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perfectlyvalid49 · 10 days ago

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Thank you so much for taking the time to answer!

I guess, to be more clear with my question: I don’t read any of them as black, and so because they’re all ambiguous I was looking for insight into how you thought about who was and wasn’t black. I think that even though I phrased it poorly you still gave me a good answer.

I think a lot of people say Dorian is Indian because one of the developers said so on Twitter years ago, though given that the countries of Thedas are all medieval states with the serial numbers filed off, I think a good argument can be made that Tevinter is basically the Byzantine Empire, and therefore Dorian is basically Turkish. I could go either way, though word of a developer is pretty strong evidence.

I read Neve as Indian too. I think part of that is being primed with the idea that Dorian is Indian and they’re both from Tevinter so if one is the other reasonably could be too. She is darker than him, but as you said there are multiple ethnicities in India that a Westerner would clock as Indian so it’s similarly reasonable to assume that if Tevinter’s population is supposed to look Indian any or all of those ethnicities could be represented.

Josephine I actually read as Latina, which I know is kinda weird because there’s definitely no Latin America in Thedas, but she looks like some of my Mexican coworkers, and my brain happily interprets that Italian accent as Spanish instead so that’s how I got there. I do think that we have good textual evidence that there’s at least one lily-white Orlesian in her family tree, given her personal quest and that even though Antiva is the Italy analogue all of Josephine’s family have very French names.

I agree that out of all of them Lucanis is the palest (though to be fair it’s been a while since he’s gotten much sun). I also find that interesting as it seems like Antivans are supposed to be darker skinned (they’re just south of Rivain, which is canonically where the darkest skinned humans are from), and he’s got Antivan roots going way back. If anything you’d expect him to be darker than Josephine, not the other way around. As mentioned above though, we do know that Antiva is based on Italy, so classifying him as Mediterranean is probably appropriate. As for whether or not that’s white or just white passing is a conversation that is way outside the scope of us geeking out over video game characters.

As for whether or not there’s colorism in Thedas, we don’t have a lot of evidence for it from the games. That one remark from Viv (if it exists) might be it. There’s a bit more evidence if you read the books, but still not a ton – I think Duncan remarks that he was treated poorly due to being part Rivaini at one point and there was something about Briala thinking Celene’s paleness was better than her darker skin, but I can’t recall any others. But there’s also evidence against it in the lack of comment where you would expect some if there was significant colorism in Thedas. Going back to Josephine for example, if colorism was a thing, you’d think someone might mention how her darker skin tone impacted her diplomatic career. It would be a significant struggle for her to overcome, and it makes her success even more notable, so it seems like if it existed, it should have come up.

To your challenge on why I think it’s unreasonable to thing different people from the same region might be different ethnicities – I don’t, but the problem is the limited amount of information that we have to work with. Here’s what we do know: Thedas is roughly based on Medieval Europe, and many European countries *today* are 80-90% ethnically homogenous. So Germany is mostly ethnically German, France is mostly French, Italy is mostly Italian. People did move around in medieval Europe, but I sincerely doubt that Europe was significantly more ethnically diverse 500 years ago than it is today. Even with slavery in Tevinter, most slaves are not freed and those that are freed are kept in an underclass. I’m not sure that their presence significantly contributes to the ethnic diversity of people who consider themselves ‘Vints.

Based on that, it’s fair to say that while it is entirely possible for two people from the same place to be of different ethnicities, someone being of the non-majority ethnicity would be worthy of comment. Actually an example in game is Anders. Anders is a nickname that he got because his father was from the Anderfells. So he’s half Ander, and it is noteworthy enough that it becomes his name. So it seems to make sense that if someone was a non-majority ethnicity, we’d hear about it.

And none of that is saying that it’s impossible for there to be a school somewhere in the Free Marches where there’s plenty of Marchers, but also a kid from Nevarra and a kid from Rivain and a kid from Orlais. But I do think that if one of those kids grew up to be one of our companions, we’d hear about how they were the only Orlesian kid in their class and how it inspired them to do whatever it is they’re doing with us now.

Anyway, thanks for sharing your thoughts with me and for listening to me ramble about mine for the last thousandish words.

I saw your recent post about diversity in Dragon Age (and BG a little) and I want to start by saying that I agree with it 100%. Bioware does tend to have primarily white characters, and any characters of color do tend to have very limited sorts of personalities they’re allowed to have, even moreso for those who are explicitly black. I, too, would like it if they could do better.

I did notice something in it that made me curious though and I was hoping you’d be willing to elaborate further on your thoughts.

You identify both Neve and Josephine as black. Neve as “medium toned” and Josephine as “fairly light skinned” but both are used as examples of black women in your post. But then you say that Dorian is “ambiguously ‘of color’” and Lucanis “could be black with, as said, little-to-no change in [his] storyline.”

But Neve and Dorian are both from Tevinter, and while the empire is large and probably contains multiple ethnic groups, my impression from the games is that they’re from the same(ish) region and are probably the same race/ethnicity. Similarly, Josephine and Lucanis are both Antivan – if she’s a light skinned black person, shouldn’t he be considered the same?

I haven’t finished Veilguard yet. I don’t have a ton of time to play games, so I’m making my way though, but slowly. So it’s entirely possible that there’s more information that comes out about Neve and Lucanis’s background later in the game that informs what you’re saying here. If there is, just say “you need to finish the game before we can have this conversation.” But assuming there’s not, would you be willing to explain why you read the women as black and the men as not? I’m wondering if I missed something, or if it’s just different perspectives, or some other secret third option.

If you’re like, “nah, I don’t wanna spend my time answering this” no worries. Delete the ask and move on. But if you have the spoons for it, I am genuinely curious (and would be grateful) to hear your thoughts on this.

Oh no, this is totally a valid question to ask, it's just a little complicated to answer and I didn't want it to clog up the entire post which was already long enough!

First, I will note that I specifically pointed to Vivienne and Davrin as unambiguously black. I called them this because, unlike the other characters of color, there is no question of their blackness. They are black, simple as that. Neve, Zevran, Dorian, Josephine, they are more ambiguous due to their lighter skin tone and more European features, and thus could just as easily not be black. That is why I pointed out skin tone.

Second, I'd like to challenge something you've said here. Why is it unreasonable to think that someone who is from the same country or region may be a different ethnicity? Especially in a country that has a lot of movement in the types of people who circulate in and out, or that has a culture that heavily encourages that (slavery in Tevinter, the crows in Antiva)? That is actually a reason for a region to be *more* multi-ethnic, not less. I myself am from a fairly German-dominated section of the Appalachias despite the Appalachias having a huge population of the ethnic groups I am actually part of- is it so unbelievable that an afronative and Irish person might have been born in a place predominately occupied by the Amish? That I might have gone to class with Korean and Nigerian students in my cute little schoolhouse on a farm? Believable or not, that's how I grew up. So why would it be so hard to believe that two people from the same fictional country are not the same ethnicity?

But putting those two aside, I think it's best if I compare side-by-side:

Dorian is certainly believably "of color"- though I have seen people argue that he is simply intended to be very Mediterranean and others say he is supposed to be Indian or Pakistani or somewhat vaguely Middle Eastern. This is why I say he is "ambiguously of color" but not necessarily black. Neve, on the other hand, is darker than him and with less ambiguous features (and Dorian at 10 years older is also less ambiguous, tho also less convincingly black and significantly more Middle Eastern or Indian or Pakistani).

I know black girls who look just like her. I know Indian girls who do too. If we are to assume that Tevinter is full of people who look at least vaguely Indian, one has to then remember that India as a country has *several* ethnicities itself and thus it is very possible- probable even- to meet 2 people from approximately the same region of India and yet they look nothing like each other outside of a few traits we in the Western world would clock as Indian.

It's also why I called Bellara our first visibly and unambiguously Asian companion- because the others that could count as Asian such as Neve and Dorian are significantly more ambiguous.

The same is true of Lucanis and Josephine- moreso in fact than Dorian and Neve. Lucanis again could be considered somewhat Mediterranean or Middle Eastern, but Josephine? Lucanis may or may not be a man of color, though I would certainly count him as so light skinned he could potentially be white-passing if I'm supposed to read him as somewhat Spanish or Italian. Josephine is absolutely a woman of color, but what color exactly is where it is a little more difficult to determine.

This is also a fantasy world, so I'm not expecting ethnic features to match the real world 100%.

Now compare the four of them to the two I'm calling unambiguously black. While I could make the argument that Josie and Neve are mixed black, there is no need for argument for Viv or Davrin. They're both black, visibly, easily identified.

Now, the thing is with a mixed race and multi-ethnic population, if Thedas doesn't have the same reasons to keep the colors from mixing, then it is certainly possible that Dorian or Lucanis have someone as dark as Davrin in their family tree even as close as their grandparents. My father is about as dark as Davrin and while my bio sis and I are about Neve in tone, my bio sister's children range from Josie to Lucanis. Her son is fair skinned, blue-eyed, blonde haired, and if you didn't see him next to his sister and mother you would think that little boy had nothing but white in him.

But then, if Thedas does not have the same race politics as we do, then the one drop rule would never be enforced upon someone who appears white with black ancestry, and thus I would hesitate to call that person black. My nephew is white passing, but a similar person in Thedas may just be white. Or perhaps Thedas does not consider human ethnicity the way we do, and would take no notice either way. Though I do believe Viv says something about poor treatment due to her skin tone in Inquisition, but I may be mistaken if that was fandom generated or actually within the game.

All this to say- I would consider Lucanis to either be white (albeit Mediterranean) or ambiguously of color and Dorian to be of color but unsure exactly which ethnicity, but neither of them black. Josie and Neve, on the other hand, read to me as mixed black women.

