#I swear to god no piece of media has made me feel this many emotions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bokutosworld · 4 years ago

Text

for the love that i’ve lost | miya atsumu

pairing: miya atsumu x f!reader wc: 1633 words, angst with happy ending (maybe? lol) summary: when the past finally catches up to him, atsumu decides to make long overdue amends.

Atsumu lives life with no regrets. In all his years, he’s been careful with his choices and decisions; no hint of hesitation in his actions as he’s never too fond of the idea of looking back and beating himself up over the chances that he didn’t take.

But with this invitation in one hand and his brother on the phone in the other, he gets an unsettling feeling. The one mistake that he has been running away from all these years has caught on to him. In his palm, his greatest fear has materialized.

“‘Tsumu, are you still there?”

For a minute, the setter was frozen in place, the hand holding the piece of paper was shaking and his eyes frantically reading and reading the contents of the letter. His strong resolve crumbles, the feelings he has locked away in his heart comes crashing in waves and he’s overwhelmed with the bitterness of longing and regrets – the very emotions that he has been concealing for the past years.

Osamu is still talking in the other line, filling the silence that his twin brother left. When he came home from work, the other half of the Miya brothers saw a suspiciously decorated envelope on the mailbox. Ripping it open, he carefully reads the words written in cursive letters and when he processes it, his mind instantly flies to Atsumu.

And with Atsumu's prolonged silence on the phone, he figures that he's looking at the invitation right now.

"—don't have to go, you know that, Atsumu. I can attend in your stead. You're probably busy with training anyway, especially with the exhibition match against Schweiden Adlers happening soon."

"’Samu," Atsumu's voice wavers as he contemplates what he's about to say next. "Did you know? About her engagement?"

He sinks down on the sofa, closing his eyes and remembers the day she texted about the news. "Yeah, she informed me. I'm sorry I didn't relay the news to you."

Atsumu chuckles bitterly, the tight grip he has on the letter slowly crumpling the paper. "You're mean, you know that?"

"Oi, shut up," Osamu raises his voice in his defense. "You're the one who asked me not to tell you any updates about her. I wouldn't have known that she'd send you a letter directly."

A beat passes before he continues his statement. He knows his brother best, and if his intuitions were correct, Atsumu’s currently sulking and wishing for a way to undo his past.

"She still cares for you, ‘Tsumu. She misses her friend.”

---

The setter retires to the comforts of his soft bed, laying on his stomach and groaning loudly on a pillow. He’s still reeling from the aftershock of receiving the news that his ex – the one and only love of his life, his sunshine, his high school sweetheart – is getting married.

Not to mention the cold hard truth that Osamu dropped on him.

“You’re my brother, but I can’t keep taking your side. Atsumu, she was your, our childhood friend first before being your lover. She’s been in our lives for so long, you can’t just cut her off as if you were ripping a band-aid. You immediately left town when the two of you broke up so you can pursue volleyball and you didn’t see how heartbroken she was,” Osamu spat, the words stinging his twin’s feelings more than he intended.

“’Tsumu, you left her to grieve on her own. She made me swear not to tell you but every day, she kept asking me about you and how you were doing in Tokyo. It was like that for years until she met him.” There’s a brief pause before Osamu proceeds to dump the truth on Atsumu. “He healed her and showed her what it’s like to love again. Now, she’s happy. That is what you want, right? For her to be genuinely happy?

Atsumu’s lost count of how many times he’d wished he had never let you go. It’s the only choice that he regrets – one that always keeps him up at night when he’s lying in bed and staring at nothing but the darkness. It’s during those wee hours when a familiar pain creeps in; it’s a pain that brings him back to the moment that he released your hand and walked out of your life. The words this is what’s best for us ringing constantly like a desperate chant, a vain effort to convince himself that he made the right choice. He’d hoped those words would bring some sort of ease in the aftermath of the breakup, but he was royally wrong.

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table, opening his social media and searches for your profile. It’s been a while since he visited your page and when he does, he is greeted by a picture of you and your fiancé, happily smiling in each other’s arms and looking oh so painfully in love. As he continues to explore your page, he has half a mind to press on your contact that he’s saved. He wonders if you’ve changed your number, but it doesn’t take him long to decide as his thumb that was hovering over your name has now pressed the call button.

Closing his eyes in anticipation, he can feel his own heartbeat in drumming in his ears and he almost ends the call but your voice brings him back. “Hello?”

As soon as he hears you on the other line, Atsumu jumps up in surprise and he has to look at his phone to make sure that the call actually went through.

“—mu, is this you? Hello?”

He quickly puts his phone to his ear and clears his throat before saying his greeting. “Hey,” he laughs nervously, fiddling with the loose thread of his blanket. “How are you? I’m sorry, oh my god, did I wake you?”

You chuckle, “No, I haven’t slept yet. I was arranging things for the wedding.”

Silence overtakes the conversation for a moment, and Atsumu is thankful that you can’t see the way his face has fallen, sadness ghosting over his features. “Congratulations, I got the invitation.” He wants to ask why you even bothered to send him one, call you out on how insensitive you were because it felt unfair. Unfair at how it took him years to forget you; but it only took you mere seconds, just one letter and one hello, and you were back to his life again.

“Do you remember that time we sneaked out and spent the evening looking at the stars? The skies were clear and we watched the most beautiful meteor shower,” Atsumu asks, suddenly feeling nostalgic. You reminisce the old times and think how could you forget that memory when it was that special moment that made you realize of your strong affection for the boy?

“Of course, I do,” you confess and Atsumu could hear the faintest of a smile in your words.

“That night, when we saw the shooting stars, do you want to know what I wished for?”

“What?”

“For you to be the one that I’ll spend the rest of my life with.” His sudden confession takes you aback, and you can’t help but feel pained. You feel like crying, your voice is strained when you quietly mutter his name but he continues. “I know it’s too late for regrets, but I really shouldn’t have given up on us like that. Up to this day, I think about what could have happened if I fought for us the way you did. I keep looking back and I miss you.”

“Every day, I wake up and wish that you were in my arms. I get off from practice and hope that you’re waiting for me at home. I’d love to experience all that with you, but here I am,” you hear his voice break. “I realize I never really said sorry for how I left you so suddenly, I hope you can still forgive me.”

“Atsumu, I’ve forgiven you way back.” That’s all the affirmation he needs so he can put to rest his regrets and break free from his haunting past. The two of you settle in a comfortable silence as you wait for him to collect himself, the sounds of his sobs undoubtedly breaking your heart. When he does, he surprises you with his question,

“So this fiancé of yours, does he treat you well?”

You let out a hearty laugh and it elicits a smile from him. “He does, Atsumu. He’s a real gentleman and I know you’d get along.” From there, the phone call proceeds with lighthearted chat, catching up with each other’s lives, telling him the story of how you met your soon-to-be husband and the mood has shifted and it feels like two best friends reconnecting.

There’s a question you were afraid to ask since the start of your conversation, “Will you be able to come to the wedding?”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“It’s your choice. But it’s a special day and I’d want all the special people in my life to be there.” You admit. “You’re still that person to me, Atsumu.” He hates it when his brother was right, but he can’t deny it. He wants to be back in your life, even if it means just staying as a friend.

“Isn’t that too cruel? Inviting your ex to your wedding? Are you sure your fiancé is okay with that,” he teases but he’s already decided that he’d be flying home and staying over at Osamu’s for the weekend of your wedding.

If he can’t be the one waiting for you at the altar, then he thinks he owes it to you and to himself to see you off with a big smile.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #atsumu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuucreations #haikyuu one shot #atsumu scenarios #atsumu angst #haikyuu drabbles #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu fics #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!!

286 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 4 years ago

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 34

A/N: Soooo this is the penultimate chapter. This feels very bittersweet to post because we all know how the series turned out. Anyway, other stuff happens to, but the series...🥺

August 8th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was thinking about last night. Again.

And she shouldn’t be. She was having breakfast with the team for God’s sake. Everyone was eating pancakes or waffles or avocado toast and she was fantasizing about William fucking her raw from behind and watching him through the mirror. She could swear she still felt his slick and hard cock inside of her. She could swear she still felt him pounding her from behind and grabbing on to her mouth to silence her and—

“Aberdeen.”

—her whimpering and trying to be quiet and the same time—

“Aberdeen.”

—and his low, guttural grunts as he fucked her and made her be quiet and—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of it. She looked to her right to see Jason looking at her like she was crazy. “Your phone is ringing,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world – because it was. The thing was blaring out for God knows how long and she was just sitting there.

She grabbed it, not bothering to look at the number, and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

“So what did the boys get up to last night?” Alec Young’s voice asked from the other end.

That brought her back down to earth. She got up out of her seat and made her way towards the doorway, where it would be much quieter. “What did they get up to?” she feigned ignorance.

“You can’t tell me that after a win like that all they did was go to bed,” he said in a tone of voice that made Aberdeen want to punch him through the phone. She couldn’t believe he was the one responsible for editing her piece, that it was him who was a deciding factor on whether or not she got a job with the magazine. “Did they sneak girls into the hotel? Prostitutes? Did they get one for Matthews for scoring the overtime winner?”

Aberdeen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. William Nylander fucked the president’s assistant. They’ve been carrying on a secret affair for the better part of a year now and nobody has a fucking clue. They were so desperate for each other that they broke every bubble guideline so he could fuck her raw in her bathroom as she bent over the marble vanity. How’s that for a scoop? “With all due respect, Alec…”

“Aberdeen, come on.”

“I’m trying to take the more balanced approach, the more human side, the—”

“There’s gotta be something!”

She sighed again. She knew he was more or less her editor and all, and her job depended on him, but she was on her last nerve. “You want something? Okay, here’s something. Two days ago Courtney Muzzin and her daughter Luna stood outside of the Royal York Hotel with a giant sign on Bristol board that said ‘We love you, Dada’ and aimed it directly at Jake’s window,” she said, the edge very evident in her voice. “I can’t lie, Alec. I can’t just make up stories about drugs and prostitutes and whatever else you think is going on here. They can fucking sue me.”

“Aberdeen, we need a story. If you don’t give us the story, you’re not working at Toronto Life. That’s it,” he said, hanging up.

Aberdeen felt her chest tighten. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back on her morals. She couldn’t just…betray her friends. Her family. Her work family, but her family nonetheless. She had to stay resolute. She was going to get this job, and she was going to get it whether Alec approved of her story or not. She was going to get it whether Alec wanted her there or not. She was going to get it whether he liked her writing or not. She was going to prove him wrong. She was going to do it on her own terms, with her own talent. She was going to bank on herself.

When she got back to her seat, Jason was still eating his breakfast. She picked up her fork and ate a piece of watermelon before moving on to her yogurt parfait. “Who was that?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly, signaling that she didn’t want to talk about it. But when Jason continued looking at her, she knew he wasn’t going to let it pass. “The guy that’s responsible for editing that article I’m submitting to Toronto Life,” she said.

“What did he want?” Jason asked.

She sighed. “He wants a story filled with booze and drugs and women, because he’s convinced so many of you are still like that,” she began. “He thought we would have ordered a stripper or something for Auston last night for scoring his overtime goal. He doesn’t think Courtney and Luna Muzzin standing outside with a sign about loving daddy is going to sell magazines.”

Jason nodded his head in understanding. He’d been around hockey for such a long time – he understood completely where Alec got his mentality from. “And you refuse to write that.”

“It’s not just that I refuse to write it. I can’t write it. None of it would be true. Imagine me writing about you guys with hookers and blow? I’d get sued!”

Jason chuckled. “And he doesn’t get that? How’s this guy an editor for a prominent city magazine?”

“Beats the shit out of me,” Aberdeen shrugged, fiddling around with her spoon. “But…that’s my issue. I’ll figure it out. I’ll write something that will blow his mind and make him wonder why he ever thought he wanted me to write about hookers and blow in the first place.”

Jason smiled. “Atta girl.”

Jason continued to eat as Aberdeen continued to fiddle with her spoon. She looked across the room briefly to see William chowing down on some avocado and a piece of toast. He was scrolling through his phone and, periodically, would look at something Pierre would show him one-third of space away at the table. Less than ten hours ago his body was pressed up against hers. Now they were separated by a sea of tables and hockey players.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Jason suddenly.

“Anything,” he didn’t even look at her when he answered.

She hesitated for a second. “If…I mean…if things don’t go the way we want them to go tomorrow…” she began.

“You mean if we lose,” he interrupted, finally staring her dead in the eye. “You can say the words Aberdeen. It’s okay.”

“If we lose tomorrow…I…what should I do? Like, how should I act? What should I say? I don’t want to make you guys even more upset by saying the wrong thing.”

“I doubt you can make anyone on this team upset—”

“Jason.”

He sighed. He set down his flatware and brought his hands together. “I think being there physically is good,” he began. “Like, just being a presence. Telling the guys you’re there if they want to talk. Don’t bring it up unless we do. Some guys are more open. Others bottle it inside and never want to talk about it. You have to figure out who’s who in that sense.”

“I just want to be a good…support. I don’t want to be that person that seems apathetic because I don’t care about hockey as much as you guys. I know how important this is for all of you. I know how hard you guys are working to get it done. I just want to make sure everybody, like…knows that, you know?”

“They know, Aberdeen,” Jason said confidently. “And I’m not just saying that. Trust me. They know.”

***

“How many words do you have now?” William asked through the FaceTime call. They were lying in bed together. Virtually. As always, he was less than 50 feet away in his own bed. Aberdeen felt cold without his touch, now that she had felt it in the bubble. It took every ounce of strength and willpower within her not to sneak into his room and beg him to fuck her again.

“I’m at five thousand right now,” she answered. “I got a call from Alec today. He’s such a dick.”

“It sucks that you’ll have to work under him. I mean, if he’s even your editor at the magazine. He might work in a different department or whatever.”

Aberdeen shuddered at the thought. Him becoming her boss would be a nightmare. Beth Zadakis – who Aberdeen originally met with – would be the much better choice in her eyes. “Here’s hoping he is in another department,” she bit her lip. “But enough about me, Willy. How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know…” he said, giving his own shrug. “I’m not nervous or anything. I just…I know what I need to do. I know what we need to do. We just gotta do it.”

“D’you remember what I told you before we got in here? That I’ll love you whatever happens?” she asked. William nodded his head. “That still stands. Whatever happens tomorrow, I love you.”

William nodded his head gingerly. “If we lose…” he began softly, “it’s gotta be, like, a media blackout for at least a week. Until they make us do those exit interviews or whatever.”

“Deal,” Aberdeen nodded.

“It’s gonna be bad if we lose, Aberdeen,” he warned her. “You’ve never experienced it before because you don’t watch or whatever, but they’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit—”

“—I won’t listen to any of it—”

“—No, Aberdeen, listen,” he cautioned, his tone of voice more serious. “They’ll be saying a whole bunch of shit about me. I didn’t produce, I didn’t perform, I should get traded, blah blah blah. Same shit, different day. I’m always the scapegoat. I just…I know how emotional you got when you read up on everything near my birthday. I just don’t want you getting upset. I’ll never forgive them anyways, like in general, but I’ll really never forgive them if they make you cry again.”

“I won’t, Willy. I don’t – you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I just want to protect you, minskatt.”

“I know you do,” she smiled softly. “But none of that matters. All that matters is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

August 9th, 2020

In the end, it wasn’t shitty play. It wasn’t a patented Leafs Meltdown™. It wasn’t that they weren’t trying. It wasn’t even anything bad.

It was just a hot goalie.

That was the most Aberdeen could have asked for, she guessed. She didn’t really know, because at this point, she was devoid of emotion. Everything in her was just…empty. She couldn’t feel a thing. That was, until, the camera showed a close up of the bench, and she saw Jason hunched over, his head down.

That was when the tears started. She couldn’t care less about Kasperi beside him. It was Jason that she cared about. Here he was, near the end of his career, signed with his hometown team for league minimum trying to chase his dream of winning a Stanley Cup with the team he grew up watching. And now, in this wonky season of benched home openers and valued leadership to a stopped and re-started season due to a global pandemic, everything around him came crashing down. Having to leave his family, his wife, his four daughters, all to chase the dream, all for it to disappear.

“Stop crying,” Brendan said from beside her. She couldn’t discern his voice. He wasn’t giving a command. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t angry. But it was obvious that he wasn’t happy. He barely blinked as he looked down at the ice, hands shoved in his pockets.

Aberdeen wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she said meekly, knowing she was offering absolutely nothing.

When the buzzer rang and the teams lined up to shake hands, she made her way out of the box, waiting for Brendan and Kyle to follow. But they didn’t. She waited and waited and waited but they weren’t coming. She peeked back into the room and watched as they stood still, looking down at the ice until the last of the team made their way through the tunnel. Aberdeen realized then that they were staying because the camera was on them. Of course it was. The media was going to squeeze every emotion out of the boys until they were shells of themselves. She bet two of them were being forced into media interviews right now, barely out of their hockey gear.

When they finally made their way down to the locker room, it was eerily quiet. That’s the first thing Aberdeen noticed – the lack of noise. It was so different from just two nights ago when they were all screaming and hugging her. When she walked in behind Brendan and Kyle, and finally saw their faces, she immediately looked for William’s. He looked so defeated. So broken. For a guy who was very apathetic in front of the camera, making it looked like nothing phased him, he was definitely showing his emotion now. Her breath hitched in her throat as more tears threatened to spill. After William, she looked for Jason – then she really had to stop the sob.

She didn’t know if Sheldon had already given his post-game speech. She was almost sure he did, because Kyle and Brendan took so long, and because she absolutely knew he wouldn’t end the night with what he ended up saying, the only thing she heard him say. “Pack your bags tonight. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

They’d been through a hell of a season. A wonky start. A shitty coach. A coaching change. A loss to their own Zamboni driver. A fucking worldwide pandemic. A bubble. The media was never on their side. And—

“Go to the media room, see how the conversations are going,” Brendan said, his voice low. “Send Morgan and John out as soon as possible, then make sure the media know about their future availability. We have to speak to the team.”

She furrowed her brows at him. Why would he banish her from the locker room so he could talk to the team? “What are you gonna say?”

“What’s it to you?”

He heart froze. So he was angry. And he was taking it out on her. “Fine,” she huffed. “I thought we were a team, but I guess not.”

***

Nobody ate when they got back to the hotel. There was no point. Everybody just disappeared back into their rooms, probably to pack, probably to wallow in their own self-pity for the night until they had to leave tomorrow and face the world, probably to just lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. Aberdeen knew that’s what she would be doing.

Well, after she got to the bottom of one thing.

“What did Brendan and Kyle say to you guys?” she asked William on the phone.

“I can’t tell you.”

She furrowed her brows – not like he could see her. “What? You can’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeated. “It stays between us. In the locker room.”

“I…you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am. It’s…I can’t tell you.”

Aberdeen knew she wasn’t going to get it out of him. She’d have to give up. Not that she wanted to. “Well, I love you. I’ll always love you,” she said instead, changing the subject. “I’m sorry things didn’t go the way we all wanted them to.”

“I am too. This fucking sucks.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. She rose up immediately from her bed. “Please tell me that’s not you,” she said. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What’s not me?” William asked, confused.

Aberdeen stopped. She took her phone off her ear. “Who is it?” she asked out loud.

“It’s me,” she heard Brendan’s voice from the hallway.

She threw her phone dramatically across the room and onto her bed. She threw it so violently it almost hit the wall. “Let me get my mask!” she called out, grabbing one from the dresser before hooking it onto her ears. She took a deep breath before she opened the door. When she did, Brendan walked straight into her room. She was shocked. “You’re coming into my hotel room?”

“Oh fuck it, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” he mumbled, waving off her concern. The door shut behind her as she walked into her own room gingerly, watching Brendan pace back and forth. He stopped when he noticed her. “I want to apologize for what I said to you today after the game,” he said. “It was out of line.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“There are just some things that need to be said to the team only Aberdeen. Meaning the players. You’re part of the team but it’s—it’s—”

“Don’t worry. I get it.”

Brendan stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “For my entire life I’ve wanted this team to be successful. My entire life. I was born two years after their last Stanley Cup win. And growing up, I adored this team. And when I was a player – it didn’t matter that I was a Red Wing. I love them, too, but in a different way. Not the way I love the Toronto Maple Leafs. And when I was given the opportunity to be the president, I made sure I would never take it for granted. And I made sure – I made a promise to myself – that I would be the one to see this team to victory. And every time that we don’t get to that victory, I break that promise,” he said. Aberdeen understood completely. “None of…this is about you, of course. This is about the team. This is about promises that we make to each other. Promises that we make to ourselves. Promises we make to get better, to succeed, to climb that mountain and get to the promised land. This is about the integrity of our character. The pride we have in this hockey club, to put on that Maple Leaf every night.”

Aberdeen stayed silent. Brendan was bearing his soul to her. Every word he was saying was impassioned and coming directly from his heart. She didn’t want to speak, because there was nothing she could say. She watched as he took a few steps forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re part of this team, Aberdeen. I think you always will be to these boys. You were the soul of this team this year.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

“I do,” he said confidently. “I know so.”

“How do you know?”

“Because their soul is hurt right now, but it hasn’t died,” he said. “It’s still there. They still have it in them. Just like you have it in you.”

***

August 10th, 2020

Aberdeen stood absent-mindedly off to the side, the bus being loaded with the team’s bags. Some of the boys had already gotten on the bus. She should have gotten on too, but her feet were planted firmly in place for some reason.

Fifteen days in the bubble. And now it was all over.

“Hey Aberdeen?” she heard Auston’s voice from behind her. She spun around to face him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do it for you. Like, for your story.”

***

Kasha came to pick up Aberdeen. She brought Minerva in her carrier, who kept meowing at the sight of Aberdeen. Aberdeen took her out and cuddled her against her chest, giving her tons of kisses.

She watched Tyson do the same to Ralph, wondering if he’d still be on the team next year.

