#if anything I'm aggressively encouraging any and all creation here
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While valid in its points, I feel like your response, however detailed, was very, VERY quickly removed from the original context of what it was responding to, and because of that, fundamentally misunderstood the point of this silly post I made at 3 am.
As in, you're... kind of arguing exactly FOR what I was saying, lol.
Yes, there are a great many things that might stop someone from creating- but. I do have to point out that what sparked my initial anger WAS specifically about a meme someone made (content in itself, also requires minimal time and effort btw) with the specific intention to complain about not exactly the lack of content they want, but the abundance of fanworks about a specific character they don't want to see, deliberately posted in the tags of all the OTHER characters in that cast. Simultaneously more, and LESS than a simple, polite request for more things about a less popular interest.
Make no mistake, reluctance to engage with less popular media is understandable, but my post WAS about textbook entitled bitching. I would not have bat an EYE if it was someone merely saying "I like this character and I'm disappointed that there is so little content about them"- but "I'm tired of only seeing things about XY, why do people make stuff about THEM and not what I like”, (especially when thrown in front of people who already aren't looking for content about that character btw), is a very different, deeply entitled attitude towards fanworks that needs some serious reexamination.
We are on the same exact side here: people have limited time and energy. Whether their interest lies in something less common, or literally the most popular element of a piece of media, we are all using our own limited resources on expressing our love for something- complaining about others not choosing to make things that appeal to YOU specifically is the exact opposite of making these spaces less "shark-infested". That in itself is discouraging creation.
If you have any reason not to want to personally create your own fanworks, but also don't quite literally EXPECT others to... pick up the slack as it were, and do it FOR you (and you don't complain when it doesn't happen fast enough for your liking), this is very clearly not about you.
To use the words of an old teacher of mine, "If it's not your shirt, don't (fucking) put it on."
(eta: no, the f-bomb in there isn't all mine. She was... quite intense, for someone primarily teaching kids 6-10.)
I'm so tired. "Too much XY character content!" "There's not enough content about this and that!" "This character is so underappreciated, I need more content for XY!"
Well make some bloody content then, Samantha
#also to reiterate some of my original tag-novel here:#this isn't network television. you don't need funding. we're all doing the same exact fucking thing here.#if you don't want to do it because you aren't “talented”; then MAKE IT BADLY.#talent is a MYTH. there's natural aptitude but you don't GET skills without USING them#(also was not “fic related bitching” on my part. it was MEME related bitching; thank ou very much.)#if anything I'm aggressively encouraging any and all creation here#bake shitty cakes. write bad fics. draw wonky art. you don't have to POST it!!! it CAN just be for you!!!#and if eventually you get confident enough to post it; cool!! then do it!!#just.... tag responsibly I guess.
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Traces & Trouble
| Jake x Phil
| The FBI is too late or early. It depends...
The idea came from a request and ran from there, I hope it fulfills in parts what was requested. Just had to post (the damn thing) now before it takes any longer.
CW: not sure as always, there is sexual content but I'm not too explicit.
A dash of dark fluid diving in the glass clouded up in the clear liquid, the long silver bar spoon flickered in the dim light as a slender hand stirred the drink slowly. Captivated, the young woman sitting at the counter kept her eyes pinned on every move of those hands. They belonged to the bar owner, who now set down the glass right in front of her. She lifted her look up to his face, a strand of dark hair parted his left eye, pointing down to a half smile.
"I think - you are going to love this," Phil Hawkins said with calm confidence, nodding encouraging towards the glass. The young woman threw a bunch of curly hair to the side and took a sip of the drink. Her eyes fell shut for a second and then she smiled back at the bar owner. "This is perfection. Freshness followed by a sweet ...and somewhat savory note. Perfect. So what's it called?"
"Oh, I'm not sure yet," the bar owner answered, "You just witnessed it's creation. But I kinda love the way you described it, so why don't I name it after you?" The young woman tilted her head and laughed. "Oh my, I never had anything named after me. Don't you think Tracy would be a strange name for a drink?"
"I think it sounds lovely. Could be 'Tracy's delight'. 'Fury Tracy'. 'Tracy's secret' -..."
Two men entered the Aurora Bar and caught Phil's attention.Tracy sour.
