#he would be better as a post office director anyway

[vorakh]

still believe that the funniest most incorrect thing i got wrong about disco elysium before playing it was thinking that jean was the union leader. that he was evrart claire (or edgar claire). or alternatively that he worked in the post office or something.

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty-six

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five

-

Angeal makes it to Midgar first, having rushed through his mission and finished it early. Genesis, even if he rushed, would have had a harder time making it back - Junon wasn't exactly close, after all, even by helicopter it would take a few hours. Genesis still makes his presence known, muttering in his ear the whole way.

"I was asleep when he messaged me! And why is it my job to babysit the favoured son of the Science Department anyway?! What madness must our quest bring to find you so lost -"

"Genesis…" Angeal sighs, pinning his PHS between his right shoulder and his ear while attempting to park his truck in the Shinra Building's maze of a parking garage.

"How was I supposed to know he would lose it the moment I turned my back to him? Our fair hero seemed so well put together yesterday - the clothes he picked! He looked very smart! I was almost proud! I thought he had it handled."

"Genesis, I doubt anyone blames you for this," Angeal assures him, checking the mirrors.

"And they better not! Yesterday he seemed fine. Said he was looking for a quiet day in," Genesis scoffs. "Of course for Sephiroth that must involve untold physical toil. When he messaged me, I thought he would do what he always does, fight a few monsters, slay a few enemies. Normal behaviour, to be expected from our great Hero!"

Angeal finishes parking and takes the PHS in his hand. "I thought Sephiroth was fine too," he says, placating. "He was confused, sure, but overall he was calm and collected. None of us could've seen this coming."

Genesis lets out an explosive sigh. "Maybe we should have. He's not himself."

"There are many ways to not be yourself," Angeal says with a sigh. "Try as we might, we are not trained for these kinds of mental issues."

"No. And neither is anyone else at Shinra for that matter."

Angeal hums in agreement and then looks up as he spots movement outside his truck. Well, damn. "Listen, Genesis, I have to go. I'll do my best to handle this. What's your ETA?"

"Another six hours, minimum," Genesis says regretfully. "You're going to take Sephiroth on alone?"

"Hopefully not," Angeal says. "But probably. I'll… try to keep you posted."

"I'll write you a lovely eulogy," Genesis offers, and with a snort Angeal hangs up on him.

He takes a moment to inhale and brace himself. Then he turns the engine off and pockets his keys. The Turk outside waits politely - though not very patiently - for him to step out.

"Mr. Hewley, I'm here to escort you directly to Director Deusericus' office."

"I should head to the SOLDIER floor first," Angeal says slowly, warily - not liking the implications of this at all.

The bald Turk is utterly impassive behind his sunglasses. "Director Deusericus is waiting. This way."

So… the situation has already escalated to that point, has it. Damn.

Angeal grabs the Buster Sword and then follows the Turk to the elevators, and spends the entire time going up mentally running through all the ways this could go wrong. There's a lot of ways this could go wrong - but surely the company wouldn't actually try to eliminate Sephiroth?

Lazard's appearance doesn't give him much hope - the man's face is tight with tension, and there's a Turk lounging by the window, a casual threat.

"Angeal," Lazard says and looks up. He doesn't look at all relieved to see him - just more tense. "Good. There's no time for pleasantries or even explanations, so I'm just going to get to it."

"Sir," Angeal says guardedly.

"Sephiroth is on floor 49," Lazard begins while the Turks watch them with deceptive disinterest. "As far as we can tell, he's not actively hostile, but he hasn't moved in several hours. There are approximately twenty SOLDIER members on the floor with him, and they've stationed themselves between Sephiroth and the elevator. For security reasons, they're refusing entry for anyone but active SOLDIER members. Even I wasn't allowed off the elevator."

Angeal frowns. So either Sephiroth was too dangerous to let anyone in - or he was so vulnerable that SOLDIER members had stepped up to guard him. "I assume you're sending me in, with orders?"

"Yes. Sephiroth has a mission, and you're going to deliver him to it," Lazard says and picks up his PHS. "I'll send details to your account. Your first and only priority is getting Sephiroth out of the building and into the airport. There's a transport waiting for him on standby."

Angeal takes out his PHS and checks the newest mission.

They're sending Sephiroth to Wutai? Now? "Sir, I understand some disciplinary action is in order, but is this really the time for -"

"The less time we waste, the better for all of us," Lazard cuts him off and glances at the redheaded Turk by the window.

The Turk shrugs. "Sephiroth almost killed Department Head Hojo," he says lazily. "We at Shinra Public Security Department feel it's best to put some distance between the two."

Angeal blinks, surprised. "Sephiroth almost killed Hojo?" he asks faintly. "Was anyone else -?"

"No one was killed - there weren't even any injuries," Lazard assures him.

"You'll be briefed fully on the incident," the red head Turk promises, "once both you and Sephiroth are safely on board a transport and in the air."

Angeal tries to read between the lines, even as his gut says that sending a SOLDIER in what sounds like still ongoing mental breakdown to an active war zone is a bad idea. But then, he's not sure what's the alternative? He'd been half expecting to be tasked with Sephiroth's imprisonment! Or worse, his detainment in the labs!

If Sephiroth really attacked Hojo… Wutai might be his best chance at some freedom.

The red head Turk clears his throat. "Clock's ticking, SOLDIER First Class Angeal Hewley," he says. "Better get moving."

"There's a helicopter available on the HQ Landing Pad," the other Turk adds. "Or alternatively, a car in front of the building. Both your and Sephiroth's belongings have already been packed and delivered to the transport."

"All we are missing is the big guy himself," the red head says. "Think you can go get him for us?"

Angeal looks at them and then at Lazard, who's watching him seriously. The man looks weary and stressed - but not like his hand is being forced. There's not time for much else, he can only hope his read on the situation is right.

"Alright." Angeal nods. "I'll get Sephiroth on the transport."

"Good! We'll meet you there," the redhead says, clapping his hands together. "Don't be late! And Hewley… don't let anything stop you."

Angeal arches his brows in alarm as the two Turks saunter out. "What the hell does that mean?"

Lazard sighs. "Angeal," he says. "There's no time. Get Sephiroth out of here. Now."

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

I'm baaaaaaaack!!!!!!!!!!

My sister, Honey, brought me home last night so I could surprise everyone at her early birthday party (today is her birthday). I was going to be coming home anyway, but I'm glad I didn't have to rely on the buses to get me home since none of them go directly from Northfield to Ware. The party was great, I didn't get home until almost eleven, and I didn't get to sleep til after midnight, but I have been writing for a while to get some of my ideas out. It's good to be home, but I'm not really looking forward to heading back to work in about ten minutes. I can just tell it's going to be so much fun (she says sarcastically).

Now, putting that whole mess aside and moving onto something absolutely amazing, I saw your graduation post on Insta! Congratulations, El! All of the hard work you've put in over the last five years has finally paid off and I am so over-the-moon happy for you. You deserve a looong break after all of that. I'm hoping to finish making a little something as a congratulations, but the only hint I'm giving you is that it has something to do with a particular Chicago-musical-based trend on TikTok.

Now, I wanted to get everything that happened at camp - good, bad, and weird - out of my head, since a lot happened. I realize I never said it before, but I arrived at camp on the 5th of July - a day earlier than everyone else - because, as the pseudo-niece of the camp's director (he was my aunt's ex and has been a friend of the family since long before I was born), I wanted to be there to help get everything ready for the staff weekend. I've worked the summer there before and been a camper since I was maybe eight or nine, so I know the place inside and out. A majority of Camp Wanamaker's layout is similar to Camp Northfield's, and if the name sounds familiar, it's the camp name I used way back during the winter prompts of 2022 - Making an Effort, I believe it was.

Camp Northfield is different in the way the cabins are laid out - boys on the west side of the grounds, girls on the east side, and co-ed lodging (usually for workers and families) in the middle. The swimming pool, sports fields, campfire pit, and medical areas are similar, if not the same, but the music hall, dance studio, ropes course, and playhouse are something I based off of an all-girls camp I went to for a couple summers that was, thankfully, paid for by my friend's family as I definitely would not have been able to afford the $9,275 price tag - Camp Wicosuta.

To be honest, it's been years since I was a camper there, but now that I've given the Camp Wico map a glance, I can see how most of Camp Wanamaker's layout is the same. I'll put up a picture of Camp Wico's map, but you'll definitely see I moved some stuff around to fit my mental layout better. Like, for example, the changing rooms by the lake would be on the right side instead, as it's currently where I see the Lakeside Lodge being; the Main House and Bungalow are where I picture the Library and Art Barn; the Art Barn on the map just doesn't exist in my head as I've just expanded the playground area (that's where Royce and Miles had that water balloon fight with some kids); the dining hall and main office are closer together in my head; and, well, I'll let you imagine the rest as you've read Camp Wanamaker and have your own vision for it, I'm sure.

I don't know if you can see the resemblance here, but I know I can. It kind of makes me wish that I'd taken the summer to work there as it feels very much like what I picture Camp Wanamaker. Well, apart from the fact that it's an all-girls camp, that is lmao.

Now, onto what's happened so far!

There was a huge thunderstorm that lasted all day and into the night. Because of high winds, a wire from a telephone pole landed on the front porch of a nearby house, and it burned the front porch of that house but didn't damage the rest of it; a tree fell on a car in the parking lot - yay for insurance - and the power went out for almost four hours, which meant no air conditioning, no fans, no showers for the sweaty abominations we called campers, and no popcorn for movie night. It was a catastrophe.

Baby’s first sunburn. That's right - ya girl is naturally tan due to my dad's family being a blend of Mediterranean and Native American, and despite the mix of Irish and French on my mom's side of the family, I have never gotten a sunburn before in my life. However, I got my very first sunburn after falling asleep on a floating unicorn in the lake while listening to an audiobook I saved to my phone. Naturally, I was in a bit of pain, but it turned into a tan after a day or so, so it wasn't nearly as horrible as my pasty-white older sisters always make it out to be.

Nacho night! We spread tin foil over the tables in the mess hall and had a nacho dump night. It wasn't nearly as messy as we thought it would be, and I really enjoyed it. I wish I had taken pictures of it, but I leave my phone in my cabin for meals, so my Mount Kilimanjaro of nachos will have to remain in my brain. Just know, they were incredible.

Made a librarian friend, Susan. Susan is a 73yo librarian who, frankly, doesn't give a damn anymore. I adore her and her no-bullshit attitude, and I wish she worked at the library down the street from my house. Susan gave me a stack of extra books they were going to toss out soon, including some old copies of S.E. Hinton's books and some books that they mistakenly bought 2-3 extra copies of. She said I could visit her anytime, and I plan to. I love Susan. She’s a real one.

A group of Amish people visited to help fix the horse stables. We had multiple children try to “help”. The Amish didn’t mind and let them. They are cool and enjoyed the snow cones we made them before they left.

Multiple days of sun showers. Danced in the rain a lot this summer. Felt very reminiscent of Can I Have This Dance from HSM3. 10/10, very fun.

Apparently, someone shot Trump at a rally. We didn’t know anything about it until the newspaper came for one of the office ladies. Seriously... what is this country coming to? I'm contemplating moving abroad once I have the money to do so. It's getting ridiculous out here.

On a better note, we had a visiting camp join us one weekend. Camp Nero. They are a medieval/renaissance camp where everyone runs around in full costume. I "jousted" very beautiful, very sweet Lady Gilmoira Embers of Willowdale (or, as I later discovered, Kenzie of Salem). She was epic. I lost. A group of us played a DND one-shot that night. I ended up just barely making my second death-saving throw against a 50s biker-esque tiefling warlock whose gang chased us on possessed motorcycles. Twas epic. Would absolutely join them again.

I managed a puppet show. We had a talking lion. I feel like whoever wrote the script must have smoked something before working on it. It was hilarious. I'm waiting for my CIT to send me the video she recorded of one of our rehearsals, but if I get it, I'll post it.

Last week, staff members had the chance to do fun presentations on their favorite things that we would present after the campers left on Saturday. Three completely separate people did presentations on sleep. Two girls did a shared one on the Romanovs; it was very informative and well-researched. 10/10. I did one about the Titanic (big shock, I know), and two of my friends recreated the Jack and Rose thing with one of those dolly push-cart things while singing Celine Dion. It was not planned, but they did great.

A literal eight-year-old called me “Mom” on accident because I’m the same age as his mom… Yeah, I had to do some mental math and suffer through a bit of an existential crisis with that one, but he was sweet and really well-mannered. I gave him extra marshmallows at campfire time. 

Two teen morons dumped vodka into the orange juice during adventure week. Both got sent home after drunkenly confessing to their crimes. Thankfully, the staff caught it before the children could be affected. I’m grateful I prefer tomato juice.

To keep this list relatively short, I befriended our camp babies - Smores, Elvira, and Mochi. Smores is a mouthy cat (as you can see) who wandered onto camp property years ago. Some campers lured her in with bits of graham crackers, and she never left. She now resides in her own little area of the main lodge where campers go to spoil her with treats before going upstairs for lunch in the mess hall. Elvira is an all-black cat who Chief Byron and his wife brought to camp as an emotional support cat. She doesn't take this job seriously anymore and will automatically climb onto people's shoulders just to lay across them like a scarf. She loves to cuddle and makes excellent biscuits when she wants to be snuggled or get belly rubs. Mochi is the camp's two-year-old husky. She's taken over for Elvira as the camp's emotional support animal, and loves all the attention she gets every day. She's very spoiled, but I had to put Mochi in jail (her crate) because she ate a kid's unattended mochi ice cream, and cannibalism is frowned upon at our camp. Her eyes were killing me internally, but she had to remain there until dessert was over.

Also, I got the chance to work on some old drawings I had started drawing on my phone waaaay back. I mean, like, 2019-2021. I think the only one I completed is one I started back in 2022, right after you posted the first part of the prologue for TMM, which feels insane now that I think about it, but these are the lengths I went to in order to keep myself from boredom between archery groups. Some of the pictures are faceless, as I can't draw faces realistically all that well, but the one I did for TMM is one of the last "cartoon-ish" pieces I've done, so that one has faces. It just felt wrong to not give them faces when I feel fairly confident drawing in that art style. I was originally going to draw everyone in outfits I've seen in my mom's yearbook and my family photo albums from that decade, but I ended up with only Bentley and Kona before I got home. Before I go into detail on the other pictures I finished, here's the one for TMM as well as the more saturated version of it (on the right) that my C.I.T (counselor-in-training) Lily, said looks cooler:

Personally, I like the og, but that's just because I'm used to looking at it. I was going to go back in and add more details as the story progresses, but I kept it simple in the end. I might add more characters if I feel up to it, but for now, it is what it is. Kona's little friendship bracelet, her Kool-Aid dyed hair, Bentley's perpetual injuries, and his watch, despite him never being on time for anything in his life (including his own birth, lmao) are the only hints to anything that I ended up keeping. I was also going to do their DnD characters once I figured out what they would be, but maybe that'll wait until later on. After all, now that I'm playing DnD myself, I want to make it as accurate as possible.

My gang's characters are chaotic at best and are definitely not a great example to work off of, but DnD art is so much fun. In our little group of six, we've got a 500lb Tortle Bard named Nik who flirts with everything that so much as looks his way; a Dragonborn Fighter named Oybek who is all brawn, and absolutely no brains, but eats the flesh of his enemies after he kills them to absorb some of their abilities; a variant human Warlock-Sorcerer named Denji who has chainsaws for arms and has some kind of deal with the mafia; a Half-Elf Gunslinger Rogue named Jordeau who wears only red and has this weird obsession with dragons; and my character Irynia, a High Elf Twilight Cleric of Apollo whose only mission is to restore light to the Underdark, but she gets tied up with this group because they're a bunch of absolute morons who think with their fists more than their brains. Yeah... we're an odd bunch, that's for sure.

Anyway, my unfinished, (mostly) faceless drawings include a very shakily finger-drawn, unpolished picture of Vivien playing drums, an old, semi-finished drawing of what I originally thought Mick and Butchy would look like together on a beach date, a very clearly unfinished partial sketch of something that will eventually become Jade playing guitar (ignore the fact that her skin is super pale, I have yet to add any shading), a half-assed attempt at drawing Miles sleeping that will, presumably, take forever to get further than its current state as the coloring for the background has become my undoing, and a somewhat blurry picture of a few OCs in the Five Nights At Freddy's: Security Breach universe (Juliet as a Mazercise instructor, Mick as a Kid's Cove snack stand worker, Carrie as a Roxy Raceway race starter, Vivien as a nail artist in the GlamRock salon, and Kona as a photographer for the photo ops in Rockstar Row). The last one is super blurry, but I think that's because I layered each image onto one canvas instead of editing it properly later on, so that's entirely my bad. I don't have the originals of each, so this is all I have to work with. I am going to go back and edit everything now that I can actually use my tablet to draw instead of my phone, but that'll take a while.

