#general conspiracy theory crazies

[tzimtzum]

Hey everyone! In light of the UK's puberty blocker ban I'm dropping back in to share the advice of my relative who works in parliament: email your local MP and tell them you will not vote for them in the next election if this doesn't change. even better, get your parents or other older people in your community to do it - labour has shown again and again that those are the votes they most want.

TERFs are a small but very vocal minority who have given many MPs the impression of a much larger voting base than they actually represent. The best thing you can do right now is convince your MP that this will lose them more votes than it will gain.

you can find contact details for your local MP here (x) and it will only take five minutes to email them! There are email templates floating around that you can use for inspiration, but please personalise it in your own words or they're likely to be treated as spam.

[themyscirah]

I very much know this is because Jessica Cruz's origin story was written by Geoff Johns in a shitty comic, but by God is there so much going on there. Like damn.

Like there's the really, genuinely compelling stuff, for example the presence of ring horror and loss of control w Jess and Power Ring/Volthoom + the implications of that (character wise, both before and after JL 50) which is just SO interesting (and angsty!) to me personally

But then there's also more plot holes than you can shake a stick at as well (where did Jess get her ring. Guys it just showed up who died where did she get it from GUYS-)

All interspersed between some of the worst character writing for other Justice League members in existence (Wondy fans you know what I mean) and crazy ass plots out there

[forehead451]

.

[louderfade]

Exene Cervenka (of the band X) from a talk at Pitzer College in 2014

[kick-a-long]

i find it so desperately sad that goyim generally would be so much less antisemitic if jews started physically fighting back with guns or sticks in every country. calling for the murder of muslims all over the world, if the jewish population was big enough to have large scary groups of crazy fringe fundamentalist synagogues all over the world, a billion strong, that preached murder and hate so goyim could look down on jews like some noble savage in need of assistance and western education and protection. so we could be reformed in obvious patronizing ways because there were so many of us that we had militant violent fringe extremists, like christians and muslims have, mixed in with the normal jews.

if jews didn't have such a reputation for success and intelligence maybe conspiracy theories would stop blaming us for controlling the world. if we felt less in danger maybe we wouldn't be so obsessed with long term survival.

is antisemitism some warped form of envy? maybe. what sucks is that jews are no better or worse than anyone else. some jews are brutes and some are the most wonderful people imaginable, just like any other group. what sucks is we don't all live up to the reputation of tactical geniuses and wizards with mind control magic. all of us jews are just tired and abused humans who have lived with 2000+ years of generational trauma and the endless fall out from a popular jewish book written 3000+ years ago describing the best practices of jewish culture. It has some great stories, histories, life advice, diet recommendations, hygiene, and rules about how to treat others.

is that such a crime?

trying to show a path forward? not demanding anyone else follow those rules but wanting to do our best to follow them anyway? how to live a good life that makes the world better and makes you proud to have been on earth for the time you were there? jews fail to do this all the time, just like everyone else. I fail all the time. why are people so obsessed with that? people say shylock is a stereotyped antisemitic character but,

"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge! The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

so why do jews always have to be the better man? why do we have to apologize for being angry and sad and hating the people that attack us? that was written by Shakespeare, a christian in the 1600s who who had probably never met a jew, they were expelled from england, but imagined us as money lenders, the only profession left to jews at that time. even he saw the double standard. it makes a good point.

now, i don't want vengeance, i don't want violence, but i feel vengeful. i feel angry that i am unsafe because of play actors and terrorist supporters who want revenge for jews existing but scream bloody murder when jews refuse to dig their own graves, beg forgiveness for ever being born, and lay down in them to be mocked and pissed on and abused in the worst ways imaginable for the entertainment and conquest of it. i want peace with them. they are as human as i am, full of foibles and anger. i want nothing to do with them. i want them to never come near a jew again for the rest of time.

i am sad. all i want is to feel my feelings and advocate for what is the most ethical and practical work around to a world filled with unending suffering while i am still alive. i want them on thier side to live in the world they want and me on my side to live in the world i want. why don't these children of all ages, lost in delusions of fantastical battles and ultimate good and evil, see that? why can't I be a human first as well as a jew first? why do they ask me to pick? why am i not allowed to pick?

it's been almost a year. we're all so tired.

I'm going to a music festival. I'm trying to decide whether to wear a star. why is it dangerous to wear a star around my neck?

[violet-yimlat]

I hate to pull this card but

Pulls out a deck of cards from various sources and draws the tarot card, The Tower.

Oops. Wrong card.

Draws the Cards Against Humanity card reading “A hummingbird drinking nectar out of my urethra”.

I do hate to pull that card too but it wasn’t what I was looking for- ah! Here it is!

Draws a card reading “If this post can get 5000 notes within the next week I will continue writing my terrible, stupid book”.

Btw part two is in the reblogs of this post.

Preview under the cut.

Prologue

You might have heard the urban legend. It goes like this; someone is walking along a street. They’re always pretty much alone, perhaps with the exception of maybe a pet dog, a conveniently non-verbal companion, when they hear sounds of a pretty intense struggle in an alley. So they go to check it out, but nobody is ever there.

Although sometimes, there’s a little pool of blood or a few feathers.

Mostly this is dismissed as a hallucination, or birds fighting, but the amount of blood and the size of the feathers makes it hard to believe.

And the voices. Most people report hearing arguing. But wherever in the world the story takes place, nobody can understand the language spoken by the fighters. The reports are fairly consistent. The language is described as “mellifluous” and “ethereal”, and there are always multiple people speaking it. Or at least shouting in it, but it is generally agreed upon that they are angry.

But there is always another voice, speaking a different, but still incomprehensible, language. He, for in the stories it’s always a he, sounds defiant and cocky, speaking in a harsher, less musical tongue, unless, of course, you count black metal. Some especially astute listeners have picked up words and sentences used by the lone, defiant individual and the angry group, coming to the conclusion that they seem to be speaking different dialects of the same language.

And another thing; birds don’t generally use weapons. One witness said that they heard what sounded like a fencing match or duel before they turned the corner.

There are so many witnesses that they should probably make a discord server.

Now we come to the theories. We have the rational explanation as mentioned previously; birds.

We have the “Time travelling fight club” theory.

We have the “That one alien spaceship where they keep having to get out because that one alien speaking another dialect keeps picking fights and they always threaten to maroon him on Earth but they never do” theory.

There’s the “Mothman vs other Mothman” theory and the “Crazy global cult who’s leader travels from place to place to perform blood sacrifices” theory, and let’s not forget the “Magical mutant cock-fighting ring gone wrong” theory, but one theory stands above all the rest.

The most well known, and probably the most ridiculous, theory is the “Demon repeatedly getting jumped by angels” theory.

But it’s all just a conspiracy theory. An urban legend. A joke.

Until the day Amelia Butler found the devil bleeding out in an alley.

[lunamugetsu]

I see a lot of people going with the idea that if Danny were to be captured and tortured by the GIW, that the main people that would find him are Young Justice, Teen Titans or the Justice League main heroes.

So I raise you this idea.

The one who finds the GIW facility that's keeping Danny prisoner is The Question. The resident faceless conspiracy theorist hero that works for the Justice League. (the one I'm thinking of is the guy from Justice League Unlimited. The one that got together with Huntress. You can imagine this with the Renee Montoya version if you want, but I'm just thinking of the guy Question)

Now hear me out. The Question is known for having crazy conspiracy theories and in the the cartoon, Supergirl asks Green Arrow why they have the Question on the roster for the Justice League since he has such crazy theories, he must be insane. And Green Arrow replies with that some of his theories have actually turned out to be true.

So couple that with how The Question gets crazy theories and he does investigate them on his own time. It wouldn't be a stretch that he finds out that there's an obscure government agency that he instantly starts getting suspicious of as there's very rarely any documentation he can find about it. But what hammers his suspicions in is the obscene amount of money that's being pumped into that agency and a serious of facilities that somehow exist and yet also do not exist but he knows it's real because some of them required a humongous power grid to be able to have the facility function.

The Question starts investigating the facilities. Going undercover finding obscure ways to get into the building. He gets in finds a super secure, heavily fortified area that he could tell where most of the energy is being powered to keep locked. He finds the lab areas where he can see the autopsy tables all with machinery that are definitely raise some eyebrows. He starts downloading information about the facility from their servers and finds that the codes to unlock the area that was blocked to him before.

He goes to investigate that area and low and behold, who does he see but an imprisoned Danny who has clearly been tortured. The Question would then go "well I'm breaking him out" and just does an impromptu jail break and takes the kid which sounds the alarm. They're getting the heck out of there. The Question contacts the Justice League gets him and the kid to the Watchtower.

Later on Danny is staying with the Question, because Danny need a place to stay and he's cool with the faceless dude that saved him from his prison. The dude is like super chill with all of the stuff he talks about and actively listening to everything he talked about. Even adding comments of his own like

"I knew it! Lunch Ladies are connected with creation of the mystery meat! And they're funded by the government so they can use it as a brain control weapon to control the future generation!"

or

"The politicians of today could possibly be possessed by the ghosts of the past. They're unwilling to relinquish any power they possessed even in the afterlife!"

Plus, Danny's like completely cool with making food and cleaning up after Question. Because one, the food doesn't come to life and try to attack him like it does at home. And two, the man keeps all of his conspiracy stuff pretty organized so there was hardly anything for Danny to clean up. And sure the guy has a weird lifestyle with things such as brushing his teeth with baking soda because he says fluoride is used by the government to be able to see the people better from their satellites. Or that he'll look through everybody's garbage and would sometimes drag Danny with him to help, which he later learns is a great way to gather information about someone. And having conversations with the dude is kind of creepy when he can't see the dude's face, but he gets used to it and then starts practicing his shape shifting to see freak out the other heroes when they see he has no face.

Meanwhile The Question would have moments while working where he's like "Wait! Did I feed the kid this morning?" also Huntress is there because she doesn't trust her boyfriend at keeping a human being alive, even if they are half dead.

[eugenedebs1920]

I was going through my pictures from 2020, I’m a little embarrassed to say that there’s probably more memes, posts, articles, and pictures taken of whatever I was trying to make a point of on the tv, than there is actual pictures.

This is a Tweet (remember those!? I don’t know what they’re called now. Hates?) from Robert Reich ( no sh*t Eugene!? Get to the point!)on the morning of Election Day 2020. It’s the same plan then, as it is now.

Donald Trump has no respect for America, it’s institutions that have endured 248 years, our systems of government or democracy in general.

This will be Americas 60th presidential election. You know how many of those were accused by one side or the other of being “rigged”? Three!!! Before a single vote had been cast in 2016, the election was said to be “rigged”. The 2020 election there was accusations of fraud and a stolen election that were prominent. The other election that had claims of being “rigged” is this one, the 2024 election. What is the common variable in all three of these elections? 🤔

I can already see the comments now, ‘People said that Hilary won’, and ‘Democrats said the 2000 election was stolen’, and to an extent they’re not wrong, but they’re not right either (well they’re right wing but, you know). The Florida recount in 2000 was a bit interesting how that conclusion came, to be to say the least, but, Gore went on television and conceded (I would recommend looking up Gores 2000 concession speech on YouTube, THATS what class looks like. THATS what politics used to be before reality tv people became involved.). In an utter display of class he told the American people that the Supreme Court had ruled, and that it was time, for the sake of Americans good, to move forward. He went to the inauguration of George W Bush. The 2016 election, I think everyone was in shock that Hilary was defeated in the electoral college by a failed businessman and two bit reality tv personality. Hilary won the popular vote by over 3.5 million votes but that doesn’t count (no pun intended) for whatever reason. (I know the reason, but it’s too much to go in to at this moment) Yet Hilary conceded when the counting was finished, and had the grace to show up at the inauguration of Trump, which I sure was utterly painful.

We all know how the 2020 election went. Trump and his allies doing everything they could to stop the vote before all the ballots were counted. That’s not how it works. That’s like a sports team getting a lead in the game and saying, ‘we won! Games over!” It’s not how real life works. You “play” till the end.

Trump is going to do the same thing this time. Because Democrats work (😉) Trump will be up in many states throughout the day and early evening. As the night goes on, Kamala’s numbers will continue to rise until her eventual victory, which will take several days to count and officially be over.

I want to say this now, to liberals, Republicans and especially MAGA. THE ELECTION ISNT DONE UNTIL ALL THE VOTES HAVE BEEN COUNTED. THATS HOW IT WORKS, WE ALL HAVE A VOTE AND IT IS ENTITLED TO BE COUNTED. DESPITE WHAT YOU MAY HAVE HEARD, MIDNIGHT IS NOT WHEN ELECTION DAY IS OVER, IT IS OVER WHEN EVERY SINGLE VOTE HAS BEEN TALLIED AND IS COUNTED FOR ITS RESPECTIVE SIDE.

This is going to be an ongoing issue until, somewhere between the 7th and the 10th. This is perfectly normal. This has happened in almost every modern election. It’s Trump and his narcissism, Republicans grasping on to relevancy, and powers that wish to benefit themselves, not the nation that will be pushing the narrative that it’s “illegal” or the “election is being stolen behind closed doors”. In all actuality it’s professionals, doing their job, to ensure every Americans voice is heard.

Trump is going to lie and lie and lie some more. He will throw wild accusations out there, he already is, he will tout crazy conspiracy theories, he already is, he will whine and b*tch and complain, he already is. Don’t listen.

For 57 presidential elections, our system has been the envy of the world. The most accurate and fair system developed. It’s only 3 that have EVER has accusations of fraud, or being rigged or stolen. The common denominator in those 3 elections is Donald Trump.

Donald Trump is a traitor, a selfish human being, and a terrible person. He does not deserve to be anywhere near the White House. Let’s keep it that way and vote for a real leader, Kamala Harris.

