#people forget you don’t have to post every single thought you have online
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i just do not get twitter. everyone’s angry about something or someone but they’re all vagueposting and won’t actually say what’s going on. i can’t even follow along with the drama in replies cuz each individual comment can have its own replies and suddenly you’re 20 posts removed from the original thread. discourse there is toxic af and I instantly regret opening the app
#so yea two separate fandoms are having drama and I’m not involved I’m just here getting worked up about it anyway#look if you’re gonna claim someone is such a terrible person that people are afraid to interact with them#and you post on a public platform that you have screenshots to prove it#don’t then say you’re not gonna post them and ask people to dm you if you wanna know what’s going on#especially when you’re talking about people I’m fandom and not actual celebrities with money and power#you’re afraid of repercussions but you’re still gonna make that post about someone you don’t even follow you just ‘heard from others’#that they’re bad and you were sent some secondhand screenshots#you wanna unfollow or block that person? go right ahead#if you wanna call them out then call them out and follow through#people forget you don’t have to post every single thought you have online#and why tf would someone go ‘hey this person who deleted their twitter after being shamed for harassing people is back’#’but they have a different name and I’m not gonna tell you what it is but you should avoid them cuz they’re bad’#howwwwwww#am I supposed to avoid them if I don’t know who they are?????#just say what you mean or shut up#if you actually wanna call someone out or warn people about toxic behavior then do it!!!#stop vagueposting for clout especially when it comes to potential harassment#I mean yea this happens on every social media but I feel like it’s so much more prevalent on twitter#uuuuugh#sorry I just needed to rant#I just wanna sit here with my handful of carefully selected fandom friends and creators and have a good time#but some people just gotta be assholes
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hihi ! i’m sososo extremely sorry for bein a bit ia lately!!! i recently celebrated my 21st bday n have been busy with birthday plans and just life in general !!!! but i have a few lil announcements bcus ive received lots of asks n dms recently n have a lot to discuss so i would appreciate if you all took the time to read this 🎀
first of all, i am super iffy about sharing my private life on here and do not appreciate questions regarding my hometown / where i’m from / even asking my ethnicity is a big no because you can nvr be too careful online. i’ve also gotten questions asking about why ive been so busy / not been writing and i hughly dislike them bc they seem intrusive and demanding. i have a life outside of tumblr and will not be sharing private details about myself with people i’m not close to!!!! i love my anons and followers so much n u guys know this but please respect my boundaries.
secondly, i’ve also received asks regarding a situation between an ex mutual of mine and i from a few months back and would greatly appreciate if they stopped!!!!! i wont go into detail about it because i honestly just want to forget about that person and the situation due to the mental distress it caused me and the negative feelings brought up when they / the situation are brought up, so again, please refrain from asking me about it because asks will be deleted and i will block you from sending anonymous asks if this persists.
third of all, i’ve been doing a lot of thinking regarding this and i won’t be taking official requests anymore. i love writing and fulfilling your fantasies n thoughts about idols but i’ve received too many demanding and hateful asks from people when their request is not posted. my asks will always be open for thirsting and suggesting ideas n if i enjoy it i’ll elaborate!!!!! but please do not expect a reply to every single ask sent it, i am only one person :( it breaks my heart to stop taking requests but it’s ultimately the best thing for me and my mental health.
lastly, PLEASE read my rules before sending in your thirsts / ideas / suggestions. time and time again i’ve had to reiterate boundaries and things i won’t write about because people are not taking the time to check my pinned posts and it’s tiring having to see multiple requests for kinks / scenarios i absolutely do not write for. it isn’t hard to check an author’s dni / byf and overall rules before asking something of them!!!!!!!!!!
oh one more thing!!!! i absolutely do NOT write for stray kids. they make me extremely uncomfortable and i don’t even have them listed in my “who i write for” section of my pinned post so, kindly, stop sending asks about them or i will have to block you :(
#♡.gabi barks#im so nervous to post this please dont hate me guys :(#i promise im not posting this to be mean or to shade anyone or anything like that! ive just been a little tired of having my boundaries#constantly disrespected and it’s really disheartening to receive asks demanding for their rq to be answered or#being reminded of such an awful experience that occured on here
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Hello, Dr. Degenhardt! It’s nice to meet you!
I hope you don’t mind receiving a message from me, especially since I’ve contacted the RED team in the past. Embarrassingly (for someone who’s currently talking to trained mercenaries), I’m a bit of a pacifist, and tend to try and be fair to both sides of a conflict. Seeing RED jumping on you and your team’s posts to insult you—especially when some of you don’t often go out of your way to antagonize them—did feel a little sad to me, so I wanted to send you something nice!
I think your mask looks very lovely, I quite enjoy your bird aesthetic. I also completely understand your hesitance to remove it—sometimes, having to accustom people to one’s more unconventional parts over and over can be much more difficult than simply ‘masking’ them, if you’ll pardon the pun. However, as an asexual person myself, appearances don’t matter to me nearly as much as personality, and quite frankly, from what I’ve seen of you so far, you seem like a wonderful person to be around. Would I be incorrect in believing you to be a bit introspective, but rather thoughtful and kind when given the opportunity? I’ve also heard that you’re a bit lonely and haven’t much to do around the base. Would you appreciate some book or music recommendations?
Please forgive me if I seem a bit awkward. With the RED mercenaries, it’s a bit easier to know where I stand, since every single one of them (save Spy, and perhaps Pyro) is quite outgoing. You, on the other hand, seem much more like me, in that you keep to yourself somewhat—which gives us something in common, though not something that’s terribly easy to bond over, haha! I’m certainly not upset about this, just noting a fact.
(Also, I think that it’s perfectly valid of you not to be confrontational on the battlefield. There are multiple, equally functional strategies that can be used in fighting. While one Medic-strategy can be to stay alive by being a threat to everybody else, another can be to direct your teammates and serve as a ‘support’ to them (which is the class that a team’s medic is part of, is it not?) from behind the front lines. And both work well! If I wanted to protect a generator powering my house from sabotage, I could either cover it in spikes or lock it behind a reinforced barrier, both of which would prevent it from being harmed. I hope that makes sense…)
Anyhow, I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself, Doctor. And don’t forget, there’s no shame in knowing when to walk away from a fight, especially online! Better that you take care of your health for the battlefield than exhaust yourself sparring verbally with the REDs.
~ half-moon anon
You are very sweet! I have not be around much, prior to my finding of Mikhail's phone, so I do not recognise you from any prior correspondence.
You are correct that often it is not just about people finding me scary or unpleasant due to my scars, many times it is the constant questions that I want to avoid. I have not wanted to show my face to my team for this very reason, I do not want to feel like a freak or like something to be pitied. The mask is safer in that way, and so is the prosthesis.
I suppose I am more introverted, ja. I try to... Put myself out there so to speak, as most of the BLUs are equally as outgoing as the REDs, but it is not always easy. Messing with the REDs when I first arrived... It stressed me out after a while and I did not like it. I did not find it as fun as I thought I would.
Danke, for your kind words. They mean a lot to me.
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Honestly I can’t keep quiet at this point. This generation and tiktok mostly made autism a fucking quirky trend and it makes me want to slam my head in a wall. I genuinely believe 70% of people online who claim to be autistic are not or either are confusing it with another disorder (on tiktok it’s 95% I’m not remotely exaggerating). iT’s A sPeCtRuM NO SHIT DUMBASS. I fucking grew up with an autistic sibling and I was constantly in other places with autistic kids who were higher and lower on the fucking spectrum. But none of them act remotely like the fuckers on #actuallyautistic on fucking TikTok. Controversial opinion I completely stand behind is that self diagnosis isn’t reliable expect for a few conditions. By that, I mean conditions that have clear cut symptoms. You’re always anxious about everything, you probably do have anxiety. But when it comes to Autism, that’s such a fucking complex disorder that even a lot of doctors don’t fully understand. 100% agree that many women, POC, and those who grew up poor couldn’t get a diagnosis and got it later in life. As I said, I was constantly around autistic kids and most were white men. It’s an absolute mockery and disgrace to those online and in real life who actually suffer with Autism. Including people on the high end of the spectrum! Most of these people say they’re autistic and then list the symptoms of anxiety. It’s not a fucking quirky trait or an excuse. It’s not fucking trendy.
