so useful!” I groaned. “Don’t worry love, you’ll be gone for a day and Verity will help me. Nothing will happen.”

We finally decided that Fred and George would both go to the Ministry. The next morning, the noise made by the boys in the kitchen woke me up. Knowing I could sleep a bit more than them, I snuggled closer to George with a sigh of satisfaction. Wait a minute...

“What are you doing here?”

George groaned and pulled me closer to him. I shook him but he didn’t move, only muttering something that sounded like I’m too comfortable, you won’t make me move. 

“George, love, you’ve got to wake up. You go to the Ministry today!”

He turned a deaf ear. Understanding I had to do this the hard way, I took the only rational decision when George refused to get out of bed: I pushed him. He fell on the floor with a groan. 

“Y/N, what the hell?”

“You’ve got to go…” 

I was on the verge of falling asleep again when he lifted me and threw me on his shoulder. My scream came higher than usual, and George chuckled softly. 

“If I can’t sleep, you can’t either, love.” 

He arrived in the kitchen, and Fred, who was drinking a large cup of coffee, didn’t even lift an eyebrow when he saw us. I realized this wasn’t uncommon and he had to be used to such situations with us. George threw me on the couch, almost sending me crash on the floor, and literally jumped on me. He approached his face in order to kiss me. 

“George,” I whispered. “You stink.”

“You too. Shut up and kiss me.” 

I gladly obliged, and I swore we would have made out right here if Fred hadn’t cough very loudly. 

“You’re really adorable, but I want to stay innocent, thank you very much.”

“Innocent?” George stifled a laugh. “Mate, you’re no longer innocent. Remember when you brought Angelina in our dorm and then I came in with Lee and you were -”

“It was your fault. You should have knocked.”

With that, he looked at us with a false horrified expression, and left, mumbling we had a lot to learn in terms of decency. George rolled his eyes and put his head on my chest, making himself comfortable while being careful I was too. My hands found their way to his soft hair. We stayed like this a few minutes, enjoying each other’s warmth, listening to each other’s breath, until Fred came out of the bathroom. 

“You know, I really feel like I’m always interrupting.” He said with a cheerful tone. 

“Because you are.” grumbled George. 

He got up, keeping my hand in his the longer he could before heading in the bathroom. I glanced at Fred: he was wearing a green suit and ruffled a bit his hair. 

“You’re sure you’re gonna be okay?” He asked. 

I looked up to see his worry eyes.

“You know, George is right, with everything happening -”

“Don’t worry Fred, it’s your big moment!” I said. 

He grinned but I knew better than this: these two idiots would stop worrying about me when they would be back, not a second before. George came out of the bathroom and we went in the shop. It was still closed, so I didn’t mind wearing my pajamas. Fred went in the back shop probably to take the boxes that contained the hats. 

I felt George’s hands on my hips and his lips sweetly kissing each part of my skin they could reach. His mouth moved in my neck and he lightly nibbled the soft spot under my jaw before attacking my lips. Our tongues found each other for a sensual dance, and our hands started travelling across the other’s body. We had to pull apart way too soon for our liking, but I couldn’t resist the urge to press my forehead against his. His eyes were closed and his lips were curled up in a peaceful smile. I heard the door of the shop and assumed Fred was waiting outside for his brother. He knew his brother was worried and didn’t want to interrupt, that was really sweet of him. As much as I hated it, they had to leave. 

“Love, you have to go.” I whispered.  

“I don’t want to… I want to stay with you.”

His breath tickled me.

“You don’t want to make your fanclub waiting in front of the Ministry, do you?”

He opened his eyes and threw me a playful look. 

“I had almost forgotten them!” he exclaimed. “I have to join them right away then!”

But he pressed me against his chest once more, obviously unable to let me go and, to be honest, I didn’t want him to do so. 

“The later you leave, the later you’ll come back.” I pecked his lips. “Besides, Fred is going to barge in soon and he’ll drag you outside whether you like it or not.”

“I understand, you want me to go.” He faked a hurt expression. “Keep the galleon with you, love, okay? If anything happens -”

“I will warn you, I promise.” One last kiss. “Move your ass, love.”

George smiled at me and left the shop. I watched him as he joined Fred, probably receiving a sarcastic comment because he hit lightly his shoulder, and they disappeared with a pop I would have heard if I had been outside. Without realizing it, I had shoved my hand in the pocket of the jacket I had put on. My fingers were holding firmly the galleon Hermione had given me back at our last year at Hogwarts. It was originally used for the Dumbledore’s Army communication, but we had slightly transformed the charm so that Fred, George and I could send short messages if needed. It was quicker and more discreet than owls. I promised myself to keep it with me all day long before joining the flat above the shop. I got dressed with the traditional magenta robe and came in the kitchen to find a little black owl perched on the table. I recognized it; it was Verity’s. I quickly unfolded the piece of parchment it had brought me and read the message. 

I’m sorry, I’m terribly sick, I won’t be able to work today. Verity

I quickly scribbled some words to wish her a good healing and sent back the owl. I sighed when I realized I would be alone all day long and summoned up courage. If I was alone, I should head downstairs and start my day the sooner possible. 

Despite me being alone, the day went at the speed of light. It was a very busy friday, and the little shop was always crowded with customers, both delighted children and amazed parents. It was also really loud in there, but I was now used to it. I had been there everyday since the beginning of the holidays, but I still could see why this place was so magical. Of course, the shelves covered in potions of all types and the fluffy Pygmy Puffs helped, but it wasn’t what I prefered here. It was like another world where everyone would be a child again, and even the stricter parents would melt in front of their children eyes when they were full of stars. 

The stream of customers slowly decreased and I eventually found myself alone in the shop without knowing when the boys would come back. I had kept the galleon with me without needing to use it, and I was kinda relieved the day was almost over. They owe me a free day, it’s too difficult to be alone here, and I haven’t even eaten. Indeed, the last thing I had swallowed was a piece of bread before heading downstairs with George and my stomach was seriously rumbling. However, I still had some things to do before being free. I checked the hour and saw the shop would officially close twenty minutes later. Even if I didn’t think any customer would come that late, I let the door open. With a wave of my wand, the less fragile products came from the back shop and landed on the shelves. However, I preferred storing the potions myself, it would prevent the accidents. I was filling the pink tray of love potions when I heard the door opening. I quickly looked up, hoping the boys were back, but it was a man who entered the shop. He nodded to say hello, and I smiled politely at him. 

“I’m going to put the Pygmy Puffs in their cage, will you buy one?”

The man shook quickly his head and glared at the furballs. I summoned the cage and carefully placed them all in it. I brought back the cage in the back shop and put it on its shelf. I fed them and gave them water. 

When I had left him, the man seemed absorbed by the Edible Dark Marks, but when I turned the heels to go back in the shop, he was blocking the way. His large silhouette stood in the door frame. Unconsciously, I slipped a hand in my pocket and reached the galleon. This gesture seemed to worry him and I didn’t realize he had cast a spell until the red flash of light hit me. I flew backward, abruptly landing on the shelves behind me. I vaguely heard a concert of high-pitched screams. I froze in fear when the man stood in front of me, dominating me with his full height. He grabbed the collar of my robe and lift me as if I weighed nothing.

“I won’t hurt you if you give me the money.”

His voice was hoarse and his eyes sent me a burning glare. I wanted to answer but the fabric was strangling me and I vainly tried to get rid of his hand. Seeing I couldn’t make him release me, I tried to kick him as hard as I could, but I was getting weaker and weaker because of the lack of air. 

“You’re asking for it.”

He violently dropped me on the floor and my head hit a wooden box left here. 

“Give me the money, now!”

I was sure he was pointing his wand on me but the dizziness took over me and my sight was blurry. I tried to get up. The only coherent thought my poor brain could produce was that I needed to get rid of him. Until now, I had forgotten about the galleon, but my wand was nowhere to be seen and I would have been unable to cast the appropriate spell. I limped to get out of the back shop and the man pushed me toward the counter. I barely stayed up, the only thing preventing me from falling down being a shelf covered with candies. I looked at the counter, unable to process how to give him the galleons. I was roughly aware of the radiating pain in my head and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I didn’t hear the man’s repeated shouts, nor did I hear the door of the shop opening. All of sudden, the atmosphere went black and, if I hadn’t fainted at this very moment, and if my brain wasn’t so slow, I would have understood the man had used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to disappear. 

I didn’t open my eyes right away. I heard whispering next to me, but it took me a few seconds to recognize who was talking and what they were saying. According to what I understood - which maybe wasn’t really reliable - Fred and George were debating whether they should bring me to St-Mungo’s or not. 

“It won’t be necessary…” I whispered. 

I wasn’t sure it had come out as I wanted, but they probably had understood because all of sudden, I felt them dangerously close to me. I finally opened my eyes to see George’s face a few inches away from mine. When my eyes met his, he sighed in relief and laid in to kiss me. 

“You scared me, love…” he murmured. 

Even if he didn’t say it, I knew perfectly he was feeling guilty. I knew at some point he would tell me it was his fault, he shouldn’t have left me alone, it would never happen again. I was pretty sure it was Fred’s case too. George helped me sitting and I realized I was on the couch of the small living-room. A few vials of potions were on the floor, some empty and some still unopened. I also felt something tightening my head, and by touching it, I recognized bandages. 

“How do you feel?” Fred had been careful to keep his voice low in case my head was hurting. 

“Okay, I guess.” I replied. I didn’t wait for them to ask me what had happened, because I knew they would soon, and I summarized the situation. “This man entered about twenty minutes before the closure. He wanted me to give him all the money we had and he threw me against the wall. I couldn’t react, I didn’t know where my wand was and I couldn’t cast a spell to warn you.”

“It’s okay, Y/N, don’t worry. He’s gone, but I swear we’ll warn everyone in the Diagon Alley and Dad will know too. We’ll find him.” said George while stroking my hair.

A sigh of contentment escaped my mouth and I snuggled closer to my boyfriend. With a relieved smile, Fred lightly ruffled my hair and announced he would make diner. A delicious smell hit my nostrils, but all curled up in George’s arms and tired of my long day, I had fallen asleep too deeply. The diner would have to wait.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Untitled angst for your Thursday evening.  A slight re-writing of the post-Carnival Operation events, featuring Adam and my Detective Aubrey.

Aubrey’s key slid into the lock and she leaned against the doorframe, hand hovering over the doorknob.  There was something unsaid between her and Adam, and she chewed her lip while trying to figure out how to broach the subject.

“You’re tense,” he commented, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat.  “Is it about...your friend?”

She closed her eyes at the tone that he used.  Do you have feelings for her? “I don’t regret telling you all that Bobby and I have a past,” she started slowly, turning to face him and raising her chin high. No, I do not.  “But please don’t use that tone when speaking about him.”

She watched as his mouth curled downwards into a deep frown.  “Are you worried about him?”

“It would be heartless of me not to be worried.”  She took a deep breath.  “Do you have time to come inside?”

The frown never shifted from his face, but he nodded.  “It would be wise to check your apartment for dangers,” he agreed, following her in as she opened her door and dropped her keys into the little ceramic dish shaped like a fox that sat on her entryway table.  Her boots came off next, then her coat.  Walking around in her socks, she took stock of her living room - sofa moved over, the easy chair next to it overturned, her coffee table on its side and all the contents that had once sat upon it strewn out nearby - and made her way into her kitchen to fill up her electric kettle.  Aubrey grabbed her favorite mug and plopped two bags of peppermint tea inside it before adding a generous dollop of honey and several spoonfuls of sugar.

“I very nearly married Robert Marks,” she started, her normally quiet voice sounding loud in the silent apartment.  She watched as Adam paused in righting her furniture, his movements deliberate as he placed things back where they belonged from memory.  A small part of her had to wonder if his precise movements were to keep himself from breaking any more furniture, or if something of hers would join Nate’s end table before this conversation was over.  “We dated for almost ten years and lived together for eight of them.”

“Apparently that did not come to be.” 

She flipped off the kettle as it finished its heating cycle and added the water into her mug.  “No, it didn’t.”

“What happened?”

Aubrey made her way over to the sofa and curled one leg underneath her.  She flexed her left foot, the same foot Adam knew had been injured to the point of her retiring early from her career as a dancer.  “I met Bobby during an interview.  At the time, he was a reporter for a prestigious Arts and Entertainment magazine in the city and was doing an article on the rising stars of the dance world.  As one of those up and coming dancers, we sat down at a cafe for our interview.  That interview turned into an invitation for lunch, and then a dinner date the next week.”  She cupped her mug in her hands and held it to her chest, not so much to drink it, but more for the warmth it provided.  “I was new to the city, I didn’t know anyone beside the people I’d made friends with in my company, and here was this charming guy, paying attention to me and making me feel like the most important person in the world.  I was young and impressionable.”

Adam moved away from the furniture and strode towards the windows, his hands pushing aside the gauzy white curtains as he checked for damage to the glass.  “You loved him.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I did.  I loved him very much.”

“And yet you’re not with him.  Why?”

She frowned and set her mug down on the coffee table.  “Because he didn’t love me.”  She twisted her fingers in her lap.  “Don’t get me wrong, I think he liked me, and he never treated me poorly, but he didn’t love me the way that I loved him.  The way that I wanted someone to love me.”

She stared at the space between the sofa and the chairs, swallowing thickly as she remembered how Bobby had fallen, the blue and white swirls of whatever disease the intruders had infected him with spreading over his handsome features.  “He was going to propose to me.  I found the ring while I was packing up his stuff.”  She gave a bitter laugh.  “It was gaudy as hell, but oh, I would have worn it proudly.”

“Why did you leave him?”

“I didn’t.  He left me.”  She reached over and picked up the mug again, this time taking a sip.  “When I was the principal dancer, I opened so many doors that were otherwise closed to him.  Want an interview with a director? Aubrey can organize it.  Tickets to see an opera for free, with backstage access?  My reputation and connections could arrange it.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was using me to further his career.  And then when I got hurt…” Her breath hitched and she curled further into herself.

“He cut his losses.”

She nodded.  “Without his meal ticket opening doors for him, he needed to find someone else.  That someone else just so happened to be a stage actress too new to the scene to know he was already taken.  My friends tried to warn me, but I wasn’t worried.  I was convinced that she was another of his close friends.”  Tears prickled at her eyelids and she angrily scrubbed them away.  “I was so stupid.  At least he had the decency to stay with me while I recovered from surgery, even if that meant he was sleeping behind my back for the better part of a month before he finally went you were my well of info, but now that well’s run dry.  No hard feelings, Aubs.”

Adam clenched his hands into fists at his sides.  “He didn’t deserve you.”

“I know that now.  Didn’t make it hurt any less then.  I just lost the one thing I was most passionate about and then the man I was ready to spend the rest of my life with all in the span of a few weeks. I had to get out, so I packed my belongings and came home.  I wasn’t sleeping at night, so volunteering for the night clerk position at the station felt like I was at least doing something productive instead of wallowing in grief.  I liked it so much that I enrolled in police academy training, and the rest is history.”

He seemed to hesitate, but eventually sat down on the edge of the sofa next to her.  “I understand why you’re upset about him now,” he said.  “I apologize for making light of your worry.”

