#and one of these ive seen discussed like three times and once was literally just me talking into the void

[local-magpie]

ngl considering the increasing focus i see in leftists on walkable cities, public transport, and other urban features, im... really not surprised people keep thinking "rural" just means south. rural folk really are invisible huh

[solitary-cutie]

Darkness to our light. Part IV

Part I

Part II

Part III

prompt: you and coriolanus are married, it's unbearable for you, but it will all end soon

contains: dark, manipulative, controlling coriolanus. fem!reader.

The guests were slowly gathering. While you were spending time with Tigris, Ginny appeared on the doorstep, just 40 minutes after the evening had started. It was a good thing she hadn't missed dinner after all. It was clear from her astonished look that this was the first time she had seen such gorgeous outfits in person. No, she had been invited to such events with famous personalities, but because she was so tired after work, the diligent teacher had no desire to be there. She didn't want to waste the evening on shallow, partly lustful, greedy and proud empty human shells with a bag of money over their shoulders.

Coriolanus was not in the hall at this time, nor were Father Sejanus and Mr. Highbottom. You frowned and became uneasy, but Ginny, Tigris, and Sejanus, who had come up with a glass of whiskey, were nearby.

“Sanitizing before consumption?” You laughed. Sejan glanced at you with a frown and annoyed smile. By the way, it was funny. “Literally pouring it over your collar. Does your family have such fondness for drinking ?” Silent. “Come on, I didn't know. Well, it's not for me to judge, as they say!” continued with Tigris and Ginny laughing.

“Oh, Grandma’am needs me, I’ll be in a second!” Your Lord's gentle sister whispered, rustling her purple dress loudly because of her quick footsteps.

“Aren't you tired of being a clown?” Sejanus asked trying to be sarcastic but because of his habit of directness, it didn't work for him

“No, thank you for being concerned.”

The loud voices of Grandma’am and her other elderly friends from Capitol were heard singing the Panem hymn in the hall.

“Oh, you're sitting next to that tipsy madam and her friends, by the way.” You warned Ginny.

“Don’t I sit next to you?”

“I'd like to...” You looked away.

“Then sit with me, what's the problem? - Ginny asked, frowning.”

“I can't, the rules don't allow it, we have stupid etiquette here.” Not wanting to hear the answer, you took two glasses of red wine, one of which you handed to your teacher-guest. “Drink and relax! You're much easier to talk to when you're relaxed!”

And then the trio that had been absent all this time entered the hall. There were no smiles on their faces, but rather deep thought. You noticed the quick, blank glances Coryo was throwing in Sejanus' direction. Yes, that's right, He had always tolerated him, didn't even consider him a friend. It all made sense.

While He stood off to the side, talking to Dr. Gaul, Grandma’am, and Mr. Highbottom, you secluded yourself in a corner with Sejanus and Ginny. Three stragglers sipping cocktails and discussing revolutionary ideas.

“On what basis does the principle of elites exist, please explain?” Sejanus asked.

“You and I have been discussing this for the last time.” You replied, smiling, pronouncing the last syllable with a gasp.

“We are discussing it because you do not recognize my right that the formation of the elite and those who are behind it, i.e. people deprived of any rights, is inhuman and so in the spirit of our state, although you position yourself against the established regime.”

“You reason within the bounds of conscience and morality, and divine morality at that.” You laughed.

“No, we are all equal by nature, we are all born without money debts, with equal potential, just someone has more money, so he can afford not only school education, so he is considered smart, and therefore, the elite, and someone has nothing.”

“Yes, the downers are now and other people with deviations from the right foot are sent to hell.”

Several people turned around at your scolding. You were embarrassed. Again. But what can you do if you like to swear? Although someone once told you that the amount of swearing in the vocabulary depends on the level of fatigue... by this logic, suicidal people on the eve of tragedy should communicate only on crystal mate.

“You're trying to get off the subject. Of course, they are a different topic of conversation...”

“No," You interrupted Sejanus, "if you're going to talk about it, then be specific. If a dun is born into a well-to-do family, then with enough investment and effort, they will be indistinguishable from a person with a normal number of chromosomes. They'll be smarter than Arachne's idiot," they both chuckled. Gossipers, that's what being in the elite is all about.

“And yet, a poor family with enough investment of effort will raise an equally normal child. But children from well-to-do families won't let them break through, even if they are an outstanding geniuses.”

“I don't agree at all," you shook your head. “History proves the opposite. The same Leonardo da Vinci, born in the affair of his father, an aristocrat and a peasant woman. He grew up to be a genius, though he spent the first part of his childhood living with peasants who didn't care about your arguments about elites and education.”

“That's the exception.”

“Paganini? Or is this the second exception that somehow fucking proves your rule?”

“Look," Ginny finally intervened, "Sean comes from a family of politicians, and he's talking about inequality?”

“It's a paradox that we always talk about, word for word, at every party.” The mistress of the evening muttered, ignoring the astonished looks of the guests.

Sejanus was about to reply, but his father's sonorous voice distracted him. He withdrew and the girls were left alone. Ginny and you looked at each other, smiled embarrassedly, and then ran their eyes around the room, only to hide their gaze somewhere else. It seemed to them both, the beauty of the one standing across from them was incomparable to anything. You eere in a fitted blue dress with very wide sleeves and a puffy crinoline, wearing what you considered tasteless silver jewelry, because you hated that metal, with a hateful scent of roses, and standing surrounded by those same flowers, which He adored, and moreover, grew himself. And Ginny... in a stunning black dress that showed off her trim frame, she was a gymnast, for sure. It was simple, not flashy like everyone else's, but so elegant and beautiful. Just when Ginny wanted to say something nice to you, the bell rang. It was Mr. Snow.

“My dear guests," He found you, his cold eyes fixed on your face, making freeze to him. At the same moment, you hurried to be beside him, as a hostess should, “My wife and I will be glad to invite you to the table. I suggest that we continue to talk about everything over a meal, except politics, of course, or we'll all poison each other.”

The room reacted with restrained laughter. The men landed hands to their ladies, following the example of the Lord and Lady of the evening, and followed them to a table set with food for every taste. The abundance of colorful food, ranging from brightly colored vegetables, various kinds of meat to alcohol and desserts, abundantly watered with syrup, whetted everyone's appetite. The cutlery sparkled under the refracted rays from the crystal stones on the chandelier, and the multicolored plates with fancy patterns were like mirrors, so diligently cleaned by the assistants. The master felt proud. He pushed back a chair, tending to his wife, seating her beside him as befitted a mistress, before sitting down himself.

“Bon appetite to everyone.”

You glanced at Tigris sitting across from you, holding back a chuckle. The two of you always had fun together. His sister made a pained grimace, pointing her eyes under the table, at her shoes. You nodded understandingly, but Tigris nodded again, a little more steeply. Perplexed, looking down, amazed eyes. Tigris took off her high heels and dangled her feet under the table, urging her brother's chosen one to follow suit. It became awkward. "Grandma’am is next to you!" you pointed out with a glare and received rolled eyes and a wicked grimace with the tip of her tongue sticking out. You glanced quickly at your husband, absorbed in conversation with Mr. Highbottom and Sejanus's father under Dr. Gaul's curiously frantic gaze. After thinking for a moment, you followed Tigris' example and kicked off the hated heels that squeezed your forefingers. Relief. Tigris' smirk.

“Hopefully, under your careful guidance, the broadcast and the games themselves will improve each year so that our spectators and themselves will get a feel for the arena.” Coriolanus spoke softly, as if to address Dr. Gaul's remark, but looking into Highbottom's eyes.

“My husband loves not only spicy food, but also acute experience, so he offers them to others!” You joked, getting a dozen chuckles from the confirmation of the abundance of spicy food on the table.

“And so I found one who will share with me not only my aspirations, sickness and health, sorrow and happiness, but also acutes.”

So many puns could make you sick.

“Don't forget that everyone wants a thrill at least once! “ Shouted one of the guests Ginny was talking to.

“There's a new addition to the Sejanus Legion!” And so Ginny joined in on the wave of excitement.

“Explain it, sweetheart!” The other guest laughed.

To Sejanus, the Lord and Lady of the evening the second before her answer seemed like an eternity. Sejan's father glanced absent-mindedly at the unfamiliar guest and then at his son.

“Let's give an acutes not only to the Capitol, but to the Districts as well! What equality!”

The people at the table looked at each other. Everyone was noticeably quiet, still fiddling with their plates. Most looked at Sejanus and his father with open incomprehension or even annoyance. How could it be? The cream of the crop and in favor of equality? What heresy! What could this girl possibly know about you? Someone laughed openly.

Coriolanus immediately looked at you, meeting your gaze. And then He realized that now, for the only time during your interactions, your marriage and his observation of you in general, he had not grasped the essence of your actions. That was why you had joined the conversation so actively. That's why you had complained so much to Ginny about your life. That's why you were letting her listen to their conversations with Sejanus. Binding her, disposing her, showing her trust to take advantage of her at one point. That's why you taught her to mock Sejanus right in front of him, not behind his back. That was why you had invited her to dinner, why you had seated her next to the chatty, elderly ladies, who made up stories about their grandsons or daughters passionate love for poor, unhappy couple whose role Jeannie was apt to play. That's why you were getting the girl drunk, to make it all easier to pull off.

You knew everything. You learned everything from him.

[time-is-restored]

more whinging bc i got negative hours of sleep last night and i need to stay awake somehow lol

cw: discussions of misogyny + abuse

god the more i think abt it the more exhausted i get by the gender politics of ted lasso.

like god i do genuinely think that rebecca's arc in s1 is one of the best depictions of a mean + cruel woman ive ever seen on TV specifically bc it manages to thread the needle so well? like they never tilt her balance too much and doom her to being either totally fucked up + evil OR totally soft and sweet and harmless. and ted's 'divorce makes u crazy' response to her apology STILL makes me crazy wrt the sheer. understanding and empathy there, and she's just. given so much more depth than ive come to expect, especially for an ensemble cast sitcom w a (then) p short run time.

but my fucking god. we literally don't learn a fucking thing about michelle. im pretty sure the one (1) concrete thing we know about her comes in the fucking finale, and it's that she's a teacher for... something. the two most important people in ted's life and we don't know anything abt them! they're literally just empty symbols representing the importance of Family™, and that vacancy does nothing but weigh ted's storyline down!

like, i liked michelle's episode/storyline in s1, bc the blinding novelty of a woman instigating a divorce not being the Actual Devil, as well as a just. generally very empathetic + nuanced take on how divorce shakes out between two ppl who really care for each other, was so 'WAIT TV CAN DO THIS??' that i felt satisfied with that being Her Arc™. divorce happens, life happens, people fall out of love, and it hurts but its ultimately okay. the show, at the time, was ultimately abt a football club and how caring abt that football club helped everyone around it.

but then the show sticks around, and her continued absence just... raises a lot of questions? how did the conversation abt ted going overseas happen? what conversations did they have abt henry? how long term was it intended to be? did money really not factor into it all? like it's one thing for a character's backstory to be vague when it's not really the focus of attention (s1 was ultimately rebecca's story before anyone else's), but when it's the load bearing stone of their '''''''arc''''''' in s3...????

like. god. and then it fucking infects every other woman on the show!

sassy + nora? well sure we'll give you a softball - you can have one (1) scene where a woman is able to resolutely and firmly reject a man asking her out without immediately being seen as cruel or gameplayey (not that the audience will see it that way! she's already a lecherous temptress for them!), but neither of them will ever be able to speak to rebecca onscreen again, even after the heart-wrenching scenes in s1 CLEARLY establishing them as a beating heart of rebecca's arc.

shandy? nope, don't even think abt her motivations/drives, just forget her. simi? LMAOOO imagine a black woman getting a personality beyond righteous anger. jack? three-four episodes, and we learn so little abt her that her conflict with keeley - which SHOULD'VE have been a huge emotional beat - just feels like a kick in the teeth (and while, yes, i absolutely agree that in a real world context, jack's rejection of keeley would be largely motivated by class, in Ted Lasso Land™ rebecca is just as rich - if not richer? - and we're never once encouraged to interrogate her priorities).

barbara's the one that really makes me miserable, bc i feel like on a show with less run time, she could've played REALLY well. she's a great contrast to keeley, has an amazing delivery, and the scene where keeley + her first discuss the snowglobes shows that she has the potential for some really moving vulnerability + pathos. but instead they give SO many of keeley's scenes to characters who ultimately get written out, so when barbara stays it's like... okay? sure? like, i was so stoked that barbara survived the Mass Exodus of side characters that i didn't wanna look the gift horse in the mouth but... wasn't the last thing we saw of her and keeley's relationship like. general resentment + distrust abt the shandy debacle? when did that improve? how???

i don't think i'll ever have enough mental real estate to explain how disappointed keeley + rebecca's 'arcs' in s3 made me, and at least there's the saving grace that. virtually no one other than jamie got a coherent arc this season, so at least it was on some levels an egalitarian screw up. but fuck dude. keeley was just forced to react to bad things that were happening to her, and we got to see her do her job (which, unbelievably, does actually involve things other than being an awkward manager!) precisely one (1) time.

i even like rebecca's arc on paper - i think it's really cool to see a character backslide so intensely in terms of obsessing over and struggling to come to terms w a past relationship, especially an abusive one, bc like. yeah! that shit sticks with you for longer than a season! and beyond that, seeing her regain her sense of self and what SHE actually gives a shit about was oftentimes just as sweet as s1. but her scenes were poorly connected, and she had to carry WAY too much of a burden as the Resident Speech Giver for any of her internal characterisation to make sense. like, sorry, but it's kind of hard to believe a character's Going Through It™ when they have to spent near 100% of their screen time giving Take It From Me, Kid, speeches. and then she's not even given a real opportunity TO fuck up + sabotage her relationships, even when she starts getting really weird w ted! it's all just so meaningless and like nothing that she does is ever going to matter. she never speaks to zava again, we don't get to see her interact w bex or kate, her pleas to ted get COMPLETELY shut down...

but the thing that REALLY makes me sick is this complete lack of interiority absolutely butchers the characters of jade + jane, who are otherwise RIFE with potential. like, jade is a completely unflinching, unapologetic asshole to nate + his family, and that's never interrogated. even in Sitcom Land™, it's more than reasonable to view jade's actions as racist, especially when she doesn't give the same treatment to others (at least not as i recall? honestly i usually watch the taste of athens scenes while peeking out behind my hands, so i could 100% be wrong here). and yet, suddenly, and completely inexplicably, she's charmed by nate. she wants to give him the time of day. she finds him attractive, and wants to date him, and generally take control of his life and force him into a decision that is literally the exact opposite of what he expressed wanting to do. except even that LAST thing isn't allowed to be interrogated, bc god FORBID a woman is enough of a fully realised creation to actually be culpable of the terrible shit they do!

and fucking jane??? beard's so head-over-heels for this woman that the emotional abuse + extremely controlling tendencies don't even make him bat an eye, and we don't get to know anything about her? she's literally just the suggestion of an alluring woman! good at sex! good at chess! fuck you if you wanna know more, even though the show ENDLESSLY hits you over the head with how painful their relationship is for beard - beard who is given virtually no other storyline. like, i literally can't read brendan's refusal to label jane as abusive as anything other than like. that bio-essentialism shit where ppl 'women are better than men <3' so hard that they end up genuinely and wholeheartedly arguing that someone's sex defines their morals - or worse, that their sex is a deciding factor in determining whether someone's actions are good or bad. not context, but a legitimate 'add points if woman, take away points if man' variable.

like that's so feminism 101 it's legitimately almost worse than nothing. that's like getting as far as 'hey so you know how we're all inundated with both implicit + explicit messaging abt what is Valued and Good for women vs men to-' before shoving ur earplugs in and going 'if you are oppressed by society we'll automatically stamp a 'good person' label on ur head and now we don't have to think abt any of our biases + internalised beliefs ever again <333'. the most useless and fucking pointless stand against the patriarchy ever, especially coming from the same show that ENDLESSLY slots characters into the 'loving gf/wife' archetype and then give them Literally Nothing Else. my comrades you have literally just done madonna/whore 2: oops all madonnas! this is not liberation!!!! this is a miserable cage!!!!!!!!!

im just. higgins' wife. mae. trent's daughter and anonymous 'her'. the women at the hotel and the restaurants and the firm and the fucking physios, fuck - dani's gfs! who are they? what do they want? where do they go when the camera stops rolling? can anyone hear me?? hello??? hello???? brendan hunt i am OUTSIDE YOUR HOUUUUUUSE

[thepictureofsdr]

so ive been seeing a LOT of controversy lately over the new art and i wanted to throw my two cents in as someone who has experience drawing the lady of the hour

am i a leading artist of this fandom? no. am i an expert on drawing people, skin, or colour theory? no. am i perfect at portraying poc? no. (so far no one has had an issue with me but i hope that if i ever do something wrong someone would call me out) the examples i have aren’t even my most recent design of cordelia. but even someone like me can grasp the basics of skin colour.

im someone who exists only to wake up and use dramatic lighting, which is why i feel i can say something here. ive seen people defending the whitewashing saying its the lighting. but that’s not how that works. yes, some poc skin may look white under certain lighting, but that is ONLY in the area directly hit by the light, its no explanation for the rest of skin. lets look at isabela madrigal as an example. she’s very pale where the light DIRECTLY hits, but the rest of her skin is a brown tone, and her shadows are especially dark since she has darker skin to begin with, the consistent base tone for her design is a brown. now if we look at the cordelia art, she’s light where the pink sunrise hits, but the REST of her skin is LIGHT. this is because the base tone used was very light, her darkest shadow is almost a neutral tone on isabela. now look at the tone difference between matthew and cordelia. this is NOT the difference you’re supposed to see between a BRITISH WHITE PERSON and a person of colour. some people have brought up that cordelia is mixed but that has no place in this discussion as she’s been described as having inherited her mothers dark skin multiple times.

there have been some brilliant posts already, one by @youngreckless with a wonderful addition by @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas in the notes, but i just wanted to pop in as someone who has spent a year drawing these characters, theres absolutely no excuse for this. sometimes filters and lighting can change a piece, but we’re not talking a shade’s difference here this is literally changing the base tone of her skin. and even if it’s lighting or filters, its your job as an artist to fix those things before posting, especially when being posted by the AUTHOR. its also the authors job to commission art that sticks to the canon. the inconsistency in cordelia’s skin tone and features in recent art has been ridiculous. we’re not talking fan artists who are still getting the hang of drawing these characters we’re talking professionals who’ve been paid to do this. most of the little alastair art we’ve gotten seems to be decently consistent, in that he has his fathers jaw and nose and his mothers hair and skin. but cordelia is all over the place, one second she has a strong jaw and nose with dark skin and the next she’s all soft and light, the difference between two pieces of one character is ridiculous, it’s genuinely embarrassing.

how can you look me in the eye and say these are the same person. you can’t. my friend thought the first one was TESSA until they realized the boy was blond and not will. this goes way farther than style or individual interpretation, these are three different women.

excuse the old art but ive drawn alastair far more than cordelia and once again, its very easy to draw lighting while respecting the actual skin colour of the characters you’re portraying. the characters deserve better than this, but more importantly, the people who read these stories and see themselves deserve better and consistent representation.

this isn’t a full discussion, there are many things about cordelia’s whitewashing that i didn’t speak about this isn’t intended to be a full discussion of the topic, just a point from someone who is so fucking sick of the lighting argument, please go look at this post and all the notes for some wonderful points.

[eulangelo]

callout for @genderfluidlucifer

google docs

tw for transmisogyny + TERFs + emotional manipulation

Transmisogyny

Lucifer is a huge transmisogynist who will complain 24/7 about how TERFs hurt the ace community, but the moment @randomclustermissile , a trans girl (who is not an exclusionist at all) tries to point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles (in the most vague and general way possible, without pointing fingers nor calling anyone names) Lucifer will immediatly jump to block her and so they did with me (another inclusionist) and i have to suppose to everyone else who agreed with that post, even arriving to vagueing about us in private group chats to suggest that we were “sympathizing with exclusionists”. all because we dared point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles. lucifer is TME but apparently they think they’re the authority on TERFs and their talking points but actual trans women are not, according to them, since this is the stuff that they would go and spew to other people. (screenshots from @enbyoctoling​)

here’s more examples of Lucifer (again, a transmasc person) going deep in detail about how according to them, TERFs/SWERFs hate aro/ace people and are an active threat to us

1. link

[Image ID: Three screenshots of a post by Genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot is of a paragraph that reads, "Hey. So I can actually answer this. Anon your commentary about how you thought terfs would approve of sex repulsed aces is sort of it. Except...not. Basically terfs hate ace people for not wanting sex in the approved by terfs way. Terfs are actually extremely interested in [forcing] amatonormativity onto everyone. Because for as sex negative as terfs are...they don't want to actually acknowledge or change the fact that amatonormativity is at the root cause of rape culture and misogyny."