And I can’t say anything like this on platforms like tiktok or id be ripped to shreds. People who have little to no real life experiences or knowledge about Autism attacking someone who was always so close to autism that it fucked me up (I know it’s not my sibling’s fault before you yell at me). I’m fucking tired of it. I’m so fucking tired
Very recently the term “glass child” came out which describes siblings of a child with a physical and or mental disability and or a chronic/life threatening illness. The term comes from the fact that a constant feature of being a glass child is being seen through, forgotten, our voices ignored. And when we, people who have had close years of interactions with these disorders try to explain to you why you might be wrong and you just fucking shut them down, you’re just as bad as the people who ignored me when I was growing up.
It happens on here to. Definitely not as often and definitely not as obvious. But I fucking hate that it’s become a fucking trend on here. Yes, I know it’s a way for those with autism to cope, but a lot of people reblogging it are neurotypical. I’m glad it’s a way to cope, but autism isn’t a fucking funny punchline. It is half of the reason I’m fucked up (once again, I don’t blame my sibling).
Remember in 2020 on mostly tiktok and other face showing platforms being LGBTQ+ was a trend and now people say “I’m glad I’m over that phase?” The same fucking thing is happening now with autism. And what’s worse is that it undermines the credibility of those who are actually suffering with autism. I can promise you in the next few years, there will be tons of posts like “remember when I thought I was autistic? Lol worst period of my life, so cringe.” And then it’ll fall back into obscurity once it stops being a trend and when people forget about pretending to be autistic and no one will give a fuck. It happened with fangirl culture. With being LGBTQ+. Only this is more important and not a fucking trend
Idk if I’ll get hate for this or delete it, but I can’t handle it anymore. This really mostly applies to tiktok, but this happens on every single platform. And it genuinely upsets me and I can’t even point out this problem. For fucking once in my life, LISTEN TO ME. I’ve been there. I was there the whole fucking time. I spent my entire childhood dealing with autism and severe mental illness from my parents. I went to so many doctors with him. I couldn’t chose where I wanted my birthday or celebrations about me because it wouldn’t be good for my sibling. Pictures, lines, family trip were filled with screaming. Leaving events early because my sibling couldn’t handle it. Sitting and waiting for him to stop having a tantrum in my room and having fucking no one ask if I was okay. Having none of my emotional needs met do to Autism and other present mental illnesses from my parents. I KNOW WHAT AUTISM IS LIKE. I SPENT EVERY FUCKING DAY SINCE I WAS BORN TILL I WAS 18 RIGHT NEXT TO AUTISM. I DIDN’T GET A BREAK. I WON’T BE ABLE TO LAUGH IN A FEW YEARS BECAUSE I CLAIMED TO BE AUTISTIC. I’M NOT SURE MY BROTHER WILL BE ABLE TO LIVE ON HIS OWN AND HE’L HAVE TO FUCKING LIVE WITH ME. THAT’S THE FUCKING REALITY. THAT’S WHAT AUTISM IS. IT’S NOT BEING AWKWARD AND SOMETIMES OVERWHELMED BY OBJECTS OR SOUNDS. I KNOW THIS FOR A FACT BECAUSE I WAS THERE. I HAVE 18 FUCKING YEARS OF UNDERSTANDING WHAT AUTISM IS. I’VE BEEN AROUND MANY OTHER AUTISTIC PEOPLE WHEN MY BROTHER NEEDED SERVICES FROM AUTISTIC ONLY PLACES. I COULDN’T FUCKING YAWN FOR YEARS WITHOUT BEING SCREAMED AT. FUCKING YAWNING. AND THEN I WAS ASKED TO STOP YAWNING! THAT IS AUTISM.
My mom works with teens and young adults who are close to the bottom of the spectrum. These children will never be able to have a life. A lot of them don’t talk. Or they only scream or say random words. Some do repetitive actions, often ones that cause injuries. Bigger male student have to be restrained by two or three men because they will not stop hitting themself of breaking property and are unable to stop. That’s what it’s like. At most, Walmart has a program for special needs adults to be baggers. Once they graduate, they live with their parents and then their siblings. Or they go to care home that specializes in autism. We’re fortunate that if it were to come to that case, we would be able to afford a nice one. But most parents or siblings of autistic children don’t have the money to send them to caring facilities. That’s the reality. That’s what you’re claiming to have the same diagnosis as (I KNOW ITS A SPECTRUM). I pity the real autistic people and glass children on platforms on tiktok or really any platform that are having the severity of their illness become a fucking trend.
I’ll probably delete this. But I’m just so fucking upset about it and I’m not fucking allowed to point it out. I wasn’t listened to my entire childhood because of a condition you’re claiming to have. Just for fucking once listen to me
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“you barely remember your dad, Morgan, you can't use him as an influential male figure in your life for Father's Day.”
That was said to her about a week ago by one of the pretentious girls in her private school and she hasn't stopped thinking about it. Of course, she retaliated, not in violence since her mother taught her better. No, she used words, and those cut deeper than any slap across the cheek.
Still, her feelings were hurt because the girl had been right.
So, here she was. A coffee right in front of her and some of her dad's old blueprints. She remembered bits and pieces of his time together with her, but it was all becoming a blur now that she was getting older. His memory is plastered all over the world and videos of him are online but the important ones, the intimate ones of him without his emotional armor. Those were her favorites and they were all in the home videos FRIDAY had made where no one could see them but her.
“ Fri?” The seventeen-year-old called out, her eyes not leaving the paper with different calculations, “Can you please bring up anything about Dad?”
“Anything in particular?”
“All of his blueprints, I want everything on display,” Morgan has seen every single video and read everything regarding her dad. This was her first time sitting down and fully trying to understand the way his mind worked. She was classified as a genius as well, but despite what people say, she doesn’t see herself as better than her dad. She wishes to be at the same level as him, never more.
She set the paper down when she saw the holograms be brought up and read over each blueprint carefully, marking her favorites and laughing at the small comments he left himself like, “Don't forget to rub it in hammers face” and “Peppers birthday is next week…I think?”
It wasn’t until she got to a particular year of blueprints that caught her attention. 2016 to be exact. She enhanced the blueprint and her confusion grew along with it. “Spiderman..?” She muttered to herself. She marked that one red for important and then moved on to the others and she quickly realized that there were many more blueprints for him. And suddenly, those little funny comments her dad left were filled with other comments as well.
“Don’t forget the dishes, Pete.”
“Already done Mr. Stark”
“I know what you did kid, you’re grounded.”
“You dared me to?!”
“Mr. Stark don’t forget to sign my permission slip, please!”
“On top of my list of things kid, don’t worry.”
Each one had a comment and a response, she felt like she was watching someone’s YouTube channel or Instagram post. It made her feel left out because this “Pete” had her father's attention more than she ever had despite him being her father.
Morgan let a breath out, not liking this envious emotion she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. Instead, she continued her search, ignoring the comments until she reached 2018. Two particular blueprints caught her eye. One was filled with similar comments to the others and the next seemed empty compared to the previous ones. Only a week apart difference.
“I have your stuff in my attic kid along with your aunts, nothing was lost.”
“Wherever you are kid, I hope you’re having fun with your friends.”
“I’m sorry kid.”
“I miss you”
There were more depressing ones that she couldn’t bear to look at the strong man she knows her father as to be lost like this in these little comments. He must have blipped she thought to herself, remembering the stories she heard of the big battle of 2018 and the war of 2023.
She marked the blueprint.
There were others, not informative but she continued with her markings until she got to the last one.
“Time travel,” she gasped softly, her eyes reading quickly every calculation she could set her eyes on. Her dad was the one who invented time travel! Why? How do people now know about this?
She marked it red but when she did her eyes set on the only comment on the blueprint.
“I’m getting you back kid, whatever it takes…”
This comment is what made her body go cold as she connected the dots. This singular comment is what let the envious feeling that had festered in the pit of her stomach get out. He’s the reason I don’t have my dad with me?!
“Miss Morgan,” Friday began, “you seem to be in distress, shall I call for your mother?”
Morgan took a deep breath and shook her head. Her mom had been working nonstop, the last thing she needed was for her to be woken up at three in the morning to calm her jealous daughter.
“It’s fine Friday,” she said, with a sigh before continuing, “What do you know about a guy named Pete?”
Not even a minute later the A.I replied, “There’s nothing in my databases about him.” Morgan pursed her lips in disappointment before getting another idea. “Friday, what do you know about Spider-Man?”
Again, the A.I replied with efficiency, “He is considered a vigilante and the hero of Queens, he’s been known to help the underdog and solve smaller crimes.” Morgan nodded before coming with a decision, “pull up everything on him, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Morgan left the A.I with her task as she walked towards the door that led to the attic. She doesn’t know why they had an attic, especially as a family of technology but she doesn’t judge, maybe this is where he hid some things.
