#i hate feeling like a charity case but being referred to as 'they/them' takes some of the sting out of it i won't lie

[meihuasmight]

)) Encyclopedia Li Feinnica ((

History:

Li Fei is a Wen deserter trying to just live. She is formerly known as Wen Fei, and is related distantly to the main branch with no big-name close relatives of note.

Family? Her mother was kind, her father a good man, and they were simple farmers who tended to the land and worked tirelessly to provide for Li Fei, their only daughter to survive to adolescence. She loved this life despite its hardships, there were many, but both of her parents died when she was ten due to a sickness that swept through her home village like fire during drought. This brought an end to what she refers to as her "golden years" of childhood. After, Li Fei lived on the streets for a short period of time before she became a Wen disciple out of necessity during her tween years.

After deserting years later, but still before Nie Mingjue is taken captive, before the Cloud Recesses burn, she once again found herself living on the streets and doing whatever work she could find: physical labor (yuck), busking (fun but not sustainable), stealing (desperate times call for desperate measures), brothel-work that she ditched as soon as she could and now she's pretty sure the owner might be trying to find her because of fleeing and owing him money (bad AND the owner was an ass), and errands (safe, but again not sustainable). You name it, she's probably done it.

She's exhausted from this difficult life and just wants everything to. Stop. She wants to rest. She wants to be happy.

Mun calls her a "charity case" because she was taken in by Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang after they stumbled across her while trying to literally steal money from Huaisang. It didn't work; Mingjue noticed her poor pick-pocketing attempt immediately and Huaisang caught on mere moments later, smacking her hand away with his fan. The brothers whirled on her in a flurry of sleeves and anger.

She was slowly wasting away, days from death, and begged for mercy, sobs already starting with no actual tears to back them up due to chronic dehydration. Huaisang immediately decided she was like a lost puppy with her sad eyes and Mingjue has a hard time not helping those in need, so an arrangement was made to have her travel with them to a few towns over so they could drop her off at a sort of halfway house to get her to a place where she could try to start a new life and get some help.

They grew attached though, and this plan was scrapped rather quickly thereafter. The two simply offered her the Unclean Realm as a new home, complete with a new identity that wasn't just "destitute street rat." Her emphatic yes was best decision of her life.

A fairly promising cultivator at one point, Li Fei has a damaged golden core from improper training when she was scrambling to catch up with her Wen peers. (She hated them with every fiber of her being; they were cruel and heartless, two things she could never be though she pretended convincingly enough to stay alive). Humiliatingly and disturbingly, still she envied them for their power and control over their technique. Li Fei does not speak of this envy to anyone. She's probably around equal footing with Meng Yao if not a bit less powerful, so she understands him well in that regard.

Due to her weakened state, she struggles to feel useful to the Nie and finds herself wondering what the point of her actually is. She's not used to the Nie fighting or cultivation style, and frankly, they scare her. Because of this, she's created her own modified version of what she learned growing up mixed with their techniques to try and balance everything out. It's hard. she knows it is. She's not good at it, and it's a massive sticking point. Her saber, Mǎn Xīn ("from the bottom of one's heart"), whispers in her mind, but she can't quite make out its emotions just yet.

Still, the question remains: why is she even here?

stage whisper Unbeknownst to her, it's because da-ge takes in strays like rent is due, Huaisang is a sweetie-pie who finds her interesting, and her upset expression is pretty powerful when put to use. They have her stay as a sort of "guest of honor" situation. She doesn't receive an official title or anything, but she does gets a nice room a few halls away from the main family's lodgings (swanky!) and she's treated with respect, albeit confused respect, by the other Nie disciples and servants. Notably, she's trying to befriend the aforementioned groups, but is generally pretty pathetic at human interaction and fails more often than not.

Li Fei keeps her Wen heritage an absolute, heavily-guarded secret from everyone. If anyone found out, she'd be dead, she'd make sure of it if Nie Mingjue didn't first. She's very aware that she is everything her beloved new sect leader despises without a second thought, and the mere idea of him or Huaisang, or anyone else finding out her roots terrifies her beyond compare.

~~

Relationships:

She is incredibly fond of Nie Huaisang; they share so many interests and hobbies so they've often joked that they were always meant to be best friends and that fate brought them together. (Li Fei isn't sure she actually believes in fate, but it's fun to speculate about). When Mingjue is in one of his Moods, Li Fei is at Huaisang's beck and call, keeping him company while da-ge collects himself once more. Sometimes, they take bets on how long it'll take and Feifei wins most of the time. Gossip duo. Chaos duo. She's very ride or die for him.

Nie Mingjue is the first person to make her feel as if she's flying. How could she not fall for her handsome, rugged sect leader who helped save her? Give her a reason to exist? Offer her a world she'd never have thought she could ever deserve before? She feels that she owes him her life and should he ever ask anything of her, she'd do it in a heartbeat, even if it meant destroying herself eternally. She admires his sense of justice and morals, but knows that he's not always in the right. His good heart keeps her steady and grounded, and though she worries about his health, Huaisang has helped assuage some of these fears by helping her research musical healing techniques to help him.

The second to capture her heart is Meng Yao. She empathizes with him immensely and fell victim to his soft smiles and sweet demeanor. She knows a bit about his history and how he's related to that utter scumbag Jin Guangshan who she despises almost more than Wen Ruohan, but none of that matters to her. What matters is how Meng Yao always has a snack for her, how both of them try to out-respect and out-bow each other when they cross paths, and how when Meng Yao's eyes meet hers or when his soft voice calls her name, she feels her heart race.

Li Fei looks up to Lan Xichen and harbors a massive admiration/"oh no he's HAWT" crush on him. He is the third and final person to have her catching Feelings. He's just so kind and honest, she can't help but quickly fall in love. She adores just being around him, soaking in his presence, and listening to him play the guqin. She's had him try to teach her, but she's a bit too clumsy with her hands to feel comfortable, so she opts to sing along instead; her voice is her best instrument. It's in these moments that she's most at peace. She's familiar with Lan Wangji and finds him to be a confusing boy, but ultimately charming and very, very pretty. She fully understands why Lan Xichen dotes on him. It's always amusing hearing about his crush on someone called Wei Wuxian (he sounds like fun!) and how certifiably bad he is at showing it. Feifei wants to have a sit-down with him to get the hot tea about his feelings, but she knows enough about the younger Twin Jade to realize that that will probably never happen. This doesn't stop her from trying to ask about it sneakily though! She admires his poise, grace, and strength; she wants to ask him about cultivation, but is too intimidated. Feifei would be remiss if she didn't immediately befriend Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang's sword sister, Nie Kexin. It wasn't long after she was brought back to the Unclean Realm that she met the woman who she'd share very nearly every secret she has with, save for the Big One. Kexin had been…. hesitant at fist, unsure of Li Fei, but her trust in her sworn brothers' collective judgement quickly soothed any concern away. Well, that and the second that Li Fei opened her mouth to introduce herself, Kexin, ever the gracious shijie, found herself wanting to take on the entire world to keep this weird little gremlin cozy and safe. ("H-hello," Li Fei had started, voice raw from sword travel. She'd folded into a low, polite bow, hoping that this strange woman who'd been given minimal introduction wouldn't immediately suss her out as a threat to the Nie's integrity. "My name is Li Fei, and…" At this, she'd looked up into Nie Kexin's eyes and her own widened, "… by the gods, is everyone from here so beautiful? What the hell?!") Unfortunately, she's not too familiar with many other people outside of this small, insular group. She's trying to work on this so that she can prove useful to herself the Nie. Maybe if she knows enough about other sects and their people, she can assist Meng Yao in his reports, or offer off-the-record advice, or just… feel like she contributes at all. Nie Kexin has told her about a man from the same clan as Lan Wanji's paramour, and Li Fei finds herself very invested in this fledgling (if it can be called that) relationship. She cheers her dear friend on in her endeavors. ("If that Jiang Cheng can't see how amazing you are, he's just not worth it, sis, trust me.") ~~

Personality & More:

She leads a dizzying daily routine of hiding her history and her feelings at all times though she can't help but sigh and giggle and stare when she thinks it's safe to.

Personality-wise, she is a gremlin extraordinaire who pouts to get her way. She's sarcastic and silly in equal measure, and extremely empathetic and full of love. She clings to hope like the dying embers of spent incense, falls in love hard and then doesn't look back. She'd sell her enemies and people she even vaguely dislikes for a singular grain of rice, but sell her soul to protect those she loves. She enjoys looking at hot people and will journal about it later. Li Fei enjoys flowers, her favorite being the plum blossom, and animals: dogs, horses, and birds. If there's not free food, she isn't going, so she's easily tempted with snacks, tea, a nap, headpats, or all of the above. Lastly, she is a major sucker for kids and enjoys partaking in their shenanigans.

Her favorite hobbies are singing and reading; she can be heard singing in the halls or found cooped up under some blankets reading for leisure or knowledge. She's interested to learn voice-based healing cultivation if such a thing exists. If not, then she's determined to make it so. She's polyamorous, bisexual, and is twenty-one years old(-ish, this can fluctuate as-needed). Feifei stands at five feet tall, is slender, but fairly athletic in build with a cherubic face underscored with mischief. Nicknames: Feifei, A-Fei. She secretly hopes for more and would simply evaporate into nothingness if the three she held closest to her heart would give her one.

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

Sometimes it’s the little things that make all the stressful shit I’m dealing with lately a little less shitty, like the student union using the right pronouns when sending emails on my behalf. Like it shouldn’t be a big deal, but it really is 🥺

[samwisethewitch]

Witchcraft and Activism

The word “witch” is a politically charged label. If we look at how the word was used historically, it referred to someone who existed outside of the normal social order. The people accused of witchcraft in the European and American witch trials were mostly — experts say between 75% and 80% — women. They were also overwhelmingly poor, single, or members of a minority ethnicity and/or religion. In other words, they were people who did not follow their society’s accepted model of womanhood (or, in the case of accused men, manhood).

If you choose to identify with the witch label, you are choosing to identify with subversion of gender norms, resistance to the dominant social order, and “outsider” status. If that makes you uncomfortable or uneasy, then you may want to use another label for your magical practice. Witchcraft always has been and always will be inherently political.

In her book Witches, Sluts, Feminists, Kristen J. Sollee argues that the “slut” label is in many ways a modern equivalent to the “witch” label. In both cases, the label is used to devalue people, most often women, and to enforce a patriarchal and misogynist social order.

Superstitions around witchcraft are connected to the modern stigma around abortion (and, to a lesser extent, contraception). Midwifery and abortion were directly linked to witchcraft in the European witch hunts. Today, women who seek abortions are condemned as sluts, whores, and murderers. The fight for reproductive freedom remains inextricably linked with the witch label.

During the women’s liberation movement of the 1960s, the socialist feminist group Women’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell (W.I.T.C.H.) used the image of the witch to campaign for women’s rights and other social issues. They were some of the first advocates for intersectional feminism (feminist activism that addresses other social issues that overlap with gendered issues). They performed acts such as hexing Wall Street capitalists and wearing black veils to protest bridal fairs. The W.I.T.C.H. Manifesto calls witches the “original guerrillas and resistance fighters against oppression.”

In her book Revolutionary Witchcraft, Sarah Lyons points out that both witchcraft and politics are about raising and directing power in the world. In a postmodern society, most of our reality is socially constructed — it works because we collectively believe it does. Money only has value because we believe it does. Politicians only have power because we believe they do. Our laws are only just because we believe they are. Like in magic, everything in society is a product of belief and a whole lot of willpower — and that makes witches the ideal social activists.

Lyons argues that witchcraft is inseparable from politics, because witches have always opposed dominant political power. She makes a connection between the witch trials and the rise of capitalism and classism. She connects the basic concepts of magic to historic activist groups like the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP), who used ritual as an act of protest.

Not every witch is a hardcore activist, but every witch should have a basic awareness of political and social issues and be willing to do what they can to make a difference.

Ways to Combine Witchcraft and Activism

Perform a ritual to feel connected to the earth and her people. Activism should come from a place of love, not a place of hate. Make sure you’re fighting for the right reasons by frequently taking time to reconnect with the planet and the people who live here. This can be as simple as laying down on the ground outside and meditating on all the ways you are connected to other people, as well as to the ecosystem, animals, and the earth herself. If getting up close and personal with the grass and dirt isn’t your thing, try to find a beautiful place in nature where you can sit and journal about the interconnected nature of all things.

Unlearn your social programming. This is the most difficult and most important part of any activism. Before you can change the world outside yourself, you have to change your own psyche. Think about how you have been socialized to contribute to (or at least turn a blind eye to) the issues you want to fight against. For example, if you want to fight for racial justice, you need to understand how you have contributed to a racist system. You can do this in a variety of ways: through meditation, journaling, or divination, to name a few. Note that whatever method you choose, this will probably take weeks or months of repeated work. Rewriting your thought and behavior patterns is hard, and it can’t be done in a single day. Also note that if you are a victim of systemic oppression or prejudice, this work may bring up a lot of emotional baggage — you may want to involve a professional therapist or counselor.

Go to protests. Sending energy and doing healing rituals is great, but someone has to get out there and visibly fight for change. If you are able to do so, start going to protests and rallies for causes you care about. Don’t just show up, but be an active participant — make signs, yell and chant, and stand your ground if cops show up. Be safe and responsible, but be loud and assertive, too. If you want to go all out, you can don the black robes, pointed hats, and veils of W.I.T.C.H.es past, which has the added bonus of concealing your identity.

Turn your donations into a spell for change. When you donate to a cause you care about, charge your donation with a spell for positive change. You can do this by holding your cash, check, or debit card in both hands and focusing on your desire for change. Feel this desire flowing into the money, filling it with your determination. From here, make your donation, knowing that you’ll be sending an energy boost along with it.

Organize an activist coven. Do you have a handful of friends who are interested in witchcraft, passionate about activism, or both? Start a coven! Go to protests together, hold monthly rituals to raise energy for change, and collect money for donations. Being part of a group also means having a support system, which can help prevent burnout. Make a plan to check on each other regularly. You may even choose to do monthly group rituals for self care, which may be actual magic rituals or might be as simple as ordering takeout and watching a movie. Activism can be intensely draining work, so it’s important to take breaks when you need them!

Hold public rituals with an activist slant. Nothing gets people’s attention like a bunch of folks standing in a circle and chanting. Holding public rituals is one of the best ways to raise awareness for a cause. You might hold a vigil for victims of police brutality, a healing circle for the environment, or some other ritual that is relevant to the issue at hand. These rituals serve a double purpose, as they both bring people’s attention to the issue and give them an opportunity to work for change on a spiritual level. Use prayers, chants, and symbolism that is appropriate to the theme, and ask participants to make a small donation to a charity related to your cause.

Begin your public rituals with a territory acknowledgement. If you live in the United States, chances are you live on land that was taken from the native people by force. If you seek to have a relationship with the land, you need to first acknowledge the original inhabitants and the suffering they endured so you can be there. Use a website like native-land.ca to find out what your land was originally called and what indigenous groups originally lived there. Publicly acknowledge this legacy at your ritual, and publicly state your intention to support indigenous peoples. (Revolutionary Witchcraft has an excellent territory acknowledgement that you can customize for your area.)

Make an altar to your activist ancestors. If activism or membership in a marginalized group is a big part of your life, you may want to create a space for it in your home. Like an ancestor altar, this is a space to remember influential members of the community who have died. Choose a flat surface like a tabletop or shelf and decorate it with photos of your “ancestors,” as well as other appropriate items like flags, pins, stickers, etc. As a queer person, my altar to my LGBTQ+ ancestors might include images of figures like Sappho, Marsha P. Johnson, and Freddie Mercury, as well as items like a pink triangle patch, a small rainbow pride flag, and dried violets and green carnations. You may also choose to include a candle, an incense burner, and/or a small dish for offerings. Just remember to never place images of living people on an altar honoring the dead!

Do your research. Staying educated is an important part of activism — not only do your actions need to be informed, but you need to be able to speak intelligently about your issues. Read the news (on actual news websites, not just social media). Read lots of books; some I personally recommend are Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson, Love and Rage by Lama Rod Owens, and (as previously mentioned) Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons. If you can get access to them, read scholarly articles about theories that are influential among activists, like the Gaia Hypothesis or Deep Ecology. Read everything you can get your hands on.

VOTE! And I don’t just mean voting for the presidential candidate you like (or, as is often the case, voting against the one you don’t like). Vote for your representatives. Vote for city council. Vote for the county sheriff. Voting gives you a chance to make sure the people in office will be susceptible to your activism. Yes, your side might lose or your electoral college representative might choose to go against the popular vote. Even so, voting is a way to clearly communicate the will of the people, and it puts a lot of pressure on the people in charge. It’s important — don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

In my experience, combining activism with my witchcraft is a deeply fulfilling spiritual experience. It strengthens my connection to the world around me, with helps grow both empathy and magical power. I truly can’t imagine my practice without the activist element.

