#also no statements about my music taste i will cry. if you hate it don’t tell me if you have recs do tell me

[crossbackpoke-check]

V random but I’m in my Brockpetey feels could I listen to your 46 60 playlist!!

of course!! the first playlist i mentioned in the tags is actually not mine—it belongs to ash @notthequiettype and is a soundtrack to their wonderful fic Lake Rules (go read it if you haven’t already!!! highly recommend!!!)

annnd this one is my personal brockpetey vibes playlist

happy listening!!!

[merrybloomwrites]

Ants Are Going to Town in My Body

Summary: Your boyfriend Shayne helps you through the roughest night of your period after getting a taste of cramps for himself.

Title taken from the video that inspired this story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kkn2dc4L7fE

Word Count: 1.7K

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People could easily say that Shayne Topp has golden retriever energy. As his girlfriend of two years, you would completely agree with that statement, and you would say it as the highest compliment.

Shayne is the absolute best boyfriend you’ve ever had. It’s not uncommon for him to surprise you with flowers for no reason. He loves to cook. Sometimes you help him in the kitchen, and other times he kicks you out in order to surprise you with the new recipe he decided to try.

He gets excited to tell you all about the latest book he read or to watch a new movie or show with you. Day trips outside of the city happen a couple times a month, the two of you listening to music during the drive as you enjoy the fresh, non-LA air.

One thing that you found surprising at first is how much he dotes on you. It’s always in subtle ways, nothing overwhelming, but he does little things to show he cares. To show that he knows what you need, deep down.

He always takes care of you when you’re sick, grabbing medicine and making soup to help you feel better. If you’re sad or stressed he’ll go through the feelings with you. People often see him as a class clown type and might assume that he’d just do what he can to cheer you up and make you laugh, but that’s not always the case. He’ll meet you where you’re at. If you need to vent, he’ll listen. If you need to cry, he’ll hold you. He’s one of the most emotionally mature men you’ve ever met, and you can’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world to be able to call him your boyfriend.

He is also super supportive of you each month during your period. He has no problem picking up pads or tampons, not even batting an eye when fans recognize him in the feminine care aisle of the local convenience store.

He’ll make sure that you have pain medicine and a snack to take it with, so it doesn’t upset your stomach. He draws warm baths and makes sure your heating pad is ready for you. When you have cramps in the middle of the night you always go to the couch so that your constant tossing and turning to find a comfortable position won’t wake him. But without fail, he always comes to find you and bring you back to bed.

All that to say, he’s truly a perfect boyfriend. You don’t think it could be better than this. Until one day, he proves you wrong.

It’s day two of your period, and you’ve been curled on the couch since you got home from work. The pain meds haven’t kicked in, nothing is comfortable, and you’re extremely bloated. You’re debating if it’s worth it to drag yourself to the bathroom and take a bath when the front door of your apartment opens.

The very first thing Shayne does is press a kiss to the top of your head. The sweet gesture distracts you from the pain for a moment, but the relief is fleeting.

“Hey honey, how are you feeling?” he asks gently.

“Like it would be less painful to slice open my stomach and take out my uterus,” you reply through gritted teeth.

You finally look at him and see the most loving expression on his face. It immediately lightens your mood, and you say, “Sorry, that was a bit dramatic. I just hate waiting for the medicine to work. And I cannot get comfy.”

“I got something that might help,” he says before walking into the kitchen. You miss his presence next to you, but you’re also curious what he has for you. The microwave beeps and he’s crouched in front of the couch again. You look up and see him holding a stuffed rabbit.

“It’s one of those thingies that you can heat up and works like a heating pad. Plus, it’s your favorite animal so, I dunno, I thought it was cute.”

He hands it to you, and you place it on your belly, sighing at the immediate relief. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Of course, babe. I also have ingredients for your favorite meal so I’m gonna wash up and start making that, okay?”

You nod and smile, and he leans in to place a soft kiss to your lips. You’re comforted by the sounds of him preparing dinner in the next room and by the time the food is ready you’re finally feeling better.

“So, how was work today?” you ask as you dig into the delicious meal he prepared. You’d been too nauseas to eat lunch earlier, and you suddenly realize how starving you are.

“It was good, recorded a podcast, a reddit reacts and a challenge pit,” he replies.

“Busy day. What were the challenges?”

“Uh, it was a fun one. I’m gonna let it be a surprise for you when it comes out,” he says with a laugh. “How were the pups today?” he asks in reference to your job as a service dog trainer.

You tell him about the new dog that you’ve started working with as you both finish eating. Once you’re done you try to bring the plates to the kitchen. Since Shayne cooked you plan to do the cleanup, but he stops you before you can even stand. “I’ve got it babe, why don’t you choose a movie for us to watch tonight?”

You again wonder how you got so lucky to have someone who takes care of you and does so with a smile on his face. There’s a new documentary you’d both been wanting to watch so you pull it up and grab a blanket while you wait for him.

He joins you a few minutes later and hands you a bag of your favorite chocolates. You know that you didn’t have any in the apartment, meaning he’d picked them up for you. The kind gesture brings tears to your eyes, and you internally curse the hormones that make you more emotional than normal.

Shayne doesn’t comment on the crying, knowing that it sometimes makes you uncomfortable when he points it out. Instead, he just wraps his arm around you, pulls you in to cuddle against his chest, and presses play on the documentary.

His free hand moves to your belly, massaging and giving the type of pressure that always helps with your cramps. Even though they’re not bothering you right now, you appreciate how well he knows you and how he’s doing everything he can to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

For the next hour and a half, the documentary plays. You’re only half paying attention to it. The rest of your brain is focused on your wonderful boyfriend, who knows exactly how to take care of you. There’s no expectation, he doesn’t want anything in return. He just wants to make sure he’s doing everything he can to make you feel better.

The credits start rolling and Shayne turns off the TV before getting off the couch and reaching out to help you stand as well. The two of you get ready for bed side by side in the bathroom and you burrow under the covers.

It takes a couple of minutes for Shayne to join you, and you assume he’s checking that the door is locked as he does every night. But when he comes into the bedroom, you see he’s carrying the new bunny he got you. It’s warm, and smells of lavender, and you know he heated it for you in the microwave before coming to bed.

 You place it against your belly and Shayne gets under the covers, spooning you from behind. He places a kiss to the back of your neck and murmurs “I love you” against your skin.

“I love you too,” you reply, and fall asleep.

You wake in the middle of the night, your cramps coming back, so you quietly slide out of bed and walk into the kitchen. You find a snack already left out for you nearly cry again at how well Shayne takes care of you. After eating the food, you take more pain medicine and reheat the bunny. You notice a vase of flowers on the counter that weren’t there yesterday and immediately realize that Shayne must have picked them up along with the chocolates and the new stuffed animal.

Just as the microwave is about to finish you feel hands wrap around your waist.

“You okay?” Shayne asks, his voice groggy from sleep.

“I’m okay. Thank you. For the snack. And for the bunny. You truly are the best,” you say as you turn in his arms to press a kiss to his lips.

You grab the stuffed animal and lead Shayne back to bed. It takes half an hour for the pain medicine to kick in, and he rubs your back the entire time.

The next day is better, your cramps and bloating subsiding. But you can’t forget how well Shayne took care of you through the worst of it. He never diminishes your emotions or belittles the pain you feel.

A couple weeks later you get home from work and open YouTube to relax a bit before starting dinner prep. You see the new Smosh challenge pit video titled “Period Cramp Simulator Challenge” and you immediately start to watch it. The video begins with the rubber band chicken challenge which has you in tears with how hilariously ridiculous it is.

And then comes the period cramp simulator. You notice the outfit Shayne is wearing while he practically fights for his life experiencing cramps for the first time. Suddenly, his actions on day two of your last period make sense. Because that was absolutely the day they shot that video. He got a taste of what you experience every month and went even further in his need to take care of you. And for that reason, this video makes you fall even further in love with your boyfriend.

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Thanks for reading! If you have any Shayne Topp story requests let me know!

[dinthehottotty]

Drunk on You - Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

Warnings: Just some smutty drabble inspired by a new toy....

A/N: I wrote this on mobile so sorry I don't have the drop down bit. Also go gentle on me, this is my first Whiskey piece....

No. No, no. No, no, no, no. Nonononononono! This... could not be happening. Mortification was creeping in. Shame was shuffling from the corner of the hotel room.

It had taken ten minutes for you to begin to realize the weight of the situation. Still you couldn't bare looking to your right. If your legs could just stop shaking, that would be great.

You were a grown woman. An adult. Always prided yourself on your own efficiency. You got the job done, and done right no matter the energy and time. You did it independently for the most part, that's why you'd been hired by Statesmen to begin with. You were an amazing spy with a nerve of steel.

There was only one thing that ever got to you. Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. What an asshole. You'd never met such a surecocked, womanizing, smug bastard man. He pissed you off so much. You never used to let his advances bother you, but somehow over the years he wiggled his way under your skin. Now a single look from him made you seeth and bristle like a wild animal.

Your pride was now wiped away like a dry erase board. Your mind slowly is beginning to gain its bearings while you tremble in a puddle of your own fluids on your hotel bed. The light of the lamp next to you is a reminder of your vulnerability.

Sparing a glance to your right, everything about you is slow and hesitant. Jack is lounging beside you comfortably, a satisfied smirk coating his face. He's got his eyes closed, his fingertips tapping the air with a song you've got no idea about. He looks almost peaceful in the warm light of the dimmed lamp. And it would be if his stupid porn 'stache wasn't tilted up in a cocky smirk.

Your stomach chooses this inopertune moment to gurgle loudly. Weird, you swore the nausea was due to the naked rodeo clown beside you. Weirder yet, he almost looked good without his yellow sunglasses and cowboy hat. Less like a want to be country music star and more like a Latin lover.

His head lolls your way and his eyes bulldoze you with his thrilled smirk. Even in the low, unflattering light his brown eyes are warm and remind you of the warm gooeyness that is sliding from between your legs. You want it to not feel good, but your so boneless from the last... fuck, you don't even know how long it's been.

"Worked yerself up an appetite, did ya, darlin'?" Your only response is to gulp and you have to look away from him. A shiver rolls through you and he chuckles.

That's the worst part of this. Not the fact that you actually caved and slept with the sleeze of man, not the fact that he was the only person you genuinely hated in regards to company. No, the worst part of this, was how wrecked he had you. Jack Daniels is singlehandedly the best lay you've had in your life and it wasn't even hate sex.

Granted you should be screaming at him to get the fuck out of your hotel room and raging that he barged in on you in the first place.

Ginger had been so polite in regards to leaving you in the room by yourself for a bit. Laughing as you called after her 'if there is an emergency, don't call me, get the boys!' And then you forgot to turn on airplane mode.

It wasn't that Statesmen couldn't afford two rooms for you both. Instead, she was your near and dear friend and missions served as your sleepovers. You'd both spend free moments giggling and gossiping about the other agents. And also your sex lives and preferences. Also, your newest toy that you hadn't gotten to try.

A tiny egg with a little tongue and suction on it. The catalyst. You'd been prepared when your eyes and ears left to give a good review only to very quickly discover just how delightful and overwhelming the little tool was.

Too aware of how Whiskey was leaning over you with a grin, you suddenly feel nervous. "Don't tell me I fucked the sass out of you, sweetheart. I do love that wicked tongue you've got." He thumbs your lower lip and you find your self holding in panting. For fucks sake it took you nearly ten minutes to stop after he'd finally rolled off you.

It's pitiful that you just let out a tiny whine, pushing weakly at his chest. It makes his grin deepen, his dimples practically shining. "Don't go soft on me now, girl."

"Need minute," you finally rasp, voice hoarse. He leans down, shocking you with a hungry pass of his mouth over yours.

You should want to fight him, but your mind feels as boneless as your body.

There is a noise. A beep of the door unlocking with the card swiped.

Ginger is back.

She still knocks, bless her heart. It's like Whiskey doesn't even notice, instead just drawing his mouth over your jaw and tasting your neck lazily. He must know. Either he thinks it's housekeeping or he just doesn't give a fuck.

"Rosé?" She calls out from the hallway by the door. "I hope I gave you enough lead time to try-" she gasps as she rounds the corner and finds you wrapped up with a man you despise. "Oh, lord! What even happened?" She averts her wide eyes and Whiskey chuckles warmly over you.

"Decommissioned," you rasp out, complete mush under the mouthing at your neck. "Sorry." Teeth appear and your vaguely aware that Whiskey is laughing with delight against you.

He lifts enough to flash a grin at Ginger.

"You hate him! What do you mean 'decommissioned'?" She throws her hands up.

"What's the racket?" Eggsy calls, strutting in with Gallahad. Both of them freeze at the sight of you practically preening under the warm body over you. "No fuckin' way," the kid demands when Whiskey jerks the blankets up around your naked form.

"Now, I don't mind the company, but if you boys want a show, I suggest you go find the HBO channel back in your respective rooms. The lady is going to need a hot meal and a nice nap before she goes anywhere." You don't even register that you're nodding along with his statement.

"No way you bagged Rosé," Eggsy demands. "She looks drugged!" The heat of a big calloused hand rolls up over your side under the sheet and you let your eyes fall shut. Ginger just shakes her head like a disappointed mother.

"Not drugged," you manage to offer. It earns you a happy purr from the smug agent above you and he rolls a hand between your legs unabashedly. Your still too sensitive and jerkily shove his hand, gasping. "Out, please," you murmur, no bite to your words as a warm mouth finds the hollow behind your ear.

Ginger quickly agrees, shuffling quickly out of the room. Eggsy, even with Gallahad's prompting tries to stick around, giving you shit until the mouth leaves your neck.

"The lady politely requested you leave. Find the door, boy." He snarls like a caged animal and it sends warmth down belly. You find yourself uncaring and unfurling beneath him as Eggsy is lead out of the room.

"Hungry," you moan, trying to glower when he goes to reposition and settle between your thighs. It earns you a cocky grin.

"Atta girl!" You don't know what you expect, but it's hardly him pulling your legs up and proping them over his shoulders while he reaches for the phone.

You both moan when he sinks into you, wettly and just as easily as before. "Fuck, feel so good, baby." And he leans over, picking up the phone and dialing. There is ringing as he cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, rolling his hips forward. He's rewarded with the obnoxiously loud squelch that accompanies his thrusts. "What sounds good to eat?" Whiskey asks as you pant and writhe beneath him like his cock isn't stretching you beyond capacity.

"Everything," you gasp out.

"Could you send us the works? Whatever you've got on special." You can't pay attention to anything else he says, in the back of your mind your mind you know your a mess.

It's when you hear the tiny motor start that your hand is jerking down and your snatching his wrist. "Jack, no, I can't-" you rasp as you stop his hand from bringing the little egg down on your clit.

"Why not?" But it doesn't actually sound like a question and his eyes are glinting down on you.

"Is too much, hurts."

"You weren't complaining earlier."

"Overstimulated." He gives a growl, shutting the vibrator off before hauling your knees into the crook of his arms. It has you moaning unabashedly as he changes angles, stirring the pace up.

"Feels so good, oh fuck, feels good. Don't stop, please don't stop, always wanna be full, fill me up please." What kind of effect was this? You never babbled.

"What a good girl," he rumbles, "finally giving into how desperate she's been for me. Do you want to cum around me again?" He watches you falling apart beneath him, a complete wreck.

"Can't, can't cum. Felt like I was cumming the whole time that toy was on my clit. Hurts." A hand rubs down your belly, a direct path to the heaven between your legs that he's still fucking. You scramble for his wrist again but he's stronger and you let out a cry as he brushes a knuckle over your swollen and abused clit. It just makes him chuckle when you arch off the pillow below your hips.

Your so wet that it's coating your thighs and making him glide against you like your coated in oil. Everything was wet and warm.

"C'mon girl, don't tell me yet that I've won?" He rasps. There is a need that builds up at those words. An anger as you manage some kind of weak glare up at him. You fumble for him.

You intend fully on crushing his mouth against yours and devouring him in response to his quip. It seems to surprise you both when your lips move more tenderly than either of you anticipate.

Whiskey goes stiff in your arms, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. There's a moment you think you've killed the mood but then he's sink down against you and tenderly kissing you back.

It's not unexpectedly fun and wild like the rest of this desperate affair has been. Instead, his hips roll slow and smooth, no rush or reason beyond just feeling you. The heat of him consumes you as you breathe into each other's mouths, drinking the other in and soaking in hot hands.

"Shoulda done this sooner," you manage against his mouth and feel his chuckle rumble you both.

"Offers been there," he groans. "Spend the night in my room," he pleads gently. It has you shivering.

"Okay," you sigh, mush beneath the fulfilling stretch he was giving. He could ask you to kill Eggsy here and now and you'd probably say yes. Just as long as this never ended. You were drunk on Whiskey.