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toxicnorn · 2 years ago

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i can’t necessarily speak to discussions of transmisogyny in hp pre-2010s/2020s for virtue of the fact that i was not personally tuned into spaces that discussed this in the 2000s (this was also obviously before jkr went very publicly off the rails, though in retrospect, that was always lowkey an aspect of the series even if i didn’t pick up on it at the time; i will say that i recall jkr showing her ass on trans stuff on twitter before people give her credit for it, but i don’t remember the specifics of my timelines) but i’ve seen people very seriously say that there were no discussions of any of the problematic (i hate using that word because i associate it so much with 2013 Tumblr but there’s not really a better alternative) aspects of the books until very recently, and that’s categorically untrue and i’m going to give you a history lesson

this is very rambly and unedited. i am also coming into this with the perspective of a white AFAB culturally christian person, which obviously affects how i interact and interacted with the world. for better or worse, i have been extremely online since 1996 and i have been interacting with fandom since before some tumblr users were even born, which is like. not actually a good thing. i don’t see fandom as something inherently bad or inherently good; it’s a hobby i’ve had the same as editing pixel dolls or playing on pet websites. tho you have no idea about the drama of pixel dolls and pet websites. it has no innate value save that which we make of it, which is the same of most things. and, being an artificial construct, it’s inherently influenced by the shitty stuff that goes into it.

anyway

especially towards the ends of the 2000s/early 2010s, there was a lot of discussion on LJ particularly about racism, antisemitism, homophobia, misogyny in the series, often on people’s personal blogs and usually more mild than what you’d see on tumblr, which is not a tone argument thing but which i’m merely bringing up to highlight the fact that people sent death threats over people going “i think maybe the narrative doesn’t treat girls well here.”

it’s just that this was met by a lot -and i mean a lot- of hostility: think the worst tumblr anons and make it on main but also make it more pseudo-intellectual. a lot of it was couched in language that anyone with criticism of any aspect of the series was not actually a fan (and an imposter, possibly a soccer mom) and that if you didn’t 100% enjoy an aspect of something, that’s on you for consuming it, the whole general “don’t like, don’t read” attitude that still gets shilled whenever someone says they don’t like something. a lot of fan culture is ultimately based on a very “us vs The Other” mentality while raising up products for enjoyable consumption (ie the canon book or movie or whatever, and also the fandom built up around it) as something elevated above (perceived or real) reproach, and that obviously is still very much an aspect of fan culture today, hence all of tumblr and people making ideological stances (and by this, i mostly mean strawman arguments shouted into the void for people to misinterpret however they want) about fanfiction a core portion of their online or real identities. which is to say, dysfunction is inherently built into fandom because it’s a microcosm of a dysfunctional society, a hobby whose adherents try to argue that it’s inherently a refuge from the greater world but which can never fully escape its influence, existing as a reflection of society at large while denying it.

or, if you want to translate that out of loser pseudointellectual speak, fandom at large was and continues to be racist, antisemitic, etc. as fuck and harassed the shit out of people for saying that cho chang is kind of a dumb name and that the whole house elf thing is kind of fucked up. seriously, the hp fandom was racist as fuck in 2009 and probably still is because fandoms are large are often very white, very tme, very culturally christian even if they deny it (i am saying this as someone who is all three things) and close in when those things are threatened unless it’s to the point that no one can deny it anymore (and even then), but i cannot personally verify the current vibe of the harry potter fandom because i don’t go there.

anyway, it’s not really a coincidence that when there were more widespread discussions about racism/sexism/etc. in fandom on LJ that it started to decline in popularity among fandom types and fandom culture latched onto tumblr. a fair number of shitty people flounced and migrated over to this website and that’s had way more to do with how fandom’s shaped up on tumblr than anyone really likes to admit. if you were a Big Name Tumblr User in 2012, there was a really big chance you were a former livejournal user who left for a site where less people recognized you for doing both stupid and heinous shit or just generally being a dick. this resulted in a tumblr culture that would very much try to silently drown out any criticisms of the series with vague positivity and “we have to UNITE” and a lot of other stuff whenever someone went “guys have you checked out what she’s done with native american belief systems. it’s uh. not great.”

this is not to say that fandoms have not gotten better in a lot of respects because they have, but, like, obviously it’s still shitty in a lot of ways, though sometimes i wish people were just outright homophobic instead of couching their dialogue in disguised language. a lot of tumblr/twitter culture revolves around not sounding -ist rather than like actually changing anything in any meaningful way.

anyway

this is all a lot of words to say that a lot of the current discussions going on in fandom have been going on for over a decade, but a lot of people in fandom today have no clue about that because the fandom also very deliberately tried to bury it, and by burying it, i mean virulently harassing people because they said something was a little sexist or whatnot

#longwinded rambling time #racism cw #antisemitism cw #not really discussing the exact specifics of it so much as saying that it existed in fandom #and people were harassed bc of it

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angelguk · 4 years ago

Text

→ bad behaviour 03 — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon

word count: 7.5k

rating: 18+

genre: established relationship + smut + college!au

warnings: we’re ovulating!!! / introduction to the breeding kink that will plague this couple forever / was meant 2 be a drabble?? im incapable we know that / eh big joon!!!! / manhandling kink / pet names used a lot / joon thinks he’s gf is dumb and wants to breed her idk man / size kink / crying when cumming / oc shy for once / discussion of twitter porn / creampie / oc is on birth control (obvs dont do this if u dont want a kid but this is a fanfic u know) / mentions of fisting porn / cock warming!! / if u see a typo no u dont

soundtracks: more than enough + morroco, alina baraz

prompt: “don’t you think there is always something unspoken between two people?” (Something Unspoken, Tennessee Williams).

It’s a rather serene Thursday afternoon, the late autumn breeze sweeping through the campus air. The stillness was ideal for studying, alluding to assignment deadlines creeping round the corner. Which was why your butt is firmly parked in the mess of Kim Namjoon's sheets.

The man in question is hunched in the corner of his dorm room, one large hand idly tugging at the chestnut mane on his head and his neck curved with attentiveness. You wish you possessed the determinate focus that he had, but your thoughts have a mind of their own, spiralling further into the darkest depths of your mind as they gingerly coax forth memories that spark a searing heat deep inside of you. You feel tight, drawn like the bow of an arrow, a stark contrast to the tranquillity spilling around you. The fact that Namjoon is practically naked isn’t helping your consciousness. Your gaze lingers on the rows of muscles lining his broad back, the tension running through them emphasising the dips and curves in his golden skin. His eyes, however, are glued to the myriad of words before him, the pen grasped in his grip swift as he scribbles down notes you know you’ll never be able to decipher. Not that you needed too, it was intriguing that such a put-together man like Namjoon had handwriting that essentially resembled chicken scratch. It was atrocious — but still elegant, very much embodying the person to whom the writing belonged to. You can’t recall what assignment he intended to complete today — something about the presentation of nihilism in Russian literature or whatever — but he’s devoted all his attention to it, meticulous in the numerous sticky notes and page markers that line the novel perched on his desk. It’s bent with the remembrance of his fingers, sepia-toned dogged-ear pages staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. Something blooms within you the longer you look at him, faint but strong like a tide shifting towards the shores. You don’t even register the slip of your laptop from your lap, legs sprawling open unconsciously. It spurs so quick you can’t even clamp down on it, the desire you have for the burly man bent over his world of words just a few steps away. But you know how much Namjoon values his academics. It’s with a muffled groan that you roll over, burrowing your face into his pillows in hopes that the wave will subside. It doesn't — crawling beneath your skin begging you to give in.

It’s the click of Namjoon’s pen that gets you, a sharp note that cuts through the burning of your body. Your thighs seal together, the slick that collects between your legs sticking to your core. With a sigh that you shift again, reaching out for your laptop. It’s best to look for a distraction, give him the space he needs to concentrate. At yet, your gaze can’t help but drift. He’s not covering an inch of skin, burly arms and thick thighs on display like he wants to tempt you. There are no words to describe how much you hate him — nor how much you long to have him inside of you too.

You recall it with a jolt — the lave of his wide tongue against your folds, licking you apart with deft swift swipes that leave you weeping into his sheets more nights than you’d like to admit. You shuffle again, helpless to the yearnings of your mind. The heat on your inner thighs is a phantom. Namjoon likes to hold you down, press your hips into his sheets against the whims of your squirming. It’s the way he looks at you when you’re on the verge of tears, a wanton hunger in his eyes that unravels you fast. You can almost see it, thighs subconsciously nudging against each other. Then there’s the stretch of his fingers, larger than you own. He’s pushed you to the edge with just two of them before, persistent against that spot inside of you until he’s satisfied with the blissed slackness that descends upon your features. Then he’d add another, and another. There’s an undeclared thought between the two of you. You’ve noted the fisting porn in his Twitter bookmarks. Maybe one day you’ll have the guts to let him try.

For now, you swallow it down. Suffocate that longing until the embers burning within you smother to ashes. Your laptop returns to resting at an angle at your hip, gaze idling running through your readings. The words don’t sink in though, sitting on your skull before hastily floating away. There’s not much space for anything else but Namjoon at the moment, no matter how hard you try to reread the paragraphs or stare at your screen. You don’t even have to open the app on your phone to know what’s going on with your body. This is your first full ovulation with him. Usually, he’s preoccupied with assignments or TA responsibilities that cut your time together short, interrupting this part of your cycle and leaving you to your own devices. You hadn’t fully wormed your way into Namjoon’s life to demand all his attention just yet. This was still new, untested. Namjoon was independent and so sure of himself that telling your boyfriend that you needed him to stop focusing on his future to raw the crap out of you (multiple times) felt incredibly selfish.

You stare at the words in front of you until they swim, wishing you didn’t feel like this. Like you needed Namjoon to breathe. You can wait it out, maybe get what you’re dying for after post-studying cuddles and take-out. Even if it takes every ounce of your willpower to clasp your legs together and not jump the wonderfully large man that is your boyfriend.

Unbeknown to you, the same yearning that plagues you chips away at his resolve. A persistent want that wavers in the back of his mind, clamouring for attention, because even with his eyes stuck on the pages beneath him, he can sense your fidgeting.

Your attention span is incredibly short — Namjoon knows this. It ricochets off the walls even when you’re sitting still. It’s taken time, but Namjoon has gradually adjusted to it, muting the powerful waves of energy that radiate off of you when necessary. Today, however, is different. That energy he’s learnt to ignore eats him alive, sinking below his skin and leaving him buzzed as he scours his brain for any meaningful essay points. He keeps flipping through the pages of the novel, mind attempting and miserably failing to piece together a cohesive argument that correlates with the evidence he’s got highlighted in a loud neon yellow.

