#I hope nothing gets misconstrued. I mean it all with the best of intentions.

[nomsfaultau]

Important PR Response to the Wilbur Soot scandal:

    Abuse in any form is abhorrent, and I condemn Wilbur’s actions. Previously I had established the division between people and personas in my work. I failed to reiterate the stance during the course of Fault, and would like rectify this now. I work with characters and not creators.

No works will be deleted. I will be continuing to use Wilbur Soot as a character only in preexisting works. Fault, Mandatory Family Reunion, and back burner projects will continue. The preplanned plot lines will not be altered greatly, so don’t expect sudden deaths, character assassination, name changes*, etc. However, I am not certain about Lighting Lanterns to Bring You Home as it is Wilbur-centric so it may be abandoned.

The current plans for this blog’s future are as follows:

- My characters be tagged as ‘Noms Wilbur’ or ‘SCP Wilbur’ for people who want to block tags. If cc comes up, he'll be tagged.

- I will not be financially supporting Wilbur in any way. I believe this is an important component in any Death/Disavowal of the Author situation. My fics are unlikely to contribute to further monetary/platform support that facilitates the further harm of the victim/s.

- No new AUs will involve Wilbur, so as projects finish he will be phased out more and more. Though keep in mind Fault is an extremely long term project.

- For those who wish to disconnect from the fandom entirely and stop following this blog, I wish you the best. Genuinely. This is a rough situation.

If anyone has any respectful and reasonable questions/comments, the ask box is always open. Please do not engage in bad faith; I am trying to do my best here. Below the cut I discuss my personal justifications and philosophies upon the matter. I’m not trying to force them on anyone, so please return the same courtesy.

    My reasonings: As I said after Technoblade’s death, I’ve poured a little too much of my soul into this to stop. I fully understand the people who have walked away, because I also feel sick and angry and sad and just— betrayed that this person I admired and enjoyed was abusing the people around him. But I am not going to let Wilbur’s vile actions poison the pride in the art I’ve made. And the fandom? We built it, not him. These are our stories and our drawings and our joy. So many other wonderful creators and fans poured so much effort into this community. To me, it feels like a betrayal to Technoblade’s legacy to let everything be tarnished. And I’m just not ready to lose this fandom that has meant so much to me for 4 years.

    I’m going to try for a little nuance here, a dangerous game on Tumblr I know. But part of the betrayal that I’m sure many of us are feeling is the thought we were tricked into liking a bad person. I have a friend who has been pouring over all of Wilbur’s content the last few days, desperate to find all the red flags they missed, painting every single thing he’s ever done with the knowledge of the things we couldn’t have known. And it’s not healthy for them, or anyone. In many stories we like to have a clear cut good and bad guy, because it’s easier if it’s true. The abuser becomes a cartoonishly evil caricature that makes it harder to recognize them in real life, and it makes real victims seem stupid for being hurt when shouldn’t it be so easy to tell? But it’s not, it’s messy, and complicated, and awful. Because in real life, abusers are people, and they can do good things like charity streams and making you laugh when you’re having a bad day and fostering wonderful communities of creative, amazing fans. They seem generous, and kind, because…they are. And they’re also abusive. And it’s really hard to hold both truths at the same time, which is why people prefer jump to extremes of defending and demonization. We like to believe the people we like are good people.

    Truthfully, I don’t believe in ‘bad people’ which is probably evident in much of my writing. I find it a category that too often used to discourage growth, remove culpability, and dismantle nuance. The moment people become monsters there is no question of rehabilitative justice, no question of what conditions and structures enabled this that need to be mended, revised, or replaced. The question becomes how do we destroy the monster instead of how do we protect future victims. Remove support from Wilbur, yes, but the next step is to give that support to Shubble. Mobs are fun. They feel right. But monsters don’t exist, people do, and people are complicated and abuse is complicated and their solutions must be accordingly nuanced. Sticking one guy’s head on a pike might ‘save’ the victim (which: Shubble saved herself), but it doesn’t support them in the long run. And it certainly doesn’t address the underlying personal, mental, and societal problems that caused someone to be abusive and allowed them to be undetected. And if anything, when put in a corner most people only get more desperate and dangerous to others and themselves. Justice requires far more effort than monster hunting, which is why it is often rare. And like we already discussed, people are often bad at detecting when someone is abusive. I’m not saying Wilbur is innocent, obviously. I’m saying demonization is a dangerous game and most people have done good and bad.

    But also, most people aren’t abusive pieces of shit.

    I don’t want to demonize Wilbur, but also I’m not going to wipe my hands of it by throwing my hands up, claiming there’s too much nuance blah blah morals are complicated, and then not actually hold him accountable. Wilbur does not deserve a platform with which to perpetuate his harmful actions. In reaction to this, we need to build systems and communities that don’t enable abuse, to support victims, and to help abusers become better without giving them the opportunity to hurt other people or themselves. Which, you know, is *slightly* outside the scope of one SBI fanblog, but I’ll do my best and pray others choose the same.

    I understand people who want to raze everything he’s ever touched, to delete all their fan works and eviscerate their love for anything involving him. I really, really do. I feel nauseous every time I try to write. But I’m trying to not throw the baby out with the bathwater, because I’ve found a lot of good here and I refuse to abandon it. My enjoyment of the story and community Wilbur helped inspire does not condone the bad he’s done, nor do I support him financially or emotionally. It’s a really difficult line to walk, but this is where my morals fall at least. I want to reclaim the joy I used to have.

    I hope Shubble is able to recover and heal from the harm done to her. She’s a wonderful person and is lucky to have friends and a community that have supported her in this time. I’m glad that the fandom has (mostly) collectively disavowed her abuser instead of exploding into controversy and a ‘he said-she said’ toxic mess a la Dream style, even if it hurts knowing much of the community we’ve built has been destroyed. Lastly, I pray Wilbur will become a better person. I would like to believe anyone has the capacity for redemption, but that is a decision entirely within his hands alone at this point. As for me, I will simply do what I think reduces harm and uplifts joy.  I may be wrong, but I will continue to do my best.   

Again, if anyone has any respectful and reasonable questions/comments, the ask box is always open.

[andreafmn]

Speak | Chapter 9

Word Count: 3.6K Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf. Chapter: 9/? A/N: one day I'll upload early, y'all. but I am truly trying to keep to the schedule I posted, as hard as it is. But thank you for bearing with me. You guys have no idea how much it means to me 🥰🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!  Taglists for Twilight get filled quick and Tumblr only lets me tag up to a certain point. Notifications are your best bet.

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Chapter 9

The Swan sisters had been raised with a misconstrued idea that the new year meant a fresh start, a clean slate. That it could magically erase any and all afflictions the year before had caused. That it truly was the first page of a new chapter.

And maybe that’s all that (Y/N) was hoping for that New Year’s Eve. That the coming year would be the first page of her new chapter in Forks. That whatever was happening with Paul would die that December night. That Bella would finally turn over a new leaf and forget Edward. That she could move forward with her relationship with Jake.

Because that’s what she wanted.

That’s what she had always wanted.

The thing she most needed was to get over whatever fluke it was that had made its way into her life. Whatever breach into her timeline that had decided to make her heart flutter out the sound of someone else’s name. It had been too sudden and unexplainable to not be a mistake.

Paul Lahote had no business settling into her heart in the way he had, and she would stop at nothing to pluck him as quickly as he had attached himself. Even if she looked forward to seeing him in her dreams at night, even if her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of him, even if all she wanted was to get as close to him as possible.

(Y/N) wanted —at least she thought she wanted— to go back to being excited that Jacob had finally set his sights on her. She wanted the same thrill she got about Paul with Jake. He had been the crush that had withstood the trials of time. It could not be trampled over by a guy she barely knew.

Yet, she could not stop thinking how his favorite color was red, how he moved to La Push after his parent’s divorced when he was eight, how he didn’t remember much of his mother even though he had been old enough to, how he had never been in love but desperately wanted to know what it felt like. (Y/N) could not stop picturing the way his eyes would shine under the warm glow of the setting sun, how his smile would grow as he listened intently to every word she spoke. Nor could she shake off the feeling of his warm skin against hers, how soft his hands had felt where she believed they’d be rough and calloused. He was everything and nothing like she had thought, but she knew that was as far as she could go to know him.

“Well, don’t you look mighty nice?” Charlie’s voice broke his daughter out of thought. “I think you’ve been to more bonfires this month than I have been to in years. People might start forgetting the sheriff’s face around there.”

“I doubt that’s even possible, dad,” she chuckled, smoothing over a piece of hair that had been unruly for the better part of the day. “Really wish you could join us, though. Since Bella won’t be making it out there, I wanted a Swan there for moral support.”

“This about that Paul fella?”

The question took (Y/N) aback. She had thought no one but Jake knew about that whole fiasco, and she was certain he had not said anything to her dad. “How do you…?” she stammered.

“Bella muttered a thing or two about him. Said he was the one you had been with the other night,” her father said. “Something happen with you and Jake?”

“Nothing happened,” she muttered. “I’m just making new friends seeing as my stay in Forks might be longer than anticipated.”

“Well, that’s a good idea. Just be careful of the people you keep in your company.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Jake might have mentioned this Paul Lahote character is not the greatest influence,” Charlie added. “He thinks he might not have the purest of intentions with you, (Y/N). I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.”  

“Well, I can tell you right now that you have nothing to worry about,” (Y/N) smiled comfortingly.  The last thing she wanted was for her father to worry about her when his other daughter was still no more than a statue in their home.  “I have only hung out with him that one time and I don’t think it’ll happen again. But thanks for checking in.”

“Just wanna make sure your transition back here is as smooth as possible, kiddo,” he responded warmly. “I know it’s gonna be hard to settle back here after being with your mom for so long. Forks might be a bit slow but it’s truly home.”

“I’m actually excited about staying. Even if it wasn’t the plan originally, there’s something about this town that’s just begging for me to stay,” she confessed. “Even if I came to help with Bella, I’m glad I decided to stay. It will also keep mom from taking us both back to Florida —at least for a while.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” The older Swan said before she nodded in response. “I’m just glad you two wanted to spend time with your old man. Even if I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing good, dad,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I will say you got the shortest end of the stick having to be the one dealing with this breakup but I know you’re doing the absolute best you can. Hopefully, this new year brings us all the fresh start we so desperately need.”

“I hope so too, kiddo,” he sighed in defeat. “But have fun tonight, (Y/N), and make good choices.”

“Have I ever done anything else?”

“Very funny, kid,” Charlie chuckled. “Well, I’m off to work. I’ll probably not be here yet when you get back, so happy new year, (Y/N). And have fun.”

“Happy New Year, dad.”

Everything in Forks seemed to move at a punishingly fast pace, even if at times it felt like the town was stuck in time. But (Y/N) had been there almost four weeks which had already felt like a lifetime.

In comparison to living with Phil and her mother, in the midst of travel and adventures that she had loved for a time, (Y/N) had forgotten the calmness of remaining stagnant, of going to sleep and waking in the same home. She had forgotten what walking the halls of a school felt like, of having a group of friends that lasted more than a year.

Forks would give her that opportunity, or at least she hoped it would. The town had already started to change her and given her more than she could’ve hoped for. And that night she truly believed would set everything in the correct motion. Everything she had wished for with no more flukes.

An hour later and from the street she heard the honk of a horn. She gave herself a once over, not feeling completely comfortable with the way she looked that night. In part, she felt it was merely the nerves of seeing Jacob after the altercation with Paul.

But there was another part, the bigger part, that knew it was because of Paul. There was a calming thrill to him that she couldn’t explain. Even the juxtaposition of the thought made no sense to her. As much as she wanted to stay away from him, she wanted to get closer. It scared and excited her all at once.

Yet, the person that was waiting for her was not him. It was Jake, waiting impatiently behind the wheel of his truck.

“What took you so long?” Jacob grumbled as (Y/N) got into the car. “We’re already late as it is.”

“Sorry, Jake. I couldn’t find my jacket.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N). It’s just that Quil came back from his trip, and I wanted to catch up with him before school starts,” he said. “I also haven’t seen Embry since last weekend since he was with his mom visiting some family.”  

“Yeah, I get that,” (Y/N) responded meekly, sinking into her seat. “At least we have the rest of the night to hang out with them.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he smiled forcefully. “What about Bella? Is she not coming?”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “She wasn’t up to coming. Still bummed about this Edward guy.”

“What a shame,” Jake sighed. “Being around people would be good for her.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbled. “But I can’t really force her. This guy did a number on her and nothing dad and I are doing is working. I’ve even decided to…”

“Maybe you guys don’t know her as well as you thought,” he blurted. “I mean, no offense but she’s not the same girl that left Arizona. She’s not even the same girl that came to Forks.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t help her, Jake. And that’s what we have been doing this whole time. Still, we can’t help someone that doesn’t want to help themselves.”

“I’m not trying to start a fight, (Y/N),” he grumbled. “I’m just saying that  maybe your efforts have not worked because she’s not the same Bella you knew.”

The girl remained quiet, anger filling her body instantly. Bella remained a sore subject in the new relationship, always being brought up by Jacob, reminding (Y/N) that he had liked her sister first –and, deep down, she knew he probably still did. Still, wanted to remain in the delusion that he had chosen her for as long as she could.

“It’s fine. Let’s just drop this, okay?” (Y/N) pleaded. “I just want to enjoy tonight. Please.”

“Alright, yeah. Whatever.”

The rest of the ride went by in silence, a heavy tension filling the air and suffocating her. At that moment, more than ever before in her life, she needed to believe that the new year was truly a fresh start. A new beginning for her sister, a new beginning for her relationship, and a new beginning for her life in Forks.

As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, Jake was out of the car and heading to the beach, mumbling something to (Y/N) that he was gonna see his friends and that he’d catch up to her soon enough. Then, he left her in between the small sea of cars that lined the border of the beach.

The younger Swan was left dumbfounded, completely perplexed at Jake’s reaction. His outburst had made her feel small and unwanted. And as she stood frozen at her spot, watching the community celebrate before her, she wondered if there was any reason for her to be there. Because maybe the best thing she could do, for everyone, was leave.

“I’m glad you came, (Y/N),” a voice startled her. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Paul, hi,” she blushed, looking down at the black jumpsuit she wore under a white coat. “Thank you. You look great too. Especially with my sweater.”

“Oh, it was cold tonight and it was the first thing I grabbed,” he chuckled. “I promise I was gonna bring it back to you, not use it like it was mine.”

“Honestly, it looks better on you than it does me. Sometimes I feel like I drown in it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Your look great in a paper bag,” he grinned. “But I really am glad you came tonight.”

“And why is that, Paul Lahote?”

“Because I wanted to apologize for the other day. I never wanted things to end the way they did,” he said. His eyes searched hers in the darkness, wanting nothing more than for his hands to reach her, to feel her skin against his once more. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble between you and Jacob. The last thing I would have ever wanted was for you to be blamed for my actions. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thank you, Paul,” she smiled, her hand unconsciously reaching for his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “But it’s not your fault. I was the one that agreed to spend time with you knowing that Jake would blow off the handle. If anyone is to blame for what happened that night, it’s me.”

Paul couldn’t help himself as his free hand flew to rest on her cheek, cradling her face in a soothing manner. “Nothing that happened was your fault, (Y/N),” he said. “Jake simply showed you who he is. You never did anything wrong. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

In that split second, (Y/N) remembered Jake’s words. She broke away from his contact, as though his touch had burned her skin, turning away from the enchanting trance his eyes held over her.

“What’s wrong?”

“It's just that Jake said something about you and… your past,” she sighed. “He said I was just an attempt to make your body count higher.”

“I hope you know how untrue that is,” he said, seething on the inside but not daring to show it to her. “You are special, (Y/N), and I would never do anything that would make you feel otherwise.”

“But why, Paul? What is so special about me? To everyone, I’m just Bella’s little sister.”

“You have to know that that is the least interesting thing about you,” he said. He reached out to her, needing to look her in the eye again. “You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re smart and witty. And that’s merely the tip of the iceberg. I may not have known you for long but I know there’s so much more to you than you let on. And all I’ve wanted was to learn about those parts that you hide from everyone else.”

“I still don’t know why!” (Y/N) responded, frustration pooling beads of tears in the corners of her eyes. “How can I trust someone that somehow says everything I want to hear but won’t give me a straightforward answer? Why me, Paul? Out of all the people in the world, why do you want to know me?”

At that moment, he felt he would spill everything. He wanted her to know just why it was her, why the universe had decided that it had to be her. Paul wanted to confess what bonded them and would keep them for the rest of their lives.

And he would have, but the fear of putting her in any danger could not let him say the words. He could not bring himself to utter any of the words that would throw her life up in shambles. “Why not you, (Y/N)?” he asked her, biting his tongue to keep what he wanted to say from spilling. “Is it so hard to believe that I could have seen you and be intrigued by you?”

“You saw me for a split second, Paul. Someone you’ve never known of cannot be worth all this trouble.”

“You are worth it, (Y/N).”

“And you are frustratingly vague,” she finally cracked a smile. “Why can’t you just answer me? What is it that you’re hiding?”

“You’d never believe me if I told you,” he copied her smile. “And isn’t a little mystery fun?”

“It could be if it didn’t get me in trouble with my boyfriend.”

“That could be fixed by breaking up with him, you know,” Paul teased. “A lot of things could be fixed if Jake was gone.”

“Are you threatening my boyfriend, Paul Lahote?”

“I would never,” he laughed. “But I still believe that he doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N).”

“Will you ever let that go?”

“Don’t think I can.”

And maybe she knew he was right but it was too hard to admit it, to him or to herself. She had wanted Jake for the better part of her life and one night could not change that. She wouldn’t let it. “Then you’re gonna have to if there’s ever gonna be some sort of friendship between us,” she said. “Might be hard to spend time with someone that’s always trashing their boyfriend.”

“I mean, you’ve only got a couple more weeks before you have to go back to Florida, right? I think I can control myself in that time.”

“Actually, I decided to move to Forks with my dad,” she smiled. “Bella isn’t getting better and I’ve honestly gotten attached to this town. It might be that some people have made this place so enchanting.”

“Then I guess I’m gonna have to work harder on pretending that I like Jake,” he grinned. “But I am glad you’re staying. The town wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“I’ve only been here for three weeks, Paul,” she laughed.

“And nothing has been the same since.”

“You’re something else.”

“I could say the same about you,” Paul added before noticing Jared calling him over. “And on that note, I will have to leave you. I’ve got a couple of things I have to do. But not before you give me your phone number.”

“My number?”

“That way I’d we ever wanna see each other it doesn’t have to be by me showing up at your house or running into each other at a bonfire.”

“Right,” she chuckled, handing him her phone. “That’s smart.”

 “I’ll see you around, (Y/N),” he smiled before kissing her on the cheek and disappearing down the beach.

As soon as he was out of sight, (Y/N) looked around, hoping that no one had witnessed what had just happened. As innocent as everything could have been, in such a small town, everything was known.

Once she had calmed down, she finally walked toward the commotion of the beach. Feeling as confused as she had been since meeting Paul, but at peace. Being around him made her feel serene, tranquility spreading through her veins. Though he made her heart race, he didn’t make her chest feel tight. It was a feeling that made her feel equal parts uneasy and calm.

“Where were you?” Jake asked as she joined him and his friends, a hint of annoyance dancing between his words.

“Just around,” she smiled. “I was actually planning to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?”

“We’re good,” Embry smiled kindly. “But thank you.”