[beckydoesthings]

I spend far too much time on AO3 to let it all go to waste, so here’s a collection of ABO fics that I thoroughly enjoy. These are all hxl unless specified otherwise. I tried to condense my total list into one post, but I very quickly realized it would be waaaaay too long, so I split it up. 

*will continue to update this. also if i mistagged an author, i deeply apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

sleeping on our problems

E | 67k | @falsegoodnight

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.  There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word. His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared. - Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

this is everything i’ve ever wanted in an ABO fic and i’m genuinely in love with this. i think i cried reading this lol and i’m not ashamed of it. also the smut!

A Distant Hazy Light

E | 198k | @greenfeelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

this is part one of a three part ABO series that also probably made me cry at some point. chock full of angst and heartbreak with an (eventual) happy ending. also the side ziam is just *chef’s kiss*. 

pray for some sweet simplicity

E | 237k | @eeveelou

Louis is the only omega to ever make it in the cut-throat world of competitive motorcycle racing—that is, he would be if anyone actually knew about his identity. Now, his sights are set towards competing in—and winning—the European Grand Prix, the biggest and most difficult race of the entire year, so he can disappear underground for good. He’s close enough, too, until an alpha sports journalist is assigned to follow Louis’s every move as he prepares for the event of his career.

Or, an AU where motorcycle racing is the biggest sport in a heavily divided world, Louis is trying to take control of his own destiny, and Harry is in for more than he bargained for.

it’s just so beautiful. their relationship development was soooo good and i adored reading this piece. i never thought i could enjoy a motorcycle racing story so much!

A Sea Without Water, A Compass Without Direction

T | 84k

”Tell me, Louis,” Captain Styles said, leaning forward a little. ”D’you think I’m an idiot?”

”I—what?” Louis asked, surprised by the blunt question. He had expected something different, something along the lines of how he learned music, or how he ended up as a prisoner on the other ship.

”Do you think I’m an idiot?” The captain repeated, putting emphasis on each word as though Louis couldn’t understand him otherwise.

”Of course not,” Louis said, shaking his head. He’d be a fool for thinking such a thing, and an even bigger fool for saying it out loud. ”Captain.”

Captain Styles nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. ”Then why did you lie to me?”

”L-Lie?”

”Out on the deck. You lied to me,” he said. He held up his hand, three fingers up. ”Three lies total. I hate liars.”

i think i’ve read this like a dozen times and it’s still. so. good. probably the first pirate fic i read and i love it so much! the dynamic between them is awesome to read.

Seeing Blind

E | 46k | @that-idiot-overthere

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

the smut in this fic is absolutely filthy and i love it ;). but watching the two boys be idiots in love made this fic for me.

The Space Between

E | 40k | @alltheselights

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

i wanted to smack harry the entire time i was reading this, but in a cool way obviously. it’s quite fluffy but it’s got enough angst to make it suspenseful.

Face Your Fears

E | 92k | @sadaveniren

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

this fic is a rollercoaster of emotions from beginning to end and it’s amazing to read. i’m not sure what i love more, the fact that harry’s a baker or half the plot being based around wikipedia being false.

The Compulsion to Find Love

E | 140k | @toomanydreamers

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

it is quite a lengthy story but totally worth it. i adore louis’ fierce determination in this! 

We Both Got Nothing to Hide

E | 43k 

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

//

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

personal favorite because i have a soft spot for nesting. but i love the relationship between the two and it’s. so. fluffy i could melt.

lemon eyes

E | 50k

It's not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn't give a damn what's proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he's concerned, the right alpha won't care, and he'll have some fun on the way.

And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus?

ah yes a fic where Louis is an alpha and both are versatile?? wack. anyways, the smut in this is awesome and harry’s an idiot. what’s new?? (jkjk)

A Taste of Desire

E | 104k | @casuallyhl

“As forward as I have been with you this evening, I am also aware this dinner party isn’t the place to conduct business.” Mr. Tomlinson chuckles quietly to himself, shooting a subtle glance across the table towards their hostess. “And besides, I am sure our hostess would be horribly disappointed to learn that we went away this evening with a business agreement and not a mating one.”

Harry, who had been sipping his wine, coughs harshly at this. He splutters, unaccustomed to such blatant statements about mating.

Mr. Tomlinson continues to laugh quietly, clearly pleased at Harry’s reaction.

“Mrs. Humphreys promised that there was an alpha attending the dinner tonight that I would certainly get on well with,” Mr. Tomlinson continues, voice teasing. “She assured me that we would have much in common since we both work with mills.” Mr. Tomlinson glances at Harry, eyes flashing with mirth. “Little did she know that would be where our mutual interests began and ended.”

Or, a Victorian ABO where Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

one of my favorite historical AUs! i love how strong and opinionated Louis is and how Harry comes round to follow. 

Canyon Moon

E | 40k | @eeveelou

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

An A/B/O Lion King AU

disney AUs are the shit! i’ve got a small love for werewolf fics and this is one of my favorites. love how this takes the story of lion king for a spin.

Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds

M | 38k | @2tiedships2

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

i love how just sappy and sweet this is, like there are just hearts pouring out of my eyes as i read this. also broadway!

*updated 2/15/21*

[strawberry1212]

“IU - Celebrity” Analysis

THE QUEEN HAS RETURNED!!!

I know it’s unhealthy to simp for celebrities...but IU is an exception. I have been rewatching her new comeback an unhealthy amount of times so I thought I’d share some things/details/background info :))

1) Background

So IU wrote about the lyric writing process this time and OMG I have to copy and paste her whole statement bc it’s so beautiful:

"I have a friend who has often been treated as an eccentric person due to her eye-catching outfit, her unique taste, dynamic talents, defensive mechanisms stemming from shyness, and a personality that clearly knows her preferences. I loved her even more because of these unique characteristics of hers, but for the same reasons, she has been living under more scrutiny and hateful eyes. These are the words I wanted to tell my 'unusual friend' that turned into the lyrics to this song but as I worked on the song, I realized that this is also my story as well. After completing the song, I thought that anyone can be the main character to this song. I'm sure everyone has felt left out at least once in their lives because they dont' meet the standards others have made. I want to tell everyone, including my friend, who were born rough around the edges but special. You are not a person from the star (common saying in Korea to mean someone weird/different) but are like a star."

OK THIS IS SO CUTE!! Because like first of all it’s so poetic...the play on words with you are not from the star, but a star yourself. And the fact that we are getting yet another song from IU that is not another romantic song. One of my long standing frustrations with the music industry (American, Korean, and Japanese), is songs tend to always center around romance, and IU tends to break those stereotypes (Bbibbi, Palette, 23, I-Land, 8, just to name her title tracks), and not only that but the fact that this is about her friend is just so beautiful T_T. Also did anyone else think of Sulli when they read this? Sulli was known for her eccentricity, different style, and being misunderstood, but the translation writes “I have a friend” in the present tense...so idk. 

And just her wanting her fans/listeners to feel like the main character (ಥ﹏ಥ) (I’m not crying you are). This is especially such an important message for Korean and Asian fans in general. I only have my experience in Japan to speak to, but Asian collectivist cultures really punish those who stray from the norm, which not only ends up discouraging those from being unique and themselves, but also impedes social progress (feminism, environmentalism, social justice, animal rights, etc.). 

And I also think it’s key where she wrote “as I worked on the song, I realized that this is also my story as well,”--more on that theme later when I break down the music video.

2) Music Video Analysis

The star motif

So she sort of does a play on words by putting a lot of star stuff in, star being another word for celebrity. And as the lyrics “You're a star painted with a left hand,” she’s talking about how this person isn’t the perfect/usual star, but perhaps a crooked/left-handed one...like the one shown to dot the “i” in the first image of the music video:

The star motif also features later around 1:09 in her dance, she draws a star with her finger.

The music video story

So basically it seems IU is playing two people--one is herself, a celebrity type figure dressed in glam clothes, and the other is the unique, “star” character (a stand in for her friend that she wrote the lyrics about). IU sings about the “star,” “A troubled outsider The walk, the style Through the earphones The music is all minor You have no idea Above your lowered head What the bright lights are Shining towards.”

The music video shows IU in glamorous clothes:

While this “star” character is in her unique/non-glam clothing, walking through the crowd.

We can also sense IU’s isolation, she’s dressed like a princess in this glamorous pastel pink room, but she is alone, and the lights flash almost ominously outside, like the constant threat of paparazzi/people always surrounding her wanting to look in on her life:

Or how the clothing racks gradually disappear, revealing her standing alone worriedly:

The next we see IU standing off to to the side (I believe it’s IU bc she’s in an undercover outfit, but it’s clearly very glamorous), as she hides from fans chasing her:

When the crowd passes, she looks around and catches sight of “star” IU, and is seemingly very taken by her unique beauty:

IU chases the “star,” but loses sight of her, and is once again alone:

The irony here is that a) despite being adored and chased by many, the celebrity IU feels alone, and that b) despite being this glamorous celebrity, celebrity IU adores this unique “star,” that is just living her life, and not universally adored like celebrity IU. Celebrity IU almost seems envious of her freedom and unique style. But as the lyrics say, she also is upset at the way society treats the unique “star:”

“Your weary face looks like/ Someone powered you off/ The heartbeat went too quiet/ The glow you have/ The imagination, identity/ Are on a diet” “

These lyrics I had the most trouble with...I think it means the “star”’s imagination and unique identity are being starved/mistreated by society, like they are being forced to put on a diet. 

Next we have:

“You have no idea/ Still not fully bloomed/ Written for you/ A bygone love poem” as celebrity IU works, it seems, on a love poem for the “star.”

Here the star motif features pretty literally, as she is surrounded by her poem writing as the stars fall across the sky. The “written for you, a bygone love poem” could also be a reference to IU’s other song, Love Poem? Also going back to how this could reference Sulli, I could help but be reminded of how IU wrote the song “Peach” about Sulli’s beauty and how much she adored her friend. 

Next we see IU in front of this huge tapestry of celebrity IU, but this time she is wearing a dress studded with stars, and looking further up. She passes through the tapestry, and this could be like a sign of her growth? Like moving past her huge blown up celebrity image of herself to find her true self in a star studded dress?

She then enters into a dark vacuum where she is surrounded by people dancing with lights (another continuation of the star motif):

I think this is the turning point to the music video. Because now it is celebrity IU surrounded by stars. The next scene shows the people (all the people that once chased her) simply walking past her on the steps, perhaps alluding to how fame is ephemeral. She looks unsure and insecure here.

The next scene is most steeped in symbolism; she is in the same room that she was in alone before looking out at the city, but now the curtains are drawn (symbolizing privacy?) and IU reaches out towards an identical version of herself. Now the line between celebrity IU and “star” IU becomes blurred:

It seems that the left is “star” IU, and the right is celebrity IU, who continues to pine and look up to an almost indifferent “star” IU. “Star” IU gets up to leave, and morphs back into her “star” outfit from the beginning of the video, re-affirming that this is in fact “star” IU.

When celebrity IU notices she’s gone, she rushes up to find her (again paralleling her chase at the beginning of the music video), but when she goes to where “star” IU disappears, she is simply confronted with a mirror: she was the unique star all along!

In a sense, the message here could be that our own unique beauty may seem obvious to everyone else (the viewer knew that “star” IU was the same person (IU) as celebrity IU all along, but it took celebrity IU the whole music video to figure it out.

Almost as if this whole sequence has been inside celebrity IU’s head, she seems to come to this realization on a red carpet surrounded by flashing cameras:

Here she breaks the fourth wall, looking directly at the camera, as if to now realize: “I have been my own unique “star” all along.” She looks at the camera as the music sings, “you are my celebrity,” perhaps to mean that the viewer is her celebrity, or that she herself is her own celebrity, and runs off, away from the cameras (as if running away from her fame for a moment), in her beautiful red dress, free and confident at last. In the past she has always been running to chase “star” IU, but now she seems to be running simply for herself:

Messages/themes:

I think there are a couple of final messages here, and it is truly to IU’s credit that she was able to pack so many themes/messages into one music video. I think the dynamic I’m most interested in is how it runs the age old theme of the harms of celebrity fame, but it puts a very unique twist on it. While it shows the isolating aspects of fame, it also has a positive spin, that the love and affection bestowed upon celebrities isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but rather that we should redistribute that love and affection towards those closest to us, and see each other the way IU saw her friend. It also shows that fame and adoration don’t matter when you are insecure in yourself, given the irony of celebrity IU chasing after “star” IU.

This message that what matters most is cherishing and being cherished by those closest to you is interesting, because it can apply to both celebrities and non-celebrities. Celebrities may be adored, but it can be superficial, so they need the genuine love of close friends. Conversely, non-celebrities may feel super connected to their celebrities, but ultimately they need real life close friends. I think the message serves to both humanize celebrities in this way, while also saying that non-celebrities, and even weird/eccentric people, are deserving of the love and adoration we usually only reserve for picture-perfect celebrities.

I think perhaps the most poignant part, is the message of self-love: how at the end she realized that perhaps despite being pigeon-holed in certain ways as a public figure, she can reclaim her unique, beautiful parts. How we can be envious of others who seem set on their unique path and unafraid, but that we are unique and different too.

Also can we talk about how she served LOOKS!!! All of those outfits were GOLD. Anyways, I hope her music and its message reverberate with people who feel undeserving as “outsiders” and being eccentric. Being different is amazing. And as IU suggests, even though we may not be pop stars, we are all “celebrities” to someone. As the saying goes, “to the world you may just be one person, but to one person you may be the world.”

[benjiwyatt]

do you have any ben/leslie headcanons! i love your posts abt them so much it's great to see someone get as emotional abt them as i am asjdkajhjd

i got this message and i was like "god, i dont really know if i have any headcanons" and then i opened my notes app and started typing and didn't stop for over an hour

i'm literally putting this under a break and organizing it into categories bc it's absurdly long

here it is

A COLLECTION OF BEN AND LESLIE HEADCANONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP/S3

basically canon but leslie definitely had a crush on a young benji wyatt and followed the story religiously for the first couple months before she started college

ben is only slightly jealous leslie had ann go out with chris to try and get more money for the parks budget rather than leslie asking him out with the same goal. he knows it’s insane, unethical, and illogical but he’s still excited that he gets to spend the night with her on a date plus two other people even if it is to accuse her of bribery.

ann realizes early on that leslie was attracted to ben and teases her mercilessly about it. she thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that leslie wants to make out with "mean ben.” after april and andy’s wedding, she realizes it's more than just attraction and she lays off.

before ben can even think rationally about what he’s doing, he’s in line at bed, bath, and beyond with a crock pot in his arms, calling stephanie to ask her to send him their family’s chicken soup recipe

ann knew ben liked her from the beginning and was totally positive when she ran into him in the hospital asking for leslie’s room number while holding jj’s waffles and a tub of homemade soup.

ben realizes he’s falling in love with leslie when he is at city hall with her until 3am one night trying to budget for the amount of cotton candy machines she wants for the harvest festival. in his exhaustion, he naively believes her when she tells him she’ll go home in a bit so he leaves. he never gets a text from saying she made it home so he stops at jj’s the next morning and brings a takeout container of waffles and a coffee complete with an outlandish amount of whipped cream and sugar to the parks department. he finds her asleep in the conference room. he starts trying to convince sweetums to donate more cotton candy machines that afternoon.

chris had to have known ben liked leslie. he’s not an idiot. in the deleted scene from their wedding, they read out emails from their “tumultuous first week in pawnee” and chris writes to ben saying, “why are you so focused on leslie knope?” ben replies saying, “i’m not. whatever. shut up.” there’s no way chris is this oblivious. ben takes her out for a beer. ben pays out of pocket for a children’s performer to help her out. ben shows up on chris and ann’s date just because he thinks leslie might be there. chris can’t be this dumb. but when they take the city manager jobs in pawnee, he knows it can’t happen so he cuts ben off when he starts to ask about dating someone in city hall. he cracks down on the rule in front of leslie after the tom incident to hammer it in. he starts setting ben up on a bunch of dates to try and head it off. he sends them to indianapolis for the little league pitch because, realistically, he knows they’re the best bet for success but makes sure to interrupt their dinner and invites them to his apartment to continue to run interference the rest of the night. after their fights in 4.06-4.08, he hopes he won’t have to worry anymore. the next work day, they come into his office looking nervous and happy and he knows he’s about to lose the partner and best friend that’s been by his side for the past decade.

april and andy knew they were secretly dating. it went unspoken aside from a few implicit teasing remarks from april and a few suggestive attempted high fives from andy but leslie assured ben they wouldn’t tell anyone despite their ostensible behavior.