One man was tall, very thin with short blond hair, partet in the middle by an aggressively straight line. The other was shorter with patchy mudbrown hair, scowling eyes under bushy brows - while the blond was wearing an expensive looking dark coat, the other poked out of a fighter pilot jacket that made him look old.
"And there they are..." Phil muttered followed by a sharp exhale. He straightned and said with a firm voice, "Tracy, you will have to excuse me. Enjoy your drink and your night." The young woman blinked a few times in confusion, "I thought -" , she started to protest but was interrupted by the two men appearing right next to her with cold smiling faces - she took the glass and left the bar.
"How nice to see you again, Mr. Hawkins. I am sorry to interrupt your work," the blond man said with a strange voice that was both soft and sharp.
A voice like a carpet knife, Phil thought and leaned on the counter - taking the position of a watchful cat. "Somehow, I'm having trouble believing that you are truly sorry, Mr. Fletcher." A thin smirk appeared on Agent Fletchers face.
"Have you met my colleague Agent Byron Mills?" Phil reached out and shook the sweaty hand of the bushy browed man, "I don't believe I have."
Agent Fletcher kept talking while his eyes were darting across the room. The few customers of this quiet evening seemed to pick up on something and started leaving the bar one by one.
"Byron here doesn't live far from Duskwood. His wife was your tenth grade math teacher, if you remember?"
Phil decided it to be appropriate to imitate the cold smiles he was confronted with, as he answered,
"Ah yes, Mrs. Mills. Aren't you a lucky man... how is she doing?" The mean little eyes of Agent Mills slithered over to Fletcher, who apparently was the one assigned to do the talking.
"Mr. Hawkins, do you know why we are here?"
The bar owner stood up straight and took a deep breath,
"Well, I cannot be certain. But if I have to guess... for the same reason you were here the last time, for the same reason you confiscated my phone and my computer? - Another attempt to get information I don't have. Although - I'm wondering why you came here all this way and didn't bring me in instead. That seems rather strange to me."
Fletcher turned to Mills and whispered loud enough so Phil could hear every word,
"Do you hear that, Byron? There is that sharp wit, I warned you about," he stepped towards Phil and leaned his elbows on the counter. After focusing the bar owners face with a stern look, he spoke again,
"Mr. Hawkins, we have reason to believe that you are still - or at least recently have been in contact with the hacker named Jake."
The bar owner drove his thumb over his lower lip and chuckled. Fletcher continued,
"I could just come out straight and ask you where he is but I'm sure it would be in vain. So I am simply going to remind you, this whole affair could cause you a lot more trouble than it already has - in fact, I think it is about to inconvenience you a lot. Once more, I would like to urge you to be cooperative."
"And yet, you didn't ask me anything," Phil leaned back on the tall shelf behind him, "Pardon me saying this, detectives - but you showing up here, trying to be intimidating before you even start questioning me... - it is an awful lot of gesturing. So why don't you start asking before you accuse me of not being cooperative?"
Agent Mill's face had turned to an unhealthy shade of purple but he remained stubbornly silent. Fletcher nodded slowly as if he estimated the extend of Phil's intrepidity and then continued in a down-to-buisness like tone,
"Alright then, Mr.Hawkins, as I said - we know, that you are in contact with the hacker called Jake."
"Was. Correct," Phil stated.
"Jake was here - recently. We can establish that from the communication we recovered from your cell phone."
"Still - was. Past tense. As in 'isn't anymore'."
"You didn't give us a lot of information about that the last time we spoke,"
"Again, I answered and continue answering your questions."
"So correct me, if I'm wrong - this contact between you two dates back two weeks now?"
Phil's smile returned and his eyes lit up with a spark, "I like it how you say 'contact'- as if there is a less appropriate version of that word. But yes, two weeks, that sounds correct."
"The communication broke off at that point? With Jake's disappearance?"
- "Yes."
"And Jake did not try to contact you since then?"
Phil raised his shoulders shoving his hands into his pockets, "No. At least I wouldn't know. After all, you took away my ways of communication, Mr. Fletcher. I'm enduring a very reduced life style in that department. "
"Did you try to contact him?"
- "No." the bar owner met and held the piercing look the agent shot at him.
