#(passive aggressive tumblr post voice) hope that helps ^_^

[lesbianusahana]

Been noticing an uptick in followers recently, a handful of them not selfship related at all. So for all you new folks, here’s a helpful guide to my blog’s content:

[t00thpasteface]

hey sorry i’m sure it’s a little dumb but how did you find a community/make mutuals on here? i swapped from twitter to here last year & haven’t been able to make friends like i did on twitter ;v; sorry if this is all silly but figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. love your art & blog !!!

as i like to say, it's like lifting an anvil: it's very simple, but that doesn't mean it's easy. as someone who's a 12+ year veteran that lurked for a couple years and remade a little while ago, really it all comes down to putting yourself out there!!! don't just sit around twiddling your thumbs and lurking. it's tough to do it without coming off as a pandering tryhard, but honestly as long as you're polite, upbeat, and posting regularly, then you're golden.

if you want a big list of wordy bullet points, here's what i've got, and i think you'll find it's pretty applicable to basically any site/community you want to get involved in:

post a lot. this is number one with a fucking bullet! POST! POST LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. but crucially...

post GOOD STUFF. don't bash yourself in the caption/tags, don't say "sorry this is shit" or whatever, don't self-deprecate, and don't admit to posting low-effort stuff just to hit a quota. imagine it's open mic night and go crazy. this is a good site to use like a journal and a scrapbook, but if you want to actually get some traction, you need to bring something interesting to the table. of course, just being funny and nice goes a very long way.

encourage audience feedback. people LOVE to tell you about themselves and give their opinions. get them responding and make the questions and calls for engagement so interesting or fun they can't help themselves.

tag effectively. use both fandom/content tags for searches, and organizational tags for your visitors' use. the tagging system is tumblr's bread and butter, so make it work for you.

follow a lot of blogs you like. then see who they follow, and add those to the list. build a good circle of engagement and keep your finger on the pulse of the site culture for whatever niche(s) you're in... or want to get in.

reblog a lot and be funny/kind in the tags. generally leaving a lot of comments/replies to post is kind of hit-or-miss, but tags are a good harmless "inside voice" to use that doesn't clutter the post itself and yet still engages with op and people seeing the post

engage with people when they ask for engagement. things like polls, ask games, etc... scratch people's backs and they'll scratch yours. and it's just a nice thing to do regardless :)

panhandling is not always the best route. people will balk if you look desperate or openly beg for engagement, like directly asking people to reblog something or being passive-aggressive about how much engagement you are/aren't getting on something. a genuine joke about it is fun and relatable, but snarky comments just kill the vibe and scare people off.

REMEMBER THERE'S NO ALGORITHM. lurking will not put you or any of the stuff you like out there!! REBLOG POSTS! SEND ASKS! this site will NOT SPOON FEED YOU ANYTHING. like taming a wild stallion, you can make this work for you, but you have to put in the effort first.

some people will think you're annoying, and that's okay. probably not very many, but they'll be loud. this is an unavoidable part of Being Known. you can be the sweetest peach in the world but there'll still be people who just don't like peaches. don't take it to heart, and if you do happen to drop the ball or rub a few people the wrong way, don't let that keep you from trying again :)

i've enjoyed the many friends i've made on this site in the past decade-and-then-some, even though both this site and my blog are both something of a ship of theseus. here's hoping you can make it work for you and your interests, too!

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

[izzyliker]

Hey, asking you this as nicely as I can but can you give the immediate victim blaming a break. The absolute lack of respect you have for the people tmc abused is genuinely disheartening. Yes, he’s a shitty person, you’re entitled to hate him but immediately going “well you should’ve seen it coming earlier lol we’ve been saying this” is just ASTONISHINGLY shortsighted and cruel. Have your opinions about him and the situation all you want I would just ask that you please keep it to yourself due to the many many people he’s hurt that are still on here and can see you disparaging them.

ok, that is not what i have been saying. "well you should've known" is not an accurate summary of my feelings on this matter but apologies if thats how it came across. i have been in an abusive relationship where the person did a lot of the same things and i, too, defended that person without considering how it impacted other people. i almost lost my best friend because of how i acted as a result of keeping him in my life while people around me kept telling me to get tf out. i know.

what i am is im frustrated and annoyed by how long people were willing to publicly and passionately defend this guy while apparently fully aware what kind of shit he was doing to other people, many of which is detailed in the callout itself, and how this is now being framed as news. before the document itself was published all me (or anyone) had to go off of was vague posts that amounted to a "callout trailer" and almost all of the information on it was shit that was 100% completely public knowledge. 20+ people being aware of all that goddamn stuff and not one of them publicly stopping associating with him is frustrating. it comes across as spineless and yes, like one anon told GD, gaslighty (although i have my own issues with this being used on a large scale instead of in interpersonal relationships but i understand where they were coming from). his lesbophobia, transphobia (strange that none of the transphobia towards trans men was mentioned?), and panphobia/aphobia/biphobia were widely documented and seeing that on a callout post as if it were news was extremely tiring.

ive since read the callout. the interpersonal actions seem to have been horrible but sadly im not surprised (by which i dont mean "and neither should you" but rather. my spidey senses for this sort of behavior are pretty accurate most of the time and i did see this coming. this isnt me saying im Better than these people or that they shouldve as well but rather that i have learned to identify people of this genre.) by any of them.

also im 75% sure this is tumblr user GD. hello. if not then apologies, its just that the typing here is very similar. if it is, i think you trying to both take accountability for this and process whatever it is youre processing at the same time on tumblr is a bad idea and going to just lead to people feeling hurt and betrayed because while i truly do see where the reaction is coming from (like, truly, i understand, believe me), if you say "i take responsibility for how i acted while being manipulated" but then when people voice their negative feelings you tell them theyre victim blaming you it is going to reflect poorly on you. i dont think you understand how many people were absolutely hurt by the enabling you and your large, massively popular group of friends did for him, including the MASSIVE defense rant you typed up in defense of him when someone sent an ask to the bi jon event about him being panphobic and aphobic. whether its fair for people to expect you to immediately go into depth about it is questionable but dont invite people to do this when you obviously cannot handle it (i dont mean this in a bad way like "oh you should handle it". i mean genuinely this is how you get burnt out and possibly worsen possible future trauma. by trying to immediately placate people without having the mental resources to do so.)

i think the "we dont condone these views and never did!" without ever specifying what they were or doing any other work there is a lazy fucking cop-out. your circle was/is massively popular and a lot of people took all of you as authorities on stuff like headcanons and respectful portrayals of certain characters or identities to the point of accepting your meta as canon (something you havent really dissuaded ever), and associating publicly with someone who would constantly do this kind of shit and then defending him publicly while also positing yourself as an authority isnt something you can just "oops! we never agreed with him!" yourself out of. GD & TF specifically, you are massive blogs. you are babys first TMA blog. people in your askbox hurt and betrayed by this shit are not necessarily there to victim blame you. they are there because they trusted your word when they said "hey seraf reblogged anti pan and anti ace and weird transphobic posts" and you said "seraf is one of my dearest friends and would never do any of those things and im personally offended youd even imply that." i think you dont understand the real life consequences of the massively popular posts and sentiments he made & published and that you helped spread (despite apparently knowing that he was being a massive hypocrite and bigoted towards those groups or identities in his personal life). obviously interpersonal abuse/conflict is going to be "worse" but dear god i hope you collectively understand that "oh btw we never endorsed his views" is a massive copout and a shit apology for the hurt this association and endorsement caused. tmc has been terrorizing this fucking fandom for months with his bullshit and bigotry and you have not been passive bystandars but active enablers.

anyways, hope everyone involved gets to uh, heal i suppose, but i think expecting the people who seraf suicide baited, the groups of trans men he misgendered, the people who he targeted and harassed, the genuine fucking long lasting dysphoria he caused real people to have over his shitty takes re: transness and dysphoria, and the general shit behavior he was allowed to keep up with zero pushback from anyone in his circle of the fandom to drop all the anger or frustration they have for the people who enabled him and defended him aggressively is... unrealistic. and makes you look bad. especially when the doc doesnt even clarify which opinions you still support.

[depressedacadamia]

How do you passive aggressively say ‘Fuck you’ in flower? Part III

Summary:  New owners, new friendships and new beginnings... but maybe there's a linger of old history there aswell.

A/N:  Helloooo!! It's writers month starting August so I've posted all the prompts and there are also the fandoms you can request. Please send a request, its always fun to interact with the readers and hear what content you want to see!! That said, here is chap 3!! I hope you enjoy and make sure you comment and enjoy!! <3 from phi phi!!

Read on A03              Read part I on Tumblr               Read part II on Tumblr

Will couldn't believe his luck. Of all the things he could have been told, it had to be this.

He held the printed note in between his thumb and forefinger as he grumpily read aloud the note hidden inside the fortune cookie. Calypso looked excited as her hands gripped the side of the table with passion.

“So? What does it say? Are you going to marry skull boy and live happily ever after with a cat?”

Wills scowled. “ No, that’s ridiculous. I hate cats. Maybe a dog. Or a goldfish.”

“Yeah, but goldfish don't live for as long as a cat could,” Calypso pointed out, her pinky finger pointing towards Will. “Now read. I want to hear your fortune.”

“Ugh. You aren’t hesitant to take what you want but sometimes you lack intuition; try and be more intuitive."

Calypso looked at him, with disappointment ranging across her face before shrugging and returning to her food. Will, who was expecting a much larger reaction, was offended.

“Excuse me? You begged to hear my fortune and now you just ignore it? You’re a terrible friend. I bet you wouldn’t run into a fire to save me.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

Will gasped. Calypso continued her sentence, with an overall sense of coolness. “ I’d send the fucking fire patrol, police, moutaion resucuers, heck, I’d send the grandma next door to me if she had even a slim chance of getting you out of there.”

“Awwww, You do love me!”

Calypso grunted. “It’s only because I refuse to let anything other than myself kill you. Now stop hugging me and scram; you’re ruining my course of digestion with how hard your arms are wrapped around my stomach.”

But Will refused to oblige as he wrapped his arms around his best friend's stomach, listening to her complaints and completely ignoring them.

“What do you think it means?” Calypso spoke over a mouthful of food.

“What?”

“The fortune cookie thingy. What do you think it means?”

“It means I should be more intuitive, that's what it said.”

Calypso facepalmed, now understanding why the fortune cookie told her best friend what it told them. Even to the most oblivious person, it was obvoius that what the fortune cookie had told Will was not to simply be more intuitive but instead to -as the author would say- Open your fucking eyes and see what’s in front of you . But, as the author, I can tell you that William Andrew Solace is such an oblivious character that if I were to shout that at him, he would simply stare at whatever was sitting in front of him.

The next Saturday

“Are they coming?” Meg tugged on Will’s sleeve. “ Will, are they going to come today?”

It had seemed that, surprisingly enough, Meg had taken a great liking to Will’s so-called new ‘friends’ and in particular- Nico, which just so happened to be perfect for Will. It was already terrible that Will had to deal with them showing up only once in his beloved shop, let alone the idea that they may come again the next weekend and ruin it entirely for him, like the previous.

“I don’t know Meg, why do you care?” Will asked, his tone slightly agitated, out of all the people who had visited him at the shop, Meg just had to take a liking to these.

“Because that Nico guy is super cool. But don’t tell him I said that- and you guys can’t make out in my shop, no matter how cool he is.”

“This isn’t your shop and it isn't Calypso’s either, Dya know that, right?” Will reminded Meg as she went on about the new customers.

A sharp jab, that Will could now confidently identify to be Calypso’s elbow, hit his side. “Oi, What do you mean it ain't my shop- it basically is. It’s not like the previous owner ever cared about it.”

Will’s ears perked up at the words ‘previous owner’. “What do you mean Previous owner? Do they not own it anymore?”

“Did you not hear?” Calypso stopped braiding the rose into Will’s hair after seeing his surprised expression. “ We have a new owner. They offered the old one loads, and I mean loads of money for this shop. Apparently it’s this young sophisticated woman who just throws money whenever she wants.”

“Why do you sound so happy?”

Calypso’s finger’s in Will’s hair stopped braiding for a second. “What do you mean why do I sound so happy? We have a new rich owner. That means we will get better conditions. Imagine all the better quality wrapping we can get for the bouquets!”

“But if they're the kind of person to just throw money about, will they really take care of what's theirs? Or will they just send their own cronies to keep everything tidy, while paying them the minimum possible? And in this case, those cronies are us!”

“You’re imagining the worst of the new owner.”

“No, I’m not! Why am I the only one who hates the idea of a new owner!” Will yelled, grabbing the rose in his hair and ripping it out, throwing it at the entrance of the door. Will wasn't one to raise his voice but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated- why was everything changing so much!

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was destiny, or maybe Will was just that unlucky, but in that very moment, Nico and his friends all walked in.

It seemed they had all been causally conversing as they walked in.They were quickly silenced by whatever was occurring within the florist; Percy was halfway through grinning and dropping his jaw at Will's sudden outburst. Afterall, the last time he had seen Will this agitated was in middle school when he stole Will’s plastic stethoscope that his father had supposedly gotten him.

“Are we interrupting?'' Frank asked. He may have been on Nico’s side but he figured that perhaps barging in on an argument wasn’t the most respectful thing one could do.

“Trouble in paradise?” Nico smirked as he picked up the ruined rose that Will had thrown to the floor in a rage. He twirled in between his fingers and looked at the shade of pink; he glanced back at Will and decided it greatly complimented his skin tone and the cute blush he’d get whenever he was angry.

He frowned at the ruined rose and placed it on the counter before walking back to Will.

“The trouble only started when you set foot into this shop,” Will retorted, very much unappreciative of his presence at this moment. He still couldn't believe that the shop was getting a new owner! Sure, the old one had barely shown up and basically left Calypso entirely in charge but how could Calypso be so casual about it?

Nico ignored his attempt at a snide comment and walked past him, gesturing with his finger to follow behind him. “I want a flower. The one you threw. What was it, a Rosa Ausrumba?”

Will, slightly surprised that Nico had managed to identify the binomial name for the rose, raised his eyebrow. “Yeah.. how did you know?”

Nico shrugged, not offering an explanation as Will went ahead and fetched him a packaged gentle hermione rose. As he handed it over, he couldn’t help but let his mind wonder who the rose was for. It was a soft pink, the same type of rose that Calypso insisted he wear everytime he worked at the shop. Will knew that pink roses symbolised a lot of things but the question was, what exactly?

Was there anyone Nico knew who he’d give that rose to? It wouldn’t make sense for it to go to Leo, afterall, it wouldn't compliment his hair or skin tones: rather, it could work with someone like Hazel- since she was his sister, it would make sense for Nico to give it to her.