The second screenshot is a zoomed in section of the post that reads, "So yeah no I have NO idea where exclus allies are getting this idea from that terfs would even remotely care about the sexual rights of ace people. Terfs generally hate any sexualities in the LGBTQ+ acronym that aren't LGB because they can't force a gender binary onto those sexualities. At least, not as easily. That's why it's actually a massive sign of someone who doesn't call themselves a terf being a crypto terf if they use the term LGB in a positive manner. Along with the term SGA, as it is deliberately exclusive of nonbinary and not inherently SGA centric queer-aligned sexualities. /END ID]

link to the full post, these are just excerpts but the whole thing is just a very long rant about how TERFs hate ace people and so on (i think it’s worth noticing that although the actual post is kinda long, trans women are never once brought op in a conversation about TERFs issues and the only time transmisogyny is mentioned is not relevant to the conversation)

2. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is nothorses. It reads, "Because apparently I have to say it: Testosterone is not a 'violent' hormone. It doesn't make you 'more aggressive' or a worse person, it doesn't make you 'dangerous,' or 'toxic.' Transmascs do not need to be 'warned of the dangers of T.' We do not need to spend our transitions terrified that we're going to become a danger to those around us - that HRT is going to turn us into a monster.

Everyone experiences mood swings during hormonal shifts (pregnancy, menstruation, menopause, estrogen HRT, etc.) and while you might have grumpy moments or feel anger/frustration that you need to learn to handle differently, that doesn't make you a bad person.

Testosterone can change the way you access/process emotions somewhat, but if you're already thoughtful about how you handle your feelings and treat others, you're going to be fine. It's normal to lash out on occasion, by accident, then apologize and work to do better. It doesn't make you a bad person. Everyone on HRT is prone to this, and everyone experiencing hormonal changes is prone to this.

Getting HRT should be positive and affirming; you should not have to spend your entire transition terrified of becoming a monster."

The post then has a reblog by captainlordauditor that reads, "The big danger of T is that needle ouchy." /END ID]

here’s them reblogging from known transmisogynist user @nothorses (once again, the irony that a post about how testosterone is seen as the "aggressive hormone" does not mention transfem at all which are literally the main victims of this rethoric in the first place)

3. link (1), link (2)

[Image ID: Two screenshots of posts by genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot reads, "Queer exclus: We're not repackaging terf rhetoric! Saying that is transmisogynistic! Also queer exclus: Remove the plus from LGBT!" and has tags that say, "I will pay these people to grow some god damn self awareness. Imagine being this dense. Queer discourse." The post has 15 notes.

The second screenshot reads, "Honestly it is so stupid and frustrating to see ace exclus continue to deny that the ace discourse was started by terfs. Proof was given countless times. And a big name terf like galesofnovember even admitted to starting it. Those of you who demand proof but ignore all of this never wanted proof to begin with." and is tagged with, "ace discourse. The post has 38 notes. /END ID]

heres another two post of theirs conflating TERFs with ace exclusionism

4. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblogged post by furbearingbrick. The original poster is boxlizard, Lucifer's old account. The original post reads, "By the way for people still in denial about it, here's galesofnovember, a terf, admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement. She's taking credit for it. Normally if the victims of this behavior weren't ace/aro or other queer identities y'all be ready to rightfully lynch her. But since it's us, y'all just still wanna stamp your feet and go, 'Nuh uh!' instead of acknowledging facts." The part that says, "admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement" is a link to a galesofnovember post.

There is then a reblogged addition from furbearing brick that reads, "archived versions of the receipts" and has two links to the webarchive. The tags read, "Bringing this back since it's apparently still relevant. Terfism mention. Aphobia mention. Queerphobia mention. Blocklist." and has 1,455 notes. /END ID]

this is their post that ive already talked about but basically they found a 52 notes post made by a TERF in 2012 and this one person said "i dont know why i dont get to be the princess of the anti-ace-brigade" and apparently they are convinced that this means TERFs started the ace exclusionism movement and that this is one of their goals. which is insane when TERFs in real life only care about making life miserable for transfem people first and foremost.

5.link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is yu-gay-fudo. It reads, “Just in case you happen to be unaware, some of the “radfem lite” they post to warm you up to their rhetoric, just off the top of my head:

- Ace/aro exclusionism

- Bi exclusionism or claims that bi people are “less queer” bc of “straight passive privilege”

- Saying you have to be dysphoric to identify as transInvalidating nonbinary people

- Calling queer a slur regardless of context, saying people can’t identify as queer, and saying that it can’t be reclaimed

- “Mogai hell”, “kweer”, or otherwise mocking less common labels and claiming they are “just cishets who want to feel special”

- Excluding sex workers from feminist discussions or claiming that sex work is inherently evil

- Basically anyone who thinks they can determine what other people identify as”. The tags read, "queerphobia tw. twerfs tw. no id." and has 70,727 notes. It was reblogged on March 22nd, 2021 /END ID]

another example of conflating radfems to things that, while wrong, have little to nothing to do with them because being a radfem, again, is something very specific that has all to do with transfem oppression.

Emotional manipulation

Lucifer has done nothing but block, break boundaries, spread lies and vague about people, some of which were even mutuals with them knowing they would see the posts. when confronted about it Lucifer's only answer was "just say you hate me and block me" but they actually ended up blocking everyone first, making it impossible for anyone to set some boundaries with them or even just to calmly confront them about anything.

[proof: Io(popncourse) and Lucifer had a disagreement in a shared discord server, which prompted Lucifer to vague Io in a vent post. Io confronted them, as being vagued is one of buns triggers, to which Lucifer initially agreed to delete the vent post, but then proceeded to victimize themself and immediatly blocked Io. later on, Jude(malewifedeckard) was confronted by Lucifer, then after Jude told them “I’m worried that you’ll vague me just like you did with Io” they proceeded to block Jude and vagued about him too. when Io made a post (which was not a callout, it was just bun setting buns boundaries) explaining what Lucifer did, Lucifer immediatly jumped to victimize themself, acting like they were being called out and straight-up lying, even going so far as to say that no one tried to hear them out, which is a blatant lie if you consider the aforementioned Io and Jude’s attempts at doing so, with Lucifer immediatly blocking and cutting ties with the both of them. ] 

(screenshots taken by @popncourse and @malewifedeckard)

as seen in the proof above Lucifer’s behaviour is not ok because they don’t accept any kind of confrontation and immediatly jump to blocking, and after blocking, they'd immediatly go and vague about the people who confronted them pacificly, spreading more lies and painting themself as the victim and even arriving to say “no one hears me out at all” which is simply not something you can say when you block people who are trying to hear you out in the first place.

this is by no means an invitation to go and harass them, send them hate or anything like that. i absolutely don’t want anything even remotely hateful or negative to be sent their way after this post. 

this post was only made because:

1. as an ace person who fully supports the inclusion of aspec identities in the lgbt+ community i don’t want to support an enviroment that costantly downplays transmisogynistic oppression in order to be taken seriously. there are hundreds of ways to make aspec activism without acting like we(as in TME aspecs)are the victims of a system that seeks for the annihilation of transfemenine people in real life everyday. i especially don’t want to support TME individuals who act transfem-friendly but then block any transfem who tries to speak on transmisogyny without a second thought.

2. Lucifer’s behaviour has hurt two friends of mine and i don’t want to associate with someone who actively breaks people’s boundaries without taking accountability when messing up.

3. i cannot associate with someone who spreads lies about me accusing me of sympathizing with exclusionists all while having me blocked so that i can’t see it nor defend me. they complain about people not hearing them out but they’re the very first person who does not try to hear people out, and instead jumps to spread baseless rumors. this is not someone i can nor want to associate with. 

(image descriptions provided by @malewifedeckard)

[fruitcoops]

Hi!! So I was listening to paper rings by Taylor Swift today and the lyric 'I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings' made me think of coops and o'knutzy. Could you write a prompt about this?! <3

This song is so perfect for Coops and it’s the best way to start of the long-awaited wedding series! Yay! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Combined with:

1. Domestic Coops

2. Remus making fun of Sirius’ initials

3. Sirius trying to make Remus moan while he’s on the phone with his folks

4. From @colored-rain: Taking Hattie to the vet

TW for mild smutty content, taking a pet to the vet, and the inherent stress of wedding planning

I: Six Weeks Before the Wedding

“Where are we even going to do this?” Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair.

Remus shook his head silently, pressing his forehead into the wooden edge of the table. “What if we elope?”

“Celeste would skin us both.”

“True. Oh, god, my dad would cry if we did that.” Remus slid down in his seat and stared up with sad eyes. “Can’t we just be married already?”

“I could get tinfoil from the kitchen and just…” Sirius mimed wrapping it around his ring finger and Remus snorted.

“Baby, I would marry you with paper rings, but I think we want them to last.”

“You like shiny things!”

“I do, that doesn’t mean I want tinfoil on my hand for the rest of my life,” Remus laughed, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Alright, let’s go through our list again. We agreed on small, right?”

“Just the team and families. We still want it to be outside?”

“Yep.” Remus checked off two boxes on the piece of paper they had been grappling with for the past four days. “Rings have already been ordered?”

“I’m doing that this afternoon. What kind of cake do we want?”

“Uhhh…an edible one?” Remus shrugged. “I don’t have a huge preference. Chocolate is really good but all the ones from the store are spongy.”

“Wow, an edible cake, so original,” Sirius teased. “We can ask Celeste what she thinks.”

“Good plan.” He paused for a moment. “Where outside will we do it? We need an actual venue. I think people would be upset if we just had a wedding in a public park.”

“The media would be all over it, too.” Sirius scrunched his nose up in thought just as their timer went off and both sighed as they headed for the door. “It’s going to be hard to focus on practice when we know next to nothing about the wedding we’ve been planning for over six months.”

“We’re disasters.”

II: Four Weeks Before the Wedding

“We’re not putting that on the cards.”

“Why not?” Sirius frowned and looked down at the mock-up invitation. “It’s our initials. It’s cute.”

Remus blinked at him. “Sirius. Your initials.”

“Do you not want my initials on our joint wedding invitation?”

“I would love to have your initials on our joint wedding invitation, except for the part where it’s the same acronym as ‘son of a bitch’.”

Sirius paused, then groaned and put his hands over his face. “Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“You forgot your own initials?”

“I forgot the son of a bitch thing!”

“Okay, I clearly don’t tease you enough for that,” Remus snickered, wrapping an arm around his waist to kiss his cheek. “Alright, attempt number eight is a bust.”

III: Three Weeks Before the Wedding

Sirius ran his fingers gently through Remus’ hair, feeling him shift in the darkness. “What’s on your mind, mon amour?”

“Are we changing our last names?”

“Did we…not discuss that?” Sirius wracked his brain, but it was so exhausted from wedding topics that he came up empty.

“I don’t think so.” Remus scooted around so he was on his side, facing Sirius. “Both our names are super connected to our jobs. Plus, Lupin-Black might be a little long for jerseys.”

“I’d rather not go through the whole name-change process.” There was a beat of quiet. “Though I do like the sound of Sirius Lupin.”

Remus’ breath audibly caught and he leaned closer to Sirius, nuzzling against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

IV: Eighteen Days Before the Wedding

Remus’ back hit the mattress with a soft bounce that was quickly stilled by Sirius’ weight pressing him down by the hips, his mouth skimming along all the right places on Remus’ neck. “Yes,” he hissed as Sirius ground down, their bare chests bumping together. He dipped his hands beneath the waistband of Sirius’ sweats and he shivered, nipping the hinge of his jaw.

“Wait,” Sirius gasped, pulling back to straddle Remus’ waist.

“What? Is this a flamingo moment?” Remus panted, still buzzing with arousal.

“Did we invite your parents to the wedding?”

Remus stared at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I don’t think we did.”

“Sirius, you are literally about to—holy fuck, did we invite my parents?”

“I don’t know!”

Remus groaned and let his head fall back against the pillows before tapping Sirius’ hip and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dialed his mother’s number, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself as it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom, how’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s going fine out here. How’s wedding planning?” Hope asked. Remus could hear her smiling.

“That’s what I’m calling about, actually. Did you—” He bit his lip as Sirius’ fingertips trailed up his thigh. “Uh, did you get an invitation?”

Hope was silent for a moment, save for a few rustling sounds. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think so. Lyall! Honey, did Re send us a wedding invitation?” There was a low humming noise as his father responded. “He says we didn’t get one.”

Remus winced. “Sorry about that. I can text you the details, if you want.”

“Will you mail one as well? I want to put it in our memory box.”

Sirius’ hand slid further along Remus’ leg, growing closer to his inner thigh by the second and doing nothing to quell his frayed nerves. “Yeah—yeah, mom, we totally can.”

“Are you alright? You sound a bit out of breath.”

“Hattie was running around and being a little crazy.” Remus covered the speaker with his hand and turned to glare at Sirius, who grinned and kissed his cheekbone.

“Okay,” Hope sounded skeptical. “So you’re not getting sick or anything?”

“Nope. Healthy as a horse.” The last word came out a little breathless as Sirius licked a stripe up his neck and bit down on the junction to his shoulder, making Remus’ eyes flutter closed. He smacked Sirius’ hand halfheartedly and felt him grin.

“How’s Sirius doing?”

“Fine, he’s fine. We’re a little stressed with the wedding planning and everything, but things are good here.” Really good, he thought as the heel of Sirius’ hand pressed down just next to his dick. He swallowed down a moan and squeezed his eyes shut. “Alright, I’ll text the details to you this afternoon love you mom bye.”

“Love you t—”

A millisecond after the call ended, Remus slammed his phone into the nightstand and pushed Sirius into the sheets, bracketing his face with his elbows. “What the fuck was that?”

“I’m just keeping things interesting.” Sirius tugged his lower lip between his teeth and smirked, which really left Remus with only one option: kissing him senseless until he couldn’t even remember his own name.

V: Three Days Before the Wedding

Sirius’ leg bounced up and down nervously and he gripped Remus’ hand as they waited in the lobby of the vet’s office. “She’ll be okay.” His voice was noticeably higher than usual and he cleared his throat. “She’ll be fine. It’s just a cough.” A cough that’s been going on for four and a half days.

Remus hummed his agreement, though he hadn’t stopped twisting Hattie’s leash in his hands since they arrived. “Just a cough. Probably a cold, or—or something like that.”

The doors ahead opened and both of them stood as Hattie trotted out next to the vet tech, who looked rather amused. “What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked, scanning her for any signs of illness. “Is she alright?”

“She is a very talented actress,” the vet said, rubbing Hattie behind the ears. She whined pitifully and cuddled into Sirius’ side. “Have you two been busy lately?”

“We’re planning for our wedding.” Remus looked as confused as Sirius felt. “Why?”

“Because Miss Hattie here is one of the healthiest, snuggliest dogs I’ve ever seen.”

“But she was coughing.”

“She was faking.” The vet knelt next to her and petted down her back, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you, munchkin?”

“Hattie!” Sirius exclaimed, torn between relief and shock. “You little monster!”

Remus frowned and tapped her forehead lightly as he slid her leash on over her head. “We were so worried about you! Why would you do that?”

“She’s probably been sulking because you’re busy with wedding stuff,” the vet said with a smile. “Quite the drama queen you’ve got there.”

“Tell me about it,” Sirius huffed as he kissed her head. “Don’t ever do that again, young lady. You’re in big trouble when we get home.”

“Thank you for your help,” Remus said, shaking the vet’s hand. “We really appreciate it and we’re so sorry for wasting your time.”

“Are you kidding? She was the best part of my day,” he laughed. “All the other techs can’t stop talking about Hattie cuddles now. Have a good one, you three.”

+1: The Lions, the Media, and the Locker Room

Word spread like wildfire in media circles, and the rumor mill had never worked harder once news of the Black-Lupin wedding came out.

Naturally, the Lions decided to have a little fun with it.

“Pots! Pots, what can you tell us about Black and Lupin’s wedding?” Four different microphones were shoved into his personal space, but James put on his best confused face.

“What wedding?”

A wave of murmuring spread through the reporters. “So you weren’t invited to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin’s wedding?”

“There’s a wedding?”

Across the room, two other interviewers mobbed Thomas Walker in his stall. “Talker, do you know anything about Black and Lupin’s wedding?”

“Who?” he asked with a perfect act of innocence.

“Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t think I know them, sorry. Are they fans?”

“Talkie!” Remus tossed him a towel from the adjacent stall, and he caught it with a grin.

“Heads up, Loops!” Talker threw it right back and headed toward the ice baths with a wink to the cameras. “Good chat, guys.”

One of the interviewers muttered under their breath and hurried over to Pascal, who was still unlacing his skates. “Dumo, when is the wedding between Sirius Black and Remus Lupin?”

Dumo frowned. “Quoi?”

“The wedding. You were invited, yes?”

“Desole, je ne parle pas l’anglais,” he said regretfully. “C’est un…wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding between your teammates.”

“These words, I don’t know them.” His French accent was almost comically thick as he shook his head. “Desole.”

Out of view of the cameras, Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and reached over to high-five Pots.

[youranxiousnerd]

The Transformation Thoughts

bc hsmtmts said gay rights

spoilers below

yesss seb doing the recap

wait did seb just say he was crying?!?! give him a hug 

cow baby!!!

wow miss jenn and seb having a civil conversation

Natalie is back!!

ej and ricky with the mask

kourtney’s outfit!!!

ashlyn’s outfit...

ahh so the awards and the show are separate, good, that’s how it works

RICKY’S SHIRT!?!?!?! 

i love it

ricky is lgbt do not try to convince me otherwise

ASHLYN IS SINGING IT IS BEAUTIFUL

like pop off

ricky and the mask

that mask is the true villain in season 2

“Belle, I-” flops

Ashlyn is carrying the scene, she is such a good Belle

how is ricky allowed on stage oh my god

the cap

that damn mask

“It’s okay, it was just my face”

Miss Jenn is hanging on by a thread

finally some ashlyn and ricky content

“Which they will” buddy have you faced the music? Have you seen Ricky?

“I think I might have been playing Troy at one point”

Miss Jenn needs help from someone who isn’t a teenager

“Mother is freaking out” High school theater at it’s finest

“There is math involved”

“OH” 

sassy seb

i can’t with east high’s tech crew, what are you doing?!?!

and why are the actors figuring out the tech stuff?!? i’m sure kourt, big red, ashlyn (she knows all), and seb (he lives on a farm) know what to do. 

the crew cannot be that bad

btw here are my thoughts on this scene

guys it is ashlyn’s house not yours

portwell shoulder bump

ASHLYN I LOVE YOU

OH SO NOW YOU HAVE DRILLS

WHERE WERE THEY WHEN THE TECHIES STARTED USING GLUE ON PLYWOOD!?!?!?!

I WANT ANSWERS

i. cannot. with. this. show.

lily wtf

“is this too weird” yes

like why?

lily like actually shut up

big red’s “wtf”

let her be evil damnit

“i’m just not well liked here” i wonder why

that was really weird, anyways

“he gets weird around tools”

me too

no give big red the drill he knows how to use it

someone write a fic about the girls and seb’s chaotic target run

why don’t you have a blackout and dramatic music and lights for the transformation, i know it isn’t award level but if done right it can be pretty dope

“I don’t know if my parents will be okay with me being at a co-ed sleepover”

“Chip, this is your mother speaking, go call your mother”

HE DID THE FINGER GUNS

GAY TABLE SIT AND FINGER GUNS THEY DID THEIR RESEARCH

ashlyn’s bucket

CARLOS GAY TABLE SIT

OH MY GOD

they’re so gay soulmates

let big red have his skateboards

“i need to talk to seb at some point but it can wait” honey no it can’t wait seb is on the verge of a breakdown

wait they havent talked in a week

Im a hypocrite ive been dancing around someone for three years

“You’re still at school”

“I’m worried about my children” “She means us”

such a high school theater thing (like i got married during high school theater, we had a family tree)

“ah, Sebby”

“Now I’m pretty sad” give him a hug

the girls ship seblos

“But, I guess he has to be, out of default, right... there’s not a lot of choices for a boy like Carlos, here, at East.”

alright here come the tears 

why...why couldn’t he say “gay” or “queer” or “lgbt”?!?!

“Not so good at saying the feelings part out loud”

shiz that hit close to home. 

Seb is just making me cry today, isn’t he?

wait so we’re just going to change the subject? coming from a queer person, opening up about your problems about your sexuality is hard. like, there are things that happened years ago im just telling people. 

“You’re my sister, he’s my cousin”

it seems everyone except nina knows about the chocolates. imagine gossip time when gina told people write a fic

Nini just stop talking. It wasn’t a big deal, simple mistake. Not everything has to be big and dramatic

and wasn’t she just asking about Gina and Ej? 

Nini for the love of god it is not something to read into.

“The farmer type”

Ash and Red exchanging gossip

wait... why are they texting about this?

“Why wouldn’t he say something to me?” It’s a hard conversation to have. “hey are we together just because i’m your only option?” 