BREAK UP

ben had commissioned the li’l sebastian plush for leslie after he had died but the toy shop didn’t finish it until after they broke up. he felt bad not going to pick it up so he did despite not being able to give it to her. he kept it for all those months and sometimes thought about getting rid of it but could never bring himself to do it.

when leslie made personalized copies her books for her friends with individualized annotations and notes in the bylines, she had two copies for ben. there was one that she gave him during their breakup that was very simplified and watered down where the note basically just said “i’m really glad you decided to stay in pawnee.” then there was a second copy that she kept while they were split up that was totally covered in notes and random thoughts she couldn’t say during their time apart. she gives him that copy when they get back together and it may or may not be the best gift he’s ever received.

april was much less abrasive with them during the break up because she’s a sweetheart and wants her friends to be happy.

the first time leslie admitted she was in love with him was during a long night of drinking and crying at ann’s house

ben craved the taste of sugar during their breakup because he got used to tasting the sweetness when he kissed her

ben found himself unable to sleep at night without the sound of leslie talking in her sleep to comfort him

april texted leslie the night of the halloween party to let her know that ben and andy were at the hospital after a fight and everything was fine and she didn’t need to worry. leslie was mad at andy for a few days after and he couldn’t figure out why.

the only photo in ben’s bedroom was of himself, leslie, and li’l sebastian at the harvest festival. if he got caught staring at it and crying, he would just say he missed li’l sebastian so much.

april and andy started having star wars and star trek movie nights to try and cheer ben up

DOMESTIC

ben and leslie got in the habit of having weekly game nights with april and andy during the campaign since they were all basically living together. it became a tradition that kept going as often as they could make it happen, even after the kids were born. they try to have game night at least once a month. april pretends to hate it.

one of my absolute favorite ideas about them is that she sleeps much better when he’s around to keep her grounded. after they get together for good, she starts getting closer to 5 hours of sleep a night.

another favorite involving leslie’s sleeping: ben is typically accustomed to tuning out incoherent nonsense that she babbles in her sleep but she also has some of her best ideas when she’s not busy trying to focus on a million different things. when he hears her coming up with legitimately good ideas or making speeches or having solid debate arguments, he takes out the notebook he keeps in his nightstand to record her thoughts and quotes. he revisits and revises the notes to strengthen her statements and make them more professional and less rambling but makes sure to keep her distinct voice apparent in them.

ben prefers pancakes to waffles but he will go to the grave with that secret

this isn’t a headcanon because nbc posted it but one of ben’s holidays on leslie’s calendar is watch synchronization day which is the day they celebrate syncing their watches to, as leslie puts it, “always be in harmony, like our hearts” which is just one of the sweetest fucking things in the world

leslie makes ben read and watch all the harry potters because he didn’t get into them when he first tried. ben is much more of a success than ann. she buys him a ravenclaw scarf for christmas.

their first fight as a couple was a historical debate gone awry

since ben clearly has some affinity for custom stuffed animals, he has some made for the triplets.

they’re both dog people but they adopt a cat because sonia and stephen beg for one and it does fit their busy lifestyle much better. they love the cat. they get a dog when the kids are older and life is slightly less hectic.

they both love striped shirts and sweaters so much that they have to make a conscious effort to avoid wearing them on the same day and matching

leslie makes sweets and bakes desserts while ben typically handles cooking the actual meals

BASED ON EPISODES, QUOTES, AND THROWAWAY LINES

i always loved the ann/ben dynamic in bus tour because there’s been such an obvious shift in ann’s attitude towards him in this episode. maybe it’s because she and tom just broke up and she just turned chris down again and she’s frustrated with relationships but i think it’s her realizing ben isn’t going anywhere. since the campaign is winding down, she realizes that things aren’t gonna go back to the way they were because ben is now part of this and he’s clearly in it for the long haul. ann’s definitely jealous that ben is just as important to leslie as she is and she now knows she’s never gonna get that full attention back. ann sits ben down to have a real “don’t you dare hurt her” speech after this ep and before win, lose, or draw. this is when he tells ann he wants to marry her.

they discover they both adore the princess bride after ben says “as you wish” to her one night and after that it becomes their movie.

the wildflower mural becomes a thing between them when ben says he considered that to be their first date, prompting leslie to tell him what the mural means to her.

ben puts banjo boogie bonanza on one of the mix cds he gives leslie at the beginning of their relationship

harrison ford movie nights start after they both reveal they had a crush on him as a kid. ben was obsessed with han solo and leslie was into indiana jones’ whole history teacher vibe.

they basically hate each other’s taste in music and stop exchanging mix cds once that becomes apparent that they aren’t gonna find much common ground. they both love tom petty, al green, and etta james and music in that vein though.

ben makes leslie watch game of thrones just to try to explain why he’s called her khaleesi. she gets into it, not so much because of the show itself, but because of how passionate her boyfriend is about it.

they start learning basic french during the s4 campaign because they think it will be useful to have a basic multilingual vocabulary for their political careers and because leslie confesses she has always dreamed of seeing paris. they study spanish next.

ben makes leslie watch the star wars prequels just so he can complain to her during them. he doesn’t think she’s paying attention and then he reads about midichlorians in the paper.

ann is also in on ben’s plan to sneak vegetables into leslie’s waffles.

they will sometimes jokingly refer to themselves as the “dream team” or “dynamic duo” because, despite chris’s absurdity, it’s true

i’m open to literally any origin of this because no matter what it’s perfect but i like to think that “i love you and i like you” started at some point in season 4 when, at some point, leslie went “i like you” and ben replied “you like me?” “mhm” “hm just like me?” “yes i like you. i love you and i like you. both.” “mmm i love you and i like you too”

i barely even register some of these things as headcanons since they just live so solidly in my brain

this might be my favorite ask ever thank you for loving benslie enough to ask me this and be genuinely interested

if anyone read all of this, i love you

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode nineteen: Kyoya's sense of self!

Tw: assault, self harm, self hate

“Thanks for waiting for me, Kyoya.” Tamaki looked so tired, toying with his own hair nervously. He kept glancing down the hallway, clearly upset at having been yelled at. Kyoya couldn’t blame him, he hated being yelled at as well. Unfortunately Kyoya couldn’t comfort him as he wasn’t supposed to be aware, so he gave a soft half-smile and stepped forward.

“How did it go? Who was it?”

At that, Tamaki promptly burst into tears, clinging to Kyoya tightly, “she kissed me! She kissed me and then Haruhi yelled at me and- and…” he just started to wail at that point, clinging to Kyoya even tighter. Kyoya hated emotions and he had absolutely no idea how to deal with this, especially when the other hosts came out to see what all the noise was about.

“It’s alright, maybe she’s not really angry at you?” Kyoya remembered that when he was tiny and people still cared about him, how his older siblings would just pick him up whenever he was upset, not much else, just lift him up. Sadly, Kyoya wasn’t strong enough to pick Tamaki up, he was struggling to even hold him up as Tamaki cried.

The hosts helped Tamaki into the room, the twins asked what happened but Kyoya ignored them, cradling Tamaki to the best of his ability. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Tamaki…” to anyone hearing, he was whispering condolences to his friend, but for Kyoya, the statement was so much more. Kyoya felt incredibly guilty, that's why plan b had been a last resort, Kyoya hadn’t wanted to hurt Tamaki this much. He’d made Tamaki cry and he felt absolutely horrid and filthy about it.

After a while, Haruhi returned to the club room, looking furious. She sat down, clearly seething. The hosts swarmed her, asking what had happened, why was Tamaki crying? Haruhi told them that Sieka had kissed Tamaki, and that she had told Haruhi that he’d willingly gone to meet her. Tamaki couldn’t deny this, but honestly he wasn’t even trying, he was too busy crying. The hosts were clearly torn on who’s side to take, as Haruhi had clearly been wronged but Tamaki had clearly also been wronged, and he was the one crying about it.

“The letter wasn’t signed, he only went because he wanted to know who it was and why they’d write that kind of letter when the entire school is fully aware that he’s with you.” Kyoya glared daggers at her, knowing that it was a risky move, but he genuinely didn't care at this point, how dare she yell at Tamaki, "you're being selfish to think you were the only one hurt by that happening, look at him. Take a good look at that man and tell me you're angry at him, go ahead, we all know you don't love him so you have no right to scream at him for being assaulted!"

He'd stood up at that point, towering over Haruhi, who looked shocked and even guilty. The other hosts were shocked, but there were murmurs of agreement, then Honey spoke up, "Kyo-chan has a point… it really wasn't Tama-chan's fault."

Haruhi sighed, and took a step backwards, hand over her face, "god… I know, I know, I'm sor-"

"If you knew, then why would you scream at him?" Kyoya crossed his arms, moving his head slightly so the light stopped hiding his eyes and the other hosts could see the tears in his own eyes, "I'm getting to the end of my tether with you, Haruhi, if you hurt my friend again I swear-"

"Kyo-chan, calm down."

Kyoya tensed up, glancing back at him, then to Tamaki, the tears freeing themselves and spilling down his cheeks. He huffed and stormed out of the room, not wanting the others to see him cry. Once again his own guilt consumed him, he wondered if he was even allowed to feel guilty, wasn't he too evil for that at this point? He just went to sit in the library, cursing himself for leaving his laptop in the clubroom. He took out his notebook and a pen, entering a quick entry.

12:30 -I snapped at Haruhi, she’s angry at Tamaki, tamaki hasn’t done anything wrong. Sieka kissed him, it wasn’t like he wanted it. Although I suppose she’s supposed to get angry.

Kyoya wasn’t a fan of sketching with pen, but he didn’t have any pencils on hand. So he really had no choice, he didn’t even know what he was drawing, all he knew was that there were no construction lines in said drawing. It seemed to be a figure, surrounded by others, all eyes on the centre, a devil, an evil entity with no care for the pain behind him. Was this how Kyoya saw himself? Or was this just a thoughtless doodle? Even Kyoya didn't know.

Back in class, Tamaki quietly informed Kyoya that Haruhi wouldn't be joining them for the sleepover, or any of the after-session meetings for the week. Kyoya was fine with this, but expressed guilt for having snapped at her the way he did, glancing away from Tamaki as he did so. Tamaki seemed upset by this, putting a gentle hand on Kyoya's shoulder, "Kyoya… it's ok, I understand you're angry at her, you have every right to be. In fact, I'm happy that you're looking out for me, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He couldn't get those words out of his mind, what would Tamaki do without him… oh that was wonderful, to think Tamaki needed him, to think Tamaki appreciated him… it made Kyoya's heart swell. He simply adored the idea of Tamaki needing him, of course Tamaki needed him; who else was going to protect him from Haruhi? At first, Kyoya had thought he was the villain, he was willing to be the villain and just go full throttle into it… but as things progressed, he began to think that the villain was actually Haruhi. She didn't love Tamaki, she yelled at him, she was willing to brag about not loving him… she was so cruel, poor Tamaki didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

It was ok though, Kyoya would protect him. Kyoya wasn't willing to let his darling best friend get hurt, crush or no crush. The fact that Tamaki recognised and approved of Kyoya's defence of him, it made Kyoya so very very happy. He carried his newfound pride really well, standing up a little straighter and carrying himself better. The difference was visible but no one asked about it, probably because they were too scared. It had been a while since Kyoya seemed so together.

The rest of the day went by wonderfully, with nothing going wrong. Kyoya was quite happy, although the other hosts seemed a little hung up about the day's events. Whilst hosting, Haruhi kept glancing towards Tamaki, but Tamaki didn't even glance back at her, and that was the best feeling for Kyoya, he was finally getting his way. Haruhi was finally getting what she deserved, she should never have hurt Tamaki like that. It was her own fault.

By the end of the day, Tamaki was still being loud and excitable, but there was an underlying level of pain there. Kyoya did his best to keep Tamaki's mind away from Haruhi, even going so far as to suggest that Tamaki come over to his place for a little while. Obviously Tamaki was excited at the idea, and they were very quickly sitting in the limo, with Tamaki babbling on about all the fun things they could do once they got there. Kyoya didn't say much, just stared at him from behind his glasses, enjoying the sound of Tamaki's voice.

He couldn't help but to wonder how it was for Sieka, how did it feel to kiss Tamaki? Kyoya knew Tamaki wore lipgloss, he couldn't remember what flavour Tamaki had said it was though, so he wasn't sure how it would taste but he knew it would be good. Tamaki hadn't wanted to kiss Sieka, so he likely didn't cooperate with her, but Kyoya couldn't help but imagine how amazing a kiss that was precipitated would be, the way Tamaki moved would be felt through every breath, life and love flourishing on his tongue as the world melted away… just the idea was enough to drive Kyoya mad.

That evening was wonderful, they listened to music and did homework together. Kyoya found it easier to bring himself to do things when Tamaki was there, he wasn't sure if it was the aura of energy or the pressure to look good in front of his crush. The reason didn't really matter, but the main point was that Kyoya was enjoying spending some time with Tamaki. After around two hours, or maybe an hour and a half, Tamaki spoke up with something that caught Kyoya off guard.

"Have you been hurting yourself lately?"

Oh, Kyoya hadn't been expecting that. He suddenly felt unsure, had he? He struggled to recall, the entirety of last week had been a blur for him really, so he wasn't sure what was what. “Well my bodyguards took my razors so…” that was before getting grounded wasn’t it? For some reason Kyoya knew he remembered sitting on the bathroom floor at some point that week and- “the scissors,” his words took the both of them off-guard, Tamaki glanced up from where he had been gazing at the cup of tea in his hands.

“What?”

“I took the twins' fabric shears... “ Kyoya paused for a moment, realising that his victory of memory was not going to be as much of a victory in Tamaki’s eyes, and that he’d just confessed to more self harm. “I…” the weight of what he’d just told the blonde dawned on him and he remembered how he’d promised to never let Tamaki see him like that again, “I’m sorry…”

He hadn’t been expecting to be sweeped up in a big hug and given small kisses on the top of his head, Tamaki had shouted something in french and continued to murmur french words to him softly as Kyoya just sat there in his arms. It was wonderful and though Kyoya was shaking he still felt tingles on his skin every time it brushed against Tamaki’s own. Only when the air was still and Kyoya had stopped crying- he had been crying? Only when there was silence did Tamaki speak words that Kyoya understood, pressing their foreheads together, “never apologize for that, ok? It wasn’t me you hurt, I’m just upset because I care about you and don’t want to see you hurt. The person you’re hurting is yourself, but I think that person doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. You're hurting my best friend, Kyoya, can you promise me you’ll stop hurting my best friend? I know you’re in pain, I know that’s why you caused more, and I’m trying to help you, okay? But I can’t help if you don’t let me, please tell me if there's something I can do to make you feel better, is there?”

Kyoya didn’t want to move, making the barest little nod possible, but Tamaki understood and smiled. He didn’t want to speak as he spoke, hearing his voice and how pained and weak he sounded, it was awful… “can you stay with me tonight..? I don't want to be alone…"

Surprisingly, Tamaki agreed, and he even set up a blanket and pillow fort for them to sit in. Kyoya could be distracted from his all consuming guilt for a moment or two when Tamaki pulled him in close and wrapped a blanket around the both of them, he was so warm… it was hard to think in a situation like that. With every slow breath and chuckle that made Tamaki's chest shift just a little, with every little blue or gold sparkle in his violet eyes that seemed like the stars in the sky, with every little hum that left his lips and floated in the air giving off warmth, Kyoya fell just a little more in love.

Love was a funny thing; Kyoya had always thought it was stupid, just a chemical reaction, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he was actually a very romantic person. There was nothing Kyoya wanted more than to simply be help by someone who saw him, someone who understood who he was and who he wanted to be. That was what made this so much worse, the fact that Kyoya was now a horrible person made him scared for Tamaki to see him for what he was. He would never be seen, he could never be loved… not like this.

The thing that brought Kyoya hope, however, was the fact that Tamaki had always been one to look through a person, to see the person they wanted to be. He'd always encouraged Kyoya to be the person Kyoya had always dreamed to be, but now that dream was unclear; constantly shifting and changing, Kyoya didn’t know who he wanted to be anymore, it was so strained and fuzzy for him. The idea of the true self was slipping from his grasp as he made each step towards what he wanted, narrowly avoiding his doom at the hands of his own psyche. It was beginning to grow too much for even him to handle, but he didn’t trust himself to even try to do anything about it, what if he hurt people more?

A song, a lullaby in a tongue too foreign for Kyoya to understand, but familiar enough for him to name it. Tamaki ran his fingers through the villain’s hair, grounding Kyoya as he let the words wrap like a blanket. He was singing softly, Kyoya couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard tamaki sing- had he ever? The sound was wonderful, something to make him relax. Kyoya was a beast in that moment, an animal, he didn't trust himself to speak nor move, only laying, shivering in the blonde’s arms. Kyoya thought back to how he’d hurt everything, the people he’d cared for. He silently prayed for forgiveness, not to any god- Kyoya wasn’t a man of faith, but he had faith in his friends, he hoped when the truth came undone, they’d see through his actions to see who he was inside.