Calypso had always forced Will to wear that species of pink rose because she said that he had the hair for it and his blush and the colour of the rose were indistinguishable but most of all, it was the friendly gesture she had made when he first started working there.

He felt Nico’s fingertips brush against his as he handed the rose and a jolt of electricity sparking between them.

Shit, static shock.

“Ow!” Will jerked back, dropping the rose and rubbing his hand. He was about to ask Nico what the hell before he realised that the rose was on the floor. It wasn’t like the rose was going to be ruined or destroyed now it was on the floor or that it particularly angered Will to see the rose there. It simply saddened Will so much that he felt compelled to pick it up; maybe it was because he was so used to being forced into wearing it everyday or maybe because it was meant to be Nico’s, either way, he bent down to retrieve the flower.

It seemed that Nico had the same idea because their heads collided and Will was sent stumbling backwards onto his butt.

“Ow!” He cried again, rubbing his head. Nico felt his eyes widen at Will’s words and quickly he grabbed the rose and kneeled in the space between Will's legs, with his hand scanning Will’s face of any injury.

“Are you okay?”

Will frowned at the considerate question, wondering if Nico was mocking him or not. “Why do you care?”

That question threw Nico off guard. Why do you care? Why did he care? That was a good question he had yet to ask himself. Why did he care so much about Will? Why did he decide to come back? Every week nonetheless.

“No reason.” Nico shrugged. ” I just wanted to make sure your clumsy ass didn’t break anything.”

“Your head hit mine!”

“Yeah but it was you who decided to go after my flower,” Nico argued, clutching the rose in his hand. He started peeling off the wrapping until he had the rose alone in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing? You haven’t paid for it yet!”

Nico ignored him as he handed Will the rose. Obviously, Will took the rose from Nico’s hand and held it. Why did Nico want him to hold his flower for him?

“What?” Will was confused. “Why am I holding your flower?”

“Because I gave it to you.”

“To do what with?” Will inquired, his eyes oblivious. For someone who slept around, Will was not one who knew much about romantic rituals.

Murmuring something under his breath, Nico tilted his face away and let the loose strands of his black hair fall over his eyes elegantly. Will didn’t know if he had hit his head too hard but he could have sworn that Nico was slightly blushing.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

“I said,” Nico took a dep breath, “The flower is for you and your stupid hair.”

Will must have looked relatively confused because Nico kept on talking. “Because you wear one whenever you work here? And when you threw a fit, you also threw your rose and it got ruined.”

Will, dumbfounded, simply stared at Nico. It wasn’t like he could braid his hair right here; Was this where Will was meant to thank him?

“Uh… thank you? I mean I could have easily gotten Callie to do my hair again but thanks anyway.”

Will realised that he was still sitting on the floor and immediately got up, still clutching the rose firmly in his hand, like he was afraid that the wind may just carry it off and he may never see it again.

In silence, him and Nico walked back to the counter, where surprisingly enough, everyone was getting on quite well. Percy and Frank were challenging Piper and Hazel about some vague petty thing,while Leo and Annabeth spoke to Calypso and Jason told Meg about Nico.

Annabeth had noticed quite quickly that Calypso had a crush on Leo and it seemed that Leo was aware as well. However, despite that, he didn’t let it get in the way of the conversation or the potential for a very beautiful friendship. He didn't like Calypso in that way. It was true that he had many previous lovers both men and women but Calypso was his friend, nothing more.

Nico noticed that Will was simply holding the rose and not wearing it like he intended him to.

“Why aren't you wearing the rose?”

Will stuttered, his face burning up slightly from embarrassment. “I..uh,well...I can’t really, um, braid my hair.”

Will was waiting for the insult. For a laugh, maybe a jeer. Instead he was surprised by the reaction that met him.

“I do. Give me the rose and sit in that chair.” Nico pointed to the chair behind the counter. Will, oblivious as ever, took a seat. He didn’t expect to feel familiar hands working on his hair. It felt like deja vu, feeling Nico’s fingers weave themselves into his hair, it felt like they were in that storage room all over again, making out on the small couch.

Wondering if Nico was also reminiscing that moment, he turned his head ever so slightly and caught Nico’s eye.

Nico turned Will’s head. “Stay still, I can’t do your hair if you keep on moving.”

Do my hair? He’s going to do my hair?

Will anxiously sat in the chair, fiddling his hands as Nico sectioned his hair into 3 parts and slipped the stem of the rose into one of the sections. He began braiding Will’s hair, slowly softly, dare I even say- Lovingly.

Will almost shivered when he felt Nico’s fingertip graze his scalp. His fingers braided like magic and within a matter of seconds, it felt like he had finished. Nico walked in front of Will to have a look at his handiwork from the front and reached forward. His finger brushed the side of Will’s ear and for a second, Will thought that Nico was going to gently cup his cheek and kiss him.

Instead, he reached and pulled free a small lock of hair from the front of his face so it dangled elegantly and complemented the rose that lay in his hair.

Will gulped. “ How did you learn to do hair?” His voice was extremely hoarse.

Nico’s voice seemed lower when he spoke. “My sister. I used to do her hair sometimes when we were at camp.”

Will nodded absent mindedly and focused on why his heart was beating so fast. The only reasons he knew why his heart would ever beat fast near a person would be if they scared him, forced him to exercise or if he had just slept with them.

Since Nico hadn't made him run, and they weren't sleeping together and Nico didn't make him fear for his life (yet), he was purely confused as to why his heart felt like it was a butterfly fluttering and any second, his ribcage may burst open and let it fly away and with it, his heart.,

He stared at the back of Nico’s head as he walked back to his friends who were now arguing about the difference between a white and an ivory rose.

Will did not not see Nico on Sunday at the flower shop. Nor did he see any of his friends.

Friday, Next week.

“Will, put that beer bottle down!” Calypso yelled, her entire state chaotic. There was flour everywhere and Will couldn’t tell where the kitchen started and where the mess ended.

This is what happened when he offered to babysit.

It was one thing to babysit a teenager or perhaps a 10 years old but a 7 years old? A seven year old and a 5 year old? A combination from hell itself. Overly energetic, disrespectful and disobedient, seven years olds were the worst kind of children to babysit.

It had started a while ago when his mother’s friend who’s name actually was Karen had to leave in a rush for some emergency (although Will had highly doubted it) and left her kids with Will's Mother. Being the wonderful woman she was, Will’s mother held onto them for as long as she could but she had a job, as most people did and unfortunately it was a job that required her to not enjoy her Friday nights.

This had led to her leaving the children with Will. Afterall, he was a responsible adult.

Okay fine, scratch the responsible part. She had left the children with Will because Calypso had promised to be there and in all blatant honesty, it was obvious that without Calypso, Will would be the biggest mess out there.

It seemed, however, that babysitting children was harder than both of them had anticipated.

“Callie, I give up. These kids are the devil's spawn. If they die, then tough luck for them.”

Calypso groaned and slammed her head onto the table before perking up with excitement. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number. Will overheard a vague conversation and simply watched, very confused.

Calypso set her phone down. “Okay so I have figured out how to fix this.” She pointed to the massive mess in their apartment.

“How?”

“You’ll see.”

Will didn’t trust the mischievous smile that came across Calypso’s face.

Nico was chilling on his bed with his phone in his hand, hovering above his face. He did not really have much to do so here he was, scrolling through social media. He was meant to be doing something with Percy or Jason or maybe Hazel- he really couldn’t remember and he couldn’t care less.

That was until he overheard a conversation from Jason that he could only describe as interesting. Only a few minutes later, Percy showed up very begrudgingly muttering I’m only coming because I wanna see where the little fucker lives.

As far as Nico was concerned, there was only one person who Percy called ‘the little fucker’ and why were Jason and Percy paying him a visit?

“Wait-” Nico threw his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.”-Where are you guys going?”

“Calypso’s place. She needs some help babysitting? Or something like that. Annabeth’s call was kinda vague.”

“You’re going to Calypso’s place because Annabeth told you to?” Nico tilted his head, confusion evident in his voice. Jason took a deep breath before explaining.

“Calypso called Piper who gave the phone to Annabeth who called me to tell us and Hazel to go to Calypso’s place and help her and Will with whatever they needed help with.”

“Why is Will at Calypso’s place?”

Percy quickly interjected. “ They live together.”

That statement alone was enough to make Nico choke on the air he was trying to peacefully breathe.

“They what?” He managed to wheeze from in between the heavy coughs that racked from his chest.

“They live together,” Jason repeated innocently. “ Why?”

“Yeah,” Percy smirked, figuring out the reason behind Nico’s coughing fit. “ Why do you care, Nico?”

“No reason. It’s just a bit out of the blue.”

“So you don’t deny that you care!” Percy yelled excitedly pointing his finger at Nico. Nico grabbed it and twisted it with such ferocity, there was a crack and Percy let out a cry and pulled his finger back pouting, blowing on it like it was a hot dish.

“I twisted your finger, stop blowing on it like it’s a hot potato and let's hurry up and go please,” Nico groaned, rolling his eyes at Percy’s dramatic overreaction.

Percy, under his breath, murmured,” Somebody’s desperate.”

Nico slapped his shoulder.

When Will opened the door to his apartment, he didn't really know what he was expecting. Maybe someone like Thalia Grace or Reyna- a close friend of Calypso.

He certainly was not expecting his arch nemesis and his cronies to show up. He wasn’t in the best state of mind and he felt like any moment now, his feet may fail and he’d be out cold on the floor.

What was worse was the fact that Hazel had already arrived- without Frank as he said he ‘wasn’t the kind who liked children’. So now Will was here having to behave himself as if he were some host and they were his guest

His brain told him that this was exactly what this was.

But another part of Will didn’t agree. It was more, there was some more sinister motive behind why they were here. Sure, Annabeth had told them to come and god forbid someone disobey Annabeth but they clearly came here with their own reasons. Whether all their reasons were the same or not, Will did not know.

“What do you want?” Will deadpanned as he held the door halfway open- just like his eyelids. He was already considering shutting it in their faces. However, it seemed that Nico wasn’t having any of it as he simply pushed his way past Will, into the half cleaned up apartment.

“Oh, Nico! You’re here!” Hazel whisper-called out from the living room . She had the 5 year old’s head resting on her lap as it dozed off and the seven year old lay next to her, their eyes drifting off to sleep.

“Yeah, I’m here. What about it?”

“I thought you might want to cook something? I’m really hungry and I’m pretty sure Calypso’s been running around on an empty stomach trying to keep 2 children and a drunk person under control.”

Nico paused before wrinkling his nose. He walked forward to Will and moved his blonde hair out of his face to get a better view of his eyes.

“You’re drunk?” Nico looked around the kitchen and spotted the beer bottles. “Jesus, are you a lightweight or something? This shit ain’t even strong,” Nico grunted as he grabbed a very much incoordinate Will to the kitchen and sat him down at the counter. He got him a glass of water and rolled his sleeves up before quickly sifting through the fridge and cupboards.

“What happened to him?” Percy asked, walking slightly at the blushing Will sitting at the counter sipping water out of a straw.

“Hehee, Nico has very warm arms.” Some water dribbled out from the side of Will’s mouth as he giggled.

“He’s… wasted?” Jason squinted his eyes. “ I thought people with blue eyes were meant to have the highest tolerance to alcohol.”

“Nooooo,” Will whined. “ That’s not it. Blue eyed people are moree likeleyyy to have a dependency on alcohol. We did this in class-”

He was cut off by his own hiccup.

“Fucking hell,” Nico muttered as he pulled out ingrediants. Hungrily, Jason and Percy eyed the food.

“Whatcha making?” Percy asked, slinging his arm over Nico’s shoulder. Immediately, Will got out of his seat, objecting to this. However, before he could do this, he tripped and fell on his butt and in turn knocked his head into the floor. He was out cold within seconds.

“Did he just pass out?” Percy asked, poking at Will’s body with his foot only for Nico to be outraged and push Percy with such vigour, he ended up splayed onto the floor. He quickly kneeled beside Will and shook him gently, trying to wake him up.

“Flower boy? Hey, wake up. Will? Get up. Get up right now Will.” Nico began shaking him, his voice starting out in small quiet whispers. The alarm in Nico’s voice called over Calypso who batted her hand and laughed.

“Oh you have nothing to worry about. He does this everytime he gets too drunk. He’s a real lightweight, trust me.”

After much chaos and argument, everyone calmed down and Nico got cooking. As someone who was majoring in food tech, Jason and Percy would always make him cook meals for them. While Nico always pretended to be bothered and annoyed by this, he secretly loved it, meaning that he could make his friends smile with something he also loved- food.

Sure, he sometimes skipped meals or didn’t have time to actually eat, but he was constantly surrounded by food and making it was so chaotic but he enjoyed it and he enjoyed the rush of serotonin he’d get when he tasted the final dish.

“Food’s ready!” Nico called from the kitchen. Will had been moved to the sofa because Calypso had been told that under no circumstance was anybody to ever go into Will’s bedroom. Jason came in to the table and started laying it, as their usual routine went. Percy brought cups and Hazel, who normally did not dine with them, was talking to Calypso. They took their seat at the table and waited for the boys to finish laying it and serving food.

Nico glanced at Will who was dozing off on the couch peacefully. “ Is he not going to join us?”

Calypso shook her head. She knew when Will was feeling the way he was today, the only thing he could do was sleep it off. Nico had to admit, he was disappointed; he was hoping to see Will’s reaction when tasting the food. In fact, he had put extra effort into making it perfect just based on the possibility that Will may have been joining them for dinner.

They ate silently, with only the sound of the occasional collision of the fork against the plate echoing into the apartment.

“This is a nice place…” Percy started, trying to ease some of the tense silence away. Calypso gave him a short nod.

“Yes. It’s mine- Will and I share it.”

“Why?” Nico asked, his jealousy overtaking his actions. Was he really at liberty to ask such a question? No. Was he going to anyway? Absolutely.

Calypso raised an eyebrow at the question, while she slowly raised the fork to her mouth. “Does it matter why?”

Nico, staring at his food, paused. “No,” He sighed. “ I guess it doesn’t.”

Hazel, who wasn't allowing this, quickly intercepted. “It doesn't matter but that doesn't mean we wouldn’t like to know? Right guys?”

“Yeah!” Percy agreed a bit too passionately. “Tell us Calypso. How is it that you- someone of your high standards is living with somebody like… Will.”

Percy's abrash statement was rewarded with a hard smack to the back from the Italian boy sitting next time, glaring at him enough daggers for Percy to become Pinhead. Percy, midway swallowing, began coughing frantically which despite the urgency of the situation earned no sympathy from Nico who sat there as Percy choked and Jason gave violent slaps on his back.

“Ugh, well. We’ve known each other…” Calypso stopped. “ Are you sure you’re okay?”

Percy, almost red in the face, nodded frantically and mimed with his hands to keep talking. Jason reached over and poured Percy another glass of water.