[asmogorna]

Okay so there’s this ww artist on ig called like tooth lilys or something and he’s always causing drama in the ww fandom and he mouthed off about your art and now heaps of insta ww fans are like talking about you :| free publicity?

ahhhh so thats whats happening .. lmao thats crazy

i checked out their story, and i sure doooo love how they leave some things out when talking about both situations that they mentioned to make me look worse ..

ok so

warning, yap session incoming

the "will wood in a (miku) binder" thing happened back in fall 2023 when i was still semi new to the fandom and didnt know a lot of things. so tho i to this day i dont think it was that big of a deal, i wouldnt do it today

it was an artwork made for shits and giggles, the context of which i have explained here before. i never meant to imply that will wood is trans and i certainly dont "headcanon" him as that. my curse is that even when joking around i tend to try and make my art look good, so i get why people thought it was unironic. and i know that it sounds like a lame ass excuse, but it legit didnt cross my mind that people would think i drew will wood as a trans guy or smth. legit my only thought process was "funny haha internet thing" + "my favorite thing" = "good idea"

now the usage of his real name is something i am genuinely sorry for, but it was an accident and a genuine mistake on my part. i remember seeing someone mention it casually in some comment section, and assuming that it was ok, since i didnt know he was in any way against it. (i also thought that it was the same name that he used in "the real will wood" in that one section cus it sounded a bit similar).

when i was informed about the fact that he doesnt want it spread around i deleted the post right away and apologized, so bringing it up like something i did on purpose and out of malicious intent is a tad bit .. misfitting, if you can use that word

now the hot topic of the day: my waywood art

i have said this before and i will say this again, how i feel about rpf is solely based off how the people involved feel about it

to clarify: i never drew anything inappropriate or even suggestive with them, the "worst" thing is 2 simple sketches of them smoochin. or. this.

idk if this is what they were referring to when talking about me drawing will wood and gerard way "making out" (specifically. because i think "making out" implies to be more sexual stuff than small kisses). and if so, then it once again feels like blowing things out of proportion

and now the point i want you to get: will wood wouldnt give a flying fuck

like i said earlier, i never drew anything inappropriate, because that would actually cross will's existent and real boundaries. you know, the ones that he stated

im not making some conspiracy theories about him being gay, like some people seem to imply in their inbox messages to me

im not sending a whole ass smut fanfiction to litwtc gmail or something, i dont bother him in instagram dms asking if he wants to fuck gerard way, im not shipping him with people who he actually knows personally and has to look in the eyes of from time to time

im not doing anything that he would actually care about

him and chris have joked about him being attracted to gerard before, and though im not saying that you can joke about everything theyve ever joked about, i feel like in our case its clear that will clearly doesnt care about the implications ? (i generally believe that ww fans would get their panties twisted about less things if more of them listened to what these 2 talk about so calmly on litwtc but i digress)

if he saw that some random teenager on tumblr is drawing him and gerard way (gasp of horror) holding hands, he'd laugh at it max and then move on with his day

people are treating the whole situation like i posted pictures of him from when he was a kid or leaked patreon content or drew him fully naked or anything else that, you know, would actually affect him in one way or another

what im doing is innocent fun which isnt even likely to reach either of them. will wood very rarely checks tumblr and, once again, i genuinely dont believe he would care. and gerard way aint got no internet + he doesnt care x 2

it is weird but rn this is what brings me the most joy, even if its silly to say. both will wood and gerard way mean a lot to me and putting them in situations together makes me happy. i am but a child full of fun whimsy

i wont be posting any more explicitly romantic art to avoid more drama, and i also wont be responding to all the anon messages i received because there are like .. too many of them. an overwhelming amount i'd say. sorry about that

i really didnt mean to cause such a fuss, and i understand why some people might be uncomfortable with what i do

i fully understand why you would dislike my waywood hyperfixation shenanigans, and i dont have a problem w you over that, but treating me like pure evil because of a thing so insignificant is just.. overdoing it

once again, i will be toning it down, but it really isnt the end of the world if i dare to draw will wood and gerard way being a tad bit gay (which is, i apparently need to mention, not me actually saying that will wood the alternative musician is a homosexual gay who is in a genuine for real actual real gay homosexual relationship with gerard fucking way the lead singer of my chemical romance. i think speculating on other people's sexuality and gender identity is boooo tomato tomato tomato)

sorry for the rant and sorry to all who were disappointed by my lack of remorse. come back in a couple years when i turn 18 and stop having fun and artistic freedom

thank you for your attention and i hope i at least cleared some things up to those who werent w me throughout every event where i get involved in fandom drama

bye bye

[pettytiredandjewish]

Y’all I just noticed something- ever since I turned off anonymous asks, due to me getting harassed constantly by antisemitic asshats and pro-Palestine people/anti-zionists (because I’m a cold hearted bitch/moron/monster for caring for Israeli citizens who are also victims of the war/ caring for the return of the hostages/ calling out antisemitism/etc…) I haven’t gotten any more hateful or harassing asks… I wonder why??? Could it be that some of them are….cowards and likes to hide? I guess we’ll never know….(jk I already know the answer-i just wanted to add a dramatic flair to it lol)

Also do y’all (I’m talking to the pro Palestine and anti Zionist crowd) even care that Hamas is still holding over a hundred hostages??? And that Hamas are treating the hostages like they’re in some sick torture game??? It seems like whenever someone talks about the hostages/any news about them/testimonies from those who were returned/etc… y’all go bat shit crazy. Hell there’s this video going around where this group of people (pro Palestine/anti Zionist) were defacing a mural that says ‘free the hostages’ and ‘fuck Hamas’ (or something similar to it) because it somehow insulted them???

And stop denying that 10/7 happened. It’s not a fucking conspiracy theory! It was a messed up/horrible terrorist attack and a pogrom- a pogrom that Hamas has promised will happen again! To those who are still denying it/claiming that IDF did it/ or thinks that this attack was necessary- y’all are just fucking unbelievable and messed up…

At this point I’m convinced that y’all hate jews in general and that you are using the i/p war as an excuse to be hateful antisemitic little fuckers. I said what I said.

Am yisrael chai! ✡️

[itspbandjellytime]

The Assistant [Hailee Steinfeld x Reader] - Chapter 4

Plot: Y/N Waldorf is fresh out of college and her first job is being Hailee Steinfeld's personal assistant, but what Y/N doesn't know is that Hailee is hiding a huge secret from the general public and from her, as her assistant.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter fic, you can also read this on wattpad under the same username "itspbandjellytime". This fanfic is also going to contain NSFW themes in the near future, so if you're under the age of 18 please don't read this. Thank you!

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3

A/N

Hi... I am NOT dead, I have been going through a lot lately but don't worry, I am okay am just busy with other stuff. Also this chapter contains smut, please read at your own risk <3 Okay thanks for reading!

Word count: 3.1k words

[Y/N POV]

It's been a week or two since I moved in with Hailee and so far it's going well, we are starting to get to know each other more outside of work as if we're now bestfriends. So far I am enjoying this job, however I still can't get the room that's in that dark hallway and whatever lies in that room. I keep on thinking about it, every time I head upstairs or downstairs to grab myself a glass of water to the point I start to stir up different conspiracy theories only lunatics online can believe. 

Today is also my day off, which means I get to catch up with Jackie. Jackie and I met up at a restaurant somewhere in downtown LA, and I told her everything, yes including the room.

"Wait, so there's another room?" Jackie asks, grabbing a bite off her burger. I nod in response, bouncing my leg up and down  "Yep, I don't know what's in there and I don't want to know what's in there even though I make weird conspiracy theories to myself about what's in there." I said, scrolling through my phone. 

"Maybe it's her album?" Jackie said jokingly and we burst out in laughter, I shook my head and sighed "I wish, if it was her album I'd be leaking that in an instant... As a joke!" I said, nervously chuckling as I look around my surrounding hopefully people do not know that I work for Hailee Steinfeld. "But enough of that, how's Hailee treating you tho? I bet she's treating you like a queen or something." Jackie says, a smile forming on her face as she leans forward.

My face turns red smiling at Jackie, she's not wrong Hailee does spoil me like crazy as if I am not her personal assistant. Yesterday, while we were out and about after a meeting, she took me shopping and I saw the pair of designer shades I've wanted for so long but I couldn't buy it because it's expensive as hell. But Hailee at the end bought me the pair of designer shades that I've been visioning for quite sometime now.

"Well you're not wrong, she does spoil me like crazy." I say, I pulled out the pair of shades that she bought me and showed it off to Jackie. "She bought these for me yesterday." I giggled, putting them on. Jackie gasps knowing that it's the sunglasses I've always wanted since we we're teenagers on stan twitter. "Oh my god, it's the sunglasses you wanted!" Jackie exclaims, admiring every nook and cranny of the sunglasses on my face. All I can do is laugh and nod "I know right?" I responded, putting the sunglasses away.

"Those sunglasses suit you!" Jackie compliments the way the sunglasses suit my face and takes a sip of water, we were both silent for ten seconds and Jackie as always breaks the dead air between us.

"Are you sure Hailee isn't like... Making any moves on you?" Jackie asks, my face turns redder than the tomato sauce of the dish I am having.

"Oh Jackie... You are feeding me into my delusions once again." I laugh, rolling my eyes. Way before I got this job, Jackie and a bunch of our old twitter mutuals used to poke fun of me in a friendly manner about how much of a simp I am for Hailee and as Jackie's friend, I fire back all the time.

"I am being serious, I am not feeding into your delusions Y/N/N. She has been spoiling you left and right, you live in her house, she bought the shades you've wanted, she is making the moves on you." Jackie says to me, I roll my eyes and sighed. "Well if she was making the moves on me then I am now The President of the United States." I said, smiling as I call the waiter for the bill, Jackie smirks and shakes her head and we continue to talk as the day ends.

Hours later, I am back at Hailee's place. I just finished brushing my teeth and I am getting ready for bed, I glance at the room that's in the deep hallway. I start to get second thoughts about me trying to find what lies behind that door, or me keeping my job and not fucking shit up between Hailee and I.

I check my surroundings if Hailee is around and then I look at the room, I slowly and surely take a step closer and reach for the door knob. My legs start shaking, the palms of my hand start to form sweat, and my heart starts to beat like crazy.

"Y/N?" A voice called out to me, I turned around to see Hailee behind me. I dropped my hand down and faced her properly, wiping the sweat off my hands and nervously smile.

"Hailee, Hi!" I greeted her, nervously smiling at her "Quick question, what's in this room?" I asked her. It was a very straightforward move but I was so curious, Hailee looks at the door and furrows her brows and looks back to me.

"It's just a storage room, very boring stuff there. Nothing interesting." Hailee says nonchalantly as if it's not bothering her just one bit, all of the chaos in my brain stopped for a bit and it felt like the skies cleared in my brain.

"Oh! I see, it looks very creepy from my end that's all and I was just super curious what lies behind that door." I said, Hailee laughs and pats my shoulder giving it a squeeze.

"It's nothing, Y/N. Now you go get some rest, we got important things to discuss tomorrow, work related." Hailee says, being serious this time around and walks away from me. I didn't say a word and just nodded, cause if I speak the conversation will last for a life time. I glanced at the door and then left and went back to my room.

Three o'clock am, hours later.

I opened my eyes, my throat was dry and I start to cough. I am feeling a little thirsty and I want to drink a glass of water, cause who hasn't had that moment when you wake up in the middle of the night and you want to drink a glass of water.

I got out of bed and left my room, heading downstairs to grab a glass of water. As I walk down the halls of her house again, my eyes dart the room in the dark hallway and I noticed something. The door is barely open and I can see light coming out, the light is red. 

Wait... No... What the fuck? This better be a prank. I swallowed hard and reached for the door, slowly opening it. I gasped at what I saw, I couldn't believe my eyes "What the hell." I whispered to myself as I slowly make my way inside the room. The room looks like it's from those fifty shades of grey movies, it had ropes and chains. This made me freeze, could this be Hailee's secret? The secret that she's been hiding from the general public? Jackie probably might be right all along, God I am so oblivious- But I don't care I am still  standing for what I said and at the same time shocked.

"Y/N." I heard Hailee's voice, it sounds so stern and serious. I can tell that my job is on the line with this one, I turned around and saw Hailee in an oversized Daytona shirt leaning against the door frame. "Hailee, I can explain." I said as I put my hands up as if I was caught by the authorities. Oh god this is it... I am gonna lose my job, Hailee didn't say a word she just closed the door behind her and walked up to me.

"I think I should be the one who needs to do the explaining." Hailee tells me, putting my hands down Hailee takes a deep breath and looks into my Y/E/C colored eyes in a very sincere and serious manner. 

"I know that this is shocking to you but yes... This is what's inside the room in the dark hallway. I know that this isn't typically what you'd see from someone like me but yeah... This is the secret I have been hiding from people like my friends and family." Hailee explains with sincerity in her eyes, all I can do now is just listen to her explanation. I though the secret in question was something  very controversial, but this... This isn't even controversial or anything. "Y/N, I totally understand if you seeing this will make you change the way you think about me and if you want to quit your job I understand-"

"Hailee." I said, finally speaking up after she explained everything. "I didn't know that you'd be into this." I continued, looking at the array of whips, collars, and cuffs on the wall and back to her. "Do you do this with anyone or?" I ask her. 

Hailee simply shook her head "No, I haven't." Hailee admits to me, she pulls me in close to her our faces inches away from each other. "I haven't..." Hailee repeats, moving a strand of hair away from my face. My heart starts to beat like crazy already, I am stuck and frozen and all I can do is nod "And I want to do this with you first..." Hailee admits once again. 

"Do you trust me, Y/N?" Hailee asks me, the silence in the room is loud and the only thing I can hear is her breathing and my heartbeat. I don't know what to say at this point and at the same time I want to do it, so I responded to Hailee's question by nodding.

"No, sweetie... I want you to say it... Use your words." Hailee says, this time she caresses my cheek. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes shut, and cleared my throat "Y-yes..." I responded. A smirk forms on Hailee's face hearing that one word come out of my mouth "Good girl." She whispered, pulling me in for a heated kiss.

The way her lips crashed against mine made me melt, it felt like an out-of-body experience for me. I gave in and kissed her back, letting out moans between the kiss as Hailee deepened the kiss. She chuckles between the kiss, running her hands down my body as she pulls me closer to her "You are so responsive Y/N." Hailee mutters, trailing kisses down from my jawline to my neck. I let out a moan as I felt Hailee slide her hand inside my shirt, caressing my bare skin,

"Can I?" Hailee asks me, tugging the hem of my shirt. 

"Please." I begged.

Hailee smirked, she then proceeded to take my shirt off, so it was just me and my pajama pants "God you're so breathtaking... You look like a Goddess..." Hailee praises, grabbing a hold of my breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze making me moan. Hailee smirks at my response as she kisses my neck, kneading my breasts "I love how responsive you get when I touch you, Y/N." Hailee mutters as she pins me down the bed, her grip on my wrist isn't firm but is sure to hold me down. She gets on top of me and starts to straddle me, she reaches for the cuffs on her bedside drawer putting them on me "Is this okay?" Hailee asks as she adjusts the tightness of the cuffs on me "I want you to be honest with me, okay? I don't want to do things you're not comfortable with, darling." Hailee says once again, reassuring me. 

I look up at her and nod in response "Yes." I say, feeling comfortable with the grip of the cuffs, feeling the cool metal against my skin.

"Good girl..." Hailee nods, kissing my lips once again and then her lips trailed down from my lips, to my neck, down to my chest. She takes one of my nipples and sucks on it, swirling her tongue around it making me gasp and moan as I feel a familiar heat forming between my legs "Oh God..." I quietly moaned feeling her tongue on my nipples, Hailee looked up at me as she runs her fingers on the waistband of my pajama pants "Please, Hailee..." I begged, fully surrendering to her.

Hailee pulls down my pants and underwear in one go, tossing it aside along with the pile of clothes on the floor. Hailee looks down and bites her lower lip seeing the sight of my wet core "You're already wet, Y/N." Hailee says, stripping her clothing in front of my eyes and showing off those nice abs she has.  She spreads my legs open, caressing my inner thighs making me whimper "Whats your safe word?" She asks, lowering herself between my legs.