Resources:

Witches, Sluts, Feminists by Kristen J. Sollee

Revolutionary Witchcraft by Sarah Lyons

The Study of Witchcraft by Deborah Lipp

The Way of Fire and Ice by Ryan Smith

[tohruhondaismydaughter]

Just had some headcanons about Machi pop into my head that I wanted to share with yall. So we know this poor girl struggles with "perfect"/neat things right? Well I was thinking about some healthy coping mechanisms she could develop to replace the whole 'breaking property/living in a dump' thing & here's what I got so far -

1. She always tries to wear odd socks (unless she's invited somewhere nice)

2. Ayame & Mine help her find cool asymmetrical stuff to wear, how to make clashing colours/patterns work for her & teach her how to sew up her old clothes in a more "punk rock" way (after Yuki & Kakeru explain some of her issues with perfection)

3. Tohru gently points out that she dosn't have to tie her laces the same way on both shoes if she dosn't want to

4. Haru & Rin (awkwardly on her part) teach her the power of acessorising (ie. wearing only one earing, putting on an uneven amount of bracelets/rings/necklaces, adding paper clips of different sizes & colours to your clothing & Machi later ends up adding stuff like buttons to her outfits/belongings as well which Haru & Rin are tottally surppotive of despite thier difference in style) & hair/makeup which (thanks to Yuki's advice) they make sure to keep slightly messy (Kimi laughed at it at first until Momiji made her feel bad after he told her that Machi had gone to the bathroon & wiped off all the make up & undid the hair style so Kimi bought her some limited edition Mogeta merch, after asking for Yuki's advice, in apolgey & started referring to Machi's new hair/makeup style as "punk chic" whenever anyone tried to mock Machi about her new look)

5. her & Momiji go on a crazy tie dying adventure (much to Hatori's grumbling & Mayu's amusement)

6. Kormaki gets her into collecting second hand fridge magnets which she then later uses in her work (my version of post-serise Machi is an artist) once the magnetism finally wears off

7. Kagura teaches her how to fix up old plushies (Machi likes creating Mogeta inspired characters) & gives Machi all her old cat ones to work on (Machi descides not to ask why Yuki's cousin was seemingly once obssesd with orange cats because she looks rather embrassed & a little sad when she hands over her collection)

8. Kyo reluctantly teaches her how to cook a few simple dishes (Tohru comes over as well & Yuki insists her food is better but Machi prefers Kyo's simple style of presentation so it's eventually descided that Kyo & her will do the cooking & Tohru & Yuki will deal with the cleaning which Yuki agrees to becuse cleaning is still difficult for Machi but Kyo says it's actually because no matter how much Tohru tried to train him rat boy knows he would never be able to do anything in the kitchen but burn water)

9. Kakeru teaches her the skills of 'excessive badge & sticker decorating' as well as giving eachother fake tattoos (Kisa congratulates Hiro on not saying anything rude to Yuki's girlfriend about her appreance after they first meet her)

10. Cuts her hair short (she delibretly makes it very choppy) once she enters university, where the rules are less strict about your apprence (at least it is if your at art college), & she also regulary wears diffrent coloured wigs (her favourites being a dark red one & a rainbow one) whenever she wants to temporarily change her appearance (beacuse she didn't want to commit to just one look, still wanted to have the ability to quickly "become invisable" again & she heard from Kimi that exsseive hair die-ing could permantly destroy her hair & scalp) it takes her until she's 30 to try out shaving all her hair off (she worried she'd look sick/crazy or not feminine enough) & everyone's really surppotive (though Kimi dose cry a bit, Rin & Haru aren't there when her hair is being shaved & Kyo is a slightly confused as he'd always thought women liked having longer hair then guys) especially Ritsu (who's growing out thier hair again) & they all throw her a big party (Haru & Rin are there for the party bit just not the hair removal bit because it brought up some bad memories) where Kakeru films it & posts it (with Machi's permission) & they give her cut off hair to a charity chosen by all thier followers (despite her disbelief Machi has manged to gain a small group of loyal fans from all her art stuff & her apprences on her loved ones social media), Kakeru also later uploads a video where they help Machi rainbow dye her buzz cut, (she later explores many diffrent types of buzz cut patterns such as flowers & geometric shapes but, at Kimi's insistence, gets them done by a professional)

11. She recycles & D.Y.I's like crazy (Momiji started singing Do Re Mi from The Sound Of Music after she told him that her new dress was actually made from curtains & Yuki cried when she gave him a little rat plushie made from felt, after he came clean to her about the curse)

12. She almost never wears an apron while working on her art because she likes getting messy

13. When her & Yuki go out to eat she loves things like fondoe (both the chocolate & cheese kind), eat N mess & is genreually just a fan of finger food & it becomes a tradition between her & Yuki (& later Mutsuki) to go on a stroll through the park after thier meal & (if it's autumn) look for piles of leaves to jump in (Machi & Yuki also like playing a game where they try to look for the weirdest looking leaf to give eachother & whoever wins gets to pick what they'll eat for dinner that evening & the looser has to cook it, Mutsuki is the "impartial" judge)

14. Machi is amazing at scrapbooking & collarge making (Tohru is more of a dream journal kind of girl)

15. When it's Summer her, Yuki & Mutsuki go down to the beach to see who can find the weirdest looking rocks (the less impressive ones often get used in Machi's art work, the coolest ones Mutsuki gets to keep & any that are too perfect get tossed back in the ocean & Mutsuki likes to score the splashes they make on how big/loud they are)

16. She loves helping Yuki out with gardening for lots of reasons (it's therapeutic & she loves seeing Yuki happy) but she can't deny it's also just fun getting muddy

17. Machi, thanks to Kakeru, devolpes a love of paint ball (but instead of using guns they just throw the paint at eachother like in 10 Things I Hate About You because apparently the gun pellets actually hurt) & will bring it up as an activity idea to her loved ones any chanse she gets

18. Decorates as much of her flat (& later her home with Yuki & Mutsuki) with Mogeta merchandise, random things she collects & her own art work as a big fuck you to her bitch "you have 0 personality/hobbies or talents" of a mother

19. Kisa (happily) & Hiro (reluctantly) introduce Machi to the magic of glitter

20. Machi & Rin eventually become proper friends due to bonding over being abounded by their asshole parents & one of the things they like to do together is work on thier seprete art peices while listening to music (Machi dosn't do any of her "aggressive" art, like plate smashing, around Rin though thanks to Yuki & Haru warnings)

21. When stuff gets to be too much & none of thier other coping strategies are working (like watching Mogeta stoned- which Kisa, Tohru & Momiji do not partake in) Machi & Haru bond by going to rage rooms together to destroy shit & scream (Haru obviously dosn't want Rin around for any of that though so Momiji, Tohru, Kagura or Hana will often take the opportunity to hang out with her, one time Yuki offered & it wasn't bad but it was definitely awkward as they had never really hung out without Haru before & Haru teases her for ages afterwards about her ending up liking Yuki once she actually spent some time with him which, like the precious tsundere she is, Rin will forever deny)

22. (I actually made a whole seprete post about this ages ago but now it seems to have vanished so in case other Machi fans are unable to find it l'll add it here) on the days that it's supposed to snow but dosn't Yuki takes her (& later Mutsuki) skating so she can enjoy scratching up the perfectly smooth ice (they would have gone on double dates with Tohru & Kyo if Tohru wasn't freaked out at the idea of having blades on her shoes & Kyo hadn't claimed to "not trust" ice, he's dislike comes from all the times Kagura had forced him to ice skate with her on the lake near Kazuma's place in the winter when they were kids, so they would instead go with Haru & Momiji - they had thought about going with Haru x Rin & Kakeru x Kormaki once but he proudly revealed that he'd been banned from thier local ice rink years ago for trying "perfectly safe" Olympic level stunts in he's attempt to recreate one of he's favriote episodes of Power Rangers, much to he's fiancee's anger, & Machi reminded Yuki that though Haru & Kakeru were fine with eachother Rin isn't reall able to stand Kakeru for longer than 5 minuites)

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[ddaenggtan]

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist } 

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly​ (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!) 

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being. 

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you. 

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin. 

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour." 

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind. 

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand. 

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly. 

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter. 

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it. 

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy. 

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before. 

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that. 

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice. 

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you. 

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you. 

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face. 

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life. 

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you. 

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh. 

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping. 

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you. 

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them. 

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose. 

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably. 

“What?” You eventually ask. 

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.” 

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk. 

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little. 

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him. 

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead. 

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry. 

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm. 

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter. 

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it. 

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift. 

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that. 

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it. 

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps. 

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now. 

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap. 

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage. 

Barely. 

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips. 

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it. 

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face. 

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride. 

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist. 

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other. 

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here. 

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something. 

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son. 

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious. 

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues. 

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault. 

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den. 

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years. 

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal. 

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you. 

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late. 

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend. 

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat. 

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late. 

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table. 

Away from you. 

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it. 

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset. 

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there. 

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest. 

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not. 

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him. 

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction. 

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you. 

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed. 

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time. 

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about. 

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all. 

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name. 

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?” 

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair. 

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens. 

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room. 

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather. 

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart. 

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still. 

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say. 

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you. 

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you. 

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?” 

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered. 

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone. 

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own. 

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused. 

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it. 

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it. 

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?” 

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have. 

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain. 

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin. 

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better. 

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants. 

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day." 

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up." 

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back. 

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth. 

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies. 

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod. 

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it. 

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle. 

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious. 

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed. 

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away. 

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight. 

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath. 

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say. 

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you. 

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes. 

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt. 

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut. 

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier. 

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop. 

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice. 

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.” 

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out. 

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl. 

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills. 

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard. 

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in. 

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release. 

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit. 

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out. 

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back. 

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later. 

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more. 

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other. 

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made. 

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes. 

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown. 

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon. 

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick. 

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa. 

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes. 

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle. 

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it. 

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond. 

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm. 

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red. 

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug. 

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board. 

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know." 

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy. 

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected. 

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had. 

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably." 

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you. 

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [6]

Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 6.5 OR Chapter 7

➜ Words: 4.1k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

You try not to let the negative, disgusting feelings get to you.   But envy is a monster that keeps hovering over your shoulder, always peering at what you’re doing, always making petty comments in your weakest moments. You try to tune it out, but it constantly tempts you in whispers to be honest with yourself.   It’s hard to keep it at bay too when every turn you make, you see Jimin’s face. From the moment you step outside the comfort of your apartment to when you get back — he never gives you a moment to compose yourself, to heal, to overcome the green monster. He sticks to your side like gum and you can’t help the way your resentments build into hatred.   “Did you hear?” there are murmurs as you’re cleaning up a spill on the floor, knees sore and bruised blue. The director spilled his coffee and immediately pointed at you and told you to take care of the mess.   “What?”   “Jimin got a role in the Les Mis production.”   “What? Really?” she gasps. “That’s impressive. No wonder he’s not here today.”   “I knew he could do it, he’s cute. I’d let him have his way with me.”   “God, you’re never satisfied, aren’t you?” There are snickers and giggles. “But he must be really good. Didn’t he just come here too? But we should see if we can get tickets to watch.”   “Good idea. I’d love to see him on stage,” she hums. “I wonder if he’ll quit this job.”   “Probably. Working as an intern here is pretty much working as a slave for the director. It’s a shitty ass job,” she mutters and you can feel their heavy stares on your backside. “Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”   “Shame,” she sing-songs. “I was hoping he’d stick around.”   Your hand crumples into a tight fist, into the dirty cloth that’s stained your skin. Then you scrub harder until your fingernails hurt, until it’s as painful as the way your eyes sting.   //   Your appetite is gone. You can’t swallow your food despite having skipped lunch — the director had sent you on a wild goose chase to pick up a package at the post office and by the time you were done, your lunch break was long over.   You play with dinner using your fork, and Jimin doesn’t notice. He keeps talking about all about him and his accomplishments. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, but he insisted on going out for a celebratory dinner, pressured you into it even when you tried rejecting him.   And here you are.    “So I came in today for the first time, and it was so exciting. You wouldn’t believe it, Y/N. You were right when you said the Phantom production was low-budget. These sets that some other musicals have are a world’s difference.”   “I see.”   Jimin stuffs his cheeks with french fries, getting ketchup at the corner of his mouth. “I’m starting officially on Monday, so I’ll probably quit my internship. I already gave the director a call to let him know tomorrow will be my last day and he sounded pretty happy for me. He even said he’d write a recommendation letter if I ever needed one.”   You drop the fork in your bowl, retracting your hands into your lap. “Wow, that’s really great, Jimin.”   “I don’t think I’ll need a letter any time soon.” Jimin smiles and shakes his head, sipping on his soda. “I’m just so psyched to begin rehearsals. They ran me through a few things and what my costume will be and what it’ll look like before we perform in a few months. Sometimes I just can’t believe that I’m actually there. It’s just surreal to think about how I’ll be on stage. Everything at that production is so amazing, Y/N, completely different from Phantom’s production, you should’ve seen it.”   “Yeah. Wish I could’ve….”   “And now people are taking my coffee orders! Can you believe that?!”   You can’t even muster a smile. There’s a thick lump formed in your throat that hurts to talk past and you’re holding back from crying, not wanting to lose the last shreds of your pride.   Jimin doesn’t know that you never asked to hear any of this, that his innocent gloating is grating to your ears.    “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He gives a cheesy grin and then bites into his burger and puts it down after wiping his mouth free of the sauce. “Seriously, if not for you, I probably wouldn’t have made the role. I didn’t know what I was doing before you taught me the ins and outs of the industry. I bet I’d still be at home rolling around in bed.”   Your tight lipped mouth attempts to pull. “You’re welcome.”   “I’d love to make it up to you some time...s-so...uh...I-I’ve been meaning to ask something.” Jimin nervously laughs and scratches the back of his neck.   You wonder why you’re here, why you’re allowing yourself to feel this misery. You should be at home, underneath the covers of your own bed. Not out here in the cold feeling humiliated. You’ve wasted enough time on Jimin and he’s gotten what he wanted from you.   The two of you are no less than strangers.   “O-Of course, only if you want to, no pressure whatsoever, but there was this theater show coming up tomorrow, I was wondering, well I wanted to ask, um, if you wanted to j-join, I got tickets—”   You don’t hear him. Too busy in your own thoughts.   You grab your bag. “I’m not feeling very well, Jimin. I think I’m going to head home first.”   His eyes are owlish, big and rounded, blinking at you. The boy looks at your unfinished food and then back at you in alarm. “Are you okay? Do you need me to bring you to the hospital? What’s wrong?”   “No, I’m fine. I’m just—” You sigh, unable to come up with a coherent explanation. “—tired.”   Tired from the day. Tired of your life. Tired of him.   Jimin stands when you do. “We can go back together.”   “No, it’s fine,” you insist as lies roll off your tongue, “I might actually stop by a friend’s house tonight.”   “Do you want me to walk you to the subway then? I can go right now—”   “No, it’s okay. Promise.” You can’t bring yourself to smile at him, to spend one more second in his presence. You’re scared you might permanently hate Jimin. “See you.”   “Bye…” His hand lifts to wave, watching you walk away.   Once you’ve disappeared from sight, Jimin dejectedly plops back down into the seat of his booth. He peeks into his pocket and sighs as he looks at the two tickets to the show. He shouldn’t have been so nervous. He wonders what he should do with them now.   But next time. Next time for sure, he’ll ask you on a date.