“Uh, well… We work together but we’ve known each other for a long time.”

“How long? I don't remember Solace ever mentioning you.”

Calypso smiled slightly. “ If I’m correct, you two weren't and still aren't really on the kinds of terms where you discuss your personal life.”

“Still… I would have thought that… forget it.”

The awkwardly silent dinner continued with the clanking of cutlery against plates. Secret glares were passed along with uncomfortable shivers but all in all, the dinner managed to run smoothly. The guests helped clean up and finally, late into the night, they stood at the door awkwardly, as Calypso dismissed them.

“Are the children… staying?” Hazel innocently inquired, her eyes falling on the small children who lay asleep on the sofa behind Calypso.

Calypso scratched her head- slightly unsure herself. “Uh, I guess. Until they get picked up at least.”

“Oh… I guess I should stay to help out then?”

“No! Please, I don't want you to ruin a good night's sleep over this. I’m sure I can handle this. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Calypso reached for the door. “Get home safely.”

Jason and Percy, who realised that they were no longer welcome, did not hesitate to leave- the same couldn’t be said for Nico.

He didn’t know why he was hesitating- it wasn't as if Calypso and him were friends in any way. However, it seemed that for some odd reason there was a connection between the two that they both strongly cared for a certain blond headed lightweight. But they also both cared for a certain grinning engineer who spoke Spanish.

With his hand shoved in his pockets, he slowly turned his heel as if a magnet from afar was tugging on the metal heartstrings with his heart. His head was bowed towards the floor as he muttered the words under his breath.

“Tell him to call me when he wakes up tomorrow… We should probably talk and get everything out of the way.” Nico’s hair fell in front of his face, his eyes darting anywhere but Calypso’s face as to avoid her seeing his expression.

“Are you dating Leo?”

The abrupt question had Nico’s head snapping upwards so fast that I- the author- feared that he may have broken his neck had he moved any faster. The obvious answer was ‘no’. They had broken up long before Nico had even known someone like William Andrew Solace even existed; however, he didn't know if he could give such an honest answer so freely.

It was clear that Calypso was not just asking Nico this question for the sake of fun. She liked him.

And for some reason, Nico did not like that.

Leo wasn't his. He had his own feelings and decisions to make. But Nico didn't think she could handle the idea of Calypso being able to have both Will and Leo in her life- whether any of the relationships were platonic or not.

He had Leo, she had Will. It was only fair that it should stay that way.

But that said- If, if, he ever dated Will… would he give up Leo for the sake of fairness? Life isn't meant to serve everyone with equality. You get what you get and the rest you must fight for; Life was clearly a capitalist.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” she paused as if her reasoning was obvious. “If you are, I can’t let you play with Will or Leo like that.”

Nico snarled. “ Who said I was playing with either?”

“Isn't that what it's called? When you date two different people behind their backs?”

“I’m not dating Leo!” He yelled in frustration. Perhaps it was the wine. Or watching Will pass out on the floor and Percy poking him with his foot like an animal. Or maybe it was the fact that Will never tasted the food, but for some reason whether it was unbeknownst or not, Nico snapped. “Happy?”

Calypso smiled. “Very.”

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

[casijaz]

Well turns out the other post won’t be the last one.

Decided not to put anything under a cut but this post is tagged ‘long post’ so you can click on it at will. I’ve added shorter sections in (brackets) to put together the point.

It’s always been like this. In fact a couple of months ago I made a silly post about it. Please stop giving each other ass-pats about how not-racist you might be. Or how your one non-white friend says whatever you posted is not racist.

White people: Stop being performative allies.

My fellow peas of the seas, or individuals who aren’t white who interact on this western website: Being a poc is not a trump card to claim we can’t contribute to specific forms of racism.

---

I remember back when I was 17 I defended some (then not obvious to me) clearly racist art a white friend of mine made. I spoke to the people who came onto her art and told them they were trolling, they had to be. Spoke in all caps sometimes, had bolded stuff, all weird ways of talking with this demeaning or passive aggressive tone. I remember thinking ‘hey, do they know I’m a person of colour? They must feel silly! Here I am, a poc, who clearly says this is ok!’ But it wasn’t. In this instance the racist art depicted an indigenous person, and this was an instance of racism against indigenous people, and I am not indigenous. (Translation: Defending racism is bad, even if the people who say racism is bad might be mean to you.)

I also have defended white people who lived in a bubble of whiteness. I figured, well, they live in the bubble, or they’re young, and their actions weren’t coming from a place of malice because they didn’t know any better.  (Translation: Even if you’re a nice person, your actions can still be bad, and you should acknowledge this.)

When someone points out to you that something is racist, you shouldn’t jump to a knee-jerk defence or being passive aggressive in acceptance of this fact. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but you’ll have to go through it. Remember this is not about coddling white feelings, it’s about the reproduction of white supremacy and racist ideologies in a multitude of settings. (Translation: Even if you don’t know anything about racism, or don’t think you’re racist, you could still be. Racism is not as simple as one action. It is a global structure that influences the world.)

Reproducing racist ideologies is something that people of colour can also be guilty of. This means that they don’t have the power to be racist (as racism is about a hierarchical power structure where whiteness is as the top, aka white supremacy) BUT they have the ability to reproduce (or repeat, mimic, etc) the racist ideologies that are prevalent all over the world. (Translation: Because racism is everywhere, everyone can do it, even if they don’t wish to.)

Yes, not everyone has the luxury of being able to understand English to a level that certain concepts come across. Which is why I’ve taken the liberty of adding tl;dr to the end of each paragraph to get that point across for my fellow ESL speakers. However not speaking English well enough can be used as another excuse for condoning racist actions by others. (Translation: Saying I don’t know better is not the solution to stop being racist. Trying to understand the other person is.) 

The point is to stop making excuses. Stop defending the racist. Stop defending racist actions, no matter how small or big they are. 

It is also not up to the people who are actually hurt by this to coddle you and teach you. If you wish to learn more please follow blogs that are specifically talking about these issues. Here’s one. Here’s another. Here’s a fandom specific one. Here are also my own posts about xenophobia and more xenophobia. Unfortunately they are heavy with academic writing but I’ll hope to make a simple English version of it one day. (Translation: Here’s helpful blogs for you to learn more from!)

---

As for the people of colour who talk about adding nuance, different perspectives, and how racism is complicated. Yeah. It really is. But whichever argument I see brought up about ethnic issues are still ethnic issues. That’s about xenophobia. I often talk about xenophobia and racism not being the same thing for a white audience, but I feel like maybe I’ve left fellow people of colour out of the conversation.

I’ll speak from my own experiences regarding this, because I could pull situations from all over the world but it wouldn’t be genuine nor would I be the expert. So. In my mother’s country we have many different ethnic groups who most of are not white (I’m pretty sure they make up less than 1% of the population), who sometimes get into conflict with one another. When they discriminate against one another, that’s definitely a bad thing. However when these groups fight both discrimination against ethnic groups and racial categories come to light, as the two are almost always heavily interlinked for people of colour.  (Translation: Racism and xenophobia overlap and connect when it comes to people of colour.)

This country (Suriname) was colonised by western forces so it brought along a lot of strife. While no Surinamese person would probably refer to themselves in Suriname as a person of colour, when they are put in a Western context they definitely always do. When groups fight against each other they use both rhetoric imposed on them by western colonial forces (racism) and hatred for other ethnic groups (xenophobia). Because both groups are still groups of colour, they are only capable of reproducing racism, not producing it, as they have no power to in the structure of racism. (Translation: People of colour can discriminate one another with something they have power over, and reproducing racism.)

---

This entire conversation has also highlighted something that I’ve deliberately avoided in my previous posts, but my fellow black Tumblr friends haven’t, and that is the issue of anti-blackness.

Throughout all of this it seems like many different ethnicities have obviously come together and argue on different sides, but one side seems to be devoid of a certain race that has spoken up against these issues over and over. 

When black people tell you that something is racist, your knee-jerk reaction shouldn’t be ‘but it isn’t, because I’m not white, and I approve of this.’ Going back to that story of 17-year-old me, I was not the racial group affected by the drawing. I was not offended, because it wasn’t my racial identity that was being mocked. When black people tell you that something is racist, you can assume that they’re telling you something is anti-black.

Don’t turn this a conversation only about the voices of people of colour when at the heart of the topic it’s been about anti-blackness shown by a multitude of people from different ethnic groups, white or not.

I’ve seen people act like they’re on the good side because surely they’re supporting people of colour who’ve told them that the side I’m arguing on seems to be ridiculous. I’m calling people names! Making assumptions! I’m stuck in a western perspective talking over non-western people.

Then turn around and they’re not boosting black voices. They’re not mentioning anti-blackness anywhere. I see MLK quotes taken out of context. They’re clamouring to reblog or create art depicting black characters or meta about them, while that art is either fetishistic or was proven to be made by a racist (who was proven to be so like 2 whole minutes ago).

(Translation: Don’t throw black people under the bus. Listen to us when we’re talking about anti-blackness. All poc are indeed not the same, so don’t treat it like it is.)

I hope this will be the last time I’ll talk about this. But I have a bad feeling it won’t be.

[jasontoddsreanimatedcorpse]

Hate how you’re defending aoc and all the celebs at met gala who ignored the police brutality on the BLM protesters. Just shows you were acting and virtue signalling when you posted about anti cop movements and protesters, huh? You’re still passively racist, self-righteous, and only want to act good for clout and to get famous/lux goods. You don’t mean what you wrote on social media, so either drop the act or start cancelling them, shitfuck

ngl i wasn't gonna answer this but i'm ill and a bit hopped up on meds and this pissed me off

first of all i would like to acknowledge that i probably didn't phrase some things well in that post. i always encourage people to inform me if i have done something wrong, though i find your aggression uncalled for.

i am not saying what they did was right i am saying they shouldn't be blamed for attending an event at the same time as something bad was happening when they had no way of knowing it was going to happen. i do think they all should acknowledge the incident and take measures to help those injured and arrested. i was also saying that i highly doubt anyone came into the met gala like "people are being brutalised outside btw!" so i also think they shouldn't be blamed for not knowing during the met gala.

knowing that you are pro cancel culture, i recognise it must be difficult for you to see anything in a way that isn't completely black and white. i, however, prefer to acknowledge that life and circumstances are complex and most things exist in a shade of grey. this does not excuse people of their actions, but it is important to understand the difference between wrongdoing by ignorance or a simple mistake and wrongdoing by an intentional and malicious act. one is obviously worse than the other.

now for another thing. i do not say things i don't mean. i see no point in it. i do not want attention, i do not want fame, i do not want clout. i say what i think and encourage discussion. i actively try to educate myself on all matters. i recognise i am in a place of privilege, and i use that privilege as best as i can to promote movements i believe in, such as defunding the police, and elevate the voices of minorities. when i say acab, i mean it. when i say that currently i am considering making a career out of psychological research to encourage defunding the police and improving community outreach programmes and the effectiveness of rehabilitation in the justice system, i mean it. this is not some pretense for me, this is something that is effecting my life choices.

i am highly critical of my own government and justice system, just the same as i am critical of the us government and justice system. i sign petitions, i donate money, i put more into this than just reblogging some posts and moving on. just because you cannot see this does not mean it isn't there. like i said, i am not doing tuis for fame or clout or any sort of recognition, i am doing it because it is the right thing to do, and because i believe in it, and therefore see absolutely zero need to advertise what little i have been able to do. it does not make me special, and you attacking me just because i'm not talking about every charity or gofundme page i donate to does not make you special.

also what does "lux goods" mean. what would i get from this. i receive nothing from my contributions, and i want nothing for them bexause guess what!! they are small. i have very little reach or money to contribute, and i do not expect praise or fame or "lux goods" for these contributions. and i don't know why you are accusing me of this when all i have to my name is a relatively small tumblr blog, and a soundcloud that is only rlly listened to by my friends.

and no, i'm not going to cancel aoc, a woman who has been doing so much more than someone like me could ever hope to do in helping combat racism, and who was given the opportunity to attend the met gala and used it to encourage people to look into taxing the rich and to educate people herself. i will, however, encourahe her to address the brutality that happened outside the met gala, as well as police brutality as a whole, and i will be among many in demanding better from her.

also, all cancel culture succeeds in is destroying the careers of smaller public figures for small slights and briefly bringing attention to the shittiness of larger public figures without damaging their career or even reputation in the long run. one of it's major issues is that people will say a larger public figure is cancelled and thing the job is done, instead of consistently blacklisting their projects and demanding better from them and their employers. in fact, the most cancel culture has ever done was destroy the career of an abuse victim who was falsely accused of abuse by his abuser.

idk man, you have a right to hate me, and i'm not gonna pretend i'm some sort of perfect person. i don't view myself as better than anyone, and i can openly admit that i have said things in the past that i know realise to be racist, homophobic, ableist, etc. i learn and i grow and help educate others, and i don't demand anything more from anyone else. but i feel like you hate me without even knowing who i am. you have no right to say i'm just acting, and no right to claim you know my motivations. you don't know me at all.

[cynthiyaayaana]

Bullets and Pollen.

Hey!! This is a story I had written long before but never had the courage to post until now. I came across this very interesting writing prompt on tumblr and just had to write something on it. Any kind of appreciation or constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!! 

Ayanna found herself in a flower shop that was very conveniently located a few blocks away from the cemetery. It was more like a meadow enclosed in the tall glass windows that displayed a vibgyor of flowers. The odor of flowers was like a thick perfumed layer that engulfed everything in the shop. It was uncomfortably congested. She wondered how the fragile flowers were able to bear its immensity which was almost overpowering her.

The sunlight bounced off each petal reflecting its colors like a prism capturing light and releasing a rainbow. She was tempted to catch it but obviously they were intangible. She therefore reconciled with touching the soft velvety petals of the orchids that stood arrogantly in the confines of their plastic buckets. There long stalk upholding the delicate white blooms like the slender neck of a swan supporting a snappy mouth.

The clear ringing of the bells alerted the intrusion of another customer. She turned around to see the culprit who had disrupted the quaint solitude of the ambience. Her complaint disappeared as soon as she thought it. The man standing in front her stood out in his black attire like death in the Garden of Eden. Before she had time to register his appearance accurately he strode towards her with quick but calculated steps. She realized the answer to her question was hazel but now they appeared murky green because of the sun rays they took hostage.

 In one swift movement he took out his bulky wallet and slapped a few crumpled bills on the counter. She flinched as his hands dropped on the teak table’s sleek surface with a loud thud. He gritted his teeth and flexed his jaws agitatedly, emitting a sickening sound of bones cracking. Although his attempt to control his temper was admirable, she was afraid that he would pop a vein any minute now.