All because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He wants to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you in a while (which is a blatant lie). Namjoon saw you two days ago. You were wearing that floral skirt that he loves, the fabric hiking up your thighs whenever you lined yourself against his side, snuggling deep into him like you never wanted to leave. He hates that skirt — hates it — because now he can’t think of anything but it, thoughts blurring at the memory of your bare skin. Skin that he loves to mark, latch onto until violets and blues blossom. His mind is running before he can catch it, falling into a dangerous reminiscence of images that sit heavy in his gut. That stupid skirt flipped up your waist and his head between your thighs. Nothing feels as good as you do on his tongue. He loves the way you taste, the sounds that drift from your lips, the way your thighs twitch and tremor as you unravel underneath him. You get so loud when your high hits you. He knows his roommates have heard you before, but he truly doesn’t care. He loves hearing you scream his name, drives him to the brink of insanity if he’s being honest. Yet, it’s the way you look at him afterwards, a deliriousness swimming in your eyes that makes Namjoon want to keep you in his bed forever. Fuck you until you can’t walk without feeling him deep inside of you. Paint your skin so that everyone knows who you belong to.

His head hits the table with a muted thud, a low sighing escaping into the air. The tent in his loose shorts hurts. There’s a part of him that’s mortified — how could he get hard just from the thought of you when you're sitting right there on his bed? Perhaps it’s proof that you’ve invaded everything he is. His space, his heart, his mind.

“Namjoon?” You question, tone tentative in the silence that consumes him whole. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts. And then his brain settles, a tightness in his stomach that he can’t deny. “Actually, no I’m not.”

You don’t even have time to register it before he's moving towards you. It's as if he's flown from his desk, gliding through the space between you to firmly plant himself on top of you. Your laptop is knocked to the side, lost in the muss of his bed sheets as Namjoon moulds himself into you. You can't help the breathless giggle that hits the air. It's cut by the weight of Namjoon on you. He's heavy, all hard muscles and broad shoulders. Your fingertips slip against the fabric of his shirt — 100% pure cotton because he's fastidious like that — a lightness forming in your chest just from the feel of him in your hands. He sighs and you melt, losing yourself in him as he burrows his head into the hollow of your neck. The kiss he places there is soft, but it hits like a torrent of rain, drowning you harshly. Your body ignites like the flame you wanted to smother was never extinguished. You cling to him, the only thing keeping you afloat in the wave of adoration that crashes into you.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" You murmur, vibrating when he kisses you again. Namjoon hums in response, his wide hands shifting to settle on the back of your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart to nestle himself there. Your back jolts when you feel it — feel him. Hard and needy against your core, a heat radiating where you meet. The flutter in your eyes is automatic, brain shutting down when he rolls his hips. He nips your neck then, a light press of his teeth into the delicate skin. You stop breathing when he smothers the pain with a kiss, thoughts dissolving into the air as you stare at the ceiling of his dorm, thinking you're never going to let this man go.

"Namjoo—" His mouth is on you before you can even finish your sentence, swallowing the words with a gentle press of his lips until yours fall apart. Kissing him might be one of your favourite activities ever. He feels good against your lips, ginger but sure in how he works you open, drawing sighs from your throat like he was born to do so. It’s easy to give in, your hips moving against his and your fingers dragging through his hair. It’s with a soft gasp that you part, the air around you electric. His brown eyes are dark but they gaze at you with an adoration that makes your heart swell. There are moments where you feel it on the tip of your tongue, a proclamation that yearns to spill out. But it’s too early to say anything like that yet. So you draw him closer instead, the content laugh that floats from his throat caught in your mouth. This kiss is different, more desperate, a hope that he understands what you mean heavy in your chest. You think he does because he kisses you back with an intent that leaves you breathless, a heady thing that has you arching into him before it peters out into tender little pecks. Your heart is so full it could explode.

And it does a second later when he drops a light kiss on your forehead, his wide hands settling on the backs of your thighs as he presses himself further into you. You know he feels the slick drenching your underwear by the hitch in his breath.

“Study break?” He offers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that ensnares you. A danger that glows like stars adorning a velvet sky.

“Namjoon,” you groan in response, legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel the length of him, hard and twitching against you. “You can’t just do that! It’s not fair.”

“Why? You don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a nudge that coaxes another slip from your core. The whine that leaves your lips is instinctual.

“I do! It’s just that — um — just that I’m ovulating right now.”

The second the word leaves your mouth he freezes, broad body suspended over you and a distant look sweeping over his honey eyes. And then something clicks, his cock settling further into you, a twitch along his length that echoes in your nerves.

“Right now?” The words that leave his mouth are measured, his gaze locking on your own as if he’s weighing the consequences of his desires.

“Yes, right now. I don’t know if we—”

“Can I be honest with you? I haven’t been able to focus since you came over and the idea of you ovulating is doing nothing but making me extremely hard right now.”

“I — what? Really? Are you serious?”

He nods, unabashed as the blush rising beneath his golden skin. Your fingers dig further into his back, the want that sweeps through your system feral. It's so swift that you can’t control the rise of your hips nor the warmth that pools in your gut. Namjoon dissolves right back into you, the groan that slips from his mouth meeting the heat of your skin as he burrows himself back into the crook of your neck. You’re no longer thinking, your brain stuck on the feeling of his cock against you, direct with every drag of his hips. He wants this as much as you do, a realisation that you’re still trying to comprehend. You have to ask again, terrified of the teetering edge you’re on.

“You sure? Like really?”

He scoffs, shifting back to give you a look. “You’ve seen my NSFW twitter, baby. You know what’s there.”

“Yeah, a lot more fisting porn than I ever expected.” There’s a beat of silence, Namjoon’s gaze shifting into something you can’t decipher. “Not that I’m against fisting,” you quickly amend, “It was just surprising.”

“Fair enough, but that wasn’t the only thing there.”

You know what he's referring to but seeing other people commit the act and then doing it yourself were too completely different things. There are still some things you’re too ashamed to say out loud and that particular kink of one of them. While your ovulation had a rather stronghold over you, so did your inner mortification.

Namjoon, on the other hand, cannot be bothered to beat around the bush. “You’ve seen what’s there right?" He repeats. "Creampies? Cum play? Breeding—”

“Don’t say that!”

He pauses, a playful grin tugging at his lips.”Is that what you want? Because you’re ovulating? What me to stuff—”

“Namjoon, stop it!”

He laughs then, a low sound dangerous that fills the room and swallows the embarrassment that eats away at you alive. “How can I? My pretty girl wants me to breed her, stuff her full of cum until it’s leaking from her cunt. You want that right? Want my cock so deep you feel it tomorrow? Am I right, baby? Hmm?”

You’re not looking at him, cheeks burning with every word parting his lips, but your cunt agrees wholeheartedly, leaking against your panties at the thought of Namjoon fucking you full. He doesn’t take your silence well though, a firm hand clasping around your jaw and tugging your focus right back into him. There's a glint in his eyes, a sharp dark wild thing.

“Baby.” He says it slowly, the word tumbling from his lips and right into the heat forming in your core. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” you retort, feeling the twitch that tremors through his jaw deep inside of you. Namjoon scoffs, hand dropping from your chin. The absence of his touch has you scrambling after it, the movement occurring before you can bite back your desperation.

“Maybe? Then you don’t want it enough do you? I should leave you to study, don’t you think?”

“Namjoon.” Your fingers grip into his shirt before he can shift away, a pounding in your chest that terrifies you. “Maybe I do want it — a lot — I just can't say it.”

“You can’t say it?” He cocks an eyebrow. “But you know how to use your words when you’re arguing with me.”

He’s infuriating and he’s doing it on purpose from the telltale gleam in his eyes. You don’t know what to despise more; Namjoon and his provocations or your inability to vocalise your desires. But that anger withers into wanting the second he settles back between your thighs, cock hard and heavy where you need him most. Yet, still, saying it out loud isn’t possible for you just yet. But you do want it, a great deal more than you’d ever admit.

“That’s different,” you say instead. “That’s when you’re being stupid.”

The eye-roll you're granted is brimming with exasperation. “Of course, you would say that.”

“And I’m correct.”

“Sure, you are,” Namjoon returns, nuzzling into your chest. He’s saying it to complacent you and it ticks you off

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, a warning in your voice.

Namjoon sighs, perfect face burrowed between your boobs. “I’m not arguing with you right now. You look cute when you get mad and I’m hard enough as it. Besides, that’s not the point.”

That should not have you buzzing, the word cute sticking out from the rest of his horrid statement like a neon light in the dark. But you let it rest, preoccupied with the fact that:

a. Namjoon is horny

b. So are you

“So,” you say. “What was the point?”

“The point is that you’re too shy to say you want me to stuff you—”

Point B no longer exists. You are no longer horny even when he’s looking at you like that with that stupid lopsided grin of his.

“I get it,” you retort, “I get the point. And I’m not saying that. Not today, not ever.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” There’s a challenge there, and like an idiot you fall for it, raising an indignant eyebrow in response.

“Yes, I will not—”

He’s got the band of your sweatpants down in a second, wiggling the fabric down your hips and past your butt faster than you can blink. You don’t object, a muffled giggle drifting from your throat when he finally gets them off, tossing the pants somewhere in the corner of his room, something to be searched for later, not now. That giggle shifts to a moan the second his face dives between your thighs, the deep breath he takes in kindling a flame in your gut. There’s the faint press of his tongue through the cotton of your underwear, the low groan he lets out when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties setting something off within you.

“Oh — oh — N-Namjoon!”

“Yes, baby?” Another lick, tongue quick and firm against your drenched core.

“Don’t play with me. I can’t handle that right now.”

“I’m not playing,” he remarks. “Just giving you a reason to say you want me to stuff you full of my cum. I know you want to say it anyway.”