"Safe word?" I ask her back.

"Yeah, give me your safe word..." Hailee responds, I know a thing or two about safe words thanks to mistakenly reading a paragraph from Fifty Shades of Grey at a Barnes and Noble. 

I just look into her eyes and I swallow hard "Lamp post." I said, I didn't know what safe word to tell Hailee but thats my safe word. Hailee chuckles and looks at me again "Lamp post it is, just relax okay? It's just you and me..." Hailee says in a reassuring tone, kissing my inner thighs.

I let out a sharp gasp as Hailee's tongue licked my wet folds up and down, those gasps turned into moans and whimpers that echoed around the bedroom. The way Hailee's tongue moves is a whole other level, making me moan more and more "Hailee... Oh fuck... Y-yes..." I moan out, rocking my hips back and forth for more pressure.

"Y/N, you taste so good... Where have you been all my life?" Hailee mutters, sliding two fingers in and out of my entrance as her tongue flicks my clit making me moan more and crave her more and more. "Hailee.. Please... d-don't stop..." I moan out, Hailee smirks as she picks up her pace to the point I am squirming under the sheet of the bed.

"You like that? How does it feel to be used like this?" Hailee asks, curling her fingers inside me as she kisses my neck, picking up the pace of her fingers inside my wet heat. All I can do is just nod, I can't form any words on how I am lost in the pleasure of her fingers "Y-yes... It feels so good..." I manage to respond, looking into her hazel eyes underneath the red light of the room. 

Sweat starts to drip down my forehead, my body is glistening in sweat as well as Hailee continues to finger me. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge already, my walls start to tighten around her fingers each thrust Hailee makes.

"Hailee... I'm close..." I said, letting out a series of whimpers and moans, Hailee leans closer into my ear, nibbling on it "Thats what I want to hear... Cum for me y/n..." Hailee whispers.

I arched my back, letting out a gutteral moan and screaming Hailee's name out in pleasure. My whole body starts to shake and tremble due to the amount of pleasure Hailee has given to me, Hailee looks at me and slowly pulls her fingers out of my entrance.

Her fingers are coated in my juices and she takes them in her mouth sucking them clean, letting out a satisfied moan "Y/N... You taste so good..." Hailee says, pressing her lips against mine as I taste myself on her tongue. "But I am not done with you just yet, darling," Hailee says.

I watch her get off the bed and retrieve a strap-on from her closet which made my eyes widen in shock, Hailee smirks at me as she teases my folds with the tip of the strap-on "Have you ever been fucked with a strap-on before?" She asks me. 

I respond with shaking my head "N-no..." I said, my face all red and flustered which made Hailee chuckle. "You're so adorable, Y/N. Just relax... You'll probably love it." Hailee says, I let out a gasp feeling the girth of the strap-on inside me making my eyes roll back.

"So tight..." Hailee whispers, she starts to move her hips back and forth slowly but surely making me let out more whimpers and moans. I turn away to stiffle out my loud moans but Hailee gently grabs my face, looking into my eyes as she picks up the pace "That's it, baby... Look at me... God you're so sexy whimpering and moaning for me..." Hailee says, pulling me in for another heated and passionate kiss, hitting my sweet spot repetitively making me moan between the kiss.

I can feel myself getting close once again, my heart rate starts to go insane as she continues to thrust in and out of me "H-Hailee..." I whimpered out as my walls tighten around the strap-on "I'm gonna- I- I can't..." I manage to say. My eyes widened as I climax for the second time tonight, I start to pant and shake due to the intensity and amount of pleasure Hailee has given me. Good thing she is very gentle and started to slow down her pace, Hailee kisses my neck and jawline as her movements start to slow down "Shhh..... It's okay.... You did so well, y/n...." She praises me slowly pulling the strap-on out of my wet core, removing it and tossing it aside. Hailee then takes the handcuffs off of me and I can finally move my arms and wrists.

Hailee then lies down next to me "Come here." Hailee says, gesturing for me to come a little bit closer. I move a little closer to her and she pulls the sheets up to cover our naked bodies, she wraps an arm around me and we look at each other for a while "How do you feel?" She asks me. It took me a second to respond and collect my thoughts, I just cant believe that I just had sex with my boss but not just any boss, it's Hailee Steinfeld we're talking about here.

"I... It just felt like... like..."

"Like a volcano?" Hailee asks me, a smirk forming on her face. God this woman...

I chuckle in response, nodding at Hailee's statement "Yeah... Like a volcano..." Hailee and I stayed like this for a while, she drifted to sleep and I just looked at her and I followed suite, resting my head on her chest feeling her heart beat.

[the-phoenix-heart]

okay so I've been spending a lot of time thinking about Harry Potter recently and trolling the wiki for reasons and I have the weirdest observation about the series.

What is JKR's deal with Ravenclaw women?

I mean consider our main Ravenclaw girls: Luna Lovegood and Cho Chang (and Marietta Edgecombe). Luna in the movies is portrayed as whimsically queer, and that's not inaccurate to the books, but in the books she is more often a punchline than anything. She's a parody of the Ravenclaw ideals of creativity and openminded-ness to the point where she believes crazy conspiracy theories.

But she's our most positively portrayed Ravenclaw. Which is more than I can say for Cho and Marietta. Cho is portrayed as a pitiable character, someone so emotional and loyal that she is sympathetic, but the narrative portrays her overemotional nature and loyalty as bad traits. She's so emotional she'll blow up over perceived threats, and dwells on trauma, and it makes her a drag to talk to. And her loyalty is a bad thing because she chooses to be loyal to Marietta. Marietta is ESPECIALLY treated awfully. Marietta is scared for her mother's job that she rats out the DA and for her choice she is forever branded a traitor at 16, and this is completely justifiable. Like, if Hermione can jinx a paper to disfigure a person's face than couldn't she just jinx the paper to make it physically impossible to reveal the DA, except perhaps under the influence of veritaserum? Like the film did? But no, Hermione is instead more preoccupied with punishing than preventing (an insane thing for me to say, I'm sorry Hermione it's not your fault that your author is kinda insane about women).

(And just as a sidebar but Marietta is also given an illustration that makes it clear she was kinda ugly before the pimples which is so rude, but also so like JKR.)

Then you have very minor characters like Padma who are just generally portrayed as kinda bitchy. Padma gets off better than her sister in terms of being treated as bitchy, but it seems like Padma always carries the stigma of being disappointed by Ron at the Yule Ball.

But this goes back even FURTHER, to the oldest Ravenclaw student we are introduced to, Helena Ravenclaw.

In the films, again, Helena's scene with Harry is haunting. She's treated with respect and tragedy (almost all of the dialogue in the film is original). But in the books, yes we actually get her tragic backstory, but she is portrayed as haughty, vain, and prideful.

You can also add in Trelawney there as a Ravenclaw who is treated like a joke (crazy* and alcoholic).

And consider that the two women we know were almost in Ravenclaw, Hermione and McGonagall, end up going to Gryffindor and are portrayed as better off for it.

And like there is more to explore here. The four Ravenclaw men we really get to know are Filius, Ollivander, Xenophilius, and Lockhart. Xenpohilius is a conspiracy theorist (and a death eater sympathizer I just know it) and Lockhart is a buffoon who only really upholds the Ravenclaw wit and is skilled at memory charms.

(There's this crazy part of the Ravenclaw wiki page that actually compares Lockhart to Cho Chang because they both wanted to be popular. WHAT.)

Meanwhile you have Ollivander who is a positive Ravenclaw character, but is also barely in the books and Filius Flitwick. And Filius is a positive character but it is also canon that the Sorting Hat almost put him in Gryffindor, which seems like a pointed attempt to make it clear he's better than most Ravenclaws. Because he's got something of a Gryffindor edge to him.

I don't really know what the whole point of me going on this rant was about, other than just to point out that JKR is weird about Ravenclaws and the women in general. Almost all of them aren't allowed to actually uphold the actual values of their house: Wisdom, Intelligence, Learning. The only traits they ever really uphold is Wit if they are popular and Creativity, which seems to be a nice way of saying they're crazy conspiracy theorists. The only characters that really get anything good out of the house are Minerva and Hermione, and them being hatstalls is only meant to emphasize their intelligence in comparison to their Gryffindor peers. Otherwise Ravenclaw seems to just be JKR's go to bitchy/we need a villain who isn't Slytherin house.

*When I say "crazy" in this post I am referring to how JKR treats the characters. Babbling, loony, conspiratorial, and not in their right minds.

[literaila]

this is alarming 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: you consider yourself a generally unlucky person, but when you meet peter parker it becomes even more apparent that the universe hates you. 

warnings: mean peter, mean reader, coworkers, angst (?), working, jameson

a/n: this is part one because i wrote 10k and decided that tumblr wasn’t going to put up with me any more. next part will be out later tonight, or tomorrow. 

*

you always set seven alarms in the morning. 

it's often that your alarm clock falls behind the nightstand, often that you shut it off without a moments notice--eyes closed, dreaming dreams you can never remember. it's often that you don't hear anything at all. 

only the sound of a groan escaping your mouth when you pick up your phone and see that you're two hours late for work. 

the first alarm is to be snoozed; almost an hour and a half before you need to wake up. 

the second alarm is for the dreams to muffle, to hear the sound but pretend that it's only a figment of your imagination. 

the third is for stirring. 

the fourth is to open your eyes and feel some haze snap them immediately shut. if you can't open your eyes, why should you even bother to wake up? 

the fifth is for shivering into the covers. your temperature hasn't regulated, and if your bed wasn't so welcoming, you probably wouldn't still be in it. 

it's usually by then that you've pushed the alarm clock off of your nightstand, and that it rests under the bed, collecting dust. 

you've tried moving it to the other side of the room, but even seven alarms weren't enough to get you up. 

so there it remains, ready to be picked up whenever you are graced with the opportunity to really notice it. 

the sixth alarm is to think. wonder to yourself what you're supposed to be doing right now, if you need to shower, smell your own sweat from restless sleeping, and consider the possibility of never waking up at all. 

you usually get caught in these thoughts, and your eyes still don't want to open. 

the seventh alarm is the one you get up to if you're lucky. it's the one that pushes you out of the bed, onto the floor and laughs when it sees the bruises you have from falling. 

and it doesn't really matter when you wake up, or when you get to work. 

there's a bitter taste in your mouth, and it's not just morning breath. 

*

it usually rains on the days you walk to work, and conveniently you've never really learned how to open an umbrella properly--proven by the stack of broken ones you keep hidden somewhere in a closet--so there's no hiding from the drizzle of the sky. 

sometimes you wonder if the earth is mad at you. if whatever deity controls all of this thinks that you're making a mistake. 

a mistake��every time you wake up in the morning, and suddenly feel the courage to move your limbs. 

it doesn't matter though. you have an extra pair of clothes in the ridiculously large bag you always carry around. 

there might be a first aid kit in there, a water bottle, a lighter, and many other things that you only realize you need when you don't have them. 

your relationship with this bag is the longest one you've ever had. and it's beginning to fray at the edges, not unnoticed by you. 

still, as soon as you get to work--only fifteen minutes late--you hide in one of the bathroom stalls, cursing when you accidentally drop your clean clothes onto the floor. 

you try not to think about bacteria, or who's walked in this bathroom before you. 

and if you weren't already late--and if you cared a little bit more--you might try and deal with your hair, but today, you settle for dripping it out over the sink and ignoring the woman who walks by behind you, giving you a look you can't miss in the mirror. 

you ignore all of it, at this point. 

*

when you got this job as an editor at the bugle--known for crazy conspiracy theories and adamant headlines, or pictures of spider-man--there was only one desk available. 

it's hidden in a little alcove of the space. a corner you have just to yourself--and it would be nice, you're sure, if there was any actual lighting or an outlet that worked anywhere within the eight-foot vicinity. and also if the ceiling would quit leaking almost right above your desk. 

you didn't complain when betty showed you it on your first day. you figured that after ten job interviews and six very strange first days, you didn't have any room left to complain. and you wouldn't be surprised if this only lasted three days. 

but it was supposed to be safer than stocking shelves at target--which, coincidentally, had no more shelves--or passing out flyers for local offices in the middle of the street. or even working at annie's flowers where everything was supposed to be beautiful and nurturing, but you were pretty sure you still needed stitches from all the thorn pricks you'd endured.

this was an office job. this was reading and writing and hoping to avoid the available eyes of everyone else--or a helicopter crash into the side of the building. 

what could go wrong, you'd thought, smiling at betty and thanking her for showing you around. 

and then you grabbed the nearest file on the desk, stained with something that looked like tears. you never said a word about your desk or the discomforting smell that came from the exposed pipes on the wall. 

you'd managed to last seven months at bugle, so far. seven months of laughing at grammatical errors and wincing at headlines with puns that even you couldn't have come up with. 

you fixed things and stayed out of everyone's way. 

and then you went home, running to avoid the rain, or trying to catch the subway before it left. 

you sat on the couch and watched the news, eating a sandwich or whatever you could find in the fridge that hadnt already rotted. 

you hadn't put the pictures up, and you didn't think you were going to. even though you'd been living in this apartment for more than a year, and it had been three since any of that mattered. 

you were lucky to have this life, you reminded yourself. and you sat at your tiny desk, reading about fates that were far worse than yours. 

*

there were at least twenty pairs of eyes on you when you opened the door. the hinges squeaked as you closed it, and you almost squeaked when you realized that everyone else--everyone--was already in there. 

all sitting down, all giving you confused looks. 

and you swore that the email about this mandatory "morale" meeting--an excuse for jameson to talk about failures for the month--said eight-thirty. 

you were absolutely sure of it. 

but as you lean against the wall because there aren't any chairs left, after whispering a soft apology, it was clear that you were very wrong. 

or maybe you'd been sent a typo that no one else received. or they forgot to put you on the forward list again, and there was no way for you to know that the time had changed to eight. 

or maybe you just couldn't read. 

it didn't matter, because after about fifteen seconds, the lecture resumed and the eyes left your sullen and guilty face. 

you couldn't listen to anything else you were supposed to be paying attention to for the next thirty minutes. 

your feet ached, and your head hurt, and every two minutes your stomach grumbled. and then you were thinking about breakfast. you were thinking about quitting this job so you didn't have to see any of these people ever again. 

and whatever jameson was ranting about, it probably didn't apply to you. 

still, it got worse when you began to doze off--who knew drywall could be so comfortable--only to wake up to people passing you, pushing you with glares in their eyes. 

"hey, cathy," you nodded, giving her a reckless smile and waving. you’d never shared a proper conversation with the older woman. you definitely did not hear her scoff as she walked by. 

and as soon as the crowd of your coworkers had cleared the room, you were sighing, hand to your head, and then promptly tripping over a leg of a chair someone didn't push in. 

a hand wrapped around your shoulder, awkward and warm, as someone pulled you toward them, keeping you from falling. 

