#my bicycle has stopped me from my anger many a times

[mtdthoughts]

Moonlight Pt. 4 (Migi & Dali Fanfiction)

Link to Part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/mtdthoughts/738293425820057600/moonlight-pt-1-migi-dali-fanfiction?source=share

Link to previous part:

https://www.tumblr.com/mtdthoughts/738333340891004928/moonlight-pt-3-migi-dali-fanfiction?source=share

CHAPTER 4

We soon arrived at Mother's grave, and once we got off our bicycle, Dali walked towards the edge of the cliff and sat down.

He looked towards me, and patted the ground next to him.

I nodded as I joined him, and together we watched over Origon Village, now a sea of bright Christmas lights. We gazed over our village for a while until Dali suddenly broke the silence.

"Beautiful, right?"

"Yeah."

"It's been eight years since we saw this sight together with Mother."

"Yeah..." I looked down and thought of Mother.

"What do you think of the moon tonight?" Dali asked, now looking directly at me with a calm smile.

"Huh?" I replied, confused. Why is he asking me about the moon all of a sudden?

I looked above. Half of the moon was bright, and the other half was dark. I didn't really know what else to say.

"Uh yeah, it looks pretty…"

"Heh, that's alright Migi, you don't have to lie about something as trivial as this." Darn.

Dali continued, "Anyway, you know what I was humming earlier, right?"

"Of course I know it, it’s the Water Flea’s Song!"

"Not quite," Dali said, as he looked up towards the moon, "That's not its actual name. I just learned that it’s a song that comes from a faraway country called France, and its real name is ‘Clair de Lune’, meaning Moonlight.”

"Moonlight? France? Hey Dali, do you think Mother came from that country? From France?”

"I don't know. Maybe we'll go there one day and find out for ourselves... But that's not the point. That song made me think about a few things."

Dali continued, "It's been eight years since we lost Mother, and now we're living a happy, peaceful life together with our new family."

He turned again to face me. "Tell me, Migi, are you happy with this result? Do you think Mother is smiling down at us from Heaven?"

I was confused.

"Of course I'm happy Dali, aren't you happy too? We're both living in a happy home with loving parents and in a wonderful village with great friends. And I'm sure Mother wanted this for us too!"

Dali looked at me with a blank expression, then smiled and looked back up towards the moon.

"You're right, Migi. Remember what you said this morning? We really are different."

"Huh? What do you mean, Dali?"

Dali explained, "At this spot, we swore revenge together, but it really was just me dragging you into it. Even though I was supposed to protect you, I hurt you and endangered you so many times. I even involved Micchan, and now she's gone because of me."

"I thought I was doing all this for Mother, but I was too blinded by anger to see the truth and the harm I was doing. I thought that by coming back to this village, I could undo my errors and give you the happiness you deserved. But I was wrong. Eiji, who was just like us and who Mother gave her life to save, is now alone in prison because of me. I wanted revenge because our family was ruined, and now his family is ruined. Ironic, right?”

He looked down and clutched his scar with his left hand.

“I truly am a monster, just like that Ichijo woman, and I was naïve to believe that I could just erase my sins. That’s why I stayed in your shadow, to give myself exactly what I deserved. To stop myself from hurting others.”

He turned to me, put his right hand on my shoulder and looked right into my eyes.

"But now, thanks to you Migi, this monster is free and has gotten his first taste of joy. I can’t go back now, yet I’m not sure if I can move forward either. I’m not sure if I can even face Mother the way I am now.”

There was silence for a few moments.

“So, tell me Migi, has your answer changed?”

I was completely speechless. This is what Dali was thinking? This is why Dali was suffering?

There was silence for a minute.

I tried to think of something to say, but I just couldn’t! I became sad and frustrated that I couldn’t come up with the right words as tears began to form. Yet, I knew there was no way this was right. There’s no way that Dali can bear this all by himself. He shouldn’t!

I decided to just let out everything I was feeling as I buried my head in Dali’s chest and wrapped him tightly around my arms.

"My answer hasn’t changed, Dali! You may feel responsible for what happened to Micchan and Eiji, but I was part of this too! I stayed by your side all this time, but I was too weak and too stupid to notice what was going on, and I even hurt you badly when you needed me the most. If you’re guilty, then so am I, because we’re in this together!”

“I won’t let you go through this alone, because you’re not a monster, you’re my kind older brother! You’ve always protected me, and you’ve always taken the hard road because you loved me. No matter what anyone else says, you’re the kindest person in the world, and I’m sure Mother knows this too! But most importantly, even though we’re so different, you’re still my one and only other half!”

"Migi..."

I felt a few tears drop on my head. For several minutes, we stayed in this position, and there was silence.

Then, Dali pulled my arms away from him as he stood up and looked towards the village.

"Dali?"

He then looked down at me with the usual smirk and said, "Me, kind? I think there's something wrong with your head, Migi. After all, you are the dumbest person in the world."

“Wha-? Why you-”

"But you're also the most amazing person in the world,” he said, as his smirk turned into a warm smile, “You’re the reason my life had any joy and meaning, and you’re capable of miracles that go beyond any of my designs. I never thought that we could defeat the Ichijo woman, and I never thought that I could live happily alongside you. Yet here we are now.”

“You are like the sun, and your light draws people to you and wipes away the darkness in their hearts. It’s because of you that I wasn’t completely lost to darkness. You’re truly my miraculous younger brother, and more importantly, my one and only other half as well.”

“Dali…!”

My eyes were wide open as I stared at him in awe. I never knew that Dali thought of me that highly, even though he was better than me in so many ways. I chuckled a bit and stood up.

"Don't be silly, Dali! I couldn't be here without you, and you give my life joy and meaning too. It’s because you took such good care of me that I knew so well what it was like to be loved."

Dali looked slightly surprised, and then he grinned.

"Heh, I suppose you're right. I guess this just means neither of us is complete without the other. But at the same time, when we're together, nothing can stop us. Right?"

As he said this, he extended his left fist towards me. I smiled and extended my right fist to meet his fist.

“Yeah!”

[t0byt3]

why i think noels lament fits vil pre overblot 🫡

i started thinking about this and havent stopped so now yikes

anyways uhhhh im going to reference exact lyrics and how i think they play to vil

also i hc vil as gender fluid so i will be switching between he/she/they pronouns for vil throughout the post

this ended up being long af i forgot that i cant stfu jesus

anyways start !!

Uhhh i will say that i dont think the fact that this song is bascially just a fantacy of some sort relates to vil (for the most part). like i think some of the lyrics would pertain to vils imagination or fantasias or whtvr but ya

none of the things i mention are 100% cannon (they could be?? idk) ill go back l8r to see if i can find proof from the story/book or from the manga to see if some of the "points" i make are actually cannon or just me confusing my hc w canon (it happens yikes)

"GOOD GIRLS CALL ME "THE TOWN BICYCLE" DON'T KNOCK IT 'TIL YOU’VE TRIED MY LIFE OF SIN"

the whole "town bicycle" thing pertains to vil cause people sometimes take their anger/h8red of a character out on the actor whos plays them so for vil who has said that she has played a shit ton of villain roles (i think she said shes played only villain roles if i remember correctly) so if thats the case then she has definitely had to deal with whtvr h8 and name calling has come w that.

then the whole "dont knock it till youve tried my life of sin" refers to people shitting on him for playing the villain specifically the "my life of sin" being vil playing the villain over and over (many villains are seen as wrong or sinful so that also plays in)

"MY PIMP, KNOWS NEVER MESS WITH ME"

lmaooo this just makes me think of his manager cause i feel like vils manager has def heard or seen vil loose his shit either on someone or just ranting about someone

idk if this is fact or not but i always thought of vils manager as being the same one hes had throughout most if not all of his acting career

"I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE TO FIND HIM, OFFICERS BUT IF YOU DO, PLEASE MENTION THAT I'D LIKE TO HAVE RETURNED THE PRETTY KNIFE THAT I STUCK TEN TIMES IN HIS BACK!"

tbh i see this as being one of those fantasy parts like vil fantasizing about harming neige and/or taking his place

idk thats all i feel like that line is self explanatory idk

"FOR I SING SONGS UNTIL THE BREAK OF DAWN I EMBRACE A NEW MAN EVERY NIGHT MY LIFE'S ONE NEVER-ENDING CARNIVAL; A WHIRL OF BOOZY-FLOOZY FLASHING LIGHT; I WANT TO BE THAT FUCKED UP GIRL"

"i sing songs until the break of dawn" while i feel like in the song this could be referring to actual sing or fucking all night or whtvr IN THIS CASE FOR VIL i interpreted it as actual singing in which she sings while getting ready for bed or in the morning or smthng) either practicing songs for the hero roles she never gets to play or just practicing in general (maybe even singing songs that she likes just for fun)

"i embrace a new man every night" again im aware this is referring to s3x IM interpreting it as like,, taking on new roles every night either for a new play or a new part or whtvr (this one is one of those lines that doesnt really relate but ya)

"my lifes one never ending carnival a whirl of boozy floozy flashing lights" SHOWBIZZ!! lame but ya thats all i just think that this would be just like in referrence to actor life or whtvr. the whole "my lifes one nvr ending carnival" part could be read as slightly sarcastic cause while everything is also new! fun! wow! its also just ick after awhile cause thats just how its is. the nxt line would just be referring to all the bright ass lights and camera lights and shit that go into acting and whatnot

"HE SAID, "I THINK I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU" I'VE HEARD THAT LIE A MILLION TIMES BEFORE"

another one that i feel is self explanatory tbh people tell actors they love them all the time so while vil probably gets h8 for playing the villain they probably also get fans telling they they love them (which i can imagine how annoyed that must make vil but not the point rn)

"OH, TONIGHT I GIVE IN TO THE FANTASY TAKE LOVE WHEN YOU CAN, WHEN YOU'RE A WHORE"

as much as it annoys them when random ass people say they love them, i do think sometimes, vil will give into it a go along, either for publicity or whtvr. especially as a kid i feel like vil would give into that lie more often (hence why they dont anymore as they have learned its false) but sometimes when the loneliness goes haywire theyll indulge someone for a bit (typically just simple "ilu2 :))" and conversing with them) to gain some sort of fake closeness to satiate the loneliness for a bit (this is 100% hc i feel like vil is seen as the best or the second best so its probably hard to make real friends or relations that dont just want to use them for money or fame or whtvr but once again,,, not the point)

skipping a few lyrics here 1- cause tw and 2- bc i havent found a way to word the way i feel they relate to vil (maybe ill edit when i figure it out maybe i wont idfk)

"EIGHT MONTHS LATER I CATCH TYPHOID FLU"

this just makes me thing of her overblot lol while i def think that the overblot has been building for more than eight months but it just shot forward from being to book six to when she overblotted. "i catch the typhoid flu" makes me think of how she "caught" the overblot "sickness" since its going around/being passed around similarly to how i feel a flu or sickness would be (obviously not very contagious and if overblot was some sort of sickness nrc would be fucked)

"DYING IN AN ALLEY, A PRIEST KNEELS DOWN TO ME- "My child, do you have any final words to the Lord you'd like to say?" "Oui. Tell Him that, like Him, I choose to burn out rather than fade away!"

the priest in this scenario would be either neige or rook

if we're going w neige as the priest id says it because neige was trying to be nice to vil before vil tried to poison him. The line that noel says would be interpreted as vils words right before giving neige the apple which wouldve cursed him

if we are going with rook as the priest then i see it as rook talking to vil before she goes off to give neige the apple, like before vil separates from everyone, and noels part ould be like vil replying before she goes (i dont remember if they spoke before vil went to curse neige but ill look into it)

" SHATTERED DREAMS SUPER CRUSTY, HOLY TERROR WILD EYES AND BLACK MASCARA BROKEN HEART"

the other lines in this lil mantra dont really fit but thats okay

anywyas

the whole shattered dreams thing like duh bros shattered dreams of playing a hero role and being chosen over neige

super crusty - idk for this one ill be honest

holy terror wild eyes and black mascara - yea so "terror" more like rage but terror may fit cause while he was full of rage he could have also had fear that hed never be able to be more than the villain or second to neige

and broken heart obvi bros broken hearted over this realization

"IF I COULD HAVE JUST ONE DREAM... I'D BE THAT FUCKED UP GIRL!"

in this case that fucked up girl could be in reference to neige

tbh that whole thing abt this song being abt some guys fantasy could also be in reference to vils fantasy of taking neiges place as the fairest of them all of the most loved and such.

anyways that was a lot and idk if any of it made sense tbh

thats all :3

[yinnina]

Shopping Spree

Have you ever wondered how people come to meet once another?

Everyone has the same question in mind, whether it is at a different time or different place.

You never know when something might happen, whether it's a good thing or not.

The first time that I met Adalyn was back in 7th grade. At first, I thought she was annoying and only wanted attention, but that grew to not be true.

Gabriela, who I sometimes call Gabi, was always someone I wanted to talk to, but simply couldn't. I can't remember if it was because I was scared or not.

It was a surprised at how many Gabbies I knew.

The ones in my main friend group, Gaby and Gabby, and now Gabi. It was confusing at first when talking to my friends about them, but eventually I learned that if I was to talk about one of them, I would just mention their characteristics.

We were all at the arcade, Gabi and Adalyn playing some random game while I was playing Resident Evil.

"Fuck, I knew I took too many things while playing as Claire." I cursed under my breath, blaming myself for taking so many bullets and green herbs as her.

Now, because I took so much shit, Leon didn't have enough resources to survive.

Soon enough, the 'Game Over' screen popped on the screen, making me hit the machine in anger.

After that, I went up to Gabriela and Adalyn, who were still playing, and told them I would go back home or something.

I didn't lie to them, I did go home and was about to lie down on the sofa until the phone started ringing.

I picked up the phone and brought it to the sofa with me. The cord was rather long, and you could bring it to the nearest bathroom of the house.

"[L/N] household, who is this?"

"Since when are you so outdated?"

It was Boston. We would call from time to time, but not very often since I was almost never home.

"Well look who it is. What's up? Did something happen?"

He sighed over the phone, telling me that something did in fact happen, but that he won't tell me.

"I guess I was just bored, wanna go out or something? Maybe go shopping?"

I thought about it for a second, then agreed. I didn't always go out shopping since I would normally spend my money on movie renting or game buying, but it was something me and Boston did at times to relax.

We agreed on meeting on the Grab-N-Go, and then we would head to the nearest mall, it being Cherry Creek, which was renovated a long time ago, in the '50's.

"Are you feeling alright?" I asked Boston as I saw him head towards me, in the candy section of the Grab-N-Go.

"Yeah, my parents just got into an argument because my dad forgot to pay the water bill."

I hissed, "Shit, I'm sorry. If you want, you can spend some time in my place."

He shook his head and told me that it was fine, his dad will pay today and they'll eventually get back the water.

I felt terrible for him, he always had something bad happening to him and his family.

I grabbed a few water bottles and paid for them, handing them to Boston, "Keep them, and don't stay dehydrated."

He shoved everything we got in his backpack, which he had decided to bring in case we actually decided to buy some clothes.

We headed out the doors, and without glancing at a certain someone who was clearly pissed, we rode our bicycles towards the old mall.

Once we got there, we went from store to store, buying some jeans, shirts and jewelry.

I bought flared jeans, a tight black long sleeve shirt and a classic jacket you would see a 'bully' wear in movies.

Boston bought straight jeans that fitted slightly baggy on his skinny self, a black hoodie.

He would wear stuff like that, not too fashionable but still better looking than a few other boys who decided to wear their pajamas to school.

We went to many stores, some including a wedding store, which made me stop in my tracks and make him wear a wedding dress.

We got a few blank stares, a few in shock and others were in disgust, but we didn't care one bit, we were having fun and forgetting everything bad that had happened that day.

Me, Gabby, Boston and Kaylee were the ones that would normally go out shopping.

Gaby was always busy with the yearbook, making me wonder if I would also be that busy once I get inside.

Ren didn't go out as much, mostly because her family is moving away, so we wouldn't see her as much as we did now.

And Aryanah...

Aryanah and I have been having some troubles in our friendship, Boston and Kaylee witnessing it.

I told Gabby about it, mostly since we had switched from having Gym to other classes.

She has Family CSI, me and the others, but Gaby, had Keycode.

I still didn't know what Gaby had, but I believe it was Business Class.

Aryanah was dating this guy, something along the lines of Jackson, and she told us a few days back that this guy liked her.

I told her otherwise. The guy goes to our school, but he went to class during the night, only showing up after morning classes for basketball and football practice.

He doesn't even know her, that was what I told her, but she insisted that her boyfriend was right, specially since they knew each other.

A friend of mine liked the same guy we were talking about, but I didn't bring her up, mostly because I'm sure she wouldn't enjoy the idea.

Aryanah was a pretty wild card, and in the group, she was clearly the least liked.

"Are you joining the yearbook next year?" Asked Boston, in hope that he wouldn't be alone with our art teacher.

"Yeah, but good luck if I don't, then may the gods bless and watch upon you, cause the teacher is gonna be all up your arse." I joked and laughed with him, even though we both knew I was being truthful on my words.

"I'll miss both Gabbies." He confessed and I agreed with him.

12th grade did things differently to 11th and 10th, and they would be far more busy than they already are.

"Thank God for already having an idea of what I'll do with my future." I whispered.

He laughed, "Party all night?"

I scoffed, "You know I hate parties!"

He laughed for a while then stopped to catch a breath.

"I should go," He stated, "don't get yourself killed."

I waved bye to him as I watched his figure ride away on his bike and grabbed my own, heading my way home.

[mim526]

Essence of Harry

Reading through articles and posts surrounding the publicity and release of "Spare", there are three that for me provide a stark look into Harry Mountbatten-Windsor.

Harry writes of using a remote-controlled Typhoon to track his father, the heir to the throne, coolly describing how the plane spared his father's life on Harry's orders. Comment - Patricide fantasies may not be criminal or treasonous unless acted upon, but neither are they sane.

Harry is the subject of longstanding blind gossip rumors of repeated violence with sex workers while active-duty military. Comment - Allegedly, police were called but no charges filed by local police or military. The abuse stopped when sex workers refused his business.

Harry mocks and humiliates a physically handicapped matron at his boarding school (original full article here). The coarse sexual references to her are cruel and demeaning. Imagine her and everyone who knows her reading this now. Comment - I teared up reading this account. It hits close to home for me. My sister is autistic and mentally handicapped. I can remember growing up how much my family appreciated kindness from people the times we were out in public together and my sister became agitated. Harry's behavior cannot be dismissed as "just young boys". To use personal examples again, I have three young adult nephews who were popular in school and showed kindness to fellow students who were different in some way or less popular with peers.

These three items are not just a petulant prince who has never been held to account. Inflicting pain or humiliation on others is sadistic, base. Nor did the behavior spring up suddenly from nowhere: I recall Lady Colin Campbell recounting the story of a young Harry deliberately riding his bicycle into someone (RPO?) to hurt him.

Before reading the accounts of #1-3, I posted this about Harry's publicizing his Taliban kill count which seems appropriate to repeat:

Soldiers do not speak publicly of how many people they have killed, but murderers with sick minds do. Killing someone is hard on the psyche even when it’s done to defend or protect.  Harry needs to get himself serious mental help; someone who prescribes something other than pills and/or crossing arms, tapping shoulders, etc.

I am sorry William and Harry lost their mother at a young age. With my current knowledge of Harry, I will not be making allowances for any of his behavior by linking it to childhood trauma or neglect (perceived or real), lack of intelligence/education, drug use, etc. Whatever the contributing factors, he is an adult of considerable means who can answer/account for himself.

Want the public to have a good opinion? Time to straighten up and fly right. While you're at it, Harry, throw in a large dose of genuine contrition to replace your misplaced anger and entitlement.

[inapat16]

Antonio

In Courir, méditations métaphysiques, philosopher and marathoner Guillaume Le Blanc develops the idea that, "every race is an attempt to abolish previous races and having a new skin." For him, the wear and tear on the body and mind felt by the runner fades with "his desire to grasp something new, to perceive a singularity, a landscape, a sky, an atmosphere." If we transpose the experience of running to the experience of cycling - both outdoor sports - it is true that on many occasions, the hope of a new emotion and spectacle was the energy which mobilized my body to stand up, my chest to rise and my legs to move. If the "first time" is a promise that generates the mobility of the athlete, it is not a decree. "The novelty will come or not” and always sudden. What are the "first times"? To this, the philosopher shares some of his own: "the first time I see a deer in the Tuscan countryside, the first time I get lost, [...] the first time I pass the Paris sign, the first time I run with my brother; [...] the first time I walk, the first time I sprint, [...] the first time I sprain my ankle, the first time I get a cramp, the first time I run on the beach in search of hard sand. " And to add to this list some of my own: the first time I cross a hard rainy city, the first time I expel my anger, the first time I am close to taking the highway, the first time I fall, the first time I cry, the first time I ride a bike with this friend, the first time I ride by the sea. And all these times that made me forget the feeling of the first time until disgust, until despair.