You huff. “You think I’ll give in that easi — hgnh.” He’s tearing your underwear off, tongue landing back onto your wet folds before you can register the fact that the fabric is gone. A few firm wet laves of that muscle against your cunt and you can see your resolve crumbling. He knows exactly where to lick and drag his tongue, nose buried into the apex of your cunt as if he wants to breathe you in. You can’t help the buck of your hips, a tremor running down your thighs when his tongue slips into your hole, pressing in with purpose and leaving you breathless in his sheets. But then he’s drawing away and you glance down to find him staring at your cunt in wonder, his rouge mouth glistening with your slick.

“How can I not,” Namjoon says, offering a kitten lick that spikes a shock in your spine, “Play with you when you’re so fun to play with, angel.” The smile on his lips is dangerous.

Your hand settles on his head and Namjoon curls into it. But instead of dragging your fingernails against his skull and pulling him closer like you know he loves, you shove him away, swiftly squeezing your thighs shut. If you’re going to play this game, you’re doing it on your terms.

“You’re not being fair,” you say. Namjoon blinks at you like you’re insane, obviously thinking with the dick in his pants rather than his head. “Go back to your Isaac Turganife or whatever.”

“It’s Ivan Turgenev, baby,” he replies, sighing slow. “And I don’t want to go? Do you really want me to?” He plants a tender kiss on your bare thigh and you burst with want, slick leaking out even though you didn’t intend it to.

“Not fair,” you say again. But you don’t want him to leave you like this, at the mercy of your hormones and the sudden remembrance of Namjoon’s thick cock stretching you open. “But no, I don’t want you to go. Just don’t play with me please.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But if we’re being honest here all I can think about is seeing my cum leak out of you. I just want you to want that as much as I do.” He says it in a rush like he’s afraid he won’t have the nerve to admit it if he doesn’t do it right now.

But I do, you think, walls fluttering just from the flash of that image in your mind. I do, Namjoon. And yet, you can’t say it.

“I’m ovulating, Namjoon,” you retort instead.

“And you’re also on birth control,” he rebuttals. “PEMDAS or whatever. It cancels out the baby option, right?”

“You are so dumb it hurts, Kim Namjoon,” you murmur, fighting the urge to kiss your stupid boyfriend. It’s a very odd conversation to be having when your cunt is on display and his dick is hard in his pants but you’re having it anyway.

“We’ve fucked raw before though?” He continues, still not piecing it together. “And so far, no baby. So no problem right?”

“When I’m not ovulating. Less risk, at least that’s what I like to believe.”

“Well I suggest you start believing that right now because I would very much like to see you stu—”

“Stop saying that you’re making me want to turn celibate!”

“Oh?” Namjoon remarks. “And yet you’re leaking all over my sheets every time I mention it.”

“I will cut you off from sex for a week if you say something like that again,” you retort.

Namjoon grins like he knows this is affecting you on a deeper level than your cunt being wet. “Fair enough, but I have to ask. Do you want that?”

“Want what?” Feigning ignorance is the safest bet until that shift in his eyes appears.

“Want my cum?” he says it so easily, unaffected while your face rushes with heat.“Inside of you, leaking out of you… All of it?”

And maybe you stop breathing at the thought of feeling full of everything Namjoon had to offer you, your walls clenching tight.

“Maybe. Maybe I do, I don’t know.” You do know and Namjoon knows that you do too. It’s with a defeated murmur that you admit it, voice soft in his room. “Okay, fine. I do. I want that.”

“You do?” There’s an edge in his voice. “You want me to bre—”

“Stop it before I change my mind.”

He laughs, a light warm thing that digs into your chest. “Okay, okay! Sorry, babe. Do you want me to prep you? My mouth? My fingers? You can decide.”

It’s settled so quick in your brain you realise it was never up for debate. “Neither. Just you. I just want you.”

He halts, honey eyes locked on yours for a moment, before springing to his feet and tugging his shirt over his head with speed. “We can do that,” he mumbles, his knees bumping against the foot of his bed. His pants come off next, plummeting to the ground where he kicks them off a moment later. It’s only then that you see the consequence of actions, straining painfully against his boxer briefs. He shifts to tug those off too but you cut the movement before it happens, shuffling forward until your hand is cupped around his length. Namjoon doesn’t protest, rolling into the tiny palm of your hand. You love the way he feels underneath your palm, thick and hard and heavy, a weight you long to feel inside of you. He sighs low when you grip him, watching your fingers wrap around the outline of his dick through the fabric. It’s only then that you realise, your gaze slipping down his body, subtly noting the sharp intake of breath when your lips mimic what he did to your underwear before he ripped it off, that Namjoon has been holding himself back.

He wants this, badly. It’s evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks a moment later.

“Angel,” It’s said low, a warning. “I thought we said we wouldn’t play with each other.”

He’s right. With a small pout, you lean away and Namjoon wastes no time moving into your space, strong arms swapping your arm just to land you back at the head of his bed. You suddenly remember your laptop, lost in the mess of his sheets. Namjoon is kind enough to relocate it before climbing right back into your space, cock digging into your stomach when he kisses you again. It doesn’t take long before your top is gone, joining Namjoon’s pants on the floor, and then you’re digging the band of his underwear down, your lips still slotted together and a wetness rapidly forming between your thighs at the feel of his bare cock against you.

But he’s impatient, shuffling you around the second his length is freed. Your back is hard against his mattress, fingers grasping at the sheets when Namjoon knocks your knees apart. There’s a moment of bated breath, his large hands lingering against the bare skin of your exposed thigh, brown eyes locked on your wet folds. His gaze is so intense you instinctively want to clamp your legs shut, shy away from how seen you feel under his eyes. Yes, technically you were naked in his bed but there’s something else that he draws out just from looking at you. Something that makes you nervous because you like it so much.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s whispered in the heat of the air, Namjoon picking up on how your legs drift together. He’s got them pressed apart a second later, grip firm but gentle, and your stomach does a swoop so dangerous you’re left violently reeling, the ceiling above you spinning. “Don’t do that, angel. Too pretty to hide from me. I want to see all of you.”

You can only hum in response, throat clogged with words that won’t form into coherent sounds. But Namjoon understands you regardless, kissing you senseless as his massive body descends on yours. His hands are on your ass a second later, gripping tight as his length nudges against your core. You just might cry, desperation bubbling in your chest. He draws away gently but you don’t want to let him leave, fingers taut on his broad back, gripping onto the very muscles that had you heady just earlier today. There’s a whine on your tongue that he swallows before you part once more. The laugh that slips from his lips at the sight of your pouted mouth is fond. He grants you another peck, soft and tender, before Namjoon rips himself away, determined this time.

His hips are lined against yours a moment later, cock stiff and dripping with precum. And yet your gaze doesn’t tear from the arms trapping you in his sheets. His biceps look huge, massive actually, all hard muscle and pure strength. It’s doing something to the base part of your brain because you can’t stop thinking about how large Namjoon is. Caving you in, your personal shelter from the world. Is it weird that you feel protected? Safe in the bed of this boy. You wouldn’t mind hiding here forever. A part of you wants to kiss him again, but Namjoon’s focused on other things, oblivious to the cave-woman looking for a mate thoughts running amok in your brain.

They dissipate the moment the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. Just a light tease, but he splits you open quick enough.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, angel. Didn’t need me to prep you at all.”

You mumble a noise that you’re not sure leaves your throat. He’s taking it slow on purpose, pushing in inch by inch so that you feel every part of him filling you up. It’s intoxicating, how the feeling of the slow drag of his cock overtakes everything in your brain. You’ll never get over how big Namjoon is, no matter how many times he fucks you. Each shift of his hips forward coaxing slick from your cunt. It pools at your entrance, dripping over his length until he’s glistening with your wetness.

“F-fuck,” He head drops down to the hollow of your neck the moment he’s sheathed inside, the velvet walls of your pussy gripping him hard. It’s too much for the both of you, bodies strung high on the want that threatened to consume you both. But he feels good like this, lodged in your cunt, stretching you wide and making a place for himself right between your legs. He gives you a moment to adjust and then the coiled spring in him snaps.

“So fucking tight around me, angel. Taking my cock so well.” There’s an edge in his voice, a warning for what’s to come.

You groan when he draws up, a tiny squeal erupting from your throat when he slams back down, hips angled to piston you into his sheets. The pounding is hard and unforgiving, a contradiction to the gentle look in his gaze. He holds you tight, giving you no room to shuffle under the bruise of his thrusts.

You can’t do anything but mumble his name, tongue numb in your mouth as he fucks you senseless.

“You’re dripping so much, baby. Making a mess on the sheets. You wanted my dick that bad, huh? Wanted me to fuck you full? Stuff this dirty cunt of yours?”

“J-Joon!” There’s an arch in your back, a dangerous tingle fluxing through your nerves when his mouth latches on your neck, your chests pressed against each other. Each drive into you pushes out a haggard breath, the heat into the room wrapping around your joint bodies, your arms slung over his shoulders, gripping him tight as he unravels you with his cock. Time stops, nothing punctuating the moment apart from the lewd sound of your meeting, your slick slipping from your cunt each time he hits deep. And he keeps at it, fucking you with a vigour that feels new and vicious.

You can feel him tensing beneath your fingertips, a soreness spreading through your muscles with every hard thrust of his hips into you. But you don’t care, delirious with the feeling of his cock deep within you, slamming right into that spot that has you dangling off the edge. The tight grip on your thighs adds to it, Namjoon pressing you down as he fucks you open like you’re nothing but a toy for his pleasure. He slams into you with abandon, his lips on your neck. Every drag is loud in the room, the slick pooling around your entrance orchestrating the sound of your meeting. You love how he feels over you, broad and big and pinning you down with an ease that shouldn't have you stomach twisting but it does. And he knows that, reading the whimpers that leave your throat well. You can feel it, the knot that tightens with every hard drive of him into you. So close, a blink of your eyes and you could be there. But then he slows, cock squelching against your entrance with a half-hearted thrust.

“Namjoon—" You’re burning, fingers scrambling to push his hips down, shove your hips up. Anything. Anything because if he gives you nothing you’ll implode.

“My baby is so quiet today. Hmm? Why are you so quiet? You don’t want my cum? Don’t want me to breed this tight little cunt of yours?” There’s a in his tension colouring his deep voice, like he’s holding back from saying something. You want to ask but your needs are forefront in your mind clamouring for attention.