I could nitpick these pictures all day since they're not finished, but some of these were my first actual attempts at doing something realistic, so I'm giving myself a bit of a pass on them and allowing myself to feel alright with how they look. It'll all improve with time and effort, I'm sure. All the same, I had fun with them.

So, yeah, have fun with those. They are just rough drafts right now - especially the faceless ones - but I enjoyed working on them a bit this last month, so I wanted to share them before I finish them off. I might go back to my old style in some ways - like I did with the Miles one - as it's super hard to draw realistic features, but I'm pleased with them for the most part.

Now, hopefully, I'll be able to sit down and read through everything you've posted lately because, tbh, I feel like I've missed a lot while I was gone, lmao. I am super excited to read through your post about Starlight Express since it's just not possible for me to see it over here. If you have a slime tutorial 👀 hook your girl up! I can't find one for The Outsiders, sadly. I have the script, so I've been reading that and riding that emotional rollercoaster (or train, I suppose, since that's a huge theme in the background of everything), but I would love to watch Starlight Express if you have that.

Anyway, I promise I'll be back to writing STDP and CW2 soon as I need to adjust to my old schedule again, but for now, here's a sneak peek of the first five-ish pages of the first chapter of Camp Wanamaker 2 (still calling it Electric Boogaloo, ngl, but yeah)!

Warm summer air filtered through the open window, rustling the curtains that danced along the sill. Air conditioners had yet to be put into the upstairs windows of the Birch family cabin as their arrival the night before had been more of a drop-your-belongings-by-the-door-and-crash kind of arrival than a calm, well-planned one. The air conditioners stored in the basement would be taken out sooner or later, but in the meantime, the slightly overheated log cabin was cooled by open windows that allowed the sixty-degree air to clear out the dust that had settled since their last visit to New Hampshire and a handful of oscillating floor fans that send waves of chilled air circulating throughout the rooms.

The group’s mid-afternoon departure from the California airport had been a rush of overstuffed backpacks and hastily checked baggage, making their late-night arrival at the Logan International Airport in Boston even more chaotic. The almost two-hour drive from the airport to the log cabin had been… entertaining, to say the least. The Birches had rented a fifteen-passenger van ahead of time, allowing everyone a seat as well as providing extra room for their belongings in the trunk and on the roof rack. Miles had sandwiched his girlfriend between himself and one of their additional guests - a certain blonde Texan who seemed oblivious to her best friend’s raging red cheeks. Ignoring the conversations around them, Royce had watched from the far seat as Bentley’s face smushed against the window within the first few minutes of the long drive, his steady breaths fogging up the glass, but it wasn’t until Kona’s head landed on his shoulder that Royce had felt the pull of exhaustion himself. 

It had been Vivien’s idea to invite Kona. The two had become rather close during Vivien’s initial stay with them - something Vivien chalked up to having a sister the same age as the younger blonde - and after spending another spring break with them to celebrate her early graduation, Vivien decided to invite Kona along for the summer. Kona had initially brushed off the invitation, claiming she wouldn’t want to intrude on the girl’s summer of fun, but after some pushing from Bentley and Vivien, telling her about all of the fun activities she could do without her parents even knowing she had left their small town, Kona relented.

Royce remembered how excited Vivien was after that, spouting off about all the things they could do and how fun it would be, all while Kona just smiled and nodded. Vivien had tried to convince Juliet to join them as well that day, but the blonde Texan needed a bit more convincing. Camping just wasn’t her thing. She hated bugs with a passion, hiking had never been her forte, and the last time she went fishing, she had ended up driving her dad to the emergency room after her hook had embedded itself into his arm. It wasn’t until after Vivien began showing her pictures of the camp - the log cabins Vivien made sure to mention had plumbing and air conditioning, the playhouse all decked out from their performance of Hairspray the year before, and, most importantly, the dance studio - that Juliet admitted to being tempted to join them.

Carrie had settled the matter entirely, only slightly joking when she mentioned to Juliet that, if she stayed at the camp, she would get to spend not only time with Vivien and herself but also with a certain auburn-haired boy they knew all too well. Juliet had initially argued that she and Riven had nothing between them - something neither Carrie nor Vivien entirely believed - but after much talking and more than one drink, Juliet had been convinced to join them “for the sake of the dance studio.”

Vivien had gone back home not long after getting Juliet roped into her scheming plans for the summer, but that wasn’t the end of the list of people joining them at the summer camp that year. After telling their friends about her planned trip north to visit the future, Kona had managed to rope August and Zack into the group, using her knowledge of August’s people-pleasing tendencies and the ease with which Zack argued with her to her advantage. After practically begging August so that she "wouldn't have to go alone" and taunting Zack about him not wanting to go because he was too much of a wuss to climb the ropes course, it wasn't long before Kona sealed the deal, adding two more members to their ever-growing party.

What she had forgotten, however, was to tell the people in charge of bringing them that she had invited extra guests. 

It was quite the sight. They had shown up on their bicycles with their backpacks filled to the brim with clothes, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, only to find out that nobody other than Kona had any idea that they were joining them. Upon questioning, Bentley insisted he hadn’t known, something corroborated by August and Zack as they had simply been asking questions about what the camp was like, not if they could join. Faced with the reality that she had been too excited about the trip to think about asking anyone to let them join the already large group, Kona asked if it was alright, something Mick encouraged Butchy to agree to as the kids were already there and ready for the trip.

After arriving at the cabin, everyone had pretty much gone to their respective rooms and crashed, but with the five extra people under their roof, it wasn’t as simple as assigning rooms and hoping for the best. The upstairs rooms were filled easily by the usual suspects - Royce and Bentley took up their usual room while August and Zack shared an air mattress they pressed up against the dresser for the time being; Mick and Butchy had Mick’s old bedroom that still had a handful of glow-in-the-dark stars that no longer glowed plastered on the ceiling that was too high for anyone to get down without a ladder; then, Miles and Carrie had the room Miles’ had been given years prior - the scent of his cologne and, now, her perfume clinging to the walls. The only difference, really, was that Lela’s usual room was shared with Juliet and Kona - Kona using the plush, oversized chaise as a base of operations while the older girls decided to share the queen-sized bed for the next night or so until camp started.

Nobody really complained about their sleeping arrangements, not that anyone felt inclined to argue at all as the clock ticked over to two in the morning just as they walked in the door. Normally, Royce would have to bite his tongue to keep himself from complaining about the snoring that filled the room he now shared with not only his brother, but also Bentley’s friends. However, once his headphones were on and an ASMR video was playing just loud enough to block out the noise, he found himself drifting off in the hopes that he would wake up in a matter of minutes, wanting nothing more than to see his Vivien. When he woke up almost five hours later, the sun glaring through his bedside window, he had to force himself to go about his normal routine of writing something about the previous day in his journal as he realized Vivien wouldn’t be home from her final skating practice of the summer for at least half an hour.

Royce’s pen wiggled between his fingers, the nib tapping the pages of his open notebook with each downswing. He had been contemplating what to write for the greater part of a half hour already, yet nothing had come to mind apart from the only thought that consistently came to mind whenever he opened his eyes - Vivien. Was she on the ice already? Was she having a good day? Did she make herself another picture-worthy coffee with a foam heart in it? Would she show it to him later, even if it wasn’t? For what must have been the hundredth time since he woke up that morning, Royce turned toward the open window beside his bed and imagined her climbing in through it the way she almost always did while they were there.

Granted, Vivien didn’t know they were there. They weren’t supposed to arrive in Sanbornton for another day. Still, the idea of her setting the ladder against the house and climbing up to crawl into his bedroom window made Royce smile. Now that he had admitted it to not only himself but also to Vivien, he couldn’t wait to see her, wrap her in the tightest hug he could muster, and tell her how much he loved her. Two months was simply too long a time to go without her. Even though, technically, it had only been two weeks in his world since he had seen her, it had been almost two whole months for her. He had gone back with her to her graduation that took place just after April vacation, but had returned home after her family’s celebration with the excuse that he had to go back to school. He had missed her since the moment the Birch's van left her family’s driveway, but she had left his world on the first of June - his two-week wait a lot shorter than the month and a half she had to spend waiting for him.

His two weeks without contact with Vivien had felt like torture; he could only imagine how it must have felt for her to spend nearly two months without being able to contact him.

He knew he had to see her before all the workers began arriving at camp the next morning. He wasn’t going to be able to sit around, waiting for another day, knowing she was within walking distance from the house. Glancing around at his slumbering roommates, Royce took in a deep breath and scribbled out a note for his brother and friends on a spare piece of paper before slowly tearing it out of his journal so as to not make much noise. Making sure they were all still asleep, he quietly closed his journal and tucked it away under his pillow before slipping out of his bed, grabbing his phone, placing the note on his blanket, and making his way out of the room, grabbing a hoodie on his way out. Pulling the hoodie on over a t-shirt he was sure he had gotten from Butchy at some point, Royce rounded the banister and headed downstairs, avoiding the creaky steps to the best of his ability before padding over to the mudroom to slip on a pair of sneakers he had abandoned over winter break.

Sneaking into the garage and softly closing the door behind him, Royce jogged over to the bicycles he and Bentley had gotten dirt cheap at a garage sale, swiping away cobwebs and dust as he pulled his bike into the early morning sunlight that poured in from the still-open garage door. Forgoing his helmet for the short trip, Royce ensured his tires were full enough before swinging a leg over the bike and gliding down the small hill the Birch’s cabin was perched on. The air was crisp and clear as he pedaled down the street, morning dew still lingering on the grass and leaves as wind whipped through his hair, but Royce didn’t care about the way his cheeks burned or the way the rubber of the well-loved handlebars flaked onto his palms. He was going to see his girlfriend, and, frankly, that was all that mattered.

Smirking to himself as the O’Brian family’s winery came into view, the event barn on the edge of the property appeared first as he pushed himself to stand and push through the rest of the ride. The home’s large veranda was typically vacant; however, that morning, a head of honey-brown, nearly blonde hair swung limply from the porch swing as it creaked back and forth. Dismounting his bike as it rolled to a stop, Royce grinned and stepped up to the edge of the porch, reaching up to tug a strand of the person’s hair. Whipping her head back over the edge of the swing, Abigail’s olive green eyes widened as she realized just who had pulled her hair.

Nearly colliding with the wooden planks that made up the deck, Abby scrambled off the swing as Royce jogged up the stairs, her arms flinging around Royce’s middle as she laughed, “What the hell, man!”

Awkwardly patting Abby on the back, Royce chuckled, “Good to see you too, Abby.”

Releasing her sister’s boyfriend, Abby took a step back and glanced back at the house as she rested her hands on her hips, “Did you two keep this a secret or something, ‘cause that’s so not cool.”

Royce shook his head, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Actually, she doesn’t even know I’m here yet.”

A smirk took over Abby’s face as her eyes practically glittered. She loved surprises, especially if she was one of the people working behind the scenes to make someone else happy. Being able to surprise her older sister - the same sister who prided herself on being some all-knowing, unsurprisable being - brought an almost maniacal laugh rippling through her. “Sissy’s gonna be pissed I saw you first. I hope you know that.”

With a soft laugh, Royce gestured to the front door and asked, “Is she upstairs?”

As she ascended the front steps once more, Abby shook her head, a sigh falling from her lips as she picked her Kindle up from where it had tumbled to the creaky veranda floorboards. “She’s out with Riven still. From what Riven told Dad on the phone, though, practice didn’t go well.”

As Abby sat back down on the swing, toeing her fluffy socks against the creaky boards to push herself back and forth slightly, Royce took in a deep breath and leaned against the railing, sighing out his question, “That Lexi girl didn’t stop in again, did she?”

Abby was quick to shake her head. “Thankfully, no. She’s fucked back off to Maine and is probably back to harassing the people up there.”

Relieved to know that Vivien’s ex-girlfriend was no longer trying to weasel her way into Vivien’s head, Royce crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Any idea what happened, then?”

“I didn’t get the whole gist of the conversation,” Abby sighed, her shoulder just barely tugging into a shrug as she glanced out at the driveway, “but Dad said it would be a miracle if she made it home without working herself into a panic attack. Something about her dance teacher, I’m sure.”

Umber eyes rolled as Royce fought the urge to cuss out the elderly ballet teacher. He had met the woman twice in his nearly two-year-long relationship with Vivien, and neither time had been pleasant. Her constant remarks about Vivien’s “obvious lack of feminine grace” made Royce’s blood boil the longer he was subjected to her snarky, nasally voice, but it was her remark about his girlfriend’s “almost manly build and borderline morbid weight” that resulted in him having to be carried away by Riven. With the ease of someone who had been subjected to the old bitty’s torturous bullying, Vivien handled the woman with a blank face and calm tone, but Royce had a hard time refraining from lunging into the classroom and pushing the woman out the nearest window. He knew all too well how deeply the woman’s words hurt Vivien internally, especially as most of the things the woman took issue with were things Vivien couldn’t change about herself, but she always kept a stoic expression in front of the woman just to keep herself from scrambling to find a new teacher.

Glancing at the front door, Royce met Abby’s olive eyes and asked, “Think I should talk to your dad about it before she gets here?”

“Probably,” Abby nodded, shifting to lift her legs onto the swing, folding them, and resting her elbows on her thighs as she scanned Royce’s eyes. “Riven called Dad, so something has to be wrong, but since they’re not rushing to the hospital, I’d say there's a good chance it’s something psychological rather than something physical." The blonde thought for a moment and sighed, tipping her head to the side in a sort of shrug before tacking on, "Although, given how much Vivien hates hospitals, I guess we can't be sure. My advice: brace for the worst, but hope for the best.”

Nodding to himself as he sucked in a deep breath, Royce pushed off of the railing and headed for the door, turning back to offer Abby a small smile as he said, “Thanks, Abby.”

Brushing off his gratitude with a shrug, Abby grinned, “Anything to keep my favorite ship afloat.” Unlocking her Kindle and turning her attention to the novel on the screen as Royce pushed open the door, she called out, “I won’t tell her you’re here. She needs a happy surprise after this week.”

Poking his head back outside, Royce observed the middle O’Brian child for a moment, waiting until she slowly lifted her gaze from the device in her hands before saying, “Seriously, Abby, thank you.”

Although she had always gotten along well with Royce - even before her sister began dating him - Abby suddenly found herself grateful her sister had better taste in men than she did women. All things considered, Royce was a total upgrade from the psycho stalker Vivien was previously with. Nodding minutely at her fellow middle child, Abby allowed herself to smile as she said, “You’re welcome. Dad should be in his office, by the way. He’s avoiding Mom like the plague-” she paused to glance back at the event barn where she knew her mom was lurking, making sure the woman wasn’t outside before turning back to Royce and stage-whispering, “-and, TBH, I can’t blame him.”

Nodding in understanding, Royce lowered his voice and muttered, “Thanks for the heads up.”

Giving the nearly eighteen-year-old a mock salute, Abby turned back to her sticker-covered Kindle and said, “Godspeed, soldier.”

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

OUT TAKES FROM 2800ft

NORMALLY I JUST DELETE THESE ENTIRELY but in the directors commentary for 2800ft I make a lot of references to the BDSM draft of the fic and I FOUND SOME OF THEM so here they are entirely unedited because it felt like a waste, a thing I have LITERALLY NEVER THOUGHT BEFORE IN MY LIFE

I'm still so sad the BDSM didn't end up suiting the tone of the fic, but I am glad I removed it. There was going to be a whole bit where Hux reached into his pocket to feel the key for bens collar as the plane when down, but i think the fic stands better on it's own

HAVE THESE ANYWAY FUCKERS

(edit: I'm going through my document conflicts on scrivener and I found a few more so I'm pasting them at the bottom but ur not getting fomating on these bc I'm lazy)

6/9/22 St. Louis, Missouri The Organa-Solo Residence

"You're insane," Ben says as the front door closes behind him. "You know that, right?" "I see you got my request," Hux replies, looking up from his book. He's been reading on the couch since he got home, waiting for Ben to land. "Tell me you didn't actually get this notarized." He holds up the piece of paper Hux slipped into his bag a few days ago, in anticipation of the event. "It's a remarkably cheap fee," Hux tells him, setting his book aside. "There's a limit on how much notaries can charge in Missouri, if it's a financial concern." Ben stares at him before reading the paper aloud. "A formal request of Ben Organa-Solo, made by Armitage Organa-Solo, to be fulfilled on June 9th, 2022," he starts. "If both parties are amendable, and schedules align, in celebration of the national holiday, Mr. and Mr. Organa-Solo will-" Ben stops, setting the paper down on the entryway table. "A formal request for sex?" Hux takes in the flush of Ben's cheeks, the hand toying with his hair. He's not furious, he's just embarrassed, but if the pace of his breathing is any indication- He stands, coming to meet Ben at the door. "You don't know what to be mad about, do you?" Hux asks, loving how Ben's head tilts downward, his eyes half-lidded. "You weren't expecting it, but it's within all out limits, and-" It comes to Hux, then. "You're not upset at all, you're just surprised." His hand comes to Ben's neck, pressing his thumb into the tense muscles and letting his fingers dig in between vertebrae. "Do you need a moment to adjust?" Ben shakes is head, so Hux steps closer, putting himself firmly into Ben's personal space. A soft hand on Ben's chest is all it takes to have him against the door, strong hands clenching at his sides listlessly. "You can touch me," Hux tells him, and his hips are held in a loose grip. "I'm sorry I surprised you. I thought we had done enough things similar, that it wouldn't be too much of a shock." Ben mutters something, and Hux uses a finger to tilt his chin up. "What was that?" "I thought you had a lawyer write it," Ben admits. "It sounded more formal than you normally are, in these things. I-" Words seem to fail him as his flush moves from his checks down to his neck. "The notary on top of that was a lot of strangers knowing I was going to suck your dick." "I tried a new style," Hux says. "I've been reading a few books on contract law in my spare time, thought it would be fine to try out. The notary was a half-asleep woman at the post office, she didn't even bother to read the document. Just had me sign it and her coworker witness it." He pauses. "Did you like that they might know?" "Didn't like it, how much I liked it." Ben draws a breath, letting his head roll back against the wall. "It's infuriating, wanting people to know what you do to me, all while refusing to let them see." "Private exhibition," Hux says. "Well, theoretical, more like." He pauses, wrapping his arms around Ben's shoulders. "I'll keep that in mind, but you haven't submitted a reply to my request." Ben laughs, leaning into him. "Request approved," he says. "Although I refuse to grant it holiday status." "National Day of Sixty-nining is sacred," Hux replies, pulling Ben from the door to lead him towards the bedroom.