“Thank you, Adam.”  Aubrey took another deep breath before turning so she was facing him.  “You should know by now that I respect you.  And you should also know by now that I...have feelings for you.  Feelings that I haven’t allowed myself to feel for anyone in the past four years.  I want to be as open with you as I can, which is why I need to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

She twisted her fingers again and pressed her lips tightly together, almost as if she could keep the words she was about to say at bay.  “Before the attack, I kissed Bobby.  Had we not been interrupted, I probably would have slept with him if he had asked.”

Adam paused for the briefest of seconds as he let what she just said sink in before he shot up from the sofa.  “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know that if...when Bobby wakes up, it’s the first thing out of his mouth!  I wanted to tell you first so it wouldn’t come as a shock.”

“Why would it even shock me, Detective?”  His arms were crossed in front of him almost as a shield to deflect whatever she said next.

“Because of whatever,” she gestured towards him.  “This is between us!”

“There is -”

“No.” she stood up and faced him, her arms stiff at her sides.  “I heard you talk with Nate tonight.  He can tell, just as I can that you feel something for me.  The carnival?  That picture?  Adam, that was real.  You can’t stand here and tell me otherwise.”

He sneered.  “If it was so real, then why were you so willing to sleep with your ex-lover tonight?”

“Because I was upset!  Jesus, Adam, I just…” she ran her fingers through her short hair, pulling at the strands in frustration.  “To hear you say that you felt nothing for me hurt, then for Bobby to show up when I needed someone the most...Look, I know it was wrong and I know that I would have regretted it tomorrow, but I’m so fucking tired of having something I want dangled in front of me only to be pushed aside and I wanted someone to touch me, someone to want me, even for only a moment.”

She stared up at Adam through blurred vision, willing the tears welling in her eyes to stay where they were, even as her lip trembled with each breath.  Those green eyes of his were cold, like flecks of glass, and her heart broke at the fact that she had been the one to dash any hopes of maybe someday being with him.  “The apartment is secure,” she said hoarsely, breaking eye contact.  “I’ll be fine by myself.”

Adam gave a slow nod before taking a step away from her.  “Lock the door,” he said quietly.  “I don’t want...it would be inadvisable to leave it unsecured.”

She silently nodded, hands clutching at the sleeves of her sweater.  How was it that only a few hours ago, she’d been so happy?  Aubrey followed him to the door, turning the deadbolt and the lock below it before pressing her palms to the door and looking out the peephole.  Adam was standing in the middle of the hall, his face to the door.  She watched as he raised a hand as if to knock, but then paused, letting his hand fall back to his side before slowly turning away.

Something hot slid down her cheek and she pressed her forehead against the wood, finally letting herself cry.  She let out a shaky breath, swearing that it felt as if someone was on the other side of her door, palms pressed just inches away from hers.

She was too much of a coward to look to see if it was the case.  Instead, she turned away and crawled into bed still in her street clothes, the blankets wrapping around her as she curled into a ball and fell into a restless, yet blessedly dreamless, sleep.

[jay-and-dean]

I don’t need you  Chapter 2 : Freaking super hero

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp​ that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings :  Swearing (duh). Mention of death. A tiny hint of jealous Dean. 

Words : 3k

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

__________________________

2.     FREAKING SUPER HERO

 Dean’s Pov

             All the lights. This apartment is big, and its windows are too. I look at the regular shadows of the metallic lines of the windows that divide her bedroom door into bended squares.

She offered us to stay at her place, opened the sofa bed, and disappeared behind that door. I just can’t sleep, again. I try to imagine I’m in my bedroom in the bunker, or on Baby’s backseat, but everything is so new to me here. I lost my bearings.

I stare around, my eyes wide open, now used to the weak darkness. Is it possible that she’s just better than us ? Like more up-to-date, trained by the cruelty of huge cities ? How can she do this alone ?

The walls are covered in those research papers, and, after a while, in the middle of this organized mess, my own name catches my eyes.

I get up in silence, trying not to make the mattress move too much, to let my brother sleep. Is it California that made him so insensible to lights and noises at night ? Maybe…

“Dean Winchester is a demon.” I frown, it’s a printing of a mail she got from someone called thathunter87, she hung it here and made a red line between that and a stolen page of a grimoire about demon cure. Why ?

On the table under all those articles and notes on the wall, a long desk, covered in books, notebooks and folders. It’s like she had hundreds of hunter journals, one for each subject.

Discreetly going through them, I find one called “Winchesters” and a shiver runs down my spine but the thought attached to it never reaches my brain. I open it. There are no photos, just mails from thathunter87 and pages of those Supernatural stupid books.

My eyes widen suddenly, and my heart misses a beat. Next to pieces of the books and a sketch of our anti-possession tattoo scribbled like she was thinking hard, a few words : Was John abusive to Dean ?

“Trouble sleeping ?” a whisper makes me jump.

I turn and my breath gets caught in my throat.

           She’s standing in the door frame, an oversized Hocus Pocus t-shirt hiding her upper thighs, and nothing covering her legs.

She looks so different now. Almost… cute. Her worn out t-shirt falling childishly like thin drape on her body, her face freed from any makeup and her hair going in every directions. I can’t help but imagine a morning after…

           She walks to me, pushing her messy hair out of her face. And I’m so caught up in this vision that I forget to hide what I was looking at.

“Oh… I’m sorry” she murmurs, taking the notebook out of my hands. “I know it’s not my business.”

I have no idea what to answer despite the thousands questions flying in my skull, and just keep searching her face, loudly cursing at myself in my head.

“How do you know us ?” I finally say low, my pupils dilating at the ray of the night light hitting her collarbone and I try to fight the electric feeling giving me goosebumps.

“Well, the Supernatural books saved my life” her whisper feels like her nails were grazing my back.

“How ?” I dare, my curiosity getting the best of me.

She chuckles but a shadow crosses her face, a shadow of fear and pain, something weak and lonely, everything she usually hides so well.

“Dark days… I… I lived in the street a long time ago” she looks down. “I needed to believe in heroes I guess.”

Her smile is soft and kind for a second, making me almost believe I could take her in my arms, like an old friend, like a lover. But she sighs, and it’s like she had breathe out everything soft, her eyes become stern and her neck straighten.

“Jimmy doesn’t whine too much ?” she asks, pointing at the laundry room with her chin.

“Not a sound” I assure her, and she smiles dangerously.

“I threatened him a lot.”

 Reader’s Pov

             I walk to the laundry and open the door.

“Ah good you’re there” Jimmy starts right away, making the chair creak. “I-…”

But I cut him.

“One more word and you will regret it, Jimmy. Remember what I said : If my guests sleep bad because of you, I cut your cock, to see if it grows back on an immortal.”

I close the door and give Dean a little corner smile.

           Sam grunts and turn in the sofa, taking all the cover with him. I chuckle and take a glass of water from the kitchen sink.

“Sleep, Dean, tomorrow will be a long day” I murmur walking back to my room, hoping my own thoughts will stop harassing me.

 *******

             I get up and grab my clothes, lazily walking to the bathroom. On my way to it, my eyes glance at the brothers on my sofa, Dean is still not sleeping.

           He looks at me in silence, his piercing eyes following me when I cross the room, but I don’t say a word to him. I know he’s familiar with nightmares, he would hear it in my voice.

           Having them here somehow brought bad memories. It’s a paradox : They saved me from very bad moments in my life, but meeting them makes me think a lot about those dark times, and since I know they’re in town, my own demons are screaming at me. Or maybe knowing I will see Holloway tonight…

           I enter the bathroom and put my clothes on the chair next to the shower. I have to be prepared. In the shower I repeat my plan in my head. I have nothing left to lose, so nothing can end worse than it already is. If I feed, if I become a vampire, I know the Winchesters will end me, and I would finally die peacefully, knowing at least I tried. If I miss Holloway, I will have him next time… If I just die, well it will be over, at last.

           Sam and Dean will try to talk me out of it, I know that, and I’ll have to be very firm, because they can’t make that mission fail. There was a time when I needed heroes, now I don’t.

           The shower turns cold again, ripping me out of my thoughts, I grunt and rinse quickly under the familiar freezing jet.

Naked, I look at the mirror, using the sight of my scars to focus my anger. This is the cut they made on me to taste my blood, after they killed my family… my finger graze the little straight scar on my arm ; this one is the knife cut I got from that rape attempt when I was in the streets. This is fangs, I hate this one.

Then the transformation starts.

Like every day, I put on my mask : The outfit I use to remember who I am, and to forget who I was.

           I feel like putting on an armor the second I start to draw my eye-liner cat’s eye line. And by the time I tighten the ribbons of my corset hard, nothing in me is vulnerable anymore. My back is straight and held, my eyes are dark…

           I’m going to kill them all.

 Dean’s Pov

             She comes out of the bathroom, dressed like that warrior she is, tough and sexy, transformed, unrecognizable, like a freaking super hero.

But I will never forget the cute girl I saw last night.

“I have coffee” she says when Sam sits up, looking around like he was wondering for a second where he was. “And I can make eggs, I don’t want my side kicks to be hungry.”

Her voice sounds slightly different on the word “hungry” and, knowing she lived in the street, I guess she knows what truly hungry is…

I nod and Sam thank her but she’s already in the kitchen. I get up, joining her behind the counter to help her with anything she would need. The truth is, I just want to be around.

I notice a man big jacket on a chair and wonder who she could invite here, despite hunters. Is she really alone ? Does she have friends ? Lovers ?...

“I have no sugar” she states sternly.

And once again, I’m mute, taking the mug she hands me to break eggs in an old pan.

           Suddenly, the walls tremble and the power goes off, the only light she had turn on going off, and the few device she has dying. She sighs but keeps cooking on her gas stove like it was nothing.

“Your stomach is noisy” she chuckles.

“Sorry” I mumble, making her raise an eyebrow.

           She puts the plates on her coffee table with two cups of coffee, going back to the kitchen to take a mug for herself. Only two plates.

“You don’t eat ?” Sam asks.

“I don’t like eggs” she shrugs. “And I have nothing else, I’ll buy something later.”

“I can go to buy you something” I state, really uncomfortable with her not eating with us.

“Eat, Dean. I can handle myself.”

           A knock on the door makes Sam and I frown.

Keeping her coffee cup in her hand, she grabs her gun, puts it in her belt in her back, and walks to the door. Sam and I get up, even if we can’t see the main door from here, we’re ready to fight.

“Hey Y/n. Was it the Winchesters ?” a man voice greets her.

Y/n…

“Yeah. There are no more eggs, I gave them the ones you bought” she answers.

“You feed them now ?” the man mocks. “I bought you a chocolate muffin.”

Why does that annoys me ?

           She appears in the room again, followed by this guy, Joe, the bartender. He’s a very tall –Sammy tall- strong guy with long blond hair in a bun. Freaking hipster.

           When he sees us, he frowns, and look at her like she was insane.

“What are they doing here ?” he asks, making my brother raise his eyebrows at his rudeness. “Wait, Y/n, did they sleep here ?”

“I invited them” she shrugs, sitting to unwrap her chocolate muffin. “Sam, Dean, this is Joe. Joe, bla bla.”

I can’t help smiling at her attitude, but Joe doesn’t. It’s like he didn’t want us to be here, like he was threatened by us somehow… And it suddenly hits me. The chocolate muffin, the things he “forgets” at her place, the worry.

He’s in love with her.

“I have to buy a few things for tonight” she states, ripping a little part of the muffin between her fingers, to slip it between her lips, licking her index a little when chocolate stick on her skin.

“Do you want me to come with you ?” Joe immediately says and I have to blink to not roll my eyes.

“No” she states, then she turns to Sam. “You already made the cure for your brother, I heard.”

“Y-yeah” Sam hesitates. “But are you sure…”

“Then” she cuts him. “Could you prepare it while I’m out ? I already have all the ingredients… And Jimmy.”

“What are you talking about Y/n ? You’re not doing it ? Tell me you’re not doing it.” Joe asks, looking around and she sighs, getting up.

“Okay listen” she states. “All of you. If you have something to say about my plan, you can walk out the door now. I can do this alone. I don’t need you.”

She puts the rest of the muffin in Joe’s hands and take her coat.

“I’ll be here in a few hours, don’t kill Jimmy accidentally with day light, and don’t, well… I don’t know, be stupid. Sam, the ingredients are on the sill, and if you don’t want to do the cure, just… Okay” she says before she leaves, a silence falling on us.

 *******

           I don’t like Joe, the guy stayed with us for no reason, like he wanted to survey us.

           Sam is looking in the box, trying to find a bowl to mix them. And the bartender and I are left practically staring at each other.

“Did you guys convinced her it was a good idea ?” he finally speaks.

“What do you mean ?” I grunt. “Of course not ! This is a terrible idea. I should go, not her.”

Sam lifts his head form the bowl and looks at me with a disapproving frown.

“She will kill you” Joe chuckles darkly. “You have no idea how bad she needs to get them, you have no idea what she’s been through.”

“Well, I won’t let her get killed by those freaks” I state.

“Dean…” my brother speaks. “She knows them way better than we do, this is her plan, her hunt. I think she knows what she’s doing, and you’ve seen her… She’s a great hunter.”

I sit down, sighing, rubbing my face with both hands. Am I supposed to stay there, watching her run to her death ?

 Reader’s Pov

             I take another sip of whiskey, letting the smooth notes of blues wrap me in the comfortable atmosphere of the small bar. I knew Joe would stay with them, and looking behind the bar, I give his colleague a little smile.

           I sigh with the little bottle in my hand, making the thick poisonous liquid redden the sides of the glass.

           I can’t go back to my apartment. They must already be making plans to force me to stay home. I know them. In a way I Know the three of them.

Joe is my friend, and I know he thinks we should be more than that, those ideas of “saving” me spoiling his mind for years, like I was some kind of precious bird with broken wings.

I am not.

I’m not broken or damaged. I’m just furious, a storm of rage boiling in my veins. And he can keep his fairy tales for him. Unconditional love is not going to save me. I told him that, and refusing any kind of proximity with him, I think I made it very clear. But he will always try to save me.

And the Winchesters… They are heroes. Self-sacrifice is burned in their genes. They are as determined to protect everyone they meet, as I am to kill Holloway.

The early winter night is announcing its rise with a pink ink in the city sky. I finish my glass and take my phone.

Did Sam prepare the cure ? I send to Joe.

I get up and walk to the bathroom to check my look on the mirror. Arranging my hair, I practice my smile. It has to be innocent, charming and seductive.

He did. We have to ad Jimmy’s blood but only once you’re turned. Oh God, please don’t do that. Why didn’t you come back ? Where are you ? The night is almost there, and the Winchesters are sneaky. I stayed with them to make sure they don’t rummage through your stuff, but they’re asking questions. Why did you let them stay at your apartment in the first place ? Joe answers in four messages in a row.

Because I don’t really care.

           I put money on the counter and greet the woman behind it, getting out.

           Dead man’s blood capsules in my purse, my vampire killing knife in my boot, another thin slightly longer blade in back along my spine. The magical burning oil in its little flask. That’s all I can take with me. I stuff my purse with lipsticks, random keys, foundation powder and other useless things, in case someone looked into it.

I will drop my guns and other weapons in the trash cans outside the club. I already spent two hours looking at it to be prepared. I know every entrances.

It’s time.

I walk to the alley I slept in so many nights. I don’t know why I chose to do it here, probably because I so often thought I would die here. It’s smaller than I remember, darker too.