Every morning I take the bike for a 40 minutes ride from home to school. Every day at 5:30 p.m., I take a 7 minutes ride from school to work. Every night I have a 40 minutes back from work to home. Even as some see sport as a way to escape the daily grind by reclaiming a productive body that must be made available to society - a body that works, a body that interacts, a body that is observed - cycling has become part of this alienating chain of work for me.

"Paradoxically, we run to stop running after power, after time, after women. [...] Paradoxically, running is a lesson of slowing down." Indeed the bicycle allows us to put the frenzy of the world in suspension: its demands and constraints. Even though sporting effort accelerates the heart rate, the bicycle also allows you to get out of the rhythm imposed by deadlines and the 35-hour day, to listen to your own. The more or less rapid speed of the plateaus is a subtle balance to be found between the inner tempo and the outside world so that the two can be in harmony. Yes, cycling is a meditative break that has the advantage of moving body from one place to another, but it has become for some time this advantage after all. Its utility has taken precedence over the initial athletic pleasure.

The bicycle is a tool that allows me to go to my various places of work. Thanks to it, I can move easily, thanks to it, I can do all my daily tasks, thanks to it, I am a productive machine. Thus, unlike Guillaume Le Blanc, my daily sport is not a recreational interlude but an element that reduces my precariousness while being a symptom. Cycling allows me to save subway tickets, to save time and (therefore) money. If this form of student precariousness is the result of a singular environment, that of a particularly large and expensive extended Paris, I cannot help but create a link between it and that of the workers of the 1930s and 1950s. During this period, the bicycle became the popular mode of transportation. So it is not insignificant that it regularly appears in films from Italian neo-realism and French poetic realism: the former depicts post-war unemployment and misery, the latter accompanies the Popular Front.

In Bicycle Thieves, Antonio is desperate for a job to support his family. Heartbroken, he decides to sell his wedding linens in order to buy the bicycle he needs to get the only job available, as a billposter. A bike, a promise of a salary. Antonio begins his new job with zeal: his family's life depends on it, he is a hard worker and ready for anything. The first poster causes him concern. Huge, it does not cease folding in all the directions. The defects of the wall prevent him from adhering to it, it falls. Without frowning, Antonio, who knows he is pressed for time, re-establishes the side that had fallen down. Here is the other one which is detached! Antonio hurries up, grabs his bucket and applies a good dose of glue. Phew! The poster is finally in place. The worker hastens to grab his bike and rush to stick the next poster. But... no more bike. While Antonio was struggling to paste, re-paste, re-paste the damn poster, a thief came by and stole his precious bike. It is the morning of his first day and already despair. No bike, no job. This indispensable bicycle is stolen from Antonio, for which he and his wife have sacrificed so much, and with it, the hope of a better future. An investigation to find the thief begins, which gradually turns into a long and terrible wandering. The bicycle represents for Antonio the modest dream of getting out of poverty for himself and his family. Without it, it is not only the comfort and the tranquility that vanish but also the dignity and the joy. Far from affiliating myself with Antonio's poverty and extreme despair, I share his dependence on the bicycle: it is an indispensable object for the smooth running of my life, and this because my wallet and my time are limited.

While Bicycle Thieves emphasizes the connection between bicycles and poverty, other films present this relationship with less emphasis and sometimes more casualness. The bicycle is a part of the life of sandblaster François (Jean Gabin) in The Day Rises along with his cap and cigarettes. Other workers appear on and next to their bikes in the film. Like Antonio, this object accompanies them throughout the day as they carry out their various tasks: to get to the factory, to leave it, to go to the café, to go to the suburban countryside or to visit his beloved. We recognize a garage owner by the oil marks on his fingers, a waitress by her apron, a bourgeois by his car, and a worker by his bicycle. This everyday object, sometimes a burden, always necessary, can also prove to be comical through the eyes of Jacques Tati and it is then a real liberation. The Big Day follows a day of the letter carrier François (Jacques Tati) who, offended after seeing a film about the modern practice of the letter carrier's job in the United States, decides to show that he too can finish a day in record time by means of his bicycle and the strength of his legs. This is the beginning of a frantic race during which François hooks a farmer's mail on his fork as he passes by, hooks onto a car trailer to stamp letters while continuing to move forward, or accidentally jams his bike into the barrier of a level crossing while trying to go too fast. Thus, at the very heart of a working day, Tati shows us with humor and poetry the absurdity of productivity - and it is liberating. The worker on his bicycle can for a moment compete with the United States Postal Service - all of it! -because he is not a simple cog in a productive society but a worker who is proud of his job and his work tool - in other words, of his professional and sporting know-how, despite his tiredness.

So it is with lucidity but also with a touch of pride that I follow these many workers on their bikes. I contract my thighs without shame, because it is with the sweat of my brow that I have earned these muscles.

Lucile Zheng-Launay

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

LO$ER=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Life is just a path and you walk it. Until Jeon Jungkook. He made you run, sprinting through winding side roads and alleys, fighting, bleeding, losing. Your paths split, but life is made of orbits. Now that they have overlapped once more, his hand is fiercely holding yours and he won't let go again. Nothing matters if he's with you. Thus, you run once more, laughing like you've gone mad.

continuation of 0X1=?, m | jjk – click here to read

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of sexual assault (not heavily described, however, please note reader is the victim of said assault); actually predominantly fluff; mentions of previous angst; mentions of physical fighting; smut (fem reader, fingering, cowgirl, scratching / marking, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - tattooed, previously rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader (mostly reader's POV, a tiny bit of JK's POV), ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK’s best friend and crossover with 'bao, t/m | myg' au

yes, I waited until the TXT's 'LO$ER=LO♡ER' was released to write this XD there's a ton of TXT references as well, enjoy!

--

now playing – LO$ER=LO♡ER by txt

"Jeon Jungkook! Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Come out of that whore's home!"

You were about to remove the groceries from your front seat, but then you stopped at the shouting, peering up at the second story of the apartment complex to see… ah, yes, a young woman yelling at your front doorstep. One look at the imported, Western, black car with heavily tinted windows and you were well aware that the woman in a matching designer two-piece – a ruffled pink suit jacket and flared skirt – complete with immaculately pulled back hair in a half-ponytail must be...

She turned around, fuming, pretty features twisted in rage, and screamed in frustration.

You quickly jerked your head back out of her line of sight and clicked your tongue.

Your boyfriend's ex-fiancé had some lungs on her.

You waited until she finished shrieking like a banshee and peered out to see her spin on her heel and return to pounding on your apartment door with her small, manicured fists. You spotted her beige, black cap-toed slender heels.

Chanel.

Huh.

You stayed in your car.

Reached over to your bag and pulled out the single ice cream you bought to share with Jungkook but, at this rate, you would have to buy another. You pulled off the cap and folded it in half, curving it like a spoon, and began to eat the mango sorbet. Hm, well, it was better this way. Jungkook would probably prefer chocolate or straight up diabetes over mango sorbet.

He would eat pretty much anything though.

You scooped up some of the frigid, melting sweet into your mouth and watched his ex-fiancé shout at no one.

True, you could go up there and throw her down the stairs. But there was something hilarious about this, her beating and howling at your apartment door, completely ignoring the fact that no one was answering it and that she was very clearly causing a public disturbance, all because of her own personal problem.

You glanced up to watch her slide down the door, openly crying now. You pressed the button of your car window to roll it down a crack to listen to her sobbing above you.

"–can't believe you would do this to me... you know I need this marriage... my family's company depends on it..."

You slowed, licking off your makeshift spoon.

"I'll be left with nothing... nothing unless I get married..."

Crocodile tears or not, the woes of the rich did not earn much sympathy with you.

You rolled your window back up, leaving your car on idle for the air conditioning.

It was a mix of previously being constantly berated by Jungkook's wealthy parents that now exiled him over a fucking eyebrow piercing and being a member of the working, lower middle class. For some reason, that latter fact was also offensive to Jungkook’s parents. Everyone was accepting until money got involved. You hummed, eating another scoop. You didn’t like it, but you understood that his parents wouldn’t believe that you have no interest in their money. What you didn't understand was why his ex-fiancé was so hellbent on yelling at your door. From what you could tell, she wasn't ugly. Couldn't she find someone else?

You scraped the last of your small ice cream out and ate it up.

You checked your phone.

Jungkook wouldn't be out of work for at least another three hours. You had found him a job at the local bao shop through your own job as an accountant. You assisted the family in sorting the finances for their small business and personal tax forms. The owner had back surgery and so the daughter had been working there by herself with one other employee that delivered the orders. They wanted to hire another to help with cooking and cleaning, perhaps even open up the front counter again to accept pick-up orders instead of only delivery. However, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and reliable. The best way was through word of mouth.

They won't mind my tattoos?

Whenever I drop by, the delivery guy is wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and has a resting bitch face. You'll be fine. Also, I think the daughter and him are dating.

Jungkook had blinked at you.

You know. In case they disappear for ten minutes, unexplained.

You loved Jungkook's laugh.

He didn't complain or whine for some other job. He only asked when he started and how to get there. You bought him a secondhand bicycle and he was off to work, five to six days a week. Sometimes you would drop him off with your car if was too rainy. Occasionally, when he had to stay late for a large order, the delivery guy would drive Jungkook and his bike back home.

That's how it was here, in the world of everyone else, minus the rich.

The fuck is all this?

Manager gave me a bunch of leftovers. She said I'm a fast learner. Did you know Taehyung stops by there? He's never said shit! He said it was his little secret, that ass–

You smiled as you remembered Jungkook's animated face and annoyance at his best friend for not sharing what he thought was crucial information. Jungkook would speak excitedly, hauling a bag of buns and spilling them over your clean kitchen counter, scrambling to catch them as he explained the different ones to you and how they were made, telling you all the things he was learning and funny stories about customers.

You almost forgot this Jungkook.

It was strange, feeling something after such a long time of feeling nothing, strange to find your time occupied once again by him, when at many times you vowed not to get involved with Jungkook anymore, only for him to show up and make you throw your promises to yourself to the wind, recklessly chasing the anger, wondering, hating, loathing how much you still loved him after he left, recalling him standing there, stone silent as his parents' verbal lashes ripped you to shreds.

You turned the car off, pulling the keys out and pocketing them, not wanting to the drain the battery.

Maybe.

Maybe you were stupid for loving him so much.

Maybe you were as pathetic as the woman up there in some ways.

Then again.

Maybe that was just how everyone lived.

You heard a soft tap by your car window.

You jerked your head to see Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, peering at you through the glass, clutching his bike. You could see half of his head, short black hair and large, curious brown eyes, nose pressed up to the bottom of your car window. He was wearing his work clothes, light wash jeans and an aqua blue t-shirt, lightly dusted in flour. He pointed up and you noticed his ex-fiancé had switched back to yelling at the door, no longer facing the street.

You shooed him back and opened the car door, eyes wide.

"Why are you home?" you whispered, crouching down to speak to him.

He grabbed your hand, gasping as he gripped it. You shivered at the coldness of his fingers, but there was a warmth in between your and his frozen palms, melting each other.

"Oh, shit, your hand is so cold!"

"So is yours!"

"I was biking! My hands get cold from the wind. What's your excuse?"

You held up the empty mango sorbet container in your other hand, shifting your eyes guiltily.

"And you didn't share?!" Jungkook hissed, his windswept hair giving him a fierce appearance, dismay clear in his glistening dark brown orbs despite trying to sound angry.

You spied his other hand on his bike. There was a large, wrapped bandage on his left forearm. You ticked your chin towards it, furrowing your brows. "What happened?"

"Ack, I burned myself and manager-nim told me to go home early. I told her I could still work, but there were only a few hours left and it seemed like she wanted to be alone with Yoongi-hyung..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What are they gonna do, bonk in the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't want to bonk me in the kitchen?"

You grinned at him and Jungkook grinned back, eyebrow piercing flashing in the sun.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!"

"Oh shit–"

You scrambled out of your car, locking it, slamming the door as the young woman wailed his name and pointed at you and him, furiously wiping her tears.

"You bitch! How dare you take him from me! He was mine! I had him wrapped around my finger!" She hiked up her skirt and swiftly power-walked to the stairs, looking back to yell more at you as Jungkook placed his bicycle down. "He would do anything for me!"

You raised your eyebrows, again.

Jungkook yanked on your t-shirt sleeve, ushering you to get on the bike with him.

"Doesn't seem like it!" you called back casually, chucking your trash at her, causing the empty ice cream container to smack her in the shoulder and roll across the sidewalk.

"You–"

You cackled and got on the bike, hooking your arms around Jungkook's shoulders and adjusting your feet as she stomped up to you two, conventionally attractive features contorted in rage.

"He was my dog!"

Your eye twitched.

"You were gonna marry a freak who was into bestiality? No wonder you left," you remarked, patting him on the chest as Jungkook burst out laughing, loud and rich, shaking his head.

"You can't do this to me, Jungkook! You can't leave me with that other guy!"

You felt it.

Pause.

You felt Jungkook stiffen under your hands and you turned yourself, hearing the helpless plea in her voice now, throwing herself to the ground, designer knees in common dirt, anguish on her face, tears streaming down her made-up cheeks, sniffling hard, and, with your breath lodged in your throat, you realized she was restraining her pained sobs, so trained in maintaining appearances that it seemed like she couldn’t even cry properly in front of others.

"You can't... you know how they are... I can't marry him, you saw what kind of man he is... that's the whole reason I tried to find another husband..."

There was no more anger in her voice, only fear and dread, and you didn't understand, and yet you could for some reason, for some reason you could see it as if it was tangible, the realness in her enigmatic words. Jungkook's hands tightened on the handlebars of the bicycle, his knuckles turning white, tense shoulders under your arms, and for a second, a moment, an instant...

You thought he might go back.

"You should run."

The crying woman on the ground lifted her head, hiccupping, cheeks blotchy pink, still somehow beautiful.

"W-What?"

Jungkook turned his head and looked down at her. "You should run away, like I did. Find someone who actually loves you. Getting married to me will only make both of us miserable, even if it saves you from that other guy."

She looked from you to him, and you recognized that look in her eyes, jealousy and envy, but not directed at you. It was directed at the warmth between the coldness of his hands and yours, directed at the orbits of his and yours finally overlapping, meeting in the vastness of space once more, his zero and your zero becoming one, not you, but his ability to throw everything away, his wealth, his comfort, the world he knew, all for a feeling she had yet to feel.

"What... what if I can't?" she asked weakly. "What if I can't find what you have?"

Jungkook lifted his foot off the asphalt and placed it on the pedal. He raised his head, and you found his eyes on yours for a brief moment before casting them back down to his ex-fiancé.

"Then keep running. It's better than being married to him, right?"

He began to turn the handles, about to pedal away.

She screamed after him, words choked with agony.

"Love won't solve our problems, Jungkook!"

You held on tight, chest to his back, fingers clutching in Jungkook's shirt, nose in his hair, his warmth under your cold hands.

"It won't!" he yelled over his shoulder, gaining speed with a grin. "But it sure as hell makes the problems worth shouldering!"

-

“Hey! Get back here!”

You snickered and chucked the plastic bag into the basket connected to the bicycle, jumping on quickly, pedaling away as Jungkook ran after you at top speed, breathless and laughing, his black hair flying back, aqua shirt molding to his muscular chest, long legs sprinting after you and the bike, your grinning face looking back periodically to catch his smile, going not too fast, but still fast enough so he couldn’t quite catch up. Golden hour brought out the tan on his skin and his high cheekbones, both of you tearing out of the gas station at high speed, drawing stares and shaking heads, but neither of you noticed or cared, his booming voice calling your name and you sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Watch out!”

You jerked aside and sped past a group of five young men with skateboards, two with shorter black hair, one with long black hair and white highlights, one with ash gray hair, and one platinum blond, all very tall, but you didn’t have time to stop and stare at the impressive height of them, turning into a side alley towards to the creek nearby, avoiding pedestrians, Jungkook following close behind until you got to your destination, grabbing the plastic bag in the basket and throwing the bike down, cackling as Jungkook snatched you from the air, his heart racing against your back as you kicked the air, him still somehow effortlessly carrying you despite sprinting so hard, panting into your hair.

“Get off!”

But instead of letting you go, Jungkook held on tighter, fierce kisses into your neck, wiping his sweat all over you and making you cringe amidst your laughter. It was already late, the sun dipping into the horizon, slowly taking its warmth with it. Water trickled meekly down the creek, barely coating the rock bottom due to the hot summer.

“Stop, stop, the ice cream is melting,” you finally gasped out, shoving Jungkook aside, wiping your neck with the back of your hand, pretending to be disgusted, but Jungkook just grinned and seized your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Ack, I love you too, fuck, get off–”

-

You two sat on the swings of the empty playground, watching the sun disappear, eating ice cream with the lids of the containers. As predicted, Jungkook got the chocolate that seemed to have everything in it but the kitchen sink. You, on the other hand, got red bean this time.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

He looked up from his ice cream, shoving a large lidful into his mouth.

It was strange how beautiful he looked, even with his black hair sticking up every which way, his cheeks filled with the frozen sweet, the faint rays of sunlight catching the silver of his jewelry – eyebrow piercing, earrings, silver chain around his neck with the compass star pendant – all paired with his oversized aqua blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, still with bits of flour on his thighs from work.

“What did that man do to her?”

A darkness clouded his features even though he tried to hide it from you with a neutral expression.

“Ah… He just… Just wasn’t really the kind of guy who thought of women as people,” Jungkook finally got out, looking away from you. “You know, the kind of guy you really hate.”

“That’s you,” you joked.

“I know I can’t do anything,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your quip and you suddenly regretted it, seeing the way he lowered his hands, exhaling slowly. “I am not responsible for anyone else’s behavior but my own.”

Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

She'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel.

Enjoy your piranha.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked up at your sudden declaration.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, coughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for saying the things I said about her.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just because she was in a shit situation doesn’t excuse her for being a shit person.” He shoved the lid into the empty ice cream container and rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hair back with a sigh. “Just like how it doesn’t excuse me from being a shit person for what I did to you.”

His eyes shifted away.

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered, cutting you off. “I’m a fucking loser.”

The streetlights began to turn on, but no one was in a place like this, two adults in a place for kids, stuck wondering what adulthood was supposed to feel like because it still felt like an endless cycle of forever learning and forever running, wandering to find out what the finish line meant.

“I wasted time you can’t get back and I will spend the rest of my life chasing the time I wasted.”

Jungkook sucked in a shuddering breath, hand falling from his hair, rueful smile on his face.

“I can only hope you can put up with me for so long.”

You blinked slowly.

He turned his head, brown eyes finding yours, those irises catching the streetlights like how his jewelry had caught the sun, proving that Jeon Jungkook was, indeed, already adorned with nature’s very own jewelry.

You scooped out the last of your red bean ice cream and ate it, looking away from him.

“Sounds like forever,” you remarked, feeling the chilled sweet cool your heated cheeks, swallowing slowly, savoring the way the cold warmed you in its own way.

“Hm?”

“Sounds like I’m stuck with you forever then,” you said, turning back to him with a smirk. “Kinda sucks.”

He smirked back, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah. Major suck. Speaking of my dick–”

“Oh, shut up.”

But you said it with a smile and he knew you didn’t mean it.

-

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“It’s from work. Gimmie your arm.”

“Why?”

You extended your arm, frowning, stopping under the streetlight, one hand on the bike as Jungkook held the black permanent marker with his right hand. He used two fingers to uncap it and tucked the lid neatly into his palm, spinning the marker with the adjacent two fingers to readjust it so that he could write on your arm.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo with me?”

“Of what?”

You looked down to him scribbling on your skin, his own black tattoos standing out, covering his entire right arm and up to his shoulder. You wondered if he would end up tattooing his back and maybe his other arm – but, then again, he kind of needed money to have pay for such large pieces.

“Couples tattoo.”

You looked down when he drew back, grinning, reading the word upside down.

LO♡ER

You raised an eyebrow.

“You want to get ‘lover’ tattooed?” you asked, skeptical, turning your arm this way and that, unsure if you liked the placement on your forearm, near your wrist. “You don’t have any space on your right arm anyway.”

“That’s why I would get it on my left.”

And he curved his wrist to write on the bandage on his left forearm, messily writing on top of it.

LO$ER

Now you raised both eyebrows.

“You want to get… ‘loser’ tattooed onto your body?” you snorted disbelievingly.

Jungkook grinned, recapping the black marker with one hand, tapping the dollar sign on the bandage with the marker lid. “Doesn’t it describe me? ‘Cause I had money, and now I don’t.” He pointed to the heart on your skin. “You love me. I love you. A lover with a dollar sign is a loser, right?”