“Okay, pretty boy” HE CALLED HIM PRETTY BOY

RICKY!!!!!!!!!!

!!!

carlos and gina chaotic siblings

give ej a hug 

“Sweet boy”

im so glad the guys are talking about their feelings.

Why a sleepover? It’s more of a hangout.

“Verging on failure”

jennzara therapy

slowwww burn

you go from hand holding to fist bump

disney please release an acoustic version of “let you go”

so it’s just carlos and ricky chillin’ at big red’s house?

do not play let you go for nini

do. not.

“You guys are a hallmark movie”

for once ricky is being smart

“the look on your face when you were talking about Seb tonight” smiles

he is so whipped

“I think you and Seb have something worth fighting for...bro”

that was so sweet and then there is bro

i love this show

“Sorry, I’m adjusting to being called bro” 

him and seb being awkward about feelings... that is a high school relationship

i love ricky in this scene

“Yeah, let’s just write”

ASHLYN CALLED BIG RED BABE AWWWWW

nina shut the actual hell up

“It’s in the costume shop, somewhere” mood

“Thank you, 15″ THEY SAID THE THING

GAHHHH

I LOVE IT

howie and kourtney oh my god what is happening

 “and begging”

“hi” he’s so nervous oh my lord.

he is so awkward around seb 

it’s like a switch

“Do you want to get risotto with me sometime” OH MY GOD THATS ADORABLE

GINA BABY HE LIKES YOU 

GINA HONEY!!!

AWWW THAT WAS ADORABLE

PORTWELL YESSSS

gina’s little run

“Am I in trouble?” 

they’re so nervous 

oh my god its time

“You keep it all bottled up” GUYS I CANT ARGGGG

can ricky just like, go behind a curtain?

“lookin’ for our kind of love” carlos basically just said “i love you”

seb is so whipped like look at him?

they’re so in love

seb’s little eye role at “in a heartbeat, i choose you”

the hands omfg

oh my god they’re going to dance

SHIZ THE HOMECOMING SUITS

I WAS RIGHT

OH MY GOD

SHIT GUYS IM DYING

gah the hands i cant

carlos is leading i love it

the tie

a tie just killed me

im combusting

You’re honor, they’re in love

i really thought carlos was going in for a kiss he is probably getting one later

i like how the dance isn’t big, it’s small and a little awkward bc right then it’s just them.

THEYRE SO IN LOVE HOLY SHIT

damnit big red

big red is legally required to interrupt almost kiss moments especially if it’s an lgbt kiss bc we cant have two in one season

in a heartbeat is so cute. Frankie showed UP this season with the vocals. there is no way that was all acting bc they looked so in love.

I...I love it

the lyrics are perfect

In a Heartbeat and Let You Go are probably the best OG songs of the season

“Siri, add In a Heartbeat to my gay sob playlist”

these boys are just serenading each other left and right 

“Yeah” 

so it’s just “yeah”!?!? That’s it!?!?! Seb could have least kissed him on the cheek or did they use all their kisses?

I love the song and love the scene, but there is so much more to discuss. Are we going to brush over the fact that Seb literally had an allergic reaction and didn’t get help because he didn’t want to disappoint Carlos!?!? Are we going to brush over “no, seb” and seb feeling like he has to get carlos big things!?! One “yeah” doesn’t erase all that. I’m hoping we get closure, proper closure, not a joke. 

In conclusion, only one thing was settled (Carlos loves Seb for Seb, not because he is the only out guy in school).

“Seb and Carlos suffer their first fight” effing liars

BTW it looks like they filmed the dance scene with the homecoming suits and normal outfits so disney release the footage

Ricky is the biggest Seblos shipper

“Bro”

you morons. are you using rigging without an adult there?!?!

im pretty sure that isn’t allowed. only trained people were allowed to use the rigging. it should be Natalie since she did it in HSM

you should have gotten mats are something or stand in a circle

gahhh

RICKY

OH MY FRICKING GOD

NO ONE RAN THEY JUST WATCHED WTF

WTF WAS THAT ENDING

UMMMMM NO

i legit have no words oh my god 

they just killed the lead

you guys saw the rope you should have ran 

you should have gotten mats or blankets or something just in case

rigging is difficult, set rigging and people rigging

EAST HIGH WTF

Looks like the sleepover is going to be in the ER

My gay heart is full but my theater heart is screaming. The episode went by really fast. I liked it, like a lot.

To answer the question, no, I am not okay @organic-guacamole and we will have a theater kid sleepover

[mayabruhbruh]

Stranger Things 4 Analysis and Theory

I don’t know if anyone else has done posts on this stuff yet (it’s really likely, but i’d not want to take the credit if i’m not the only one who’s thought of this)

I know @kaypeace21 has made tons of posts on the s4 movies from Video Store Friday, and many others have theories and analyses, but back in July I took it upon myself to research more into the very last few scenes of s3. Specifically the three months later time stamp, where Steve and Robin are in search for a new job.

My main focus was the four movies that they mentioned for Keith at the counter. “Animal House”, “The Hidden Fortress”, “Children Of Paradise”, and “The Apartment”.

(reminder that if you read this, it could be spoilers for the final cut of the actual show if i end up being correct about some of this, so read at your own risk)

My first theory, which I’ve already discussed in a separate reblog, is about The Hellfire Club. But i’ll say it here too.

Basically,

(sorry for the sucky quality)

Animal House is about two awkward freshmen going into college and joining a fraternity of rejects. It matches Mike, Dustin and the Hellfire Club perfectly! Personally, my lowkey theory is that they’re going to have to go though an entirety of initiation activities (possibly drugs too, if what we’ve heard is correct) and Lucas and Max will be in their own storylines up until the supernatural threat brings them back together again. This could be wayy off, but still its my idea.

As for Max and Lucas...

I’m not sure about the entirety of the plot of this movie, but the last line sounds a lot like something that would happen between Lumax. Lucas is a basketball jock now, I think that’s crystal clear now seeing from the Pep Rally poster, and how he’s always been the one in the group to be able to mask his nerdy side. For Dustin and Mike, I know it’s much harder for them. Anyways, Max, I’m pretty positive by now, is going to be extremely distant and defensive from everyone just like she was in the beginning of s2, since she just had a big change happening in her life. It’s the same now, except with the grief and loss of Billy. My guess, from the hints of this movie and other stuff, is that Lucas is going to come face to face with his reputation as a popular kid, and his love for Max. Like the summary says, he must decide between the advancement of his career or the girl that he loves. Real hard hitting stuff.

Onto the next one. MIKE WHEELER. (or will byers)

I watched an analysis video on this movie, because I haven’t seen it yet, but again the very last line is what I’d like to focus on.

My. Jaw. Dropped.

I’ve read many analyses of Mike Wheeler being gay (courtesy of @kaypeace21 @hawkinsschoolcounselor and MANY others), but I dunno, I was always just so skeptical no matter how much it made sense. But when I saw this WHAT THE HELL?!?’);/&? It’s stupid of me to not have believed it sooner, but I hope this is the movie that foreshadows Mike’s storyline this season. I’m assuming Mike will have to “prove his expertise in battle”, or perhaps prove he can go through with all of the initiation shit for The Hellfire Club, while hiding his growing revelation that he might be gay/bisexual.

BUT a possibly more likely scenario would be that this movie connects with Will Byers’ storyline this season instead. Perhaps the hardships of a new school and a new town has Will shaken up, and he also has his sexuality awakening that he has to hide from new people. I say that it’s more likely for him, because Will has always been more heavily queer-coded (not exactly heavier, but just extremely much more apparent and obvious opposed to Mikes queercoded subtext that we really had to dig for).

I also didn’t mention this in my reblog from earlier, but I want to address my opinions on the apparent cheerleader that meets Mike and befriends one another. One of my friends on twitter said Chrissy (her name, or so we think lmao) might be a key component to Mike being able to discover and come to terms with his sexuality. But then again, a different friend of mine thinks that the amount of content were getting is oddly suspicious, and that the Duffers are feeding us all the wrong information to lead us to all the wrong conclusions. But, at this point, why not both. At the moment, everyone thinks that Chrissy is Mikes new love interest, but what if she really isn’t, and they’re pulling a Robin on us (i call it a robin because it was technically straight-baiting in s3 LMFAO). I’m not saying that she might be a lesbian (although 👀 it says on her character info that she’s 18 (robins got some game to work with now ahaha)) but it could be a straight-bait up until she helps Mike realize his sexuality (i would have said realizes his love for Will😍😍 but recently ive been trying not to input byler into everything i fucking say, so theres how that’s going). Anyways. Last movie!

Now, I’m currently not super concrete on this one to be completely honest. I have a few in mind...

Okay, so don’t attack me, but this could possibly be a mileven storyline. It sort of fits. They have an undeniable connection, but “their fortunes shift considerably and they’re pushed apart” aka the misfortune of the mindflayer and hawkins not being safe for them leads them to moving away and literally being pushed apart. I don’t know about the pursuing other relationships, but we still have no idea what’s going on with El Hopper tbh, i havent a single clue what’s going to be happening with her storyline atm. But either way, that could be it.

ORRRR the MUCH more likely scenario, Jancy :)

Bloggers on here have already predicted that they wouldn’t be endgame, and I was only slightly skeptical because although their relationship was built on shared trauma, a very unstable foundation to have for a ship tbh, i still hung onto the fact that they cared for eachother a lot :,( But the entirety of their season 3 bickering and this summary kind of sealed the deal.

Just like Mike and El, Nancy and Jonathan have been pushed apart aswell. It was already seen in season three that they’d be better of leading separate lives, aka Jonathan was doing fine at the internship, whereas Nancy could have been somewhere better for herself. I doubt they broke up at the end of season 3, but there’s bound to be new relationships for them seperately. It sucks bc I love Jancy, but s3 showed how badly they snap at one another when there isn’t a life threatening event at hand. Jopper on the other hand, I thought their bickering was adorable, but i’m getting off track, sorry lmfaoo.

Once again, I probably am not the first to talk about these, but jsyk if you steal this from me specifically i will track you down and end you. I’ve been speculating about these things since April and July, which is pretty weak tbh, but that was when i had nothing better to do LMFAO. i hope i got at least something right, but i haven’t seen many of the video store friday’s movies, which sucks bc those could really help. But whatever.

(i wrote this really late at night, and it’s poorly edited bc my eyesight sucks lmfao, but i hope you get what i mean)

And that’s it! I hope you like it, or had some sort of impact from it idk, just sharing my thoughts tbh. Anygays, if you have any questions/added ideas/thoughts of any kind, my inbox is always here, you can private message me, and comment if you want!! i love y’all sm lmfao, so excited for the upcoming content were about to get soon, byee!

[cienie-isengardu]

The development of Law’s relationship with Zoro - Part 3: Punk Hazard, The Alliance (B)

<<Part I: Before Meeting>> <<Part II: Sabaody Archipelago, The First Meeting>> <<Part III: Punk Hazard, The Alliance (A)>> <<Part III: Punk Hazard, The Alliance (B)>>   <<Part IV: Dressrosa, The Breaking Point (The Plan Failed)__  (Saving Law)__(Protecting Law)__ (Birdcage, Pica and Doflamingo)__  (Aftermath)>>

Law and Zoro, sadly again did not interact much through the course of the story. Roronoa literally talked three times directly to other Supernova, yet comparing his behaviour to other crew members still gives a lot to work with for Law, while Zoro’s opinion about Heart captain relies mainly on mere observation and on stories told by people who at some point interacted with Law, in good or bad way.

That said, here comes obvious differences between Zoro and his companions that Law could easily notice and appreciate:

Straw Hats reaction to pirate alliance and its goal.

In general, the reaction of Straw Hats fell in three categories: terror, cool acceptance and happy satisfaction.

And so, we have panicked and totally scared Nami, Usopp and Chopper

whose main concern was that taking down Yonko is too dangerous and how, as Usopp nicely said, they are supposed to trust that suspicious guy… who just stands like, a few meters away. And even though Luffy gave the lifting morale talk that placate the weakling trio for a time being, once Doflamingo is mentioned, they turn back into nope Nope NOPE mood, trying to vote against the alliance.

Ironically, even with Brook wondering if their protest would change anything (with I’m not sure if that means he too, don’t like the plan of pissing off Kaido by taking down one of Seven Warlords), it still makes only 4 of 9 people against. Which means a majority of Straw Hats vote for yes.

The cool acceptance comes from Sanji (seen above) noting that Luffy already decided, so there is no point in arguing now about that. He does not display overjoy at the prospect of dangerous battle(s) ahead but does not sound worry either. He simply accepts Luffy’s decision and will do what he always does - kick enemy ass & protect the crew.

Another example is Robin, who, despite warning captain about common betrayals between pirates, agreed to follow Luffy’s decision:

Franky (seen above, in Chopper’s body)… well, his main reaction was just “Super” but how conscious he was at that moment is a matter of dispute. Anyway, once the plan was talked in more details, Franky didn’t show any worry and even took part in a discussion about the secret factory on Dressrosa. So, he was all for the alliance.

Then we have Zoro:

The Emperors, huh! That’s great. Said with a wide smile. Because of course Zoro loves  the idea of fighting against the biggest and most dangerous powers controlling the sea of the New World. Which literally makes him closest to Luffy’s reaction:

What, on one hand, is helpful for Law. On another, just speaks how Zoro’s insanity is dangerously similar to that of Monkey D. Luffy.

Another thing setting Zoro aside from the rest of the crew is something I think Law appreciated very much.

Zoro is the only one of Straw Hats that did not piss off, bother or confuse Law through the Punk Hazard arc.

I mean, Luffy probably gave him headache of the year with his stubborn, selfish and idiotic behaviour that constantly was threatening the plan

And along with Nami, Chopper, Ussop, Franky and Robin traumatized and laughed at him

and in general, confused the hell of him with their emotional switching (from screaming at Luffy and not wanting an alliance with Heart Pirates to blushing and being supportive).

Let’s not forget the pushing Law into doing things he didn’t have time or interest in but was forced to agree

or Nami screaming at him twice to give back her body

while also calling him “Torao” instead of his true name - looking at Law’s face, he wasn’t happy about that

or how he was accused of murdering or harming sick kids by Straw Hat doctor

or was told by Luffy that he understood why there is no time for party only to ignore the danger and partying with marines of all people

or making Law angry with all the lack of care for his plan due to emotional response to samurai’s story

or the perverted trio making unnecessary ruckus when A) Law already had a lot to worry and having some quiet moment was much better than seeing grown up men ganging up against kid and B) Amazon Lily proved that Law in general is not taken by female beauty which leads back to point A. and Sanji, Brook and Kinemon noisy stupidity. The manga frames did not show Law’s reaction but it was hard to miss the commotion on the deck  where he spent the whole night (at least until the trio went to confront kid and Robin after their bath, what I believe happened inside the ship).

Like, literally, half of the Punk Hazard arc is Law fighting to stay alive and secure his scheme against Doflamingo and the other half being confused, irritated and traumatized and screamed at by his new allies and occasionally, losing composure with no grace.

Zoro? Not so much, what I imagine makes Roronoa the safest Straw Hats in terms of Law’s mental health. Not that Zoro is not a hazard to someone’s mentality with all the crazy stuff he pulls during fights and general rude behaviour but Law did not have a chance to see the more goofy or softer or more idiotic side of the other Supernova yet. Anyway, the three times Zoro directly interacted with Law were always focused on the job which truly must have been refreshing after hours of Luffy’s selfish and overwhelming nature or shenanigans of the rest of the crew. In contrast to noise Straw Hats, Zoro is cool headed and calm - one could even say, Roronoa is a quiet person. Through the chaotic events, he did not pick at Law for fun, did not scream at him nor accused of cruelty or medical “crimes”, did not judge him in any noticeable way. And it was not only the matter with Trafalgar. When Kinemon attacked Rorona for “stealing Wano’s national treasure”, despite previously display of love for fighting, Zoro retained composure and limited himself to dodging while trying to convince the enraged samurai to reason.

What is even more important, he demanded from Monkey D. Luffy - the epitome of uncontrollable chaos - to act seriously. Not in the comical (panicked) way Nami, Usopp or Chopper did over the course of the story. The effect was lost on Luffy soon, true, but Zoro did not turn a blind eye to his captain’s mishaps. In a sense, Zoro is a very grounding character to the energetic and chaotic Luffy and brings some self-control and sober thinking into the relationship between two Straw Hats Supernovas. Something that is much closer to Law’s own nature, something familiar enough to know how to work around the other swordsman without migraine. In contrast to Luffy.

Of course, the impression of Zoro as the stoic, mature and not-confusing person made on Punk Hazard will be soon verified by Dressrosa arc. But so will be the impression of collected, cold-blooded and scheming Law.

Next part: Dressrosa, The Breaking Point.

[megashadowdragon]

coldhands identity is brave danny flint

Could Coldhands be Brave Danny Flint? It sounds crackpot, and very likely is, but the more I thought about it the more it appealed to me. I've done a quick search, one or two people seem to have floated this before but it's never had much in-depth analysis. This is my first meta, so please be gentle and C&C welcome.

The Gender Agenda To start with, I'll start with the elephant in the room - Danny Flint was a girl, Coldhands is male. Or is he? Gilly, Meera, and Bran all refer to him as male, but they have no idea who he is, so would see Night's Watch clothes and assume. He wears a scarf over his face, and while they can see his eyes and that his face is pale, it took Bran's gang a decent amount of time to work out he was a walking corpse, so I'm not sure I trust them to figure out niceties like gender. Leaf's "They killed him long ago" is more of a problem - she's a colleague, she would probably know. My best defence is that maybe Children of the Forest don't do gender in the same way as humans? This feels like a reach, but we have had another magical species with sexual fluidity leading to trouble with pronouns in the series. Otherwise, Leaf tends to hang out in the cave, Coldhands can't get in, maybe they're just not that close. Finally, the main person to ask - Coldhands his or her self. The only other post I could see on reddit about this theory had someone respond with the quote "Once the heart has ceased to beat, a man's blood runs down into his extremities, where it thickens and congeals. His hands and feet swell up and turn as black as pudding. The rest of him becomes as white as milk", but I'd point out this is in third person and a generalization - "a man", not "me, Coldhands, the man".

Okay, now I've convinced everyone my theory is terrible, let's get into the meat of it.

Hands cold as stone This was what got me into this rabbit hole in the first place - House Flint's sigil is "A grey stone hand upon a white inverted pall on paly black and grey". A stone hand would be pretty cold, right? In point of fact, when we first met Coldhands, the final line of the chapter describes "fingers hard as stone." On top of that, the white and black background seems to fit the Night's Watch blacks, pale face, black hands, white snow, etc.

Who the hell else could it be? This has always been the weird thing about Coldhands for me. Honestly, there's a very good chance this is a non mystery mystery, he's a zombie Night's watch ranger riding an elk, do we really need a secret identity? However, "who is Coldhands?" is one of the most commonly asked questions in the fandom, so let's assume it's getting an answer. We know: a) night's watch member b) killed a long time ago, as reckoned by a 200 year old, c) not Benjen. There are essentially 3 historical periods where we know any specifics about the Night's Watch: 1) the long night/age of heroes, 2) Targaryen era, 3) recent history. If we work through these backwards, we can pretty much rule out the recent era for not meeting the criteria of "killed a long time ago". The Targaryen era didn't have much Night's Watch drama, a few kings sent to the wall at Aegon's conquest, Raymun Redbeard's invasion is wall related but the whole point of that story is that the Night's Watch failed to really get involved... the only strong contender from this period is a mysterious magical Targaryen bastard who went to the wall and went missing... but he's the other mysterious good zombie wandering around up north. The long night has a lot of Night's Watch focus, but it was 10,000 years ago. Allowing for this being in-universe exaggeration, it's still ~2,000 years ago, and if Coldhands were that old, I'm not sure he'd be in elk-riding mutineer-killing form, or at least not look passably human to Bran and co. This rules out specific timeline characters, which leaves more folkloric characters like Danny Flint, who isn't associated to any one point in time. There's a song, and she's treated as a well-known tale, which implies a fairly long time, but overall could be whenever. This works for any of the folkloric Night's Watch characters, but the Rat King is already otherwise occupied with a different cannibalistic pseudo immortality, leaving Mad Axe, who does have the massacring fellow brothers down pat, but doesn't feel thematically right to me. This section really grew in the writing, but TL;DR - assuming Coldhands is someone we've heard of before, no specific historical figures seem to match up chronologically, leaving figures from folk tales and songs, which there are only so many of.