-

10/07/22 St. Louis, Missouri The Organa-Solo Residence

"And he has no idea?" Hux rolls his eyes at Poe, taking the cake out of the freezer so it can thaw on the counter. In their small living room, most of their friends are gathered, drinks in hand and broken off into conversation circles. Phasma is asking Rey about Charlotte, Mitaka is meeting Finn as someone outside of the airport, and not just another employee he passes coffee to, and Han and Leia are having an unsurprisingly delightful time telling stories of Ben as a teenager to anyone who will listen. "I told him I was working, and that we were booked on fights, so I wouldn't have time to come down and see him, but I gave him specific instructions, and-" "I can't stress how much I don't need to know about your sex life," Poe says, cutting him off. "They weren't sexual," Hux huffs. It's an absolute lie, though. The instructions were incredibly sexual, but they were also meant to start the party a few hours later, and instead everyone started showing up early. Hux will just have to make up the disappointment to Ben later. It wouldn't be the longest Ben has handled social interaction with a cage on. Besides, Ben has his own key to it for emergencies. If he wanted, he could take it off while he changed, and Hux would understand. "I hate you so much," Poe whines, pulling Hux away from his thoughts. "Both of you, honestly." Hux shrugs. "Not my fault you're boring in bed." They leave the kitchen and the conversation behind as Hux hears a car door slam outside. "All right, I'm gonna meet him outside, everybody hide." And he does, steps onto the porch. He's supposed to be at work, but he's not so cruel as to allow Ben to completely embarrass himself. He's just smart enough to do it without a paper trail. "You're-" "Act surprised," he whispers. "They all thought this was a great idea, and showed up at our house without consulting me, but your parents flew in, and you know I feel bad saying no to them." "I hate surprises," Ben mutters, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know, but I couldn't get away to call you. It was supposed to start at six, I was going to tell you when you got home, after-" he looks down, and Ben curses. "Up to you." "Not in front of my parents," he says. "Jesus, I'm gonna need a second." "Buying you time won't be hard, I haven't pulled the cake. I'll vamp." And then Hux is opening the door, ushering Ben in and watching as someone turns on the lights and their friends and family pop out from behind pieces of furniture. They sing happy birthday, and then Hux sends Ben to the bedroom to change and asks Han to tell the story of when Ben broke his window trying to move his bed. It's at least a ten minute story, and a good one, so no one will notice if Ben takes a moment longer to change than strictly necessary.

It's not until later, when guests are shooed away and they lay in bed, covered in sweat and fluids, that Ben curls into his chest. "I love you," Ben says, pressing idle kisses to his skin. "I just- Used to have to deal with their terrible ideas for my birthday alone. They'd get a cake everyone liked, instead of the one I wanted, they'd try to make me invite the whole class. I know they just wanted me to have friends, but it was awful. I didn't stop hating my birthday until I moved out." "It's the least I can do, given your agreement to entirely ignore mine." He runs fingers through long hair, pressing lips to the top of Ben's head. "Next year, I'm just forcing them to bend to my will, but I thought one year in was too soon to become your controlling spouse." Ben laughs, breath warm against his skin, and the arm hanging over Ben's shoulder pulls him closer. "You've always been controlling," Ben tells him. "Luckily for you, I'm pretty into that."

-

Smaller outtakes:

From the scene where they're heading to ikea:

“It should be the Malm,” Ben insists, because apparently, their earlier discussion about which bed frame to buy wasn’t finished. “It’s not practical,” Hux says, and then lowers his voice, “there’s no place to tie on that headboard, and I’m not buying under the be straps.” The red tinge that takes over Ben’s cheeks is well worth his own discomfort at bringing up their sex life in public. “So not the Malm,” Ben mutters, and Hux smiles into his drink. “You’re both gross,” Mitaka yells across the empty Starbucks. The early flights are only just starting, the line for security not yet backed up by the entrance. Hux flips him off as Ben’s skin returns to its normal color.

This scene was replaced by 5/30/21 take 2, which i think was a better scene because 'airport might get a bird dog' felt too on the nose

His feet are tucked under Ben’s thighs, still freezing despite the chill outside. It’s the start of a long weekend for both of them, three days where neither of them have any reason to be at the airport. Normally, this was cause for a trip, but spring cleaning had overtaken both of them the last few days. Now, with the last cobwebs and remnants of winter cleared from the apartment, they settle into a calm evening. “I heard the airport is thinking about getting a bird dog,” Hux says idly, not looking up from his tablet. Ben’s eyes are closed, his head lolled onto the back of the sofa, but his breathing is still relatively shallow. “If nothing else, the social media team is excited to have someone who won’t say no to their ridiculous video ideas.” Hux may still be bitter about being asked to join a group photo for Saint Patrick’s Day, even after he told the man three times that being ginger did not automatically make him Irish. “A dog on the ground isn’t going to prevent bird strikes in the air,” Ben grumbles, sitting up and blinking his eyes open. “I’m not sure it’s the best way for the airport to spend it’s money.” “Studies say otherwise,” he retorts, but lets the matter die. “And what would you have them spend money on?” Ben laughs, some joke Hux isn’t privy to. “No, really, what can they buy for the cost of a dog that would make you happier?” “They could just give you that money, and I’d be fine.” Rolling his eyes, he closes out of his email and sets his tablet aside to crawl into Ben’s lap. Any edges of sleep vanish, as do conversations of work.

[allfandomstan]

After Dark~(Batman x Vigilante Reader), Chapter 1.

Read Chapter 2! found on my ‘posts’.

Genre: action, mystery, crime, Noir..

Setting: Gotham City from ‘The Batman’ 2022.

Warnings: swearing, mention of violence, dark themes, mutual ‘tension’😉.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author Notes: Hi, this is my first time writing a fanfic (hope its not too bad!) and this is certainly my first Dcu fanfic. Most characters are adapted from ‘The Batman’ and character credits goes to Matt Reeves, the director. I’m hoping to make this an ongoing series, depending on the feedback I receive and motivation I get to write😫. Anyways, the reader is a newbie vigilante in Gotham(you'll know more about her in later chapters) and she's doing her own little ivestigative work when she crosses paths with Batman...

pls, tell me what you guys think (constructive criticism is always welcome) and hope you enjoy!

P.S there ought to be a lot of ‘tension’ between reader and Vengeance.😏😏

Fuck.

You witness the Mayor getting hammered by some fucked-in-the-head maniac, wearing a dull green trench coat and a leather- green face cover. He had a large, white question mark painted on the side of his coat.

‘What the hell could that mean?’

You blinked twice as you took in the sight  of the man taping the Mayor’s head in Duck-tape and writing something on it.

With his own blood.

“Sick Bastard”, you murmured to yourself as you focused the binoculars even more to read what he wrote on the Mayor’s taped up face. 

You couldn’t see it. 

You had to get a better view, but you couldn’t go down now. If anyone caught you, you’d be a prime suspect in the upcoming murder case. And that would only consist of them digging further into your background which you figured wouldn’t go down too well for you.

You had to wait it out. And wait for the sick Fucker to leave, or you could end up like the unfortunate Mayor.

****

An hour passed and you soon saw the outside of the Mayor’s house crowding up with Police Officers, detectives and the forensic crew. Shit, you even saw Jim Gordon. 

And seeing Gordon meant that ‘he’ could be nearby.

Hurriedly and by instinct,you looked up at the sky.

And there is was.

The notorious ‘Bat signal’ was lit.

It was the only thing that had been scaring the living shit out of the crime underworld of Gotham for the last two years. Well, it’s safe to say that Gotham itself is a crime underworld. Corruption, brutality and lies everywhere. Gotham wasn’t a compassionate city, nor was it a hopeful one..

Upon the realisation of the signal up in the sky, you immediately rose to your feet, taking your backpack and binoculars. You had to get out of the roof soon enough or Vengeance just might interfere. He’s always seen on high ground, right? On roofs and shit like that.

He stalks the city from above, and you were too vulnerable.. You had to get down, and now.

You raced to the door leading you to the stairs of the abandoned building which will take you down to the street.

You were breathless by the end of your journey down the damn stairs, and you had to convince yourself to get out of there fast. You crossed the street and went to the back of the Mayor’s house to catch a glimpse of what was going on, but you had to stay far away to keep a safe distance between you and the house. It felt like a fucking ridiculous plan but all you could find was a bush. 

Great.

Making use of what you had, you crouched down behind it. Nevertheless, the spot you were in allowed you a great vantage point to the window of the Mayor’s TV room; the place he was murdered.

So, you held up your binoculars and watched.

Closely.

Trying to find clues or vital information about who the fuck the crazy maniac who did this was.

You made sure to stay low, watching the officers and crew scrambling around, clicking pictures and searching the furniture for hand prints. Minutes passed by and nothing out of the blue happened. Until…

You could faintly hear shouting and sensed the tension rise. You saw people running around, shuffling and shouting to one another.

And then..

You saw him.

Everyone seems to have froze, as The Batman walked in. Slow and steady in his movements, but no less fucking intimidating. You froze as well, a chill running down your spine. 

This was going to be, interesting…

Hell yeah, fucking interesting..

You were extra cautious now that he was here. If he caught you, you were beyond fucked. Not that you were involved in the case in any shape or form right?..Or were you?

You just came here to spy on the Mayor,  nothing evil at all! 

And he ended up dead.

But Mr.Batman here wouldn’t understand that, now would he?

You crouched down even more from the position you were in and watched closely. You saw Jim Gordon trying to get Batman’s attention but his gaze was glued to the Mayor. Or to say, his corpse.

Suddenly the light lamp opposite you in the Mayor’s compound lit up, and it shone to the glass of your binoculars.

Shit.

The shine immediately reflected of the glass and onto the Mayor’s window…

The TV room window.

You didn’t notice it at first, but then you realised. And it was too late.

Vengeance took note of the shine and walked towards it, eyes desperately searching for the source. And then he took note of you, crouching down behind the bushes, with binoculars in hand.

You locked eyes with him..

Shit, shit, shit.

Immediate flight instinct.

You jumped out of your position and start running. Running away from the compound. A bit like a caught-in-the-act criminal, who knows he’s fucked it. A bit too much alike.

You run as fast as you could, not knowing where to go but still running as far away as you could from the Mayor’s house.

‘Could he be after you right now?’

You didn’t want to know.

Or you didn’t dare to look back and find out. You had no time anyway. You took a sharp left and ventured into a dark alleyway. You stopped running, trying to catch your breath but not getting enough oxygen.

Fuck, you ran like a bitch.

You haven’t ran as fast as that in your life..

You turned around to see if there was anyone behind you.

There was no one.

He probably thought you were a random curious reporter. 

‘He probably let it slide, right?’

You frantically look all around you, eyeing your surroundings to make sure you aren’t being stalked or followed.

You look around yourself, but you don’t look up.. At the roof.

Suddenly, as if it were a gust of wind, a black figure jumped down from the roof. Before you had time to run or even react, he took hold of your arm, swinging you around and smashing you into the brick wall. You winced in pain, as it all happened so quick like the speed of light.

The tall, dark figure closed the gap between the two of you and held you further against the wall, his tall form hovering over you.

His hand went up to the bandana scarf that was half covering your face.

Oh no.

Oh hell no.

Quickly with your free arm, you hit his intruding hand away. He growled in annoyance, and took hold of your free hand in his other one.

“The fuck do you want?”, you shouted in utter hostility.

“To see your face”, He replied in a low growl, still resisting your restless form trying to break free from his firm hold.

“Yeah, right! Like you’ll even come close-“

With a swift move of hand, he snatched the scarf right off your face..

For the first time in your life you felt naked. Truly exposed. For what you are and what you’ve done.

You were about to shout, when you felt his large hand cover your mouth shut.

Something was wrong.. You realised weren’t alone.

You suddenly heard the loud banter of very obviously ‘drunk’ men walking by the alleyway. There was a club nearby, which explains it.

Vengeance made sure you stayed quite until they were gone, and then he released his hand from your mouth.

But this time you didn’t say anything. You just stared. 

Into his eyes.

His gaze was intense, fixed on your face like he was trying to read you like an open book.

You wouldn’t let him get to you that easily, would you?

To his scrutiny you looked down.

But soon enough he placed his fingers under your chin harshly and tilted your head up forcing you to look at him.

“Look at me” he said sternly with a dark tone. You had no choice but to comply.

“Why were you there?”

“Why the hell does it matter to you?”

He pushed you further into the wall, reaching to a point where you found it difficult to breath.

“Tell me”.

You struggled against his form, wriggling under him and trying to find a way to break free.

You knew your own share of martial arts and things but he put you in quite the sticky situation here. Well, the man was pretty heavy.

Wheezing you say:

“I would tell you if you weren’t smouldering me to death!”.

You stopped fighting and let him think about the offer.

He backed away.

Now you felt like you were finally able to breath properly again.

“Now, tell me” he growled, maintaining an alert posture incase you tried to run.

“Alright, alright won’t you give a lady her space?”

He didn’t respond, instead just stared at you ominously, his steely gaze fixed on you. Damn it, you felt like prey being watched by its predator.

You knew he wanted answers and fast, so, you gave in. You decided to at least give him something to sooth his nerves, even though it wasn’t entirely the truth…

“Fine..I’m a GCN reporter and I was trying to get some scoop on the Mayor, since y’ know the election is near and he could be down to something that reporters like me just don’t wanna miss. But then…”

You trailed off, the memories of the murder flooding into your mind. He was listening, carefully.

Now you didn’t entirely give in.

You weren’t going to give him the entire details.

“Then what?”, he pushed.

You took a moment to inhale sharply. You then decided to give him a not-so-retarded answer that didn’t make your little lie so obvious.

“Then I got an important call from my friend, and I had to leave.. And when I came back to spy on Mitchell I saw that he was murdered and dead, sitting on the TV room chair with his face taped up.”

You prayed that it was a reasonable enough answer and that it would convince him to let you go. 

But no..

“Bullshit” he murmured. 

He took a step closer to you, a bit too close for comfort. He gazed down on you with utmost spite he could possibly muster.

“You saw who did it, didn’t you?”

You were offended. How dare he suspect you of lying?

“Listen Batboy, I don’t have a lot of time here and I don’t think you do too. So it’s  better if you just let me go my way and do my thing, and you do yours. I didn’t kill anybody and didn’t do no wrong. I was just trying to do my fucking job here, and I think you should do yours-“

“Tell me the truth!” He growls, and places a hand on your throat. And holds on a little too tightly for your liking.

“OR WHAT?” You challenge, looking straight into his burning eyes.

“You’re not a reporter, nor did you leave when Mitchell was getting murdered. You stayed right there and watched it happen…You know saw killed him”.

You were astonished.

‘How the fuck was he able to read through you?’

Like a fucking open book.

There was no use in trying anymore. In trying to lie anymore. It would only make him suspect you even more.

‘Maybe there’s no use in lying?’

‘Maybe both of you can call it a truce?’

‘Maybe you and Vengeance can get along and come up with some, compromises?’… ‘And maybe even some ideas?’

All of it for the exchange of information and maybe even a little ‘cooperation’..

“And what if I did?” You ask with cockiness lacing your tone.

His eyes grew bigger, possibly by realising the possibility that you truly did see what happened.

He took another step closer and now your chest was flush against his abdomen.

“What are you gonna do, baby?.. Arrest me?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, tone laced with the same cockiness from before, but this time also teasing.

“Maybe..”

With his head bent towards you, ocean blue eyes searching for answers, he adds:

“Maybe I’ll let you go if..you cooperate”.

You look into his eyes and then your gaze wanders to his lips and to his sharp jawline. You scan his face, noticing the sharp-chiselled features.