Laughter and skateboards sped past, five blurs of black along the street, spinning around the parked cars, people yelling after them to stop being so reckless, but you were too busy staring at Jungkook to notice the ruckus, too busy staring at that smile and those brown orbs lit up by streetlights.

“Are you stupid?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mole underneath clearly visible. “Yeah, kind of. Stupidly in love with you.”

You both instantly pretended to gag, trying to mask your smiles, you shoving him and him shoving back, playful and laughing like mad, falling into him, dropping the bike with a loud clang, swept up in his arms and his kiss, your hands hooking behind his neck, love you, love you, love you, not sure about this whole tattoo idea, but, hell, maybe, just maybe if he annoyed you enough about it.

-

Shit, the groceries...

Are they still good?

The green onions look kind of wilted, but so do you and you're still good... I think.

Shut up.

You didn't need him, but being without him was like being frozen in time.

Not that you had any big dreams or aspirations anyone could be envious about. It always been like that, casually cruising through life, existing for the sake of existing, no real reason needed. It just was, and there was no reason to stop, so you kept going. The path was there, so you kept walking.

But, then.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook made you run.

It's not washing off.

Tragic.

Easy for you to say, you wrote yours on your bandage, 'loser'.

So terrible that you have 'lover' written in you by your lover - hey, pfft, stop! Put the showerhead down!

It was truly by chance to meet him, a moment of terror and then he was there, yelling, get off her, don't fucking touch her, and you didn't understand, didn't understand why some random guy would suddenly intervene between an interaction of two strangers, how could he sense your discomfort and fear, and now he was throwing fists, brawling with not one but three guys, friends of the one who slipped his phone and his hands under your skirt, the stranger smashing the phone with venomous rage, fighting in a dress shirt, slacks, leather loafers, and expensive-looking rings, giving you a chance to escape.

A winner at life.

Not like you, you who let something happen because you froze up in that second, disbelieving that such a thing could happen to you, a nobody, a loser.

He kicked one of them in the knee, growling, a howl followed by the sharp crack during the fight.

You could turn and escape.

Or?

You heard sirens.

You grabbed your protector's flying fist and clenched into it tightly, panicking.

Run!

This was before the tattoos.

This was before the pain.

This was before the piercing.

Jeon Jungkook had whipped his head around at the foreign touch, in this mess because he had witnessed something disgusting and because he simply wanted to fight, just wanted to beat someone up, wanted to cause real pain to someone because he couldn't control his own life, wanted to fight something.

Needed to fight.

A hand around his hand.

Run!

Never once had Jungkook thought about escape.

Not until he saw that face, fear and panic and rage and determination, stunningly beautiful, hand around his hand, not letting go, pulling, sirens screaming in the distance, his legs already moving, following, running, running, running, into the sea of the unknown.

Sinking into it.

Lungs screaming, clumsily flying through alleys, on wings of adrenaline, running after the girl in the white hoodie and red plaid skirt holding his hand, falling, falling, falling, skidding across the concrete, her arms around his, her head buried into his chest, his hands around her head to protect it, hitting a dumpster with a pained wheeze.

The sirens sped past.

He was holding her and she was holding him.

It was chance.

Just chance.

His hands were scraped up, bleeding from the trip and tumble, her white hoodie dirtied and ripped from the fall, scrapes on her legs and knees.

I'm sorry...

It was ridiculous chance.

Just ridiculous.

You clung to this stranger and laughed, laughed like a maniac, laughed like you had gone mad, crying into his dirty navy dress shirt, thank you, thank you, thank you, not knowing you were holding the one who would make you run, not knowing who or how affluent he was, now knowing of how it felt to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hear his laugh, not knowing how you would introduce him to a friend who was a tattoo artist and start his interest in them, not knowing you would sit by him for long hours and watch the art grow on his skin...

Holding him, crying, thank you, thank you, thank you for saving me, leaning against a dumpster as the stranger hugged you tightly, I got you, it's okay, don't cry, don't cry, don’t cry please, rubbing your back.

Not knowing.

Not knowing he would make you zero, not knowing you would be standing there, time and time again, verbally beaten by his own parents as he looked away, unable to fight.

And you would escape.

You would run.

He would come back.

An endless cycle until you broke it.

Then he started the endless cycle again, broken as it was, his whispers to your cheeks, I love you, cheeks that were dried of tears because you were cried out and left with a mechanical heart, I love you, heart to heartless because of wasted time, I love you, time wasted but you still loved him, no matter what you did.

Did that make you pathetic?

Did that make you stupid?

Did that make you the loser?

I love you.

Why did it matter?

Even winners die.

I love you too, Jungkook.

"Get your hands off my tits."

"Why?"

You glared at him. Jungkook grinned and spun you around, hair still a little damp, kisses on your face that made you cringe as your naked bodies tumbled on the bed, him doing it on purpose, your grumble against his kisses, should have known, his smirk against your scowl, thought you knew me well by now, capturing his lips to shut him up, sinking into his arms and the ocean that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you want to run through the maze of life instead of aimlessly walk down the path.

His hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

You looked back, into those eyes that once had everything, but you.

And yet, he chose to lose it all and have nothing, but you.

It didn't really make sense, being in love.

You searched for regret, but there was none to be found.

"Am I forever your waste of time?" Jungkook whispered, breath drifting over your lips.

You smirked.

"Always was and always will be."

I know you said I was a waste of time. But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.

"Let me at least..."

"Ah, f-fuck, Jungkook!"

Your hands faltered a little, rolling the condom down while biting your lip, gasping as his two fingers plunged into you, him moaning at the wetness, thrusting slowly and deeply.

"What, you think I can't feel good with only your dick?"

"No," Jungkook snickered, pulling his slick fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his face, cocking an eyebrow. "Just want a taste."

You rolled your eyes as he shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, eyelids fluttering.

"You're so annoying."

He grinned around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and tracing his wet lips.

You narrowed your eyes.

You don't have to take me back. I understand now, you know... I get it. Everyone... everyone will tell you you're crazy and to not to take me back.

I'm not taking you anywhere.

I... I wouldn't blame you. I promise.

Jungkook, please, shut the fuck up.

Your hands on his chest, smacking your hips down, his head thrown back on the pillows, breathless moan at your tightness, matching his sound with your own, stretching yourself out and feeling him swell even more at the pulse of your walls wrapped around him, rolling your hips into his, wet, intense smacks, his right hand flying up and wrapping around your left wrist, watching you through his lashes with effort, losing himself in your pace, no need to ask because you could see it in his face, his open mouth and glazed over eyes, fingers slipping down, curling your nails into his skin.

“P… Please…”

Raking your nails down his chest, his back arching and eyes closing, groaning in pleasure and pain, fucking him into your mattress so hard that the bedframe squealed, setting your jaw and closing your eyes too, savoring his fullness and thickness, sinking into the ocean of pleasure that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you feel like no one else, the one who could make and unmake your mechanical heart, funny how that worked, your nails in his skin creating crescents of lust, your eyes snapping open as you felt his chest rise, his back arching, his hands flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up into you, one eye partly open, black hair pushed back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.

That dark brown orb partly obscured by his lashes, but revealing all to you.

You ticked your chin at him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes fully opening, pupils dilated, hazed over with lust and stubborn love.

“Nothing is more important to me than loving you,” he panted before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, mole underneath flashing, smacking his hips up into yours hard and fast, and it took no time at all, staring at his face and the way the moonlight cradled his strong jaw and toned muscle, catching the low light and bringing out the fervor in his gaze, filling you just right, pleasure blossoming from your core and yet concentrated tightly at the same time, moan of his name falling from your lips, spilling out from your lips and in between your legs, covering him with the sweet scent and harsh squeezes of orgasm, even wetter now, his eyes rolling back, cock twitching, satisfied hiss of your name spilling out with spurts of cum filling the condom, his length shivering inside you, your thighs closing in and holding him in the air so you could feel it all.

His pleasure and him.

I won’t make it to heaven. I don’t belong there.

It’s not like I belong there either, Jungkook.

Are you sure? Only an angel would take me back.

I didn’t take you back. Only your body walked away. Your heart never left me, did it?

“You sure you don’t want to get a couples tattoo with me?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how your dumb ass wants to get ‘loser’ tattooed and how you think that’s romantic.”

He pressed his right forearm against your left and grinned, watching you suck in a breath as he pushed into you again, other condom already in the trash, new one on, your right leg against his chest, sandwiched between your bodies.

“But yeah, if you want, I’ll get a ‘lover’ tattoo.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You never wanted a tattoo before.”

Now you raised both eyebrows. “Did you ever ask me before?”

Jungkook looked down at you, hair a mess, smile blossoming on his face, somewhere between giddiness and mania, diving down and showering you with kisses, you smacking his arms and telling him, you’re bending me in half, the fuck are you doing, and he laughed, lifting both your legs now, I’ll show you bent in half, placing them between his arms, leaning down, sinking in as deep as possible, your moan and his moan mixing together.

You’re still here.

Of course, I am, this is my fucking apartment. Ugh, your black eye looks even uglier than before.

You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?

Did I say that? Uh… why are you crying?

F… Forget I said a-anything…

Hey, stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jungkook, please…

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck…!”

Your hands in his hair, teasing grin on your face, and he was looking down at you, I love your smug smile, fuck, your fingers combing through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, letting him see your smug smile without any obstructions, you always fuck me so well, Jungkook, the smile breaking out over his handsome features, breathing erratic and labored, hard and rough and deep, you rising your hips to meet him for every loud smack, exhales and moans blending together, tight, wet, full, your grip on his hair tightening, closer, closer, racing to the edge of the cliff and the edge of the world, Jungkook in your hands, taking him with you, or was he the one who was leading you?

“Jungkook…”

Breathless as if you were running, winded from the pleasure, tightening around him, his head lowering, your name washing over your cheeks in a hot gasp, putting more weight on you, nearly folded in half but it felt better this way, gratifying in how hard he could fuck you in this position, staring into those dark brown orbs, his body on yours, knowing he was yours, always was, always will be, and you were his, always was, always will be.

Head pressing into the pillows, moaning his name again, loud and unashamed, the overwhelming feeling taking over, muscles tense and nerves on fire, pouring it all into the pleasure, pulsing around his jerking length, his moan of your name on your skin, shooting shivering strings of cum into the condom, massaged and milked by the strength of your orgasm, locking him in your embrace and his arms closing in, lips on lips, a fierce kiss dominated by shuddering aftershocks, trembling in each other’s hold and taking the other’s breath away, blazing hot all over even though this frozen world cared about no one.

The kiss lasted a long, long time.

It fell apart slowly, leaving you both lightheaded from the intensity.

“You’re a waste of time, Jungkook,” you whispered, heated. “But you’re my time.”

The side of his lips quirked upward, sweaty, panting, chuckling.

“That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

--

masterpost

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

[aeempress]

Apritello Express Evidences, part 2

Khem-khem, ladies and gentlemen, we shall continue out praising Apritello's episodes. And yeah, this part will be dedicated, in entirety just one episode.

Purple jacket. April and Donnie's episode.

I really love this piece of masterpiece, because it show April and Dee relationship, better reveals them as characters, and demonstrates their connection. (My previous points at this whole situation)

The episode begins with Donnie sneaking into April's school under the pretext of helping her. Soon, April stated the reason why she called D - her science computer project. Actually, she could take a photo of the code and sent it to Donatello, and I'm sure, he would send her the correct one right away, he's coder, he's prodigy, no probbles.

But still, April just asked him to come over and help her without stating any reasons. And he, indeed, came at speed of the light.

I want you to understand what exactly does that mean.

First: April is aware how much Donnie is into human culture. He wants to study in normal human school, do some average teen stuff. Especially, he is loving school and science-related stuff, all these science school projects, visits to botanical gardens, experiments and laboratory work. Because it's his field. It's exactly his domain, where he's good at. His family does not share his interest in science, and April is only one who can understand him. Probably.

Also, April know, how badly Donnie wants to go to school, which gives him an excuse, even if not the most solid one, but an excuse, nevertheless, to visit her school again.

Why again?

Because he has no problem navigating there. Donnie went directly to April's computer class.

He loves this place. And he'd already helped April with her projects.

Even so, knowing that every time she asked guys, especially Don, for help, it turned into a cataclysm, April still called him to help.

It's just a weird, indirect way to say, " Let's hang out, I know how much you like this whole situation with science, school and etc. Here ya go, buddy"

It seems like April did that to make something pleasant to him, something small, but nice to make him feel better. Because, as I state before - he likes to help April (praise, doing something useful for April - still counts as a motivation) and he likes school.

Second: khem-khem, D came at her school, as it seems, right away she called/texted. He didn't even know the proper reason, but c'mon: April ask for help, plus, her school. Sounds legit, don't you think?

Anyway, April has always been being the reason and excuse for teetles, but especially for Donnie. Clear? Clear. Good.

Donnie also tends to not think things through when he is excited. Because he went at the daylight in place, full of people just to help April.

ROTTMNT shows us how turtles were really afraid of human reaction and possible consequences. They have plan "H" to pretend they are going to Galaxy Con, brothers have explanation why they look weird and it's definitely not because boys are mutants, uh-huh, no, plus, guys go on surface at evening or night hours, when there are not so many people, and it's dark, obviously, to cover them and keep unseen.

Yeah, of course, Donnie seems more capable then his brothers to handle the surface (he has cash, D's dressed up as old ladies more than once, according to Leo, he was in April's school before, so yeah, no big deal) and I suspect that his friendship with April is one of the reasons.

Third: do you remember how April worried about looking "normal" when she was finally invited to a school party? She even forbade Mayham to appear nearby, just not to look like the lizard boy. Because cool kids don't bring pets to school. April doesn't have many friends, or rather, there are none at school, and she's been trying to solve this problem by getting close to Taylor Martin, the coolest girl in school.

And April O'Neil just calls Donatello, an objectively strange guy (since when is it normal to be a fan of school? Pretty questionable) in place, where her reputation is hanging in a balance. Our girl does not try to hide Dee, as it usually shown in shows for kids, and April do not pretend that she sees him for the first time in her life because, you know, Donnie will catch everyone's attention being himself and may embarrass her in front of her classmates. But no - April says with all her actions: "Yes, I know him. Yes, that dork is with me. And I don't give a damn about your opinion. Your problems, not mine. And yeah, I'm fine with him being here."

I mean it, guys. The devil is always in the tiny details.

The way they behave around each other.

Donatello is way more, MORE relaxed and just being himself: dramatic dorky nerdy ninja with current obsessions. The way he sneaked in school and April's classroom, the way he behaves alone with her is contrasting the way of his attitude while his brothers are near.

Don has a specific way to shown up. Instead of texting her, Donnie used shurekens. Yes, he almost fell off the lamp, but still, that's... quite an entrance he makes there.

April worries about him, when he fell from ceiling.

Our girl feel relaxed enough around Donnie, so she winks at him.

A wink is a fairly casual gesture that shows some expression of sympathy, trust, and togetherness. It's both good for saying "We're in same boat, we're team" and show the playful attitude towards someone. Isn't that an indicator?

Ironically, that being the best friends April and Donnie do not have any secret handshake/brofist/special greeting, as it usually the besties have at kid's series. Like Kendra and Jeremy have.

I can do only one possible logical conclusion: their relationship is far beyond "friends," "best friends," and "family".

Btw, about this certain phrase about secret five.

- Nay, fair April. A secret five[...].

Once again, nice wording, Donatello. Fair April? Maybe I'm too critical, but often when someone wants to convince their interlocutor and at the same time show one's condescension to them, it's usually uses "my dear ..." or something like that. I understand that semantically the difference is not very big, but in the first case, you can feel Donnie's personal attitude, even though he uses a book word. The second is just formal politeness, which emphasizes the difference between the rightness of the disputants.

This phrase were interpreted on official Russian dub as (okay, it's really hard to choose the correct word, because there's a lot of synonyms in English that sits quite well, while on Russian it's just one word, damn) "Нет, милая (No, honey/sweetheart )". Actually, a strange choice of wording, 'cause this is not what usually friends use to say to each other. We prefer use words like " my darling", "my dear", to demonstrate leniency. And again, most often this prerogative belongs to the older generation. Russians rarely throw around such words as "honey", "dear", "sunshine", because this deprives these endearments of any meaning, and a person using them, as a rule, is familiar. Of course, there are people who use them on a regular basis, but I HIGHLY doubt that Donatello is one of them. It's not his style.

But still, maybe I just too critical at this point.

April, as it is shown, have some kind of power to cool and calm him down and bring Donnie back to life reality.

1. Don awakes from his daze while heard April's voice

2. He's literally coming back to life, when April said about his broken jetpack.

3. Dee obediently interrupts his touching farewell to the jacket when April yells at him.

Oh, and his face. I remind you, fellas, we're talking about Donatello, "I really do not like to express emotions"-guy and "I will die if someone broke my bAbEyS"-guy.

And what do we see? Donnie's emoting. And feels free to do that. He's even drooling. (What seems kinda interesting without context, if you're understand what I'm talking about ;))

Dee doesn't seem angry about broken jetpack. And his wide smile, while he's assuring April he can fix it? A few minutes ago, he was steamed when his stuff was stolen, but when the jetpack was broken, he doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Very eloquent.

April is his support

April also supports Donnie whatever he's up to. Yes, she hadn't been excited when Othello had expressed a desire to join the club. However, she also introduced him to Kendra and company. Yes, she showed by her whole appearance that she did not share his joy, but nevertheless, our loyal captain O'Neil was there for him, by his side all this time.

And her sweet facial expression. From "Srsly? Join this jerks?" to "If you dare to even think about to hurt him, I'll smash you".

And one more cute detail about Dee. Even if he does whatever he wanted so badly, Don constantly looks around at April, looking for her approval.

- Be honest, April, do I look fantastic, or SUPERBLY fantastic?

- You look like you drop a juice box in a laundry. (Play nice, April, don't be mean)

He cherishes her opinion.

April had even called him late at night just to, technically speaking, say that his tech were stolen. And what's the big deal with all his outfit? It's late night, they can just sneak out into Nakamura in their usual form. But noooo, April give a special ride on her bicycle. Just. You know. Our girl carried her own weight and his all the way without stopping. And then she went up 53 + floors running non-stop because Donnie's equipment was stolen. And then she had to chase the her classmates, dodge and jump out of the window. Because Purple dragons stole Dee's tech. Like shooting fish in a barrel, no big deal at all.

And it's definitely not because he will be totally crashed or he'll do stupid things during his anger, which will then come out sideways.

And April comes along with him to very end.

By the way, their phone conversations.

Donnie is the very case when "Call at any time of the day or night and I will pick up the phone".

When April called him when he needs D's help with Albearto, when something is definitely going on behind.

As it says in transcript of the episode:

[April takes out her phone, scrolls to Donnie’s listing and calls him. Donatello appears on screen. Behind him a flying microwave wearing boxing gloves shoots lasers at his brothers.]

Don: "You are conversing with Donatello."

April

[Crouched on floor in hiding.]

Dude, I need your help."

Don: "For you, anything. As long as it does not involve bees, or spiders, or beach balls.

[There’s an explosion behind him and his brothers cry out, which he ignores.]

And yeah, he took her incoming immediately, he ignores absolutely and totally everything around him, because... April? Expositions, bloody flying microwave bot turned to destroy mode, his brothers screaming and being in life-threatening situation? Naaah, it can wait.

Donatello was at Todd's, building "the puppiest place on Earth" and was very enthusiastic about to finish this thing. But he paused anyway to answer April.

We already know how obsessive with work Don can be: if something interesting gets into his field of view, he begins to do it all day long. Remember "The Purple Game" - a very revealing case. Yeah, we weren't shown how much Donnie is into engineering, but I can guess that point remains the same.

April called him at late night and Donnie picked up the phone.

April, unlike Donatello, is a teenager who is burdened with social relationship such as family, school, and work periodically, which implies a more or less strict schedule to follow and some conventions, such as " April, you can't go out late at night to catch robbers, you are underage and you have to go to school/work tomorrow). However, she was watching the news late at night, so she called Dee. ( I have a lot of questions, but I'll never get answers, as it seems)

D, in turn, doesn't have so many contacts with the outside world. I highly doubt that anyone else outside of the family and April has his number. And yet, when he hears the call late at night he takes it. Yes, he had awaken from the nightmare, but still.

And what's up with his usual "You're conversing with Donatello"? He didn't even understand what's going on, as it seems, he's too sleepy to play his usual image and playfully attitude as we could see in "Hypno Part Deux" and "War and Pizza".

Adorable couple-like D&A arguing

April very rarely uses "I told you so" against anybody, or rather, this is almost the only case. This phrase is more suitable for Leo or Donnie, and you know," I told you so! " we usually use on people we know well, and we want to tease 'em about them being wrong. Which, in fact, once again highlights and proves how close D&A are. And I don't even get started about the fact that this is more like a couple's quarrel, not a friend's.

And one more time - in the end, when April suggests using the jacket to stop Kendra.