“Just hurry,” Jake added before becoming more interested in the conversations he was having before she had gotten close. “And bring me back a water, thanks.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

(Y/N) left him quickly, needing to compose herself before heading back toward him. She could feel how annoyed he was at her. Ever since that afternoon with Paul, Jake had become distant and rather cold toward her but she could understand why. As much as it pained her, she knew why and that she had to do something to make it up to him while keeping what angered him a secret.

“It’s good to see you around, (Y/N),” Billy said as he joined the girl’s side at the refreshment table. “I was wondering when I would see you again.”

“Hi, uncle Billy,” she smiled. “I’ve been meaning to go by the house but I’ve been busy these couple of days.”

“And things have been heated between you and my son.”

“How did you…?”

“Small town,” he smiled softly. “But I’ve already had some words with my son about his behavior toward you. It was completely unacceptable.”

“It might have been an overreaction but it was warranted,” she said looking down. “I knew what I did would anger him but I still did it.”

“That doesn’t mean he can chastise you in the middle of town. My son is young and can be quick-tempered,” Billy sighed, taking one of (Y/N)’s hands in his. “He says and does things that he doesn’t know he will regret one day, and you don’t deserve to be in the receiving end of that.”

“Thank you, Billy,” (Y/N) smiled, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “But I’m sure he’s sorry for that night and we’ll work through it together.”

“You know, I love my son, but he can be quite stubborn when he wants to. Even at his own detriment. Still, I hope this new year brings you both clarity and growth. Both personally, and if the gods want it, in your relationship as well.”

“I hope so too, uncle Billy.”

“My son is lucky to have you by his side. Even if he doesn’t know it.”

(Y/N) felt a new surge of confidence as he joined Jake and his friends once more. Knowing Billy was watching her back made her feel stronger about her relationship with Jacob and that it was worth investing her heart and time into. She knew her heart yearned for Jake and all she felt toward Paul was a strong sense of friendship.

As the hours passed and the tension between her and Jake seemed to dissipate, her resolve simply solidified itself. She would do anything possible to fix her relationship with her boyfriend and keep her friendship with Paul separate from Jacob.

But there was the smallest part in her that replayed Paul’s voice. He kept telling her how she deserved better and that Jake was not the right person for her, even if that was who she had wanted for so long.

Still, when the clock struck twelve, Jake was the one she kissed, and wished things would work out between them. She wished for him to only see Bella as a friend and finally give his whole heart to her. Wrapped in his arms as they cheered the new year, she begged the universe to give her the chance to have everything she had wished for.

Yet as her eyes found Paul’s in the crowd, she doubted if it was what she truly wanted or if she was holding onto a silly childhood dream.

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[erimeows]

Crush

Bumblebee never imagined a world in which he’d be obsessed with Sentinel Prime, but there he was, staring longingly at the Elite Guard member’s back as him and his team watched fireworks together. Luckily for him, Jazz had convinced Sentinel to tag along.

The yellow Autobot sat there, half-engaged with the conversation Bulkhead was trying to have with him. He hated that he was missing out on the fireworks, but something about watching Sentinel seemed to captivate him more.

A cocksure smile on beautiful lips which released an even more beautiful midnight laugh into the air, earning a laugh back from Optimus Prime, who was sitting by the larger bot’s side on the rooftop they were all currently on.

Jazz and Prowl were walking around the rooftop, talking and pointing out the fireworks they liked, while Ratchet (who was completely sober) laid in a corner with Sari sitting next to him and stared at the sky silently. Bulkhead had been by Bumblebee’s side the whole night, which he appreciated, but still... He couldn’t help but be upset, just watching them.

His fixation with Sentinel had gotten bad since the Prime had come to earth, to the point that he had memorized the outline of those rough lips and burned the scent of the older bot into the back of his processor.

But no, it wasn’t because he had a crush on Sentinel Prime, his former sergeant, like everyone teased him for.

Instead, it was because of how in love he was with Optimus Prime, one of his closest friends and the leader of his repair-team-turned-squad-unit.

And it hurt. Primus, it hurt.

It hurt to watch Sentinel have what he wanted so easily, to use that magic touch of his as he tossed an arm over Optimus’s shoulders and chatted away with him like the old friend that he was despite all of the fucked up shit he had done to the younger Prime.

It hurt to watch Optimus turn to face the blue and gold bot and laugh, those plump lips curved into one of the only true and genuine smiles Bee had ever seen from him, the tension between the two rivals melted by the oil they’d all consumed and replaced with their blatantly obvious feelings for each other, those of which had always been there. It was almost like they were destined to be, two main characters in some sort of love story, while Bumblebee was a supporting character meant to push Optimus in that direction.

But, no. He was selfish, and he would never do such a thing, even if it meant seeing Optimus- because Primus be damned, he could make Optimus just as happy as Sentinel could if not happier, couldn’t he? He was selfish and greedy and wanted Optimus to himself, so he did what he could, and if that meant making everyone think he was in love with Sentinel Prime with the way he gawked at him, he was fine with that- because Optimus was too selfless to go after Sentinel if he thought Bee was interested, anyway. 

That wasn’t his intention when he started watching Sentinel, initially. He’d just been trying to absorb whatever the hell it was about the large bot that Optimus loved so much, and everyone had misconstrued it, but it had worked out for him.

Or so he thought. Look at him now, though, ignoring his best friend in favor of staring at Sentinel and Optimus, neither of whom were even batting an optic in his direction. 

And this was how his new year was starting, him wishing he had some semblance of whatever Sentinel Prime had that made Optimus fall so hard for him; confidence, strength, sharp optics, wit, bravery, or maybe it was something else like how Sentinel’s audials twitched when he was nervous, how his face plates burned red when he lied, or how good he was in the berth.

The thought brought him no peace, and it brought him no rest. He heard Sentinel sneaking into Optimus’s room at night quite frequently, and though he never knew what happened in there, the thought of Sentinel and Optimus intertwined underneath the younger Prime’s berthsheets, whispering sweet and filthy things alike in each other’s audials, kept him awake and anguished.

Bumblebee felt himself frown at that, lips pulled tight and mouth tasting bitter. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so negative, but when it came to his feelings for Optimus, he couldn’t help it. It was all wrong; how immature, how deceitful, how angry he was acting about the whole predicament, but he figured that’s what love did to a mech when it was at its worst.

“Bee? Buddy?”

When he snapped out of his trance, Bumblebee looked up to see that Bulkhead was dangling one large servo in front of his optics, clearly trying to catch his attention. The pang of guilt that always came at times like this manifested in the yellow bot’s spark rather quickly, sinking to the bottom of his stomach like tar in a way that made him feel sick. He knew he was neglecting his other relationships while being caught up with Optimus and Sentinel, and Bulkhead had always been there for him... Why couldn’t he just be one of those mechs who fell in love with their best friend?

No, that was a cruel thought. Bulkhead deserved someone who cherished and adored him, he was too good for Bumblebee, as was Optimus.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been out of it all night, and you seem sad... You have too much oil?” Bulkhead’s servo was on his shoulder plating, and for a second, Bumblebee struggled to speak. His optics landed on the bright fireworks above them, pink and purple and white and vibrant. Bulkhead was focused on him, Ratchet was pointing out planets to Sari, Jazz and Prowl were as in love as they always were, and Sentinel Prime and Optimus Prime...

Well, he couldn’t handle it. Maybe it had something to do with the oil he’d nervously been drinking to settle his nerves, or maybe he was just at a boiling point, but before he could think about what he was doing, he was standing up on his stabilizing servos with shaky knees. He must’ve looked bad, because within seconds, everyone’s optics (or, in Sari’s case, eyes) were landing on him.

“I- I think so, um... I’m gonna leave,” Bumblebee stuttered, voice cracking. Optimus was the first to object, standing from his spot on the edge of the roof. No matter how hard Bumblebee tried, he couldn’t seem to ignore the servo of Sentinel’s that was resting on Optimus’s back. 

“Bee shouldn’t someone walk you back if you’re not feeling well?” Optimus approached him, but the smaller bot, unable to handle the emotional turmoil that was taking him over, found himself stumbling away before he could even process the consequences his actions might’ve had. “Where are you- hey, Bumblebee, wait up!”

“Let him go, Optimus,” Sentinel stopped him, because of course he did, and with that, Bumblebee was racing back down to the inside of their base from the stairwell on the rooftop and into his room.

When he reached it, he shut the door behind him and flopped down onto his bed with a frustrated shout.

He wanted to recharge, but his processor was too clouded with his conflicted thoughts to allow him to do so. The celebration on the floor above him slowly died down, the fireworks growing quiet and the sounds of berthroom doors opening and closing as everyone went to bed over the span of the next hour.

Optimus was probably already asleep, too.

Angry at himself, he started to rant, even if no one was around to hear him out.

“Ugh, why am I like this... I could’ve just put up with it like I always do, but no, I just had to go and make a scene in front of him, and now no one’s going to let me live it down, and they’re all going to assume I’m jealous of him for hugging on Sentinel when it’s not-”

His self-deprecating rambling was cut off by a knock at his door; knock, knock, knock. Three soft, polite, in rhythm taps that Bumblebee quickly recognized as his leader’s, followed by said leader’s deep voice ringing through the wall.

“Bumblebee? Are you awake? Sorry to disturb, but I wanted to see you. Could you come open the door?”

“Bossbot?” The Autobot perked up, and though he had fully intended to lay in bed sulking and ignoring everyone who came to check on him, the sound of Optimus’s voice had him rushing to open his berthroom door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you since you seemed to be so out of it when you left, but you seem to be doing alright, thank goodness,” The Prime gave him that smile, the one of relief that made Bumblebee’s spark leap because of just how beautiful it was. “I should probably leave instead of pressing the matter, but... I thought I saw you staring at Sentinel and I, and I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t misjudge what was happening.”

His spark fucking dropped. While whatever his obsession with Sentinel happened to be was obvious to bots like Prowl, Ratchet, and Bulkhead who teased him for it, he had hoped that Optimus would never bring it up. It was a conflict he wasn’t ready for, and if he could, he would play it off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bumblebee tilted his helm, wondering if he had been that obvious while watching them on the rooftop earlier that night.

“May I come in?” 

Optimus being Optimus, he didn’t get right to it, which made the anxiety building up in Bee’s chest ten times worse. But alas, he could never say no to his boss, so he stepped aside to allow the Prime inside.

“O-Of course!”

With that, he shut the door behind them.

The two sat next to each other on Bumblebee’s berth, the lights still off, which meant that the only thing keeping the room lit was the beams that poured through the window from the moon and the fireworks. Optimus’s face was gorgeous in that moment, full of something that Bee could only perceive as longing and regret and love if he didn’t know any better, sharp features highlighted by the moonlight that shone over them.

“I’m not sure what you think my relationship with Sentinel is, but it’s nothing more than enemies at our worst and sparklinghood friends at our best. Our relationship is very long and very complicated, but we’ve always been more like brothers than anything, and as much as you deny it, I know you’re in love with him... I pay attention to how you look at us, when the two of us are together, and how you perceive him. I just want to reassure you that I would never steal him away from you, Bumblebee. I love you too much to do that to you- even if I can’t have you, and even if it’s with someone else, I want you to be happy.”

“W-What?” The younger of the two spat, optics going wide. Optimus being the type he was, he cringed at what he’d said and scooted to the edge of the berth, not even able to look at Bumblebee after the impromptu confession.

“Ah, I shouldn’t have phrased it like that, but-” The red and blue bot stood up and held his helm in one servo. He groaned while Bumblebee couldn’t even process what was going on. Had he imagined the whole relationship between Sentinel and Optimus that he thought was there? Was this actually happening? Did Optimus love him back, and was he going to get the happy ending he’d always wanted? “Well, I suppose the truth is out, then... The oil seems to have gotten to the both of us. I’ll leave-”

“No, are you insane!?” Bumblebee exclaimed with a laugh and moved closer to the Prime so he could grab his arm with both servos and drag him back down onto the bed. Begrudgingly, Optimus sat back down, and Bumblebee closed the gap between them.

“Huh?”

“It’s- It’s you, Prime! It’s always been you and it always will be, you know?” Bumblebee’s words were rushed, stumbling over each other and dripping with excitement. The tension in Optimus’s shoulders seemed to release as his face was dyed bright red with a heavy blush- perhaps from the embarrassment that came with the same realization Bumblebee was having. “I was never in love with Sentinel; he’s a selfish, inconsiderate glitch who’s always treated you like you’re scrap metal! You’re brave, you’re kind, you’re always there for me when I need it, and I just... I love you so much, and-”

“Oh, beautiful, c’mere,” Optimus broke and pulled Bumblebee into him, strong arms wrapping around the yellow bot’s frame and pulling him into his lap. Bumblebee melted into the touch and buried his face in Optimus’s chest plates. “I’m sorry it took us this long.”

“Me, too.”

There was a moment of silence, but it was broken by Optimus, who spoke with an uncharacteristically teasing tone and an equally teasing smirk gracing his plump lips.

“How long ‘ve you been crushing on me, then?” The words were a bit slurred in a way that made Bumblebee hyperaware of just how buzzed they still were from the oil.

“...Too long,” He spat and quickly stared down at the ground like it had become the most interesting thing in the universe. “I don’t want to admit how long level long.”

“Ah, I see... Looks like I owe Sentinel some money after all,” Optimus laughed, earning a playful slap on his arm from Bumblebee in return.

“Wh- You guys bet on which one of you I had a crush on!? I need to hear about this!”

“Okay, so it started when...”

And, as Optimus started to tell his story, an arm still lovingly wrapped around Bumblebee’s small frame, he sighed in relief. 

Surely, after this, no one would think he had a crush on Sentinel Prime.

[pemfrost]

For the prompt, maybe a fake dating au with dimiclaude? Like academy-era Dimitri decided to go asks girl out (sylvain c/b support ) and when things go out of hand- instead of going to sylvain for help, he went to Claude who suggested fake dating - but when announcing it to the girl; it turns out the entire academy finds out...leading to the king regent (who sends Rodrigue) and Grandpa Riegan to actually sign a marriage arrangement. 🥺❤️

And honestly Edelgard is confused about the development that she doesn’t declare war since the two nations are gonna team up -so golden ending jk

♡ cute idea! The meat of this drabble went a little long, so no specific mention of the royal consequences.

"You did what?" Claude actually had the audacity to laugh. Not one of his usual calculated laughs, either. A bellow of a laugh which shook his whole lithe frame and put an extra shine in his eyes. All at Dimitri's expense, of course. It seemed to be happening a lot lately. 

"Never mind. Clearly this is not a matter you are capable of taking seriously." Dimitri turned to leave, but quickly remembered his predicament. On Sylvain's insistence, he approached a female student with the offer of a tea date. Nothing untoward, but it seemed the poor girl thought it to be more than what Dimitri meant it to be. It really was his own fault for taking Sylvian's advice, afterall. 

Of course, Sylvain initially offered to help Dimitri hide in his room, and Dimitri had been naive enough to think it would end then and there. Yet, there he was, two days later with the same girl chasing him and Sylvain was… preoccupied doing the very thing he promised Dimitri he would stop. 

Claude's room seemed the next logical escape plan. It was merely the convenience of location. Felix was still at the training yards, and even if he was in his room, Dimitri would rather face the advances of Colleen and her friends than be stuck in close quarters with Felix and his sharp tongue. The next closest room was Claude's.

Dimitri was quickly regretting his hasty choice of hiding spots. He was regretting a lot of things. 

"I'm sorry for laughing, but you have to admit it is funny." Claude sat down on the edge of his bed and motioned to his desk chair, "You're welcome to hide as long as you need to. Though, perhaps it is best to just confront the whole thing head on and clear it all up?"

Dimitri eyed the chair and considered a moment before sitting. "I have attempted to be direct, yet my efforts are constantly misconstrued."

"You're too nice," Claude said, his gaze intense. 

"Too… nice?" Dimitri raised an eyebrow. It was not an accusation often leveled at him. 

"I've witnessed some of your conversations with girls and you have a tendency to, well, be too nice." Claude broke eye contact and looked towards the door. "You do not wish to hurt their feelings, so you phrase your rejections so delicately the girls do not take it as one."

"Oh?" Dimitri was unaware of this shortcoming. 

Claude sighed and made a vague gesture at the door as a girl giggled out in the hallway. He turned back to Dimitri and said, with air quotes, "There is such love in the world, yet my heart is yet-"

"-I get it.'

"Your beauty is unmatched, and one day you will make the most beautiful bride-"

"Claude," Dimitri hissed. He could feel his cheeks begin to warm. 

Of course, Claude continued, his grin spreading as Dimitri shifted uncomfortably. "My heart is heavy at the prospect of you no longer being at my side, and your smile will-"

"Enough!" Dimitri stood quickly and his booming voice drowned out the sound of the chair hitting the floor. 

"Colleen!" A girl's voice came from the hallway. 

"Oooo, you did it now!" Claude clasped his hands behind his head and looked at the door with far too much amusement. 

Dimitri stared at the door with trepidation, debating the merits of crawling out Claude's window. He could hear the clicking of multiple pairs of heels, his time was quickly running out. Returning his voice to a whisper, he turned to Claude and asked, "What do I do?"

"Be blunt and tell her you are not interested." 

"I… can you do it for me?" Even facing certain doom, he didn't know how to break up with the poor girl without making it worse. Again. 

Claude rolled his eyes. "Riiight, because that will work."

There was a sharp knock at the door, followed by a croon of, "Dimiiiitri! Are you in there?"

"Colleen, it may have been this one instead!"

Dimitri backed away from the door and again wondered if he could fit through the window. He looked helplessly to Claude. He had no experience in such matters, certainly Claude had an idea. 

"Do you trust me?" Claude stood from the bed and stared into his eyes. "I have half an idea, but I need you to-"

"Yes. Whatever your scheme is, yes." Dimitri may regret it later, but in the moment his only option was to trust Claude and deal with the consequences later. It couldn't be worse than entertaining the vapid noble girl one more time. 

Claude stared into Dimitri's eyes a moment more, his green eyes more serious than Dimitri had ever seen this close. Before he could contemplate Claude further, the look shifted, once again full of mirth. 

"Quietly unlock the door." Claude nodded to the door and crossed his arms. 

"I-" Dimitri swallowed and did as he was asked. Quietly, he stepped over the overturned chair and flicked the lock. He braced for the next step, it wouldn't surprise him if Claude shouted his location as revenge for all of this. He needed to stop spending so much time with Sylvain. 

When he looked back, Claude wordlessly motioned him back to him with the wave of a single finger. Once again, Dimitri stepped over the chair and stood in front of Claude, intently listening to the commotion in the hallway. 

Nothing happened for a few breaths, and just a Dimitri was about to ask what the plan was, Claude took half a step towards him. 

"Oh! Dimitri!" Claude projected his voice, not taking his eyes off Dimitri.  

Well, maybe he shouldn't have expected more from Claude. His initial assessment was correct after all. He sighed, resigned to his fate. 

The click of heels returned, and as they approached the door Claude reached for the front of Dimitri's shirt and slowly tugged at him as he took a step backwards. The movement was unexpected and Dimitri stumbled forward, tripping over Claude, and sending them falling to Claude's bed. 

Dimitri caught his knee on the edge of the mattress as Claude landed on his elbows. 

"Claude? Wha-" 

The creak of the door handle turning cut him off. As the door opened, Claude reached back up with one hand and pulled Dimitri closer, and closer, until they were breathing the same air. Everything else faded, all that existed was Claude; his breath smelled faintly of chamomile, and this close Dimitri could count the faint freckles under his eyes.

"Dimit- ah!" Colleen's screech broke the spell Claude cast over him. 

Dimitri pushed himself away from Claude and looked towards the door in time to see Colleen running out. 