He made a promise, to them and to himself; there would be no pain caused nor received all week, they all deserved a reprieve. Kyoya knew he had a large amount of control over the pain his friends were experiencing, but as he caught a glimpse of the sadness in Tamaki’s eyes, he prayed Haruhi would allow them all to rest.

[oneweekoneband]

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages.  (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time. 

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. 

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift,  she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 40 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters here on AQ or here if you’d rather read on AO3. xoxo!

Thank you so so much to @saiphl and @sillylittlecandycane for beta-reading!!

Chapter Summary: Courtney does her best to support Adore’s new relationship, even as Tati comes to a disappointing realization.

Chapter 40: Don’t Cry Out Loud

“Omigod, your dorm room is so cute!” Courtney squealed, and Roy hid a smile, settling down on the bed. Of course Courtney would find the stark white, institutional shared room which was barely bigger than a prison cell just adorable.

He lounged on the bed, wordlessly stretching his arms out, grin deepening when she immediately climbed up to settle into his embrace, sighing softly. He kissed her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her, wondering why it felt like a million years had passed since they last saw each other. He wanted to go back home for their anniversary a few weeks ago, but midterms had been kicking his ass and he just couldn’t take the time away. Courtney seemed fine about it, even telling him not to worry when he’d promised to make it up to her, but he was aware that she might be harboring some resentment.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured. “I’m so, so sorry I had to cancel the last-”

She silenced him with a kiss, passionate and deep, her fingers digging into his shoulders telling him that all was forgiven, that she still loved him, that they were good.

“I missed you, too…” Her arms tightened around him. “Anyway, Happy Belated Anniversary…”

“Two years,” he said, kissing her lightly. “It’s been pretty good, huh?”

“The best.”

It was a few minutes before he felt any need to speak again, content to hold her close, occasionally seeking out her lips for soft, messy kisses. He tried to keep himself from getting too excited, since he was aware that his roommate could easily burst in at any moment. (Joe had promised to sleep elsewhere, but it was only 5 pm, so he didn’t think that deal had begun just yet.)

Soon though, Courtney had rolled over on top of him, body warm and pliant, kisses growing more and more heated. When her hands drifted down to his fly, tugging at the button, he regretfully stopped her, breathing hard.

“We should, uh...wait a little bit. Just until I know we can have some real privacy.”

“Okay,” she agreed, sitting up, running a hand through her hair. She tossed him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assured her, kissing her hand. “I’m just trying to avoid a potentially embarrassing situation.”

“Mmhmm…”

As he sat up, leaning against the wall, she moved towards him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“So...I’ve told you all about my classes and stuff. What’s new back home? Anything interesting?”

“Uhh...I dunno. Murial’s still a pain in the ass, my mom has a new boyfriend, same old shit.”

Roy laughed. “Is he as weird as the last one?”

“Thankfully no. But...well, he’s almost suspiciously normal.”

“Keep your door locked at night,” Roy joked.

“Yuck.” Courtney hit him on the arm, shaking her head.

“How are the neighborhood kids? I haven’t talked to Bob in weeks, is he good?”

“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t seen him that much outside of class. I’ve been hanging out with Adore’s friends most of the time.”

“Oh yeah? Is Violet behaving?” He raised a curious eyebrow at her.

“Shockingly, yes. And Adore has a new girlfriend,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Oh...” Roy paused, unsure how he was supposed to react to this news. Somehow, he didn’t think that jubilation was called for. “Anyone I know?”

“No, she’s a new girl. Tatianna. She’s cool, and like...so pretty.”

“Well...good for Adore.”

“Yeah, it’s really good!” Courtney said. “They have so much in common. Tati plays bass, and they’re into the same music, and like...they fit really well together, you know?”

“Uh huh.” An unsettled feeling began to creep into Roy’s chest. That old, nagging feeling that he could never get rid of when it came to Courtney and her best friend.

“I’m like, so, so happy for her,” Courtney continued. “It’s been awhile since she’s dated anyone, and like...it’s really great to see her happy. I really think that this one will last. At least, I hope. It’s only been a few weeks, I guess. Less than a month. Right now they’re all giddy, in that like, honeymoon stage. You know? It’s really cute.”

“So...I mean, are you two still hanging out, or is she kinda occupied?” Roy asked slowly. He knew how much Courtney had suffered last year, how miserable she’d been without Adore, and he had no desire for her to relive that.

“We’re hanging out a lot! Yeah, it’s funny, it’s kind of been a lot of the three of us. Which is cool because I’m getting to know Tati too. I think you’d like her, she’s really sweet and funny and had this kind of sarcasm that catches you totally off guard. She’s great.”

“Um...yeah, great.”

Roy cleared his throat, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, suddenly itching for a change of topic, a change of scenery. He reached out a hand to Courtney.

“Do you wanna go for a walk? I can show you the campus and then we can come back and change for dinner. I think you’re gonna really like the restaurant I found.”

“Sounds perfect,” Courtney beamed at him with that smile, the one that never failed to melt his heart, twist up his insides, make him believe, if only for a second, that life was truly good. He grinned back, dimples deep in his cheeks, pulling her in for a tight embrace.

He was able to convince himself, that night, that everything was fine. The distance he felt was just a normal part of living apart. That this awkward year was just a necessary thing for them to get through before they could be together for real, like adults.

Roy wasn’t naive, he knew that people grew apart and that nothing was guaranteed--but there wasn’t a single version of his future that he could fathom without her in it. So the next day as they said goodbye, once again, the promise of being reunited soon over Thanksgiving kept it from being too bittersweet. Courtney certainly seemed unconcerned, hugging him tightly and whispering “I love you” into his neck.

He breathed her in once more, the feel of her post-shower hair damp against his cheek. He wished that she could stay longer, but she had what was sure to be a long drive ahead of her, and he had a paper to write.

“Call me when you get home…”

“I will.” She smiled up at him, began to unwind her arms from his waist, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t look so sad. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Before she got too far away, though, Roy pulled her back one last time, holding her against his chest again, unwilling to let go just yet. “Five more seconds…”

Courtney giggled, hugging him back, whispering, “Take as many as you need…”

-

Adore was cute. She was really cute. And fun, and chill, and everything Tati felt like she needed after the trauma of a cross-country move.

There was just one problem. Well, maybe not a problem. A concern. Something that, at first she’d brushed off as paranoia, but the more she got to know Adore and her friends, the more it bugged her. It didn’t seem to matter that they’d been best friends for years, or that Courtney had a boyfriend (albeit one whom Tati had never seen in the flesh). Something about it was just...uncomfortable.

Tonight though, she decided to put it out of her mind. At Adore’s suggestion, they were having a chill movie night. They’d just received a bountiful order from the delivery guy--two stuffed-crust pizzas, wings, garlic knots, and whatever else they felt compelled to order after smoking in the tree house.

Tati set all the food out on the coffee table while Adore shuffled through her DVD collection.

“I promise, you’re gonna love it,” Adore said, punctuating her statement with a wink in Tati’s direction.

“I trust your taste,” Tati said, settling onto the sofa with a sigh.

Adore found the DVD she wanted and began to load it in when a familiar voice sounded from the doorway.

“Hi guys! What’s up?”

Courtney.

Tati felt bad, for thinking of her as a problem. She was a perfectly nice girl, friendly and fun and charming--but she was also always there. It seemed like she and Adore barely ever spent time together without Courtney being involved in some way. And it wouldn’t bother Tati so much, except that there was this weird energy between them, something all their other friends had just decided to ignore, apparently.

Or maybe Tati was just paranoid, overly judgmental? She bit her lip, guilt once again washing over her, that she covered with a friendly wave and a bright, “Hey Court!”

Adore looked up, slightly puzzled.

“Hi babe...I thought you were doing your whole...anniversary extravaganza thing with Roy.”

“Oh yeah, I was! It was so amazing, he’d planned this perfect romantic night, totally overboard just like always, and then brunch today.” Courtney giggled, and Tati didn’t miss the wistful expression that flickered across Adore’s face. “Anyway, I just got back, traffic was a nightmare, it took me 4 hours, blah blah blah. What are you guys up to?”

“Movie night.”

“Awesome, what are you watching?”

“Tati’s never seen The Craft. So..”

“Omigod, really?” Courtney flopped down onto the sofa. “You’re gonna love it, it’s so good. What kind of pizza is this?”

“Uhh, we have one pepperoni, and one mushroom…” Adore caught Tati’s eye, responding to the incredulous look on her face with an apologetic little shrug, pressing play on the DVD player and standing up to join them on the sofa. So, it seemed pretty clear that she wasn’t going to tell Courtney that this was a date night.

“Ughh, I love you! Thanks for getting one without meat.”

“Thank Tati, I hate mushrooms,” Adore laughed, sitting down between them.

“Tati, I love you. You’re beautiful.” Courtney leaned over Adore to blow a kiss at Tati, who caught it half-heartedly.

Tati couldn’t concentrate on the movie. Her whole attention was focused on Courtney and Adore, and their every giggly, weirdly flirtatious interaction.

She was definitely, definitely not being paranoid. As she inched herself further and further away, scrunching against the arm of the sofa, Courtney seemed to be doing the opposite. It began with her feet in Adore’s lap, then shifted to a head on her shoulder, then finally she settled into her most comfortable position: curled up with her head resting on the pillow in Adore’s lap.

Adore didn’t seem to mind one bit, either, or notice that anything was amiss. She and Courtney spent the whole movie giggling and reciting their favorite lines along with the characters, and eventually, her fingers began to drift absentmindedly through Courtney’s blonde hair.

After what felt like seven excruciating hours, the credits finally began to roll.

Courtney sat up, bright-eyed, stretching.

“God that movie is so good!” she said, then added in a deep voice, “You girls watch out for those weirdos.”

Adore laughed uproariously, replying with, “We are the weirdos, mister!”

“So uh...I guess you guys probably like...want some alone time now, huh?” Courtney asked.

It took all of Tati’s self control not to roll her eyes. But the truth was, she couldn’t even be annoyed at Courtney. Adore was the one who should have told her to leave.

“Do you mind?” Adore asked, and Courtney stood up, giving her a suggestive wink.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said, kissing Adore on the top of the head and then moving to Tati, giving her a hug.

“I don’t think that works here, babe,” Adore said, laughing.

“Okay well then…” A cheeky grin pulled at Courtney’s lips and she said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do after like 4 shots.” She punctuated that statement by licking her lips suggestively.

Adore giggled again, shaking her head and saying, “Get out of here, idiot!”

“Nighty-night, kids!” Courtney called, heading for the back door.

Tati swallowed. She knew that Adore would probably want to mess around now, but she didn’t have the energy to fake it. Nina was right. Jumping into this way too fast was a mistake. She needed friends, or the year would just be a total misery, and she was super grateful to have found their group. But if she got in any deeper with Adore, there was a chance she’d jeopardize that. So she stood up, picking her bag off the ground, and said, “I should probably take off, too.”

“What? Why?” Adore looked confused.

“Uh...you know, it’s getting late, so…” Tati began to put on her jacket, and Adore jumped up to grab the sleeve.

“I thought you were staying over. My mom’s at work…”

“Well…” Tati hesitated, knowing that she had to handle this delicately, or risk losing all of her new friends.

“What’s wrong?” Adore asked, biting her lip.

“I just...I had a different idea of how tonight would go,” Tati finally explained.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry about that, she’s not always great at reading the room,” Adore said, unable to keep the affectionate chuckle out of her voice.  

“It’s not her.”

“It’s not?” Adore’s brow furrowed deeper.

“I mean...it’s just the way you are with her, the way you look at her. And why didn’t you just tell her to leave?”

The red began to creep into Adore’s cheeks. “I guess I didn’t think I...should.”

“Right.” Tati finished putting on her jacket and slung her bag over her shoulder.  

“Wait, Tati. You don’t understand.” Adore’s hazel eyes were glassy, her voice desperate as she clung to Tati’s sleeve. “It’s really complicated, with her.”

Of course Tati understood. Inappropriate, uncomfortable crushes were practically a right of passage for teenage lesbians. Hers was a friend from camp, a girl who still made her heart ache every time she thought about her.

“Yeah, no, I do get it. Actually.” Tati took Adore’s hand and squeezed it. “I guess I just didn’t realize how complicated until tonight.”

“Please don’t go,” Adore begged, still gripping her sleeve.

Tati leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“You’re beautiful, you know that? But, it just seems like you guys have a whole--”

Tears began to slip down Adore’s cheeks and Tati stopped abruptly.

“Fuck,” Adore whispered hoarsely.

“I won’t say it out loud, if you don’t want me too.”

Adore bit her trembling lip, nodding, then swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands, finally releasing Tati’s arm.

“Yeah, please...please don’t.”

“Okay.” Tati took a deep breath. It didn’t seem right to just leave her here crying. But on the other hand, she was fairly certain that the tears had nothing to do with her and everything to do with her bestie next door. “We’re still friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Adore sniffled, nodding.  

Tati pulled her in for one last tight, quick hug and headed for the door, sighing. So much for a fun and inconsequential little fling.

-

“Here you go, Grandma.” Courtney carried the cup and saucer to her grandmother at the kitchen table, setting her tea down carefully. “Do you want some of that cranberry biscotti you like, too?”

“Yes, thank you, dear,” Muriel said, and Courtney skipped over to the cupboard, feeling like an absolute model granddaughter. She’d gotten home to find Muriel in the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes after dinner, and immediately offered her assistance, scrubbing out a pot, loading the dishwasher, and then making her grandmother a cup of tea as she’d sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Surely she deserved an award of some kind for being this considerate and helpful.

She arranged several biscotti artfully on a plate when a knock at the kitchen door caught her attention. She set the cookies down and then opened the door, surprised to find Adore there, eyes a bit red and watery. (Of course, these days, Adore’s eyes were usually red, as she seemed to have upped the weed smoking quite a bit.)

“Hey...are you alright?”

Adore nodded.

“Where’s Tatianna?” Courtney asked.

“Uh, we sort of...broke up.”

“Oh no!” Courtney slipped outside, shutting the door behind her, feeling like this was a conversation that Muriel didn’t need to hear. “I’m so sorry!”

Courtney pulled Adore in for a hug, trying to hide her relief. She really did feel bad, even if part of her was jealous about all the attention Adore was lavishing on the new girl; mostly, she just hated to see Adore upset. She put her hands on Adore’s shoulders, pulling back a bit to look into her eyes. Up close, it was clear now that she’d been crying.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s cool, I’ll be cool, I just…” Adore sighed. “Bonnie’s at work, and I just really didn’t want to be alone.”

Courtney nodded, gently tucking a lock of hair behind Adore’s ear. She hated seeing her best friend sad, of course, but it felt good to be the one she came to for comfort.

“Do you wanna stay over tonight?” Courtney asked.

“Is that okay?” Adore bit her lip, eyes flicking to Courtney’s grandmother, visible through the kitchen window.

“Of course! Anytime.” Courtney hugged her again. “Come on in. Have some of Gary’s artisan gelato.”

“Sounds perfect,” Adore said, finally flashing that winning smile, just like when they were kids and Courtney could solve any problem with ice cream. She grinned back, pressing a kiss to Adore’s temple before pulling her inside.

-

Adore lay awake, staring at the faint glow-in-the-dark star stickers all over Courtney’s ceiling. She couldn’t shake that nagging, uncomfortable feeling she’d had ever since Tati had said, or rather not said, what she had earlier.

Was Adore that obvious? Did everyone know?

And more importantly...did Courtney know?

She shifted her weight to her side, facing Courtney now, who was sleeping peacefully, one blonde curl falling across her face. She studied the way the moonlight illuminated her features. She’d spent so many hours of her life looking at that face, and almost as many dreaming about it. And still, sometimes, it was like she was a stranger. It was odd to think about how someone she’d known so long, shared some of her deepest secrets with, could be in the dark about something so monumentally big.

For a moment, Adore wondered if Tati was right. Should she just tell Courtney how she felt? Lay all her cards on the table? Deal with whatever heartbreak, whatever pain might result?

“Court?” she whispered, inching closer, brushing her hair away from her face.

“Mmm?” Courtney’s eyes fluttered, her arms instinctively wrapping around Adore’s waist, pulling her closer.

“I need to tell you something.”

Courtney opened her eyes, blinking awake, and immediately her brow creased with concern. It wasn’t until then that Adore realized that she’d been crying.

“What is it, Dory? Are you okay?” Courtney asked.

“Yeah, I just...um…” Adore took a deep, shaky breath, the oxygen filling her lungs like a splash of cold water to the face.

“What?” Courtney’s thumbs gently dried her tears. “Is it about Tatianna?”

“I...I…” She gazed into Courtney’s eyes in the dim, moonlit room, breath hitching, unable to get the words out.

“What? Are you okay?” Her voice was so soft and warm and caring, hands still cradling Adore’s cheeks, and Adore knew that it was now or never.