She looked around for a bit, laughing at some old photos and old costumes of her childhood. After moving around some more boxes, she found one with the label P. Parker on the side. Lifting the lid, she saw various things that someone her age might call vintage but are really not.
There was a yellow letterman jacket that looked too small to be a jock. Hold up, she thought to herself I can’t judge him just yet. It was confirmed a second later when she pulled out first place ribbons from decathlon competitions that the jacket was in fact not a jock.
She looked through more stuff inside the box, pulling out various Star Wars Lego figurines and other merchandise. A t-shirt with a bad pun and a yearbook. Finally, she can put a face to the strange person that had hogged the memories of her dad.
However, as she flipped through the pages, she couldn’t find anyone named Pete Parker but she assumed it was the kid that kept getting blocked in the most awkward way ever.
She let out an annoyed huff and put everything back in its box aside from the letterman jacket and the yearbook. Walking back down into her forgotten workspace, she saw the new information about a certain Spider-Themed hero, a victorious smile on her face despite not finding any answers in the attic. Once again, technology proves itself to be better, she thought to herself before thinking that her dad would absolutely agree with her thought.
She pulled her phone out and sent a quick message, knowing that they were awake as well. Looking at all the information in front of her she quickly refilled her mug with some new coffee.
It’s going to be a long night she thought to herself as settled in to her seat, her feet that wore fuzzy socks tucked in underneath her and Friday began to read.
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Sneak peek of a new fic I'm writing that I can relate to and I hope you all like it. ❤️
#tony stark#marvel#peter parker#robert downey jr#tom holland#avengers endgame#morgan stark#this might make people cry#please let me know if you like it#grief#avengers#fic writing
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you don’t even remember it, lol. how fucking shameful. you know how terrifying that experience is, having secret pictures of yourself get weaponized and publicized to call you out harder? do you know how mortifying, disgusting and invasive it feels having nudes attached for “evidence” to link blogs together, out of your hands and on the open web now? the person im talking about wasn’t guilty of anything more than calling their partner a title in bed that could be bad-faith-read into supporting incest, (of course, she didn’t support or excuse real abuse, not that it mattered to the calloutmonger who painted every other sexual post of hers with malice and predation) and you went right along and nodded your head at it like a good little duck following in a row. i remember you doubling down again and again, that this wasn’t okay and you were blocking people who tried to say that the mob spreading of her nudes couldn’t be justified. no one deserved to be cyberstalked through personal tiny blogs and made into a bloody spectacle, but for some reason this is always allowed to happen to trans women.
do you have any fucking idea how it feels? can you even imagine it? seeing people you thought were your friends, your friends friends, acquaintances, strangers; all of them hear the call that this one is one of the bad ones, and drop you like a stone without even a chance to speak out? you know what that does to trans women, who get constantly excluded and alienated out of irl lgbt shit and wind up online? you know how that feels? getting immediately thrown away and made into ammo for a dumbfuck culture war by people you thought gave even a tiny shit about you, who now call you an incestous danger to minors just like the alt right fucks do? and now, now you have the gall to turn around and try to act like you’re in any way above this when just a couple years ago you were baying for blood like the rest of them? you don’t have a single leg to stand on because you’re too afraid of looking bad to even consider you might’ve done wrong, to even extend the smallest piece of understanding towards women YOU helped get sexually harassed off the site. of course. everyone has bias but you, right? everyone has things to work on except when they’re big mistakes that would require actually doing some work challenging yourself. i dont want shit from you. i just want you to know that there are trans women who see right fucking through you. we can’t forget how we’ve been hurt, even if you get that privilege.
I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt so far but I hope you can see that it's absurd to accuse me of spreading revenge porn and get mad at me when I "don't even remember" but you won't give me any specifics about this situation you're talking about. If what you're accusing me of is true, how am I supposed to be held accountable and actually change myself for the better if you won't even tell me who or what you're talking about?
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hey, how’s it going. I made this side blog when i had 2020 dean winchester induced brain fog (i also literally had a concussion and then post concussion syndrome for months, so brain damage in the realest sense). thinking about dean winchester occasionally still makes me feel things…but lately it’s giving that “i got on mood stabilizers and dont like bts anymore” tweet. still, destiel 4ever obviously. i rarely post on here anymore, but here are some core tenets of this blog:
1. Supernatural is a white supremacist show on every single level.
2. i’m interested in dean in a gender studies way, but also in a rawer more emotional teenage connection way and also i’m a sucker for gritty family drama and kids who had to grow up too fast and every painfully twisted sibling dynamic ever written. i think the groundedness of the undercurrent of very complicated familial abuse and how extremely real that feels is actually the only emotional glue holding the show together.
3. I named this blog after cassie because she was a rare compelling and somewhat humanized woman of color on this show—who was tragically underused and existed in a horrifically racist one off episode, but still in a show riddled with misogynoir and every fucking flavor of racism and misogyny, she stands out to me as someone worth highlighting. plus she had sweet sexy fun bi4bi vibes with dean
4. Ok i’m bored of making this list. Basically i was gonna say as we all know there are lots of delicious concepts in supernatural, but none of them were ever delivered on to their maximum potential or carried through consistently. I guess the interesting conversations to me mostly lie in the wells of potential and the innumerable swing and misses on the show. With that being said, there is absolutely nothing serious about supernatural. To all the creators and everyone involved: you are not serious people.
5. about me: i’m an iranian american dyke in my 20s. i think super online white queer people are typically pretty annoying. i’m not interested in being a part of “spn fandom” this blog was just my own little chronicle of a breakdown and an outlet during an extended hard time. i don’t believe in dnis, but a lot of you are really racist and out of touch and i will not hesitate to block you. ok! now that the annoying people have left, i will say i do love talking to the mutuals and other smarties! feel free to message or reply to a post if you have relevant (good faith) thoughts. you can also find me on my active main blog @dykesaira
6. how could I forget? do not talk to me about actors…i literally do not care…unshackle your minds and stop paying attention to them
7. and of course! Destiel is real. source: it happened to me
8. I’m interested in studying the American Studies element/aesthetics of Americana and the cultural interpreting/mirroring of the show. my posts about how the us military loved the show and how sam and dean operate as cops fall into this category. but so do a lot of my thoughts on the role of music in the show and what the soundtrack SHOULD have been like
#tous.txt#ive always dreamed of having an incredibly organized and cool tagging system but i am not that guy
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https://www.tumblr.com/thetiredstuff/733567858442895360/was-gonna-make-a-post-about-how-i-was-disappointed
i wish i had more coherent thoughts of my own to share with you but i do want to say that i so appreciate the thoughtful nuance you’ve extended here and agree with what you said.
Hi anon!!
If you ever do have any thoughts you wanna share please feel free! Even if they aren’t coherent cuz mine aren’t lol. I fully expected people to get angry at what I said honestly so this is a surprise to see.
Idk I think people just genuinely forget that if you aren’t chronically online you don’t see isr*li propaganda being burst like a bubble every single day. Isr*l spends a tonnnnn of money on propaganda and has veryyyy close ties with America. The American public even if they aren’t Jewish have been exposed to that propaganda for decades. It’s very difficult to unlearn all of that if you’ve been brainwashed for decades with it. Especiallyyyy because for yearsssssss people have been told that you do not everrr speak about isr*l and Palestine because it is too complex for us mere mortals unless you’re an expert. Add to that the fact that isr*l managed to create the propaganda stance that condemning them is being anti-Semitic and it’s no surprise so many people are pro isr*l. Like it’s disappointing to say the least but it’s not surprising. But people are learning and unlearning a lot of bias. What’s important is then letting mistakes be made and dialogue be had. And in the case of the word genocide, even top experts in the world are afraid of calling it that partly because it is very difficult to determine if there is an intent but also because I’m guessing it is being perpetuated by a regime that is Jewish. And given the awful history that Jewish people have had to endure, surviving a genocide, I’m guessing a lot of experts are very wary of using that same terminology now to label the crimes of people who are Jewish. Like if I look it up, it’s only these last few days that people have started saying this is an alleged genocide and the vast majority of the small amount of people who are saying that are people who are highlyyyy regarded experts in very specified fields in academia related to isr*l or the holocaust and often times are themselves even Jewish. All of that is no coincidence. (I’m no expert lol that’s just my observation)
update: very interesting but misha just deleted the tweet where he said he thinks genocide is the wrong word so i'm wondering if he's questioning if that statement in that tweet was correct. idk.