 “Excuse me…” She was rudely interrupted as he jeered at her for some unknown reason. She had to confess as terrifying and alarmingly red the visage of this stranger was, she was thoroughly entertained by his attempt to restrain his fury. She only hoped she didn’t offend him any further by losing her self-control. Unfortunately, she slipped when she heard the next sentence that he spoke.

“How do I passive aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flowers?”

 Ayanna coughed to suppress her laughter. This was by far the most noteworthy conversation starter she had ever heard. Although she should have rectified his misunderstanding, she stood rooted in her spot, looking at this inhumanly tall and infuriated man who wanted flowers to translate an extremely hackneyed and handy insult like ‘fuck you’.

 Flowers!

She should have been cowering at the mere size of this man and also the way he had “bloody murder” written all over his rugged face. It didn’t require a keen observer to see how positively threatening he was in the way he carried himself. He radiated danger and not in the ‘what-you-read –in-a-dark-romance kind of way’. It was more like a ‘cross-me-and-I-will-not-hesitate-to-cut-you’ vibe he gave off. If they had been out in the streets or in some dingy warehouse, in this small proximity, she would definitely be fearful for her dear life.

 However, the fact that he had just entered a flower shop and asked for flowers to express his aversion for someone or something made it hard for her to feel intimidated by him. This was an interesting and obscure way of looking at flora. Like a blunt expression of disdain. It did trigger her imagination and help her writers block that had led her here in the first place.

Weren’t flowers and tacky bouquets used by unfaithful husbands to give their naïve wives to convince them of their deceitful affections? Isn’t it supposed to disguise the smell of musk cologne and infidelity?  And eventually end up in the trash the following week when the flowers were dead and smelt like decay?

 A bad habit instantaneously made her concoct how she could include this plot and this sample of character into the bulk of paper and fiction she was working on. It would make great material for a romance but that’s too predictable. Maybe a crime fiction. Where the antagonist leaves behind clues of his felony in a cryptic language of flowers. Perhaps something more brooding and introspective. The possibilities were endless. She must have zoned out because the facial expressions of her envisioned muse was getting more agitated and distorted with each passing second.

 “Nevermi…”

 Before he could wave his hand in dismissal, she stood to her full diminutive height, solemnly perched her black rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose and bustled around the shop collecting stalks of flowers and commenting in a very proper voice like she would if she actually was a florist.

 “What you need is a bouquet with geraniums signifying idiocy, foxgloves for dishonesty, meadowsweet for incompetence, yellow carnations meaning disappointment and finally orange lilies for unadulterated hatred. It would be quiet remarkable. And full of repugnance.”

 She bundled them together between her nimble thumb and forefingers, looked at the oppressively colorful bunch and brought it to him for scrutiny. He cocked his dark eyebrow and looked down at her scrawny stature and then at the chaotic assortment of flowers.  He had to admit it looked quiet hideous with its harsh dyes and mismatched contours. And totally unsuitable for the girl’s dainty hands.

Weren’t florist supposed to have arduous hands? Their nails short and their nailbeds caked with brown dirt and green stuff? These manicured hands looked like they couldn’t bear the weight of a coffee cup. They could barely keep the bouquet from falling apart. They were so small and fragile and looked so soft. He could hardly believe she did anything at all with those hands let alone cut and tame stems with rebellious thorns. The fact that she was dressed in a casual white shirt and black ripped jeans with a worn-out leather bag dangling from her frail shoulders and not a soiled apron confirmed his suspicion.

 “Here is your ‘bundle of loathing’.”  She handed it to him with extra caution. Obviously she wasn’t a professional florist. No professional florist talks like that.

 He looked at her and then at the unassembled flowers as confusion took over his dark features. Not because he had finally realized that he had made a mistake. No that bit was as clear as day to him.

 He was perplexed as to why she had helped him when she didn’t need to? Moreover, how did she know exactly what he wanted? Was she spying on him? Was she she sent for him?

 “You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself” She said in her soft voice as if she sensed his unspoken question.

 His unfaltering stare never left her. She squirmed self-consciously under his gaze and lowered her eyes to stare at her sensible flats. The change in her demeanor eased him a little. He wasn’t looking forward to conducting an interrogation in the middle of a god- forsaken flower-shop. He also didn’t want to go around terrorizing unassuming civilians, especially the pretty ones. Besides she had piqued his curiosity when she went about the shop cataloging flowers for his “bundle of loathing”.

 “You seem to know a lot about flowers.” His voice was in sharp contrast to the dreadful glare he was directing at her moments ago.

She looked at him with smile bordering between relief and wariness. Before he could here an answer they were interrupted by an aged voice of a woman. A tuff of grey hair emerged from the interiors of the shop.

 “Here is your bouquet, child.” The elderly owner finally came out with her flowers and Ayanna was grateful for the interruption. She nodded slightly at her, relieved for the intrusion.

 He vaguely entertained the idea of going after her as she scurried out of the modest store with hasty steps but decided against it. He was a busy man.  He had more important matters to take care of before thinking about enchanting some stranger who had impressed him with her off-handed knowledge in horticulture. The most urgent undertaking right now was to deliver the bouquet to the person who deserved it. Then, as per protocol, he had to notify them, with utmost patience, what they had done to deserve it. And consequently, give them a forewarning and a suitable penalty for their offensive conduct.

 “How can I help you, Sir?”. The elderly lady asked the man who was holding the green stalks of flowers in his hands tenderly. One would have never guessed these were lethal.

 “Please wrap these flowers for me” He politely asked the elderly shopkeeper. He didn’t mind her ignorance.

“Is it for someone special?” The lady smiled warmly like clueless old ladies often do.

 He could feel his lips forming a sick conniving smirk.

 “Very special.”

[lurafita]

Obsession - Chapter 2

Again, to the people who don’t know how tags work, this is Starker. If you don’t like this pairing, then do not click on this story.

Thanks a lot to everyone who has liked, reblogged and reviewed the previous parts.

Which are here: Prolouge

and here: Chapter 1

Please inform me if you want to get tagged for the next part.

Tony is in a bit of denial in this chapter, which I have tried to indicate with this. If this striking through words makes it too hard to read for you, plese let me know, and I will try to think of something different. Though there aren’t too many sentences like it.

Obsession – Chapter 2

33 year old Pepper Potts was positively surprised, when her former boyfriend and current boss, dutifully read and then signed every paper she put in front of him.

After his little disappearing act the day before (something that happened quite frequently, if she were honest), she had expected him to be just as difficult as he normally was. Which wasn’t to say that Tony didn’t take his responsibilities seriously; but the genius had a rather extensive history of locking himself away in his personal lab, whenever company matters started to bore him. And since everything that didn’t directly involve his tech or other fields of his expertise usually bored him, Pepper really had her work cut out for her.

But today, Tony seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood, almost eager to get all the dreaded work done.

“Did something happen yesterday?” She asked, as he signed the contract before him with a flourish.

“Why do you ask, Pep?”

There was a chipper tone to his voice, that seemed fairly out of place considering he was doing paperwork.

“You just seem to be in a very good mood.”

Tony nodded, while reading through a proposal for a joined project with Hammer Industries. He was going to decline, of course, but it was always funny to see what Justin offered this time in hopes of enticing him into working together. Tony mentally scoffed. As if he would ever put his name on anything that amateur had had his hands on.

“I met someone.” Did it count as a meeting when Peter hadn’t even been aware of his presence? No matter, he still couldn’t contain the little smile at the thought of the brunette.

Pepper sighed. “Do I need to prepare the PR-Department for an upcoming sex video?”

Tony cringed. “Ouch. … Though, fair, I guess. But no. Don’t worry. We were fully clothed the whole time and all that happened was talking.” Peter had done all the talking, and if one wanted to get technical about it, it hadn’t been directed at Tony, but, whatever. Details.

He turned just in time to catch the surprised look on Pepper’s face, and grinned.

“Starting to believe my bad press, Miss Potts? Contrary to popular believe, I don’t sleep with everyone I meet.”

The strawberry blonde woman shook her head.

“I know that, Tony. It’s just… no, you are right. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, though I’m still angry at you for just running off like you did. There is a reason we employ personal security guards.” She finished and pinned him with a penetrating expression. He just grinned wider at her.

“I know. This new batch is actually pretty good. What was the team leaders name again? Bates? Balm? Anyway, it took me a whole hour to distract him long enough for me to put on my Non-Important-Person disguise, for short: NIP-d, if you will, and get out of the tower. He even found me when I was halfway on my way back. Pretty impressive. Maybe we should give him a raise.”

Pepper just sighed in defeat. “Barnes, Tony. His name is James Barnes. Natasha personally recommended him for the job. And he was not impressed with that stunt you pulled to ‘distract’ him, by the way.”

Since Natasha’s job as head of security contained some 'extracurricular activities’, which often times took her to various locations, someone else needed to be in charge of the security in place not only at Stark Industries, but also to all of the people in higher positions and of course, Tony Stark himself. James Barnes had come highly recommended by Natasha, and if a woman who could kill you 27 different ways with a toothpick recommended someone to you, you didn’t ask questions and just fucking hired them.

Tony hummed in acknowledgment as he started on the last paragraph of the proposition. A few seconds went by in silence.

“It suits you, you know? Being happy. Are you planning on seeing them again?”

Hopeful anticipation filled him at the thought.

“I am.”

Then he grabbed Hammer’s proposal and handed it back to Pepper.

“Shredder this and send Justin a 'Better luck next time’ E-mail, would you? Anything else on the agenda for today?”

She accepted the papers and after a quick glance at her phone, shook her head.

“No, you are done for now. Wow, that was quick. Do I get to meet this person who apparently inspires you to actually do your work?”

She asked with a playful grin. Tony couldn’t help the smile that stole over his lips as he imagined introducing Peter to her. The younger man would be pressed into his side, with Tony’s arm around that narrow waist, and probably blushing.

“Sure. One day. If things go well and all.” He did need to introduce himself to Peter first, after all.

“I’m looking forward to it. Enjoy the rest of your day, Tony.”

And with those parting words, she left his office. He waited until he couldn’t hear the sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floors anymore, before he addressed the room.

“Jarvis, commence project 'Baby Boy’. Let’s continue where we left off this morning.”

“Certainly, Sir.” Came the voice of the artificial intelligence Tony had created and installed not only in Stark Tower, but all of his other properties as well. “Also, I would like to inform you, that I have decided against reminding you that you haven’t slept ever since you started with your research, 22 hours and 18 minuets ago. Which makes it a total of 33 hours and 37 minutes that you have been awake. As previous instances have shown that trying to encourage you to keep a healthy sleeping schedule, have been ultimately futile efforts on my part, I will decline from further fruitless endeavors.”

Tony blinked in slight surprise. “Since when were you so passive-aggressive? You have been listening to Pepper too much. How about this then? We will give it another hour and 23 minutes, make it an even 35 hours without sleep, before I go and lie down like a good boy.”

The A.I. seemed to agree with his terms, as all around him, different holo screens popped up, all displaying various information about one Peter Benjamin Parker.

It had started smaller.

Innocent.

Only one screen, displaying Peter’s student credentials on Berkeley’s web page.

When Tony had made it back to his penthouse in the tower, after numerous promises and assurances that he would inform someone if he wanted to go for a stroll again, (all of which were lies, naturally) he had started with his research right away.

He had just wanted some facts, a point to start at. Full name, age, address, marital status. (It wouldn’t be completely unheard of for a college student to be married already, after all.) Peter wasn’t!

However, after he had gotten the answers to these most prominent questions, he had still felt… unsatisfied.

Just because Peter wasn’t married, didn’t mean that he wasn’t currently in a relationship. Though would it really matter if he was?

He had shaken his head then, thinking that he was getting way ahead of himself. He had only spent a little more than an hour in Peter’s presence, of which the other hadn’t even been aware of, and he was already contemplating how to deal with possible rivals? It was ludicrous!

Yes, the younger man was attractive (and smart, and empathetic, and insightful, and charming, and witty), but that didn’t mean that Tony wanted to start a relationship with him. (Oh, who was he kidding?)

Didn’t even mean he wanted to sleep with him. (No, really, who was he fucking kidding?)

So after this blessedly short mini meltdown, Tony decided that he needed to acquire more information to properly deal with his infatuation situation. And thus, Project Baby Boy was born.

After all the official records, it took no time at all for him to find Peter’s Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr accounts. Social media was a glorious thing. It made you bare some of your innermost, private thoughts and feelings to a world of strangers, without you ever realizing that you were doing it. Every post, every like, every picture and every comment the brunette made, slowly unveiled who Peter really was to Tony’s hungry eyes. As the hours had gone by, the genius billionaire found himself more and more enamored with the (single!) 24 year old. Between dorky science jokes, geeky Star Wars and other sci-fi posts, and a truly astounding amount of dog and cat pictures, Peter was revealing himself to be quite an intriguing individual.

He studied bio-chemistry as a main field, with a bit of bio-engineering and health and medical sciences on the side. There was a clear indication of the type of profession sweet Peter wanted to get into. Thinking back on the conversation in the diner, Tony wasn’t surprised. The younger man had been incredibly enthusiastic about the future of medicine and how he would one day be able to help people. It definitely explained why Tony Stark was only number 6 on Peter’s tumblr list of ‘The 10 greatest scientists alive today’. Since Peter was more into the squishy sciences (Tony wasn’t squeamish - he had had someone else’s blood on his person far too often for such sensitivities - but he preferred a circuit board and wires over organs and skin tissue any day), it made sense that the billionaire, genius mechanic Tony Stark, wasn’t on the top his list. (Still a bit of a blow to the ego, though) At least Peter had placed him before that insufferable ass, Reed Richards!

(And hey, it was a ranking based on corresponding interest in scientific avenues. Tony would soon be in the first  and only  place of ‘Scientist who regularly rocks my world’)

He was also a bit of a hobby photographer, it seemed, as Peter had uploaded many photos taken of friends, animals, sunsets, buildings and plants. Sometimes a photo would showcase a particular play with lighting and shadows, other times special camera filters would highlight different focus points in a picture. Tony may not be a great artisan, but he could appreciate talent.

He also found a short video clip in which one of Peter’s friends (the internet handle was ‘guy-in-the-chair’) had filmed Peter’s, frankly adorable, reaction to being served some monstrously sugary kind of dessert. The video’s caption had read 'Orgasm by Marshmallow stuffed chocolate Cupcake’, and to the inventors utter delight, it included 11 seconds of Peter taking his first bite and actually looking like he was having a tiny orgasm right then and there. Complete with eyes widening before rolling back into his head, and a moan that couldn’t be described as anything else but sinful. (Tony might have re-watched those 11 seconds more times than he cared to admit, while imagining the younger man lying naked and stretched out underneath him, on the silken sheets of Tony’s bed, moaning for a very different reason.)