***

When she and Kasha got back into her apartment, Aberdeen went straight to her bed. She plopped down dramatically and only moved when she felt Kasha standing in the doorway. “D’you want to go out? You finally have some freedom,” Kasha suggested. “We can go for tacos, for brunch…”

Aberdeen perched herself up on her elbows. “Do you think I’m the soul of someone? Or something?”

Kasha looked at her strangely, but answered the question nonetheless. “I definitely think you have the capacity to be for someone. You know I believe in the concept of soulmates. Why do you ask?”

“For who?”

Kasha shrugged, but a small smile appeared on her face. “For William.”

“Why William?”

“Because from the few times I’ve seen you to interact together – like last year, and then at the Halloween party – he looks at you like you already are his soul.”

***

“You should come over for lunch one of these days,” Jason said to her on the phone. “Jen would love to have you over. I’m sure the girls would love to see you too.”

Aberdeen smiled into the phone. Jason Spezza was deflecting. This was not part of their original conversation. “When you’re okay, maybe I will.”

“I’m always okay,” he defended.

“You’re not right now,” she said definitively. There was no beating around the bush. “But you will be. At your own pace. And when you’re good to go, I’ll come over. And you better cook and let me and Jen sip margaritas in the backyard.”

Jason laughed his infamous laugh. “Deal.”

***

August 11th, 2020

“Media blackout?” Aberdeen asked William on the phone.

William nodded his head on the FaceTime call. “Media blackout.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow when Kasha’s back at the office,” she said. “We can cuddle.”

“That’s all I want to do right now, to be honest.”

***

August 12th, 2020

With Kasha going into the office, Aberdeen was able to sneak away to William’s. He let her in easily, without much fanfare, and he enveloped her in a hug and brought her down with him on the couch as they lay their together, every limb wrapped around the other. Aberdeen was running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly as his head lay on her chest. Hockey was still on in the background. Alex was still playing, and William wanted to support him. Aberdeen already knew he’d be calling his brother after the game.

“I love you so much,” she whispered out of nowhere. She just felt the need to say it.

William looked up at her. “I love you too.”

“That last night at the hotel, Brendan told me I was the soul of the team this year,” she said. His comments were still on her mind. “Do you think that’s true?”

William nodded his head. “I do. I think you’re my soul, too.”

***

The kisses were slow at first. Needy. William needed her. He needed to be comforted. His brother wasn’t around to talk to, and it was the middle of the night in Sweden so he couldn’t call his parents, although Aberdeen was sure they would have picked up the phone if they saw it was William calling in the middle of the night. So until he could speak to his brother and his parents, Aberdeen would be there for him, kissing him as they lay facing each other side-by-side on his couch. There to console him. There to comfort him.

They kissed for a long time. Such a long time. It told Aberdeen that William needed that intimate physical contact, not just flat-out sex, and that he was savouring his time with her as much as she was with him. But who was she kidding? He always did. He always savoured his time with her. It didn’t matter where, or when, or how, or how much they’d lied to the people around them to get some alone time. By the end of it she was sure her lips here swollen and red, and when she opened her eyes to look at his, his were too. So puffy. So soft. In their glory.

She felt his hand dip beneath the hem of her pants and grab the flesh of her ass to squeeze it. She hooked a leg over his torso and could feel his growing erection graze her thigh. She shivered at the feeling, digging her nails into his bicep.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry we couldn’t do it for you and your story. I won’t forgive myself if you don’t get that job,” he revealed.

“Shhhhh…” she cooed, cupping his face and kissing him. “What did I tell you before we got into the bubble, hmm? I love you no matter what happens in there. I love you Willy. I always have and always will.”

“I love you too, minskatt. I need you. Do you need me?”

Aberdeen’s heart fluttered at his question. She nodded her head automatically and gave him a quick kiss. “I need you. I’ll always need you.”

With their pants and underwear pushed down their legs, William slipped himself into her slowly, watching the look on her face change and hearing the long sigh escape her mouth. This is what he loved most about their physical relationship. They could do anything and it would feel like the best time every time. They could have regular sex. They could explore a new position. They could have rough, passionate sex like that night in the bubble. They could have close, intimate sex like right now. Each time was incredible. Each time he loved more than the last.

Each time, William realized how much he needed Aberdeen, and how much Aberdeen needed him. They needed each other.

“You feel so good, Willy,” Aberdeen’s voice brought him back down to earth. The pure euphoria in her voice was music to his ears. “I need you, Willy. I need you.”

He moved his hips to thrust into her, and so did she. Their bodies moved together as they always did, and the pleasure they experienced together was paramount to absolutely anything and everything.

After they both came together, William squeezed his arms around Aberdeen and pressed her against his body even closer than they were before. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, dragging his lips along her skin until he got to her ear. “I need you more than anything,” he whispered. “You’re my entire life. You’re my entire soul.”

She believed him.

***

August 25th, 2020

Aberdeen was with Camden when the news broke. She was spending the day at her parent’s house because Camden had admitted he missed her, so Aberdeen decided to spend the day. They played video games. They watched Brooklyn 9-9. They went on a bike ride around the neighbourhood with masks on and stopped at a local shop to grab some smoothies. It was perfect sibling bonding time while Siena slaved away in their bedroom studying God knows what for God knows which course come September.

“Did you see the news?!” Camden asked as he emerged from the smoothie shop with both their smoothies.

“See what?” Aberdeen asked, thinking the worst.

“Kasperi was traded!” he announced as he handed her the mango smoothie she requested.

“What?!” she shrieked, grabbing her phone out of her back pocket. She hadn’t looked at it since they went on the bike ride about an hour ago, because she wanted to spend actual quality time with her brother. Now, she saw that she missed the alert from the Leafs app on her phone, and a slew of texts from Willy.

“Yeah. He got traded to Pittsburgh—”

kappy just called me he got traded to pittsburgh just got told r u around? can i come see u? ok so ur not at ur place… ur not at Scotiabank r u?

“—for a first-round pick.”

“A first?!” she shrieked again. She was shocked. Shocked. She didn’t know how Kyle was able to finesse a first-round pick for Kasperi fucking Kapanen. Her mind was in three places at once as she thought about the trade, her brother standing in front of her, and William’s texts. For all his faults and questionable judgement in girlfriends, Kasperi was one of William’s best friends. She knew it would hurt William to see him leave. That’s probably why he was trying to find her.

I’m at my parents hanging with Cam today. He missed me.

i know

You know?????

“Cam, I think we should head home,” she said, hopping back onto her bike.

Camden’s eyes lit up. “Why? Do you think Brendan Shanahan will want to call you?”

He was so cute. To think she was important enough that Brendan Shanahan would call her about a trade. She let him think so. “He might…” she said, opening the Leafs app on her phone. “Let’s just go. You lead the way.”

It wasn’t the smartest choice, but as they biked through their neighbourhood back to their house, Aberdeen read the statement on her phone. PRESS RELEASE -- -- -- The Toronto Maple Leafs announced today that the hockey club has completed a trade with the Pittsburgh Penguins, acquiring the Penguins' first round selection in the 2020 NHL Draft (15th overall), forward Evan Rodrigues, forward Filip Hallander and defenceman David Warsofsky in exchange for forward Kasperi Kapanen, forward Pontus Aberg and defenceman Jesper Lindgren.

So Pontus was leaving too. Another Swede. Aberdeen wondered if William had a strong opinion on him leaving as well, but she doubted it. She thought about what was going through William’s head as she and Cam continued their bike ride home, but as they turned on their street and they got closer to their house, she noticed a car parked on the street. A very familiar looking car.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ…” she mumbled to herself.

“Whose car is that?” Camden asked, speeding up. “Don’t people know they’re not allowed over houses anymore?!”

Aberdeen mentally prepared herself as she and Camden walked through their front door. And that’s when Aberdeen saw him: William sitting on her couch with her mom, mask dangling from his wrist as he held a mug of tea. “There you two are,” her mom smiled.

“WILLIAM!” Camden screamed as he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey buddy,” William smiled as he watched Camden’s face light up. He watched as Camden readied himself to run over to him for a hug but then stopped himself. It made William sad, knowing Camden couldn’t do what he wanted to do. “How are you?”

“I’m good! I’m – do I have to get my mask? – are you staying for dinner – are you going back to Sweden? – are you—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down young man,” Orla smiled at her son. “I don’t think you’ll be needing your mask. And yes William will be staying for dinner—”

“—YES!—”

“And no, I’m not going back to Sweden. I don’t want to have to quarantine again. I’m done with quarantining,” William added.

“Me too!” Camden said, exasperated, as he plopped himself down on the couch next to him, sipping dramatically on his smoothie. “I haven’t seen anybody besides these guys since March!”

***

Aberdeen was sure William was a near-perfect human being when it came to interacting with Cam. That afternoon saw them playing street hockey and video games, with Aberdeen even leaving them alone together while she helped her mom make dinner. When Mirza came home from work and saw William, his face lit up. Even Siena was happy to see him, despite her stress from studying.

Maybe this would make it easier for when she had to tell everyone that they were dating…eventually.

William promised to drive Aberdeen home, which meant Orla and Mirza could escape into their room to sleep and not worry. They gave Cam special permission to stay up well over an hour passed his bed time. It was only when Aberdeen told Cam that he needed to get ready for bed that she and William had their first moments of alone time the entire day he spent at the house.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about the trade. I know you’re probably feeling like shit right now seeing your best friends being shipped off. Are you okay?” she asked as they lay on opposite ends of the couch.

“Much better now,” he said, his voice soft. “I love your family. They make everything better.”

She smiled. “I think Cam just has so much energy and asks so many questions that it takes your mind off of it,” she giggled slightly.

“That’s part of it, but it’s more than that,” he said. “It’s your mom’s cooking and your dad’s smile and Siena’s, like, stares. It’s Cam being so cute. It’s this house and the vibe, like at Christmas. It’s everything.”

Aberdeen couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “For what it’s worth, they love you too.”

“Do you think we’ll have a family like this?”

Aberdeen would have frozen if she was uncomfortable with the line of questioning and what William was insinuating. But she didn’t, because she wasn’t. She nodded her head before reaching between their bodies to tickle his fingers with her own in a small, unnoticeable sign of intimacy. “I do,” she said softly.

“I love you, Aberdeen.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

“Aberdeen?” Cam’s voice suddenly rang out as he walked back into the living room with his pajamas on.

Their hands separated quickly. “What is it, Cam?” she asked.

“I saw your name all over hockey Twitter.”

Both Aberdeen and William shot up. “What do you mean?” William asked.

“What the hell are you doing on hockey Twitter, Camden?” Aberdeen asked sternly. “You’re twelve.”

“Joey at school has an account and he shares it with me!” he said, as if that would make Aberdeen calm. It just fuelled her anger and made her want to punch a twelve year old boy named Joey. “It was because Saylor Greene talked about you. Who’s Saylor Greene? Does she work with you?” Camden asked.

Aberdeen’s heart fell into the pit of her stomach. William jolted off the couch and typed something into his phone as he walked outside. “Give me your phone,” she held her hand out at her brother.

“But Aberdeen—” he watched William leave to go outside.

“I said give me your phone now,” she repeated.

Camden handed it over. She began to scroll through the screen to see the tweets he saw, and read what he’d just read.

@leafsbabe34: saylor greene is having a meltdown on her twitter about the leafs. she’s a psycho

@coolcoolcool: good luck to kasperi Kapanen and his psycho girlfriend in pittsburgh. Pens PR never ever puts up with this type of bullshit so it will be interesting to see what happens to her. Good riddance.

@amandaaalove44: she brought so much drama to Toronto…bye bye saylor!

Okay…innocent enough. Aberdeen still didn’t like Camden reading all of this but she didn’t see any mention of her name. How the hell was she being dragged into this? She scrolled some more, reading much of the same tweets, and then she saw it.

Aberdeen’s stomach was in knots as she read all the tweets, all the insinuations, and all the outright accusations. Saylor was naming her without naming her. Any hardcore fan would probably know who she was talking about. Hockey twitter would definitely know thanks to the Blueprint birthday video. She felt sick. She felt sick as she saw Saylor’s replies to everyone’s tweets, calling them out and being downright rude to people she didn’t even know. She was sick as she saw fans commenting on the situation and bringing her name up because they knew it was her.

“Aberdeen?” Camden’s voice was soft, confused, as he watched his sister furrowing her brows at his phone screen. She looked at him. “I’m sorry I was on hockey Twitter.”

“You have to promise me to never go on there again,” she said. “I mean it Cam.”

He nodded his head. “I was just trying to see what they were saying about William.”

She inhaled. “Now you really can’t go on there again. Not until you’re thirty.”

“Sixteen.”

“Deal. Now come here,” she extended her arms.

Camden went in for a hug. “Where’d William go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Let me hug you in silence because you’re gonna become a teenager one day and you won’t let me do this anymore.”

Her phone buzzed from beside her. Brendan’s name flashed atop of a text message. I’m taking care of it. And as she continued to hug Cam, she could hear William’s voice vaguely from outside on the deck. “This is twice now with a girl you’ve dated. TWICE!!!!!”

***

August 26th, 2020

“How many words do you have left?” William asked as he massaged Aberdeen’s shoulders.

“I’m just editing,” she said, reaching her hand over and placing it on one of his. “I’ll be done within the hour. I promise.”

William bent down to give her a quick kiss. “You got this.”

***

To: Alec Young [[email protected]] Cc: Beth Zadakis [[email protected]] Bcc: From: Aberdeen Bloom [[email protected]] 23:15 08/25/2020

Hello Alec and Beth,

As requested, here is my 10,000-word report on the NHL Bubble experience. Please note that I have also included photos to accompany the text. I have received express approval from those in the photos that they can be used for this article. If you would like me to send proof of permission, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy my work and choose it for publication in Toronto Life. I understand that the article may, perhaps, be a departure from what was expected. However, I believe the work speaks for itself.

Best, Aberdeen Bloom

***

August 27th, 2020

“So what happens now?” William asked.

“We wait,” Aberdeen said, her breath shaky.

187 notes · View notes

hufflepuffhollander · 4 years ago

Note

hiya! can i requesta blurb with 17 & 22 (w/ tom) from the prompt list please? if you could make it bantery but also with sexual tension that’d be awesome! thanks loveee

you most certainly can! thanks for officially kicking off the blurb fest! :-)

these ideas are both full of potential for some serious *gulp* sexual tension so this was a blast.

tom x fem reader | contains language, alcohol use, and sexy undertones | word count: 2.2k | enjoy!

-------------------------------------------------------------------

17. “Are you really taking his side against me?”

22. “Come over here and make me.”

Your ears pound and you can feel the vibrations of the house music on full blast in the cup clasped between your hands. You needed this, you earned this — you tried to convince yourself after every sip of that strong brown liquid in your cup that it was okay to take another. The night was becoming hazy, but not enough to diminish the hurt you felt, the pain that was caused by your on-again/off-again friend Tom Holland. It was no surprise you were mad at him, again, because you were convinced he only existed to make your life difficult. With his constant flirting and advances when he had too much adrenaline, wishy-washy romantic confessions, and mind games he played with you, you constantly wondered what the benefit of your friendship even was. You weren’t sure you knew anymore, but one thing’s for sure — we want what isn’t ours, and you wanted Tom. You hated that about him, and about yourself, but no matter how many times he made you angry, you still wanted him just as bad after a fight as you did on the good nights, when you’d spent the night watching old horror movies together and tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths.

You hear an unmistakably charming accent sneak up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into a haphazard hug, voice slurred. “Hheyyy, Y/N!” Harrison, the third musketeer, kissed your cheek and joined you at the bar.

“Hey, Harrison. Having fun?”

“You know meee,” he threw his hands up in the air, drink splashing around his feet. “Alllways here for a good time!”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, but couldn’t help but smile at his goofiness. You and Harrison were close, arguably closer than you were with Tom, as you only met him a few months ago through Harrison. He never made you crazy like Tom did, always knew what to say and when, but he did like to drink, which was just something you had to put up with. But you were used to it. It was worth it to keep him around as a best friend.

He put his arm back around your waist and started to sway you to the music, but you really weren’t in the mood, so to any stranger, he would’ve just looked like a drunk guy trying to grind up on an unwitting girl. Apparently, in the dim flashing lights, it looked like that to Tom, too.

Tom saw you and Harrison from across the bar, after he had just finished gulping down drink number who-the-fuck-cares, and felt a heat bubbling up in his chest. Who the fuck does Harrison think he is, dancing up on his girl? I mean, maybe they didn’t know she was his, but he’d be damned if he had to stand by while you were being danced up on by his out-of-bounds friend. I mean, god, just look at you. He felt every bone in his body alight with desire to feel you on him again, he wanted to tear that dress off and claim you for his own. She’s mine, and nobody else can have her.

He steadied himself and made his way over to the pair of you.

You glanced over at Tom, beelining toward you, and silently hoped he’d get turned around and forget what he was doing. You didn’t want to deal with this right now. It was your night with Harrison, to go out and forget your troubles, dance the night away…Tom had just seen where you were on social media and decided to crash the party. Some audacity this asshole has, just showing up here after what he did the other night, sending you those videos...with all of those nameless girls...

Harrison seemed oblivious to the incoming threat and ordered another round of shots from the bartender. He saw Tom a second too late.

“Tommm! Hey, we-“

Tom cut him off with a shove to the shoulder, away from you. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, man?” he snarled.

Harrison became wide-eyed and very clearly couldn’t process what was going on at a fast enough rate, and fell back against you for support. “What are you talking about? I just bought us another round-“

Tom shoved him again, a little harder this time, making sure not to make direct eye contact with you. “Leave her alone, she’s not interested,” he heaved.

You and Harrison shared a weary glance, and you turned to confront Tom. “Tom, he’s not doing anything wrong, we see each other like siblings,” he rolled his eyes at your sentence. Usually, he is fine with your dynamic with Harrison, doesn’t seem to mind being the third wheel unless he’s in a mood to stick his tongue down your throat. Which, admittedly, had happened on numerous accounts.

But, tonight, there must’ve been something in the musty club air, because he was looking like he wanted to cross a line.

“You have no idea what he wants behind your back,” Tom started. “He’s been trying to fuck you since you were in uni together.”

Harrison lit up at those words. “How fucking dare you, Tom, I have never said anything like that in my life.” He pulled himself back together and stood a foot taller. “You’re drunk, man. Go home.”

Tom had fire in his eyes, and looked at you before shoving Harrison back a third time. “I may be drunk but I’m not stupid. She’s off limits, you know that.” He took your arm and tried to pull you towards him. “Y/N, let’s go.”

You immediately pulled your arm back and glared at Tom. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you drunk asshole.” Tom seemed hurt by your words, but not enough to stop him from his tirade.

“Well I’m not leaving you alone with him!” He practically yelled over the thumping music. “I don’t trust him, now,” his eyes closed in a prolonged blink, showing his clear intoxication. Harrison stepped in front of you, shielding you from Tom’s stare. “Get out of here, man.”

Tom continued to refute and you pushed your way in between the quarreling boys.

“Tom, he’s right. You’re being insane. Get out of here and go sober up somewhere.”

“Oh, so you’re really gonna take his side against me?” he spat at you, every word stinging more. “After all we’ve been through together? You choose him over us?”

You couldn’t help but tear up at the thought that he could possibly be so oblivious to how he treated you day in and day out, like you were disposable. He only wanted you when he was lonely and there was nobody else.

“There is no us,” you said, swallowing your emotions enough to speak. “You’ve made that clear. Go the fuck home.”

That finally made Tom shut his mouth, and he looked from you, to Harrison, and back to you, defeated. Without another word, he stormed out of the club and disappeared into the night. You turned to Harrison, and he just sighed and shrugged. He turned to the bartender, and told him to make those shots a double.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you sulked around your apartment, headache killing you from all of the alcohol, heart aching from your fight with Tom. You knew you probably deserved better than someone constantly stringing you along. But when he wanted you, and you always wanted him, things were magical. You could swear that in those moments that he opened up to you, you could see he desperately loved you too.

The physical connection was definitely there. Feeling him on you, his breath hot against your neck, his intoxicating smell, it drove you crazy like nothing else did. And the way he talked when you were intertwined was heaven. He told you that you were the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. He told you nobody turns him on like you do. Nobody feels the way you do. He told you he loved you.

But that was over now. He clearly only saw you as a piece of ass, and you needed to swallow that truth. Your thoughts were interrupted by a buzz from your phone.

Tom: Hey, Y/N, are you home?

You didn’t respond, and put your phone on silent. Not even 5 minutes later, you hear a knock at your door.

You made the mistake of opening it and saw Tom’s face, painted with remorse, eyes baggy from the night before. You wanted to slam the door, tell him to get lost, but that small part of you that loved him planted your feet in the ground and kept your arms at bay from swinging the door shut.

“What do you want?” your voice came out sounding sadder than you expected.

“Can we talk?” “You can’t just show up here unexpected, you know.”

“You weren’t answering your phone, and I was already here when I texted…” he trailed off, realizing he was getting away from the point. You moved aside so he could step into the apartment.

“Y/N, I just wanted to say how sorry I am-“ you put a hand up to get him to stop talking.

“Tom, I don’t want to hear it.”

He opened his mouth again to speak, but you continued.

“I’m tired of letting you throw me around like I don’t mean anything, like my feelings don’t matter…” you wanted to sound dignified but just sounded pitiful. “It’s too much to take. You send me videos of you partying with other girls, ignore my texts and calls for days at a time, and then suddenly we’re an item just because you don’t like seeing me dance with someone else? It’s idiotic.” Tom stood silently while you continued on, words unwillingly pouring out of you at this point.

“I care about you so much, and I just wish you actually cared about me too. But I guess that’s too much to ask. I just don’t get it, like, what the fuck do you want from me?”

“Y/N…” he was trying to gather his thoughts, and you couldn’t help but let a tear slip down your cheek. He noticed it immediately, moving closer towards you, swiping his thumb across your cheek to rid you of the hot teardrop. All you wanted to do was collapse into him, hug him, kiss him, wanted to hear him tell you soberly that he wanted you as much as you did him. Even after all this. What was wrong with you?