Mutineer Massacre For a character we've all obsessed over so much, it's easy to forget how little we've seen of Coldhands. His role in the story has effectively been "transport Sam and Gilly to the wall, transport Bran and co to Bloodraven, massacre the Night's Watch mutineers". Hold up, one of those things is not like the others. During his quest to get Bran to Bloodraven, to awake the messiah and save the world, Coldhands takes a break and makes a detour to kill the Night's Watch Mutineers from Crasters. This is explicitly noted to be something they slow down for, when time is critical. Admittedly, it secures the party some delicious Long Pork when supplies are low, but even in aDwD it seems like there are other ways to get meat than to hunt humans, besides which he kills not one but five mutineers. He claims it is because the mutineers are following them, but Meera points out they've been circling for days - it seems Coldhands deliberately sought the mutineers out. The brutality of the kills also suggests more than utilitarian pragmatism - there are entrails slung through branches and severed heads! All of this to say, Coldhands is deliberately shown as both a member of the Night's Watch, and willing/going out of his way to punish Night's Watch brothers who break their vows and harm their fellow brothers, something Danny Flint might take personally. Basically, it's a classic exploitation movie with an elk-riding zombie as the wronged woman hunting down wrongdoers. Someone call Tarantino to direct this.

A True Night's Watch One of the big themes GRRM loves is the idea that outsiders to an institution can be the truest embodiment of that institution - Dunk and Brienne are the truest Knights, Davos is the truest lord, the Manderlys are the most loyal northerners. Coldhands already seems to tie into this - the Night's Watch are tireless defenders from the Others and their Wights, so ironically the staunchest ranger is undead as well. It would only emphasise this theme if this ultimate Night's Watch ranger was someone who was barred from entry, had to sneak in, and was murdered by their brothers for not belonging. There also seems to be a thematic tie in that Danny Flint had to essentially infiltrate the Night's Watch and keep her cover in hostile terrain, much like Coldhands in the Others controlled north.

Bonding over being murdered by your brothers Coldhands has so far been very much one of Bran's cast, but it's worth noting characters can switch storylines, and we have someone else in the North who can soon relate to being a back-from-the-dead Night's Watchman fighting the Others - I'm hardly the first to note the Coldhands/Jon parallels, but Coldhands being another character who was murdered by the Night's Watch due to their conservatism and hatred of outsiders would add another layer.

Miscellany A couple of quotes I found while researching for this: “Did Mance ever sing of Brave Danny Flint?” “Not as I recall. Who was he?” (ADWD Jon XII) - Tormund and Jon talking, Tormund mistaking Danny Flint for a man, this feels like one of those throw-away lines GRRM likes to include to make a little double meaning once the truth is out, or just seeding the idea of mistaking Danny Flint for a man. “The ranger wore the black of the Night’s Watch, but what if he was not a man at all?" (ADWD Bran I) - again, I could see GRRM giggling as he typed that if this theory were true.

Conclusion Honestly, there is every chance this is absolute nonsense, and I've just lost it waiting for TWoW. I tend to lean towards Coldhands not having a big identity reveal, he's an undead ranger co-opted by Bloodraven and that's enough. However, if Coldhands is to have an identity reveal, I think Danny Flint deserves consideration: there aren't that many viable candidates, her story is emotionally intense enough and has been referred to often enough that a casual fan could be expected to go "oh!" instead of "...let me google that", and it would fit with existing themes of the story. The angle of Jon parallels even gives an opening for the reveal to be natural and facilitate character and thematic arcs, which is what I look for in a theory.

comment on reddit

Yeah, the Flint (of Flint's Finger) sigil literally being a Cold Hand is what sold me on this when I started looking into it. There's also some other intriguing textual stuff about it...

The weird thing about Danny Flint is that she is only mentioned three times in all of ASOIAF. Three! Bran recounts her tale in Bran IV, ASOS; Theon hears Wyman Manderly demand her song in The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD; and Jon discusses her tale with Tormund in Jon XII, ADWD.

This was kind of shocking to me. Danny Flint is a pretty recognizable name to, I’d figure, the majority of attentive readers. I thought she must have been mentioned before the third book, at least, but… nope. Her tale is first introduced to us in Bran IV, ASOS, the Nightfort chapter… Oh, what’s that? Wait, isn’t that… the very same Nightfort chapter where we first hear about Coldhands? (Well, no, actually, he appears at the end of Samwell III before that, but this is the first chapter where he is identified as Coldhands.) Chronologically, Sam meets Coldhands, Bran thinks about Danny Flint, and then Sam introduces Bran to Coldhands, in fairly quick succession.

So it seems GRRM came up with Danny Flint and Coldhands around the exact same time. Interesting. Danny Flint is then not mentioned again until ADWD, when the Coldhands mystery is developed further. Double interesting.

Also, the Bran chapter directly preceding the Nightfort chapter– our first introduction to Danny Flint– is the one where Meera tells him the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, another tale of a northern warrior woman dressing as a man and hiding her face in service of some greater goal. Stretch? Maybe.

And why would Coldhands' face be covered at all if there WASN'T some big reveal upcoming? What utility would that have? That scarf clearly seems like a setup for SOMETHING. He doesn't need it for warmth. He's likely hiding a face that would make him recognizable to Bran/Meera/Jojen (and the readers), but died long ago... the only way that reveal could work without a ton of laborious exposition is if he took off the scarf and it was obviously a 'female' face, making it obviously Danny. It also seems likely Coldhands will interact with at least Bran and Meera again, both of whom are somewhat connected to Danny Flint’s story– Bran via his love of stories and legends, and Meera via the breaking of gender roles. So there's thematic levels to it as well.

source www . reddit . com/r/asoiaf/comments/llwm8m/coldhands_identity_spoilers_extended/

[pseudophan]

can you tell us the summary of your love of your lives case? I don’t wanna watch the video I don’t have the patience to watch it

it's such a complicated case but in short(ish):

1993 in west memphis arkansas, three eight year old boys go missing and are later found murdered in the woods. the community is freaking the fuck out and because it's 1993 small town arkansas and satanic panic is sweeping the nation people go ITS SATANISM IT WAS A SATANIC RITUAL and the police keep interviewing this 18 year old named damien echols because he was into witchcraft and listened to metallica and wore all black (genuine points brought up in court like this is what the entire case is built on). im skipping some details here cause its all oh so convoluted but basically they eventually interrogate a 17 year old named jessie miskelley jr who confesses to the crime and implicates damien and damien's best friend jason baldwin (16, looks about 11). so then ofc they all get arrested

issue is: jessie is a minor with a reported iq of 72 and they interrogated him non stop for 12 hours with no parent or attorney present (his dad agreed to let them speak to him but they didnt tell him it was an interrogation) and less than an hour of it was recorded. jessie claims the cops coerced him into his confession and even on the 40 something minutes of interrogation we do have available to listen to you can hear the cops just continuously leading him on like theyll ask when this happened and he says a time and they go no the kids were in school then it was later wasnt it and he's like yeah it was [later time] and theyre like no it was around 8 wasnt it? and hes like yeah yeah it was then and it goes on like that foreverrrrr

ok im getting into too much detail here im sorry theres so much more anyway anyway TRIALS HAPPEN and its all a whole bunch of bullshit and hbo recorded it all for hit documentary paradise lost (watch it) and hhhooooooly shit!

theres way too much to talk about w the trial but besides everyone being fucking cracked and damien being a smartass and the judge looking bored out of his goddamn mind throughout the whole thing (FUCK that judge) one notable part that didnt come out until later is that during jury selection this one guy was hell bent on getting on the jury cause he wanted them convicted and not only was he let on the jury he became the jury foreman which goes against like every law cause juries are supposed to go into court with no preconceived notions of what happened. also jessie had a separate trial cause he wouldnt testify against jason and damien which means his "confession" wasnt admissible in their trial and the jury werent allowed to consider it, but the jury actively discussed the confession while making their decision (jury members have said they did + it was written on their goddamn whiteboard) which. h

ANYWAYYY so jessie and jason get life in prison without the possibility of parole and damien gets sentenced to death. damien is 19 at this point with a newborn baby. jason isnt even 18.

so then they go away and the documentary paradise lost comes out and everyone collectively loses their goddamn fucking minds cause how the fuck did this happen they didnt even have a single piece of actual evidence except a piece of hair that MAY match damien but also its the early 90s and they dont actually have a fucking clue

years go by, everythings happening so much, their appeals get shot down one by one cause its the same fucking judge and ofc hes not gonna admit any fault. the public suspect john mark byers (rest in peace he died like a month ago in a traffic accident, btw he also didnt do it but thats also a lot to go into. interesting guy, definitely inbred, violent tendencies but not a murderer) one of the kids' stepdads (technically adoptive dad cause he legally adopted the kid after he married his mum but hes generally referred to as his stepdad) of having done it cause hes fucking massive and is quite possibly the most colourful character ive seen in my life like that guy had no idea what was going on ever and he was hell bent on the teens having done it and wanted to kill them all UNTIL! until. 2007, they test the dna in the case and SHOCKINGLY turns out none of the west memphis 3's dna is anywhere to be found, the shit they had that could be damien's turns out to not even remotely match him in the slightest and suddenly theyre there like. well. now theres nothing. and yet theyre still in prison cause everyone who got them convicted is like NO THEY DID IT :) but the public outrage is so much by this point and finally they get to take it to the supreme court who take one look at it and are literally like ??? what the fuck happened here give them a new trial what the literal hell (theres a video of it their faces are literally so funny they all look like they absolutely cannot believe this required their help) so in 2011 they finally have the opportunity to retrial with a new judge but SUDDENLY the state of arkansas go um actually we are gonna offer you an alford plea which basically means they legally plead guilty to the charges while still saying they didnt do it and then they get let out but the state wont have to admit fault or reopen the case cause in their eyes these three are still guilty but theyre gonna let them out anyway cause that makes a whole lot of sense i guess. lol basically the state realised there was a real chance they could get exonerated in which case they were gonna get sued to hell and back and went FUCK give them a deal

now jason didnt want to take the deal he wanted to wait for the new trial and risk getting found guilty again cause he said this isnt justice for the kids cause the real killer or killers are still free and its not justice for us cause we have to plead guilty to save the asses of the system that failed us all BUT all three of them have to agree for it to be valid and damien's execution date, which he's already narrowly avoided on several occasions like its already been postponed multiple times, is once again coming up and if the new trial somehow goes wrong and hes sent back to death row he's gonna be killed so jason decided fuck all of that and agreed to the plea exclusively to save damien which ok ride or die king

i havent gone into who really did it cause once again there is SO much but the majority of people think it was terry hobbs (the stepdad of another one of the victims) including the kid's mother whos now his ex wife who he abused to no end. theres a Lot to this theory and while theres no concrete evidence cause they did a shittyass job with everything theres already more dna linking him to the scene than the teens. god i really wanna go into everything that points to terry being at least somehow involved but this has already gotten so out of hand

anyway follow damienechols on instagram all he does is post about witchcraft and cats. also watch the hbo paradise lost trilogy and west of memphis. and if u want even more details listen to the three true crime garage episodes on the case. also theres books. theres so much. i have so much more to say. someone stop me

[perfeggso]

Noir (yutae)

Week IV pt. 2

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  | Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  |  Masterlist

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 6k

In the days that followed, Taeyong declared that he was giving himself three short-term goals.  “Oh yeah?” Yuta asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.  “What would those be?” Taeyong elaborated: Goal number one was for Taeyong to get his friends, new and newer, to help him be a better gangster.  So, Yuta arranged for Sicheng and Yukhei to take Taeyong to the training room for workouts and, once he’d confirmed Taeyong was comfortable with it, to have Ten give him more “lessons.”  Yuta had sat in on their first session, watching in pained silence as Ten used one of his long metal pins to tether Taeyong to the ground through his shoe and then attacked him.  Yuta then enlisted Dejun, Yangyang, and Kunhang to teach Taeyong (and Mark and Jungwoo for good measure – they needed some review) how to follow people effectively and avoid being followed.  According to Taeyong’s recounting, it had been exactly like Yuta’s own training, each of the Inagawa members taking turns slinking around the backstreets of Kabuki-chō and getting critiqued by the Triads afterwards.  Yuta let Taeyong hang around when he discussed strategy and finances with Doyoung, Taeil, Johnny, and Jaehyun.  Taeyong didn’t really understand any of it, nor did he need to, but Yuta figured it was good for him to feel like he was getting the whole picture.

Taeyong’s second goal, he said with almost too much confidence, was to get Yuta to fuck him as much as possible without it becoming a distraction, and it’d been going well for both of them.  Taeyong had slept over at Yuta’s place three out of the last four nights and Yuta started taking a kind of dirty pride in the way his regiment grew used to seeing Taeyong in his clothing.  They’d started experimenting explicitly with dom/sub dynamics and their own kinks, one of Yuta’s favorite moments coming when Taeyong accompanied him home after a long day.  He’d fixed himself a drink and sat, legs spread over his couch and arms elongated over its back, the drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  Since that night, Yuta had to stop himself intermittently from getting half-hard at the memory of Taeyong trying to get off grinding on his thigh, Yuta more or less ignoring him as his clothes soaked through with his sweat and he cried in frustration into Yuta’s shoulder for him to just do something – touch him, degrade him, anything.  Yuta even impressed himself with the willpower he’d used to keep Taeyong strung out like that.  So yeah, Taeyong’s second goal was going just fine, Yuta would say.

Goal number three was the most complicated:  It was for Taeyong to make up his mind about what he’d do after the Mitsubishi deal (hopefully) went through.  As promised, Yuta tried to remain removed from Taeyong’s decision making process, even if Taeyong would sometimes come to him with questions.  Would they be able to keep seeing each other? Whether Taeyong stayed or left, they could still be together, Yuta had answered, although part of him worried that if Taeyong left he’d find someone he liked better the minute they no longer shared a lifestyle.  But that wouldn’t be the case if Taeyong left after officially joining, right?  Taeyong had clarified.  If he changed his mind too late?  That’s right, if you leave too late, you leave everything for good.  It’s okay, Yuta had told him, don’t force yourself into a decision until the deal’s been worked out.    

Yuta’s goal, on the other hand, was simply to stay sane and focused, and enjoy everything while it lasted.  Specifically, he wanted to enjoy cooking takoyaki, Osaka’s specialty food, for Taeyong one night after a rare day off, and he wanted Taeyong to enjoy eating it.  He wandered around Taeyong’s kitchen, alternating between muttering to himself and asking Taeyong why the hell it was so hard to find anything in there.  Yuta paused before his metal mixing bowl, trying to remember what the next ingredient for the batter was supposed to be.  

“You sure you don’t want help, babe?” Taeyong asked, and Yuta looked over to where he was sitting on the little table he kept in the kitchen, swinging his legs over the edge and giving Yuta moon eyes.  He almost laughed.  Taeyong had been nervous to have Yuta over, endlessly denigrating his apartment to the point that Yuta would have thought he was being invited over to a literal shack if he hadn’t already seen the building once, so Yuta made a point of fawning over the small space the second he arrived.

“No, darling,” replied Yuta to Taeyong’s question.  “I told you, this is my treat.”

Taeyong shrugged as a new Blondie song started to play from his record player in the living room.  “Suit yourself.”  Yuta stretched his shoulders, finally remembering that the egg was supposed to come next.  He’d learned how to cook from his mom, but that meant that sometimes his recipes were more like distant memories from ten to fifteen years ago.  Yuta hummed along to the music, turning to search for the egg carton in the fridge.

“So, can we go over this one more time so I don’t screw it up?” Taeyong asked.  Yuta was losing track of the number of times Taeyong had already been briefed on their plans for Minatozaki Sana, but if he needed to hear it again to feel secure, Yuta supposed he’d play along.  

“Sure,” Yuta confirmed, cracking one egg into the half-finished batter.  “But there’s really not that much you have to do, Taeyong.  I just told you the whole plan so you won’t be caught off guard by anything.”

Taeyong practically buzzed against the table below him. “Right, so basically I’m going to stand by her door while you and Doyoung convince her to flip on Yamaguchi.  There’s a window in the entryway, so I’ll have an easy view out if anyone comes, but I need to be sure not to be seen from the other end.”

“Exactly,” said Yuta, whisking.  The yellow yolk was swirling into the sticky mixture like streaks in hair.  “I don’t anticipate it taking too long, but I can’t make any promises.  If she resists, you just stay at your post and we’ll deal with her, unless she makes it all the way to her front door or something.”

Taeyong nodded, his legs knocking against the table’s. “What’s ‘not too long?’” he asked.

Yuta thought for a moment.  “Twenty minutes to an hour.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?”  Yuta finished mixing his batter and tapped the butt of the bowl against the counter several times, looking quizzically at Taeyong.  “Is that all clear?  Can we talk about something not work-related now?”

Taeyong smiled.  “Yeah we can,” he agreed, and Yuta let out a sigh of a laugh.  “Like what?  Is gang talk stressing you out?”    

Yuta sniffed the batter.  It smelled like it had enough dashi in it, so he figured it was fine.  Now where did Taeyong keep his soy sauce?  He rattled through Taeyong’s drawers as he answered.

“Honestly, a little bit.  This is the most responsibility I’ve ever been given, and I want it to go well.”

When Yuta looked back to Taeyong, soy sauce triumphantly in hand, Taeyong’s face had contorted to show his own worry.

“Wait, you’re really anxious about it?” he asked.  “I was sorta joking.”

Yuta set the bottle down on Taeyong’s green plastic countertop, making his way to the table.

Taeyong pouted as Yuta’s palms pressed over his soft cheeks.  “I’m a little anxious,” Yuta admitted, a warm feeling flashing through his chest at the sight of Taeyong’s face all squished up, “but I gave you your job description and worrying about my anxiety is not included.  Got it?”

Taeyong smiled sheepishly.  “Got it.”

Yuta let go of Taeyong’s face and returned to his cooking project.  “Just wanted some time together where I didn’t have to worry about work.”  He dumped some of the soy sauce into his batter and started to stir again.  He registered a little giggle coming from Taeyong.

“Anything I can do to help destress you?” he asked slyly.  Yuta mixed harder.

“Yonggie, now is not the time…”

Taeyong just shook his head.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yuta tried to ignore the not-so-subtle look Taeyong was giving him, opting to divert the conversation to ask where Taeyong’s takoyaki griddle was.  Taeyong hopped off the table, mouthing the words to “Heart of Glass.”

“I’ll get it,” he offered, crouching next to the low cabinet where he kept his pots and pans and extracting the desired item.

“Thanks.”    

Taeyong leaned against his counter and watched Yuta rub oil over and then pour the batter into the six half-spheres in the cast iron griddle.  Yuta inserted the octopus bits, tenkasu , beni shoga , and sauce into the center of each raw takoyaki, conscious of every movement under Taeyong’s sticky gaze but trying to relax by listening to Taeyong’s whispery singing.  Once sufficiently prepped, Yuta brought the griddle over to the table and turned it on, sitting to watch the food cook.  Taeyong sat across from him, laying his head against the wooden tabletop and blinking as heat started to sizzle from the takoyaki.

Yuta sighed, thinking.  Taeyong made him think a lot about a lot of things.  Some of it was serious like, was their relationship sustainable?  Was he blinded by his infatuation and risking too much for someone he’d know for barely more than a month?  Was Taeyong going to end up hurt?  Because if he did, it would be squarely Yuta’s fault.  Mostly though, the thoughts Taeyong prompted in Yuta’s head were less dire but just as invasive.  Yuta felt a rush at how gorgeous Taeyong looked like that, sleepily gazing and allowing himself to receive the care of someone else’s cooking.  On second thought …    

“Hey, so I know I just said now is not the time,” Yuta began, rolling his sleeves up as he registered the room warming and noticing Taeyong’s eyes on his arms, “but there might be something that would help me destress.  But uh, you might think it’s a little early, I’m not sure.”

Taeyong sat up, smiling.  “Oh?”  

“I think it would be fun to spend a night at a love hotel,” Yuta admitted, and a splotch of oil jumped out of the griddle as if to punish him for being pushy.  “ Ita !”  

Taeyong just grinned.  “Yuta,” he began, crossing his arms over the table, “why is that such a big deal?”

Yuta sighed, feeling like he was about to get laughed at.  “Because, I don’t want to take you to just any love hotel,” he explained.  He figured he’d gotten himself this far, he might as well finish digging his own grave. “I want to take you to the Alpha Inn.”  To his surprise, Taeyong didn’t laugh, nor did he look confused; his grin only stretched wider, giving him crow’s feet around his eyes. Yuta wondered if he needed to clarify what he’d said.  “It’s –”

“I know what the Alpha Inn is,” Taeyong blurted.

Yuta felt his face go small, the sizzling of the takoyaki turning to static in his ears.  “Oh, then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Taeyong explained, “I was waiting for you to tell me why you were being weird about it.”

“Oh,” Yuta repeated, and Taeyong pressed on.

“So why were you?  I mean, we’ve already kind of established that we both like that kind of thing, right?”

Yuta was beginning to feel like a first-class idiot.  “Yeah,” he tried to backtrack, “but I think it’s a bit different from anything we’ve discussed.  There are whips and stuff on the walls there and…”

Yuta hadn’t managed to finish his sentence before Taeyong was laughing in his face.

“Yuta,” he said, “have you been there before?”