Their teamwork

I stated that before, I'll tell it one more and more times. The chemistry of their team interaction is incredible. It's as if they can feel each other, and each knows what the other is capable of doing in the next moment. April easily adapts to Donnie's attack, realizing his plan.

Donnie also throws them both out of the window in order to continue the pursuiting Kendra on the jetpack. Don is one hundred percent sure of April, that she will understand what he wants to do, Dee trusts her with his life without hesitation, and she has never used his jetpack. He just puts her before the fact: April will be using the tech.

Up for Donnie!

I really like how this scene was made. Donatello struggles with his own tech, somewhat he made by himself, having invested almost whole himself and his soul, but what "betrayed" him in end. When Dee finally managed to shake one of his battleshell, which almost choked him, Donnie feel so scared and unsecured. We can see his anxiety - Dee's coaching position with covering his head with his hands and tucking his knees.

Defenseless, helpless, and mostly lost, and then, just in time - hero comes to save his life. She uses Donnie's name as battlecry, look how furious she is.

Funny fact: on Russian dub April yells "Don't touch Donnie! (how dare you, madafaka)

April fits in Donnie's type of girls. She's cute (obvious) and mean (not so obvious).

I can't say that meanness is the main feature of April's character, as we can say about Kendra. But this personality trait is still present in her and sometimes it does not manifest itself so widely. April's meanness is not so pronounced, it is much softer and smoother, and it is not exposed.

But April becomes really mean when someone messes up with Donnie.

She's his support and prop. Literally. Just look at first frame, okay-okay, jokes aside

She's genuinely enjoying of kicking bad guys ' asses, even letting go of witticisms and barbs.

Last scenes

Don survived a rough night: he was used, his tech was stolen, so he and April had to chase the satin robed punks. Donnie was hit in the head with a hammer, he fell from a bird's-eye view, passed out and then his battleshell tried to strangle him. And April is here to comfort him, to cheer him up.

Yes, we don't get any hugs (because it's kids show, bleh), the tactility is kept to a minimum, except for April's comforting hand on his shoulder, but they don't even look at each other. But the softness of her voice, the intonation with which she utters a phrase (that is usually sent to the friend zone, but "pal" is really neutral word, and the most important how she said that) turn the scene upside down. It is not what April did to comfort him matter, it's how she did this.

I said "yes" to you way too often

April mirrors Donnie with his "Anything for you". Yes, of course, she said this with a certain amount of grumbling, but her voice and her demeanor suggest otherwise - she is not at all averse to going to giving in him.

And the way they're look at each other.

This one

And one more detail

It's really tiny, it's hard to catch from the first watching the episode, but still, it's possible. I'm talking about graffiti on the walls of the alley where April and Don had landed.

This one

Yeah, if we speak about reality it's quite normal to see graffiti like this. But we talking about TV-series, where everything has its own place and meaning. And if there something, it must be there, it's not just whim of artist who put it in there. But this little graffiti changes the mood of scene.

[twistedtranslations]

Cater Diamond - Full of Lies

You can unlock this story by getting Cater’s SSR Scary dress

Big thanks to Rym and Apollo for proofreading!

Translation under the cut

Chapter 1

Main street

/Notification

Cater: Oh? A message on MagiCam? Who would've thought it was that girl! How nostalgic~ The picture those ghosts took at Ramshackle dorm made our college's Halloween event trend -> Jumping onto the bandwagon and posting a lot -> Huge success for Cay's follower-catching strat! So far it's been going well but… Mixed within the comments and DMs of my new followers are a lot of old aquaintances. Even some classmates from middle and elementary school are here.

Cater: "Hey! It's been a while! Oh, would you like to come to our college? Cay welcomes every single one of you! You can always come over to hang at NRC's Halloween event!"

Cater: And now some emoji full of feelings!  (^○^)♪ (ゝω・)☆　d(’ｖ｀*)b

Cater: Everyone is really so casual and easygoing~ Well, it's easier on me, so I'm not complaining.

???: HEY!

Cater: Where did that loud and rowdy voice come from? I've got a bad feeling about this…

Front Gate

Sebek: Humans, don't crowd around the young master! Get out! Leave!

Boy A: Hey, what are you doing, sweptback bro! Don't interfere with our Draconia Challenge.

Boy B: We're putting our lives on the line to show our bravery by uploading a picture of us touching The Malleus!

Boy A: Huh, since when did Malleus disappear?! It's that sweptback bro's fault.

Boy B: Don't be so angry. After all the effort of having a sweptback, let's show the world a huge smile on that face!

Sebek: For humans of your social standing to use the name of the Lord of the esteemed Valley of Thorns in vain…Besides, my hair is swept back like this so I have an unobstructed view to find those like you who behave rudely towards my young master! You shall receive punishment for insulting the Draconia… no, for insulting the young master. My thunder shall shock you all to bits! HAAAAA...

Cater: Okay, stop! I'm part of the Halloween Committee. It's forbidden to fight. Why don't you try talking to this lad if something's up?

Sebek: Don't interrupt me, you frolicking human! I will shock you to bits as well!

Cater: Won't you create a scandal for the Draconia family if you were to harm an ordinary human with magic?

Sebek: W-Well… You're right. Besides, didn't you just say you were part of the Halloween committee? Both the young master and master Lilia are both performing the same duties… They ordered me to listen to the orders of the other committee members. Ok, I shall talk this out.

Cater: Even though you are crossing your arms and puffing your chest out, you are being apologetic right? Anyway, these are our college's precious guests. They have no intention to harm Malleus.

Sebek: These magic-less weaklings were making a spectacle bothering Young Master with a toy. I cannot forgive that!

Cater: Malleus is like super famous, and he's an admirable being, right? So just for this festival, it should be fine to interact with our guests as a little fanservice right?

Sebek: Stop messing around. The young master is a dreadful being who makes everyone kneel and bow down to him. AND THAT'S WHY I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIS SIDE AND PROTECT HIM ALL MY LIFE!

Cater: You're just obsessed!

Boy A: Hey, interfering our Draconia Challenge aside, what are you two squabbling about?

Sebek: Hm? You humans are still here? I told you to leave.

Boy B: Huh? You've got some nerve, talking rudely to us like that!

Cater: Come on guys. Why don't we take some pictures together since it's finally Halloween! We, Heartslabyul are those who rise from the soil in the darkness, the underlings of the night~

Boy A: Wow! Now that you mention it, you do look real good for the camera!

Cater: Cheer up everyone and gather! Let's decide on a pose~~~ Happy Halloween~

¨*shutter noise*

Cater: (Ugh… This is exhausting)

Chapter 2

Classroom

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: *Sigh*… I'm tired….

Cater: This year's Halloween was exhausting. Mainly due to our guests being rowdy..

Kalim: It was fun entertaining the guests, but I was really troubled because Jamil got in a foul mood.

Lilia: Even we, three most gentle boys, have been worn down. The other students must be at the limits of their patience.

Everyone: *Sigh*…

Cater: Now that you say it, by chance all the members of the light music club are also part of the Halloween Committee. Let's have our usual relaxing tea time while also discussing some countermeasures.

Kalim/Lilia: Agreed~

Cater: I got this! Trey's home-made pumpkin pie! It's moderately sweet, so it's my favorite!

Kalim: I have kunafa. It's a cheesecake from the Scalding Sands. It's delicious when it's hot!

Lilia: Oho, these are all sweets befitting of Halloween. As the last one, I have prepared this. Licorice!

Cater: You're always bringing the same thing! You know me and Kalim don't like that.

Kalim: The smell makes my nose shrivel up~

Cater: But you know, since it's black, it does feel like Halloween. Oh, right, let's take a picture together. It's super charming to be in costume and have themed food.

*shutter noise*

Cater: #TheBestHalloween #SelfmadeCostume #HomemadeTreat #LightMusicClub #NRCHalloween

Kalim: The best? Didn't you say you were exhausted earlier, Cater?

Cater: I never said it wasn't exciting and for things like SNS, isn't it better to exaggerate a bit?

Lilia: As expected of you. We live in a period where everyone is connected all around the world. It is most wonderful to spread happiness instead of complaints.

Cater: Oh. The picture I just uploaded got an amazing response! 

*notification*

Cater: Another message from that girl. Was she the kind to keep track of people's activities?

*ringing noise*

Cater: This time it's a call. (How persistent…)

Kalim: Cater, is it from one of your friends? You can pick up if you want.

Cater: Hm~… More like an acquaintance from the past? But it's alright? We're at a very important meeting, after all.

Lilia: We are only eating sweets, taking pictures and uploading them to MagiCam though…

Cater: It's the age of social media where everyone can keep in contact at their own pace, you don't have to go through the pains of having to response in real time to a phone call.

Kalim: Do you have that many people who want to get in touch with you? You're so well connected Cater~

Cater: Well, if you look the amount of aquaintances I have, that might be true? My dad's a banker. The bank he works at has branches all over the world. Therefore, whenever he transferred to a different branch, our entire family would move with him. We moved once every two years, so I kind of feel like a pro at quickly packing things?

Lilia: Commonly said, you are a family who moved a lot for the sake of the breadwinner.

Kalim: So the reason why you have so many friends is because you have travelled around the world since young.

Cater: Yeah, the girl just now said we are friends as well. Having to change schools frequently, I got to meet more people compared to someone staying at one place. From the best to the worst… a lot of people. However, they all had something in common.

Kalim/Lilia: …?

Cater: If I left there, they remained there. That's why I'd rather have a casual and happy time with everyone than to deepen a friendship. It’s like a circus troupe, you know, having fun hanging with people all over the world and then leaving. That's why MagiCam is the best! People from my school from three years ago contacted me out of the blue. My social circle is expanding as well. Cay is getting popular!

Kalim: Even if they're far away, you don't have to hold back you know? I got it! I'll lend you my magic carpet, so you can visit your friends whenever you want.

Cater:… I expected no less of you, Kalim. I'll take you up on that offer next time.

Lilia: I feel like I understand you.

Cater: Hm?

Lilia: The relations between humans are eternal. They are things that cannot be severed. In a new place with no trace of your existence, new relations will continue to be forged. That in itself is nature. However, I think the more precious a relation is, the more lonely it becomes. Why does it feel that way? I have lived a long life but the reason is still unknown to me. But just as Cater said, there may be a perfectly logical explanation for not getting too attached to one person in particular.

Cater: Lilia, what got into you suddenly? What I wanted to say was-

*ringing noise*

Lilia: Hello, this is Lilia speaking? What business do you have?

Cater: He just casually picked up the phone during our conversation.

Lilia: Oh, Sebek. What is it? You are so loud. Right now, I am in a meeting with Cater and Kalim. WHAT?! MALLEUS?!

Kalim/Cater: ?!

Chapter 3

Hall of Mirrors

Silver: Stop pushing. It's forbidden to enter the Hall of Mirrors.

Man A: Huh, really! I came all the way to the Isle of Sages to see Malleus Draconia.

Man B: We are doing the Draconia challenge now! Why can't we enter~

Girl C: He’s inside right! An actual Draconia, the Actual Malleus!

Everyone: MALLEUS! MALLEUS! MALLEUS!

*Lightning and thunder*

Silver: It's a rare event that Master Malleus is participating in. He also agreed to interact with the guests... For it to come to this... Everyone, it’s better if you leave. You have angered master Malleus.

Man A: I paid a lot of travel expenses, did you know that? This is the price of fame.

Everyone: MALLEUS! MALLEUS! MALLEUS!

Exterior Hallway

Cater: Did the visitors who wanted that  MagiCam glory end up angering even Malleus himself?

Sebek: Yes. At first he was gentle and calmed me down when I got angry… but a fool grabbed Malleus by the horns and made fun of him by saying "Look! It's a bicycle from the olden days!"

Lilia/Cater: Gh!

Cater: I don't know if they're brave or just reckless. Were the dark clouds and thunder rampaging in the sky above the Hall of Mirrors due to Malleus' anger? You don't think he overblotted, right…?!

Lilia: Do not worry. Using that amount of magic power shall not make him overblot. He is simply irritated. Back when he was young, mountains would be destroyed by his lightning whenever he threw a tantrum.

Cater: Hahaha… that's on a totally different level. I guess it was a good idea to have Kalim fetch the professors.

Sebek: Upperclassman Vil noticed something was up and isolated the young master. He also casted a defensive spell so the tourists wouldn't be harmed. And it seemed that Upperclassman Jade is persuading the angry young master with some unique methods... Even so, those humans who can't seem to understand the gravity of the situation keep stirring up the young master, they're uncontrollable.

Lilia: This means we must use our last resort. We must put in effort to suppress the onlookers and avoid the worst situation.

Cater: Wait a second, Lilia. I thought of something. It's not like people there dislike Malleus or anything. Despite that, it doesn't mean that they like Malleus as well... They're just interested in trends. Just like my old acquaintances.

Lilia: ?

Cater: First, I'll take a picture of Lilia, who's wearing the same clothes as Malleus!

*shutter noise*

Cater: Next we use something catered to influencers. We'll elongate Lilia's picture with a photo editing app!

*swiping on phone*

Cater: Now we just add some text to finish it up. And then upload a cropped version to MagiCam!!

*Phone SFX*

Cater: #AWildMalleusAppeared #DraconiaChallenge #UnexpectedlyAtSportsGround #NRCHalloween

*Phone SFX*

Hall of Mirrors

Man A: H-Hey. Look at the Draconia challenge tag.

Man B: It seems he's at the Sports Ground now. As expected of Malleus. He's much faster than we are!

Girl C: Okay. Everyone, let's move!

Everyone: YEAH!

Silver: What happened? Master Malleus should still be in the Hall of Mirrors.

Cater: Fu. With this, I hope the storm has passed…?

Vil: Good grief. Accidents are an unavoidable part of stage plays. Letting yourself get influenced by the guests is so amateurish. My work here is done. I will return to the dorm to straighten up my appearance.

Jade: My, that was a close call. Malleus is extremely powerful. I persuaded him to the best of my abilites, trying to get him to understand. But there was no one to turn to if it had failed. Well then, I will also return to my station. I wish everyone a wonderful Halloween.

Malleus: I caused many disturbances between different racial groups during a mere school event. I should restrain myself more…

Sebek: The young master has done nothing wrong! It was the fault of those inferior humans!

Silver: The young master told us to avoid hostility between fae and humans. Why are you getting more hostile?

Sebek: WHAT DID YOU SAY SILVER!

Lilia: Malleus. Did you forget our promise from long ago? Call for us when the tranquility in your mind is disturbed.  Even if we are not related by blood, we are still a family. Got it?

Malleus: Lilia… My apologies. To everyone.

Everyone: …

Cater: ….Family…huh.

Flashback

Lilia: But just as Cater said, there may be a perfectly logical explanation for not getting too attached to one person in particular.

Flashback ends

Cater: (That was full of lies. For a guy who grew up and lived in the same place, he never had to deal with rebuilding relations over and over…He would never understand my worthless and meaningless feelings.)

*ringing*

Cater: Hello, Trey. What's up? Huh? Are we doing our rehearsal for our night show at the stamp rally now? And Deuce, who is also part of the Halloween Committee, was at his wit's end due to the lack of manpower. So Ace is helping him out? Darn, Ace is definitely going to extort me for a favor later!

Cater: Argh! And is Riddle on the verge of a rampage? I'll be back soon, Trey. Please calm him down! I am currently at the site of the biggest crisis yet of this Halloween Week! No, for real! I'm not lying. That's why you don't have to be so cold to me, 'kay? URGH, TREY, YOU'RE SO CRUEL!

Cater: Now that Diasomnia's turmoil has settled, let's change the mood and continue on with work. In any case, we’ll still separate after the fourth year… It would be different if I repeated a year though. Anyway, I should just enjoy the moment to my heart's content! I'll surprise everyone with this charming skeleton costume! I'll show them what I'm capable of!

Cater: Happy Halloween!

[littlerainbowsheltie]

What You And I Would Feel Like Chapter 1

The blaring of an alarm dragged Sasha from slumber as the teen groaned from her blanket cocoon, blindly reaching for her phone to shut it off. Sweet silence filled the room once more as she slowly got her bearings and checked the date on the screen. Right, the first day of school again.

Okay, Sasha, you can do this. One...two...three go!

Sasha flung off the covers as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the carpeted floor. She quickly got up before her bed could pull her back into its comfortable embrace and headed off to take a shower. Once clean and dressed in uniform, Sasha walked over to her vanity and fished a scrunchie and a pink woven bracelet from one of the drawers.

As Sasha secured her hair into its signature ponytail her gaze swept over the mirror until it landed on a picture tapped to it. The picture was taken from their beach day last month. The trio was sitting on beach blankets, Marcy had her arms wrapped around their shoulders, and Anne was leaning against her with a cheesy grin on her face. Sasha felt a smile tugging at her lips. What dorks.

My dorks.

Grabbing her backpack, house keys, and phone Sasha headed off down the stairs, making her way towards the front door. As she reached for the doorknob-

“Sasha.”

Sasha took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face her mother. Janis Waybright stood by the living room entrance already dressed for work. Though Sasha had seen her mother smile before it never quite reached her eyes and today was no different.

“Leaving so soon?” Janis inquired as she crossed the room, heels clicking against tile.

Sasha winced. “Yeah, I’m supposed to meet up with Anne and Marcy before class starts.”

“Right, Anne and Marcy. How are they? I haven’t spoken to Mei in a while.”

You only talk to them when you can help each other’s businesses. But she didn’t say that, unfortunately.

Instead Sasha said, “They’ve been good.”

Silence. Silence filled the room, the only sound coming from the grandfather clock in the living room and cars driving by. Sasha wondered if there was a point to this until her mother spoke again.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you about them, actually. Your father and I are happy you’ve found good people to surround yourself with.” Janis began as she wandered towards the window, watching the people walk past their gate. “But...we are worried you’ve gotten .

You know people talk. And there are some things we don’t want people to talk about, especially if it will tarnish the family name.” Calculating cobalt eyes glanced at her. “Don’t you agree?”

A pit started to form in Sasha’s stomach which slowly started to form into a burning rage. She could talk badly about Sasha all she wanted, she was used to it, but pulling Marcy and Anne into this, threatening her relationship with them was going too far. She wanted to yell but the need to get out, to find her girls was stronger.

“Yes, mother.” Sasha grits out before finally tugging open the front door and letting it slam behind her on the way out.

--

The walk to school was a blur. Thoughts of what her mother said swirled inside her head and it didn’t make her feel any better. Her mother didn’t get it, she never did and honestly, she probably didn’t want to.

Soon the high school came into view and Sasha quickly crossed the street, heading into the entryway. Other kids passed by whether alone or in groups, walking or riding bicycles. Sasha looked towards the bike racks and felt the fury in her gut finally start to fade when she saw them.

“Anne! Marcy!”

Anne and Marcy looked up from the former’s phone and grins formed on their faces when they saw her. Sasha saw Marcy say something before bolting towards her with Anne calling out, “Hey, no fair!” and chased after her.

Marcy got to her first and excitedly threw her arms around the blond. “Sash! I missed you!”

“We just saw each other last week, Marsh.” Sasha laughed as she returned the hug.

“A week is too long, Sasha.”

“I think I've bored her with all the cat videos,” Anne replied when she reached them.

Marcy gasped as she pulled away from Sasha. “I could never be bored of cat videos! Have you seen their toe beans?”

Anne snickered at that then turned to Sasha and opened her arms, the blonde gladly welcoming the tight embrace.

When the two separated Marcy slid between them and linked their hands, pulling them towards the school. They weaved through the crowded halls, discussing which classes they had together. Unfortunately, it seemed today hated her because they only had lunch and the last two classes together. Which wasn’t so bad but thankfully tomorrow looked much more promising.

The first two classes went by in a blur. English and Math was not her strong suit. Soon Sasha was walking into Home Room and took a seat closest to the door for a quick escape. The Home Room teacher introduced herself, they listened to the morning announcements, and Sasha spent the rest of the time scrolling through her phone. That is until someone took the seat beside her.

”Sasha.”

Sasha kept scrolling. “Brianna.”

”I love the bracelet! Where’d you get it?”

Her gaze flickered to said bracelet on her wrist before landing back on the screen. “Anne made it for me. Marcy got one too.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of her. You think Anne would make me one if I asked?”

Sasha seemed to be staring at this cute puppy photo for an eternity before she finally spoke. “Is there a reason you came over here, Rochana?”

Brianna’s giggle finally tore Sasha’s eyes from her phone screen to the other girl who had her chin propped up on one hand and a twinkle in her eyes. Her long black hair reached the small of her back now, a few strands thrown over one shoulder.

“Is that jealousy I see? Careful, Waybright,” Brianna leered, “green isn’t a good look on you. It’s too bad, though. I wanted to run this idea by you.”

“What idea?”

Brianna grinned. “To ask Anne or Marcy out, of course!”

It suddenly felt like she was doused in ice water. What?