On the wall, the drawing I had made, the anti-possession tattoo my heroes wore in their skin. I was sure it would protect me from my own demons, I was so sure it would. I used to put my hand on it when hunger made me so weak I couldn’t stand, when cold was biting my skin ; and when despair was beating me up, telling myself it would make me go through the night.

At least I thought it helped. The truth is, I was alone, and I was the only one fighting all this, the only one that could help me.

I put my finger on it.

“I met the Winchesters” I whisper to the girl I was, to the childhood that died here, wishing I could hear that in the past. “They’re even more handsome than you thought” I half smile, fighting the tears. “But they are not going to save you. You are. It ends tonight.”

           Taking the little bottle in my hand, I close my eyes for a second. I hate vampires. I have to focus on that, I have to be strong, and merciless.

If I become a vampire for good. They have to kill me. I send Joe.

Then I open the flask and drink it in one go.

 Dean’s Pov

             “She answered !” Joe exclaims, getting up to read her long-awaited text.

When he frowns, my heart starts to beat faster. She never came back and now night is here. I’m going nuts, I can’t just stay on this stupid couch.

“She…” the bartender says, but he doesn’t finish, just showing us the text.

Sam runs to the laundry door and opens it.

“Did she take your blood ?” he almost yells and my pupils dilate.

When the vampire chuckles darkly, Sam turns to us.

           She’s already gone.

________________________

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[rotationalsymmetry]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well. I saw your post about UUs and I myself am one as well! I was wondering if maybe you could explain some of the issues there are in UU congregations so I can better understand what’s going on. I can’t change much, but I’d like to know what can be improved and how I can better use my privilege. Thank you :)

Hi there. Thanks for reaching out. I think. Oof. Are you sure you want to ask this? I don’t have a really straightforward “here’s precisely what Unitarian Universalism needs to do to improve (broken down into concrete, realistic steps!)” I have a whole tangle of feelings and personal biases and incredibly subjective experiences. OK? All right. With that disclaimer out of the way. Eh, actually, more disclaimer: all institutions have problems. There are things that Unitarian Universalism does better than most other religious institutions. There’s a reason I was going off about what I like about UU before what I dislike. This is not saying that Unitarian Universalism is bad. OK?

Putting in a cut because this is long:

Unitarian Universalism has an ongoing, well-known problem around being kind of fuzzy around what it is and what it wants to be. Do we draw on multiple faiths, and if so what does that look like in practice? Are we Christianity lite? Are we basically a bunch of secular humanists who like to get together and sing sometimes? How far exactly does (or should) our tolerance stretch?

Unitarian Universalism has a whiteness issue and a class issue. Now, I’m white, so the race part isn’t mainly coming from my own experience. There’s something I’ve seen that sums it up well, but I can’t find it right now. Basically: there’s a bit of a tendency for UU’s to nominally want to more diverse congregations, but when a new person of color shows up, sometimes they get treated kind of...weirdly. Like they’re not one of us and not going to be.

a bit more on UU and race here: x

And, class wise, I was raised middle class, but I’ve been broke for an awful lot of my adulthood and a lot of the people I know in my generation (Millenials) are broke/struggling financially. So when the lead minister of my congregation made some random comment about having trouble attracting young people because church and brunch with friends are competing for the same time slot. I thought of a young adult in the congregation who was active in the youth group but couldn’t make it to Sunday worship because he had to work on Sundays. And the time one of my coworkers got a promotion at my workplace, and definitely she was competent and I don’t begrudge her getting it, but also she ended up working an awful lot of Sundays and that was very likely a factor in her getting the promotion. And I’d been trying to avoid pledge drive Sunday for years because it always, every time, made me feel like I wasn’t really welcome if I couldn’t contribute much financially, even when I was contributing a great deal of my time. This is subjective and it could mostly be an issue with my then congregation. But I don’t think it is.

While Unitarian Universalism likes to think of itself as trans friendly, and it’s certainly much friendlier than some denominations, sometimes it drops the ball. Here’s an apology for an article about trans people that centered a cis person’s perspective and had some other issues: x

Anecdotally, subjectively, etc: this is an issue across the board. Unitarian Universalism’ self-image and what the organization actually is has a substantial gap. I attended a few workshops at GA this year, and: on the surface, great! So many workshops on such great anti-oppressive topics! But...when I actually went to the workshops, it was unsatisfying. It felt very introduction-ish. Maybe that was on purpose. But...I was hoping for better. 

Super anecdotally: UU’s tend to forget that disabled people exist. UU’s tend to not support disabled people and parents of disabled children.

Back to the “are we Christianity Lite?” thing. I dropped out of seminary. One part of thatwas this: x  Another was that at the time (it’s apparently since changed) the MFC requirements (uh, this is getting a bit technical: congregations ordain ministers, but in practice fellowshipping is important as well, and that’s what the MFC does, basically it’s saying other UU ministers think you should be a UU minsiter) prioritized knowledge about Christianity and the Bible over knowledge of other religions, even though nominally Unitarian Universalism is not Christian and Christianity isn’t especially prioritized in our Six Sources. As someone who is not Christian and didn’t expect my future ministry to involve a lot of Bible talk and really didn’t think prioritizing knowledge of the Bible among our religious leaders was good for the denomination as a whole, this bothered me. A lot. (For what it’s worth, most Starr King classes were actually really good at not doing this.) (The classes that did, though, made me want to tear my hair out. And made me wonder if this denomination I was studying to be a minister in, was the same as the denomination I’d participated in as a lay person for years.)

This is hard to put into words. But: sometimes people will say they believe a thing, but their follow-through is bad. Or they say one thing but act another way -- not because they’re lying, but because what they believe on the surface hasn’t been fully internalized. This is, anecdotally etc, a really common issue in Unitarian Universalism.

More super anecdotal etc: UU’s need to break the habit of seeing RE as daycare, and worship services that involve kids as being about showing off the kids to the adults. I took a quick look at you and it says you’re 18, so if you grew up UU you probably have your own opinions on this. But...sometimes the adult congregation and the kids’/youth programs are entirely separate worlds, and that’s not healthy for congregations.

YMMV: I’m not a huge fan of approaches to worship that involve sitting passively for most of the service. If the worship is going to be the same whether you’re there or not, why bother showing up? (Obviously some congregations are more like this than others, and apparently some people like the “lecture and a concert” format?? I’m not one of them.)

Basically, I think UU’s need to work on connection more and mutual support of each other more. While I approve of the social justice focus of course, social justice starts at home. You need to support the people who are actually in your congregation. I moved a year and a half ago, and haven’t joined my local congregation. Why? Because my illness makes it almost impossible to go anywhere in the mornings, and while they livestreamed each worship service, before the pandemic (presumably it’s all zoom worship now), there was zero effort to actually include anyone watching the livestream. Not so much as a PDF of the order of service. No verbal acknowledgement that some people aren’t present in the room. Nothing. (Side note: I tried one worship service at a “normal” congregation after the pandemic started, and all the mourning of not being able to be together in person was extremely frustrating to me, since I hadn’t been able to attend in person worship before the pandemic either. No one was thinking of people like me, and it was really, really obvious. I’ve since joined Church of the Larger Fellowship.) You say you want to use your privilege. That’s great! Some thoughts.

Trans people: How’s your congregation on pronouns? If your congregation uses nametags, can you push to normalize people putting their pronouns on nametags? What’s the bathroom situation: is it clear that trans women (whether you currently have any trans women in your congregation or not) can use the women’s bathroom? Is there a unisex bathroom that non-binary people and binary people who don’t feel safe using “their” bathroom can use? Also: a lot of older people weren’t raised with this and never really caught up, (and tbf some young people are ignorant too) so there’s a need for some trans 101 education.

Disability: for zoom worship, is there closed captioning for people who have hearing impairments or language processing issues? For live worship, what’s being done to make sure deaf and hard of hearing people are included? What’s being done for blind people (eg, electronic copies of the order of service being available for people who are blind but have screen readers?) For people who just have a little trouble seeing, are there large-print orders of service? What about the agendas for committee meetings and so on? This doesn’t have a quick fix, but are there places in your congregation that can’t be reached in a wheelchair? What about the chancel? (ie that area that the minister and whoever else is leading worship is speaking from?) Is there a wheelchair-accessible entrance that’s open during worship but closed during other programming?

How’s ministry to people who are sick or injured or just too old to get out much? And: is that support available to newer or prospective members, or only people who contributed to the congregation first? How available is information on how to get that kind of support: is it a thing where only some people are in the know, or is there outreach?

Are there unspoken rules about who’s the “right kind” of person to be in the congregation and who isn’t?

Sexual harassment, abuse, etc: is there a clear way to report sexual harassment? Does everyone know what it is? Does the congregation have a policy for what happens if a congregant is accused of sexual abuse? If a minister is? What's the congregation’s child abuse prevention policy? Do the people who work/volunteer with kids know what to do if a child or teen reports abuse to them? Are they screened in any way?

What accommodations does RE make for special needs children? If a child needs one on one assistance, does the RE program force the parent to provide that assistance if the child is to be part of the program?

What’s the policy on support animals? (these days: what’s the policy on emotional support animals?) How are the needs of people with allergies or other issues with dogs etc, balanced with the needs of people who benefit from support animals? (This can be tricky, I’m not saying there’s a clear right/wrong here, but it’s something that can make a congregation inaccessible.)

I don’t know the details on this, but I know sensory issues can be a problem for some people, eg flickering overhead lights. Scents can be an issue for some people, one possible solution is to have part of the sanctuary marked scent-free, dunno how well that plays out in practice.)

Representation: who’s speaking up during worship, and what are they speaking about? Something to be aware of.

Us/Them language: especially relevant if you’re speaking to the congregation during worship, but important in casual coffee hour chat too: who’s “us” and who’s “them”? Do people in your congregation tend to talk about, say, people below the poverty line as “them”? Homeless people? Black people? Immigrants?

Finding ways of making small talk that aren’t “what do you do for a living?”

I haven’t said anything about racism yet; a lot of congregations have some sort of anti-racist discussion group or something? Those things are good; there’s only so much they do by themselves, but as part of a larger whole, they’re important. Also, presence at Black Lives Matter protests, putting up a Black Lives Matter banner or sign if your congregation hasn’t done that, stuff like that.

Oh, culture and music and stuff. What kind of music gets played. Congregations that have made a specific attempt to be multiracial often find it’s necessary to do a lot of hashing out of what the music is going to be like.

And there’s a representation aspect to who gets quoted.

Small Group Ministry/Covenant groups: my former congregation liked to ask what your demographic info is and then split things up for “diversity” purposes. This is actually a really bad idea. In a congregation that’s mostly white, it means that often the non-white people end up being the only non-white person in their groups. Great for white people who want to “experience diversity”, but not so great for actual poc. My congregation had enough queer people that it wasn’t one queer person per group, but I could see that maybe happening in other places. And I think it did tend to separate out trans people into separate groups.

Cultural appropriation/cultural misappropriation: uff. I think some people go off the deep end on this. But, some things to consider. If the congregation is doing something to celebrate a Jewish holiday, is it run by someone who is Jewish or is of Jewish heritage? Stuff like that. Sometimes Unitarian Universalists’ desire to be all multicultural and interfaith and stuff, leaves out important things like “is this part of the culture that it’s ok for outsiders to share?” and “are we actually in relationship with this group of people?” And “are we cherry picking messages from sacred texts that we like, and leaving out the stuff we don’t like, when it’s not our sacred text and we don’t have enough context to do that respectfully?” x for overview and in more detail x

Also RE: is this Native American story one that it’s actually OK for us to tell? I’m not necessarily suggesting you go over what other people are doing, but if you’re teaching RE yourself, you get a say in what you teach.

If you happen to be a UU pagan or there’s a CUUPS group at your congregation that you sometimes participate in, there’s kind of a ton of work about untangling cultural appropriation in specifically pagan spaces, honestly I don’t know where to start with that. Don’t put that on yourself if you’re not part of that kind of group though, focus on groups you are part of.

Land acknowledgements.

Oftentimes if someone brings up an issue that requires work to change it, especially a younger person, the people who get stuff done are going to be, “ok, that sounds like work, we’ve already got a ton on our plate so are you going to do it?” So, if you offer to do some of the work of running the congregation, you’ll be in a better place to implement these sorts of changes. (I know a lot of times older adults don’t want to trust young adults with responsibility, so it might take some time to earn trust.) But also some are things you can just do: like you can say your pronouns every time you introduce yourself or put your pronouns on disposable nametags, if you’re comfortable with it.

General advice: you don’t have to (and shouldn’t try to) change everything at once. Be aware of a lot of things and be willing to be a “follower” on a lot of things. Signing petitions, saying “yes, that sounds like a good idea,” stuff like that. Be a leader on a small, manageable number of things. Maybe see what other people in your congregation are already doing that seems like a step in the right direction, and see how you can support that. Some of what UU’s are already doing is already really good, and most likely there’s already people around you who want Unitarian Universalism to act in closer alignment with its ideals.

[d-l-dare]

“The Vegan Spiral”

Food is something that is on our minds more than we'd like to acknowledge. We think about it constantly as a means to survival. But what happens when the food we eat bites back?

Being the face of veganism on the internet is one of the most difficult things to do. In fact, if it wasn't for my husband, my Vegan Journey situation would not still be going on. I can't thank him enough, honestly, for helping me through the difficult time I've had carrying the channel for the past few months. It's pushed me to my breaking point and a little bit further. 

The Vegan Journey started out as a simple blog to document my progress into becoming a vegan and it spiraled into something much bigger than I ever could have thought. It began with me posting the video that went viral of me fighting with someone at a slaughterhouse. It went further than I could have imagined when one of my fans apparently killed that man. He's currently rotting in jail. I had so much backlash from that all those years ago. I had to fight a lawsuit from the family of the victim and tried so hard to make people forget that the tragedy ever happened.

But things are better now. At least they were before I could feel the media breathing down my neck, asking me why I've been so secretive lately. The reason I gave them, which was a perfectly valid one, was that I needed some time to myself. Nobody liked the sound of that. 

I was sitting down on my couch with my husband after a long day of filming and editing another video to go up online. I was exhausted and needed some time to relax in my husband's arms. We were watching the news. I mainly enjoyed it because I might get lucky and find something in the news associated with veganism. My husband likes watching it because he thinks the real world is more satisfying than any of the fake stuff they show on television.

I could feel myself getting lost in his warm embrace and went to kiss him. His attention was drawn and stuck to the television.

"Babe, you need to see this," he said, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume some. I waited for the volume bar to go away so I could see the caption at the bottom of the screen. 'Farms are shutting down for deadly plants.' What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"We bring you some sad news today as hundreds of people are dying from an unknown poison excreted by plants," the tv anchorwoman said. "Scientists have never seen anything like this. They are quoted by saying, 'it seems like they plants are alive.' More on this story tonight at 10."

I turned to my husband with wide eyes. "I have to warn my community."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and went to iTube to start a live stream. People began joining by the tens, then hundreds.

"Hey guys, the Vegan Journey here," I started, trying to contain the terror I felt toward my community. "I just saw on the news that there is an unknown poison in the fruits and vegetables that is killing a ton of people around the world. I don't know what we're going to do about this but we'll figure something out. In the meantime, try to eat anything organic you can, like bread or eggs or something that doesn't come directly off of a farm."