He found only a few other video’s similar to this. Apparently Peter had a major sweet tooth – which Tony could think of various ways to exploit – and his friend had obviously thought it great fun to film him eating things that would send any diabetic into an early grave.

He had Jarvis save every one of those videos into a private folder, for his personal viewing pleasure. (Oh, and what a pleasure it was. Though the cupcake video was definitely his favorite, the one in which his darling Peter all but went down on a deep fried Mars bar, was a very close second.)

While Tony certainly would have liked to add even more to his collection, he was grateful that only a handful of such videos existed.

He didn’t like the thought of others seeing his Peter like this.

While most of the comments beneath the videos were obviously from friends and acquaintances, who either teased the brunette about his sweet tooth, or commented on the foods themselves, others had been… less PG.

Other people shouldn’t get to think about him like that.

Thinking back on it now, Tony contemplated if maybe he should take the videos down himself. He had already saved away his own copies of them.

Keep him them to myself.

Maybe later.

Right now he wanted to keep going, there was still so much to learn about the cute college student.

Tony knew that life hadn’t been very kind to Peter. He had been orphaned at six, mother and father dying in a plane crash. Taken in by his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker. Seven years later, Ben Parker had been shot in a robbery gone wrong, and if the police report that Tony had hacked was to be believed, Peter had been an eyewitness to the murder.

It was humbling in a way, to think that someone who had been forced to endure so much trauma at a young age already, could grow into the bright 24 year old man that the genius had met just yesterday.

Jarvis had also pulled some older records, that showed that the two remaining Parkers had been left in quite a lot of debt after Ben’s passing. (Well, Tony assumed the amount of debt was a lot for regular people. His bed had actually cost more than the number presented to him.)

May Parker, Peter’s aunt, was a nurse in Queens General Hospital. (Which could have possibly inspired the boy’s chosen field of study) Peter had taken on two part time jobs as soon as he was out of highschool – which Tony concluded were used to help pay the bills, since he was a scholarship student at Berkeley and still lived with his aunt.

“Jarvis, run a calculation. Considering the regular costs of rent and other living expenses, how long will it take the Parkers to pay back what they owe?”

“Keeping in mind the expected rise in interest rates, taxes and insurance, it will approximately take May and Peter Parker 31 years to eradicate their debt. This number is likely to change if Mr. Parker pursues a higher paying profession after finishing his education.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully.

“Still, that’s not for a few more years yet, especially if Peter wants to go for a Master and Doctor degree after he has finished with his Bachelor.”

This could work in his favor.

While Tony loathed people who wanted to use him only for his money, he liked to spend it on the ones he cared about.

Liked taking care of those who deserved it.

He let his gaze be caught by one particular screen, that displayed a photo of Peter Jarvis had pulled from the younger’s Instagram. In it Peter was outside, the sun shining brightly above him, in only a loose t-shirt and cut off jeans. A black cat was cradled in his arms, and he was smiling brightly at the camera. Tony re-read the text underneath the picture. 'This gorgeous lady decided to join Ned and I on our walk to A heart has four paws shelter today.’ (Because despite his two jobs and being a scholarship student at one of the tier universities in this country, Peter still made the time to volunteer at an animal shelter. Tony was starting to worry if the precious boy even slept anymore)

Peter most certainly deserved to have someone take care of him.

“You have received a text message from Miss Romanoff, Sir.” Jarvis voice interrupted his thoughts jarringly.

“What’s it say, J?” He didn’t think she had encountered any problems with her mission.

“It states ‘Mission accomplished. On my way back.’, Sir. Do you wish to give her any further instructions`?”

“No. Tell her good job and to treat herself to some sight seeing if she likes. Not every day one get’s to visit Rome. Well, unless you are me, of course.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Would Peter like to go to Rome? It was said to be one of the most romantic cities in the world, wasn’t it? Maybe keep that in mind for a second date.

“It has now been 35 hours since you last slept. As per your own-”

“Yes, yes, I know. Stop yapping at me, J.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “Save everything we have so far into my private folder. Separate the videos and photos of Peter into their own. Also, make sure I have some free time tomorrow when Peter is on his way back home from that restaurant he works at. I plan on running into him, completely coincidentally, of course.”

“Of course, Sir.”

For the first time in a long time, the idea of sleeping didn’t seem like a necessary inconvenience. He was looking forward to what his imagination could come up with, after those videos.

What sweet dreams he was about to have.

The next morning, the news were overflowing with reports of Norman Osborns demise. The business man had been on vacation in Rome, and suffered a fatal heart attack. He had apparently mixed up his medication. It was a tragic accident.

tbc..

@itfeelssogoodmrstark @starkravingspiders @spadestorm696 @diamondheart31 @the-neon-demon  @unknownshadyperson

[gossamie]

real bitches get revenge.

summary — one frat party. one cheating and (soon-to-be) ex-boyfriend. one plan to get revenge.

pairing — jeon jungkook x park jimin x reader (ft. bts)

genre — fluff & humor

word count — 2,514

warnings — swearing, mentions of alcohol, and poorly made dick jokes

notes — this story has been sitting in my drafts for some time now, but i’m so glad i finally finished it! this is a lil different from what i normally write, but i wanted to push myself from my usual angsty fics and give you guys something more lighthearted. i hope you enjoy (bad humor and all)!

p.s. disclaimer: i am not implying through this story that jungkook is a cheating asshole, nor do i think that any of the other characters are exactly like the stereotype i portrayed them as. this is purely for fictional purposes. 

p.p.s. thank you thank you thank you @louvresdemiel, aka luna, for reading this story and giving me advice! love you <3

“Revenge is sweet and not fattening.” — Alfred Hitchcock

Jeon Jungkook— the president-slash-poster-child of Pi Rho Omega and the spitting image of charisma, charm, and confidence. He’s the guy that everyone wants to be friends with, the guy that makes any frat party legendary, the guy you hate to love, and the guy that you’re lucky to call your loving, loyal boyfriend.

Well, soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, because he’s currently kissing another girl.

You probably would’ve still seen Jungkook shoving his tongue down that girl’s throat even if Seokjin hadn’t pointed it out to you. It was as if they were asking for an audience; they were pressed up against the kitchen island, their grimy hands moving and grabbing each others’ bodies in every direction but especially towards the parts where the sun doesn’t shine, and you could’ve sworn you saw spit flying from her mouth and drool slobbering down Jungkook’s chin like a dog— or, more appropriately, like the bitch he is.

Sure, you were sad— after all, you had spent the entirety of your senior year falling in love with Jungkook— but, more than anything, you were… angry. You were angry because he had chosen to cheat on you. He had chosen to walk away from your relationship. He had chosen to throw away a year’s worth of endless laughter and stolen kisses and hushed secrets and infinite love all for some random sorority girl he met five seconds ago.

In that moment, as you watched your loving, loyal boyfriend kiss another girl, you knew that he didn’t deserve you, not now and not ever. In that moment, you knew that you deserved better than him. In that moment, you knew that you’ll always deserve better than some cheating, two-faced prick.

Whatever there was between you and Jungkook, it was over the minute he decided you apparently weren’t as important as a drunk make-out sesh.

But he’s made his choice. Now, you’ll make yours.

And your choice?

To get sweet, sweet revenge.

“Y/N, what the hell are you planning to do?”

“What do you mean?” you reply as you batted your eyelashes at Seokjin, feigning innocence, something sickly sweet coating your tone. Earlier, you had shrugged off his attempts to comfort you, not because you didn’t appreciate them, but because you didn’t need them; they were only a distraction, anyway. There was only one thing you concentrated on as you pulled Seokjin aside from the throng of partygoers: enlisting your friend’s help in your plan for revenge.

“I know that look in your eyes. Whenever you get that look, I know you’re about to do something, and it’s not something pretty.”

“Are you trying to stop me from getting back at Jungkook?”

“Oh, hell no. I’m about to shove my foot up his ass faster than his three-inch dick can inflate.”

“Great. You and I are on the same page. So, will you please help me?”

Seokjin sighs, weighing the options in his mind. Should he maintain a semi-clean moral record, or should he take the opportunity to shove Jeon Jungkook’s shit right in his pretty little face?

But Seokjin realizes there was only one correct option out of the two and that it was definitely not the first one, so he replies, “What do you need?”

You devilishly smirk and focus your attention back to the raging party, taking care not to shift your eyes too far to the right so as not to look at the kitchen and, subsequently, (gag) him. “You know more about the fraternities than I do. I need to know who the somewhat-decent bachelors are in this room and everything you know about them.”

“So, should I start off with me?”

“Oh my gosh, you actually said something funny for once in your life!”

“Okay, listen here, I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, bit—”

“Just kidding! Now, focus. There has to be someone in here, right?”

Seokjin nods, and you follow his gaze to a head of rose gold hair and a nose buried deep in a sketchbook leaning against a wall at the back of the room. The man looked familiar to you; you remembered seeing him wandering peacefully around campus, often carrying a vintage camera or watercolors in his hands. For some reason, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his profile, drawn in by the mysterious aura that lingered around his hunched figure and hung in his deep brown eyes.

“That,” Seokjin remarks, “is Kim Taehyung. Fine arts major. Gamma Mu Mu. I like to think of him as the school’s token art hoe.”

You scoff. “Why do you say that?”

“He fits the stereotype perfectly. He refuses to take pictures on anything other than his Polaroid, he stans Van Gogh, and he thinks he invented wearing wire-rimmed glasses. I’m pretty sure I heard him say once that Instagram was an ‘insult to modern photography’.”

“Okay, but have you seen him? He’s perfect.”

“Oh, I know. But I don’t think I would want to be seen with the guy who looks like the physical manifestation of a liberal arts college degree. Hard pass.”

You’re about to voice your disappointment when a loud burst of laughter from the other side of the room piques your interest. You find yourself staring at a small crowd of people clustered around the couch in the living room— wait— around the guy sitting on the couch in the living room. The people surrounding him are incredibly intrigued by him, judging by how close they lean in to hear him and how hard they laugh at all his jokes, and you wonder if it’s because of his wide smile or his kind eyes or his very presence or all of the above.

You deduce that it must be the last option because you’re intrigued, too.

“Who is that?” you ask, dumbfounded, wondering how the hell you’ve never seen him around the university before.

Seokjin echoes your confusion. “Jung Hoseok? He’s the nicest guy on campus! His frat calls him ‘The Sun of Omega Psi’, which is such a cute nickname. A little cheesy, but cute, nonetheless.” He shifts his attention towards said ray of light. “You can’t deny it, though, the nickname. It fits him perfectly.”

He’s right; you can’t. If Chode Jungcock is the life of the party, then Jung Hoseok is the light. Hoseok seems to radiate positivity and his effect can be seen on the smiles on people’s faces that inexplicably appear whenever he passes by. People like Hoseok aren’t supposed to exist, yet here he is: charming, friendly, witty, and to top it all off, painfully handsome.

You frown, however, and voice your thoughts aloud. “I can’t use Hoseok, though. He’s too pure for this world, and especially too pure for revenge.” You turn to Seokjin. “It’s back to the drawing board, I guess.”

Seokjin is in the midst of forming another sentence before something by the staircase makes his head cock to the side and his eyes squint. “Huh. I never thought I’d see the day when he’d be outside his dorm.”

It’s your turn to squint your eyes towards the something— someone— that has caught Seokjin’s attention. What you find is a man bundled in a black hoodie and huddled at the bottom of the staircase, idly petting Holly, the small brown poodle that Pi Rho Omega adopted as their live-in pet. Though his head is turned downwards, you can see the curve of an upturned nose and the soft pout of his lips through his bangs and you conclude that there is a handsome face hiding underneath that hood. “And he is…?”

“Min Yoongi. I think he’s a music production major, and I think he’s in Zeta Theta Psi, but I don’t know for sure. I’ve only ever heard bits and pieces of information about him because he interacts with people once a year, he’s that introverted. I honestly don’t even know why he’s at this party, let alone why he joined a fraternity in the first place.”

That explains why you didn’t recognize him, because you have truly never seen him on campus before. “So, what do you know about him?”

“I know that he’s the host of the university’s radio station and that he’s normally holed up in his dorm producing songs with lyrics pulled straight from aesthetic text posts on Tumblr.”

“I take that as a no.”

“Mhm. I definitely peg him as someone who sends passive-aggressive mixtapes to all the boys he’s ever touched before. Hell, he’d probably write a song about you and blast it to the whole school. It’s too risky.”

You can’t help but nod in agreement because he does seem like that type of guy. But you choke on the chuckle that’s about to leave your throat, however, when your eyes catch sight of a man standing in a nearby hallway. The pounding music drowns out the conversation he’s having with the two other people standing by, but from the way his eyebrows furrow over his glasses, you can tell that his focus lies on the conversation and nothing else. Everything about him— how he leans into others as he talks, how his attentive gaze never falters, how his lips curl up into a warm smile— screams the definition of intelligence, or, maybe, the definition of perfection.

Seokjin catches himself staring before you do. “That’s Kim Namjoon,” he sputters, pulling himself out of his own reverie. “President of Lambda Kappa Pi, computer science major, future valedictorian of our class. I had statistics with him freshman year and whenever I talked to him, I felt like my IQ went up by ten points.”

“So, from an IQ of 20 to 30?”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you, too.”

Seokjin closes his eyes and releases a sigh, needing a moment of inner peace before continuing. “I would tell you to go for it, but Namjoon’s been so focused on his studies that he thinks that getting involved with anyone would ruin his 4.5 GPA. Also, that being said, my ass will have his name written all over it by the end of the semester and I am not letting you ruin my chances of that happening.”

Well, this is just great.

“This isn’t going to work, Seokjin! I’m never going to find anyone,” you suddenly exclaim, feeling defeated as you plop down onto the nearest chair. You’re beginning to accept that this plan for revenge is only going to backfire on you, that Jungkook is finally and definitely going to win.

And then your eyes find their way back to Hoseok— not to look at him, but rather, at the man standing beside him. He’s currently laughing at one of Hoseok’s many jokes— it’s such a bright, beautiful laugh— and his endearing smile makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. Seokjin opens his mouth, about to say the stranger’s name, but he stops, because the look in your eyes tells him that you already know it.

Park Jimin— the vice president of Pi Rho Omega and Jeon Jungkook’s best friend. He’s the most sought-after guy on campus— that is, next to Jungkook, of course— because he is, quite literally, the perfect guy. Jimin is ambitious, intelligent, caring, and, though you never brought yourself to admit it, everything that your boyfriend isn’t.

Being Jungkook’s girlfriend brought about a mutual friendship with Jimin, but you would be lying to yourself if you said that you had never looked at him as anything more than a friend. You had noticed Jimin’s sidelong glances and stares that always lasted a few seconds too long and, sometimes, when Jungkook was distracted and Jimin shifted his attention elsewhere, you returned them. But you were a loyal girlfriend and you never acted upon your fleeting feelings even though you knew that Jimin was so much better than Jungkook because— because…

Because Jimin wasn’t Jungkook.