Agent Mills reached into his puffy jacket and pulled out a phone that he passed on to Fletcher. Phil could see that it was his own phone - the FBI had confiscated it a few days after Jake disappeared. Fletcher put it down on the counter and tapped on it with his long pale fingers.
"Mr. Hawkins, the reassembled content of the correspondence between Jake and you suggests a certain 'intensity' of your relationship at the time. We would like to explore our conclusion that you, Philip, would most likely be the person, who might know something about Jake's whereabouts."
Slowly Phil tilted his head,
"Oh I see...'making conclusions' about the 'intensity' of the relationship between the wanted hacker and the bar owner. Kinky." His eyes lit up again for a second, "But what are you asking specifically? If I know where Jake is? I do not."
Agent Mills eyes where bulging with contempt, he chewed "cocky bastard..." under his breath, but Agent Fletcher remained calm and composed- he believed him too, still lurking for something else.
"Philip, may I ask, how exactly it came to pass that the contact broke off so abruptly?"
Scratching his chin Phil answered,
"I assumed it had something to do with you but probably you are not interested in my speculations. He disappeared, quite literally. There is not more to it."
"All of the sudden? Without a word?"
"Correct."
"Where were you when he 'literally' vanished?"
- "Asleep, I suppose."
"He didn't leave you a message? He didn't say goodbye, he didn't tell you anything?"
"Of course he didn't. You have been trying to find him for a while now and quite frankly - it's not going well. Do you really think, Jake would be so dumb and leave traces like that?" Phil shook his head.
For some reason, Fletcher started smiling again.
"Recklessness happens sometimes, Philip. Like getting involved with the wrong person. It just happens, unintentionally. Getting attached to someone always leaves traces, you know. Don't get me wrong - I'm quite sure Jake is aware of that and maybe we are indeed too late - but then, maybe he couldn't help himself, leaving you at least with some reassurance that he is safe."
With a shrugging sigh Phil muttered, "Reassurance and safety, yes - you really don't know much about that hacker. "
Of course they expected to find the right strings to pull but it wasn't as easy as that.
Getting attached to someone leaves traces.
The echo of this sentence, spoken by a carpet knife voice, oscillated in the bar owners head. With an abscent gaze, he repeated, "I don't know where the damn hacker is, even if he is alive or not. I do not have any further information for you."
Fletcher intertwined his fingers and softened his voice,
"I'm sorry that this is happening to you, Philip. It must be hard for you. Jake vanishing just like that, without a word, after risking a lot - leaving you with the aftermath. And now... here we are." He pushed the phone over the counter, Phil didn't move to pick it up - he chuckled again, but it was a weary and breathless sound this time.
"So this is what you are counting on? Appealing to my resentfulness, Mr. Fletcher?" the bar owner asked, hardening his tone, "can I just ask - is there some chapter like this in the FBI textbook? Something called maybe 'The investigation of the abandoned lover'?"
Fletcher didn't answer right away, still assessing the bar owners expression.
- "In my time, it was called 'The rejected mistress', these books are very old and outdated, Mr.Hawkins", the agent answered cold, retracting to the last name base.
"So we can conclude this conversation with the statement that you don't have any information for us. Jake was here, vanished with no intention to come back." Fletcher folded his hands and lifted them weirdly towards Phil, who just nodded this time.
"Well...then I hope you won't mind if we check that for ourselves. Maybe you have missed something, Mr. Hawkins. I think our colleagues might be almost done with your apartment upstairs by now. We thought it to be appropriate to have this little chat here, while giving your customers some time to leave before we check these rooms as well."
Baffled, the bar owner drove a hand through his hair, closing his eyes and shaking his head,
"You got to be kidding! What exactly are you hoping to find here?" Fletcher had turned around on his heels, reassuring himself that there were no more customers inside the bar and waved a finger doorwards to signal the other investigators to enter.
"Traces, Mr.Hawkins", Fletcher twisted his lips into a half smile.
"Byron", he motioned his head towards Phil and Agent Mills reached into his jacket again, pulled out an envelope - most certainly containing the warrant - and handed it over the counter. Slowly Phil reached out, taking the envelope without looking at it.
"Who are you? His purse?!" he hissed sharply at Mills and turned away, walking outside the front door - not intending to stand and watch his bar getting turned upside down.
They wouldn't find anything. There was nothing here, that would lead them to the hacker. And why would they...?