You’re strung around a lot.   You realized this after your many encounters with Jimin, but everyone in your entire life has strung you around like a pet for their own amusement. Even now, the director brings you places to do his dirty work for him while making you believe that he’ll give you a reference someday, that he’ll give you a chance.    But if you’re honest with yourself, you know he’ll never do it.   He’ll never pick up his goddamn phone and call an agent for you. He’ll never give you the praise you deserve for being his ghost singer. And these facts alone are enough for you to want to grab the nearest brick available and smash it on his dumb head.   But you can’t do that as irritated and as pissed off as you are these days. You can’t go to prison and you can’t quit this shitty job. You need money from somewhere, and you won’t be succeeding in any auditions any time soon — you know that too.   You’re stuck. Trapped in your own inability to succeed. Stranded in your own routine. Even when the entire world keeps moving.   You feel like you’re in a glass case, a phone booth in the middle of the metropolis, watching the universe continue, watching how others move past you.   “Intern. Intern!”   “Huh?”   “Did you not hear me?” The director sighs and rubs his temples. “Don’t make me regret bringing you here, alright?”   Except he didn’t bring you here willingly. Taeyeon couldn’t come to the networking event — the stupid party for ‘charity’ that was actually meant for the sponsor to brag about his wealth. The invitation became open and he saw you staring at him intently, so he reluctantly told you to come with. But now the director was acting like he has bestowed onto you a huge honour.   “Go get one of the waiters to bring those finger food platters to us. They keep running out by the time they get to this side of the room.”   “Yes, sir.”   You remind yourself this job is a privilege. A privilege.   You cut through the room and crowds that make you sweaty. It feels as though everyone’s eyes are on your backside despite knowing that logically no one cares. You’re a ghost in the sea of fancy dresses and glamour.   “—And so, one day I just told him that of course we had to eat during the layover, we were in Italy for god’s sake. It’s eat-aly for a reason.”   Seokjin seems to be enjoying himself. He’s drawn in a crowd with his handsomeness and godly appearance. Even his ridiculous jokes rouse laughter. You’d probably giggle along if he ever wanted to entertain you, but at this point, you might end up bursting into tears after laughing.   “You’re so funny, Jin.”   “Am I? Hmm. Always thought I should do stand-up comedy.”   You continue making your way, catching a waiter walking past and in an attempt to grab his attention, you dive straight through a hoard of people. Apologies roll off your tongue while they grunt. But by the time you get to the other side, the waiter is gone.   Instead you see someone else — the person that you wanted to see the least in the whole entire world.   “Actually, I started in community theater.”   “Oh, really?! What did you do?”   “Well, I did a lot, but I think my favourite role was when I did Peter Pan. That was pretty fun and a really good experience.”   “I can see that.” The suited man hums. “Can’t you?”   “Yes.” The woman on the man’s arm is swooning over the younger boy. “I think that role is rather fitting.”   The brunette is dressed in a well-pressed suit that looks brand new, as if he had just got it off the rack yesterday in haste. But he looks comfortable surrounded in his new group, probably members of his production.   You watch for a second from afar, stuck at another standstill, feet rooted in the ground. Jimin gets along with people easily. He’s only shy on the surface. It’s smart to talk to so many people and to expand his horizons, to actively socialize. He’ll probably get more connections here at the event. It’s only up from here.   You’re envious that Jimin is being presented as a new Broadway actor while you’re just an intern.   Though you sigh with a smile despite your inner turmoil. For a second, one small second, you’re almost happy for him—   But the timing is poor.   As you turn away to fully disappear, he catches you out of the corner of his eye. And Jimin takes a step forward, calling your name out loud, clear and crisp in the air. You shut your eyes, hoping your ears are mistaken, but they aren’t.   He dismisses himself from his new colleagues and comes over to you with the biggest smile.   “I didn’t know you would be here, Y/N!.”   “Y-Yeah, um, I’m here as an intern.”   “Oh, I didn’t even see the director. I should go say hi.” Jimin glances up and down at you. You wonder if he’s judging your meager attire when everyone else is glamorous. But you don’t let your thoughts stray too far into self-deprecation.   You inhale a huge breath, trying your best to get along with him.   “You look like you’re having a fun time.”   “Hardly,” Jimin admits. “I just came since everyone else did and I didn’t want to be that new guy who didn’t come to social events, y’know?”   “Yeah, I get it.”   You wonder when it became so hard to talk to him.   “The food here is actually pretty good, have you had a chance to try it yet?”   “No, not yet.”   “I recommend the tiramisu and truffle fries. It’s delicious. Here we should go to the buffet table.”   “Actually, Jimin, I have to go—”   “There’s something I want to tell you,” he interjects with a softened smile. Jimin waits patiently for your response, so you nod, following him for the sake of not being awkward.   The two of you come to a quieter spot by the corner of the room where the tables are.   “What is it?”   “Earlier I was just walking around trying to make conversation with different people and I spoke to this guy and we had a pretty regular conversation, but it turns out he’s the casting director of an upcoming, original production!” Jimin’s excitedly rambling, sharing the good news with you as if you’re close friends. “It’s called When Summer Meets Winter, and there’s nothing official yet, but he said he really likes me. Do you think I’ll get a part?”   You don’t know why he’s telling you this.   “I...I don’t know, Jimin.”   “Can you believe it though? If I had another role lined up right after this one?!”   “Congratulations,” you deadpan.   “Well nothing’s decided yet.” Jimin sheepishly smiles, unaware of how he was literally pouring kilograms of salt into your wounds, gallons of gas into the fire.   “Is this what you wanted to tell me? I should really get going, Jimin. I’m on the job right now. And I can’t afford to get fired.”   “Wait.” He grabs your wrist before you can turn away from him, desperate eyes asking you to stay for a moment longer. “I...a-actually wanted to ask you something…..and I’ve been meaning to do it for a while now but I never really got the chance, well that’s not true, I had a lot of chances but I chickened out because I was a coward—”   “What?” you sigh in exasperation, annoyed beyond belief. “What is it, Jimin?”   He looks you dead in the eyes. “Will you come with me to an improv class?”   “Pardon?”   “There’s an upcoming improv class. I heard about it, and it’s free. It’s just that we had gone to so many shows before but we never got a real chance to participate, so I thought it would be really fun.”   You don’t want to. Thinking about it makes you scared. And you still haven’t healed from your most recent failure.   “I don’t think so, Jimin...I…”   “Please?” he insists, “I think it would be so much fun.”   “I’ve been pretty busy—”   “I haven’t even told you when it was yet! How would you know if you’re busy?” Jimin laughs, the sound bubbling out of his throat. “And plus, they have a lot of days available.”   There’s an extended silence.    It’s too much work to reject him, to find an excuse, to make this more awkward than it needs to be. You just want to leave, want him to let you go. So you agree. “Fine.”   He grins. “Okay. It’s this Friday at seven. I’ll see you then?”   “Sure. But—”   You’re interrupted by a yell. “Y/N! Where did you go? My god, I sent you to do one task and you got distracted like this?” The director is appalled as he comes over, shaking his head, outright humiliating you.   And Jimin smiles. “Director Kang! How are you?”   “Jimin!” The older man smiles and hugs him. “What’s my favourite intern doing here?”   “I came with my new production team.”   “Up on the high ranks now, aren’t you?” Director Kang slings his arm over Jimin’s shoulder as if the pair of them are sharing a secret. “Make sure to remember who got you there. It’s good to show gratitude.”   Jimin steals a glance at you. “I remember.”   But by then, you’ve already turned away, grabbing the nearest waiter and asking him to bring over a platter of finger foods for the director.   People might see you as a timid mat to walk all over. But you just really itch to set the whole place on fucking fire.    //   Friday comes too quickly, and once you step outside to face the consequences of your decisions, Jimin is there to greet you with a smile as if to show how perfect his life is going.   On the way there, he summarizes his week and somehow gives extensive details — from the rehearsals to the new things he learnt, to how amazing the cast is and what it’s like to work with people who are passionate about musicals. You tune him out, and fortunately you arrive soon enough.   It’s a dingy entrance way and a hall that leads to a lit studio. But as skeptical as you were, there’s quite a few people there. There are around thirteen folks who are both friendly as they are invasive. Though Jimin is comfortable with them while you linger behind him.   It quiets down when the teacher steps into the room.   “Hello everyone.” The blonde with bright eyes flashes a boxy smile. He’s dressed in a loose dress shirt, tight trousers, a sophisticated but casual outfit. And he’s charming, outspoken, drawing the attention of the crowd. “Looks like we have some new faces today, so I’ll introduce myself. My name is Kim Taehyung. I am an aspiring screenplay writer and producer, currently assisted to Director Lee if you know who he is. And today, I am your improv teacher, director, leader, whatever you want to call it.”   Kim Taehyung….   Everyone goes around the room to introduce themselves, and your fixation on Taehyung shatters when Jimin, next to you, announces himself.   “Hello! My name is Park Jimin, and I’m currently working towards my Broadway debut.”   “Oh, impressive,” Taehyung genuinely expresses, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “What production are you in?”   “Les Mis.”   “Wow.” He nods with a smile and looks off at you. You feel the entire focus of the room shift onto you and you begin sweating, uncomfortable, panicking.    “I’m Y/N…” You cringe at how awkward you are, at how quiet your volume is. Others have to murmur to each other to confirm what your name is.   But Taehyung smiles kindly. “And are you interested in improv, Y/N?”   “A little.”   He laughs, a glorious sound that’s chirpy and melodic. “Well, let’s hope it changes to a lot by the time this is over.”   Taehyung turns to the class afterwards, reassuring that it’s all for fun while explaining what the theme is for today. He also explains the rules, what to do, and how to set up a scene.   “Oh no, a man’s been shot!” someone screams, startling you to death.   “I’m the paramedic.” Someone else steps in right away. “He can only be saved by true love’s kiss.”   “Oh my god, George!” Another comes colliding onto the set up scene, next to the man laying on the ground. Someone asks if she’s his girlfriend and she responds with, “I’m his sister.”   It arouses some stiff laughter. “Well that’s awkward. We need someone to kiss him!”   “Gross, I’m not kissing him,” the supposed sister drops him back onto the ground. “He has herpes.”   “She’s right.” Jimin seizes the opportunity and comes in. “I’m his doctor and he’s contracted herpes through kissing raccoons.”   “Are you sure that it’s herpes and not rabies?”   “I’m sure.”   “They’re very different things.”   “I’m aware,” Jimin says smoothly, thinking on his toes, “But we need someone to kiss him stat.”   “Well, you’re the doctor! Can’t you go through the medical procedures and kiss him?!”   “Sorry. Can’t risk contracting diseases. It’s protocol.”   Someone on the scene asks who they’ll contact now. But it’s so bizarre. You don’t know what’s going on — you can’t keep up — it’s happening too quickly and each time you gather the courage to jump into it, the development is too fast for you to conjure more ideas of what to do or say.   But you’re the next person to step in and everyone turns to you.   You’re apprehensive, nervous. You know you’re bad, that you’ll mess up—   “You can do it,” Taehyung murmurs, having watched the scene unfold. His arms are crossed, but his grin is welcoming and warm. He encourages you with a gentle gesture.   You clear your throat and try strutting into the scene. “I-I’m nurse Joy. I was told there was a bachelor party at this venue?”   Taehyung laughs. “Creative.”   The scene unravels in absolute absurdity. You exchange a look with Jimin before your eyes stray off to Taehyung and stay there. It’s surprisingly fun. It’s not so nerve wracking when everyone’s on their toes, when there’s no real audience or anyone to scrutinize you.   Everyone’s a part of the performance.   “There’s no right or wrong,” Taehyung tells, approaching your side as another scene is unfolding. “Try to relax more into it.”   “Okay.” You take his advice and he smiles, endeared.    An hour eventually passes and class is dismissed. Everyone bids farewell and you’re gathering your belongings when Taehyung comes up to you while wearing his coat, balancing his own briefcase.    “You’re really good. It was your first time, right?”   “Y-Yeah.” You try not to show how flustered you are over his praise. “Thanks, I don’t think I’m any good.”   “Don’t say that. It all comes with practice and hard work.”   “And luck,” you add. Not everything can be achieved through perseverance — you realized that a long time ago.   “That too. But did I end up changing your mind?”   “About what?”   “Are you a little more interested in improv?”   You consider it for a moment before becoming honest with your emotions. “A little…?”   “Only a little?” Kim Taehyung gives an exaggerated huff, obviously teasing you. “Aw, jeez, I failed, didn’t I? I was hoping you’d love it by the time it was over.”   “Maybe next time I’ll love it more,” you banter back to him and he laughs.   “So I’ll see you again?”   “Maybe.” You shrug.   Taehyung smiles, the corner of his mouth tilted gingerly. He glances down at his shoes before peeking up at you past his bangs and thick lashes. “What do you do, Y/N?” he asks in a husky timbre that has your chest stuttering.   But you don’t know what to say. You’re embarrassed to tell him you’re an intern. You’ve never been proud of that title and somehow, you find yourself not wanting to tell him.   So you opt to evade it playfully. “Why do you want to know?”   He hums a low note. “Because I’d love to know your availability—”   “Y/N?” He’s interrupted by a soft voice and when the both of you turn, you find Jimin has been standing at the doorway, having watched the entire interaction. His cheeks are pink and he tensely hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “We...should get going. Wouldn’t want to miss the train…”   You look back at Taehyung. “Um, I really had a fun time today. Thanks for teaching…”   “It’s my pleasure, Y/N.”    You like the way he calls your name. The way the syllables roll off his tongue. It sounds nice. Pleasant.    When you walk out the door and glance back, you see his boxy grin and cheerful wave. You wave back to him with a kind of smile that hasn’t reached your features in a long time.   “Did...you have fun?” Jimin peeks at you as you’re on your way back.   “Yeah, surprisingly.” You smile up at the night sky before turning to Jimin. “Taehyung’s super nice, huh?”   “Yeah. He is. He’s pretty good looking too.”   “I know, right?” You giggle. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”   The two of you keep walking, but you don’t realize when Jimin’s steps slow. You don’t come to see the dismayed expression on his face.   It’s the first time in a while that you feel this good.

[toshis-puppycat]

Unfortunately, I think I Love You Too Part Five

A/n: I was gonna have a reference to something in this part but I waited too long and forgot it lmao. Hope yall enjoy! I made myself a lil sad writing this out.

Summary: You slept on Hawks. Fuck you slept on Hawks. Hes… actually really comfortable.

Part Five

You felt so comfortable. It was like you were being held by everything that was safety. Like you were supposed to feel when you were growing up. It didn’t feel like you were in bed though, so just where did you- oh. Oh no. You fucking slept on Hawks, and you felt comfortable on him. God just realizing that made your face heat up and your palms felt so sweaty. And what were you smelling? Just how exactly did you sleep on him? Then you remembered. You curled onto him the moment he had an arm thrown around your shoulder and cupped your cheek and basically nuzzled into his neck. God that was embarrassing. Although your legs felt more stretched out. And you definitely remembered sitting on his lap. He must’ve brought you two to the guest bedroom as soon as he could. But the light shining in could only mean that he just stayed in your living room. God. What a moron. You stretched, finally accepting he just let you be knocked out on the couch, but the grunt right next to your ear made you stop. 

“Hawks?” You asked.

“Yeah, songbird?” He said, right next to your ear, he sounded a bit strained though. 

“Did I fall asleep on you?” You questioned. 

“Yes.“ 

"And you didn’t go to the guest room because…?”

“There’s a guest room?” He asked. And you sighed. 

“I thought a top hero like you knew to check everywhere.” You said, finally turning to get up, carefully of course, you did not want the awkward feeling to last any longer than it already did. When you got up, he followed, wincing a little. Fuck. You were literally laying on him. His wings must hurt now. 

“Didn’t wanna be rude and assume.” He said, stretching out his wings, you could hear his back pop. 

“I should probably show you then, shouldn’t I?” You asked, already walking to the hallway leading to the guest room. You heard him quickly follow behind. “And thanks for last night. I didn’t know I needed that.” You said, he stopped for a moment behind you, then continued forward, grinning at you as you turned to face him, deadpanned. 

“I’m glad I could assist songbird.” He said, and you opened the door.