"Uh…" Dimitri said to the empty doorway. He looked down to Claude, "What just happened?"

Claude dropped his hand from where he still held Dimitri, letting it fall to his side. "I wasn't expecting her to run so soon. The plan was to make her think we're together- but she didn't stay for me to tell her that. Hopefully she understood."

He didn't want to end up in another relationship just to get out of the first one. That was a terrible plan, and he was about to tell Claude as such when the boy in question began to laugh. Dimitri became abruptly aware of how close they still were as Claude's body shook with laughter. 

Dimitri stood as quickly as his trembling legs permitted. 

"I'm sorry, but your face!" Claude smirked up at him, still laying on the bed. "I didn't mean date for real," he added with a whisper, mindful of the open door. 

"Oh, I see…" Dimitri did not see. 

"It's a farce. A lie. And once she leaves you alone we don't need to pretend anymore."

"She saw… us. In that compromising position. I am free then? Thank you." Dimitri slowly pieced his words together. 

Claude hummed and finally sat up. "It may not be that simple. Be prepared in case she doubles down tomorrow."

Dimitri nodded and cleared his throat. His eyes trailed towards Claude's lips briefly before he turned to pick up the fallen chair.  "Hopefully I will not require more assistance. Thank you for your efforts, this farce was not something I would have considered."

With a shrug, Claude stood. "Always happy to help. Good luck with-" They both froze as the sound of heels returned. 

Dimitri turned to Claude, eyes wide, unsure what to do. His hope of being done with Colleen dashed with the click of a heel. 

"Still trust me?"

Dimitri nodded. 

"I'm going to kiss you." Claude stepped up to Dimitri and gently placed a hand on his cheek. As the girls stepped into the doorway, he leaned up to press his lips to Dimitri's. 

In the few seconds he had to contemplate kissing Claude, Dimitri imagined it would be rough, quick- awkward. It was none of them, and he found himself leaning into the kiss, moving his lips against Claude's like his very soul depended on them never separating. He thought he finally understood Sylvain a little, the desire to experience this everyday, to have someone so close, so intimate, to feel wanted-

But it wasn't real. Claude wasn't kissing him because he wanted Dimitri, he was doing it as a friend, as a favor. Not because he actually desired him in such a way.

"By the Goddess! It is true!" Hilda's sweet voice broke through the moment. 

Claude dropped his hand and turned to the door, breaking the kiss. Dimitri could feel the lingering heat on his cheek from Claude's calloused hand, and he let his eyes dart to his lips before reality caught up with him and he looked towards their audience.  

In the open doorway stood three of their classmates. Hilda was in the middle, looking like she was solving an advanced math problem. To her right was Caspar, who was more focused on Hilda than Claude and Dimitri. And to her left was Sylvain who was sporting black eye and looking between the two of them with a widening smile. 

Sylvain reached around Hilda and closed the door with a wink and an amused, "Have fun, you two!"

Dimitri stared at the door as he listened to them walk away. "Should we tell them?"

"Tell them what?"

"That it isn't what they think? Because otherwise this lie will spread around the whole school."

"Oh, Dimitri. It already has. If Colleen hasn't ran all the way through the monastery by now I'd be surprised." He looked everywhere but Dimitri. 

"If we tell them the truth, then she'll find out… and I'll be right back to square one." Dimitri frowned and began to pace. 

"I don't mind keeping the charade up. It will keep Hilda off my back about dating someone, too. We'd both be free of the burden of that aspect of social expectations."

"That-" Dimitri's eyes darted to Claude's lips. 

"No pressure, man. Wouldn't want His Highness to be uncomfortable, afterall." 

Dimitri couldn’t think of a good reason not to go along with Claude's plan. He was sure the consequences would find him, they always did, but he found he didn't care what they were. 

He nodded, then realized Claude turned to look out the window while he was thinking. "Yes, I believe this could be mutually beneficial."

Claude dropped back to his bed and picked up the book he tossed aside when Dimitri barged into his room. "Great. Hang out in here for a while to sell it. Want to borrow a book?"

Dimitri settled next to Claude on the bed, "If we are to actually… do this, we should get our story together. I am sure we will be inundated with questions tomorrow."

Claude shut his book. "And he I was worried you wouldn't take this seriously. Alright, let's plan."

-

Thanks for reading!

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack.  general, for now.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch.  tags are hard.  :( 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~2750

part ii.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 15 March, 2020.  2:01 AM.   

He falls for you in between the tireless teasing, the laughter that sinks into his ears and replays like a highlight reel.  It happens when he leasts expects it, when he's got his face pressed into the velvet of Yeontan's fur and you're cooing over voice chat, whispering sweet nothings to the manic panic pup.  It comes in the moments he's not expecting it to, when he's frustrated and unbearable and you're as sunny as always, spilling yellow paint across the doors he tries to keep shut.  

Bit by bit, day by day, he finds himself thinking of you more. 

First, it's wondering what you're doing while he's half-asleep and on his way to the studio.  Do you look as tired as you sound?  What colour is your hair and how does it stick up when you've just rolled out of bed?  When you yawn, do you stretch like a cat?  He thinks you do, if the sounds you make are any indication.

Then it's asking himself whether you might like the same things he does, from horror movies to carnival rides.  Would you hold his hand as you made the drop, stomachs leaping into your throats?  Would you scream?  Would it sound anything like that terrified pterodactyl noise you make when you're spawn camped by a Roadhog?  He doesn't consider the fact that he doesn't even know if you're in the same city and you'll likely never meet - bound to the servers of Overwatch only.  

He thinks about all the things he'd like to do with you.  Video game nights filled with butter-tipped fingers and spilled popcorn.  Walks with your family dog - Natto - you'd told him about, all fluffy white fur and dark teddy bear eyes.  Sunrises on the rooftop of his building, because you had the worst insomnia he'd ever seen and what better way to spend your endless waking hours than with him.  

Jeon Jungkook knows he'll probably never get any of these things, but he lets himself daydream anyway. 

Like now, for instance, as the two of you sit in another queue at 2 AM.  You just woke up and you've got that tell-tale rattle in your lungs, words sluggish and lacking any real intent.  He imagines you look the way you sound - tired and a little out of it, with barely opened eyes and sleep-loosened limbs.  

"How'd you sleep?"  He asks softly, crossing his legs beneath him and raising his arms high above his head in the same instance.  The bones of his body realign, ridges of his spine clicking into place when he knots his fingers together and pulls taut.  

"You know - the usual,"  you muse, apathetic.  It's always the same.  

He doesn't question it any further.  He had once or twice, when you'd first started talking and he'd noticed the way you were always up at inhuman times.  One grumbling response had told him enough - your schedule was what it was and no amount of remedying could fix it.  

There's a beat of silence before he hears rustling and then the loud, inescapable sound of an electric toothbrush.  You don't bother to mute your microphone, not that he minds.  He simply sits quietly, scrolling through his phone as you go about your "morning" routine.  

"How was your day?"  You're settled back at your computer, he thinks.  The acoustics sound far less like that of a bathroom.  

"I had the day off, actually."  He'd used it to edit some footage and record a cover.  He hasn't posted it to Twitter yet - there were certain times he was supposed to, to maximize visibility - but he's excited for when he does.  It's a song that's been stuck in his head for weeks, all thanks to you.

"Woah - you didn't work today?"  There's genuine surprise in your question, rounded syllables that pop off your tongue in an explosion of shock.

“Right?”  He laughs a little, short and sweet.

Despite his carefully crafted facade, there were certain plot points that just stuck, intrinsically weaved into his day-to-day whether he liked it or not.

His jam packed schedule, for instance. 

To you, it’s the result of stretching himself too thin between teaching at his friend’s dance studio (where he also apparently moonlights as a personal trainer) and working as a videographer for his media-involved friends.  Not that you know any of them.  No, no.  All the work he does is for the little guys - none of those big companies like BigHit or JYP.  Jungkook’s just your average Joe behind the camera.

“What did you do all day then?”�� You’re still in awe, little flecks of wonder threaded throughout like glittering gold yarn.  

“Hung out.  Did some editing.  I’m kind of behind.”  That was an understatement.  He’s working on footage from six months ago, trying to get it out before they head on tour and he won’t have the kind of time he has now.  

“Probably spending too much time gaming.”  

“Yeah, probably.”  Not that he minds, or that he’d change it.  He savours the time you spend together, even if it has kind of messed up his sleep schedule.  

“Sorry not sorry,”  you quip, seemingly reading his mind.  

“You should be,”  he retorts with laughter that builds in his stomach and echoes out of his chest.  “I don’t think I’ve had a good night's sleep in weeks.”

If you hadn’t had this conversation a handful of times before, he thinks you might be offended.  Instead, he can practically hear you roll your eyes - imagines your optic nerve nearly severs with the intensity of it - and grins.

“Don’t kid yourself - you know I’m the best thing about your nights!”

You’re not wrong.  “You’ve been lied to.”

“I’m suing!”

“I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer.”

“Wait, what?” 

The two of you have done what you always do - talked yourself into a tizzy that has you both laughing, sound crackling across the airwaves.  It’s nonsensical and silly but it feels good.  Your bond shines with it, glitters prettily between you.

Thank god for Overwatch.

You return the conversation to a semblance of normalcy first.  “Did you listen to that song I sent?”

“Yeah.”  The briefest pause.  “It was terrible.  Hated it.”

“Oh, shut up!” 

“I’m kidding.  It was really good.”  Jungkook doesn’t tell you that he’s had it on repeat for the past few days, saved to the private playlist that’s filled with the rest of your song recommendations.  

“I know!”  You’re preening as if he’d just complimented you, clearly pleased by the praise.  He supposes it’s a pretty good endorsement regardless. 

“Got any more for me?” 

“I should just make you a playlist.”

He ignores the way his heart skips a very real beat, mimics the erratic rhythm of his fingers on his keyboard.  Because he’d absolutely love that.

“You should.”

“Really?”  You sound uncertain but maybe - just maybe - a little hopeful.  He might also just be imagining things, as he so often does with you. 

“Yeah.  Why not?”  It comes nonchalantly despite the rushing in his ears, the wave that threatens to drown him.  He can feel emotion in his chest - winged and distracting.  A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering away. 

You’re quiet for another second.  It feels like an eon.  “Okay, yeah.  I’ll start one and we can just add to it together.”

BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT’S GYM Thursday, 26 March, 2020.  6:30 PM.   

“You sound like a meathead,”  you say, off-hand and disinterested.  

He loathes the grunt that squeaks past his teeth as he gently returns the dumbbells to the floor. Cue a generous chug of water and a near death experience when the liquid goes down the wrong pipe. 

Loud coughing crackles through his airpods before he’s addressing you.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re grunting like a caveman.”

If your first comment hadn’t offended him, this one does.  Jungkook scoffs, tonguing the interior of his cheek as his brow furrows.  Weights are returned to his hands, rotated above each shoulder as he resumes another set of presses. 

“Do you even workout anything other than your fingers?”  He’s making a conscious effort not to make a sound, breath exhaled sharply through his nose.  It’s harder than he cares to admit but he’s also not about to give you an excuse to tease him further.  You already had way too much material.

“Don’t shame me!”  You really don’t sound that indignant.

“So, I’m right?  You’re a big couch potato who’s just jealous of my hot body?”

Now you’re incredulous.  It’s one of his favourite sounds because it comes draped in laughter, dancing around his head in the form of cartoon hearts. 

“Did you just say ‘hot body’, Jay?”

“Maybe I did.  What of it?”  He sniffs - he’s picked it up from you over the months - and your amusement doubles, giggles crashing into each other in their haste.  

“You are so, so weird.”  There’s a tenderness in your voice that he’d like to live in.  It wraps him up like a hug, tugging at his feeble little heartstrings. 

“Weird and hot.”

“You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?”  If anything, you’re the one person he can say it to.  With you, it’s the funniest joke he’s ever made.  It’s playful and silly, with no rhyme or reason.  He doesn’t have to worry about it being misconstrued or held against him. 

“You just can’t!  Only other people can say it.”  You sigh dramatically, from your chest.  “Do I have to teach you everything?”

“Everything but being healthy, probably.” 

“Har har har.”  

He can tell by how the words roll off your tongue, muffled and lacking clarity, that you’re eating.  He wonders if you’ve made pancakes - you’d been complaining about craving them just two days ago.  There are no tell-tale crunching or slurping, so he knows it isn’t your usual double whammy combo of ramyeon and Choco Boys.  

“I’ll have you know I used to run.”  Something about the way you say it makes him believe you, even though he wants to mock you a little more.  

“In gym class doesn’t count.”

“I used to run with Natto, you ass!”  Okay - so that actually sounded legitimate.

“Why don’t you still then?”

“There was an incident once.”  You’re sipping on something - likely coffee with oat milk and two pumps of hazelnut syrup.  It doesn’t matter that it’s dinner time and most people would be winding down for the evening.  “Because of my insomnia, I’d run at odd hours.  One day, some weirdo stopped me while I was running along the river.  He didn’t hurt me or anything—”  A part of him thinks you’re downplaying it but he says nothing, only waiting for you to continue.  “—but he followed me home.  I made the mistake of telling my parents and they freaked out so…” 

“So no more running by yourself.” 

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I’d run with you.”  It doesn’t mean much, but it’s the thought that counts.  

“Thanks, Jay.”  

Not for the first time, he wishes he could hear his name - his real name.  Just once.

“JUNGKOOOOOOOOOOK.”  It eats up every ounce of space of the gym, filling the room with the resounding boom of it.  How it manages to be so loud, he’s not sure.  He wishes it weren’t.  There’s no way you haven’t heard it.  

Especially not when it comes again, deafening even to his occupied ears. 

“JUNGKOOOOK-AH!”  Namjoon now, right as the double doors fly open.

Jimin’s barreling toward the alarmed maknae as he shouts.  “WE’RE DOING A VLIVE!”

Jungkook feels like his insides are melting  - his internal temperature spiking with embarrassment and worry and something that chants oh no! over and over in his head.  The tops of his ears are burning, as is the column of his throat.  A quick glance in the mirror confirms his suspicion that he is, indeed, bright tomato red.

“Jay?”  You repeat once, twice, when he doesn’t immediately answer.  “Everything okay?”

He moves with a speed he doesn’t expect, weights unceremoniously dropped on either side of him before he’s tearing his AirPods out.  “I’ve got to go. Sorry!”

He doesn’t end the Discord call a moment too soon, Jimin upon him in the next instant.  The smaller dancer is draping himself across Jungkook’s shoulders, the widest shit-eating grin on his pretty face.

“Want to join us for a VLive?”  

“No.  I’m busy.”  

“Busy with your girlfriend?”  Jimin’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.  He only stops when Jungkook shifts aggressively, tearing himself out from underneath the other.  

“Not my girlfriend!”  

“But you wish she was!”  

He can’t deny that, so he doesn’t bother, instead seizing his discarded weights with an embarrassed scowl permanently etched into the planes of his face.  He’s reracking them - because god, he’s not an animal - when he notices Jimin making his departure, that teasing smile replaced with something soft and edging on concern.

“What’re you going to do when we’re on tour?”

Jungkook blanches then.  You’d become such an undeniable part of his everyday life that he hadn’t even considered what it’d mean when he was busier than now, unable to spend late nights gaming with you. 

But Jimn’s already gone, leaving him and his thoughts alone.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Friday, 27 March, 2020.  12:05 AM. 

It’s close to midnight by the team he logs on.  Realistically, he should go to sleep.  He’s clean and worn out and his bed is calling to him like a siren at sea.  But you’re sitting alone in the channel, streaming Overwatch for no one to see, and he can’t just leave it at that.

He needs to say goodnight, like he always does. 

“Coming for my title as Headshot God?”   The quip’s off his tongue before you have a chance to acknowledge him, your laughter the first thing he hears once he’s connected.

“I’ve been waiting in this queue for seven minutes.  Seven!”  

It’s really not that bad.  The rare times you’d both queue for DPS were nearly double that.  

“Patience is key,”  he teases, slumping into his chair as he watches you click through your Hero Gallery.  You’re cruising seemingly aimlessly, roving through the different skins for your mains (Mercy, Ana, Genji, Ashe).  The silence between you is comfortable, interspersed only by the occasional munching he can only assume comes from the carrots you seem to inhale.

For all the junk you ate, you were somehow also weirdly into vegetables.  

“Patience sucks,”  you retort, matter-of-fact. 

“You know what else sucks?”  

It’s a rhetorical question and he knows you know, but because you’re you, you start listing things off just to get under his skin.  “Spiders?  Undercooked samgyupsal?  Not having coffee?  Your jokes?”

If he weren’t laughing so hard, he might’ve given you shit for making fun of his comedic genius.  He really doesn’t understand how you think he’s the unfunny one when all you do is crack puns.  

“I was actually going to say me,”  he finally manages in between those high pitched cackles of his.  

“Wait, why?”  You’re used to him having witty comebacks.

Edge of enamel worries his bottom lip and Jungkook can taste cherry Chapstick and what would be bashfulness, if it had a flavour.  “For earlier.”

You scoff, your own tinkling laughter tearing him out from inside his own head.

“It’s okay, goofball.”

He appreciates how laidback you are, never holding anything against him.  Not even when he hangs up on you or accidentally spams you with memes when you’re trying (and failing) to sleep.  “No.  I’m sorry.”  He says it earnestly, with all the meaning he can muster.  

MATCH FOUND flickers across his and your screen and you’re loading into hero selection.  He knows you’ll be too distracted once the game starts, so he’s grateful when you laugh again, sweet as summer.  

“Nothing to be sorry about.  Just tell me everything’s okay and we’re even.”  

Inhale, exhale.  Try not to tell her you have the biggest, stupidest crush on her,  he tells himself. 

“Everything’s okay.”  And he means it when he says it, though they aren’t the words he wishes he could say.  

“Good.”  

You’ve chosen Genji,  He smiles to himself when you join voice chat and the rest follow, greetings filtering in from your team members.  

“Good luck.”  You don’t need it.  He still likes to say it.

“You have an early day tomorrow, right?”  Leave it to you to remember his schedule even when he doesn’t.  

“Yeah, pretty early.”  

“Then go to bed!  I’ll still be awake when you’re up.”  

He lingers on that fact - holds it tightly in his hands so it can’t slip away.  You’d be there in the morning, just like you always were.  Knowing that stirs those same butterflies in his chest, words stolen by the overzealous beating of their wings.

You read his silence like they’re your own thoughts,  “I’m always here for you, Jay.”  

“Goodnight.”

"Sleep sweet."

notes.  this chapter is set four-ish months following the first, in case that’s not clear.  :) 

tag list.  @teawithbucky​ 

[killianmesmalls]

Below are my thoughts and feelings on the current events surrounding A and J and the behavior of the fandom at large in how this situation has been treated. Trigger warnings apply, so please tread carefully. 

The idea of "always believe the victim" which evolved later into "believe women" or "believe all women" during the #MeToo movement to largely deal with s*xual ass*ult allegations and the difficulty it has been in the past to prosecute those accused of said crimes. Several articles have stated that adding the "always" or "all" to these phrases have caused issues that can delegitimize the sentiment as a whole. Even just quickly looking at the "Believe Women" Wikipedia page and reading over the information there, you can see items such as:

The slogan has been criticized for encouraging a presumption of guilt. Michelle Malkin, writing for The Daily Signal, suggests that it is a form of virtue signalling. Rebecca Traister, writing for The Cut, calls the phrase "compelling but flawed": it is often recast as "believe all women", and used as a "deeply problematic" and "clumsy imperative" that has "enfeebled the far more important argument that we should encourage them to speak more, and listen to them more seriously when they talk."