"are you sick?" a rough, low voice whispered, not quite in your ear but not quite far enough away for you to feel comfortable. 

with the grace of a drunk elephant, you attempted to stand on your own two feet, trying to find your balance without flailing your arms. 

"what?" you croak out, trying to laugh this furious heat off of you. 

"you came in late, and now you're falling over. also, you feel a little warm." 

"i thought the meeting started at eight-thirty, and there was a chair," you say to this man, pushing the damn chair back in. "plus--" and then you look up. 

peter parker, with his signature furrowed brows and lip bite, stands there, looking at you. 

well, that explains the heat.

"oh, um--" you scratch at the back of your neck, going for a pleasant smile. "hey, peter. thanks for... not letting me split my head open." 

"do you want me to call you a cab?"

"why?" 

"you don't have a car right?" peter says, eyes clearly saying are you serious?

"i-- no?" 

"you probably shouldn't walk home then. you're already having trouble standing.” 

you blink. "i'm really not sick," you tell him, trying to sound stern or serious or anything but flustered. "it was an accident." 

he holds intense eye contact with you, barely blinking. "you sure?" 

you nod. it doesn't feel necessary to tell him that this happens a lot. 

"okay. well, jameson wanted me to talk to you about the jenson project. which he wants us to do together." 

"oh. how come?" 

"apparently 'partner work' is a strong selling point. i'd just send you some pictures to fit into an article. you'd have to--" he purses his lips. 

"mess with them?" you ask, trying to be helpful. 

"sure. jameson said he wants it to be nice and shiny for next weeks release. i thought maybe we could work on adding the pictures together, just so i know if i need to change anything." 

"like photoshop?" 

peter nods. "or if there's anything you have questions about. i was there taking the photos so i got a lot of the interview too."

"yeah, okay. i'm just working on a couple of footnotes for this week right now, so i'm not sure when i can--" 

"how's thursday?" 

you try not to flinch at his tone. certain but soft. his eyes, you think, might be the most terrifying thing you've ever seen up close. 

clearly, peter is not very interested in any of this. or maybe he's a strict rule follower and is holding a grudge against your lack of punctuality. 

"thursday works," you tell him, dropping your somewhat regular smile. 

"great. we can work at your desk or mine, it doesn't matter to me. or we can go get coffee to escape the office for a couple hours. just let me know."

and then he's walking away, pushing in a chair as he goes with a look back to you, and you've barely even comprehended what he just said. 

or the fact that he didn't let you answer him. 

"okay," you say, in a whisper, but you're just talking to the wall. 

last to come, you think, and last to leave. 

*

here's the thing about peter parker. he's not known for being the friendliest of coworkers. 

he's pleasant enough, gets all his work done, doesn't snap at people when they make mistakes and doesn't finish the coffee in the breakroom without brewing another pot. 

and since you've been there, you've learned--mostly from eavesdropping--that he's been working here for three years. that he's taken lead photographer out of many qualified candidate's hands and only responded with a smirk. that he's supposed to be a genius, comes into work with bruised knuckles sometimes--which your coworkers gossip endlessly about--and jameson is either constantly praising the man, or degrading him.

he doesn't go to office parties, he doesn't respond to emails. peter practices something you like to call "every man for himself." 

and he doesn't ever smile. 

trust that you should know. because, you'll admit, when you first got there, it was hard not to notice peter. 

first of all, he's very tall, strong, and kind of brooding. he takes up fifty percent of the office space alone. 

but he's also insanely attractive. blessed with thick hair and glorious eyebrows and cheekbones that put knives to shame. his eyes are soft and his lips are plump and he is a certified asshole. 

or at least something like it, everyone knows. including you. 

but for at least the first two weeks you couldn't avoid staring at his pursed lips or snorts when someone said something particularly obnoxious--usually jameson--or the way he tapped his wrist incessantly, like he was counting down time. 

peter parker makes for a very suitable work distraction. 

but as soon as you talked to him for the first time, you realized that he was a pretty, intelligent man.

you'd stumbled into the breakroom and dropped whatever semblance of a lunch you were going to pretend to eat that day, and peter was sitting at one of the tables watching. 

he didn't have anything to eat, just a cup of coffee and a bitter look on his face. 

you'd smiled sheepishly, picking up your now tarnished food, and swallowing. "i wasn't that hungry anyway," you'd said aloud, mostly because you weren't thinking clearly at the time. 

peter didn't say anything back, not acknowledging the sarcasm or your lost lunch, he just stared. 

and then you held a hand out to him. "hi, i don't think i've introduced myself. i'm y/n, a new editor." 

peter blinked, looking at your hand, then back to your face. "peter," he said, giving you a small wave. 

and then he turned his attention back to the mug in front of him, leaving your hand in the air, radiating embarrassment. 

you cleared your throat and left the room, deciding to get more work done instead of worrying about it. 

you'd sort of assumed--recklessly--that he would be charming. that he might smile at you, welcome you to the team, tell you that if you needed anything he was there. maybe it was his face, you'd thought. soft and knowing. 

but peter wasn't there for anything but the money, and gradually, he became just another grim coworker, watching the clock until five every day. 

and that was probably good for you anyway, because as angry or numb as peter already was, you didn't want to inflict anything bad on him, as you might've if he'd just smiled at you. 

and if you overheard the clique of middle age ladies talking about him during lunch, you didn't say anything. didn't smile or laugh, or try to pretend like you weren't listening. 

you kept your conversations with him short and tried to stay out of his way. 

but apparently, he was going to get in yours. 

*

you really don't even notice him when he walks up to your desk. 

it's not your fault that you didn't get much sleep last night, being that your neighbors--right next to your bedroom--were fighting all night long. slamming doors and throwing things that shattered when they hit the floor. 

and then they'd start screaming again. 

you'd attempted to drown them out, only just barely dozing off when some other loud noise would wake you right back up. 

you'd considered putting your headphones in and playing white noise, but with your luck, that would last all night into the next day, and your seven alarms would be pointless. 

so you laid there, trying not to eavesdrop on the fight they were having, or think about your own voice yelling, screaming, and then going completely silent. 

and now, you were nursing a cup of coffee, blinking at the computer screen like it was a puzzle. 

and peter had come up to your desk--made the effort to venture almost across the office to your little cave--and you didn't see him there.

you didn't see anything until he cleared his throat, tapping his foot against the floor like an angry mother, and you finally looked up. 

looked up to threatening eyes and a frown. 

and peter parker, because of course he was there, at this very moment. 

"hi, peter. what-- what's up?" 

he blinks at you. you blink back, though significantly slower. 

in the past two days, you had avoided any and all eye contact with him and accidentally forgot to look at the email he had sent you with some files attached. you also conveniently learned that jameson was disappointed with his last set of pictures, and that was probably why he'd forced the two of you to work together. 

it didn't really matter. 

"it's thursday," peter answers, dryly, after several moments of uncomfortable silence. 

you look away, searching for any other person that could talk to him instead of you. "was that a question?" 

"we have a date," he says, a bit harsher. 

you couldn’t avoid leaning back at his voice, nor noticing the wince that fell upon his face as soon as he said it. 

"er," peter clears his throat. "we're supposed to work on the jenson article today. are--do you have amnesia?" 

"huh?" 

"or some other medical condition," peter continues, "that would cause you to forget about the one article you have to edit this week?" 

briefly, you want to ask how he knew that it was your only article, and why he was allowed to judge your work ethic when his was "consume coffee like blood and scare away any person who tries to speak." 

you try not to laugh at the idea of vampire peter. 

instead, you mumble "just a severe mental deficiency," under your breath and pinch the skin of your thigh, just to wake you up some more. 

"what?" peter says, still frowning at you.

you sigh. "look, peter, i'm sorry. i haven't even looked at the article yet, or any of your pictures. i've been busy. but if you just want me to finish it myself i can--" 

peter holds a hand up, telling you to stop without asking nicely. 

you almost scowl at the very idea of it. 

"no," he says, like it physically pained him to do so. "i need this--jameson wanted us to work through it together. as an actual collaboration." 

you're very grateful that he's explaining this to you. 

"i'm not going to tell him," you say, voice rough.

"you can read it and figure out where you want the pictures and the description for them while i edit some of them. i was rushing when i did it last week." 

"um... okay. are you sure?" 

"we can't work here," peter responds, instead of answering the question. "there's barely enough room for just you." 

"...yeah." 

"my desk is a mess," peter says, more to himself. "we can go to the coffee shop a block away." 

you squint at him. "are you sure? 'cause we could always go to the starbucks on fifteenth, or we could just skip it and head to tipsy's." 

you're just briefly aware that your sarcasm is not coming across well, and that you probably shouldn't have said that, nonetheless to peter parker, who already hates you enough. 

to be fair, he hasn't asked you about any of these decisions.

"i'm going to go get my bag," peter grinds out. "i'll meet you by the elevator." 

*

the only thing keeping you sane while you sit across from peter is the latte that you've been chugging for the past three minutes. 

as soon as you got there, peter had ordered some tea that you didn't know the name of, picking the table for the both of you, and before you could even sit down he was frowning at his computer. 

he hasn't bothered to say anything to you, so you don't bother to say anything to him. 

still, you look up every couple of minutes, wondering what he could possibly be so worried about. 

luckily--ha--this article is reasonably proofread. you only have to fix a couple of jumbled sentences and reread a couple of paragraphs because you can't really focus.

it's about half an hour after you've both been working that you get tired of it. 

collaborating with peter by staring at your computer and hoping that the pleasantries, or nice relationship you've been craving for the past six months will manifest itself into existence. 

he's right there, you think to yourself, and he's an ass sometimes but so are you. 

and it's not like you get the opportunity to talk to a lot of people at work. 

you clear your throat. "the pictures are good," you tell him as if this is new information. 

you've known about peter's affiliation with photography since your second day. 

the man just grumbles out a thanks, not even bothering to look up and acknowledge you. 

you have a tight smile on your face. "are you still editing them, or can i start asking you where you think they should go?" 

"you finished already?" 

there's some emotion in his voice that you don't recognize, but there is still the obvious disdain that you're becoming very comfortable with. 

"i'm a fast reader," you tell him. "was that a no?" 

peter finally looks up, face blank. "i'll send you the updated ones. do you want me to add them in where i think they'd work, or just tell you where to do it?" 

you'd really like to never have to have a one-on-one conversation with him again, but that doesn't really seem like an option right now. 

"how about i put them in and you blink twice if you think it's stupid." 

peter does not crack a smile. he doesn't even blink. 

you try to hide another sigh. "go ahead and put them in." 

and so you wait five minutes for the internet to catch up to him and silently curse jameson for subjecting you to this. 

your latte is almost gone. 

"okay, you can go through it," peter tells you eventually, returning to something else on his computer. 

you scroll through it, beginning to write descriptions for each of the photos--which really are beautiful. and bright, almost too good for the bugle. 

but you're a bit bored, and a bit delirious. 

"can i ask you something?" 

peter looks up at you, classic furrowed brows, and then back to his computer, grunting. 

you're assuming that it means yes, but if he's not going to use his words like a big boy, then he'll have to deal with the consequences himself. 

"how do you get the pictures of spider-man?" 

"with my camera." 

you can't tell if he's kidding or not.

"no, i mean, how do you get such good quality? he's always moving around, and quickly, so i'd assume it would be pretty difficult..." 

he frowns. "it's just some angles and flash," peter answers. "honestly, it's less complicated than you think. they're not all good, i go back and edit them." 

"yeah, but still." 

peter shrugs, and looks down again. 

"have you ever actually spoken to him?" you continue, still sizing pictures, still writing descriptions. 

but you'll be damned if peter sits there in silence for another minute. 

he sighs. "yeah, couple times." 

"really?" 

peter nods. 

"is he nice?" 

peter frowns. "'is he nice?'" 

"yeah. i mean, i've heard lots of stories and read the articles--obviously--but i've never met him. is he... a good guy?" 

"he keeps people from dying on the daily, and you're asking if he's got a good moral compass?" 

you almost scowl, looking up to find brown eyes studying you. and then you shake your head. "i just find it hard to believe, i guess. i can't imagine--" you pause, shrugging. look away from peter's intimidating eyes. 

"you can't imagine what?" 

"just... doing that every day and being okay. i mean, he sees people get hurt all of the time, and he's supposed to be okay with that? that's a lot of mental energy. what if he's helping someone that he knows? or what if he can't help? not to mention the physical aspect..." 

peter closes his computer, taking a breath. "are you good with the photos?" he asks. 

"what?" 

"i need to get back to the office and talk to jameson about some stuff. do you need anything else from me?" 

peter is stiff and scowling. you shouldn't be surprised, but he also just shut down the first actual conversation you've ever had with him. 

"oh, no. no, i'm okay. thanks." 

"okay. i'll see you later." 

peter packs up his stuff, and doesn't bother to look back at you while he walks out the door. you're not sure what you did this time--besides just generally existing--but you groan, hands rubbing at your eyes. 

you're too tired for this. you're too exhausted to be talking to peter parker, who doesn't talk to anyone. 

you sigh and look back to the article. 

and then you spill what's left of your coffee, watching as it drips to the floor. 

*

you're trying not to move. 

even breathing, you think, is moving. so you hold your breath for as long as you can bare it, counting by tens, thinking about all the reasons you shouldn't need air. 

but eventually, your body gasps for you. 

your body moves because it can't think the same as you can, it can't hold that same guilt. 

you know that if you don't move--not even a millimeter--nothing bad can happen. the dominos won't fall if there's nobody to push them over. 

you're laying in bed completely still. 

you're thinking about all of the mistakes you made, all of the unfortunate things you've caused to happen, and it causes enough fear to turn you to stone. 

you'd be a statue. you know if you could choose that, you would.

what do you want to be when you grow up? 

clay. 

you'd choose being cemented in concrete than ever having to look your own luck in the eyes again. 

you count by tens until you fall asleep. 

and you dream of things that have already happened. 

*

when you show up to work on monday, soaking wet, there's already a cup of coffee on your desk. 

you try and think back to friday--which was lifetimes ago, really--and remember if you left it there. but you stayed in the office on friday, contemplating putting in your two weeks or throwing your computer across the room. you didn't go out for coffee. 

and when you pick up this disposable cup to smell it, you can feel the steam on your face. 

it's warm. 

you look around the room, searching for someone who might've left this on your desk--even though you're literally hidden from every common eye--but can't find anyone who looks particularly tired this morning. 

and there are only four people in the office as of now. 

so you wait ten minutes, and then fifteen, ready for someone to come up to your desk at any moment and accuse you of stealing their coffee. 

this would not be a surprising occurrence. 

but even after twenty minutes, no one does. 

you're back in your corner, alone, as per usual. 

and when you realize that the coffee is going to go cold--claimed or not--you decide to take a sip. 

and for the first time in a while, you've started the day off alright. 