“Heres the guest room. Don’t be stupid and sleep on the couch again.” You said, quickly leaving. After that it just became routine to have him there, before you even knew it, a month had passed. You’d sneak into the guest room once in a while every night, you realized very quickly that sleeping alone was not good for you. But no one was ever really there before so Hawks making you feel safe was something you were kind of taking advantage of. You hoped he didn’t know that you were sneaking in and out though. He would definitely hold it over you just to embarrass you. 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Oh he knew you were sneaking into the guest room. He always woke up at the slight shift that would happen because of the risk that could come with not paying attention. He loved it. You would be as quiet as possible and crawl into the bed carefully just to cuddle with him! When he knew you’d be fast asleep, he would just look at how you were curled up against him, it was adorable. And sometimes you’d be just in his space, face pressed against his neck, arms grabbing at him, and god did he love it. He hoped you knew that it was adorable. (You didn’t, you hated it, you were always mortified waking up so close to him, god why’d you move so close to him in your sleep?) He’d let you think you woke up first though, because well he didn’t want to die thank you very much, especially not so soon after being able to interact with you. Since he started watching over you, its been fun getting to actually see your routine, a month passed by quickly. Not many updates for your case specifically. Hed thought something would happen by now. He wished something would happen, and something did happen. One day after you snuck out of his room while he was pretending to sleep, he heard you answer a phone call, you scrambled into the guest room again and told him to get ready to go to the hospital. You both dressed quickly and headed out. All Might was there and so were a few of those new hero students from U.A. What was going on? He could see you talking to All Might, and you two shared a simple hug. It was only about 2 hours later, he got an answer when you two were leaving. Sir Nighteye died. Sir Nighteye, one of the critical people who helped save you when you were younger, died. And the last time you two spoke was over a month ago. When he was first assigned as your protection, he didn’t know what you two talked about that last time but… it had to be hitting you hard. You were going back to your home, you weren’t speaking (not like he could, people would crowd him if they saw him clearly with you) you weren’t responding to any messages he was sending you. Just… walking home. Oh but when you got back he was on you, not really registering your stop just before entering your home and just placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Songbird, I’m sorry for your loss.” He totally didn’t have to be calling you songbird, but he wasn’t going to be calling you sweetheart for a long time now. He clued in when you turned around with a slightly panicked look on your face and saw the door. It was opened. It was one thing after another. They really broke into your home after finding out one of the men who saved you died? Rude. 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Calling Naomasa about the break in was just another smack to the face. You’re life was really going into the ground right now? Out of all the times before it could’ve happened? You were beyond stressed and you couldn’t even be in your own home. Hawks was ever so gracious though and offered his own place, which was something you wanted to avoid since the beginning but you had no choice now. Walking through the door and just slumping on the couch. Hawks didn’t have to act all lovey now thankfully. Was what you thought. But then he gently pulled you close and just held you. Like he always did when you ended up sneaking in the room to cuddle sleep. And you just felt whatever dam you had break. You were sobbing on him, for what you didn’t even know anymore. You were stressed that they weren’t caught still, upset at the death of a man who saved you and the other just suffering. The only reprive you had was that little girl was safe. Because you reported Overhaul. “Her name is Eri. And she’s safe now, y/n” All Might said. “She’ll be safe.” You kept crying until you body just gave out. Just like it did when he held you the first time a month ago. All you could hear was a whisper. “I’m here songbird. I’m not going anywhere." 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

The next day was a blur. You were in a bed, well you thought you were at least. Nothing was moving under you, and it was comfortable. And well. It smelled like Hawks. And sometimes you could feel someone or something hold you. You would feel so safe when that happened. You were also still crying. You might have acted like Nighteye was a nightmare, especially after he found out you were a hero. But… he was still the man that helped save you. Who planned everything for you to get out safely and live a relatively normal life. It was because of him that you even wanted to be an underground hero, he was behind the scenes, planning everything and making sure it all went right. And you admired that about him. And he was gone. You never told him you looked up to him, (even though he wasn’t that much older than you). How even though he was furious when he found out about your hero activities he still supported you, and made sure to keep your secret away from the HPSC. He could see Hawks could be trusted. So when you felt wherever you were dip again you grabbed blindly at something, anything to make him stay. You managed to get his arm just before leaving. You were going to tell him, but all that came out was just a jumbled mess. You felt arms wrap around you again, and heard his heartbeat, you passed out. 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

”Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.“ 

Your eyes weren’t open, but you still managed to get his arm. You… you needed to be protected. It was why he didn’t tell the HPSC about your hero career. He was pushing it off because he didn’t want to be a creep or even just confusing it for something else but… it was hitting him. Just how much he hated seeing you hurt. Just a chance at meeting you at that charity event, a chance at getting your help for that undercover operation. And the chance he had to keep you safe from the people who hurt you before. Who made it hard for you to be open with anyone. He was going to catch them. If it helped you finally get some peace of mind. To see you smile in a real way instead of the fake one during that operation that was over a month ago now. To… maybe hold you like this in a more romantic sense. He looked at you, your face was basically buried in his chest, content, not crying, the shuddering breaths and how relaxed you were. Oh. Oh god. "I think I love you, songbird.”

Tag list: @onyxiana-is-obsessed, @neon-tries-writing, @shiggi-trash, @jqnposts, @notmykirk, @crackhead1-800, @sinclairsamess, @takmikig, @ewok-things, @lookslikeleese, @rat-suki, @bakatenshii, @enjifuckersupreme,  @protagonist-senpai, @atsumumu, @mikithekiki, @marshmallow-witch

[greekletters]

insert clever title here..

honestly, I was going to try to bait you all with a better title, but this is all I got..

not really a prompt, but more of a topic... 

The Kissing Booth

When you had imagined college life, you had always thought about late nights studying in the library, or parties where you would go out drinking with your friends, or complete isolation and last minute study sessions in your dorm as you prep for exams.

Having to run the bottle ring toss stand for the dorm hall's charity event wasn't even anywhere near your college to-do list. But here you are. Carefully standing up about forty glass bottles on a table.

You always hated this game. It was completely rigged. The rings you had to toss were always smaller than the bottle tops they were supposed to fall on.

To make matters worse, you had found out that your roommate and love of your life would be running the kissing booth. Of course, Weiss Schnee had no idea that she was the love of your life. But that was a minor detail.

Luckily for you, Weiss' booth had presale tickets. So you may have bought some, just in case. What you hadn't anticipated was her booth being right next to yours.

"Oh hey Blake, looks like we are going to be booth buddies." You look up to see Weiss setting up her sign and placing a plastic bag of some kind on the shelving behind the booth.

"Yeah. Looks like it."

"Did you get stuck doing the ring toss again this year?" She tilts her head to the side and gives you a small smile.

"It's not that bad. I just hate when people, well, really when the kids don't win. It's totally rigged. I usually just give the kids the prize tickets anyways." Shrugging, you set about five more bottles on the table.

"Well that's very kind of you. They said my tickets sold out this year. So I'm a little nervous."

"I mean, why wouldn't they?" It falls out your mouth before you can stop it.

She looks away, smiling. Probably because you're blushing like an idiot because you've totally embarrassed yourself. Not like the two of you have to share a room for the remainder of the school year.. oh wait.

By the grace of God, when you stand up you see Pyrrha making her way towards you, purposefully.

"Hi ladies! Are you ready to go? We are about to open everything up!"

"It's as good as it's gonna get." You mumble as you place the little plastic rings along the counter top of your booth.

"As enthusiastic as always, Blake. Weiss? How about you? You have the only booth to sell out of tickets before we open."

"Really?" There's a slight crack in her voice.

"Most definitely. Yang is quite upset that her booth didn't sell out first."

"I mean, who would honestly pay to arm wrestle her? You're already going to have to pay for your own medical bills when she breaks your arm or wrist." Weiss giggles into her sleeve, and it makes you smile.

"Now, now, that's not fair to say. I asked her to behave and participate fairly."

"Well hopefully she listens." Weiss says as she hops up onto the stool behind her booth.

"Alright, it's go time. So I have to head back up front and make sure Nora and Ruby don't eat all the food. Or set something on fire."

"Wouldn't be good to have a repeat of last year, would it?" You say, and Pyrrha looks at you clearly unamused by the smirk on your face.

As soon as Pyrrha is gone, Weiss leans over towards you.

"Remind me, what happened last year?"

"You mean you really forgot that the two of them tried to deep fry every kind of food they had at the concession stand and the wall caught fire?"

She doubles over in laughter, slapping her knee.

"No, no I didn't forget. But it never gets old. The two of them smelled like corndogs for a month afterwards. Pyrrha was so mad."

The first group of kids approaches your booth and you take their tickets, handing them each three rings.

"And yet, even after the concession stand bonfire, Pyrrha thought it was a good idea to throw the same kind of fundraiser again this year."

None of the kids get any rings on the bottle, but you give them all a prize ticket anyways, and they walk off.

"Yeah, especially since half the money we raised ended up going towards the damages."

"What booth did you run last year? I forgot." It was true. You just know it wasn't the kissing booth.

"Face painting. And I was terrible at it. It was more like a 'Picasso painting in five minutes or less on your face' booth. Kids kept asking for animals or super hero masks and it was just a mess."

"Oh yeah, I asked you to paint a flower on my cheek and it looked way more like a jellyfish than a flower." She grabs one of your rings off the table and throws it at you.

"Who did the kissing booth last year?" She asks, propping her chin in her hand, looking off pensively. But she answers her own question. "Coco. How could I forget? She got in trouble for… how did Pyrrha refer to it?"

"Aggressively trying to suck face with every willing participant." Your air quotes are only to emphasize the ridiculousness of Pyrrha's word choice.

"Poor choice of words, considering it was Coco, so everyone that wandered by was willing."

"You aren't wrong. Still funny though."

Another five or six groups of people come and go from your booth. Weiss' booth still remaining unvisited. But for some reason, she seems unbothered by the lack of people.

"Have you started studying for Goodwitch's exam yet?" When you stand up from picking the rings up off the floor, you face her direction.

"I finished the readings and taking notes but I haven't started studying yet, no. You?"

"Not really. I started to color code my notes but then I was just too distracted."

"Too busy worrying about running the kissing booth, huh?"

"Actually, yes." It surprises you. Weiss isn't the kind of person to let certain things distract her from school work.

"Good news," you look both left and right from your seat, "doesn't seem like you're as busy as you thought. So not much to worry about after all."

"Right? So much for a sold out booth. I even went out of my way to figure out a way to not actually kiss people."

"Wh-what do you mean?" The nervousness in your chest building exponentially.

"Well, I didn't really want to kiss anyone in the first place. So I had to figure out a way to get out of it, without just quitting. So I got these." She leans over and places the plastic bag on the counter top of her booth.

"Hershey kisses. You bought a bag of chocolate?"

"This way, I can technically still give anyone a kiss, but not have to physically kiss them." She dances a little bit on her stool. Clearly proud of herself for coming up with the idea.

"That's kinda smart." It's all you can think to say as your brain comes to realize how much money you just spent on carnival tickets for basically no reason at all.

"So imagine my disappointment when there are no visitors to my supposedly sold out booth." She huffs in defeat.

"More good news, we have less than an hour left, so it's almost over. And you get to keep the chocolates for yourself."

"Still somewhat disappointing."

Suddenly, from around the end of the aisle, Jaune appears, with an armful of tickets.

"Speaking of disappointment." You mumble,

"Those tickets better not be for me." The look of terror is plastered on Weiss' face.

"Hey guys!" He's always so chipper. It's exhausting. "There's only like half an hour left of the carnival so I figured I needed to come drop these off if they plan on getting used."

"Oh God no, please God no." Weiss repeats a few times under her breath.

"And these are…?" You ask him as he lays them across the entirety of your booth's counter.

"Your tickets." He says to you like it's obvious. "You know, all the tickets you bought for the kissing booth. At first when Pyrrha said you had bought them all, I was a little confused. But she told me to just be quiet and bring them here for you. I still can't believe you bought every single one. That's like, over eighty tickets!"

If it were possible to die from embarrassment, you would be six feet under.

"Thanks, Jaune. I'm sure Pyrrha will be delighted to hear that I have received every single one of my tickets, right now, standing here. Now, please do me a favor and leave so I can die in peace."

"Alright then. You two ladies have a good night!" With that, he wanders off back the way he came.

When you finally turn to the right and look in her direction, Weiss is propped up on her forearm and leaning against the booth. Her eyes narrowing as she looks at you. This certainly hadn't been how you thought this would go. You had been hoping she would never find out.

"Just when exactly were you planning on telling me that you bought not one, not two, but ALL of the tickets to my booth, Blake Belladonna?"

"Never? Probably. Maybe eventually?" You fidget nervously.

"Why would you do that? How much could that have possibly cost? Over eighty tickets? You shouldn't go around wasting money like that!"

"It wasn't a waste." You mumble as you begin to start cleaning up your booth, placing bottles back in their boxes under the table.

"What do you mean? Of course it was."

"Selfish maybe, but not a waste." You take a deep breath. "Because maybe I didn't want to spend my night watching other people kiss you, over and over while I supervised the ring toss." Folding the legs of the table, you slide it back against the wall. "It was for charity too, so I didn't waste my money."

You don't really want to wait for her to say anything back. You already feel like your heart had arm wrestled Yang, and lost. So you start cleaning up all the tickets Jaune had left scattered on the booth. Habitually, you count them as you fold them into rows.

"How many?" Her voice almost seems far off, or like you're hearing it through a wall.

"I'm not letting you pay me back for the tickets, Weiss. I'm not sad or feel guilty that I bought them" You dismiss any notion similar to that as well.

"Blake Belladonna, how many tickets did you buy?" Her voice a little more stern this time. Rolling your eyes, you look over at her.

"Eighty four. There are eighty four tickets." Humiliated. You feel humiliated as you hear her shoes scuffing along the floor as she walks over towards you.

"Hold out your hand." You glance up at her suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Just do it, please." She lightly stomps her foot. So you stick out your left hand, palm up.

She reaches up and places a single chocolate kiss in your palm. And you just stare at it for a few seconds.

"Only one? I mean, technically I bought eighty four, so shouldn't you give me the whole bag-"

Before you can finish saying anything she grabs your face and pulls you down, pressing your lips together. If you weren't dead before, you were now.

"Took you two long enough. It was getting painful to watch after three years." The addition of another voice startles the two of you into separating.

Looking over, you see Pyrrha standing at the front side of your booth, holding a box full of supplies under one arm.

"And I'll be taking a few of these, as payment for my continuous pain and suffering that you have caused me over the years." Reaching her hand into the candy bag and grabbing a handful before she walks off.

"I can't believe she took my candy." You say as your eyes follow Pyrrha around the corner.

"I guess you're just going to have to redeem the other eighty three tickets the old fashioned way." Weiss says as she rips one ticket from your collection.

[flyupandaway]

as usual im late to the party buuut!! 🍬&🦄 for adrian // 😵&💼 for soph // 💕&⛈️ for liam //🍯&💣 for maddie // 🏡&⌛ for viv // 🌼&🐢 for jonah!!

party doesn’t start until you arrive queen!!! ILY 💕 i had sm fun answering these 🥺

talk about your muse

Adrian

🍬  family headcanon

Adrian has never had a sense of family or home. He’s always been on his own, and up until recently, he’s liked it that way. He never really understood the value of family since he’s had to be on his own and look out for himself. He always had the belief that he had to look out for himself because no one else would. The closest thing he had to family was the guys who he would go to the casino with and that was mainly because he knew he could win their money from them so he kept them around. He considers his relationship with Dove as the first “family” he’s had (and later lil Annie going to join the family!!). 

🦄  physical health headcanon

Adrian struggles with alcohol dependency and there was a time a few years ago before he moved to Miami when he was drinking incredibly heavily and would black out for days at a time. He just didn’t feel like he had any sense of purpose and had nothing to do with his life. The drinking got better once he moved to Miami, got a job and started to win big at the casino. However, now that he’s out of the city, he has slowly started to increase his alcohol consumption and is again becoming dependent on the liquor, especially since he lives away from Dove and has nothing to keep himself occupied besides work.

 Sophie

😵 sickness headcanon

When Sophie isn’t feeling well, the only thing she will eat are french fries. She is convinced that french fries — and french fries alone — are the cure to any cold or flu. She pairs her fries with blue gatorade and red gummy bears. I feel like as soon as Milo notices Sophie feeling under the weather she stocks up on gummy bears and gatorade and is ready to run to McDonald’s at a moment's notice to get the fries. 

💼  work headcanon

Sophie normally falls asleep pretty early except on nights when she’s painting, drawing or working on her next project. She can stay up for hours when she’s inspired, oftentimes having to get dragged home by Milo to get into bed. She is typically a morning person but when she’s inspired and in the middle of working on something she turns into a night owl. She also gets very absorbed in her work, often losing track of time, forgetting to eat or the fact that she has to go to her second job. She’s definitely missed a few of her barista shifts because she was too busy painting away.

Liam

💕 love headcanon 

Liam doesn’t mean to be a player but he oftentimes gets himself into not the best situations, which started when he was in eighth grace. He had a crush on two different girls and thought he could get a date with both of them for valentine’s day. So he made sure to give a valentine to one and then the other to go see a movie with him. He strategically picked a movie in the afternoon and a movie in the evening, but he didn’t think about the fact that the two girls could run into each other in the bathroom—which is exactly what happened. Safe to say Liam got busted and also had a bucket of popcorn spilled on him, but at least it was after the afternoon movie date so it was just the evening movie he missed out on.

⛈️  sadness headcanon

While Liam hates being sad because it leads him to making impulsive, reckless decisions, he writes some of his best music when he’s upset about something or when he’s really happy. He’s written a number of songs about Grace during their arguments about how much he cares about her and doesn’t want to lose her, which just goes to show how special she is to him but also how stubborn he can get when he doesn’t want to apologize first or talk to her initially.

Madison

🍯 food headcanon

Madison wasn’t always as good of a cook as she is now. Her junior year of high school, Madison was trying to make a turkey for Thanksgiving in an effort to give her dad and brother a “normal” holiday after her mom left. The day was anything but normal considering the kitchen was filled with smoke, the turkey was still incredibly frozen and Madison almost caused a fire in the kitchen from leaving a cookbook open over one of the stove burners that was on. In her defense, Madison thought she’d turned a different burner on. Also, when she cooks for her dad and brother, Madison typically prepares whatever they want for dinner, so she doesn’t get to eat her favorite food that often, which is cheese raviolis. 