“Yeah, I have,” Yuta explained, growing indignant, “but you’re different too.”  Taeyong’s eyes rounded in curiosity.  “You are! I haven’t had many relationships so when I’ve gone there it’s been, like, with hookups who are there for a specific purpose.”

Taeyong wiggled his eyebrows.  “And what if I told you I’d been there with hookups before too?”

Yuta let out a breath of relief, settling into a more self-assured comportment.  He honestly should have figured.  Taeyong seemed to notice the change in Yuta’s body language, because he wiggled back into his chair, away from the table, and softened his face from the challenging aspect it had taken on before.  Yuta smiled in satisfaction.  “Then, I wouldn’t worry about anything but us enjoying ourselves,” he answered.

Taeyong smiled to himself as he looked at his hands in his lap.  “So, letting you take me to a BDSM-themed love hotel: that’s what I could do to help you destress before next week.  Glad I got that out of you.”

“But there are some things we need to discuss first,” Yuta said, figuring the takoyaki looked adequately brown and standing to find a couple plates and pairs of chopsticks.

Taeyong nodded.  “Of course.”

Yuta returned, having found what he was looking for with surprising ease.

“First of which being that we have to change up the title, ‘kay?”  He sat and turned the griddle off, using his metal chopsticks to pull out two takoyaki balls.  “No more Shategashira during sex.  I can’t be getting hard every time anyone talks to me at work.”

Yuta slid a plate of food over to Taeyong.  “That’s fair.  What should I call you, then?”

Yuta blew on his dinner.  “Sir?  Does that work?”

Taeyong smiled.  “Yes, sir .”  And Yuta smiled back.

“Perfect,” he remarked, hand reaching out to Taeyong’s hair on instinct. “You’re perfect.”

Taeyong nuzzled into Yuta’s touch, whining when Yuta pulled away.  Yuta was happy to have taken back control of the situation, but he also figured he needed to change the topic of conversation if he was going to be able to focus on his food.  Thankfully, Taeyong did it for him, picking up a ball of takoyaki and holding it near his face, expression contemplative.

“Smells good,” he said.  He blew on it until it had stopped steaming, then nibbled experimentally after a quick "itadakimasu."  Yuta still held off, all too familiar with the treacherousness of eating takoyaki.

“How is it?” he asked as Taeyong broke through to the molten center.  He paused.

“Yuta?” Taeyong began, holding the takoyaki to show off the liquidy center.  He started laughing and Yuta found himself hurled back into embarrassment.  “I don’t think it’s cooked all the way…”

“Shit, sorry!” Yuta spluttered.  “Here, give it back!”

Taeyong guffawed, letting some of the hot but nearly raw batter fall from his mouth to his cupped hand.  “What?”

“Just give it here!”

“Okay…” Taeyong handed over the mangled ball and watched Yuta return it to its iron slot, switching the griddle back on and trying to look competent.

“Guess this will have to do,” he said, placing his own serving back to cook more as well.  Yuta smiled to himself, propping the side of his head against his fist and his elbow on the table.  Taeyong smiled back and said in a small voice,

“I thought you knew what you were doing, Osaka boy.  I’m a good cook, you could have just let me help.”

Yuta shrugged.  “Maybe I oversold myself.  This’ll work though.”

Taeyong made a pained face (“I’m so hungry though”) and Yuta rolled his eyes.  

He became suddenly hyper-aware of the silence framing their conversation, so he got up to switch out the finished album while the food got done cooking.  

“What do you want me to play?”

“Kate Bush!” Taeyong yelled in response.  “’The Dreaming’ should be sitting right next to the record player.”

Yuta replaced “Parallel Lines” with Taeyong’s suggestion, dropped the pin, and returned to the kitchen as “Sat In Your Lap” began to play.  He also realized he forgot the mayo and the bonito for their dinner, and puttered around the kitchen again to find them, feeling like even more of a dumbass than he had for undercooking the food.  The takoyaki came out much better the second time around, and once it had cooled off, it was gone in a fraction of the time Yuta had spent making it.

“Okay, I guess you do know what you’re doing,” Taeyong admitted, his mouth contorting around a particularly large bite.

After eating, Taeyong insisted on doing the dishes.  Yuta took on Taeyong’s former position watching from the table, thinking to himself how lovely he looked in an apron, focused on getting everything spick and span.  Fuck, it was so domestic, and Yuta hadn’t had anything like it in so long.  Yuta was so shaken up about it he felt like the takoyaki in his stomach was trying to bust out through his belly button.

Taeyong glanced at his admirer as he scratched the suds from his hands into the sink.  “Stop looking at me like that,” he said.

For a mobster, Yuta had kind of a bad poker face when he wasn’t focused enough on it.  “Like what?”

“Like you want to…I don’t know, make me a housewife.”

Yuta rested his face in his hands.  “What if I do?”

Taeyong chuckled.  “First of all, that’s quite literally impossible.  Second of all, it makes me feel weird.”

“Weird how?”

Taeyong dried the metal mixing bowl as he spoke.  “Not sure how to explain it,” he said.  “Kind of itchy.  Like I want to hide?”

Yuta tried to calm down so he could stop the fascination from practically dripping over his face.  “Sorry.”

Taeyong put the bowl away.  “S’okay.  I’m also flattered.  Thanks for cooking, by the way – even if I gave you shit about it.”

“Of course.  It was kind of fun.”

Taeyong finished drying off and putting everything away, took off his apron, and suggested they retire to the living room couch to listen to their music.

Yuta sat down and let Taeyong situate himself so that he was lying down, head in Yuta’s lap.  Yuta played with Taeyong’s hair.

“Yuta?”

“Mm?”

Taeyong’s face had an air of stress about it, not like there was anything truly wrong, but more like he had a thought he needed to sort out.

“How did you figure out you liked guys?”

Yuta took a moment to process.  That was not what he expected Taeyong to ask.

“Oh, um, I don’t know, how did you figure it out?”

Taeyong scowled.  “I mean eventually it just sort of became obvious,” he said.

“Exactly,” Yuta confirmed.  “So, that’s not really what you’re asking, is it?”

Taeyong shook his head, skull rocking against Yuta’s thighs.

“Guess not,” he allowed, “How old were you though?  When you realized?”

Yuta pulled a strand of Taeyong’s dark hair until it stood on end.  “I don’t know, late teens probably, when I really sorted it out?” Yuta chuckled, calling upon some well-repressed memories.  “I had tried fooling around with girls at that point, and it wasn’t bad, actually.  I was very sure I was straight.  I liked the girls I was with – had a real fondness for most of them, but it was never very deep.  Momo and I even hooked up once.” Yuta laughed wryly as he watched a look of shock and, maybe jealousy? flicker over Taeyong’s face.  “Don’t worry,” he reassured.  “It was alright for me, but she made it very clear that it was never to happen again.”

Taeyong hummed thoughtfully.  Yuta wanted to grill him back, but it looked like he had another question brewing, so he stayed quiet.  “So, who was the first guy?”

Yuta breathed a laugh.  “Well, he was actually my boss when I was a Kumi-in…”

Taeyong’s eyes lit up. “Like us?”

“Kind of.  He was older though,” Yuta clarified.  He smiled, both in recollection and in amusement as he registered the dissonance between Kate Bush’s wailing singing and their quiet conversation.  “I remember thinking to myself, oh, now I know what this whole thing is supposed to feel like.”  By “thing” he meant to express the nebulous concept of attraction, love, relationships, lust; all those intangibles which tug at the heartstrings.  He hoped Taeyong would understand despite his lack of eloquence.  “He was the one who convinced me to go to the Alpha Inn the first time, but, uh, I was the one taking the orders back then.”

“What happened to him?” asked Taeyong, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands.  

“He decided this life wasn’t for him, so he left.  And, you know, if you do that you get excommunicated, banished – whatever you want to call it – so I haven’t heard from him since.”

Taeyong looked like he wanted to say something, then didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.  

The apology made a pang of guilt run through Yuta.  Here he was telling the sob story of his first love in front of poor Taeyong.  If he got uncomfortable hearing about Momo, why would he want to know this?  “Don’t be sorry.  I have you now,” Yuta said with a smile, and he meant it deeply.  

Taeyong sat up and sighed, eyes clouded over. “I just feel like this would be a lot easier if I wasn’t…you know…me.”  

Yuta felt like he had cold water rushing over his skin.  What was Taeyong getting at? “No, I don’t know,” he challenged.  

Taeyong refused to make eye contact and Yuta thought he saw the other man’s skin tone draining a bit grey.  “I keep thinking about Johnny and Mina,” Taeyong tried to explain.  “They seem so normal.  Like, they know what each of them is there for.  I don’t know how to explain it.  I just feel like if I were a woman it’d be easier and make more sense.  I wouldn’t be weirdly wrapped up in your work and having to make all these dire decisions and putting you in danger.  We could just see each other like average people.”

Yuta didn’t know if he wanted to cry or laugh.  He settled instead for gripping Taeyong’s chin with his fingers and forcing their eyes to meet.  “Taeyong,” he said softly, “I think you’re missing the point.”

Taeyong’s eyes looked glassy.  “Which is?”

“Which is that if you were a woman A) we probably wouldn’t have met in the first place, and B) I wouldn’t be as interested in you.” Yuta searched Taeyong’s face, awaiting a response.

“You mean that?” he asked, finally.

Yuta let go of Taeyong’s face.  “I do.  Why would I be lying?”

Taeyong smiled slightly.  “I dunno.  Sometimes you lie for fun.”

“God, Taeyong, not about stuff like this.”

“Alright,” Taeyong said, letting his smile extend and settling his back more squarely into the couch cushions.  “Sorry for being so insecure.”

Yuta took Taeyong’s hand.  “You and me both, baby.”

“Houdini” started to play and Taeyong closed his eyes, mentioning absently that it was his favorite song on the album.  When it was over, he spoke again.

“Mina warned me at the party,” he said, and Yuta was put on immediate alert by the threatening vagueness of the statement.  “Back at Johnny’s bar, we started talking.  She said I should leave as soon as possible and not get sucked in.”

Yuta stiffened, training his eyes on the stains in Taeyong’s rug and making a mental note to bring this up to Johnny.  “Well,” he began, “that’s her opinion.  It’s up to you to make up your own mind.”

“I know.”

Yuta laughed breathily, catching Taeyong’s drift.  “So, she told you that and then you immediately turned around and landed in my lap; let me pull you in deeper.  Was that a sort of decision?”

Taeyong nodded, squeezing Yuta’s hand.  “Maybe.  I just wanted it at the time.  I wanted a real reason to stay.”

Yuta tutted.  “I told you not to make me the clincher for such an important choice.”

“Yeah, but that was after,” Taeyong asserted.  “I think I’d already decided early on, even if I didn’t want to admit it.  Yuta?”

“Taeyong.”

He looked Yuta right in the eyes.  “I’m going to stay.  I invited you over tonight to tell you that I’m sure I want to join the Inagawa-kai.  I just didn’t know how to bring it up until right now.”

Yuta could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, like he was a candle wick being sparked; like he was about to go on a mission.  He was exhilarated at the idea that he’d fully gained Taeyong’s trust and admiration, that they would continue on as they had been; but at the same time, the possibility that Taeyong could get hurt or decide too late that he’d gone down the wrong path made Yuta’s blood run cold.

“You’re sure?”

Taeyong nodded.  “Yeah, I am.”  He looked at Yuta and smiled sideways.  “When do I get initiated?”

Yuta didn’t know how to respond to Taeyong’s sudden burst of self-assuredness.  “Well – uh – the Oyabun won’t let you until our current project is secured –”

Taeyong pouted.

“But!” Yuta had an idea.  “But, but, but, if you want, we can do something fun right now that might help.”  Yuta stood, about to head off to the kitchen until he remembered he didn’t know where anything was.

“What is it?”

Yuta placed a finger in front of his mouth.  “It’s a secret,” he whispered.  “But I need you to help me find some things.”

In a matter of minutes, they were back in the living room, couched in silence with the music having run out and kneeling at either side of Taeyong’s coffee table.  Between them, Yuta had set two empty masu cups, a bottle of amazake (since Taeyong didn’t have normal sake), and the knife that Yuta always carried around with him: medium-size and gunmetal grey with teeth like the one in the Rambo movie that had come out a year before.  Taeyong had stared at it almost in horror when Yuta took it out.

“Okay,” Taeyong said, eyes roaming over their spread.  “Now will you please explain this to me?”

“Sure,” Yuta agreed, grinning at his own creativity.  “So, you said you wanted to be initiated,” he began, “but you can’t technically do that for a bit, so I’m going to give you a little run-through; a rehearsal of sorts that can prepare you for the real thing while also making you feel more official right now.”

Taeyong nodded, looking sold.  “Okay.  What’s the knife for?”

“For when I sacrifice you to Amaterasu,” he deadpanned, and for a moment, Taeyong actually gaped.

“No, I kid,” Yuta said, cracking himself up.  “We’ll get to what the knife’s for in a second.”

Taeyong let out a confused breath, making Yuta laugh even harder.  Once he had contained himself, he went on.

“So, this will be the setup when you’re initiated.  Ideally there’d be witnesses, but you know.”  He shrugged.  “Okay, and you should know that I am standing in for the Oyabun .”

“You’re Goro?” Taeyong clarified.

Yuta nodded, pressing a hand to his chest.  “Yes, I’m Goro, who I don’t think you’ve met yet, by the way.”  Taeyong shook his head in confirmation.  “Soon enough, then.  You’re you, and what we’re going to do first is you’re going to hold out your cup to me and I’ll fill it halfway with sake.”

Taeyong followed directions, prostrating himself ever so slightly as he offered Yuta his cup and watched him pour the cloudy liquid inside.  Then, Yuta did the same with his own cup, passing the halfway point and filling it to the brim, images of his own initiation six years earlier flashing across his vision.  He’d been a baby in an ill-fitting black suit and Goro had looked more imposing to him than usual – like Mt. Fuji on a clear day.  He picked up the knife, remembering the sharp taste of Goro’s blood in a particularly strong batch of sake.

“Now we switch cups,” he instructed, and Taeyong obliged, eyes trained on Yuta’s knife.  They went wide when Yuta positioned his hand over Taeyong’s sake and cradled the blade so that it was invisible in his palm, although the implied pressure and discomfort made Taeyong’s face contort.  Yuta sliced shallowly into his palm, careful to adhere to the lines of his old scar as much as possible.  Taeyong’s gaze followed as a ruby droplet fell and dispersed into the alcoholic liquid.

“We could just get a raspberry or something if you have one and crush it into the other cup,” Yuta teased, “if you don’t want to do this.”  He grinned when Taeyong shook his head quickly.

“No, I can do it, Shategashira .”

“Good.”  Yuta wiped the blood from the knife onto a paper towel and handed the blade to Taeyong, who took it hesitantly.  “Just do the pad of your thumb for now,” Yuta suggested.  Taeyong hissed a bit as he cut into the flesh there and pressed down to force out a rivulet of blood.  Yuta realized he’d made a slight oversight when he registered that each of them now had one bloodied hand.  In the real ritual, this fact would have been ignored, but Yuta was already testing Taeyong and he didn’t want to also stain his nice bamboo cups.

“Gimme a sec,” he said, finding his leather jacket in the entryway and rooting around in it one-handed for another thing he always kept with him: bandage tape.  He called Taeyong into the kitchen and they took turns washing up and covering their self-inflicted wounds.  Yuta registered neutrally the kind of hazy and quiet state Taeyong was in.  Finally, they returned to the coffee table for the next leg of the ritual, starting off by switching their drinks back so Yuta had a full cup with Taeyong’s blood and Taeyong had a half cup with Yuta’s.

“What now?” Taeyong asked.

“Now,” Yuta answered, “you take the seihai-gishiki ; the oath of allegiance to me, Hirai Goro.” They both laughed at that.  “Repeat after me okay?”

“Okay.”

Yuta flexed his hand, still adjusting to the feeling of raw openness under the pink-tinged bandages.  "I vow never to reveal the secrets of the organization.”

“I vow to never reveal the secrets of the organization.”

“I will never violate the wife or children of another member.”

Taeyong balked.  “Wait, that’s kind of messed up,” he said, mouth poised to laugh.  “Why is that there?”

“Aish,” said Yuta in mock disappointment, “good thing I’m running you through this – Goro would never accept this interrupting.  Actually, the first ever yakuza clan in the 1700’s had a real problem with cheating and child molestation, so their boss had to make up this rule to stop it from turning into one giant super-illegal orgy,” he said matter-of-factly.  Taeyong’s eyes went wide.

“Really??”

Yuta frowned.  “No!!  You need to stop being so gullible with everything I tell you.”

Taeyong bowed his head several times while laughing nervously. “Ah, okay, okay, Shategashira .  Gomen , gomen .  Got it.”

Yuta smiled.  Taeyong was so damn cute it made his muscles hurt.  “It’s okay,” he said. “In all seriousness, I have no idea why that rule is there, but it’s a reasonable expectation, anyway.  Shall we move on?”

Taeyong nodded.

“Okay,” Yuta restarted, “I vow to have no personal involvement with narcotics.”

“I vow to have no personal involvement with narcotics,” Taeyong repeated.

“I will not withhold money from the gang.”

“I will not withhold money from the gang.”

“I will not fail in my obedience to superiors.”

Taeyong blinked forcefully and gulped before echoing, “I will not fail in my obedience to superiors.”

“Last one, okay?  I will not appeal to the police or other legal authorities.”

“I will not appeal to the police or other legal authorities.  Now what?”

Yuta picked up his cup with both hands.  “Now we drink.”

Taeyong followed his lead.  “Kanpai.”

“Kanpai.”

The taste of Taeyong’s blood was less harsh mixed in with this sweet type of sake, mellowed and drowned out until it was nothing more than a heady undertone, like the scent of skin.

They put down their cups once they had finished and stared at each other silently for a beat.  Then Taeyong broke into a grin.  “Did I pass?” he asked.

Yuta guffawed.  “Pass? This isn’t an exam.”  He cleared his throat and put on his Hirai Goro voice: gravelly and low and embellished by rolled r’s.  “But uh, yes, well done, Kumi-in.  Welcome to the Inagawa-kai.”

***

After the elaborate rehearsal, they had a bit of cleaning up to do.  Taeyong rinsed their masu cups in the sink as Yuta disinfected his knife and reinforced his bandages.

“The last vow reminded me,” said Taeyong, shutting the water off and setting the cups on the drying rack, “it only occurred to me after Johnny and Mina’s lesson the other day, but what if it’s not another gang that gets ahold of me?  What if it’s the police?  Wouldn’t they also interrogate me?”

Yuta burst out in laughter and Taeyong looked perplexed, leaning his lower back against the kitchen counter.

“Oh, sorry for laughing at you,” Yuta said, collecting himself.  “You’d have no way of knowing this.”  He walked over to join Taeyong.  “You don’t have to worry about the police,” he explained even if Taeyong looked dubious.  “I mean, if we like, killed someone in a public alleyway, sure.”  Taeyong’s eyes flickered in recollection.  Yuta continued.  “But if you’re just going about your business, they won’t dare take you in.  Most of them like us anyway – like that we instill a little fear and discipline into public life, that we rake in local tax revenue and do charity work, etc.  I mean they’re just as much thugs as we are, too, and I guarantee you in every ten cops you’d find at least three former wannabe gangsters.  Anyway, sometimes we get busted by national law enforcement, but you rarely need to worry about the local police; they only get involved if you kill someone, as I mentioned; if public opinion is especially bad; or if someone comes to them directly with proof of wrongdoing.”

Taeyong nodded heavily, taking in this new information with a mixture of horror and relief.

“I know.  It can be a bit odd at first,” Yuta offered.  “I imagine as a former street kid you’re not used to that kind of free reign.”

Taeyong shook his head.  “Yeah, m’not,” he confirmed.  “I used to get the cops called on me for standing wrong.”    

Yuta hummed a chuckle.  He didn’t doubt it.  His face hovered closer to Taeyong’s, drinking him in, and he paused over the scar next to Taeyong’s eye.  He still had never asked about it, so he did.

“Oh, this?” Taeyong said, pointing to the pitted skin.  He demurred a bit, embarrassed, and Yuta suddenly felt bad for asking.  “It’s not very interesting.  I used to have atopic dermatitis and I picked at my skin a bit too much when I got a flare up there.”

“I see,” Yuta said.  “Sounds irritating.”

“It was,” confirmed Taeyong.  “Did you have a theory about how I got it?”

“I didn’t but Doyoung did,” said Yuta.  “He figured you’d gotten it in a fight or something like that.  I didn’t really know.”    

Yuta thought he saw a shiver buzz up Taeyong’s body.  “Do you guys talk about me often when I’m not there?”

Yuta laughed.  “Only at the beginning,” He admitted, settling his elbows back on the countertop.  “You were kind of mysterious to us.”

Taeyong looked shocked.  “Me?  Mysterious?  Alright…”

“Well you showed up out of nowhere,” Yuta asserted.  “In fact, I got asked on separate occasions by Jungwoo and Jaehyun how I was sure you weren’t a spy.”