“Joon!” He nips your neck at that whine and you dissolve into his sheets, nothing but pleasure running through your limbs. “Namjoon please, please, please. I want it, Joon, need it.”

He cocks his head, a languid roll into your core that has you squirming underneath his hold. “Need what? Words baby, words.”

“Need your cum.” It’s shameful to say and the heat in your cheeks makes it obvious, Namjoon doesn’t care, shifting his hips so that his cock slowly slips out. Your legs clamp around him so quick that his chest smacks into yours, a muffled sigh escaping into the air.

“Need it where?” He says, hips rigid with how he holds himself back. It takes tenacity to make you work for it. You feel perfect around him, tight pussy stretched around his length and your slick dripping all over. So needy, so wet, velvet walls clinging to his cock leaving him weak even though he tries to hide it. You’re intoxicating, your heat, the feeling of your body moulded into his, the way you moan his name. He wants to hear you scream it though, hear your throat go hoarse with each cry until you're a blubbering mess in his bed. There are other things he wants too, but he needs to hear you say this first.

“Inside,” you reply, a perfect whimper drifting from your bruised lips. “Inside me, Namjoon, please.”

He gives in then and there, resolve shattering when his gaze drifts to the minuscule grind of your hips against his own, his cock sinking deep with every shift of your waist upward. It’s not long until he’s sheathed back inside of you, length twitching against the heat of your walls. He wants to take it slow, make you beg for him a little more, but there’s a weight in his gut that threatens to drop. And then his focus shifts to the span of your stomach and it slams into him so quick he nearly chokes. He may joke about it as a kink, the idea of fucking you until you were bearing his child, but the actual vision of your stomach swelling hadn’t occurred in his thoughts until right then. You would look ethereal, round with evidence of his love for you. He can’t help the palm that settles there as his hips slowly rut forward, forcing himself deeper, needing to see you stretch out for him.

“Joon,” you sigh, shuddering at the press of his balls against your ass.

He hums, thoughtful, dark eyes lingering on the sway of your chest. “Yes, baby?”

“Harder, please, harder.”

“Anything my baby wants, she gets. Isn’t that right, princess.” And then he’s falling out of you, quick when he slams back down. Your voice sounds foreign to your eyes, brain roughly registering the harsh feeling of his hands as he swiftly rearranges you, cock still buried deep, until your knees are folded over his broad shoulders. The quake in your thighs is violent. But you don’t protest, mind unable to shift from the hard pistons he delivers into your cunt, thrusts demanding your release. There’s the sway of the bed beneath you, soft sheets bundling underneath the weight of your joint bodies, a heaviness in the air you breathe. He fucks you with a purpose that wasn’t there before, as if he needs to see you stuffed with his cum, unravelling around his length, a mess beneath him.

And you give it to him, shuddering when his fingertips sneak to your clit, the flickers he lands there unfaltering. That combined with the steady drag of his cock has your vision blanking, contentment spilling through your nerves as your high hits. It’s quick; a hard fast thing and spreads right from your core and through your system. Namjoon fucks you through it, swallowing your incoherent mumbling with a deft press of his lips against yours. You don’t realise you’re crying until he swipes a thumb along your cheeks, dropping a kiss on the damp skin of your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. You don’t miss how his hips speed up, muscles tense underneath your trembling fingertips. “So pretty. My pretty girl.”

“Cum in me,” you reply, breaking away to catch his gaze. Namjoon chokes, hips faltering. You don’t let him process it, still riding high on the look colouring his features. This is what he wanted from you, and you’re drunk enough on the feeling of him deep inside of you to say it. There’s still a tremor in your walls that grips him tight and you aid it by raising your hips upwards, the bend uncomfortable but worth the darkness that consumes the brown of his eyes. A part of you wants to say it again and you do, voice low in the room. “Joon, I need you. Need to feel full.”

“Fuck me.” It’s said under his breath but you don’t miss it, stomach twisting when his cock slams into you. It’s hard and mean. Namjoon takes everything you’re giving him, folding you into his mattress and driving his hips hard enough for the bed-frame to shift, a low thud against his bedroom wall. You let him have his way, groaning into his ear, the sheen of sweat that builds on both your bare bodies glimmering under the dwindling glow of the sunlight. There’s a faint tepid heat flickering in your core and it sparks up when Namjoon lands a hard kiss on the span of your neck, moaning low as he splits you open on his cock.

“So fucking tight.” There’s a hitch in your rugged breathing, your grip on his ruined sheets fierce. “So wet. All for me. All mine. Right, baby? This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yours,” you whisper in return, lost in the feeling of him enclosing you in. “All yours.”

His lips are soft against your own, a delicate press of his mouth that doesn’t match how hard he’s fucking you. But you revel in it, rupturing into something bright and wild and full of love underneath the piston of his hips. It’s good now, the sensitivity you felt a moment ago ebbing into nothing but heat and want. You don’t miss how he twitches against your walls, thrusts growing erratic with every lewd slam of his length inside of you. And you want it, reminding Namjoon of that fact with wicked whispers in his ear. He caves fast, a few last hard rolls before he paints your walls in his release, the moan he lets out bleeding into your skin. You’re on edge now, the feeling of Namjoon’s cum coating your cunt when you’re at peak fertility doing something stupid to your brain. It shouldn’t turn you on — in fact you should be terrified. You weren’t ready to be a parent, yet the weight of him on you, the spurt of cum that slips from your cunt when he draws again, sends your spiralling. It’s swift, the swing of your legs back around his waist.

“No — don’t, don’t move. Not yet.”

Namjoon pauses, checks still warm and his skin a pretty golden rouge. You don’t enjoy the way he reads you.

“We can’t cuddle like this. Remember what we did last time? The cockwarming?” He suggests it easily. He gets what this is doing to you even when you don’t understand it at all. You nod because the idea of Namjoon not lodged inside you sounds abhorrent. He shifts the both of you quick enough, his softening dick back to half-mast the moment your protest emerged. It’s easier like this, with you sprawled on his broad chest. You don’t want to acknowledge it but you’re still somewhat wound up and the feeling of him holding you close, your cunt stuffed full of his cum, is doing unimaginable things to your brain. You pretend it isn’t, snuggling into the valley of his massive chest, feeling safe and secure. And then Namjoon opens his mouth.

“We’re going to have to talk about this. You know that right?”

“No, we don’t have to talk about it. Ever. Pretend this never happened.”

His laughs echoes in your heart. “Baby, I just came in you and you’re ovulating. That’s fairly risky, don’t you think?”

“I told you!” You whack his arm for good measure. “I told you it was dumb.”

“But I liked it,” Namjoon continues, staring intently at the ceiling. “A lot.” You flutter, cheeks hot at his admission, a bubbling in your chest that shouldn’t be there. “And judging from how you’re using my dick to keep my cum inside of you, I’m guessing you liked it too.”

“...Maybe.” You hate it but he’s right. You liked having him use you like that, the prospect of his cum doing more than leaving you euphoric with satisfaction lingering in the depths of your mind.

“Maybe?” He scoffs, wide hand gently pushing you off his chest despite the whine you release. “Get off then, I need to check if my dick is intact. I think I saw the fifth dimension when I came.”

“Shut up, please!” You cling to your boyfriend, viciously wiggling around until you feel him twitch inside of you. It’s too nice of a feeling to lose just yet. “Why are you ruining it?”

“Why can’t you admit what you’re into? Speaking of that subject, I don’t know what your kinks really are. So far there’s been a bit more exhibitionism than I expected from you but the breeding one… is different. Not bad. Just different,” he suddenly rambles.

“Because it’s embarrassing.” Your voice is small, landing on his naked chest in the silence of his room. His hand shifts from shoving you off to gingerly resting on you back, rough fingertips languidly tracing patterns on your skin. The motion is reassuring, yet you can still hear the eye roll in his voice when he speaks.

“You’ve seen the fisting porn on my NSFW twitter, what the hell do you mean embarrassing?”

“It just is!” You protest. “I’m not sure what I’m into.”

“I think you are, you’re just not comfortable admitting it to yourself. Don’t you watch porn? Or have any particular fantasies?” Namjoon’s persistent despite your deflection and while some part of you hates it, you know he’s right. He always is — well most of the time.

“I do,” you retort instead, refusing to give him an ounce of triumph. “You know that don’t be dumb.”

“Well then,” Namjoon returns, curiosity colouring his voice, “What’s your NSFW twitter? I’ve shown you mine, let me see yours.”

“I don’t have one…”

There’s a pause, the hand on your back drawing to a halt. You can hear the cogs in his head turning.

“You don’t? What do you use then?”

“...Yours,” you whisper. The breath that falls from his lips is horrified. “I like most of the stuff you like,” you quickly tack on. Somehow this is more shameful than admitting that you like being stuffed with Namjoon’s cum. The silence carries on and you're left stewing in your thoughts, looking for a way out of this awkward mess when Namjoon starts up again, a tentativeness in his tone that concerns you.

“Most of what I like,” he says. Another pause. “... Including the fisting porn?”

“Namjoon,” you snap, “Shut up.” You can’t believe you’re allowing this man to plug his dick in you after sex, can’t believe it at all. It’s a horrible realisation to come too especially when he breaks out into a loud laugh, his chest shuffling you around with every quick intake of air and the sound of his glee resounding in your heart.

“Sorry, angel,” he offers between muffled laughs. You hate him. You do even if you love him ten times more than you hate him. “We should make you one after this,” Namjoon says. “And then get food. Sounds good with you?”

“Food first,” you retort, mellow in the arms of your lover. “And then the Twitter porn.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #smutcentralnet #bts x reader #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #*posts then runs away*

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sophieinwonderland · 4 months ago

Note

Here's my post debunking the system hopping claim with screenshots if anyone wants it!

Besides it not being used in academic literature, when I was researching this, one thing I did was Google "RAMCOA" and "system hopping" together, and then narrowed it down by date to see if there was any evidence of any websites using these words together prior to the Twitter thread. There was none.