What you were about to do to Jimin was wrong and you knew it, but even as the logical part of your brain screamed at you to stop whatever you’re doing this is so wrong, the irrational part of your brain blinded you from any good sense of moral judgement, so hell-bent on getting back at Jungkook that nothing and no one else mattered. Your anger clouded your vision until all you could see was your feet and how they were getting closer and closer to Jimin as he walked towards the kitchen, until all you could think was how you were getting closer and closer to fulfilling your desire for revenge.

Your footsteps stopped right in front of Jimin, who was just about to get another beer from the cooler sitting on the kitchen floor. You were painfully aware of your surroundings and everything occurring within them: how your heartbeat was thundering in your ears, how Jimin was so wide-eyed and so blissfully unaware of the situation at hand, and, out of the corner of your eye, how Jungkook was staring at you and all that was about to happen.

You’d been planning for this moment all night, but now that it was here, you weren’t sure if you could follow through. You gulped, hesitated, felt something in your stomach lurch and oh God I’m going to be sick if I don’t grow a pair of balls right now.

In one moment, Jimin was saying, “Hey, Y/N— are you okay?”

In the next moment, you were kissing Jimin in front of your boyfriend.

Eight seconds— the kiss lasted only eight seconds and every second felt wrong wrong this is so wrong but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this is so, so right. You liked the way his lips felt on yours. You liked the way his fingers weaved their way into your hair, gently cupping the back of your head. You liked the way he sighed onto your lips, a small sigh that silently whispered how he had waited a year for this moment, how he had waited a year for you.

Eight seconds— it took you eight seconds to decide that you wanted to spend much more time with Jimin. The rest of your life, maybe.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t hear the music over the crowd’s whispers, it didn’t matter that Seokjin’s jaw was hitting the floor from across the room, and it definitely didn’t matter that Jungkook was angrily storming out of the frat house, shrugging off the girl he was kissing moments ago. All that mattered was you and Jimin and how you now felt breathless in his presence and how his eyes now lit up when he looked at you and were his eyes always this brilliant?

Jimin pulled away from the kiss all too soon. He was silent for a moment. You braced yourself for rejection, for the inevitable and irrevocable feeling of despair that would hit you when he walked away.

But all he said was, “Kiss me again.”

So you did, and sparks flew.

Park Jimin— he wasn’t Jeon Jungkook, no, but if every moment with him felt like this, then that was a very, very good thing.

[kae-karo]

knlalla’s fics of 2018

hello dears! now that the year’s coming to a close, i wanted to round up a quick post of all my fics from this year, please enjoy! i’ve highlighted my personal faves/the ones i’m most proud of :’) it’s been a wild year, so thanks so much to everyone for all your kind support!

one-shots

<2k

Phancakes (x) 1k (g) - the bois being domestic on pancake day (look okay we don’t have pancake day in america i have to live vicariously through dnp), insp by this tweet and the iconic vid no tw! just domestic fluff

did you make me a video for valentine’s day? (x) 1k (g) - Dan has a tradition, every year on Valentine's day he asks Phil the same question... no tw, minor angst

my talents include... (x) 1k (g) - Dan's whiny because Phil won't pay him any attention, so he sends out a passive-aggressive tweet. shoutout to @daliensgrandads​ on tumblr for bugging me to write this (instead of my current wip whoops) no tw, unless whiny!dan counts

Days like this (Security) (x) 800 (g) - Some days just aren’t good ones. tw depression

Balance (x) 1k (t) - Phil wants to post the bunk bed insta story, but Dan just wants to sleep. no tw

i missed you (x) 1k (g) - basically their history as told by dan no tw

the way you look tonight (x) 1k (g) - dan has a vid to edit. phil has other ideas. you have to listen to the way you look tonight by frank sinatra (youtube, spotify) whilst listening to this okay no tw

Chan (x) 1k (g) - insp by the anon that sent "demon hc: phil just chuckling fondly at dan thirsting over chan, while chan searches the bus and they’re both stood outside in pyjamas on the canadian border. idk, it’s just the kinda fond, secure bde that phil exudes these days" no tw

morning coffee (x) 1k (t) - inspired by the lovely anon who sent me "I dreamed Dan posted an insta story of Phil drinking coffee in bed and he was laying on his shoulder and I kept trying to show people how cute it was but no one cared, and when I woke up I remembered that you would care, and I realized it was a dream and now I’m a tad disappointed in my subconscious for trolling me." no tw

doing nothing often leads to the very best of something (x) 2k (g) - based on this (x) and a lil imagine i wrote (x) and expanded on so thanks to the lovely anon who originally sent "that pic phil posted of dan for his bday i think where dan is making a funny face and theres a nearly empty wine bottle in the background hhhhh that makes my demon heart drop" and to the lovely anon who asked for more! no tw

The House at Pooh Corner (x) 1k (g) - insp by the anon that sent "Full demon mode: Im just finishing up the Undertale series for the first time and all I can think about as Dan and Phil talk back in forth in their different character voices is how #blessed any future child of theirs is. Just imagine them snuggled up with a kid on each of their laps, reading Winnie the Pooh and doing voices for all the characters. RIP my heart." and the anon that sent "I've been having a really bad day. And something that I find really cute is imagining what Dan and Phil would be like as parents. (noting that you don't have to have kids ever to be a fulfilled human, just that people being good parents warms my heart). Hypothetically, what do you think it'd be like? I bet Dan would surprise himself by being a good dad. b/c he'd want his kid to feel free to be themselves and we all know he can be very protective when he needs to be." no tw, parent!phan

waffles (x) 2k (g) - phil goes to the 24hr diner with the hopes of seeing his favorite waiter (insp by me seeing a cute waitress at a diner. unfortunately none of the rest actually happened to me lmao) no tw, meet cute

it’s not living if it’s not with you (x) 800 (g) - dan and phil in bed at phil's parents' home, briefly reminiscing no tw

>2k

if we stopped shipping phan (x) 8k (g) - what would happen if the entire phandom just...stopped shipping phan? insp by this post about not shipping phan for a month cause they'd freak out. Happy Valentine's day, @phantasizeit​! no tw, friends to lovers

sleepover in the moon room (x) 6k (g) - It's a tradition they've had for years (Note: this was written with the intent that it can be read completely platonically or non-platonically, whichever you prefer. It's not written to imply one way or another.) a platonic fic sorta lmao

printer error (x) 16k (m) - Dan's a fanfic writer who's desperate to meet the AmazingPhil, but one printing mishap could bring him closer to his idol than he ever anticipated. no tw, strangers to lovers with a bit of fic commentary

everyone knows that (x) 5.5k (g) - They fight more often than they don’t, but that’s just how relationships are. Everyone knows that. Phil bakes when he’s worried, especially when he's worried about Dan. And Phil bakes quite a lot. Dan hates that he's the cause of Phil's nervous baking, that Phil's always so stressed because of him, but Dan has a hard time feeling too bad when the outcome is a plate of warm cookies. no tw just some angst

The Seven Deadly Insta Stories (x) 7k (e) - A collection of seven short fics based on the seven deadly sins, as told in the form of insta stories dnp didn’t post. as a prompt from @phanfichallenge to post a fic every day this week, have my tour fic twist on the seven deadly sins!! no tw, tour fic(s)

i’d do anything to not be alone (x) 16k (t) - I don’t know why I bother waking up. It’s one of those nonessential activities, like eating or drinking or breathing. But I do it, because if I don’t, then nobody would water the plants. Phil left and Dan doesn't know why. But he has to take care of the plants, because Phil would be so disappointed if he came back and his plants had died. no tw, just lots of sadness n a bit of angst but it does, as always, end happily i promise

dark purple sky (darkness comes out to play) (x) 4k (e) - It’s not that he hates parties, it’s just that- well, no, he hates parties. And costumes. And showing up to parties in costumes, and showing up to parties decidedly not wearing costumes, and all the mumbled judgements that come along with doing so. And he hates sweets - really, the only things he does like about Halloween are the autumnal vibes and the cool weather, and experiencing those certainly did not require his friends dragging him out to some abandoned castle grounds for a half-assed late-night party. Or the one where Dan gets a blowjob from a complete stranger in the middle of the forest on Halloween. no tw really, strangers to lovers?, mostly just pwp

Properly (x) 10k (e) - Dan's been trying to take advantage of the all-hours pool for a late night swim, but some guy always shows up before him. no tw just pwp and some strangers to lovers

chaptered

Demons and Diners (x) 65k (m) - A broke Dan, on the run from his previous life, finds temporary shelter in an abandoned diner...for the night? tw depression, some blood mentions, but happy ending as always!

What day is it? (x) 32k (t) - It's the first day of the semester, and it's already gone to shit: Dan's late to his first class, finds out his mortal enemy, Phil Lester, is the TA, and gets rejected by the girl of his dreams, but at least tomorrow's a new day...right? Aka the one where Dan and Phil are stuck reliving the same day over and over and can't figure out why. no tw except some major angst, uni au, enemies to lovers

Axiom (x) 31k (t) - Axiom: a proposition that is not actually proved or demonstrated, but is considered to be self-evident and universally accepted. Dan's out for the umpteenth time at the bar for its weekly speed-dating night (not that they'd actually call it that). tw depression and a really cliche plot twist whoops but a happy ending, always

one second (x) 41k (e) - When you spend your life getting glimpses of a myriad of possible futures every time you get a little emotional, you tend to lose sight of reality, of the present; a bad day turns into a bad week because all you see are the worst-case futures. You get a little excited about something, things start to go your way, but then all you can see are the realities where things are even better. Life tends not to measure up. Or the one where Dan meets Phil on a plane, and maybe reality starts to become better than even Dan could predict. no tw really, strangers to lovers

slow-closing doors (x) 44k (t) - SECRETS, DRAMA, BETRAYAL (okay no betrayal dw). Phil's agreed to be an RA for his floor this year at uni, and he's determined to be the best RA ever - after all, this is these students' first year, he wants them to have the best year ever. Loosely inspired by Freeze Tag by Caroline B Cooney. tw minor violence nothing graphic just a lil scary, uni au strangers to lovers

Peter Phan (x) 37k (m) - Phil's woken in the middle of the night by a mysterious guy at his window who's intent on dragging him off on an adventure, and for some inexplicable reason, he agrees. Dan's stuck - quite literally - in his own head, and he's desperate for anyone to help him escape. Maybe, if he's lucky, that person could be Phil. He hopes it is. tw depression and suicide attempt, implied/referenced non-con, lots of angst, but definitely a happy ending, strangers to lovers

angel boy (x) 22k+ (e) - for the anon that sent "Oh fuck, now I need a smutty fanfic with twink!Dan taking it from behind with his angel wing tattoo (or real ones for that matter... actually, yes please, real ones. And Phil has a kink for being a bit rough with them... maybe Phil's a demon... fuuuck, someone write this for me?)" Aka the one where angel!Dan goes into a demon club looking for a bit of entertainment. no tw, my attempt at pwp turned into porn with a plot lmao

Sea Glass (x) 58k (t) - Phil arrives on the Isle of Man to house-sit at his family's cabin while it's repaired and sold. Except the cabin's in far worse shape than expected, and Phil's got to find somewhere else to stay no tw really but like i updated this a few times this year so i’m counting it

Exile (x) 172k (e) - Exile's a fucking bitch. Dan finds himself kicked out of town and searching for literally anywhere out of the rain - somehow, he must have just enough luck, as he stumbles upon a seemingly abandoned house in the middle of the forest. Except it isn't abandoned, and the resident isn't exactly...normal...

[lozenger8]

Loz’s 2018 Fic Round-Up

(re)united - Life on Mars - Sam/Gene, G, 1748 words. In which Sam is frustrated because he hasn’t spoken with Gene for several weeks, but Gene honestly deserved his cold passive-aggressive silence. Cue me singing the Dolly Parton version of “I Will Always Love You” for my forever-pairing of Sam/Gene. I just love writing them, you guys. The problem is? I can’t usually be bothered with writing the everything else.

Life on Mars Tumblr Ficlets - Life on Mars - Sam/Gene, Multiple Ratings, 2620 words. All written for ask prompts and all wonderful to write. 

Skittles Tumblr Ficlets - Teen Wolf - Scott/Stiles, Multiple Ratings. This was, once again, a year of extra short ‘read it on the back of a cereal box’ fics and not!fic writing. To be truthful, even when I had some solid story ideas in 2018, I had neither the will nor the time to execute them. But ‘snowglobe’/’cereal box’ fic? Oh yes, there is always time for that. 

First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - Teen Wolf - Scott/Stiles, E, 4743 words. You remember how I’m a no-middle sliders writer, right? You either get the fluffiest G-rated fluff or PWP (fluff). This is the latter.  Scott goes to Stiles wearing only a tank top and shorts, seeking his help. The problem is that he tried to use magic to help the pack bond, and it didn't go according to plan.

Hope That I Make it Home By Wednesday - Teen Wolf - Scott/Stiles, G, 2466 words. This was written for an ask prompt but it went a bit longer so I posted it as its own fic with a title from Gorillaz. I definitely feel like this needed a good 5 or so more scenes. Scott's in witness protection. Stiles is the FBI agent assigned as his bodyguard.

an empty space you left behind - Teen Wolf - Scott/Stiles, G,  1609 words.  Scott watches Stiles learn how to play guitar from thousands of miles away. Stiles is very deliberate in the songs he plays. You can’t convince me that Scott and Stiles don’t realise they love each other when they have to be long-distance, sorry. Unless they already knew, they definitely work it out when they have to be apart.

Self-Care - Teen Wolf - Scott/Scott, E, 1358 words.  This new Scott is from a parallel dimension. When someone asks you whether you know of any selfcest fics in the fandom, and you have no clue because they’re not generally the circles you roam in, you have to pull on your fic-writing gloves and make it a reality. ALSO, Scott loving and caring for himself 2kforever, please.

5 Bottles of Wine and 1 Bottled Courage - The Brokenwood Mysteries - Mike/Jared, G, 8470 words.  In which there is a crime to be solved, alcohol to be drunk, and a shift in friendship between two unlikely pals. Sometimes you just need to write a very niche fic which only a few - literally a few - people will bother to read, because you watch a lighthearted and darling Kiwi murder mystery series and two characters in it are clearly in love. I have received precisely two comments on this fic - 1 from the person I wrote it for and 1 from a stranger who said they found it delightful. (Which is what I was going for, thank you kind stranger!)

Favourite fic of the year?: 5 Bottles of Wine and 1 Bottled Courage, because it’s hands-down one of the sweestest things I’ve ever written, ever, plus I got to play with new voices. 