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Dear Reader diary ass post blog thing
I’m like constantly bothered I never figured out orgasms like I told myself I would do it before ever getting pregnant like idk like I wanted it to be a threshold like okay if someone takes the time to figure that out with me then I’ll have his babies but literally no lol my husband has no interest or understanding on how to do that and whereas I’m free to figure that out independently it’s like, lame bc I realize like
I still feel like I’m mildly missing out or something idk like I’ll always be reflecting on the times from before I got married where I knew I got wet and it was a whole thing I used to be like, through my jeans wet back in the day fooling around in cars at like 19 but I was just so so afraid of getting pregnant (I guess like, it’s always on my mind and since I didn’t get proper sex ed bc purity culture and conservative parents ,,) it was just very like, idk I thought that’s what happened when people had sex so I wasn’t going to need to figure out sex until I wanted that to happen
So I fucking waited and did the whole damn thing like okay I’ll figure it out with my husband
but it’s like damn now it’s literally I either figure it out independently or nothing and like I kinda do right like it’s not impossible the way it was once like a concept and not a physical thing I could describe
but its like idfk I play DnD right and our friend the DM that we jokingly call Daddy Master
when dude was like “GAH I’m like full of testerterone rn” and I was trippin balls on mushrooms fucking coping w ovulation like I had to fight every fiber in my being from being like
God what I wouldn’t give to get fucking railed by you rn and let you take that out on me
Even if it’s not even like /for me/ I feel like if I got the chance to be fucked really good like, maybe I’d figure out orgasms. But like. Alas.
Bruh I get all annoyed tryna come up w reasons to set that up, like I was like oh what if I pitch swinging or whatever the upside down pineapple people be doin but then I realized my husband would also need to be useful to trade not just me? Like I literally caught him on Ashley fucking Madison whilst I was pregnant like my brain tells me he wouldn’t be super against it but I know that’s not true like his kink is literal monogamy or some shit and he was only on there to look at stuff that felt more secret like idk that sounds unreal but my husband didn’t even have his profile set to near us , I know he had no intent to leave or whatever and we talked it out and said like if he needs whatever online we’re fine we just have to tell each other before doing shit w other people
But like neither of us have budged or tried it idk
I know in my heart he’s abiding by our rules and that I should just tell him that I’m going insane and can’t be around our guy friends whilst ovulating bc it makes me wanna implode bc I sincerely like
Dude I went years forgetting I could get wet bc I just like idk wet sexually inactive the past however many years I’ve been married but like
It all still works
I masturbate and can soak my side of the bed like I remember being like /fuck this’ll be cool when I have sex/ and it just never ever got to happen
Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh
Off to go jackoff to y’all’s dirty posts
I hate that I don’t understand it like I feel too old to be this virginal I feel like this is such a waste of good cunt like
Dude my mouth too like I had a really rough fight w bulimia as a teen so I got like no gag reflex like I can swallow some big cock hypothetically
Ugh I hate knowing I know multiple of my guy friends have giant cocks I get to do nothing about
Also bc more often than not, like, I befriend rather good men. So whereas I look at them as a piece of meat in my head, these are kinda just like
Average husband type whatever guys
That like no one seems to fucking want like why are my guy friends single
I feel like I would stop fucking them in my head if I wasn’t the only married one right like I would have double guilt or something bc I’d be wronging another woman?
Not to say I don’t feel bad and like I’m wronging my husband for mentally fucking friends like obviously there’s some 10 commandments shit about being just as bad imagining fucking your neighbors wife as doing the action itself
I think
Idk did I already write this? Oh whale. You’ll see I repeat myself a lot. A lot of my life is repetitive. Ugh.
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I’ve had this idea for a bit so I’m just gonna write it out in the least organized way possible so have fun reading this
Post canon non canon whatever under the cut! There may be subtle spoilers so be careful!
Second Year Chris, who by now is able to just be a girl without worrying about expulsion or being treated weird (because she’s got the wildest friends now, they can and will beat your ass if you try anything) is just having her second year at NRC really. She misses the friends she’d made who had moved on from third year into fourth and we’re off doing field studies, but she’d see them on occasion, some more often than others (Like Leona who’s already mapped out the best napping spots here so why bother finding new ones???/hj) but otherwise she’s in good company.
As days inch closer to her birthday (I’m not crazy about birthdays lmao) she does everything in her power to make sure people forget (I don’t imagine Crowley has it documented either so L) and somehow manages to get through the day without a single mention of it! Of course, that’s until night rolls around. She still takes walks some nights and thinks nothing of taking one tonight too. As she walks she reminisces about the walks she’d taken with Malleus and how she always felt so safe with him despite how people felt and speak of the devil he’s right there Mal wHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???? So apparently, Malleus remembered her birthday despite having been the only one to not have physically seen her since last year (other than Idia but she still plays online with him and sometimes he uses his face cam wow). At first Chris is a little disappointed, having not checked off every box like she so meticulously thought she had, but when she comes to terms that this was a variable that was entirely out of her control she’s almost flattered that he’d made the time to see her. She did miss him after all, the reason hardly mattered. Malleus was there for her. Chris was going to cherish that.
The two go on a walk again and it’s like nothing has changed they both enjoyed each other’s company and had fun conversation. They’d laughed at memories of the prior year and Chris accidentally said “Will I see you tomorrow?” On impulse before sputtering out an apology and having a laugh with Malleus over it.
Then Malleus presented his “birthday gift” to her. A single wish. Anything her heart desired, all she had to do was name it. She tried to insist that seeing him again was more than enough of a gift, but Malleus stood firm. He really wanted to do something special for her. It took some time to think of what she really truly wanted, the two wound up sitting on the front steps of ramshackle practically playing twenty questions on the subject, but when Chris decided what it was that she wanted it was final.
“Magic, Malleus. I want magic.”
#long post#i have so many thoughts#it’s crazy up here#yuusona#twst sona#I’m not giving this a million tags I’m tired#okay to reblog#reblogs encouraged
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This post is a message in a bottle. The person it’s for doesn’t want to hear from me, and I want to respect him by not reaching out again. These are just some thoughts I want to get off my chest, and if he ever sees them, good. He deserves to have these.
Tw: vent, mentions of self harm, suicide
Who remembers middle school doing anything but sucking, right? You in your house, but not home, me with my freshly uprooted life. I don’t know if we were fated to meet, but meet we did. Lonely teenagers taking solace in online chatrooms and community events. And lonely we were. We hit it off! You, me, and our other friends, once I got my head out of my ass and actually worked the nerve up to talk to you all.
Eventually we got tired of the buggy and disorganized nature of our first chatroom, so we moved to grayer pastures and roaming wumpuses, so we could just have our little group. The time seemed to fly from there. You all made middle school… palatable. It was never gonna be good, but if I hadn’t had you to chat with at the end of the day when I got my phone from my locker? I might have just lost my mind entirely.
We grew closer. Our group came and went, interests changed and we had some fights, but you were still there. You and I were a constant, thick as thieves, the best of friends. I wonder if that’s the reason it all went wrong? Maybe it was a long time coming, and I never wanted to notice. You told me one day that you had a crush on me, and I was in the middle of figuring out my orientation. You were a man, and had told me as such, and trusted that I’d see you as one. And I did, and I do. I thought I was a cis girl and a lesbian at the time, when we were 15. I don’t know if you were ever still carrying that torch. I know you had for a year, when you called out Single People’s Day, a few weeks after I’d started dating my first partner and come out as nonbinary. If you were hurting because of it, I never knew. That was how you were. You encrypted your messages behind base64, and deleted them right after. Just long enough every time to grab a screenshot and translate the message, painstaking, by hand on my iphone 5. Anytime you wanted to reach out, you made sure it was fleeting. I know it was scary, to trust people whose faces you’d only seen a few times with your troubles. I don’t fault you for it, I just don’t understand why you played that kind of game with us anyways. It always led to you and I on the phone, me sobbing and begging you to stay just a little longer. Promising things would get better. One of these days, just you wait, we were gonna hug and celebrate that you survived.
Regardless, you grew out of that and got so much better. I could see it as we went through high school. Around our ups and downs, you healed, and you opened up to us more and more. To me, too, as we had become closer than we were to the rest of our friends. As I was starting my homestuck phase, I called you my moirail. Diamond is an appropriate symbol. You were a diamond in the roughest times of my life back then. I called you my brother, and I truly meant it.
Maybe we didn’t talk all the time anymore, but we were there when we needed each other. I’m sorry if my teasing you was one of the reasons you broke things off, by the way. You know it’s hard to read tone over text, and we never used tags, so I thought you were playing into the bit when you grumbled about me calling you baby brother. With a three week difference in our age, I have no idea how much it really mattered to you.