Taeyong spluttered.  “A spy?  That’s too wild.”

Yuta only shrugged.  If he was being honest, Taeyong was still a little mysterious to him.  He still wanted to turn Taeyong’s earlier questions about sexual awakenings and such back on him, but that could wait.  Taeyong pushed away from the counter and shifted so he was facing Yuta, his hands on Yuta’s shoulders.

“Want to dance?” he asked coyly.  “Just like after Johnny’s party?”

Yuta slipped his arms around Taeyong’s waist.  “How could I say no to that?” he teased, and they plodded like that back into the living room.  Yuta let Taeyong go momentarily to put on “Three Imaginary Boys” by The Cure, scooping him back up the second the music began.  Taeyong laid his head on Yuta’s shoulder and murmured into the base of his neck.

“I can’t wait to help you destress, sir.”

Yuta petted Taeyong’s soft hair with his bandaged hand and hummed.  “You’re too perfect,” he said, and he meant it deeply.

[brunhiddensmusings]

an issue i have with movies

or, rather, that the movie industry has and im calling them out on it that the movie industry makes stupid assumptions about what does or does not work while ignoring the real reasons why a movie succeeds or fails because that would take too much effort and thought despite ‘filmography’ being a legitimate course of study that i would really hope that people paid tens of millions of dollars to make movies have some understanding of and/or hire people with the relevant degrees because i KNOW when a movie like ‘midway’ flops hard  the reaction of the movie industry is ‘i guess people dont like historical war recreation dramas’ instead of looking a bit harder and realizing ‘i guess people dont like a movie with no main characters, nothing to tie the existing cardboard cutout characters together beyond a vague setting, and a strange inability to make anything its showing on screen relevant as a plot rather then just listing things that happened with no explanation, narrative, or point of reference character’..... although im okay with ‘WW2 movies’ being put back into dormancy because theres more then enough of those and they have kind of messed up how every other war movie made after saving private ryan functions ive seen this time and time again that a movie that is badly made flops because its badly made, and the film industry then acts like some other element is why people avoided it its kind of crazy to think now but before LOTR came out the film industry had considered fantasy movies to be toxic for years, despite the 80s and 90s having some very well loved fantasy movies like ‘willow’, ‘neverending story’, and ‘labyrinth’ because of the number of really shit fantasy movies produced in that time. or if not shit then at least movies that didnt do well until much later when people started enjoying it for different reasons like ‘legend’.... but the sheer number of fantasy movies at the time that were given mediocre budget, garbage writing, and the only saving graces were how much effort the lead actors tried to give their inarticulate screams as the stabbening commenced made the industry think ‘i guess people dont like fantasy movies’ instead of ‘i guess people are not impressed by corny stories with no setup and are ultimately destined to be reviewed by drunk youtubers who heckle B-movies’. yall remember ‘deathstalker’? cause there were like 40 of that movie, conan was a rare gem in a sea of halfassery and then AFTER lord of the rings they try a fit of fantasy movies trying to cash in on this ‘hip new trend’ and while a few of them are okay, most of them are pretty blatantly trying to copy what LOTR did by the numbers as shamelessly as possible, then theres also quite a few that limply flop over the line of mediocrity until movies like ‘your highness’ where the drunk prince wears a minotaur wang around his neck as a battle trophy and ignores sexual molestation by a wizard (ah yes, great comedy recounting those times a wizard touched you when you were a young boy, hilarious for the whole family) ultimately bring people back to square 1 instead of asking ‘maybe if we made a -good- fantasy movie again instead of throwing larger piles of money at bad ones’ and so have movie genres been thrown under the bus for the failings of individual film studios making openly shitty decisions instead of acnowleging that a movie lives or dies on if its GOOD rather then by ‘i guess people dont like full costume period movies anymore’ and its the death of so much potential on the example of costume period movies you may have heard Lindsay Ellis talk about pirates of the carribean on this exact kind of concept, if you hadnt i will gladly add a link to her video on it upon request, but the point is that the assumption at the time was ‘people dont like pirate movies anymore’ because of the dearth of mediocre low budget and shit writing pirate movies made in the 60s-80s, and building on that people kept assuming that what we today would consider the ‘interesting bits’ about pirates of the carribean such as the zombies and jack being a loon the filmmakers at the time were considering ‘ruining the movie’. now i have many complaints about the pirates of the carribean franchise but the first movie is a cinematic classic that fully stands on its own merits, yet i would have been bored to tears trying to watch the version that would have been made if the cut out the zombies, curses, crazy people, and.... really what would be left of that movie? and yet still it happens time and again like clockwork when a robin hood movie is made once a decade, its either only alright or a complete flop, and then nobody wants to make that movie again for eight years then they make another robin hood movie copy/paste that last paragraph but replace ‘robin hood’ with ‘king arthur’ because holy damn are there a lot of bad robin hood/king arthur movies out there. granted theyre public domain so nothing to stop them but when will people learn? literally only two king arthur movies were unanimously good and one of those was monty python and the other was a disney animated classic. literally only three robin hood movies were any good and again one was a disney animated classic and one of the others was Mel Brooks making fun of the Kevin Costner one if public domain was the key element there then you would expect them to keep pumping out..... oh yeah, i forgot the movie where the frankensteins monster does parkour in modern cities to kill gargoyles was a thing, and the beauty and the beast remake where ‘the beast’ is a rich kid in suburban america who is ripped but bald and covered in tattoos and theres some shit about prom.... uuuuuuuugh, theres actually a lot of these ‘reimaginings’ that while the idea of reimagining a timeless classic is cool, they ultimately handle like a steaming turd and then, again, claim its that it failed not because they made a moist cowpat but rather it failed because nobody today likes the frankenstein monster- i for one would argue that an audience today would LOVE a faithful reimagining of frankenstein that really digs into the meat of that premise instead of making him a large green zombie that goes ‘fire bad’ and lets people get dug into the byronic shenanigans of that time im losing my train of thought but moral of the story is that people who make movies will always blame them failing on the -type- of movie it is rather then that they made a bad movie or draged something on way longer then it should be (just because one well written gritty retelling of batman did well does not mean every superhero movie must be dark and gritty without the well written, just because some of the marvel movies put the ‘fun’ back into comic movies doesnt mean we need 34 of them) blegh, i should have used visual aids for this but its too late to figure out what to use now discussion encouraged

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC ≽ IV.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.9k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

My foot tapped against the pavement while I kept shuffling in my seat. The surrounding tables were empty, despite it being lunchtime. I could see over the balcony from my place at the table. My eyes watched down the street for any oncoming cars. I played with the glass of water in front of me, swirling the straw and knocking the pieces of ice against the rim. 

"(Y/n)?" 

I caught a glimpse of his figure from the corner of my eye. I immediately rose to greet him but hit my knee on the metal edge in the process. The feeling tickled my bone and shot down my leg.

I attempted to groan quietly but could not mask the injury in my expression. 

"Are you alright?" 

I felt his hand on my shoulder as I leaned over in pain. Great first impression, I thought. 

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, sucking up the pain and standing straight. When I turned to look at him, I was taken back by a pair of dark eyes. A set of thick black brows hung over his eyes, matching a head of full black hair cut short on the sides. His skin was tan and his jawline was cutting, I didn't expect him to be so young. 

"Anthony Romero," He said gently, offering his hand out for me to take in a greeting. 

I held his hand and couldn't help but stare at how attractive he was. "Please, sit."

I looked down to take my chair, being wary of the edge of the table, before seating myself. He took the opposite seat across from me, allowing us a moment to settle before speaking, 

"Well, you certainly look the part," He joked lightly, trying to break the tension between us. 

I looked down at what I was wearing. It was a rendition of what I had been wearing this entire week; dark-colored jeans, a Guns and Roses t-shirt, and my leather jacket. It was definitely a 180 to his city boy outfit. 

"I haven't had time to go shopping," I replied, stiffly. Even though, my current style was simply a more mature version of this. 

"Have you looked through the-" He took the menu in his hands, speaking casually. 

"I'm not very hungry." I cut him off fairly quickly. I didn't mean to be rude, however, I was uncomfortable being seen in public. 

I had advised him beforehand, that meeting, and staying out of Blackburn would be the best idea. The town could recognize an outsider from a mile away. In my opinion, the next town over was not far enough. "I'd like to say something first before we begin," 

"Of course," He set the menu down and gave me his full attention. 

There was a switch in his head that brought him from casual to business. I could see it on the night of his eyes. It was almost intimidating.

"I've been working with the DEA for three years, this job has given me a sense of moral direction- if you will," I said, hoping for him to understand where I was coming from. "I've had to leave this life behind a long time ago. I literally left everything here in California."

Romero watched me intently, his eyes searching my being for any signs I could give off. He read my body language, how tense and worried I was. 

"I can still leave all of this behind, but I can not- will not let this club die."

He sighed at my words, sinking back in his seat, as I continued,

"I want to help you take down the Camilo Cartel, but I need to know that our investigation isn't going to hurt the MC."

"(Y/n) I understand your relationship with the club, but you said it yourself, you haven't had a connection to them in seven years." I grabbed my drink, taking a sip of the cold water as I felt my body heat with emotion. "Bangtan has been on ATF's radar for years. They aren't a Robinhood club anymore- they're a gang. One that's been dealing arms to gangs all over California."

"We aren't ATF," I told him bluntly. 

He looked at me severely offended. I knew what my words sounded like to his ears. I had looked at him in the eyes and told him I didn't care. 

"You want us to cut a deal with the club?" He scoffed at the idea. "You know they'd never take it."

"No, I want you to make a deal with me," I tried not to sound demanding, but I needed to be honest with him if this was going to work. “Nothing I say about this club can be used against them.”

"You had a deal," He snapped. He didn't have to raise his voice to make me feel his rage. I could see it in his gestures, the fire burning in his eyes. "Don't forget, you came to work with us so you wouldn't serve a ten-year sentence for heroin possession."  

"The deal was I helped the DEA put away a shot caller," Back when I was shooting up heroin nearly twice a day, I had grown close to a high ranking gang member, who was part of a large network of dope dealers. "I came to work afterward because it was the only good thing I had ever done with my life."  

His stare only became more troublesome. I sighed to myself, also leaning away from the conversation. "I understand if you can't make me this deal. But then, I need you to fire me and find another way to get to the Cartel. I'm not going to destroy this club or let them destroy themselves."  

"You think you can save them?" He asked as if I was filled with senseless hope. 

"If they don't taste this drug money, I think we can," I was stubbornly hopeful.  

"The DEA just wants the Cartel. As long as you help us through the information from Bangtan, we won't prosecute them." Agent Romero stood from his chair and pulled out his phone. "I'll make the call and get you the paperwork."

I could finally breathe easy once he stepped away to make that phone call. Bangtan could never understand my situation, why I would be working with the DEA in the first place. It was everything our lifestyle preached against. We were anarchists. 

Emma Goldman said,

Anarchism stands for the liberation of the human mind from the dominion of religion. The liberation of the human body from the coercion of property; liberation from the shackles and restraint of government. It stands for a social order based on the free grouping of individuals. 

That's what Bangtan was supposed to represent and it did, a long time ago, before it knew the payment of sin. When your life is moved off the social grid, you give up on the safety that society provides. On the fringe, blood and bullets are the rules of the law and if you have convictions, violence is inevitable. When you take action to avenge the ones you love, personal justice collides with social and divine justice. You become a judge, jury, and god. Some people cave under the weight, others abuse the momentum. But the true outlaw finds the balance between the passion in their heart and the reason in their mind. 

Bangtan was lost under my father's leadership. I didn't realize that until I was gone from his side. I hated to admit that maybe, under Namjoon, the club could find their way back. I just had to make sure that happened.

"I'll have the paper ready for you later tonight," Agent Romero said, returning to the table. He pulled the chair out for himself, "I'm hoping to just go over some basic information with you for right now." 

"Alright," I would still be mindful of the information we discussed, nothing would be set until I signed those papers.  

I moved into the front of my jacket, taking hold of a pack of cigarettes that I regretted at the moment of purchasing, but now was grateful for. Romero remained with his phone in his hands, looking through images that I couldn't make out from my seat. 

"As of right now, the number of members in the club is unknown to us. However, we think it's somewhere between twenty-five to thirty." He said, his eyes still trailing over the screen. I pulled out a square from its tight pack, arranging it between my dry lips and flickering my zippo lighter. Romero reacted to the sound, his eyes finding their way to me but not daring to say anything against it. "Of course, there are the eight members who are at the head of the table as of right now- well, seven now,"

He stammered over the sensitive information. Romero looked over my expression for any sign of discomfort. The only thing he found was the nicotine leaving my mouth in smoke form. "Bangtan was established in 1987, all of the original founding members are either in prison or dead. They are what is identified as part of the 1% of motorcyclists that practice in criminal activity for a living."

That was something that Bangtan wore as a patch on their cuts. The 1% patch referred to a comment by the American Motorcyclist Association, that 99% of motorcyclists were law-abiding citizens, implying the last one percent were outlaws. "According to ATF reports, Bangtan established a direct line to a secret Russian group that dealt with firearms. Despite constant observations and raid attempts, they've never been able to catch them with a large possession of illegal firearms."

"Bangtan doesn't cross their money streams, the bar is a legitimate business. They have a separate location for their illegal activity." I said to him. 

They learned that the hard way. The only thing you would find in the bar is watered down alcohol and burner phones. 

"They built a compromise with the Pure Brotherhood fifteen years ago, to keep the drug trade out of Blackburn." My father knew what drugs could do to a person. He didn't want me, or any of the youth in the town to grow up knowing that trouble. 

"Until now," Agent Romero placed his phone on the table and sighed. He knew my words were true and that things were about to get much worse. 

"You have to know, as well as I do, that Bangtan joining the Cartel is a matter of when- not if." I did know. I just didn't want to admit it. "If it comes to supporting a neo-nazi group, who are preparing for the great race war- or an organized, billion-dollar trade. The option is pretty clear to me." 

Romero was right. Supporting a racist organization was never something the club appreciated. It was bad business and the Camilo Cartel was the perfect way out of it. 

"The club knows how commanding Camilo will be. They won't give in without some kind of backlash of other members." I said, hoping that was enough to stall them. 

He didn't seem very convinced by my reasons as a waitress came by with a glass of water for him. He thanked her and ordered something for himself that I didn't quite hear. 

"For you?" She politely smiled at me. I waved her off with a hand gesture, trying to be as pleasant as I could. 

We observed her leave the balcony to place his order. Romero set the notes of his phone away and began to ask me questions.

"What can you tell me about the local law enforcement?" There wasn't much to say.

"They obviously don't appreciate the sense of authority the club has over the town. But they have let a few things slide from time to time." I took another drag, a deeper one than before. "Are they going to assist in this investigation?"

"We'll have to let them know so that they don't interfere with anything." It was just courtesy but I didn't trust the Blackburn police. Bangtan would definitely have cops who were on their side. 

"How is your relationship with the current members?" A combination of the question and the nicotine made my hand tremble.

"I went to school with some of them. They're rather polite to me because of my father." I'm sure he wanted more detail than that. 

"What about your step-brother? Namjoon Kim?" 

"It's complicated," I said growing sick of the cigarette in my hand, tossing it to the floor. 

"Can you get close to him?" I looked Romero in the eyes and knew what his words meant. 

However, with our history, his words took on a whole other meaning in my head. A twisted smile appeared on my lips. 

"Yes, I can." 

-

After I met with agent Romero, I retreated to my crappy motel. I sat on my standing Harley in the parking lot and dreaded entering the depressing space. Then I recalled the comment Romero had made about my outfit. I decided against entering, taking his advice, and putting my father's money to good use. 

I left my bike parked at the motel and went on foot to the nearby boutique shops. I might have been raised by bikers, but I liked to think I still had decent taste in fashion. At least, when it comes to dressing myself, I'll wear anything as long as I can put my leather jacket over it. 

I stared at the racks filled with hanging clothing, the colors arranged in no particular order, made me feel discouraged. There was nothing but low-cut blouses that would slip off the second I hit 20 miles on my bike. I was pleased to find pants that weren't ripped or acid dipped. This particular store also had a fine selection of vegan leather. It wasn't as nice as real leather, but it was certainly cheaper. 

"Hey, (Y/n)." 

I didn't recognize the male voice at first, but when I turned around, I was greeted by a sunny smile. Hoseok was standing a few feet beside me, and Yoongi was just behind him. "Doing some shopping?"

"Uh, yeah," I responded, placing the brown leather jacket in the pile of clothes I had already picked out. I turned to face them a little more before asking, "What are you guys doing here?"

I specifically referred to the fact that this was a female boutique. The two of them looked humorously out of place in their leather cuts, standing in the small, soft-colored store. 

"His sister's back in town," Yoongi responded fairly bored. 

"I wanted to get her something," Hoseok explained further. I assumed he had dragged Yoongi along for some reason. "But honestly, I have no idea what to look for."

Hoseok looked a little flustered in his expression. I sensed that he was entertaining the idea of me offering him guidance. I suppose this could be my chance, to put my fashion senses to the test.

"Well, what does she like?" I prompted, hoping he would have some kind of outline for me to think in.

 "She's really into fashion but I don't know what size she wears," He said. His hand lazily pushing through the rack of clothing, like he didn’t know where to start.

"If that's the case, you can get her accessories," I told him. I figured that would be easiest for both of us. My eyes peered around the room, remembering having seen some stuff earlier. 

I spotted some things hanging on the wall on the other side of the store. I advanced in that direction with Hoseok trailing behind me. We pushed through some racks of clothing to reach the large wall of accessories. 

"There are hats and scarves,” I said, reaching out to touch some of the fabrics. Jewelry also hung in packs and pairs, the false metal reflecting the sunlight. “Maybe not this jewelry though, it looks cheap."

Hoseok chuckled as he eyed the things on the wall. Any of the things on the wall didn't seem too horrendous. I even kept my eyes open for anything I might like. Most of the wall was fool’s gold of necklaces and earrings. The bottom shelf held hats, nothing I found particularly interesting though. Some of the items looked to have been savaged by kids who could reach. That only left the scarves. They were dangling, one after the other, rows and rows of them. I came across a silk scarf that was cool to the touch. 

"Look at this," I said, getting Hoseok’s attention. It was a square shape scarf, with berry colors of flowers and patterns. "These colors are in right now, since it's almost autumn. The silk also won't stick to her in this California sun." 

"Yeah, this looks nice." He sounded satisfied with this item. He fiddled with the material in his fingers and then found the price tag. "$80?!"

I knew that silk scarfs were expensive, especially in a little boutique like this one. I patted his shoulder and gave him a fake empathetic look,

"That's the price of beauty," I joked. 

"As if this scarf is going to do all the work," He responded, a little annoyed. 

Hoseok settled on the scarf as a gift, regardless. I felt content with the hangers in my hand. It was enough clothing to keep me from looking like an angsty adolescent.

"I didn't see your bike parked in front," Hoseok mentioned as we strolled together to the register. 

"I'm staying at the motel nearby," I replied vaguely. Hoseok stood back and allowed me to put my things down first. I greeted the woman politely and turned back to look at them.

"That lousy place down the street?" Yoongi then questioned. Just by the look on his face, he seemed to know exactly which one."That place has roaches." 

"Thanks for reminding me," I bantered lightly. I should definitely look for a better place, I thought as the woman began to scan my items. I leaned against the counter, my feet aching a bit from just being up and around. 

"I thought Namjoon told you to stay at his place," Hoseok said, recalling the exact moment. 

"The prince doesn't always get what he wants," I shrugged. 

Then I failed to hide the sneer on my mouth as I found myself to be hilarious. I made eye contact with the other two also, only Hoseok smiled at me, while Yoongi awkwardly nodded his head. I thought they were a strange pair as I searched for my wallet on my person.

"Well, you should check out my new Harley," I was admittedly intrigued by Hoseok's offer. I located my purse in the depths of my jacket and peeped his way. By the look on his face, I could tell he was excited to show off. He was like a child in a candy shop.

"Oh, yeah?" I was interested to find out more. My eyes scanned the monitor of the register for my final price of the clothing. 

"Year model," He beamed proudly. 

I counted the bills of twenty in my hand before handing them over to the women. I grabbed a hold of the three large paper bags where my purchases had been stuffed into. Hoseok set the dainty scarf on the register next. 

"You still got your Deluxe, Yoongi?" I asked out of curiosity, recalling just barely the bike he used as a prospect. He simply nodded his head as an answer. 

I had been thinking of getting myself one a while back. I loved vintage style bikes, especially when they had modern engines. 

"Yeah well, I left the cruiser for a street bike," Hoseok remarked as we waited for him to finish paying. 

I thought a bike could say a lot about a person. I personally liked cruiser bikes over any other style. However, everyone in the club had their own preference. Jimin and I had a similar taste in bikes. We mostly found interest in the same Harleys, except that he owned a Low Rider, which was a billiard blue color. 