I had never written a Kiwi character before and I learned so much doing so. For instance, Kiwi vernacular and Aussie vernacular are so gosh darn similar, it was legitimately doing my head in trying to make sure I stayed Kiwi rather than Aussie. The thing is? I have never written Australian characters either, and apart from the occasional ‘no worries’ or ‘heaps’ or ‘keen’, I usually don’t sound very Aussie. I mean, accent-wise I do these days, but not colloquialism-wise. My slang usage is normally a weird mixture of English/American. So reading through Kiwi slang/rewatching the show, and hearing phrases like ‘yeah, nah’ was a reminder that in many ways we are more alike than we are different. 

Fic I would rewrite?: I feel like this Lovemark not!fic deserves to be written with actual prose, because I’ve never written an entire story around the ‘practice kissing’ genre, even though I have not!ficced it A BUNCH of times. 

Fic I want to write in 2019: Literally anything, at this point. Writing 5 Bottles of Wine and 1 Bottled Courage reminded me how much I love writing, but gosh darn it’s hard. I still have the Scott/Stiles magical realism/mythology crossed with High School AU fic to be going on with. 

[eorzean-capitalist]

The more flowery a person’s speech … the more suspect the feelings, or lack of feelings, it concealed. --  Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

There’s a lot to unpack from the fauxpology that appeared recently on a new blog from Oz.  I’ve seen this before... from multiple abusive people.  

So let’s dive in, shall we?

There are some things I need to address, some of which I need to apologise for. I want to be clear this is not me entering into a debate, this is not my version of events, this is an apology for where I have made mistakes and where I have at times hurt many people who ultimately did not deserve it, many of whom are my friends and loved ones. 

Some of which you need to apologize for? Some?

I have no intention of any kind to publicly address this any further. I do not think it would be of any benefit to anyone, particularly the people I have hurt, to escalate this more than it already has by arguing about any specific claim’s full context. If you wish to speak with me privately, I encourage you to reach out to me personally

Private, where you can continue to try to control the narrative.  Private, where you can attempt to keep gaslighting your victims.  Private, where no one else can see what you’re saying and go ‘Um, no, that’s not correct’.  

And whose benefit here are you really concerned about?  Because I can tell you right now, your victims would /love/ for you to publicly acknowledge the hurt you caused them.  It just wouldn’t be very fun for you to be open to the kind of scrutiny you’ve called to attention on other people for daring to go against your dictates and mandates.

Unfortunately, I have to be clear about what, exactly, I’m apologising for. In the noise and fury surrounding the last week or so, accusations have been made that are not simply bad interactions taken out of context or even objectionable but otherwise fairly mundane failures of decency, but utterly detestable and even illegal.

Jesus christ, put down the fucking thesaurus.  We get it.  You know big words.  Would you stop tap dancing around the point and actually get to it?  

Actually, I’ve read this run-on sentence several times and I really can’t make heads or tails of it.  What are you trying to say here, Oz?  Are you accusing your victims of making shit up?  Despite all the evidence that’s been posted?  Are you suggesting that somehow talking about the shit you’ve done is illegal?  Like really?

I do not say this to excuse anything I have actually done or anywhere I have actually been wrong, but so that I can apologise for where I have indeed done wrong without admitting to baseless claims of acts that are not just morally reprehensible but in some cases illegal.

“So I want to cherry pick what to apologize for.  The stuff that’s just kinda assholish I’ll admit to but everything else is illegal because I say so.”

I have never doxxed, stalked, sexually harassed, or threatened the the life of anyone

Um.  Sure, Jan.

Additionally, I have never sent anonymous hate messages through Tumblr or any other medium. I have never condoned any of those behaviours, encouraged them in others, nor have I ever made false claims of any of the prior acts.

Uh huh.  Have you forgotten we’ve all SEEN you do this shit?  You may not do anon tumblr hatred, but you do threaten people.  I’ve seen you go on complete tirades over and over again.  People have actually posted testimonials and screenshots of logs where you are threatening them.  Seriously, stop denying you do this shit. 

I have made many mistakes and, yes, I have made some very bad choices. While I am absolutely guilty of being unnecessarily aggressive, disdainful, and combative, I have not done any of those things. I am not going to speculate about the motivations of the people making these claims, but suffice it to say they are entirely false and the people making them have no reason to believe otherwise. There are things I have to own and apologise for, but these are not among them.

They just made some very bad choices, folks.  We should totes give them a break. 

I regret I must start an apology with a qualification like that, but given the nature of the more extreme and spurious claims some have made, I have no choice. It would be disingenuine and even irresponsible of me to extend a blanket apology and include deeply reprehensible acts I have never committed nor would I ever commit.

I think what they’re trying to say here is ‘I would do anything for love... but I won’t do that.’

Also, if you need four flowery paragraphs of highfalutin language to start off your ‘apology’, you’re doing it wrong.

What I will apologise for are the places where I have failed and while they are not as many as claimed, they are dire

Now we begin the minimizing stage.  They admit to doing some things, but not everything, and even those some things are very small really.  Just a few things.  Yes, dire things but JUST A FEW THINGS.

I allowed myself to listen to voices that lauded me for drawing hard and sometimes arbitrary lines with people, showing swift cruelty, and forgetting there is a very real difference between flawed people who have made mistakes or even just poor choices and people who set out to knowingly do harm for its own sake

“Guys, I made some bad choices.  I was lead astray by other nebulous people.  Clearly they were the ones to guide me into these dire, terrible actions.  I apologize for them dragging me kicking and screaming down this awful path.”

What’s worse is that these are lessons I learned long ago, but I allowed myself to be comfortable and even lazy. I did not hold myself to my own standards and through my unwillingness to examine my own behaviours, I hurt others.

I hope you pause to meditate on the fact that this is why people say your behavior has never changed.  

There are times I have shown anger or drawn a line around spaces under my control and done so justly There is a time and place for anger. Like any emotion in a healthy volume and the right context, it has a role to serve.

The problem is, you are addicted to your righteous anger.  You go from 0 to 60 in 0.005 seconds, and when you blast people, you refuse to listen to them when they try to reason with you.  I’ve read the logs.  I’ve seen you run in, scream at people and when they try to placate you, continue to berate them.  

Your first reaction to anyone challenging you or ‘threatening your territory’ is to go nuclear.  Full blast nuclear.  And you do. not. stop.  You will continue to post about them for months.  Vagueposts sniping at them.  And you don’t just do it yourself, you command  your people like they’re your little army to avoid the people you’ve decided are on your Naughty List on pain of becoming your next victim.

That’s on you.  It is all on you.  No one else is to blame for this, no matter how you may try to blame your ‘choices’ on mysterious others in your life.

In many cases, what I did was apply that anger too broadly and too eagerly. I was too willing to see the hurt in response to my actions as a proof of guilt from the people I refused to see the simple human dignity of. I allowed people who I felt wronged me or people dear to me to become less than people in my eyes, something reserved only for the most awful of people, not individuals who simply commit some passing faux pas in a bad circumstance or, indeed, do nothing beyond some relatively minor violation of the social contract.

On this, we can agree.  Would that you had said this rather than all the shit above.

After a period of suffering genuine manipulation, abuse, and gaslighting by a truly vile person, I allowed my feelings of abandonment and outrage at an injustice to stew and mutate into a broad and directionless anger. No matter what happened, my failure to properly gauge my emotions and find healthy, positive outlets for those feelings was not just unacceptable, but my fault. What’s worse is that I sought and found help. I knew what I had to do, and it took me too long to begin the process of healing, a process entirely within my control. While I refused to heal, I indulged in pain and the social rewards that come from it. Not just my own pain but the pain of others.

More blame shifting.  Remember, folks, while they did hurt people, they were the REAL victim here.  

The worst part of all of this is that among the choices I made, they were not choices I made out some misguided belief or, in most cases, not even out of misinformation. They are things I did in spite of my own beliefs. If you asked me on a good day, I would tell you I believe it is absolutely critical to reach out to people you feel have wronged you and while it’s important to protect the things and people vital to you, you should never allow yourself to succumb to a hateful, tribalistic, ingroup/outgroup attitude without fully appreciating the harm that does not just to other people, but to yourself.

On a good day, if you asked me, I would tell it is absolutely crucial to be no one’s attack dog and to avoid people who celebrate the harm you do to others. I would tell you it is easy to build the support of people who see you as a vector for the harm they want to see done to others. I would tell you it is not just easy, but a passive process to become a threat to other people and that is the very last thing you should want to be. When I say I was overly comfortable and lazy, that is exactly what I mean. 

You know what they’re doing here?  Trying to be subtle about it, but definite blame shifting going on here.  They are blaming other people for jumping on the bandwagon THEY created.  They got off on manipulating public opinion about people, and are now blaming the very people they manipulated into feeling that way.  

Nice try, but i c wat u did thar.

I failed to be the better version of myself I have been. I can say I never set out to harm people specifically because I wanted to or I because I enjoyed the idea of punishing others, which I didn’t, but the effects of my actions are the same as if I had. I invited and engaged in unnecessary conflict to no gain, I meted out judgement where harmful, and I did all of this with the reassurance I would be rewarded in ways I never should have sought.

“See, folks, I just wanted the approval of other people.  So I hurt you because I sought out that kind of approval and it’s their fault for making me want their approval.”

In every instance of wrongdoing, I was a hypocrite. In allowing myself to see people as their failings, something I absolutely know is wrong, I justified a level of hostility that is not just inappropriate, but destructive to myself, to those around me, and of course to those on the bad end of that hostility. For that, I apologise from the bottom of my heart.

Furthermore, I need to apologise for the influence I’ve had. Beyond my actions themselves, I have helped create a culture of cyclical anger, division, and anguish that has done real harm to our community. Not only have my actions reflected poorly on my friends, who I can assure you are not supporters of those actions, they have fed into a subculture on Balmung of a deeply hostile and hateful moral rectitude. I contributed to an environment where people looking to do harm can and can do so largely without consequence.

You know, if you had just said this, I might actually believe you were sorry.  Unfortunately, this is buried in so much bullshit it’s hard to take seriously.

I can complain about there being absolutely false and completely groundless claims made about me, but it is my fault there is an environment for those claims to come from. Obviously, there are other bad actors in our community, but I am the only person I have control over and I have to accept my share of the blame for the culture I helped create and I am sorry. In different moments, I have tried to contribute constructively to the space we share and in others I have actively torn it down.

Like other things, it’s something I know better than to do. As has been said both to criticise me and to defend me, I have an old and long-buried history of being a malignant presence in another community. I am proof that people can grow beyond their immaturity, but that one still has to be vigilant about not falling into their old habits. It is a lesson I know and chose to ignore for temporary comforts.

I am sorry for allowing a kind of zeal to take hold in me that let me ignore the difference between a sexual predator or their defenders and people who simply briefly upset someone in some minor way. At my best, I hold myself to a high standard of proof and responsibility, aware that taking action against someone is harming them. It’s doing something they may have to carry with them for a long time and if we take that action wrongly, then we’re hurting someone without reason. At my worst, something I have shown far too much of, I allowed myself to stoop to the lowest standard of a bully, the exact kind of person I so comfortably and openly resent.

The problem with this line of thinking is... you’ve only managed to do it AGAIN. How is that proof of growing or changing?  You can’t even bring yourself to apologize properly, how is anyone to believe that you’ve changed at all?

I am also deeply and truly sorry to the people around me. My friends, both in my free company and not, have shown me a patience and grace that I certainly failed to show others. I am not just glad but lucky to have people around me willing to tell me when I have done wrong and all I can ask is that you not judge them by my worst actions. They and the community we have built together are surely better than I am and I can think of no better testament to that fact than the guidance and tolerance they have shown me.

I can agree with this up to a point.  Obviously most people in your FC are not to blame for your actions.  Though you should probably consider the kind of atmosphere you’ve fostered in your own FC.  Considering the testimony of many ex-,members, you made it pretty awful for them while they were in there.  Be better.  

There’s not a deep, meaningful takeaway I have to offer from any of this. I’m not saying any of this from some place of wisdom other than that of someone recently reminded I am not beyond succumbing to the worst inclinations common to all people, inclinations many people manage to avoid succumbing to themselves.

All I have left to say is that I am sorry. I have before, can now, and will later do better. In turn, all I can ask is that you give me the grace do so.

“I’m only human, folks.  Please leave me alone so I don’t have to really, truly, face up to my actions.” 

[stopforamoment]

“Hang with Me” (9 of 10)

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks Word Count: 1,664 Rating: M for Language Author’s Note: Thank you to all the amazing artists whose work got me through a *really* long semester and TRR break. Chapters are named after songs I was listening to at the time because I’m real original like that. This one is “Hang with Me” by Robyn. *Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. Summary: Bastien learns more about the Kakos dysfunction and the school’s secret passageways from Rinda and they begin to form their working relationship. Oh, and NOW the slow burn is finally getting started! *The “Keep Reading” link should be here!

It was Thursday afternoon and Bastien was in Kakos’ old office, trying to sort through the mess he left behind. There was a knock on the door. It was Rinda. “Mr. Lykel, do you have a few minutes?” Bastien smiled. “Yes, please come in. Sit down.”

Rinda gave a grateful smile. “Thank you. I wanted to touch base with you about coordinating things with the security program. I didn’t know if you wanted the two of us to work together, or if I should just wait for the permanent replacement.” Bastien nodded. “I’m putting together a short list, but I would like your input when I get that far.” “Thank you, I appreciate that. Please let me know when you’d like to meet. Oh, and before I forget . . .” Bastien looked up as she handed him a piece of paper. “If you have Kakos’ laptop, these might be the usernames and passwords to access the laptop and his email.” Bastien looked at her in shock. “He gave this to you?” Rinda gave him an even stare. “No. He left his laptop lying around with the internet tab minimized. He wasn’t logged out of his work email, so I went in and updated his password and added a protection lock on the laptop. He would have gotten an email notification that his password was changed, and it was my hope that he would make note of the security breach and make the necessary changes. As for getting locked out of his laptop, well, I hadn’t figured that part out yet.” Bastien continued to stare at her in disbelief, and she misread his reaction. “Please understand. I had to do a lot of passive aggressive things just to ensure a basic level of security and there was no one I could speak to about this. I promise I won’t do that to you or the new security officer because first, I know I won’t have to. And second, because I know there’s no way I would get away with it.” Rinda chuckled. “Trust me, I’m too terrified to even think of what you’d do to me if I was stupid enough to try something. There were a lot of things I kept from you because I thought you were only here for a few days and it wasn’t your problem to deal with. Now that it’s more permanent, well, there’s some other things I need to fill you in on when you have time.” Bastien leaned back in his chair, silently staring at her. “I know you’re busy so I’ll let myself out. I’ll be in room 137, Laura’s room, if you need me for anything during the day.”

. . . . .