Maybe that was another mistake? We had been friends so long we never thought our communication would ever need a tune-up. Maybe the lead-up to our fight was full of missed cues and misunderstood barbs meant to be playful. Whatever. Do you remember May 10, 2022? I can never forget it. Years of swearing we’d meet someday, failed attempts to cross paths, et cetera et cetera, and we finally DID it. We met. We hugged. We went shopping we went to build a bear. We made matching Mews, only yours wore a shirt and mine smelled like bubblegum. After we inevitably said goodbye, we shared pictures of them buckled into our respective vehicles. We’d have pieces of each other, now, always. Do you still have yours? You named him Bingus and took him with you to college. I couldn’t bring mine with me this year. It hurt too much to hold him after the things you said. My eyes got misty for a moment now, too, but you’re not getting any more of my tears.
And COLLEGE, how can I not talk about college? We were finally, finally going to art school! Not together, but at the same time, at least! I was so proud of you, your portfolio was spectacular. We were so excited. This was just last year, and then everything changed for me. I don’t know if I ever told you about it, it was always a sensitive line to cross. I lost a friend of mine, the same way you always swore you’d do one day, the same way I’d so diligently tried to protect you from at only fifteen years old. We were fifteen, man, and I was talking you off the edge. And I couldn’t save my friend this time. There wasn’t anything I could have done, and suddenly it hit me like a train that I cherish you. I cherish your life and the ways it’s touched mine, even if you never believed me when I tried to tell you. Shit, that event probably impacted me in ways I’ll never realize. I twitch at self deprecation, at jokes that once never bothered me.
But I bet you noticed them. They were probably unpleasant, even if you never knew why. Trying to explain myself so late in the game probably would have pissed you off, that I didn’t tell you sooner. Or maybe it would have upset you or pushed you or something. Sometimes it felt like eggshells. The line between your normal and your breaking point was paper thin sometimes. I couldn’t weigh you down with something you struggled so much with. If I told you, if it hurt you, I’m so sorry. I truly can’t remember anything around it. It’s a blur that plays back in fuzzy grey in my mind with such an empty feeling, and it still fucking hurts.
I hope you’re okay. Because I still love you. I hope you’re still out there, because you deserve that love. You were my best friend, K. I’m sorry it ended the way it did, and that I may never understand why. That’s probably why you-know-who dropped me, too. They had said I was too stupid to notice when I was upsetting them, and I’d never give them the satisfaction of being right, but man, I do struggle.
I just don’t get it, K. I fucked up, sure. I pushed a boundary and couldn’t tell when I had. I couldn’t read the difference between the bit and the border. I’m so sorry, but I can’t let myself believe that our fight was truly the reason. It was such a stupid argument. I wish it hadn’t happened, so you’d have had to find another way to get rid of me. I hope my worst fears are wrong. Because if you really did shove me away just so I couldn’t stop you anymore, I’ll never forgive that. And if you ever see this post, you can get as mad as you want in the tags or the comments. At least I can breathe knowing you’re safe, because it’s the uncertainty that’s fucking terrifying.
The real point I want to get at is that I do love you. Maybe not the way you wanted, but I love you. I will always, always cherish the time we had as friends, and I may be mourning the loss of our friendship for a long, long time. I hope you’re okay, and I hope you’re healing. You deserve it for the shit you had to go through.
You remember it from way back when
Stay determined, K.
- L
And to all my friends who read this far and are worried about me, I wouldn’t exactly say I’m FINE, but this post isn’t a reason to worry. I think it’s important I finally put this out there, so it can stop festering in my heart. I love you all, and I’m alright because of you. Thank you for worrying about me.
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Thoughts On Realistic GPT Videos Solutions
youtube
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girl r u ok
i WILL MEVER NE THE SMAME AGAIN
#ik u don’t want an actual answer#but picture this:#your mom has left for two weeks to take care of her sick father who lives far away#leaving u with your dad and grandma#your dad also has to leave for four days because of a work trip#leaving u alone with your grandma that has slowly started losing memory after your grandpa died earlier this year#she asks u 1200 times a day what time it is/ day it is / year it is and just nearly forgets everything#and you have to try your best to be patient#you miss your mom#and then suddenly its comeback day#u wake up early to watch the mv and listen to album and then the pressure to create sets in#u try to gif but in every single set something goes wrong and u feel like u cant do it#it takes u seven hours to finally post a set and u think its ugly and you’re so disappointed with yourself#it’s overwhelming and u keep having these self deprecating thoughts and its a constant circle so u cry and fall asleep#u wake up to your mutuals showinf u so much love esp ashible and annie#and people miraculously like the set u think is ugly#and then your fav band goes live and u read the trans online and its funny#and then your bias the only one in the world posts not ONCE but TWICE#despite being so ia on social media#so yeah. i lost it for a second there </3#pls ignore all typos i promise i know correct grammar and how to spell </3#also ignore this whole thing hdjdjd#angels ☁️#love mail 💌
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songbird
pairing: non-idol!joshua x gn!reader
prompt: soulmate au series. 5/13
word count: 2.8k~
warnings: reader slightly angry in jihoon’s DMs. mentions of joshua getting inappropriate DMs (please don’t be a creep in anyone’s DMs). very slight angst over first impressions and potential soulmate relationships.
daisy’s notes: i know i am in the minority of being okay with hearing shua sing sunday morning every single day. i am ok w this. when he said its a masterpiece i felt that.
summary: Joshua knows his soulmate is somewhere. He’s heard them sing before, and he knows they’ve heard him sing before. Maybe that’s why he takes Jihoon up on his offer to produce a song to post online. He just hopes that his soulmate starts to look up the lyrics sooner or later…
When Joshua found out his soulmate sign was being able to hear his soulmate when they sang, things felt right. Maybe it’d be a little more fitting for someone like Jihoon, but Joshua felt lucky nonetheless. He liked singing, even if he could never find out your name or your location or anything that could guide him directly to you. He grew up singing, sometimes in church, and he felt a little guilty that you had to put up with all of it. But he’d never forget the way he was singing in church one day, only to hear a pop song on the radio hours later. A sign you were out there. He had run off to tell his family immediately, and it only made him want to pursue music even more--if he could. He was young. Sometimes dreams just stayed dreams. He passed up following music as a career when he got a little older, keeping it as a hobby. He worked to support himself in college from the day he moved out, passing up invitations to join his friends at music festivals and concerts in order to pick up extra hours. Even if he gave up trying for a career, he held onto it as a hobby. He’d sit in his apartment sometimes and just play, singing along to songs he wrote or pop songs he learned unless you sang back to shut up because you needed the quiet. He never took it personally: he understood people needed silence to work. He did, too, sometimes. He’d always laugh whenever he heard your stilted, annoyed singing to get him to shut up, and he’d sing back his little apology. He hoped that made you laugh, or at least soothed any tension that might be growing between the two of you.
He just hoped that you used all of it as a reminder that he was still out there. Sometimes that’s what his singing was meant to be. When he could afford to just sit back, eyes shut and listen to you sing along to songs you liked, he loved to. It was a reminder you were there. Occasionally he could hear you singing along to the same sad songs Joshua assumed were a part of a sad playlist you’d made. He looked up lyrics and learned them so that he could sing along, too. Just so you knew that he was still there with you and that he cared.
Sometimes he’d wake up to your voice, too. Maybe you were taking a shower before work or school, or you were making breakfast, but Joshua just liked to lay there and listen. You didn’t have to be perfect for Joshua to already love the little pieces of you he was getting to know through music. Sometimes he dreamed of taking his guitar out into the city and playing in the park all the songs he heard you sing, just to see if fate would bring you to him.
It felt silly. Seungcheol always told him he thought it was kinda romantic to chase after a dream and a soulmate. Jeonghan would sometimes laugh and tell him that he looked more like he was trying to get scouted. Maybe in another life, Joshua would laugh. He knew he was lucky, in a sense: he could hear you whenever he wanted. He knew Jeonghan had dreams of a face he couldn’t fully remember, and that Seungcheol only saw life in black and white. He could only imagine that it was rough, but Joshua never had a problem going grocery shopping with Seungcheol just to help him pick things out.
Sometimes it felt like... fate, in a sense, that they all started to find their soulmates one by one after Seungkwan found his. Joshua had heard that story plenty of times, because Seungkwan loved to tell it. He’d met Seungkwan’s soulmate, too: a little bold, but sweet. Clumsy as hell, too, but they had Seungkwan to watch out for them (and Joshua found it sweet how much he doted on them, smoothing a bandage over their knee with that same lovestruck look on his face). Wonwoo had casually mentioned that his soulmate was kind, that he’d bring them around eventually if they all promised to behave. Minghao’s shared his love of art and seemed quiet and thoughtful, and Jihoon’s... had apparently been a bit of a mess. Jihoon had casually recounted the way they approached him, initially pissed because of all the bleached hair, but they genuinely seemed like someone he was getting along with. Of course, Soonyoung said that he barely looked them in the eye when they came to pick him up for dates, but that seemed normal for Jihoon.