She could be honest, in this moment. On the lumpy mattress they’d shared countless times over the years, underneath the dimly-glowing star stickers on Courtney’s ceiling. She could confess, unburden her aching heart, and maybe it would all be fine. But...what if it wasn’t?

“Um...yeah. I guess I’m just sad.” Adore gulped, her nerve suddenly gone, every ounce of courage dissolved in an instant. Her heart pounded as if she’d narrowly escaped death, as if a truck had just swerved into her bike lane, missing her by inches.

“I’m so sorry,” Courtney said, pulling her close, wrapping her into a warm embrace, lips pressed to her temple.

“Thanks. Thanks for...being here,” Adore sniffled.

“I’ll always be here. I love you, Dory.”

“Me too,” Adore said, eyes falling closed as fresh, hot tears trickled down her cheeks. She wished that Courtney knew exactly how much, but even more than that, she was relieved that she hadn’t taken that terrifying leap into the unknown.  

[sunshinejihyun]

A Stolen Kiss || Jihyun Kim

Summary: Two people so desperate for love find each other Word Count: 3.5K

Masterlist

A stolen kiss underneath the stars, soft brush of calloused hands against rosy cheeks, a giggle as fingers brushed bare hips; those things haunted Jihyun Kim in his dreams. When he met you, he never would have imagined you to be of this importance to him, he was having dreams about someone who was this close to him all along, one of the RFA members. All he had to base these dreams off of was one real kiss from three months ago, when the only reason you kissed him was in the excitement of him coming back from his trip.

The RFA members were all at the venue for the charity party they were hosting. It was a good time, everyone was delighted to see Saeran and Saeyoung so happy together again and Jihyun was more than happy to sit back and relax and enjoy everyone’s bright smiles.

“What are you doing hanging out in this corner all by yourself?” Jihyun’s head turned lazily towards yours and he found you with a small smile playing on your lips and your hands shoved in your dress pockets. “Famous Jihyun Kim can’t even keep up at a party?”

Sighing, he leaned against the wall and you followed his cue. “No, just taking in the view. Not many times you get to see everyone look as happy as they do right now. Even Jaehee, who never gets a break, looks like she’s having fun.” Jihyun gestured to one of the members and you giggled as you saw her gripping Zen’s hands, him teaching her how to swing dance to the soft jazz playing in the background, no doubt the music choice of Jihyun’s best friend, Jumin.

“I get what you mean. None of us has really seen Saeran genuinely smile, let alone act like..” you trailed off, looking for the the right word and then sighing, gesturing toward the two brothers. Saeran was laughing softly at something Saeyoung said and Saeyoung looked generally very pleased at himself, laughing as Saeran quipped something back.

“So what about you?” Jihyun asked, letting out a heavy sigh and pushing his hair off his forehead. “Do you have anyone to be like that with?”

A blush spread across your cheeks as you looked down at your tattered boots. “No, not really.” At a questioning glance from Jihyun, you expanded on your statement. “I mean, I don’t really have any family around and I know it’s cliche but I fell in love with Yoosung after you left. I know, falling for one of my best friends. How stupid.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Jihyun said, gazing at you intently. “I think it’s incredibly-” Jihyun looked down at you at that moment and cut himself off. You were standing there, so close to him; close enough he could smell the strawberry body spray you were wearing and you were biting your lip in a nervous habit, looking at him almost as intently as he was looking at you.

Jihyun wasn’t sure why he felt this way looking at you now. Sure, back then he had thought your soul was beautiful and he was curious about you, but he didn’t know that that would sooner or later lead to romantic feelings; he didn’t think it was possible to love again after Rika, even though he knew that one day he would want to.

All of his hesitation towards  his feelings fell away, and all he could think about was softly cupping your cheek in his hand and guiding your lips to his, and so he did. It was a gentle brush of the lips, not even something you could really classify as a kiss but it left Jihyun’s heartbeat racing and you breathless.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” You looked at Jihyun as he asked that and he couldn’t quite place the look in your eyes.

“Where would we go?” You asked, already accepting his outstretched hand and following him to the exit.

It was chilly outside, in a way that only a summer night could be and Jihyun relished in the scent of South Korea’s air, something that he hadn’t been around in two years. Stretching out your arms, you turned around. “Welcome home,” You watched as Jihyun approached you, one of his hands settling on you hips gently. “Jihyun,”

Jihyun wasn’t sure who initiated the second kiss, only that it was sloppy and your lips were sweet, a faint taste of pink bubblegum on them and he wanted to taste them again and again. You pulled away too quickly, though and looked down at your feet. “That was stupid of me, I’m sorry.” Kicking at an invisible rock, you let out an almost sarcastic laugh. “I’m just a mess tonight, aren’t I? Telling you I’m in love with my best friend and then kissing you like that.”

Jihyun’s fingertips brushed against your cheeks and you glanced up at him, eyes stormy with tears. “I don’t mind. I kissed you back.”

Pulling your arm away from Jihyun, you shoved your hands in your pockets, much like how you had them the first time you talked to Jihyun that evening. “I should go. I’m gonna go say goodbye to Saeran and the rest of the RFA.”

Jihyun wanted to protest, he had just gotten there; he wanted to get to know you more, know what made you laugh, made you cry. “You should at least have someone walk you home. It gets dangerous late at night.”

You shook your head and started walking back to the party. “I don’t think so. I need time to clear my head.” Turning back to Jihyun, you sent him a small smile. “I’ll see you around Jihyun. I’m gonna go say goodbye.”

Watching as you walked into the party again, Jihyun let out a huge breath of air he didn’t realize he was holding. Sitting down on the edge of the curb, he let himself think back to earlier that night, the blush so prominent on your cheeks when he cupped them in his hands the first time.

Heading back down into the party, Jumin touched Jihyun’s elbow lightly to grab his attention. “Hey, where’d MC go?”

Glancing around the room one more time, Jihyun shook his head questioningly. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Jumin was about to question Jihyun but he stopped himself when he noticed the look in his best friends eyes; it was the same look that Jihyun had when he first met Rika, but it was more intense and on second thought, it was completely different from when Jihyun met Rika, which was probably a good thing.

Jumin thought Jihyun and Rika were going to last forever. She was the type of significant other that he needed: headstrong and strong-willed. At least, that’s how it was at first. Jumin liked Rika, he thought she was a good person but when his best friend came to his doorstep partially blind, he knew his initial judgement was off.

Clicking his tongue, Jumin patted his best friend on the shoulder. “You should find her.”

Jihyun let out a sarcastic chuckle, something Jumin understood that Jihyun does when he’s upset, even if no one else would be able to tell. “If I even knew where to start I would. I don’t know where she lives.”

As he said that, Jihyun looked off across the room and Jumin followed his mint eyed gaze, eyes landing on the blond gamer, who also happened to be your best friend. “I think you know where to start, Jihyun.”

Sighing, Jihyun rolled his left shoulder before making his way over to Yoosung. “Hey,”

Looking up from talking to his date he brought to the party, Yoosung’s smile dropped a bit. “What’s up?”

Jihyun awkwardly grabbed at the hair on the back of his neck, scuffing his shoe against the floor, much like he watched you do earlier that night. “Do you know where MC went?”

Yoosung looked like Jihyun was sporting two heads. “She went home.”

Saeyoung’s eyebrows wiggled up and down. “We saw you both kissing outside.”

Jihyun felt his neck heat up and he looked down at his toes. “Yeah well…” he trailed off.

“You should go find her.” Jihyun looked up in shock at Yoosung’s statement. “As much as I’d hate to admit it, you’d be good for her. And let’s be honest, she’d be good for you.”

Jihyun glanced once at the door, desperately wanting to run out and grab you and just… he didn’t even know what he’d do once he got there. All he knew was that he wanted to go. “I can’t leave a party I’m hosting.”

“We’re all hosting,” Zen corrected. “Go, it’ll be fine.”

Looking back at the door once more, Jihyun quickly made his way through the crowd of diminishing party guests and pushed the heavy door open. “MC?”

Jihyun stopped as he saw you sitting on the front step of the venue. “Oh,” you sighed, glancing at him and then back at your feet. “Is Yoosung behind you?”

Jihyun sat down on the same step as you, careful not to sit too close. “No, he’s trying to start getting the rest of the rest of the guests to leave.”

Letting out a sigh, Jihyun watched as your eyes started watering. “There’s something wrong with me,” sniffling, you moved closer to Jihyun and he relished in the warmth that your body provided. “I’m out here sitting with a wonderful guy who kissed me and made my stomach all fluttery but all I can think about is my best friend who’s inside with all his friends and this cute girl from university he’s been seeing and I really wish I was that person.”

Jihyun awkwardly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and rubbed up and down soothingly. “You deserve someone who treats how you deserve; someone who puts a smile on your face even just thinking about them. Someone who will hold your hand when you’re sad and do silly things to make you laugh.” Looking at you, Jihyun found that you were staring at him intently. “Part of me wants to be that person. I don’t know exactly how I feel, to be honest, but I have to admit that I feel something and that I’d like to see if there’s anything possibly there between us. But not when you’re like this, I need to know that Yoosung wouldn’t be a concern and you’d have to be okay with being patient with me as well. I’m still sorting some things out about everything with Rika. So I’m here for you right now, as a friend and only a friend. And maybe, just maybe, one day we’ll both be okay where we’d want to try something for real.”

“Why would I be a concern?” You jumped at the voice and turned around to face your best friend, Jihyun hiding his head in his hands. “MC, I thought you were going home.”

“Yoosung I-“

“I was just telling MC that you’d be a concern because me and you, we don’t see eye to eye all the time.” Jihyun interjected and you grasped his hand and squeezed it gratefully.

“I would normally believe that, except for the fact that I told you maybe ten minutes ago that you both would be good together. Good for each other.” Yoosung deadpanned and you paled as he looked right at you. “Sounds like you and I need to have a talk?”

You wiped your hands over your face and stood up, brushing them against your dress. “I don’t really want to have a big talk, Yoosung. It’s always something big for you. It’s never just a ‘hey by the way I’m in love with you’ type of thing. You always make everything into a big deal and that’s not something I want to do right now. Yes, I love you and yes that is the reason I am very, very hesitant to try anything with Jihyun, even if seeing him gives me butterflies in my stomach,” you sent a small glance Jihyun’s way and he looked down at the ground. “I don’t expect this to change anything with me or you, or even me or Jihyun. It’s simply me stating facts on why it wouldn’t work between us now.”

Yoosung’s mouth dropped open slightly and he looked as if you’d just told him the biggest secret in the world. Jihyun wanted to walk away and hide but he couldn’t because he started this mess. He had to be there with you to finish it. “Why did you say anything before today, MC?”

You cleared your throat and stepped closer to Yoosung. “Because it didn’t matter before today. I never had to make a decision about what to do. But now since Jihyun and I kissed, there needs to be a decision made.” You turned and fiercely looked Jihyun in the eye and he felt his heart stutter. “I want to get over Yoosung, I want to be happy and I want you to be that person you said I deserved, but you need to know that it’s gonna take some time. I’m not just going to suddenly start anything with you until I know that I can be okay with Yoosung not loving me back and that I know you’re okay with everything that happened with Rika.”

Yoosung looked like he didn’t know what to say. “I’m really sorry, MC… Gosh if only I had known. I wouldn’t have asked for relationship advice..”

You shook your head and hugged Yoosung tightly. “No, I wouldn’t change anything. First and foremost, you’re my best friend. And that’s what best friends do for each other.”

He hugged you back just as tightly and kissed you lovingly on the forehead. “I think you need to finish this discussion with Jihyun.”

Looking at Jihyun, your cheeks turned a light pink and Jihyun’s fingers itched to draw this moment with charcoal. To capture this moment so that he could keep it in his pocket forever. “Hey,”

Jihyun grasped one of your smaller hands in his and smiled softly at you. “What now?”

“I guess for now, we’ll be friends.”

“Friends,” Jihyun repeated, a small smile darting across his lips. “I’ve never been just friends with someone I’ve kissed before..”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You smiled back at him and leaned your head on his shoulder. Neither you or Jihyun really knew what your futures were gonna hold, but you both were excited to figure it out.

-

“Hey Jumin, you’re going near MC’s house after work today right? You mentioned something about taking Elizabeth to Yoosung’s vet clinic.” Jihyun had the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he picked up the paintbrush, a bright yellow gleaming on the tip..

“Yes, I did mention that, didn’t I?” Race asked and Jihyun could almost hear the smile in his friends voice. “Do you want to come with so you can see MC?”

Jihyun shrugged, brushing the paint lightly against the canvas in front of you. “If that’s alright with you?”

Jumin didn’t even hesitate to answer. “Of course, I will pick you up on my way.”

Jihyun set down the paint brush and wiped his hands on his smock before easing the phone off his shoulder. “Do you think I should let her know I’m coming before I get there?”

Jihyun heard a faint meow in the background and Jumin cleared his throat. “I think that if you’ve been messaging and calling each other back and forth for the past three months and haven’t seen each other in person since your first night back, you should surprise her.”

“Thanks.” Jihyun sighed out, looking at his paint stained jeans. “I need something to wear.”

Jumin hesitated for a second. “Normally, I would say dress to impress, but I don’t think MC is the type to care for what clothes you’re wearing. I’m done with my work for the day, when are you going to be ready? ”

“I couldn’t concentrate today, all day I’ve been picturing is MC’s face, not able to think of anything else...” Jihyun trailed off making Jumin laugh.

“Alright, let me call Driver Kim and I will be on my way.”

Jihyun nodded and pressed the end call button, his mind already in another place; a place where he sees you later that evening and you run and kiss him and tell him that you’re ready. Ready to be with him, ready to let him be the guy you deserve.

“Jihyun,” Jumin’s voice brought Jihyun out of his daydreams. Jihyun was sat on his front lawn, anxiously picking at some of the grass around his feet. “Are you ready?” Jihyun gave his friend a shaky smile in return.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Most of the drive to Yoosung’s office was quiet once Jumin realized Jihyun wasn’t in a talkative mood. It contained mostly Jumin humming to himself and sometimes asking Jihyun what the tune was to a song he couldn’t quite think of at that moment.

Standing outside of Yoosung’s clinic, Jumin took a deep breath before turning to Jihyun. “So, we’re here.”

“We are,”

“And I’m gonna go inside and have Elizabeth get checked up.” Jumin lovingly rubbed her behind her ears and she purred softly.

“I’m going to go figure out where MC is.” Jihyun said, picking at a hangnail on his thumb. “I hope Elizabeth is well.”

“She will be. Good luck with MC,” Jumin responded, pushing open the door and walking up the stairs to the front desk.

“Jihyun?” He stopped as he heard his name and turned towards the voice he’d been dreaming about.

“I was hoping I’d find you first.” The mint haired boy admitted and you smiled at him. “But it seems you found me without even looking.”

“I just finished dropping off dinner for Yoosung. I knew he was staying late for Jumin and I wanted to make sure he was eating.” You paused for a second to really look at Jihyun. “It’s good to see you,” you stated warmly as Jihyun opened his arms and you stepped into his comforting embrace. “I was going to ask you the next time we spoke if I could come visit you because I had something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh?” Jihyun’s eyebrows raised in a question. “And what would that be?”

You quickly pressed your lips against his own, much like the first one months ago and as you moved to pull away,  Jihyun cupped your cheeks and pulled you back in, kissing you feverishly.

“Wow,” you whispered as you pulled away and Jihyun gave you a delighted grin.

“So what was it you wanted to tell me?”

“I think you know, Jihyun Kim.” You replied, wrapping your arms around his torso.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Jihyun chuckled lightly. “I think I do too, but I want to  hear it from you.”

“I don’t know how you did it, Jihyun. But you wormed your way into my heart. When I don’t get a message from you for awhile, I reread the ones you’ve sent me before. They warm my heart in a way that no one has done before and as I was rereading your most recent one - you know, the one where you were telling me about showing a group of children how to draw trees? - I realized that it made me just so…” you trailed off, trying to figure out the right word to use and as you did so, Jihyun brought your connected hands together and kissed the top of yours. “It made me feel so fuzzy inside. And I wasn’t sure what it was at first, but I did know I loved feeling that way. And then it hit me: love. That’s what I was feeling. I love you, Jihyun Kim. I love you from the bottom of my toes to the top of my head.”

“Well then glad what I came here to say today doesn’t sound as awkward as I was anticipating..” Jihyun couldn’t help but keep the grin off his face and he was glad you were the reason for that. “I came here today to tell you that I love you. And that I want to be the guy I told you that you deserved, all those nights ago on the front steps of my housing lodge.”

You kissed Jihyun again a nd he relished the feeling of your lips against his. “I want that too Jihyun. So badly.”

“Well then, I’m yours. Completely.” Jihyun replied as you rested your head on his chest and listened to his calming heartbeat.