Brianna goes on seemingly without a care in the world. “Anne is very kind-hearted to everyone she meets and very fit. Marcy is wicked smart and is pretty cute for a nerd

“So I thought why not give them a chance! Besides-” Brianna’s grin formed into a smirk. “It’s not like you guys are dating or anything. I don’t see a problem, do you?”

Before Sasha could retort the bell rang, Brianna flashing the blond a wink before getting up and sauntered out into the steadily crowding halls. As the other kids filed out of the room Sasha couldn’t stop thinking about her conversations with both her mother and Brianna. Her parents never cared much about her relationship with Anne and Marcy before, and Brianna rarely gave her friends the time of day. Especially since Anne declined her date in Sophomore year.

It shouldn’t bother her if Anne and Marcy date, and yet the thought of anyone else holding their hands, kissing them made her feel sick to her stomach. This whole day was causing a firey pit in her stomach and she finally had enough. Sasha snatched her bag from the side of the chair and stalked off, too many thoughts swirling in her head to know where she was going until she found herself in the school wing where History class with Anne and Marcy was.

Anne and Marcy soon came around the corner a little ways down the hall and Sasha made a b-line towards them-

Anne smiled. “Hey, Sash- whoa!”

-tugging them by the wrists into an empty classroom.

“Whoa, Sasha! What's wrong?” Came Marcy’s worried response once she had released them.

Sasha took a steadying breath as her friends waited with patience and concern.

“Okay. So my mom had said something about our relationship this morning,” Sasha began as she nervously wrung her hands. Something new her therapist had commented on. “And Brianna wanted to let me know she was going to ask one of you out not too long ago and made some kind of snide comment on our relationship too! I mean, what is up with people today? Mind your own business.”

Anne opened her mouth to speak but Sasha kept going.

“So I was thinking: why don’t we pretend to date. Not only will it piss off my parents but it’ll shut Brianna up and you two don’t have to worry about her asking either of you out!”

It was quiet as Sasha caught her breath but heat started to crawl up her cheeks in embarrassment as what she just said dawned on her as the minutes crept on, Anne and Marcy staring at her in bewilderment.

“Look we don’t even have to do anything! Nothing has to change and we only have to say yes if anyone asks.”

“It’s not a bad idea honestly,” Marcy hummed as she rubbed her chin. “We only really have to do it with Sasha’s parents and Brianna. Everyone else probably won’t even care.”

“Wait, hold up!” Anne interrupted as she looked at them incredulously. “We can’t just pretend we’re dating! Especially not to just anger people.”

“Anne-”

“No Sasha, I can’t.” Anne let out a sigh and turned to leave. “You can do whatever you want but leave me out of it.”

The final warning bell rang as Anne exited the room and Sasha cursed under her breath. A gentle hand on her shoulder brought the blond’s gaze to Marcy, who smiled reasurringly.

“I’ll try talking to her.”

At Sasha’s nod, Marcy took her hand and they walked to class together.

[onyourzeus]

it just is | pjh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: it just is pairing: park jaehyung (jae of day6) & you genre: angst with a happy ending words: 4.2k

author’s note: this took a few days to write because i wanted to approach it with sensitivity, and some realism from personal experiences. as i get to know jae as an artist, a day6 member, and a person even more, i feel so grateful for his music and his vulnerability that oftentimes is met with differing opinions from other people. i wanted to express that in this fic, and i hope i did the genre justice. 

content warning: discussions of online hate, criticism, feelings of worthlessness, coping through them

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

You don’t get it— or maybe you do. You’ve been given criticism before; on a powerpoint presentation, college-level essays, exams with written solutions needed, even for work performances. It has its benefits, having other qualified people observe you through their own lenses. It makes you notice the errors in your answers, mispronunciations, and flaws in your work ethic you wouldn’t have been able to catch if you were tasked to evaluate yourself. 

There’s a difference however, in the ways that you’ve experienced being given criticism and the way Jae has. 

He gets criticized. Instead of firm and blunt observations that he needs to take into consideration, and adjust when necessary, he isn’t given a room for improvement. He just receives these words with a punch to the gut, a slap on his face, and it stings. A whole damn lot. 

You think about the unfair times you were given criticism for work or a task that you originally thought was executed decently enough, at least for your standards. But that’s the point of being handed blunt feedback, is to let you realize that you can reach higher than this, go beyond what you previously had shown to others or even to yourself. 

Criticism given to you over the years had always spared space for you to reflect, and grow with it. It was always supposed to be a weapon for you to take into your own hands, and wield it yourself. It was never meant to attack you full force, and leave you bleeding with no help in sight. 

So maybe you do get it, but also you never really will when it comes to Jae. 

Either way, you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t pick up the phone at a time when everyone in the city should be fast, fast asleep. When people have already drifted off into a deep slumber that enables them to dream beautiful things. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you wouldn’t ride your bicycle so late at night which you absolutely abhor. The cold air hitting your face as you speed up against its current is rarely a welcomed feeling, but that was the least of your concerns as you turned the corner to his apartment. 

When it comes to Jae, your mind hums a low beep, static noise to blaring fire alarms and resounding thoughts in an instant. 

You don't think much of it, however. He's just another friend, one who is in need. 

You never truly believed he could be alright by himself, but you wanted to give him a chance. Now, hearing his voice crack through your phone followed by the connection breaking apart, you struggle to forgive yourself for letting him be. Even for just a little bit. 

There wasn’t a need to knock, but you’re worried Jae may have forgotten he even called you in hesitation in the first place. In order to avoid spooking him, you make your presence known more clearly in the darkness. 

“Jae, it’s me. I’m coming into your room.” 

The door squeaks lightly, but the view isn’t any different. It remains dark, and lifeless in here. Stepping inside, the air just got a little bit heavier, and Jae’s breathing sounds more difficult that you began feeling aware of your own heart rate speeding up.

Retracing your steps from the multiples times you’ve been here, you get to the small lamp he barely uses on his desk. You turn it on the lowest brightness setting, giving the room a bit more dimension. It gives you a better view of Jae laying down on his bed, eyes staring into the ceiling. His hands support the weight of his head, lifting it up from the sheets. 

He sniffles for a split second, and your heart thuds like a mic stand dropping on the floor at an empty stadium. 

“Hey,” you approach him, careful not to be too loud with your movements. 

The mattress dips from the weight of your body, and Jae slightly shuffles to the side to give you room. The side of your lips twitch in response as you make yourself comfortable laying down next to him.

For the next few minutes, no one talked. 

Not even a hello back from him, and that’s new. 

It’s… concerning, to say the least. Even in his most stressful days, you’d stop by his place knowing it’d annoy him but the sight of you and the smell of homemade spam musubi never fails to brighten up his mood. 

He doesn’t forget to tell you that, and it makes you feel needed. 

Taking in a deep breath, you look at him in the corner of your eye. He’s not asleep, although his eyes flutter back and forth from keeping it trained to the ceiling and drooping it ever so slightly. You squint further, noticing dried streaks of tears blurring onto his skin. 

Your voice shakes. "Tell me where it hurts, Jae.”

You will yourself to resist your own choked out sobs. You’re not even sure what the issue was today. It’s always different, as if they have a giant wheel reserved just for him that someone gets to spin for their own pleasure. 

Sometimes it lands on the same, debunked misunderstanding. Other times, you’ve become shell-shocked at how quick they fill in the blanks with made-up accusations for the sole purpose of hurting him even more.

None of it makes sense, and what angers you the most is the fact that Jae made you promise not to interfere. You hate that he used that word with you, promise me, please? because both of you know the importance behind them, especially when said between the two of you.

Did he change his mind tonight? Did it suddenly become too much to bear that breaking the very promise he asked of you was his last resort for help? 

“Tell me,” you repeat with more determination now than overwhelmed nerves. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jae answers, cold and empty. 

Any other day that you pester him with a makeshift therapy session, you’d take that as a challenge. But tonight, his words linger in the air and you can’t shake off the goosebumps on your skin. 

Maybe he’s right; at this point, shouldn’t you be more irritated than concerned? If he’s not willing to at least describe how inflicting the pain must be with every word online stabbed into him, why do you bother cleaning up the mess? 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because you’re not me. They say those things because it’s me. I’m the problem.”

“Jae—" 

You have the script memorized, the tirade of counterpoints to every blame shifted upon himself, but tonight you stop the words spilling from your mouth. 

You turn your body towards him, hands folded underneath your cheek, a lone tear falling from your right eye.

“Do you believe them?” You ask, and the pause in Jae’s staring doesn’t go unnoticed. 

He finally looks at you directly, ever since laying down beside him on his bed. With his body still laying flat, he turns his head to face you, his lips pressed together roughly. 

You elicit a tsk sound, ignoring the amount of time that has passed since your question. Your fingers meet the cracked skin on his lips as you gently pry them off of each other. It’s wet, and the bright ring of blood doesn’t surprise you. Instead, you wipe it away, pulling your hand back to smear it off your shirt. 

At some point, Jae mouths you a sorry but you don’t acknowledge him. Just as he’s obviously avoiding your own query.

“You’re not sleeping well,” it was more a fact than another question thrown at him. You reckon he’d be more cooperative with you if you say it how it is without him denying openly obvious things. 

“You’re only drinking dubious cups of coffee in a day with one meal in between, at the most.”

“I haven’t had an appetite recently.”

“But you’d cater to your growing caffeine addiction more so than bring your appetite back?” 

You don’t want to sound mean, but the stress lines forming on your forehead aren’t helping with your attempt to ease into the conversation more slowly. 

Jae sighs, and it’s one of his many signs that entails he wants to move on, talk about something that is less targeting his questionable behavior and more mundane shit that doesn’t fit into the mood of the room at all. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Unexpectedly, you look back at him and answer with a hint of surprise, “You think so low of me.”

Jae laughs, and for a moment the room became brighter. Just a little bit. 

“Dude, do you know what time it is?” 

“Yes, do you?” It was a rhetorical question, but you’re sort of glad he’s not just staying silent anymore. “I don’t have class in the morning. Even if I did, I’d still be here. Just cursing you out more for making me bike in the cold.” 

“It’s because you don’t wear enough layers, dummy,” Jae points out, pointing at the lack of thick clothing covering your upper body. 

Your first instinct is to flick his forehead, nudge him by the shoulder, and call him a fool. How can you even think of yourself that way when you receive a call from someone whose voice was on the verge of tears? 

But you let it go for now, it’s not like he’ll believe you. It’s not like it matters. 

“I still haven’t gotten my From Friends merch, Jae,” you taunt him and he laughs once more. Slowly, you feel his mood change from dreary to a few degrees warmer as he sits up on the bed. 

You follow his lead, keeping your knees close, chin resting atop them. You’ll humor him for right now, it’s probably best that you don’t force his feelings out in the open as unwanted as they may be. He might not allow you in the future if you do.

“You can have one of mine. They gave me a ton from the first test batches,” he offers, leaning into you as if to convince you even more. 

“I’m seriously gonna hold you onto that. I’m not leaving your apartment tonight without a sweater or two,” you respond, darting your tongue out. Normally, Jae would reciprocate, and if he’s feeling even riskier, inch his face towards yours for shock value. 

Tonight, he’s definitely acting differently than normal. Especially with what he says right after is not something you’d expect from Jae. 

“Don’t leave tonight.” 

“I—” 

“Just for tonight?” Jae pleads, gaze fully on yours now. “I’m sorry for being selfish, but… I’m really, really glad you came. I wouldn’t know what… I’m just.. lost and I don’t know what else to think. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I’ll stay,” you reassure him, not entirely sure what this entails. 

This doesn’t feel like those nights you’d be here for sleepovers countless of times before. Those nights were planned, prepared, and eventually ends up with Jae sleeping on the couch and you hogging his bed, as per your request (yet he willingly lends you his blanket). 

Maybe two, three hours at best— this was the amount of time you believed you’d stay. You’ll listen to him vent, or just sink into the silence with him. Either way, you knew your presence can only soothe his pain temporarily, and he won’t say it out loud so you show yourself out the door voluntarily. 

He wouldn’t protest, just hug you goodbye and ask that you text him when you get home. 

You awkwardly stretch out your legs, placing your hands on your thighs. Swallowing a nervous breath, you let out, “So, um, do you want to talk about it, pal… or…” 

All of a sudden you can’t comprehend a single word you’re saying, while Jae just stares at you amusingly, his lips in a tight smile waiting to burst out in giggles. 

“I’m trying to comfort you here!” you whine, pouting at the way he’s making fun of you. “When you suddenly ask me to stay just like that, it makes it… weird!”

“I’m sorry,” Jae chuckles airily, carding a hand through his ruffled dark brown locks. “It’s fun for me when I’m not the butt of the joke,” he continues on, tone spiraling to that of seriousness again. 

“Is it something incredibly absurd again? What was it? What happened?” 

Jae shakes his head. “The words don’t matter.” 

You argue back, “Yes, they do. It’s what hurts the most.” 

You’ve seen the tweets, sometimes even the hashtags and you wish there was a way to mass report the whole app altogether, and throw it all away in the trash. But Jae reprimands you for overreacting, even if you catch him smiling at the suggestion. 

“Debatable,” he sighs outwardly, clasping his hands together and resting them in between the wall and the nape of his neck. “A lot of them are just empty words, sure, but the pain they inflict is something else entirely.” 

There’s something about the way Jae speaks about criticism thrown at him that makes you frustrated. 

It’s not a secret that there isn’t an ounce of defensive vein in you when you’re at the receiving end of people finding faults in your work, your character. You believe humans are overprotective of who they think they are, they’ve become, as much as they like to hide it. 

But with Jae, he sounds way too calm and composed for your liking. Ironically so, since he mentions pain. Perhaps this is his coping mechanism, take them as they are, unembellished and oftentimes hurtful. 

But it doesn’t have to be that way, because the more he speaks of them so nonchalantly, the less his eyes sparkle and show his true feelings. 

Your eyebrows crease even further, examining Jae’s facial features that remain still and unmoving, giving attention to anything else in his line of sight but you. 

“A lot of them are false accusations, you don’t have to accept what you think is false.”

“Are they, though? To an extent, I think it shows what others perceive of me on a daily basis.” 

“So you’re saying you do believe what they say about you?” 

“At this point,” Jae starts off, stretching his arms upwards before crossing them against his chest languidly. He looks tired. “What else do I believe in? You know when the negativity becomes so loud in your head, I can’t explain it, but the words that tell me to keep going get muddled and overpowered by everything that screams I’m not enough?” 

You’re not sure whether to respond. 

It doesn’t seem like anything you say can add value to his confession. You look down on your hands, not knowing what to do with them so you keep them intertwined. It’s sweaty, yet the buzzing of his air conditioner fills the air. For some reason, you can’t stop your heart from pounding heavily inside you either. 

In a way, it’s possibly because of the realization that all you can offer Jae is an ear to listen to. All you can offer him is your body warmth hopefully exuding onto him, having the presence of another person in his space just to ensure that someone is listening to what he has to say. When no one else seems to let him do so online.

But you want to be more, you have wanted to be so much more. You wish your hands can extend themselves to his, pull him closer so he can hear your heart beating desperately for him. If it had a morse code of its own, it would have confessed the love you feel for him all this time. 

It’s gone quiet again, so you slowly lift your head to sneak a peek at him. His eyes are closed, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with unwanted thoughts fogging his brain. 

Great, the guilt makes it way on your shoulders, weighing you down with it. He asks you to stay, you don’t believe his sincerity, and when he’s opened up so much in one night, you lack the response he needed to hear. 

“If it means anything, I don’t believe them. You have your share of dumb moments, sure, but who hasn’t? If they figured out how much stupid shit I have said or done in my lifetime, I don’t think I’ll have a career ever again,” you mutter, mostly to yourself now. 

Your mind wanders back to those times that you’ve made yourself look like a fool in front of Jae, and he still holds you against them to this day. 

“Remember when I said owls were the cutest animals ever? And then I saw a tumblr post of what their legs looked like underneath all of those feathers? I felt so betrayed,” you recall out loud, snickering at times the group chat you shared with Jae and your mutual friends consisted solely of those creepy baby owl pictures that have surfaced on the internet-- seemingly their only purpose was to torment you with the truth.

You had posted your intense distaste of the animal on your Twitter, rather proudly even. It was a good thing your account was private, but the shame you felt was too intense to keep it on your profile for too long so you ended up deleting it, anyway. 

But imagine if someone had somehow saved that tweet and called you out for being cruel towards unsuspecting birds? 

“Or the time I got so drunk, I basically roasted all of your solo songs, calling them the national anthem of a hopeless romantic who will never find the love they’ve been praying for?” This was before It Just Is with Seori, and it was a dare that Younghyun had given you as payback for making him act out a lovey-dovey manhwa scene with Dowoon. 

You think, if their supporters heard that out of context, you’re most likely toast. 

Understandably, these are all a stretch, and at the end of the day, you’re not as famous as Jae. And if anything, the “roast” you had blurted out was completely inaccurate of what you actually think of his solo projects. 

A projection, if you will, of your own feelings. If anyone in your circle of friends wears the title of a hopeless romantic, the crown has been glued to your head since meeting Jae. 

“I’m not making any sense,” you say, rubbing your cheeks for comfort while watching Jae just doze off into the night. You weren’t sure if he still needed you to stay, but you’d feel it would be amiss if you left. 

You begin to shuffle your way off the bed to give yourself more space to think about your next move until you feel Jae’s hand reach for yours, and squeeze it tight. 

“I didn’t say you can go,” he mumbles sleepily, eyes still fluttered close. Yet his lips are smiling, almost as if he’s dreaming lightly. If that were the case, you humor him, and let his hand fall into yours. You like it that way, too. 

“Did you hear what I just said two minutes ago?”

“No,” he lies. 

“Mhm,” you hum, slowly making your way on the bed again. This time, you sit next to him, his sweatpants clad thigh leaning against your leggings. Your hands still held together, albeit loosely, he lifts it up as if to examine it with droopy eyes. 

“Thanks, though. Oddly enough, that made me feel a little better,” he admits. “Except for that time you said hated my songs. I don’t think I’m letting that go easily.”

“I was apologetic, and it was a dare! I offered you food for a week,” you protest, shaking his hand off but he doesn’t budge. He keeps it in his palms, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

A blush escapes on your cheeks, pink and warm, and most definitely as a result of your nerves getting the best of you. 

“True,” he recalls, and tilts his head to the side inquisitively, “but it sounded like you really meant it…”

“Jae, you know that’s not true. I literally stream them on soundcloud almost every day,” you say a matter-of-factly, but regret it since it wasn’t something that he had no knowledge about before tonight. He pulls your hand closer to his chest, and excitedly beams at you. 

“No way?” He exclaims, and you have no choice but to confirm, a helpless pout on your face. “Yeah, I listened to it on the way here.” 

“My number one fan, huh,” he coos, tracing the lines on your palm. You gulp hard, knowing how much sweat your hands had accumulated since meeting his touch. You really don’t want him to notice, but the soothing caress of his fingers felt better than not anything else in the world. 

“Whatever floats your boat, dude,” you try to brush it off, and Jae nods animatedly. 

You try your best not to appear sleepy as a yawn finds its way out your lips. Jae notices this, and sadly lets go. Then, he taps on his shoulder, the one right next to you. 

“Sleep, my child.” 

“Never call me that. Ever again.”

“Don’t be dramatic, and just lean in,” he insists, cradling your head until you plop down on him. 

It feels awkward, angled a bit on the uncomfortable side. But he adjusts for you, and you feel your body giving in to the source of support for your weary mind. 

“I can sleep on the couch—”

“Shh, no more talking.” 

Silently, you roll your eyes and say nothing more. Your fingers fiddle with each other once again, remembering how much of Jae’s skin slid next to yours, and now your cheek is pressed down on his frame. 

Again, this isn’t the first time it’s happened, but the events leading up to this particular night is all new to you. You allow your body to get comfortable, used to this feeling, even if it’s just tonight. 

Your original plan was to be Jae’s shoulder to lean on, but the roles seem to have reversed. 

Softly, Jae calls your name. For a second, you’re too immersed in the synchronized breathing the two of you share. When he brings your hand into his, your senses perk up but you refuse to look into his eyes; afraid of what he might see in yours. 

“What? You said no more talking.” 

“I’m happy you’re here,” he tells you, even softer than before as your hands melt together, filling the spaces between. You don’t know whether to let this happen, not understanding the meaning behind his actions. 

It’s.. weird, unknown, foreign, but addicting. His touch is addictive, and you know you’re going to crave for more if you’re not careful with the dosage. 

Biting your lip, you struggle to reply. He might mean it in a friendly way, but the invitation to relax right onto his shoulder, lacing your fingers as if they’re meant to be locked in place that way, it’s all too much for your brain to process— and definitely your heart. 

Face hot, heart heavy with emotions, you say shakily, “I’m happy you asked me to.”

“Hm?”