Getting attached to someone leaves traces.
Maybe they overestimated his capability to get attached to someone, he wasn't exactly known for that. Neither was Jake, for different reasons - but still. How could they be sure, despite of the alleged 'intensity' of their contact, that there would be traces? What traces? Intensity - that was one! Intensity, memories, passion, withdrawal, ...traces. Damn it, Jake!
No. Wait. Not traces... - imprints. Leading nowhere. That is it.
Phil waited outside until it was over, until they all returned to their cars and slammed the doors. He shook the thin bundle of Agent Fletchers fingers without looking at him again.
Back inside the Aurora Bar it was solemnly silent. The bar owner stood still in the middle of the room for a while, considering if he should face the chaos they left behind. He didn't feel like it. Something was strange about all this. It didn't make any sense, why did they even come here?
"No fucking traces!" Phil shouted out to no one stretching out his arms.
Finally, he locked the front door, grabbed his phone and the envelope from the counter and turned off the lights.
As he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he couldn't shake the urge to understand the meaning of this - also there was an uneasiness creeping up on him and he stopped on the stairs. It all felt - unresolved somehow. There had to be more to it. But what could he do, standing alone in the stairwell? The door of the apartment was wide open, Phil walked inside and kicked it shut. Undecided he stood still again for a moment in the dark.
He didn't turn on the lights. The street light streaming through the windows drenched the rooms in a dim orange tone. It didn't look as bad as he thought, not like a tornado went through - fair enough, they had searched thoroughly. All his belongings were spread on tables, chairs and the floor - but in a sort of neat way, stacked and sorted. Turned inside out. Maybe they had taken some things, but there were no traces of the hacker, no messages, no photos. Of course not. They probably still didn't even know what he looked like in the flesh.
Slowly Phil set himself in motion towards the kitchen, that had a large window overlooking the street. All quiet now. Still staring out on the dark street, he put down the unopened envelope and phone on the kitchen counter.
Getting attached to someone leaves traces.
Phil crossed his arms and kept his look pinned out of the window. There was a slight prickle on the back of his neck...
No - fucking - way.
He felt a motion somewhere in the room behind him. Of course. The trace leads here.
"Why is it so dark in here?" a voice asked softly. Phil didn't answer, didn't turn around. The small lamp on the kitchen table lit up with a clicking and he could hear the creaking sound the chair made whenever someone was sitting down.
The bar owner lowered his head but didn't move otherwise. Stubbornly he tried to restrain his heart from throwing itself against his ribcage. His arms firmly locked around himself, he took slow, deep breaths fighting against his own anger, confusion and the longing to just turn around and let it all melt away.
"The door was open...I hope you don't mind," the voice had grown even softer, more hesitant as if testing the temperature.
Jake kept his bright eyes pinned on Phil's back and waited. He pulled the hood off his head and without an idea what else to do, he started straightening his hair - a rather useless effort, the dark strands curling up again.
It had all worked out - until this point. The hacker went over it again step by step. Changing the pattern of running to actually following the investigators - it was simple, simplistic even. And it had worked swimmingly, he just had to pick up the information and they led him right back here. In fact, they were not too late to catch him - but too early. Absurd, really. The hacker shook his head and smiled in disbelief.
So he had actually managed to come back - that's were the plan ended. In success. Yet it was now merely deflated by the fact, that he had not the slightest idea what to do next.
Jake's eyes were darting around. They really had taken this place apart. He bit his lower lip as the extend of the ramifications of his simple plan hit him with a sinking feeling in his stomach. What the hell was he thinking? Nothing much clearly, he cringed... No wonder Phil just stood there, silent and frozen.
Only now, the hacker started to question his own need to be back here - and it might be an entirely selfish one. He raised a hand to touch his temple as he always did when he sat contemplating. It was uncomfortably ambiguous, Jake had experienced an unknown stage of both exhilaration and mindsease - here with him. Somehow, it was all connected to that silent figure standing there.
It was true, Jake was never one to get attached to someone, he even seemed to have lost the need for it over the years. But then something about that Hawkins guy drew his attention and the hacker couldn't wrap his mind around it. Phil had met him with an unusual interest, not for what he did but for what he was apart from that - something even Jake himself had no grasp on. Though confusing and in a way challenging, it was easy to talk to him. The bar owner was never intimidated or even utterly impressed, like it usually happened on the rare occasions Jake actually talked to someone about himself.