"What is it? An Iron 833?" I guessed. Thinking, in my head, that it was a well-suited bike for him. 

"Close," Hoseok laughed, as he took hold of a smaller version of my bags. We all began to walk toward the exit, the woman wishing us a good day. "It's an Iron 1200, solid black." 

I had an idea of what that bike looked like, but I had yet to see the new model for the year. "I just picked it up yesterday morning,"

Yoongi held the door open for me to step out first. Hoseok was still speaking in my ear as they followed out the door of the shop. His talking came to a soft silence as we were faced with the two member's Harleys. Their bikes were parked right in front of the boutique. Except, it appeared that Hoseok's new Harley was being used in a photoshoot.

There was a pair of strangers, a man who was posing on the bike with his motor racer jacket. A woman stood in front of him, trying to capture the image on a cell phone. 

"Take the damn picture, already." He cursed at her. The man looked annoyed every time he wasn't posing for the picture. 

"I'm trying," The blonde woman responded. She sounded very apologetic like she didn't want him to get upset with her. Like she knew what would happen if he did. 

Before I could even think to look at the boys, Hoseok was handing me his shopping bag. I took a hold of it and followed behind them as they approached the scene.

Hoseok walked up the woman as Yoongi circled his bike. 

"Here, let me do it." Hoseok smiled at her, gently taking the phone from her hands. The woman looked startled. 

"Shit," She was wide-eyed. "I-I told him on to,"

"It's all right," Hoseok was sympathetic to her. I came around to her side, gently taking a hold of her arm and guiding her away from the position.

Hoseok’s eyes rearranged to look at the man. "He looks like a guy that knows how to get what he wants,"

She followed my advice and stepped aside with me. Now seeing her face more clearly, I took notice of the healing injury on her mouth. "Did you do that to her lip?"

Hoseok questioned casually. The guy didn’t seem alarmed by any means, not even when he stepped toward him.

"Bitch has a mouth on her," The man said chuckling. He spoke to Hoseok as if he would understand where he was coming from. "You know how it is, right?" 

"Yeah, I do." Hoseok laughed, returning the man's smile. I was painfully aware of how close Hoseok was getting to him. He, who still hadn't moved from his seat on the bike. "So you like Harley's, huh?" 

"Well, they look good," He replied, patting a handprint on the metal of the gasoline tank. That made even me. even a little angry. "But I'm more into the slant bikes, for their speed." 

I eyed the Kawasaki Ninja 300 that was parked a few spots over. There was no way this couple was from Blackburn- people around here knew better. He was in for a rude awakening. 

"Right, right." The courtesy in Hoseok's voice brought an uneasy feeling in my stomach. He looked back down at the phone in his hands and tapped the almost sleeping screen. "Here,"

He said, holding the phone up to take the picture of the man. Yoongi stepped around his bike, standing right beside Hoseok. "Say cheese,"

I almost felt bad for the guy who dared to smile for the picture. After the phone clicked, Hoseok handed the phone to Yoongi. 

"That's before," Yoongi muttered loudly. 

It wasn't until then that the man noticed something wasn't right. 

"Before?" He asked. 

Hoseok grabbed his helmet off the handlebar. He gripped it tight in his hand as he used the back of it to swing a blow to the guy's face. The single impact was strong enough to make him drop off the Harley. He landed on the cold, hard ground. Blood was draining from his nose and into his mouth.

"Don't ever sit on another man's bike," Hoseok spat. 

"Oh my god," The blondie gasped beside me. You couldn't fail to recognize the giggle in her voice. 

"Shut up, bitch!" The man barked as he was still struggling on the floor with pain. 

Yoongi stepped in as Hoseok went to take care of his bike. He swung his boot into the man's rib cage, making him groan and spit out his own blood. 

"A little respect for the ladies," He warned, squatting down to get a good angle on the man's phone. The shutter of the phone went off again, capturing the man's new state of humble. "That's after."

Yoongi stood back on his legs and allowed the phone to slip from his hands, hitting the floor. 

By the time I thought to check on the blondie next to me, I caught her gawking eyes at Hoseok. I was half surprised to see Hoseok returning the look. He leaned forward on his bike, 

"So, where are you heading?" He flashed her a killer smile.

"Oh," She blushed under his stare. Her fingers fiddling the ends of her clothing as she tried to remain casual. "Nowhere special," 

"Me too," He smirked. Looking the girl up and down before gesturing his head behind him, "Hop on, angel."

This girl wasted no time hesitating. There was even a little kick in her step as Hoseok handed her the helmet he had just used to break her boyfriend's face. I stepped forward to return Hoseok's gift as she straddled on behind him, slipping the helmet over her face. I lost interest sometime before they exchanged names. 

I glanced at the man still laying on the ground. His eyes were wandering over the blood that stained his hands in disbelief. I imagined the blow to the face had left him a little hazy in the head.

"Why don't you let Yoongi give you a ride, (Y/n)?" Hoseok then suggested. The engine of his new bike began to roar. 

The thought wasn't well-received in my head. I had a personal ordeal with men seeking to have me on the back of their bikes. Though I was well aware this wasn't the situation, I couldn't help but be hesitant. 

"Unless you want to stay with the likes of him," Yoongi pointed out, motioning his head to the unfortunate figure on the pavement. 

He gave me the time it took to light his cigarette to think about it. I wasn't afraid of that guy, not after what Hoseok did to him, not after what I had tucked into my jeans. But I figured avoiding the confrontation would be beneficial for everyone. 

"Alright," I said stepping off the sidewalk into the street.

Yoongi left his helmet on the handle of his bike for me to grab. Unlike mine, he had a half helmet that would only serve my brain on a platter if we crashed. I adjusted the loose straps around my chin and switched all my bags to one hand. 

"Better hold on, princess." Yoongi teased as I mounted the seat behind him.

"Don't call me that," I groaned, starting to get irritating flashbacks that made me doubt my current judgment.  

The engine of his Harley trembled under me as I hooked my free hand around his waist. 

His Delux wasn't necessarily meant to hold a passenger but we weren't going very far. I had to scoot in closer to his body, to make sure the weight distribution wasn't too off-center. Many inexperienced riders don't know the difference between riding solo and with someone else. In addition to the extra weight, a passenger changes the center of gravity and how the bike rides. Though, I was certain it wasn't the first time Yoongi had company during a ride. 

"Gem?" I heard the man call over the rumble of the motor. "Gem!"

We were already backed into the street, Hoseok obnoxiously hit the gas on his bike. Yoongi and I followed closely behind him, leaving the man to stumble onto his feet. 

The motel was roughly five minutes away from the shop. Hoseok and his new friend accompanied Yoongi to drop me off. Riding in the back reminded me a lot of being young, I would beg my father to take me for a spin. I would wrap my arms tightly around him, as my head rested on his back. Down these same roads, he would drop me off at school or take me for ice cream. It didn't help that I stared at Yoongi's cut the entire way. Those were some memories I didn't visit very often because they saddened me. Now, more so, than ever. 

The Harleys pulled up in front of the motel. Hoseok parked just beside my bike. Yoongi pressed on the break gently, allowing the bike to come to a complete stop, before planting his feet on the ground. I freed his torso from my arm, adjusting my other grip around my shopping bags, before patting his shoulder.

"Thanks for the ride," I said a bit stiffly. I had to depend on Yoongi's shoulder for stability as I attempted to unmount the bike. 

"No problem," He spoke, still maintaining a cigarette in his mouth. 

He took his hands off the handlebars and rested back in his seat. "I'm sure you could have handled yourself,"

His comment fell ghastly on my ears. I transferred my bags to my other hand, my left-hand aching from having been gripping them as I watched him. 

"I mean, I've seen what you could do with that foot." He said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and between his fingers. He was clearly referring to the night I arrived when I lost my temper with that PB member. 

"Yes, well, I have my old man's passion," I replied calmly. Though, something in Yoongi's stare made me feel a bit uneasy. His words were hinting at something else. 

"And you're pretty passionate with a gun." The way he looked at me when he said that it was full of doubt. Our eyes correlated, and I felt like his black orbs could see right through me. 

"It reminded me of a cop,"

 A shiver crept down my spine, and my shoulders fell heavy. My manner of confronting that PB member screamed police to any outlaw. My impulsiveness had kept me from thinking that through. 

It was the first time I was being questioned about it. I thought it had slipped by everyone's mind, but not his. 

"Did I scare you that bad, Yoongi?" I teased, trying to react the way I normally would. "I'm just cautious like the rest of you," 

Yoongi didn't appear to be swayed by my words. He brought his cigarette back to his mouth, his cheekbones hollowing in as he took a drag. I was debating on waiting for him to say something else, or on trying to keep justifying myself before Hoseok cut into our conversation. 

I had never been so grateful for Hoseok's existence. 

"Yoongi," Hoseok called out in front of us. We both turned to look at his place still sitting on his Harley. 

We then realized that Hoseok was gesturing to the other side of the lot. We followed his gaze over to a set of people by the sidewalk. 

They were too far away to distinguish any particular details of their identity. However, it looked like two males that were having an eager conversation. I noticed their head kept turning from side to side, and they couldn't keep still. Just when I began to think that it was nothing, one of them reached out for a handshake. 

No one was supposed to deal in Blackburn.

"Jesus Christ," I caught sight of Yoongi flinging his cigarette in a fit. He beat down his kickstand with the bottom of his boot, before making his way off the Harley. 

"Looks like PB," Hoseok stated, accompanying Yoongi's action. 

When he unmounted his bike, blondie gave him a confused stare as she reached out to touch his hand. Her eyes like a lamb gazed at Hoseok sweetly.

"Stay put, angel." He said, using the touch to bring her in closer. He gently touched her chin and planted a kiss on her busted lip. She smiled, uncertain by his words but agreed, regardless. 

"Let's go," Yoongi called, his hand reaching behind him. Without drawing his weaponry, he maintained his hand resting on the handle of the gun under his leather cut. I followed in his footsteps, unsure of what I should do in this situation. 

 Should I attempt to interfere? Or will there be a shoot out right here?

I set my bags on the floor before catching up to Yoongi who was already by Hoseok's side. 

The hooded man remained standing at the end of the parking lot, near the street corner. His customer had vanished but he was still occupied with his cell phone. 

Hoseok noticed me trailing behind Yoongi, 

"Keep an eye on her," He told me, gesturing his eyes to the scared woman on his motorcycle. 

I had to babysit his groupie? 

I stopped where I stood, just beside Hoseok's Iron. I could see blondie looking in my direction, but I was watching Hoseok and Yoongi approach the standing figure. I forced strands of hair away from my line of sight. I could feel my heart begin to beat against my chest. My limbs become stiff as stone. 

I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do in a situation like this. This was my first event as a field agent, and I was about to let a shootout take place. With a liability sitting right next to me. 

"What's going on?" She urged me, but I neglected her completely. 

The hooded figure was so distracted he didn't take any notice of the impending threat. The two members quickened their steps, Hoseok dawdling just a little more ahead of Yoongi.

Without warning, Hoseok skulked behind the body, his arms both wrapped tightly around the torso. It was like a kidnapping scene. He used his large hand to shield the man's mouth. The force of Hoseok's legs pulled them back as he was able to dominate him easily. Yoongi kept his eyes peeled for any potential bystanders as they stumbled their way against the wall of the motel. The wall cast a shadow and provided them with coverage from the view of the street. 

"Oh my god!" Blondie gasped in disbelief. 

She took a hold of my arm in panic. She pulled on my arms as if she wanted us to run. Her frenzy state pestered me greatly.

I yanked her hand from my arm, my fingers clutched around her wrist tightly. She heaved at the pain, I could feel her pulse quickening against my fingertips.

"You make a fucking noise," I hissed at her between my teeth. Her eyes remained full of fear as I pushed her from my hold. "It'll be your last,"

Her eyes followed my actions as I withdrew my Glock from its cover on my hip. She froze with fright, only continuing to remain silent in her place.

I guess I wasn't very good at being a good guy.

The next I looked back, Yoongi was holding the barrel of his gun against the guy's head. He was still fighting against Hoseok's restraint but he was becoming more frantic and less functional. Yoongi's lips were moving, saying words that were too far away for my ears.

Just then, as if things couldn't have been complicated enough; I noticed an oncoming party. Approaching from down the sidewalk was a large white man with a bald head. His arms revealed a clash of tattoos, the only one that I needed to make out was a black swastika peering out his shoulder. He also wasn't shy about the gun tucked in the front of his jeans. He appeared to be searching for his lost friend.

"Shit," I cursed to myself. I had to do something.

I took a moment to look back at blondie, making sure to be as intimidating as possible when I warned her. "Don't move from here,"

I took off immediately, my feet moving at a jogging pace. I attempted to not appear alarmed. I discreetly lead my gun to my side, trying to go unnoticed for the time being. I made it to the end of the parking lot, sitting between me and the sidewalk was a few bushes at waist level. 

Yoongi and Hoseok were preoccupied with the man in front of them to worry about their surroundings. 

The bald man was only a few steps away from reaching the corner, where he would surely find his buddy taken captive.

I moved closer toward the building, both parties coming more clear in my line of sight. If he makes it around that corner, he could catch them by surprise and gain an upper hand quickly. One of the boys could get injured for sure.

I had to follow my instincts. 

I leaned into the bushes for more security. They couldn't have been more than fifteen feet from me. I clutched the metal weight in my hand, raising my arms and seeking to find aim. 

Aim small, miss small. 

I concentrated on the man's shoulder. I took in a deep breath to steady my hands. He was getting bigger with each step. When I exhaled the breath from my nostrils, I pulled the trigger. 

The gunshot rang through the open air and into my ear. Blondie's scream echoed somewhere behind me. The man stumbled on his legs, he clutched his right bicep and his face tore with shock.

Yoongi found me by the bushes. He quickly recognized that my target wasn't far from them. 

My victim quickly discovered me at the end of the sidewalk. He reached for his firearm, but at that moment, Yoongi stepped out of the shadow. He pulled two quick shots before the man could ever hold up his gun. 

He tumbled onto the floor, his legs giving out at the bullet that pierced his foot. The second one ripped through the flesh of his arm and caused his gun to fall from his grip. 

I ran up behind Yoongi, I kept my gun drawn and pointed at the fallen form. With my foot, I stretched for the dropped pistol, dragging it across the cement into my area of reach. I was able to pick it up with ease after that. 

The bald man stared at me with hate emitting from his eyes. He spit at my feet.

I noticed Yoongi's eyes on me, as well. It was almost as if he was conflicted by my actions. With a nod of my head, I assured him that I had their back. Whether he believed me or not, he returned to the current situation.

Hoseok remained holding down the other guy who, was still yelling through his muzzled mouth. His face was red and his eyes were watering with anger and fear. Hoseok released his mouth after the bastard threw a bite at his hand.

Yoongi had enough.

He pushed his hair out of his forehead and, in that same step, hurled his fist to the guy's jaw. Yoongi growled at the impact. He left the man silent in Hoseok's arms. His nose was dripping blood, a gash on his cheek also overflowed with the red liquid. 

"Tell me where the PB is cooking the meth!" Yoongi demanded.

He cocked his gun and pressed the pistol against the fabric that covered the man's genitals. The man cried, he begged Yoongi to not pull the trigger.

"Now, you son of a bitch!"

Hearing it was hard enough, I couldn't watch it.

"I-In Blackburn! In Blackburn!" He ratted instantly.

My stomach churned at his answer. I looked at the scene unfolding beside me. I could see Hoseok and Yoongi were as startled as I was.

"They've got a lab down Riverside road! I-It's an ugly little red house- you can't miss it!"

Yoongi freed the man's crotch from gunpoint as Hoseok shoved him onto the floor. Hoseok stepped around the man's body and came directly to my side. I maintained my aim on the other guy, who was still sitting on the floor, blood oozing out of three different wounds. 

Hoseok rested his hand on my shoulder, gently guiding my arm to lower my gun.  

"Let's get out of here, angel." He whispered sweetly. 

His words somehow managed to ease the knots of tension in my chest. I took a breath of relief and handed him the extra gun I had confiscated. Hoseok smiled at me and tucked the gun away from my sight. He then put his hand on my back, escorting me back the way we came from. 

We had no problem turning our backs to them. They were both disarmed, one was bleeding out, and the other was frightened beyond recognition. There was no need to stick around for the police to show up. If those two guys were smart, they would find a way out of here before they came. The Blackburn policemen would know what happened to them and why.

Yoongi followed right behind us. I could hear his footsteps on the pavement as we strolled toward our bikes. From where we were, I could see blondie was still sitting on Hoseok's Harley.

Except, she appeared to be making a phone call.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I groaned. Hoseok noticed my gaze and soon saw the same thing I did. She saw us walking in her direction and quickly hung up the phone. 

She looked frightened when we finally approached her. She swung her leg over the bike, getting off on the opposite side of us. As if the Harley would keep us from getting to her. I allowed Hoseok to handle her. 

"Sorry about that, angel," Hoseok's voice was something dangerous. He leaned his hand on the handle of the bike and smiled. "Who was that?"

"M-My boyfriend," She stuttered, trying to not buy into his enchanting smile, not after what she just witnessed. "He's coming to pick me up."

"Good," I muttered. I locked eyes with her for just a moment while I passed by to pick up my shopping backs. I imagined I had traumatized her enough for one day.

"That's too bad you've got to go," I could hear the suggestiveness in Hoseok's voice. 

I walked past Yoongi's bike to my own. I had never been so happy to mount my Harley. The way the engine roared when I turned the gas made me shiver with delight. I walked the bike backward, turning slowly to line up beside Yoongi's. Who was taking advantage of Hoseok's flirting to light up another cigarette.

I followed in his thought and tried to locate the same pack from earlier. 

"I didn't expect you to step in like that," Yoongi suddenly muttered as he stood next to his bike. 

I took the smoke between my two fingers, putting the pack back on my jacket pocket. I held it between my lips and fiddled with my lighter. 

"You didn't think I was trying to arrest you?" I mocked. 

I flicked the lighter a few times, a flame igniting out of the chamber. I held the frame between my palms and used my fingers as a shield from the wind.  

"I'm trying to thank you, here, princess." He sighed.

I smiled and brought the fire to the end of my cigarette. I sucked in the burning tobacco, quickly flicking the lighter shut. 

"Go ahead," I smirked as I held the smoke in my lungs. 

I could tell Yoongi didn't do this very often. His brown eyes glared at me from underneath his black lashes. 

"Oh, forget it." He hissed, inhaling another drag.

Yoongi held his cigarette between his lips and turned his back to me. He mounted his own bike and called out to Hoseok. "Let's go already!"

Hoseok seemed to be working his magic on blondie all over again. He was still leaning on his bike, and she had taken a few paces closer to him. She wasn't scared anymore.

If it wasn't for the obnoxious speed bike coming down the road, Hoseok would have probably been able to convince her back to his place. The black and green bike came to a screeching stop. His face was covered by a full style helmet, so we weren't able to see the aftermath of his humbling experience. 

Hoseok stood up straight, a smirk jeering onto his lips as he viewed the new arrival. Blondie looked over her shoulder and gave Hoseok a sympathetic look. She didn't want to leave now. 

Hoseok grabbed her hand, bringing her knuckles up to his lips. He sent her away, drifting on a cloud. 

Blondie slipped on her matching helmet, before mounting his motorcycle. 

"Ready?" Yoongi asked sarcastically. 

Hoseok's smirk remained on his face as he climbed on his bike. He was just on time as we began to hear police sirens off in the distance. 

"Ready," He replied. 

-

We had made it to the lot of the House of Cards without any trouble. The other handful of Harley's left in the front indicated a full house inside. Standing along the wall of the entrance, Taehyung held a conversation with Yeonjun as he smoked. 

I followed the boys in parking alongside the other bikes. Removing my open-face helmet from my head, I relieved myself of the pressure of its protection. 

"Prospect!" Yoongi called from his place, on his Harley, beside me. 

I set my kickstand down, resting on my bike as I watched Yeonjun leave Taehyung's side. He was wearing his prospect cut over a dark blue flannel, his feet moved quickly, down the open lot. Taehyung remained against the wall, finishing his cigarette alone. 

Once Yeonjun presented himself in front of us, he took a moment to acknowledge me with a smile. Before Yoongi demanded his attention,

"Listen closely," He said, also removing his helmet and slumping in his seat. "You're going to take (Y/n)'s bags, go to the motel on 15th street and check her out."

It made sense that I couldn't stay there after the disturbance. If what the man said was true, it meant that the PB was already taking action against the club. Blackburn wasn't safe anymore. 

"Grab all her things and bring them back here." 

Yeonjun nodded his head in understanding. Both his hands reached down to feel around in his front pocket. From his right one, he pulled out keys to his Harley. 

"Woah!" Taehyung came up behind the young prospect. He reached around him and snatched the keys from his hands. "Who said you can take your Harley?" 

Taehyung stuffed the keys into his pocket and wore a grin while his lips still held his cigarette. 