*

on tuesday, jameson calls you and peter into his office. 

and, out of nothing less than familiarity, you're ready to be yelled at. you've prepared a list of snarky remarks to keep you from crying. 

and you're completely, one hundred percent ready to ignore peter. 

if he doesn't like working with you, fine. that's up to him--even though you definitely did a good job with his pictures. and if he doesn't even like you, fine. 

you can deal with that. 

what you can't deal with, of course, is standing a foot away from him in this office, feeling towered over by both of these men, who are much bigger than you. 

but you keep eye contact with jameson anyway. what else can go wrong? 

"i heard we were having some issues with the article last week," the boss starts, his voice typically unserious. 

you furrow your brows and try not to look at peter. 

he tattled on you? 

"yes," you say, instead of admitting defeat. "i was behind on editing the article, so it took a little longer than expected. but i emailed you the finished copy on thursday night." 

you don't mention that it was exactly one in the morning, and you'd been having twenty-minute naps since you got home. 

or that peter had completely unnerved you. 

"parker?" 

peter sighs, shrugging. "it gave me more time to go over the pictures. we got it in." 

at that, jameson smiles. 

you wonder if he finds peter's grumpiness as amusing as you do. or if he's just enjoying the two of you struggle to completely ignore the other. 

"good. well, seeing as it worked out--and it's some of the best work i've seen from both of you--i'd like to make it a regular arrangement." 

finally, you glance over at peter, noticing his jaw clench. 

you're not sure if it's at jameson's suggestion or his praise. 

"it's a brilliant idea, having the photographer and editor working together. parker, you've got some fine pictures, but you're no writer. and obviously, she is." 

you don't tell him that you feel anything but. 

jameson chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. "i know, i know, it's more work for both of you. and more interaction. but it's only one article a week. everything else will remain the same." 

"for how long?" peter asks, for the both of you. 

"until one of you quits, i guess. or dies." 

it's at this point that you see that there are no other options. no choices for you to consider. if peter wants to quit, he certainly can. he could get a job anywhere he wanted, any newspaper. 

but you've struggled to keep this job. you've struggled to be anywhere for more than a month. 

and despite how much you might dread the place, it's also an escape from everything else. 

so you can't leave. and you have no current plans to die. 

"alright, you can both go. shut the door on the way out. and one of you ask betty to get me a cup of coffee." 

you follow peter out, looking at the muscles in his back tense. 

and when you shut the door, he turns toward you. 

he looks even angrier, even worse than he had last week. he's not even trying to remain professional. 

"thursday?" he asks, but you know it's not a question. 

"fine." 

you go back to your desk, watching the ceiling leak onto your computer. 

*

peter decides to go back to the coffee shop. 

he orders the same tea, sits at the same table. 

and he doesn't say a thing to you. he didn't even blink when you went to his desk at nine, gesturing towards the elevator. 

but honestly, that's fine. you don't have anything to say to him either. 

except to ask what made him hate the world so much. but you don't think he'd appreciate that. 

eventually, you swallow. "so, you can put the pictures where you'd like, and then i'll write the descriptions. it'll be faster that way, and you've got a good eye." 

peter nods but he doesn't answer. 

"is there anything i need to know? anything important you want to add?" 

"about the pictures?" peter confirms, waiting for your acknowledgment. "no. about social courtesy? definitely." 

the last part is said completely under his breath, but you catch it anyway. 

catch it like a rope you're hanging onto, hoping that it doesn't slip from your fingers. 

"what?" you say, looking right at him. your hands are off of your computer. your hands might be around his throat in a couple of seconds. 

peter furrows his brows. "what?" he repeats as if he doesn't know what he's said. 

"what's your problem?"  

"my problem?" 

"yeah, with everyone. but especially me. peter, you don't have to like me, but i'd appreciate it if you could at least try and be professional. or talk to me about the work that we need to do." 

"i don't have a problem--" 

"save it. i'm sorry that jameson is making us work together, but unless you kill me, there's nothing i can do about it." 

peter sighs, running a hand through his hair. "well there's something you can do about the way you get everything done," he says, quick and sharp. 

"excuse me?" 

"is it physically impossible for you to sit still? or show up on time, or do the work that you need to do? if i have a problem with you, it's that you're not doing anything to help me, and i don't need you." 

"that's not what jameson thinks." 

the words slip from your mouth, but honestly, peter deserves the wind knocked out of his chest, just like he did to you. 

if karma is a thing, it's coming through.

it's just your luck that you'd get partnered with the one person that couldn't hate working any more. 

"jameson doesn't even read the articles," peter scoffs, "he just sits in his office and smokes cigars and bosses everyone around--" 

"then why does he want me to write your descriptions? you can't do it yourself?" 

"maybe he pities you." 

peter's eyes are sharp. his words are perfect. 

"why would he pity me?" you ask him, "because i'm an editor?" 

"because there's not a single person in the office that likes you. because disaster is attracted to you. because you can't follow directions to save your life, and you clearly have some issue with speaking up for yourself. he's probably pairing us together in some last-ditch effort to save you." 

save you. 

you take a breath in, tell your lungs that there's no air that they need. 

there's no reason to be breathing, if you think about it. 

and when you look at your hands, they're shaking. and you can't keep your eyes in one place. and you're ready to run out of there, to anywhere where peter can't follow. 

you can't admit to yourself that he's right. you can't sit still, and you can't be there for much longer. 

"you think you're better?" you ask him. "everyone in the office is scared of you. you don't have friends or anyone that likes you either." 

peter shakes his head. "i chose that." 

there's an implication there that you can't think about. there's something about his calm demeanor. 

you can almost see the ghost of a smile on his face, just like everyone had said. 

you don't have a choice about most things. but you know when to quit. 

"peter, you can talk to jameson. you can quit, or do all of it yourself. if you want to just send me the pictures and have me edit all of it, that's fine." you stand up, shoving your computer in your bag, and trying to keep your hands steady as you pick up your latte. "but if you can't treat me like a person, or a coworker," you tell him, "then i'll talk to jameson myself.”

and then, without waiting for a response, you walk out the door. 

you try not to let it hit you on the way out. 

*

peter avoids you the next day. 

or maybe you're avoiding him. 

luckily, he's gone most of the time, taking pictures and sulking in corners where you don't have to watch. 

jameson hasn't said anything about the article you submitted, and you're trying to assume that it's a good thing. 

but honestly, none of it feels good anymore. 

you know that you shouldn't let someone like peter parker get under your skin, but he has some iron grip on your brain. some cave built in your head, echoing the things he said to you yesterday. 

nobody likes you. 

disaster is attracted to you. 

it's in your nature to prove him wrong, somehow. to start gossiping with the other ladies in the office, maybe even ask one of the men out on the date--though none of them are as tall, or as pretty as peter parker, so it probably wouldn't matter to him anyway. 

you think about talking to jameson, tell him that you and peter can't work together, or that peter is an asshole, or that you would like a raise. 

you think about blackmailing peter, but you have nothing on him. (besides his obvious attitude problem). 

you want to do anything to prove to yourself that what he said isn't true. 

people can like you, and you can like yourself. 

but you know, that even if peter is just an asshole, bitter, and lots of other things you don't care to think about, he's also right. 

at least about one thing. 

disaster is attracted to you. and to the people you care about.

cared. 

you wish you could tell peter that all of those things he thinks about you aren't by choice. that you don't want to live in your cave of a desk, and you don't want to show up late to anything, or trip on chairs, or walk in the rain. 

but he'd probably just laugh. 

and anyway, he isn't there on friday. so you can't tell him any of it. 

*

on monday, it only takes two alarms to wake you up. 

and typically, you'd be proud of that. grateful for it. 

but it's cold outside, and you have to go to work. 

you'd rather be sleeping. 

rather be laying in bed than thinking about peter, or anyone else pitying you. rather do anything than think about peter and still recognize that he's smart and talented and better than you. 

so you leave your alarm clock under the bed. 

what are sick days for, if not days like this? 

*

on tuesday, you get to work early. it's not by choice, but you were running in the rain. 

you were trying to beat everyone there so that you might not have to speak to a single person all day. 

that would be nice. 

but someone is already there when you walk through the elevator doors, jacket still dripping. 

and that someone doesn't even look up, or bother to wonder where the water is coming from. 

of course, peter beat you there. 

you've never loved your desk, but it's a welcome refuge now, despite how bad it smells. you can't see him, and he can't see you. 

and you can take your jacket off over there. 

but when you sit down, there's something on your desk that you don't recognize. 

a blue hairbrush, and a candy bar next to it, wrapper somewhat wrinkled. 

on tuesday, you decide that you're officially going crazy. 

*

you try to avoid wednesday as a whole. thinking of it more as another object in your way, and something that can be ignored until it's over. 

and it works, for the most part. you eat lunch at your desk, bring coffee from home, and sneak handfuls of chocolate whenever you feel like it. 

you go through a thousand articles and decide that all of your coworkers are illiterate. 

which you don't really mean, but prefer to think anyway. 

it's about an hour before you can get home that you see the notification show up in your mail. 

a new message, most likely some coupon for h&m. 

but you see peter's name at the top, and a file attached to it. you stare at it for at least a minute. 

it could be a hate note, a notification about submitting an hr claim, a picture of a house burning with a description of "this will be you." or even a list of people that peter hates, with your name in bold. 

there are a thousand possibilities, and you don't care about a single one. 

but when you click on the link, you just open a pdf with new pictures, labeled with the title of the article for the week. 

and you're not sure what any of that is supposed to mean. 

*

on thursday, peter is at your desk again. 

in fact, he's at your desk before you are. and when you see the back of his head peering over your pens and pencils, and files that you haven't wanted to put away, your breath stops. 

he might be there to murder you. 

still, you continue to walk forward, tennis shoes squeaking, and pray that you don't accidentally trip before he's even noticed you're there. if peter is going to kill you, you might as well accept your fate. 

and then you step past him, frowning. "peter?" 

"oh, hey," he says, softly, standing up. his hands are awkwardly clasped in front of him. "you're early." 

"what're you doing here?" 

"at work?" 

"at my desk." 

peter bites the inside of his cheek. he gestures to the ceiling. "it's leaking," is all he says. 

"yeah. it rained last night. why are you here?" 

"did you tell jameson about it?" 

you don't know how to feel anything but shocked. is he waiting for the perfect moment? does he want you to get comfortable just so he can ruin it? 

"i--no, it's fine. i don't..." you shake your head, setting your bed down. "did you need something, peter?" 

he clears his throat, nodding. "are we going to work on the article today?" 

you might be gawking at him. 

"what?" 

"i just--there are some details i want to add, if you don't mind, and i think--" he stops, taking a deep breath in. "you're better at it than me, so i'd like your advice." 

there is only one thought running through your head as you stare at him. 

when did peter parker get a nicer, shyer twin? 

"what?" you say again, just because you don't know how to answer any other way. 

in fact, some part of you thinks that this might be fake. peter parker would kill you, and then you would hallucinate a different version of him that's actually talking to you. 

no trick the world might be playing on you is more surprising than the smile peter is trying to put on his face, stiff and wrong. 

he blows out a breath. "i'm sorry about last week. i shouldn't--i didn't, well. i shouldn't have snapped at you. or said any of those things. and you were right about me being unprofessional and mean, and just--" peter shakes his head. 

and then he meets your eyes. "i'm really sorry. i'd like to continue working with you, because jameson is right, and... but i understand if you don't want to. if you don't feel comfortable. i can talk to jameson, so you don't have to, or--" 

"peter?" 

he stops talking, nodding. "yeah?" 

"am i hallucinating?" 

you must be. you must be dying or something. you can't believe that you didn't notice until now, that you didn't pay attention to any of the signs, or worried over something stupid like what you should be eating for breakfast when-- 

but peter parker laughs. 

it's small and almost inaudible, but he's laughing. 

and it's not that laugh that first drew you to him all those months ago, that judgemental snort or the laughing-at-you-not-with-you chuckle you'd thought was adorable. 

this is a genuine laugh. 

you blink, because this is just another sign that you're dead. 

peter sighs. "no, i mean all of it. i'm... just sorry." 

"you are?" 

he nods, and he's still looking at you. 

"um, okay," you say, nodding your head. "yeah, we can--we'll go get coffee. but there's, um, i just have some stuff i need to finish from yesterday, so--" 

"how's nine?" peter asks, softly. 

and this time, it almost isn't an interruption. it's more of a saving grace. 

"yes, sure. nine." 

"okay," peter gives you that same fake smile, and then he turns around, leaving the cave and going back to his desk. 

you can't decide if this is a good or bad thing.

*

"you didn't have to do that," you're saying to peter as the two of you walk to the only empty table in the shop. 

conviently it's much smaller than your usual table. 

"i owe you," is all peter says. 

"not coffee." 

"it's six dollars." 

you're having a hard time deciphering his face. and his attitude. 

you're wondering if this more pleasant, sweet version of peter is going to last long. 

you're wondering how far you can push him. 

"i don't want to be indebted to you. it sets a bad precedent."

peter sighs, and he's shaking his head, and possibly rolling his eyes, but he says: "fine. next time we come you can pay." 

you're satisfied with this, at least for now, so you take a sip of your latte and open your computer. 

"which descriptions do you want to add?" you ask peter, "i already looked through all the pictures." 

"just the ones of the church, and the bank." 

"you want to add descriptions to the burned-down buildings?" 

peter doesn't seem to recognize the sarcasm, because all he does is wince and nod. 

you're frowning at his face, but you agree, letting him handle your computer so that you don't have to wait for it to update. 

peter takes a couple of minutes, writing details that you'd have no idea about, scowling all the while. 

"when'd you take these pictures?" you ask him, in the middle of it. 

"saturday before last." 

"you work on the weekends?" you raise an eyebrow at him, but he's not looking. 

"i carry my camera around. sometimes jameson asks for pictures that i can't get six days after." 

he pushes your computer back to you, nodding. immediately you start reading what he's written, trying very hard not to laugh at some of the word choices. 

most readers aren't going to respond to an acrid smell. 

but you don't tell peter this, you just change it, adding and deleting words where you see fit. 

"did you work at another journal before this?" peter asks, after a couple of minutes of silence. 

you look up at him and realize that he might've been staring at you the whole time, and you'd have no idea. he might be texting someone about how horrible you are. 

"no." 

"you started writing when you got the job?" 

"mm-hmm," you continue typing, trying to avoid peter's eyes. 

"how'd you get so good at it, then?" 

"oh, well. it's just editing, you know, not that complicated," you repeat his words back to him but feel uncomfortable at his praise, even if it is a lie, but especially if it's true. 

"you're writing all of these descriptions. jameson says i make them too complicated, or unreachable for readers." 

"jameson says that to betty when she puts cream in his coffee." 

peter almost chuckles. "that's true." 

there's a moment when you aren't sure what to say. if this is friendship, or peter pretending to be kind just so that you won't tell jameson. just so you'll keep helping him. 

but he doesn't need you. 

"well, you're a brilliant photographer, so you don't have a lot to make up for." 