The idea of believing automatically regardless of evidence or due process may seem like a sign of solidarity, but it truly should be taken as a show of support for victims to come forward, speak up, and for us to be open to their experiences that they honestly convey through their personal stories and as much evidence as they are able to provide.

A huge problem I have with this whole scenario is that we have taken this idea and, regardless of the weakness of its foundation, immediately had hundreds or thousands of people automatically crucify someone they don't know over a situation they know almost nothing about. This isn't just a possible defense of an actor who many of us happen to like, this is a look at what justice is when we're balancing listening to the victim's voice and upholding the ideal of "innocent until proven guilty."

In another article from The Atlantic regarding specifically the issues with #BelieveSurvivors and its other variants with how they are often misconstrued by the public (link here), we are reminded: 

Even as we must treat accusers with seriousness and dignity, we must hear out the accused fairly and respectfully, and recognize the potential lifetime consequences that such an allegation can bring. If believing the woman is the beginning and the end of a search for the truth, then we have left the realm of justice for religion.

It is important to remind ourselves that we have no idea what happened, who did what, and when anything may have taken place. For many, this has become an automatic witch hunt with good intentions born from cancel culture—a dangerous notion in and of itself. 

The truly fair thing to do at this point is to remain neutral, process any facts (though few, if any, have been given regarding the situation itself), and understand we may never fully know what happened between A and J. I believe the way that this has been delivered has been messy and questionable, at best, but that does not mean there isn’t any validity to what’s been said. On the flip side, it also doesn’t mean we should point fingers and, especially, “cancel” A and shame others for not doing so. Here is hoping this gets figured out and the parties involved get what they deserve, for better or worse. 

[isleofair]

If you want to read my sobering, mostly negative (but obviously friendly to Misha and Bobo & Co.) take on the whole "Dean doesn’t reciprocate” debacle, click the Keep reading.

If you want to stay positive, I hope you’re right and I fully support you, so you probably shouldn’t read this, even if it has positive parts. I’m writing this mostly to get it out of my brain because it’s driving me insane.

So. The script for 15x18 right after the “I love you” states in the stage directions that Dean sees Cas as “his best friend” and that Dean “can’t reciprocate”. That was frankly already terrifying, but somehow we all got over it because the story quite clearly seems to need some kind of reciprocation to fulfill itself.

Then yesterday Misha said something in his online meet&greet that has been reported in slightly different ways in various tweets, but what it seems to boil down to is: he said he doesn’t think Dean reciprocates Cas’s romantic feelings, but then he also wanted to state this was just his interpretation/speculation, and neither he nor Cas know what’s in Dean’s head (and at least Dean didn’t reject Cas, but IMHO since Cas wasn’t asking for anything, how could Dean have said no anyway?).

So my take on this (and I’m begging to be wrong here, but there you have it) is that both Bobo and Misha gave us as much as they possibly could, and then tried to keep us from getting too hurt by the fact that we won’t get Dean reciprocating (but then Misha obviously didn’t want to take away our right to still interpret Dean as having been in love with Cas). Yes, it’s quite clear the subtext for love from both Cas and Dean has indeed intentionally been woven into the show by the writers (and actors) for a while, just in case, but maybe all they could get greenlit in the end was to make Cas explicitly queer, and not Dean.

But they still thought having Cas come out and confess his love to Dean as the culmination of his character was so worth it, and Bobo, a queer man himself, wrote Cas’s gorgeous monologue with the explicitly stated premise that Cas doesn’t need Dean to reciprocate to be happy. Cas is truly happy just saying out loud who he is, and who Dean is, and that he loves Dean because of who they both are. Bobo wanted to make it clear that the whole point was just that; not getting a positive answer or getting Dean. If Cas is happy, we should be happy for him.

I am infinitely grateful to Bobo and Misha (and Richard and Jensen, and Dabb) for the confession scene. 

And if indeed we can never get Dean explicitly loving Cas back in a romantic way, it’s absolutely heartbreaking in my opinion, but what we got is still so important. Misha, Bobo, Dabb and several other people really wanted us to have this. (Jensen also explicitly approved, in case you need to hear this.)

I’m still pretty sure we will see Cas again before the end of Supernatural (they weren’t that good at hiding that Misha was back on set). I obviously hope it’s the actual Cas, not flashback Cas or the Empty with Cas’s face, or whatever. Because if that was indeed a Bury Your Gays speedrun, no matter how good Bobo’s and Misha’s and everyone’s intentions were, I’ll of course be pissed as fuck. And also heartbroken.

But. To quote Brother by The Organ, “Here’s the best part of the song, where I admit that I might be wrong”, a.k.a. things that make me still think I might be wrong and we might still get reciprocation of some kind from Dean, a.k.a. the reasons I haven’t managed to bring myself to burn my clown getup yet:

- the story itself (!!!). Although obviously this might be due to the fact that they still wanted to give us the subtext version of Dean’s side even after being told it had to stay subtext, because a. they are committed to giving us as much as they can (but does this result in a blessing or a clowning-inducing-cruelty, I ask?), and b. dialing back on it after all this time would have honestly made Dean be out of character (Cas did, after all, just give us full textual confirmation that Dean as a character is, indeed, all about love);

- the super romantic songs of the day and quotes of the day on the boards for 15x19 and especially 15x20 (The night we met by Lord Huron? Really? Really? Just shatter my heart into pieces, why won’t you);

- Jensen having had to greenlit the confession (why, if it says nothing about Dean except that he’s a wonderful person? WHY?);

- Misha might have totally fumbled his attempt to hide a spoiler, or people reporting might have misconstrued his meaning (this is where it really sucks that there’s apparently no video of that part of the meet&greet), but I have trouble believing this.

In any case, I want Cas, our Cas, to come back to the story. I want him and Dean to meet again. And I want Dean to tell Cas how important Cas is to him, and that he’s always wanted him to stay.

I’ll try to tell myself that explicitly-queer-and-in-love-with-Cas Dean would just be an amazing bonus, but it’s honestly a bonus I feel the story as it’s been told so far owes us. If we don’t get it, I’m actually extremely grateful to Misha for what he said yesterday, because if I had walked for two weeks on that amazing cloud of happiness where Cas’s “I love you” had sent me, only to suddenly crash and burn seeing the show end without them letting Dean tell Cas that he loves him back, and especially without letting them be together in some way, my heart would have never recovered. This way, I’m already holding it tight in anticipation, so maybe the pieces will stay (mostly) together.

[artificialac1d]

aswhoa there big ol spirit phone post whoaaaaa. (I WAS ORIGINALLY DOING ALL OF THE ALBUMS BUT THAT WOULD BE TOO LONG SO I’LL DO INDIVIDUAL POSTS FOR THE ALBUMS) (NOT INCLUDING MASHUPS SORRY :[)

alright lets go sorry if theres spelling mistakes i am tired and my keyboard hates me ;[ spirit phone - ok so VERY COOL the first half i feel is supernatural and the second half is more like.... a comment on capitalism?? yeah,, idk either thats what most people say lol. thanks neil!! lifetime achievement award (ebiccc). very long (ab 6 minutes) BUT the length is worth it!! the lyrics are jammin not to mention the instrumental!! the singing is very chefs kiss let alone the effects on the singing!! very cool song. touch tone telephone!! (ttt) so ttt is VERY jammin but its a little overrated. I GET WHY, but it is definitely not the best song made by lemon demon. well i guess thats mostly up to interpretation, but its not the best. the message is cool!!! conspiracy theorist going fucking batshit crazy?? hell yeah!!  cabinet man (😳) how the fuc did this man get in cabinet???? hfgbrfj.. ANYWAYS the beep boop instrumental is one of THE BEST on the album next to the very epic instrumental of as your father i expressly forbid it. anyways, the lyrics and beat are v nice v satisfying!! i love singing this song like, only third to as your father and soft fuzzy man!! singing is hard :[ no eyed girl (where are her eyes???) neil is a monster/alien fucker and you cannot change my mind. no eyed girl is one of my favorite songs!! i mean all of the lemon demon songs are one of my favorite songs but... um,, ANYWAYS. imagine being some guy who just like, made the world get destroyed bc you were horny over an alien. when he died (holy fuck what is up with this dude) the amount of mysteries that are brought up in thius song is AMAZING. when i listen to lemon demon on alexa the only albums i have access to are nature tapes and spirit phone (because i use spotify and not apple music) and i hear this all the time!! its ALWAYS a good time very bangin very jammin 20/10 sweet bod (aha 😳 what do you mean im eating a dead body) neil?? are you sure it isnt sexual??? super synthy and cool!! the funk never ends!!! funky town!! never go down!! (im sorry) the idea of drinking dead bodies to cure cancer though not very cash money. wowie zowie capitalism!! the lyrics make me uncomfortable if im listening to it with someone else BUT if im alone i will  scream sing this song eighth wonder!! (goofy mongoose ends humanity) i heard like in the commentary that neil was proud of this song and honestly, i dont blame him. VERY jammin. i keep saying jammin but i dont have synonyms. i havent read that news article about gef but i should sometime!! the way the song just is is just mwah  ancient aliens!! (caveman go aaaaa) i dont have much to say about this one because it isnt my favorite. NOT because it doesnt jam hard but its just not as good as other ones. man i am mostly just praising neil. this is fun to sing!! instrumental is VERY cool bery epic,,, soft fuzzy man (hhhottie 😳) this is my FAVORITEEEEE i can say SO much about this song on how it JAMS. the little beep boop after the first part is GREAT I LOVE IT. the chorus lives rent free in my brain. singing this is the best source of serotonin !!! ahhh the lyrics and the message!! very cool!! i love that neil made this song as a comment on dudes who think being mysterious is cool (yucfky ew) one lyric taken out of context makes me feel weird but like idk i just link it with something not great (once you go hazy you’ll understand i’m your soft fuzzy man sounds like he roofied someone) BUT i can ignore that because that wasnt the intention of the lyric!! very ebic songgg. as your father i expressly forbid it!! (neils my dad???) whoa,, neil scrEAM,,,, honestly i cant stop thinking of neil’s daughter while listening to this (sorry) but umm THE INSTRUMENTAL IS THE B EST!! the little beeop boop>?>?? YES i love it sorry about like not being able to get ideas across my brain is old computer stalling noise rn i earn my life (he damn earned it) this is my moms favorite!! (yeah she likes it too surprisingly!!) this song is really nice,, verry cool little instrumental bits!! awesome!! singing it is a 10/10 experience!!! reaganomics!! (baby, baby. YEAHHHHHH)  whoa!!! ronald reagan?? and he wants to take you for a ride?? anyways, whoa!! instrumental!! i can tell that neil puts a lot of effort into his songs because ALL of the main tracks are bangers.  man-made object (shit i caught insomnia from looking at the moon😔) SO big ol giant tower towering over everything!!! i kinda have a bad experience with this song because when i drew fanart for it my friend misconstrued the tie i drew with... a sexual organ. (hes fucked up) does NOT mean the song is bad but i get reminded of that whenever i listen to it. very COOL SONG!! YES!! build that giant skyscraper girl you go spiral of ants (im im caught in the spiral of ants girl) whoa last song... ON THE MAIN TRACK AHAHA!! just kidding i cant do the bonus tracks. ANYWAYS whoa!! a tornado of ants? count me in! the lyrics are very epic!! and fun to sing except for the AND WE BECAME A HURRICANE because its a high note and i suck at high notes 😔i did it once but i cant anymore 😔😔this sounds very nice i love it!!  if you read this all the way,, fucking,,,, thANKS because this is hella long im sorry i hope you liked my opinions bye!! <3 i’ll be doing more album stuff in the future (possibly even tonight because i have nothing to do with my life.

[neven-ebrez]

I see you were angry that I expressed concern for SPN fans, whose hearts I would hate to see broken. I think you misunderstand my intention, which was only to say, I hope you all get what you wish for (you are my fandom-in-law, after all; many fandoms overlap and some of my dearest friends are SPN fans), but that I wish you would guard yr hearts. I'm sorry for any misunderstanding; I'm on yr side. Best, Poppy xoxox

I wasn’t angry, friend. I was insulted. I respectfully don’t like my intent here being misconstrued. If you knew me you’d know I warn ppl all the time about following every word I say. I do this constantly and have for years. And people that read me know me usually or they’ve met me, and they know above everything I care about the well being of fans, my friends. Always have. Always will. They are me and I’m them. It’s where my loyalty, my heart, lies. Hurting them would hurt me. There’s nothing I have to gain here no matter what anyone might accuse me of. In fact, I have far more to lose because of my job and how my feeling over Supernatural are tied with it.

People know me and know this about me but you don’t know me and people here know you don’t know me. So that is to say, thank you for this message friend and bests to you as well. We both mean well.

-Zerbe <3

[nosferatyou]

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 4 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: A time line of Lee’s life after a certain event. Chock full of hardships, odd music choices, and the FBI watchlist. Overall an incredibly important chapter.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, cursing, frank iero

NOTES: Fuck. Its been a while hasnt it? schools a bitch. anyways i thought this was the best way to move the story along. Besides the early days werent really important. well it was, but it was th lead up. Still I think this is pretty damn good. Took me for fuckin ever. I hope you enjoy! 

I think I could’ve saved myself from more heartbreak if I just stopped fucking the man that was slowly breaking me, sparing me from the years of emptiness I just floated through. We could’ve only been friends and ended it at that, but I fell in love with him.

 It took me a year to realize id made the biggest mistake of my life. He was my mistake. I saw all this like I did relish every moment we had together, like every time he kissed me, I felt my chest grow warm. I never had a bad moment with him. When we fucked it was just me and him, which is so incredibly cheesy, but when you’re that intoxicated by the touch of another, its all you can think about. Nothing else existed. Bad breakups, a growing rift in old friends, the unpaid bills sitting on your counter. The truth. It genuinely was witchcraft on his end. I think the songs he wrote when we were together were actually just love spells. 

This went on for a year. I waited for him and meg when they went to the meeting that landed them their first studio album. Hell, I even taught him slide and played on their track “Suzy Lee.” Looking back at that moment always makes me laugh, the irony of it all, how I shielded myself from any truths. I think I realized I loved him when I opened my apartment door to see him with freshly cut hair. The sides shaved, the red just as wild as always but dyed a firetruck red. To this day, its the worst haircut I’ve ever seen someone get, and that day I died with laughter. He was always so confident in his looks, but that day he was in a panic. I had to console him and try to convince him it wasn’t that bad. 

“Rosie, it looks like someone glued fake fur to the top of my head.” 

The both of us sat cross-legged across from each other on the bed, trying to assess the damage. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. Fixing any loose hairs, which was the entirety of his hair. I scooted forward and played with it, trying to find any feasible angles.

“Jacky, it’s not that bad, it looks quite handsome from this angle.” I pretended to style it. There was no fixing it, but I could boost his ego to last until it grew back. 

He grabbed the hand mirror sitting next to him and tried every angle. Worry had found its way into 

every part of his face. 

“Mmm well, I guess it’s not as bad as I thought,” He couldn’t stop touching it. “Thanks, Rosie.” He smiled at me the same way he always did, lips pulled tight, making his face scrunch up with those warm eyes. 

I still looked at him and saw the most handsome man, even with that ridiculous haircut.

It never took much to convince him of something or to do something for that matter. If you put any liquid in his hand he’d drink it, I think I watched him drink hand sanitizer on a dare made by Ben. I never convinced him to go on a date with me, though. We always spent our time alone together, holed up in my room. Though back then, I always considered our late-night solo show adventures a good filler. He never noticed how happy they made me. That should’ve been a red flag, but they always just look like flags in rose-colored glasses. I seemed to be an expert at collecting red flags. I convinced myself for years that my time with my ex back in Nashville was normal.

Harriet pulled my head out of ass, though, and brought me here. To more red flags. It’s funny how completely opposite the two of them are. Jack and John (John and John if you want to get technical). John, at first, took me everywhere. He knew everyone and could get in anywhere. He showed me off and always made it clear who he was with. Once he had me fully wrapped around his finger, and we were living together, it switched. I wasn’t allowed to go out, not without his permission. I couldn’t talk to anyone except my bandmates, that was limited too. He held my playing shows above my head. If I was “good,” I could play under his supervision. I mean, he managed our band, he always knew our every move. It’s easy to misconstrue love, confuse what possession is. I was his pet, his thing to show off and shove in a closet until he needed me again. It took years to notice that it wasn’t okay.

 The beginning is always just so intoxicating.  

Jack just had this air to him, that same confidence as john. He knew he was talented and certainly knew he was good looking. The difference is Jack is humble. He could barely take a complaint from me, and as he grew, he didn’t know how to handle the attention. He didn’t lavish in it as John had, as short-lived as his attention was. Jack and I hid away, our confessions of our true feelings hiding on lyric sheets feet away from the other. That made my want stronger, I never felt I could have him, but we were so close it almost felt like I could have him. Its that moment, though, when you stare at each other with such love and warmth, faces growing so close you could feel their body heat. Your so close you can almost taste it, and that’s the moment he leaves. We didn’t cuddle. We weren’t affectionate. It was his choice. He left after tender moments, he left before breakfast, and he left before we finished the last verse of our song. We never were anything, and we never got anywhere. Me being me, it never was a thought in my mind. My judgment was clouded every time he looked at me with those eyes that pulled me in the first time. 

While we grew closer, nothing ever changed, he came over, we fucked, and then wrote together. Sharing the same Camel pack every time. I never thought he shared my feelings for him. He never showed it. He was as open as he was closed. He only let you see what he wanted. That was until me, and the girls were all hanging around during a White Stripes practice. Which was quite common. We all watched each other play, testers for anything new that we cooked up. Meg was weirdly good at knowing what riffs people would like. She always was smarter than any of us would ever be. 

That day Jack introduced a new song. It wasn’t entirely new to me. I taught him the parts, I always played the solos. He never quite got it back then. I was overjoyed to finally hear it. None of the girls were too focused on them. They always got stupid high. Jack and Meg’s landlord didn’t quite care if they smoked, not that ever did, though. It was a slower song, and a lot of work was put into it. Knowing him, the lyrics always had just as much care. 

He refused to meet my eyes. He didn’t look at me once. His eyes quickly flipping between the wall behind me and his guitar. It was very, obviously intentional. He was a storyteller, he always did it so carefully in songs, hiding the message. This seemed incredibly open. Too obvious. He was hesitant. It wasn’t until the “Chorus” (it could barely be called a chorus) that he started to get a bit more confident. It was apparent he had a lot to say.

Miss Suzy lee

The one I'm speaking of

The question is

Is she the one I love?

Is she the one I love?

That made my ears perk up, my eyes locked onto the floor. Why was I afraid to look at him?

Maybe I was thinking about it too much. My hope tends to get the best of me. Still, this pit in my stomach was growing with each note he played. 

She sent me flowers

The name of an incredibly sappy song I showed him

With her tears burned inside

Again it was embarrassingly open

And you know what I'd do?

I would run and hide.

I would run and hide.

 Fuck. I think my imagination and reality were clashing. I might actually have finally snapped and lost it. 

And the paper

On it was my name

Okay, I definitely did hide the unofficial nickname I made for him. I didn't use it often. I called him “Tree” when I was annoyed with him.

With the question

Do you feel the same?

Do you feel the same?

I knew. I knew he didn’t notice my intentions that day, though he should’ve won an oscar for his acting. He pretended like he didn’t notice. 

I think I’m going to legitimately throw up on their ratty couch. I’m going to throw up, and it’s his fault. Jesus, I’m overreacting to a song that’s probably not about me. Fuck I need this to be over so I can breathe. Maybe look up from this thrifted carpet. 