"Oh come on, Tae," Yeonjun attempted to not sound too annoyed. He sighed, " It'll be easier if I-"

"I bought you a brand new bike, Yeonjun." Taehyung's voice was teasing. "Don't be ungrateful." 

Taehyung took the smoke from his mouth and watched the poor boy give up. I could hear Hoseok chuckle from the other side of Yoongi. I was questioning what they had him doing this time. 

Yeonjun left without another word. He walked toward the back of the bar, I lost sight of him as he disappeared around the corner. Taehyung was left with a permanent grin on his mug. He then turned his attention to the three of us that remained on our bikes. 

"Where are you all coming from?" He asked. We were an odd combination to anyone who saw us.

"We ran into some trouble while shopping," Hoseok replied. He set his helmet on the seat of his bike as he rose from it. "And we picked her up on the way." 

"Lucky me," I quietly joked. 

"What kind of trouble?" Taehyung seemed to be more interested in that. 

Hoseok sighed as he removed his leather gloves. He stuffed them into his front pocket and slowly advanced toward his friend. 

"The kind that we should bring up at church," Yoongi replied. 

Hoseok slipped his arms around Taehyung's shoulder and reassured the gravity of Yoongi's words with his slow head bob. His brows furrowed as he adjusted the bandana that was holding his hair back. 

"Everyone's here now," Taehyung informed him. "I'll let Joon know to call a meeting." 

Yoongi joined the rest of the boys in standing. I was the only one who remained mounting my Harley. 

There was no doubt in my mind that they were going to discuss forms of retaliation. With the new information, it would have to be something powerful. It was going to be a declaration of strength. It was already long overdue. 

"Check it out," Hoseok suddenly called. He was laughing as his eyes were staring down the back of the bar. 

My mouth dropped as I finally got a glimpse of what he was referring too. Literally, on a brand new bicycle, Yeonjun came pedaling down the sidewalk. It was painted black, with rainbow streamers and a gold horn. Yeonjun looked miserable wearing a matching rainbow helmet.

My soft giggle was masked by the loud laughter of Hoseok and Taehyung. They were barely breathing in between the enormous amounts of joy. Even Yoongi failed to conceal the smile on his face as he shook his head in disapproval. 

Yeonjun had no other choice but to accept his cruel fate. 

He came into the parking lot. He stood on his bicycle right beside me, staring at his laughing elders. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave him my most honest look of compassion.

"I'll take your bags now, (Y/n)." The bitterness in his voice was adorable. 

"Thanks, hun." I handed him the shopping bags. "All of my things should be in a backpack on the floor."

He pushed the bags up his arm so that they rested in the crook of his elbow. I also pulled out and handed him my room keys, making sure to give him the money to pay for my short time there. 

"Be careful prospect," Hoseok said. He sounded sincere at the beginning of his statement. But he ultimately couldn't hold back his urge to make jokes. "Don't get a speeding ticket." 

Taehyung broke out laughing all over again. His arms came hurling at his crime partner. The actual image of Hoseok's words killed him. I had never seen them laugh so hard. They looked like a pair of schoolboys. 

"Yeah, yeah," Yoenjun muttered. 

He took off, down the parking lot exit without saying goodbye. Hoseok and Taehyung continued to tease him even as he rode off. They yelled out a combination of mockeries and whistles. 

"Come on!" Taehyung cheered. "Honk your horn for us!"

A distant sound of honking down the street melted my heart. It sent the two boys into another giggling frenzy. One that continued as they turned to walk toward the entrance. Only through the doors is that it finally dissipated from my ears.

Yoongi and I were the only ones who remained. Like me, he watched the pair wander off into their own world.  

"Idiots," Yoongi muttered to himself. 

I was amused by his criticism since he participated in their laughter just moments ago. Yoongi slowly turned my way. His eyes noticed that I had failed to make any sudden movements. 

"You coming in, princess?" He questioned. I tried to accept the new nickname but continued to not endorse it.

"I will," I said, reaching for the whereabouts of my phone. I held it up for him to acknowledge. "I'm just going to look for a new place to stay,"

He didn't need any other form convincing than that. He gave me a single nod and retreated to follow the boys inside. I watched his slim figure walk down to the entrance. He must have sensed my eyes because he looked back before opening the doors. All I could do was send him a wave and a barely visible smile.

I needed to be alone to make this phone call.  

I pressed the phone to my ear and hunched over the fuel tank of my Harley. The ringing made me anxious as I coped to remain calm after everything.

"Yes, Ms. (Y/n), I've just received your final paperwork. You'll be happy to know, the agency has agreed to all your terms just as long-" I had to cut him off. 

"That's going to have to be activated as of right now because I have something," I still kept aware of my surroundings, making sure my voice wasn’t too loud.

I looked out for anyone, even just bystanders on the street.

"What did you find out?" His voice asked instantly.

"They have a possible chance for retaliation, with location and everything," I muttered into the phone, still trying to remain vague for several reasons. 

"Listen, (Y/n), we need to be there when they make their choice. Stay on the club- when they move, so do we." He spoke to me sternly. His voice wasn't comforting at all. "Do you understand?"

Bangtan's next moves would decide the future of this club. Their alliance with the PB was beneficial. Did they have the necessary tools to cut that deal on their own? Or were they going to turn to Camilo for help?

I sighed.

"Yes,"

Masterlist ≽

[phobiadeficient]

Your work is just stunning I can’t even! I know it’s not a pairing you’ve done before, at least that IVe seen, but would you consider doing something with demo and spy? Maybe something with a focus on bottom spy?

this is another one of those ships i dont know the clever ship name for but on god the more i think about it the better it is as a concept. mr “had-to-disguise-as-tom-jones-just-to-tell-his-son-he-loves-him” bad at emotional honesty and mr “cried-on-camera-genuinely-nice-dude” emotional and honest, like dude. dude

(warnings for discussion of past manipulation)

-

The one thing about Demo that Spy was both most drawn to and most uncomfortable with was his unwavering honesty.

About his emotions, about his past, about his likes and dislikes, about his insecurities and weaknesses—he couldn’t imagine someone more effectively teeing themselves up to be manipulated by someone like him. If he was hired to get information or money or blackmail or anything at all out of Demo, he would consider it the easiest job he’d ever done.

But... some part of him, for the first time in years, felt wrong about that. About even simple manipulations, like being dramatic and acting more offended than he really was to get Demo to drop uncomfortable questions, like redirecting his attention whenever he seemed to be nosing too far into what Spy considered to be his own business and nobody else’s. It felt wrong. And instead, when in an idle chat about their immigration to America, when Demo asked whether he’d managed to get a permanent stay visa and whether his real name was even on it, he outright said that he wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about the process he’d taken to first live in the United States.

And Demo had shrugged and said that was fair and had smoothly changed topics, and that was that. He didn’t ask again.

Infuriating, was the word. It was infuriating how honest he was. It was infuriating how much Spy wanted to return that honesty.

And usually when people opened up to him and he started to feel like he was being impolite for not sharing in return, he would tell them lies, one of three well-crafted well-rehearsed stories he had for his own past that would make the other person feel sufficiently trusted and valued, sometimes since Spy knew he might never feel entirely right sharing details like that and he did want the illusion of connection. But even something as small as that felt wrong. And he huffed about it, told Demo after a story one day that he felt bad for not talking more about himself, and Demo had laughed, had shrugged it off so very easily, said he didn’t tell Spy things as a transaction, he told Spy things because he thought Spy might like knowing those things. Said he would be okay if Spy never told him anything, as long as he knew he was allowed to talk or stay silent at his own discretion, and that Demo wouldn’t judge him.

So completely infuriating.

And the progression from friendly co-workers to friends to good friends to a different sort of friends had brought up a series of similarly infuriating discussions. Mostly Demo trying to get various assurances that Spy didn’t feel at all rushed into anything, that really it was alright if he wasn’t comfortable with pushing forward. And he asked two and three and four times, starting all the way down at holding hands and chaste little kisses, and admitted that mostly he was worried because he couldn’t be entirely certain when Spy was being truthful with him and when he was just gritting his teeth.

Demo admitted, in one of those earlier discussions, that he felt he couldn’t tell when Spy was irritated with him at all. Because he rambled on at Spy so often, and still hadn’t figured out how to tell when Spy got bored of him.

And Spy wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard and shout that he was never bored of Demo, that Demo was a bottomless well of stories and ideas and culture and opinions and questions that he knew he couldn’t get through if he spent the next hundred years with him but he would enjoy every last moment of trying, even the parts that Demo considered to be so ugly and unlovable, and even more the few glimmering parts that he could dig out and reflect back at Demo to show him that he did have things about himself that he should be proud of.

But the words locked in his throat alongside just about every other word he ever wanted to say to him and instead he’d just smiled and promised to be better at telling Demo if he ever did anything wrong, and assured him that the vast majority of the time his grand theatrical bouts of complaining weren’t legitimate annoyance, he just enjoyed being dramatic from time to time. And all those other words stayed locked in his throat, even as Demo laughed and kissed him heartily on the cheek. And he was so angry with himself, because he didn’t know when he’d started locking those sorts of words away in the very first place, and furthermore he didn’t know how to find the key.

Demo found it for him. Of course he did. How could he not? He’d unlocked all sorts of other things Spy thought he’d never manage again.

And he gave Spy thousands of chances to back out, and another hundred every time they reached those quiet, gentle moments, limbs tangling together against Spy’s satin bedsheets. And despite all of Demo’s fretting, Spy never once felt threatened by the muscle that boxed him in on at least two sides, feeling more safe than anything else.

And Demo was sweet enough to ask every time whether Spy wanted to top, even though the answer was always a pretty confident no. And he was always almost too careful with prep, using it as part of the foreplay as much as anything else, and that was beyond lovely. And he liked to face Spy, liked to kiss and nip just below his jaw, liked to capture his lips for idle moments, taking his time in a way that made Spy fall apart entirely.

And that was the only time he’d found that he could manage honesty, whispered between them every time their lips parted to get air back. He found it there and clung to it, clung to the meager courage he discovered under the weight of pleasure, found himself saying all sorts of things he could never bear when clothed (literally in fabric and metaphorically in the carefully-crafted persona that he couldn’t seem to shed until the moment of raw vulnerability that Demo could bring him to, making love in near-darkness).

That was when he could whisper to Demo how much he loved him. How good Demo made him feel. How happy he was. How perfect everything felt, there, together alone, close. To never stop, to never go.

And he didn’t know how to tell him that he meant it, outside of their bedroom, outside of the moment. Because as soon as the moment was over and the afterglow was fading (always far too fast for his liking), the words were locked away again behind his cyanide teeth and silver tongue. And he knew Demo’s insecurities would feed off of that, would try and convince him that Spy was just running his mouth in the heat of the moment, and he hated that he couldn’t reassure him by continuing to say those things. To say he loved him. To ask Demo to never go.

He instead tried to find that moment sooner, when Demo was peeling his layers away and laving yet another mark against his collarbone where nobody else would see it. He tried to murmur affirmations then, choked on compliments following bearded kisses to the cheek or temple, found himself hesitating between acts of affection.

And one day he did break. Did find himself borderline sobbing, all at once, body wracked with tremors. And in an instant Demo pulled out and away, set to comforting him, trying to soothe him, trying to make right whatever was wrong, and that was when Spy managed it. Managed to spill all that he wanted to say. That this act of vulnerability had never felt vulnerable before, that this show of trust had only ever been for show with practically everyone else he’d ever slept with, that for his entire life he’d been making love to people and now finally he found someone he loved, that Demo was the first person in so long who he wanted to be honest with but he didn’t know how.

Demo had listened. Attentively, carefully, concern etched into his face all the while, an open book, practically annotated and with references, in a way that scared him so much because he knew he might not ever be able to reciprocate that honesty on any level and that idea, for the first time, legitimately hurt him. And Demo had gently, picking his words so very carefully, assured him that it was okay. That they would take things as slowly as Spy needed. That he could start by answering a question.

And Demo had kissed him, gently on either cheek just below his eyes, and asked him how he felt.

Better, he answered hesitantly if honestly, there in the wake of spilling his most horrible secrets. Drained.

And Demo had kissed him all over his face then, thanked him for being honest, told him he was so very incredibly brave, telling him all of that, and then being willing to try to continue being brave. And that had gotten to Spy again, gotten him back into those tremors, because Demo was honest. He meant it. Believed it. He really did think Spy was brave.

And god, maybe if Demo believed it, just maybe, it could be true.

[zenosanalytic]

People What Aint From Round Here Is The Problem...

So I just watched Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood and I have THOUGHTS:

Ive read a few reviews&ruminations on this film at this point and I can’t believe that none of them got(or at least, mentioned explicitly) the primary thesis of this movie, spcl given that Tarentino flatly states it out the mouth of his primary protagonist within, like, the first 15-20mins of the film: “...most important thing in this town is when you’re making money you buy a house in town. You don’t rent... Hollywood real estate means you live here. You’re not just visiting, not just passing through. You fuckin live here.” i.e., the most important thing in Hollywood, to Hollywood, is the people FROM Hollywood; Everyone else is just a filthy, trouble-making tourist or profiteer who is “Passing Through” and “Doesnt Get It” and  “Is Fucking It Up”(It being the film industry), and probably “Secretly Hates Movies”. There are places and aspects of this movie that are basically a Nativist Angeleno rant, written by a life-long Angeleno film-nerd-turned-film-maker, against Hollywood’s critics(and his critics which he just totally conflates with the former), and probably non-Angelenos(and non-Californians?) in general.

There are two ways to read this thesis: Straight and Subverted/Satirized.

The evidence for reading it straight is pretty plentiful. Lots of reviews have puzzled at where the line connecting the constant hippie-bashing, the weird focus on knocking Polanski’s Polishness & preference for shooting in London, and the inexplicable pot-shot at Bruce Lee is, and I think this is it. “The Hippies” are repeatedly presented as a corrupting force: digging through trash, living in squalourous filth at the Spahn Ranch dragging members of “Old Hollywood” like its owner into it with them, selling drugs, and using sex to “control” men. And attached to this is presenting “The Hippies” as foreign; not only from another place, but refusing to assimilate with the LA way of life and hostile to it. The Manson family are the only explicitly identified “Hippies” in the film(other than, possibly, the one who sells Cliff an acid cig). The only “positive” portrayals of Bruce Lee in the film are silent ones of him teaching anglos kung fu, which has some fairly obvs and well-understood Implications.

But there’s also good evidence for reading it as subverted and satirized. Both Tate and Dalton are NOT from California, let alone LA, and Booth’s origins are left unclear. Dalton’s the only one of them explicitly id’d as being from elsewhere(Missouri), but Tate’s easy to google and she was a military kid who grew up all over the place. When Dalton returns from Italy, that sequence and his look in it are VERY reminiscent of the scenes introducing Polanski at the beginning of the film. The side-characters around Tate, perennially shown in a positive light, are also non-Angelenos. Doing Spaghetti Westerns revitalizes Dalton’s career, despite his disdain for Italian cinema. Tate and her crew, while not explicitly ID’d as “Hippies” and often shown in Mod and other fashion styles, are also presented in “Hippie” fashion, shown listening to “Hippie” music, smoking the “Hippie” Reefer(Im sorry, but Comedy Demanded this phrasing and I am Devout u_u), and implied to be living a polyamorous “Hippie” life.

It really is difficult for me to say which predominates. On the one entirely metaphorical hand, the ways in which Dalton’s Angeleno chauvinism are subverted and mocked are fairly obvs, but on the other emh, the film is FILLED with LITERALLY GLOWING nostalgia for this pre-Hippy, pre-Lefty, pre-70s, Conservative and Republican California&Los Angeles. Dalton’s focus on property-ownership&the film industry in the opening thesis could easily be seen as resolving these subversive contradictions to allow for a straight read(ie: Tate, Booth, and Dalton are “Hollywood People” who’ve both bought real-estate in LA, and who’ve grown up in film or film-adjacent fields and choose to center their adult lives in the film industry). So much, in fact, that I kinda started to wonder abt QT’s politics while watching it. And, if it WAS satirical, then what’s the point of the knock to Bruce Lee and focusing criticisms of Polanski on his Polishness and shooting in London? Is that just meant to characterize Dalton and Booth as nativists and racists?

It really cannot be said enough that there are REALLY MORE APPROPRIATE CRITICISMS to make of Polanski than 1)begin Polish, 2)possessing boyish effeminacy, and 3)preferring to shoot movies in London instead of LA. Which are this movie’s only problems with him(though it also takes the time to show him bitchily smoking a cigarette in an evening gown while being rude to a dog). Obvsl I dont object to villainizing an ACTUAL REAL LIFE VILLAIN like this shitstain, but I DO object to being asked(albeit gently) to participate in this film’s understated nationalist bigotry.

It’s possible that Cliff’s turning Pussycat down during the drive to the ranch was intended to be this but I highly doubt it. And if it was it’d be misrepresenting Polanski’s misdeeds enormously, considering that Pussycat, the too-young girl, is the sexual instigator in this film. Polanski liked to manipulate, drug, and rape underaged girls(he pulled the same shit with models in Europe before getting busted for it in LA, btw, then continued doing it after fleeing back to Europe); really not the same situation.

There’s another irony in that, while the film goes out of its way to call Polanski “boyish” and imply that makes him feminine and that this is Bad, there’s also a subtle under-current that... Tarentino sees himself in his youth the same way? He’s certainly never been short like Polanski and Jay Sebring are/were, QT’s 6 1, but the actors he cast to play them and the description made of the pair in-film are more than a bit reminiscent of how Tarentino looked&was discussed in the press back in the 90s when he was starting out. AAAaaand the film explicitly calls that Tate’s “Type”; leaving me with the question: would Tarentino be able to stop himself from implying a dead starlet would have been attracted to him? I leave the answer to your imaginations, Dear Readers u_u

Having said all that it IS a really good film, which I liked, I dont think it’d be very hard to set aside this political stuff while watching, the driving sequences are especially emotive&exhilarating, and there’s some seriously great acting in it. IDK if I’d say I liked it more than the recent Emma movie, tho.

I feel like each of the trio, Tate, Dalton, and Booth, were meant to symbolically Embody LA/Hollywood/California? Like Pitt especially seemed to be channeling movie characters and CJ from GTA: San Andreas throughout his performance, while I couldnt help but think of Ronald Reagan watching DiCaprio(spcl given the character’s likely politics). So there’s this sense in which the film is a fantasy of “Old Hollywood”, embodied by these three, Vanquishing its “Enemies”, represented by The Hippies(moralizing, pretentious, gross leftist) and potentially Polanski&Lee(foreign film ppl who refuse to integrate into the LA scene). Again, given the political history of Cali after this era, this embodiment raises some questions for me abt the film and QT’s politics(particularly in re: misogyny and feminism).

Also DiCaprio is totally going to get pitched a Reagan biopic off of this role and I sincerely hope he has the good sense to turn that shit the fuck down.

Circling back to the ranting at his critics, this movie was definitely and consciously a response to them. Like: up until the last 5-15 minutes of the film, and aside from a handful of too-lingering too fetishistic too on-the-nose creep shots of the female cast that Tarentino simply could not stop himself from making, OUATiH is precisely the sort of “Serious” film Tarentino’s critics have been saying he should make for decades now(of course he did Jackie Brown, which was that and which he blew Completely out of the park). And then there’s that bloody, gross-out, exploitation-movie ending. I dont actually think it was as bad as many critics were saying it was? For some reason I was thinking there was gonna be a massacre of the ENTIRE Manson family, which would have been totally out of left-field. But it WAS clearly a stinger of a major tone-shift thrown in as a Fuck You to the ppl who’ve called out his violent and exploitative preferences throughout the years. As for me I generally like his movies and think he’s a great filmmaker but he absolutely does go too far sometimes.

Rick Dalton, in an evening-gown, with a mixer full of iced-margarita in one hand, getting all up in the face of the driver of a loud exhaust-spewing jalope in his PRIVATE STREET was TOTALLY Tarentino himself :| By which I mean NOT ONLY that That’s ABSOLUTELY the sort of cameo he would have given himself 30 years ago and if it made any sort of sense at all in the film(which here it wouldnt have, obvsl), BUT ALSO that I feel 94% confident that Tarentino has actually done that at least once in his lifetime :| :|

I think the monologue&interactions T gives Bruce Lee leading up to the fight were probably more insulting to him than the fight itself. Contrary to popular discussion, it isn’t Pitt’s character totally trashing Lee, he gets in one good throw after Lee repeats a successful attack at his request(which I doubt Lee would have ever done from what little I know about him; not being predictable in a fight was his whole Deal), but rather an even duel between them(most of the fight is just the two blocking each others’ attacks). I dont think the film was trying to say “Lee was full of hot-air”, if it wanted to say that it’d have shown him getting trounced instead of showing him knock Booth down then trade him blow for blow, but more “Lee was pretty arrogant and a bit pretentious”.

OK, that’s abt all that I can think of right now: thanks for reading ^v^