“I.. want to be the person you call first when you’re feeling like shit. If possible, I want to be the only person.” There was no going back, no swallowing words you’ve let go in the open. 

As you speak, Jae’s fingers tighten its grasp around yours. You feel weak, but you appreciate him supporting you this way as you keep going. 

“I probably will never understand what it is you feel when certain words pierce through you too deep, like you said. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I want to know how you’re feeling, from good to bad. From the best and the worst of it all. I want to be there.”

“Who said you aren’t?” Jae’s low voice interrupts your stream of emotions, and it compels you to finally see his eyes. They’re shining, teary, and smiling at the same time. 

You feel your cheeks soaking wet, and a hiccup arises out of your lips. With your free hand, you hide half of your face in embarrassment. Two idiots, crying together, hands never letting go of each other. 

It didn’t seem long until you fell asleep on his bed. The only difference this time, from all the other times you’ve been here, Jae was sleeping beside you. 

Arms over your frame, his long fingers finding their permanent place within yours. The two of you have exhausted your emotions enough that night, and there was plenty of time in the day to talk it all through. 

You dream of what seems to be a possible future for you and Jae. Moments when he’d fuck up, when you’d say something out of pocket, but it was met with a healthy discussion between you. 

And even if there are days when people online couldn’t understand the growth happening in his life, you see it. You see him, and you don’t hesitate to forgive, and give him space to grow. As he does with you.

[bbwoulfc]

ML NY Special Review

Finally finished my review on the ML NY Special and it’s going to be a long review, I won’t lie.  I will be breaking this down in two sections.  First section will be focused through the perspective as a professional (animation industry) and the second section through the perspective as a viewer and ML fan.

I won’t deny, I will be criticizing a few things and really give large opinionated thoughts; I’m sure it will piss people off, but I’m gonna be honest and I don’t give a damn.  I’ve been here since the beginning and I’m gonna go all out.  It wouldn’t be the first time I pissed people off.

Again, keep in mind these are my views/opinions as a professional and as a viewer/fan.  If you can’t handle some of the strong opinions that will come from this review, then keep moving on.  Don’t waste your time if you can’t handle certain characters or subjects being discussed in a different light.

If you wish to continue, then click the “keep reading” option.

As an animator, this is one of my favorite things to do with animated shows or movies.  I absolutely love breaking things down and giving opinions on the whys, whats, and hows.  Never do I aim to prove my opinions right.  My goal is to simply make you think and consider.  And if you don’t agree then that’s completely fine.  That’s how it works.

Now, the NY Special has definitely exceeded the quality than what I expected.  I absolutely love SAMG as a company.  I think this is by far one of the best that SAMG has produced for Miraculous as a whole.  Even better than the origin episodes. The lighting is probably the best I’ve seen in a 3D animated tv series, by far. It was stunning and gorgeous and worked well with the given mood that was set throughout the hour of the special.  I would say there are two scenes in particular that I felt were the best lit scenes. 

The first scene is definitely near the beginning when the class landed in NY and where traveling in the bus.  They stopped either at the hotel or museum and the shot was the buses in front of the large building where you have the other city buildings around it.  That shot was gorgeous; the orange hues falling on top of the buildings and gaining that purple and blue shadows was great.  It’s honestly one of my favorite complementary color schemes to use when lighting most scenes in animation.  It helps achieve a nice balance when setting mood but also to get a nice glance at the shapes of the models in the scene.  Perfection.

As for the second scene, I would have to say it was the moment Adrien left and Marinette was biking to chase after him and she fell.  That moment the scene focused on Marinette on the ground and in the rain spoke many volumes.  The color tone of the scene was perfect and captured the common traits used in many shows and films to further drive the sense of sadness and overall emotional effect; using the traditional trait of rain made the scene work and stand out during the struggles that Marinette was dealing with. 

The rain in general was outstanding on it’s own.  Liquids in animation are tough, not an easy thing to do. The way the rain was animated was probably the best rain I’ve seen in most 3D animated tv series.  I will even say it beats the rain from the origin episodes which is amazing because it shows the growth alone that SAMG has come from since the first season of the series.  

They create stunning quality work and by far are the best of the best from all the companies that ZAG uses or had used for the show.  I won’t lie, I still can’t fathom how Jeremy/ZAG could let such a company go but Jeremy isn’t the greatest with the money, so it’s not a shocker.  It definitely shows that man doesn’t know how to properly run a company and treat a show.  I honestly blame him for pretty much the entire outcome of the series and that’s my god honest opinionated truth as a professional. 

The pacing of the special I felt was good, though I do think it would have been nice to have had an extra 30 minutes to help flow areas a bit better or more, but I can understand the time constraints, especially after hearing about how Thomas stated that the special was going to be two hours originally. And I will be honest, I wouldn’t have minded that.  I think it would have been fantastic to have had a longer span episode special, but I understand a lot of the struggles that no doubt the team had endured.

Overall, some issues, but 10 out of 10 on animation and quality output.

Now the second section; viewing through the eyes as a viewer and fan.

As a fan of ML, I will not beat around the bush, I truly believe this special was disappointing plot wise.  And I don’t blame Thomas and his team for the issue.  As stated previously, my anger and frustration is more on Jeremy/ZAG for everything that has come from ML as a show and especially the result of the NY special.

My biggest issue with the special was the focal point: Adrinette.

How many damn times must I hear, “they’re meant for each other” or “aren’t they perfect together” and so forth.  I get it. You can adore Adrientte but I don’t need it shoved down my throat every five minutes.  I don’t give an ounce of care that Adrien and Marinette are endgame and that they’re “soulmates”.  The romance between those two means absolutely nothing to me.  It was cute and fun in the beginning when the series first started, but I’m tired of it.  I don’t care about the love square.  I don’t care about the “soulmate” trope when in reality anyone can be someone’s soulmate with the right care.  That was no doubt the biggest issue for me in the entire special.  

In my opinion, it would have been perfect if it wasn’t Adrinette centric.  This was the best moment to show Marinette is improving herself but it had to become fan service because god forbid it felt like they needed to please the Adrinette shippers that their ship is still valid. If we’re judging this based off the season 3 finale, I won’t lie, this special fit better as a season 2 finale or mid season 3 than the end of season 3.

I’m seriously more disappointed that the special wasn’t more on Marinette and herself as a character.  They were in New York, another strong hub for fashion.  This was a perfect opportunity to explore more of her interests as a fashion designer and maybe meeting some new people.  Who knows, maybe even Jagged Stone as an international rock star. But overall it was a lost opportunity to expand more on her for the sake of shipping.  

I think it would have also been cool to see her and Chat Noir maybe learn some methods/training from the US heroes and get a glimpse into a world of heroism that is different in cultures and circumstances.  Which honestly made sense to me how US heroes didn’t care about identity because Ladybug and Chat Noir have magical based items that are no doubt more powerful and outside sources that I’m sure would be willing to destroy to obtain it.

Another problem I had was how I felt we were robbed without having Kagami and Luka go to New York. Or if anything, more with Luka than Kagami. I love Kagami with all my being, but I doubt her mother would let her go to New York.  But imagine Luka being there. We could have had a flipping jam session between Luka and Jess.  I felt we were cheated, it would have been amazing to see two incredible guitarists jam it out and two people who have a passion for music find a friend in each other. I would have given anything to have had that moment.

Though in general I would have enjoyed anything else if it just wasn’t Adrinette centric.  I’m positive everyone in the fandom is on the same page that they’re “soulmates” but there’s more that can be done than a damn ship that has followers that attack and annoy anyone who doesn’t ship them.  Because, god forbid, Adrien and Marinette apparently aren’t allowed to be happy with others. I swear, half the fandom (hardcore adrinette shippers) treat Adrien more as an object than the ML characters themselves. 

Nothing against the ship, but it’s just not for me and that’s okay.  I simply can’t relate to Adrien as a romantic choice of a character.  When Luka came into existence, I was in awe. I found a character I could relate too because I was as close to similarity than any other character in a show before.  And that’s something I’ve noticed with this fandom, hating characters because to them they’re nothing but boring.  

Fans need to understand that one will not understand everything in a show, especially characters.  Just because you hate a character and find them boring doesn’t mean they’re terribly written.  You as a viewer simply can’t relate to them and that’s completely fine.  There will always be some who can relate and understand while others don’t, but that shouldn’t be a reason to argue against people who love a certain character.

And I’m being serious, I enjoyed the 30 seconds of Kagami and Luka with their love interests more than the hour of Adrinette.  It’s just overall sad.  There is so much potential that could have been the special focus wise but felt it was there to show why Adrinette is “superior” when it’s really not.  They’re only one of many ships that are equally good.  It comes down to how it’s portrayed and done.

However, since I know we’re stuck with Adrinette no matter what, I’m going to end this review with this as a food for thought but again, this is a simple opinion.

There was one thing that stood out and caught myself and some of my friends in a ML server attention.  In the NY special there were strong moments that revolved around bikes.  So, out of curiosity, I searched for symbolism meanings about bikes during the server’s conversation and it might hint to what might happen or what might come in the future of the show.   

The bike symbolizes the moving circle of life. 

Seeing a bicycle is a hint that you will reach somewhere. This could either be your motivation or your future plan. Cycling refers to the different moods that a person feels. Bicycles are also related to the ups and downs of life. For instance, riding a bicycle gives you both smooth edges and rough pebbles on your journey. The smooth edges are related to the happy times of your life and the rough pebbles denote the challenges of life. 

So, if we want to use this to break down ML, this in a way, represents Lukanette and Adrinette.  Luka are the smooth edges in Marinette’s journey.  He’s the one that calms her, helps her think things through, focuses on what Marinette wants to do rather tell her what she should do.  Never once does he tell her to do this or do that, but simply asks her what it is she wants. Luka, is pretty much her guide. The happy times as Marinette where she appears happiest without the burdens and overwhelming stress of her other life.  Whereas Adrien is the rough pebbles in her journey, the challenges to properly talk with the one she views as a love interest or simply to build that perfect friendship/relationship.  Yes, they’re friends, but they’re not as strong as friends like Marinette and Alya or Adrien and Nino. Adrien is a challenge in her life and always will be until she learns to let go and mature.   

The other moment that stood out with the bike was the moment Marinette was pressured to chase after Adrien to get him to stay.  She chases after him on a bike but falls off in the end. 

Falling off the Bicycle: This indicates that you are losing your self-confidence. 

Spend time with your loved ones and take suggestions from the experienced people. Join a course on building your personality and motivation. Do things that interest you the most and this will surely help to bring back your confidence level. This indicates a frenzied lifestyle and the need to slow down. 

This here makes me believe that Luka is the “experienced people” in Marinette’s life.  Other than Kagami, Luka is the only mature one in Marinette’s life in her friend group.  He’s one of the biggest motivators in Marinette’s life as of recent.  Putting her interests at heart that have helped her build her confidence.  We know Marinette has a frenzied lifestyle with everything that she has on her shoulders as well as her passions.  And Luka is one of the very few, if not, only one in her friend group that can calm Marinette and help her slow down and simply relax.

I know Adrinette is endgame, but I won’t deny when I say if there was anything that ML could do, is that they make Adrigami and Lukanette endgame.  So many shows always pair the two main characters, always.  If there is any message that I would have loved to see come from a show like ML, it would simply be “Your first love/crush will not always be the one and that’s okay. That your first crush/love could be the greatest friendship you ever have. And the second chances in your life are just as valuable as the first and may be even better for you.”  

Fans might hate Kagami and Luka, but as far as I’m concerned from everything I’ve watched since the beginning, the only reason you’re getting your Adrinette in the end is all because of Luka.  If it weren’t for him majority of the time, y’all wouldn’t have half of your love square moments.  So, Luka is the true MVP in my book.  Because unlike many of the others, he doesn’t put pressure on Marinette and that’s what Marinette doesn’t need right now, more pressure.  

Adrien and Marinette might be endgame, but those two need people outside of their classmates because everyone is too tunnel vision.  Luka and Kagami are the only ones that will help Adrien and Marinette mature, cause those two will not be able to do it themselves.  So, if you want your Adrinette, you’re gonna have to suffer through Lukanette and Adrigami.

[akimmito]

They thought they won #2

Well, here is the second part, I think it was weak in comparison, but it is not terrible either. It is acceptable.

Taken from the indications of @chocolate1721.

I hope you like it. If there are errors, at some point I will correct it.

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Tagged: @dawnwave16 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @mochegato @silvergold-swirl

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On Bruce's recommendation, the girls wait four days before showing up at school. Four days that were used to build a case with the French School Board, collect and deliver physical evidence of abuse and bullying. Tim did his fair share by involving every person who could have been harmed by Lila's lies, getting collaboration from many of those affected (being the victims of the teenager's most outrageous lies).

They also took advantage of those four days to think about what they will do when the chaos with the director and their teacher in charge are set, they will be adrift and that will be unfortunate. Neither of them wants to waste time due to the incompetence of a teacher. The safest option is to request an immediate transfer to another class, preferably with a serious teacher who doesn't allow similar situations.

Marinette also took advantage of those four days to better relate to the Wayne boys, although she has a special connection with Tim (she's sure it wasn't hallucination induced by lack of sleep). They talked about many topics, but found brain games and all kinds of riddles in common (she advantage and led him to Ladybug's reasoning to solve a problem with the most random object possible; the fourth day hhe understood the game when he saw the heroin hit to the villain with a bicycle chain). She even had time to drag Damian to Kagami's house to get to know each other (she realized his mistake when she had to prevent them from killing themselves in the middle of the fight and take Damian to the bakery).

Neither Chloe nor Marinette were excited to see their classmates, but they saw it as a necessary evil to deliver the coup de grace. And that does excite Chloe, that morning she woke up eager to see her revenge come true.

The class had already started when Marinette and Chloe entered the classroom, the two families waiting at the door. Only Bruce Wayne went to the Principal's office to have a talk about responsibility and professionalism.

"Good morning, Miss Bustier," Mariette greets with a kindness that, for her smile, it shows that she is not entirely sincere. The surprised look of the woman only manages to generate irritation in the back of the girl's mind.

"Why have they been missing class? It is very irres..."

Chloe almost jumps on Caline, but is stopped by Richard, who sneaks into the classroom to prevent the young woman from attacking the teacher (however deserved it is). In the back, Tom has an arm over Sabine's shoulder to prevent her from attacking too, his calming touch is enough to discourage her from doing so; Damian snorts and Jason swallows his comment. The class is ready to react when Marinette responds, her brow furrowed and a disappointed look she only gives Chat.

"You abandoned us at the mercy of the Joker in Gotham, we were rescued by the Batclan. You didn't worry or look for us, nor did you bother to call the police and you leave the country without us. "Marinette says and her gaze sharpens towards her teacher.

"Marinette, you need to be more responsible. The Joker is very dangerous and trying to protect two criminals was silly. Furthermore, Lila had to return to Paris to help her mother with her next diplomatic trip. "Caline responds.

Chloe almost got free of Dick and Tim must grab Jason to prevent him from taking out the gun he saw him keep before leaving the hotel. Tom helps to contain his wife and avoid any movement from Damian (who considers that someone so stupid would be more beneficial if she was dead and not simply out of sympathy with the girls).

Bruce arrives just in time to hear Caline's wonderful words, the cheap excuse she gives them to leave two students behind. He stands in front of the woman, managing to intimidate her with his mere presence.

"If the student had previous commitments that clash with the itinerary and its possible setbacks, why was she included in the trip? Two students were in danger, with or without the Joker, Gotham is dangerous on its own and leaving them abandoned with no chance of leaving the country is negligent just for prioritizing one student. What if there hadn't been only two? If it was half your class would you still prioritize that one student? ”Bruce is relentless and doesn't allow her to respond. He's furious, burning with hot anger ready to burn her alive.

They all hold their breath when a purple butterfly appears and heads straight for Bruce, but Marinette gets in the way and lets the Akuma into one of her hair bands, the purple mask appears. Sabine and Chloe break free and start talk with her.

"Maribug, you must fight him. You're stronger than him. ”Chloe grabs her shoulders, but Marinette is focused on her thoughts, listening to Hawkmoths speech.

"You can't let him win. "Sabine entreaty.

Tim also approaches, but says nothing. His gaze meets hers, a sign of recognition and that she is nowhere near being manipulated, but no one else realizes it.

"Yes ... but if you give me those powers, I will go after you and no one else." Mariette smiles at Tim when the butterfly leaves her. Everyone is relieved, nobody wanted an Akuma at that time; the class, on the other hand, is surprised by the ease with which it rejected the butterfly and the white color with which it was released.

Adrien smiles, showing misplaced pride.

"You are amazing, Marinette, that's why you are our everyday Ladybug, you even reject Hawkmoth."

Marinette turns to Adrien, her sense of calm withered by the model's comment.

"I may have rejected it, but it would be better if I wasn't forced to do it in the first place." She frowns at the blonde, who is still smiling completely oblivious to the passive-aggressive tone of the young woman.

"We saw that you can handle it and that ..." A slap silences him, everyone looks at Chloe in surprise.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE SO FOOLY! DO YOU KNOW HOW PAINFUL IT IS TO FIGHT AGAINST CONTROL? WHERE HAVE YOUR BRAIN CELLS LEFT, AH? YOU SHOULD GO FOR THEM, YOU'RE UNDERSTANDING NOTHING."

"How dare you, you fucking bitch ?!" Alya gets up ready to hit Chloe, but Jason  gets in the way.

"Though it would be amazing to see her take your shit out of you."

"Jason!" Dick scolds him for the choice of words, Jason barely gives him a funny look.

"We have more important matters. "

Tim just denies. Chloe smirks, but returns her attention to what's important.

"When does the School Board arrive?" she smiles an arrogant smile at the teacher, who loses her face color much faster than when Bruce faced her. "What's the matter lawyers of the celebrities abaout Lie-la lied to? They should be here by now. "

"Hah! You're just words, Lila is not a liar and this whole show will explode in your face, Chloe. "Alya answers smugly, sure nothing will happen. She has not even called her father, she has nothing. "Stop wanting to attract attention like that, it's pathetic. "

Lila just frowns, the presence of Bruce Wayne only indicates future problems. Damn to Marinette in her thoughts.

"Wayne's attorneys are here, though, right? "She doesn't need to receive a verbal confirmation, the arrival of the police to the classroom accompanied by two men in suits is enough proof." Yeah, I took so long to convince her to press charges for assault, harassment, and damage to private property, but here we are; They will file lawsuits for destroying Maribug's room and, best of all, we have video evidence and photos of everything destroyed. I appreciate that she's so paranoid that everything important always safeguards her in two layers of security. ”She smirks, after all, the lawyers called the parents of everyone involved first and  it's a sight worth appreciating.

The lawyers decide to intervene, unwilling to be part of the girl's delight.

"We regret to inform that the following people should co

"That's a lot, Mari. Don't you think about his parents?"

"Did they think of mine? How much money would it cost to restore my room and all my things? They didn't, I'll not. I'm tired of always turning the other cheek so they hit me too. ”Tim places a hand on her shoulder, before Dick squeezes her into his arms and she laughs, forgetting for a moment the annoyance towards Adrien.

me with us, their parents have already been informed and are waiting: Lila Rossi, Alya Cessaire, Kim Le Chien, Max Kante and Sabrina Raincomprix. We wait for you in the teachers room. "

The officer Raincomprix looks with disappointment at his daughter and only gestures for her to follow them, he will leave his other officers in charge to arrest the teacher for child abuse and neglect.

Everything from there is chaos, the police officers take the teacher after telling her their rights and the class gets out of control, Adrien just watches his friends go towards an inevitable demand. Look at Marinette, she looks indifferent to the facts; He doesn't understand how everything got to the point of involving lawyers.

"Marinette, are you serious?"

"Seriously what, Agreste?" Marinette is hard in her treatment towards him, Chloe won the blow to him, but nobody will gain the words to him. Damian frowns at the blonde, waiting for him to say something that will bury him a thousand meters underground.

Everyone is waiting, the students in the Bustier class don't understand how everything got to that point. They are surprised, but also embarrassed for not noticing Marinette's absence, because despite not being the sweet girl they knew (and she's, but not with them), she would have looked for them and would has confronted whoever it was to find them. They want to say something, but they have a lump in their throats. Knowing that there will be legal problems for the things that they considered insignificant for Marinette, because they believed that the girl was worse ... Actually, it's the logical solution if someone is attacking you, especially if you have real evidence. So why did Lila refuse to stop the problem if she had as much evidence as she claimed?

Of course, even they can say that Adrien's question is totally out of place.

"Are you really going to sue them? They are your f..."

"They are not my friends. They destroyed my room, Agreste, they destroyed my work. Do you know how much the designs cost? Your father is a designer, you should know… I had to do everything again and put the materials that were lost to complete the works FROM MY POCKET. In a week I did a full month's work… ”Marinette replicate Tim's angry expression, making Adrien nervous by the annoyed glances that are directed at him. "And I'll make them give back every penny of the damaged material. "

"That's a lot, Mari. Don't you think about his parents?"