💣 stress headcanon

Madison has addictive tendencies just like her mother but instead of turning to drugs, Madison turns to work and picks up extra shifts. It isn’t unusual for her to go days without sleep when she’s feeling stressed and just run on autopilot in a way that she knows what’s going on around her but doesn’t feel like she’s in her body to experience it. It gets especially bad around her birthday, which is also a few days before her mom left. Since she’s usually the one taking care of others, she’s good at hiding her stress, although her brother is finally starting to catch on and he refers to her in this state as “Zombie Madison.” 

Vivian

 🏡 home headcanon

Given her involvement in her father’s business, Vivian is extremely paranoid about keeping things in her house. She recently rented out an apartment where she keeps most things related to the deals she is involved with, although the place looks normal. The house is what she uses when people come over or she’s hosting a dinner party for the “charity” she is in charge of. The apartment is where she keeps her money, weapons and other various items she needs for deals (and when deals go wrong). 

⌛ sleep headcanon

Despite her paranoia, Vivian typically sleeps great. Her confidence has especially increased lately after the hit on the Montgomery family since now she feels like she and her family are untouchable. She does get nightmares every couple of months though that have to do with when her younger sister was kidnapped years ago since her gut is telling her that things have been going too well smoothly. But she will never admit she has nightmares since that means admitting a weakness. As much as she cares about her family, her siblings especially, Vivian doesn’t do much to show it since she doesn’t want anyone to have something that can be used against her.

Jonah

🌼 happiness headcanon 

Jonah is happiest in the mornings when he takes Lucy on her morning walk and during the weekends when he volunteers at the animal shelter. He has always loved animals, dogs especially, and if he didn’t enjoy writing and working at his bookstore then he’d probably be doing something related to animals or maybe even go to vet school. He also set up bird feeders outside his apartment building and always carries around cat treats in his backpack if he comes across a stray. He is also an avid follower of his neighborhood's “lost pet” Facebook group because he hates when people are upset and doesn’t know what he would do if he lost Lucy. So he checks the group every so often in case he comes across an animal during one of his many walks with Lucy.

🐢 mental health headcanon

Jonah’s mental health could definitely be better. He carries around a lot of guilt over what happened to his girlfriend, even though it wasn’t his fault and it happened years ago. He has developed fairly severe insomnia over the years related to the accident. He also takes on other people’s emotions, especially sadness, which can be incredibly draining for him as he is going through his own sadness and grief. But he can’t help it because he wants to see those around him happy, even if that means putting himself in a worse position emotionally. He has a hard time saying no to people, and it’s not unusual for him to get stressed over the plans he’s made with friends because he couldn't’ say no but ended up double booking himself and has no idea how to do both things he agreed to.

[zhanenaomi]

It must be exhausting to be so weird all the time

Earlier, I saw a clip on the BBC Facebook page of Original Flava (a British-Caribbean duo creating recipes), making some bbq jerk burgers. As is my bad habit, I checked the comments for the inevitable racist comment about the BBC trying to be “woke” for showing people that black people exist in the UK. There I found a random account, posting a youtube clip of the late Dame Vera Lynn singing ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. This comment was obviously in reference to the fact that the BBC recently announced that ‘Rule Britannia’ and ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ would be performed without words at the Proms (only for this year). This, again obviously, is the fault of all black people (including Original Flava) and absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact that we are in a global pandemic of a virus that is easily spread by loud singing. The thing that disturbs me most about these comments is less the blanket assumption that all black people just sit around foaming at the mouth at the sheer idea of colonial lyricism, and more that this random person had clearly just copied the link to this video to post on any video they saw with a black person in it. Whether that video was about black people barbecuing, black people singing, black people talking about the economy, they were ready to own us with a youtube video of a song literally none of us will click on and listen to. It just made me think, surely it is exhausting to be so weird all the time?

Now, comments like this are admittedly pretty harmless, especially given the fact that they present that the person commenting is much more hurt than anyone else in this situation. However, by far the most disturbing thing I saw in the BBC comments that day, was on a Children in Need post. BBC Children in Need announced that they would specifically be donating £10 million to black children (a thing that is reasonably necessary given that 46% of BAME children live in poverty) (also this will be going over the course of 10 years, not a one time payment). By all intents and purposes, it is highly likely that vast amounts of Children in Need money were already going to black communities, given they go to… British children that are in need. The post in question was clarifying on false reports that they were giving money directly to the Black Lives Matter organisation, and in response many people said that since the BBC were now giving money to black children, they would no longer give money to the BBC. This, despite the fact that Children in Need fundraises year-round, and raised almost £50 million during their official appeal night last year and has raised more than £1 billion since 1980, and so £10 million over ten years is likely a drop in the ocean for this organisation. Way to throw your toys out of the pram, right guys? “If disadvantaged black kids are getting my money, then no disadvantaged kids are getting my money”! What a bizarre world view to have! It must take up a lot of time and energy to not only decide that giving money to disadvantaged children of colour in a country where they’re more likely to be disadvantaged than white children is racist for some reason, but then also to camp out in random Facebook comment sections talking about how you hate this alleged racism so much that you will be boycotting a charity because of it. Remarkably wild. Amazingly wild. Incredibly wild.

The last Facebook comment section weirdness I want to talk about is the reaction to news involving arrests, crime, and police brutality, most specifically the “If you do nothing wrong, the police will leave you alone” argument. First of all, tell that to yer man Harry Maguire. Second of all, there is police data stating that between March and May, you know, those months when we were knee deep in the throes of a global pandemic that is disproportionately killing black people, 21,950 stops and searches on young black men were carried out in the capital, approximately 80% of which lead to no further action. So if we’re keeping score, not only is the most expensive defender in the world not exempt from being harassed by police when his account suggests no wrongdoing on his part, but around 18,000 young black men were put directly in harms way by being searched by police without masks (and obviously without social distancing) in the midst of a pandemic, for no crime other than being black and maybe having a nice car. The reason I bring up Harry Maguire is because I would assume that most British people believe and support Harry Maguire over the Greek police, and none of them would ever use the “no crime, no police intervention” argument towards a news story about him. You know, like they did when George Floyd died. The point here is that people in these comments like to pretend that they are indiscriminate. They like to say “I don’t care if you’re rich, poor, black, white, gay, straight (insert identity here), if you’re getting arrested you must have done something wrong” which is simply just not true, and the fact that you don’t say these things when a white British footballer is brutally arrested is very telling. It shows who you assume to have being “doing crime” when they were apprehended versus who you assume to be innocent until proven guilty. Because the fact of the matter is that you DO care whether someone is black or white or poor or rich and the like, you obviously do. And its weird to lie about it to save face in Facebook comments. Ain’t you tired, Miss Hilly? (I’m assuming you all understand that reference given the unnecessarily large amounts of people who rushed to watch The Help after the BLM protests began earlier this year).

These things are all interconnected, because I’m sure that these keyboard warriors had some similarly angry takes when Stormzy offered scholarships to black students aiming to go to Cambridge University, and love to talk about “black on black crime” when black people are invited onto news outlets to talk about institutional racism in the police force. What this comes down to, is a clear lack of critical thinking and a clear racial bias. We know that crimes like theft and drug dealing tend to be crimes of necessity. No one steals bread and milk for the “thrill of the chase”. Poverty and crime are intrinsically linked. So why are you so hellbent on preventing black people from receiving assistance to escape poverty? If you want crime to reduce, then you should also want poverty to reduce, this is just the truth. If you don’t see how crime in black communities links to socioeconomic status in these black communities, then you probably (consciously or unconsciously) believe that nothing can be done to help black people; we are just inherently bad, born with a criminal gene. Suffice to say, this is a racist thought to have. Even when black people do manage to “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps” this also does not mean we’ll be treated favourably by the general public. The nation’s favourite punching bag is a black woman who was born into a low income household, attended Cambridge University, worked in the Civil Service and became the first black female MP in this country; this is of course Diane Abbott, who unfortunately receives half of all the abuse sent to female MPs overall.

Although I started out joking about how these people are just weird, the more I write, the more uncomfortable I feel. Is there a way out? Is there anyway we can win? Is our destiny to win the bet, just to be shot in the face by our loan sharks and have our proverbial jewellery shop ransacked (metaphor working on the assumption of your knowledge of the film Uncut Gems)? Its one thing to say weird things in video comments, it’s another to actually truly believe them. In the wake of the recent shooting of Jacob Blake, I’ve witnessed a spate of comments making statements about the case that are simply not true – things that have never been reported by the police or any credible news outlets. What do you gain from lying about these things? I guess you gain more public distrust in the black community and more animosity towards BLM protesters. I assume that’s what these people are aiming for, since I can see no personal benefit to lying about a case (unless you are the actual police officers involved in the shooting?). I actively try and stop myself from hopping into comment sections now because honestly and truly, it’s one of the most exhausting things to see hundreds of people talk about how bored they are of black people appearing on their screens. I’m sorry that my presence tires you out, guys. I’ve been staying off of Twitter because it’s good for my mental health to not be dialled into the ~discourse~ 24/7. It’s sad the way that these things often make black people feel that they are the ones who need to pull away in order to protect themselves. Dawn Butler has tweeted about how many young black women tell her they can’t see themselves pursuing a career in politics because of the sheer amount of hate they see black MPs receive. I want black children to receive financial support without fear that the rest of the world hates them for it. I want black people to get uni places and jobs without hearing others say that they got it because of their skin, rather than their merit and potential. I want black people to be present in the public eye without having to report racial abuse against them to the police on a weekly basis. The way that Britain works is that Britain has been and always will be, a multicultural nation. This is the result of the British Empire that we’re all oh so proud of. Therefore, (and this is not controversial to say), British people descended from individuals born in Empire nations deserve to live in Britain without constant apology for our existence, our actions, and our criticism of our government. Yeah, I bet its exhausting to act in such a bizarre way on social media. But imagine how tired we are.

 References:

Children in Need is not donating £10 million to Black Lives Matter - https://fullfact.org/online/children-in-need-blm/?fbclid=IwAR0RfWtsHKxeFGv8PBrY64J-QoqpiEWb3Td1nPE9WvYvZXTuksIB3ZOET9k

BBC Children in Need’s 2019 Appeal raises an incredible £47.8 million - https://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/latestnews/2019/cin-total

Child poverty facts and figures - https://cpag.org.uk/child-poverty/child-poverty-facts-and-figures

Met carried out 22,000 searches on young black men during lockdown - https://www.theguardian.com/law/2020/jul/08/one-in-10-of-londons-young-black-males-stopped-by-police-in-may

Diane Abbott more abused than any other female MP during election - https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2017/sep/05/diane-abbott-more-abused-than-any-other-mps-during-election

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 12

The Late Show with Steve Colbert: September 28th, 2016

Word count: 2.8k

Song is Reaper by Andie Case

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

Aurora was anxiously pacing backstage as she waited for her time to walk out onto the set. She listened as Stephen Colbert began his opening monologue and she swallowed thickly as he explained how the following day marked the first anniversary of the shooting and how this episode was in honour of the 43 lives they had lost that day. Mark squeezed her shoulder in support as she was announced and she let out a shaky breath, trying to push her anxiety aside as the curtain was pulled back for her. Her hand trembled as she walked out into the bright studio lights, the crowd applauding as she approached were Stephen Colbert stood in front of his desk. She hugged him before taking a seat on the sofa next to the desk; the audience continued to clap and cheer for a few extra moments before Stephen shushed them and she felt the weight of everyone’s gaze fall on her. She had a smile plastered on her face and if her family were there, they would recognise how fake it was, but to the audience in front of her she looked calm and collected, some would even say excited to be there.

“Aurora, welcome,” Stephen said once the audience fell silent. “Thank you for joining us tonight.”

“Thank you for having me,” Aurora replied. “I know we’ve been trying to make this happen since your first show last year.”

“We have and of course everyone watching knows that it’s been an incredibly challenging year for you, so we are very grateful to have you here. What has this last 12 months been like?”

“Like you said it’s been really challenging. When I woke up in the hospital they told me I’d been shot about a dozen times, once in the abdomen, 4 times in my shoulder and then another 7 or possibly more in my left hand, so for the first few months I was just focusing on all the surgeries and trying to heal.”

“And about a month after the shooting you were trending online after you joined your fiancé Harry Styles on stage for One Directions last concert show. What brought that about?”

“I think in the wake of tragedies like the Columbia shooting we all focus on the victims and their recovery but not a lot of thought goes to the victim’s friends and families if they survive. For those that die, their families receive overwhelming support, but if your loved one survives, there’s not a lot of emotional support and that’s something I never realised until I found myself in that situation. While I was recovering physically and receiving the help I needed to deal with the PTSD and the emotional trauma, my family was struggling and that became pretty clear to me when I watched fan videos from the One Direction tour and I saw the way that Harry and the other lads were hurting. I can’t begin to imagine the trauma of hearing someone you love has been involved in a mass shooting and that they might not make it. That leaves such devastating wounds that I knew I had to go to London and help them through that pain. Getting on stage was just this last minute idea we cooked up to celebrate that I was still there and to thank the fans for all their support.”

“It was a beautiful moment to watch,” Stephen replied, “but you’ve been pretty quiet online since then.”

“I have yeah. I stayed on Instagram and I’ve kept posting there but I deleted all my other social media accounts after the shooting.”

“Why was that?”

“Emotions were running high and unfortunately the anonymity of social media really encourages the worst in people. There was quite a lot of awful things being said about myself and my family in those first few weeks and mentally I wasn’t in a good place so I just deleted everything and my manager does a great job of keeping my Instagram comment section clear of the worst of things.”

“Why stay on Instagram at all? Why not delete it as well?”

“Despite the fame and attention, I’m like most 21 year olds. I want to see what my friends are doing and share the aspects of my life that I’m comfortable sharing and I love my fans. They’re really wonderful people and I like being able to invite them into my world in small ways, I’m just learning how to do that in a way that’s right for my mental health.”

“You said you were receiving a lot of hate after the shooting, what kinds of things were being said?”

“While most people were incredibly supportive, there were also a lot of voices pointing out the special treatment I received because I’m a Stark. I saw the best surgeons and I never had to worry about hospital bills. I also survived because my parents responded to the emergency as quickly as they did, and I was rushed to the nearest hospital. A lot of people died because nobody got to them as fast as they got to me.”

“Did you agree with what they were saying?”

“Of course, and I still do. Growing up poor and then being thrust into my dad’s world has always caused me to have a tremendous amount of guilt. I have so much privilege and even though I knew how lucky I was I didn’t use that privilege to help people. It was really confronting to get called out for that on such a massive scale, especially when I was at my most vulnerable.”

“And you used that as a wakeup call, didn’t you?”

“I did. My father’s charity, the Maria Stark Foundation stepped in immediately in the wake of the shooting and set up the ColumbiaStrong fund to pay for the medical care and funeral expenses of the other victims. The fund has ensured that everyone had access to the surgeries they needed, as well as providing therapy for those of us who developed PTSD and other mental illnesses from that day.”

“It’s an incredible initiative,” Stephen agreed, “and we’ve heard that you’ve taken a more hands on approach in recent months.” Aurora looked at him for a moment, trying to work out what he was referring to. “It’s been reported that you’ve been visiting hospitals over the summer.”

‘Ahhh’, she thought, ‘So people finally caught on to that.’

“I thought I was doing a good job of sneaking around and keeping that out of the news,” she chuckled, attempting to cover her nervousness. “Ever since my own amputation I’ve been visiting the children’s hospitals and speaking to kids with prosthetics and residual limbs.”

“They must love meeting you.”

“They’re incredible kids. Honesty I think they’ve helped me more than I’ve helped them. They’ve always got a smile on their faces and they don’t see themselves as victims. Meeting them helped me come to terms with my own situation.”

“You’re very humble.”

“I just don’t like to take credit for things like I’m some hero. I’m just 21 year old girl that survived something horrific and I’m just trying to do the best I can with what I’ve got.”

“Well we’ve got some people joining us tonight who are also doing the best they can with what they’ve got,” Stephen said to the camera, the audience clapping along. “We’ll be right back with more of the incredible survivors of the 2015 Columbia Shooting and a performance by Aurora Stark.”

As the cameras cut to the commercials, Aurora stood up, making her way off the set to where Mark was waiting for her. “You did great,” he said and they both turned to watch the crew swap out the seat she’d just vacated with a three seater sofa and add three bar stools behind it. There were 5 other survivors of the shooting guesting on the show, all choosing to be interviewed together as apposed the solo interview that Aurora had just given.

“Welcome back to the late show,” Colbert said when they returned from the commercial break. “I’m joined by 5 incredible young men and women; Chris Watkins, Jacinta Flores, Brandy Taylor, Jacob Lawler and Daniel Thomas.”