[kurtcobainindresses]

Hey sorry if this is annoying I don’t speak French and I couldn’t understand your post about cuties. I haven’t watched it yet but I know it received a lot of backlash so I just wanted to know what you were saying.

Hey, not annoying at all! i'll try to make a more structured and less angry post than the french one. So what i was saying is that people seem to respond to cuties in a very uninformed and blatantly ignorant manner considering that:

it was based on the director's, a black, muslim french woman's PERSONAL experience

she interviewed little girls for a year before making her movie because she wanted it to be as accurate as possible a depiction of the hypersexualization of girls in contemporary society

As a black french woman who grew up in a muslim family, some scenes in the movie resonated with me in ways that simply couldn't to someone who hasn't had that exact experience. Did some scenes make me uncomfortable? Extremely. Was it necessary in the context of the movie? Absolutely.

From the beginning of the movie to the end, the director makes it very clear that this is a child's reaction to being so scared of one extreme (patriarchal islam and polygamy when she sees her mom cry because her father took a second wife) that she desperately throws herself into another (hypersexualized persona, she starts twerking after watching music videos on youtube, lets her hair down etc....). At that age, she simply doesn't have enough perspective to realize that these aren't her only choices. At the end of the movie, the moral statement is made very clear by the director and there is absolutely 0 ambiguity.

Personally, I think that american crowds are used to seeing everything cater to them and to their taste when some things clearly aren't made for them. And I think that's the case for cuties. At the end of the day, french and american visual storytelling styles are extremely different. The french approach is a direct approach that rejects bashfulness and almost never shies away from showing things (i mean have you seen a french film? there's a 90% chance you'll see a pair of tits or a penis).

So yeah this turned out really long and i'm really sorry but that's basically my take on this whole debacle: people should learn what nuance is and stop thinking everything is made for them to understand

EDIT: also the fact that the wave of outrage started from 4chan tells you everything you need to know about how unwarranted the hate towards the director was

[twistinghearts]

Hi! Can i please have an emotional kiss with Idia please?👉👈💙

I’ll give it a try. I’m sorry that there is so much Leona, but it’s still all about Idia I promise. I hope you enjoy~

I was inspired by Katy Perry’s song Thinking of You

This had been different. That was what you wanted right? Something new to change up the pace and get your mind off him… but really all it did was make you miss him more.

Leona lightly flicked your forehead, “Oi, didn’t you hear me?” You flinched back to reality from the thump on your forehead. “Hey don’t flick me.” You pouted. “Don’t ignore my questions, and I won’t have to.” He gave you a swift kiss on the forehead, “I’d prefer your attention always on me anyway.” You shook your head slightly, considering asking for undivided attention was a common response from him. Better just to move on, “What were you asking about?” “What do you want for lunch? I’m having Ruggie bring it by so we can stay here. I don’t feel like going out today.” Leona wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. Outwardly you didn’t tense or anything, but inside you always felt a little stiff, like you weren’t comfortable in his arms. You leaned your head on his shoulder, trying to relax. “Why? I like eating at the cafeteria.”

“We did that the rest of the week. I don’t want to eat there today.”  

“Then we can get our own food and eat somewhere else on school grounds.” You argued, immediately noting Leona’s scowl at your suggestion. He didn’t say anything. You leaned in and gave him a soft peck on the lips. On the inside you resented the action, the kisses never felt like anything they just tasted like slobber. It wasn’t very enticing, but you knew it helped reassure him. “I just like the busy atmosphere…”

“Really? I’m pretty sure it’s because you don’t like being alone with me.” Leona responded lowly. Unfortunately it wasn’t untrue, when the two of you were alone he was very physically affectionate, something you were not quite used to based on past relationships. You didn’t hate it but it just wasn’t relaxing. You sat up in his arms. “That’s not it.”

He released you and plopped down on his bed, “Well, what is it then? I feel like I’ve been pretty damn open about giving you your space, but you don’t seem to have opened up for me at all. We’ve been dating for a month now and I’m running out of patience.” His words were backed with a growl.

“Don’t sound so mad.” Your response was sharp, and overall not the best move.

“I’m not mad, just frustrated!” He barked, not really helping his statement.

“Yes you are! You’re yelling!”

“Because you don’t seem to be hearing me!”

“Well, Idia never used to yell at me!” You huffed tuning away.

Leona’s ears twitched at that name. The room was silent for a moment before being filled with Leona’s laughter. He had thrown himself back on the bed covering his face. “Are you fucking kidding me! This is still about that basement dweller!” He stood shaking his head. “News flash sweetheart, I’m not him. I’m nothing like him; if you wanted to replace him you should have tried the octopus bastard. But why would you want to go back to someone like that anyway? If I remember correctly, he’s the one who dumped you.” Leona swished his tail, an almost playful smirk on his lips. If it wasn’t for the irritated tone, you’d think he was enjoying this.

“Stop it…” You mumbled, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to face that terrible truth you shut away.

Leona stopped in front of you, “And why was it he dumped you again? Oh right. He got bored. You weren’t enough for him so he got rid of you; like an outdated tool.” A soft pause, “And yet you still love him!”

“Shut up!” You went to push him away but he easily caught your hand. “He didn’t want you.” His words sank in, it felt like his claws were tearing you to shreds but it was only your heart that was broken. He knew how much it hurt you, part of him felt badly, but most of him was beyond caring. It was what you needed to hear. “I don’t want you either. I’m done being second best.” He released your hand and stepped back leaving you to stumble out of his room in tears.

You felt like falling to the floor and just sobbing. Just groveling in the dirt where you felt you belonged. You wanted to disappear, to cut your heart out so you didn’t have to feel like this anymore. You knew you had tasted perfection when you met Idia. Everything else would be second best so where could you go? What life was left without him in your world?

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Apparently your body knew that the only place was back to him. You hadn’t even been paying attention to where you were going after you left the lion’s den, but you soon realized you were at Idia’s door. However it still wasn’t much of a solution. It wasn’t likely he’d even open the door for you and if he did you were just a mess. Could you really face him, and the reality that he was just going to push you away again?

A chipper voice broke your dark thoughts. “I missed you!” Ortho sped over and hugged his ‘big sibling’ overjoyed to see you in these halls again. You returned the hug, giving him a squeeze that helped relieve some of the tension in your body. “What are you doing down here? Oh no you’re crying.” His shoulder piece slid over to reveal a tissue dispenser slot, he grabbed few and handed one to you. You blew your nose and dried your cheeks. “I-I miss Idia…” Ortho smiled a bit, “He’s missed you too.” Lies. Ortho probably wasn’t aware how those words felt like the twisting of a knife, he likely meant them to ease you but you knew there was no way Idia missed you. 

“You want to see him right?” Ortho turned towards the door. The mechanical lock whirred and clicked, giving a light beep before it popped open just a smidgen. You suddenly felt frozen and heartbroken all over again. You wanted to see him but what would it accomplish, he was just going to be watching you cry. Thankfully you had Ortho to make up your mind for you. “In you go~” He sang as he pushed you into the bedroom.

You scanned the room; Idia was sitting at his computer, entirely focused on his game. This place had so many memories for you that just came flooding back. The couch where you two would play games, you always inching closer to him until you could lean on him, curling up when you ultimately admitted defeat and the game was over; his bed where you could nap while he worked, just watching him or helping him as someone to bounce ideas off of. Sometimes when you were barley awake you would feel him playing with your hair, it always relaxed you. You didn’t do everything together but it was just comforting to have someone around. That comfortable atmosphere was now gone as you shook, trying to hold back tears. “Idia…” Your words were hoarse, little more than a whisper. There was unsurprisingly no response. You waited until you heard the victory music to repeat yourself, a little louder but still strained.

Idia turned eyes widening as he saw you. “You…” It really was you. “…why” He was stunned just staring for a moment. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. He had been taking longer route to class because he knew it wasn’t were you walked, and avoided any public outing in case you would also be there. His heart rate picked up seeing you again, not that you would know. You looked upset, was… was he the one who did that? The last time he saw you, you were crying. 

“How did” you even get into his room, he changed the lock code after you split, “Ortho.” He answered himself. You gave a slight nod. He looked away, gritting his teeth. “Was I not clear enough last time? I didn’t want you near me.” Were you really going to make him do this again, be the bad guy. You were already suffering; he didn’t want to make you cry more. However this was one of those situations where he didn’t get to do what he wanted. He stood, still unable to look at you, “We don’t go together, I don’t fit with people. You’re no exception.”

“I don’t care! I can’t… I can’t go on like this. I love you Idia!”  You wrapped your arms around him, somehow still finding comfort in it even though he didn’t return the gesture. “I tried.  I tried to get over you but I can’t. Everything just reminded me of you, made me wish I was still with you. It hurt… It still hurts; even more still not knowing why.” His answers then were vague and even now, saying things like you weren’t a good match, he was bad for you, and that it systematically was against the odds. “Is it really so bad? Is the reason you don’t want to be with me more painful than this heartbreak? I don’t think anything could be. So just tell me why!” You yelled before devolving into heavy sobs, “While I’m already broken... tell me… why don’t you love me?”

Idia bit his bottom lip, as he held you steady, letting you sob into his jacket. He hated seeing you like this. He hadn’t been expecting you to be this broken over it, of course you had been upset when it first happened, but it had been over a month, and you seemed worse. He thought this would be better for you, kill the dream before you got to attached, let you go before he had to see you suffer, set you free while you still had a chance of happiness so he didn’t have to see you suffer. It seemed that all of that happened anyway. “I care about you…” He knew he’d never be enough, and with his family’s curse it wouldn’t end well for you. “I thought… you’d be better without me. I just wanted you to be happy and that couldn’t be if you were with me.”

Your crying died down a little at his words. You could barely believe what you were hearing; you couldn’t tell if it made you feel worse or better. “You’re… you’re so stupid Idia.” You squeezed him tighter, forcing yourself to look up at him. “You don’t get to decide what makes me happy! I love spending time with you, and if you really feel the same… you’d let me be happy with you.”

“But-“ Idia wanted to protest but there wasn’t anything he could say. There wasn’t an opportunity for him to say anything either as you pulled him down into a kiss. Idia placed his hands on your wet cheeks, pressing deeper into the kiss. Despite all the emotions you were feeling, anger, sadness and joy the kiss put you more at ease. Even after everything Idia still made your heart race and made you feel safe. “I’m sorry.” Idia whispered, pulling his lips away but holding your face close, “I love you. I’ll never let you go again.”

[angrydeobi42069]

The hate Blackpink gets is driven by internalized misogyny and here’s why

Blackpink. Basically the biggest girl group on the planet and one of the biggest groups in general, dominating the charts worldwide. Blackpink’s comeback, “How You Like That” broke world records for most viewed video in 24 hours and debuted no.2 on the Billboard charts. I’m sure “Lovesick Girls” charted as well or the same. The first kpop group to perform at Coachella, Blackpink have collabed with too many western artists for me to name (actually, I could probably name them but I could care less about some of these western artists so I’m not going to). I mean, not really a surprise, Blackpink has been breaking records since their debut in 2016. There’s not even really a point in introducing them to you since there’s literally no way you don’t know who they are. 

Now like many celebrities, the more famous you become the more hate you get. I hope everyone knows that this is just bound to happen regardless if your favorite celebrity has never done anything problematic and consistently produces bop after bop. However, BP get some of the worst hate I have seen towards a kpop group and most of it coming from kpop fans and blinks themselves. I’ve heard it from my close friends, from randos on stan twitter, and from locals. So, I have a bone to pick with y’all haters because I truly don't understand. 

Let me start with saying that I’m not a blink. I’m kinda far from it. I like bp and I will definitely click on their stuff when it comes out but I am in no way shape or form an actual stan. I wouldn’t buy their stuff or cry over their achievements, though it does make me somewhat proud. But even though I’m not a blink, I find myself defending these girls whenever someone tries to start shit. 

Ok, so from what I could gather from scouring the internet, harassing my friends, and looking through twitter, people hate bp for mainly these reasons: they hate Jennie, they think bp are overrated and overhyped, they “are not serving what they could serve” (yes, I quoted this from my friend), they’re basically models not idols, their fans suck, and BIG 3 privilege. There’s actually a lot more reasons that I found by looking at a “why do you hate blackpink?” quora thread but these are the easiest to tackle. I’m here to tell you that most of this hate if not all of it comes from misogyny. To be more specific, internalized misogyny because most of this hate comes from female kpop fans. 

Disclaimer: I did not research which demographic hates on bp the most but from personal experience, it has always been women who share their distaste for bp. Ok, moving on. 

I’m going to tackle the reasons I laid out one by one, hopefully well enough that you look back and see if the reason why you hate bp is out of just simple dislike for their music or because you hate women. There’s a big difference if you didn’t notice. If you get offended by this piece then that’s on you not me, just saying.  

Ok, first reason. You hate Jennie? Is that so? May I ask why you hate her so much? What exactly has she done to you that you have such a strong hatred for her? Is it because she’s lazy? Because she’s not doing what she’s capable of? I need reasons. I really do need some reasons before I label you off as someone struggling with internalized misogyny. Jokes aside, I don’t see how you can hate someone you’ve never met. I think most of the time we forget that you literally don’t know these people. I don’t know my favorite kpop boys and you definitely don’t know my good sis Jennie. I could make a whole other piece on the fake images and personalities these idols have and how we eat them up but whatever. 

Back to Jennie, you literally don’t know her. This whole Jennie is lazy argument is bs, pure shit if you ask me. You have no way of knowing what’s going on in her life. I’m pretty sure you’ve had bad days, bad weeks, maybe even bad months. You forget her job is draining, mentally and physically. She’s got dances to memorize, songs to memorize, fans to deal with and communicate with. She has a social media presence, she still has to practice and train (idols don’t just stop practicing once they debut). I know my body would not be able to withstand that no matter how long I trained; I’d drop dead immediately. The matter of fact is there are a ton of reasons why she wasn’t performing up to YOUR standards, which is a whole other can of worms since you’re probably on your bed doing nothing. It’s almost like y’all forgot sickness and fatigue is a thing. 

(this is just one of many videos where you can see jennie being “lazy”, let my girl live smh) 

And even if the reason wasn’t a medical reason, you can’t let my good sis be lazy for once??? The thing is everyone acts like they’ve never been lazy in their entire life. You’re telling me you’ve never not wanted to do nothing for no good reason? Lies, you’re fucking lying. Ok so what if she doesn’t feel like doing the move with that much energy. Let her live?? All I’m saying is you’d probably survive 5 days in the kpop industry with your lazy ass. And don’t try to hit me with the “but that’s her job she has to perform at 100% all the time” because I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be failing your classes or pretending to be sick to get out of class. It’s the hypocrisy of it all. All if you had to perform the same song for a year, I’m sure you’d get sick of it too (fuck you YG). 

The reason why you hold Jennie to ridiculous standards is because of your ~ misogyny ~. Yes, it’s showing. Especially if you don’t hold male idols to the same level as Jennie. Female idols on the daily are held to ridiculous standards when it comes to their performances. One hair out of place and all of a sudden the knetz come holding their pitchforks. Gfriend slipping on the stage, something caused by literal rain, is still laughed at to this day and mocked. Jang Gyuri on Produce 48 had a voice crack that was edited and replayed to death on the show, ending in her elimination because she couldn’t recover from it. Meanwhile male idols make a mistake on stage and it’s like “Omg, a babie! Omg, that’s so funny!”. I don’t think I can think of any moment where male idols got shit because of a stage mistake. If anything he’s just babied and posted on twitter. My point is female idols are always shat on no matter what they do. Jennie is no exception. 

(tell me why the fancam of gfriend falling has 15M views... for what? FOR WHAT)

Now the second point, bp is overrated and overhyped. Umm, so this point is a little harder to flat out say you’re wrong, mostly because it depends on your own personal taste. If bp’s music is not for you then it might be easy to say that they’re overrated since they’re literally the biggest girl group in the world. The nuances come with the reasons behind this statement. I’m not going to address if you just dislike their music, I can’t really change your opinion on that. I will however, address if the reason behind you saying they’re overrated is because their music sounds “generic” and you don’t think they’re talented, or if you don’t think they deserve their fame because of their small discography and short promotion periods. 