It was annoying at first, the damn smugness! He tried hard not to care, but it was just too infuriating. And then intriguing. Jake found himself enjoying the attention, something he had always resented and kept meticulously away from him. Now, it put him at ease and excited him at the same time. Though Phil - confident at all times and seemingly fearless - wasn't impressed by the hacker, he sure was captivated somehow - by him, Jake. Strange. The hacker felt compelled to trust this guy. Even stranger.
And then something else had happened - a slight blush spread over the face of the brooding Jake. In fact, his memories were fractured and hazy. He remembered a kiss, smiling abscently as he did - it had taken him by surprise and then taken him over, taken him whole. And..., Jake shuddered - everything was blurred, too intense to recall what actually had happened. The world went away. Imploding, exploding - both...
"So..." ,
Phil's voice, though not harshly spoken, chopped into Jake's trail of thought like a hatchet. He winced, startled - almost forgotten that Phil was standing there. With wide eyes, the hacker stared at the other man, who had lifted his head but still refused to face him.
"... this was an announcement then," Phil stated, tapping a finger on the envelope. Jake frowned, took a breath to speak but then refrained, snorting.
"Now, now, Jake. You really should say something..."
Jake leaned himself on the table, scratching his scruffy chin. "You are mad. I should have considered that. I must say, I really didn't," he would have added an apology but thought it might sound too pitiful, also he wasn't sorry.
"In fact, I was merely working out a way to come back here. Worked well enough...", he paused and flinched, "you know, this would be easier if you turned around. At least you can tell me to go to hell to my face," his lips twitched a bit and the hacker wondered if that was even true.
"Oh don't mind me, I prefer to hold on to my anger for a while here," came the answer in a sarcastic tone and the hacker frowned.
Truth be told, Phil wasn't even mad. He felt he should and tried to be - that damn hacker just sitting there, after they shut down his business for the night and rummaged through his place on the look for ...traces. And there he was, trapsing in, accompanied by a whole lot of trouble. But Phil couldn't be mad. Jake had a way in, no matter how much Phil tried to shield himself and cutting himself off from everyone, Jake just stumbled through it all.
"Well... fuck it."
Phil snorted and with a swift motion, he spun around, hoisting himself up to sit on the kitchen counter. He rubbed his eyes, wavering, before he finally fixed them on the hacker.
"You look like hell," Phil said after a while.
"Thanks," Jake smiled against his will.
The hacker's dark hair was messy and curling up in all directions, his face was pale with dark shadows under the eyes, on the collar of the black hoodie was a grayish streak of dust or paint. But Jake's gaze was sharp as ever, his eyes glistening with awareness.
"Aren't you going to throw me out?" Jake asked tilting his head.
"Very possible," the lack of conviction in Phil's voice made the hacker's ears prickle with raised attention, "first tell me, what exactly brings you back?"
"I'm actually not sure,"Jake leaned back on the chair and added, "some urge, I don't understand yet. Felt like a strong pull with you being the source of it," he held Phil's gaze with a glint in his eyes.
"May I observe," Jake lifted a finger towards the bar owner, "...you don't seem entirely unhappy to see me," a grin flickering on his lips.
"How endearing. And also - how full of yourself," Phil meant to sound indifferent but was smiling, wearily shaking his head. His dark hair fell over his face, sliding down from the counter - he looked annoyed and defeated.
"You think you are worth the trouble, huh?"
"I didn't say that," Jake frowned again and stood up from the chair, slowly dragging his feet he walked over to Phil.
"No, you don't think like that," the bar owner said pensivley, he lifted his head and looked at the hacker who came to a halt in front of him.
Jake could feel an apprehensive throbbing in his throat - understanding it was on him to overcome the distance, but how? The last time, he remembered, it was just sweeping him away. He didn't have to do a damn thing. But Jake understood that it had to be different now, his fault really - the air seemed weirdly charged.
Avoiding Phil's intense but stern look, the hacker pinned his eyes instead on the notch between his collarbone. Not knowing what he was doing, Jake lifted a hand and placed it right on this spot, a finger softly pressing down on the tail of the tattooed bat. He could feel the calm breathing of the other man, a steady heartbeat, and Jake was quite sure Phil's expression didn't even change a little.