“I don’t know how to make you believe me, but I only get drunk when I’m around you because it keeps me from feeling these scary things I do for you,” he started. “You’re just such a good girl and I don’t want to ruin you. I don’t want to corrupt you, rope you into a relationship with me just to see it burn to the ground. I don’t want that to happen, because if I lose you like that, you’re gone forever. And I don’t want that.”

You pulled back to look at him, trying to read in his face if he actually meant what he was saying. He put up a soft hand to cup your cheek, and feeling his warmth made everything feel so much better. You suddenly realized how hot he looked in his grungy post-drunk state, and your mind flashed with an image of you on top of him, embracing forgiveness, letting him prove to you how much he cared. But it was only momentary, and you were brought back to earth watching him trying to stare into your soul.

“I’m so afraid to be with you because of how much I want to.” His words didn’t really make sense to you, but you loved hearing them anyway. He seemed to sense your changing mood and went on. “Y/N, when we’re together, I- I lose all self control, I feel like I can’t breathe without you, and god, the way you look laid out underneath me-“ his eyes went wide with the words he spoke, and you stifled a chuckle. He eyed you up and down, and something in him changed- his eyes became a deeper brown, his grip on your face and neck becoming a little stronger. “Seeing someone else up on your body made me realize I just want it to be mine, all mine, and nobody else’s.” Your anger started to transform into lust, moving closer to him as he kept speaking. He moved his hands around your waist and pulled you into his body. “I know we might be fire and gasoline, baby, but I’m crazy for it…” he kissed you, or you kissed him- you can’t remember. All you cared about was the feeling of his lips on yours, the tension radiating between you, and you let yourself turn all of the hurt and anger you felt into pure energy.

“How do I know I can trust you?” you breathed, pulling back from the kiss. He licked his lips staring at yours and you felt your stomach drop, but kept taking paces backward until you were standing under the doorframe to your bedroom, awaiting his response. He walked slowly toward you.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see. I’ll prove it,” he almost growled, undressing you with his eyes. “Believe me.”

“Believe you?” you lowered your voice and batted your eyelashes. “Why don’t you come over here and make me?”

That did the trick. He quickly moved toward you and picked you up, hoisting you against the wall of your bedroom.

“Oh, with pleasure.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------

that was hella angsty and I loved it! hope you did too! keep sending in those requests! xoxo

36 notes · View notes

awkbo0b · 5 years ago

Text

Two of a Kind:1

A/N: Hey everyone, I finished Outer Banks on Netflix about a week ago and I fell in love with the Pogues. Mainly JJ. So I after reading some of there really creative writing about JJ x Reader i came across an idea for my own spin off story. the girl in the story will be named Mae Clemonds, this helps my flow with writing. Also this chapter is going to be a bit boring since i need to introduce my characters and give background on them, but once this passes it should be better and will have much more of JJ and the rest of the Pogues!

Now imagine JJ meeting a girl who is so much like him he can hardly stand her, and same goes to the girl. Can you already feel the sexual tension?

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking

As I pack my third suitcase that i have strictly made for my art supplies, I hear a knock at my door. “Hey, Mae, how is it going in here?” I turn to see my mom standing in the doorway, she has dry clay smeared across her forehead, as usual, and her curly ginger hair is somehow managed into a bun on top of her head.

“Oh you know, it’s going. Got all my water colors here,” I say as i point to them in my suit case, “and my notebooks here, and all my brushes, pencils, and pens are in the pocket.” I smile as i close the suit case and zip it up. “Now I am all set.” I glance at the other two large suitcases that are full of clothes and bathroom necessities, then up to meet my mom’s bright blue eyes. “How about you and dad?”

Mom returns a smile, “Good, your farther finished packing this morning and we just finished the piece as planed. Once I am washed up we will be ready in about thirty minutes, go ahead and load these into the car.” she responded as she pushed herself away from the door frame and began to turn away from the room. “It’s going to be a great summer, I can feel it!” mom adds as she gracefully moves down the hallway, throwing her hands in balled fist above her head as if she just won something.

A couple months ago my aunt Sadie called my mom and dad offering a once in a life time opportunity. Something that you should know about my family is that we are artist, all of us. My great grandma Allison was the one who started the line of artist. She was an amazing painter, oil was her favorite but you could give her mustard and she would still create art. Her and my great grandpa Clemonds opened up their own gallery, and it has been passed down through the generations. The artistic touch also ran through the family. Not all of us are painters, some are photographers, and others are sculptors like my mom and dad. I like to draw/sketch and use water colors. But no matter what their choice of media is, my family creates art and adds it to the gallery. The Clemonds family is widely well known in the art community.

So back to the once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity that my Aunt Sadie called my mom about a couple months ago, is the chance for them to create a series together.

About two years ago my Aunt Sadie and her family moved to the coast of North Carolina for a new scenery for their photography. Living in Chicago does give you a lot to work with but my Aunt needed something with more green and less buildings. This move included my cousin Tony, who also happens to be my best friend.

Tony said that where she lives is called Outer Banks and the elite class of the area are a different level of filthy rich. Nose up in the air, refuse to look at anyone who makes anything less that six figures a year level of filthy rich. And these people did their research on my cousin’s family the second they moved in down the street and instantly started asking for personalized art they could buy.

My Aunt agreed to set up her own business to start selling her art there without the ties of the family gallery back at home, and then one day she came up with a great idea. She wanted my mom and dad to come to North Carolina and to work with her. Neither me or Tony know what our parents had in mind but after two years I’m going to see my best friend, and the plane leaves in 2 hours.

The drive from the airport to Tony’s house felt hours, I am so excited to see her. We facetime every day but it’s not the same and seeing each other in person. Once the rental car pulls into the long driveway leading up to one of the biggest houses I have every seen, I see Tony running down the porch. Her long, wavy, blonde hair flying behind her with the biggest smile on her face.

“Dad, can you just stop right here for me, so I can get out?” I almost whine, just as happy to see Tony and as she is to see me. Dad chuckles and bring the car to a stop long enough for me to hop out.

Tony and I clash together in a clumsy hug. “Oh God Mae, I’ve missed you!” Tony squeals, hugging me a little tighter.

“Same here, dude,” I pull away to look at her face, to see she is crying. Tony and I are so different in so many ways. She is that cute soft girl who wears skirts, always her hair done, and is emotional. Where as with me and my dark brunette hair, I like to wear worn down t shirts and shoes with denim shorts that are frayed at the end. I speak everything that comes to mind, down for almost anything, and communicating emotions is my weakness.”Lets get my shit inside so you can show me around.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and we make our way to the parked car to unpack.

After unpacking Tony told me about a ‘kegger’ that was going to go down near the beach called the boneyard.

“Fuck yeah, lets do it!” I say in a loud whisper so her parents didn’t hear.

Tony laughs, “just to remind you though, remember when I told you about the rival between kooks and pogues?”

“Um, yeah vaguely, why?”

“Well I live in figure eight which is technically kook territory so when going to this party to avoid any drama we should probably stick with the kooks.” Tony’s voice got quieter at the end of that sentence. She knows when she tries to give me advice I typically tend to ignore it and cause issues.

“Well,” I begin, plopping myself onto her bed, “I guess I can try, but if I remember correctly, the kooks are the one who are in the wrong most of the time?” My parents (Tony’s parents too) raised me to not see someone as a social class, judge them on how they treat you not by how much money they have.

“Yeah, normally they talk down on the pouges because they are from much less but,-”

“But that’s not cool Tony, we both know this.” I cut her off a little more harshly than intended.

“But,” Tony’s tone is desperate for me to hear her out,”I had a lot of troubles making friends and fitting in when I first came here two years ago. And I’m just starting to not be the weird new girl who sits in the art studio all day.” Tony sits down next me. “I’m not asking you to be rude or to look down on people, just to help me keep some of the friends I have finally made here.”

I let out a long sigh, “I’ll do my best.” Tony jumped from the bed and did a little victory dance, she only did this when she got her way with me. “Well, lets start getting ready.” Tony laughs as she start going my clothes to help me find something to wear.

As we walked down a sandy pathway through the trees, a bonfire came into view, along with a large group of people around the ages of 16 to 19. The sight of the fire inspired an idea of a drawing that I will probably start tomorrow. “where should we place our cooler?” I asked Tony.

“Looks like everyone is placing theirs over by that tree, most of the time its help yourself at these things so don’t become alarmed if you see someone getting into our cooler.” Tony shakes her finger at me knowing that I wouldn’t hesitate to confront anyone. I raise my hands up in surrender.

“I’m on my best behavior tonight.” I gave my best smile, causing Tony to giggle. “Now lets start the night off right.” Once we got our cooler placed we opened it and took out a sandwich bag that contained two limes, and our small bottle of tequila. It’s tradition for us to start our nights drinking with a shot together. Once the first shot is down we drink what we want. “Cheers,” I say then take a chug from the bottle and hand it to Tony as I bite my lime, and she does the same. Then we place the tequila back and grab ourselves a beer and walk towards the crowd of people.

Tony introduces me to a couple people she has become friends with in the last school year. They all seem nice but the entitlement that radiates off of them is insane. “So, you guys are from the same family, right?” asked one of the boys who i didn’t bother to remember his name.

“I mean, that’s what cousins normally means, right?” My tone came out harsh and Tony bumped me with her hip to remind me to play nice. The guy rolled his eyes in annoyance, causing me to raise an eyebrow. “If you don’t want a sarcastic answer don’t asked a stupid question.” I finished my beer in one big gulp.

“I was just making sure because you don’t seem to be the one who lives a life like Tony’s,” I feel Tony put her arm around my shoulder to try and calm me down, but the smug express the guy had on his face pushed me over the edge.

“Oh? Because how I look really defines my social class, right?”

“Hey, we are going to take a walk.” Tony steps between me and the guy, “Enjoy your night.” she says over her should as tony pulls me from the group.

Tony and I walk toward the coolers so I can get another beer. “can’t beleive that dick head.” I utter under my breath. Tony begins to giggle, she knows there is no point in trying to lecture me, because in the end we both know I was in the right. “Seriously Tony, I’m sorry you have to be around people like that.”

“Yeah kooks are no fun,” I turn to see a blonde guy with a red baseball cap going through coolers to find a beer of his choosing. “But at least they bring good beer.” The blonde is dressed in cargo shorts and a stretched out tank top, not khakis and polo shirts like the guys Tony had just introduced you too. I notice him make his way to our cooler. He pulled out a beer, shut the lid and used it as a seat to look at you and Tony.

“Hey, lets go back to the fire, we can get a beer in a minute.” Tony’s giggling has stopped and now she’s grabbing my arm trying to pull me away.

“Ah come on princess kook, no need to be scared.” The smirk on the guys face sent excitement through me.

“Mae,” Tony started but I cut her off.

“T, you can go back. I’ll get a beer and meet you there.” I try to sound as soft as Tony does when she tries to assure me. Tony looked at the guy then back to me. She nodded and then turned to make her way back to the group of people we were just at.

“You must not be from around here, a tourist?” The blonde pulls a lighter out of his pocket and pops open they beer. “If so, I’m as local as the come and you seem to need a guide.” He then winks and take a takes a swig of the beer. I return a smirk, trying to come off as flirty and make my way towards him.

“How often does that line work for you?”

“Well, normally tourist don’t ask that question.” as I get closer I lean down to be at the same level as him, I notice the blonde look down at my lips.

“Well I dont need a guide but,” I stand up straight and take the bottle from his hand, “for a local you are a very good host, thank you for opening my beer.” I place the bottle against my lips and take a drink.

the blonde shoots up from where he was sitting and takes the bottle back from me. “Dude find your own.”

I give him an innocent smile, “Well you see, that is mine, its from my cooler.” I take the bottle back and turn on my heels, “The name is Mae, hope to see you around blondie.”

“Wished the feeling was mutual!” The blond hollers after me then I hear slight chuckles come from him. I make my way to Tony who is now with a group of girls.

A/N hey so there are probably a handful of mistakes, I was just excited to get this out. Once again, sorry for it being slow in the beginning I was trying to build Mae up so you could know her a little more. the more notes the faster the second part will come out!

UPDATE: I HAVE MOVED THIS FANFIC TO WATTPAD, HERE IS THIS LINK! LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR THE NOTES!

#jj #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #jj x #jj x reader #rudy pankow #north carolina #imagine #jj fanfiction #outer banks netflix #writng #TwoOfAKind

87 notes · View notes

usertoxicyaoi · 4 years ago

Note

hey faiza!!! i hope you've been having a good day so far 💕 i was scrolling through your replies tag (which i do every other week when i have free time bc you have a beautiful way with words and it helps put my mind at ease for a while) and i thought it was already past the time where i come here and express my gratitude to you (which i tried doing once before but i felt awkward and didn't want to be a nuisance (haha get it?)). ever since i began following, i've learned so so SO much. not only +

+ about the islam and all desi matters (that i had so little knowledge about, shame on me! it's a beautiful culture and i'm so glad i'm able to see a slice of and learn about it through your blog!!), but also about so many other things, whether it be lgbtqia+ topics, just perks of life and even how to be more conscious and educated about the things and pieces of media i consume. i'm just a teenager u kno, whereas you are already a grown woman, so i couldn't possibly compare us as equal, as you certainly have more life experiences and knowledge than i do, and we come from drastically different places; my view of the world is still so limited to my surroundings and where i come from, but it's within the internet that i find a place to learn more about others and make that view of the world be wider, richer and more mindful. god i feel like im derailing, sorry shdhajd, but my point is: i didn't expect to be able to learn so much when i began watching bls again this year, i thought i would watch the shows, follow some blogs for pretty gifs, and that's all. but i was wrong, because tumblr gave me the opportunity to meet and befriend so many incredible people and i was so lucky that you were one of them. i've said this before but, my tumblr experience is so much better whenever i see you on my dash talking about whatever it is, and i look up to you so so so much. i'm not a religious person but the way you talk about the islam, the Qur'an or Allah makes me feel so emotional and it's beautiful to see this deep and passionate connection you have with this religion. and just how incredibly articulated you are when talking about any topic, it always makes me stop scrolling and read all the things you write. i adore reading your thoughts, your opinions and your take on things because they always come from a place of reflection, appreciation and respect, and i admire that a lot. you have such a wonderful and kind soul, it's so inspiring to me to see how you always try to be positive, optimistic and respectful no matter what is in front of you. of course, we don't //really// know each other that well, but the little of you that you pour out and show us is already so beautiful and welcoming 💓 i'm gonna stop now i'm sorry that this is so long goddd i just.... i wanted to thank you for all that you do for those who follow you and how impactful your presence on my tumblr experience has been. (i swear to you, when you followed me back on this blog before i made the sideblog, i legit freaked out lmao my mind was "WHAT??? SHE, WHO'S SO CLEVER AND AMAZING AND TALENTED, JUST FOLLOWED ME? WHEN I HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER?? SJDHSJSJ WHAT" and tbh i still don't know What made you want to be mutuals but i'm glad for whatever it was 💞) i hope all the parts go and im so sorry it's so long shdnksjdj

dawn!!! hello my sunshine!!!!!!!!! i hope you've had a lovely week, and i hope this weekend you take some time off and relax! i hope you're doing well!!!

oh my goodness me i- what have i done to deserve this I DO NOT DESERVE this. thank you so so much for just. being so loving and you are so so wise, i READ your tags, i READ your posts. and i think, despite however old or young people are, there's something to learn from everyone. there's something to appreciate and pick up on and implement and become more aware of and about from everyone's story of life. so don't ever think you may not have much to offer!

this year's been hard. a lot has happened. and i think everything has been a lesson to learn from, and for us to really truly understand what it is that really matters the most to us, and to show gratitude for what we have, all the blessings we have. and its hard to stay positive all the time, and thats okay. sometimes, our sadness needs room and space also where its telling us to just ... take a moment and reflect on why the sadness is there. but i've become so .... adamant that i choose to go back and think positively again. bc although it feels like we've been stripped away from being physically social, i've seen how much goodness and humanity there is still left within people on here, within all my mutuals - and i realised that, as long as there is goodness in this world, there's no reason to give up on hope. people together can make so many things happen.

and part of, i feel, what people should be proud of, is being proud of who they are. not in the arrogant sense, but in terms of WHO you are. what makes you, you. and now more than ever we need to know about one another. about different backgrounds and cultures and religions and beliefs etc. we can become ambassadors of those things, and being an authentic source of knowledge for people. of course, not everyone may like that, but thats okay. knowledge is power and there's so much knowledge out there for us to dip into. by learning from another, we can truly enrich ourselves, find out about commonalities and similarities and differences and contrasts. and ultimately realise that every single one of us has the right to life and the right to live. we can share our sorrow and pain, and also share our moments of joy and happiness too. we may not all agree on the same thing, but that should not sway us from wanting to befriend someone and missing out on an opportunity to get to know someone, just because you may not agree on one thing. there could be 10 things you do agree on vs that 1 that you dont. and that doesnt stop you from being any less you, nor them being any less them. we all deserve respect and kindness, despite our similarities and despite our differences from one place, culture, religion or belief, to the next.

there is just. there is so much good in this world, in nature, in people. we need to celebrate that. we need to appreciate goodness and just. be thankful for everything we have, and anything we get on top of what we have, is a blessing.

thank you so so so much!!! i love youuuuu!!!! 🧡🧡🧡

#faiza answers #DAWN THIS MESSAGE EYE- 🧡🧡🧡😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚

7 notes · View notes

captainsiegrid · 5 years ago

Text

Storytellers, a rec list

GodOfLaundryBaskets

- [Podfic] Intrinsic and [Podfic] Contingent - One Piece

I am absolutely floored by these. All the voices brought life to an already fantastic work, but these podfics are GodOfLaundryBaskets' babies and I am giving this rec to them for their absolute god-level narration and absolute perfect edit job. It makes me hate the moment it ends, I could listen to GodOfLaundryBaskets' voice forever.

Man, it makes me want to keep recording! It's an absolute honour to have been included in this project.

Kudos to Kawaiibooker for writing more-than-side-character-Bepo into an actual LIVE character with emotions!

- [Podfic] This Tornado Loves You - 魔道祖师 - 墨��铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

My first ever Modao Zushi podfic. Actually...my first time ever listening to a podfic. I was very sceptical at first because I had so many reservations about the proper pronunciations of the character's names (never mind I also suck at those because, well...Chinese. BUT! I fell in love with GodOfLaundryBaskets' voice instantly! Their intonation is just so beautiful!

- Hang in there - 镇魂 | Guardian (TV), Untitled Goose Game (Video Game)

Hilarious brought to you by GodOfLaundryBaskets' literal God's voice. The delivery of Lao Zhao's distress was flawless and absolutely hilarious, I swear!

Oceantail Podfics

- [PODFIC] Let it Flow Though You - Avatar: The Last Airbender, Avatar: Legend of Korra

Oceantail's voice is so sweet and cute, but she manages to surprise me every time with her dynamic approach to intonation. Even the serious and emotional parts felt all the more serious for it, her voice made Zuko's emotions feel even more real!

- [PODFIC] Day 1: Past and Present - Tales of Zestiria

Ok, so I'm gonna be painfully honest here: I hate this fanfiction, even though I wrote it (particularly because I wrote it!) so I thought I'd podfic it to try and hate it less.

Didn't work.

The only things that made me not hate this horrific, mistake riddled thing are Sorey and Mikleo's voices. Seriously, I wanna rewrite the whole thing so that Oceantail and lysandyra can speak more!

When I set out to podfic this, I had certain voices in mind, like anyone would. Someone must have heard my plea, because I got the best cast I could ask for. Working with them was so good I want to do it again soon!

lysandyra

- [Podfic] the sound of your heart - 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS

The work that made me go listen to BTS! While recording this I was completely confused.com! But when I listen to it I am SOOTHED! lysandyra's narration and God-like pacing is quintessentially smooth that you could spoon out a dollop and use it to sweeten your tea.

- [Podfic] an approach - Marvel Cinematic Universe

I love how lysandyra goes from smooth to expressive at the drop of a (hat) line so seamlessly! Specially Betty's lines!

Akaihyou

- [PODFIC] Feeling Blue - Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Akaihyou's tone sets a dramatic and emotional pace to this work that makes you wanna curl up in a blanket burrito and listen to it in a loop in spite of the words being said and I have absolutely no clue how she does it!

Also, sound effects! Absolutely genius!

- [Podfic] The Sunburn Squad - Captain America (Movies)

This podfic + blanket burrito + bucket of popcorn = an equally satisfying experience as watching a film.

No more saying is needed. Go listen, now!

P.S.: ""Bullshit," Clint coughed." ---- I'm never getting over this!

cheshiretears

- Feeling Blue (Podfic) - Voltron: Legendary Defender

I absolutely HAD TO include this one!

It isn't just voices you hear in podfic works. You hear also the sound that "blood, sweat and tears" make when editing is done as beautifully as this!

- Jelly - Haikyuu!!

No, I have not forgotten how to read silently and no, I have not forgotten about my beautiful volleyball babies.

I had actually read this before VOICETEAM and totally forgot until I was working on these recs. I love how she keeps the poly alive by mentioning the Kuro and Kenma through the fic and I adore how she nailed adorable chaotic and hyperactive owl baby!

eafay70

- [Podfic] Mrs. Pollifax and the Family Connection - Mrs. Pollifax - Dorothy Gilman

THE. MOST. ADORABLE. NJ GRANDMA. EVER! How even!!!

- TOS OT3 - Star Trek: The Original Series

I didn't know what a "filk" was...now I know...AND I CAN'T GET OVER IT! Hilarious doesn't even begin to describe this. 2:55 minutes of artfully arranged lyrics and 10 minutes later I'm still in stitches!