Again his words make my head snap up. This time I met his eyes. 

To end this tale

The one I'm speaking of

I wish I had an answer, but I just don't know

Is this really love?

I left the room as fast as possible after he said love. I didn’t think I could stomach it. Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ, retribution may be in my future. 

Everything changed after that. I couldn’t look at him, I avoided him, the hope would kill me. It was killing me. I’ve always gotten too excited over people, too attached, and whenever this moment came, I spiraled. I had longed for his love for so long, and the idea of getting it overwhelmed me, being around him overwhelmed me. I avoided him, said I was busy every time he asked to hang out. I didn’t even bother to hide that I was making excuses. It took him a week to stop taking my bullshit. Jack was incredibly blunt. He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. One night he knocked on our door, and someone other than me answered, and they sent him my way. I didn’t tell the girls my feelings. I was too afraid to say it out loud. I didn’t want to be in love again. I loathed it. I wanted to be the person who could be fuck buddies and be fine with it, but I fall too hard. Every fucking time. It’s inescapable. 

My dad always said I loved harder than others and should hold onto it, but it only hurt me. 

That night fucked everything up. He didn’t look at me. If he did, it wasn’t for long. For the first time, he looked cowardly. He stormed into my room. I could hear his very distinguishable and heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart pounded into my throat with every footstep. He didn’t knock. He always knocked. His hair had grown out, it lost its curl, but it hung in his face just as it always did. He didn’t look smug. He didn’t have his bubble of confidence. He was meek. He was small. I remember his hands flying to his pockets. He did that when he was nervous. 

As I said before, he doesn’t beat around the bush. I wish he did that day. Spared my heartbreak for a few minutes. 

“Lee, I can’t love you.”

Those fucking words. They rang through my mind for years. Every time I saw him in the news, saw his face in magazines in passing at grocery stores. It felt like id been ripped in half, I was speechless, I physically could not form words. That feeling happened every once in a while when I reminded. Overtime I numbed to it. 

`He was married. Can you believe that? I was the mistress and with my best friend’s husband. The moment he pulled his hand out to scratch his face, I saw it. The wedding band that was never there before. I think he wore to mess with me, one last laugh. He knew this would be the end of us ever seeing each other, working together. 

He said he kept it off during shows for the brother-sister act, and just took it off before seeing me. Jack was never a coward, but it took him a year to tell him he was married. I hung out with them daily, I watched their dog when they toured, and I never noticed once. He was fucking married. The real kicker is that the girls knew too and didn’t tell me earlier. They let me live on with my sins. I felt so dirty. He just kept talking that day. He didn’t stop. Nervously rambled on, and he never did that. He was quiet. He opened his mouth to say something that’ll either make you cry laughing or make your heart swell. He was whip-smart and knew when to speak. I just let him go until he ran out of steam, tears quietly slipping down my cheeks. Still, stone-faced. The moment he stopped, I just silently showed him out and softly shut the door behind him. 

That night, I about committed arson, okay I didn’t, but I sure wanted to. At first, I cried. And cried,… and cried. It was a mess. Soon that turned to me having a small existential crisis and dumping everything on the cashier at the liquor store who definitely knew the others, and was incredibly uncomfortable. We went there a lot. As soon as the alcohol had been bought, it was gone. I spent the night binge drinking and wrecking everything in my room. I ripped up my journals for songs, I set a small fire to my sketches of him, and I very furiously tried to wash the smell of him out of my sheets. I also punched a hole in my wall, which I kept a secret until the girls moved out. The next day I switched to Marlboros, the smell of camels gives me that same gut punch. It was his brand. 

I said some not great things to the girls. I blamed them for my downfall for not telling me. I made them my excuse. I shortly left the band. We had tried to do a show, but I was so drunk I couldn’t remember most of the songs. I was also told I was lost my pants at some point.

 I moved out of the house and lost all ties to them. I cut all ties to jack. I couldn’t go home, though. I burned too many bridges with my family and friends, a bad habit I seemed to have. I still played shows.

The good thing to come out of my rage and fall into substance abuse was my music. I went through some phases. I was playing my standard stuff for a while, just with a bit more... Anger? Then some months later, in ‘99, the stripe’s first album came out. Of course, I fucking bought it. I kept all their records. I couldn’t let go for some reason. I listened to it on repeat. I was so outraged that it was good. I heard myself in their songs, saw my name in the liner notes, I heard myself in his lyrics. I was obsessed; it was great. For two years, I fought and scratched to get some kind of record deal. I got a two-album deal. I toured nonstop, played with some damn good musicians, though I never was happy.   

I lived a life of driving and playing. Most of the time, I had no fucking clue what state I was in. In New Jersey around 2003, I’d made some friends and played with them for a bit, fucking around in their basement. I lived there for a bit. I couldn’t stomach Detroit. I stayed consistently drunk from that night in ‘98 until 2004 when I received a friend’s call, showing me where I was headed.

 We talked through it, and both decided to get sober. We both were sick. They sparked something musical in me, though. I started to get heavier, I played punk, I put my aggression entirely into my music. I produced my own stuff then, scraping what I could together. I made that record and went back to Detroit. As painful as it was, I couldn’t go back to Nashville, so I was stuck here. I mostly just fucked around, still living pretty much like a hermit, making music in my basement. When the Elephant came out, I couldn’t avoid hearing The White Stripes. They were an international success. I still collected all their records and listened to them extensively. As time went on, my existence in his lyrics disappeared. As for him, it did for me, I’d given up. It was dumb to be upset over it all these years later, still, thinking of him hurt so much. I was restless. I was bored. I wanted to be back out on the road again. 

 While I was usually blackout drunk every day, I still loved it. Playing something new somewhere new every day. That’s when my friend frank from my New Jersey days called me up in ‘07 to join his new band. I think he was just as fed up and restless as I was. We played “hardcore punk.” though that's debatable. We were sick of shit and needed to yell about it. It was my last hurrah with my inner turmoil. We finished the album and got onto the FBI watchlist for a political song. 

I looked down at my phone to see I was getting a call from “Party Dad.” I knew what this is about. 

“Did- did they show up at your door too?” 

“Frank, you know they did.”

“Dude was fucking on the FBI’s list!” He was just as excited as I was.

“Hell fucking yeah, we are! You know we were still playing the song.”

“Oh, you know it. We will find a way around what they said. Plus fuck the government, that’s the whole point.”

“Two 30 something-year-olds on the FBI watchlist for a fucking song. This day could not get better.”

See here for the song

And toured. We toured for a while. Our last tour date was actually on my birthday in ‘08. In Nashville, no less. I didn’t tell my family, and surely didn’t expect them to be there. I never saw them, but I did see a familiar face. A significantly grown-up Ben Blackwell front and center. It caught me by surprise, that’s for sure, I slipped up a note or two upon seeing him. Though when we met up after, I was surprised how cool I stayed. I hadn’t seen anyone from my past in the years since. Ben has always been the sweet kid. I could never be mad. After that, we always stayed in touch, and whenever one of us was in Detroit or Nashville, we always met up. We recorded a couple tracks too. He’s always been a hell of a drummer. 

The band didn’t live long because of the others projects, but I always worked with Frankie when he asked. I even played drums for most of his last album. I got a call while trying to make a drumline for one of the tracks. It was my mom. I hadn’t spoken to her in 14 years. The last time we talked, we’d gotten into the screaming match to end all screaming matches over my focus and direction in life. She didn’t want me to move, she didn’t want me to pursue music, and she didn’t want me to leave John. She always worried I’d die an old maid. I hadn’t dated since Jack, so I can see her concern now. 

She dropped the bomb that my dad was sick. Of course, he was sick of all people. He was the most important man in my life. I hated being away from him. I could never bear to see him, and it turns out I’ve been wasting my time with him. All the tour stops, and I hadn’t seen him once. Guilt filled me. I felt the weight of it all. I felt the same tearing feeling, the same gut punch. I told frank everything, and him being him, he sent me off as quickly as possible to be with my family. 

My mom didn’t mention the fight. She just hugged me and sent me to my dad’s room. She couldn’t look at me, though.

 The moment I entered the house, I could hear Willie Nelson, a Red-headed stranger. It was always his favorite. My dad never showed his pain. He wanted to show us strength. It was heartbreaking to see him now in this state. I pushed it down. We talked for hours, and I told him everything, good and bad. He was always understanding. He knew my mind and reasoning better than I do. 

When Ben invited me to a Third Man event, I hesitated. We see each other frequently now that I’m back in town for who knows how long. He always invites me shows and record release parties. I always declined, even though my feelings have changed, I still can’t see jack. 

This time though, he said jack wouldn’t be there, something about his kids. Which took me by surprise, yet didn’t surprise me at all. So I agreed. To  my dislike. I love ben, but the thought of being in Jack’s business nauseates me.

 I watched the show from behind in the control room. Even though id heard it a million times, Ben did not hesitate to talk me through the live recording process. I was half paying attention, aimlessly looking at the crowd.

 Then I heard that laugh, the same from all those years ago. 

My heart leapt, panic-filled. I about pushed Ben over trying to get his attention. The footsteps. The heavy thuds came down the polished hallway. I nearly tore ben apart, trying to ask him if there was a bathroom.

 I was waiting for my breath. There were two entrances. Both blocked. I could either join the band on stage or run straight into the man I’m trying so hard to avoid. Ben looked so frazzled, trying to calm me down. I felt a shiver run through me, and I suddenly stopped. I was frozen, looking at the hallway. 

The bustle stopped, the footsteps stopped, all the people around him stopped in confusion. I locked eyes with him the moment he entered the room. No one dared move. Ben looked terrified next to, and the men around jack were whispering to themselves, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Then he spoke, almost like he didn’t believe I was in front of him.

“Rosie?”

[lukeyhughes]

so the other day i reblogged a post and vagued about my issues with gk’s framing of iraqi tragedies in the tags, which was then replied to and that reply was circulated. while the reply was awesome/insightful/interesting i feel like my original point sorta got lost in the shuffle. i wasnt going to make a post about this for a bit but i feel like its been consuming my thoughts all day so i’ll elaborate what i meant under the cut! 

gen kill is david simon show, so like all david simon shows the thesis is “people exist in inside of a broken system.” in this case, the broken system is the marine corps chain of command and the people are the marines who have to carry out senseless orders. this is shown in many ways, including pointless dangerous missions (see: the bridge, danger close, etc.), how capable enlisted men are vs. most officers, how the “only good officer” nate is punished for rational choices, and how the marines have their spirits crushed because they are forced to senselessly kill iraqi civilians.

when i was in first year of undergrad i took an african studies class that in one seminar problematicized coverage of the Rwandan Genocide: how many times have you heard/read a Romeo Dallaire interview/account? how many times have you read/heard an interview from a genocide survivor? how many times have you seen pictures of bodies/skulls of genocide victims? the answer for the average person is a lot, hardly ever, a lot. with the iraq invasion, the questions would be: how many times have you heard the accounts of coalition soldiers about the iraq war across media types? how many times have you heard accounts of it from the iraqi civilian perspective? how many times have you seen statistics regarding the amount of iraqi civilian casualties? a lot, hardly ever, a lot.

that is all to say that in western media/society we are very comfortable listening to white narratives and just seeing brown bodies, which translates into only hearing white narratives of the tragedies of the deaths of others in foreign countries. in generation kill, iraqi civilian casualties/fatalities/tragedies are framed so that we feel sympathy for the marines that caused them as opposed to those suffering. that is not to say that we as the audience do not feel sympathy (i certainly do!) but it is because of our own internal empathy, not the narrative framing of the show.

let’s take a look at three of the biggest cases of iraqi civilian tragedy and how they’re framed in the show:

first, when rudy goes up to the roadblock and sees the dead little girl in episode 4. we get quite a few shots of the father’s shell-shocked face, but just as many are shots of rudy’s horror/sadness; we watch him walk away from behind from rudy’s perspective and we see that rudy is unable to look away from them. rudy didn’t actually have anything to do with it (aside from abetting i suppose), but even when he gets back to camp the show makes sure to illustrate how affected by it he is, ignoring brad and ray who call out to him. this one is actually surprisingly gk’s best example of eliciting sympathy for iraqi casualties; however, the focus of the scene is still on rudy and the father’s reaction is still mostly used to contribute to rudy’s guilt/horror.

the next scene is the little shepherd boys who were shot by trombley while out with their camels. we see the mom crying over her son, but its basically background noise and is if anything used to further the marines’ (particularly brad and doc bryan to a lesser extent) guilt at causing the situation. we know this because her actions don’t exist independently: they are used for the marines to react to. we also get considerably more shots of marines looking on in horror than her crying about her son. brad’s guilt/sadness about the subject is dwelled on for about twenty minutes over the next two episodes, longer than any of the actual victims’ screen-time dedicated to their feelings combined.

the worst scene is the man in the white car, which sets off the main drama for the next episode. we get why walt did it- the show goes out of its way to make sure that we do- but at the end of the day a man is still dead, likely for no reason. in the aftermath we get about a hundred heartbreaking shots of walt’s shocked face, with a few of brad thrown in as well. on the other hand, we get no shots of the people in the car being horrified at seeing someone they know lobotomized. we just see them run away, no sadness no horror no nothing: from the show’s narrative perspective, this man’s death has no impact on anybody except for walt and the other marines. to make matters worse the man’s face is only shown when the marines notice how horrifyingly disfigured his body is; to me this is robbing the real man of his dignity even in death. 

let’s take a step back and look at gen kill’s general portrayal of iraqis. we don’t really get to see the marines interact with civilians until they reach baghdad when they go into rundown neighbourhoods. here, the iraqi men are portrayed as greedy and dumb, cutting in front of children and not understanding that there are other types of government. that’s not to say that that didn’t happen in real life- i’m sure it did- but it’s essentially the ONLY view of iraq civilians we get: ignorant, greedy, backwards, etc. deadass the only sympathetic iraqi characters in episode 7 are children, where we get a couple of UNICEF-esque shots of doc bryan holding crying kids to drive home that guilt factor. i bring this up because it means that the iraqi characters are not written so that you feel bad for them or empathize with their terrible situation. instead, the narrative wants you to empathize with the marines (in this case, particularly nate) who feel guilty for causing this chaos that they can’t do anything to fix it. 

the only other time iraqi civilians even have lines is when a refugee women tells brad about how he is destroying her home, but even then the point of that isn’t really her pain but how brad feels guilty/ashamed about what the usmc (an institution that is part of identity more than anyone else) is doing that; also she’s attacking brad who really had nothing to do with the baghdad situation and already feels guilty about other things, so its just creating more material for brad’s identity/guilt crisis and our sympathies for it.

all of this to say is that in basically every single case civilian tragedies don’t exist in the narrative on their own: they are used for the marine main characters to react to: the village. the truck crew. the men at the roadside. even the syrian student.

also @sunnygreys replied to some tags i made alluding to this issue. you should read what they wrote bc it’s a really interesting counterweight to what i’m saying and offers a different perspective. but anyway basically they mention certain lines where people are like “no ones forcing us to be here.” particularly notable was when godfather says that no one is forced to be here because they’re all volunteers in episode 3. my view of this has always been that saying that is ignorance on his part and another symptom of the broken command system. godfather chose to be career military,  he chose to accept the mission, he chose to change the ROE, etc: there was no gun to his head. for the enlisted men, the ones on the bottom who actually carried out the mission that injured the boys, they are pretty much being forced to be there by their circumstances. out of all the marines we interact with in the series, im pretty sure brad is the only enlisted man who comes from wealth and by extension had other options, while most others either implicitly or explicitly grew up in impoverished/unstable households: poverty is the new draft. thats sorta between the lines, but i imagine david simon knows that because of his previous work on poverty. what isnt between the lines is that the command system DOES force men in lower ranks to “be there” and carry out order: they can get NJPed for disobeying, they sign contracts that they’ll be dishonourably discharged and lose their benefits if they break, etc. there’s no gun to their head physically but metaphorically its pretty close. to me at least, those lines are not narratively placed to make us sympathize less with the marine main characters but instead to make us sympathize with them even more, because it shows how disconnected command really is. david simon is a huge dick irl but he’s a really clever writer.

again, i reiterate that we as the audience likely feel sympathy for the iraqi population because for most people its naturally sad when people die/get injured/etc. i think a lot of points i made and ones made by @sunnygreys can be mutually true, but the main difference being that i really don’t believe that gk’s intention was to make us step back and reflect on our sympathy with the “oppressors:” i really do think that’s who the show intends for us to sympathize with most based on their choices in camera shots, who says what, etc. that doesn’t mean we can’t step back and reflect, as i hope many of us have, i just think that was an unintended consequence. (if i’m misconstruing what you said please lmk and ill edit!)

that being said, can’t think of a way that generation kill could have done better in this regard based on the book/characters it had. the marines ARE the main characters and by conventional standards its their narrative/feelings/growth that matters. but just because there may have been no other way doesn’t make it unproblematic. its another example of western media using violence against nameless, distant foreigners for their own horror. 

there are people wandering this earth who are dealing with the loss of the man in the white car, the little girl at the roadblock, an entire village. those little boys, if they’re still alive, probably have to deal with the severe injuries they got when they were shot by marines. those slums of baghdad may still be in unstable today and have likely lost community members due to sanitation/hunger/violence. imagine knowing that there is a show out there where you or your loved ones are being used as a plot device to make viewers feel sympathy for the ones who put you in those positions. i sympathize deeply with the marines of GK, but i can imagine how hard it would be to be in the iraqi population’s place watching yourself and your experiences interpreted in a way dissociated from your own suffering so that the primary victimhood can be placed on the ones who did it to you. 

in conclusion, i love gen kill a lot. i love the story and the characters, and i think its an effective story in terms of achieving what it seeks to achieve. i think it’s okay to love something and be critical of it. also if western media companies weren’t cowards and weren’t scared of losing american military financial contributions they would make a miniseries about the iraqi people who were terrorized by american invaders, including the ones we love in gk!

[liveinink]

So pretty much ever since we met the Bright Queen people have had different interpretations of her words and motivations. And different interpretations of the Dynasty and how it functions. Now from what I’ve seen, most people seem pretty pro-Dynasty and opposed to the Empire, but even then there are statements like, “I know the Bright Queen wants to murder everyone in the Empire, but...” And here’s the thing, I truly don’t think she does. I personally think that is a misinterpretation of her stated intentions, though very understandable. And it’s backed up by what some of the Nein seem to think of her, which doesn’t help. I’ve also seen a few people more seriously call the Bright Queen a genocidal zealot, which I feel is a wild misinterpretation personally that is not at all backed up by canon, but I can’t really tell people they’re wrong (though personally I think that specifically is). I’m not here to say that my interpretation is absolutely right and others are absolutely wrong. I’ve just had this on my mind for a while and I’m going to share my personal analysis. Essay under the cut.

First, though I have addressed this myself before, as have others, I feel it’s important to address the “slavery” issue here. There is absolutely no evidence whatsoever that the Kryn practice slavery, and at this point if it existed the Nein would have noticed it. The only indication the Nein had that slavery was practiced in Xhorhas was in Yasha’s description of the Kryn. A description that Ashley stated on Talks was deliberately exaggerated to make Xhorhas sound worse than it is so that the Nein wouldn’t want to go there. Also, it was not entirely reliable information to begin with. Yasha said herself she had never interacted with the Kryn, she only knew stories. And as we’ve seen, there are a lot of false horror stories about the Kryn circulating the world. The Nein assumed, based on little to no evidence, that slavery was a practice and that’s how they came to their very poor decision to disguise the humans as slaves. Despite seeing humans freely living and working in Asarius, including one in the government building. And they, luckily, never actually used the word “slave” to describe the humans, so the Dynasty members they interacted with weren’t condoning slavery. They were clearly confused by the humans’ attire, but otherwise they were given no explanation of what was happening with the humans outside of them being “help” of a sort. And the pair of orcs in Asarius and Lythir’s reactions don’t speak to slavery being condoned by the Dynasty, they speak to a few individuals being jerks to humans. And on that point, the discrimination towards humans that we’ve seen in Xhorhas, which has actually been relatively rare, seems more about individual biases and general mistrust of humans due to their tensions with the Empire. It doesn’t seem like there is a lot of systemic racism in the Dynasty from what we’ve seen so far.