I ended my live before I could have a bunch of haters swarming in and calling me a fake vegan again. I don't know how they came up with a ridiculous claim like that.

*** A few days have passed since the incident on the news and I was informed over the past few days that a large group of followers have unfortunately lost their lives. I spoke about it as much as I could, assuring people that we would be strong and power through this tragedy.

But this morning I turned on the television to find my face plastered on the news. I turned up the volume to see what they were talking about. Probably the loss of my community.

"The Vegan Journey is allegedly faking being a vegan," the anchorwoman said. I was appalled by such an accusation, and on live television. "According to sources, if she was a vegan like she claimed to be, she'd be dead by now."

This angered me so much that I took to starting another live and communicating this to my fans. Only to find that as I was talking, the entire chat was flooded with people calling me fake. Was there not a single person out there that believed me?

"Okay guys," I said. "You caught me. I'm not a vegan anymore. I haven't been for a few months." As the words came out of my mouth, there were so many fans reacting in disappointment. "I stopped because I was sick and my doctors told me I could die if I keep going on like this. So I don't eat organic food. I get my husband to buy it for me because if I was caught in public buying this stuff, you all would have found out immediately."

I saw a ton of chat members asking why I did it.

"I didn't come clean to you guys because I knew my image I'd worked so hard to create would not only be destroyed, but I've had fans that have actually killed for me. I feared for my safety."

After the explanation I was in tears and ended the stream.

*** After a few days, I took down my channel and my blog. There was no reason for me to continue a lie. The Vegan Journey was no more.

I heard a knock at the door. I was skeptical to answer it, as my husband wasn't home. I figured I'd have to face my truth sooner or later. If it is a fan anyways. I pulled open the door and a man pushed me back and stepped inside, slamming the door behind him.

"You don't know me but I know everything about you," the man said, pinning me down. "I'm the man that killed for you, my queen. Well, I just escaped prison. I mean, it wasn't that difficult, since the guards killed over in the middle of their shifts. We grabbed the keys and made our escape. The first thing I did was to make sure you were okay. Wouldn't you know it, I saw an article saying you admitted to being a fake. Did I really spend all those years in prison for a fraud? It should have been you rotting in there, not me."

He pulled a knife out of his back pocket and raised it over my head. "It looks like The Vegan Journey is coming to an end." He brought the knife down over my head.

[springday-aus]

Rich Kid!AU with Suho [Junmyeon]

moodboard link 

Group: EXO 

Member: Suho / Kim Junmyeon

Genre: romance + lowkey reality check 

Type: Bulletpoint AU 

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Suho has a black card and what else was I to do with this information? 

yes, I am making Junmyeon into one of those rich ass fuckboys

you know the ones I'm talking about

the ones that have an endless amount of cars

(and prob names them)

the ones who you can literally tell has not worked a day in his life

despite having so much money, he's dressed like a hobo

but it's like the branded shit

like Supreme or Gucci or Chanel

(and whatever else is trendy)

so it’s “fancy”

unless he's gotta go to like a charity event that isn't really for charity

then he's like in a suit

hm.... when he gets dressed up

he gets dressed up

anyways

let's start from the beginning

he inherited his money from his parents, who inherited it from their parents, who inherited it from their parents.. and so on and so forth

so the Kims have like a shitload of money

like

LOADS

like "I can swim in my own money" loads

except he tried it once when he was a kid

lots of paper cuts

also the gold coin thing

wow did that hurt

it was not a fun day for rich kiddo Suho

and this is very stable money, i.e. old money

so you can only imagine the amount of people who are practically kissing their asses to get partnerships and whatever else rich people want

oh my god, when his mother was supposed to get married—it was chaos, literally every man was throwing themselves at her feet

tsk, tsk, tsk—it was just sad

don't get mixed up, their parents are happy together

or at least they seem like it

lowkey it was an arranged marriage and, like all rich people, his parents like to call it a "partnership" more than a “marriage”

anyways back to Suho

if he's being honest about this whole thing, he doesn't know if he really wants to (or is going to) inherit the family business

he’s not even an official heir 

he has an older brother and Suho has watched enough dramas to know that the older ones are most likely to inherit the family business 

so what is he supposed to do? 

sure, they've been showing him what he's supposed to do

but does he actually know what he's doing?

or if he wants to do it?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

he's been living the same life he's been living since he was born

wake up, eat, shop, go home, sleep

yo, speaking of which

he legit cannot stop buying anything—he sees it, he wants it, he buys it

you know those ugly ass Gucci slippers

yeah, he got those

he bought two of them because they came in two colors

he wore them each like once and then it was never seen again

granted, he was shopping with Taehyung, one of his company managers who Suho had taken underneath his wing

Tae literally encourages people to buying stuff they don't really need

but like

he can afford lots of impulse buys

it's not like he's doing anything else

okay, that's a lie

he's also working at the office, but does it really feel like he's doing anything?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

anyways, let's get back to his horrible shopping habits

this is very important because this is how you come into the picture

he was out one day with Sehun, walking around one of the major shopping centers

just as they were leaving

there was a protest outside one of the department stores

the CEO had like 50+ charges of sexual assault and he was just let off

and wow

these people were angry

so where do you come in?

you….. you were in the front….

with a loudspeaker….

saying some things that…. no one should be saying with children present….

anyways

you were one of the people who’ve organized the event

because this asswipe was still working and got off with a warning from all of these assault charges????

you were not going to let this go

hence why you’re in the front, with your loudspeaker—spitting facts and roasting this man in front of his business

yeah, y’all were a bit of a smallish crowd

(a group of about thirty people)

but anyways

Suho saw you and

wow

his interest has been piqued

you were cute—yelling into your loudspeaker and your fist in the air

you have so much passion

Sehun has obviously noticed Suho had been staring at you for quite some time 

it’s hard not to notice

just as Sehun was just going to push Suho in the order direction, that shitty CEO steps out

and……. in front of you……

you remained calm, letting his douche canoe spit as he rambles on about how these women were all over-reacting and that you were an idiot for spending your free time here and that you were nothing more than a liberal snowflake

at this point, people were all recording on their phones but this man clearly didn’t care and just went ham on you

and as he pauses to breath, you take your chance: “I’m the snowflake and yet you’re the one who needs to chill”

you see the anger just explode in his eyes and, as he continues to yell, he raises an arm

just as he was about to swing at you, Suho steps in

right between you and the CEO, blocking you and grabbing his arm

Suho: “and what is it that you think you’re doing?”

CEO: “let go of me”

Suho: “and let you hit this stranger? aren’t you just embarrassing yourself even more?”

for the first time, you can see him flush with embarrassment as he realizes the eyes and the cameras that are on him

but then he snarls at Suho: “who the hell do you think you are?”

Suho smiles, but it’s as fake as this man: “I’m heir to the Kim business, I could make you disappear in two phone calls, would you like me to show you?”

he freezes, before yanking his arm out of Suho’s hand and walking off

muttering something about millennials

he finally turns to you, as the crowd starts to disperse

Suho: “are you okay?”

You: “I could have handled myself, pretty boy”

Suho: “you think I’m pretty?”

**cue Sehun facepalming on the sidelines**

you sigh, tired from him already: “I can’t deal with this right now, that asshole is still out there and I’m not resting until he’s resigned”

you turn away, not even bothering to listen to his response and immediately head off

Sehun: “you really managed to blow that opportunity”

Suho: “shut up and drink your milk tea”

later that day, he may or not have used some of his family’s money for something other than meaningless shit

he was looking you up—you’ve done a lot of things and you have so many achievements

as well as enemies

yikes

he’s seen a lot of these people at the Kim’s charity auctions

and at business meetings

and the parties his family throws at their party mansion

oof—this is not looking good for him or these people

so what else does he do?

he does a bit more digging on you

is it creepy? yes

should he be doing this? probably not

so what does he find?

your fb, instagram, twitter—all the social media you’ve got

this is what happens when you have a lot of free time and you’re rich 

he’s not really sure these accounts are your personal accounts though

there are pictures of you and the causes you’re involved with

but they’re not about you

he will admit that he’s very impressed with all of the things you’ve done

you’ve managed to make some major changes

environmentally, socially, and lawfully

(local laws ofc)

it wasn’t done without a lot of damages and enemies

but (from what he’s seen) you’re tough

next week, you’re leading another protest against a makeup company because of their false claims of being cruelty free

and their microplastic beads that’s polluting the ocean

and the high water demand due to the large amount being used in their products

jesus you have retweeted so many scholarly articles

and they’re like 40 pages long

Suho doesn’t think he’s read this much since college

(well his family paid their son’s way through, but you get what I mean)

he makes a note to shop there on the way sometime next week

just do he can see you again

the next week passes, more slowly than Suho had thought

as it comes, he goes ham on his shopping trips—he’s going to ALL the makeup department stores

never really buying anymore because he’s too busy on the lookout for you

he says it’s a “business trip”

(ignoring Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae + Sehun’s side eyes)

these people are really kissing up to his asses

literally getting up to his face and trying so many products on his faces

it’s like the spongebob episode when all those perfume people are spraying shit in his face 

yeah... imagine that 

his vision is getting blocked and his face is getting caked with every passing hour he spends

just as he was about to give up

the days roll around 

and he finally spots you outside the shopping center with your loudspeaker and protest signs

you’re in a group circle, talking with some other people 

who Suho is going to assume are other organizers

he manages to kind of sneak over as y’all are discussing 

you were discussing the main points and what the game plan was

Suho was just…. there…. 

you didn’t even know until everyone was dispersed to their positions

Suho: “so what can I do?” 

your eyes narrow at him: “pretty boy?” 

he smiles, so stupidly bright: “yeah” 

you eye him up and down: “are you lost? don’t you have a department store to get to?” 

Suho: “this is a department store” 

You: jesus christ 

You: “okay, in case there was another misunderstanding on my abilities, I can handle this” 

Suho: “I understand, I just want to help” :) 

you nearly growl at him, what an idiot 

you don’t realize you’ve been staring at him for a while, until a friend of yours steps up next to you and give you a little nudge 

your friend whispers to you: “he’s a Kim, his involvement would mean more exposure” 

you let out a deep sigh and shoo her away to deal with the stragglers who’ve just joined 

You: “do you know why we’re here?” 

Suho: “false claims of the makeup being cruelty free?” :)

You: “lucky guess” 

You: “okay fine, we’re gonna be here for a couple of hours—he’s arriving soon and then he’ll leave, just as he always does and we’ll have to rally in case he gets aggressive”

Suho: “okay, got it” 

he gives another smile and is so compliant, you figure he’ll be here for a bit and then leave 

but, to your shock, he’s there the whole you’ve been there

which is like two hours longer than the others were supposed to be there 

and even after the whole thing, he asks you what else is coming up 

with another push from your friend, you reluctantly share the information with him from your organization’s website and facebook group and all this other stuff

but let’s be real, Suho already knew some of this stuff due to all of his internet stalking

it doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate you sharing the information tho 

anyways 

he comes to the next one—just as you told him from last time 

and the other one

and another one

eventually, he just makes it part of his schedule to come and help out

at first, you didn’t really think he would show up

and when he does, you asked why

Suho: “I have a lot of free time”

somehow you don’t doubt that

the more he’s been coming, the more interested you were

not in the sense that “oh he’s so attractive for fighting for these causes alongside with me” interested

it’s more of the “what does this sneaky motherfucker want” interested

so you do some digging and it only confuses you more

shouldn’t be fighting his brother for that heir position for the Kim Incorporation?

why is he so interested in being part of this fight that involves… well, him?

isn’t he worried we’ll start attacking the Kims?

a lot of the other organization members notice it as well

because I mean, have you seen him?

(he is very attractive)

but also because this big name hot shot is at these small group protests, when he should be in a meeting or something

it doesn’t mean his efforts aren’t appreciated

he always gets the group things like food and supplies for strikes that last for longer than usual

for instance, you and your organization went to join teachers who were striking for a better contract with the school district

Suho came running with more posters, loudspeakers, shakers, coffee, sandwiches

the district teachers absolutely adored him—they even took pictures with him 

but, you will admit that it’s nice to talk to him, despite the differences in social class 

he likes talking to you too 

(maybe more than he likes to admit) 

it’s just 

you have this fire in your eyes 

the passion in your voice is clear 

and you know what you want and you go for it, without any mercy for anyone who gets in your way 

but you have that sensitivity and awareness and drive to help others that’s the whole point of you even being here 

he wishes he had that

but, these last few weeks

he actually feels good to help you out

whether it’s running for supplies or providing donations for causes you’ve told him about  

he feels purposeful

he feels good that he can help all these people and that his time is actually useful

and now, your organization is getting more exposure, which is nice

…. until the media gets involved and starts to paste Suho’s face on it

and that’s when you realize what he’s been doing

the Kim family had been using this whole thing as a reputation tactic

you feel stupid letting him into this

what you wanted to do was make a change for those who couldn’t advocate for themselves

and now all your hard work is being passed in the hands of some rich guy with way too much time on his hands

so, you did what you did best: dig some dirt on some filthy rich people

turns out there was a previous scandal with the family

they underpaid their staff

lots of people were getting low/little income and they were at a disadvantage because they were in a position where they couldn’t quit

when word got out, they said they would raise the wages

but some people say that these people didn’t

so you’re gonna find out—you snuck around their estate, talking to the staffers about the incident

most were unwilling to talk, but there were a couple of people who shared with you

they talked about they had medical bills, student debt, disabled family members, etc.

they had to work here and have to continue

apparently it was said that they would receive raises, but it isn’t livable—they only had 10 cent raises, but only after working for 5 years at a time

office workers obviously were higher up, but the servant staffers at the estate were taken advantage of

even after it was exposed, they didn’t really do anything about it

while you spent a couple of weeks snooping around

Suho had been at home

his parents were clearly upset because he’d been spending too much with the lower class

Mrs. Kim: “it’s good for our reputation, but you can’t keep spending your time with them”

Mr. Kim: “why can’t you be more like Dongkyu and spend more time in the office”

Suho: “I’m not even inheriting the company, why bother working?”

Mr. Kim: “of course you’ll inherit the company, alongside with your brother—it’ll be an even split”

Suho: “what if… what if I don’t want to inherit the company?”

Mrs. Kim: “what else are you going to do, if not a businessman?”

he doesn’t know why, but your face flashes in his head at that moment

in fact, you might get along with him better if he lost the inheritance

he wouldn’t be able to donate anymore

or get any supplies

maybe his support would be enough

the only question is to whether or not his family would cut him off

so, he speaks the truth

Suho: “I… I don’t know”

it’s been a couple of weeks since he’s seen you, so when he comes to the next meeting…

he was a bit excited

but when he comes

that fire is in your eyes once again…  but it’s towards him

Suho: “hey” :)

You: “so when were you going to tell me that you’re an absolute douche-bag”

Suho: “what?”

You: “your face is all over our hard work and now you get all the credit?”

You: “not to mention, you don’t say shit about all these people who you work with”

You: “also your family is garbage—really? underpaying the staff and lying about it?”

he’s…... speechless

on one hand, you’re right

and on the other…. you’re right

what is he really doing here?

is he actually making a difference?

you, on the other hand, you’re….

you’re amazing

you have been able to draw attention to all these issues

and you’ve been able to make these changes

you might not be filthy rich, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have any influence

Suho can’t really say anything other than…

Suho: “I’m sorry”

You: “you think that’s enough?”