Bastien and Rinda met the next morning to start going through things.

“Rinda, those passageways you used during training. Does everyone know about them?” Rinda shook her head. “I don’t think so. They’re pretty musty, and some didn’t seem safe to use, even in an emergency. But there should also be some outside tunnels in the area that I haven’t looked for yet. I’m sure all the local kids know and have been using them for years. I was planning on asking them when the school year started once they got to know me better.” Bastien nodded. “How did you know about the passageways, then?” “Oh, I asked for a building plan to be sent over before I came here. Plus I did research on the area, and there was some cool historical information about escape routes for royalty during times of war and tunnels created by the locals who smuggled goods into Cordonia back in the day. Well, I’m kind of a history geek, and who wouldn’t be excited about secret tunnels and escape routes, right? So when I got here I went to the Valtoria Library to get more information, and then I was told the Cordonian Royal Library Collection also had information. I have carte blanche to library stuff because of the exchange program and I’ve had archival training . . . sorry, rambling. Long story short, I found enough info that I was able to piece together a basic map of passageways in the building and possible tunnel entrances nearby. I started exploring the passageways when I got here, trying to get a better idea of everything. I highlighted the stuff I was able to explore within the school building this past week—it wasn’t much—and I gave it to Kakos so we could consider them as escape routes. I assume he gave you the copy to help with your security preparations?” Bastien didn’t respond. Shit. I should have listened to my gut and given the copy directly to Bastien. “Bastien, I’m sorry. Kakos has the only hardcopy and I didn’t make an electronic version. I wasn’t sure about security protocol. But I’d be happy to make a new one for you.” Bastien shook his head. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary. I’ll talk to Kakos tonight and ensure that he hands over the copy. So, how long did it take you to do this?” Rinda shrugged. “I did a little here and there, and I knew the bulk of it I’d work on when I could actually get into the passageways and tunnels to map it out. Really, it was fun. Like solving a mystery.” Bastien nodded. He was used to doing research for his job, but not this. The type of research Rinda completed in such a short amount of time? He was impressed.

“You know Bastien, this room is one of the main access points to the passageway. I’m assuming the entryway is behind the bookshelf. It didn’t seem like Kakos tried getting into the passageways from here, but that was something that terrified me. That he would have so much access from his office. It makes sense from a security perspective, but only when we can trust the person in charge.” Rinda trailed off. “Mr. Lykel? Bastien? I don’t know what happened yesterday, but I’m so glad that you’re going to be a part of this transition.” Bastien nodded in agreement. Now that he was learning the full extend of the dysfunction, he was relieved Kakos was let go. With the King and Queen coming in October . . . Rinda already did more than she knew to make his job easier. Rinda suddenly looked up at Bastien, a hopeful gleam in her eye, but then suddenly looked down and bit her bottom lip uncertainly. “You would need to keep exploring those school passageways and area tunnels as part of your security preparation, right? I understand if you don’t want me poking around in them anymore, but if I can tag along I’d really appreciate it.” He glanced at Rinda. Her normally hazel eyes were turning green, her obvious tell when she was excited about something. He gave her a mischievous grin, thinking about the work she put into the map, her excitement about Jules Verne novels, and how she instinctively knew the local children would know about the tunnels and play in them. She was loving this. “Yes,” Bastien began slowly, “but without that map I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Hmm.” It sounded more like a seductive purr as Bastien continued, teasing out his next sentences, not breaking eye contact with Rinda.  “It would help if I had someone with me who was already familiar with the area. Someone who could take charge . . .” Rinda’s pursed her lips, trying to give Bastien a disapproving glare, but she couldn’t pull it off. Instead, she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I did already start exploring the school passageways, and I have to admit I was planning on exploring the tunnels on my own if Kakos didn’t join me. I guess you could join me. I mean, Professor Lindenbrock really did need Hans to save him all the time. Bastien chuckled at the Jules Verne reference. She remembered . . . Rinda stood up. “Just let me grab a couple things first, okay?” She was so excited, and he couldn’t stop himself. Bastien looked up at her, feigning confusion. “Why?” “Why? So we can start exploring the school passageways. I can help you move the bookcase. Then we can figure out another time to find the entrances to the outside tunnels.” “Now? What made you think I wanted to do anything right now?” Bastien’s face was a blank slate, mustering his years of training to keep his lips from twitching. “All right. So when should we go?” “Let me check my schedule and get back to you, okay? I can’t just drop what I’m working on to go exploring.” Rinda blushed, embarrassed that she had been so presumptuous. “Of course. I’m sorry that I . . .” Bastien cut her off. “Mrs. Parks, would you prefer that I invite Kakos to go with you? I am really busy and don’t know if I’ll have time this week . . .” Rinda grinned, suddenly realizing that he was messing with her. “Well, you said you were going to see if he has the map, so then I guess you don’t need me. I hope the two of you have fun together.” Shit. He didn’t like how quickly she was gaining the upper hand. Rinda tried to appear calm as she walked out of his office, but she began laughing too hard to be convincing. “Okay, seriously. The two of us will do this, right?” “Yes, Rinda. I promise we’ll do it. You just need to be patient.”

Rinda’s eyes widened in disbelief and then she threw back her head and laughed. “Damn, Bastien. That was amazing.” She suddenly turned to him with a mock seriousness in her eyes, her voice deepening.  “I mean, it will be amazing.” Then she walked out of his office, leaving a blushing Bastien with a shocked look on his face as he realized what just happened.

[prettyboy-jimin]

Beautiful Woman

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2.1k Summary: Based on a tumblr text post that goes

“My dad always used to refer to my mum as “the most beautiful woman in the world” and I always thought it was kind of dumb, because I could look at my mum and know for sure that she was not the most beautiful woman in the world, not even by far, and I always thought that my dad was just saying that to be nice. And then one day I met the most beautiful woman in the world.”

If you find it, please link it to me, I’d appreciate it very much! Thanks! X

Note: I found a post on Instagram and read it out to my friends because I saw the OT7 for this but they saw Hobi before anyone else. I’m thinking about making a series maybe? For all of them? Idk. Yes. Hello. I am not dead.

Dad was always really sappy when it came to mom. He gave her flowers, candlelit dinners, surprised her with her favourite things and overall tried to be the husband she always dreamed of marrying. People would always look at them and wonder or wish that they could achieve something like that some day, but having to live with that every day of my life proved to be kind of uncomfortable.

Even though I was born into the world under my noona’s caring eye, she wasn’t there to share my discomfort when it came to our parents’ affections; If anything, she dreamed, just like everyone else, to have something akin to their relationship one day.

Me?

I just want to survive college. Even if my family supports my dancing through and through, I still push myself to do my best in order to make them proud. I major in dance, minor in international studies. Even though dancing is what I love to do and it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life, from where I stand right now I’m not completely sure if it can sustain me right after college is over. Dance companies get really picky with who they recruit.

I’ve just gotten off the phone with mom, she’s called to reconfirm if I was coming over this weekend for dad’s birthday to which I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I’d try. By the time I say goodbye, my eyes hazily drift towards the wall clock in the apartment I share with Joon and I see that I’m 20 minutes late for my first class.

I run to my room, matting down my bed hair as I dig for a decent pair of sweats in the closet. I slip on a black pair as I stick my toothbrush in my mouth before I realise the shirt I was wearing isn’t exactly something that should be worn beyond the walls of home. My inner cheek starts to burn from the minty concentration and I quickly shove the bristles of my toothbrush back and forth before letting it rest again on the opposite side. I’m 6 feet deep into my closet, searching for my yellow hoodie, when Joon comes in my door.

“You’re gonna clean this up right?”

I barely register that his question needs an answer and that my answer should be verbal, but before my brain can send instructions to my mouth in order for me to say yes, I catch a glimpse of mustard yellow under a pile of denim jeans and I shout in victory, little puffs of foam shooting out.

Joon shakes his head with a small smile. He’s gotten too used to this so no further conversation is needed. He walks out of my room as I make my way back into the bathroom to rinse and gargle, the effort of matting my hair down still in process. I check the clock on my bedside table and see that 20 more minutes have passed.

Shit.

I turn the tap on in haste, shoving as much water as I could in the little amount of time I allowed myself. When enough paste was out my mouth I tried to gather the water into my hair as well, maybe a little liquid could help me tame it, I didn’t stay in the bathroom long enough to see if my efforts worked.

Practically ripping my current shirt off, I realise that there’s no use in grabbing a new one since I’m going to be wearing the hoodie all day anyway. I shove it over my head, scampering towards the foot of my bed where my half empty backpack lay untouched from yesterday; with that, I’m rushing out the door.

“Joon, I’m out!”

“Have a good day!”

“Always do!”

The door shuts a little harder than I intended, but hopefully Joon understands that I’m on my way to be executed by my World Literatures professor—he hates me as is, hates people who are late even more… so you can imagine how deadly a pair we make.

The building’s main door almost hits someone as I fly past it, they curse at me, I apologise before running off. I can feel them give me the stink eye but it’s not like I’m in the proper position to care right now.

My World Literatures lecture room is right on the other side of campus—opposite of where I live (because I chose to live closer to the dance studio than all my classes) and I’m running as fast as I can to make it before he locks the door at the 30 minute mark.

I’m turning corners and whipping past people when my phone vibrates in my pocket. My pace slows slightly as I take it out to check who would text me so early in the morning.

Mom 7:24AM: Have a good day at school, sweetheart! We really hope to see you this weekend. Love you xx

I practically wasted time wondering who’d text me so early.

Dad’s told us on numerous occasions how mom’s very persuasive when she wants to be, but she’s not the all-up-in-your-face-saleswoman kind of persuasive, she’s the kind that gets under your skin, into your head and all those things. We were scared of that, but we never really noticed when she was trying to get things to go her way. Kind of like how someone’s furious but they’re passive-aggressive about it.

I’m trying to type up a response about how I love her as well when I crash right into someone. I hear a yelp before my own groan resonates in my ears, followed by the sound of books clattering on the sidewalk.

“Please watch where you’re going next time” she asks me gently, she doesn’t sound angry at all; more so as if she’s used to it by now.

I’m struggling to open my eyes and see her, the bump on my head growing with each pulse I can feel it giving out. So I give her another groan to at least tell her I’ve heard her—and that it won’t happen again.

Damn, I need to wake up earlier from now on.

As soon as the pain thrives out, I look at her to see her back to me. She’s on her knees and she’s desperately gathering the papers on the floor, some books lay open to the side as well but they seem disregarded compared to how much she looks like she needs the papers.

It takes me a second before I start to help her and then I’m scrambling around myself to catch papers before they fly off with the morning breeze. My World Literatures class forgotten.

“I’m really sorry about this, I’m in a hurry, my mom texted me about going to my dad’s birthday, I wasn’t watching where I was going, you have no idea how so—“ she cuts me off with a gentle laugh, her hair obscuring her face from me to see when I pause to look up at her.

She has a really pretty laugh.

“I was on my way back from class actually” she said. Her voice was o gentle I could listen to her speak for hours. I decided right then and there that it didn’t matter what it’d be about just as long as I get to keep listening to her.

“F-from class?” I asked, only then realising what she’d said.

“Yeah, I’m part of the 15% of the student body that opted for night classes” she giggles thereafter, her back now facing me as she gathers the other papers a little more to the left and decides on inserting them into the various folders that had spilled as well. She’ll probably have to rearrange them all later.

“I really am sorry” I mutter, losing my confidence as the guilt builds “for bumping into you”

We gather up the remaining items that fell out of her arms and then I think to myself—just how many things was this girl holding anyway?

I stand up, focusing a little on what papers I had gathered have written on them when I see her hold out her hand in the corner of my eye.

My phone vibrates again, so I absent-mindedly hand her what I’m holding as I give my attention to whoever’ calling me.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sport!”

“Oh, hi dad!”

My smile widens a little, the guilt slightly forgotten.

“So I’ll bet the most beautiful woman in the world has you on your knees for coming home this weekend?”

I laugh, “Yeah, she called like 30 minutes ago” I can see her shift uncomfortably, I didn’t want to ruin a good thing before it started o I rushed to add “Mom’s dead set on making me come home, she even texted.”

She relaxes, as do I.

“Don’t pressure yourself, alright sport? Your noona will be here so your mom and I have some company anyway”

“Okay, dad”

We say our goodbyes and my thoughts drift once more to how he called mom ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’, she was probably listening in and dad wanted to be nice.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he could call mom the most beautiful woman in the world.

I look to the girl, she’s been waiting for my call to end and I decide that dad was definitely wrong when he said mom was the most beautiful woman in the world.

How could she be? When the most beautiful woman in the world was standing right in front of me?

“Dad, that’s so cheesy!!” your youngest, Taeyoon, squeals. From where you’re leaning on the doorway, you can see her kicking her legs under her blanket as she giggles in front of Hoseok. Her brothers, Jaeseung and Eujin sat at the foot of her bed, to Hoseok’s right, not quite appreciating the way her frolicking messed up the sheets beneath them.

“Your mom thought otherwise when I first told her what I thought about her.” Hoseok disagreed, sticking his tongue out at her in retaliation to her own. You couldn’t help but giggle from where you stood, your twin boys groaning and laughing at their father and little sister.

The story of how you and Hoseok first met happened so long ago that it really did feel like a fairytale you’d tell your kids before bed—something that your husband’s been doing for a while now.

Your kids have heard it more times than their little hands could allow them to keep track of, the repetition never bothered them because the essence of a true story seemed to give more value to their occasional bedtime story.

“So what happened after?” Eujin asked

Hoseok looked at him with mild surprise; it wasn’t the first time he asked that so his son clearly knew the answer.

“Your father’s going to tell you that he swept me off my feet with the temptation of breakfast and coffee” you say, abandoning the doorframe and making your way to whatever available space was on Taeyoon’s bed. Jaeseung moved to your side, leaning into you as you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead with Hoseok looking over at the two of you fondly. “But the truth is, he was at a loss for words, he stuttered and couldn’t even look at me.”

You smiled widely at Hoseok’s generous laughter, throwing his head back as your children look back and forth between you with smiles that matched the one you were wearing.

The boys had just turned eight a couple of months ago; your youngest was to turn four in the coming weeks but the windows of time in between the big things, windows like this, were the ones you enjoyed most.

“But your father was suave enough to flirt as subtly as he could” you teased, facing your daughter but eyeing her father; he was chuckling to himself—holding his head down. “And I figured maybe this guy was worth giving my number to.”

He gave you the warmest, most grateful smile; the sparkle in his eyes telling you just how thankful he was that you had given him a second glance and then a third, and another, and then so many more after that.

“And then she married me” he smiled

Taeyoon squealed, shivers run through her body by how her parents loved each other so much.

You smiled at him as well, telling yourself that you could never get tired of how his face lights up when he sees you.

“And then I married him.”