Now to the Bright Queen specifically. When we first met the Bright Queen, she welcomed strangers into her throne room, ready to reward them for service to her people. Obviously events spiraled, but that still says something about her. She’s willingly to hold an audience with random mercenaries at pretty much a moment’s notice just because a trusted individual said they’d been helpful and they wanted to see her. There’s a war, on top of everything she must have to regularly deal with given the relics of the Calamity scarring the land, and just the general responsibilities of running a nation. She must have more important things do to. And yet she accepted the Mighty Nein’s request to see her. Then, after being given the Beacon, she asks the Nein if they have any questions she can answer. Again, she did not have to do that personally. She did not have to be nearly as generous or forgiving towards them as she was, but that’s a point that will reemerge later.

Now, here’s where people start to have a problem. Leylas says that the Kryn will not stop attacking the Empire until they leave “an equal or more share of blood” and she tells the Nein to warn anyone they care about to leave the Empire. Now first hearing that, it’s alarming. Sounds bloodthirsty. But with everything we know about her, and the benefit of hindsight, given other statements she has made and the actions of her soldiers, I don’t think this is a bloodthirsty statement. I think it’s more to the point that, as Leylas later explained, if there can not be peace until one side can no longer retaliate, then the Dynasty needs to do enough damage to the Empire’s armies that the Empire can no longer pose a threat. That will be a lot of blood. And I think there’s also an implicit statement that the Bright Queen cannot promise there will be no collateral damage. Civilians can be injured or killed in war, and it’s not always intentional. We know the Dynasty doesn’t want to slaughter civilians because we’ve seen evidence of it: Felderwin. If I’m remembering correctly, nobody died in the attack on Felderwin, and the only people injured were guards. There was damage to the buildings, but it could have been so much worse. The Kryn could have razed the whole town if they wanted. It was small and poorly defended, and doing extra damage would not hinder their goals. But they didn’t. They went, fought the guards, found what they came for (sort of), took it, and left. Even if my memory of this event is not perfect, I do know for certain that that attack could have been so much worse. It wasn’t. Which, to me, speaks to how the Kryn operate.

Also, if the Bright Queen’s statements here were purely about revenge, then I’ll say this: I’ll let it slide. Because even if she was wrapped up in ideas of vengeance in that moment, she clearly hasn’t acted on them, and given her other statements and actions, I don’t think she truly intends to. Her people have been wronged by the Empire. If she wants a moment to fantasize about revenge, I’m inclined to let her have.

Now I will say this before moving on, the torture of Yeza is bad. Undeniably. But I don’t think it can be any example of the Kryn being evil. They’re just not perfect. You know, like people. And unfortunately, people misguidedly think it can be effective to torture other people for information. Moving on to the Bright Queen’s speech about the cycle of violence. I think a lot of people, including members of the Nein, heard what they feared/expected rather than what was actually said here. And as a side note, expectations based on Empire propaganda and general association with what the races of Xhorhas have been made out to be in fantasy of the past (and present) is a factor here. But let’s look at what was actually said:

Beau: Being of the Empire, what we can for sure tell you is that they do not take kindly to being bested or embarrassed and they will retaliate with the full force of everything they've been working towards.

BQ: If I am correct in my beliefs, this is retaliation for our retaliation.

Beau: Yes, it's a lot of retaliation.

BQ: This will continue until one side cannot retaliate and we hope with a swift enough and well-planned plot laid out with this information, perhaps we can keep them from being able to retaliate for some time.

...

Beau: We can help you break the cycle.

BQ: The cycle cannot be broken until there is nothing living. All we can do is our best to keep it slow.

Jester: Why can't the cycle be broken?

BQ: Because life is pain for many. Jealousy, strife. Some need to conquer. There will always be those that will do whatever it takes to get one over the man or woman or otherwise to their left and right.

Caduceus: Talking about yourself or the Empire right now?

BQ: I'm talking about anything that draws breath. And it is our duty to acknowledge that and try to keep those base designs at bay. But one cannot bow down when others do not show that same will of understanding or else they will lie slaughtered.

Personally, I understand, but I don’t really understand exactly how this got misconstrued, because to me it seems obvious. Leylas explains her views quite clearly, and not a single one of them is “everyone in the Empire needs to die.” No, this is an explanation of the world and “human” nature as she has observed it in the last 1200 years. First, due to her experiences with the Empire, she does not believe peace can be achieved through, well, peaceful means. She clearly doesn’t expect that the Empire will be willing to put down their arms, so the only other means of ending the war is ensuring that they cannot retaliate anymore. And note that she never says, “and once they’re weak we’re going to wipe them out,” no. The implication, as I see it, is that they want to incapacitate the army, then enjoy a time of peace for as long as they can make it last. Because Leylas so clearly explains their cultural philosophy toward violence. First, it’s inevitable as long as people live. People. Anyone. She clarifies that herself. “Anything that draws breath.” Not Empire people specifically, all people. And while in the previous conversation about the Empire she noted that propaganda may have corrupted the minds of those in the Empire, she admitted that they probably were not all lost causes. She just expressed that what they had been taught would likely make the general public hostile towards the Kryn.

Secondly, the Kryn believe that violence is bad. Simply put, but that is the simple version of what she said. It’s unavoidable, but people should try to avoid it. To “keep those base designs at bay.” But someone will always have a reason they feel is justified to incite violence. And the Kryn can’t simply not defend themselves. But they do their best to keep the cycle of violence slow. Even while having to acknowledge the desires for aggression within themselves, and trying to not give in to them. Leylas does not exclude herself or her people from this. She knows the Kryn too are imperfect people.

I remember once coming across a post that offered some very interesting analysis on the Dynasty as a society built for peace rather than war, and I wish I could remember more about it. Sadly I can’t, but there is some evidence to suggest that. I’m not going to risk stealing someone else’s ideas by writing about it here, though. What I will say, is that the Dynasty, for all people are worried about it being a rigid caste system, which I see where the worry comes from, it certainly has that potential, we haven’t actually seen that yet, so I couldn’t say for certain that’s true; the Dynasty is a meritocracy. Arguably a theocracy as well, though they demonstrably practice religious freedom. But their leaders are all selected for reward because of their proven merit and service to society. The Dynasty has numerous times proven that it rewards for service. Not the kind of loyalty that Dwendal demands, but services rendered to the people. Like the Nein closing the Abyssal rifts, and giving warning of Empire attacks. They are consistently rewarded for their good deeds towards the Dynasty. They are actually treated with great generosity, especially considering they are not technically citizens of Xhorhas. Unless the Bright Queen considers them to be at this point, but I don’t know. They certainly weren’t when they started, but they’ve been treated well since the beginning, much to their own surprise.

The Mighty Nein have actually been treated remarkably well by the Dynasty in every interaction they’ve had with them (the higher ranking members at the very least). The worst things that have happened to them are nearly being arrested for (by Lythir’s perception) attacking Kryn soldiers, and being scried on. Which let’s be honest, the scrying is invasive and not great, but also understandable. The Nein have been treated well from their first encounters with Lady Olios, to the Bright Queen, to every interaction they’ve had with Essek and everything he’s given them (yes they owe him favors but let’s be real he’s done a lot for them), right up to them panicking about being arrested for failure and instead being rewarded for what they did do and being thanked for the warning of the Laughing Hand. The Bright Queen even offered reassurance that they did their best and there was nothing more they could do with the Laughing Hand.

The Nein’s disturbance that the Bright Queen didn’t seem to take their warning about Obann, the Angel of Irons, etc. seriously I think was not totally correct. I think it was less that she didn’t take it seriously and more like “Oh, another Calamity horror is plaguing my land? Okay, adding that to the list of things to take care of, on top of preexisting Calamity horrors, war with the Empire, etc.” Also, she’s been a ruler for a long time. She probably has a pretty good poker face, and part of her role is likely appearing to be in control so her citizens can be reassured that everything will be alright.  

And to top off this analysis with a cherry (for now at least), the Bright Queen was receptive to communication with a Tal’Dorei official, trusted the Nein’s word, and called off attacks on the enemy capital so as to not inadvertently aid cultists of Tharizdun. She seems to have her priorities straight. We’ll have to wait now to see how she acts when the Nein next speak to her.

That’s as much as I think I have in me for now. In conclusion: I love drow, and I will defend the Dynasty with everything in me.

[apathycarestostudy]

Re: To y’all who’re concerned about my last post.

A few people (two to be precise) misconstrued the entire point of this post and thought it made sense to run with their ire instead of asking. Here is the point: if you want absolute, dominating success, you will put your education as an utmost priority. That’s simply the fact of the matter. I put this up for myself - to remember how much I’d grind for what I wanted in life, since I felt like I needed to remind myself how hard I’d work and thought that maybe some of you out there would pick up one or two things from this list if it struck them. It’s the work hard play hard mentality. My parents wanted that kind of success for us, so they raised us like that. We were rewarded for hard work. We were not coddled in this regard.

A couple of things the two people moaned about -

1. It’s not healthy to have one rest day per week.

That’s absolutely false. The intent behind that was setting us up for real life - you’re going to have days where you work long hours, sometimes with no benefits, and you’re going to have to suck it up and do it. We took it like that. We appreciated the down-time we got more because we had to work for it - again, no spoiling in sight. We slept at 7 every day (besides weekends like I mentioned) - that was enough ‘mental’ rest.

2. You shouldn’t have to wake up early even if you didn’t finish your work for the day. That’s way too little and your cognitive functions don’t even work(....).

I mentioned we’re in bed by 7 pm. Classes start at 7:30 - 8:30 am depending on the day. Waking up at 3 am means we got eight hours of sleep. Hmmm.

Also, failure in completing work is not only disrespectful to your teachers, it sends a bad message of not being able to meet your obligations, and since we wanted to succeed, that wasn’t an option. Fun fact - Our parents did not monitor us at all - they would take our word for things because they trusted us. We were the ones who’d came forth and told our parents to wake us up early since we couldn’t finish our work. Hmmmmmmmmm.

The cognitive shit, I won’t touch upon for obvious reasons.

3. You are allowed to say no to people and you don’t need to help everyone.

Yes. Of course. It’s called free will. But let’s think about it like this - someone mustered up the courage to ask you for help, and we know how people feel about doing so, so why would you not try and help if given the opportunity? You not only risk the chance of being a nice person, but you’ll solidify what you know. If you don’t know and offer to struggle with them, they’ll be grateful and that little thing that told them to reach out won’t die. That’s it. That’s how me and my siblings are.

4. Is everything about academic excellence and nothing about happiness and mental health (in regards to studying during your journey to school/uni)?

Yes. Why are you in school if you’re not striving to better yourself? Happiness and mental health aren’t solely compromised by academic excellence, and if you genuinely believe that, I can’t really say anything to you. Text me, maybe I can change your mind. You have to find a good balance, and a reward system that makes sense to not let it fall to that, but yes.

On a less harsher note - if you don’t strive for excellence, you won’t get anywhere meaningful. See it this way. If you tell yourself I’m going to run for 1km, you might make it, or you might fall short a couple meters right, but if you tell yourself I’m going to run 10km, you’re not going to give up as early as you did the 1km run. So set your standards high, and if you miss, you’ll still know you’ve done your absolute best, and you’ll reach further than you thought you ever could. That’s basically it.

Shoot for the moon, and if you miss, you’ll still be among the stars.

5. You’ve put out an extremely unhealthy standard with this post (.....) where is the time for jobs, chores, eating, exercise (.....)? Someone will feel bad and beat themselves up if they can’t do this (....).

Please notice how the title/ description of this post is academic and life success tips. The academic tips hold the life tips if you read between the lines, not the other way around.  Nowhere have I mentioned the other aspects in life, and you interpreted that as there aren’t any. I’m a hundred percent sure that no one would read this and attempt to do all of it to the T and then beat themselves up for not being able to reach a studyblr’s standards. You know what you’re capable of. You know what you can and can’t do. Do not blame other people for whatever you deem as your shortcomings simply because they spoke about something that helped them yet you failed at. This goes back to what I’ve said on my post ‘Things Every 20+ y/o Should Start Doing’ - please read the point of choosing your mentors wisely, taking info with a grain of salt, and pausing your indignation. Nobody wants to take responsibility for their choices and failures anymore.

That last point was ludicrous in my opinion. I’m going to go ahead and hide those two who commented from the notes so I hope y’all don’t care, since I went out of my way to clear this up. I’ve taken a screenshot tho, just an fyi. Also, while your intentions were pure (I hope they were), your delivery was shit. You just assumed whatever you wanted, and I don’t want that on my post, so I’m hiding it. Well. Cheers?

[kalluralove]

hi again! how are you? it's been awhile :). so, um, question, and i feel like i've asked this already but why do you think lotura is so popular? despite what lotor's VA keeps saying lotor did commit genocide and almost killed allura. why ship allura with a man who 1) withheld the fact that her people were still alive and 2) were killing her people? tbh allura is a trophy to lotor, she doesn't gain anything from the relationship. it just baffles me

I’m good, thanks! And yes, I do believe we’ve covered this topic but maybe it needs a revisit? So how much time do you have, because I’m about to monopolize it ;)

So, first let me say that AJ Locasio is an absolute gem. He’s the quintessential nice guy, and I understand why girls can be drawn to him. He interacts with them on a regular basis and-- despite his acknowledgement of Lotor’s shortcomings-- is still a huge fan of the character. That’s typical for any actor, be their character the hero or the villain.

But that’s not the end of it. The obsession of giving Allura to him (that’s what it is in a nutshell, there is no two-way street here) has become one of the biggest problems within the fandom. Let’s take a look at why.

1) Allura is a shield for him. He needs her to do things he can’t on his own. For ten-thousand years he’s been looking for a way to solve a problem that was solely the Galra’s. His idea of creating peace balanced on the ability to give them unlimited amounts of what they were killing people for. This requires Allura’s help; without it he can’t complete his work. His “love” for her is simply a need to complete his mother’s work. 

We’ve discussed race before in this scenario. Black women are traditionally used as a means to an end, rarely given their own story for their own sake. Voltron was her father’s legacy, therefore the story should revolve around her mission to protect the universe with it. Instead it was somehow turned into a way to explain Lotor’s evil intention. This is 100% NOT COOL. The showrunners didn’t need to give us a reason, they just needed to give the heroes a nemesis.

2) He’s a master manipulator. He tells Allura how attached he became to a planet he’d been left to run, and how devastated he was when his father killed them all. But that doesn’t jive with what he does to the Alteans. We see scenes of him interacting with them, so much so that they build a statue dedicated to him. They trust him when he separates families, cutting them off from one another permanently. 

Fans will argue that he saved some of them. Did he though? Or did he just keep ones around who didn’t fit the bill, hoping they might produce new generations who could? That’s why Romelle was the only one of her family who survived, she was more useful as a worker. Her death would have gained him nothing. One only has to look back to the mid-20th century to see how that mindset is royally fucked up.

3) Lotor didn’t do it. Or, at least that’s what his rabid fans want to believe. They insist it was Haggar, which is obviously untrue. The fact that Bandor escaped and returned to warn his sister is proof. He outed Lotor. When Lotor and his men came upon Bandor’s lifeless body, the wayward Prince instructed them to get rid of the evidence. An innocent man would have tried to save the young boy, or at the very least tried to look for answers to his demise.

4) The #metoo movement should hate this guy. Much is said about so called “nice guys” who turn on a dime when the woman spurns them (SN: just watched an awesome Netflix series that touches on this) and lashes out at her. Strangely enough, however, they cheer Lotor on. Somehow he’s excluded from their cancel culture. They point out his sad childhood and say he should have been redeemed because of it. 

I, however, like to point out they should have left his past on the drawing board. Allura’s story is the tragic one and deserved much more screentime. These days it’s all about the why, but what do we do with that information? Do we forgive dictators and death dealers because they had abusive parents? No, we don’t. Lotor is no exclusion here. 

Instead let’s talk about how Allura is able to live a positive life despite her tragic history. Her father was murdered by Zarkon. She was frozen and woke up to having lost her entire planet and its people. She was young, inexperienced, and afraid, yet never made it about herself. Her story is the one we should have insisted on in Season 8, instead of trying to restore Lotor to some glory that didn’t belong to him.

*****************************************************************************************

I could go on but I’ll just leave it at this: The fandom has taken on a moniker for Lotor that is telling in itself.

LORD OF THE ONION RINGS

Fitting, because despite it’s thin outer layer and multiple layers, it’s still just an onion in the end. Nothing surprising, nothing special, but best when fried.

And that brings me back to Allura. Why do they want her with him? Because that’s what he wants, nothing more. They don’t give two shits about her. She gets in the way of their boy-love ships after all, and her skin tone is too dark for her to be a proper love interest. That’s why, prior to Lotor’s appearance, she was tossed aside as a girlfriend for Shay (in the name of gay rep, no less) or as a strong woman who doesn’t need a man (again, see: racism). 

Everything Lotor did to Allura, to her people, is written off and excused by parts of the fandom. These are the same “fans” who misconstrue characters to the point they don’t even look like themselves. They don’t understand that loving a character means loving them as is, not as they headcanon them to be. Allura is indeed a strong woman, but she also deserves to be loved and cared for properly. If the L/oturas don’t want to give that to her then they only want happiness for half of their ship, and that’s just sad.

Honestly I could go on all day, but I have stuff to do and have to cut this short. Hope I covered it well enough for you, but please let me know if there’s something I missed!

[sharada-n]

(7: A kiss to shut them up) Ah yes, the poly ship sails once more

Anybody with a working pair of eyes could plainly see that Moomin was absolutely, completely, head over heels in love with Snufkin.

It wasn’t exactly surprising. Moomin was the kind of person who craved adventure, who always went looking for some interesting situation to absorb himself into or a new story to be a part of. Who utterly lived for excitement, no matter where that may lead him.

But Moomin was also the kind of person who often found those things in others instead of himself, and when it came to interesting or new, Snufkin stood out in Moominvalley like a Woodie in a row of Hattifatteners.

Most of the other creatures in the valley were of a more complacent nature. While many fascinating and sometimes rather bizarre things happened there, most of them regarded these happenings with a kind of detached unease, largely concerned whether this latest strange occurrence was likely to intervene with their habitual afternoon tea.

Snufkin was of the wandering variety though. Somebody who knew a whole lot but said very little, full of surprises and unexpected musings, who distanced himself from others but was always kind and polite in the most unmundane ways possible. It wasn’t hard to imagine why so many adored him, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why Moomin was smitten with him.

And he wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. It was only for so long that a boy could stare longingly out the window wondering when his best friend would reappear to figuratively and literally chase away the cold of winter before people became suspect.

So it came to be that everybody knew. Everybody but Moomin himself, who was all kinds of amazing but could be daft as a pile of bricks when it concerned Snufkin. And Snufkin himself, who had the average communication skills of a potato and was not at all adapt at handling emotional matters. So there wasn’t much hope of the situation resolving by itself.