Suho: “no, it’s not enough, I just don’t know what else I can say”

to be fair, you should be really pissed—you are pissed

but he looks so dejected

you remembered talking to him about his family ties and their family history… is not pretty

so you soften up a bit

just a bit

but only because it’s him

the one who always comes with a smile on his face

the one who comes with more than enough supplies because he wants to make sure everyone is comfortable

the one who hangs around you because he knows how tired you are

the one who stays and listens to you rambling for hours about a million different social issues

you put a hand on his shoulder

You: “you don’t always have to say it, sometimes it’s a matter of doing”

thanks to you, he decided to do something

for another couple of weeks he doesn’t see you

but you?

you def saw him

on the news

he got busy

he went on his usual schedule (like his parents wanted)

but this time

he wasn’t quiet about it

I’m talking about pointing out the environmental drawbacks of these products

calling out the people during the “charity” events

cutting of trade with those who don’t give fair wages

he’s even actually been trying to actually raise those wages for the servants in the Kim house 

(of course with the request of your help)

and wow

the news are just having a field day and eating it up

so that ultimately means his parents are seeing all of this

and what happens?

he gets cut off

he’s no longer inheriting the Kim fortune

Dongkyu is getting everything and he gets nothing 

but with your help, he’s a successful business consultant

turns out that business degree did do some good

he helps develop local businesses and the money he makes

not only goes to good causes

but also to help promote your organization

with the rightful faces on it

as for you two?

let’s just say, you’re a lot closer than before

seeing his drive to help others

the effort he makes to recover from his blissful ignorance

you’ve grown a soft spot for him

as for Suho

he’s glad he has you

you’ve made him a better person

made him realize all the different things he can do

you two working together + practically dating?

the organization members are eating it up

(and you’re pretty sure they were betting but no one would say anything to your face)

anyways

dating a former rich kid! Suho is a lot more fun than you would have thought before

lots of dates are at your (or his) apartment

mainly yours because he’s got a studio and has a roommate

(he is broke)

anyways

you spend a lot of time working on building cases against companies

it’s mainly work bc humanity is evil

but when y’all aren’t working

it’s cuddle timeeeee

you would put shows on, but y’all aren’t watching

you spend a lot of time in his arms

or him in yours

(he likes being a little spoon and isn’t afraid to admit it)

and, as his official partner, you are always supported by him

Suho: “WOO-HOO YOU GOT THIS ANGEL”

You: “omg it’s flipping an egg, I’m not receiving a medal”

it’s cute tho

and ofc you got his back

when he was kicked out of the house, you straight up wreaked havoc

all those people were spreading rumors, you shut that shit down

when he kicked out with nothing more than a duffle of clothes, you became his safe haven

you helped him get back on his feet 

found what he really wanted to do

and he was able to find someone really special

you ♡ 

[pergimelaut]

Books I read in 2020.

I was once platonically attracted to a friend. Not only did he tell me the name of the person he liked (not me, of course), but also the reasons why. I could’ve mentioned two or three, but one reason sank me in was, “Because she likes to learn.” He didn’t say that to offend me since that night was one of those meetings in which he is the spotlight of our conversations, yet I couldn’t help but feel offended. I thought, “That certainly can’t be me. I don’t like to learn.” I never did, actually.

It was a wake up call that, all this time, I had been stuck in the peak of Mountain Stupid, one of the stages of Dunning-Kruger effect—a phase where you were filled with nothing but arrogance and overconfidence, before the realization “you didn’t know anything at all” hit you like a bucket of cold water.

Well I didn’t change myself after that, though. But in my defense, I decided to read 70-something books in the third year of my student press organization’s membership (which I later failed) long before I had had the conversation with him. I had had my own reason at first, but whatever it was, it was slowly but surely shifted with an ultimate goal created due to that very night, “I want to like to learn.”

Long story short, I was able to read 33 books in 2020.

It’s nowhere near an achievement to be proud of, so I cancelled my plan to write about it and upload it on a platform where I could gain a higher chance he would read it. I know, I know, I shouldn’t seek validation from another person besides myself—after all 33 books were quite impressive for someone like me who don’t really like books, so I shouldn’t be embarrassed about it nor should I be disappointed with the fact that the plan must be cancelled as I was miserably failing, but, welp, so. Okay. In this post, I would like to tell you the books I read in 2020, sort by chronological order.

Yeah, I uploaded it on my personal blog instead, what a dramatic turn of events.

Manifesto Flora was the first book I read, finished it on 2 January 2020. I believe I started to read it on the last couple days of 2019, so it was kinda cheating. It’s a compilation of short stories. All of them were amazing but there was a short story that I really enjoyed titled “Bekas Teman Baikku”. The author had written a short story for a yearly student magazine organized by a student press organization I later joined.

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez was an amazing novel it earned 5 stars on my Goodreads account. My teacher had been telling us about it as he taught magical realism in Creative Writing class. I finished it in three days—I remember those days where I didn’t do anything besides reading; I woke up in the morning and started to read. That was the only thing I did all day. It almost felt like reading was my hobby. (Spoiler alert: It’s not.)

Hidup di Luar Tempurung was the third book I read. I wasn’t in the best mood to read at that time, but I pushed myself, ended up finishing it but also regretting it since I knew that this book deserved to be treated well. After that I read Bagaimana Tuhan Menciptakan Cahaya by Raka Ibrahim and O: Tentang Seekor Monyet yang Ingin Menikah dengan Kaisar Dangdut by Eka Kurniawan, ended up disliking both by simply because I didn’t enjoy them, I gave them 2 stars. 

Then, well. Global pandemic left me shell-shocked as everyone else, really.

One month nearly passed but thankfully I managed to finish the first e-book titled Filosofi Teras by the end of March. I liked the book at first, even for a short period of time I felt like I could rely on the book as I was trying to cope with anxiety, but turned out it’s a false hope since I simply couldn’t become that rational LOL. But topics about stoicism still got my attention though—perhaps it’d remain as something I could admire. Pulang by Leila S. Chudori was a really good book, another one with 5 stars. Later I learned that having 1965-ish as a setting for novels is mainstream, but since I hadn’t known that, it left me in awe.

Then I got tired.

I wasn’t in the mood to read any books, so I turned into Japanese books—my admittedly guilty pleasure. I read Naruto Secret Chronicles: Shikamaru’s Story: A Cloud Drifting in Silent Darkness, a light novel from Naruto based on Shikamaru’s perspective. Although I wouldn’t mention it as one of the books I read in 2020, it was surprisingly a good book. It taught me about Naruto’s universe beyond what I knew, such as politics and government involved. It helped set the mood, so I continued with Ichigo Doumei, another Japanese novel. It was a book mentioned in Your Lie in April, one of my anime recommendations. It’s a good, simple wholesome story that taught us to treasure the life we had. I disliked the female lead character, though—I still do.

I read Kubah by Ahmad Tohari, a novel my teacher once mentioned, which I dislike, and much hate later on, since it gave people wrong assumptions about PKI and what’s surrounding the 1965 tragedy. After that I fell into Kagerou Daze fandom where I spent a lot amount of time consuming the songs, manga, anime, and also light novels—making me successfully adding Kagerou Daze Vol. 3: The Children Reason, Kagerou Daze Vol. 4: The Missing Children, and Kagerou Daze Vol. 5: The Deceiving to my Goodreads’ bookshelf. The latter was my favourite among them. As I hyped with Japanese authors, I thought it was best to finish Before the Coffee Gets Cold, a Japanese novel I found from a post about, well, Japanese novel recommendations. It’s a fun experience; an enjoyable story with a heart-warming ending.

Four Japanese novels in a row brought me to cursed loop as I realized I had not “learned” enough. Whereas I did learn something with each Japanese novel I read, it wasn’t “learning” that I’d planned in the first place. 

August was a month where I thought, “Eh, maybe I like books,” because I read 8 books in one month. I read Setan van Oyot by Djokolelono, a book published by Marjin Kiri. The novel was well-constructed from the start to the middle part, but unfortunately NOT until the end. Another note: it didn’t bother giving us the translation of both the local and foreign languages used in the story, which is good! I also had the energy to consume Of Mice and Men, a classic book mentioned in Pulang. 

I had spent days in library and bookstore when I finished Hidup Begitu Indah dan Hanya Itu yang Kita Punya—it made me aspire to achieve the ability to write articles like Dea Anugerah, the author. I also read Ketakberhinggaan di Telapak Tangannya by Gioconda Belli which easily became one of my favourite books of the year.

I read The Heart is A Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers, another book with a writing style I would aspire to achieve. It’s a good social-realism novel covering racism towards black people, the life of a curious little girl, a perspective from a blind-deaf man, and the socialist guy—everything was set around the 1930s, written by a brilliant 23-year-old woman. It has some translation issues, unfortunately. Then I continued with Kekerasan Budaya Pasca 1965: Bagaimana Orde Baru Melegitimasi Anti-Komunisme Melalui Sastra dan Film. I’ve been wanting to be able to convey my thoughts in a well-constructed thesis like what the book did.

Tango & Sadimin by Ramayda Akmal was the next, and it was enjoyable even though not satisfying—at least it helped me discover my tendency towards social-realism novels. Then I read Xenoglosofilia: Kenapa Harus Nginggris? by Ivan Lanin—it didn’t help me that much despite its educational contents, but perhaps I just didn’t find what I was looking for.

September was a shameful month as I didn’t read any books AT ALL. I planned to read at least one book per month, that’s why I set 12 books in my Goodreads. My goal wasn’t to read books, but to like them, so what I set up was simply the habit. Looking back at what I did—finishing One Hundred Years of Solitude—I could read book all day if I want to. But I want to become someone who, even if for a few pages, read books every day. And I considered myself failing when September passed without any finished books added to the list.

November came and I read El hablador by Mario Vargas Llosa, a book I had been desperately looking for that my friend finally lent to me. I gave them 5 stars because it greatly helped me in understanding indigenous people and how important it is to support their rights.

Then I desperately turned back to another Japanese novel, this time The Kudravka Sequence by Honobu Yonezawa. It successfully made me fall in love with one specific character because I feel represented, then I looked up Wikia and the synopsis of the next novels, and ended up disappointed LOL. I got tired again and read Sebuah Pertanyaan untuk Cinta by Seno Gumira Ajidarma, a book which I couldn’t believe had written by the Seno Gumira Ajidarma LOL(2). Then in order to set up the mood, I bought my friend’s self-published short stories, Dongeng Sebelum Tidur: Kumpulan Cerita Pendek. It was the first time I added a book to Goodreads. I told her that I uploaded a review and gave her 5 stars. She was really happy and I too was happy because of it.

December approached as well as final exams. So many papers with short deadlines, and despite that, I read books instead on working with my papers—procrastinator as its finest, you see. I read two Agatha Christie’s books, The ABC Murders and Five Little Pigs, two novels I had really wanted to read in years. After exams passed, I somehow gained my energy back. I read Kisah Seekor Camar dan Kucing yang Mengajarinya Terbang by Luis Sepulveda, an enjoyable novella reminding us to take care of animals and protecting the environment from pollution. I wrapped up 2020 with two classic books, No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai and Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell.

 Yup, that’s it!

Now that I’ve just tracked back all the books I read, I realize that my reading experience has its ups and downs. I ain’t good at keeping my mood stable to do the same activities  for a long period of time, and I earned the energy back by—apparently—switching into Japanese novels or light-themed books.

Long story cut short, I failed to read 70-something books. But I also recovered from the heartbreak I guess (LOL), and that’s good news! (Although maybe I forced myself to move on, since the goal was the indicator whether I’m worth it or not, and I failed.) (I shouldn’t have done that to myself, but I had no chance at all in the first place, though. That’s why if I could move on by setting an impossible goal, failed in the process, and helplessly gave up, so be it!)

Thank you for reading.

(And thanks to Anggy who beta read the post! <3)

[tessisawriter]

Article: “The conflicted passions of Islanders fans of color and changes they want to see”

Under the cut, I have reposted in full an article written by Arthur Staple & published August 28, 2020 on the Athletic (a subscription-only site) b/c I feel everyone should be able to read it. Finally, someone is writing about racism on Long Island and within the Islanders fanbase; it’s been a major problem from the moment the team was founded. Imagine not feeling comfortable going to a hockey game. That’s what Black and POC Islanders fans experience all the time, and it cannot continue. The Islanders’ owners, Scott Malkin and John Ledecky, have to do better. 

Here’s the link to the article; everything under the cut is from that article and was written by Arthur Staple. 

Jason Faustino is not a household name to Islanders fans, but many of them wear his sneakers. The co-founder of Extra Butter, a trendy sneaker label, Faustino was a longtime Islanders season-ticket holder who custom-designed Isles-themed kicks through the team and Reebok several years ago. He counts a few players as customers and friends.

He’s also a Filipino-American hockey fan who all too often has felt alienated from the team he loves. Those experiences have ranged from being one of a bare handful of fans of color at games or, more recently, dismayed at the team’s tepid statement in the wake of George Floyd’s killing by a Minneapolis policeman on May 25 and the subsequent protests worldwide.

Faustino has been watching the Islanders’ successful playoff run in the fan-less Toronto bubble and has enjoyed the escape the games provide for him. He was encouraged that Islanders players decided to join the rest of the NHL in sitting out games Thursday and Friday to support the league’s players of color in the wake of Jacob Blake’s shooting by a Kenosha, Wis., police officer on Sunday.

But the online discussions resulting from the NHL players’ decision not to play for two days, combined with the team statement from June 1, have left Faustino wondering where he fits in as an Islander fan. And he’s not alone.

“I can’t help but look back and see that they pandered to a fan base that’s largely ignorant,” Faustino said. “You don’t want to take away from supporting the team, but sorry that it might make those fans uncomfortable to read or see the words ‘Black Lives Matter.’ What that statement (in June) confirmed to me is the team just might not be aware at all and just does not understand how the perception is different for players and people of color, not understanding what it feels like for them.”

In June, after the Islanders’ social media account posted the team’s statement — which, by all accounts, was approved by principal owner Scott Malkin — several fans reached out to The Athletic via email or direct message on Twitter to express their disappointment with the organization. We spoke with three fans, who are used to being one of very few Black or Brown faces in the crowd at the Coliseum or Barclays Center, about how the statement made them feel about their team. In follow-up conversations, we asked them whether having games back this month has changed their views.

None of the Islanders fans we spoke with had ever experienced racism at Isles games, but they said they felt and still feel distanced from the team due to the lack of outreach and sensitivity to the experience of people of color who love hockey. The Athletic reached out to Islanders ownership through a team spokesman in June and did not hear back.

‘I think the Islanders are good for Islander fans, not Long Island’

Desmond Zantua grew up in Floral Park, in the shadow of what will soon be the Islanders’ new home. He started going to Islander games as a teenager in 1997 and quickly noticed he could count, usually on one hand, the number of people of color in the Coliseum around him. “And it was easy to count since there weren’t many people there in the late ’90s,” he said.

Zantua, a Filipino American, has been active since Floyd’s death, going to protests in New York City and on Long Island and posting strong messages on Twitter. He feels the Islanders’ statement in June catered to a part of the fan base that is also vocal online, the part that counters Black Lives Matter with All Lives Matter, among other sentiments in the face of police brutality and misconduct.