Damn, the man certainly wasn’t ugly…

Snapping out of your little day dream, you think about his offer.

‘He’ll let you go if you cooperate?’

Well you didn’t really want him to let you go. Not that easily, anyway.

“Cooperate? Me and you?”, you ask trying your best to sound surprised.

But he saw through your facade and silence was all you received.

“That would be a little dangerous don’t ya think, Batman?”

“I don’t care”, he replied with a heavy tone.

“Well, you seem to like danger don’t you?”

You held up your hand to cup the side of his face when he suddenly caught you by the wrist to stop you.

There was silence…

Moments passed as he spoke up again.

“Who are you?” He asked, unable to hide the curiosity within.

You cocked your head to the side, arching an eyebrow with a mischievous smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh you’ll soon find out, sweetheart.”

Just as He was about to speak, the sound of police sirens and tires interrupted him.

“Looks like your friends are here. They’re probably looking for you”.

He turns his head to look onto the road.

You were about to yank your wrist out of his firm hold and run, but he tightens his grip even further.

“I’ll find you”, he says, blue eyes focusing in on yours.

“I bet you will”, you smile..

You quickly slip a small piece of paper into his utility belt.

You didn’t think he noticed, as he was so focused on your eyes.

“Maybe we can..cooperate?”

The sound of car doors closing and footsteps approaching snapped him out of his daze.

Using his lack of focus as the trump card, you quickly snatched your hand away and ran off further into the alleyway, turning a corner and disappearing out of sight.

‘Perfect’, you thought.

He didn’t chase after you.. After all he was going to find you.

Bruce was interrupted with the loud footsteps of Gordon and two other cops following behind him.

“Why the hell did you just run off like that, Man?”…

“Nothing. Just thought I saw somebody.”

“Oh and you sure did. Who were you talking to?”

Bruce lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“It was just a GCN reporter. She was just snooping around.”

“And you let her go!?”, Gordon asks frustrated.

“She’s of no use”, Bruce insists.

“Man, she could’ve been a witness!”, Gordon shouts, unable to hide his anger.

“She’s got nothing, believe me”.

The commissioner groans in annoyance and and brings his hand up to palm his face, shutting his eyes.

“I thought we agreed in deciding on things together”.

“We did”, Bruce responds almost instantly without hesitation. Gordon just stares at him in disbelief.

“So you let go of a possible witness without even confirming with me-“

He was cut off.

“I told you, she’s got nothing” Bruce interjects, passing the commissioner a glare.

He resigns, shooting his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, I believe you man but if I ever find out you’re lying to me, you and I are going to have to talk”.

And at this Bruce scoffs.

Gordon backs away with his officers onto the street, and passes Bruce one last look before saying:

“I’ll be in the car”..

When Bruce was finally left alone in the dark alleyway, he took out the note you had given him. After all, he did notice your little trick…

It was a small, white, crumbled piece of paper. It had some digits written on it.

Your number….

[wellthatwasaletdown]

If she has such great media connections then why couldn’t she stop the stories of her fighting with Florence Pugh and lying about Shia from coming out? Olivia isn’t this all powerful force in Hollywood otherwise she would be a bigger star and better liked than she is now. Plus she is friends with the Azoffs so I don’t think she would want to piss them off by publicly trashing one of their clients.

If Olivia had such amazing media connections than the smear campaign against her, and don’t worry, darling, what a tough happened. She was battered for months, and they did not let up on her. If she had such a media connections, then she would be a lot bigger and more famous than she is now. Her paying paparazzi to take pictures of her and then paying media sites to write articles about her going to the gym. Every day isn’t good media connections. The reason and don’t worry darling didn’t do as well in theatres is because of the Shia LaBeouf situation in the media and that’s why the movie didn’t do as well. That was the downfall of the movie. Before Harry Olivia was a C list actor, who only really had connections in Hollywood because of Jason. She was always friends with people who were more famous than her, and still couldn’t use those connections. Everything that she has in her career is because of Jason. She was never in anything that was a big, blockbuster success, or even a big critically acclaimed film. Most of Harries fans didn’t know who she was until they started “dating“. If she had such good media connections, she would have broke out a lot sooner. She is an actress who aged out getting good role, so she had to make a career change into directing to get people to pay attention to her and because of Jason got Booksmart and then fucked it all up with. Don’t worry, darling. Olivia Wilde isn’t someone who scary or can it in anyway her Harryscareer. Because even though he was creeping with a woman who was in a relationship, she was the one that got all the heat. She was the one who left that relationship with an even worse reputation then when she got into it. Say what you want about the Azoffs but they would ruin her in a second if she ever tried to come for Harry and don’t forget that that NDA she signed is ironclad and she’ll never be able to say anything about him positive or negative so all she can do is be seen wearing things that he has worn and pay people to write articles about them from “sources”. That’s all she can do. And that’s what she has been doing since they broke up.

There's a lot to unpack here--and, quite frankly, I'm not interested in discussing Girl Boss again. I'm only posting this because I wanted to point out that you're mistaken about why DWD flopped at the box office.

It had nothing to do with the Shia situation. In fact, that actually boosted the movie's profile. Most people had never heard of it before that. It probably did better that first weekend because of the controversies. Americans love a good non-scandal scandal.

We told y'all the movie was going to flop a year before it opened. In fact, I predicted exactly what was going to happen--a huge opening weekend and then a massive drop. That was way before we knew anything about the Shia video. We knew the harries were going to boycott--and that's who she was banking on to make it a success, which is why she was so nice at concerts. LOL

DWD flopped because the director decided to hook up with one of the stars of the movie, flaunt that romance in the face of his rabid fanbase, and then made the ridiculous decision to aim the entire marketing campaign at that fanbase, who absolutely hated her.

Instead of using Florence Pugh, Chris Pine, or any of the other proven stars in the movie to promote the movie to older audiences, she banked on Harry Edward Styles and nonconsensual sex scenes to sell the movie to his fans. However, they vowed not to see it in theaters--and by Friday morning, the entire movie was online.

Bad reviews didn't help, and the movie fell over 70% the 2nd weekend.

[freebooter4ever]

I think a lot of the dweebyness came from his early years during his shy, awkward, aww-shucks era. once he got more confident with english, he shifted to a more jock-y vibe

Haha, sorry yall are never gonna convince me that malkin was ever dweeby. Jock is winning the poll btw:

I do, however, totally buy that an american audience mostly comprised of sports fans would look at a teenage boy struggling with a language barrier and immediately label him as 'different' and 'awkward' and 'quiet' and 'dweeby' and a whole bunch of other labels that shoves him into a box and then expect him to stay in that box because they've already decided on what kind of person he is.

We know how our (US) culture works, there's hundreds of american high school movies testifying to the sports/popularity hivemind.

But thats a temporary ostracization. It doesn't feel the same as the more personality-based, more permanent ostracization of the stereotypical 'dweeb' in high school. It's very different to grow up with a bunch of kids in the same neighborhood and watch yourself slowly become excluded and ignored as you get older. that wasnt me - my mother was my bully and from elementary school on she forced me into a form of social normal that made me invisible rather than a target for school bullies. (I dont know if i would reccomend this parenting style though). But i was friends with most of those kids - the ones who nobody would talk to and everybody would make fun of behind their back (we were post c*lumbine so outward bullying was frowned upon). That boy in my square dancing class was one of the few male dweebs, his name was yusef - like joseph but with a "y" and "you" sound. And im not kidding, i dont think the poor kid ever had any friends? Even i couldnt get him to talk, and ive always been pretty good at drawing people out of their shell. Most of the dweebs were girls - colleen, diane, stephanie, alicia - all my friends, all of whom i remember better than the jocks at our school. And absolutely a conscious choice on my part, i remember the point in elementary school when i was walking home with a few girls i knew and they saw colleen and diane a half block ahead of us (within hearing distance), and immediately started pointing out everything that made the two 'dweeb' girls weird and what was wrong with them. And i didnt even say anything i just glared at the girls i was with and ran ahead to walk with colleen and diane instead. And that was that, i knew i had picked sides, i wasnt ever going to join in with the people who make fun of those that are different \o/

aaand now im dealing with a total new form of social ostracization here in LA that feels eerily familiar, but whereas in school you could ignore the social game playing and succeed in spite of them, here suddenly what job you get hangs on who you know. Everybody always used to bug me like 'why are you staying in pittsburgh so long, why havent you tried to make it in the real industry yet' and my answer was always a) i loved my team and they needed me and b) i was art director so had more creative freedom (and my own office) than i could expect to have anywhere else. But i think truthfully in the back of my mind i kinda knew - there were enough hints over the years - what this city would be like and that i would be abysmal at fighting to survive in it.

Anyway im just sayin i dont think malkin - or any of these hockey players - has ever dealt with that level of social ostracization. Its nice watching these guys be nice to other people they consider on their level, and really cute and enjoyable. But for me at least there's always that awareness that if any of them met me, im not the type of person they'd consider worthy of time or attention - probably wouldnt be outright mean, but absolutely would be trying to avoid any lengthly association lol. I think its one of the main differences between being in sports fandom vs books or movies.

ALTHOUGH god, i will never ever forget the day i met one of my biggest childhood heroes - an author about my age 24ish. Who i idolized because she was living my dream - getting to write and create for a living and starting at such a young age. And she was mostly indifferent to me, didnt say much, didnt interact, just signed the book. And i shrugged it off. But then this teenage girl came up, just radiating what we'd call dweebiness. Her hair was a mess, face full of acne, awkward, but loud and really enthusiastic about the book, and desperate for someone to share that enthusiasm. And the author was mean. And cold. To this teenage girl who obviously idolized her and would have killed to have some sign of approval even if it was faked. Anway, instead this teenage girl latched onto me and i had to try to make up for the bitchy author but i knew my approval wasnt worth nearly as much and it broke my heart. I havent read or bought a single one of that author's novels since.

so yeah, its not just jocks, but they have the worse reputation in media.

[cherrygirl-28]

How would you describe L? it's okay if you don't wanna answer.. Just asking because it's um his death day.

Hello anon!

I wasn't planning to post anything in particular about his death day since it makes me sad. Basically, I was planning to write about his personality through my eyes, even if it wasn't his death day.

Anyway let's get started!

If I had to say five adjectives to describe L, I would say he's a genius, risk taker and brave at the same time, shy and above all sweet.

The truth is that he's a complicated character like everyone in DN. His character isn't black and white. He's presented as an eccentric detective who neglects his personal hygiene, which shows he's passionate about what he does. However, we see he's a man with a sharp mind. You can't easily fool him. That's how every detective should be.

I also think he would have been very good friends with Hercule Poirot. You see, I read a lot of Agatha Christie and I have noticed a lot of similarities between L and Poirot. If their stories took place in the same time period, they would've become great partners.

Ohba himself describes him as "slightly evil" but I believe he means it in a good way. He respects human life even if circumstances don't allow him to respect it as he much as he should. And well... I could say why he tied up Misa in an almost inhuman way, or why he tells "lies", but I don't think it's necessary. The account @my-one-true-l explained it much better. I completely agree with the statements. Here's the link: https://www.tumblr.com/my-one-true-l/189990755859/can-we-talk-about-l-he-is-canonically-viewed-by

He also has an odd sense of humour that not many can understand.

Example: "Bang! If I was Kira you'd be dead right now." Meaning the police officers should be more careful about introducing themselves to strangers.

Likewise, he's direct in his words. He'll tell you what he thinks even if it's harsh.

Of course, what I admire most about his character is his bravery and courage. If I was him I'd be like: "please no, I love my life. Don't get me involved with this! I don't wanna die!" or something like that. We could also call him risky since many of the things he does are considered "unnecessary". For example, when he went public on TV and challenged Kira to kill him, was risky. He had the protection of anonymity with his face covered, but it was still risky since he still didn't know much about Kira. He only knew he needed a name to kill but not the details about shinigami eyes and such.

As for the movies, I think both the director and his actor Kenichi Matsuyama did a very good job. They went from 10 to 20. Like they upgraded him. The same goes for Light of course! I disagree with the choice of him dying, but it was needed for the plot. It's weird when you think about it because I didn't really like him at first, but by the time the series was over I missed him! 😅

Since I mentioned the movies, I could say that L: change the world is canon, but on the other hand, we don't see that happening in the manga, and also L dies before finishing the case. While in L: change the world he dies after finishing it. Am talking about this particular film since it's my favourite of the four DN films. (Netflix adaptation doesn't count!)

Anyway, we see the human side of L and understand he's not a robot. He has a heart too, it just isn't beneficial for him to show personal feelings when it comes to such a difficult case as Kira's.

There's even a scene in the book where when Maki is kidnapped by the Blue ship, L tries to save her and in the end, finds out what it's like to lose someone you love. I don't remember what exactly happens, but I think he holds Light's watch and says: "let's explore the world of nothingness together" or something like that. The point is that under other circumstances they could have been friends with Light if he hadn't found the death note. L knew he was Kira but maybe deep down in his heart, wanted to be mistaken about his suspicions. Just maybe...

I don't ship them but it makes me emotional anyway... 😢😢

So, to summarize: I'd say L is eccentric but genius. Cold on the outside but sweet on the inside. Bold and brave but also funny. I think these are the main features that made me root for him! 💕

[insomniac-jay]

Another Giftedverse Fic

It's a complete (allegedly) version of the first Giftedverse draft I posted a while back

Giftedverse Story

If you asked Splendor what she'd rather be doing at the moment, she'd answer anything. At the office working, inspecting the newest lab grown jewels, playing with her kids-- anything to get her away from a press conference. Why was it a requirement of her "public duties" as a hero anyway?

And her husband wasn't there to keep her company.

"It's alright, minha dama. It's only a few hours." She imagined Inkstain reassuring her while massaging her shoulders. Even though he knew she didn't want to hear that right now, his attitude was still chipper and upbeat.

"They said that last month and by the time we got back home, we had to pay the nanny for overtime," Joou grumbled.

But she wasn't the only one-- other heroes were getting ready for the press conference as well.

Sirenia hummed as she applied brown lipstick while Chargeman tied up his hair into a ponytail. Superficial it may seem but looking their best was important, or so their contracts said.

"Five minutes!" The director's voice rang throughout the room as he poked his head inside. "Finish up any last minute touch ups or whatever!"

Splendor huffed silently as she adjusted her jewelry. Nothing too flashy or fancy; just a nice diamond necklace with matching earrings. This better be worth my while or else the Association is gonna get it.

Once the five minutes of last minute prep were up, the heroes walked out to the stage greeting a crowd of reporters and journalist along the way. Cameras flashed as some of the heroes did their signature poses, igniting cheers and applause from the audience.

And with that, the press conference started.

"What is the current status of your relationships with the Heroes Association?" one reporter asks.

The room went silent while the heroes glanced at each other wondering who would be the first to speak up. Discussing something as controversial as their professional relationships with the Heroes Association was something they did in the privacy of their homes, not to openly to the public. If they did, many of them would've been expelled and had their certificates suspended.

"I'll go ahead and answer that."

All eyes were on Chargeman as he spoke into the mic. He was a large, imposing man with bluish black hair tied into a ponytail.

"As you all may or may not know, my wife Stormchaser was expelled after being given an infraction for something she was well within her right to do; and as a result she sued them for wrongful termination," he replied.

"My husband was also expelled because he stood by me, further strengthening the case," Stormchaser added. "Eventually both of us won but refused to rejoin the Association. We requested our contracts be terminated and went our separate ways."

"Stormchaser, have you and your husband joined any other hero organizations?" Another reporter asked.

"Not yet. We're free agents for the time being," Stormchaser replied.

"As of recent, we've been getting requests to join some, including some from the Justice Bureau," Chargeman added.

With how effortlessly they finished each other's statements, there was a reason Chargeman and Stormchaser were a superhero power couple. They always had each other's backs all the time, building the foundation for a strong marriage.

Now that the controversial foot the press conference started on was behind them, room for more appropriate questions opened. Which was a relief for the heroes that they would only have to talk about the state of their careers and a bit of their personal lives.

"Good evening, Mrs. Petrocelli. How can I help you?" Lancelot rocked a small infant in his arms. The baby cooed softly as he swayed his arms side to side. "Of course I can have a meeting with you tomorrow. Is it about the court orders?"

Then, a small woman poked her head around the corner, catching Lancelot's attention.

"Are you on a call?" she mouthed.

Lancelot nodded and walked towards her as she held her arms out. Quietly he handed the baby to her before returning to his call.

"Make sure to have as much evidence of him violating the orders as possible. I can plead a stronger case with that," Lancelot paced around the room. He then sat down at his desk and began writing down all the information.

"Also get Children's Services involved if he refuses to hand them over. Though I doubt they'll do much," he mumbled that last part.

Once Mrs. Petrocelli hung up, he went to go check on the baby.

"Kiran? Is Hotaru alright?" Lancelot asked to his wife Kiran, who was coming out of Hotaru's, the baby, room.

"Yep. He's asleep," Kiran replied. She gently closed the door behind her. "Wanna help me with dinner?"