People often asked Snorkmaiden if this irritated her. Moomin was her boyfriend after all, had been ever since they started playing house and make-believe on the grassy downs of the valley and really, wasn’t it rather irksome to see her love pining so desperately for another?

And if pressed she could tell them that yes, it bothered her. It bothered her endlessly, in fact. Just not for the reason most people assumed it did.

Principally, she just wanted Moomin to be happy. Snufkin made Moomin very happy. She herself made Moomin very happy as well. And he made her the happiest Snork in the world, because if anything he was devoted to her like no other was, kind and soft and thoughtful. He was just similarly devoted to Snufkin, of course, and seeing him tying himself into knots over the whole situation was what really bothered her at the end of the day.

The heart of the matter was simple. Moomin was in love with Snufkin. Snufkin was clearly in love with Moomin. Moomin was in love with Snorkmaiden as well, and she herself obviously fancied him a lot. But what people often forgot was that Snorkmaiden was friends with Snufkin too, had known him at least as long as Moomin had even and spent many sunny summer afternoons together in quiet contentment. And he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes either.

Moomin and her were already girlfriend and boyfriend of course. But the way she saw it there was no reason why Snufkin couldn’t be their boyfriend also. The solution shouldn’t be any more complicated than that.

“Do you like Moomin?”

Snufkin stalled for a moment, almost losing his grip on the fishing rod and having it tumble into the river. He recovered quickly though, fake-coughing politely into one fist instead but refraining from answering immediately. Snorkmaiden either didn’t notice or didn’t care, she was busy making flower crowns out of the wild geraniums that grew on the riverbank.

“Of course I do.” He answered after a few moments, cautiously. Snufkin wasn’t exactly opposed to company when that company was content with sitting in silence next to him enjoying the peaceful afternoon and not bothering him directly. But conversations that started with questions, particularly questions like these, had the disconcerting tendency of veering into terrain he rather steered clear of.

Moomin had taken Sniff and Little My on some kind of adventure today, Snorkmaiden decided to stay behind and that in itself should have been enough to tip him off that something was not right really.

But she didn’t say anything more and Snufkin had just started thinking he might have been let off the hook (unlike the fish he was currently reeling in) when she spoke again.

“Do you like like him though?”

The reel handle spun rapidly as he lost his grip once more, the minnow was probably under some sort of divine protection because it used the sudden slackness of the line to try and extract itself from the hook post-haste, and Snufkin didn’t even have the presence of mind to notice.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lied.

Snorkmaiden huffed, the kind of little annoyed huff some people do when they can tell you are telling them a fib but are too courteous to call you out on it directly. She finished her crown and put it on her head, trying to admire her own reflection in the river but the fish was causing too many ripples with its great escape attempt for her to see herself clearly.

There were another few tugs and then it succeeded in freeing itself and swam merely down the stream, saved from becoming Snufkin’s dinner for at least another day. Snorkmaiden looked at him and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she was smirking.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” She said.

“I really need to be getting back.” He answered instead, dropping the fishing pole right then and there and leaving his bait too. Moominvalley wasn’t exactly a hotbed for criminal activity so he was sure it would still be there when he came back for it.

And if not he could always get a new one.

For the next few days Snufkin avoided being alone with Snorkmaiden as much as possible. This wasn’t exactly a hard thing to do, usually Moomin would be spending time with either of them (if not both of them) at any given moment after all.

But he noticed her watching him more shrewdly than was usual, as if analyzing his every movement and it made him slightly nervous. Normally Snufkin wasn’t the kind of person to be much bothered by other people’s opinions of him, but just once Moomin had embraced him in a moment of sudden exhilaration, throwing his paws around Snufkin’s shoulder shortly and impulsively and he had been able to feel Snorkmaiden’s eyes burning into his back.

Only on one occasion did she manage to corner him in the kitchen of the Moominhouse, staring at him intently for a moment, before standing at the counter next to him and watching him make coffee. Moominmamma had been so kind as to lend him her kettle, since he had lost his own during the previous winter.

Snorkmaiden leaned onto the countertop slightly, batting her eyelashes up at him almost innocently. Girls could be so weird sometimes. “I know you like Moomin.”

“Oh?” Was the only noise he had been able to make at that moment.

“I think he likes you too.”

And that had sent a very undignified blush all the way onto his cheeks, though he tried using his scarf as cover to hide it.

Snorkmaiden and Moomin were dating. Snufkin knew this. And he wasn’t scared of a lot of things, you really can’t be a good nomad if you are, but on the other hand there was this belief that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and Snufkin had not the slightest intention of finding out if this was true.

“It’s fine.” He said, abandoning the coffee half-done. “It’s nothing, really. We’re just friends.” And then he fled the kitchen without waiting to hear her response.

So far Snorkmaiden could only assume her purpose had been awfully misconstrued.

The subtle approach clearly wasn’t relaying her intentions correctly, for Snufkin had taken to darting away from her at every chance, much like a frightened animal will do when backed into an unpleasant situation.

She had tried most everything she could think of now to get the conversation going without having to resort to drastic and dramatic gestures. Snufkin wasn’t the type of person to go for those. It would make him uncomfortable, she knew. Then again, he had already begun to refuse to be around her at all lately, and by extension around Moomin too and that had quite been the opposite of her goal.

Though it would be unbecoming of a lady, she had no choice but to wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself and then do something completely uncouth.

The perfect opportunity did present itself a mere two days later. Snorkmaiden had been out for an evening walk, as she was sometimes wont to do, to admire the beauty of nature and also to get out of the house since her brother had worked himself up into a frenzy again about one thing or another.

She had stopped by the Moominhouse but her love wasn’t there. It was reasonable to assume he might be off with Snufkin then, but when she crossed the bridge who should she find but the wanderer himself, busy at work on alighting his fire pit.

“Snufkin.” She called, and the boy startled so badly he banged his head against the pot hanging above the fire. Snorkmaiden giggled, but hid it behind her hand. She was still a lady, despite what she was about to do.

“Snorkmaiden.” He said, without turning around and while rubbing his forehead gingerly. “Moomin isn’t here.”

“I know.” And she walked around to sit on the tree trunk opposite him.

She could tell Snufkin was thinking about running off again. He did that thing where his eyes darted around as if looking for convenient excuses. However, she didn’t think he was desperate enough to abandon his tent, which was a lot harder to replace than a fishing rod, and leave his dinner to burn completely. In fact she was counting on it.

“Can we talk?”

Snufkin stopped tending to his forehead (which was probably less a case of concussion and more of crippled pride) and returned to his pot. “Of course.” He mumbled. “We’re talking right now.”

“It’s about Moomin.”

“Is it?” He leaned back gingerly, the flames of the fire reflecting unsteadily in his dark eyes.

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Do you?”

“I think you’re in love with him as well.”

“You reckon?”

Snorkmaiden crossed her arms and he looked at her for the first time since she arrived.

“I’m sorry.” He said then and she could tell he was trying hard not to get flustered again. “But I can assure you it’s really nothing.”

“It doesn’t have to be nothing though.” She said, getting up and walking over and he straightened, tensing.

He took a step back but she ignored that. “Snorkmaiden, I really didn’t mean to-”

She took both of his paws in hers then, effectively shutting him up. They were rough like tree bark, nothing like Moomin’s, but warm too. His eyes were wide, and when he took another step back she followed.

“Nothing happened.” He breathed quickly. “Really in fact, I think nothing ever happened or ever will. I do know how much he adores you and you adore him and surely you know I only wish to be a good friend-”

Snufkin was rambling now, voice just a tiny bit desperate and Snorkmaiden couldn’t help but think herself cruel. Of course she could remedy that.

His lips were soft. She pressed against them firmly, so there might not be another misunderstanding as to her intentions now, and he swallowed any other words as she did so, nuzzling against him slightly.

When she pulled back she couldn’t tell if his face was just that red or if it was the glow of the campfire.

“What was that?” He nearly squeaked, blinking numbly at her.

“It was a kiss, dummy.”

“Was it?”

Snorkmaiden glared at him, annoyed. She had quite forgotten kisses were probably not the same for a Mumrik as they were for a Snork or Moomintroll, but he had seen her do this with Moomin enough times to know, surely.

So she did it again, light and feathery and he closed his eyes, pressing into the motion, his paws still clasped in hers. She could hear the frantic movements of a tail swaying side to side rapidly but didn’t know if it was his or her own.

“Moomin?” He whispered, uncertain, once they pulled back. Snorkmaiden smiled.

“Oh, I think he will be quite pleased with the whole ordeal.”

Snorkmaiden wasn’t the type of person to think she was always right. Others might think she was self-absorbed at times, but really she only was in a round-about way. Things concerned her if they involved her and otherwise they were rather tedious.

The sun was still bright and the weather warm and lively for late autumn, though the trees had already changed hues to breathtaking colors. The flowers now were late-bloomers, the air heavy with their scent.

Snufkin shifted in the grass. Snorkmaiden didn’t know if he was sleeping or not, his hat discarded somewhere to the side, but he looked very comfortable with his head resting in Moomin’s lap. The troll was idly playing with their boyfriend’s hair, which was becoming quite long now.

She leaned against Moomin’s side, shoulder to shoulder and he turned to her and nuzzled her cheek for a moment. Then she leaned forward and booped Snufkin’s nose, just because she could.

“I can’t believe autumn is already ending.” She sighed, as he opened his eyes to look at them for a moment. “And then you’ll be leaving.”

He hummed in answer, closing his eyes again and then smiling slightly. “I will have to write two goodbye letters this year then, I suppose.”

“Or just one addressed to the both of us.” Moomin said matter-of-factly, then adding slyly. “A grand love declaration, with a poem and everything.”

Snufkin made a non-commital noise, using one hand to shield his face from the glaring sun, though it was more likely he was trying to hide his blush again.

He still wasn’t very used to that word, even in reference to their newly blossoming relationship. Snorkmaiden knew it would only be a matter of time though.

“As long as you be careful in watching out for yourself.” She said. “Then we will be watching out for each other. And missing you terribly.”

Snufkin didn’t comment, but it was clear that he knew. Next spring, there would be two people eagerly waiting for him to return.

[rainythefox]

Broken Haven (CH.14)

Synoposis: As the world they knew burns to ash above their heads, Joseph Seed and the Deputy are at crossroads with each other. The Deputy tries to cope with the loss of her family and friends, the sins she has done, and must learn to live with her enemy. Joseph has a revelation of their purpose and what they must do before stepping out into the light in seven years. Because in this broken haven, they need each other to rebuild a new world and a new life.

Joseph Seed/Female Deputy OC Mary “Emmy” Samson (Bunker Fic)

AO3 Link

Chapter 14: Contact

A cool breeze brushed through the grassy field, swaying the parched blades. The clear, night sky seemed to stretch on forever, a billion radiant stars impossible to count in a lifetime. The huge oak tree casted a large, black shadow under their glow, and hidden under its outstretched, overlapping limbs was a yellow tent.

The tenants listened to the frogs, the cicadas, and the crickets. They watched the soft glow of fireflies dance across the tall blades of grass. All they had in their tent was a bunch of blankets, some pillows, and a couple of flashlights, and a radio. It’s all they needed.

The girls giggled, laying halfway outside the opening of the tent to stargaze. Tuffs of silver clouds slowly rolled across the sky but didn’t obscure their view.

“There’s the north star!” Mary exclaimed. “And there, not far away. The Big Dipper.”

“Actually, the Big Dipper is part of Ursa Major,” Sarah explained. “The handle is the head and neck of the bear, and the cup is his chest. Follow the bottom of the box down. There’s his legs.”

Mary squinted. “Doesn’t look like a bear to me.” She grinned and looked over at her baby sister. “You’re such a nerd.” And nudged her.

Sarah shrugged, but also smiled. “Yeah, so?”

She may have teased her sister about being smarter, but she treasured her for being the way that she was. Smart, curious, eager to discover and explore. They shared that drive for adventure and achievement. Sarah was smarter though, shier around people, more inclined to think things through and come up with better solutions.

There were times that Mary was envious of Sarah. Especially her big heart and willingness to forgive, the way she did her best to remain positive, no matter the situation. But more than anything, Mary was proud of her.

“The world’s gonna have to watch out for you, sis,” Mary said. “It’s not ready for all the greatness you have to offer.”

Sarah blushed. “Quit it, Emmy. You’re just saying that.”

“Course I’m not! Hey, you’re gonna help me through college, right? I’ll need my whiz sis around to be able to pass.”

They were still too young for college, thirteen and eleven. But they dreamed of the day it would come, to be able to say goodbye to their broken home and set sail for a new life, and all the wonders in store.

“Will we even get to go to college? Aren’t we too poor for that?”

“That’s what scholarships and grants are for. We got this, Sarah!” She winked at her sister and it earned her a wide grin. “So, what do you want to be anyway?”

“I don’t know…lots of things.”

“Well, name one. One that speaks to your heart, right now. In this moment. I wanna know.”

Sarah thought long and hard, chewing on her lip. The summer song of crickets, frogs, and cicadas continued around them, undisturbed. The moon and stars were so bright tonight they didn’t need lights, although most of the lights were still on in the nearby trailer park behind them.

“A doctor.”

“That’s awesome. You’d be so great at that!”

“Think so?”

“I know so! Duh!”

Sarah’s smile slowly fell and she pulled a blanket over her shoulders to shield herself from the cool night wind. “There’s one thing I want to be more than that though.”

Mary was curious, fishing her way under the blanket with her sister as they still sat at the tent’s opening to look at the stars. “What’s that?”

“A mom.”

“A mom?”

“Yeah. I want to be a better mom than…Mom. I want to love them and hold them and take them places and laugh. I want to do things with them, silly things, go on adventures. I want to watch them grow up and…be there.” Sarah sighed. “Like it used to be.”

Before Mary could say anything, a loud crash sounded behind them, loud, angry voices disrupting the night. They looked through the screen tent window behind them to the nearest trailer down the way, their trailer. A man and a woman fought and yelled and threw things at each other on the other side of dirty blinds inside the trailer.

 Sarah scooted closer to Mary and the two young girls tried to ignore the sounds. Mary reached over and turned on the small radio they brought with them, a staticky tune filtering out to distract them.

Mary wrapped an arm around Sarah’s shoulder and they squeezed in close under the blanket, eyes to the sky to promising stars.

“You’ll be great at it,” Mary told her.

A long pause and then her little sister spoke. “Thanks, Emmy. I think you’d be a great mom, too.”

A shooting star blazed across the sky and they gasped at the blue and white light, luminous and breathtaking.

“Make a wish, Emmy!”

And so, Mary made a wish on that shooting star. Soon she would find out that her wish would not come true. But she would never know that her sister’s did…

***

How long had it been? It already felt like years, but upon looking at her clock in the bedroom it had only been a few days. The Deputy was going insane from lack of interaction.

How the hell can he do this?! No wonder he’s nuts!

Mary needed to get out of this room. How Joseph was able to thrive in isolation was beyond her. She was an extrovert through and through and needed contact.

No…I refuse to give him anything after what he pulled!

Besides the agonizingly slow passage of time alone in her room, the Deputy was also going crazy over the possibility of conceiving. She had done all she could, scrubbed every nook and cranny that mattered with vigor, and now the only way to tell would be time. Mary kept telling herself there was no way that Joseph was able to knock her up on the first try. 

Not a chance in hell. Nobody has such a good aim! Especially when shooting from the hip. 

Mary cringed inwardly at the mental image. 

Anyway...just you wait, in a few weeks I will be shoving it in your face, you delusional dick!

...okay, pity points for alliteration, whatever. But he really was!

Cursing him out in her mind and denying any and all possibility of a pregnancy with all she had still didn’t help her nerves though.

When Mary could no longer take the hunger literally eating at her, she reluctantly left the confines and safety of her room. She paused halfway out the door, listening. The bunker was quiet, just the rustle of old pipes and a faint humming from the generators to be heard.

The Deputy tiptoed towards the den, as though the concrete floor was made of squeaky boards. She watched every step, like a secret agent on a reconnaissance mission where getting caught meant ultimate failure. Upon reaching the door to the den, the Deputy peeked inside, eyes darting around.

There was no one in there. The kitchen light was on and clashed with the blue light from the fish tank. The only movement was that of the fish swimming around in their aquarium, minding their own business.

“Looking for me?”

“AHH!”

The Deputy jumped out of her skin, whirling around to face the Father lurking behind her. With arms folded and one questioning eyebrow raised, he seemed to be waiting on her next move. Mary glared daggers at him, hoping to strike him down like the past five hundred times before. But...nothing. In fact, he seemed to be immune. Shame.

“Mary, we need to-”

She slapped her hands over her ears. “La la la laaaaa! Can’t hear you!”

“Real mature.”

“What?”

He glared at her. “Listen, you and I should-”

“Well, would you look at the time. It’s I don’t give a damn thirty. Time for dinner!”

Mary turned her back on him and went into the den. Joseph didn’t say anything but watched her the entire time she cooked. When she sat down at the table to finally eat, her stomach complaining loudly from going so long without eating, he sat down across from her. The Deputy bristled, but kept her face down on her food, eating in fuming silence.

“John once told me you could hold a grudge for even longer than him. He wasn’t wrong.”

“Your dearest baby brother was right about a lot of things. Maybe you should’ve listened to him more. You think I’m pissed? You haven’t seen anything yet,” Mary snapped.

“You shouldn’t let it consume you. Cast it aside, as I did. We only have each other now. The clean slate and forgiveness I gave you are still open and will remain.”

There he went trying to manipulate her again. Mary chewed her food extra harshly and swallowed, pointing a fork at him that she would’ve preferred to stab into a certain body part of his.

“Forgiveness? After what you did?”

Joseph sighed. “You misconstrue my actions, Mary. What happened between us was natural and intended, whether I knew of our future or not. I didn’t plan for it to happen, at least not then. My only intention was to truly and wholly forgive you. What came after was in our hearts.”

This man had a way with words. No, persuasion. Mary shook her head, not looking at him, eating more of her meal in tense silence.

After a long moment, she said, “You still took advantage of it…of me. You know, the problem is that sleeping together is like squeezing toothpaste out of the tub; you can try as hard as you might, but going back to the way things were before is as impossible as getting the toothpaste back inside the tub. You screwed this up.”

Mary scrunched up her face. 

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy to pick, but...you get what I mean.”

“‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone’. You knew just as well as I did of the risks involved in our union. And you still accepted me. And I didn’t take advantage of anything. I simply realized that this was where God’s next plan would begin.”

Mary pushed her plate away and laughed bitterly. “Do you hear yourself? You’re crazy…and a liar.”

“And what exactly have I lied about? Everything I predicted came to pass, did it not? Despite how unlikely you and your friends thought it would be. Even amidst the atrocities my brothers and I have done, we always stood with the truth He showed me, saving as many souls as possible. But all of the people that called me a liar...where are they now?”

Mary lowered her eyes.

“I preach only the truth, spoken directly from the Lord. Whether I want it to happen or not, I must obey Him. When He first showed me that I had to keep you alive after all you’ve done, I was angry. I laughed at the obscenity of it! But I obeyed. Even though I still wanted to kill you. And He continued showing me more and more of what you would become, because you were meant for something greater and He had forgiven you. You play a pivotal role in the new world, Mary. Not just by becoming my wife and mother of my children, but by your soul and all of the hardships you’ve endured. Only you. It was only ever you. And I realize that now.”

Mary looked up at him then, shocked. Her heart dropped like a dead weight in her belly and she almost had flashbacks to Jacob’s trials.

“You and I were chosen, Mary. It’s time to dig the log out of your eye before pointing out the speck in someone else’s.”