What he wants to see from his team is more diversity in the organization, more outreach to minority communities on Long Island and more care taken to grow the game in a very diverse area.

“(The June 1 statement) confirmed to me that whether it’s business considerations or cultural considerations, everything is centered in suburban Whiteness,” Zantua said. “Being a fan of this team … the Islanders have played in predominantly Black neighborhoods and yet the crowd is predominantly White. Seeing a statement like that says that people like me don’t count.

“I’ve been going to games since 1997. I know most of the people there, I’m lucky if I see double-digit non-White people at the games. That should not change your ability to speak up against racism. It says to me those are the fans you want to keep, and what does it say about me if I continue to give money to an organization that feels this way?”

Since hockey and the Islanders have returned, Zantua has returned, too. He said it’s easier to watch and support the team when no fans are allowed because he doesn’t have to decide whether to attend or not. But the Blake shooting and how it forced the NHL and its players into confronting the world outside the playoff bubbles still makes him question his support.

“It’s been difficult. It’s still impossible to ignore what a White-privilege sport hockey is,” Zantua said. He hopes the Islanders get more involved with the minority communities around UBS Arena and grow the game on the Island in a new way once fans are allowed into the building.

“The kids in Garden City and Long Beach don’t need help discovering the game,” Zantua said. “Elmont is right there, Valley Stream is right there. … The Islanders talk about how good they are in the community. I think they’re good for Islander fans, not Long Island as a whole.”

‘You’re not making people feel welcome’

Ian Macks grew up in the Bronx and, even though he moved to Albany as a teen, still has a passion for the Islanders. It waned when the fan base never fully embraced the Barclays Center experience starting in 2015, and the June statement further pushed the 26-year-old Black poet away.

“There were obviously issues with them playing in Brooklyn, but it sort of felt to me that they never really tried to make it work,” Macks said. “I thought it was such a great opportunity to get new fans, fans that look more like me from Brooklyn and Queens and the Bronx, into games and into the Islanders. But they went straight back to the Coliseum when they could. … The aversion to Brooklyn just seemed to come from a place of, ‘We know where our comfort zone is and we’re going right back there.'”

When we talked to Macks in mid-June, there was no hockey. He was wearing his No. 66 Josh Ho-Sang jersey, but wasn’t optimistic about going to Islanders games on the Island in the future.

“I went to an Islanders game in Philly this season and it was the most at home I’ve felt at one of their games,” Macks said. “It shouldn’t have to be that way. The statement says to me they care more about a certain type of fan than the people who are being counter-protested right in your backyard. You’re not making people feel welcome. And this is an organization that’s had a real problem keeping fans from all their mistakes over the years.”

‘It’s not the kind of fan I want to be’

Faustino is a Melville, N.Y., native who lives in Boston now and works for Saucony, a major sneaker brand. After a decade of helping build Extra Butter and doing things his own way, he’s come to understand that living life in the corporate world means not always having your personal views validated. So, while he was extremely bothered by the Islanders’ June statement, he said he knows plenty of people within the organization who were hurt by what the team put out.

“In the sneaker industry, it was a similar moment (three months ago) — there were brands that got it right and ones that didn’t,” Faustino said. “It was disappointing the Islanders got it wrong.”

He’s been watching the playoffs and enjoying the team’s success so far. The problem with being so removed from games, he said, is that you’re sucked into the online world of fandom, which is not a welcoming place for Islander fans of color. After the Islanders put out their statement Thursday in support of the players’ decision not to play, tweets from mostly anonymous fans followed vowing never to support the team or the league again for caving to what they saw as left-wing pressure.

“I saw statements of people that won’t support the team going forward. Would this impact me wanting to go to games if I were a season-ticket holder and the games had fans? I don’t know,” Faustino said. “And if there’s a Stanley Cup parade, do I even want to walk with these people? It’s hard to have my own bubble of 10-12 fans that I care about and ignore the rest.

“Seeing the games come back and seeing the Isles win a couple rounds, it’s a relief, really. I think it is for a lot of fans to get away from the realities of 2020. And I’m sure it’s not just Islander fans on Twitter reacting to the games being postponed this way. But seeing some of those reactions and thinking back to how the team kind of catered to that group three months ago, it makes me want to remove myself from the team and the game I love. And that’s not the kind of fan I want to be.”

[yuthoe]

Schedule Changes (PENTAGON: Adachi Yuto)

HELLO, IT’S 12:48AM AND I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF.

I had to churn this out because it won’t leave my head. I’d like to thank my irl friend @shiiiiiiiiinwun for inspiring me to write this collection (yes, I’m gonna be doing one for all of ot9). And for someone who’s been watching anime since she figured out how to use the internet, you’d think I could’ve come up with better names, and faster.

EDIT (06/29/20): Hi! it’s my first time making an edit like this, so i’m kinda insecure abt it lol, i hope it’s okay. this is the 2nd yuto version i did, so it’s slightly better than the first one. tumblr rlly doesn’t want us to go overboard on image size huh

WARNINGS: n/a; some angst, maybe? who’s proofreading idk her. WORD COUNT: 3,314 it’s so fucking long.

---

Minister Sakaguchi,

Unfortunately, Her Majesty will not be available for your meeting today at 3PM; urgent matters have arisen that need her immediate attention. If you would like to reschedule with her, please reply to this email.

Thank you very much for understanding.

Regards,

Y/N L/N

Secretary to the Queen

You sigh, wondering if the email you’ve typed is in the appropriate tone that won’t offend Minister Sakaguchi; in all the years you’ve been working for the royal family it doesn’t get easier writing and replying to the emails of government officials, invitations to interview Her Majesty for magazine features, requests to attend public functions like galas and balls. The ridiculous amount of mail she gets, that are automatically forwarded to you, is mind-boggling, in anyone else’s eyes. It doesn’t surprise you anymore, though.

The queen as a monarch takes the backseat to running the kingdom, to any foreigner that decides to take a look at articles from international news sources. Her name isn’t mentioned as much as the king’s when it comes to referencing big developments in the state. Rather, the local newspapers and online sites have her name and face on some article at least once a week. The queen takes care of the little things, smaller projects that delve more into social welfare than her husband’s institutional programs. She is a strong advocate for women’s and children’s rights, as well as a figure in health outreach programs for the poorer sectors of society. Her compassion and dedication to her job is what made you want to work for her; she was like a role model to you, along with her husband.

It was a stroke of pure luck that got you this job; your first day as the secretary for Minister Yamazaki turned into you being his substitute with only a day’s notice. He had gotten sick with the flu and you were immediately thrust into a role you knew almost nothing about. So you took all the files related to the subject of the meeting and studied up on them the night before, turning up the next day and pulling out opinions as if you yourself spearheaded the project. The queen, upon finding out that you were new, was so impressed and had talked to Minister Yamazaki (who was still in his sickbed) over the phone about enlisting you under her employ.

It’s been five years since then. Five fast-paced, fulfilling, exciting years working closely with the royal family. At this point, your relationship with the queen is more of a friendship than strictly professional, and you’re grateful for it. The people you interact with on a daily basis are mostly considerably older than you--ministers, program leaders, the palace staff--and the talk is all business. So you’re grateful for your weekend teatime with the queen, sometimes with her children joining you, who are some of the only people your age you talk to on a regular basis, apart from the younger maids and kitchen staff. The afternoons out in the garden are the queen’s time to unwind and review everything that happened the previous week, as well as scheduling the succeeding weeks. The stress of planning therefore comes to a head on Saturdays so the week can sail by calmly.

Today is one of those Saturdays. Minister Sakaguchi had scheduled a dinner meeting with the queen yesterday--something about the upcoming fair for disenfranchised women, although you suspect Minister Sakiguchi will try to sneak in pitches for other programs she has in mind. The queen had agreed, so you penciled in the meeting into your schedule. However, the queen seemed under the weather when she came out earlier, that you had advised her to cancel it, assuring her that Minister Sakiguchi would understand. 

The queen takes a sip of her favorite rosehip and lemon tea, fingers delicate on the porcelain, and you send the email, huffing out a sigh. You place your phone facedown on the glass table and take a sugar cookie from the plate. “Just sent the email, Your Majesty,” you say. “Now you can just focus on resting tonight.” You smile as you take a bite.

Your boss smiles as she replaces the teacup on its saucer. “Thank you,” she says, relaxing against the lounge chair. “To be honest, I didn’t think Minister Sakiguchi would talk so much about the fair anyway. She probably suggested a meeting to tell me more of her ideas for the women’s sector.” You smile. Bingo. “Is anything else scheduled for tomorrow?”

You glance at your open laptop, as well as the printed-out spreadsheet on your lap. It’s an organized mess of colors and times and places and people. “Just the charity gala tomorrow night. I’ve coordinated with Subaru and she said the king will be late by an hour. Will you go alone?”

She tilts her head in thought and hums. “I don’t want to be late. Is there anyone available?”

You click through the several pinned tabs on your laptop to the tab for the royal family’s shared schedule. “It seems Princess Akari is free, as well as Prince Yuto,” you say after a moment.

“Ah, Akari will be busy designing something for the fair, I think, so maybe she won’t want to go,” the queen muses.

“So you’ll just take the prince, then? I’ll contact Daiki and ask him to notify the prince.”

“No need,” a deep, disembodied voice comes in from somewhere in the hedges before Prince Yuto pops his head into view. He walks towards the table as you clear up a space for him, closing your binder and putting that on top of the clipboard among other printouts on one of the spare chairs between you and the queen.

The prince strides across the grass in his black dress pants and long-sleeved shirt, to greet his mother. He places his hands softly on her shoulders and leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek. The queen smiles and accepts the kiss, patting a hand over one of his; her mood instantly lifts, and her posture relaxes further. As the youngest son, she dotes on him a lot; he in turn always keeps his mother company and can rarely be seen in public not by her side or his father’s. You think their relationship is sweet, and so do the many news articles posted online about it.

Prince Yuto takes a seat on the only empty chair and fixes himself a cup of tea while saying, “What’s the gala for?”

“The orphanages in the farther provinces,” the queen says as she takes a saucer and stacks it high with dark chocolate-coated cookies, pushing the small plate at her son’s direction. “Some dignitaries from other kingdoms as well as celebrities will be attending. And I will announce the new scholarship program for our state schools. There’s a chance your father won’t make it, so I’d like a companion.”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Mother,” Prince Yuto says after swallowing a bite of cookie. He turns to you. “What time is it?”

“Call time for the royals and major government officials is 7PM, and the program starts at 7:30. I’ll contact Daiki with the details as well,” you say.

The prince shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns to the queen. “It’s such a shame, I thought you two were talking about Y/N transferring to my office,” he jokes. It’s a bit that he’s brought up many times before, and both you and the queen take it as a joke since you figure he just wants someone closer to his age with more experience than Daiki, who is about four years older and has only been working with him for two years.

The queen lets out a laugh and takes her teacup again. “What’s the matter with Daiki? He seems to be doing a good job.” Her eyes meet yours as she takes another sip, glinting in amusement.

Prince Yuto is smiling his bright, beautiful smile that the camera loves as he looks fondly at his mother. He probably got wind of her feeling run-down and hurried here to try to distract her. You know the queen is the most important person to him, and the queen may not know it, but it’s obvious to everyone else. “Well, as you know, Y/N is better,” he continues, “and Daiki-san is a stick-in-the-mud.” The teasing makes you huff out a laugh, immediately raising a hand to cover your mouth; Daiki is truly a stick-in-the-mud, even more than you are.

The queen laughs boisterously, throwing her head back. “Oh, you’re such a jokester, Yuto.” She sighs, fully relieved, and you’re thankful he decided to stop by. The queen finishes her tea and says, “Well, this was a fun teatime. I have some paperwork I have to sign, so Y/N, you may go.” She turns to her son. “It’s so nice of you to stop by, sweetheart,” she says, and leans down to drop a kiss on the crown of his head. “I’ll be seeing you both.” The queen glides away, and you briefly wonder how she can walk that gracefully in heels over damp, unpaved grass--but then you remember she’s the queen and has been doing this for years. She turns around the corner of the hedge and disappears.

You sigh and shut down your laptop, gathering your stuff as you message Daiki about the charity gala. You slide the laptop in your bag, and put all the printouts in order into a folder, before slipping everything else inside. You’re just about to get up to leave before Prince Yuto’s voice stops you.

“You sure you won’t consider transferring to my office?” you hear the prince suddenly ask. He’s looking at you, piercing eyes that make everyone in the kingdom, young and old, swoon. And if you didn’t talk to him everyday and your self-control had been any less, you would probably give in to whatever he wanted.

So you try to mask your rapidly beating heart behind a fond, teasing smile. “Well, I don’t really have a say in it. Don’t think the queen wants to let me go, anyway,” you say, taking a proffered dark chocolate-covered cookie from the prince and biting into it. The rich, slightly bitter punch of the chocolate explodes on your tongue.

The prince looks at you with a small smile. “I was serious, you know,” he says simply. “I mean, you won’t be as busy so you’ll have more free time, and the stuff I do is just small, as a minister for cultural arts. I split it with another person.��

You’re already shaking your head. “I like my job. I love working for the queen and seeing the results of what she’s done. You know she’s been my role model since I was a teenager, so this is a dream for me. And as much as I want a break sometimes, I can’t let this opportunity go.” You sigh, heart heavy now, and stand. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

He stands with you. “I know I’ve told you to call me just ‘Yuto’ before, didn’t I?”

“But decorum--,”

“Yeah, fine, practice etiquette in public, but when we’re alone you can just call me by my name.” You don’t answer, and hesitantly purse your lips. And then the prince begins to pout. “Come on, if you don’t wanna work for me, at least call me Yuto.” He presses the tips of his index fingers together and says, “I miss you,” so cutely, with his big puppy dog eyes and hilariously deep voice that’s sorely out of place for the cutesy thing he’s trying to do.

You have to laugh, bending down at the waist and steadying yourself with the table as you cackle. “Fine, fine,” you relent. “I’ll call you Yuto in private from now on.” You heave your heavy bag up onto your shoulder with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

***

“You look beautiful tonight,” someone says behind you. You turn carefully, eyes meeting Yuto, in another black ensemble: turtleneck under an overcoat with black dress pants and boots. His hair is slicked back artfully, apart from the stray locks of hair that insist on falling over his eyes. Simple, but very handsome; the paparazzi and journalists must be having a field day with that outfit.

And you look down at yourself: standard black satin-and-chiffon off-shoulder gown that you usually wear to these types of stuff. Your shoes are your everyday pair, and you’re thankful that the dress comes all the way to the floor because they are getting scuffed at the tip. Your hair is wavy, the result of sleeping in a braid through twelve hours, but you manage to tame it into a loose bun that’s mostly out of your face. The only accessory you have is the necklace you’ve worn since your mother passed down to you six or seven years ago. Makeup is minimal because you are here to assist, not be the center of attention. Everything you put into your appearance tonight is just to make sure you look clean and professional. And invisible.

You roll your eyes at the prince. “Your Highness, I look like this everytime the queen needs to go somewhere fancy. I don’t think ‘beautiful’ is the right word.” You know he means well, but you’re just plain, from your shoes to your face to your position in society, you’re just simple, unremarkable.

The prince furrows his brows and takes his place standing beside you. “You are, though. You may not see it, but I do.” He casts you a quick glance before turning his focus to the stage, where a popular singer is performing one of her new songs onstage as an opening act. “And those photographers over there see it, too.”