The statement that all four of the bp members are untalented is just false. Wrong. W-R-O-N-G. Don’t mind me just spelling it out for you. Listen, to be able to debut you have to have some sort of talent. No one really debuts without any talent at all (for record yes I’m including visual as being a talent, sue me and leave hate idc). The only reason why someone with no talent would debut is if they had a HUGE fan base before debut and the company was trying to capitalize on it. I can name a few examples but I’m not trying to start shit. These fan bases could show up from predebut commercials, acting gigs, or reality shows. Blackpink had none of that, sure a few of them had appearances in other mv’s but I wouldn’t consider that abnormal in companies’ promotion tactics. Bp went through the typical trainee process. They passed the auditions, trained for a couple of years, and debuted. Now if you knew anything about the trainee process you would know that trainees have monthly evaluations. These monthly evaluations determine whether or not you can make it to debut. If you don’t show progress, then you’re getting the boot. So the fact that bp made it up to the final levels of evaluation and actually debuted indicates that these girls have talent, I’m sorry to say. Objectively, these girls can dance, sing, and rap. Maybe they’re not the best in the industry, I never said that but they are capable of doing all 3 things. Also they come from YG and as much as I hate YG, they’ve got trainees for dayssssss. YG’s status and income did not rely on these girls debuting, they could’ve picked anyone out of their 100 trainees they’ve got in the dungeon. If anything it’s way more competitive to debut in any of the Big 3 companies. It’s like picking the best of the best. If you’re saying these girls are not talented then maybe check yourself a little bit to see why you’re exactly saying that. I’m assuming you won’t be able to do anything better than them. 

The other three points were that their music is generic, their discography is small and their promotions are short. Well, in that case say fuck YG? You’re really acting like these girls produce their own music, make their own choreos and schedule their own promotions. Like wtf? That’s what their companies are for? The way that everyone chooses to ignore YG and their staff and immediately put blame on the girls like they get to choose what they do is ridiculous. Now I know not everyone does this, but the amount of people I’ve seen say bp is overrated because of their discography is a lot. But y’all really out here acting like they make their own discography smh. Yell at Teddy? Yell at YG? I’ve been yelling at those mfers because they’re not giving bp what they deserve. There’s no surprise when I say what they’ve been giving bp is subpar in terms of choreo and vocal ability in songs. I know those girls can do so much more. I don’t even wanna talk about the pretty savage choreo. I don’t. But this is no reason to hate on them? It’s like if I hated a starbucks barista for starbucks having a pumpkin spice latte. Like ???? 

( i drew this myself :) )

Even the hate that they receive because they get sponsorships and ads makes no sense. You don’t want them to make coin? A huge part of what comes with being famous is brand sponsoring. Brands pay you to promote their stuff because hello, you’re famous. So the fact that you don’t want them to do this is first of all wack but also again you’re acting like these girls choose the sponsorships and choose when to go on these trips. YG. MFING YG. I don’t think y’all understand how much control these companies have over their idols. Company says drink water, you drink water. Company says stop breathing and you stop breathing. You do whatever your company says you have to do. That’s your boss. 

So why don’t y’all start hating the producers, choreographers, and management instead. Why focus your hate on these four girls? I won’t spell it out for you again but I hope you get the jist. Most of the time it’s way more easy to attack the woman when she has nothing to do with anything. Society tells you to direct your complaints to the girl involved. You see a male celebrity start dating and who gets attacked? The girl. A girl gets cheated on in a movie by her boyfriend and who does she attack? The girl he cheated with. It’s internalized misogyny luv, yes I ended up spelling it out for you. For real, the girls just breathe and y’all scream at them. 

Final point about the big 3 privilege and fanbase. You have every right to not stan a group because of their fanbase. What you don’t have a right to do is hate on them and leave nasty comments on their posts. First, that’s fan behavior. Second, if you’re gonna do this keep the same energy for people who want to do this with your group. I’m talking about every group because every idol group got some wack ass fans. You shouldn’t hate a group because their fanbase is annoying, they don’t get to pick and choose their fans. So, don’t be a hypocrite ok :) Now big 3 privilege. Ah big 3 privilege. Yes, it exists. There’s no denying it. Big 3 privilege doesn’t really die out in my opinion. For as long as they’re still active, bp will have big 3 privilege. But just with any other sort of privilege, if you have it might as well use it. Listen, if I was white you know I’d be eating up my white privilege I’m not gonna lie. Jokes aside, bp has worked extremely hard. Yes, they have the big 3 privilege but they still have to perform these concerts, shows, and go to these interviews and train. As much as you’d like to disagree with me, I think that it’s a very objective to say that they have worked hard. 

I think it’s important to acknowledge how hard it is to get into these companies in the first place. You’re not born into it like a lot of social privileges people have. You have to audition. There are so many idols that have tried to get into these big companies but have failed. Now I’m not saying that these idols are not as talented as the ones that get into these big companies. Most of the time, these idols aren’t ready at the time of their audition and work harder on their own before trying out other companies. The big 3 get their trainees at very young age, which means these kids have to be either geniuses or show an incredible amount of promise. They’re the big 3 for a reason, they’ve been around the longest and have the most experience. They can see a future idol in the making relatively quickly. So yeah bp have big 3 privilege but they’ve worked hard, sacrificed their childhood, and get shat on just as much as your kpop idols. They’ve just got a fancy name behind them that doesn’t even make good choices promoting them anyways. It’s not a valid reason to hate them because of this, just saying.

Most of the hate bp gets is brought upon by the idea that our patriarchal society has ingrained in us. Women = bad, yell at them vs. men = good, don’t yell at them. We hate seeing women succeed. It’s as simple as that. Seeing powerful women dominate the industry they’re in scares us to our core. We don’t like it. I’m just here to bring light to it.

[greatfay]

controversial opinions?

Cold pizza actually not good. Tastes like angry bacteria.

There’s a completely separate class of gay men who are in a different, rainbow-tinted plane of reality from the rest of us and I don’t like them. They push for “acceptance” via commercialization of the Pride movement, assimilation through over-exposure, and focus on sexualizing the movement to be “provocative” and writing annoying articles that reek of class privilege instead of something actually important like lgbtqa youth homelessness, job discrimination, and mental health awareness.

Coleslaw is good. You guys just suck in the kitchen.

Generational divides ARE real: a 16-year-old and a 60-year-old right now in 2021 could agree on every hot button sociopolitical topic and yet not even realize it because they communicate in entirely different ways.

Sam Wilson is a power bottom. No I will not elaborate.

Allison’s makeover in The Breakfast Club good, not bad. She kept literally and metaphorically dumping her trash out onto the table and it’s clearly a cry for help. Having the attention and affection of a smart, pretty girl doing her makeup for her was sweet and helped her open up to new experiences. Not every loner wants to BE a loner (see: Bender, who is fine being a lone wolf).

Movie/show recommendations that start with a detailed “representation” list read like status-effecting gear in an RPG and it’s actually a turn-off for me. I have to force myself to give something a try in spite of it.

Yelling at people to just “learn a new language” because clearly everyone who isn’t you and your immediate vicinity of friends must be a lazy ignorant white American is so fucking stupid, like I get it, you’re mad someone doesn’t immediately know how to pronounce your name or what something means. But I know 2 languages and am struggling with a 3rd when I can between 2 jobs and quite frankly, I don’t have the time to just absorb the entire kanji system into my brain to learn Japanese by tomorrow night, or suddenly learn Arabic or Welsh. There are 6500 recorded languages in the world, what’s the chance that one of 3 I’ve learn(ed?) is the one you’re yelling at me about. Yes this is referring to that post yelling at people for not knowing how to pronounce obscure Irish names and words. Sometimes just explaining something instead of admonishing people for not knowing something inherently in the belief that everyone must be lazy entitled privileged people is uh... better?

Stop fucking yelling at people. I despise feeling like someone is yelling at me or scolding me, it triggers my Violence Mode, you don’t run me, you are not God, fuck off. Worst fucking way to "educate” people, it just feels good in the moment to say or write and doesn’t help. Yes I’ve done it before.

Violence is good actually.

Characters doing bad things ≠ an endorsement of bad things. Characters doing bad things that are unquestioned by the entire rest of the cast = endorsement of bad things, or at the least, a power fantasy by the creator. See: Glee, in which Sue’s awfulness is constantly called out, while Mr. Shue’s awfulness rarely is because he’s “the hero.” See also: the Lightbringer series, in which the protagonist is a violent manipulator who is praised as clever, charming, diplomatic, and genius by every supporting character (enemies included), despite the text never demonstrating such.

Euphoria is good, actually. It falls into this niche of the past decade of “dark gritty teen shows” but actually has substance behind it, but the general vibe I get from passive-aggressive tumblr posts from casual viewers is that this show is The Devil, and the criticism of its racier content screams pearl-clutching “what about the children??” to me.

Describing all diagnosed psychopaths as violent criminals is a damaging slippery slope, sure. But I won’t be mad at anyone for inherently distrusting another human who does not have the ability to feel guilt and remorse, empathy, is a pathological liar, or proves to be cunning and manipulative.

It’s actually not easy to unconditionally support and love everyone everywhere when you’ve actually experienced the World. Your perspective and values will be challenged as you encounter difficult people, experience hardship, are torn between conflicting ideas and commitments, and fail. My vow to never ever call the cops on another black person was challenged when an employee’s boyfriend marched into the kitchen OF AN ESTABLISHMENT to scream at her, in a BUSINESS I MANAGED, and threaten to BEAT the SHIT out of her. Turns out I can hate cops and hate that motherfucker equally, I am more than capable of both.

Defending makeup culture bad, actually. Enjoy it, experiment, master it, but don’t paint it as something other than upholding exactly what they want from you. Even using makeup to “defy the heteropatriarchal oppressors!” is still putting cash in their pockets, no matter how camp...

Not every villain needs to be redeemed, some of you just never outgrew projecting yourself onto monsters and killers.

Writing teams and networks queerbaiting is not the same as individuals queerbaiting. Nick Jonas performing exclusively at gay clubs to generate an audience really isn’t criminal; if they paid to go see him, that’s on them, he didn’t promise anyone anything other than music and a show. Do not paint this as similar to wealthy, bigoted executives and writing teams trying to snatch up the LGBTQA demographic with vague ass marketing and manipulative screenplays, only to cop out so as not to alienate their conservative audiences. And ESPECIALLY when the artists/actors/creators accused of queerbaiting or lezploitation then come out as queer in some form later on.

Queer is not a bad word, and I’ve no clue how that remains one of few words hurled at LGBTQA people that can’t be reclaimed. It’s so archaic and underused at this point that I don’t get the reaction to it compared to others.

People who defend grown-woman Lorelai Gilmore’s childish actions and in the same breath heavily criticize teenage religious abuse victim Lane Kim’s actions are not to be trusted. Also Lane deserved better.

Keep your realism out of my media, or at least make it tonally consistent. Tired of shows and movies and books where some gritty, dark shit comes out of nowhere when the narrative was relatively Romantic beforehand.

Actually people should be writing characters different from themselves, this new wave in the past year of “If you aren’t [X] you shouldn’t be writing [X]” is a complete leap backward from the 2010s media diversity movement. And if [X] has to do with an invisible minority status (not immediately visible disabilities, or diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, persecuted religious affiliations, mental illness) it’s actually quite fucked up to assume the creator can’t be whatever [X] is or to demand receipts or details of someone’s personal life to then grant them “permission” to create something. I know, we’re upset an actual gay actor wasn’t casted to play this gay character, so let’s give them shit about it: and not lose a wink of sleep when 2 years later, this very actor comes out and gives a detailed account of the pressure to stay closeted if they wanted success in Hollywood.

Projecting an actor’s personal romantic life and gender identity onto the characters they play is actually many levels of fucked up, and not cute or funny. See: reinterpreting every character Elliot Page has played through a sapphic lens, and insulting his ability to play straight characters while straight actors play actual caricatures of us (See also: Jared Leto. Fuck him).

I’m fucking sick of DaBaby, he sucks. “I shot somebody, she suck my peepee” that’s 90% of whatever he raps about.

“Political Correctness” is not new. It was, at one point, unacceptable to walk into a fine establishment and inform the proprietor that you love a nice firm pair of tits in your face. 60 years ago, such a statement would get you throw out and possibly arrested under suspicion of public intoxication. But then something happened and I blame Woodstock and Nixon. And now I have to explain to a man 40 years my senior that no, you can’t casually mention to the staff here, many of whom are children, how you haven’t had a good fuck in a while. And then rant about the “Chinese who gave us the virus.” Can’t be that upset with them if you then refused to wear your mask for 20 minutes.

Triggering content should not have a blanket ban; trigger warnings are enough, and those who campaign otherwise need to understand the difference between helping people and taking away their agency. 13 Reasons Why inspired this one. Absolutely shitty show, sure, but it’s a choice to watch it knowing exactly what it contains.

Sasuke’s not a fucking INTJ, he’s an ISFP whose every decision is based off in-the-moment feelings and proves incapable of detailed and logical planning to accomplish his larger goals.

MCU critique manages to be both spot-on and pointless. Amazing stories have been told with these characters over the course of decades; but most of it is toilet paper. Expecting a Marvel movie to be a deeply detailed examination of American nationalism and imperialism painted with a colorful gauze of avant-garde film technique is like expecting filet mignon from McDonalds. Scarf down your quarter pounder or gtfo.

Disparagingly comparing the popularity and (marginal) success of BLM to another movement is anti-black. It is not only possible but also easy to ask for people’s support without throwing in “you all supported BLM for black people but won’t show support for [insert group]” how about you keep our name out your mouth? Black people owe the rest of the world nothing tbh until yall root out the anti-blackness in your own communities.

It is the personal demon/tragic flaw of every cis gay/bi/pan man to externalize and exorcize Shame: I’m talking about the innate compulsion to Shame, especially in the name of Pride and Progress. Shame for socioeconomic “success,” shame for status of outness, shame for fitness and health, shame for looks, shame for style and dress, shame for how one fits into the gender binary, shame for sexual positions and intimacy preferences, shame for fucking music tastes. Put down the weapon that They used to beat you. Becoming the Beater is not growth, it’s the worst-case scenario.

Works by minorities do not have to be focused on their marginalized identities. Some ladies want to ride dragons AND other ladies. The pressure on minorities to create the Next Great Minority Character Study that will inevitably get snuffed at the Oscars/Peabody Awards is some bullshit when straight white dudes walk around shitting out mediocre screenplays and books.

Canadians can stfu about how the US is handling COVID-19 actually. Love most of yall, but the number of Canadian snowbirds on vacation (VACATION??? VA.CAT.ION.) in the supposed “hotbed” of my region that I’ve had to inform our mask policies and social distancing to is ASTOUNDING. Incroyable! I guess your country has a sizable population of entitled, privileged, inconsiderate, wealthy, and ignorant people making things difficult for everyone, just like mine :)

No trick to eliminate glasses fog while wearing my mask has worked, not a single one, it actually has affected my job and work speed and is incredibly frustrating, and I have to deal with it and pretend it’s not a problem while still encouraging others to follow the rules for everyone’s safety and the cognitive dissonance is driving me insane.

It’s really really really not anti-Japanese... to be uncomfortable with the rampant pedophilia in manga and anime, and voice this. I really can’t compare western animation’s sneakier bullshit with pantyshots of a 12-year-old girl.

Most of the people in the cottagecore aesthetic/tag have zero interest in all the hard work that comes with maintaining an isolated property in the countryside, milking cows and tending crops before sunrise, etc. And that’s okay? They just like flowers and pretty pottery and homemade pastries. Idk where discourse about this came from.

You think mint chip ice-cream tastes like toothpaste because you’re missing a receptor that can distinguish the flavors, and that sucks for you. It’s a sort of “taste-blindness” that can make gum spicy to some while others can eat a ghost pepper without crying.

Being a spectacle for the oppressive class doesn’t make them respect us, it makes them unafraid of us. This means they continue to devour us, but without fear of our retaliation.

Only like 4 people on tumblr dot com are actually prepared for the full ramifications of an actual revolution. The rest of you just really imprinted onto Katniss, or grew up in the suburbs.

Straight crushes are normal. They’re people first, sexual orientation second. Can’t always know.

The road to body positivity is not easy, especially if what you desire is what you aren’t.

You’re actually personally responsible for not voluntarily bringing yourself into an environment that you know is not fit for you unless you have the resolve to manage it. Can’t break a glass ceiling without getting a few cuts. This one’s a shoutout to my homophobic temp coworkers who decided working a venue with a drag show would be a good idea. This is also is a shoutout to people who want to make waves but are surprised when the boat tips. And also a shoutout to people who—wait that’s it’s own controversial opinion hold up.

Straight people can and should stay the fuck out of gay bars and queer spaces. “yoUrE bEInG diVisiVe” go fuck yourself.

[allicekitty13]

Platform Ballerina’s- Chapter 5

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Jasper had met quite a few new people that night; after they had left the haunted house, Alice had given him a ride to the bar where many of her friends and customers were gathered. Her car had been a frantic mess, as chaotic as the woman who owned it. The backseat was filled with clothing and books, he had only just met her, but it somehow felt fitting for the girl.

She had made a point of sticking by his side for most of the night; she'd said something early on about not wanting him to feel lost in a crowded room. He had been grateful for the gesture, but that had been hours ago. She was now nowhere to be found. He'd struck up a conversation with a man named Garrett, who was the owner of the local tattoo parlor as well as the mastermind behind the thrilling attraction they had attended earlier in the evening. Garratt was a fun fellow with whom Jasper quickly found he had a lot of common ground. From musical tastes to a shared affection for history to a fondness for tattoos. The latter subject being something they had spent quite a while discussing going back and forth showing off their pieces, the man had even offered him a slight discount if he wanted some work done while still in town.