"Of course." Lancelot headed down to the kitchen following behind Kiran. He set out pots, pans, and the ingredients while Kiran lit the stove. She then pulled out a knife and began cutting up some vegetables.

"How was the press conference?" Kiran asked.

"Long and tiring," Lancelot replied while cleaning the chicken. "One reporter asked a really loaded question. Thankfully that was the only one of its kind."

"How long was it this time? Last time it was all the way until 10!" Kiran was no stranger to the monthly press conferences the heroes would have. After all, she was one of the few people aware of who her husband really was. 

"That one was a nightmare to get through. I remember you texting me about sending an SOS to get me out of there," Lancelot chuckled.

May's press conference was memorable because it was so long. They arrived at 5 but didn't leave until 10. By the time Lancelot got home, both his wife and children were asleep. Not to mention he had to stop a few crimes along the way, which didn't help his already exhausted state at the time.

"Do you see how tired you looked?!" Kiran exclaimed. "I was convinced they were holding you hostage to milk viewership."

Joou sighed happily as she rested her head on the velvet pillows. She was glad to be home after the long conference-- especially back with her children. As she laid on her back, her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, minha dama. How was the press conference?" Irefumi greeted.

"A waste of time, as always." Joou sat up and turned on the TV. "I've never been more bored with something in my life. What's the purpose of even doing them? It's not like I'm getting paid more."

"So what I'm understanding is that this month's one was shit. Want me to get you anything on my way back?"

"Of course. Could you stop by that bakery in the metro and pick me up some strawberry bolo de rolo? I have champagne here." Joou replied, switching the channels looking for something to watch.

"Strawberries and champagne. Classy lady."

"Mommy?"

Joou looked to see her son Fuyuhito at the door holding his Monster Wars toy while rubbing his eyes. He looked like he'd been crying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Joou asked.

"I had a nightmare," Fuyuhito replied. "Can I sleep with you, Mommy?"

Joou nodded and picked him up once he made it to her bed. She then tucked him under the covers beside her.

"Cozy, Fuyuhito?" Joou asked while kissing the little boy's head.

Fuyuhito nodded as he yawned and a few minutes fell asleep while still holding onto his toy. The scene of him sleeping peacefully warmed her heart.

"Was that Fuyuhito?" Irefumi asked.

"Yeah. Though, we won't get going to bed too early when you get back."

Rei hummed as the sponge cleaned off the grease and sauce from tonight's dinner. If either of her parents saw what she'd become they'd be infuriated; but alas, they're not here to do that.

Ever since she retired from being an idol, a sudden longing for a simpler, more humble life surged inside her. While others in her field went into the greater entertainment industry, she faded into the background.

But being in the background was better than being the face.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Two small hands tugged at her apron. Rei looked down to see Mani, her daughter, looking up at her with a wide and bright smile.

"Yes, my dear?" Rei dropped down on one knee to be at her daughter's level. It was advice her mother-in-law gave her four months into her pregnancy with Mani.

"Sing me to sleep!" Mani cheered with that same smile she had before.

"Of course." Rei picked her up and headed upstairs to Mani's bedroom.

The walls were painted a soft periwinkle decorated with glow in the dark stars and posters of all of Mani's favorite superheroines and characters. Plugged into the wall was a nightlight themed after her favorite fairytale princess.

Rei gently laid Mani in the bed and began to sing to her. Her thumb gently stroked her hair, lulling the young girl more. After a few minutes, Mani was asleep.

A smile crossed Rei's face as she bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

"Good night, my little princess. Sweet dreams."

Rei walked downstairs and picked up a white envelope addressed to her. It was in her mailbox by the time she came home from the conference.

I wonder what it is, she thought while opening it. Inside was a paper with some information about her recent performance.

Haunting Heroine: Phantasm AKA Miyano, Rei Status Report

Public Duties

Public Relations: B-

Notes: Has great appeal to the public but is unwilling to share details of personal life in interviews and conferences. Has also attacked or got violent with paparazzi on several occasions

Public Endorsements: F-

Notes: Has failed and/or refused to make any public endorsements

Advertiser Friendliness: C-

Notes: Refuses to comply with advertiser friendly policy when featured on Heroes Weekly Show

Press Relations: F-

Notes: Refuses to let journalists take photos, avoids questions at press conferences, and refuses to appear on magazine covers

Final Verdict: At risk of termination

Rei crumpled up the report then threw it in the trash. She wasn't offended by the low grades, she was offended by the fact that they even sent it to her.

"Dumbass report," she mumbled. "I don't need to play by their rules when it's my life."

@floof-ghostie @calciumcryptid @beyonettta @opalofoctober @elflynns-horde-of-stuff @pizzolisnacks @peachyblkdemonslayer @milf-percy

[infiinitys]

SANDRA OH. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of SULLEN GIRL by fiona apple, well, it describes EVELYN “EVE” NAM to a tee! the fifty-one year old, and FILM DIRECTOR was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more guarded or more PASSIONATE instead? anyway, they remind me of long hours on film sets, a shelf of film excellence awards but a heart that feels empty, rarely ever taking a moment of leisure & snide remarks as a defense mechanism, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 : death, complications in childbirth, car crash, depression

 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

Eve was born in Notting Hill, the first child in the Nam family. Her father and mother had initially moved to town to start a family and build a better life for themselves. They initially did so, as Eve's father partnered with a friend from law school to open a very successful law practice.

They wanted many children, but Eve's mother passed away due to complications in childbirth. The grief sent her father into a spiral, specifically taking out his pain on his young daughter as she got older through verbal insults and unreachable expectations. And he would become exasperated when Eve somehow managed to reach them.

Eve graduated from high school at the top of her class. One might think that her father would have been delighted that his daughter was able to reach such an incredible academic standard, but he walked out during her valedictorian speech.

It made sense that Eve blossomed when she went away to college, the one thing her father was happy to pay for -- getting his daughter as far away from his possible, the reminder of what he lost.

He would go as far as to send her across the pond to the United States, where she would attend USC, a school known for churning out top-tier filmmakers. It's what she had always wanted to do since she was a little girl, make films that would be seen by audiences all over the world.

She was well liked by her professors, but was often told that she had her head in the clouds. Specifically when it came to the genre of horror.

Post graduation she found herself working as a low-level employee on several film sets directing some smaller work on the side, before her first original screenplay -- something that she had originally wrote back in high school and had adapted was put on the screen.

The film was a raging success, blowing up at the box office and causing critics to call it a new revolution of horror. Seeing the success of the film, the studio she shot it with soon shoved a second film into pre-production.

Amidst all this she had moved into an apartment, where she soon struck up a close friendship with her neighbor, Alistair James. Something in her knew it was more than that, that she felt more deeply than she ever thought she should have, believing that it would never be anything else.

With no script and a quick turn around time, she soon found herself turning to horror novels until there was one she fell head over heels in love with. After pitching the concept and adapting the screenplay, they soon began shooting.

Her second film would be the pinnacle of her career. She would win the Oscar that year for Best Adapted Screenplay as well as Best Picture, an feat that was unheard of in the genre, let alone achieved by a woman.

For the longest time she had possessed no one to celebrate with her. That is, until Alistair had entered her life.

Shortly after awards season came to a close and Eve began searching for her next project, tragedy struck. Alistair's brother and his wife had gotten into a fatal car accident, leaving their fifteen year old daughter, Ezra. Eve made the executive decision to take pause from her career, something that she never told her closest friend. When he asked, Eve simply told him she needed a breather. She wanted to be there for him, not off shooting somewhere else.

She's worked on several recent projects, the most recent being a suspense film that wrapped in England about a month ago and is now in the process of being edited for the screen.

She moved nearby when Alistair relocated, and is slowly beginning to realize that what she feels is so much more and she can only cling to denial for so long...

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Eve bonded with Ezra initially through gifts. If the young woman saw something she wanted, it would somehow magically end up in her uncle's possession. It had been her goal not to push her to talk to her until she was ready. The two are now quite close.

She means well, but sometimes Eve can come off a bit harsher than she initially intends to. She's just very used to being surrounded by people who constantly have an agenda.

A regular at some of the bars in town, often enjoying going out for a drink at Hammonds in particular.

She's slowly but surely beginning to realize how lonely she really is, considering that genuine connections are so rare in her life and when they happen, they always leave.

more to come.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

TBA

[featherburnt]

➥ Til the Hurt is Gone: Bloodfeather

Title: Friendly Request Part #: 18  Pairing: Hawks x m!OC Word Count: 3,905 Tags: Nothing really

Summary: For three years, the hero Hellhound has been hunting, infiltrating groups of villains and probing for information in his search for one named Sonata, the former hero Prisma. A U.A. graduate, he should know better. He should be protecting civilians, hunting down villains when ordered, but his heart lingers on the pains of old memories, the hot desire for retribution burning in his chest. On one fateful night, when the enemy is locked in his sights, a man with vermillion wings snuffs the flames seated in his palms, using his words to burrow under his skin like a fowl little bug. What will he do then? Will he continue his hunt, or will boiling blood finally cool?  

Nogitsune discusses his responsibilities with Euphony, uncertain and emotional.

As always, minors do not interact.

Moments later…

    When Nogitsune was certain Hawks had left the medical office, he was eager to take his place, hurrying down the long, windowed hall and tip-toeing inside like a thief in the night, managing to dodge the agents beginning to wander in and out of their offices. He ignored the sunlight creeping in, wishing to remain unseen and unbothered by wonton conversation with people he detested, despised, his mossy gaze focused forward and unwavering. He didn’t pay any mind to the loud squeal of the door on its hinges - this one never failed to complain after usage - nor the medical diagrams scattered about the walls, nor the posted personnel schedule, willing himself to continue onward to meet the hero the Director had ordered him to see. He’d already known who he was, having worked with him intimately several years ago when both of their careers were at their peak, and he thought it pitiful that an old friend should yet again be used against him, no matter what the purpose of this meeting was. On his approach, he slowed his steps until finally coming to a halt, glaring down the break room doorway and the fluorescent light striking through it with furrowed brows and a deep frown, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding slowly escaping him.

    He knew what this was about, but he couldn’t bring himself to cross the threshold and face it head-on, all the stubborn, reckless courage he instilled into the people he’d taken under his wing missing from him now. Maybe this was how Hellhound had felt, or Hawks, or even the rest of the bunch, even if their reasoning might’ve been a bit different…

    Frozen to the spot, he considered his options. No doubt, the great Euphony was already aware of him, roused, too, by Hawks’ impromptu intrusion; He’d little choice but to brace himself and enter, but he didn’t want to and he could neglect to do so, sneak away and leave Commission HQ altogether, attend to other, more pressing matters. Such could be forgiven, couldn’t it? If he was going to die anyway, surely there wasn’t much else they could do to stop him this once. But, then, he’d be cut off, forbidden to interact with Hellhound to any meaningful capacity and live out his final days without ever finding the opportunity - the words - to apologize, and Hellhound would have to kill Prisma all over again, relive that trauma - and do it alone. He made his bed, arrogant fool as he was, and now he ought to lie in it, right?

    Right…

    He debated with himself for a nigh unbearable stretch of time, teetering on his heels, bare toes curling into the commercial carpet beneath.

    It was a matter of principle, however, but he was afraid he hadn’t any to speak of. Not really.  

    He was culpable, deserving of the blame, and despite his willingness to sacrifice his life to atone for his sins both criminal and interpersonal, the same couldn’t quite be said for much else. A coward, unwilling to stand before the mirrors anyone held up to him lest he see the ugliness, the very worst of himself reflected back at him. A liar, manipulator, arrogant, selfish, inconsiderate, insufferable goddamn prick, and the loudest parts of himself accepted that, nurtured and protected it; He gave up his principles to carry out the unspeakable in order to effectively do his job, to protect and serve the people of Japan from the dark underbelly of hero society, training his interns and sidekicks to do the same because someone had to. Someone had to make the hard decisions, the ugly, painful, wrong decisions, and he did, with enthusiasm and without mercy.

    And look where it’s gotten him. Look where it’s gotten Hellhound… Lightbringer, Crovita, Black Knight… Even Tarot.

    What sort of hero was he? What sort of friend was he?

    Why couldn’t he just die to serve out his sentence? He’d already accepted his fate; It would be easier, simpler, no matter how truly terrified of that fate he happened to be.

    He found himself hesitating, thoughts tumbling in agonizing circles. It didn’t suit him. Forcing himself to endure for the moment, he swallowed down the thick knot beginning to form in his throat and ignored the tightness of his chest. He didn’t have any choice and he couldn’t back out now, his desperate wishes to do so be damned.

    He stepped forward, silencing the fervent beating of his heart, and met Euphony with a broad, mischievous grin befitting a Cheshire cat, holding his head high and viciously clinging to his composure. Noticing a troubled yet still, contradictorily, placid expression on the Sleep-Song Hero’s face, he incidentally boxed himself into a chipper and spirited corner.

    “Euphony, my old friend!” Nogitsune chirped playfully, swinging his arm outward in a grand flourish, silken haori sleeve fluttering accordingly. “To what do I owe the pleasure? It’s been so long–”

    “Nogitsune,” Euphony responded calmly, heaving a muted sigh while motioning toward a mug of still-steaming coffee, “you’re late.”

    “Fashionably, I hope,” he said, stepping lightly into the break room and carefully grasping at the hot mug. He didn’t bother to drink it; It couldn’t have been for him, which meant this meeting would be short at best. He was grateful for that, despite the implications plain black coffee brought to the table. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, my friend? Or are you just happy to see me?”

    Euphony scowled at him.

    “Oh, tell me, Euphony. What’s the matter?”

    “I’ve hung up my cape, Nogitsune. Call me by my name.” The former hero inhaled sharply and screwed his eyes shut the moment he finished, thin, white brows knitting together, irritation ever more clear. Just as quickly, he’d opened them, taking a hasty sip from his own mug before setting it down and aside where it would lie forgotten. “You seem to lack all appreciation for the gravity of your choices and the precarious position you’ve put your favorite student into.”

    His heart sank with the confirmation of his givings, but he held firm, his grin intact.

    “You’ve got the wrong idea–”

    “No, you do.”

    “Are you here to lecture me, repeat after the Director like one of her little pets?” Nogitsune muttered darkly, betraying himself in his defensiveness, all warmth draining away. “Don’t tell me what you really think, Furie. Just keep parroting what that vile woman–”

    “You’re no different, a pet just the same,” Furie sighed, as if realizing something. What, he didn’t know, and he didn’t rightly care at that moment, incensed by whatever assumptions he’d made - even if they might well have been accurate.

    “And what would you know about it–”

    “The mouth is the source of disaster.”

    He bit his lip, tearing his eyes away from Furie’s frame, agitated by the simple weaponization of proverb. At the height of his career, he rarely spoke if only to impart grave meaning when he finally would, but every word had always fallen into step with proverbs and idioms. No doubt this had been necessitated by force of habit; Even in retirement, he couldn’t help but poke and prod at Nogitsune’s nerves, whose fortitude had been lacking in turn. He gave in, bending the knee to the slender man before him, albeit apprehensively.

    “Then what…” he murmured, “is this about?”

    “You’re a skilled manipulator - until someone is made intimately aware of your tells.”

    Silence permeated the room, like a foul poison in the weakest bloodstream. The savage beating of Nogitsune’s heart had been renewed, nearly deafening him in the interim, a piercing scream in his veins that tingled and burned upon reaching his eardrums. If he’d any courage before, it was surely gone now, as the former hero’s words dug underneath his skin. Furie wanted him to stew, to think and to ponder in discomfort, to come up with the answer all on his own; Or, to, at least, admit to his shortcomings out loud.

    In another time, perhaps a few years ago, he might’ve grinned at the sharpness of his wit, but all he could do was cower, mentally curl into himself and shy away from the unwavering violet gaze freezing him in place.

    “‘Fall down seven times, stand up eight’ - that’s always been a principle of yours, forced upon your interns, sidekicks, or otherwise. You show them the harsh realities of the path they’ve chosen, make them understand how alone they will be when faced with their mortality and their failures – Can you not adhere to that principle, apply it to yourself? Have you given up so soon, when so many depend on you?”

    “So you are here to lecture me–” he retorted, nearly stumbling over his words as instinctive defensiveness rushed to the forefront once more.

    “I’m here to remind you of what’s at stake. It’s not just your life hanging in the balance, but Tarot’s–”

    “I couldn’t care less if he died tonight, or even last night, or even five years ago– Ten before that!” he hissed emphatically, clenching the mug still caught in his hand.

    “--Hawks’, and Hellhound’s particularly,” Furie continued, ignoring his interruption with stubborn prejudice.

    “I know that already!” Nogitsune snapped.

    “Do you really?” Knowing eyes sharply narrowed, unflinching violet mercilessly raking over Nogitsune, picking him apart and easily unraveling him in their scrutiny. In a cold whisper, he continued with realization and reproach: “You haven’t gone to the infirmary... You haven’t even seen Hellhound. You’ve lost your nerve - and your faith in him.”