You whip your head at him before scanning the event hall for any cameras pointed at you, heart pounding hard in your chest. You don’t spot any, but you still say, “I think you had better take your seat, Your Highness. I bet those people just want to make a scandal out of nothing.” Prince Yuto may be the youngest out of the royal children, but that does not mean he is risk-free. He is being trained for the position of Minister of Culture and the Arts; he has a large following of young people who look up to him as a leader and as a person; he is one of the most important people in your life, and you can’t bear for anything bad to happen to him.

The work tablet you brought is getting crushed in your folded arms from how tight you’re clutching it. “I’m going to find Daiki--,” you say softly, making to leave, but getting stopped once again by the prince.

He’s holding one of your arms gently, but strong enough to pull you back beside him. “It’s okay,” he says. “Let them. It’s fine.”

You pull your arm away. “Your Highness, it’s not fine. You can’t risk a scandal blowing up on you right now. Everyone has eyes on you, even if you don’t think so.” You’re worried. The last thing you want is for him to get in trouble because of you.

The prince sighs. “Y/N, there’s not gonna be a scandal if we’re actually together.”

You take a moment to think. “What? You want us to pretend to be a couple? I don’t think it’s a good idea; people might get the misconception that you’re slacking off, or--,”

“No, I mean--,” he sighs frustrated, more at himself than at you, but he keeps his composure and his face remains stoic; you both are still in public, after all. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now, but I just didn’t know how to say it, and I certainly didn’t plan on telling you at a charity event where hundreds of people could hear.” He’s rambling--a sign that he’s nervous, unprepared.

Prince Yuto takes a calming breath before fully facing you. “I like you, Y/N,” he says softly, aware of the number of ears that are possibly listening in. “I’ve liked you since the day you started working for my mom, and I liked you even more the longer you stayed. You’re a hard worker, you’re dedicated to your job, you genuinely care for the queen and the things she does for the people. And I’m thankful that I got close to you as much as I have because you do mean a lot to me. I know I don’t show it, because I’m not sure how to show it, and I don’t know how you would react to it. But I do like you. Very much.” He releases a breath and looks you in the eye. “So will you try? To be with me?”

All this you take in with wide eyes and a shocked-open mouth. You know the prince is not the most outgoing person; he’s most relaxed when he is with people he knows, which are limited to his family and their secretaries, along with some of the senior palace staff. You’ve never seen him in a pickle of trying to get someone’s attention, but you do remember him offering to carry your heavy work back once or twice and you insisting on carrying yourself; him telling you that you look beautiful even if you wear the same plain things all the time; him giving you a box of (really expensive) chocolate for Valentine’s Day on the excuse of “I gave all the royal family’s employees chocolates”; him giving you a piece of his favorite chocolate cookies, even though you’ve never seen him offer them to anyone else.

All this time he’s been telling you how he feels and you’ve never noticed. And you yourself can’t even tell him the same because you don’t want to risk the prince getting hurt, you getting hurt, the queen getting hurt because of your selfishness. Your work is important to you, and you can’t jeopardize it for your happiness.

But here he is, Prince Yuto. Being brave enough to know the uncertainty of what lies ahead and being prepared to face it, if you answer him; if you push aside your fear of messing up and tell him you like him back; if, for once, you look to your heart instead of thinking of your work.

He stands tall beside you, an imposing figure of grace and compassion. A man people look up to. A leader who is innovative, yet respects traditions. A role model for young people who are inspired by his music, his acts of service to everyone. A son that is loved by his parents, a brother that is loved by his siblings. A friend who listens and is always there, but always pushes you out of your comfort zone.

How can you not fall for him?

How can you say no, when everything around you points to yes?

You’re nodding your head before you know it, still too shocked to properly process the last five minutes. “Yes. Yes, I’ll try being with you.”

The blinding smile is back, and you can’t help but return it. The prince nods, unable to suppress the grin on his face and gestures to the audience, milling about finding their tables. “I’ll be on my way, then. Find my mother.” He clears his throat, fidgets about with his coat and pockets. “Good luck for the rest of the night,” he says with a nod, before leaving.

You just curtsy, still beaming and your heart is drumming in your chest like crazy, but it feels light. Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and you can take flight at any moment, straight into his arms.

[jlath]

I Was the Girl Who Stayed in an Abusive Relationship: Here's What I Learned

Believe Me, Or Not

Three words. I remember only three words that were spoken the night of one of the worst arguments I’ve ever had with another person. Just three words. They were mine and I said them with tears in my eyes, slow and steady, even though I knew I was speaking to someone who wouldn’t process them or even hear me while trying to maintain the volume of his voice above the shakiness of my own. But I remember deciding that I would say the words anyways, just in case, by some miracle, he would stop screaming in my face and step away from me. I said:

“You’re scaring me.”

I remember wishing it was more extreme than it ended up being, because then I’d have a clear-cut, evident reason to walk away. Everyone would see a bruise on my face and wouldn’t dare to question me. I was only nineteen though and I was naïve, for I thought that being trapped in to my own bedroom and yanked by my wrists was not enough reason to walk away. But just because someone’s fist doesn’t meet your face doesn’t mean they haven’t or aren’t trying to physically hurt you.

I never thought of myself as weak. Growing up, I’d watch TV shows and movies and critique the women who got back with the men who were physical, enraged or emotionally abused them. I told myself, “I’ll never be that girl. I will be a stronger woman.” But what did I do? I told no one what had happened – the extremity and physicality of our fight – and I got back together with him a few weeks later.

The next six months of our relationship were a blur. We were together, dating, but both involved in new college organizations and had minimal time to do anything when we saw each other. I found amazing friends through the organization at my school that I was joining. Learning and growing through that process and being around beautiful and kind-hearted people opened my eyes to all the heartless ones in my life. In the time I spent without him, I thought about how much different of a person I was becoming, and he wasn’t around to see it because he was busy participating in an organization as well. It took me a while to realize that his not being around, however, was the reason I was so happy. For the first time in over a year, there was no one around manipulating my plans with friends, convincing me how to think, frowning at my outfits or telling me I was “crazy” and that I was “making stuff up,” “lying” and “imagining things,” something I learned later on is called gaslighting.

There was more than one reason as to why I left the relationship, but no matter the details of my decision, what happened after only proved to me I’d made the right choice. Texts begging me to talk or to see him, him showing up at my apartment uninvited, social media posts boasting my exclusion and even being followed back to my apartment after trying to drop off his belongings. There were stories being twisted and turned to make our mutual friends take sides but most importantly, the defining moment of the breakup was his assault and battery of one of our mutual friends, my best friend and  now current boyfriend, who I had been with a month after I ended the relationship and his friendship with my ex had gone south.

Great timing? No. Clean break up? Hell no. It was ugly and it put every ounce of my strength to the test, even for months after. And that is why I am writing this. As many of you would hate to believe and are here to find out, I’m not writing this article out of vengeance or spite. No, I’m writing this for any other girls out there like me.

You can believe me, or not.

What I Learned

There’s been days where I’m afraid to be anywhere besides my bedroom. There’s been days where I suffer panic attacks at the thought of running into him around school. There are even more days where I miss the people who I once called friends who he turned against me, people I’d been close with since I stepped foot on the college campus and who didn’t even bother to hear my reasoning, my side of the story . But there are no days where I regret my decisions.

The first thing I’ve learned and that I will carry with me forever is that love shouldn’t make you think you’re crazy. It shouldn’t make you question the quality of your memory, blame yourself for an argument you didn’t start or doubt yourself to the point where you wonder if maybe the medications you’ve been on since age twelve to treat epilepsy have somehow given you memory problems...Love shouldn’t push you around or leave you standing alone in an empty apartment while all your friends are downstairs drinking with him. Love shouldn’t leave you feeling like you are worth absolutely nothing. Gaslighting is real and not enough people know about it. Even now that I am speaking out, the one criticism I have continued to receive is that I am “crazy.” But if telling my truth makes me crazy, call me crazy. This label may have stopped me before, but now it means nothing, especially coming from people I’ve never met or even seen in my life. I have confidence in my instincts and in my memory. I know my story. It’s mine to share. If you don’t want to hear it, may I ask: why are you still reading?

The second thing I learned is, like I’ve said, to speak your truth whether or not people believe you. Which is why I am writing this now. See, I never told anyone that I experienced a low-level of physicality during an argument in my relationship until I needed someone, anyone to believe me. That was a mistake because after almost six months of staying silent on the topic in order to protect his reputation, no one wanted to believe me when it came to explaining the reasoning behind my finally ending my relationship. Even if they did stick around to hear me out,  they belittled me, condescended my fear and wrote me off. I walked away from a girl I called my close friend because she told me my fear was unjustified saying “bro, he would never physically hurt you.” She didn’t believe when I said that he already had.

I think there’s a power in staying silent. I chose silence for the months after our breakup to let the record show that in that time, I’d said nothing that I regretted. Silence can protect you, but you should never stay silent to protect someone who’s hurt you. This is the next thing I learned. At the time of the first breakup, I’d been so isolated in my relationship that I had no true friends, no support system to confide in or tell me that I was making the right decision to leave the relationship. I was only questioned by our mutual friends, which made me feel like my reason to walk away after an experience like that was invalid. After remaining in the relationship, it took time for me to realize that it was valid and that that experience had changed the essence of whatever we were doing. It was tainted. I would never be confident in saying that another serious fight wouldn’t result in another crossing of physical boundaries. I would never be confident in saying that it wouldn’t be worse, or escalate after the first time. Because, simply put, I would never know. But now that I have genuine friends, I’ve noticed that people who understand the thought process behind my keeping quiet about that experience are the ones who have stuck around.

The last thing I learned is something I’d like to write directly to girls like me. The ones who feel crazy, invalidated or afraid. The ones who are hopeless romantics, who seek true love that protects you the way it’s supposed to. To those girls: never ignore the red flags and never disregard your instincts. Over the course of my relationship, I saw them. Red flags, red goddamn strobe lights blinking in my face, and yet chose to ignore them. I was eighteen and I wanted so desperately to feel love, so I let myself fall. But halfway through my 20th year, I realized that your instincts are called instincts for a reason: to protect you. Always, always go with the gut feeling you keep telling yourself to push aside. More often than not, your gut feelings, your instincts are right. And they do and should validate whatever it is you feel: fear, anxiety. Anything. 

In the end, what I continue to tell myself is that no one knows what happened the night of that horrible fight I had in my bedroom with my ex. No one knows the extent of it besides him and me. People will only know the versions of the stories we tell. And wow, people love to hear anything that will distract them from dealing with their own issues. People love to believe a wild story. A cheater acting promiscuous! A writer seeking revenge! They’ll either believe you or they won’t. Either way, protect yourself. Trust yourself. Validate yourself. Then move on and go find meaning and happiness. That’s all you can really do.

Believe me, or not.

j.lath

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Hurts to be Human Chapter Four

Hey guys! I have 10 days left on my contract, then I’ll have stable wifi where I can update more! Ah!! Can’t wait!!

Warnings for this: Um...I don’t think there are any? I mean, it isn’t edited because really, my wifi sucks. 

Chapter Four — Hustle

“You sure you got this?” Sam’s concern was evident. He watched Y/N eye the flashing lights just past the curtain and knew this was a big step for her. She used to have this sort of thing handled, no problem. But that was then and then was quite a long time ago.  

Bucky didn’t say anything, simply watching her, studying her body language. She was fiddling with her sleeves, crossing her legs and rubbing her calf with her heel.

She wanted to run.

“Of course I do,” she told Sam, giving him that oh-so-dazzling smile. Bucky didn’t believe it. Neither did Sam. Even so, they knew better than to question her about this sort of thing. “Just…don’t go tackling any of them, okay? It would really kill the image I’m trying to build.” Tugging at her sleeves once more, she gave them a thumbs up and walked on stage.

Now came the harder part — trying to convince the press that they were wrong.

“A question, Miss L/N!”

“Miss L/N, we’d like a statement. It would only take a moment of your time.”

“A photo for our article, Miss Y/N?”

“Miss L/N, over here!”

“Miss L/N, did you leaving instigate the reckless behavior that we’ve seen from the Winter Soldier and Sam Wilson?”

Bucky stepped forward, wanting to punch whoever had just asked that. However, Sam caught his arm and pulled him back. He shook his head, keeping silent just in case. Bucky tensed, but took a step back. He was out of his element here. Still, watching Y/N, he wasn’t so sure that she was in  her element.

“Miss L/N!”

“Over here, Miss L/N!”

“Miss L/N!”

“Enough.” The one word found its way from the microphone, echoing through the speakers. It held an authority that could only be learned from the late Tony Stark. Squaring her shoulders, Y/N took a slow breath and allowed her back to finally relax. Her closed eyes finally opened and she shifted her gaze, trying to find a face. She was blinded by the darkened room, the bright lights from flashing cameras, and her ears were practically ringing with the sound of her own name. It was too much.

No wonder the boys hated doing these things.

Smoothing out her blazer, Y/N then tucked a stray strand of hair back into place. She looked put together, like someone that had worked alongside Pepper Potts for years. Her resume, her experience, was starting to show. She glanced off stage, at the pair that waited for her. It was debated whether they should have initially joined her and now she was just glad she had stuck to her initial guns. Bucky would have been slaughtered. Sam would have reacted. No good would have come from something neither man was ready for.

Turning to look back at her audience, Y/N offered one of those picture perfect smiles that Tony called “The Stark”. Honestly, it was just a version of the “Blue Steel” that worked for the press. Nothing too special. 

“All of you have questions and I understand that. I will hopefully get the opportunity to answer each of them in a way I see fit, but I mean, a girl’s got to eat and sleep. We aren’t going to spend all day here.” A few chuckles were heard and Y/N knew she could work with this audience. Thank God. Nothing was worse for her than having to crack through the idiocy that was the press. “I’ve already heard one of your questions, so why don’t we start there?” Murmurs, but no arguments. 

Good.

Something Tony had taught her a long time ago — working with the press was like a dance.

If you didn’t want to be led off the dance floor, you had to have the balls to lead.

“There are two parts to my answer regarding Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. One…” A deep breath and a glance at a concerned Bucky had Y/N feeling like she had to speak up, she had to voice the complete truth. “Bucky and I were friends before we dated. I know more about him than anyone else in this room. I know his weaknesses, his strengths…I’ve seen what makes him angry, happy, and sad. I’ve seen him at his weakest moments and he has seen me in mine. That being said, my leaving was because of personal reasons. James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky as he insists on being called, is human. He is a man who has worked through his own trauma and fought to make up for past mistakes. This isn’t a man who would allow any woman to influence his behavior. He’s too careful.”

Another deep breath and it gave her a moment to hear the scribbling of her words, the snapping of a few cameras, the murmurs of people who agreed or disagreed. Which opinion? She wasn’t sure yet. “As for their behavior — these men have dedicated their lives, their time, to protecting us. Protecting and saving people isn’t an easy job. Look at the military, the police, or even doctors. Look at any field that involves this sort of lifestyle. There is damage involved. Lives are often lost. The only reason Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson are being so heavily judged is because they have taken up the role of “superheroes”.”

There was silence. A hand rose, followed by a tall woman. She was slim in face and body, blonde hair pulled into a neat bun. Y/N recognized her as the woman who had called out Tony all those years ago. What could she possibly want? “Yes?”