The earliest use of system hopping to refer to travel between different bodies was 2005. The Twitter thread was in 2021.

The counter claim I've seen from anti-endos is usually "well, this was used in super secret unnamed RAMCOA communities that were all deleted from the face of the internet, and never found its way to general use."

But this argument is just incredibly weak.

First, it's pretty hard to believe that this was common terminology across multiple RAMCOA spaces, but somehow never leaked into general communities. People don't disappear when their communities fold. They just move on to other communities and use the same language.

Second, this doesn't even have remotely credible anecdotes backing it up. That is to say, the people making this claim are largely minors and young adults, and weren't part of any plural communities prior to system hopping's first recorded use in 2005. I've never even seen someone say "oh yeah, system hopping, I saw that in RAMCOA communities back in '97" or anything of the sort.

Nobody who is making these claims are giving dates. It's just "RAMCOA systems did it first" and no further information. And that should be a huge red flag there there's no merit to it.

Compare that to @thelunastusco recalling how they had a fight with a system who claimed their headmate hopped into the Collective's system to say hi around 2007, and has said the term was well-known during that time period.

It IS still just an anecdote. But it's pretty well-known that they were part of the system community for a long time, and they're giving an actual timeframe for hearing its use unlike the anti-endos.

Breaking the age thing down further, we can assume that most people wouldn't have been part of RAMCOA communities until they were at least 13 at the bare minimum. To have seen this term in 2004 or earlier before its first recorded use to refer to travel between bodies, they would need to have been born 1992. Meaning they'd need to be 33 at the youngest today. (I feel like I may be mathing this wrong and am either over or under by a year, but I digress.) And this is, honestly, being pretty generous by assuming minors who were raised in cults and suffered this type of abuse would have internet access in 2004, long before every kid had a computer in their pocket, identify their experiences with RAMCOA, and manage to find these super secret RAMCOA groups.

Finally, even if this claim had any merit and these super secret RAMCOA communities did somehow exist prior to 2005, and nobody from them ever used the term outside of those communities because of how super secret they were for over 16 years, the "stealing" claim is still bogus because there would be no way of knowing about the super secret communities to steal from them.

So since we have started to see pro-endos spread this around I was wondering if it had any merit. Is there any basis for the idea that the term system hopping or system traveling was first used by polyfragmented/programmed systems? And yes we have seen what endos say on this we were just hoping for a more objective opinion instead of one that could be fueled by just simply hating anti-endos. Thank you. :)

Nope, no merit. Believe me, I wanted that to be true, I wanted to prove they steal our words. It never belonged to us, it was created by a system on Twitter to talk about their experience, and when they saw how it was being used to gatekeep, they stood against that.

On my end, the term has NEVER been used in academic literature. Ever. It doesn't even describe a similar experience using a different word, and I looked hard, pulling out every resource I had.

It's just not true.

#syscourse #ramcoa #system hopping

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keelywolfe · 3 years ago

Text

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.2 (BAON)

Summary: It's time for Stretch to go over everything that happened the night he was kidnapped. It's going swell.

Tags: Spicyhoney, kustard, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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He’d known talking about the kidnapping was gonna suck. That was a given, considering how Stretch’s memory held onto details a little too clearly; useful when it came to working on experiments or math problems, not so much when it came to dealing with the various traumas in his life. This, oh, so lovely opportunity to relive his own fear and his fears for his best friend, plus the uncomfortable nausea from the drugs and having to open up his mind and soul to the Judge again? Well, that was just an extra special treat, now wasn’t it, and there was only so much comfort he could take from the two familiar skeletal bodies pressed up close to his own.

Turned out, it was harder to talk about all this shit than he'd thought. It wasn’t the same as a chat with his therapist, this was nothing more than a straight-up retelling and with every word, his voice went softer, flatter. He kept waiting for Red to tell him to speak up to make sure the recorder was catching it all, only he never did.

Yeah, it sucked, big time, but Stretch went with it. Some evils were actually necessary and if those assholes were going to get the justice they deserved, (don’t think about that too closely, don’t) he needed to tell the whole story. Or, well, the most important parts of it, there were a few details that a Human judge probably didn’t need.

So, Stretch settled in and talked, kept talking until he was hoarse. Edge left a few times over the course of the tale. Once to the beep of the oven timer, and he wasn’t gone long, bringing back coffee and delicious fresh bread slathered in melting butter. The rich, yeasty smell alone made Stretch’s mouth fill with soft, eager magic and it did a lot for the gnawing hunger that he’d nearly forgotten about.

Another time he left to get Stretch a fresh glass of water. Probably it was a coincidence he’d just gotten to the point where Jeff was begging them not to hurt him, telling those assholes he was ‘fragile’ and as much as it chapped Stretch’s nonexistent ass to be called that, he had to grudgingly admit he couldn’t blame Andy for his concerns. Not with the way Edge and Blue always hammered it home to everyone in a ten-mile radius. Probably a coincidence, he’d been getting pretty dry and they might not have traditional vocal cords, but they could still get croaky.

Edge stood up abruptly and left, and Stretch didn’t stop talking, kept on to the part where they stripped off his clothes and dressed him up in that shitty Wally World getup. He’d been a little out of it for that part; whatever they’d slipped him made the world sort of loose-limbed and watercolor blurry, but he’d been awake enough to recall it pretty well. The kitchen door swung open right as he was describing lying on the bench seat of the van with his skull in Jeff’s lap and Edge came back out, glass of water in hand. Stretch took it gratefully and drank down the entire thing, handing off the empty glass as he went on. He didn’t pause when Edge settled next to him again, not even when his renewed embrace went almost painfully tight.

For his part, Red never moved except to sink further into the sofa in an effort to become one with the cushions. He didn’t get to Blue’s level of snuggle, but he was definitely more relaxed than when they’d started.

Sure was a shame Stretch couldn’t say the same. He was shivering by the end, leaning harder into them both, until he was practically in Edge's lap with his legs draped over Red’s femurs. The last time he’d had Red so close, it’d been because they were both waiting to hear about the state of their people out in California and there was another memory he could do without. That’d been a shitty time, too, but Red’s presence had been undeniably comforting right about then.

Red could be an asshole, he could be cruel, and his sense of humor bordered on sadistic. But he was here and Stretch knew him, better than Red was probably happy with, and he knew what Red was capable of. He wasn’t safe, if that was even the word for it, not the way Blue was or Sans, but having him pressed firmly up against Stretch with Edge on his other side felt safe and that was exactly what he was craving.

Red didn’t say anything the entire time, not even when Stretch started skimping on a few details. The cold fury he'd felt once they’d gotten loose didn’t really need a place in posterity, thanks, and they didn’t need any description about Judging on the official record. Red would know anyway, he had plenty of firsthand experience.

When Stretch got to the end of it all, right up to where Red came up the stairs and joined the party, there weren’t any questions. Red only sighed deeply and clicked off the recorder with a deliberate press of his thumb before he said, “gonna have to be a few changes for a while, honey bun.”

Edge stiffened next to him, bracing himself for something. Maybe he was expecting a tantrum and wasn’t his baby going to be in for a surprise because Stretch didn’t have one to give. He wasn’t stupid, he’d been expecting this from the get-go and now the best he could do was negotiate terms.

Red went on. “for starters, from now on when you go into ebott, you gotta have a bodyguard along. no more solo treks, no more bus rides, you get me?”

Yeah, that was about what he’d figured. Stretch was still processing that decree, trying to come up with an appropriately grudging agreement, and the last thing he expected was Edge to be the one to speak up sharply, “No, that’s out of the question.”

Stretch could only swing around and stare at him in disbelief, ‘cause, what the hell, no one told him today was opposite day.

Red leaned forward to glare at his brother from around Stretch. “it ain’t a question at all, it’s a fact. he goes into town, he’s got backup, and you can bet your ass that handy andy don’t count.”

“You can’t expect to limit his freedom that way!” Edge’s hold tightened until Stretch couldn’t hold back a wince. Edge noticed, his expression twisting. He let go and surged to his feet to snarl at his brother, “He spends a great deal of time in Ebott and not only for personal reasons. He does restaurant reviews, coffee shop challenges, thrift store searches. This isn’t simply about his enjoyment or his free will. All of this ends up on his twitter and extends our goodwill with Humans!”

“you think asgore don’t know that shit?” Red snapped back. “you think this is all my idea? well, it ain’t, but i sure as fuck agree with it! your pretty little liability jigged himself up as a hot celebrity and that’s got everyone’s attention, not only his twitter cunts!”

“hey, what did you just call me?” Stretch asked, suspiciously. That little nickname sounded like it had a story behind it, for sure.

Red ignored him. “this time it was a group of fuckin’ amateurs, what about next time? he's out there, he’s known! fuck, people know who he is over our damned ambassadors!

"He doesn't want that! He never asked for it!"

"don't make it less true!"

"he's right." The words were low but still cut through the brothers’ argument. They both turned to look at Stretch, one crimson gaze suspicious and the other stricken. Stretch couldn’t blame them; past experience would make anyone think he was gonna be pissed off and they weren’t wrong, but his anger wasn’t at them. It was at the assholes out there who made this necessary, the ones who believed that only Humans deserved a place in this world and if a centuries-old war hadn’t changed that belief then it wasn’t about to transform by tomorrow.

Stretch sighed unhappily and snagged one of the sofa pillows to hold. "i get it, okay, and he's right. i wanted to stay out of the politics, but i ended up diving right into the other side of the pool all on my own."

“Love.” Edge moved to sit on the coffee table in front of him and that alone gave a pretty good guess as to his state of mind. He reached out and took one of Stretch’s hands into both of his, his gloved fingers agitatedly stroking as he said urgently, “You shouldn’t have to do this. They can’t force you. Not unless you agree to it.”

“then i guess i’m agreeing.” Slowly, unsure of either of their reactions, Stretch offered, “how about we try it on a temporary basis for now? if security decides in a couple months that it’s overkill, i can go back to han soloing it.”

Red visibly relaxed, sinking back against the sofa cushions again. He’d probably been expecting a hell of an argument and that wasn’t even including Edge’s sudden defection from overprotectiveness. “even han solo went around with that monkey fella.”