    “It’s not like that–”

    “Then what’s stalling you? What’s keeping you from facing him? It’s not as if he’s awake to tell you off in all the colorful ways he knows how… You have an opportunity to really lend him the strength you’ve always meant to, yet you sulk and toil about instead! Don’t tell me you plucked him from U.A, swearing to make amends, only to cast him aside again. Would you let him die to protect your pride?!”

    Nogitsune didn’t dare to look at him now, swallowing thickly, attempting to goad himself into taking a step back and leaving this awful fucking place, to believe even for a brief moment that he wasn’t so shallow - that it wasn’t the truth and Furie wasn’t right about him. For as much as he wanted and wanted to put things right and leave Saryn with some comfort in knowing that even though he’d royally fucked up, he was still firmly and unshakably set in his corner - that everything he did now was to prepare him for the day he would have nothing and no one– It was love in its purest form, irrespective of the horrible things he’d done to display it, and that was his flaw, wasn’t it? Any sane person would think he was giving himself too much credit, spinning his thoughts into justifications - excuses. No, he was a coward from hem to haw as well as a terrible, unforgivable teacher…and making excuses, lying through his fox-teeth, is exactly why Furie was here now, why Saryn hadn’t woken, why he had no right to call himself a hero.

    “You must help him, Nogitsune!” Furie demanded, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a sour expression tearing across his face, fluorescent lighting casting dark shadows in tandem. He was frustrated, normally so well-composed, and willingly put it on display. Maybe the emotions roiling in his eyes paired with that awful look – Maybe it was an effort to manipulate him, and he was loath to admit it was working.

    When before he wouldn’t dare, Nogitsune couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, now, his hand gripping the ceramic mug even tighter than before.

    “Use your quirk, mitigate the worst of the damage, absorb it. You’re still a hero, Nogitsune,” Furie pleaded, his tone softening considerably, but a certain firmness overtook him as he bowed his head. “You’re still the hero that brought Ichtheleo, Ichtheleon, Crovita– Hellhound into the fold, the same hero I watched ferry scores of trafficked children to safety in the middle of a firefight in enemy territory–” He stopped short and shook his head slowly, his voice a mite more desperate now. “You’re still Hellhound’s friend; You can put things right and this is your chance!”

    He squeezed the mug tighter, practically clawing into it now, almost afraid it might shatter. The clock upon the wall ticked and tocked away, but with each turn of its hands, the ticking became louder and soon matched with his heartbeat. His mouth went dry.

    “You must help him, Nogitsune…” No doubt, he felt his words had fallen on deaf ears. Turning away, he busied himself with meticulously emptying out and cleaning the mug he’d set aside before, pumping out too much soap and scrubbing until the suds had climbed up his forearms.

    As he made quick work of the mug, mossy green dove headlong into the seemingly fathomless pit he held himself, bubbles of varying shades of brown swirling around at the middle. When the still-hot coffee came to stop in motion, he could see a miniaturized reflection of himself glaring back at him, judging him; Pointing the finger at him, spitefully scowling, silently screaming among gentle waves of near-pitch to do something, but the thrashing of his heart beckoned him to hotfoot his way out of this, to run away with his tails between his legs and put it behind him. He was sentenced to death, to serve out his penance as a sacrificial lamb where Saryn would take his place and one day be entreated to the same fate - in spite of the effort he put forth into buying him more time, freedom, life.

    Every thought he had pushed him to either side of the precipice on which he stood, threatening to rip at the seams of his being and cause him to burst, or fall to the floor in a bloody, mangled heap.

    “Because,” came a quiet voice, above the running faucet, “if you don’t, he’ll die.”

    Indignant, he clutched at the mug meant for Saryn, and, guilty, his grip slackened and the faintest hint of moisture began to build in his eyes. It wasn’t a threat; There was no animosity behind Furie’s words, nor murderous intent, but a woeful understanding of what a lack of action could lead to - and the husk of a man Nogitsune had always been had to come to terms with that.

    “Euphony, I–” he started, now thinking it best to keep his mouth shut yet struggling forward anyway, his emotions getting the better of him. “I never wanted this to happen.”

    Furie paused, rinsing the mug and setting it aside once more, perturbed by what he’d said. He cocked his head over his shoulder and caught Nogitsune’s gaze and held it, a furrow to his brow. “Feeling sorry for yourself is unbecoming of any hero, let alone one such as you. You owe it to him to put things right, or you will die with only your regrets by your side.” Then, softly, but with no small amount of nostalgic apprehension and hidden emotion of his own, voice faltering but a little: “And I…can’t think of a worse end for you, my friend.”

    “I’m... not going to leave him for dead,” Nogitsune murmured heartfully, though solemnity had taken him in full.

    Dark silver hair hung in his eyes, pricking at the corners, and at once he broke his stare, blinking without purpose as all within his scope of vision shifted out of focus, the meager break room now a muddy smear of dismal workplace color.

    He was miserable where he stood, crumbling beneath the weight of everything Furie’d said, his ribs on the verge of shattering against the heavy thrum of his heart. Perhaps he was right, that he ought to take the time necessary to take care of Saryn himself, with his own two hands. After all, he hadn’t yet gone to see him, putting if off and avoiding it for as long as he possibly could, and it wasn’t because some small part of him wanted to honor his near feverish need to struggle and survive without help, though it might’ve been at first; He was too afraid of what he might see, too frightened by the despair awaiting him upon witnessing yet again just how broken he was in the wake of his fight against Tarot. It never mattered how often Saryn had fallen before, always throwing himself into the heat of battle with reckless abandon no matter how high the stakes, but the aftermath was always a relentless, distressing horror, his life teetering on the edge, threatening to slip away. He’d come close to death countless times, and Nogitsune didn’t have enough fingers on both hands to count just how many of those instances had been his fault. Still, he hadn’t wanted to have the dull lifelessness of his comatose friend seared into his memory once more, so he cowered behind closed doors, focusing his rejected efforts onto Tarot instead, pointless as that’d been.

    Was there betrayal in that, too? Perhaps he should have tended to Saryn’s wounds anyway, ignored his waking protests following his battle, but would it have mattered? Should he have used his quirk anyway? Would Saryn have thanked him, softened and attempted to bridge the gap between them once he regained consciousness? Would it have mattered? Maybe it was selfish of him to have hoped for that from the beginning, shaken by the harm that’d come to him. Shameful, even, to so hungrily crave absolution yet being entirely incapable of properly seeking it out. It was no wonder Saryn pushed him away. He led him into a den of sharp-clawed lions and venomous snakes and expected him to greet him with warmth and familiarity, but what remained of their once steadfast bond had faded into obscurity, a tattered mess begging to be forgotten. He’d done wrong, and Saryn bore the consequences. There could be no absolution, nor forgiveness, nor reparation, or even neutrality. Nogitsune earned this disdain, this reactive repudiation, and he deserved to suffer it now; He didn’t possess the courage to remedy the circumstances, and Furie’d called him out for the weak and hypocritical fool he’d been all the while.

    What else could he do but continue to shrink away and pathetically grovel for a chance to set things right, only to run away again and again knowing how it would turn out? Was there any point in trying? He’d already bartered his life away in return for Saryn’s second chance at life, redemption for himself; Was that not enough? Or had the foul taste of ownership by the Commission rendered that effort useless? How foolish could he be that he would believe it would ever be anything more than a cheap excuse to hide from his failures as a friend and teacher to a man lost in the throes of grief and anger? Always running from his responsibility, his involvement.

    Sitting alone in his office at the Foxfire agency, clinging to any hope of rightful change, was easier.

    A sigh strangled the resounding quiet stretching between them and the former hero returned his attention to the sink he’d been washing in, once more turning away from Nogitsune, who couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than idle with his head tipped forward. Silver shielded mossy green from view, and he was thankful for it.

    “Not a soul would forgive you if you did,” Furie said after a while, with somber finality, running water splattering against steel. “For all his stubborn, reckless, foolish, hypersensitive stupidity, he is a fine hero… You saw to that before he ever earned his provisional license. Don’t allow your efforts to go to waste simply because this is difficult. You’ll never forgive yourself if you do.”

    Nogitsune bit his tongue.

    “Use your quirk. There is no one else; It must be you. Helping him to stand and fight another day will far outweigh the damage you think you’ll inflict.” The squeal of the faucet shutting off interrupted his calm, quiet voice. “You cannot rely on Hawks’ efforts alone.”

    “I know that–”

    “I need you to understand everything I’m saying to you, Nogitsune - my friend. I don’t wish for you to die, but in the event this outcome cannot be changed, I wish even less for your death to be without meaning.” Furie’s posture folded and he leaned his full weight over the counter, wet hands splayed across its surface. “So many of us have fallen in pursuit of peace and safety, trading our lives for it at every turn… Please, Nogitsune– I did not answer the Director’s call and come to this terrible place out of fear or even to satisfy the conditions of my retirement. No matter how foolish you are, you’re a good man, and as your friend, I won’t allow you to abandon another. It’s not truly in your nature.”

    By now, the coffee Nogitsune clung to had begun to cool. Steam no longer wafted from its surface and the bubbles had all but popped, now devoid of anything that would otherwise disturb it. He remained motionless but heavy, so much of him slumping inward as his composure began to wilt and wither. The strength to stand tall and defiant had vacated and he was thankful, so thankful, that Furie would not look at him now.

    Dryly and without any bite, he replied, “I’ve changed since you retired, Euphony… I’m not the same man you once knew.”

    “Yes, you are.”

    He didn’t push any further, the haywire beat of his heart slowing to an agonizing pulse, bare and open for the man before him to see. But that’d been true for all he’d come across since Hellhound resurfaced, to say nothing of Hawks or Saryn. A bitter smile threatened to peel across his face, but he stifled it with prejudice, rubbing his thumb along the curve and slope of the mug he held. They’d all seen him for the witless coward he was, seen the chinks in his armor as he flailed at the flames burning closest to the end of his rope, but there were none who knew best how to exploit that than Furie.

    After all this time, he still knew how to back him into a corner.

    Nogitsune’s feet never left the poorly carpeted floor as he took his turn to pivot away, the back of his silken haori facing the now similarly dispositioned former hero. He lingered hopelessly, unprepared for what actions were now his due, and he hesitated in perpetuity, thoughts anxiously tumbling around in his head.

    “Hawks was the right choice, you know,” Furie said gently. “He’s come to this office every day in the vain hope that someone would be scheduled to care for Hellhound’s wounds, all the while doing his best on his own. You should thank him.” He paused briefly, before adding, softly, “Without his help, Hellhound might well not have made it until today.”

    Nogitsune cocked his head over his shoulder, his eyes never once rising to meet snowy hair nor the corners of softened violet. He simply hadn’t the heart to continue. But not another word was spoken between them, and before any more precious time could be spent in silence, he left Furie alone and returned to the busy halls with sorrow and pensive thought haunting his steps.

[qnewsau]

Vile and Tacky O hit the Melbourne airwaves

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/vile-and-tacky-o-hit-the-melbourne-airwaves/

Vile and Tacky O hit the Melbourne airwaves

Vile and Tacky O, aka Kyle and Jacki O, made their Melbourne radio debut this week and didn’t miss a trick in their efforts to build an audience based on outrage and bad taste.

The bogan darlings proved long ago there’s nothing too crass, distasteful, or malicious for the Sydney radio market.  (Oh wait… as poor old Alan Jones has learned, disappear for a minute or two, and everyone forgets you.)

Anyway, Vile and Tacky O have opened a branch office in Melbourne on their way to world domination.

“The beginning of the 20-year dream of going national, one city at a time,” squealed Vile like an excited schoolgirl.

Umm!

You’re 52 years old! You better start adding cities quickly – good face for radio but someone will notice soon enough even Euphoria would find you too old to play the perpetual adolescent bogan.

Anyway – what did Vile and Tacky O pull out to ensure publicity for their first Melbourne show?

Vile introduced gay newsreader Brooklyn as a “massive homo” who “used to be a real gay whore” and a “woke piece of shit.”

Meanwhile, Tacky O assured listeners she doesn’t have any STIs and keeps her pussy “pristine.”

That got Vile excited.

“You’re like a Greek chick that keeps the vagina fresh for the husband, but 40 guys have gone through the arse.”

Bruno Bouchet, chief content director of the show (a job to be proud of) popped on air to tell listeners he has a “freakishly long french foreskin” and secretly loves pegging.

Executive producer Pedro is apparently not as interesting

“The migrant we employed…” because he is “he is best person for the job, not just a black lesbian.”

More Vile and Tacky O

Kyle Sandilands rants about Sam Smith’s non-binary pronouns.

Kyle Sandilands: big gay disease floating around.

Man finds sister’s fiancé on Grindr, confronts her on radio.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[whattheresidentdidtoday]

A Regular Alex Trebek Over Here - 3/22/23

Trivia night went ok I think. Paul showed me which cards they'd already done and those they hadn't. Turns out he missed some cause I'd ask a question and Richard would be like "I think we already did this one..." and I'd give them a joking glare while dramatically setting it down. I was nervous about it, but I think I have a better idea of how to do it next time.

Nothing much else has happened. Thurs and Fri are my last days. I'm gonna have to track down the executive director to ask about if all the hours I've racked up in PTO will be compensated in my final paycheck or if I'm going to have to relinquish it. Hope not, cause it's almost $900 worth!

Oh! Had a darling interaction with a stranger on Instagram. There was a post of a lady who'd quit by floating her resignation on a balloon into her manager's office, and a comment was like "i quit today but it wasn't as epic as this". I commented my own experience in reply, like same I also didn't have an epic quitting. And some bozo replied to me "or or or, nobody gives a f*** that you're leaving". First of all, you ding dong double dummy clown, people do care, but thanks for making me feel like crap. Small consolation is people keep liking my comment but not his mwahaha.

Phew....anyway...

[cksmart-world]

SMART BOMB

The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

February 7, 2023

TOP 10 REASONS TO LIVE IN UTAH

10 – Tequila, Lime Jell-O Shooters  

9 – Pregnant women and their fetuses driving in car pool lanes  

8 – Ponzi schemes and the real Real Housewives of Salt Lake City

7 – Proposed $550 million gondola up Little Cottonwood Canyon

6 – Disappearing Great Salt Lake

5 – Best alfalfa (upstream from Great Salt Lake)

4 – Insurrectionist and great American Mike Lee

3 – Greatest Air On Earth

2 – U.S. Magnesium Corp. (upwind from the Wasatch Front)

1 – And the best reason to live in Utah: The State Legislature

UFO COVERUP

They're here! Have you seen 'em. Maybe not. They reportedly have cloaking devices, like the Klingons on Star Trek. (We are not making this up.) Republican Tennessee Congressman Tim Burchett accused The Pentagon of “a huge coverup” following the release last month of a report for the Director of National Intelligence (DNI) that acknowledged hundreds UFO sightings last year alone. Some could be plastic bags or those Trump diaper balloons but at least 171 were deemed to be what the military calls "unidentified aerial phenomena" (UAP). “If you were human and made the turns that have been seen in some of this footage, you would literally turn into a ketchup packet,” Burchett said. Yes, Wilson, he said, “ketchup.” And no, they weren't Chinese spy balloons. Ronald Moultrie, under secretary of defense for intelligence and security, said there is no evidence that "would lead us to believe that any of the objects are of alien origin." Sure. Burchett isn't convinced — he doesn't trust the feds when it comes to aliens from space. What's hard to figure though is why they never land and say, hi, like in the 1977 movie, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” Or maybe they're already here, as in the 1993 sci-fi film, “The Body Snatchers.” That at least would explain Marjorie Taylor Greene.

HOUSE GOP CONDEMNS STALIN, MAO, MEDICARE

For anyone who thinks Republicans with their new majority in the House aren't accomplishing much, think again. They approved a resolution condemning the 1917 Russian Revolution. Bluster? No way, getting tough on Vladimir Lenin after 105 years is, let's see, unfriggin' real. The brave GOP caucus also went after Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong and Pol Pot. If that doesn't strike fear into the hearts of Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping what would. But maybe it should give Democrats pause, as well. Hey stupid, don't look at the man behind the curtain. The demonization of communism and socialism couldn't also pertain to Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security, could it? Mmmm... Some 109 Democrats voted with Republicans, not figuring the swinging door of faux patriotism could smack them in the ass. Republicans despise Medicare and Social Security — although they won't say that out loud. It's all mind games, of course, but when the GOP damned communism, and socialism — again — some wobbly Dems followed suit fearing they'd get punked. But they got punked anyway, joining the “America the Beautiful” chorus... “and crowned thy good with brotherhood not stinkin' commie commradhood from sea to shining sea.” Obamacare — what's that?