"Didn't even realize that I got this far out of line," Jake murmured, grasped by disbelief over his own audacity.
"No, you don't think like that," Phil repeated. There was a smile somewhere in his eyes but Jake didn't look up.
"Too much trouble...," Jake shook his head and with a frustrated snort, he retrieved his hand. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain and winced in surprise as Phil harshly clasped his wrist.
"See, the thing about trouble is...- you have to see it through, Jake." He wrenched the hacker's hand around and released it at the same spot where it was before - finger on the bat's tail.
With narrowed eyes Jake glanced back at the bar owner, trying to read his expression - he didn't give away much. In a way, he looked like someone ready for a fight. The hacker pondered the situation, which was new and utterly unexpected. Again he searched his memories, only finding a very different set of circumstances. It had started with a kiss and then? Whatever had shattered his mind with an impact of sensation just...happened. Jake didn't cause it. At least he wouldn't know how he did it. A sinister smile appeared on the hacker's face - so that was it. He had to find the detonator.
Hesitant Jake placed his other hand just below Phil's chest bringing himself closer. Breathing in that familiar scent caused a compulsing glitch in the hacker's keen mind but he didn't let himself slip. It was important that he remained focused now. Phil was a tad taller than Jake and held his chin slightly up, deliberately keeping his lips out of reach. The hacker chuckled. Of course, he wouldn't make this easy. Gathering his will, he moved his fingers from the bat's tail up the left wing, feeling a pulse that was annoyingly steady - not matching his own shaking breath.
His fingers wandered further up and suddenly stopped at a spot between jaw and ear - feeling a very soft patch of skin. There was a twitch of the muscles underneath Jake's other hand on Phil's stomach, elevating the hacker's senses. His eyes fixed on the spot - where he struck gold.
A mischievous grin painted the premonition of success on Jake's face as he moved closer, letting his breath stream against the sensitive skin on the bar owners neck. Another eruption of tensening muscles reassured the hacker and he pressed his lips down on the spot, sucking the skin between his tongue and teeth, causing a sharp hissing sound to escape from Phil's lips. Jake moved his head back to take in what he had sparked off - only for a brief moment...
Like black ink pouring in, Phil's eyes grew wide, intensly darkening. The next thing Jake could feel was his own back crushing against a door frame and being claimed by furious lips, blazing a scalding trail down his neck and returning even hungrier to Jake's mouth, the taste of the tongue slipping in was sweet. There was that paradox again - a longing that had built up inside of him was finally eased and Jake wished he could linger in this kiss...why not forever? But at the same time, something fierce was waking up, an urge for more, for being consumed. The world seemed to have slipped away in the distance.
For another second, Jake fought for his mind not to leave him, but his will combusted under the rising heat and the sensation of eager hands digging under his clothes. Again, it all shattered, melted - Jake felt himself stumbling over something on the floor, an undeniable force shoving him backward. There was the sound of fabric stretching before it got torn away - leaving the bare skin at the mercy of hands, lips and teeth. Jake tried to hold on to something, clasping around but everything was moving, slipping away - the fall on the floor knocked the wind out of him for a second and he wasn't given time to catch his breath. His blood rushed out of his head and his nerves vibrated with pleasure that was almost painful, Jake was yielding to be devoured by this extasy.
A desperate sigh shook his chest, and suddenly, it seemed that the lips, which incinerated every single nerve in Jake's body, started smiling against his skin. The hands that held him down softened their touch - though it gave him the chance to take a breath, putting his scattered mind back together, Jake's body kept quivering, trying to contain what needed release.
Phil let his hands travel back up from the waist and left them on Jake's chest for a moment - it was a tender and soothing touch, he bend over the hacker's face that was turned to the side, grazing his ear with his lips. The pressure Phil playfully put on the pelvis of the body lying underneath him caused it to squirm, and the pleading moans coming from Jake were too delicious. But as he felt the heart under his hands beating faster and faster, Phil let off him, leaning over Jake's ear again,
"Shh, shh..." he breathed, "I'm sorry, Jake - I'm sorry...can't let you get away that fast," he straightned and sat back on his heels smiling down on the hacker, who turned his face and opened his eyes. Jake blinked a few times until his vision was clear. Of course, he wouldn't make this easy. Jake lifted his head, understanding he furrowed his brows,
"You want me to put up a fight, huh?" his voice hoarse but steady.