It was a lame joke, but Stretch couldn’t help a little smile. “chewbacca is a wookie and i am going to pretend i didn’t hear that gross insult to star wars canon.”

Red’s grin widened, his sharp teeth always unnerving in a way that Edge’s never seemed to be. “’preciate it. i’ll get back to ya by tomorrow about whose gonna be your new sidekick.”

That seemed to settled things, but it didn’t make Stretch feel any better about it. He tossed the pillow aside and drew his legs up instead, wrapping his arms around them to curl up tighter. Edge was back beside him in an instant, adding his own arms to the tangle as he pulled Stretch into a hard embrace.

An unexpected weight came from the other side, and it was difficult not to turn and stare, but Stretch managed. He only slit open his sockets and looked out of the corner to see Red leaning harder his way. His hands were still in his pockets, let’s not get crazy, his crimson gaze focused on the ceiling. It made it easy for Stretch to let his own sockets slide closed, all the better to bask in the doubled comforting presence.

They were barely settled again when the front door abruptly swung open. Edge jerked away from him and was on his feet again in a blur, smoothly dropping into an attack stance, which, okay, shitty timing but that was weirdly sexy in a way that made Stretch’s libido perk up and pay attention. Less sexy was Red shifted beside him, his magic surging as he either readied an attack or made to shortcut both of them out of there.

Standing in the open front door was Sans, looking about as threatening as a hot dog delivery person, and he hastily raised both hands in surrender. “whoa, hey, i give, i give.”

The tension in the air deflated like last night’s party balloon. Red let out an explosive sigh and said, “don’t you know how to fuckin’ knock?”

“was waiting for you to teach me,” Sans said easily. He took in the scene in front of him, both brow bones crawling up his forehead. Not that Stretch could blame him, not when Red was all but snuggled up into Stretch’s side. He couldn’t see Red’s face the way he was sitting, but he swore he almost lost an HP from the force of the glare he was sending in Sans’s direction, daring him to say a word.

Say what you would about Sans being lazy, he sure wasn’t stupid. He didn’t say a single word. His permanent grin widened a fraction and there wasn’t a hint of jealousy there as he kicked off his shoes and headed over to the sofa. He crawled up right next to Red and settled his socked feet into Red’s lap, ignoring his sputtered, “hey, no, fuck off!”

That was about as effective as solving the problem of world peace by chewing bubblegum. The struggle not to say anything punny was definitely putting more pressure on his HP and Stretch was pretty sure Edge was about to discover if it was possible for skeletons to have a stroke.

“did you need somethin’ or are you here for kicks,” Red said, sullenly.

“nope,” Sans said. He sighed and settled more deeply into the cushions like he was getting ready for a nap. “but lunch would be nice.”

There was huff of sound, almost a laugh, before Edge said, “I believe lunch can be arranged.”

He started to stand and this time, Stretch followed him. “i’ll help.”

Staying in the snuggle pile with Thing One and Thing Two minus Edge wasn’t an equation Stretch wanted answered right now. Plus, his joints were starting to ache from being curled up. He needed to stand for a little while and work out the cramps.

He followed Edge into the kitchen, vaguely hoping that Sans and Red didn’t violate their sofa too much. Even as he thought it, an arm snaked around him, a gloved hand sliding under his sweatshirt to curl around his bare hipbone for a very welcome violation of its own. Sadly, that touch didn’t linger, withdrawing after a warm palm swept over the curve of bone and Edge stepped away, over to the fridge.

Lunch. Right.

He let Edge handle most of it, cutting fresh bread into thick slices and slathering them with mustard and mayo before layering on lunchmeat and cheese. He was adding a slice of tomato when Stretch decided instead of watching the show, he could at least manage drinks. Red and Sans would probably disagree but in his opinion the best beverage to go with a sandwich was a frosty glass of milk.

The carton was sitting on the top shelf of the fridge, right in reach, easy peasy and how Stretch managed to misjudge the angle and drop it, he really didn’t know. What he did know was that when the carton hit the floor, it burst open and sent a messy wave of milk across the tiles, soaking cold into his socks.

Behind him, Edge said something and Stretch didn’t hear it. Probably asking if he was okay. Not angry, no, Edge tried so hard to keep his temper whenever Stretch did something stupid, tried to be understanding, and it wasn’t even Stretch’s fault, not this time, not really, and Edge still tried. Nothing that happened that night was his fault, certainly not the kidnapping and not what came after, so why did it feel like he was the one still being punished for it.

The sudden aching surge of emotion rising unexpectedly from Stretch’s soul took him off guard, threatening to choke him. His knees went wobbly and he sank down to the floor, kicking off his drenched socks to sit by the spreading puddle of milk as he tried to hold back the threatening flood of tears.

He barely heard the approaching footsteps and when a gentle hand settled on his back, the dam broke. Stretch lurched towards it, sending Edge from a crouch to nearly sprawling on the floor as Stretch all but crawled into his lap and buried himself into his arms as he wept. Hands moved gently, fingertips encased in soft gloves smoothing over his bones and Edge didn’t attempt to hush him, no trying to tell him it was all right or things would be fine, no lies to try to soothe tears to silence. He only held Stretch until he was cried out, rocking him as gently as someone might a child, or maybe just someone they really, really loved.

By the time his tears petered out, Stretch was exhausted. A headache was looming strongly at his temples, his sockets itching and burning, and he was a little nauseous. Food was the last thing on his mind now, all he wanted was to stay here in the luxury of Edge’s arms. The floor was less comfortable, especially with the seat of his pants slowly going sodden with milk.

“i’m really tired,” Stretch admitted. It sounded more like a rough croak, barely audible.

“Then you should go back to bed.” There wasn’t time to protest when Edge moved, shifting to lift Stretch into his arms, uncaring of the soggy state of his pants. It couldn’t be good for his leg but Stretch only clung guiltily and let Edge carry him out of the kitchen. The guilt grew stronger along with relief when he saw Red and Sans were gone, minus lunch. Maybe they spied on the kitchen and saw what was going on, watched him literally crying over spilled milk, or maybe they got a little too touchy-feely on the sofa and had at least enough manners to finish it somewhere else. Stretch couldn’t even care. He was only glad they were gone.

Edge carried him up the stairs to their bedroom, setting him on his feet only long enough to strip him down to his bare bones. He tucked Stretch into bed and the tears started to well again when Edge didn’t join him. But he only went as far as the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. The cool cloth felt like bliss draped over his aching sockets, a second wet cloth wiping over his bones, gently cleaning away last night’s sweat and today’s, along with any lingering dregs of milk.

When he was clean, he heard the wet plop on the floor as Edge tossed the washcloth aside, for once uncaring about the state of the floor as he concentrated on the state of his husband. He stripped off his own clothes before settling them both beneath the blankets, lying beside Stretch and pulling him back into his arms.

“Go to sleep,” Edge murmured, but he was already too late. Stretch was drifting, letting the complicated tangle of his thoughts unravel into sleepy nothingness while he settled into the safety of a gentle, loving embrace.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #kustard #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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duchess-of-mandalore · 4 years ago

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The Mando’a of “Ben” Kenobi

(and bonus Mando’a fan linguistics for “Korkie” Kryze)

I’m waving my (constructed) language-nerd flag high today! Get ready to learn some Mando’a: Mando’a DIctionary

Though it’s not fully canon anymore, it’s been established that Satine Kryze is the one who gave Obi-Wan Kenobi the nickname “Ben,” which he used as his alias during his years of exile on Tatooine. That information comes from two sources:

1) the now Legends book Kenobi by John Jackson Miller:

youtube

Excerpt read by James Arnold Taylor (start at 3:45): Meeting her [Annileen Calwell] gave me a chance to finally use the name I chose. You'll like this: Ben. I'd seen it on the map at the property office in Bestine; there's some mesa by that name ... Satine used to call me that. 'Twas a private thing ... Still, I liked the sound of it.

2) an unused concept for The Clone Wars series:

Found on the StarWars.com, “Deception” page:

(My guess is that Henry Gilroy or Paul Dini, the writers of the episode, where probably the ones to come up with that tidbit)

Anna and Dave couldn’t figure out an appropriate justification for “Ben” being an affectionate nickname, but that doesn’t mean that fans have stopped trying. A lot of us have turned to the Mando’a language, which is a relatively extensive constructed language, to justify the connection.

So here are several of my favorite fan theories involving Mando’a for how “Ben” became Satine’s personal nickname for Obi-Wan:

1) Ben is a contraction of the Mando’a word beten [BEY-tehn] = “sigh”

I’ve seen this theory a couple places, but I first learned of it from @kotorswtor. I love this one because it feels like an appropriate reflection of Obi-Wan and Satine’s argumentative relationship. He frustrates her (and vice versa) and makes her “sigh” in exasperation, and then uses that very word as a nickname, basically as a way to say “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!”

2) Ben is a play on the Mando’a word kebiin [kay-BEEN] = “blue.” This is a theory I came up with, but that was inspired by SallyK’s fic Blue, in which Satine teaches Obi-Wan the word for blue, because “it’s similar to his surname and she finds that amusing.”

“Kebiin” does indeed sound a bit like “Kenobi,” and with a slight vowel shift, [been] could become [ben], or rather [beyn], which is how I think Satine pronounces it.

Interestingly, Satine sounds similar to the Mando’s word saviin [sah-VEEN] = violet, so together, they have a little color coordination going on.

3) Ben is a play on be’ni [beh-nee] = “the one who belongs to me; the one to whom I belong,” which comes from be = “of” and ni = “I, me”

Probably my favorite of the theories, I found this one in @spectral-musette‘s Twilight of the Republic Vignettes. The compound word “be’ni” is a fan-created word, but I love the idea of this being a grammatical possessive. Given Satine’s inability to move on from Obi-Wan after 16+ years of being apart, I feel like a term of endearment that’s basically a claim and a vow is very appropriate. She looks at him and says “mine.” And Obi-Wan claiming the name for himself during his two decades on Tatooine bespeaks his own continued and lasting love for her.