Matthew 7:5, she quickly thought and snorted. Although the Father was right to call her out that she needed to look at her own sins and faults before attacking others for theirs, he was wrong about having a speck in his eye. She may have had a log, but Joseph had a whole damn forest.

But his words of her being important in the new world in more ways than one...they sounded so certain. Joseph always seemed positive and confident in his preaching, but there was something different about this prediction, and it sprouted some kind of ember within her, yearning to grow.

He had been right on everything so far, yet she was adamant he had to be wrong about them…about her conceiving. The Father had to be wrong about something. Still, she understood what he was getting at and sighed.

“Fine, if that’s what you believe,” she muttered. “We’re both shitty people, somehow “chosen” by God to lead the new world. I still think you’re delusional. But…I’ll consider calling a truce. Once I’ve figured out what to think of this whole mess...might take a while, considering the size of it...” When she saw him smile, she quickly added, “This does not mean I’ve forgiven you for what you’ve done. This is simply for coexistence. And don’t get any ideas because it ain’t happening. Once we know for sure that I’m not pregnant, then we can start discussing how to move forward.”

“You’ll have to come to terms that you are.”

“You want me to toss that truce out the window?” she growled.

Joseph raised his hands in compliance. “I guess you will have to come to those terms on your own.”

“Just be grateful I’m willing to think about sharing the same space with you without attempted murder.”

A long bout of silence settled between them. Only the hum of the fish tank could be heard. Mary took a long drink of her water, avoiding eye contact with her bunker mate.

She hated this. It was worse than before her and Joseph started getting along. She had actually started to enjoy her new life when they were getting close. Now she felt nothing but bitterness at being used. Loneliness again. She didn’t know what to do with herself or how to pass the time. She worried…

The new year was just a couple of days away, but Mary wouldn’t be drinking or celebrating. The world was dead. Her friends and family were dead and she was trapped underground with a megalomaniac. Let’s not dwell on the fact that she had actually started warming up to him and feeling something bordering on affection for him before it all came tumbling down.

Quit worrying, her inner voice said. Nothing’s going to happen. You aren’t pregnant. Joseph is wrong. He’s gotta be wrong this time. You aren’t going to be his wife or have his children. He’ll realize he’s insane and the both of you will coexist until it’s time to part ways in an apocalyptic wasteland.

 And then, suddenly it dawned on her and the Deputy spat out some water. “Wait…children?! As in…more than one?!”

Joseph wiped his arm with a grimace, some of her water and spittle having sprayed across the table. Mary had been so worked up over her potentially conceiving, that she didn’t even realize what Joseph claimed to be written in their shared futures.

“Yes,” he stated simply. “Children, as in the plural form of child.”

“How many are we supposed to have?” she asked. “In your crazy, made-up delusions, I mean. Come on, let’s hear it, Nostradamus. I need a laugh.”

Joseph studied her for a quiet moment. “If you are adamant that I am wrong, then why stress about it?”

“Just…humor me.”

The Father leaned back in his chair, unconvinced. “Three. That I know of.”

Three?! He’s definitely insane.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“No. A girl and two boys. Exactly what you’ve taken from me.”

Right…totally insane. I’mma head out...

“Sure, that’s not creepy or coo-coo at all.”

Joseph’s lips barely curved upright. “If you are so certain of not conceiving, you shouldn’t have any worries. We’ll find out soon enough whether I’m crazy or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure I know that you’re nuts now. Don’t need to wait any longer to know that. This is a pretty twisted way to get over your siblings, Joseph. By fantasizing something as far-fetched as that.”

His glare caught her off guard. “I’ve forgiven you for their deaths, but the pain is still there. I’m not over my siblings. Not even close. Just like you aren’t over Sarah.”

She snapped her eyes at him then, tensing, and they held each other’s gaze in strained silence in an invisible battle of wills. And he motioned at her with the rosary laced hand, knowing he had her full attention now.

“We do not “get over” the loss of loved ones, Mary. We heal through time and forgiveness and in seeking solace with the Lord. And we carry on, doing our best to keep them alive within ourselves, remembering what they taught us and how they made us grow.”

Tears bit at her eyes, but the Deputy refused to let them release, keeping her glare, despite the hurt in her heart over Sarah. Joseph’s face softened though, his pride breaking away for his sympathetic side, one of his few virtues.

“Our children will not be them. But it is God’s way of showing that you and I have truly forgiven one another and our pasts. It will be because of them that we will be able to grow and change into what the new world needs us to be. And we will never have to be alone again.”

She hated and yet strangely admired the way this man could form words; heartfelt, encouraging, and soothing. It was a haunting reminder on why so many people flocked to him and damn near worshipped him, impelled and bewitched and willing to die for him.

It sounded great. A promise of peace, enrichment, and freedom. Not just from the bunker, but from their pasts and tribulations. A future full of acceptance, fulfillment, and love. But it came from the best salesman on the planet, always twisting words to his advantage.

Mary couldn’t see anything good coming from them. They were both bad people and had done terrible things to each other and others. She had bought into his promise of a good life and forgiveness down here and in the “new world” before, but now only doubt filled her heart. Now it only seemed as though they survived the bombs together as punishment, destined to slowly waste away for their crimes.

Mary didn’t deserve any of the things Joseph promised. And neither did he. So why would God reward them?

***

After tossing and turning for over an hour, Joseph finally gave up and sat up in bed. He rubbed his face, feeling the familiar ache creeping into his skull. The prophet hadn’t got much sleep in the days following Christmas. It wasn’t his usual phase of insomnia. Stress mostly. Despite the Voice telling him everything would work out in the end, he still felt bad for the fallout between him and Mary.

He really had not intended it to happen the way that it did, but she wouldn’t believe him. And he didn’t blame her. He had done so many bad things in his life, all in the name of the Lord who had become angry and disappointed in His children. But he wholeheartedly believed that he had done all those transgressions for the greater good.

They sometimes upset him, but he never lost focus on what God needed him to do next. Mary was different though. He was hung on it, and he knew there was no righting it until she had no choice but to accept that their daughter was growing inside of her.

Wincing and grabbing the back of his head, the cult leader rose and left his room, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He walked through the silent bunker hallway into the infirmary to get some painkillers.

The infirmary, now cleaned up and organized after Mary’s meltdown, was lit by a small night-light on one wall, and it was enough for him to see without turning the ceiling light on. Joseph knew just where his pain pills were and got a couple before leaving for the den.

He looked at Mary’s bedroom door as he passed, closed and nothing but silence on the other side. Slipping into the den to wash down his pills with a drink of water, he stopped short in the doorway.

Mary was asleep on the sofa. The Father peered at her for a curious moment, wondering why she had let herself pass out here. He quietly strolled into the kitchen and got his glass of water. He watched her as he popped the pills and washed them down.

The blue light from the aquarium spilled across her slumbering form like an opening to a play, entrancing the audience like she was some kind of modern Sleeping Beauty.

Joseph approached the dozing Deputy, standing over her. He studied her, admiring her relaxed face that had been contorted lately from worry and anger. She was so beautiful. A heavenly creature trapped in both a concrete cage and a cage of her own making, desperate to get out, and only he would be able to free her. But first she had to let him.

He smiled tenderly down at her. He grabbed up the blanket laying over the nearby recliner and gently laid it out over her curled body, tucking her in.

He brushed his knuckles softly over her temple after making sure she wouldn’t catch a cold again.

“Sleep well, Mary. You needn’t worry...the Lord himself watches over you.”

Soon the Father left her be and went back to his room, for now ignoring the faint pounding in his head.

***

It was officially a few days into the first year of the end of the world, and Mary was about to rip her hair out. At this rate, she would absolutely lose it before they hit their seven year mark, or whenever they were supposed to get the hell out of here.

She had been too stressed to “celebrate” New Year’s, but it wasn’t as though there was much to celebrate for anyway. Things were civil between her and Joseph, having accepted a truce for now, and that was forcing it. She tolerated him at most, and barely talked to him, avoiding anything to do with what happened between them or the possibility that she may be pregnant. She also ignored his watchful eyes on her, as though he was gauging any sort of changes for his fallacy of her becoming pregnant with his child.

Mary felt the same as before their temporary “error of judgement” that had been Christmas night. It reassured her everything was going to be okay, although the little voice in the back of her head still warned her it was still too early for anything.

In the mix of doing chores, she unfortunately found herself wondering about the horrors of what would happen if she did in fact become pregnant. The Deputy refused to even think about the factors of childbirth and medical risks. Mary knew if Joseph was actually right (again), she would be tied to him forever and she just didn’t know what to think of that.

The Deputy had always wanted to eventually settle down, marry, and have a family - but not this way. Not hiding underground from the end of the world. Not with three children fathered by a Delphic cult leader who thought he was the next messiah. She had always pictured meeting another law officer with her beliefs and passion for justice, or maybe a handsome veterinarian, and they would have lots of pets. Definitely dogs and cats. Maybe horses and goats. And yes, even fish! But she had always only pictured herself having one or maybe two children.

But three? With the Father? Her children would be demons, if the Seeds were anything to go by. With her luck at least one of them would fancy filleting people like their uncle...

Her father did always say that God had a twisted sense of humor though. And with all that had happened since arriving in Hope County, well, the Deputy believed him now.

Best not think about it. Don’t jinx yourself…

Mary snorted. Yeah, as if.

Once she was finished cleaning the communications room, she turned off the record player. The old rock tunes died and the freshly cleaned room became quiet. Her boredom soon returned. There was only so much cleaning and chores she could do, after all.

Not yet ready to give in to talk to her bunker mate, she decided to sit down at the radio system. It had been over a week since she had tried reaching out. She noticed the radio was off and couldn’t remember if she had turned it off or not.

The Deputy turned it on and started running through the channels in boredom, not expecting anything as usual. She was met with the predicted silence or buzzing static, but not much else.

“If anyone is out there, please respond. This is Deputy Mary Samson of the Hope County Sheriff’s Department, currently taking refuge in Dutch Roosevelt’s bunker.”

She waited, having called out to all channels available, just like usual. And though she wasn’t expecting a response as always, it still hurt and depressed her knowing that she and Joseph could really be the only ones left in Hope County.

She sat for five solid minutes in bleak silence. Sighing in aggravation, the Deputy stood and was about to hit the off switch when a strange pulse of static came through the speaker. She paused.

That was a weird interference…

And then a beep. The green light was blinking. She gaped, frozen in disbelief. Someone was actually responding! There was another life out there besides them! She felt lightheaded, heart pounding from excitement. Her fingers twitched but she pushed the button to call up the channel that responded.

“H-Hello?” she stammered.

“EMMY! Holy shit, girl! Didn’t think we’d ever hear from you again!”

“SHARKY?!” Mary squealed disbelievingly. “Oh my God! You’re alive?!”

“Hell yeah, I’m alive, Shorty! Although, let me tell ya, it was not a good time gettin’ to this shelter with balls of fire rainin’ from the sky like some goddamn start to a blockbuster flick. And I burned my ass, no shit! I still can’t feel part of my left butt cheek. Oh, oh, oh, hold on! Let me wake the others.”

“Others?” Mary was nearly bouncing in front of the radio, ecstatic at the prospect of more survivors.

“Hurky, wake up, we got Dep! Alive and well!”

Hurk Jr.!!! Her two stupidest, most loyal friends had made it!

“Emmy? That really you?” that distinct redneck twang came through and she hopped and laughed.

“Yeah, it’s me, you fucking idiot! It’s so good to hear your voice! Where’re you guys at?”

“We’re in Daddy’s old bunker at the Drubman Fort. Plenty of food, booze, and room to party for the next decade down here. Where you at, girl?”

Before the Deputy could answer, Hurk’s voice hollered out so loud, it rattled the speaker and made her wince.

“MOMMA COM’ERE! EMMY GIRL’S STILL ALIVE!”

“Addie too?” Mary asked, rubbing one ear.

“Oh yeah,” Sharky said. “Us, Aunty Addie, Uncle Hurk Sr. and Xander man, are all down here.”

“How the hell have you guys not killed each other yet?” Mary laughed.

“Sharky stashed a shit ton of weed, and I ain’t gonna lie, I think it’s the only thing keepin’ us from turnin’ this place into the next Fight Club. Though that’d be kinda cool if you ask me.”

“Dude, Hurky, that would actually be wicked insane.”

They both yelped and there was a staticky crash. Mary frowned, worried she had lost them, until a third familiar voice met her ears and she couldn’t believe that the whole Drubman clan had actually made it.

“Emmy, sweetheart?!” Adelaide yelled. “You there?”

“I’m here, Addie! How are you doing?”

“About to lose my fucking mind with all these idiots! So good to hear your voice, sugar. We had trouble with our radio on this end for the longest time. Sharky finally fixed it.”

“Fixed it? I made a miracle happen, thank you!”

“So, where are you holing up at, Em?” Hurk Jr. asked.

“Dutch’s bunker.”

“Oh, how is he?” Addie asked. “Wake the old grouch up and get him over here!”

Mary frowned, swallowing hard. “He…uh…he didn’t make it.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“But…he never left that bunker,” Sharky mumbled.

“Oh honey, we’re sorry to hear that,” Addie replied.

“Did your other Deputy amigos make it?” Hurk Jr. asked.

Mary was quiet. She was so excited to hear from her friends again, she didn’t realize what all she would have to tell them. Now she was terrified. What would they think of her situation?

“No…we got into a wreck before getting to the bunker. They didn’t make it either.”

“Do you have anyone? Are you all alone, Emmy?” Sharky asked, sounding concerned.

She released a shaky breath, weakly smiling even though they couldn’t see it. “No…I have one other survivor here with me.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s that tinfoil hat nerd who thinks aliens are listenin’ in on him because hoo doggie would I feel bad for you,” Hurk Jr. said.

“I can’t even imagine being stuck alone with someone that crazy. Like, yowzers, blow my fuckin’ brains out right now.”

“Oh, I’m stuck with crazy alright,” Mary said with a deep sigh.

“Goddam! MERLE, ARE YOU IN THERE?” Addie yelled.

Mary covered the speaker with a wince. “No…not Merle.”

“Then who?”

“The actual king of crazy…”

Thick silence was her response and the Deputy couldn’t be sure whether her dense friends weren’t keen on her hint or if they were stunned into silence. She gulped and waited.

Addie proved to be the quicker one as usual. “Joseph Seed?! You lucky bitch! Oh, how I envy you being alone with that fuckin’ dreamboat. He can port his ship in my harbor any time.”

Mary cringed at the thought.

“Ew. Momma. Seriously. I’m gonna hurl up my Pringles, quit it!”

“Damn, Shorty. Got the short ‘n ugly end of the stick, eh?” Sharky asked. “Bunkin’ down with Broseph! Didn’t think the bastard made it.”

“Well…technically he ain’t Broseph no more considerin’ Dep killed ‘em all. Now he’s…Nobroseph.”

The cousins broke out in a fit of snorting laughter from Hurk’s stupid joke.

“Seriously though, Em, how have you two not killed each other yet?” Sharky asked, still recovering from his snickering.

“He still tryin’ to get you to join his “end of the world” cult?” Hurk added. “Joke’s on him, the world already ended.”

Mary facepalmed. “Hurk…Joseph preached nonstop about it. I think he fucking knows the world ended.”

“Good point, amiga. And so he ended up being right all along. How crazy is that, man?”

“Don’t be an idiot, cuz. Nobroseph is now trying to get her to join his “after the end of the world” cult. Which, obviously, isn’t as gnarly and epic as Hurk’s Gate.”

“Damn straight. I mean, we’re kinda short on the monkeys at the moment, but once we get outta here, monkeys galore, man. And booze. Runnin’ around buck-naked in the new world. Like a giant goddamn step for mankind towards bein’ more in tune with nature and all that shit.”

“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Addie groaned.

Mary chuckled. God, had she missed these knuckleheads.

“Well, Shorty, is everything…alright? Are you doin’ okay? He ain’t like…conditioning you or some shit is he?”

Mary was touched. Sharky always looked after her. He may not have been the smartest tool in the shed, but she could always rely on him to have her back. He could never be taken at face value, there was so much underneath that was uniquely…Sharky.

“Nah,” she said with a forced smile. “We’re getting along alright. Moving on from the past and slowly finding common ground. After all, we have to rely on each other down here. There’s days we still want to kill each other, but we’re civil...for the most part.”

“Gotta hand it to him,” Hurk Jr. interjected. “Cult Daddy’s sure being easy-going with being roomies with his family’s killer…whether they deserved it or not. I’m quite surprised, man. And relieved of course. Emmy, I’m even surprised in you, but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.”

“Of course he’s gonna bunk down with a hot young lady for the next several years!” Addie scoffed. “The man ain’t stupid! Emmy, sweetheart, you have to tell me how good of a ride he is. I gotta know...for research purposes...you know what I mean, hun!”

Her heart exploded into a frenzy and Mary panicked. “W-What?! Addie, what the hell?! I h-haven’t! I mean, no!”

Jeez, stop it, Emmy! Ever heard of ‘The lady doth protest too much’? You’re blabbing! Shut it.

There was no way she was going to tell them the truth! Never! Even though an honest answer for Adelaide would probably make the older woman squeal in delight.

“Oh, sure, honey. But it’ll happen eventually. A man and a woman locked underground alone together, for who knows how long? Yeah, it’s gonna happen. Laws of nature and all that. I’m sure Joseph’s already thought of it. Hell, probably planned it if I have a hunch of how he works.”

You have no idea, Addie…

“Who knows what’s going on in his head, Addie...”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. No one will judge you, given the circumstances. Some of us will be pretty damn jealous actually…”

“I won’t be jealous in the slightest,” Sharky drawled. “I mean, I will, but not of you fucking Joseph, but of you fucking Joseph. T-That is to say, I mean, what I’m tryin’ to say is-”

“Goddamn, cuz, spit it out, man. You’re a cringefest right now.”

Mary smiled. “Thanks, Sharky. I’m flattered.”

“I will march across the radioactive wasteland and grow an extra head, three nipples and some toes on my chin to shove his prayer beads up his back door if he even looks at you wrong...just sayin’.”

“Why would you go on foot when it’s the perfect time to go Mad Max up there, man? Grab some metal and spikes and go all out, ride or die in style.”

“That is actually a great idea, Hurky. I wonder if my truck made it through the bombs. Definitely strappin’ a flamethrower to the hood. And I always wanted, like, them crazy spikes on the wheels, but like, in gold and super shiny.”

“Homie, it’s the end of the world, you ain’t gonna be blingin’ man.”

Aaaand she lost them. Shaking her head, Mary cleared her throat. “It’s so good to hear from you guys, it really is. But I’m gonna sign off for bed. Talk tomorrow?”

“Sure, sugar. I’m happy to have someone else to talk to that isn’t a complete moron. You get some rest, hun. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, amiga! Talk to ya tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Shorty. Take care of yourself.”

Mary squeezed the mic, softly smiling. “Goodnight, my friends.”

The Deputy put the radio on standby, unable to wipe the triumphant grin off her face. Feeling overwhelmed by joy, she remained sitting for a few minutes, going over what happened. She couldn’t believe it: her friends were alive! And she wondered if more of them possibly could’ve made it...if the Drubmans survived, maybe others did, too! Kim, Nick, Carmina...I hope you’re okay...if you’re still there, I’ll find you!

It relieved her to know that she would have more people than just Joseph to talk to. She may not have been able to see or touch them, but hearing their voices, knowing they had her back was enough. Knowing they were alive and they could talk greatly boosted her sanity and her mood.

Joseph had been wrong about them being the only ones…which meant he had to be wrong about her getting pregnant. 

...right?