"tell jameson that." 

and that third week, everything goes smoothly.

*

after the fourth week, you and peter don't need to plan when you're going to work together. four days of the week you are completely independent, editing articles and spinning around in your chair, and listening to jameson yell at people from across the room. 

but on thursdays, you and peter are partners. 

it's a regular meeting now, so you show up at the elevator at eight-fifteen and peter is already waiting there. and then you walk to the coffee shop, making small talk that isn't completely uncomfortable. 

peter asks you about your plans for the weekend--though you doubt that he actually listens to the answer. and you ask him about working at the bugle for three years, about wanting to quit every day. 

it's only when you mention something of the sort that you can get peter to smile, even a little. 

but today, as soon as you sit down, sipping on your coffee and moving hair out of your face, peter is frowning. 

but it's not his typical resting frown. 

"what did you do?" he asks, staring at your forehead. 

"hmm?" 

"to your head. what happened?" 

you touch the edge of your head, feeling the cut run up your skin, and sign. "oh. that. i fell." 

peter is blinking at you like you've removed your head from your body. 

you move your hair back, feeling self-conscious. 

"what'd you fall on? a knife?" 

it's almost a joke but peter's face is concerned, his eyes are running over yours. so you're not sure that it counts. 

"i bumped my head on the corner of a table." 

"and got a five-inch cut?"  

you roll your eyes, realizing that neither of you has taken out your computers, or actually sat down properly. "by 'bumped' i meant tripped and fell into the table and woke up a couple minutes later feeling a bit dizzy." 

peter's frown deepens. "do you have a concussion?" 

you raise a brow. "no?" 

he tilts his head, pursing his lips at you like you're a reckless child. "you didn't go to the doctor?" 

"i washed my face and put some glue on the cut." 

"it probably needs stitches." 

you just shrug. 

"does your head still hurt?" peter asks you. "are you having a hard time focusing? did you feel nauseous when you woke up?" 

you blink, laughing just a little bit, mostly because you're confused. "whoa, dr. parker, i'm fine. it happens. i'm clumsy." 

"you're reckless, you mean." 

"says the man who wears converse and a t-shirt when it rains." 

at that, peter has nothing left to say. 

*

it's maybe three weeks later that the two of you have moved on. 

way, way on. 

bypassing the small talk stage, you now make fun of peter for being knowledgable about every single thing--to avoid showing him how impressed you are--and he teases you about your abnormaly large bag, all the while trying to give you life advice, telling you that he has more experience than you do. 

he's about a year older. 

and it's comfortable now. peter doesn't joke much, but when he does, you react with nothing short of a cackle. and you've finally chided a real smile out of him, even if it's just a twitch of his lip or a wrinkle of his nose. 

peter doesn't complain about your tardiness or the strange way you like to get your work done, and you don't complain about his sour attitudes, and glares. 

well, not much, at least. 

and you're not friends--you don't think you can say that, if only because it terrifies you--but that's okay. you don't think either of you needs that, some label on a relationship that could fluctuate into something else at any minute. 

but peter is there, and you don't feel like every move you make is a mistake anymore. 

when jameson calls the two of you into his office to praise you about an article that did well or ridicule the two of you for slacking on an article that no one cares about--even though he chose the topic--well. you smile at peter, and he smiles at you. 

and if you laugh, he laughs. 

still, you notice some layer of bitterness behind peter's eyes. like he knows that he's not supposed to be here, not supposed to be laughing or smiling or working with someone that he doesn't need. 

you can see it, hear it in the way he talks sometimes. 

so you tread lightly, not talking much on those days, and only offering him suggestions that he can't turn down. 

he never snaps at you, and you don't think he's going to. 

but there's still a bit of hesitation. 

and on this particular wednesday, you're crossing out some section of an article, sighing into the paper, and trying not to listen to the creaks of your chair, when peter walks up to your desk. 

in his eyes is something curious, something you don't see very often. 

"hello, peter. is there something i can do for you?" you exaggerate the words, sort of like a warning. 

"just stopping by. wanted to make sure that our fresh meat isn't being worked too hard." 

you frown. "i've worked here almost a year." 

peter tilts his head, shaking it. his eyes display some fake show of shame. "ah. to be so naive." 

and then, without giving you another glance, he steals a pen from your desk and walks away. 

you don't know if you're supposed to call out to him. 

*

"what is that, peter?" 

he looks up from his phone, still chewing. "what?" he asks, through a mouthful of food. 

"that's your lunch?" 

"wanna bite?" he offers the protein bar to you. 

"you're surviving on that?" 

peter rolls his eyes, looking away from you. "i have a big breakfast." 

something about the way he says it makes you feel like he's lying, or hiding something, but if peter wants to lie about his eating habits--you had a bagel with butter on it this morning--who are you to judge? 

it's comforting to be sitting here, in this lonely breakroom, next to an actual person. 

it's also a bit strange because peter had said one word to you in this very room, the day you'd met. 

"do you also eat wheat and very occasionally half an egg?" 

peter bites his lip. "how do you half an egg?" 

"c'mon, you can have some of my lunch." 

you pull out a bag of chips, a sandwich, and some assortment of fruit that had been sitting in the fridge for far too long. 

peter furrows his brows. "what is that?" 

"this is a lunch, peter. say it with me. lunch." 

"i think your sandwich is rotting." 

you snort. "i don't want to hear any criticism from you, mr. ant, when you're literally eating eight grams of protein and four chocolate chips." 

"there's at least seven," he argues, and frowns. "ant?" 

"cause of your appetite." 

and then, peter almost smiles. 

*

and there's a part of you that feels the guilt seep into your skin with every breath, every almost laugh you get out of peter. 

there's that voice in your head, laughing at your stupidity, wanting to whisper threats in your ear. 

when you're home alone, you can't ignore it. 

you can't feel anything. 

you worry that sometimes, seven alarms won't be enough to wake you up. not from this foolish dream of having a friend, or just someone to talk to. 

you'll never stop being reckless, that voice says. 

you'll never stop hurting people. 

you know that you need to let peter go, right now, before you get used to his laughter and a smile with teeth. before he wonders where you've gone on days that you miss work, and can call you when he's bored. 

the last time this happened, the last time you let this happen-- 

every night you promise yourself that tomorrow. tomorrow you'll start distancing yourself. 

you'll be too busy for peter. too busy for anyone else. 

you've kept this job for longer than any other one, and you don't want to lose the familiarity. you don't want to have to leave. 

you'll be a ghost, starting tomorrow. 

*

"what do you mean?" peter says, arms crossed, glaring at you from the other side of the table. 

you're typing as you say "what do you mean what do i mean?" 

the two of you have eliminated peter's computer completely. you type descriptions, and he places them where he wants, making sure not to mess up the rest of the article. and then you read what you've written to him, and try to ignore his snide comments. 

it's a well-thought-out routine. 

thursdays might be your favorite day of the week. 

"you don't cook?" peter asks, sounding dubious. "not even pasta? or a pre-cooked meal in the oven?" 

"i save those for special occasions." 

"you just eat things you find at the store?" 

"i'm a big fan of those pre-made salads, and cans of fruit." 

peter sighs, leaning his head into his hands. 

"what?" you say, "the lack of protein bars in my diet is upsetting you?" 

"you don't cook?" peter repeats. "at all?" 

"no, peter. now will you help me--" 

"why not?" he interrupts, closing the computer. 

you sigh at him and he sighs back. 

you think that his foot might be kicking yours under the table. 

"i'm kind of a hazard in the kitchen. i don't feel like making a hospital visit every time im craving some mac and cheese." 

"you can't be that bad." 

you laugh and roll up your sleeve, showing peter the side of your arm. "see that scar? it's from when i tried to make thanksgiving dinner and burned myself trying to put something in the oven." 

peter frowns, running the tip of his finger over it while you laugh. 

you roll your sleeve back down, looking at his far too concerned eyes. "last time i tried to use a knife i almost lost the tip of my pinky." 

peter waves a hand. "that happens to everyone." 

"and i was also wearing a cutting glove." 

he closes his mouth. stares at you very intently. 

"peter, can we get back to actually finishing this article before jameson fires us both? and by fire, i mean literally burning us both alive." 

peter is still staring, apparently thinking very hard. "i'm going to cook for you," he states, shrugging finally. 

"what do you mean?" 

"my aunt taught me enough to feed you for one night." 

"peter, i meant, why would you do that?" 

"because apparently you only eat boxed food--" 

"--there's cans too--" 

"and you're already crazy. you need some actual dinner. a meal." 

"peter, you always criticize me for eating so much at lunch when you're munching on your apple or whatever--" 

"yeah, because i didn't realize that those bagged foods were the only sustenance you were getting." 

you laugh at him. "i think that's a little dramatic." 

"i don't. are you free tomorrow night?" 

something inside you screams no, violently and furious. it tells you to get up right now and leave. tells you that you shouldn't even be here, that they should. 

but the other part of you is laughing. 

"peter, i'm not letting you cook for me." 

"you think i'm a bad cook?" he challenges, just barely smiling. 

"i think you're insane." 

he mock laughs, and then holds his hand out. "give me your phone." 

"why?" 

"just do it." 

and you do, only because peter's eyes are right on yours and he's not going to let you look away. 

he takes your phone and types something in, smiling a little while he does so. and then he hands it back to you. 

"type your address in." 

"peter, i'm serious. you're not coming to my apartment to cook for me. i eat." 

"so am i," peter responds, "put it in." 

you raise a brow, refusing to lose this battle. in all honestly, you're not sure who's going to break first, because peter hates eye contact, but you hate his eyes. 

"do you want me to just ask jameson for the address listed on your file?" 

and there's something about the way he says it that makes you giggle, finally looking away. you shake your head, a bit annoyed that he's gotten this far. 

but you type your address and send it to him anyway. 

and there's only a small piece of you that regrets it. 

*

there's a knock on your door while you're pacing around. 

it's seven o'clock, and you've only had the last two hours to think about how to get out of this. you've contemplated playing sick, pretending not to be home, telling peter that there was an emergency, accidentally forgetting about this whole in the first place. 

and the only real answer you've come to is that you can't answer the door. 

work is one thing, you think, but as soon as someone is allowed to invade other areas of your life, you've got no choice. 

you need to keep peter away, and you need to start doing it tonight. 

but he's knocking at your door, and there's something about him standing there that makes you feel restless. 

insane. 

and you're not even thinking as you walk through the hallway, swearing to yourself that you're only going to make sure that it's really him. 

you're not thinking when you bump into the side table by the door, and knock over a vase that you could've sworn you moved weeks ago. a vase you shouldn't even own. 

"shit!" you're saying, as you try to catch it. 

it shatters against the floor, covering the entire walkway, and effectively trapping you from moving forward. 

maybe it's fate. 

maybe this is just another warning not to answer that door. 

but then a muffled voice says "y/n? you alright?" 

and you rap your hand against your head, feeling so stupid and unlucky. still, you call back to peter. "i'm okay. just broke a vase. let me clean this up really quick and i'll--" 

peter is frowning when he opens the door. 

and you are frowning when you realize that you left it unlocked for the last two hours. 

"don't move," peter says, quickly. "you're not wearing any shoes." 

"it's fine, peter, i'll be careful." 

"where's your broom?" he asks, meeting your eyes.

it's only then that you realize he's wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. he's standing in front of you in completely normal clothes and carrying a bag of groceries. 

"no, you're my guest and i'm not letting you pick up my mess." 

"where is it?" he repeats, softer now. 

and you want to walk over the shards just to prove a point to him--whether it's that you're fine, or that you can handle a little pain--but peter is looking at you and walking inside, trying to kick away the shards closest to your feet. 

you sigh. "there's a closet just around the corner." 

peter gives you a small smile, hand grazing over your shoulder, and then he goes to get it, unconcerned about the cracking underneath his feet. 

when he comes back and begins to sweep it up, he's almost laughing. "were you running to the door?" 

"i think i lack control over all of my limbs. i might be a robot." 

peter scoffs. "you wouldn't get hurt all of the time if you were a robot." 

"i'm realistic."

 "you're human and ridiculously uncoordinated." 

you frown at him, and peter smiles at you. he brushes the broom over your bare feet, laughing when you squirm away. and then he clears a path so you can walk forward without cutting yourself. 

"thanks," you say to him, watching shamefully as he continues to clean. "sorry, i don't mean to make you my butler." 

"i'm already cooking for you, might as well clean." 

and then peter lets you lead him inside, asking where he can dump all of the glass, and moving the grocery bag he put by the closet onto the counter. 

after a moment, he looks around, his eyes scanning the walls and the floors. 

he licks his bottom lip. "it's... nice." 

you look at him, pouting. "you don't think i'm a good interior designer?" 

"it's just a lot more empty than i thought. i figured you'd have art and sculptures, and... more." 

you don't tell him that you'd love to, that you'd love to fill this apartment with things close to your heart. you don't tell him that if anything gets that close, it's sure to be broken. 

but you smile anyway. "sorry to disappoint you, mr. parker." 

"it's just unexpected. show me where i can get a pan." 

you show him where all the necessities are, scoffing at some of the ingredients he has in the bag, and listening to him explain that it isn't his recipe, but that you still aren't allowed to criticize. 

you just nod errantly, sitting on a bar stool so you can watch him. 

and peter makes it look like a little dance, finding the things he needs in seconds, handing multiple things at once, and catching anything before it falls. 

you sigh, and peter looks over to you, questioning. "i think you stole all of the coordination i was supposed to have." 

and then peter laughs--with teeth and everything--and turns back around. "i don't think it matters much." 

and you're about to argue with him, when some timer he set beeps. 

"almost there," he says, "do you want to get some plates and forks so i can just move it onto there?" 

you nod even though he can't see it, and walk around the counter to move past him. 

but peter has ridiculously long legs, and without even noticing, you're stumbling into one of them and almost falling into peter's back. just as always though, he's quick to turn around and keep you from hitting your head on anything, including his bones. 

peter sighs and you look at him, sheepishly smiling. 

"see what i mean?" he says and then helps you stand back up. 

even when he lets go you can feel the imprint of his hands around your biceps, the taste of his laughter in the air. 

peter is in your apartment, laughing and cooking for you, taking care of you, and doing it all with a smile. 

and, god, you don't think you'll ever be able to wake up from this. 

*

part two. 

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch​ @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff​ @hollandweather​ @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan​ @valvlry​ @imthatcoolmom​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  

[moomstersnuffer]

I have some crazy conspiracy theories:

I always get this really strange, really disappointed, really let down feeling(depression am i right)when I actually stop and think about the relationship dynamics in Moominvalley. I mean, there are so many people who wholeheartedly believe in and support Snufmin but does anyone realize that if they were made canon, it would likely be more unusual and out of the norm for Moominvalley than it would be for our world of reality?