“Miss L/N, there is proof in the media that these men have cost lives, jobs — families have been torn apart.”

“I still haven’t heard your question.”

The blonde huffed, not appreciating the hint of snark biting just behind the words. “Why don’t we leave these ‘missions’ to the actual professionals? These officers, doctors, military men that you previously mentioned?”

Y/N smirked, raising an eyebrow. “How much do you know about either of these men?” Silence. She looked out at the crowd, seriously curious as to just what these people knew. “What do any of you know about the two men that are today’s topic? Please, enlighten me.” Comments regarding the Winter Soldier were brought up. Others spoke up about Sam trying to replace Steve. Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. A light flashed from another camera as she tried to find the right words.

“You know, I wasn’t even supposed to be here. Sharon Carter was, but she was called away. Something that was a little higher on the priority list, you know?” A couple chuckles. Not as many as before. Clearing her throat, Y/N said, “I think I’m starting to understand why they decided I was the next option. See, both of these men have a military background. Barnes was part of the Howling Commandos, fighting alongside Captain America before it had been believed that he’d lost his life on a mission. The truth was that he became the longest known prisoner of war. It took twenty years for HYDRA to gain any sort of traction in creating the ‘Winter Soldier’ that all of you have come to know him as. In fact, if a few of you walked into a museum or library instead of relying on the internet, you might learn a little more of the older information that is connected to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He carries more guilt for his past than any person I’ve ever met. He was tortured by an elite terrorist organization and I constantly find myself in awe that the emotional torment he puts himself through seems to one-up everything they tried to do to him.”

“As for Sam Wilson…” Y/N glanced back at her friend and he nodded, silently allowing her to speak about anything involving him. This was her playing field and he was a chess piece. He needed to cooperate. Looking back at the audience, Y/N said, “Sam was part of an elite group of military men that allowed him to have the wings that had given him the moniker ‘Falcon’. He lost his partner in the field, worked with the VA to help veterans work through their trauma, befriended Captain America, and worked alongside him in taking down HYDRA and finding Barnes. A direct quote from the man is, “I do everything Steve does, just slower.” And as someone who has lived with the Avengers, I can assure you that this statement is very much true. With that being said, Sam still sees himself as the Falcon. He was passed on the shield, nothing more.”

There was silence, a level of tension in the room that made it clear that opinions were divided. She had swayed some successfully while others remained rooted in their judgement. Y/N wanted to say more. She wanted to pour her heart and soul out and defend the men that stood just to the side. They were good men, good people that just wanted to help. But she knew if she kept pushing, insisting that she knew best, she’d turn them completely against her. Instead, she finished her answer with the simplest statement that she could muster. “There are no better professionals to trust in situations like these. Does that answer your question?”

Bucky and Sam watched in awe. There were no words to express their gratitude because neither of them had ever expected to hear her say such things. She painted them as heroes. For the first time since Thanos, they felt as if they were stepping out of Steve’s shadow. She had painted them in a light similar to that of Tony…Natasha…Steve…

And she meant every word.

“Bucky,” Sam murmured, clearing his voice to hide the fact that he was trying not to tear up.

“What, Birdbrain?” Blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Bucky kept his gaze focused intently on her. She was talking, answering another question it looked like. Why did Sam have to talk when he could be listening to her?

“If you don’t break through that thick skull of hers and win her back, I’ll swoop in and date her myself.”

———

The rest of the conference passed by with little problems. A few attempted to pull Y/N into an argument, needing the drama to paint the picture in their light. They had stories to try and sell and were attempting to get any piece of juicy drama they could. But Y/N had been trained well and it seemed, even after all this time, she still had a knack for dealing with the press.

That being said, Sharon Carter owed her big time. 

Y/N fell onto her bed, landing on her back and kicking her heels off. She heard the resounding thud of them landing across the room and considered that those monstrous contraptions were better off far away from her. She didn’t understand how Pepper or Natasha had done it. Wearing heels 24/7 was a punishment.

Maybe they were into that sort of thing?

Y/N snorted and sat up, slipping off her blazer and tossing it onto her desk chair before laying down. She could hang it up later. Right now, her body wanted the bed. People were more exhausting than any mission— at least in her opinion. Her legs hung off the edge of the bed, the balls of her feet rubbing against the fluffy carpet and her toes curling in satisfaction. Stark definitely spent good money on this place.

“Meow.”

Y/N giggled as the familiar feel of fur and a tail ran along her calf. H.D. was not happy that she had been gone all day. The feline pounced, landing on the bed before making her way up to Y/N’s cheek. She curled up in the crook of her neck, soft purrs eventually erupting and making her owner giggle. “Someone’s being cuddly today,” she muttered, earning a “meow” as if telling her to shut up. Shaking her head, she started unbuttoning her blouse to reveal a simple white tank top underneath. What would be absolutely perfect right now was lazy clothes, a book, a hot cup of tea, and H.D. curled up on her shoulder. That was the goal. “Give me a sec, twerp.”

Sitting up, Y/N unzipped her pencil skirt and let it fall to her feet before stepping out of it. She stifled a yawn and walked to her dresser. Ruffling through her pajama drawer, she successfully found her Wolverine sweats and slipped them on. She stretched and twisted her body, a loud yawn echoing in the silent room.

“That’s different.”

Y/N jumped, spinning around to see Sam Wilson standing in her doorway. His arms were crossed, same smirk as always, and an amused glint in his eye. 

“Yawning? Pretty sure that’s a normal body function, Wilson,” she teased, smirking as she closed the dresser drawer.

“I meant the tattoo on your thigh. Pretty sure you didn’t have that a few years ago.”

Y/N’s eyes grew and her jaw slacked as she spun to face him again. “How long were you standing there like some sort of creep?”

Sam laughed, leaning against the doorframe as she placed her hands on her hips. Y/N always tried to be intimidating, but in Wolverine sweatpants and after her little “tired child” performance, he couldn’t take it seriously. “Long enough and believe me, I plan on using every second to piss Barnes off.”

“Please don’t. I’m supposed to be keeping you two in line, remember? Why not make my job easy for a change?”

“‘Cause then you’d be bored and you’d hate it.” His answer was simple and, sadly, the truth. Y/N couldn’t stand being bored. Not here at least, not home.

Wait, home?

No. This place couldn’t be home to her. She’d finish her mission and be back in her small town before too long. That was supposed to be her home. That was where she had been living, surviving, making friends. 

It was where she healed, where she found herself again.

“Hello, earth to Y/N.”

Shaking her head, Y/N pulled herself from her thoughts and frowned when she saw Sam was grinning. “What, thinking about a jealous Bucky?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked to her closet, grabbing one of her jackets. It was grey, frayed at the edges with holes in the sleeves for her thumbs. Slipping it on, she zipped it up a bit and pulled her hair out of the bun it had been in. She ran her fingers through it, needing to free the strands from the stiff and sticky feeling of hairspray. “I don’t look at Bucky like that anymore, Sam. We’re trying the friends thing, remember?”

“And how’s that going?”

Y/N paused, her mind drifting to the past couple weeks. When she’d made the initial agreement with Bucky, she had forgotten how sweet he could be. She’d forgotten how easy it was to laugh with him and how his fascination with the little things made her heart beat so fast. It didn’t help that every freaking morning he came back from his morning workouts wearing nothing, but loose sweats and one of those thin tank-tops. He’d gotten more confident in his arm, something she hadn’t seen before.

“Mhm, there’s no hiding that smile from me.”

She jerked, the small smile vanishing as a faint blush tinted her cheeks. “Sam, drop it.”

“I’m not pushing, Y/N. Actually, I…I wasn’t so sure you coming back was a good idea.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “You and me both.”

Sam smiled. “I always thought you were a badass and good at your job, but seeing what happened with you and Bucky…it was a lot. And seeing him after you left?” Y/N frowned, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets as she let Sam speak. “There was a while when he hit a real low before we ever saw him get better. I think he was under the impression that you’d still be around even if you two broke up. And when you weren’t…”

“Why are you telling me this, Sam? I’m really not the kind of person that keeps looking to the past.”

“Neither am I,” Sam reminded her. “I just think that you and Bucky…there’s something there. And if you two are going to try this friends thing, you need to be realistic about it.”

Y/N took a slow breath. This was heavy. It was information she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She at least knew she wasn’t ready for it. “What, don’t think we can handle being friends?” It was a joke, an opportunity to lighten the mood. All she wanted was for him to joke back, to move forward.

“No, I don’t.”

“Thanks, Sam. Appreciate the honesty,” she muttered bitterly.

“When we first met, you asked me to always give it to you straight. Actually, you ordered me to. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking your opinion on this particular topic, Sam.”

“No, but you need to hear it before you get in way over your head.” Sam stepped forward, glancing back to make sure Bucky wasn’t down the hall eavesdropping. Closing the door, he turned to face her fully. “What you said at the press conference meant a lot to both of us. We never expected you to stick your neck out. We would never ask you to defend us like that.” She opened her mouth to argue, like she always did, but Sam held up a hand. “But you did. And that means something to me. It means something to Bucky too.”

“I was doing my job.”

“You were speaking from the heart.”

“Are you trying to play matchmaker or telling me to give Bucky distance? Because I’m getting some serious mixed signals.”

“I’m telling you to be as honest with yourself as you were with the press today.”

“I am.”

“Bullshit.”

Y/N glared at him, fists clenching in her pockets. “What the hell, Sam? You haven’t talked to me in years. Who are you to say you know what I’m going through with my emotions?”

The intercom beeped, but neither pulled their gaze from the other. Friday’s voice greeted them with a simple, “Agent Y/L/N, Mr. Wilson —“

“Not now, Friday,” Sam said, eyes never leaving Y/N.

“Normally I would agree,” Friday admitted. “But Agent Carter is calling for an emergency meeting in the conference room.”

Y/N groaned, pulling her hair into a ponytail to hide the rat’s nest she currently had. Walking around Sam, she opened the door and gestured for him to walk first. “Ladies first, please,” she snapped, earning a roll of the eyes and annoyed grunt. However, he led the way and she quickly shut the door behind her.

It took no time for either of them to come across the conference room. Inside, Bucky was standing near the window, watching the screen facing away from them. Sitting down, Sharon Carter watched them through the glass. The two rounded the corner and came inside, eyes landing on the screen as the blonde Y/N had recognized said, “‘I’ve seen him at his weakest moments and he has seen me in mine. This isn’t a man who would allow just any woman to influence his behavior.’” Y/N clenched her jaw as the reporter put influence on the word “just”, making her statement sound like the exact opposite she had intended. “It seems Miss Y/L/N knew the influence she had on the Winter Soldier and left anyway.” The screen cut to images of Bucky years ago, when Y/N had first left. The paparazzi had gotten photos and videos of him with the long hair, cold demeanor, and the way he fought…It was definitely not a good light to paint him in. “Her selfish actions have led to the Winter Soldier’s lack of emotional empathy and a complete disregard for the wellbeing of those we are told he’s attempting to protect. Is this the sort of man we want to call an “Avenger”? Is this someone we can trust with our lives? Our loved ones? How much trust can we put in a man who is so easily influenced? Miss Y/L/N goes on to say that she ‘is in awe of him’. Is there still an emotional tie there? Could Miss Y/L/N influence the Winter Soldier even further and leave us left with the outcome from an immature, toxic romance? More information coming to you tonight at six.”

Bucky glanced at Y/N, his weak smile the only way he could try to reassure her. He didn’t blame her. The media? The press? They wanted their story. They were willing to do whatever they could as a means to get it. Even if it meant adding one word. He could tell by the way her hands were clenched, her jaw set, that she wanted nothing more than to give the reporter a piece of her mind. She was livid.

“Congrats, Y/N. It seems you got all of New York thinking there’s still something between you and Barnes,” Sam teased.

Sharon turned off the tv and rose, glancing from one to the other around the room. It seemed no one knew what to say. Sharon had been the one that was supposed to speak, but she had to leave. That meant Y/N had to step up. And she did, but it seemed her speaking abilities and ways of handling the press were more than a bit rusty. “Want to tell me what happened?” Sharon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The reporter influenced what Y/N said, Sharon. She never made it sound like —“

“I know, Bucky. I know.” Sharon glanced at him as he shifted his gaze to the ground. “I’m not blaming you in this particular situation.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “No, I know exactly who to blame. That reporter is vile. She’s the same one who called Stark a merchant of death.”

“Yes, but that was back when he kinda was,” Sharon reminded her.

“But Bucky isn’t influenced by me. Hell, he was doing his job just like Sam! The only reason they’re attempting to target him is because he’s the Winter Soldier.”

“Exactly. Bucky’s information, what we choose to tell, has to be taken with extreme precautions. We can’t go spouting out our opinions and expect everyone to believe them, Y/L/N.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you might’ve forgotten it.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, fingers flexing. “That reporter hustled me, Sharon. That’s what they do. She’s picking and choosing what she wants to tell.”

“It’s their job.”

“So this is my fault?”

“You’re out of practice, Y/L/N. It was my fault to ask you to go.”

“She did a good job,” Sam argued with Sharon, earning her attention. “Honestly, if it hadn’t been for that particular woman, this would have been a success.”

“Perhaps, but she was there. This isn’t really a grey sort of situation, Sam. I wish it was.”

The glass door shut, earning everyones attention as Y/N left the room. Sharon huffed, leaning against the table. She hadn’t expected Y/N to storm out of here. In the past, she never would have. She would have kept her emotions bottled up. She would’ve been professional. “I’ve never seen her leave like that.”

“She knows she didn’t do anything wrong,” Bucky told her. “Y/N spoke with conviction and honesty. She made us look like actual heroes and it didn’t take any lying. Sharon, that reporter took two sentences Y/N said from two different answers.”

“ And neither answer was short,” Sam agreed, nodding to Bucky.

“Y/N used to take whatever crap Steve and Tony gave her because it was part of the job. Listening and taking orders, it’s what agents are supposed to do. But she’s been out of the field, living for herself for a while. If she knows she’s in the right, I don’t see her sticking around until she believes she’s in the wrong.”

Sharon sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. She was silent for a moment before asking, “Go check on her?”

Bucky nodded, making his way to the door only to be caught by Sam. He raised an eyebrow, curious what the guy could want. “Gonna let go?”

“Ask about her tattoo. It’ll make her laugh.”

Bucky frowned. Tattoo? Since when did Y/N have one of those? “Uh…okay?”

“It’s on her thigh. Really simple. Tasteful too,” Sam said as he started pushing Bucky to the door. His bewilderment and confusion lasted only for a few more moments before he realized what Sam was implying.

“Wilson!” Bucky spun around as the glass slammed and Sam locked the door. “Open the door, birdbrain!” 

Sam looked confused, gesturing to the door then his ear. “Can’t hear you,” came his muffled response.

Bucky glared at him. “You’re so full of shit.” Glancing at Sharon, he took a step closer to the door and told Sam, “Can’t hide with her forever.”

Sam grinned. “Watch me. Now go on, old man. Not every day you get a chance to see that kind of artwork.”

Bucky hit the glass with his flesh fist, still earning a jump from his partner. The reaction made him smile before he made his way back to Y/N’s room. Time to check in on his friend…and see what exactly Sam was talking about when it came to this tattoo.