P.S.: Baskets, you narrate, you do characters and now you sing?! Leave some talent for us mortals! X'D

- In Which Kirk Speaks German - Star Trek: The Original Series

She has 3 recs because ADORABLE!!!! That "Please~!" AAAAAAHHHHH

minnabird

- [Podfic] Sunlight - Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)

HER SHERLOCK ACCENT! I CAN'T! LOVED!

I can't emphasise just how fun this was! I wish to work with minnabird and Akaihyou again!

Also: The Bloopers! X'D

- almost, but not always - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

This will hurt you! And it will be ok because minna wrote it so wonderfully sweet you would easily believe she's also a mother...

alstroemeria_thoughts

- Let if Flow Through You [PODFIC] - Avatar: The Last Airbender, Avatar: Legend of Korra

I chose this podfic because, like Oceantail, alstroemeria_thoughts' voice is small and cute and I was very inclined to see how she managed it. I sear, talent comes in small voices! I don't know how she does it, but she 's a master at keeping a clear pronunciation in spite of her speed! I was always advised to read slowly because fast is an enemy to clear reading, but astra is just excellent at reading fast and making it sound pleasant!

- [Podfic] (un)Official Marine Rules and Regulations - One Piece

My first ever live recording session and it was FANTASTIC!

We already know I worship GodOfLaundryBaskets, but you HAVE to listen to alstroemeria_thoughts' list off rules like you're a peasant if you don't follow them! It's bloody hilarious! I mean "Justice does not have a concrete shape, and if it did, it would not be something as pedestrian as a triangle. Get it right." will make you beg her to step on you. Literally!

Halbereth

- Google says WHAT?! - Marvel Cinematic Universe

My dudes, I'm making this a podfic. It is criminal that it isn't one yet. This is absolutely hilarious!

P.S.: "his dad had had a bad habit" ---- I wanna read this sentence!

- local / regular - Marvel Cinematic Universe

The intonation here is beautiful! It's is like listening to the actual person telling her own story?! I wanna meet he Mamma!

EXTRA:

lunatique

- [PODFIC] 10/10 WOULD MARRY - 镇魂 | Guardian - priest, 镇魂 | Guardian (TV)

The biggest full cast and most ambitious podfic I have EVER been part of and it's INCREDIBLE!

This thing pushed me down the Guardian rabbit hole with a kick and no parachute and I'm cackling all the way down.

Go. Listen. Now!

3 notes · View notes

kaoru-takaida · 5 years ago

Text

Lost In Translation Fanfiction

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters mentioned or portrayed in this fanfiction. (Except for “E”.) Please support Jjolee and their amazing works including the Lost In Translation Webtoon on the Webtoon app and follow them on their social media. Thank you.

Chapter One: The Wyld Incident...

Jaewon yawns and opens his eyes, rolling over in his bed. It’s been a week and the anonymous texter hasn’t responded to his “Who are you?” text he sent after the short picture message that was sent to him. He looks at his cellphone and sighs, not seeing the unknown number in any of his recent texts. Jaewon sits up, standing straight. He raises his hands yawning again and stretching. As he does, there’s a ding from his cellphone, as if on cue. Jaewon chokes, stopping mid-stretch. He quickly slides over to the side of his bed and eagerly opens the new text message. Low and behold, it was from the same number. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond right away. You must have been anxious.” Jaewon cocks an eyebrow. They were worried about him? They weren’t some stalker, were they? “I’m sure you want an answer, but I can’t tell you who I am or how I know everything I do.”

Jaewon scowls. “Why?” He texts back. “How did you get that photo? And why tell me you have it?”

Elsewhere, a mysterious hooded person frowns. They look up at their computer. They begin typing. “As to how I got the photo. I can’t tell you.” Jaewon tsks seeing this. When his phone dings again he glances down and his jaw drops. “But I’m telling you because I want to help you. Like you helped me.” Jaewon’s eyes lit up… He helped this person at one point? He rubs his head, tussling his deep red hair, puzzled at who this could be. “I promise to try my hardest to help you out of this without making Mayhem suffer.” Jaewon gasps. He stares at the message in awe. An admiration crept in him over that message. That was all he cared about in this. The reason he was worried about this person knowing the truth. He purses his eyebrows.

“What’s your name?” He texts them.

The person messaging back inhales sharply. It was so tempting to tell Jaewon everything. Why they were doing this. What their name is. What Jaewon means to them. They exhale a long breath and begin typing. "Call me E."

Jaewon cocks an eyebrow at the letter name. "'E'🤨??" He texts back. "But I need more than a letter…" He says aloud. He doesn't type it and instead, texts something back. "What's your favorite animal?"

E stands straight and stares at the monitor. "Huuuuuh?!" "My favorite animal? Why?"

"Just tell me."

They tsk before typing in their answer. "Don't laugh. My favorite animal is a mouse." Jaewon smiles before laughing a little.

"Mouse, huh?" He says to himself. He texts back. "Mice are cool.😎"

"You laughed, didn't you?😑"

"Yeah. A little,😁 lol." He then clicks on the cellphone number. He taps "save as contact" and he saves the contact as "E🐭". He screenshots it and sends it to E. He doesn't know why, but he felt he could really trust them. Although he desperately wonders why they're bothering to even help him. Jaewon hears the phone ding.

"Lol I like it." Jaewon smiles.

E smiles now, too. They sigh and then scowl, flipping tabs on their monitor screen and pulling up a CCTV view. It's inside High Class Entertainment HQ. And in the CEO's office no less. (Mr. Park… )They think to themselves. (You'll get what's coming to you… I swear it.)

The next day…

E stares at the photo on Twitter. (This picture… was taken inside Jaewon's apartment! How?!) They swallow hard, tabbing out and opening up Twitter. They click on the profile. It's set to private. Of course. E searches for more results on the internet. There was nothing. Just the many pictures of Jaewon as Wyld, fancams, and Wyld focus videos at Mayhem's concerts. They pull up their Messenger. “Jaewon, that picture is suspicious.” E texts. “Please text me.” An hour passes and E grows restless. "Jaewon, are you ok?" There's no response. E frowns. Another hour passes. "Hello? Jaewon?"

E readjusts the black medical face mask on their face, fussing with their hood. They watch as D.Min helps Jaewon into a sleek black car. No doubt belonging to Kang Dongho himself. A patrol officer is there, seeing them off. As D. Min gets into the car, the officer waves. When the car pulls out of sight, E strides up to catch the officer.

He was about to enter his vehicle when he noticed E. "Woah! I have a friend who lives in this building. What happened here?" E asks. The patrol officer cocks an eyebrow at E.

He glances at the young lady, handcuffed in the back of his cruiser, sobbing. "Wyld~~~!" She shrills. E scowls, pulling the face mask from their face. When the officer sees this, he softens his expression.

"A piece of work, this one. She broke in and kidnapped one of the tenants here." He says. "I can't tell you the full details. But if I were you, I'd make sure your friend is safe.” E’s eyes widen. “Make sure you tell your friend to be more careful from now on.” E gives a slight bow. “Thank you, officer.” When the cruiser drives away, E looks over to the doorway of the apartment complex. E walks over to the door of the apartment complex. They look around to make sure no one was around, before dialing the code in. The door unlocks. E opens the door and walks in.

Jaewon sighs, slumping down into the covers D.Min lent him. He frowns, turning on his side and hugging his pillow. He then glances at his cell phone. “That’s right…” He says to himself. “I turned it off after everything that stuff happened…” He hits the power button. After a few seconds, the phone lights up. And as soon as it does, the multiple dings scare him. He swipes the phone open and sees how many messages he has from a certain someone. “What?! Fifteen text messages?!” He scrolls through the texts with a surprised expression stuck to his face.

“Jaewon, that picture is suspicious.”

“Please text me.”

“Jaewon, are you ok?”

“Hello? Jaewon?”

“Pls tell me ur ok!”

“Jaewon. Someone might be in your apartment!”

“Pls txt me!”

Jaewon blinks wide eyed at the concerned messages. Then the final text makes him sit up quickly. “What the-?!”

He stares at the text. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek. “I’m on my way over! Please be okay!” E was on their way over?! But this was an hour ago… They could be gone by now. Jaewon looks around to see if D.Min or his butler was anywhere near. He swallows hard before inhaling sharply. “E. I’m okay now. I’m sorry I didn’t see your texts.”

E sighs a big sigh in relief, walking home. They lean against the wall of a building. The worry melts into relief and they slide down the wall to squat a little, texting back. “OMG! THANK GOD AND ANY OTHER GODS THAT EXIST!” They text back in all caps. “Jaewon, are you hurt?! Nothing happened, did it?” Jaewon felt his breath catch in his throat. The thought of what happened makes his heart beat faster. His body trembles and he purses his eyebrows. E takes the silence as a bad sign. “You don’t have to tell me.” Jaewon is surprised at that. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”

Jaewon stifles a trembling inhale. “Me too.” Jaewon texts back. “Can I call you?” E chokes. They stare at the message. (He… wants to call me?) E begins to text. Before they could respond with their response of “not a good idea” the cell phone dings again. “Please?” E closes their eyes. They sigh and open up an application on their phone. They click on Jaewon’s number and swipe “call”.

Jaewon hears the cell phone ring and quickly answers. “Ah… hello?”

There was a long silence that made Jaewon a bit anxious. And then… “J-Jaewon…” Jaewon’s eyes widen a little. He felt a familiarity in the voice. He swears he’s heard this voice before. “Are you… sure you’re okay?” Jaewon chokes a bit, a trembling sob slipping from his lips.

“N-No…” He says, tears welling into his eyes. He’d tried to hold it back. But hearing someone else other than D.Min ask him that after everything had happened… It made him overflow with emotion. E gasps at the sound of Jaewon’s sniffles. “I… was so scared…” E frowns and purses their eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that…”

“I…” He sobs quietly, trying to avoid having D.Min or his butler hear. But E can still hear him. “I’m sorry.”

E sits down on the pavement. “Why are you apologizing, Jaewon?”

He wipes his eyes gently with his hoodie’s sleeve. “I don’t know.” Jaewon says.They both don’t say anything for a few moments while Jaewon collects himself. “There was a fan that found their way into my apartment.” E scowls. (WHAT?! That’s crazy!) E thinks. “She put a tracker in a gift she gave me at one of Mayhem’s Fansignings to find out where I live. And then she installed a camera to get the keycode to my apartment.” Jaewon hears E breathing unsteady on the other side. (I should have known this could happen.) “She ambushed me and tied me up threatening me with a knife from the kitchen.” E closes their eyes.

“I’m sorry that happened.” E says. Jaewan can tell the voice was familiar, but can’t place whether the voice was male or female. The voice was very androgynous, and despite Jaewon trying to focus on their tones, he can’t place the voice with a gender or a face. But he knew without a doubt he’d heard this voice before. But where? (At a fansigning or meet and greet for Mayhem? I can’t be sure… )“I… will try to prevent that from happening again…” Jaewon scowls a bit.

“Because you know where I live, right?” Jaewon asks. E freezes and can’t help but feel a bit nervous. How is Jaewon reacting to this? Was he mad? Skeptical? Suspicious? E stammers a bit. Jaewon sighs, letting it go for now. Call it exhaustion, or just his gut feeling that E wasn’t a threat, but he didn’t feel like pursuing this any further at the moment. “Are you still there?”

E stands up from their seat on the pavement. “Ah… no.” E replies. “I-I’m not. But I promise I didn’t go into your apartment. I just wanted to see if it was secure.”

“It’s fine.” Jaewon says. He pauses now. “E, can I ask you something?”

“Mm?”

“Why won’t you call me Wyld?” Jaewon asks. E bites their lip a little, tempted to answer. “You’ve only ever called me by my real name. You never use my Stage name. Why?” E doesn’t say anything. But Jaewon still waits for an answer. When E doesn’t answer Jaewon sighs again. “I get it… You can’t answer.” E looks down at their sneakers. Jaewon smiles, though he knows they can’t see it. “Please, be safe…”

E chuckles. “I should be saying that to you, Jaewon.” E says, fussing with their hood. Jaewon ends the call. He tiredly slumps back into the covers. He hugs the pillow next to him and wraps himself in the comforter. He scowls, frowning. He buries his face into the pillow his head was on and tries to sleep. Just around the corner, leaning against the wall of the hallway outside, D.Min puts a hand to his chin, deep in thought.

He’d heard the entire conversation… (Wyld can’t go back to his apartment. Not with everything that had happened.) D.Min thinks. (But… who was this “E” he was talking with just now? Do they know about what happened? They seem to know a great deal about him and then some.) D.Min cocks an eyebrow, peeking into the room through the doorway to see Wyld finally falling asleep. The most D.Min can see is his bright red hair poking from beneath the soft heap of comforter. It rises and falls slowly, relaxed with Wyld’s breathing. (Is it possible E knows all about the scandals he told me were “misunderstandings”? Are they trying to help him?) D.Min crosses his arms, a scowl on his brows. (Or are they just pretending so they can get close to him?)

Author’s Note:

Hi hi, lovelies! So I know it’s taken a while. But with COVID-19 and my lack of work and rollercoaster health concerns, I hope you all understand. So I took extra care to make sure this chapter was airtight and nicely done.

First things first, about this mysterious “E”, I am addressing them as “they” to keep the identity a secret. They are the original character I’ve hinted at previously and there will be more information about this character in the coming chapters. You’ll be learning about this character as the other characters do. I won’t be giving any hints or answers on said character. But if there are questions about this fanfiction anyone has, just let me know in the comments and I will work on answering them the best I can. I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to my future chapters ^.^

Jjolee’s twitter: https://twitter.com/_jjolee

Lost In Translation Webtoon: https://www.webtoons.com/en/drama/lost-in-translation/list?title_no=1882

#d.min #lost in translation webtoon #lost in translation webtoon fanfiction #mayhem wyld #mayhem minsoo #mayhem daehyun #mayhem d.min #mayhem jaewan #kang dongho #lee minsoo #kim daehyun

1 note · View note

ah-ga-seven · 8 years ago

Text

Christian Yu x Reader: Let Me Explain - Chapter 6

Chapter 1: These Seoul Streets. | Chapter 2: Uninvited Guests | Chapter 3: Confrontation | Chapter 4: Who Wouldv’e Thought?| Chapter 5: Red Roses

Chapter 6: It’s Party Time

Word count: 5287 (I’m sorry lol)

Series type: Angst.

Warnings: Bad language and mentions of alcohol and consumption of it.

Additional Characters: DPR LIVE (Dabin) and mentions of other artists/fictional characters.

A/N: Thank you everyone for supporting the series the way you have, sadly all good things come to an end, this is part one to the finale. Please keep in mind English is not my first language therefore there might me some spelling/grammar mistakes

You can’t even explain how everything happened so fast. It’s been three days since that night, and it has also been three days since you’ve seen Christian face to face. You keep in contact through texts and calls and see him through late night face time sessions, but both of your schedules were too packed to actually meet up. Especially now that operation fake relationship is up and running.

After Christian attended that meeting at YG he had been so busy, being pushed around like the media puppet they made him to be. Christian explained that they wanted to get the important stuff out of the way first so that the public would keep paying attention to them, which was key for all of this to work. He told you it was temporary. That he’d be really busy for a week or two before things would slowly start to die down. It was exactly what you were afraid of. Every time he’d text you to ask you if you were okay with something you didn’t have a choice but to say yes. You had to. He was being considerate of your feelings throughout the whole thing, but you didn’t even put up a fight. Not even when he expected you to because you felt like you were secretly being watched by Hyung Suk. It made him question why you didn’t care anymore, but he didn’t have much time to think about you because he was kept busy. Christian was only trying to please and help everyone around him at the same time, neglecting his own work and relationships in the end. In some weird way you were relieved he was too busy to be with you. It made it easier to keep your secret. But you missed him. More than you expected to.

You could have predicted this. You could have said no when you had the chance. But now you’re glued stuck to a spot you couldn’t get out of because you were being blackmailed. You partially blamed yourself for this mess, thinking back to that night in the dance studio when you so childishly thought of this deal as a test for Christian’s loyalty to you. Would you have done differently if you could have? Absolutely. Can you now? Absolutely not. Not with all of these consequences. You weren’t only responsible for your own life if this video got out because of you, but also the lives of Christian, Dabin, Cream and the rest of the people affiliated with DPR. There was too much damage to be done with the truth. Damage that couldn’t be mended.

You nearly broke your brain overthinking the past couple of days and nights. You contemplated on whether to tell Christian or not, but you know you can’t. Not until you figure out a solution.

You had been coping with your emotions by shutting them out. Living on automatic pilot. It’s like you slowly tricked your mind not to care anymore, even though you do. More than anything.

You manage to smile at the Starbucks employee who handed you your two Americano’s. Saying a quick thank you. You hastily run to your car through the rain and put the coffees on the passengers’ seat. You drive to Dabin’s apartment. You hadn’t seen him since that night either. He texted you last night If you could come over at around 3 in the afternoon to listen to some of his new music. He loved to hear your opinions on his stuff because he knew you get to listen to new releases before most people, since you choreograph songs for many idols and solo artists. It unexpectedly made you an expert on new trends in kpop/khiphop.

You arrive at around 1:15 in the afternoon, you knew you were early. A little too early. But you were bored and way too happy to find some distraction with a good friend.

You ring his doorbell first, waiting for a good 30 seconds before you decide to bust out his spare key. He does it to you all the time, so you figure you could too. Maybe he isn’t home? Hence the 3 o clock time stamp you figured.

You clumsily enter, trying not to drop the coffee.

“Dabin?” you yell out kicking off your sneakers before you walk into his living room. No response.

You frown putting the coffees on his kitchen counter when you hear a door open. You turn around to see a half naked Dabin standing before his bedroom door, softly closing it behind him. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Where’s your shirt? It’s 1 in the afternoon” you ask looking him up and down.

“Why…. are you here?” he asks wide eyed in a hushed tone.

“Uhm, you asked me to come?” you say crossing your arms.

“Yeah at three y/n. At three” he repeats, still talking in a hushed tone.

“Why does it matter, you’re always up at 10.” You say rolling your eyes. “And why are you whispering. Is Lori sleeping? Is Christian making you dog-sit again because he’s too busy?” you ask taking a sip of your coffee.

Dabin doesn’t say anything, he just stands there guarding the door to his bedroom when suddenly it clicked.

“Oh my god…Are you? Did you? Is someone here?” you stammer.

He closed his eyes nodding. He’s embarrassed, how cute.

Your eyes lit up, giving him a devilish smile “Can I meet her” you say enthusiastically.

“What!? Are you crazy!?” he says in that hushed tone again, frantically looking around for his shirt.

When you look around with him you see a trace of both male and female clothes paraded on the floor.

You snort trying to hold in your laughter when you see Dabin trying to collect both his clothes, and the clothes of the still unknown female.

“Is she still asleep?” you ask walking towards the couch to sit down.

He nods still trying to find something.

You adjust yourself on the couch, feeling something poke you, your hand searched for the culprit, pulling it out from under you. A bra.

“Were you looking for this?” you ask swinging it around in the air.

Dabin looks at you with his embarrassed/angry look and nearly jumps you trying to get the bra from your hand.

“Y/n I swear to god” he says pretending to slap your cheek. You just chuckle at him. Enjoying the fact that you got to tease him.

It has been too long since playful you took a step outside. You knew that coming here would result in a fun time, but you didn’t imagine it to be this type of fun.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” you ask taking another sip, crossing your legs making yourself more comfortable.

He sighs. “Remember Kang In Ah?”

“Kang In Ah, you had a crush on since middle school Kang In Ah?” you ask surprised.

“Yeah, I’ve been…seeing her” he says avoiding eye contact.

“Is that why you always leave early or bail on Christian and I lately?” you ask cocking your head to the side.

He just nods at you, combing his fingers through his hair.

You smile, genuinely happy for him. If anyone deserved to be in a loving relationship it was Dabin. You were especially happy because it was In Ah he was seeing, you always hit it off very well with her.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could have hung out together.” You ask a little offended.

“I didn’t want to introduce her officially until things got serious, besides when do you or Christian have time anymore.”

Your smile drops hearing his name, and it didn’t go unnoticed. So much for your fun distraction.

You try to steer the conversation back into the casual direction. ‘Well…looking at the clothes on the floor I’d say things got pretty serious.” You say with a faint smile on your face, trying to conceal your true feelings once again.

“When is the last time you’ve seen him” Dabin asked sitting down next to you, you should have known those things don’t work on him. He knows you like the back of his hand.

You don’t respond biting your lip, looking to the floor.

He sighs. “You miss him, don’t you?” he asks fixing a piece of hair that was in front of your face.

You just nod, looking at Dabin. He gave you a warm smile, softy rubbing your back.

“Things will go back to normal in no time, you waited 2 years to actually be with him because both of you were too afraid to admit your feelings. Two more weeks won’t kill you right?” he says trying to make you feel better.

Oh Dabin. You know he means well.

“I guess.” You reply not knowing what else to say.

“At least you’ll see him tonight.” He says leaning back. “Maybe not in the way you want to but at least you’ll see him.”

Right. You almost forgot. The first public appearance of the YuYu couple was tonight. Their couple name made you want to throw up, without exaggeration. Since everyone of DPR was going to be at the AOMG party tonight, so did you. It didn’t only mean you had to see Christian pretend to be in love with someone else, but it also meant that the chances of running into Hyung Suk quadrupled. You closed your eyes. You weren’t mentally ready for this.

“Hey” Dabin says squeezing your thigh. You look up to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to go If you don’t want to.”

Suddenly your mind flashes back to the letter Hyung Suk sent you.

If you, in any way or form talk Christian out of our little deal or form any type of threat, I will release the video online with a time stamp. Showing his disloyalty to Yura. Turning him into the bad guy. What a story that would be righ?

“No I have to go…It’d look to weird If I didn’t go. Especially since there will be a lot of people there who personally know Ian and me. Everyone thought something was going on between us, so if I’m not there I feel like I’ll make that more obvious” you say playing with your fingers.