Post script —  That's a wrap for another wintry week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of Chinese spy balloons so you don't have to. THE SKY IS FALLING! Yes Wilson, we've all had a gutful of Chinese balloons. Truth is they've been floating overhead for years but the Pentagon didn't tell Trump because... well, the less he knew the better. And speaking of brave men, Rep. Andrew Clyde (R-Ga.) was handing out assault-rifle lapel pins on Capital Hill because they're so good for mass shootings. After the Jan. 6 insurrection he said the rioters were just tourists taking a stroll through the historic building. But video of that day shows him cowering behind an officer as the mob pounded on the House doors. Maybe a dog-poop lapel pin would be more apropos. Republican Gov. Spencer Cox recently proclaimed that “we,” — apparently himself and GOP lawmakers — would not let the Great Salt Lake Dry up. Meanwhile, the Senate Natural Resources, Agriculture and Environment committee voted down a proposal to keep the lake level at a minimum of 4,198 feet. All Republican members voted against the plan. Wonder if they represent alfalfa growers. Not to worry, Cox has an ace up his sleeve — he met with LDS Church leaders to aid him seek help from a higher authority. We'll see how that goes.

Hey Wilson, we earthlings should do more to entice the aliens to come on down. Well OK, maybe we could invite them to the Sturges motorcycle rally. But that could be confusing. The first alien might say something like: What are those humanoides doing on those two-wheelers. To which the second alien might respond: I don't know but the ones driving call the ones on the back, Mama. Alright, instead maybe you and the band could invite them down with a song:

Woke up this morning with light in my eyes And then realized it was still dark outside It was a light comin' down from the sky I don't know who or why Must be those strangers that come every night Whose saucers shaped light put people up tight Leave blue green footprints that glow in the dark I hope they get home all right Hey Mr.Spaceman, won't you please take me along I won't do anything wrong Hey Mr.Spaceman, won't you please take me along For a ride Woke up this mornin', I was feeling quite weird Had flies in my beer, my tooth paste was smeared I opened my window, they'd written my name Said: "So long, we'll see you again". Hey Mr.Spaceman, won't you please take me along I won't do anything wrong Hey Mr.Spaceman, won't you please take me along For a ride

(Mr. Spaceman — The Byrds)

[dylanalexiswrites]

Why I Quit My Job....

Okay, so here we go…

This has been bugging me in the past few days and I figured, why not write about it? I’m under a pseudonym anyway and people won’t know. (Right?) There is such a thing as social media identity and it can either be good or bad.

Staying on my topic, there has been this constant desire for me to just about give up on something that I started working on in a snap. (This post has been placed on and off in the last two days. Oops...)

I started re-working my blog last week and was hooked but after a while, my passion started to shift again and I started to make excuses not to post anything. (I guess I got my mojo back after a short while.)

It has been a habit that I am trying—and failing to remove myself from and is the reason why I move from one job to the other without having any backup plan. My family says that I need to keep my life on track and find a better-paying job (and stay in it.) but once I do get there, I get claustrophobic and sometimes, even get anxiety attacks that further my stress.

In my last job as a contractual worker in a government school, everything felt like I was in a chokehold.

I was constantly transferred from one department to another (the last transfer before I resigned was my decision to ask for one, I’ll elaborate later.) I was an assistant to a director in my first department and everything was actually okay. My boss was cool and he cared about my welfare because whenever there was a typhoon or other calamities, he would always advise me to go home early, and I got to do what I love and that is writing, although it’s mostly writing letters and checking typographical errors in my boss’s report, it’s still very satisfying to do.

I stayed in his office for about nine months and by January 2020, I was reluctantly transferred to another department that soured me to everything about government-related work.

I was tasked to be in the Property Management office and everything about my job description was foreign to me as I am a Mass Communication graduate. I had to receive deliveries and inspect them while also making monthly COA reports and going as far as signing documents that I should not have because it is a job for bosses and directors but my supervisor told me to do so. Bless her heart.

She would constantly blame me if delivery fails to come or if I made mistakes in computing and reconciling millions that needed to be paid (She can kiss my ass because that is an accountant’s job that she’s making me do.)

When the pandemic hit, I was in a work-from-home setup, and little did I know that she told my co-worker to receive delivered items on my behalf and those items cost hundreds and thousands of pesos. That’s when I lost it.

I filed the complaint in the Human Resources Department and told them that if I would be obligated to stay in that department, I will file a complaint against my boss at the Civil Service Commission because any contract of services worker should not be entrusted to sign documents about money and deliveries as well as Commission on Audit reports.

So I was transferred to the University Registrar’s office. This is when I finally snapped and resigned. My co-workers were just so frustrating. They always cajoled me into buying Starbucks even if I did not have the luxury to do so.

They always had weekly Samgyeopsal Parties after work and if you told them that you need to get home early because of other commitments, they will guilt-trip you and call you Kill-Joy. How can I be a killjoy when I just wanted to go home at the right time?

But they took that as an offense and always made fun of me for not wanting to hang out with them. In my head, I just wanted to say this: You guys are way too extroverted. Also, we’re coworkers, not friends and I don’t want to be friends with all of you. I just want to do my job and go home afterward.

They always had backhanded compliments about me and it made me just go further into a deep depression. I always questioned myself as to why I needed to go through this. It hurt that they giggled whenever I made a mistake or whenever I could not locate an old student’s file as if it were my fault when they failed to tell the employee that I replaced to fix her shit and not leave documents lying around everywhere.

They would also blame me if there are lost files that have not been located since 2007. For fuck’s sake, I was only thirteen years old then, you mean to tell me that the employee handling this forgot to place the document in the proper filing cabinet?

That’s when I up and decided to quit.

I only had like, three weeks left in my contract and contract workers are paid only when they are present so I took the risk.

I resigned and never looked back.

So, here’s my advice, never engage yourself with people who would constantly make you feel awful daily.

[chimivx]

expecting, expected. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader, and ot7 { couple from vegas, baby }

summary: Exhaustion, anxiety, hormones... This is life now, for the next nine months... And it's time to tell your friends!

words: 6k

warnings: fluffy (lol), mentions of sex, suggestive conversation, jikook warning, drinking, grown adults out for dinner and interacting, If I missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

a/n: HI! You already know what I'm posting. VEGAS SERIES ADDITION! I'm unsure how I feel about this one... Fell in love with it, but now... I dunno. I hope you ENJOY IT if you read it! I'm in need of more fluffy dad!Yoongi so be prepared, more of that will be coming. I'm never letting this series go.

{ find the vegas, series here to get to know this couple some more }

Tucked beneath a blanket, curled up in a ball on Yoongi’s lap watching the new episode of Run BTS, you were fighting to keep your eyes open, doing the slow blink. Running his fingers through your hair, dragging his fingernails soothingly over your scalp, it was as if Yoongi was actively trying to get you to fall asleep. That’s all you’ve been able to do for the past two weeks anyway, and it didn’t matter where you were, you were dozing off at random.

Shortly after the Golden Disc Awards, and that blur of a day, you were scheduled to see a doctor where the news you knew to be true was confirmed. Yoongi stood by your side watching attentively as the doctors did bloodwork, spoke with you about your symptoms, and gave you a long list of do’s and don'ts for you to follow for the next nine months after they showed the two of you that you were definitely pregnant.

This early on it wasn’t necessary for you to see a doctor yet, considering your age and your health, however Yoongi let his worry’s slip to a director, one of the higher ups that had most of the power. Keeping the entire situation on the down low, it was decided you’d be treated as if you were an Idol yourself, being ushered into the office almost against your will, a place where you’d get the most prompt, unconditional care throughout your pregnancy.

You didn’t expect anything less from Yoongi. That morning, holding onto his hand, his other was wrapped around you protectively wherever you went. You knew he would go overboard. Your dark haired, still in physical therapy boyfriend found a new hobby- waiting on you hand and foot, like he wasn’t the star of the household. None of that even mattered in your rapport anyway, you were the star of his life.

After the awards, once the two of you were back home and cuddled underneath the safety of your bed covers, nearly nose to nose, you took turns speaking into the early hours of the morning. Initial shock had subsided, and you were both able to actively listen to one another, and think rationally. Yoongi expressed his excitement, telling you how he dreams of this, wanting to do it all with you, only if you wanted it too.

When the sun had risen and the time was checked, laughter was shared along with a reassuring kiss. 

Meeting Yoongi at twenty two, you were young, still at the beginning of your life. Barely out of college, you didn’t have a clue if you ever wanted to have children, the thought rarely crossed your mind. For a while it was full of, how am I going to pay for my next meal, before it did a complete one eighty, turning into, what city are we flying to next? You were jet-set for six years until the global shutdown of the year 2020.

Now, age twenty eight, with seven years of a relationship down, living with the man who knew you better than anyone else, and loved you three times as much… Things had shifted. A universal halt wasn’t expected because of a new rampant illness in the world, and though it came with extreme measures, it was exactly what you and Yoongi needed. It gave you time to grow up a little bit, your subconscious doing most of that work. 

During the hours and hours of whispering like two people with a secret, the work done in the shadows was unveiled, sparking the realization that you did in fact want this. You were ready for the next step of life with the man you loved.

“Oh, you’re out,” You hear Yoongi speak quietly to himself, feeling him shift beneath you a bit. With closed eyes, you roll over to face his torso and sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, weaseling it between his back and the couch cushion.

“Not out,” You barely whisper. Yoongi looks down at your sleepy face with a smile, putting a hand back into your hair, stroking it with care.

“You missed the rest of the episode,” He says, “You started snoring before they even split into teams.”

“No… I didn’t,” You mumble, “I saw.”

“Who won?” He perks an eyebrow, finding it amusing you were laying here lying to him in real time.

Without missing a beat you whisper, “Jungkook,” And he starts to laugh, resting his head back on the couch.

Both teams had won actually, they made some incredible food. Yoongi was content with you on his lap, and hungry. He debated telling you the truth, but figured you’d want to rewatch it later when you had some more energy, so he kept the answer to himself. This was the second time you tried to watch it, you fell asleep during the premiere of it last night, curling up under his arm in bed.

Letting you rest, Yoongi picks up his phone to check his messages. There were plans set for later today with the guys, and Sunny was joining as well, flying in from a job to visit. The nine of you were meeting for dinner at a cozy, quiet spot where you would be able to share the news of your pregnancy with your family. Though two of them were told two weeks ago, they kept their mouths shut, which was utterly impressive.

The seven boys were interviewed the night of the Golden Disc Awards, and there was a moment of panic that something would slip, at least to more of the boys. The interviewer had them share New Years wishes with each other, sending it to the boy to their right. Jin, the unlucky bastard, was stood next to Yoongi and had to watch his mouth.

There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to share, he found out moments ago that his best friend was going to be a father. This new year was huge for Yoongi, one he’s dreamed of, and Jin wanted to shout his happiness from the rooftops. 

Loving someone as much as Jin loved Yoongi, and watching that person go through hardship after hardship finally find their reason for living, their reason for true happiness… That’s a feeling that can’t be explained.

So, opting for awkward laughter and the introverted persona of Jin, he shared his well wishes with Yoongi carefully, taking his time, making sure it was simple. Yoongi listened anxiously, beckoning him with his eyes pointed to the floor to keep it quick, but took his brother's words to heart, recognizing and understanding every underlying meaning behind the short message.

Looking through his phone now, he has two unread messages from Jin that he swipes by, deciding to open them after he reaches out to Sunny. Tapping on her thread, he chuckles at the last picture he sent- you sitting on the bathroom floor in just a t-shirt, glaring at the camera, flashing him a middle finger. It was from a couple of days ago when you were physically unable to be in any other room, because the moment you stepped off the tile, you were overcome by nausea and yanked back in front of the toilet.

Thankfully that period of time didn’t last too long. Now you’re going through an energy depletion, the tiny little group of cells inside of you stealing it all soon after you try to recharge.

Sunny, who was now working select dates with a couple Kardashians, was oblivious, and didn’t think anything strange of the picture. She sent a heart in reply, and went on her merry way through Los Angeles, shaking salads with Kourtney.

[yoongi]: ETA?

Yoongi sends to your best friend, watching the screen as bubbles pop up in an instant.

[Sunita Sunshine]: Landed about a half hour ago!!! I’m in an Uber…… meeting Jin for drinks before we come see you guys

[Sunita Sunshine]: How’s lover girl feeling??? Any better?

Yoongi’s heart just about flies out of his chest. He types back to her with lightning speed.

[yoongi]: She’s great… Why?

[Sunita Sunshine]: She was sick right??? Before golden discs until like a couple days ago….. I talked to her

He sighs, letting his eyes shut for a second, completely forgetting the two of you, though in different parts of the world most times, still shared everything with each other.

[yoongi]: Right. Yeah she’s good now, she can't wait to see you

Tilting his head to the side, he peeks down at you from behind his phone screen. Eyes closed, lips parted slightly, taking in slow deep breaths, you sure seemed ecstatic to be having dinner with the best friend you haven’t seen in a couple of months.

The iPhone in Yoongi’s hand starts to buzz dramatically. He’s had his ringer turned off for a few days since these bouts of narcolepsy were at random. A facetime was coming in from Jungkook, another member of his group that had the pleasure of knowing your secret. You couldn’t help yourself, when he flashed you a wholesome smile and your emotional state was overcome by comfort, you let it slip.

“Hey, man,” Yoongi answers, keeping his voice quiet. He clicks the volume down a few notches, watching the screen as it’s pointed at the cloudy, grey, January sky. “Are you outside?”

“Hey, yeah,” Jungkook says, finally appearing inside the box wearing a black bucket hat over his bleach blonde hair, “I’m about to walk into Jimin’s, I just left the studio,” Yoongi can hear the smacking of his stompers on the concrete, “They, uh, they want to do my hair purple for Butter.”

“Oh no,” Yoongi mutters as Jungkook glances away for a second to somewhere ahead of him, and smiles. His eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Did I just hear you say they want your hair purple?” Jimin can be heard off screen. It goes black for a second, Yoongi can hear muffled voices, then the top of Jungkook’s head appears again.

“Yeah, purple,” Jungkook sighs.

“Thought you wanted it blue, maybe?” The end of Jimin’s sentence sounded like he said the word, baby, instead of, maybe, but maybe Yoongi’s brain was overridden by nerves for this evening, making him hear things. The two step into Jimin’s home, Yoongi just along for the ride as they converse about this dire hair matter.

“Uh,” He gets their attention back and points the phone down to you. Jimin coo’s, peering at the screen with a pouty lip. “Can this be discussed tonight? Why was I called?” Yoongi chuckles, bringing the camera focus back to himself. Jungkook cringes, like he suddenly remembered your condition.

“Sorry,” He says, “She wasn’t answering, thought it meant Sunny was there, I need to talk to her about it.”

“You’ll see her tonight,” Yoongi says, “She’s getting drinks with Jin right now.”

“Jin?!” Jimin exclaims, grabbing the phone from Jungkook’s hands, “That woman wanted to see ME!” The diva was shushed by both Yoongi and Jungkook, the youngest snatching his phone back from his tiny hands.

“I’ll see you later,” Jungkook says to Yoongi before he glances up to Jimin, “I don’t want purple hai-” And the phone hangs up, trilling a sad little tune, announcing the end of the call.

“His TinyTan has dark hair, D, I swear, if I have to create one for Butter, and I’m told to match whatever color they give him, Army will rip me to shreds if the shade isn’t right,” You say, startling your boyfriend the slightest, “Remember the pink hair? I didn’t sleep.” Opening your eyes, you look up at Yoongi who is gazing back with a small smile. Placing his phone aside, he shakes his head.

“You won’t be doing anything, you’re taking time off from work,” He says, keeping his tone soft, “No more sleepless nights and caffeine highs.” Rolling your eyes, you huff.

“Yeah, that’s for after September,” You whisper, though you were unsure when your baby would be arriving. It takes him a couple of seconds to catch what you said, both of you laughing once he does. 

Sitting up, you situate yourself beside him and smile, saying, “Dream ON is doing really well.”

“Why are you checking stats?” Yoongi disciplines, sliding an arm around your shoulders.

“I have to stay busy,” You shrug, “TinyTan was my entire year last year, do you know how many ideas I have? I already have something for Dynamite on paper, even though no one’s asked me to do it.”

“I don’t want you to stress yourself out, there’s no reason to rush. You need rest.”

“No, I need them out of the Mic Drop outfits, it’s been years since that came out, I don’t know what I was thinking,” You shake your head before laying it on his shoulder. It was a tad sore today, but Yoongi didn’t mention it. He needed you to be comfortable, he wasn’t worried about himself at all.

Planting a kiss to the top of your head, he keeps his head there, lifting the hand that was around your shoulder to graze your hair once more. His gentle touch is soothing, helping you relax like it had when you laid down to watch the show, but coupled with the kiss, your raging hormones were reading the wrong room.

Lifting your head, you turn your chin to press your lips to his in a rush. Yoongi barely has a chance to react before you climb into his lap and slide your hands around his neck, slipping them up into his black locks. Parting your lips, you dance your tongue across his bottom lip and deepen the kiss, the strongest warmth erupting within your center. Powerless with his head locked to the cushion, Yoongi hums and attempts to pull away.

“Baby,” He chuckles as you resort to kissing his cheek, down to his jaw.

“Shhh,” You hush, dipping your head to press open mouthed kisses to his neck.