Joshua thought that the song they were working on would get put off by Jihoon meeting his soulmate. Seungkwan spent a lot of time with his soulmate, Wonwoo had dates every weekend to get to know his, Minghao constantly talked about the art galleries he went to with them (making up for “lost time,” apparently, since he was happily experiencing a world full of color for the first time in over a decade)... It made sense, in Joshua’s opinion. Jihoon, however, had merely shrugged and said that this was work and his soulmate was his personal life. Those were kept separate. He wasn’t going to “prioritize” one over the other unless he absolutely had to. Soulmate time was soulmate time, work time was for work. His music was his life, and his soulmate already understood that. They worked it out (Jihoon said they were career-oriented, too, and he supported their endeavors), so all Joshua had to worry about was the song itself.
Joshua had his phone pressed between his shoulder and his cheek, “Are you sure? You can take more time for them if you need to.”
“Do you need to ask them?” Jihoon had said. “They’re okay with it. Ask Soonyoung if you need to. They have work and a social life, too, Shua. We’re talking. I’m not going to abandon our song just because I found my soulmate. That’s something an asshole would do.”
That had been the end of that conversation before Jihoon changed the topic to the lyrical changes they’d been talking about. Jihoon put everything into his music, and Joshua appreciated that passion. He felt bad for his soulmate when the time of recording finally came, since he knew how Jihoon was. He’d most likely have to re-record segments until they were perfect (and Joshua appreciated that, too--but his poor soulmate...). It was going to get grating soon enough, and he prayed that his soulmate wasn’t busy. But he stood in the booth, prepared to finally get this part over with.
As much as Joshua loved singing, he knew how long this would take. At least he would get dinner with Jihoon afterward. There were little victories like that when it came to hard work.
“Joshua...” Jihoon had pressed a button so that he could be heard in the booth. He was shuffling papers, idly keeping himself busy. “Do you ever think...” He trailed off, glancing up for just a second.
“On occasion.”
Jihoon rolled his eyes, which only served to make Joshua smile a little more. “Do you ever think you could use this to find your soulmate?”
He had. Multiple times since they agreed to do this. He could only imagine the frustration of hearing a song that wasn’t out in the world yet. Plenty of songs never made it this far, after all, or ever be posted, but this was going to be. Jihoon would have the lyrics posted somewhere, too. All it would take is a single search to find his name, to find him, and you could do that. “Sometimes.”
“Do you hope it will?”
Yes. “Maybe,” he settled on. “I don’t know. It’s in Korean. If they can’t speak it--”
“They’d look,” Jihoon said, completely serious as he watched Joshua glanced back up. “If they want to find you, they’ll look. I think... that’s what a soulmate does. That’s why we have signs, right? So we know we’re not alone?”
Joshua frowned. “Then why do you think some people don’t?” Like Seokmin. Like Soonyoung. Like Vernon, too. What did you think, too?
Jihoon said nothing, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not a guarantee. We know that,” he said quietly. “But sometimes if people just want a friend...”
Then they know you’re there. Joshua understood it. He... never thought of it like that. He always thought of his soulmate in the romantic sense, if he was honest. What if his soulmate wasn’t looking for that? He took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to get worried about that. He was okay with finding a friend, truly, but he’d still have to cope with that disappointment.
“Joshua?”
He looked back up.
“Are you okay?”
Joshua nodded, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”
“About your soulmate?” Jihoon ran a hand through his hair--still dyed to match his soulmate. One day it’d fade and he’d have his natural color back, but Joshua liked to think that Jihoon wore his soulmate’s hair color with pride. “I think you’re lucky. Mine would have gone crazy if they had to hear me sing unfinished work over and over.” He smiled. “You ready?”
He was. This meant he’d be one step closer to finding you, hopefully. Or... well.. for you to find him. Unless you were living some sort of double life where you only performed when he was asleep, then Joshua knew you weren’t a singer. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and gave Jihoon a thumbs up.
One step forward.
Jihoon called him days after the song launched. They had their drinks, a celebration with friends, and entertained the idea of maybe writing and producing another one sometime (especially if this one turned out well). Thanks to Jihoon’s following (and having thirteen people, plus all found soulmates, sharing it around), it received pretty decent engagement. Joshua would check back to see what people were saying: the compliments on his voice, lyrical analysis, some people... admittedly thirsting over him (he turned his personal twitter private afterward--he had too many people asking if he had a soulmate, or outright asking for nudes). Aside from the creepier replies, it was nice to receive congratulations for his and Jihoon’s hard work.
“Where are you?”
Joshua had half an hour left of work. He took a quick glance around before lowering his voice, “Work?”
“Get to my place when you’re done.”
And then he hung up, ominous as could be. The moment Joshua could clock out, he did and made his way out with a text to Jihoon that he was on his way. Soonyoung had let him in, only slightly disappointed that he was not the delivery guy with their takeout, and Jihoon looked up from his spot on the couch.
“Sing something right now.”
Joshua furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Just do it.”
So he sang the first line of the masterpiece that was “Sunday Morning.” Jihoon rolled his eyes before typing something in on his laptop, and Joshua could hear Soonyoung snicker from behind him. “What’s this about?”
“Give me a minute.” He looked up, and then moved his bag from next to him. “You can sit down if you want.”
Joshua did, leaning back just enough to catch the glimpse of the Twitter website open to Jihoon’s professional account. He angled the laptop away.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up,” he said, still explaining nothing else. He glanced up one more time. “But... I think they found me.”
Joshua stared at him. “What?”
“You, technically, but you went private and they said you denied their follow.”
To be fair, Joshua blocked multiple people trying to follow him. Especially if they didn’t leave any public response. Those were the people who tried to slide into his DMs and ask for his dick. “That really doesn’t tell me anything.”
Jihoon raised his brows, glancing back up to Joshua’s face before he turned his laptop back to him.
The first message was from you: TELL YOUR SINGER FRIEND I’M GONNA KICK HIS ASS FOR GETTING THIS STUCK IN MY HEAD TWO WEEKS AGO.
Jihoon had answered pretty sensibly: he asked if you were his soulmate and if you could prove it. You had argued back that you knew the song and you had friends who could quote the lyrics back because you’d sang them under your breath so often. Jihoon snapped back that he wanted real proof, and that if you could name what his friend was singing, then he’d get you in touch.
He asked what he sang. You responded back pretty simply: was that goddamn sunday morning by maroon 5. not again. goddamn it. i’m not strong enough for this.
“They’re a little dramatic,” Jihoon sharply said, “but I don’t blame them.”
Joshua rolled his eyes. “Tell them to send another follow request and--”
Jihoon was already typing something in. Can you meet right now? Are you in the city?
“What are you doing?”
Jihoon looked up for about half a second. You confirmed you were in the city, and Jihoon rattled off a coffee shop name to see if you recognized it and how far it was from you. “You should meet them in person,” he said. “I think... It’s better that way.”
Joshua couldn’t argue with that. He’d dreamed of meeting you, and yet when it came down to it, he could feel a rush of anxiety. What if you hated him for all of his musical ventures? For getting so many songs stuck in your head? That was in no way one-sided (he had his own fair share of songs stuck in his head from you singing one part and leaving him to find the rest), but what if that was a deal-breaker for you? He got up once he saw the place confirmed, and told Jihoon to tell you he was on his way.
The entire drive over, he swore his hands were shaking. He couldn’t ask if this was how anyone else felt, except maybe Wonwoo. The same shaking giddiness at being so close to finding his soulmate, to meeting them for the first time. He’d seen cheesy movies too many times, and pushed away those expectations. There would be no passionate kiss, no immediate love between the two of you: just two people destined to be together, tied together by song. Jihoon texted him that you would be the one in a red jacket, sat in the corner of the shop.
Joshua parked his car and just sat there for a moment, taking a deep breath. He could see you from where he was sitting, curled up and leg shaking. Were you as nervous as he was? Or even more? That put him a little more at ease to know. Soon enough, he gathered his courage and left his car. No order for coffee or tea or anything he could spill on you: just a vague greeting to the teenager working behind the counter, and his path set to take him to you.
“Hi.” He smiled at you. “I’m Joshua.”