Dabin pursed his lips together. “That’s damn smart of you to think off, but also very inconsiderate of your own feelings.”

“It’s not about me right now.” You say resting your face against your palm.

“Right, It’s about Yu-ra” Dabin says articulating Yura’s name extra strong, making you look up at him. He was mocking her.

“I still think her sudden change of heart is a little strange don’t you?” Dabin says looking at you, trying to read your facial expression.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess her whole story kind off makes sense?” you say not knowing where this is coming from.

“To me it kind off doesn’t.” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask out of curiosity.

What is Dabin’s point of view to this exactly?

“I mean, even though things in her life are very unfortunate, she always manages to get what she wants.” He says shrugging.

You think about it for a second. She did admit she liked Christian.

Yura was being really nice to you. Maybe a little too nice? Would she have been nice to you if there was another way to solve her problems?

You shake the thoughts out of your head. You had enough to deal with as is.

“I don’t know Dabin. I really don’t. All I know is that Christian really wanted to help her out. He was the first one to notice that she was a descent human being.”

Dabin bites the inside of his cheek. “Whatever. I just hope it’ll be over soon so we can all get back to our regular grind. Christian has been so caught up in this whole fairy tale that he forgot to edit my latest video.”

You frown. “That’s so unlike him”

“Yeah, it’s also so unlike you to let this happen, but the day I figure out what’s going on in the both of your heads is the day world peace is declared I guess.”

You roll your eyes at Dabin. Getting up.

“Let’s do the whole music thing next time. I don’t think I could have picked worse timing.”

He jumps up smiling widely. “Finally! Something we agree on.” He says grabbing you by your shoulders, walking behind you to lead you to his front door.

He was desperately trying to get you out off here before Kang In Ah woke up.

“So, I’ll pick you up at 11.15 tonight”

“Eh okay” you agree as you were being rushed out of his apartment, quickly putting your shoes on.

He opened the door for you giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for the coffee y/n, see you tonight!” he says giving you one of his boyish smiles again as you step out of his house.

“…See ya, and next time I want to meet her!” you yell a little louder hoping it’d wake her up as he was already closing the door.

Dabin stuck his face through the little opening, giving you an angry look before closing the door on you.

You chuckle. Shaking your head at him.

You check yourself out in the mirror one last time. Dabin was already downstairs, waiting for you in the car. You take a deep breath. “You’ve got this” you encourage yourself looking at your attire.

You were wearing a black off the shoulder tight fitted midi dress that complimented your figure. You had minimum jewelry on so the attention would be drawn to your glammed up make-up. You put on your heels and grab your jacket just in case the weather would turn on you.

You rush down the stairs knowing Dabin was waiting for you. As you open the door to the passengers seat you were greeted by a whistle.

“Daaaaaamn girl, where you going?” Dabin says smiling, looking at you.

He knew how anxious you were about tonight, so he couldn’t help but lighten the mood. You chuckle smacking his arm. “Shut up.”

“Don’t forget I’m right beside you okay? He says starting the car. You nod at his words, feeling somewhat ensured with Dabin’s presence. You really don’t know what you would have done without him.

You talk about this and that, mostly about Dabin’s new music or gossip in the industry. After about 35 minutes you arrive at the club.

You got out of the car, smoothing down your dress leaving your jacket in the car.

“Are you sure you won’t need that tonight?” Dabin asks referring to your jacket putting out his arm for you to loop yours through. You start walking to the club shaking your head. “I’ll be fine.”

Your heart was beating super fast when you entered. Both of you avoided the red carpet, not feeling up to it. Dabin let go of your arm to hold your hand, squeezing it for reassurance. “Smile” he says through his teeth.

You do as he says as the man of the evening approaches.

“Ayee DPR gang wassup!” Jay Park says coming in for a kiss on your cheek and one of those ‘bro hugs’ with Dabin.

“Where’s the man of the hour?” he asks looking at you.

“I guess he’ll be here soon” you answer acting innocent to your best ability.

“He’s all up in online news lately though, did you guys know?” Jay asks leaning on a pillar looking into your eyes.

Dabin chuckled. “Of course we did. He’s family” he answers putting his hand over your shoulder.

Jay’s attention diverted to Dabin, giving him a nod. “Is he bringing her?” he asked.

Jay isn’t stupid. He was asking all of the important questions because he knew something was iffy about the situation. Jay had always seen you as Christian’s girl.

“Yes” you reply. “He told me he would.” You try to keep your facial expressions neutral. If you seemed just the slightest bit nervous or put off, you know the questions wouldn’t stop.

“Well I’ll anticipate their grand entrance. So many reporters are lined up outside because they found out they were both on the list. It’s crazy.” Jay says sniffing. “The rest of your crew is on the left side of the VIP area. I’ll let the staff bring some bottles to your table” he smiles winking at you.

Dabin was the first one to thank Jay with another one of their bro hugs. You do the same, giving him a quick hug, walking towards your table. The club wasn’t that packed yet, but a lot of eyes turned to the both of you when you walked to the VIP area.

“If this is what tonight is going to be like than I don’t know if I can handle it” you say to Dabin sitting down.

“People are nosey as fuck.” Dabin says annoyed. “We just have to act like we don’t know much. Let Christian deal with it. He wanted to do this so badly.” You bite your lip, somewhat agreeing with him.

You’ve never had this many people say Hi to you, trying to make small talk. Of course it was always about Christian and Yura. Your head hurt from all the fake smiles and fake story’s, so you decided to order something a little stronger than your usual virgin cocktail. The alcohol loosened you up a bit, so you started talking to people how you normally would, trying to forget the problem at hand.

It was now half past twelve. The YuYu couple still hadn’t arrived and it was making you more and more anxious as time went by.

Dabin was chatting it up with some Show Me The Money 6 contestants while you were seated beside a few female artists from AOMG and Club Eskimo who were gossiping away with each other. You didn’t really pay attention to what they were saying, too consumed with your own thoughts to actually hear what was going on. Suddenly all of their heads turned to the entrance of the club. People were talking louder and pictures were being taken. You just knew that had to be them.

You close your eyes for a second. Mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to see.

You look at them as they entered. Yura was smiling from ear to ear. Happily showing off her arm candy. She was dressed to impress, that was for sure. Christian’s facial expression was neutral. He looked good, maybe a little too good. He led her through the entrance. greeting Jay. You watched them as they said their hello’s. Your heart was beating like crazy, your eyes searching for Hyung Suk but he wasn’t there. You guess the universe seemed to be on your side just a little bit tonight.

Jay pointed to your table, probably telling him that the rest of us were seated over here and that’s when you made eye contact with Christian. He looked at you, and kept staring. Your heart dropped and you immediately look away, getting up.

“Excuse me girls, I have to pee” you smile at them as they let you through.

You struggle walking through the crowd as everyone’s attention was fixated on Ian and Yura. The alcohol in your blood didn’t make it any easier for you either.

You almost trip at least twice before you make it to the ladies’ room.

You open the door, happy to see it empty. You stare at yourself in the mirror suppressing the urge to cry and run away.

All of this has become too much. You close your eyes, only seeing the way Christian looked at you once you locked eyes. It’s like he forgot you were going to be there. He hadn’t even texted or called today either.

He’s slowly slipping away from you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Without your knowledge a tear escapes from your eye. As you feel it go down your cheek you look up. Immediately wiping it away, trying not to ruin your make-up.

“It’s fine. You’re okay” you encourage yourself taking a deep shaky breath. “Let’s just find some distraction”

Dabin had been looking for you for the past half hour. He knew he couldn’t ask people if they had seen you. It’d be too obvious because you went messing the second Christian and Yura walked in.

After his second round through the club, Dabin decided to tell Ian.

“Bro.” Dabin says coming up closer to him. He paused when he saw that Yura was listening as well.

“Have you seen y/n? I locked eyes with her when I came in but when I looked back she disappeared.” Christian says worried.

“I was just about to tell you that I can’t find her either.” Dabin says frowning. “She won’t answer her phone when I call.”

Yura stayed quiet until Christian was about get up to leave and look for you. She grabbed his arm, pulling him back down on the seat again. He gave her a confused look and so did Dabin “Don’t you think it would look a little weird if you would leave me alone to look for someone else?” she says giving him a sheepish smile.

Dabin squinted his eyes at her. Of course she’d say that.

“This is y/n we’re talking about.” Dabin says. “You know, his actual girlfriend.” He gave her a blank look.

Yura’s eyes widened. “Don’t speak so loud!” she says shocked. Dabin saw the annoyance in her eyes, but Christian was a blind man when it comes to things like that.

Christian frowned at the both of them, not knowing what to do or say. “Let me call her.” He says.

Yura rolled her eyes while Dabin sat down beside him, putting his arm over Christian’s shoulder while leaning in so he could hear the phone.

- your pov –

Your phone lit up “Christian?” you read out loud.

You lean your cheek on your palm contemplating on whether or not to answer the phone, but your alcohol controlled brain already pressed the ‘accept call’ icon.

“Y/n?” you hear his voice. It was muffled by the sound of the loud ass music on the background. But you could recognize his voice through anything.

“Y/n where are you?” he asked impatiently as you didn’t reply.

“At the club” you slur your words. Your elbow slipped off of the bar, losing the support you were giving your heavy head. You lose balance for a second but regain your composure, giggling at your own clumsiness.

“Are you drunk?” you hear his voice again.

“What? She never drinks” you hear Dabin this time.

“Dabinnie!” you say excited to hear his voice.

You hear rumbling on the other end of the line and raise your eyebrows.

“Y/n” you hear Dabin this time. “Where are you?”

“in the club” you answer again, a little annoyed this time. Why can’t they just leave you alone? For the first time in the past couple of days you feel fine.

“I get that you’re in the club, but where.” He says like an angry father.

You look around, inspecting your surroundings. “It’s like…open air? Jesus It’s cold up here.” You answer slurring your words again.

“She’s on the rooftop bar” you hear Dabin say to Christian.

“y/n don’t move; do you understand.” Dabin says in a stern tone.

You nod as if he’d be able to see it. “Aye-aye captain.” You giggle.

You hang up the phone, resting your head on your palm again.

- meanwhile –

Christian wanted to come with him but he told him no. Yura was constantly breathing down his neck and he didn’t know what your drunken state would do if you saw either of them. Dabin promised to call Christian once you were safe and out of the public’s eye.

Dabin rushed back to his car to grab your jacket before he went to get you. He opened the door to his passengers’ seat, lifting your jacket from the chair when suddenly a red card fell out of one of your pockets. He frowned, not thinking much of it as he quickly put it into his pocket, running back to the club to come and get you.

He ran up the stairs, seeing you chatting with the bartender. Dabin sighed walking up to you, putting your jacket over your shoulders. “Let’s go” he says removing your shot glass from your hand, returning the new bottle of Soju to the bartender. “She’s had enough” he says putting a 50,000 won bill on the table to pay for whatever you had consumed. The bartender nodded taking the money, giving him back the change.

“Dabin” you ask staring into his eyes. “Did they leave?” you ask trying to get up.

Dabin quickly got a hold of your upper arm, making sure you were stable enough to stand. Which you weren’t.

“No y/n they didn’t leave. You did.” he says trying to make you understand. He had never seen you like this before. It saddened him.

“Shit! Do you think people noticed?” you ask worried.

He just shook his head “No, y/n.” he answers. He only gave you short answers. He’ll talk to like an adult you when you’re sober.

“Come on.” He says linking arms with you to support you. You carefully walk down the stairs avoiding crowded places or people you may know. The both of you finally arrive at the hallway where back exit of the club was located. You see Christian standing there. Waiting for you.

You squint your eyes, trying to make sure if it was really him.

“Babe are you okay? Why did you drink so much?” he asks putting you down on a random stool in the hallway, kneeling down in front of you.

“Who babe? Me babe?” you ask pointing at yourself with a fake confused expression on your face.

“Don’t be like this.” He says looking into your eyes.

“Where’s Yura?” you ask him, fixing a piece of his hair for him.

“Y/n come on.” Christian says a little tired of your childishness.

Dabin crosses his arms, waiting for things to kick off between the two of you.

“What? Don’t you think I have the right to feel this way?” you say stumbling over your own words a few times.

“No. You don’t. I have asked you a hundred times if you were okay with this, and you kept saying yes. You didn’t even care! And now you do?” he says angrily.

“I don’t have a fucking choice Ian!” you yell at him this time.

“Yes you did! What are you talking about!?” Christian says getting up.

“Guys calm down. If people hear us we’re in trouble.” Dabin says putting his hand on Christian’s shoulder. “Don’t take anything she says too serious right now okay. I’ll take her to my place and let her sleep it off.”

“I want to go to my own house” You say giving Dabin a look.

“You don’t get to want anything right now.” Dabin angrily says looking at you.

It was like they were both ganging up on you. Where Dabin was usually on your side with things like this, this time he was on Ian’s. You can’t really blame him though. Even you knew you were being unfair. You cross your arms and legs. Annoyed at the both of them.

Christian sighs after having calmed down a bit by Dabin’s words. He looks at you a little saddened.

“Just…sleep it off okay, we’ll talk tomorrow about all of this.” Christian says kneeling down in front of you again, putting his hand on your thigh, trying to comfort you.

You look at him. “I can’t talk to you about this” you say looking away again as if he was supposed to understand.

“What do you mean?” Christian asks a little hurt.

“I just can’t. I’m not allowed.” You say out loud, and immediately regret it. You curse at yourself and the alcohol for making you slip up.

Christian and Dabin both looked at each other, unable to understand what you were saying.

“I think it’s time to go.” Dabin says, helping you stand up.

“I have to stay here.” Christian says. “I’ll be at your place first thing in the morning.”

Dabin nods at Christian. “Thanks man” Christian says giving Dabin a hug.

You look at them, but when Christian looked at you, you look away.

He walked towards you, making you look at him with his thumb and index finger on your chin. “Try to sleep alright?” he says trying to get you to look into his eyes, but you wouldn’t.

He sighs, pulling you closer to him to kiss your forehead.

You look at him as he did, and look away again, not saying anything.

Dabin took you by the arm. “Let’s go.” he says pulling you away from Christian who was also reluctant to go back to Yura. He just stood there, watching you until you were out of sight. He sighed to himself. He walked back to his table to see Yura on her phone.

“I was just about to call you, how is y/n? What happened?” she asked worried.

Christian sat down beside her putting his arm over Yura’s shoulder. “Let’s not talk about it okay?”

Yura smiled at Christian, nodding at him.

The ride to Dabin’s home was silent. You fell asleep after 15 minutes of staring out the window, giving in to your heavy eyelids.

You made a fool out of yourself tonight, you knew you’d deeply regret your behavior tomorrow when you woke up. There’s a reason why you don’t drink.

Dabin carried your sleeping state into the house. He put you down on his bed, taking off your shoes and your earrings, putting the covers over you. He sighed looking at you. “You know better than this y/n” he says shaking his head.

He walked back to his living room, ready to get comfortable on the couch to go to sleep. He took his phone and money out of his pockets to put it on his coffee table when he suddenly feels that odd red piece of paper in his hands again.

He remembered how it fell from your jacket and put it back on the coffee table.

You woke up with a pounding head and a dry mouth. You groan at the throbbing pain in your head and turn over to lay on your stomach.

You open your eyes, looking at your surroundings. Why are you in Dabin’s bed? You look around again. You don’t see him.

You remove the covers off of yourself, seeing how you were still dressed in your dress from last night. Something clicked seeing your attire and suddenly all of your lost memories came rushing back.

You panic a little, not knowing if you did anything else that would get you in trouble.

You curse at yourself rubbing your forehead.

You walk out of Dabin’s room, into his light filled living room.

You squint your eyes at the attack of sunlight and walk to his kitchen for a glass of water.

“y/n?” you hear Dabin’s voice. You turn around slowly, feeling like you were about to get scolded like a child.

“What the fuck is this!?” he angrily says, throwing a red card down on his kitchen counter.

You stare at it. Unable to take your eyes off of it. You only needed a fraction of a second to understand what it was.

You close your eyes. Fuck.

Chapter 7

#christian yu scenarios #christian yu #hong dabin scenarios #dpr live scenarios #khh scenarios #khh smut #dpr live

644 notes · View notes

anasrbu · 5 years ago

Text

Who am I in this Country to say anything?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, do I have the right to post anything about this.

Is this something that supposed to be written on my page, given the content I make?

Been doubting for a quite few days now, justifying it… Well, I don’t have a huge platform does it really matter what I think anyway?

And you know what?! Enough of BS.

Yes, this topic is above all the professions and success in the world.

Yes, this is something we all have to work on. We have to acknowledge that we all are involved in this mess on one way or another.

Yes, Imma say something!

Because, I do have the power in my hands and I do have the same rights as others to stand for what I believe in, regardless of where I’m coming from. Honestly, I don’t care what consequences might be reflected back on me, I will do what I have to do. I will do my part.

This is the first time in my life I’m deeply feeling the calling from those who need my help, and it is my obligation to be there for them! Not as an artist, but as a human being.

Allow me start.

Facts:

Black innocent man was brutally killed in a middle of the day by 4 cops. All recorded and clearly seen.

Nobody could pretend anymore that racism doesn’t exist.

I think every human being who saw that video realized that the whole system is broken and the way police is treating black community is disgusting and unacceptable.

People immediately went on the streets to protest against dysfunctional system we live in.

Meanwhile, they only charged one outta four with the 3rd degree sentence! After 4 days. Seems like if it weren’t for the Public’s eyes they wouldn’t bother to do so in the name of justice. And these are the people we rely on? The same ones who swore to serve and protect us? Whaaaat?

Police officer was kneeling on George Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds!!!!! He kept kneeling on unconscious, powerless man, until he killed him. Sorry gov, but this isn’t for the 3rd degree. What about two others holding him tight on the ground and the fourth one who was making sure that people around who were watching, don’t get involved? This isn’t good enough of proof to charge all partners in crime?

If were the opposite we would probably have the guy behind the camera in prison too. Same day!

Double standards NO MORE. Piece of clothing and badge doesn’t give any right to kill the innocent.

I remain politically neutral, but this has gone way too far.

Unfortunately, this is the language of America for a very loooong time. And we all ignored it. The whole World ignores it and participated. No innocent country I heard of.

But we don’t care when it’s happening to someone else. We are sharing emotional, cute videos when the Military dad comes back to his 2 years old son. Do we think about the kid on the other side of the border? Does he still have a father to hug?

Now, our own Country is against its own people. These very same guys in the uniform are protecting us from us, from the truth, from the justice and peace. Censuring the free speech and communication on social media… Who thought this could be happening in America?

Well, now we see it clearly in front of our eyes.

Government is saying: “Looting can’t bring back his life.” (Very true, but..?!) Also, the same government: Bombs a Middle East even tho it can’t bring back the 9/11 !!!!

Also, fights other countries in the name of democracy and peace (please think how ridiculous and absurd this sounds?!!!) Go to war to make the peace. Really?

My small county of only 7m people was bombed too, half of Americans don’t even bother to know. We are so used to bombing all the time, giving pain to others, we don’t even keep the track no more of

Where?

When?

Who?

Why?

This phase is called acknowledgment.

That’s why is loud.

We are hurting.

That’s why we see many protests in America and all around the planet basically. People are tired of everything. Insured buildings can be easily fixed but lives not. We cannot replace one lost innocent life.

We cannot lose one more chance to STOP the hate and injustice.

That’s why, NOW is the time to speak up, to unify, and to show them what we think and what we can do together. We are walking for all of the victims from the past. And unfortunately the majority is from Black community.

Anger is what you see.

Love & compassion is what we feel.

Let that sink in.

There’s no gene to racism and hate. Where did we learn all this from? Let’s reconsider all prejudices we have. Starting from art, our music industry and movies we watch every night. Who is the gangster...black boys? Who’s a bad guy.....Russian? Asian? who’s a terrorist.....Muslims? and so on... Then we have the media and other powerful forces which are constantly presenting all of us in a much stigmatized way.

People, don’t you see? We are boxed.

We incorporated hate to our reality. We made this shit outta nothing! To the point that we completely separated ourselves.

Than we have a year of 2020. To enter new decade stronger and smarter. Time to burst this bubble of fear. Time to appreciate beautiful differences we have. We got to protect our harmony at all costs.

This topic is so complex I cannot write everything I want to…..these are just the few examples that came on top of my mind, It’s not like I am blaming media and creative industry for all madness.

I just want to encourage people to take responsibility for their part.

I personally grew up rarely seeing black people. But I remember when I did - they were treated like superstars. Literally. I’m not lying or exaggerating. We all wanted to take pictures with them and were trying to teach them to say something on our language to look even cooler with a cute accent. And for sure, that we can say that we have a black friend. It was a pride in a way to be around authentic people.

And I swear, this is how I expected to be in here too. For my 3 full years in US, believe it or not, I’ve only met 2 black guys. Wondering why? We don’t go to same clubs, we don’t hang at the same places, we have no chances to meet and be friends. They are afraid to step in “white” neighborhoods, somebody might call a police on them. Sounds beyond belief, but after seeing brutality over George Floyd. Now I understand why.

For so long this Country has been my heaven on the earth. I have to admit, I ignored all of the bad things I’ve ever heard about US on purpose. Thought, when I go I’ll see it myself. I knew that a few bad leaders don’t represent the whole nation. As a teenager, I was dreaming about how amazing it would be to one day be the part of great America.

Now, I am ashamed.

Yesterday, I walked in to the store, saw few people of color in a line and I lowered my head. I can’t look them in the eyes anymore. I am guilty for allowing this to be happening to anyone. And I am discussed by all of the things I’ve seen lately. As someone who has traveled through EU & US and as an immigrant to this country, I saw undeniable difference in treating “different” people whether we talk about the people of color or LGBT or based on religion or nationality. And all I want to ask you now…

Is this what we call the FREE COUNTRY?

A modern and developed World?

Is this superior human evolution?

We failed.