Let's start with the og crew: Moominpapa(Moomintroll's father), the Joxter(Snufkin's father), and the Muddler(Sniff's father). They were a trio of good friends going on adventures and then you look at their children and see how they too are a trio of good friends(I can't assume for two of them though...)going on adventures. Generally, I feel like Moominpapa and Joxter are the ones talked about the most and that's certainly true of Moomintroll and Snufkin as well, although we do love our Muddler and Sniff.

Then you look at what happened after their adventure days were over. They all got married(well most of them anyways) and found girls to love and had children. That's the norm. That's what's expected. That's their childrens' fate.

In the eyes of the kids who watch the show, Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden are soulmates. They’re the perfect couple. They'll end up like Moominmama and Moominpapa. And hopefully, Sniff and Snufkin will find someone too. I mean, I don't how many of you have even heard of the Snufkin and Alicia ship. I don't like it but that would be the norm...I guess. Sorry I really don't like that ship :/

It's never even implied or mentioned ever but I just feel like the unmentioned norm would be expected from like, everyone.

However, I think there’s more hope for the future now since it's now implied that Sniff doesn't really feel romantic feelings for anyone. I think it's safe to even mention that Snorkmaiden isn't a moomin like Moomintroll's parents both are(I mean it's another difference between generations to pin my delusions to)And despite that weird ship with Alicia, I doubt there's anyone on Snufkin’s radar except Moomintroll.

That brings this whole spiel to an even sadder conspiracy: Snufkin is the only one of the two who harbors romantic feelings.

I can't name certain instances because I have short term memory loss but I think this a very plausible theory. There really isn't a romantic interest for Snufkin in the series unless you count when his own step sis tried to get with him in the anime(like wtf was that?) Anyways, Moomintroll, on the other hand, has Snorkmaiden. My thing is, he either loves Snufkin platonically or he realizes he feels something more but doesn't want to break the social norm and disappoint people.

it's gotta be one of those two and since i'm a shipper I gotta lean toward the latter.

(I actually tried writing a fanfic about this a few months ago but I dropped it temporarily. I think I'll pick it up soon because I did like it I just got insecure lol)

But really all i'm doing here is throwing words in your face because I rewatched some s2-s3 episodes and got mad all over again. So yeah.

That's all I have to say today. I honestly think I say more on this site than I do in real life which is really sad but that's life these days. Nobody around to talk to about this stuff except you guys.

Thanks for reading whoever ended up reading this! I'm sorry if I left you more confused than you were before.

'Night, tumblr

[otamotone-dnp]

thoughts on the atlanta tit show/the show in general!!!

okay to start off, they’re so beautiful. oh my god. when they came out on stage for the pre show I was looking down at my phone not expecting it and their presence scared the shit out of me akskssk I jumped. phil’s eyes are so beautiful and piercing (in a good way lmao) and there was a part where he says a line by himself into a mic that was on my side of the stage and I was five rows back and I could just see his eyes so clearly. dan looked so happy and smiley and beautiful too. they look so good together!!!!

I thought the show was so well done, you could tell they thought it all through thoroughly, I can’t imagine how much planning it took. my friend who came with me has a degree in theatre and specializes in set and lighting design and she was saying how cool and well done the set was (she was giving me some info on how the screens work but I didn’t understand but it sounded kind of complicated lol)

okay now spoilers ahead:

the dolls part, oh my god. first of all, the little cardboard sets are so cute and accurate. they must have taken pj and Sophie so long to make. the “humping/fucking” part where phil makes the dolls fuck and 69 almost made me look away in like idk I felt bad almost watching that? lmao not fr but I was like Jesus dan and phil y’all are crazy and also we’re going there

I thought they did the conspiracy theories part in a classy way. we got tour bus, Vegas, and toilets. I liked the ice berg concept, it made me wonder if they’ve seen that “phandom iceberg” video somebody made on YouTube even though I don’t agree with that person’s approach to the fandom.

I thought the boxing was so well done, omg. it was so fun to watch. the clips of them before the boxing like the “hype” clips or whatever you call it were so good

seeing sister daniel on stage was iconic!! my friend leaned over to me when she came out and said “do you think he’s wearing underwear or something under there” aksksks I was like yeah, they’re just short. she doesn’t use tumblr much but I explained stuff from on here like how we got a glimpse of a little too much one time and he made them longer after that 😂 I also loved phil’s monologue while dan was changing

the song was great!! the audio cut out a few times but they’re so professional and played it off well. the dancing omfg iconic. dan was cracking me up, he gets so into it and they both did so great

there was one part where phil was forgetting a line, he kept saying “dan” where like he was meant to say it once and then say a line and he said it like three times and dan was like “yes phil” and walked closer to him, i could tell he was going to feed him the line but then phil remembered <3

during the part where they shoot the money guns at us, dan was over by my side of the stage, and the gun had like 5 bills in it and that was it ajsjsjs but he thought it was just jammed so he was like slapping it trying to get it to work and it sprung open and there was nothing in it lolol

also Dan’s pants kept like sagging down but I could tell it wasn’t intentional and he kept like trying to inconspicuously pull them up but I saw the top of his underwear at some point lol somebody help him out and get him a pair that fit better 😭

they’re so talented!!! so funny, so sweet, so beautiful. it was amazing and I’m so happy I got to go. I wish I got meet and greet but honestly it felt like a privilege to just be in the same room and be able to see them from the audience!

I have more thoughts on the parasocial/fan conceptualization of the show but it might take me a while to fully form those. I thought it struck a good delicate balance between acknowledging the damage the intense effort to out them did to them (especially dan) while also acknowledging what their fandom has done for them and how they appreciate us. also it definitely strikes a fucking delicate balance between “hard launching” and not lmao. I do think they will do that after tour, it just feels like this is what it’s leading to.

oh and I didn’t buy any merch bc I’m trying to save for Christmas and I might go on a trip in January but I loved the photocards we got in the silver VIP bag, they’re such a cute idea and I will treasure them

[roo-bastmoon]

IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF THE CULT'S DYNAMICS

Disclaimers: Sensitive topics are discussed below the cut; please do not incite drama, speak hate, or engage in bullying. I am not a mental health professional; I make no claims of expertise (in anything). This is a collection of my thoughts about what is currently happening on the Taekook side of ARMY, in the hopes that it may help us as a community respond more effectively to the toxic parts of our fandom. If you click below this cut, you are assuming responsibility for your own behavior and agreeing to engage with my blog respectfully, or you will be blocked.

THE NARRATIVES AT WORK

I submit that shipping Taekook is both an evolving conspiracy theory and a living cult.

There are various narratives within this subgroup, but in general, to ship Taekook, one must believe Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are in a closeted gay romantic relationship.

One also likely believes that their company (both BigHit and Hybe) and everyone around them have always actively hid their gay relationship.

Initially, Taekook (the “real” gay couple) was being hidden by Jikook (the “fake” gay couple) because Jikook was somehow more popular in Korea and therefore considered to be more profitable.

And this was the main narrative for years. It got Jimin dragged and hated online and in real life, to the point there was even a credible shooting threat at a concert.

Now, the narrative is being modified in light of the video footage revealed this week involving Taehyung and Jennie.

If Taekookers accept at all that Jennie and Tae were indeed photographed holding hands in Paris this week, then they likely believe both their companies are using this as a PR Relationship stunt to hide their real gay relationships before military service and comeback projects.

This belief includes:

1) assuming Taehyung and Jennie are not being honest;

2) believing Taehyung and Jungkook have no agency or power within their own companies; and,

3) all of their members and managers are also in on this nefarious plot.

Whether they believe Taennie is just cosplayers in an orchestrated smear campaign, or two actual idols in a PR Relationship, regardless, a large segment of this subgroup still believe that Jimin is the company favorite who gets special treatment.

Therefore, things that should be Taekook’s (such as songs and subunits and couple-like interactions) are instead given to the company’s king of fan service, to the point where Jimin “assaults” Jungkook with “unwanted” attention and physical contact.

THE LOGICAL FALLACIES

As amazingly popular as our Korean It Boy is, I have serious doubts about Jimin being the “company favorite” ever since Hybe took over two years ago.

As the “company favorite,” I’d love it if he got more lines in group songs, or was allowed to film as many music videos as he wanted, or could be given more than 10 days of promotion time for a project he spent a year working on. It would be stellar if the “company favorite” had in-ears that worked correctly during live broadcasts, or was invited onto IU’s show, or could host streaming parties or sell exclusive merch. To say nothing of the “company favorite” getting far more reality show appearances and magazine interviews and a Disney documentary with behind the scenes footage! Heck, I’d settle for his songs not being split on Spotify, his views not being culled on YouTube, and maybe just one congratulatory statement to the press or even just a CAKE celebrating his historic Hot 100 #1.

At least Jimin was “allowed” to include a hidden track with Jungkook (that wasn’t advertised or available to stream, so not fan service) and he was allowed to queer code his Like Crazy music video. So I believe he has some agency and say over his projects. I’m not sure he’s entirely understood or appreciated by his company—frankly, I think his potential was underestimated—but I don’t claim he’s a victim. Victim narratives play into cult dynamics.

But I digressed. I was talking about logical fallacies.

Let’s entertain the idea that for more YEARS, Jungkook and Taehyung have been horribly abused by their management and forced to hide their relationship.

They never thought to address this issue when they were renewing their contracts?

Also, what’s up with all the footage during RUN episodes when they are standing together, or on the same team, or hugging and cuddling, or leaning their heads on each other’s shoulders and legs?

Why were they allowed to flirt and dance and do skinship on stage—and all that stuff even made it into official footage?

Now let’s entertain the idea that Taennie is a PR Relationship.

So… two rival companies, just coming out of a bitter failed deal around a music industry monopoly, are now working together to make people believe Jennie and Tae are dating?

Even though idols LOSE popularity and company stocks take a DIVE when couples are revealed?

So Taennie is the strategy to promote solo albums and upcoming projects?? And both companies’ PR teams say “We can’t confirm it as it is their personal lives.” So no PR statement is the PR strategy??

We know it’s bullshit. It makes about as much sense as Hillary Clinton running a child sex trafficking ring out of the basement of a pizza parlor that doesn't have a basement.

But many in the cult believe it’s Absolute Truth.

The question is why?

The answer is in the dynamics at play here.

CULT DYNAMICS

It starts with a MISINFORMATION CAMPAIGN.

Baby ARMY get curious about BTS, hop on YouTube or TikTok, and are bombarded by the algorithm that claims Taekook is real.

Unless they go searching for original content (which takes up dozens and dozens of hours to sift through and much of which sits behind a paywall), they will not have much to contradict these claims.

Most older ARMY are understandably so sick and tired of the ship discourse that they don’t go into Taekook spaces and duke it out in the comments. Plus, content creators know that Taekook content gets hits and likes, which translates into passive income, so they keep making it.

See this video where a cult leader shows you she made over $109,000 in a year just from her Taekook edits:

So in the din of all this nonsense and noise, it’s up to Baby ARMY to seek out other voices, other input, to form an opinion. They have to be proactive. And sadly, a large segment of the population lacks critical thinking skills and do not WANT to seek facts.

We live in a very busy, post-fact world, where “credible messengers” (i.e., someone you know and trust) tell you their opinions. Then you try those opinions on for size, and they eventually become your opinions. It’s faster, it’s easier, and…

It lets you be part of the IN-GROUP. Next thing you know, you're part of a group chat with 400 indoctrinated members, spitting conspiracies like gospel truths.

In today’s globalized, fast-paced, hyper digital world, most people cannot tell you the names of their neighbors or local butcher or even their state’s politicians, let alone what all they stand for. But they can tell you how the Kardashians feel about organic salad in a plastic bowl, or what Trump believes about election results.

There’s a lack of real-world relationships that tether people to a shared reality.

And yet, there is a human need for Tribe.

A cult uses that instinct for TRIBE by constantly re-enforcing the notion that People Out There don’t understand, aren’t very nice, will even persecute you for knowing the truth.

But People In Here, the IN-GROUP, they appreciate you, they are reasonable and open-minded, they will be there for you when everyone else turns their backs on you and puts you down.

All you have to do to belong to the IN-GROUP is subscribe to these CONSPIRACY THEORIES.

First, you should think about becoming Anti-Establishment.

You cannot trust the Authority (company, government, scientists, whatever). The Authority is corrupt and will lie to you because it wants something from you (money, votes, microchips in the vaccines, whatever).

Do not trust what your eyes show you and what your ears hear. Believe your in-group. Be loyal to your found family. Your found family is SPECIAL.

Second, you need to begin to wake up to the Signs and Wonders.

Once you’re willing to see the truth, suddenly there are all these hints. All these little “Q-drops” of information. Like Taekook touching face moles during a song. Or seeing slowed-down, edited videos of facial expressions that look like evidence of jealousy. Or maybe hidden meanings behind tattoos of tigers and green mics. Or making a secret handshake or symbol with their fingers. These Signs and Wonders are FOR YOU.

*Now, I’m inclined to give Taekookers a bit of a break on queer couple coding because, culturally speaking, similar clothing and jewelry are couple-coded in Korea. And there are just as many if not MORE theories about Jikook using similar black and white clothing, matching jewelry, related tattoos, using special numbers in songs and timestamps, and even changing up lyrics as secret messages.

The issue here is that Jikook ACTUALLY DOES SOME OF THOSE THINGS. They actually deliberately type out specific numbers on some of their social media messages. They actually have dressed in the exact same outfits or worn each other’s clothes. They actually have changed up lyrics and sung them to each other.

Even so, any reasonable Jikooker will say “all of this is suspicious as hell, but not proof.” Like when Jungkook says his J tattoo stands for Jungkook—the placement over the M is suspicious, yes—but all sane Jikookers accept that Jungkook has spoken about that tattoo and he did not say it was for Jimin. We don't sit around calling Jungkook a liar just because we preferred our theory.

Taekookers, however, want what Jikook have so badly, even as they scorn it for merely being fan service.

Half the time the hints they claim are completely made up.

They see sandal footprints in the sand, and their leaders say it’s proof that Jungkook went on a secret beach date with Taehyung. Even though Taehyung went out with a friend and his parents that night.

Taekookers will see a photo of shoes all neatly lined up and say it’s a secret ski date with Hobi. Even though Jimin owns the exact same pair of shoes and there were no photos or accounts of them ever being at a ski lodge the day after Jin went into service.

Taekookers will swear they hear Jungkook’s voice off camera during Taehyung’s vlog and insist he was hiding in the trunk of the car during the drive to film. As if JK would hide in the trunk for hours instead of just… go in a different car that didn't have a camera??

All of these Signs and Wonders require a huge leap to arrive at the conclusion that Taekook is a romantic couple.

Meanwhile, evidence of Jikook spending birthdays together and couple holidays together and going on trips alone together and having integrated families and inner circles (stylists, tattoo artist, boxing coach) are ALL fan service. Every single person is in on the conspiracy.

Yes, even when JK’s mom screams “I love you!” to Jimin and makes her son eat seaweed soup on Jimin’s birthday, (JK was clearly FORCED to make up that story) it has to be fan service.