“You should nap, we have dinner.”

“Not tired anymore,” You sigh, dragging your tongue from his collar bone to behind his ear, nibbling his earlobe for half a second, “I need you.”

“You need sleep, you’ll be nodding off at dessert,” Yoongi’s eyes shut during the jaw kisses, he thinks, his voice coming out of him now on auto-pilot while his body responded to you directly. His breathy, lust filled sigh that leaves his lips after his words makes your brain short circuit. Grinding down on his lap, your fingers tighten in his hair, giving the strands a harsh tug. Brushing your nose against his, you kiss his lips and whine after you part.

“Yoongi,” Whispering his full name, something that rarely leaves your lips, his eyes pop open, heavy lidded. The desperate riff graces his ears while your widened eyes plead with his. Yoongi could easily walk away from this, let you go upstairs to get some sleep before your night out, and be completely fine. On the other hand, your fixed gaze was begging him, telling him that you were not going to be completely fine if he didn’t do something.

His eyes studying you was nearly enough of a connection to satisfy the emotional hunger, but then his hands slid up your thighs and your knees tightened around his waist. Every move he made, your body heightened the sensation to a hundred.

“Take me upstairs… Right now,” You whisper from behind clenched teeth. Yoongi smirks, giving the round of your ass a squeeze, watching your body melt before him, listening with delight as his traveling fingers make you moan and groan.

“There’s no time to go upstairs,” He breathes, gripping your waist as he stands to his feet, laying you down on your back, settling over you, “Gonna fuck this out of you right here.”

In the backseat of the car taking you to dinner, Yoongi’s hand was sliding up and down the inside of your thigh. His eyes were on the road where he sat in the center seat, staying observant of your surroundings at all times.

Glancing down to your phone that had been blowing up for the past five minutes, you open another message from Sunny.

[Sunny Girl]: Why did Tae just say you have something to tell us???? Can you HURRY UP and GET HERE

“She’s pissed,” You show Yoongi the message, and he laughs under his breath.

“Tell her I had to pry you off of me to get you in the shower,” He raises a brow, keeping his words quiet, between you. Pressing your lips together, you shoot him a silly glare.

“I don’t know what to say to her,” You say, staring at the text, “I don’t know what to say to anybody, I’m freaking out.” Yoongi looks back down at you, this time with worried eyes.

“Freaking out?” He mumbles, giving your leg a squeeze.

“Aren’t you nervous?” You ask with a small laugh, meeting his eyes. Thinking to himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “What?!”

“Baby, two of them know already,” He breaks into a grin, but not to diminish your anxiety, to help push down his own. On the inside he was a mess, on the outside he was as cool as a cucumber. The two of you shared crises, and he knew that this one would be yours to have, so he ignored his own anxiety for you.

“I’ve known Sunny since I was twelve,” You say, “You see the way she loves me, this is about to deck her straight in the face, D,” Yoongi holds in a laugh, and nods, “What if she tries to do something crazy?”

“Like what?”

“Like, like…” You glance around the car as if the answer was going to jump out from the wrinkles in the leather seats, “Like, put her job on hold, and try to move in with us… Or, or… Quit the Kardashian show, and move in with us…”

“Hm,” Yoongi frowns, lowering his brows, “Sounds like you want her to move in with us.”

“No!” You shout, slapping a hand to his chest, “I don’t want that! We don’t want that,” You lower your voice dramatically, “Trust me, I lived with Sun, you don’t want that.”

“Okay, then if she tries, we tell her no,” Yoongi soothes, letting his hand explore the fabric of your pants like it had been for the ride. He glances to your hand on his chest that was slowly starting to grip the cotton, your fingers tightening passionately. “Take a deep breath, please.” Yoongi reaches for your hand, declawing it from his beating heart, linking his fingers with yours. Listening, you suck in a breath and release it with shaky hands.

The car makes one last turn around a tall, white building, coming to a stop at the back where your car door was opened for you. Clutching Yoongi’s fingers like he was going to leave, you slide out of the car and come face to face with a familiar man who gives you the most welcoming smile, washing away some of your nerves.

“Branson, you would be here,” You grin, throwing an arm around his back to hug him, keeping Yoongi close. The two guys share pleasantries, then the head of security looks you up and down and shrugs.

“You’re here, I have to be,” He says, “Shall we?” Branson gestures toward the door, giving the space behind and around the car a scan with his sharp eyes.

Gripping the long, metal hand of the door, Yoongi pulls it open for you, letting you lead him inside the dimly lit, beautifully decorated restaurant that smelled of everything delicious. He feels your fingers tighten even more, if that was possible, and it makes him wonder how powerful your grip will be the day you give birth to the child. This is only the day you’re telling your friends you’re having it, he had nine more months to get used to this.

Passing by the bathrooms, Yoongi pulls you back a second to make sure you saw where they were, then lets you continue on your flustered jog down the hall. Turning a corner, the space you’ve arrived in is totally empty, except for a round table in the corner that is surrounded by your rowdy group of friends making a scene with drinks in their hands.

“AYE!” Is called out from the commotion, and six other heads whip around to find you approaching with a pep in your step. Sunny, leaping to her feet with two glasses in her hand, clicks over to your side in her high heels and hugs you as best as she can with the drinks occupying her extremities. Kissing both of your cheeks, she sighs and takes a long look at you, big, soft eyes taking in every detail.

Wearing a smile, her eyes narrow a bit, asking you quietly, “Why do you look different?” 

“Different?” You repeat in a flash, glancing over your shoulder at Yoongi, “I don’t look… I don’t look different.” Nervous laughter escapes you with every breath.

“You were having sex when I called you three times, weren’t you?” Sunny grills, turning her eyes over to Yoongi who smirks, pointing his chin up to the ceiling to avoid her glare. Blushing, the nervous laughter takes over.

“Sunny!” You say, wiggling Yoongi’s hand that was still latched to yours. Your best friend looks down at them.

“You can’t even let go of him,” She laughs with you, “It’s alright, I know, you’re in love, nothings changed,” Sticking her tongue out to mark her faux disgust, she holds out one of the glasses in her hands, giving it to you, “Here, Jungkook tried to tell me I shouldn’t get it for you, but tonight is a night to celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” You question.

“Yes! All of us here, together. I haven’t seen this in months,” The smile that relaxes her face is sincere, “Which makes me have to ask,” She shifts her attention to Yoongi, “How’s the shoulder?” Stepping closer to him, she lifts her now empty hand to rub his arm. Using this opportunity to slip away, you release his hand to hurry over to Jungkook sitting beside Jimin at the table.

Watching as you scurry away, Yoongi answers all of Sunny’s questions while shaking his now emancipated fingers.

“I assume this is for you?” You half ask the blonde boy standing up to give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Smells a little fruity, must be yours,” Jungkook giggles, baring his teeth, taking the icey glass from you.

“Told her not to get it, but she insisted,” He rolled his eyes, “She’s persistent that one.” Pulling back a chair on the other side of him, he offers it to you, pushing you in after you sit down.

“Don’t I know it,” You say, giving Jimin a wave.

“She doesn’t know it’s really for me,” Jungkook lifts the glass as if to ‘cheers’, then takes a sip. His lips pull into a frown as he swallows it. “Oh god,” Wincing at the flavor, he sits the glass on the polished wood finish of the table and slides it in front of Jimin, “Maybe this is for you.” He whispers, making you laugh.

“Kookie,” You pop out your bottom lip staring at his wavy hair, “Are they really going to make you go purple?” He groans, folding his hands on his lap.

“I don’t want it,” He says, sitting back in his chair, “I like this blonde, and I honestly would want blue over purple,” Jungkook nods toward Sunny, still chatting away with Yoongi and now Jin who joined the duo, “She says blue is better with, uh, I dunno, something about my skintone?”

“Oh my god!” You lean into him, grabbing his arm, “Do blue, think about me, do blue. I have designs to do, even though Yoongi won’t let me near them, and if you do blue it will be so much easier to mix.”

“Why won’t he let you near your work?” Jimin asks, inviting himself into the conversation with a scrunched up face of confusion. Straightening up, you clear your throat and look at Jungkook for help. He looks at you, then at Jimin, then back to you and widens his eyes in defeat. Releasing the tiniest sigh, you tilt your head and play dumb.

“I think it’s because I was sick,” You say convincingly enough.

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin’s face shifts to a worried one, “I’d wanna ease you back in too, especially with everything we have coming up between the singles and the music videos and the shows-”

“Chim,” Jungkook cuts him off with a smile, then turns to you, “You’ll be fine, I promise.” Amidst Jimin's rambles, the anxiety about work you've set aside for the future wanted to worm its way into this important night. Babies were time, babies were money. Two things you once used to struggle with before you fell into the grasp of the man walking up behind your chair.

Yoongi’s arms slid around your shoulders slowly. Everyone took their seats around the table, leaving the chair next to you empty for your boyfriend to have.

“Do we need to walk away?” He whispers to you, smiling and nodding at Hoseok across the table. A shake of your head wasn’t enough to get him off your case, he whispers again, “What’s going on?”

“Normal stuff,” You mumble, turning your chin to peek at him.

“New normal stuff?” He raises a brow.

“No, we���ve talked about it before.”

“Lovebirds, can we eat?” Sunny sing songs, waving her hands in your direction, “I’m starved.”

The thought of eating mixed with your nerves has you screwing your eyes shut as nausea clouds over your being. On your back you feel Yoongi take a breath, and stand up tall, placing both hands on either of your shoulders. Massaging you for a moment, he sighs theatrically, catching the attention of the attendance around the table.

“We’re still… getting better,” Yoongi bobs his head. A couple of the guys pulled a face, or nodded along with him, Sunny however, was quick to pick up his bullshit.

“You said she was great earlier,” She says, confused.

“Uh, well, you know what it’s like to come back from being sick, right?” Yoongi nervously chuckles, glancing at Jin and Jungkook for some kind of backup. He wasn’t sure you were going to go through with telling them tonight, this could be you backing out of your announcement. Jin launches forward, sipping his drink through a straw.

“Totally!” He says with wide eyes, picking up on his cue, coughing after he swallows his drink, “If you guys need to go, we get it.” Yoongi gives him a smile to thank him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sunny’s voice gets louder. Sitting forward herself, she bumps Jin's shoulder, “You’ve been at their defense all day, this girl is fine,” She then squints at how you were sitting, still with your eyes shut, barely taking in any of the conversation happening around you, “I know you, I know you two, something is up.” Snapping your eyes open, you jump up to your feet, taking everyone by surprise. Sunny’s words had struck a nerve, a fiery one.

“I… We…” You choke out, reaching a hand behind you to grab something of Yoongi’s. Finding his hand, you yank him closer. One of his arms slides around your body, holding you close to his front, while his other holds your hand happily, his thumb drawing circles on your palm. Anxiety has riddled your expression, but Yoongi’s smirk tells the group that there’s something juicy on the way.

“Oh my god,” Sunny gasps, planting her fingers over her mouth, looking down at your left hand, searching it for clues. That’s the first thing that gets you to finally smile.

“What!?” Taehyung glances at her, attempting to follow the line of her eyes, “What is going on?” 

“Say something, somebody,” Namjoon bangs a fist on the table once, wearing  a light smile, sitting forward with anticipation like those without the knowledge of your news.

“Tell them,” Yoongi says quietly, yet loud enough for everybody to hear him. Your tentative eyes scour the table, starting with Jin who couldn’t put his drink down, passing by suspicious Sunny, confused Taehyung, smiley Namjoon, hopeful Hoseok, and pouty Jimin, ending with Jungkook who held tens of thousands of galaxies in his eyes. The smile he wore was incredibly sincere, gazing up at you like you were his idol. 

Giving Yoongi one more look, he smiles, waiting patiently.

“I’m not sick,” You say with a breath, turning back to your friends. Taehyung fake gasps, making Hoseok giggle. Yoongi scolds them with his eyes, the two friends jumping back into place, to listen to what you have to say, but you choke again. “Can’t do it, you do it.” You whisper, squeezing Yoongi’s hand.

“Me? You sure?” He asks, and you nod, closing your eyes. Yoongi wastes no time, looking out proudly to his friends. “We’re pregnant,” He says with a grin. 

At the sound of the words, your eyes open to a reaction you did not expect. No one had moved.

“Is that it?” Taehyung asks.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “That’s it. I’m pregnant.”

“Fucking called it!” He shouts with a smile toward Jimin. 

“You did not call this, this was expected,” The It boy rolls his eyes.

“Hold on,” You stop the bickering by holding up a hand, “This was expected?” You tilt your chin and glare at him. Pouty lips smirk back.

“Guys,” He says quietly, looking between you and Yoongi.

“He’s not wrong,” Hoseok says sheepishly, lifting his shoulders to his ears.

“What!” Yoongi sighs, laughing. Jimin starts to plead his case with Taehyung and Hoseok to Yoongi, bringing up your relationship's past, and your favorite thing to do together. You want to listen, you want to hear what they’re discussing, because it’s about you, but you’re glued on Sunny.

Sitting sideways, body facing Jin, her eyes that were once sharp, and a little pissed off, had softened immensely. Your goddess of a best friend slowly shook her head in tiny, lips parting in shock. Standing up, pushing her chair back aggressively, she pulled the boys away from their amusing bickering, her aura sucking them in.

“You’re pregnant?” She asks just above a whisper, never once leaving your gaze. Nodding, your smile starts to grow. “You’re gonna keep it?”

“Wouldn’t have told you all I was if I wasn’t,” You chuckle awkwardly, feeling a lump in your throat, “I’m gonna be a mom.” The cry breaks, tears stream down your cheeks as Sunny pushes past Jin’s chair to throw her arms around you, holding you so tight you can feel her heart beating a mile a minute.

“You’re gonna be a mom,” She repeats, and her own tears start.

“Yeah, you are!” Jungkook cheers, the next one to stand up. Holding open his arms for Yoongi, your boyfriend smiles and takes him in, patting him on his back a couple of times, sending him another type of thank you for keeping your secret.

There is at least five minutes occupied by hugs, and congratulations, and kisses as you and Yoongi share broken info with each member who was the next to approach you. Yoongi tells the story of the Golden Disc Awards, how that was the day you had found out, and ultimately the reason you were plastered to the couch the entire time, not even making it out to see the show. At the mention of it, you feel your heart twist. You wanted to watch that performance.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung sings, slapping an arm around Yoongi’s back.

“I know,” Yoongi says. Since he spilled the news, he was unable to control his smile.

“And I thought Jimin would be the first,” Taehyung says.

“Hah,” Jimin cackles, “I can’t get pregnant!” In front of him, Jungkook shoots him the quickest look of worry, like he just leaked some kind of secret of his own, but it’s brushed away as fast as it had come up.

“What the hell did that mean?” You ask Jungkook, elbowing his tattooed bicep. 

“No idea,” He whispers, giving Jimin a deadly look.

“You besties okay?” You question, a joking tone hidden within it.

“We’re fine,” Jungkook sighs, switching to a more positive energy, “How do you feel? Everyone knows!” He hugs you for the fifth time, giving you a shake.

“I think… I think I feel hungry,” You say after some thought, and Jungkook pulls away with mischievous eyebrows that make you giggle.

“You’ve read my mind,” He says, then releases you to toss his hands in the air, gathering the attention of the room, “Baby Mama is hungry, let’s eat.” He blushes at his own words, covering his mouth with a hand as he glances at you with a grin.

“Baby Mama!” Sunny repeats, the group laughing together.

Yoongi approaches you as everyone begins to take their seats. With his lips pulled into a smile puffing out his cheeks, your stomach takes a tumble, finding him incredibly adorable. Sliding his arms around your torso, he pulls you close and kisses your temple. 

“I don’t think I see anyone packing their bags,” He says quietly, pressing his forehead to yours. Rolling your eyes, you smile and laugh under your breath.

“Give her a week,” You say, rising to your tiptoes to give him a proper kiss, and when you take a breath, you smirk and whisper, “Congratulations daddy.”

Widening his eyes, Yoongi huffs a laugh, shaking his head, “No, no, don’t do that.” 

With a giggle, you press your lips to his, and mumble a quiet, “I love you.”

Taking your seats at the table with your friends, there’s a tremendous relief, a huge weight taken off of your shoulders now that they know. Throughout the dinner they asked a million and one questions, which should’ve made you nervous, but instead gave you an excitement you haven’t felt yet.

All seven of your friends were going to be there for you throughout this entire experience, ready to help, ready to pitch in, ready to look after you, as well as the man beside you who held his hand over your thigh for the entirety of dinner. You were loved, you were supported, but most importantly, you were happy. Completely, utterly, truly happy.

Here are some of the events & works mentioned in this piece for reference... I spent some time studying & watching these!

Golden Disc Interview

TinyTAN Dream ON

In no means do I mean to discredit anyone who created TinyTAN or worked on it. In this piece of fiction, OC is a 'ghost' creator and remains anonymous, so all original creators in ACTUAL real life are still there to be credited. This is a piece of FICTION.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece! 

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@damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place @ahewlett