And If we don’t learn from our mistakes and horrible history. We will fail again.

You know what you gotta do.

Do it.

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

God bless America

Lend that I love

Stand beside her and guide her

Through the night with the light from above

This land is your land. This land is my land.

This land was made for you and me.

One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for ALL. ♥

Ana Srbu

Journey To Becoming a Better Human

#usa #blacklivesmatter #justice #george floyd #protest #human rights #blm #change #stand up #do your part

0 notes

webgottmilk · 8 years ago

Text

~ Heard It Through the Grapevine ~

This fic is a gift for the lovely and patient @ciarlapanics; the fic rec is coming, I promise! In the meantime, enjoy some Bradray feels, since I’m a sucker, and you can never have too many in our little fandom. Enjoy <3

Summary: This is not quite how Ray imagined he’d become Internet famous.

Rating: E

Word Count: 5,237

This is not the way that Ray wanted to become Internet famous - in his mind, rock stardom comes from carefully crafted albums and hours spent in recording booths. Of course his fame is the wretched lovechild of his overactive imagination and (admittedly) poor planning skills.

And yes, perhaps literally jumping into Brad Colbert’s arms upon his arrival back to the States wasn’t the sanest of ideas, but even that he can let his best friend chalk up to his rather poor upbringing. (“If you had any less brain cells Ray, you’d be a drooling vegetable. In fact, the drooling part isn’t far off”). To be fair however, flying directly to Nevada,Missouri after finishing up serving with the Royal Marine Commandos - fucking English frogs in his mind - is no small feat to Ray, and deserves at least a small gesture of gay love on his part.

Ok, yes, Ray may have regretted the action as soon as he tackled Brad since holy shit the fucking Viking can hold on to a lot of weight and god damn those arms. But properly non heterosexual thoughts aside, it’s not really an intelligent idea to display affection in public for any Marine, lest civilians catch on to the idea that they’re actually human beings too! At least, Ray chooses to believe that that’s Brad’s reasoning for his usually reserved nature upon being body slammed at the Joplin Municipal Airport.

Surprisingly, Brad plays along with the reunion, twirling Ray around like some sparkly gay ass princess from Disney’s latest money making gambit, and laughs quietly into his ear.

“I knew you loved me, Iceman!”, Ray crows back - give him an inch and he’ll take a mile…

Brad is obviously thinking along those lines, dropping him faster than Encino Man called danger close strikes on his own men back in Iraq.

“I would question your actions, Ray”, he says, stepping back and lazily drawling, “but I know that there’s barely room for a thought that’s not involving incest or NASCAR in that fucked up head of yours.”

Ray tilts his head upwards to peer at Brad - who is still standing close enough that he can smell the sweat and dirt on his fatigues - and winks lecherously.

“I just couldn’t wait to get my hands back on those Viking arms of yours, homes. They’re irresistible”, Ray draws the last word out in an overexaggerated attempt to mimic Walt’s slow country accent. He blows the bemused Brad a kiss before striking off towards the baggage claim. Brad follows closely, always watching his six, as he crosses the terminal and heads towards carousel four.

“Eat any English sausages?”, Ray asks innocently as they idle side by side, waiting for Brad’s single camo coloured duffle to appear on the conveyor belt.

Brad only snorts, shoving Ray hard enough that he has to struggle the slightest amount to regain his balance, and dignity.

“Civilian life has made you soft, Ray. You’re a goddamn disgrace to every Marine in Nevada”, Brad shoots back, clearly not missing the shorter man’s attempt at recovery. “Don’t worry, you can join me on my six mile run tomorrow, early bird catches the worm, or the sausage, I suppose.” Brad laughs openly at his distress, then nudges Ray again suggestively.

“Homes, if I needed birds to help me find sausage, I would have checked myself into a hospice long before your giant white ass landed back on US soil.” He is obviously teasing, so Brad obliges with a soft huff, then quickly steps forward to grab his bag off the belt.

“Let’s go home, Ray. You clearly need a nap and a bottle before your infantile brain is able to comprehend even the simplest of metaphorical phrases”. With that, Brad marches in the direction of the Parking Area signs, Ray trailing behind him.

The ride home, in Ray’s ancient pickup truck (“Ray, this piece of junk is going to fall apart right out from under us, before I’ve had a chance to consume one of your shitty Coors Lights”.) (“Oh Bradley, you know I bought gay microbrew just for you - no Coors Light for your delicate sensibility”.) is non eventful, even with the occasional jibe about Ray’s Elvis sunglasses - “we pimpin, homes,” he recites with a wry smile, as they coast along the highway, still going a good ten miles over the speed limit.

The night is spent drinking too many shitty beers, and consuming too much shitty media. (“Ray, no matter what you say, Inception is a B+ movie with poor editing and no plot”) and (“Bradley Colbert, your mother raised you better than to insult the good name of Christopher Nolan, shame on you!). Brad passes out on the couch around two am, clearly succumbing to the exhaustion of a day spent airplane hopping. Ray covers him with a blanket, heroically ignoring the strip of pale skin that his ridden up fatigues expose. He gulps, making a mental note to stay far, FAR away from the thought.

Ray sleeps fitfully, mostly because, “goddammit Brad, pineapple on pizza is not only the gayest thing you have ever suggested to me, but also the most disgusting, which coming from me, should shame you.” Pineapple and Coors Light do not a friendly bedfellow make, so he spends his hours gravitating between the kitchen, where he can just make out the fine blonde hairs of Brad’s head, and his cold, messy bed. Ray knows how pathetic it is to stare longingly over the counter at your best friend, so he actively avoids the kitchen and living room after a couple of passes.

Around six, he checks his Twitter, since if it’s good enough for Donald Trump, it’s good enough for him. (At least that’s how he defended his usage when Brad raised a judgmental eyebrow at him between scenes of The Usual Suspects.) He smothers his laughter when he sees the number one trending tag, because “planking” is literally the dumbest fad since swallowing goldfish. He passes the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal” tag with much less amusement, but makes a mental note to read up on it at a slightly later date. However, it’s trending tag number three that stops him half way through a drink of water; the sheer absurdity of the tag “Marinesinlove” is so substantial that he isn’t sure whether to laugh, or hide his face in his grubby pillow. Marines, displaying emotions? That’s the most retarded fucking thing he’s seen in the last twelve hours, and Brad Colbert’s lustful gaze at a pineapple covered pizza was one of them.

In the end, curiosity kills the cat (fuck you Brad, he can understand simple metaphors, or whatever), so Ray bites the bullet and clicks the tag. And nearly drenches his lap in ice cold fridge water. The first image to appear is a gif of Brad twirling him, HIM, around in a circle, with the tag, “Marine boyfriends in love”, and the addition of three heart eye emojis. The post has over six hundred retweets, with comments such as the disgusting “awwww”, and “this is what true love looks like”, though with a suspicious lack of grammar so common to Twitter.

Numb, Ray continues scrolling - it doesn’t just stop at the gif. There are multiple picture sets of Brad staring into Ray’s eyes - hold on, he swears that they weren’t standing THAT close at the airport - and gif upon gif of him rolling his eyes at Ray’s ridiculous antics. But what Ray can’t help but continuously notice is the overwhelming amount of grammatically incorrect tweets praising the “anonymous” Marines for their candid display of affection. They extol their bravery in openly revealing a “passionate and sweet love” (if Ray rolls his eyes anymore, he’s sure he’s going to contract brain damage, which according to Brad, he can’t really afford to contract).

Seriously, it’s just two guys really excited to see each other, after months and oceans apart - at least that’s what Ray tells himself over and over. Shit. Motherfucking son of a bitch, what is he going to say to Brad? “Hey Brad, I know you just got home from dealing with horrible beer and worse accents for months, but the entire Internet thinks that we’re in love, so I don’t think it’s a good idea if you go outside just yet.”

Oh god, he’s dead. He is so, so, unbelievably dead.

Since the gods are cruel, and just when Ray’s life has taken a u-turn towards ‘your best friend / one who you harbor secret feelings of not so friendship for is about to kill you’, the very object of his thoughts appears in the doorway, strangely lacking any coverage in the torso area. Fuck Ray’s life.

“You’re up!” Brad says, fake joviality clearly meant to annoy Ray, “which means that you can join me for my hard core Marine six mile run, unless of course, your pussy civilian lifestyle has coddled you into comfort and diabetes already.”

Ray blinks at him, still trying to look past the obvious tan lines that mar Brad’s pale skin, and perhaps stop eyeing the toned planes of his stomach quite so obviously.

“Ray…?” Brad’s voice cuts through his thoughts, sending his nerves tumbling around his stomach. “Is your whiskey tango head so fucked up that you can’t even form a coherent thought before seven am? This is a truly desolate day, my friend, truly sad.” Brad is clearly trying to cheer him up through the usual jabs at his upbringing and civilian status, but it’s not really doing anything to ease his thoughts. Mostly because Brad is standing there SHIRTLESS, which is a goddamn distraction in itself.

Finally, he regains his voice: “Seriously homes? It’s day one, and you can’t even let your Ray-Ray have a little bit of a lie in? Come give me a morning kiss and we’ll go from there”. He musters up all the bravado he can, and throws his arms out, head tilted upwards, lips pursing in supposed anticipation.

Instead of replying, Brad huffs and shoves Ray back onto the bed, sprawling himself across the other half, with his hand absently lying on Ray’s chest.

“Ray, if I knew you pussied out so easily, I would have woken you up at four, just to have the satisfaction of seeing you struggle to tie your shoes at ass o’clock in the morning. As it is, this bed is marginally more comfortable than the abominable piece of furniture you call a couch, so I am going back to sleep. But when I wake up, you best be ready to run, or I will throw you out the door naked and laugh as you struggle to walk up a hill without developing blisters on your delicate civi feet.” Brad says all of this whilst staring at Ray’s collar bone, the only thing in his line of sight. Ray is still actively staring at the ceiling, forcing himself not to imagine waking up to a half naked Brad Colbert in his bed everyday. With this speech over, Brad steals the pillow out from underneath Ray’s head, effectively trapping him, with one arm wrapped up in the two now resting under his pillow. He closes his eyes, and is almost immediately asleep.

Fuck his life. Really, fuck his life.

<GK>

When Ray manages to extract himself from the BradRay pile that had been forced on him, his first thought is COFFEE. Everything in the world, his mother taught him, can be solved by a cup of black coffee. She always joked that the blacker the soul, the blacker the coffee, though Ray was never sure how much of it was jest, considering there was never any cream or sugar in sight the few times his absent father appeared.

Shaking his head, Ray bullies his French press (“When did you get married, Ray? The only place you can find those metal fuckers are at fucking Crate + Barrel during wedding season.”) (“Of course I’ll marry you, Brad! How could I refuse, with a proposal like that?”) into spouting the foulest, blackest coffee it can muster.

Game plan, he needs a game plan. Ideally, one which ends with Brad and him managing to have an adult conversation about their feelings and all that bullshit. He snorts coffee all over the counter, and down the front of his shirt at the thought. The very idea is both colossally retarded and completely unrealistic. While this thought marinates in his head, Ray hunts for another shirt. Blindly, he reaches for one hanging off of the end of the couch, and, throwing the coffee defiled one on the carpeted floor, pulls the other over his head. Feeling refreshed, Ray walks back across the living room into the kitchen, where he pours himself a third cup of caffeinated murder water.

Ok, so then, how? Perhaps it’s just better to show Brad - he is a visual kind of motherfucker. And, demonstrating that the entirety of Twitter believes he and Ray to be in some kind of idealistic gay love seems like the best way to pound the idea into his neanderthal thick skull. Maybe it’ll even dissuade Brad from clobbering Ray long enough for him to make for higher ground. Apologizing has never been one of Ray’s tactics - he is unapologetic in all that he says and does, a perfect Marine trait - so he doesn’t believe that it will get him anywhere. Resigned, he pours himself another cup of fortification, and hunkers down on a stool to wait out the impending storm.

Blessedly, he doesn’t have to suffer with his own damning thoughts for too long; a shirtless and sleepy Viking clambers from his bedroom about ten minutes later. By now, Ray is starting to feel the effects of his fifth cup of coffee - it’s not unlike the familiar buzz of Ripped Fuel.

“How do you feel about free trade coffee, Brad? In the opinion of this ex-Marine, I think it’s complete bullshit. Like seriously, Starbucks? All of your beans are “ethically sourced”, he makes finger quotes here, “yet your customers throw away more than four million cups every year? And your, ‘one tree for every bag of coffee sales pitch’? Utter shit - if you could even plant trees at that rate, we’d call you fucking Captain Planet and put you in a Marvel comic book.” Ray’s knee won’t stop bouncing off the underneath of the counter and he really needs to get a grip RIGHT NOW.

“Good morning to you too, Ray, and Jesus, I thought you’d detoxed from the Ripped Fuel. The fact that you know specific figures on the waste that Starbucks produces just proves that you’re more of a frappuccino bloated prepubescent teenage girl than I feared. Nevertheless , a six mile run will quickly cure you of this pussiness. Look sharp.” Brad says this lot as he crosses the kitchen, pours himself a cup of steaming coffee, and leans across the counter to examine Ray for signs of Ripped Fuel ingestion. Ray stares back, noticing an almost imperceptible tightnesses that briefly overrules Brad’s expression. He has no idea what that’s about.

“Brad”, Ray begins, and winses, picking at the peeling paint on the side of the counter. He hates that he has to have this conversation, and even more, he hates how terrified he is to have this conversation. If it goes badly, he might very well lose Brad. “I really don’t think that the run is going to happen.” He quickly slips on an impish smile to cover his discomfort, and then adds, “you haven’t even tried my famous caffeinated bean water yet! It’s the best on the block! I swear to god, if you can’t take one day off, I’m FedExing you to Doc Brian for a psych eval, and don’t think I won’t make sure you fail it, even to give you one day of true R&R.”

Brad, who had been contemplatively sipping his coffee and staring into the living room, looks at Ray with an exasperated glance.

“Knew you’d pussy out; fine, I agree to forgo the run, IF, and only if I am allowed to force feed you more pineapple pizza before our run tomorrow morning.” His glance becomes an evil smirk, fully knowing that whether or not allowance is given, he’ll do it anyways.

And goddamnit if Ray wouldn’t willingly allow him to - he is so fucked. Instead of replying, he rolls his eyes and crosses to the living room, where he flops down on the couch. Brad joins him a minute later, coffee cup in one hand, and a plate of toast in another. He silently offers Ray a slice, who happily crunches on it, spraying crumbs and spite everywhere.

“Ray, sometimes I wonder how you managed to survive Iraq without being slaughtered by Q-Tip and eaten as bacon. The way you eat, I’m honestly surprised no one mistook you for livestock.” Brad doesn’t even glance at Ray’s overly obnoxious chewing, instead choosing to flip the TV on, where CNN blares obnoxiously.

“Thank you, Jeff. And in other news, the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal of 2010 has finally been fully implemented. President Obama will host a press conference to celebrate this historical event later this evening. It just so happens that we have a heartwarming clip taken at the Joplin Regional Airport yesterday which I think really demonstrates just what this repeal means for many LBTQ+ servicemen.”

Ray’s stomach drops, but there’s not time to run before the clip is rolled.

The footage is clearly taken on an iPhone, and is slightly blurry, but not enough to obscure the obvious faces in front of him. In the clip, the short, dark haired man drops his backpack on the terminal floor and runs full tilt towards a tall, Viking looking man, jumping practically into his arms, and wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist. The blonde man laughs quietly and smiles fondly down at the smaller man, but spins him in a circle anyways, Marine fatigues clear, even in the video.

Beside him, Brad goes absolutely still.

The news anchor is talking again, something about the heartwarming affection that can be seen, the obvious love between the two men. “I mean, just look at the way they look at each other,” interrupts a second news anchor, “it’s clear that they share a special bond.” The rest is drowned out by a rushing sound in Ray’s ears, who glances over to gauge Brad’s reaction, only to find him already looking at Ray.

“Brad, I…”, It’s not often that Ray Person is at a loss for words; not a comforting thought in this moment. Instead, Ray shakes his head, and bolts, leaving before he can fuck this up anymore.

“Ray! Ray! Goddamnit, you sister fucking idiot! Stop, Jesus fucking Christ!”, he can hear Brad yelling behind him, but does his best to ignore him; he certainly has practice at it.

Next time he glances at his surroundings, he’s driving ninety down the highway in his truck.

Eventually, he stops to check Google Maps, and realizes that he’s left his phone on the counter, probably in a puddle of black coffee. Miserably, he recalls that it’s probably the last time he’ll listen to Brad’s voice for a long time. He can’t even call him in a drunken haze to hear him rant, that is, if he picks up. The Iceman isn’t really one for words.

Ray finds himself at Walton Lake, where he used to swim as a kid - even when he’s not conscious, he ends up near landmarks that remind him of Brad. He laughs bitterly.

Since it’s only ten in the morning, he hunts around for a beer in the cab of his truck, and slouches down to the lake, laying underneath a tree. He figures that sleeping is his only hope of passing enough time to forget how colossally he has fucked up his life. He skips rocks for a while, and ends up watching the local kids push each other into the water. It only makes him feel worse. He suddenly recalls all the times Brad had given him that wry smile in the Humvee rolling through desolate wasteland after desolate wasteland. He was always checking in on him, “easy on the Ripped Fuel, Ray”, or an (almost) gently phrased “stay frosty, gents.” Ray drops his head between his legs; god, he is so fucked. He knows that he loves Brad, and that’s what terrifies him. It’s so much easier to throw insults back and forth, antagonize him with Avril Lavigne and Ripped Fuel Rants - he knows how Brad will react to those quirks. This… this is uncharted territory.

Finally, Ray decides that wallowing in self pity won’t accomplish anything further - going home to a Brad free house is going to hurt either way, might as well get it over with.

<GK>

He opens the door cautiously, not ready to be confronted with an empty house. He sucks in a breathe when his eyes are immediately drawn to the straight back figure sitting at the kitchen counter. Brad’s eyes meet his, and Ray is suddenly reminded that his demeanor isn’t the only reason they call him the Iceman. Quietly, he closes the door, and makes for his bedroom, hoping for as clean a confrontation as possible, but Brad is off his stool and pinning (?) him against the wall of his bedroom hall.

“No, Ray. We are going to talk about this. Like the semi-adults that the Corpse raised us to be. Do you think your disease ridden brain can handle a simple five minute conversation?” Brad says it calmly, ice laced in his voice, but the grip that he has around Ray’s wrists communicates something entirely different. He nods in response. Still, Brad makes not attempt to move them, only pinning Ray further into the wall.

“Did you know about the media coverage this morning? Is that why you refused to go on a run like a pussy bitch?” Clearly, the interrogation has begun.

Ray avoids Brad’s eyes as best he can: “What do you think, Bradley? That I was just going to drop that kind of bomb on you first thing in the morning? Oh, by the way, the Internet thinks that we’re in love, and it’s trending on Twitter and all the other god forsaken social medias that tween girls consume these days. I know you think you’re some sort of demolitions expert, but not even you’re qualified to diffuse that kind of ammunition, Brad. So fuck you, yes, I knew. And no, I didn’t say anything.”

Brad forces Ray’s chin up with one hand, while the other pins both of his wrists above his head. “Why?”, he asks simply, his eyes like chips of hard sapphire.

“Fuck you, Brad. You wanna know why? You dying to know that fucking badly? Because I knew that you finding out would ruin this,” - he jerks his chin to indicate the two of them. “But, if the Internet found out, then I guess it’s pretty fucking obvious”. Ray laughs again, a caustic sound.

“What’s obvious?”, Brad’s voice is almost a growl now, clearly beyond pissed off with Ray. “Ray?”

“That I’m fucking in love with you, that’s what.” Ray practically spits it in his face; he’s so tired of holding it in. Fuck it, if Brad wants him to ruin this with the truth, then so be it.

Brad steps back so suddenly that Ray is slammed against the wall, his head cracking painfully. He closes his eyes against the sensation, waiting for Brad to walk away, to walk out - it’s the only ending to this unfortunate series of events.

“You’re what?” The softness of Brad’s tone is the most startling aspect of the phrase to Ray - why hasn’t he walked away yet? “You’re what?”, Brad repeats, blinking almost owlishly as Ray finally looks at him.

“I’m in love with you”, Ray says flatly. What does Brad want out of this? To rub in the satisfaction that he’s managed to force his biggest secret out of him?

“Say it again”, Brad steps closer, effectively repinning Ray, who is frankly getting tired of his internal organs being punished over five treacherous words.

“I’m in love with you?” The end comes up in a question like inflection, seriously Brad, what is going on…?

Brad laughs out loud, probably the strangest turn of events in an already bizarre day; Ray is too exhausted to fight any longer, so he just rests his head against the wall.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me”, Ray’s head snaps back up. “Seriously?”

It’s Brad’s turn to nod. “You jumped out of our Humvee screaming at Batista to back the fuck up, since apparently your mother gave you barely enough braincells to eat fucking toast, toast, Ray. That’s when I knew.” The confession is quiet, splitting the air, since Brad is only inches now from Ray’s face.

“You love me?”, the questions is hedged in hesitation, but goddamnit if Ray doesn’t want to hear it back.

The Iceman nods, but it’s all the confirmation that Ray needs. It would be easy, so easy, to bridge the gap. All Ray would have to do is lean in. Fuck it. So he does.

Brad reacts immediately, pinning both of Ray’s wrists against the wall with one massive hand, and cupping his face with the other. The kiss isn’t by any means gentle, nor is it coordinated. It’s wet, and messy, and (cliched as it might be) everything Ray imagined it would be. Ray stretches upwards to tug Brad’s lower lip into his mouth, and Brad lets out an imperceptible moan. He shoves at Ray’s t-shirt until he musters up enough coordination to lift it over his head.

“I couldn’t concentrate this morning, with you in my t-shirt”, Brad mutters against his neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how many ways I could think of getting it off you”. Ray groans and tilts his neck, giving Brad better access with which to suck marks along the column of his throat. When Brad scrapes his teeth along his Adam’s apple, he practically whimpers - self-respect has just hit an all time low.