You stared up at him, studying his face. He could see the way you glanced at his phone, a picture of him and Jihoon open on your phone. You quickly set it down, screen facing the table. You introduced yourself calmly enough, nodding toward the seat across from you. “So... You’re my soulmate.”
He sat down, jacket folded over the back of his chair. “I’m your soulmate,” he reaffirmed. “It’s... really nice to meet you.”
“Is it?” You looked embarrassed. “I feel really bad for messaging your friend like that. I mean, I messaged him back after I got here to tell him the song was really good. Just... being a part of the production process...”
“I get it,” he smiled.
“You have a really pretty voice,” you said. “I mean. I’ve always known that, and you probably have, too, but...” You smiled at him after a moment, more genuine this time. “It’s nice to match a face to a voice.”
There was no spark between the two of you. Just a comfortable warmth that Joshua felt rise into his chest. Not love, but... the lovely feeling of sharing an experience. Maybe that was what the soulmate signs were for. People like Minghao and Seungcheol would be able to bond over seeing a world with little to no color. Jihoon no doubt bonded with his soulmate over the frustrations of hair dye.
“I know it’s kinda silly,” you said, gaze averted, “but those times you sang along to my sad songs really meant a lot.”
He smiled. “They did?”
“Yeah,” you drummed your knuckles against the table. “It’s a nice reminder that I wasn’t alone.”
Good, Joshua thought to himself. “If it helps... You’ll never be alone again, okay?” He reached out, taking your hand in his own. “I’m here. You can talk to me if you ever need to.”
You curled your fingers around his own. “I’d like that.”
It was a step toward a new future, and Joshua was glad to take it if you were right there by his side.
#wooahaes.fic#seventeen imagine#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt imagine#svt x you#joshua x reader#joshua fluff#joshua hong fluff#joshua x you#joshua hong x reader
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Wedding Break
Masterlist
I really hope you’re in a modern royalty/runaway bride mood today
Warnings: only language I think
Word count: 2,1k
~~~~~~~~~~
“Which Whitethorn do you think is the hottest?” Aelin said a millisecond before shoving her phone on Aedion’s sight.
Her cousin playfully slapped her hand away. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your speech?”
“It’s either this or hearing about carbon monoxide one more time for you.”
As beautiful as Queen Maeve’s castle was with its tiny streams and walls of pale stone, Aelin just wanted to fast-forward to when she actually got to do her first official task, or at least forget about it until it was time. For someone who have begged for a more active role in the government for years, she was feeling too much like a deer in the headlights.
Muttering something unintelligible to himself, Aedion zoomed in the picture with everyone from the House of Whitethorn and quickly assessed it.
“Tattooed Whitethorn.”
Aelin looked at the picture and bit her lip. “Agreed. I think his name is Ronan or something.”
“They could’ve picked this one for you to marry.”
Frowning, she asked, “What do you mean?” Aelin knew she’d have to marry someone eventually, but she didn’t even like to think about the nightmare it would be. Being crown princess, every formal step of her love life needed to be approved by her dad and the Royal Council, and she had enough battles of her own with them for now.
Aedion cackled, not sensing her distress or maybe because of it. “Didn’t you open Twitter today? The tabloids are saying you’re engaged with Prince Endymion.”
Gaping at her cousin, she was somewhere between laughing and frowning at this new piece of information. “Isn’t he gay? I know we both dated Dorian.”
“I’m pretty sure he is, too.” A beat. “God, I wonder how they came up with this one.”
They kept scrolling on their respective couches, sometimes chatting about things they saw online, but something about this rumor was bothering her. Aelin blocked her phone and rubbed the back of her neck, brows creased in thought. This wasn’t the first, neither would be the last false rumor about her love life. It was so common she didn’t mind anymore. What was irking Aelin was where their attention was. She was here to bring attention to carbon monoxide. Greenhouse effect. Global warming. Not to have her outfits and love life scrutinized by Doranelle’s tabloids.
Aelin cleared her throat, gathering Aedion’s attention.
“Don’t you think these rumors kinda undermine the real reason I’m here? It makes people forget the purpose of my trip and—“
“You know you’re only here because Rhoe’s boys’ club don’t give a fuck about the environment, right?”
Aelin flinched, hating how sometimes Aedion could see right through her. He straightened his posture and gave a long-suffering sigh.
“I’m sorry, Ace. It’s hard to get over this. You keep running around the castle, waiting for kernels like a damn pet—“
“I’m not a pet!” Aelin shouted, tired of having the same argument with Aedion for the millionth time.
He raised both hands in surrender and left, banging the ancient wooden door.
With a pounding heartbeat, Aelin got up and started pacing around the room. He would never get it. If she couldn’t get her voice heard in the council because of her position as crown princess, Aelin would work until she earned that spot. And it was already happening. Her dad put her in charge of Terrasen’s environmental policies as a 21st birthday gift, and there she was. Months later, only beginning to kick ass with her new task.
Aelin did a quick breathing exercise to calm herself down, too consumed by these thoughts, the gossip, her fight with Aedion and probably every single moment of the past months that led her to this. Aelin couldn’t post online without her PR’s approval, so she decided to ask Nox, the head of the team, to deny the rumors on social media. He saw her text almost immediately and left it on read, but Aelin’s shoulders still dropped in relief by the sight of it. He’d fix it soon.
~~
Doranelle’s weather was so hot Aelin took her first cold bath in months, and it was as refreshing as it could be. Honestly, she felt like a new woman, or at least in a new day. She had a tiny headache and her jaw felt sore, but it was fine. She was fine. If Aelin didn’t think about today’s previous events, she wouldn’t feel any kind of residual anger or bitterness. If she was still mad. Because she obviously wasn’t.
Choosing a pale blue dress for lunch, Aelin was finishing her makeup when her mom barged into the room.
“Why are you dressed up so early? Lunch is in more than an hour.”
Aelin sighed, feeling the weight of her shoulders quickly come back. “I needed the bath.”
Evalin smiled at her. “You look gorgeous, honey.”
Just like that, her mother’s words felt like sunshine making its way through dark clouds. Aelin beamed up at her mom, proud of herself because—
“But what happened to your hair? You can’t have lunch with the Whitethorns looking like this.”
Aelin’s cheeks burned, but she held her chin high to answer her mother. “I saw it on TikTok and decided to try. Everyone’s wearing it, it’s really no big deal.”
She gently caressed her daughter’s hair and held her chin for emphasis. “Not everyone is Terrasen’s heir, dear.” Evalin made a show of analyzing Aelin’s hairstyle before saying, “It looks interesting, just make sure the royal family doesn’t see you in it, okay?”
Nodding, she just let her mother talk her ears off until the endless reminders about that visit ended. When Evalin was about to leave, Aelin reminded of something.
“Mom?”
“Yes, dear?” Evalin asked from the threshold of Aelin’s assigned bedroom.
“Can you ask Nox to deny my engagement rumors? I asked him too long ago and maybe he forgot.” Both of them knew this was a nice way of putting that the PR team was busy, and Aelin’s requests weren’t a priority.
The sight of Evalin taking a deep breath and coming back in, closing the door, was enough to give Aelin heart palpitations. But nothing prepared her to what she’d hear next.
“Fireheart, I’m afraid your engagement rumors are true.”
Just like that, Aelin’s body, mind, her whole world came to a halt.
No, they weren’t. They couldn’t be. Aelin started feeling light-headed and leaned the palm against the wall. Her mom had promised that when the time came, they’d make the decision together. They’d let Aelin choose.
“You’re joking.”
“I know you’re upset now, but you know Terrasen’s going through a crisis, and Queen Maeve was kind enough to—“
“What about you letting me choose?” She shouted.
Evalin took a deep breath and plastered a forced smile on her face. “Like I was saying, we reached another countries too, to give you a choice, but Queen Maeve had a better offer, so—“
“So you sold me to the highest bidder! Is that it?”
Her mother’s silent confirmation made Aelin shut her eyes closed, a poor attempt to keep her tears at bay.
“When are we going back? I need to speak with dad,” Aelin said in a strained tone.
“We’re staying until the wedding, which will be in less than three months. He’ll come to the ceremony, though.” Evalin’s voice sounded more gentle now, but Aelin couldn’t see her expression because of the tears blurring her vision. She just heard her mother’s heeled footsteps and the sound of the door closing.
Aelin’s muscles went limp, so she collapsed on the floor, leaning against the wall, and didn’t bother doing any exercises to control her quick breathing.
It was hard to feel time moving when she was overwhelmed with so many questions running through her head. How could her family do this behind her back? Since when was this going on? Was her first assignment just a ruse to bring her to Doranelle?