Aurora watched the interview on one of the monitors backstage. She felt like her own experience was being recounted by the 5 people on set as they discussed their own recoveries and the challenges facing them, so similar to her own. 3 had returned to Columbia to continue their studies, while the other 2, like Aurora, couldn’t face going back. They all had a range of injuries, but she found that they all shared the same burden of nightmares, flashbacks and guilt. After Colbert threw to another commercial break, Aurora headed back out onto the set, this time heading for the stage area. She smiled at the members of Harry’s new band, grateful that they agreed to join her for this performance, and she felt a little less nervous with them sitting behind her after spending so much time with them all in her home studio. Sarah gave her a supportive thumbs up from where she was already sat behind her drum kit, Adam similarly smiling in support with his base guitar in hand, and despite feeling more at home with a guitar in his hands, Mitch had happily volunteered to play piano once he’d heard Aurora talking to Harry about how scared she felt to play live. She didn’t allow herself much time to be nervous about her first solo performance in years, taking a seat on the stool set up behind the microphone and listening on silently as Stephen continued to interview the other 5 survivors. She wiped her sweaty palm against her thigh and then she heard Stephen thanking his guests before walking over towards where she and the band waited.  

“With her new single raising money for the ColumbiaStrong fund,” he said into the camera, “this is Aurora Stark with Reaper.” The lights dimmed across the set, a solitary spotlight softly lighting where she sat as the song began.

Broke down, thought that I would drown Hoped that I'd be found, 'fore I hit the ground Sun rays out the corner of my eye Saw you weeping, saw you creeping Saw you sneaking in the shadow's dawn I feel so strong Saw you out the corner of my eye

Don't come for me today I'm feeling good I'mma savour it Don't come for me today I'm feeling good I remember when You came to take me away So close I was to heaven's gates But no baby, no baby, not today Oh, you tried to track me down You followed me like the darkest cloud But no baby, no baby, not today Oh reaper Oh no baby, no baby, not today Oh reaper Oh no baby, no baby, not today

So come back when I'm good to go I got drinks to drink, and a man to hold I got good things to do with my life, yeah Oh, I wanna dance in the open breeze Feel the wind in my hair, hear the ocean sing I got good things to feel in my life, yeah

Don't come for me today I'm feeling good I'mma savour it Don't come for me today I'm feeling good I remember when You came to take me away So close I was to heaven's gates But no baby, no baby, not today Oh, you tried to track me down You followed me like the darkest cloud But no baby, no baby, not today Oh reaper Oh no baby, no baby, not today Oh reaper Oh no baby, no baby, not today

Reaper  

As the song finished, the lights lifted, and Stephen walked out to hug Aurora before turning to the camera as the audience applauded. “Aurora Stark everybody!” Stephen yelled. “Reaper is available now, all proceeds going to the ColumbiaStrong fund to support victims of gun violence. We’ll be right back.”

She quickly hugged Mitch, Sarah and Adam before following Stephen back over to the desk, joining the others on the sofa.

“That was an incredible song,” Stephen said when the show returned from the ad break. “Thank you for sharing that with us, Aurora.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“Now back at the start of the show we were talking about the ColumbiaStrong fund started by the Stark family to help survivors of the shooting, and I’m interested to hear what you all think about it.”

“I wouldn’t be sitting here without that money,” Brandy said. “My mom’s health insurance wouldn’t have covered the therapy I needed afterwards, and I was really struggling. My dad isn’t around so my mom was already working 2 jobs to pay the bills and send my 3 younger sisters to a good school. My medical bills would have bankrupted us if the Starks hadn’t helped us.”

Everyone else nodded and agreed, adding their own versions of the same story, while Aurora felt her eyes growing damp. She knew that the foundation had paid peoples bills and she knew that her father’s money had helped people but being confronted by it made it all the more real to her.

“I know Aurora was saying earlier in the show that she felt guilty that Iron Man and Captain America got to her so fast, but I’m grateful they did,” Daniel added. “If she hadn’t been on campus and they hadn’t responded, I hate to think about how many more of us would have died that day. When Iron Man stopped the shooter, he was heading for one of the busiest parts of campus. A lot of people walked away unharmed because Aurora sent out that SOS.”

As he spoke, Aurora felt her cheeks burning and she ducked her head in embarrassment. If she’d known that agreeing to this interview would lead to these people praising her for her actions last year, she would have declined the invitation. She didn’t deserve their praise or their thanks. All she’d done that day was cower under a table in fear and call her dads to come save her, but here these other survivors were, acting like she’d saved peoples lives. She hated it.

“I don’t know about everyone else, but I know I deal with a lot of guilt,” Jacob said. “My therapist called it survivors’ guilt and he said it’s pretty common for those who experience trauma to struggle with trying to understand why they survived when others died.” Everyone else nodded in agreement. “Aurora, I want to thank you, even though I’m pretty sure you don’t feel like you deserve it. You saved a lot of people that day and the money that your family has donated has saved a lot more. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your privilege because your using to help people around you. So, thank you.”

Aurora felt a few tears slip down her cheeks, painfully aware of the audience and cameras watching every moment. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want them thanking her for something she didn’t deserve.

“It’s very nice of you to say all of that but I shouldn’t be the one you’re thanking,” she said, quickly wiping at the tears threatening to drip down her blushing cheeks. “The first responders deserve our gratitude. The doctors and nurses. And my dads were the ones to set up the money so please don’t thank me for that. I was lying in a hospital bed just trying to hold myself together just like the rest of you. I’m not anyone’s hero.”

Jacinta, the blonde sitting next to Aurora on the sofa, pulled her into a tight hug.

“As you can see ladies and gentlemen,” Stephen said to the camera’s as the two girls hugged. “The emotional scars left behind by this tragedy are still very fresh in the minds of those who survived. Thank you for joining us this evening in commemorating those we lost and those still healing. Aurora’s single, Reaper, is now available for purchase from all the usual places with all profits going to the ColumbiaStrong fund to ensure support is available for those affected by gun violence. Thank you for watching and goodnight.”

Stephen stood up, walking around the desk to shake everyone’s hand as the audience applauded and Aurora pulled herself back together. She said her farewells as soon as she could, making her way backstage to where Mark and the band were waiting for her.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know it was going to go that way.”

“It’s ok Mark,” Rori promised. “I don’t think anyone expected that to happen.”

“Let’s get you guys home yeah?” Mark replied. “Steve said he was cooking a big dinner for everyone.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[truecrimesposts]

JOLLY JANE - Jane Toppan.

Jane Toppan, or as she would come to be known later in life, 'Jolly Jane', was a Massachusettes serial killer who was active during the late 1800s. To this day it is not known for certain exactly how many victims Jane claimed during her lifetime, but Jane would claim that is was at least 30 victims, with some more sensationalising reports claiming the number to be closer to 100.

Jane was actuary born as Honora Kelley, in Boston in 1854 (or 1857 according to some reports) to Irish immigrants Peter and Bridgette Kelley, though there is little to no information about the family, largely due to their immigrant status. She would come to be known by her family by the nickname of Nora, and she was the youngest of at least three girls, with a sister, Delia, who was two years older, and another older sister called Nellie. Other reports claim that she may have had more siblings than this, but I couldn't find any information about this. When Jane was a few years old, her mother grew sick with a brutal case of tuberculosis, leaving their father to raise the girls. Their father was a tailor, and an aggressive alcoholic who was believed by all those who new him to suffer from some kind of mental illness, which would leave to violent and angry outbursts. This trait would come to earn him a less than kindly nickname 'Kelley the Crack' meaning that he was 'cracked in the head'. It's widely accepted that Jane's early years were extremely miserable, and her and her sister Delia were taken away from the home at the ages of 6 and 8, and sent to the Boston Female Asylum in order to protect them from their increasingly abusive father. I tried to find out what happened to their older sister Nellie, but all I could find for sure was that she was not brought into the orphanage with her siblings because she was too old. It is rumoured that Nellie had actually taken after her father and struggled with mental illness herself until she was eventually committed to an asylum herself. It is also not known for sure what happened to their father, however there was an urban legend that claimed that he actually suffered a severe a severe psychotic break and tried to sew his own eyelids closed.

The Boston Female Asylum, despite the name, was not actually an asylum but an orphanage that had been founded back in 1799 by Hannah Stillman, wife of Revered Samuel Stillman, long before state care for children was invented, and this was actually the first charity set up by women in Boston. Back then it was simply down to the charity of the genourous to provide this kind of home for children, and those running this orphanage were generous enough to provide a home for around 100 girls at the time that Jane and Delia arrived. Jane found a home after around two years in the home, moving in with the Toppan family in 1962. According to reports, Delia was not so lucky and after leaving the orphanage it is rumoured that Delia turned to prostitution in order to survive.

When Jane was placed with the Toppan family, she was not formally adopted, and in fact, she never would be, though this family would be the ones to change her name to Jane, and refer to her as Jane Toppan. Despite being given their name, she would never truly be accepted by the matriarch of the family, due to Ann Toppan's hatred for the Irish. This was also why Jane's name was changed, and using Jane's dark hair and olive skin to her advantage, Ann spread rumours that Jane was Italian rather than admitting the girls Irish roots. However these beliefs didn't spread to her new sister Elizabeth, who was extremely fond of Jane, despite them not being treated equally within the home. Ann Toppan sent Jane to school, where she flourished academically, she was a very bright girl, but was hated by pretty much all of her schoolmates. Jane became known in school for lying about her family, being a snith, blaming other classmates for her own bad behavior and spreading vicious lies and rumours about anyone who would cross her, traits which would continue throughout her life.

Jane was given freedom from the home, along with $50 in cash on her 18th birthday, however she made the decision to stay in the home, working for them as a live in servant for over a decade. During the 70s Ann Toppan passed away and Elizabeth married Deacon Oramel Brigham. Jane was also reportedly engaged at some point during this time, however he left her for another woman, leaving Jane working for her Foster sister the way up to 1885. At this point, Jane decided that she wanted a new challenge and to stand on her own two feet, so she decided, instead of working one of the few menial jobs available to women, she applied to nursing school, and in 1887 she was accepted to Cambridge Hospital in Boston.

Jane used her time in school to reinvent herself, having learnt from her previous schooling how not to behave if you want to make friends. The change in Jane and how she treated people was so drastic at this time that she actually earnt herself the nickname of Jolly Jane. She was working 12 hour days, 7 days a week, getting only two weeks off a year, but she loved it. Her stoicism and bubbly personality earnt her many friends, however her manipulative traits hadn't disappeared. The nurse was still prone to spreading gossip and integrating herself with authority, but she was much alter now. Apparently on at least two occasions during her training Jane's rumours actually cost the nurses their place at the school. She also apparently started committing petty thefts, but nothing ever came of this.

The patients coming through the hospital loved Jane, they found her bright and chatty and genuinely just believed her to be a lovely and bright woman. However it would later be discovered that her relationship with her patients at this time were unusual at best, it became known that Jane had actually been falsifying the medical records of her favourite patients in order to ensure they stayed longer than originally needed. It is also believed that it was around this time that she began given these patients the wrong medication for the same reason, but nobody suspected her of this at the time. The patients that Jane did not care about however, where the elderly, her callous views of them, likely triggered by her uneasy relationship with her elderly foster mother, was that there was 'no use' in keeping them alive. No one at this time could have imagined that she was being serious, but it's hard not to wonder what would have happened if these comments had been taken seriously.

According to Jane, she killed over a dozen people during her time as a student nurse, reportedly using her patients as test subjects by giving her patients varying degrees in order to see the effect which it would have one them. This gradually worsened to the point where Jane would sit and watch her parents suffer, gaining sexual pleasure from this. She even described her feelings while watching her first murder victim die as 'ecstasy'. As is often the case for murderers that operate in hosptials, especially at this time, no one saw her victims death as suspicious, allowing her the freedom to escalate her crimes. As she gained more pharmacological knowledge, she changed her drugs of choice from opiates to a mixture of Atropine 9 and Morphine, since they were much harder to notice. The effects of the drugs counteracted each other in a way that would allow the poisons to go completely unnoticed. By this point she was using her patients as props to improve her own reputation, by nursing her victims back to health when nobody else could.

The reputation that she had built for herself during her training would actually be enough to allow the killer to get a job at Massachusettes General Hospital, and be immediately be put on fast track for promotion once she received her official license. It was once she began working at the hospital that issues would begin to arise for Jane. She quickly got a reputation for taking credit for other people's actions, something which went unnoticed at her previous job, and she also got caught out several times for tampering with medical records, but it was simply put down to incompetence and not malice. However even though the rest of her bad behaviour was being noticed finally, this did not extend to her crimes. Jane was still secretly torturing and killing her patients.

One of her patients survived an attack by Jane, and would reveal in the future, exactly what she remembered. Amelia Phinney recalled being wracked with brutal convulsions when Jane Toppan, her nurse, actually climbed into bed with her, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek and telling her that it would all be okay soon. Amelia recalled that the only reason that she got out of this situation alive was that Jane had been interrupted before giving her a fatal dose. Amelia didn't come forward until after Jane's arrest, since she woke up under the belief that it was nothing more than a dream, and didn't realise otherwise until after Jane's story was revealed.

Despite her difficult relationship with the nurses at her hospital, she managed to grow quite friendly with the doctors at the hospital, mostly due to the fact that she was very intelligent and was technically very good at her job when she was actually doing it. However after being suspected of stealing petty cash from coworkers and patients, and of stealing a nurses diamond ring, she was dismissed from her position in 1890, after she passed her exam, but before receiving her official license.

After working as a private nurse for a short period, Jane decided to return to the much more lenient Cambridge Hospital in an attempt to finally get her license, however Jane's arrogance would get in the way. After an attempt to poison a trainee nurse, Mattie Davis, who will pop up again later on in the story was detected, an investigation was carried out which discovered the large number of patients with similar symptoms that had died while under her care had died. This was once again put down to incompetence and not malice, and Jane was somehow not reported to the police, but was instead fired and blacklisted from hospital work.

With hospital work no longer an option for the serial killer, Jane went back into private nursing, a job which paid far better, but lacked a consistent wage. Working privately also allowed Jane to do pretty much whatever she wanted, since there was no one keeping an eye on her, and no one to report to. Over the next few years Jane would actually go on to become one of the most successful private nurses in Boston.

Israel and Lovey Dunham were an elderly couple whom Jane was boarding with in Wendell Street Cambridge in 1895. Israel was old, and was growing weaker and weaker by the day and Jane, who we know to have very callous opinions of the elderly, decided that the man was 'too old' that he was 'feeble and fussy', and after a short consideration, Jane killed the defenceless man, using her medical training to make it seem as though he had simply had a heart attack. Jane then led his widow Lovey mourn his death for two long years while still living in the home before deciding to also kill the elderly woman. One by one, Jane began killing her way through her elderly patients not seeing 'much point in keeping old people alive'. After killing one of her patients, the family contacted a doctor in town, claiming that they believed Jane to have stolen some clothes from their grandmother's home after her death, but the doctor defended Jane, claiming that she was 'One of the finest women and best nurses that he knew'.

For several years, Jane had been going on holidays to a rented cottage in Cape Cod, which was actually owned by Mattie Davis and her husband, and in August of 1899, Jane decided to extend the invite to her Foster sister Elizabeth. Elizabeth was apparently very excited to see her sister, she was still very fond of Jane, and couldn't wait to spend time with her, but what she didn't know was that Jane had nothing but hate in her heart for Elizabeth. Elizabeth had done nothing to cause this, but Ann Toppan parenting had twisted Jane's mind against Elizabeth, and it had left Jane wanting revenge.

Within days of her arrival in Cape Cod, Elizabeth's husband Oramel received a telegraph from Jane, claiming that Elizabeth had fallen seriously ill. When Oramel finally got to Cape Cod, Elizabeth was in a coma, after suffering a suspected apoplectic stroke, according to the doctor that was called. Tragically, Elizabeth would never recover and she passed away the morning after Oramel arrived.

Not long after her sisters funeral, which she attended despite being the person who killed the innocent woman, Jane decided that it was time to push forward with a scheme which she had been planning for quite some time. The Matron of St John's Theological School at Cambridge, Myra Connors, had been a friend of Jane's for several years now, or at least that was what Myra Connor believed. However, Jane was no friend to Myra, she simply had a plan. Jane wanted Myras job and the apartment, maidservant and regular paycheck that came with it and so, as she had so many times before, poisoned and killed the woman who thought she was her friend. Jane made this murder look like a case of peritonitis that took a tragic turn. At the funeral Jane managed to manipulate her way into the job, but she wouldn't manage to keep it for very long. Jane was not used to being in a position of management, and she had a very lenient attitude towards finances, which would lead to her being asked to resign after just one year.