Ray’s hands, which have found their way to Brad’s waist dip lower, and squeeze. He growls against Ray’s throat, and sets them on his shoulders. Ray uses the leverage to wrap his legs around Brad’s waist, laughing internally at the familiar position. “Bedroom?”, he mutters to Brad. The jerk of breathe that he takes from the query seems to be answer enough, as he bodily carries Ray to his bed, dumping him on it in the process. Brad shucks off his sweatpants and crawls up the bed, intent on getting Ray out of his jeans as quickly and (ideally) with as little finesse as possible, or so it seems to him.

As Brad curses up a small storm, fighting with the buttons like they’re grenades, Ray deftly unbuttons them, squirming indelicately out of them, and making Brad snort with laughter. Ray grins back at him, “if the early bird gets the worm, does that mean I get the sausage?”. The fond and bemused smile that Brad gives him is worth the blow to his pride that the joke costs him. Without warning, Ray flips them, positioning himself firmly between Brad’s thighs, and begins sucking at his clavicle.

He trails kisses trails down to one nipple, and scrapes his teeth across it, eliciting a moan from Brad. “Didn’t know you were a nipple man, Brad”, Ray jibes softly, choosing to divert his attention to the other aforementioned object.

“Shut up, Ray”, Brad’s words come out stilted, through clenched teeth, as he attempts to keep himself from making too much noise.

Ray merely hums, and continues his oratory exploration.

He finds that tonguing over Brad’s abs make them jump in succession, and that his belly button is surrounded by a delicate trail of white blonde hair that disappears into his navy boxers. (“Navy, Brad? What kind of Marine are you? You don’t want your nuts to be disguised in camo? It’s so sad, that I show more priority to them than you do!”)

Ray bites at Brad’s left hipbone, watching for the way his entire body jumps with pleasure at the pain. Before he can continue though, Brad has flipped them again, and beginning biting his way down Ray’s chest.

“Dude, whoa, Jesus, it’s going to look like I was attack by a wolf. Fuck Brad, fuck, fuck”, Ray can’t seem to make his mouth stop, watching Brad suck marks onto his abdomen and hip bones. He noses his way further down, pulling Ray’s boxers down with his teeth. Ray wants to make a snarky comment about the coordination that that must take, but is currently lacking the brain cells to even think, let alone speak.

It now appears Brad has pulled his boxers down far enough to bite at his inner thighs, making Ray’s cock jump, and littering his legs with messy bites. “Jesus Brad, are you some kind of fucking vampire? Fuck.” He starts to move lower, but Ray grabs his wrist before he can move. “Whoa there, Lone Ranger, we don’t have to do it all in one night, we can take it slow. Seriously. C’mere, Bradley. Come cuddle your Ray-Ray.”

“Ray, I swear you were dropped on the head as a child. No, I guarantee that if I asked your mother, she would tell me she purposely dropped you, thinking it might improve that face.” Brad seems slightly disgruntled at being interrupted from his task, but complies nonetheless. Effectively, he wraps his body around Ray’s in a pseudo cuddle position, crushing him. “Happy?”

Ray squirms and shoves until he’s pushed Brad onto his back, and is sprawled on Brad’s chest, chin propped up so he can look at him.

“We have all the time in the world, Brad. Seriously, we could not move for the next six days, and the world wouldn’t notice. Plus, who else is going to force feed me pineapple pizza?”

“Ray, if you eat anymore pizza, you’re going to gain ten pounds, develop diabetes, and then be rushed to the hospital for a coronary heart transplant. Now go to sleep, or I’ll knock you out myself.”

“You’d still hold my hand during the ambulance ride, though.” Ray Person, finally getting the guy, and the last word.

And, when the alarm clock blares at six the next morning, and Brad forces Ray to run five miles to make up for the loss of yesterday, they’ll both laugh and shove each other, and it will feel like nothing has changed. The after workout shower might now involve two bodies instead of one, but who would notice, except for them?

And, when an official invite to attend the Obama’s annual Easter Egg Hunt arrives in April, Ray will just laugh and claim that they’re Jewish and cannot attend (“bullshit Ray, we’re both atheists, stop using my parents as an excuse”), and Brad will call them exactly what they are, the poster children of DADT, big fucking stereotypes, and to many, big fucking heroes. And no, Ray is still not a rock star, but he is Internet famous, thanks to his hyper active brain, and a ten foot tall Jewish Viking. But you just heard it through the grapevine, didn’t you…?

#generation kill #bradray #fic #feels #gift #au #kinda?

61 notes · View notes

serendipityswift · 7 years ago

Text

first impressions of songs on reputation

these will be my first impressions of songs, something that i can look back on to see if anything has changed and for me to rant about everything i’m thinking and feeling right now.

...ready for it? - i think this was when i realised how split the album was going to be like. it was going to be a fake, exaggerated version of what the media and people have portrayed her to be, as well as the reality of a young women being in love and happy. it is an incredible opener, and sets the tone for the truths to come.

|| favourite lyric: and he can be my jailor, burton to this taylor, every love i’ve known in comparison is a failure ||

end game - holy shit ed sheeran brb cry and die in a puddle of my tears bc sweeran is back. i honestly would not have liked this song as much if ed wasn’t on here, and future brings an edgier, a deeper layer to this song. i adore how ed referenced his relationship with cherry, and the entire song is a lyrical masterpiece. how far both of them have come since everything has changed brings tears to my eyes.

|| favourite lyric: reputation precedes me, they told me i’m crazy. i don’t love the drama, it loves me ||

there are so many to be honest there is no way i can choose just one, so i’m just going to say the entirety of taylor and ed’s verse

i did something bad - i love this song so much! it makes me feel somehow empowered in a way? the way taylor knows what she wants and deserves and is calling the guys that have wronged her out on their shit just makes me feel so happy and proud, as well as inspired to do the same. people deserve what they get in circumstances like this. and oh my god taylor swore, i never thought i’d be so impacted by someone swearing.

|| favourite lyrics: they’re burning all the witches, even if you aren’t one ||

don’t blame me - i love the slower, sultrier, almost bored yet seductive tone of her voice at the beginning. i can already tell this is the type of the song i can listen to time and time again. it has everything, catchy chorus, smart lyrics and gorgeous vocals. and the way she said daisy has me screaming. and damn, she is in some kind of intoxicating love.

|| favourite lyric: lord, save me, my drug is my baby i’ll be using for the rest of my life ||

delicate - this has to be one of my favourite songs on the album (but so is every other i suppose so i don’t know how much this statement says). this song perfectly embodies the uncertainties one goes through with beginning a relationship, particularly someone like taylor who has finally found someone uncaring of the bullshit written about her. the verses are confident and fun, typical of the infatuation you feel for someone. but the chorus is self-doubtful, vulnerable. taylor is questioning her actions and if she’s being too forward and if she’s making the right choice, even if she knows she likes him because love has broken on her before and she knows how fragile, delicate, it is. there can honestly be so much said about the multitude of layers in this song and really gives us an insight on what taylor feels when she meets someone new.

|| favourite lyric: my reputation’s never been worse so you must like me for me ||

look what you made me do - when i first heard this song i was screaming and crying because i was so damn excited, and i knew this was the perfect statement for the rest of the world to see what she was going to do. i loved how it wasn’t plain anger or saltiness, but had real depth and incredible lyrics. she wasn’t going to stand for being humiliated and blamed for other people’s mistakes and decisions, and this song is only the beginning of all the tea she could spill.

|| favourite lyrics: i don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me, i’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams ||

so it goes... - this song represents the beginning of a relationship, when you meet someone and something just clicks and you know it’s something special. i love how it’s so simple for some reason, taylor meets joe, they’re happy. they have some amazing sex. but it’s that simplicity that makes it honest, and she still needs to hide from the media. it’s sneaky kisses and the things that happens behind closed doors.

|| favourite lyric: gold cage, hostage to my feelings ||

gorgeous - this is truly the purest, most innocent and just adorable song on the album. it reminds me of starlight, or enchanted, or just a pure song of meeting someone and realising you no longer know how to form coherent thoughts because all you can think is how much you want them. it’s a nice refresher for the more intense songs on the album, but gorgeous itself is just as emotionally complex if you read into it. and using blake and ryan’s son to say gorgeous is just genius, and that ding makes me smile every time.

|| favourite lyrics: you make me so happy it turns back to sad, there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have ||

getaway car - i think from first listen, this is another of my favourite songs on the album. this is the most romantically heartbreaking song on the album. a getaway car can only end one way, a crash leaving both people gasping and dead. taylor ends the relationship because she knows it’s bound to end anyways. they were built to fall apart. the way she says dying honestly makes me cry. the desperation drips in her voice. even though she knows the relationship wouldn’t have lasted, ending it hurts all the same.

|| favourite lyric: it hit you like a shot, gunshot to the heart || this song is like a story, there is no way to choose one lyric because each can’t exist without the other and each and every word is perfect

king of my heart - this song starts with taylor accepting how she’ll always be alone, thinking she will never find love again. but then he shows up and suddenly the “love” she had known before isn’t even comparable to joe. she trusts him with everything, gives him her heart, body and soul. this song is a pure, beautiful, realisation of love. she finally finds something worth more than all the luxuries in life, someone that means more than anything money could ever buy.

|| favourite lyric: your love is a secret i’ve been hoping, dreaming, dying to keep ||

dancing with our hands tied - this song is having a beautiful relationship, dancing, being happy, but having that nagging thought at the back of your mind that it won’t work out. it’s holding her back, she’s dancing but her hands are tied, whether because of her own insecurities or outside influences. i love how relatable this is, sometimes we’re half in, half out of a relationship we should really just be fully committed in because they make us happy, but something is always holding us back.

|| favourite lyrics: i’d kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down, i’d hold you as the water rushes in, if i could dance with you again ||

dress - i love how unapologetic she sings about sex. she’s 27 for gods sake, she should feel free to sing about whatever the hell she wants without people judging her. but despite being about sex, there’s love in this song, particularly the bridge and taylor captures that so perfectly. the sexual attraction is overwhelming, but so is the emotionally fulfillment the relationship brings.

|| favourite lyric: all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting ||

this is why we can’t have nice things - i’m honestly so amazed at taylor’s ability to write the most cut-throat lyrics and sing them in the sweetest tone. the beginning of the song reminds of of a disney song, something sweet and fun, oh but honey you’re in for a ride. this entire song is sang in an almost joking manner, with even a tut in there, but the lyrics are all so revealing and true. i love it so much, taylor’s done with the lies and is here to write her own story. because guess what? they fucking asked for it when they fucked her over again and again.

|| favourite lyric: i took an axe to a mended fence ||

call it what you want - this was probably my favourite of the four initial singles released. i absolutely loved how well it narrated her life at that point. everything had crumbled on her, but there was just one thing keeping her grounded and making the toughest of times bright again. taylor is so damn in love and you can hear the joy and gratefulness in her writing, voice and melody.

|| favourite lyrics: and i know i make the same mistakes every time, bridges burn, i never learn, at least i did one thing right ||

new year’s day - this song is everything. it makes my heart flutter and my eyes water and just feel so warm and comforted inside. the piano is soft, complimenting her beautiful voice perfectly, allowing the emotions of the lyrics and her voice to just shine in the most wonderful way possible. how personal the song is makes it intimate, she’s singing for us and herself, no one else. it’s the perfect closing track. despite everything terrible that has happened to her, all the anger and vengeance, all that is left at the end is her happiness and love she feels for this incredible man. i’m so happy for her, and i want only the best for her and this love because this is the type of love that should thrive and blossom into the far future.

|| favourite lyric: hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you, and i will hold on to you ||

wow this has been a journey. it’s now past 3am and i’m not sure if any of my sentences make sense, i just wanted to get this down while it’s still fresh on my mind. i guess all there is to it is how proud i am of taylor, this album and everything she has been through and achieved because her strength is presented in every word she wrote and sang. each song is a masterpiece, and each sentence is a piece of this puzzle. it was important to pick one favourite lyric per song so i just chose the one that stood out the most while i was writing it, ask me again tomorrow and it would have probably changed.

@taylorswift, this album means so much to us as i’m sure it does to you. thank you for trusting us with this, it means the world, xoxo

#taylor swift #reputation #my posts

1 note · View note

xbarrjallenx · 8 years ago

Text

My Life

Pairing: Alex Standall x Reader

Summary:

Requested: Yes

Word count: 1.353

Posted: 10.05.2017

Warning(s): Angst, swearing

Song inspiration: My Life by Billie Joel; It’s My Life by Bon Jovi

A/N: (I AM A DUMB ASS, BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE REAL POST AND I AM JUST REPOSTING IT!) Another prompt request! This is sad, but this happened to me too, maybe not exactly in that way but I felt the sad feeling. It sucked. I hope that no one of you suffers in that way, but, if ever, my asks are always open. Thank you for requesting and I hope that you enjoy reading it. Thank you so much!

- G. x

“Jesus Christ, stop skipping your classes and stop sleeping late!” Alex angrily exclaimed as he noticed that you were sitting on your usual place at Monet’s alone. You moved your gaze to where Alex was and you saw him standing with his arms crossed in front of you, together with his actual girlfriend, the famous Jessica Davis.

“What the hell do you want, Alex?” You rolled your eyes as you didn’t want to be bothered during that exact moment. You decided to skip your classes as you needed to release some negative vibes from your mind, but then they were there to accompany you, trying to socialize with you.

“Pardon me?” The platinum blonde-haired boy sat on the empty seat across yours and he invited Jessica to sit beside him, holding her hands tightly and you carefully observed their hands intertwining, one of the things that broke your heart even more. “What the fuck is happening to you?”

“Uhm,” You corrugated your forehead as anger took your emotions. “it’s none of your fucking business.” You coldly answered, not minding Jessica’s judging stares, obviously because of your stubborn answers.

“Tell me what happened?!” Alex raised his voice a little bit. Luckily, there weren’t other people in the place, except for the baristas, because it would be shameful to create a scene in front of the crowd.

“Nothing has happened, okay?” You snapped at him, raising your voice too, and you grabbed your phone, that was on the coffee table, to check some of your social medias. You were obviously trying to shoo them away.

You wanted to avoid his questions, because he was the problem, your very own problem. Alex caused you the problems that you were having during that time and you never hated someone in the way you hated Alex before.

You’ve been good friends with him for months and you loved your relationship with him, because he has always made you laugh and he had the capacity to cheer you up whenever you would feel sad or insecure. You were always with him and only God knew how many secrets you confessed to each other. He was your anchor, you were his ship and to make the long story short: you completed each other.

He showed you nice and sweet gestures and those gestures fucked your life up, because you started to develop some hidden feelings for him, but he was head over heels in love with Jessica, so he never noticed your feelings for him. Unluckily.

You hated him since Jessica came into his life, not because you were jealous, but because you became Alex’s second choice and he was never with you anymore. He left you for his girlfriend and you knew that you couldn’t compete against her, she was the loved one, you were just a good friend.

You admitted to yourself that you felt selfish, because Alex deserved to be happy, even just for once, but you didn’t deserve either to be forgotten or to be left alone. Loneliness was a bitch and it made you feel worse when it started to keep you awake at night. Gloomily.

You were alone and, unluckily, you needed one specific person to fix yourself again, one specific person that you couldn’t have right now.

“Do you think she’s angry?” You heard Alex asking Jessica and you shook your head to let your thoughts go. He surely noticed the miffed expression in your face, while you were staring at your phone screen, little fingers sliding through different letters and punctuations.

“As it seems.” Jessica shrugged as she raised her shoulders in response. Alex looked back at you and you accidentally caught his gaze. You fiercely looked at him and you made him notice the anger that you felt inside of you.

“(Y/N),” Alex unleashed a long deep sigh as he tried to talk to you once again. It seemed like he had too much patience in store. “what’s the matter?”

“Amazing,” You were sarcastically dumbfounded for another attempt of talking to you. “I exist for the one and only, Alex Standall.” You nodded as you clapped your hands with class and sass.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Alex raised one of his eyebrow as he asked for explanations. “I just suggested you to stop skipping your classes. I am doing this for your own good.” He debated as he let Jessica’s hand go and he rested his arms on the coffee table.

“Why, all of the sudden, you are this interested in my life?” You angrily asked to Alex as you gave him a teary glance. “You’ve been together with Jessica for weeks now and, for weeks, I’ve been alone. Alex, fucking alone! Do you know what does that shit mean? Of course not, because you’ve never been alone in your life!” Your tears started to stream down your face as your cheeks became crimson red for the anger.

“(Y/N).” Jessica pronounced your name in a moderate tone as she tried to calm yourself, but you didn’t mind her. You glanced at Alex and it seemed like he was hit by a truck full of your anger, of your peevishness, of your irascibility, and it left him speechless. Speechless, as in no words came out from his mouth.

“And I can assure you that it fucking sucks.” You murmured as you hiccupped continuously. You fidgeted with your phone, while you observed Alex’s face. You opened his eyes and reality hit him hard.

“(Y/N).” Alex tried to say something, but he couldn’t find the right words. He was shock, because he never meant to hurt you. He never meant to leave you alone.

“It’s fine, don’t bother yourself.” You stood up and grabbed your things from the coffee table. You left some bills to pay for your untouched hot chocolate drink and you started to walk from the couple away.

“(Y/N), wait!” Alex tried to follow you, but he stopped when he saw you shaking your head, as if you were barricading him from yourself. You avoided him, because you knew that you would let yourself in if he ever said his sorry.

“I need no sympathy, Alex.” You shortly said as you wiped the warm tears that stained your smooth and burning hot cheeks.

He unleashed another heavy sigh as he sniffled loudly. You couldn’t see him perfectly, but it was obvious that he was crying too. His blue orbs were watery and he silently cried as he dealt with the pain and the stinging sensation that he felt on his cheeks.

Maybe he realized who he has just lost, maybe it sank in his mind that he lost the great friend that he used to have. He lost his ship and you lost your anchor, you sank and he never realized it. After all, you were just two pieces that fit together, but of two different puzzles. You once completed each other, but you realized your differences and you had to find the perfect piece, the perfect piece that would complete you so you wouldn’t be hurt anymore.

“Standall?” You called his attention, going back to your surname basis. He knew what it perfectly meant when you called him in that way. He looked at you as he wept in the middle of the room. “It’s my life, I understand that you were part of it, but you can’t dictate me what to do or not. Not now, not ever.”

You flashed him a sarcastic and fake wide smile, before you opened the bar’s main door, making the little bell ring. You shot him and Jessica another glance and you pushed yourself out of the door as you decided to leave everything behind, not minding how Alex felt, because he never really cared for what you felt in the past few weeks. He never cared until that moment, that exact moment when he already lost you.

You admitted to yourself that you felt selfish and evil, but he never cared for you and it was the right time to have a little bit of respect for yourself. Gloomily? Yup.

#alex standall x reader #alex standall imagine #alex standall #clay jensen #hannah baker #Justin foley #jessica davis #zach dempsey #tony padilla #Tyler down #montgomery de la cruz #xbarrjallenx #jeff atkins #jeff atkins deserved better #masterlist #prompt #13 reasons why #13 reasons why imagine #13rw imagines

512 notes · View notes

semirahrose · 8 years ago

Note

In the past few days I've read posts claiming that Sam is a psychopath who turns his empathy on and off so easily that it's disturbing, that Sam never cries (lol what?), that Dean is more emotionally mature than Sam, that Sam is egotistical and only cares/thinks about himself, and that Sam demonstrates more toxic masculinity than any other character on the show... I've been in hell basically and I was hoping you could cheer me up by disputing these "claims" with cold hard canon facts.

I’m so sorry you’ve experienced that, Anon! I fear… you ventured into a truly dark corner of fandom. I have a fair few items on my blacklist to keep me away from that sort of “meta”, because honestly… it’s emotionally exhausting and endlessly frustrating running into such patent drivel.

I don’t know what these people were using to support their claims, so I can’t really refute them. Heck, I don’t know if they brought up solid points or were just angry and baseless. For many of the things you mentioned, I don’t even know where to start, because I can’t imagine what could have given anyone such an impression, but I’ll try to share some thoughts.

Sam is a psychopath without empathy? If anything, Sam’s empathy is always on. It’s always at max, and what these people might be seeing as “turning on and off” is likely Sam trying to redirect his attention elsewhere or deal with/compartmentalize his feelings. It could also just be a gross misinterpretation of introverted emotional expression. But also, let’s be real: the Winchester boys are soldiers. They’re fighting to keep people safe. They have to make choices that we can’t even fathom. A lot of times, these choices are not clear-cut and smelling of roses. Either way, someone will die. People will hurt. And these two, without the benefit of a hierarchy or large support group or court of law–in the heat of the moment–have to make decisions. People who find Sam “cold” or—God forbid, psychopathic? What the ever-living heck?—may simply not understand the magnitude of the decisions these boys must make.

Sam never cries? WHAT EVEN. What the hell even. First of all, crying is not the be-all-end-all of emotional expression. Some people cry regularly. Some people don’t cry for years at a time. And you know what? The former don’t feel things more strongly than the latter. People express grief and sadness and frustration differently. Some people feel numb. Some people get angry. Some people feel miserable but can’t cry. Some people drown it in drink. Some people blame themselves. Some people simply haven’t been taught that it’s okay to give vent to negative emotions, or grew up in an environment where expressing them was weakness and subject to mockery (*raises hand*) And… for the people who said that, may I kindly direct them to my crying Sam tag, because I have like seven pages of misty-eyed canon Sam for them to feast their eyes on. (Um. Geez. I swear there’s an explanation for the fact that I–that I have a tag for that. Uh.) ANYWAY. *clears throat* What even.