"Did they think of mine? How much money would it cost to restore my room and all my things? They didn't, I'll not. I'm tired of always turning the other cheek so they hit me too. ”Tim places a hand on her shoulder, before Dick squeezes her into his arms and she laughs, forgetting for a moment the annoyance towards Adrien.

"Look, Adrinkis, if they don't learn that their actions have consequences now, they'll just keep it up and eventually go to prison for something like that. You imagine? It would be wonderful to see it, sure, but that's not the point here."

"But…"

"If you say something that could come out of Bustier's mouth, I'll hit you again, and this time it will be with my fist." Adrien raises his hands and is silent. "And that would be very little, seeing that you knew everything and preferred to remain silent. Although they were not subtle when they attack on Maribug. You validated it and that, darling, is a thousand times worse than having fallen into the clutches of a liar. "

"Did you know?" Nino asks, he is not entirely sure what is true or lie, but if it's true that Lila is a liar (he is already assured that she is a bully) and his best friend has known all that time, oh, the pain. He already feel bad enough in the whole uncertain situation.

At some point, Sabine and Tom go out to meet the parents of the boys who destroyed their daughter's room. They must deal with it.

"I don't understand why you care so much about these ceporros, they are not worth your time." Damian looks deathly at everyone, who seems truly unintelligent if their idiot faces are an indication of their IQ. Dick can't help but snort.

"What?" Nathaniel is the only one who has a verbal reaction to what was said, he didn't understand the word, but he assumes that it was an insult.

"You see?"

"Yeah..." Marinette sighs and smiles at the boy, who walks away from her with an expression of disgust.

"Come on, you like her." Dick doesn't allow him to walk away and hugs him by the shoulders with an amused but affectionate smile. He has noticed his behavior around her, actively looking for her because he considers her nice, in a way; the same way he came to connect with the Teen Titans, so it was with her. He found something in common as an initial union and in four days, a record, he managed to form a linkage (small, but it exists).

"Now. I think we should go for a coffee. ”Tim approaches Marinette and whispers in her ear, she nods in response. "But before, if you are so kind to check twitter, in the @NotAddictedToCoffee account you will find a link to an article in the France International Journal where they express the worrying situation of parental neglect, I think you will find it interesting. Maybe you recognize the case they are exposing... So, coffee?" He turns to Marinette and she smiles. His job is done, pity for Chloe who wanted a true social massacre and they won't even let her be present for she watches the lives of the defendants break in front of them. Oh, but the Wayne boys are sure to be able to access the surveillance cameras in the teacher's lounge. She turns to the only one who knows how to help her, Jason.

"Hey, Todd. I need your help. ”He turns to her with a raised eyebrow, she gestures for him to lean. "I want access to the surveillance cameras in the teachers' room, can you? "

"Do you want to see their teary faces at the lawsuit?"

"Obviously. "

The two smile and as casually as they can after a suspicious conversation, they leave the classroom. Richard follows them to prevent them from causing trouble.

While all the students take out their phones to confirm.

Marinette and Tim also leave, followed by Damian. Only Bruce stays for a moment, but then decides it's best to notify a teacher for review.

Adrien knows from the beginning who the person in the example is, the implication was clear. All the time they read, an awkward silence surrounds them, a teacher arrives while they are busy on their phones.

"Very good. I will be in charge until the Board of Education decides what will happen to the class. "The class pays no real attention. They are focused watching the approach presented in the article, where they explicain how neglect causes children to seek any type of validation going to any extreme, without it being exactly something to justify the person's actions and that should be treated with a psychologist to avoid It gets out of control and affects the lives of those around you.

There is even a cited psychologist and an expert in criminal pathologies. Everyone is livid the more they read, it's an extensive and very detailed article that aims to raise awareness, but above all, expose Lila in a subtle way to avoid repercussions for publicly humiliating her, now it's a shadow that will not go away and will remain in the criminal files of the girl, which is enough to keep an eye on her (especially with the demands of some people who are almost affected by those lies).

"It was Lila, wasn't it?" Someone asks.

"Yes ... how strong.And Marinette, oh God, I'm not surprised that she hates us. "

"Guys, Marinette doesn't hate us. She's too good for that. "Adrien tries to reassure his companions.

"You have no right, Adrien! You knew it, man, you knew it! And did you let him use us like that?" Nino now is experiencing true treason. He feel very hurt.

"I wasn't hurting anyone ..."

"AND WHAT ARE THESE DEMANDS?! JOKES?! REACT, ADRIEN. HE LIED US AND HANDLED TO THE POINT OF ACHIEVING THAT FOUR OF OUR COMPANIONS DID SOMETHING ILLEGAL. THEY COULD GO TO PRISON FOR INVASION AND DAMAGE TO PRIVATE PROPERTY!" Nino has jumped on Adrien by grabbing his shirt, he could cry right now.

"Dammit, Agreste. Were you always so stupid?"

"Youngs, this behavior will lead to a sanction in your school record. The Board of Education will personally take care of you if you continue to display hostile behavior. "

"Whatever. Anyway, we're screwed. We hurt the only person who was always unconditional with us. "Juleka is clear with her words and regrets not having listened to her brother, she should have known, Luka is always right.

Everyone is silent, being aware of the situation more than others times.

"She will forgive us..."

"WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR MIND?! AIR?! Nothing we can offer her could make she forgive us, besides, did you see your new friends? She doesn't need us, least of all with the boyfriend who got herself in just five days. "Alix is realistic, overwhelmingly realistic.

Rose allows herself to cry, she wasn't actively hostile, but she knows she was purposely ignoring her under pressure from others.

"Guys…"

"Look, Agreste, don't speak to us again unless you mature. You're the worst thing in this whole thing… I can't forgive you and I'm sure you're the last person Marinette would forgive, heck, surely one day she could forgive Lila, but you, ha, never. "Alix is scathing in her words breaking Adrien's heart, though he refuses to believe that.

While in the park, Marinette guides Tim to one of her favorite cafes. She tells him about the different embarrassing moments that went through her awkwardness and he, in return, explains uncomfortable moments.

Marinette feels good, she still has to remove Adrien's Plagg ring, but at the moment, she feels good. She can face whatever comes.

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Thanks for reading!

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Tori Amos quotes

- Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

- I think that people who can't believe in fairies aren't worth knowing.

- I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things.

- Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.

- I have so many different personalities in me and I still feel lonely.

- The violence between women is unbelievable.

- I'm too wacky for most weirdos. Who am I to judge?

- If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.

- If you really want a challenge, just deal with yourself.

- I don't see myself as weird, I just see myself as honest.

- I see the dream and I see the nightmare, and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare.

- Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much.

- Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.

- On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.

- Most people would rather be sheep than stand on their own with antlers on.

- The sense of loss is such a tricky one, because we always feel like our worth is tied up into stuff that we have, not that our worth can grow with things we are willing to lose.

- When you've got the virgin and the whore sitting next to each other, they're likely to judge each other harshly.

- I think you have to know who you are.

- Get to know the monster that lives in your soul.

- Dive deep into your soul and explore it.

- I don’t want to renounce my dark side.

- The truth has always held an enormous interest for me.

- Healing for me is being able to sit next to the butcher and say 'Yes, I’m sitting next to the butcher now,' instead of saying 'there is no butcher'.

- This is very simple in the world of chicks; some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be.

- We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us.

- Music is about all of your senses, not just hearing.

- Again, we go back to the power of words and how they can make you feel. They bring liberation or stagnation, they're chains.

- You don't have to apologize for growing and learning and changing your mind.

- Music has an alchemical quality.

- Certain relationships can just wear you down.

- Containment of your opinion is a must if you are going to nurture an artist's development.

- It's a good thing I'm curious, because sometimes I just research how a soccer player kicks a ball and the impact it has on his foot. I haven't used this yet, but I might.

- But over the years you can cultivate hate for the art you love.

- I don’t believe anyone’s story is boring. Every story has value because it belongs only to you.

- Sometimes I fantasize backstage about how people do their laundry. Woolite? Mixed-color loads? Do they fold? Do they press? Do they Shout it out? And the thing that kills me—do their whites come out dingy?

- Our generation has an incredible amount of realism, yet at the same time it loves to complain and not really change.

- We like our pain. And we’re packaging it, and we’re selling it.

- Festivals or radio shows can be the heavyweight championships of arrogantly detached clusterfucks.

- People who are addicted to power can live on the same street or attend the same school as us or even play on the world stage.

- None of us are this light and dark fantasy. What's dark to you may be light to me and vice versa.

- I don't think that many performers necessarily want to see their audience empowered. I think a lot of performers, no different from priests, need the hierarchy.

- Modern, celebrity-driven entertainment turns the stage into an altar, and so many celebrities refuse to be removed from those altars once they manage to ascend.

- All storytellers, all troubadours worth their salt knew their myths.

- The Sídh's historical myth is the source of the bastardized concept of a fairy—as if anyone gives a rat's ass.

- The problem with Christianity is, they think everything is about outside forces, good and evil. There's not a lot of inner work encouraged.

- Over the last few hours I've allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.

- I'm the queen of the nerds.

- Don't give up. Don't listen to these foolish critics that are so small minded they don't get it tonight.

- Sometimes listening to music can motivate you.

- I think even in a good marriage, especially if you stay together long enough, there are going to be events that happen.

- An ounce of breast milk is even more potent than the finest tequila.

- Music is always a reflection of what's going on in the hearts and minds of the culture.

- Many people lock a part of themselves away. It's a bit sacred.

- I've always seen the songs as having a consciousness.

- Our world is a huge mess right now, and not big enough for masses of intolerant people.

- We are all fairies living underneath a leaf of a lily pad.

- That is some funky-fresh, pop lockin' shit.

- If I saw someone destroy a piano I'd fuckin' kill 'em. Wouldn't think twice.

- I experiment with things that are usually an internal experience, because that's just what excites me. And yes, it does sometimes give me visions.

- Some of those trips were eighteen hours long and I'll never forget, once I ended up sitting by the bush trying to ask the flowers why they didn't like me. It's like, Why can't I be your friend?

- You might not like my story because I'm not gonna tell you how it ends yet, and you need to travel it with me.

- I just imagined a huge juicy vagina coming out of the sky, raining blood over all those racist, misogynist fuckers.

- You can't control your popularity

- If you can't create physical life, you find a life force. If that's in music, that's in music.

- I started to find this deep, primitive rhythm, and I started to move to it.

-I held hands with sorrow, and I danced with her, and we giggled a bit

- I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks.

- I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.

- For the most part, pianos are female to me.

- Anger is natural. It's part of the force. You just have to learn to hang out with it.

- In our minds, love and lust are really separated.

- I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs

- When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?

- Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

- Your worst enemies are made when you ignore people.

- It's as if the horses have come to take us back, to descend, to find the dark side. By dark I mean what's hidden, not necessarily satanic.

- There's room for everybody on the planet to be creative and conscious if you are your own person. If you're trying to be like somebody else, then there is isn't.

- Sometimes you have to do what you don't like to get to where you want to be.

- You know that saying, bad things don't happen to good people? That's a lie.

- I'm not a habit, I'm a lifestyle.

- There are a lot of hidden nerds.

- People who become the front runners often used to be outcasts or loners.

- Um, don't get me wrong because I love boys, it's just that sometimes we don't need you.

- There are only ten ideas under the sun. What makes the difference is how you spice them.

- So I'm in Virginia, and I had crabs--I keep saying that! I had crab sickness, I had eaten bad crabs in Maryland!

- I'm a winter girl; I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

- You can only be you. A lot of times it's never enough for people.

- I've never played the guitar, except throwing it against the wall cause it was pissed off I couldn't play it.

- Truly, I was a sweetheart when I was little, like the Honeysuckle Faery. Sweet-pea. But sweet-peas are not popular after second grade. Sweet-peas become nerds really fast.

- I really enjoy having a giggle with a friend, but then someone crosses my line, then I don't really take it lightly.

- I sometimes forget I'm not 7'2" and a Viking.

- A boundary was crossed. And maybe I drew a boundary, consciously.

- It was a bit violent, a bit sexual.

- When nothing makes sense, music seems to come and bring me a margarita and sit down with me.

- You don't have to justify everything. Being pissed off is just absolutely okay.

- There is a level of the vampire in me, which is OK.

- It hurts me when a woman doesn't come through for me, more than a man.

- I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.

- What is an angel but a ghost in drag?

- I'm beginning to accept and love the parts of me, of women that I was trained to hate all my life.

- People can be so vicious toward the imaginary world and it saddens me. You kill a lot of little people's dreams that way.

- Even if you don't read history or you aren't interested in anything that happened before the '60s, there are reasons why we think the way we do.

- That's how the story goes but I don't believe the story.

- I would find myself either the lovey-doveyest-woviest sweet pea, or a mad-woman.

- I believe in eating.

- You can't change what happened. And nobody's asking you to forgive.

- Why be afraid of these cuddly, soft, adorable things?

- I have good days. Like if I get really good coffee ice cream with just the right amount of chocolate syrup.

- A lot of people see themselves as victims, even when you have to stand in line for ice cream.

- It's so difficult to be critical of children because they need to discover themselves. We're always telling them, "No, the tree has green leaves!"

- I'm tired of being a rebel. Now I just want to be me.

- When things get really empty for me, empty in my outer life, in my inner life, the music world, the songs come across galaxies to find me.

- Do you know what it's like to be a girl and have blood running down your legs and think that you're dying, just because no one's told you that's what happens? It's horrible.

- An angel's face is tricky to wear constantly.

- Mess with me and you will not survive.

- I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel every emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck.

- I'm not into this dieting thing.

- The cross has been used as a weapon, as it has been used against all women throughout the ages. And that's the greatest evil of all.

- I think you've got to find a giggle somewhere in stuff that would scare the poop outta ya.

- A cornflake girl is Wonderbread whereas a raisin girl is whole wheat bread.

- I would like to think I'm a raisin girl, because in my mind they're more open minded. Cornflake girls are totally self centered, don't care about anything or anybody.

- I like butter and the people who like butter."

- I'm known as that girl who has tea with the Devil.

- I'm not afraid of sadness.

- Everybody has creativity and each person has it in a different way. Some people aren't musical, some musicians can't even think about painting or gardening. There's so many different ways to be creative.

- I wanna be burned, definitely burned, like the witches.

- Give the kids tools, so they can go build their own houses; not the blueprint of what the houses should be.

- Look at me now. I'm breast feeding pigs.

- I wish I had more of a sense of humor.

- I can be so hard on people.

- If somebody's being a jerk, I would like to go wee on their head. And then I do that, mentally.

- The people on the internet know more about what I am doing than I do. Like, they will say that I am going to be in this mall on this day, and sure enough, I am there!

- I'm like a lioness who kills her own prey and no one else has to kill for her. But if some other lioness comes to me and says "I just got a good prey, do you want a piece?" I can say "of course" - and the other way around.

- There are things that I would disagree with Jesus about, and I feel really good about that.

- History has recorded some pretty nasty things that have happened to people. I think we remember. I think it's in our cells and I think it can still hurt sometimes."

- I don't believe in the saying that it all happens for the best, it's just not appropriate.

- Of course I believe in past lives, I mean, three quarters of the human race believes this, it's not like a great new thought here.

- I use innocence in my demeanor like a Venus flytrap.

- I do like to talk about things no one wants to hear at the dinner table.

- I'm not interested in being a really nice person; I want to be a creative, responsible person that's balanced.

- Boys are cute but food is cuter

- Do any of you dream about crocodiles?

-I know I dream about crocodiles. I'm obsessed with them.

- If people can't see things from the other side that's not my problem, it's theirs.

- I think I give equal time in my hatred, right?

- Sometimes I'm mad at some guy, sometimes I'm mad at some girl, and sometimes I'm totally loving some guy, so and sometimes I'm loving some girl.

_ Well, Pele is the volcano goddess and I thought of like, um, sacrificing some of the boys in my life to her but then I decided that that wasn't really a very good idea.

- Anger originates from envy and outrage, not being seen, not being heard.

- We don't know where souls go when they die. We don't know a lot of things. We didn't create the planets. We didn't do this all by ourselves. So, therefore, why wouldn't there be a creative force if it can create humans and planets?

- I've been hanging out with some of the Hell's Angels in England. They're some of the sweetest people I've ever met.

- Real friends have to be understanding of each other, and their faults.

- I think I'm really hard to get to know on a personal level.

- Thailand is calling me.

- People I see laughing all the time, check for razor blades in their anal-force underwear, because it's just a little lie.

- I'm not interested in taking drugs. I do hallucinogens once in a while for journey experiences.

- I hear the wine. It's like a structure. I see it as a piece. I hear it before I taste it. It's calling me. And then I start to hear it when I'm tasting it.

- Not that I use crystal suppositories, I'm not New Age.

- A peach tree says, 'Some of me will be juicy and some of me will be dry I'm not growing for you; I grow because that's what I do.' You always hear some person complain about how dry their peach is and the peach says, 'It's not our fault you have no understanding on the proper use for dry peaches.'

- My theory is that women were the Mona Lisas for a long time and now men are Mona Lisas with little goatees. They are our muses.

- If you're gonna tell a story, you have to grow into the head of the rapist as well as the raped.

- He was a lite sneeze, and not the flu. Most boys would like to think they're the flu, wouldn't they? But they're really just a achoo.

- If you call me an airy-fairy new age hippy waif, I will cut your penis off.

- It's a double-edged sword and if you pretend you don't want it you're a liar and that is going to rip your soul to pieces.

- I'm always dreaming that these bulls are chasing me. Half the time I don't get away - I almost get over the fence, and then they gore me.

- I believe in energy, everything is energy. And therefore sometimes magic can be created if somebody is open to letting energy do what it does, instead of being so cynical, that you miss magic happening.

- I feel like a work really has many sides to it when people have such extreme reactions. When a work is greeted with just, 'Oh, you know, it's nice', then it's not affecting people. So love it or hate it, that's okay.

- I am a real believer in looking at pain and taking it out shopping.

- The music is the magic carpet that other things take naps on.

- I just try to strip myself, peel myself like an onion. At different layers I discover stuff.

- Why is the world where it is? It's so deep-rooted, if we really start looking, and we might not like what we find. But I think we have to, we have to ask the questions.

- I'm beyond the fury of youth.

- I love young women who are angry. They're wild mustangs.

- I didn't want her looking and hearing me and thinking, "Oh my God, that's a scary lady!"

- They felt that it was detrimental material for their children and that it was blasphemous.

- They've decided they kinda' have you figured out.

- My nightmares are so bad, that I mostly reject it when my friends want to take me to a cinema to watch a horror movie. Then I say, "No, thank you. I will dream in a few hours."

- I don't know of anybody who's gonna be fulfilled if they get hit by a bus. You have to surrender to that eternal need to be fulfilled.

- How do you know I'm not having a margarita with Jesus tonight at 10 o'clock?

- Let's be honest, religion has not supported women and men exploring all sorts of their sides, their unconscious. It has not been supportive of, you know, go into the places without shame, without blame, without judgment, and just let yourself really see what's cooking in there.

- I think human beings are so much more capable of what they told us we're capable of.

- Anyone can attend yoga, kabbalah classes, church, lectures by the 'Dalai Lama', yada, yada, yada - but can you be present for your life, and live with the way you treat other people?

- Only a few people should have a "greatest hits". I'm not one of those people.

- I feel like our leaders have hijacked America's personality, and taken her to personality plastic surgery school. And they decided this is who she is.

- The playground is the biggest war-zone in the world.

- You have to read visionaries to have visions.

- They squash the baby bird because their bird got squashed.

- I love reading. I'll read the first sentence and if it makes sense to me I pick it up.

- It's ridiculous saying there's only one true faith, it's like saying there's only one map to get you up the mountain. I want to see those other maps, man.

- I kinda have all the aspects of my personality round one table for spaghetti.

- If it's too loud, turn it up.

- I was doing drugs with a South American shaman, and I really did visit the devil and, well, I had a journey.

- There is no passion without broken crockery.

- You have to ask, how could a nation nearly vote in somebody who isn't qualified for the job?

- We're living in a frightening time and I wish people would wake up and realise they're surrendering their civil liberties.

- Who wouldn't want to shag a queen?

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - Dodge and Parry (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley discovers that he is rather enamored of his angel's bruises ... especially the ones that go farther than skin deep. (2006 words)

Notes: I wrote this for Kinktober 2020, the prompt 'bruises'. So I was going to write a piece about bruise worship, which this sort of is, but it went much deeper. I will try to come up with something kinkier and more fun another time XD

Read on AO3.

“How does that feel, angel?” Crowley asks, soaking his washcloth completely, then wringing it out over Aziraphale’s scalp. “Too hot? Too cold?”