Phil tilted his head, tracing muscles on Jake's stomach with his fingers, one by one - his touch growing less gentle again.
"If you think you can..."
~~~
The bathroom mirror was still foggy but clearing up slowly while Phil stood there contemplating his reflection. He touched a bruised spot on his rips that had turned purple.
"Huh...it does leave traces."
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Hi! Your blog is awesome. May I have your opinion on something? I'm a fic blog and a multi stan, so I'm working on an AU for ROMEO and adding Milo (I'm still here for OT7), but I'm scared of readers who come across it might think. The situation with him happened two years ago. Yes, I was hurt too, but personally, I've forgiven Milo, and it's just stupid to me that one would leave a fandom for one members' mistake. Any thoughts?
Hello! Oh thank you, and nice to meet you~
While reading you message, I stumbled across your words “I’m scared”, and that’s something I’d like to discuss before answering your question. I think nowadays we all are getting more and more scared of making anyone feel offended, hurt or even uncomfortable, of receiving backlash from them that will hurt us. I believe that fear to be desctructive as it makes you change your wording, your message and eventually your thoughts in an attempt to please everyone. That fear changes you and gets you far from your true self. Please, don’t give in to it! Be polite, have your point of view and stand by it.
Now let’s move on to your question. As you asked, I will present my take and will go hard, but I’ll try to understand all sides and have no intention of offending Korean fans, Korean culture or any side in this situation.
What was Minhak’s mistake? He got close with a Japanese girl, which hurt feelings of some of Korean fans. He wrote cheeky messages to her, which hurt feelings of fans who were possessive over Minhak. The messages were provocative enough to hurt feelings of people who believed that to be indecent for an idol. Finally, subtle suspicion that the girl might be underaged was enough for the bomb to explode. Every person decided whether they belonged to any of the groups above and whether those arguments were strong enough for them to leave the fandom. I didn’t see anything bad in the situation itself, and I must say that I did way “worse” things when I was in that age and hell knows what things I wrote to people I flirted with.
Being an idol, Minhak should definitely have been more cautious, but let’s try to look at it from his perspective. For many years, instead of hanging out with friends, you go to the agency and practice till your body hurts. You’re mostly locked in a small world, and there are times when you feel lonely. Proper communication with girls isn’t possible, and in search for warmth and affection you get close with a girl from another country. Minhak is a very responsible guy, and, coming from a less wealthy household than the other members, he knew how much was at stake. Still, his loneliness pushed him into a relationship that lead to a scandal. He is partly responsible for what happened, but I think he’s got punished way more than he deserved.
Who got away in that situation is the agency, that had no guts to defend their idol and failed in educating him how to prevent such cases from happening. You can’t control your artists’ phones and personal lives, but you can explain again and again that there are idol hunters, they will be persistent, they will try to use their contact and provide perfect screenshots for a sensation. CThunus failed in preparing their idols for possible risks and in handling the situation with Minhak. It was the worst scenario possible, and now we all have lost an amazing dancer and Romeo’s vitamin.
However, let’s think why the agency decided it would better cut Minhak off than handle reputation damage. Who were they scared of? They thought fans would be so aggressive that they would destroy the group like it was with their former group Block B. We, fans, tend to be possessive over our idols, we sexualize them, we write fiction, but we dare judge them for any step we see as wrong. That’s most hypocritical of us, and we are also to blaim in this situation. What makes us think that idols mustn’t have personal life and belong to their fans? How selfish is that! As long as fans behave like that, agencies will be getting rid of problematic artists. I’m not blaiming anyone, I’m just trying to bring awareness to the reasons why we get what we get.
Anyway, Minhak is eliminated, and there’s nothing we can do about that. Fans who left the fandom aren’t going back. We all have made up our minds, and the division has happened.
In conclusion, I’d like to encourage you to write what you like and present it in the way you see it. If you have forgiven Minhak, go ahead and show it. It’s your point of view, don’t let fear distort your creation. And please, be an angel, send me a link when you finish, I’ll be more than happy to read what you come up with~
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