Sam is not as emotionally mature as Dean? I can’t even dignify that one with an answer. Well. Actually. I believe Sam is, in many ways, more emotionally mature than Dean. Where Dean resorts to blame-shifting, violence, anger, and denial when it comes to things he doesn’t like, Sam acknowledges his mistakes and is aware of his unhealthy coping mechanisms (…while still using them). THAT SAID, I don’t think I can state that Sam is more mature in general, because, well… Dean vents. He gets angry, he finds ways to release it, and he generally finds ways to settle into a sort of balance and keep going. On the other hand, Sam represses to the extent that it drives him to his breaking point. See Mystery Spot. See s4, where he was literally suicidal after Dean’s death. See any number of other times. At any point, I think Sam is a hairsbreadth away from breaking, and while there are a ton of things I love and respect about Sam, a lot of them are rooted in some really unhealthy habits. So… in many ways, Sam deals with things more maturely, understanding all angles. But he also truly just needs decades of hugs and therapy because wow.

Sam is an egotistical bastard? I would advise people who think Sam only cares about himself to watch Swan Song, then The Man Who Knew Too Much, and then Sacrifice, and then Nightmare, and then… the whole freaking show, actually. How Sam regularly puts the safety of others above his own welfare. How, even while grieving Jessica, in the beginning of the very first season, he threw himself bodily between two strangers and a Wendigo. How he was broken to pieces by his visions of death but unable to save the victims. How, later, Ruby’s perfectly calculated way to make him start drinking demon blood again was to imply that he might, by inaction, cause the deaths of innocents if he didn’t suck it up, drink the blood, and save the world. And Ruby knew Sam, played him masterfully. If anyone in the world knew how to get to Sam, she did. And she did so not by appealing to a desire for personal gain, but by implying that Sam’s desire to stop drinking blood might be selfish. And if that’s not enough, I’d like them to take a look at Soulless!Sam, who could have done anything but chose to continue hunting. Soulless!Sam, the single most stable and consistent soulless person in the entire show, whose admitted motivation for remaining soulless despite knowing he was “wrong” was that things didn’t hurt as much. Seriously. Come at me. Anyone who thinks Sam is egotistical has not seen the show or is picking events out of context and trying to apply some isolated events to the entire show.

Sam displays more toxic masculinity than any other character? What the…what even? What the heck? I would love to see the support for this argument, I really would. While both brothers display some unhealthy habits undoubtedly adopted thanks to their impossibly tough life and their upbringing… claiming that Sam is the poster child for toxic masculinity is just laughable. I could talk about why, but first let’s just look at a quick definition:

Toxic masculinity is a narrow and repressive description of manhood, designating manhood as defined by violence, sex, status and aggression. [… S]upposedly “feminine” traits – which can range from emotional vulnerability to simply not being hypersexual – are the means by which your status as “man” can be taken away. Sex, in particular, is an important part of “being a man”. […] The need to “get” sex is all-encompassing because the more of it you have, the higher “status” you have as a man.You’ll notice how often sex and sexlessness comes up as an insult when a man wants to insult another man. (x)

Let’s just take a moment and ask ourselves. For which of our leads are sexual conquests important? Which character looked at cheerleaders and leered that he could tell which ones were legal? Which one finds peace in violence and resorts to violent ways of expressing himself before any other? Which one calls the other “bitch” and uses feminine terms as a way to demean someone? Which one pushes the other to have sex or act aggressive/sexual? Which one regularly calls women opponents “bitch” without any real evidence or reason? Spoiler: it’s not Sam.

And here’s the thing: toxic masculinity isn’t something where we can point out someone who displays the traits of it and call that person awful. It’s not quite as simple as that. Toxic masculinity isn’t a person. It’s an unhealthy, pervasive set of expectations. Heck, yeah, it’s terrifying and harmful to women and anyone who doesn’t conform or accept it. But it’s not the people we need to fight, but the overwhelming pressure and the media portrayals and the way it’s freaking exalted as the “right” way to “be a man.” On some level, there is an element of choice in adopting these beliefs and a certain amount of personal responsibility to… I dunno, not be an asshole, but in a lot of ways, it’s like showing commercials about grapes and making movies about grapes and rewriting history to feature grapes and then expecting no one to eat grapes. The hunting community in Supernatural, I’m afraid, is full of said grape-glorification. There’s no excuse for what some of them do, but they have ample reasoning for acting that way. (And if we’re talking levels of grape-hood on SPN, then I’m gonna have to say that Dean displays the highest levels of grapeliness, objectively.)

Haha, I hope this helped, Anon! I hope you’re able to blacklist the types of people who are saying those things. Personally, I’ve found it’s just unpleasant and ultimately fruitless (pun not intended) to engage cruel and baseless claims like that. I hope you’re able to make your Tumblr experience a more enjoyable one. Sending hugs and hopes that this made even a bit of sense.

#asdlkdjlkj WHY with some of these? It's like they just looked at the facts and were like 1+1=TWENTY #wank for ts #bittersamgirlclub #sam winchester #sam hate not welcome #anonymous #semirah replies #for safety gonna tag #dean negative #fandom wank

103 notes · View notes

ark-of-eden · 7 years ago

Text

Thoughts on the Function of Art?

(R:) I didn't want to append this to that big thread about censorship, questionable story content, and authorial intent because I am a Small Person who just consumes things and I was pretty sure that I can't actually add anything useful to the discussion. But I'm still stuck on it a little, so here is a thing that I'm putting behind a readmore in case everyone is fucking tired of the whole censorship debate.

tl;dr: Riss is old and grew up in an environment that was not exactly info-rich when it came to controversial issues. Riss is clumsily attempting to tape this and that together for some reason, possibly just to get it out of the brain. (This ultimately turned into a long fucking story about my early life that doesn't really go anywhere. It's just a long fucking story.)(**ALERT: This includes discussions of stereotypes, slurs, and fetishization.)

People in that thread pointed out the weird over-reliance on interrogating an author about what exactly they meant by writing certain content and that authorial intent should be a yardstick for whether certain content is edifying (and deserving of existence) or not. Other people wisely pointed out that every consumer will inevitably interpret every creation through the lens of their own experience and come up with a different take on what the piece is "saying" about whatever it depicts.

Back when I was very young, there was no way to directly contact any sort of creator. Novels had small text somewhere that mentioned how to send snailmail to the author C/O the publishing company, but naturally there could be no expectation that an author would ever actually write you back. Direct contact with creators was usually in the context of them being guests at a con or signing or gallery showing, which was sort of like seeing a band play live. Every other exposure to them was one-way or indirect, through their work or news articles or possibly from hearing a radio interview or watching a TV program about them, if they were important enough. This was pre-widespread-Internet, so nobody had blogs; some big-name people had fanclubs that mailed out regular newsletters, but the vast majority of creators had nothing but their content in circulation.

I guess that the point of saying all of that is just to illustrate that the present-day situation in which creators have public social media accounts that one can just drop into and toss opinions and questions about intent at them is...kind of a luxury, in my experience? For writers of "classics," there might be printed articles or essays in which they went on about their intent or process, but for creators who weren't popular while they were alive, historians have to go mining for diaries or letters to even get an idea of what sort of person they were, much less what they meant when they wrote that one scene from that one novel that was Kind Of Problematic.

And that was a tangent leading around to a perspective about creative work in general that I heard very early on and took to heart when it came to consuming media. I read somewhere that the point of creating something was to produce a response or emotion in the consumer. Any response. The creation was meant to be a catalyst for newness or change in the viewer, even if the response was something like anger, fear, or disgust. The worst possible response to a creation was dull indifference, because it had failed to do anything at all to the consumer.

I saw supporting evidence for this perspective in a lot of media. Bands built up weird, elaborate Aesthetics purely to draw attention to their songs, not because they were demonstrating some deeply-held belief system. (I've lost track of how many CDs I saw from bands who made dark music about cruelty, despair, and the emptiness of the universe and yet, in tiny liner-note text, poured out flowery squee about how they thanked the loving Lord God and Jesus Christ for blessing them with their musical careers.) Artists who talked to other artists about their craft admitted that they often made the art they did just because they wanted to make it for no special reason, but they fabricated deep-sounding bullshit to attach to it so that collectors would buy the thing just for the story that went with it.

A piece that kept getting talked about over and over back then was Piss Christ, which was literally a large glass jar full of urine that had a crucifix floating in it. Large sections of society were fucking outraged that this thing even existed, that galleries dared to let it darken their doorways, that the artist was even depraved enough to think up such a thing. I don't recall what the artist herself (I think it was a she) said about why she made it, but what was clear to me was that she had succeeded at the goal of art like an absolute champion. Nobody could look at that piece without having some kind of intense response, and whole groups of educated people were compelled to spill out their opinions and argue about it. Piss Christ was Successful Art, the thing that every piece of art wished that it could be. It didn't matter that most of the responses were negative. Apart from making it, the artist did nothing to encourage all the discussions prompted by the art's existence. People used it as a springboard for debates about What Is Art Really, the empty veneration of religious iconography, public obscenity, and all sorts of other things, entirely on their own.

Granted, there were clear downsides to not having instant access to people's creative narratives and backgrounds, or to the greater community of consumers. There were panels discussing themes in modern writing at cons and sometimes a nearby book club where people could rec things and talk about good and bad aspects to whatever they were reading, but if you weren't in a position to have either of those things? There wasn't a lot to do but chat with any reader buddies you might have or actually trust marketing. This book is a NYT Bestseller and has its own special display in Borders? Well, must be a well-written book with quality content, or else it wouldn't have that kind of backing, right? (I was such a trusting little idiot back then, seriously.) So this was when all those toxic norms of casual misogyny, racism, and queer villainization went unchallenged in a lot of places and was just The Way Things Are.

My family moved around to many parts of the US while I was young and I swear I never heard people anywhere bothering to have a discussion about the trend of weak female characters or how POC cultures kept getting reduced to exotic window dressing. There was a sense that those kinds of intellectual topics were the sort of thing that academics did in far-off Academic Country, where they only read classic literature and went over word-by-word symbolism with ever finer combs. I'm no quality literature historian, but I imagine that those kinds of thematic conversations probably got louder as widescale communication got easier, such that a person could throw out into the aether, "Is it just me, or is the only time when cultural elements from Asian, Middle Eastern, Native American, or African civilizations turn up in mainstream lit is when they need 'exotic savage foreigners'?" and people would be able to chorus back, "OMFG THANK YOU I thought I was the only one bothered by that!!" (I mean, advancements in communication helped every minority find other people like themselves, which is why the Internet is part of real life and a genuinely precious resource to isolated odd folk who are forced to live in places that are hostile to them. You no longer have to live your entire life being the only lonely freak instance of your kind in the entire universe.)

So I recognize the shitty situation of having mainstream marketers telling people which stories were good and which story elements were admirable without also having access to Discourse that would challenge those norms. I remember just accepting that girls would hardly ever be able to be heroes the way boys could be, and that people from far-away cultures were always primitive and backward but in fascinating ways. Nothing in my daily life countered anything that I read. Discussions that I found online much later in life caused me to rethink the trends in everything that I'd read as a kid and see it all with fresh eyes so that I could realign my opinions. It's vital to have discourse and challenge happening alongside creation so that we don't have generations of people absorbing shitty norms that are supported by fiction and not realizing that there are even alternative ways of seeing things.

But there's still that issue, in my mind, of a good creation being one that creates ripples far outside of itself by prompting any kind of response in the consumer. Which is, I guess, why it seems fine to me that Problematic things exist and that people encounter them even if they come away hating those things. The encounter with that thing can make a person think about their own perceptions and experiences, and it can prompt conversations about was learned from that encounter - the why of the result and what it means. Obviously, the same can be done with media that makes a person happy or comforted, and that ends up in Discourse because people end up comparing their experiences and questioning whether the people who are happy/comforted are correct to feel that way about the media.

(Bonus Tangent: it's never possible to be incorrectly upset/offended, only incorrectly happy, strangely. Because telling people that they are not allowed to be upset about something is controlling and aggressive, but telling people that they're wrong to enjoy something is...I'm not finding any positive result. It's shaming, which is a response used to exert social control over others. Talking about whether or not casting shame on total strangers leads to the desired result is something that even I don't want to take the space to talk about. I'm one of those who considers emotion to be out of a person's control. Emotion precedes action. What's important, IMO, is what action a person takes regardless of what emotions they might have, because it's possible to choose actions. Telling a person that they're not allowed to feel a certain way is an attack based on something that a person can't actually control. Whenever I see antis saying things like "no one should ever enjoy this content," I wonder how people are supposed to casually shut off their enjoyment. Can the antis shut off their outrage with a flip of a switch, since it's just an emotion too? Attempting to reprogram a person's emotional or motivational palette leads to things like conversion therapy, which has a high rate of failure/relapse and tends to traumatize people into other mental deformities. That's why it's far more useful to focus on responses to emotion instead of emotion itself. People with uncontrollable emotional responses - such as phobias or fetishes, say - can learn adaptive actions faster than they can unlearn emotional responses.)

This was a hugely roundabout way of saying that I really think that bad media or problematic media are still important. They can prompt discussion and introspection, as mentioned, but, IME, even a shitty representation of a concept can put cracks in a person's worldview and make it possible for them to be open to better ideas in the same vein later on.

For instance, I had that strict mainstream heteronormative upbringing. The only thing I knew about queer people for a huge part of my life was that they needed to be pitied because they were going to hell, and the closest thing to a trans person that I knew about was that Crying Game trap drag queen concept where the sinister man in a dress seduced honest straight men with borrowed feminine wiles. (I literally did not know that transgender people were actually real until after I was 20, which is one reason why I am such a massive late trans bloomer.) I also had that strict gender role upbringing in which there were certain things that a person must and must not do in order to be "proper."

Back when I first got on the Internet and started interacting with fandoms, genderswap fics were popular in my circle. Often, it was basically the same plot as the source material, but you'd switch everybody to the opposite binary gender and then, based on the assumption that men and women think and do things in slightly different ways, the plot would usually derail from canon because the genderswapped characters wouldn't do the same things that they canonically did. It was just one of many common fanfic thought exercises.

Looking back, reading genderswap fics was something that started eroding the strict worldview that I'd inherited. The "men and women just naturally do things differently" was enough in line with traditional gender roles that it passed by my defenses, but the swapped cast of just about everything ended up with lots of strong, heroic women and the occasional male sidekick. Further, writers tended to use the "women are more socially/emotionally intelligent than men" stereotype to correct shitty things that male characters did in canon because, if they were women, they'd be too smart and perceptive to do whatever stupid thing they did and everything would have happened differently. Nowadays, there's formal discussion about the lack of strong female characters in mainstream fiction, but in fandom, female writers just fixed the problem directly with genderswap so all the interesting, powerful people could be women and the guys could be useless arm candy for once. It was a way of reclaiming importance and power when canon media didn't give women much else to work with.

(I became aware while ago that Discourse is informing people that genderswap fics are hugely offensive to trans people. Now, I've described my crappy upbringing, but as a trans person, I don't understand this at all. I get that the "opposite gender" swap upholds the gender binary, but the issue is offense against trans people, not against genderqueer or nonbinary people. I seriously don't get why I should be offended? Is it because the genderswap doesn't include actual RL transgender experiences, as if the entire cast were realistically transitioning as a plot element? Genderswap is not acceptable unless it specifically includes things like "this is the story of how Cloud Strife got her testicles removed and enjoyed growing breast buds thanks to HRT"?? Maybe I'm an idiot, but those are two distinctly different story concepts and both have merit. o_o)

Later on, I became aware of people who were preoccupied with stories and fantasies of fantastical gender transformation, usually male to female. Some stereotypical male character would get injected with an alien serum or zapped by a fairy's wand or something and he would immediately metamorphose into a woman. There was often a disturbingly rapey element to these stories, like the boy wouldn't want to be transformed and was horrified while he was changing, but after he settled into the woman-shape or had sex as a woman after changing, he realized that he loved it and felt so much better that way. The stories were mostly just short repeats of this exact same situation, written by different authors with slightly different details, and this group never seemed to get tired of them.

Eventually, I learned that most of the people in the core of this group identified as trans women, but they lived in circumstances where they weren't permitted any female expression or had lost hope of ever transitioning. They fixated on transformation fic as a way to soothe the pain of living. Looking back, the noncon/dubcon themes that kept appearing in the fics made sense as a way of indirectly satisfying the powerful social forces that were demanding masculinity of them. The male characters were trying hard to stay male, fighting back against the transformation; they were clearly performing all the do not want signals expected of men threatened with feminization. They fought the good fight, but the enemy overpowered them! Womanhood was forced upon them! It was totally unexpected that they enjoyed being a girl after all, but because their maleness had been aggressively destroyed, they were free to stop performing resistance and love themselves.

But you can find fetish material like this in a lot of places, without any context as to the intent of the creator. (And I'd argue that it counts as a fetish if you crave it as necessary somehow, regardless of whether or not you're jacking/jilling to it.) Some people would write the same kind of stories for forced feminization as a type of humiliation. Among furries, transformation fetish material seems to add an extra angle of growing into new power and strength by a change into some larger, more magnificent creature in addition to changes involving sexual characteristics.

Further into the fantasy fetish scene is smut involving dickgirls/cuntboys. Those terms are inherently objectifying and fetishizing; the focus is entirely on the genitals and how a person has the "wrong" ones for their body. Understandably, this is where trans people get turned into dehumanized kink fuel, and real life "tranny chasers" exist who try to weasel into relationships with trans people just to have an embodiment of their fetish.

Artists seem to be slowly getting better with at least giving a nod to real trans people when tagging this sort of art, but (likely to get the most search hits) usually it's just "transwoman/man" alongside "dickgirl/cuntboy." And the art, at least, is clearly designed as fap fuel, so it's not like changing the label makes the content more respectful to the real humans it resembles.

Fetish art with that sort of name shouldn't be uplifting or encouraging because it makes trans people into objects, I know. But I enjoy it when I see it not because it gets me hot in itself, but because I feel heartened when I see sexy art of, essentially, trans people who have not had any genital surgery. I'm fortunate in that I don't have the worst soul-crushing dysphoria surrounding my (still XX factory standard) genitals, but I know a lot of trans people get seriously torn up about theirs and worry that they'll never be truly attractive to others because their genitals are "wrong." While it's possible to find humiliation art online of people with all kinds of body configurations, I tend not to (YMMV again) find much that seems to be specifically shaming or hating on characters who have trans genitals specifically because they are wrong/ugly/queer/etc. They're just participating in enthusiastic hot sex like all the other characters. Sometimes they're literally just standing around looking sexy, like any other badly-posed pinup. But when they're in the mix of whatever smut they're depicted in, they're objects of desire with their own sexual power, unashamed and equal to the others, and the other characters find them attractive and are clearly really excited to be doing whatever they're doing with that hot trans character.

And this response is very problematic, I know, because smut of trans characters that's designed to satisfy fetishes actually does lead to cis stalkers who want trans partners as living sex toys. And art of pre/non-op trans people being sexually liberated and desirable might end up being nearly indistinguishable from most of the fetish art I've seen, apart from lacking the objectifying dickgirl/cuntboy label. I hate seeing those terms in art tags, but the art itself makes me happy. Not even aroused, just happy to see characters who are essentially pre/non-op trans people being desired and enjoying themselves. When you've lived your life believing that you're ugly and unlovable, seeing people similar to yourself in those kinds of situations is a Band-Aid on an old, deep wound. I wish someone would look at me that way. I wish someone wanted to touch me that way. And even if you can't have that for yourself, you can at least look at art where similar people can, and even if those trans people are imaginary six-breasted purple foxtaurs, you can still feel like at least there are trans people somewhere in the galaxy who are free and happy and desirable. It's the same as those trans girls who spent years telling each other the same MTF transformation story over and over and over even though it was pure fantasy. They needed periodic inoculations of that fiction to keep themselves afloat when they believed that they could never have the reality.

That's why, to return to my earlier point and to the points that the people in that big thread probably said better than I have, I don't want bad media to go away. Even gross White Man Story For White Menfolk fiction can at least prompt discussion and response and might have little bits in it that made someone out there think of something in a way that they haven't before. Even depictions of minorities that are pretty clearly designed to be shallow fetish fuel might be a lifeline to some isolated person to whom that shitty depiction is the most positive representation of their identity that they've ever seen. You'd hope that they'd quickly be able to find better ones, but beggars can't be choosers, and if that shitty depiction hadn't existed then they might never have had the chance or the knowledge that different views were possible. You just can't know what people see and think when they consume a particular piece of media. They bring so much of their own context into the experience.

That's why I wish people would focus on action instead of on vague, catastrophizing speculations about intent or potential or who has a "right" to create or consume certain things. There are at least a couple of stories floating around about female fic writers who regularly wrote m/m smut, but who, IRL, opposed same-sex marriage and disowned their queer relatives. IMO, that's how you can tell who is making objectifying content - by whether they treat actual, living representations of minorities/fetishes like frivolous entertainment. I would bet that those IRL-anti-queer fic writers wrote things that were indistinguishable from the general mass of fanfic, which was why other fandom people were shocked to discover their IRL actions. People create things for all sorts of different reasons, not because ther creations are a clear window into their innermost motivations. You just can't know what's in a person's head, no matter what sort of things they create.

And I've literally spent hours writing this and sort of vaguely editing it paragraph by paragraph, so I'm going to post this now and release myself from childhood memory hell. Ultimately, that reblogged thread still said all of this better, but I just had a compulsion to LET ME SING YOU THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE FOR TEN FUCKING PAGES. :P

And oh hey, I was so caught up in time-warping back to the 80's and early 90's that I forgot that Wikipedia existed, so here's their page on Piss Christ. Turns out the artist was male. Says it was only a photo?? Lies!! I distinctly remember seeing the goddamn gross jar of pee!! Because human memory is a reliable, unalterable record!! (Okay, I've clearly gone on too long here. I apologize to the whole internet in advance.)

#fetishization #queer #early life experiences #slurs #queer fetishization #fandom politics #not even sure what to tag this as so just sort of be generally cautious

1 note · View note