They had sat in the back corner for a least an hour, if not more, when Jasper had noticed his tiny companion was no longer sat next to him speaking with Garrett's girlfriend, Kate. He looked around the room, not spotting her anywhere, he'd only just met the woman, but he was worried. Back in the parking lot, as they were chatting before heading into the haunted house, Jasper had noticed something that concerned him. She had been sitting alone after her friend had joined the rest of the group; Bella, if he remembered correctly, that girl hadn't made much of an impression. Alice had looked so very sad, as though something heavy weighed on her. She'd squeezed her eyes and fists tightly, and when she opened them again, she was the bubbly fun social butterfly she had been the rest of the night. It was clear she was masking something; he'd seen it before, hell he'd done it before. He wasn't one to armchair diagnose, but something was not right. So when she had disappeared, he was worried.

He'd wandered around the building, asking the few people who's names he'd remembered if they had seen the girl. Most people just shrugged him off; it was one of the actors from the haunted house, a man named Jake who had pointed him outside, suggesting she'd went outside to smoke. Jake had informed him it was a drunken habit of Alice's to wander off for a nicotine hit and end up vibing alone to whatever music was playing. 

The instruction had ended up being spot on; he'd exited the building into the smoker's area to find he alone sitting on a table hidden away under the awning in a spot most people wouldn't pass. Her eyes were closed; her head leaned back against the wall, her short legs dangling off the edge of the table as her feet gently swung back and forth. . The butt of a burnt-out cigarette dangled from her limp fingers resting at her side. A sad smile graced her face giving her a look of tragic peace. He noticed then just how tiny the woman truly was as the darkness almost swallowed her slim frame. Her drink, a red mix of cherry-flavored whiskey and Sprite, was abandoned sitting next to her, the ice long since melted as condensation formed on the glass.

He wanted to approach her but wasn't exactly sure what the proper thing was to say to someone you had just met yet felt an inexplicable urge to protect. Maybe it was his own past experiences, having been found in similar positions many times over. Perhaps it was how small she was, yet she seemed to bear so much weight on her shoulders. It was clear just how much she carried people even in the short time he'd had to interact with her. He wondered how many of her friends picked up on the small signals she sent out that she was in pain if her family noticed any of the signs she exhibited that something was wrong.

"Jasper," She called out suddenly, "you sit next to me and ask what's wrong... or am I remembering this one wrong? It's not often I get it wrong, but it happens, especially if I'm drunk, and I'm definitely drunk." Her words were slow, slurred, and surprising he had no idea how she knew he was there. He hadn't made a sound, and she hadn't opened her eyes.

Her words confused him, he had no idea what Alice meant by the statements, but he figured a cryptic opening was better than none and obliged the woman. He strode over to the table, taking a seat next to her, "What's wrong?"

"Ever feel like everybody knows you, they all like you, but they don't actually give a shit about you? I've been sitting here for an hour and a half, you're the only one who came to look for me, and you don't even know me yet... you will, of course, we're gonna be really close friends. Maybe it's my own fault for being selfish? I missed something so important today because I was off meeting a cute guy. Sure, I've been waiting so long for today, but I still could have taken the time to check my phone. It feels like we're all the same age, but I'm so far behind like they're all on a different level, and I just keep failing the growing up challenge."

She had started crying as the pent up emotions flowed from her in an incoherent jumble. Jasper found himself wondering just how long it had been since someone had actually asked her if she was Okay. "I just feel so... ornamental sometimes. Like I'm just a warm body, no one actually cares, and my friends and family actively hate me and just keep me around out of pity. I try so fucking hard ya know, I try to be a good sister, a good friend, to be nice to everyone. I put my own happiness on hold all the time, and where does it get me? Sitting outside a bar drunk, alone on a Monday chainsmoking. I'm just... so pathetic ya know?"

"You're not pathetic." He spoke up when she had remained silent long enough for him to accept she was done rambling out the disconnected pieces of genuine concerns. "I know I don't know you, but you're clearly dealing with a lot. I don't know how long I'm going to be around, but..." He hesitated, "I'll be your friend if you want; you can talk to me if you need to get this stuff off your chest."

"Thank you," She smiled sadly, wiping at her tears. "That sounds nice... also pizza... pizza sounds good." She laughed; he realized it was the first genuine laugh he had heard from her since they had left the haunted house. His heart broke ever so slightly for the woman as he thought over her ramblings, trying to make sense of the pieces.

"We can get pizza, as long as you promise to talk about this coherently tomorrow; you should not keep all that bottled up."

In response, she jumped off the table and grabbed his hand, leading him out to the parking lot. She tossed him the keys before climbing into the passenger seat of her car, leaving him silently grateful he wouldn't have to convince the woman she was in no state to drive. She gave him terrible directions to a local gas station that served pizza twenty-four hours. 

They ate outside in the parking lot, tossing simple questions back and forth. Favorite colors, musical tastes, preferences in literature, finding they had many shared interests. Eventually, he got her sobered up enough to convince her she should go home to sleep off the alcohol and let her family know that she was safe. 

At her house, they had argued; she'd insisted he take her car home that he shouldn't have to walk across town in the cold because she couldn't drive herself home. He had joked that she just wanted an excuse to talk some more, an accusation she did not deny.     

[soundofseventeen]

13 Days of Christmas (Chwe Hansol)

A special thank you to @pointless-verses and @notprincesscharming​ for loving me the way they do and accepting who I am. I wouldn’t have written this without them. Some of us are Vernon and some of us are Y/N and that’s okay. Merry Christmas (Eve) everyone.

Word count: 2682

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright,” you sang softly as you hung the ornaments on your tree. You continued humming it as you decorated your apartment. Occasionally, one of the people that lived in the building would join in with you. You loved Christmas; you loved the holiday; you especially loved the meaning behind it. For many others, it meant gifts, shopping, food for days and more money spent in one month than in the entire year. For you, it was the reminder that Jesus Christ was born.

Jesus, church, and religion had been a big part of your life as a child and as you grew up, your faith in Him never wavered despite the obstacles. You didn’t tell people this part because over time, they had become less devoted and more critical of those who still believed, especially now that questioning everything had become a thing. You were familiar with almost everyone who disrespected your beliefs, and a lot of the time it felt like they targeted you personally. You knew there were bad Christians (and Catholics) who condemned those who were different, but you also knew that the self-righteous pricks who ironically had the holier-than-thou aura were no better, especially when it was just those who followed the trend. You felt lost for a time, but after joining groups and speaking to the pastors about your problem, you left somewhat reassured that as long as you had your faith, you could deal with the problem. Plus, your friends and family accepted you as you were, so nothing else mattered.

Sure you still didn’t know how people lived without God in their lives or how some could be angry at him, but you also didn’t know how people could use God as an excuse to treat others the way they did. Along the way in your self-discovery of living your life as God intended, you met those who had the same intentions as you did, some praising the Lord and some who merely smiled at the statement. 

Among those you befriended in that category was Hansol Vernon Chwe. Hansol, from what you knew, had a golden heart with a soul to match perfectly. You met him one day while waiting in line for a coffee. He complimented the buttons on your backpack and even showed you the same ones he had. You noticed the book he had in his hand since it had been one you were curious about, so you sat down at one of the tables and discussed all the books you’d read and wrote down his recommendations. He was a lot on the goofy side so it was refreshing to see that because, at your age, everyone was stressed over something. (Not that it was a bad thing, but it was a nice change.) He was a little awkward once you started hanging out but once he got comfortable with you, he opened up a lot about his life. 

It wasn’t the happiest but he managed to overcome a lot of his obstacles and you opened up to him. He was a fairly happy soul so when you spent time together, it felt cathartic. You listened to each other’s problems about whatever happened and just enjoyed each other’s company. 

You did have suspicions that the idea of religion made him uncomfortable, but every time you asked him about it, he’d just wave it off and let you continue until the topic could be appropriately changed and you’d eventually forget about it.

But you noticed the closer to the holidays he got, the gloomier he got. You could see the storm in his eyes whenever you passed the green and red colored shops with Santa Claus decorating the windows and his mood soured every time he saw people buying gifts, and you realized he never celebrated the joyous holiday with someone important to him, so on a chilly and windy afternoon, you set off to find something for him and you’d wait until Christmas Eve to give it to him once you finished setting up the nativity set on the coffee table, and then you’d invite him over to give him said gift: a leather jacket and a new beanie to match it. 

There was a knock on the door just as you finished putting the three wise men on the table and you yelled a, “Come in,” while you set up the farm animals around the little area. You continued your humming, setting up the nativity set as you pleased. “Hi Hansol!” you greeted him cheerily.

“Oh...hey,” he said sitting down next to you. He threw his backpack on the couch. “What are you doing?”

“Setting this up. It’s almost Christmas so I wanted to put this up. It’s the most important thing to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. So, uh, you said you wanted to see me?” He tried not to look on the table, the discomfort setting in, the more he avoided it.

You nodded, finally standing up and stretching. You pretended not to notice how he eyed the place skeptically, especially when you walked to the Christmas tree. “I got you something.”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed quickly, the slow boiling anger making you uneasy. Maybe you should’ve brought it up a little later? Maybe after he tried some food from a new recipe you made?

“Because you’re my friend and you’re special to me and all my special friends get gifts.” You smiled at him nonetheless.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” he said simply. “It’s stupid.” The off switch hit and he shut down, the way it normally did when he didn’t know what else to do.

You tried not to show the disappointment and hurt on your face, but you didn’t know how to make words come out of your mouth either. The present in your hands felt heavy suddenly and you felt like a fool. “Oh,” you finally said.

“Yeah...holidays don’t deserve to be celebrated when it’s a shit storm all year ‘round,” the sarcasm and bitterness lacing through the happy tone. “You got kids dying, homeless people with no place to go, and when your life is torn apart like mine, well, you get used to it. I gotta go.”

“But you just got here!” you protested, your voice trying not to break.

“And I have somewhere else to be now.”

“Hansol, if I offended you, I’m sorry-”

“You wouldn’t understand. I didn’t mean to ruin this for you.” He patted your shoulder and walked out quietly.

*

The moment he had found out about your religious side, Hansol had known it was gonna be difficult. He often stayed away with people who claimed to have a relationship with God because whenever he told someone that he wasn’t sure if God even existed, it was like a switch flipped. They were usually offended, yes, but then they forced (or tried to force) their beliefs down his throat and just gave him the cold shoulder when they realized they couldn’t convert him. He had been through so much in his life and he had stopped trying to defend his reasons behind it. He was tired of being judged for it, and he hated trying to prove that he was still a good person because he thought it could still be possible. It made him angry; it confused him and it even saddened him a little because he never knew where to turn to.

When he met you though, he thought you were just like him: a lost little soul, hoping to find something, anything. But as he got to know you, and you spoke of God so highly, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Another one for the books.

He liked you a lot though, and despite the barrier, he never felt like you forced it on him. Then again, he waived the subject of God and Christianity and everything it came with whenever his discomfort became too much. He never meant to push you away like he did at your place but it felt like he was backed into a corner. He made his friends (whatever was left of them, that is) and family swear they wouldn’t buy him anything in relation to the holiday in the past because he knew the reason behind Christmas and he couldn’t get on board with that. He would be something of a hypocrite if he celebrated it, so he chose not to. 

He could taste the bile on his tongue from overthinking and he needed to get away from his head. He wanted to call you, but he knew he made you cry the moment he left your house that day. Couldn’t he be your friend and still choose not to believe? Or did you only wanna become his friend because you a.) thought that he was religious or b.) knew he wasn’t and you thought you could change his ways? Neither seemed likely though. You never gave him a reason to believe otherwise

He turned on the radio to hopefully drive his thoughts away, but the moment he heard the song, you automatically came to his mind and a slow smile crossed his face. He remembered you telling him it was your favorite Christmas song over lunch one day when it came on the speakers. You had hummed it and tapped your fingers to it. He liked seeing you happy like that; all of his friends deserved it, especially you. You made him feel welcome, although he never told you upright his confusion with religion. Some days he didn’t believe; sometimes he did, but mostly, he was unsure. He was afraid it’d hurt you and he didn’t want that. 

It was a nice song, he decided right now that he was paying attention to it. Would he add it to his Spotify playlist? No, but that was okay. He could appreciate it because you were important to him..

*

“‘Bye everyone! Thank you for coming! And thank you for the gifts!” You weren’t sure of how much hot chocolate you ingested but you were sure it mixed into your bloodstream. You felt full and content. You invited a few of your loved ones over for breakfast and you all exchanged gifts. The best part of it all was being together, as it should be. There were hugs everywhere, laughter and even a few tears from laughing too hard, all music to your ears. You never felt like you belonged more than in moments like this. God had blessed you with the best people in your life and you’d be going to church later on today to express your gratitude because you couldn’t ask for more (except maybe some concert tickets, but that wasn’t the point here.)

Your gaze landed on Hansol’s unopened gifts and you were overcome with many emotions, unsure of which ones were stronger. You could pinpoint the hurt because of what he said to you and how he said it; the sadness because of the outright rejection and refusal of opening them; embarrassment for not asking him if he wanted something in the first place; anger for not handling the situation the way you wanted to; disappointment because you had at least hoped he would’ve opened them before saying something; and even the hope he’d come to at least apologize. You said a silent prayer that wherever he’d be, he’d try to make the most of this sacred day.

You didn’t know what you’d do with the presents but you couldn’t return them...or give them away. You bought them specifically for him and neither option felt right. Maybe you’d just use them as a birthday gift; it was a couple months away, after all. It’d save you the hassle of shopping for him twice and at least you only had DK to worry about. 

The knocking on your door brought you back but you laughed at yourself for being scared. You felt both giddy and afraid as you opened it and Hansol stood there shyly, holding a makeshift white flag as peace. “Hi, can I come in?”

You nodded quickly and let him in, curiously staring at the guitar his hand. “Sorry about the mess. I was just about to clean up. Did you forget something here the other day?”

“No, but I know I said some things that weren’t right and they probably hurt you. This is embarrassing because I hate singing and I hate Christmas but I didn’t know what else to get you so I learned this for you.” He strummed the strings a few times to make sure they were in tune and a moment later, covered “Silent Night” just for you before he could turn around and walk away. He missed a few words and fumbled a few times but you were endeared nonetheless and he hadn’t even finished when you were bawling your eyes out. 

“Hansol, I-” you wiped your eyes with the sleeves of your pajama shirt at a loss for words.

“I’m not religious,” he started off after he saw you couldn’t complete your sentence, “I haven’t willingly stepped foot in a church in years and I don’t plan to anytime soon. I don’t like today for that same reason and because everyone in my family wants to erase everything that goes on throughout the year too. I’m not sure I even believe in God anymore because I don’t know how someone can be this cruel sometimes. But, I shouldn’t have disrespected you or your beliefs because of my problems. And for that, I’m sorry.”

“Hansol,” you tried again, but you didn’t know what to say. You’d met people who didn’t believe in God, but you never knew what to say when they told you so. This time it wasn’t any different. “You’re still the same person regardless of that. If I had known sooner, then-”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to judge me or try to change me. You’re one of my closest friends and if I lost you because of that...I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Silly boy, only you can decide if you wanna believe. You’re in my life because you’re a good person and honestly, that doesn’t define who you are. I’m not gonna drag you to church every weekend hoping you’ll change your mind and I’m not gonna buy you a bible either. It doesn’t matter if next year you wanna try it. It doesn’t matter if you wanna believe in God, or Allah, or Olofi, or not. But please, at least give me a warning if you’re not comfortable with gifts or anything.” You sniffled again and he pulled you close to him. “I don’t even know what to do with them. You made me feel so bad.”

“I’m sorry. You bought them with good intentions, and I see that now. Would you mind if I opened it?”

“Are you gonna get mad again?”

“No, I’m gonna treasure them for as long as I can because you put so much thought into them.” He lowered his voice, still fighting his discomfort. “Thank you for not hating me. You’re one of the first people I know who’s accepted me.” He choked a little on that last part and it was your turn to comfort him, understanding his pain. You stayed like that for a moment longer and he unwrapped his presents, thanking you more times than you could count for the jacket.

“Hey, isn’t something missing from your thing?” He said just as he was getting ready to leave.

“Oh yeah! The baby Jesus! This is for him after all.” You walked to the TV to grab the minuscule figurine. “Would you like to put him on his bed?”

Although a little uncomfortable, he nodded because he knew it’d mean a lot to you. With trembling fingers, he gently laid him down as heard you singing, taking his hand in yours to give him the strength, and for that he was grateful.

“Silent night….holy night….”