“Neither.” Aziraphale hums happily with eyes shut. “It’s perfect. Sublime, I should say. Like soaking in a nice, warm cup of tea.”

“We’ve added enough dried flowers and wot not that you could just be,” Crowley comments, swiping a hand through the water, swatting at a cluster of rose petals, lavender, sweet jasmine, and chamomile.

“Hmm. Then you could drink me,” Aziraphale says, sinking deeper into the steaming water.

“Ngk … I … I could …” Crowley stumbles, but he recovers, a triumph since that remark from his angel almost had him choking on his tongue. “But let’s save the sweet stuff for later, eh? We’ve gotta get you fixed up.”

“Yes … let’s. Then … I can do you …” Aziraphale mumbles, drifting off, his cheeks rosy from the warmth and the company. Crowley soaps up his cloth and runs it over Aziraphale’s arm, sliding past a mark that has blossomed considerably since he last saw it. He runs the cloth over it again and it seems to darken, the cream-colored suds rinsing into cloudy water and revealing a plethora of purples swirled together, related to one another by hues, tiny freckles sprouting along the fringe like shy violets.

A galaxy of them really.

Crowley isn’t normally fond of scars and bruises, especially on his angel. Aziraphale bears many types of blacks and blues, with varied stories behind them. Older scars on Aziraphale’s corporation - ones following mortal paths and having faded to silver - come by way of other angels who delight in his suffering. Crowley has seen every one of those, categorized their existence, set their placements to memory. A touch of his fingertips tells him when they were created … and by whom.

Crowley has gathered a list of enemies on his angel’s behalf, and that list is long.

Very long.

Not all of angel’s bruises are visible to the naked, mortal eye, but they’ve dimmed his aura considerably.

Crowley never thought the humans’ quarantine would get to Aziraphale. Being locked inside, forbidden to go out and socialize, leaving him heaps of time to read his books, seemed like a dream come true. With no one coming into his shop to browse, there was nothing keeping him from doing his crossword puzzles till his heart’s content. And it seemed that way for the first few months.

But it didn’t stay that way.

More and more, Crowley would catch his angel sitting in a chair by the window, staring up at the sky, sighing deeply as if for a long lost love, which seemed utterly preposterous to Crowley since every book Aziraphale could ever want lay in a stack beside him. Aside from that, he had his music. And cake! Why, they’d been baking cake every single day! So much cake, in fact, that any poor soul who so much as poked their head out of their door received a cardboard baker’s box packed to bursting with confections, passed along at a socially safe distance courtesy of a long, wooden shepherd’s crook.

And thanks to a wonderful service with a mildly vulgar name, whenever Aziraphale so desired, a delivery person dropped by with a box of his favorite sushi, which Crowley generously tipped for.

But Aziraphale still wasn’t happy. And he was becoming less happy by the day.

Something had changed.

He mentioned several times to Crowley that he felt hemmed in; that lately, being locked inside made it difficult for him to breathe. He longed to walk through the park, soak in the sunshine (when it made itself available), and feed the ducks again.

Crowley didn’t understand it. Aziraphale despised exercise to such a degree that if he sat at Crowley’s kitchen table, preparing to sup, and discovered that he’d left the butter in the fridge, he’d rather do without then to get up and fetch it.

It wasn’t until days later, when Crowley found a stack of newspaper clippings hiding underneath Aziraphale’s ledger, that he began to catch on:

Covid cases increase rapidly as next steps planned

'Tier Three' Covid restrictions in announcement on Monday

More than 80% of positive UK cases in study had no core symptoms

It wasn’t the toll quarantine was taking on Aziraphale. It was the toll this disease that caused the need for a quarantine was taking on the humans he was so fond of. That time spent staring at the sky, Aziraphale spent praying, wondering why the Almighty would let this continue, let so many of Her beloveds die and for what?

From the expression on his angel’s face after, Crowley assumed he got no answers.

It was like the Ark all over again, only without the refreshing rain, and with no rainbow in sight.

Determined to take his mind off of it, Crowley arranged a private movie marathon for his angel at his flat. They sat on his sofa with homemade snacks and watched some old Errol Flynn movies. And it worked! After a while, Crowley started watching Aziraphale more than the film, his angel that much more entertaining. Aziraphale had started the way he watched every movie - sitting primly upright, hands folded in his lap, eyes glued to the screen. But over time, he’d started to inch forward, lean in, muscles twitching to recreate the fight scenes - the swipes of a sword, the parries, his feet shuffling enthusiastically in place to mimic the steps of the actors’ retreats like they were performing a gavotte.

Encouraged that this was a way to break through Aziraphale’s melancholy, Crowley recommended they dig out the old fencing foils and have at it, sans protective gear in honor of old Errol. Besides, they didn’t need it.

“Oh! No, no, no!” Aziraphale argued at first, even with a smile on his lips. “I couldn’t! It’s been so long!”

“Nonsense!” Crowley retorted, heading for his closet. “You were an expert swordsman centuries ago. I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully now. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

“And how’s that, dear?”

“Once you fall off, you get right back on.” Crowley tossed Aziraphale a foil, which he caught without looking, and Crowley smirked knowingly.

Crowley didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to back out, didn’t salute him like at the beginning of an official duel. Crowley came at him like a buccaneer, crowing and catching Aziraphale off-guard. But Aziraphale fought back. He wasn’t upset by Crowley’s abrupt start. On the contrary. He laughed at Crowley’s antics, especially when he tried to evade by climbing over the sofa, and then onto an end table. His joy was infectious. It rang through Crowley’s flat, made the plants (which had initially recoiled at the sound of clashing metal) stand straighter, wave their leaves and cheer. It rose up inside Crowley as if the joy were his own, making him laugh, too.

Laugh till he snorted, which he hadn’t done in a long time.

But it didn’t last as long as Crowley had hoped.

Aziraphale got lost somewhere in the fight, lost in thinking, his mind drifting in all directions while he dodged and parried by rote. His face grew tense, his expression morphing from concentration to anger … to vengeance. He went after Crowley with clouded eyes, as if everything pent up inside him - the sadness and the anxiety - had found a weak spot in Aziraphale’s armor.

And now, it was starting to break through.

Crowley didn’t know who Aziraphale saw when he looked at him. Those world leaders who didn’t take this pandemic seriously, who didn’t act quick enough, who were greedy.

Beelzebub and the Dukes of Hell, whom Aziraphale credited for the speed in which this disease took hold, and the blind, stubborn stupidity of those who refused to do their part to stop it.

Gabriel, who has long since laughed off any correspondence Aziraphale has sent him regarding the matter, rejecting the last dozen with a very snarky ‘Return to sender!’ emblazoned in gold across the envelope.

Or the Almighty, who has the power to stop this but who has refused, and doesn’t have the decency to tell him why.

Or maybe he simply saw Crowley, who treated the whole thing like a joke, not only taking a nap for the first few months but then extending it, leaving Aziraphale alone when he might have needed him most.

Aziraphale attacked, closing in on Crowley fast, fighting with more fist than blade, and Crowley defended.

They struck one another at the same time - Aziraphale bringing his wrist down on the bridge of Crowley’s nose, Crowley’s guard-covered fist coming up to block and accidentally clocking Aziraphale on the jaw.

Both stumbled back, seeing stars.

Had they been human, Crowley’s nose would have broken, and Aziraphale’s jaw would have shattered. As was, Crowley’s nose ended up a bit crooked till a minute ago when Aziraphale snapped his fingers and set it straight. Aziraphale’s jaw still sported an indigo bruise reminiscent of a mum.

“Oh … oh my dear boy! I am so sorry!” Aziraphale apologized profusely when he saw Crowley’s nose, blood pooling underneath.

“Wot?” Crowley sniffed, wiping his Cupid’s bow with the back of his hand, examining the stain left behind with swimming eyes. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. Barely a scratch. Think nothing of it.”

“But … but …” Aziraphale stuttered, on the verge of tears. He dropped his sword, almost dropped to his knees, too, but Crowley hurried forward and gathered him up, wrapped him in his arms and held him.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, hugging Aziraphale tight. “It’s going to be all right, angel.”

“Do you … do you really think so?”

“Yes,” Crowley said with a sigh. Whether he did or not didn’t actually matter. But no one, angel or human, was going to get through today and on to the next if they didn’t believe it was at least possible. Crowley had to hold Aziraphale together, even if he did it with lies. He had to keep the one angel left on earth who still cared going. “I do.”

That’s when Aziraphale’s tears began to fall.

Crowley held him.

An hour went by, and Crowley held him.

Crowley declared Aziraphale the winner, and as a reward, offered to give him a bath and miracle him healed.

But when he got his angel naked and saw the bruises glowing on his skin, he hesitated. He shouldn’t be attracted to them. He shouldn’t find them appealing. On top of being physical damage to Aziraphale’s skin, some of them were bred out of despair. They should have repulsed Crowley, but they were actually glorious, like a small corner of impressionist art brought to life and tattooed on his skin.

Because not all of these new bruises, exploding with vibrant color and depth, were bad. They happened when Aziraphale was still smiling, still laughing. When his leg banged the corner of a table during a particularly rowdy retreat. When he tried to follow Crowley vaulting over the back of the sofa, misstepped, and landed on his knee. When their foils tangled together and Crowley accidentally kicked Aziraphale in the thigh in his effort to separate them. Aziraphale had watched Crowley fly backward, land on his heel, and spin three times like a ballerina, stopping in a perfect arabesque, just to then trip over air and land in a chair. Aziraphale threw his head back and laughed so hard, he walked right into Crowley’s (blunted) sword, the flat tip leaving its circular shadow behind.

Those bruises …

Those are bruises of pleasure.

They run deeper than skin.

And Crowley is quite satisfied by that.

Crowley almost regrets his promise to rid Aziraphale of them.

But being the one who gets to heal Aziraphale is an honor all its own.

However, he realizes with a grin, there is a way to get them back.

He’ll memorize these, too. Their exact locations.

And freshen them up later with his mouth.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 35

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 35: The past can easily leave its mark, and it’s hard to let go. 

            Tommy almost knocked over the phone as he pushed Kate up against the wall as she kissed him so roughly that he could feel his lips bruising. But he didn’t dare let her let up.

            He groaned against her lips when she tugged on his hair playfully. “Don’t rush.” He murmured when she pulled away to start undoing his shirt buttons.

            “I’m fine.” She frantically rid him of the shirt and dropped her hands to his waistband.

            “Kate…” He took her hands in his. He realized there was something wrong. It was almost like she was forcing the act, pushing through to prove herself something. “There’s no need to rush.”

            Her lower lip quivered. “He’s not taking this from me, Tommy. He doesn’t control me anymore. He-he can’t ruin me anymore.”

            He could feel her hands trembling. “Sh, love, just take a deep breath.”

            “It’s not fair!” She cried out of frustration at the things she couldn’t control.

            “Kate, just sit down for a moment and take a breath.” He coaxed again.

            “Unzip me.” She huffed turning around with her arms crossed. He did and she stepped out of the dress, leaving it on the floor. She walked to the in-suite bathroom and turned on the sink to splash water on her face. Grabbing one of the washcloths, she scrubbed at her face.

            “Kate, just come in here and talk to me.” Tommy waited in the middle of the room, not sure what else to do.

            “Look at this, Tom. Look!” She held out her arms.

            It was hard not to see what she was referencing. She was riddled with scars, ones that looked old, and ones that looked more recent. Each one of them told a story that Tommy wasn’t privy too, but he knew that they haunted her.

            “He left his mark on me. That bastard took everything and I still remember him every time I look in the mirror.” It almost felt like each scar that Santo had left was burning with anger. Granted, she had acquired some of the scars from much earlier in her life. A bicycle incident as a young girl, a knife wound from an attempted mugging as a young ballerina, and other minor nicks and marks. But the freshest ones were the most painful. The scars around her knuckles from when she shattered the bathroom mirror. The time Santo threw a vase at her and it cut her arm as she ducked. When he pushed her so hard into the sidewalk it shredded up her knees. Of course, there were times that he never left a mark. Like when he pressed a knife to her cheek and threatened to cut her if she didn’t sleep with him.

            “Good.” He purred when she finally agreed. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours. It’s all you’re good for.”

            Kate’s breathing became shallower and she started to lose all sense of where she was. The memory wouldn’t stop playing over in her head and it was consuming all of her senses. It felt like every inch of her skin was crawling as the memories charged into her brain.

            She finally collapsed in on herself, crumbling to a ball on the floor. Sobbing, she wrapped one arm around her stomach and knotted the other in her hair.

            When she felt Tommy try to embrace her, she lashed out. Pushing him away, her breathing became more warped and frantic. But he didn’t push the matter because she didn’t feel him try again. She was having a hard time hearing him if he was even talking to her at all. Her mind felt too loud to hear anything. Tommy could’ve gotten up and walked out of the room without her fully knowing.

            But he didn’t. After trying to hug her, he withdrew, but not by much. He sat down on the floor, his back resting against the bed. It destroyed him to see her in such a panicked state but didn’t want to further upset her with physical contact. It seemed to get them in that situation in the first place.

            It took nearly an hour before Kate became coherent enough. She reached out a hand to Tommy and he took it gently.

            “I’m sorry.” She hiccuped.

            “Don’t apologize.” He murmured. “What’s there to apologize for, aye?”

            “I just don’t know how to handle it anymore. I feel so broken.”

            He sighed and stood up. He scooped her up off the floor and brought her to the bed so she could be a bit more comfortable. “You’re not broken. I know you feel that way, but you’re not. You’re still strong.” He laid down on the bed and let her curl up in his arms. “These scars are reminders that you survived. Despite everything.”

            Kate buried her face in his chest, right next to the scar leftover from Black Star Day. It felt so long ago. All those years ago, in the Garrison, holding Tommy back as Jeremiah removed the bullet. She could remember never doubting that he would survive. Even so soon in their relationship, she saw a resilient person. Perhaps that’s what Tommy saw when he looked at her. Resilience, even when she felt like she was just a shell of a person.

 ~~~~~~~~~

            The next morning, Kate slept in. She was tired from the emotional night before. From getting engaged to becoming a crying heap on the floor, she felt like she’d gotten whiplash.

            Tommy let her sleep as he went downstairs for a smoke and to get the paper. He returned a couple of hours early to find her stirring. He leaned over the bed to give her a kiss.  

            She hummed softly, waking a bit more when she felt his touch. When she reached up and grabbed his shirt to stop him when he tried to pull away, he chuckled.

            “So, you are awake then?” He murmured against her lips.

            “I am now.” She opened her eyes and smiled.

            Tommy touched her cheek and kissed her forehead. “Feeling better?”

            Her smile faded a bit. Of course, she wanted to tell him that everything was perfect. She wanted to tell him that she was all better and had gotten it all out of her system. But that would only be lying to her fiancé. Still, she skirted the question. “I’m just glad you were there for me. That means a lot.”

            “Is there anything I can do?”

            There wasn’t. Kate knew that and she had a feeling that Tommy knew that too. “No.” She said quietly. “Thank you, Tom.”

            His brow creased but he didn’t push the matter. “Are you hungry? I can have breakfast sent up.”

            “Okay, then can we take a walk on the beach?”

            “Of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Tommy noticed that Kate was much touchier that morning. She stayed close to him and wasn’t keen on letting go of his hand as they walked down to the beach. Tommy obviously didn’t mind, but he wondered if she was trying to prove something. As if she was worried that he was rethinking the engagement after how the night ended up. He wanted to put her mind at ease without accusing her of anything.

            “So, I was thinking Arrow House would be a nice place for the wedding reception. If that sounds nice to you.”

            She glanced up at him. There was a bit of relief in her eyes but there was still a block. “I think that would be perfect.” She agreed but hesitated.

            “What is it?” Tommy felt he was hypersensitive to the little tells that were usually so subtle.

            “I just…I don’t want to force you into a corner but I would rather wait to get married. I want your family to be there.”

            He didn’t want to show any disappointment but he certainly felt dread seep into his blood when she mentioned them. “Can I ask why?”

            She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Tommy, they’re your family. And in case you haven’t been paying attention all these years, they’re very important to me as well. I miss them and I know you do too.” She insisted.

            “Kate, I can’t force them to do anything. If they don’t want to forgive me, then that’s their issue.” He replied, keeping his eyes forward at the beach ahead of them.

            “What have you said to them?”

            “Nothing. They won’t answer any of me calls. Ada and Michael said they won’t even speak about me. I’m practically dead to them.”

            “It won’t be like this forever.” Kate stopped walking and reached for his other hand. “I promise it won’t.”

            “Do you remember what you said to me, while back when John cut Angel Changretta?” He asked.

            Kate could remember the occasion. It had been such an upset time for her, it was hard to forget. But she wasn’t too sure what she said as she was in such a charged-up state. “I’m not sure. What did I say?”  

            “You asked how I could gamble the lives of my family.” His eyes were downcast, not able to meet her face. “I’ve always thought I knew what was best for the family. For the company. I’m not confident about that anymore.” He admitted.

            Kate knew that he would never say such a thing to anyone Not to his enemies, his employees, or even his family. But he said it to her. “We all make mistakes. You know me, I’ve made so many in my life.” She lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles. “But I think right now you can’t stop. With the potential threat from the Changrettas, you need to keep moving. And you know that I’ll be next to you the whole time. Polly, Arthur, John, they’ll come around I promise. We’ll rekindle those relationships. But there are things that still need to be dealt with. And I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be by your side.”

            Tommy finally lifted his eyes. It reminded him something Polly constantly said.

            “Behind every great man is a powerful woman.”

            “Alright. We keep moving then.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            That night, Kate and Tommy were in their hotel room getting ready for dinner. They were in a noticeably better mood after talking a few things through. It seemed they had finally worked through enough to enjoy their holiday and their engagement. Kate was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling up her stockings when the phone rang.

            “Hello?” She answered.

            “Katie?”

            “Frank?” Kate glanced over at Tommy who was putting in his cufflinks. He paused and they shared a look of confusion.

            “Frank from Boston?” Tommy asked quietly and she nodded in confirmation.

            “Oh, thank God.” Frank Wallace sighed in relief. “I tell ya, it took me calling like ten people to try ‘n figure out where you were.”

             “Why are you calling? Is everything okay?”

            “’Fraid I have some bad news, Katie girl,” Frank admitted.

            Panic flooded Kate’s system and she looked frantically at Tommy. He recognized her stress and he moved to take the phone out of her hand to take care of it himself. “Frank? It’s Tommy.”

            Kate retreated from the phone, chewing on her nail as she paced around the room. Every possible scenario ran through her head. Each one was worse than the last.

            “Alright. No, I understand perfectly. Let me get back to you and I’ll tell you what I think we should do. Yes, I’ll call back as soon as we get back to Birmingham. Do you want to talk to her?” Tommy looked up to Kate but saw she was in no state to have a nice conversation with one of her oldest friends. “Maybe I’ll have her call you back another time. I’ll tell her. Okay, thank you.” He hung up the phone and ran a hand over his face.

            “Tom…just tell me,” Kate whispered.

            “Frank said there was someone at the docks when I came to get you in Boston. They recognized you and told Santo’s men. I guess they put two and two together and figured it out that I had come and brought you back here.”

            Kate knew deep down that her kidnapping ruse wouldn’t have worked forever. At some point, she had a feeling they would discover that nothing added up. If she was still active in Britain than it would probably be noticed by people in the States. “They’re weak without Santo.” She tried to sound confident. “Without him, they have no power structure.”

            “That’s what Frank said. That’s why they allied with Luca Changretta.”

            Kate’s stomach dropped. “Oh, God.”

            “We already knew he was a threat. This doesn’t change things.” He tried to assure her.

            “I might have been able to settle things with Luca. Maybe, I-I don’t know but now that he has the North End…” She sat down at the vanity, the troubled look on her face only getting deeper. “They now have vendettas against the both of us. And not just you, against your whole family. Tom, you need to make John and Arthur understand that a war is coming. None of you are any good alone, you need to be together.” She insisted.

            He trusted her judgment but there were some things that just couldn’t be forced. “I don’t think a war would change their minds.” He mumbled.

            “Well, tell Ada to tell them this. If you’re all spread out, you’re going to be picked off one by one. As a unit, we’ll stand a chance, alone? We won’t last more than a few days.”

            “Alright.” He finally ceded. No matter how splintered the family was, he didn’t want anyone to die. “I’ll call Ada tomorrow morning.” He promised. “Frank said he would keep an eye on the Italians’ movements. That way we’ll at least have eyes on them.”

            “Okay, good.” Kate stood up and wandered over to him. It was clear there was still a lot on her mind.

            “Do you want to have dinner sent up to the room instead of going downstairs?”

            “Oh…” She looked down at the evening gown she forgot she was still wearing. “No, we can still go. I don’t mind. I’d like to take my mind off of things.” She had to remind herself that there was an entire ocean between them and the Changrettas. But the threat was still there and she knew it would always be there in the back of her mind until it was time for battle.

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