With a caved-in chest, Aelin probably looked miserable crumbled on the floor like this. She felt too tired to do anything, but what got her up was the thought of what would her mother say if she saw Aelin’s tear-stained make up. Still, cleaning herself up sent a spark of something through her veins.
Maybe, if she talked to her father, they could figure out another way together. Aelin knew part of being queen was abdicating, but maybe they could meet halfway in this. Finishing her new makeup, Aelin held her chin high as she made her choice.
She was going back to Terrasen to talk with her father.
Leaving her bedroom, it was easy to get lost in this castle’s long halls. She had no idea how one place could be so open and look so much like a labyrinth at the same time. However, Aelin released a small breath in relief by the sight of what looked like a small gate.
The guard curtsied. “Your Highness. Good afternoon.”
And did nothing more.
After a few stretches of silence, she said, “Can you open this for me, please?”
His hand hovered over his earpiece as he asked, “Where to?”
“Out.” Aelin said through gritted teeth.
“I’m afraid you can’t leave this wing of the castle without an escort, ma’am.”
What the fuck? “Are you serious?”
Aelin didn’t bother hearing what he had to say, her ears were ringing as she stomped her way back to her bedroom. This had Evalin written all over it. So typical of her mother to treat Aelin like a ticking bomb whenever she got angry, like her own daughter was a situation that needed to be handled. She was so tired of this bullshit.
Aelin couldn’t cross a gate? Awesome. She’d make her own fucking gate to cross.
After getting back and slamming her bedroom’s door, Aelin quickly noted that her easiest way to the outside was a tree that was too short to jump from her balcony. She looked down, studying the sight. But if Aelin could get to the balcony underneath hers... She’d have perfect leverage to get to the tree.
Not thinking twice, Aelin ripped the mattress from her dull guest bedroom and wrapped it around her balcony’s ornate iron railing. Holding on the handrail for dear life, she crossed to the outer side of the barrier, and managed to find balance with half of her feet touching the rest of the balcony’s floor she had. She could feel the wind hitting her back and hear some hawks screeching far from her, but she couldn’t let fear paralyze her. Aelin took one last deep breath.
And then she jumped.
Aelin felt like her heart was free-falling, or maybe that was because she was free-falling herself. However, the gust of wind felt good for just one second, until her forehead hit the building, making her curse this city one more time. Why was this castle made of stone?
Noticing she was still depending on that short mattress to live, Aelin angled her body and swayed it enough to land inside the downstairs balcony.
Feeling every bone in her body ache from that crash, she only gave herself a few seconds to rest while analyzing that tree. She just needed to figure out the best angle to climb on that branch and—
“What the hell are you doing?”
A tall, green-eyed man was staring at her with furrowed eyebrows. He was dressed casually, with sweatpants and a black t-shirt that emphasized the ink that ran down his left arm. The same muscled, tattooed arm that gave her very improper thoughts earlier today. Somehow, the photos didn’t do Roman Whitethorn justice. Or something. God, why couldn’t she get his name right?
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” He insisted, and Aelin just realized she was staring blankly at him. Her scheming abilities let her come up with a plan in the seconds that took her to get up and straighten her posture.
She curtsied. “I’m so sorry for the disturbance, Your Highness. I’m working, and I need to retrieve something from this tree. Now if you’ll excuse me—“
“Wait. What’s your name?” As serious as he tried to school his expression, the prince’s eyes were twinkling with amusement, and Aelin wondered why.
“Celaena,” she let the lie slip through her lips not for the first time, but this situation specifically left her feeling her pulse go a mile a minute.
He hummed. “Whatever you say, Princess.”
A/N: I have some sequel ideas, let me know what you think!
Edit: Now I’m definitely continuing this and here’s a snippet of what’s to come
HERE’S PART 2 and I’ll make a masterlist soon I promise
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#rowaelin#throne of glass fanfiction#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#aelin x rowan#throne of glass au#modern royalty au#runaway bride
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We stand for active online struggle because it is the weapon for ensuring unity within the timeline and the newsfeed in the interest of our fight. Every Poster and discourser should take up this weapon.
But logging off rejects online struggle and stands for unprincipled peace, thus giving rise to a gross, problematic attitude and bringing about political degeneration in certain cliques and individuals in the timeline and the newsfeed.
Logging off manifests itself in various ways.
To let things slide for the sake of peace and friendship when a person has clearly gone wrong, and refrain from principled argument because they are an old acquaintance, in the same fandoms, someone you have actually met in the physical world, a close friend, a loved one, an old mutual or longtime follower. Or to touch on the matter lightly instead of going off for hundreds of posts, so as to keep on good terms. The result is that both the feed and the individual are harmed. This is one type of logging off.
To indulge in having any opinions about anything in private instead of actively putting forward every single thought that passes through your skull in a post. To say nothing to people to their faces but to subtweet behind their backs, or to say nothing on the timeline but to go off in the private groupchat. To show no regard at all for the principles of online life but to make decisions in private. This is a second type.
To refrain from posting a Take about things if they do not affect one personally; to say as little as possible while knowing perfectly well what is wrong, to be worldly wise and play safe and seek only to avoid blame. I SEE YOU NOT REBLOGGING THIS. This is a third type.
Not to join in with hashtags but to give pride of place to one's own opinions. To demand to be listened to on social media but to reject its discipline. This is a fourth type.
To admit you just don’t like someone and you’re arguing with them because they’re annoying instead of entering into an argument and insisting that your 134-tweet thread about them is disinterested struggling against incorrect views for the sake of empathy and justice. This is a fifth type.
To read incorrect views without immediately posting a comment and even to read problematic remarks without screenshotting them, but instead to take them calmly as if nothing had happened. This is a sixth type.
To be on Facebook and fail to conduct propaganda and agitation or turn the comments on someone’s picture of their dog into a fight about Kamala Harris, and instead to be indifferent to controversial topics and act like there are other things a human being might conceivably want to talk about, forgetting that one is a Poster and behaving as if one were an ordinary non-Poster. This is a seventh type.
To see someone defending Bean Dad or whoever we’re all supposed to be mad at this week, and yet not feel indignant, or dissuade or stop them or call their boss and try to get them fired and hang up in frustration when their boss has no idea who Bean Dad is. This is an eighth type.
To post half-heartedly without a definite plan or seething rage; to post perfunctorily and muddle along—“I’m just going to scroll while I wait for the bus, then I’ll put my phone away.” This is a ninth type.
To regard oneself as having rendered great service to the discourse, to pride oneself on being Popular Online, to disdain minor controversies while being quite unequal to massive shitstorms, to be slipshod in posts and slack in staying in the loop. This is a tenth type.
To be aware of one's own bad posts and yet make no attempt to correct them, taking a logged off attitude towards oneself. This is an eleventh type.
We could name more. But these eleven are the principal types.
They are all manifestations of logging off.
Logging off is extremely harmful in the discourse. It is a corrosive which eats away hiveminds, undermines ganging up on people, causes apathy and makes people suspect they might have something better to do with their time. It robs the newsfeed of hundreds of identical posts and strict discipline, prevents callouts from being carried through and alienates the timeline from the vast majority of non-twitter-using humans whom the timeline claims to speak for. It is an extremely bad tendency.
Logging off stems from privileged selfishness, it places having a life first and the interests of the discourse second, and this gives rise to ideological, political and organizational logging off.
People who are logged off look upon the principles of Posting as abstract dogma. They approve of Posting, but are not prepared to practice it or to practice it in full; they are not prepared to replace their logging off by Posting. These people have their Posting, but they have their logging off as well--they talk Posting but practice logging off; they apply Posting to others but logging off to themselves. They keep both kinds of goods in stock and find a use for each. This is how the minds of certain people work.
Logging off is a manifestation of good mental health and conflicts fundamentally with Posting. It is negative and objectively has the effect of helping the enemy; that is why the enemy welcomes its preservation in our midst. Such being its nature, there should be no place for it in the ranks of the discourse.
We must use Posting, which is positive in spirit, to overcome logging off, which is negative. A Poster should have largeness of mind and they should be constantly logged on, looking upon the interests of the discourse as their very life and subordinating their personal interests to those of the discourse; always and everywhere they should adhere to principle and wage a tireless struggle against all bad posts and problematic celebrities, so as to consolidate the collective life of the timeline and strengthen the ties between the timeline and the people who hear about viral tweets three days later on CNN; they should be more concerned about the timeline than about any actual human being, and more concerned about what other people think of their posts than about their own wellbeing. Only thus can they be considered a Poster.
All woke, based, active and upright Posters must unite to oppose the logged off tendencies shown by certain people among us, and set them on the right path. This is one of the tasks on our ideological front.
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