Jane decided to get away for a while to help soothe her injured ego, so she returned to Mattie and Alden Davis' holiday cottage despite the fact that this was where she had murdered her own frosted sister not too long ago. The kindly couple always gave her a good rate and hadn't charged her for her stay after Elizabeth's death in 1899, and gave her an extension in 1900 since she didn't have enough money to pay it. However when she returned returned to the cottage and left without paying once again again, Mattie took it upon her self to pay the killer a visit in order to confront her in person.

When Mattie went to visit Jane, she was boarding with a new couple, Melvin and Eliza Beedle, she had already poisoned the couple once before, but only enough to make them belive thst they had food poisoning. On Matties arrival Jane poured the woman a glass of water which she laced with morphene, causing Mattie to 'take over poorly'. The Beedle let Mattie rest in one of the homes empty rooms, which allowed Jane to easily top up the dosage without being seen, sending her into a coma. Mattie was diabetic, and when the doctor arrived, Jane told him that Mattie had simply eaten a piece of cake on arrival and that is why she was so unwell. The doctor had no reason to not believe the well known and pretty well respected nurse, and he left Mattie in Jane's care, which would prove to be a tragic and fatal mistake. Jane toyed with Mattie for a week, varying her doses and bringing her in and out of her coma and allowing her moments of panic stricken lucidity, before growing bored and giving the poor woman a fatal dose.

After Matties death, her two daughters, Genevieve and Minnie decided to stay with their grandfather while they came to terms with their grief, and the sweet natured girls made the poor decision to incite Jane to stay with them a while, since they knew and trusted her. For a while, Jane kept herself amused by starting small fires around their their home, and pinning them on a stranger that she had invented, that she claimed to have seen 'skulking about' the property. However, this petty arson wouldn't be enough for her for long. Genevieve had been struggling with her mother's death, she seemed to have not been coping as well as the other members of her family and Jane used this to her advantage. Using her skull for spreading rumours, Jane told Minnie, Matties other daughter, that she had seen her sister sat staring at a tin of arsenic, and suggested that they keep an eye on her, just in case. Jane would go on to poison Genevieve with arsenic, leading her family to believe that she committed suicide.

The use of arsenic in this case was quite an unusual tactic for Jane, heavy metal poisons like arsenic were far too easy to detect for her to normally risk using it, however this time she had built up a story thst would allow her to get away with it. At this time suicides didn't tend to be investigated due to the stigma that surrounded them. Her official cause of death was written as heart disease, but this would not be enough for 'Jolly Jane'. Two weeks after Genevieves death, Jane poisoned her father, Alden, with her usual combination of poisons. His cause of death was officially recorded as grief, and still feeling far too comfortable due to the lack of information, Jane still wasn't done with the family. When Jane gave Minnie her first dose of morphene, it left Minnie unable to swallow, but, determined to finish what she had started she delivered the fatal dose via enema. The doctors were baffled and after struggling to associate her death with anything else, they listed her cause of death as 'exhaustion'.

This string of unexplained deaths within such a short period of time naturally garnered a lot of attention, with several newspapers writing papers about the unusual situation, but people somehow still didn't suspect that the family had been murdered. That is, people other than Minnie's father in law, Captain Paul Gibbs, and Doctor Ira Cushing, who had seen Alden the day before he died. The two men got together and decided that something had to be done about Jane and her suspicious behaviour, and they know who they wanted to contact.

Leonard Wood was the US military governed of Cuba at the time, and he had studied medicine and spent time as a surgeon in the military before joking the officer corps instead. He worked with Tessy Roosevelt to form the famous 'rough riders' that fought in the Spanish - American war, and while Teddy got all the glory for this, it had been at his family home on Cape Cod in 1901, he was payed a visit by family friend Captain Paul Gibbs, and he was asked to use his medical connections and his power to kick start an investigation.

While this investigation was taking place, Jane decided to pay a visit to Revered Oramel Brigham, her sisters widower, welcomed Jane into his home with open arms, but tragically things went off the rails during her short stay. Jane murdered Oramel sister and also proceeded to poison Oramel. Jane nursed Oramel back to health, apparently in an attempt to 'win his affection', however when she was rejected, she calibrated the perfect amount of morphine and took an overdose which, while not fatal, did land her in the hospital. The investigating officer didn't want to let Jane out of his sight so he feigned an illness to be admitted to the hospital alongside her.

Once she discharged she moved onto yet another one of her friends, this time decided to pay a visit to an old friend named Sarah Nichols, however a few weeks after her arrival, Jane was arrested by the police. Luckily for Sarah the police had exhumed the body of Minnie Gibbs and an autopsy finally found evidence of poison.

Jane was actually originally only arrested for Minnie's murder, but as newspapers delved into her background they quickly discovered that this murder was just the start, and they quickly began to push forth rumours about Jane, most of which were untrue.

While the newspapers were free to make whatever judgements they wanted about Jane, the court case would not go quite so smoothly for a few reasons. The first issue faced by the prosecution was the recent death of the Davis families Doctor, since it meant that Jane could make claims about their health without anyone to claim otherwise. And the second issue was that the prosecution were operating under the assumption that Jane had poisoned Minnie with arsenic, however that wasn't the case. The traces of arsenic found on Minnie's body was actually from the embalming fluid that had been used.

It was an interview with Captain Paul Gibbs that would give prosecutors and police the lead they needed. A reporter from the Boston Journal asked Captain Paul for his thoughts kn the arsenic found in the two woman's bodies, he was quick to reveal his surprise. He told the paper "I didn't think Jennie Toppan would use anything as easily detected as arsenic." He knew Jane quite well, and knew how well educated she was, and that she was a much more skilled pharmacologist than people wanted to admit. When asked what he believed that she would have used, and having knowledge on the topic himself, he actually suggested, if you'd believe it, a mixture of morphine and atropine, which as we know was what she had used for the vast majority of her crimes. He also revealed that Jane had owed the family money and that $500 had gone missing from Aldens pocket after his death.

Newspapers dove deep into the past of Jane Toppan, finding out all about her petty thefts and the mysterious deaths, especially thst of Myra Connors. However it was Jeanette Snow, Jane's biological cousin who would give investigators their next big break. Jeanette told them all they wanted to know about Jane's young childhood, especially about 'Kelley the Crack', Jane's father, and Nellie's admittance to an asylum also. Jeanette's information changed the public perception once again, with Jane Toppan no longer seen as an opportunistic poisoned, but as dangerously insane.

Jane's wealthy patients began writing letters in an attempt to help her and for a while it seemed like it might have helped, however this wouldn't last for long. Taking the advice of Captain Paul Gibbs, there was an inquest into Minnie's death where they discovered that she had not been poisoned with arsenic but with morphine and atropine. Investigators had been looking through Jane's finances to find evidence of her purchasing arsenic, and failing to find anything, however, now they were looking into morphine instead they found proof of purchase after purchase of morphine and they finally had the evidence that they needed to take the serial killer to court.

The date was set for Jane's trials, but it did not happen yet. Fred Bixby, Jane's attorney, and the DA agreed to appoint a panel of psychiatrists to examine Jennys mental state and see if she was fit to stand trial. In March of 1902 Dr Henry Stedman, Dr George Jelly and Dr Hosea Quinby began their examination.

While Jane was initially very distrusting of the three doctors, it didn't take long for her chatty personality and her arrogance to show, and she began to open up. The doctors picked up very rapidly on her addiction to lying, but they pushed through, and despite having previously pled guilty, Jane Toppan confessed. The doctors had no idea how twisted Jan was, they were shocked as she discussed, calmly and coldly, thst she had a habit of climbing into bed with her victims, and the sexual thrill that she gained from their death. They had never experienced anything like this before, especially not from a woman. The doctors unanimously declared the serial killer as 'morally insane' which was the term used for psychopathy at the time, and said that she was unfit to stand trial and that she would never recover from her illness.

This was the first time in American history that a serial killer was actually being prosecuted as a serial killer, but the trial was little more than a formality, and a worry free Jane chatted and laughed with her lawyer for the one day that the trial lasted. During the trial Dr Stedman was asked what reason Jane had given for poisoning Minnie Gibbs, to which he simply replied, 'To cause death'. Jane was sentenced to a lifetime in a mental institution the same day.

It wasn't until after the trial took place that it was revealed that Jane had actually confessed to her attorney 6 months earlier when he first began to defend her, and she confessed to more than the 11 murders tbT the police had been investigating. Jane told him that she had been killing for 14 years, and that she had killed at least 31 people. The press went completely wild and every newspaper was reporting all they could about Jolly Jane Toppan.

Jane was sent to Taunton State Hospital, and for the first few years she really enjoyed her stay, and got along really well with all of the doctors and nurses that worked there, but she began to spiral. Jane was diagnosed with Manic Depression and she began to think about using her old name again and becoming a nun. By 1904 she had grown more and more paranoid to the point where she refused to eat anything because, ironically, she believed it to all be poisoned, after 34 years of struggling with worsening mental health issues and paranoia, Jane Toppan died in Taunton in 1938.at 81 years old.

[satonthelotuspier]

This is for Wangxian Week, I’ve completed a template for event submission but I know some people just prefer to read on tumblr so I’ve also posted full fic like this. 

This post isn’t tagged for the event but with a link from the event template so people can choose where to read. I’ll prolly do that for each day’s submission I make.

1.1k words.

Day 1 Prompt palette - Family - Chances - Time Travel AU

You Never Listen

Wei Wuxian already knew what kind of man Lan Wangji was. Through their long, ignominious relationship as school-yard enemies he had gotten to know the other in an odd, distant way. And maybe enemies was laying it on a bit thick.

Lan Wangji had just always ignored every advance Wei Wuxian had made to him.

Wei Wuxian was naturally bright and friendly, and it had been his nature to gather a large circle of friends around him, and include everyone.

Even as far back as elementary school Lan Wangji had been closed off and solemn, however, and had snubbed the other every time.

Of course this had hurt Wei Wuxian, and when children were hurt they lashed out in some way.

So he’d called Lan Wangji boring, and said no one would be his friend if he didn’t cheer up, and had gotten himself in trouble with the teacher.

Wei Wuxian, also being kind-hearted, and after being told off by said teacher, had realised how mean he’d been and tried to apologise to the other.

Lan Wangji had neither accepted nor declined his apology, merely acted uncaring, and almost like Wei Wuxian wasn’t there.

So had begun their childhood enmity. Well, childhood with Wei Wuxian spent being as annoying as possible to Lan Wangji, and Lan Wangji ignoring him as much as possible in return.

So yes, Wei Wuxian was already well aware the other was as serious as a heart attack, never smiled, didn’t approve of him in the least, and Wei Wuxian had absolutely no idea why Lan Wangji would choose to be on a date with him.

Ironically, he had grown up a lot himself since their early days, and had realised, as was sometimes the case, the pranks he’d pulled had all been to get the boy he liked to notice him. Not much had come of it with that boy being Lan Wangji, however.

So yes, he already knew what type of man Lan Wangji was, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fall back on his usual first date repertoire to save him from having to sit in uncomfortable silence with the object of his teenage crush.

“So, Lan Zhan, if this was a different universe, and each person had the ability to travel in time, just once, to any point in history, where would you go?”

That stoic face seemed to take on a confused look, and he picked up his water to take a sip.

Then he raised his eyes, “I would visit my mother, before she passed away, and take the chance to spend more time with her before she was gone” there was a serious earnestness in Lan Wangji’s eyes, not that Wei Wuxian had ever thought he would be anything but entirely honest with his answer, if he chose to give one at all.

Wei Wuxian always asked this question, because it gave him a snapshot into the personality of his date, especially if he was unsure. The way they answered was always indicative. He’d had people answer in an amusing way, try to appear erudite, actually be erudite, try to take a guess at what he wanted the answer to be (they failed, there was no right or wrong answer as far as he was concerned).

Lan Wangji’s answer was of course nothing groundbreaking in terms of digging into his character, he was serious, and he cared deeply about his family. Wei Wuxian had already known that. It was good to know this trusty question was still as accurate as ever though.

And it had given them maybe 40 seconds of conversation, as break from the silence.

And it had made his heart melt just that little bit more for Lan Wangji.

He had known the Lans were brought up by their uncle, but he had never known the exact details. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji weren’t close, after all.

“When did you lose her?” there was a tenderness in his tone that seemed to spear Lan Wangji to his seat; there was a look in the other’s eyes that said he didn’t know how to deal with the sympathy in Wei Wuxian’s voice.

“I was four, brother six” his tone was still carefully neutral though.

“I’m sorry” it was the correct response, but of course, sorry did nothing to help.

Lan Wangji nodded and turned away, making no further comment, so Wei Wuxian moved the topic on, shouldering the task of carrying the atmosphere by himself.

After a while more of trying without success he said gently; “Lan Zhan, considering the fact you’ve hated me since you were five, why are you here? I would have let you off, you could have given it away, we could just say we did it. There’s no actual need for you to be here tonight, hating every second”

His friend Wen Ning was the manager of a charity specialising in helping out vulnerable young children, and he’d recently run a charity evening. Wei Wuxian had offered to take a raffle winner on a date.

Somehow, for some reason, probably karma having a good old laugh at them, the winning raffle tickets had been held by Lan Wangji.

“Wei Ying…”

“I bet your brother bought you the tickets, right?”

“Brother didn’t…”

“Or were you fishing for one of the other prizes? I know Jiang Cheng’s jewellery is very sought after now. Or a fitting at Huaisang’s boutique because he’s booked out months in advance. They’re both so disgustingly artistic, it makes me green” he chuckled a little, “Shamefully this humble lawyer isn’t talented enough to offer anything but my substandard company” despite his self-mockery at a lack of artistry he didn’t regret his choice of career, he felt like he could make a real difference in the world, and that was something to be proud of, just as Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang were proud of their own personal achievements, as they should be.

“Wei Ying” Lan Wangji said a little more forcefully and Wei Wuxian paused in whatever his next comment was going to be. “I bought the tickets. I wanted to win the date with you. It’s the only way I could think of to get you to sit down and listen to me. I’ve been trying to make chances to talk to you for years, and you always brush me off”

“What? Are you feeling alright? You’ve hated me since elementary school”

“Wei Ying, you’ve assumed I hated you for years. Any time I tried to get close to you, you laughed, and called us enemies, or referred to me as your arch nemesis. You never listened to me. And now you have to” he clutched the napkin in his fist, “I’ve liked you since we were teenagers. I’m in love with you, Wei Ying”

“What?”

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #4: “A Different kind of Charity pt. 3” by JCL