And when Jimin’s dad posts a photo of JK’s old dog on JK’s birthday (a birthday where Jimin visited him in the middle of working on his album, but Taehyung did not even though he wasn't working on anything), it's fan service. And when Mr. Park hosts a give-away event at his café where JK’s music is playing and cap and photo are proudly displayed next to JImin? Absolute fan service; he’s a money-hungry, attention-hungry cad, don’t you know? Even the charity he and his son do are fan service!

But JK went bowling with Wooga, so, Taekook are married. (Legally married. Not in Korea. But you know. They ARE married. Coming up on their third anniversary already!)

It’s all there, if you’re just willing to see the Signs and Wonders. And believe your cult leaders when there's nothing to see or wonder about at all.

Third and perhaps most important, is the Star-Crossed Lovers angle. The VICTIM CARD.

You see, it’s not bad enough that openly gay couples face pure hell in conservative countries anyway—losing their jobs, their families, sometimes their will to live because the stigma can be so bad. But on top of all that, for years and years, Taekook have been forced apart.

They’ve been just tortured by Jimin’s attention-whoring greedy nature, and made to endure fabricated fan service skinship!

(When Tae and JK look happy to be around Jimin, it’s just because they are professionals and such good actors!). Darn that Park Jimin, the abuser and sexual predator!!

And after so long being forced to hide, now in solo era, poor abused victimized Taekook can be loud. So loud. So very loud and wild and free!!

After all, during the Vegas concert, Jungkook sat on Taehyung’s lap!! He's NEVER sat on any other BTS members' lap (except for all of them).

And when Jungkook came online and said “Keep being jealous, I’ll keep holding Jiminie!” and that Jimin was HIS! Then fans kept asking him about Taehyung, so he also said Taehyung was his. It was totally his own organic idea (except for how it wasn't).

When fans kept pestering Jungkook during his camping VLive about Taehyung, he said he was forced to admit that Taehyung was attractive, he’d never seen a man so attractive! (FORCED to admit it! So romantic!)

Meanwhile, as all this shakes down, there’s this scandal in the press that Jimin didn’t pay his insurance premiums because his mail was omitted by the company. News of this dropped EXACTLY the moment his first OST With You came out, and he went totally quiet.

And then, Jungkook also went quiet for a while too. He deleted all his previous Insta photos that were personal and changed the layout to be totally professional. He went to the White House. He did a collab. He partied for JitB. He went on a Meat Tour of Korea. He did a concert with his members. He headlined World Cup. But mostly he was getting quieter and quieter.

Eventually Jungkook deleted the app entirely. Sometimes he stayed in his home for six days at a time. He stopped working out or going into Hybe; he started drinking whiskey. And nowadays he doesn’t even want to look at the comments on lives. Not because he was sick of the Taekookers or anything, but because “the company is forcing them to hide!”

Of course.

And all throughout 2022, Taehyung and Jungkook are paired up for things, and Tae's talking about a fortune teller saying he and Jungkook were “fire and water.” And rather than be taken as cute moments between friends, these are just VERY LOUD SIGNS AND WONDERS.

Then there are leaks online of all these photos that involved Tae and Jennie.

And thus begins tons of lives where he mentions Jungkook.

I'm not saying Kim Taehyung had an agenda to throw fans off the scent of his actual relationship, but I'm also not NOT saying that.

Whatever his motivations, the cult interpreted this as a direct message for Taekookers to keep the faith!

And indeed, Taekook do hang out—sometimes openly. (Sometimes where there’s press that make them hold up signs while cameras are going off—but that’s not for work, that’s a date, because the security team there wasn’t Hybe’s, and it was a friend’s premiere.) Sometimes quietly, where they share photos of hanging out afterwards.

But it cannot be just two friends hanging out. It’s Signs and Wonders!! SO LOUD!! SO FREE!!

So many reveals—mostly coming from Taehyung, but Jungkook doesn’t often deny them. And it’s mostly Taehyung stroking Jungkook’s hair or laying his head on Jungkook’s thigh or whatever—but Jungkook doesn’t stop him. And Jimin seems totally unbothered by all of it, which is strange because it sort of debunks years of his efforts at fan service.

Yet, clearly THIS cannot be fan service or misdirection.

It can’t just be friends playing games, or a TikTok made for work. It can’t be recording someone without their informed consent for attention. It can’t be going to a concert with other members and sitting in separate rows as friends. Or going to a musical or movie to support friends. Unlike all the things Jungkook has done with Jimin, this has to be Real Love!!

So just to recap:

When the cult had no evidence of Taekook hanging out, they were a private couple.

When the cult had ever-increasing evidence of Taekook hanging out, they were being loud.

When the cult had evidence that Jikook hang out outside of work, that was just fan service.

When the cult had no evidence that Jikook hang out outside of work, that was just fan service getting exposed.

When the cult has evidence that Taehyung has a girlfriend, that’s a punishment.

MARTYRDOM

You see, Jungkook and Taehyung would go on WeLives without permission, remember? And Taehyung set up a dual live chat on Insta and JK didn't seem that into it but he was persuaded. Then they giggled and couldn’t find much to talk about for ten minutes. And Taehyung said he would take full responsibility for it.

And the cult now believes that “taking responsibility” means pretending to be in a heterosexual relationship. Even their insider sasaeng accounts predicted it!

Never mind how mad all of this seems. And it would be one thing if just one or two ideas were far-fetched, like looking at a pair of shoes and making assumptions. But all of it is far-fetched.

Facts do not matter. Because you cannot trust the Authority. You can only trust the In-Group.  

And the In-Group sees Signs and Wonders. So the In-Group knows the Real Truth.

The In-Group DECIDES TOGETHER what is real.

They can make entirely fake edits; cosplay; post false witness statements; harass models, coworkers, brands, businesses… they can hire trucks to circle the building with loud speakers, protesting and shouting their truth!!

And anyone who doesn’t believe the Real Truth is a Fake Taekooker.

No disbelievers allowed. Get out of the tribe. Only the faithful can stay in the Tribe.

Right now, you might be asking yourself: Why would you stay in a tribe like this??

Because the dynamic is ever-evolving, which is titillating, and participants get a sense of power, because they are able to help craft the narratives—by being so smart as to see the truth where others are blind sheep—so they can bond over how unique they are.

Plus… TAEKOOK NEEDS THEM.

The boys absolutely depend on their support. You see, Taekookers are the real HEROES here.

They understand the boys like normal people never could. If you know you know, and they are steadfast against any and all lies presented as evidence. They are loyal.

The whole world is against their baby bear and baby bunny!! They are the boys Only Defense. Just take a look at this video of their rallying cry:

If you've got martyrs, you've also got... CRUSADERS.

Yikes, right?

So, here are millions of fans who were lied to, misled, misinformed… They developed relationships over time with people who also believe this misinformation… They get a sense of power in crafting their own reality, in which the objects of their affection are victims and they are the heroes… And the only way to prove themselves worthy of the group is to stalwartly ignore anything that contradicts these narratives.

This is a literal, textbook cult.

Cults use deception, isolation, peer pressure, group-think, and suppression of critical thought. To varying degrees, all Taekook spaces do this too. (And yes, other ships and solos and mantis ALSO rely on these tactics. But I've never seen anything quite so open or pervasive in ARMY like the Taekook cult tactics.)

I feel I should make one thing should be made clear: a LOT of people sincerely believe in Taekook.

But there are also a lot of Taekook content creators who sincerely believe in the money they make off people believing in Taekook.

Like all cults, at the end of the day, it's a scam.

Now there’s evidence of a real relationship, and of course anyone who has invested time and money in Taekook is going to be pushing back—hard.

So how do we navigate this chaos?

Well, most cults end in one of two ways: an FBI raid, or everyone drinks the Kool-Aid and dies.

But more often than not, cults don’t really end so much as fizzle out over years.

Plenty of cults are still alive and well despite amble debunking (Scientology, Q-Anon, Illuminati, flat-Earthers, Larries—what they believe doesn’t really matter; it’s how they believe that makes them a cult.)

 Cults are a bit like hydras—you cut off one head, three stronger ones pop back up.

They won't stop. They have to BE STOPPED.

HOW TO DEPROGRAM A CULT

Well, back in the 70s, in the early days of deprogramming, the only thing that was effective was to separate the individual from access to the cult (by kidnapping if you had to), then bombard them non-stop with facts (using imprisonment or restraints if you had to) and eventually they are coerced into re-integration. But none of that is humane or legal by today’s standards.

It also leads to relapses.

Really the only way to deprogram cult conditioning is for a mental health professional to slowly and methodically discredit the cult leader(s) and gently present contradictions.

(How can Jungkook really be in a relationship with Taehyung if he’s always mentioning Jimin? How can Jimin be hurting Taehyung and yet they are on FaceTime for hours, trading fan art and watching tv shows? Why would the two most rich and famous pop stars in the world need a publicity stunt?)

And even then, the cult member has to be sort of able to question things for themselves, and it just helps to have other supportive people echoing their own questioning sentiments back to them.

It can take YEARS until a cult member reaches the breaking point and begins to listen to Out-Group ideas. (On average, five years, to be exact.)

And then they may begin a journey of self-expression, where they openly voice doubts or complaints against cult narratives. They may even engage in transference, jumping off the Taekook ship and onto another (the need for tribe is very real). This is an extremely vulnerable stage and should not be taken advantage of.

At this critical moment when someone is tittering on the fence, trying to figure out what reality is, you need to REWARD THE BEHAVIOR YOU WANT.

You want them to question. You want them to express their grief and doubts. You want them to look for real sources of information.

This is NOT the time to kick someone when they are down, or look for “gotcha” moments to shame them publicly.

If you see a Taekooker wondering if they’ve been lied to this whole time—they HAVE. And that is abuse. And abuse victims need to be handled with care.

I know that Taekookers have dragged Jimin to hell and back for years so I’m not about to preach love and acceptance.

But it’s also fair to say that Taekookers have been gas-lit and realizing that can be traumatic.

Wounded animals are dangerous. A traumatized human lashes out. And you know who the prime target always is. They are already starting to take it to Jimin directly.

I strongly recommend you take a very cautious approach if you engage with them right now. Especially if you’re thinking about arguing with them.

People who defend Jimin or Jikook end up doxxed, suspended, harassed--and someday, I fear a wounded cult member will get physically violent.

Be especially careful because plenty of big accounts are closeted Taekookers. Here's a thread exposing some "mystery cult" members:

THE MOST EFFECTIVE RESPONSE

I normally don’t try to police people or preach too much, but I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice if you managed to read all this:

Don’t go into Taekook tags or spaces. Don’t debate them. Don’t talk trash about them or the members. Don’t slam-dunk or spike the ball with snarky words or memes. Don’t give them a taste of their own medicine. Don’t be cruel.

First of all, don’t do any of that because Jimin and Jungkook would be mortified by it.

But second of all, don’t do it because it just makes them dig in harder; it adds weeks or months to the deprogramming timeline.

The goal is to get the cult out of ARMY fandom. Because they thrive on a victim/hero complex, attacking them reinforces cult dynamics.

I believe there is a better approach.

First, you can and should go Gray Rock whenever possible.

Starve them of oxygen. Don’t acknowledge them. If you do, be generic in your responses—boringly bland, detachedly polite. Ignore them completely; their hot takes do not matter.

Block and report if warranted, but never engage. On some level, they really want to be persecuted for their beliefs. It's why they keep coming into Jikook spaces looking for a fight.

But their beliefs are so ridiculous that they aren’t worth our time. Instead, direct your focus on what you want, which is to promote and celebrate Bangtan.

Second, you can provide what’s called a Graceful Exit.

It doesn’t always work if they know that’s what you’re doing, but it is perhaps the most effective technique, especially if they are already questioning the cult narrative.

You see, a shamed human being gets defensive, doubles down, won’t listen. But a human being offered a Graceful Exit Out of a Bad Place gets to reinvent themselves in a way that allows them some dignity while they change direction.

A Graceful Exit has a few components to it:

“Hello, Taekooker. I also saw a lot of misleading content when I was a baby ARMY. The algorithm feeds you Taekook content almost immediately. Then you make online friends, and they all believe in Taekook. Suddenly everyone is telling you really complicated theories about how Taekook is being hidden. Once you believe that, you have to also believe that Taekook are lying by omission, that Jimin and the members are also lying, that the company executives and translators and managers and staff are all lying, that Korean ARMY is lying, that fellow I-ARMY is lying… and that’s a lot of people spreading a lie for no real gain. Now that you have some evidence that Tae is happily in a relationship with someone else, it’s only natural to question your beliefs, because YES, Taehyung and Jungkook absolutely love each other. But are they IN love? NO. For my part, I trust Taehyung. I love and support Taehyung. I don’t spread the idea that he or Jungkook engage in fake relationships. If you support them, then you’ll accept what they are showing you. When you’re ready to stop shipping Taekook, ARMY will be ready to welcome you back. We can stream together and vote together and help our boys achieve their dreams. We can watch their content and go to concerts together and enjoy fan-works. But what we can’t do is make up really complex stories around BTS’ reality. Our place as fans is to appreciate their music, and let them live their own lives in their own way. It’s time to let go of old ideas, and embrace the new things they share with us.”

This tactic allows the cult member to feel sympathy for being human. It provides understanding that they’ve been deceived. It appeals to their higher nature and love for the objects of their affection. And reassures them they could have a place in a bigger tribe if they let go of the in-group.

It invites them in, instead of calls them out.

Now, you guys might not be willing to do that. Especially considering the hate trains and rape jokes and death threats they gave Jimin for years. Believe me, I get it. I GET IT.

So if you see someone spewing vitriol, now is not the time to call them in. Now is the time to block and report.

However, if I take out my anger on them, it’s serving my own feelings.

And I’m here to serve Jimin, Jungkook, and BTS, not my own need to be right.

So I believe the best way to do that is to Gray Rock the Die-hards and provide a Graceful Exit for the Questioners.  

Many cult members are not going to believe in Taennie unless Kim Taehyung makes an announcement directly--and even then, he’ll have to do it in such an emphatic way that they buy what he sells.

So we should accept that the cult is going to be around for a long, long time. Conserve your energy, my dears.

But for the ones who just got fooled but don't intend any harm, we can either hope they let go of their own volition, or we can try to make room for them as part of true ARMY.

What we shouldn’t do is get down in the mud and start slinging. Everyone loses ground that way.

THIS WAS THE LONGEST EVER POST; I AM SORRY!

But these have been my thoughts over the last few days. I’m okay if you want to comment, but I would like to ask that you DO NOT reblog to tag Taekook and that you don’t weaponize this post by spreading it around specifically where it could cause drama.

Drama is the exact opposite of my intention.

My desire is to provide some better understanding around how cults work and how to disband them.

In conclusion: Keep it classy. Ignore assholes. Be gentle with people recovering from gas-lighting. Stay true to the principles of BTS and ARMY. Apobangpo.

Love, Roo