--- OGUMA: "Well?" Juno blinks, but remains composed despite this unexpected development. JUNO: "Yes, yes I am. I am Juno." OGUMA: "I am sorry, I forgot introductions. I am Oguma." He then glances at Shigure. OGUMA: "And this is my assistant, Shigure." Shigure gives a curt bow without saying anything. Juno gives her a nod. OGUMA: "Are you enjoying your evening so far?" JUNO: "Well I just got here, but I have to say it is really quite something. How about you?" OGUMA: "It is as it always is." Juno discreetly examines Oguma. JUNO: "..." (Louis said he was adopted, but they have a similar feel to them) One thing in particular that she takes notice of is his eyes, which has her fixed with a sharp and unreadable expression. JUNO: (Their eyes and their tone of voice... It's like they're perceiving you from atop a great height) OGUMA: "Forgive me for being direct, but I need to ask you something: Are you the person that my son meets with twice a month?" We can see that this catches Juno a bit off her guard. JUNO: "Yes... Louis wants to keep tabs on the school and the progression of the club in his absence, so I keep him updated." OGUMA: "Is that all you do?" Juno thinks back to what Louis said to her earlier: 'You're here as my platonic friend.' JUNO: "That is mostly what we talk about when we meet." OGUMA: "Mostly?" Juno looks a little uncomfortable, thinking back to the moment when she held Louis hand and flirted with him. Oguma's hard stare does not help the situation. JUNO: "Yes." (What is this, an interrogation?) "Usually over some tea and something to eat... He has not mentioned any of this?" OGUMA: "He has, though usually without much detail. He never mentioned that you were female for instance." Juno looks down, trying to hide her growing anxiety. JUNO: (Or the fact that I was a wolf I bet) "I guess he didn't view it as an important detail." Oguma examines Juno. OGUMA: "Oh, I think he does." JUNO: "Well I... I..." (How the hell do I even respond to that?!) It is then that Louis comes into frame and joins Juno. He greets his father and his assistant. LOUIS: "Father. Shigeru." Juno looks relieved beyond words. JUNO: (Oh thank God!) Shigeru nods at Louis and Oguma greets his adoptive son. OGUMA: "Louis." Oguma examines Louis suit. OGUMA: "A red shirt huh? I never would have guessed that it was such a complimentary color on you." LOUIS: "Well, I wanted to match my company somewhat." He refers to the see-through shoal draped around Juno's shoulders, which has a shade of red. Oguma nods. OGUMA: "I see." Nobody says anything for a few seconds. Both Juno and Shigeru feel the weight of the awkward atmosphere. JUNO & SHIGERU: (Uncomfortable!) OGUMA: "I need to greet some old associates. I hope to see you again later." LOUIS: "Same here." Oguma turns to Juno, giving her a curt little bow. OGUMA: "It was a pleasure to meet you Juno."   JUNO: "The feeling is mutual, sir..." Oguma then proceeds to walk away together with Shigeru. Louis sits down in his seat and leans over to talk to Juno. LOUIS: "Did he scare you?" --- Once they're out of hearing range, Oguma talks to Shigeru. OGUMA: "Shigeru, find out all you can about that young lady. Her background, her activities at school, the circles she hangs around in. Anything that'll paint up a clear image of her character and her precise relationship with my son." Shigeru adjusts her glasses. We can see a great determination burning in her eyes. SHIGERU: "As you wish, sir." She proceeds to pick up her tablet, apparently starting with her search righ away. Oguma closes his eyes and looks a little self-conscious. OGUMA: (I hate to dig around in Louis private life, but if I had been more concerned about his activites at school, or at least more involved as a parent, he might have still had both of his legs) He looks back in Louis and Juno's direction. OGUMA: (What I don't understand is, having lost a leg to them, why does he always surround himself with carnivores?) We zoom in and see that Juno is talking to Louis about something. Louis smiles a reserved but completely genuine smile. OGUMA: (He said that he sacrificed his leg to help his classmate, a wolf. Now he is together with another. A young, well-mannered and attractive wolf of the opposite sex at that) Staring at them over his shoulder, his eye narrows a bit. OGUMA: "..." (Could she be the reason?) --- We skip ahead a bit. Louis and Juno has gotten their ordered meals by now. JUNO: "I mean he was perfectly civil, but it felt like he was staring into my soul or something." Louis gives off a little laugh as he picks up some salad and feta with his fork. LOUIS: "Yeah, I know all about that. When I was younger I was afraid of misbehaving, cause it felt like if I had done something bad, he would know about it, just by looking at me." Juno smiles at this. JUNO: "My big brother Hector is like that too. He can be downright terrifying if he thinks that you're up to no good." Louis look a bit surprised. LOUIS: "You have a brother?" JUNO: "Three of them actually. Though they're actually my half-brothers, from my mom's previous marriages." Louis nods at this with some thought. LOUIS: (Marriages? As in plural?) "Doesn't it get pretty rowdy with so many siblings?" JUNO: "Oh like you wouldn't believe! Though they're good boys whenever they try. Overprotective as hell though. I tell you, if they knew where I was right now anyway, they'd probably hunt us both down." Louis looks like he understands this; the confirmation that at least Juno's family has a normal degree of intolerance in regards to herbivore/carnivore-relationships. LOUIS: "They wouldn't approve of you having dinner with a herbivore?" Juno picks up her knife and fork with an annoyed look, thinking about her brothers. JUNO: "Knowing them they wouldn't approve of me going out with any guy, no matter the kind of vore. I'm the youngest, so they always baby me. They probably think I'm too immature to date." She then takes a bite from her omelette, at which her face suddenly turns into cartoonish deligth with stars for eyes and her tail wagging intensily. JUNO: "THIS IS SO DELICIOUS! OH MY GOD!" Louis sweatdrops at Juno's overly excited expression.   LOUIS: "What about your parents?" The mention of her parents seem to quell Juno's excitement a bit. JUNO: "If my mom knew that I was in love with a herbivore, she'd probably have a fit. She's the biggest worrywart." She takes a sip from her orangejuice.   JUNO: "I don't really know my dad. He left when I was like five. From what I've been told he wasn't exactly father-material." This prompts a curious look from Louis. LOUIS: (Quite a tumultous family history... Is that why she was sorted into the drama club?) Louis thinks back to the other members of the club, which has all been selected and drafted for the drama club on account of their troubled backgrounds. --- We see a group-image of all the members with cracks over it, as if seen through a broken window. LOUIS: (No, that couldn't be it. Having a mother that has been married a few times and a couple of halfbrothers sounds pretty mundane compared to the history of the rest of the clubmembers. Though what could it be?) --- Going back to the present, Louis continues to stare at her, curious but reserved.   LOUIS: (I want to know, but I can't ask her, in case it is very personal) Juno then puts her glass down. She now looks down with sad eyes. JUNO: "I don't like lying to them though, even if it is to spend time with you. It makes me feel like I'm sneaking around." LOUIS: "... You lied about where you were going tonight?" JUNO: "Uh-huh." LOUIS: "If they don't know that you're out here, where do they think you are?" Juno looks up. JUNO: "I told them that I was going with the rest of the dramaclub to Shima over the weekend. Bill is taking the guys out there to his uncle's beach house. I was planning to join up with them tomorrow." Louis blinks at this. LOUIS: "Why is he taking you out to Shima?" JUNO: "Because it's been a tough time lately. It hasn't been easy with the club getting suspended, and all the pressure that is now on us to keep it going." --- JUNO: "The herbivore members are picked on for intermingling with carnivores, and carnivores are picked on for intermingling with herbivores." We see a flashback of the all-herbivore basketball team picking a fight with the members of the dramaclub. Bill is held back by Aoba and Pina as he wants to fight with the smug-looking team captain, while a scared-looking Els looks on. --- We ten return to the present with Juno and Louis. JUNO: "Not even the teachers seem to have our backs. It's more like they see us as the troblemakers. Bill just figured that we could use some time away together. You know, just hang out and not feel like a bunch of freaks for a while." This makes Louis look a bit thoughtful. LOUIS: "I never did anything like that back when I was the president... Then again, Bill has different sensibilites than me." JUNO: "You wouldn't like to come too?" This makes Louis nearly choke on a cherry tomato. He looks at Juno, who gives him a hopeful look. He then closes his eyes and takes another bite from his salad. LOUIS: "I don't think me being around would change much." JUNO:  "Oh don't say that. Everyone misses you." Juno gives his hand a playful poke with her finger and blinks at him. JUNO: "Especially the girls." Louis clears his throath and looks away. LOUIS: "It wouldn't feel right." Juno looks a little surprised by his odd reluctance. She takes her glass up for another sip. JUNO: "Why not? It's just old friends." LOUIS: "That is the issue though. Back when I was president, I looked out for them, did everything that I thougt was right for the club and the school." Louis puts down his fork and crosses his hands. He looks down with a dark look. LOUIS: "But truthfully, it wasn't because it was the right thing to do, or because I really cared about them." Juno looks shocked at this and lowers her glass. LOUIS: "All I cared about was myself and becoming the next Beastar. Every little speech I made, every performance and all the concern I showed, at it's core, wasn't out of the goodness of my heart. It was all about asserting myself, standing out and getting the support I needed." Louis looks down, a joyless smile forming on his lips. LOUIS: "See... In a sense, I was no different from most of the people here: doing good things for the self-serving reasons. I don't really deserve to call any of them my friends. To be honest... My kindness back then was just charity." *CRACK!* Louis looks up in surprise. We see that Juno's glass has been broken in her hand, with juice and shards spilling down on the table. Tears have formed in the corners of her eyes. JUNO: "You're horrible..." Juno the pulls her hand back, realizing that she is hurt. JUNO: "Ow! My hand!" Blood trickles from inside her palm and drips onto the table. Louis swiftly gets up and walks over to Juno's side with a concerned look. LOUIS: "Are you alright?" Juno grimaces in pain and holds her hand. JUNO: "It hurts...!" LOUIS: "Let me have a look." Louis takes her hand, opens it gently and takes a look.   LOUIS: "There is glass imbedded in your hand." He grabs a napkin from the table and wraps it over her hand a well as he can. LOUIS: "The kitchen staff always have bandages. Let's go." Juno gets up though and glares Louis straight in the eye. JUNO: "I can take care of it on my own." Juno walks off while holding her hand, leaving a stunned-looking Louis behind. JUNO: "I don't need any of your charity." As she walks away, we can see that she and Louis are receiving a few stares from others in the restuarant section. ???: "Well that was dramatic." --- We then see that the unknown voice is coming from DUMAS (Peacock, male, 23 years old, black suit, foppish), who is sitting at a table a few meters away, opposite Georgette. Apparently he is her ´idiot-date´. Georgette has a glass of Chardonnay in her hand, while Dumas is eating from a plate with vegetarian spring rolls. The two are among those staring at the little spectacle that just occured. DUMAS: "Though I guess one should expect as much. I mean dogs and the like are quite emotional, not to mention lacking when it comes to a gentle touch. I bet even the females have hands like plyers. I can't for the life of me understand why anyone would want to bring any of them as company." Georgette seems to ignore Dumas ignorant ramblings, taking a note of Louis regretful expression as he grabs Juno's veil, which she has left on her chair. DUMAS: "I mean if they're here and not carrying a plate, then what is the point?" Georgette continues to stare at them with a sharp look, but also with a hint of intrigue. TO BE CONTINUED...! ---

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 8

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

James I (203): James I/VI (First of England, Sixth of Scotland) is known for both translating the Bible and being just... so, so incredibly gay. The book mentions that he promoted a dumb jock to gentleman of the bedchamber, but it leaves out that 13-year-old James would just make out with dudes in public, and that the dumb jock (George Villers) was James’s third serious adult relationship. His friends introduced him to George because his last boyfriend was bad for the kingdom. 

George Eliot (205): Mary Anne Evans wrote under the pen name George Eliot to escape the stereotype that women could only write romances. She wrote seven novels, of which Middlemarch is the most famous, known for their realism and psychological insight.

Daniel Defoe (205): A pioneer of the English novel, Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe as well as a series of divisive political pamphlets and tracts.

Jonathan Swift (205): Irish political writer most famous for A Modest Proposal, a satirical piece that suggests cannibalism of infants as a more humane response to the British treatment of Ireland than letting them grow to starve in adulthood.

Dickens... “woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown” (205): Charles Dickens wrote stories concerned with the lower classes. This quote in particular refers to Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, who was left at the altar and refused to take off her wedding dress or even put away the food set out for the wedding.

Sense and Sensibility (205): This is probably Austen’s second most popular novel (after Pride and Prejudice); it follows the four Dashwood women in their move to a new home following the death of Mr. Dashwood. Like most of Austen’s novels, the opinionated narrator follows the women through a series of romantic mishaps, culminating in a happy ending.

Green American Money (206): Fun fact, British money is blue and orange and purple and all sorts of fun colors! It also all looks different, because (at least in Scotland) four banks are allowed to print pound notes, so there are four different designs all in circulation.

Sean Hannity (206): A conservative American political commentator.

Harvard rowing (206): Rowing is like... the bougiest of sports.

Pleiad (206): In Greek mythology, the pleiades were the daughters of the titan Atlas who became stars following his entrapment under the earth. They are remembered for their beauty and loyalty. Myths of the missing pleiad explain why only six of the seven stars are visible to the naked eye. According to some sources, the missing pleiad is Merope, who was shamed out of the sky for her relationship with a mortal.

Minute Maid Park (206): The baseball stadium associated with the Houston Astros baseball team; it seats just over 41,000.

Politico (207): An American political opinion news source.

Drop-kick Murphys (208): An American Celtic punk band. (listen here and here)

The Klan (209): The Ku Klux Klan, an incredibly racist organization that has been responsible for the lynching of thousands of people of color.

Kim Nam-June (210): Kim Nam-Joon, known as RM or Rap Monster, is the leader and rapper of the K-pop group BTS.

Milwaukee (211): The largest city in and main cultural center of Wisconsin, which is a “swing state”, meaning that it could go either way politically in a national election.

Seth Meyers (211): An American talk show host and comedian whose creatively titled show, Late Night with Seth Meyers, is liberal-leaning. He hosts celebrities and often chats about politics or the news.

Clear Crystal Quartz (211): Apparently the most “iconic” crystal, it is believed to be able to help with clarity and the achievement of goals.

Wimbledon (213): The oldest tennis tournament in the world, considered by many to be the most prestigious.

Royal Box (213): The royal box at Wimbledon is a section of the best seats, reserved for royalty and specially invited celebrity/politically powerful guests.

David Beckham (213): A former professional soccer player and current fashion icon known for being hot and wearing nice suits.

McQueen (214): Alexander McQueen was an openly gay British fashion designer who rose from a lower class background to become one of the most famous designers in the world. Though he died in 2010, his brand continues to be known for unconventional fashion shows and theatrical imagery. 

Dashikis (215): A colorful, ornate piece of clothing somewhere between a shirt and a tunic originally from West Africa.

Orangery (218): A very large greenhouse or conservatory designed for growing orange trees.

Woman at her Toilet (218): This painting shows a woman in her bedroom putting on her socks with a little dog next to her; you can see it here.

Baroque bed* (218): Baroque art was designed to show off a monarch’s power; it is incredibly extravagant (Versailles is pretty much the iconic Baroque thing; you can see more about it here).

The Killers (219): An American rock band formed in the early 2000s and known for having donated over $1 million to charity (they did “Mr. Brightside”). (listen here and here). According to McQuinston’s twitter, the song Henry plays is “When You Were Young”, which you can listen to here.

Dred Scott (219): In the 1857 Dred Scott v. Sandford case, the US supreme court ruled that the constitution did not extend to or protect Black folks. 

Nina Simone (219): An American singer/songwriter/political activist whose music spanned a variety of genres and whose activism focused largely on the civil rights movement and was largely influenced by her “friend” Lorraine Hansberry, a Black lesbian playwright. (You know Hozier’s “Nina Cried Power”? She’s Nina) (listen here and here)

Otis Redding (219): Considered one of the greatest singers in American pop music and was one of the foundational soul artists in the US. (listen here and here)

Brahms (219): A German composer known for sticking to more classical forms of music while his contemporaries often leaned toward more dramatic or opulent styles. (listen here and here)

Wagner** (219): A German composer who wrote both the music and the librettos for his operas; his works tend to be very complex, and he has been credited with beginning modern music. (listen here and here)

Romantic (219): Artistically, the Romantic movement was a direct response to industrialization that called for a return to and celebration of nature. Queerness was very much a part of this movement, as it was seen as a return to or celebration of one’s natural state (think Byron).

War of the Romantics (219): A music history term used to describe the split between conservative composers like Brahms who wanted to stick with the Baroque, opulent styles of the past century and radical progressive composers like Liszt, who favored newer styles that blended music with narrative and morals.

Liszt (219): A Hungarian composer known for a diverse body of work and his position as the leader of the radical progressive group in the War of the Romantics. (listen here and here)

Alexander Scriabin (219): Russian composer known for his atonal or dissonant music. (listen to the piece Henry mentions here)

Elton John’s “Your Song” (219): A song written before Elton John came out, but with his queerness in mind. In a 2013 interview, John referred to it as “a perfect song”, and that the lyrics (written by Bernie Taupin) got even better as he got older and sang it more. (listen here)

Consecrated (220): made holy.

DNC (221): The Democratic national conference, when members of the Democratic (liberal) party get together to prepare for a presidential race.

College Republicans of Vanderbilt University (221): Vanderbilt University is a private (and therefore more expensive) school in Nashville, Tennessee. Its location in the South and its price tag would both mark it as being more conservative.

Cage match (221): A type of wrestling match that takes place inside a steel cage; the most common way of winning is by escaping the cage, usually by climbing over the top.

Paul Ryan (222): A conservative retired politician and former Speaker of the House.

The Second Amendment (222): The second amendment grants Americans the right to bear arms (have guns).

Salon (222): An American news and opinion website with a politically liberal editorial stance.

Air Force One (222): the president’s plane

“My Canadian girlfriend” (223): A running joke that someone (often a high schooler) whose partner goes to another school or lives somewhere else is made up.

Five Guys (225): Five Guys Burger and Fries is a popular fast food burger chain across the US.

Vampire Weekend (225): An American indie rock band.

The general (226): the general election in November, when Americans would vote for their president

Plainclothes (226): out of uniform

The Beekman (226): A very fancy hotel in Lower Manhattan, near the Brooklyn Bridge.

NATO (233): the North Atlantic Treaty Organization; an intergovernmental military alliance between 29 North American and European countries.

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*every time I read this, I flinch just a little bit. Baroque architecture is just... so much, and the concept of a Baroque bed when beds/bedrooms are supposed to be simple to help you rest... It’s just so much and I hate it with all of my being. I’m sorry if you like Baroque furniture, but especially for Henry, who dreams of a simple life where he can just write and be anonymous... It’s a big yikes.

** Literally no one asked, but his stuff is just... it’s so boring? Like I’m sure it’s great to fall asleep to or calm down to, but I tried to listen to it while I wrote this and I just couldn’t. Liszt is better, but he’s no Mozart. Also? Mozart wrote BOPS. ONLY. “The Birdcatcher’s Song” slaps and no one can change my mind on that.

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If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

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Chapter 1 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 9