Bonus: A lot of us really love Korkie, but some aren’t the biggest fan of his name (though it’s grown on me the longer I’ve been a fan). Here are a couple explanations for the name that I quite like:

1. Korkie is a nickname. I’ve seen this quite a bit in fics, but the ones I recall are Korbin and Korridon. The one that I personally use is Korthuis [KOR-this], which is a Dutch surname meaning “small house,” but which I use for no other reason that it sounds a bit alien, a bit aristocratic, and goes well when paired with Kryze or Kenobi.

2. Korkie is a Basicization (as opposed to Anglicization) of the Mando’a name Koor’kih [KOOR-kee] meaning “promise of the small/promised little one,” which comes from koor = “deal, contract,” and kih = “small.” Koor’kih is a fan-created compound word that was created by Twitter user MintMedic, who was inspired by the idea that Cody’s name is actually Kote [KOH-day, KOH-tay] the Mando’a word for “glory.”

I have tried to give credit to all those who have created these theories. Please feel free to use these theories in your own fics/headcanons, but remember to also give proper credit.

And If you know of any other Mando’a theories that people have come up with, please share them here!

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theuniversitychallengereview · 3 years ago

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UC 51.03 - London Business School vs Hertford, Oxford

Since it was introduced at the 1988 Olympics, every single Gold Medal in the Women’s Team event in the Archery has gone to South Korea. Including yesterday’s win that’s nine straight victories, and their period of unparalleled dominance continues. The men’s team have also won six of the nine they have contested, and a mixed team won the first staging of that event in Tokyo too. Adding their success in the individual events, South Korea have won 26 gold medals, and 42 in total, in the 43 archery events which have been thus far staged at the Olympic Games.

As Twitter’s own @tarequelaskar pointed out in the brilliant article which alerted me to this story, this is a perfect example of specialisation, an economic concept whereby countries or companies focus intensely on one particular aspect of a given industry and come to serve that niche in such a specialised fashion that they become the ultimate experts and nigh-on irreplaceable. This is done in government and business by providing companies with incentives to specialise, and supporting those who succeed at it.

With respect to Korean archery, similar forces are at play. There are a bunch of professional teams and leagues in the country, giving archers financial stability while they focus on their training, something not as common across the world. Said training involves such things as practicing in live baseball stadiums and replicas of the Olympic venues, to mimic first the atmosphere and then the conditions that will be present on the day of the actual tournament.

This philosophy of marginal gains - the same system used by Team Sky and Chris Froome to win multiple Tour De Frances on the trot - puts their preparation miles ahead of the competition, which goes some way to explaining their dominance. It is not the only reason. Before the fine-tuning of the elite shooters comes the discovery of the promising young ones, and the inspiring nature of past success (along with a historic national love of the sport) helps to create a virtuous cycle which give Korea a far larger number of archers to choose from than any other country. This greater choice means that there is a greater chance of finding the next Gold medallists.

Making the argument that professional footballers are at a higher level than other elite sportspeople, Michael Cox used this same argument in a recent article for The Athletic. To summarise, he stated that because there are a far higher number of people who wish to become professional footballers, that must mean that the ones who do make it are at a higher standard than those who make it in other sports. Initially, I was drawn in by the pure maths of this point, but having thought about it some more I’m no longer sure to what extent I agree.

Now, the fact that hundreds of millions more people play football than rugby, or basketball, will certainly confer some level of “eliteness”, but only up to a certain point. Because football has been so popular for so long, the general standard of the play, relative to what it used to be, has had longer to improve. In the same way that if you transplanted a 100m runner from the Olympic final in the early 20th century to now they probably wouldn’t even qualify for the games, a footballer from the 80s would stand less of a chance of making it were they playing today. Many other sports don’t have that level of natural progression, afforded by decades of technical and tactical advancement - at least not globally.

But the numbers argument only goes so far, as can be demonstrated by the Korean archers. Yes, there are more archers in Korea than anywhere else, relatively, giving them a higher chance of uncovering those with a natural aptitude, but the reason behind their bow and arrow dynasty is the specialisation. The hyper-detailed level of training and focus which allows them to be the best they can possible be.

Now, archery is unique in that there is a theoretical maximum score (I understand that this is to some extent arbitrary, and related to the rules of the game as defined by some human being, semi-randomly, but it works in terms of this argument, because it gives a percentage score of how good the archers are based on the agreed-upon parameters of the sport), which, at the Olympics, is 720. The Olympic record is 700 (held by Korean Kim Woo-jin, giving an implied “eliteness level” of 97.2%.

The best player in the history of football (don’t @ me) is Lionel Messi, and few would doubt that he operates at or above that level of perfection in his sport. But I also don’t think you could doubt that Novak Djokovic, or Serena Williams in her pomp, were similarly magnificent at tennis. Cyclists on the Tour De France put their bodies through more in three weeks than most people endure in a decade, and have every aspect of their training and diet strictly controlled so as to bring them as close to perfection as possible. There will certainly be a higher number of these elite performers in football, because there are a higher number of paying jobs for said elite performers, and because more people attempt to become elite performers, but I don’t think that it follows on from that that they are better at their sport than other elite athletes, all of whom have undergone years and years of specialised training to get them where they are.

Does any of this matter, in terms of how each sport should be enjoyed? Probably not, but its interesting to think about, and kind of awe-inspiring to try and appreciate just how good those at the top of their respective games are. And if there is some discrepancy in the level of eliteness between the different sports it doesn’t detract from the fact that they would handily dispatch any civilian challengers without breaking a sweat. The joy comes from watching people who are good at stuff doing that stuff - and, as evidenced by the crowds which gather for non-league football, it doesn’t matter whether or not they are at the absolute pinnacle of said stuff. They’re still going to be much better than the rest of us.

Competitive quizzing is different from the activities previously mentioned in that any normal person can have a guess at pretty much any question, with a chance that they’ll get it right. What sets the contestants apart on shows like University Challenge is the speed of their recall under pressure - the quickness of their knowledge as well as the knowledge itself. But there are plenty of armchair quizzers who think they could wipe the floor on the show, so just how good are the actual contestants? (Compared to an elite footballer or archer on an imaginary scale that accounts for relative skill in all disciplines?). I don’t know (and in case you hadn’t noticed by now I’m just fascinated by people who are really good at anything, and wanted to share some of that fascination with you all), but I’ll try and have a go at answering it anyway.

So, the World Quizzing Championships have been dominated by British and Irish quizzers since its inception in 2003, with 16 of the 18 winners coming from either Britain or the Republic of Ireland (who have four wins courtesy of The Egghead Pat Gibson). This, in my mind, makes this neck of the woods comparable to South Korean archery. It is a hotbed of talent, and the infrastructure is in place to encourage and aid talent maximalisation. Indeed, if you scroll down the list of highest ranking players at the WQC in any given year you can see a significant cohort of UC alums, so clearly there are a number of elite quizzers who have passed through the show.

This specialisation can be seen in microcosm with the preponderance of top-level quizzers produced by Oxford and Cambridge, who both have a long-standing culture of competitive quizzing far beyond other Universities. The debate is there to be had on the fairness of each institution having so many teams, but clearly they produce enough elite players to compete with far bigger Unis when entering as (sometimes tiny) colleges.

In conclusion, I think it is pretty obvious that UC is a breeding ground for world-class quizzers, and though no one has won a World title straight off the bat after appearing on the show, there are top-50 and top 100 finishes abound, which is still greatly impressive, and helps to give an idea of just how good these students really are.

Hoping to justify the 1000 words I’ve just written about their exceptional talents are two teams from the London Business School and Hertford College, Oxford. The Oxford side have never made it beyond the second round, but LBS reached the semi-finals in 2006, their only previous appearance on the show. Anyway, there is quite literally no time for me to recite the rules; here’s your first starter for ten...

Paxman mentions that LBS were in the show in 2006, but doesn’t mention that they reached the semi final, which is lazy imo. A bunch of them are studying for MBAs, which makes sense. He doesn’t mention Hertford’s previous appearances either, but that’s more understandable.

Hertford’s Hitchens takes the first starter with Kennedy, and the Oxonians added a full set of bonuses on words made up by authors - including a couple of educated guesses. LBS hit back with the next question, but can only manage one bonus on famous scientists. One of the two they miss is Rosalind Franklin, and Paxman teases them for not spotting an apparently obvious clue within the question.

The first picture round is on national emblems, and LBS are first to recognise that of Vietnam for the starter. They don’t know Laos or Belarus, but do know that Mozambique has a machine gun on its one. Butterworth then jumps the gun with argon on the next starter, giving his answer just as Paxman says it in the question. Butterworth makes up for it with the music starter, recognising Fat Boy Slim before anyone else, and LBS know Primal Scream and Wu Tang Clan too. They’re still fifty points behind though, and will need a big second half to turn things around.

This task gets more difficult for them, as Hitchens takes another starter. Lloyd adds a second in a row for Oxford and they are nearly one hundred points clear. LBS really need to get some points on the board, and Ruess duly obliges, knowing that there is a massive sculpture of a spider called Maman, which sounds needlessly scary, to the extent that I’m not even going to google it.

The comeback is ended before its even begun as Oswald takes a starter for Hertford, which gives them the picture bonuses - the starter having been dropped by both teams. Lloyd produces another excellent guess of Reuben, demonstrating how useful it is to have vague knowledge as well as specific knowledge. This is one of probably five questions he has answered in a throwaway manner, but which turned out to be correct.

By this point LBS seem to have accepted defeat. Ruess takes another starter, but there is little to no urgency on the bonus questions. They’re right, granted, to have none, they have no chance of winning, but if they gave it a go they might scrape a high scoring loser spot. Ruess is the only one who seems bothered, and bags himself ten more points. They have an amusing discussion about methods of poisoning in Agatha Christie novels (’it was used as a curry ingredient?’, Ruess wondered aloud, trying to figure out which spices could be poisonous, before Butterworth pointed out that it wasn’t something commonly used as a curry ingredient, prompting respectful mirth from the audience) on the bonuses, but still languish miles behind.

Lloyd grabs the last starter of the night for Hertford, who win by eighty at the gong.

Final Score: London Business School 100 - 180 Hertford, Oxford

At the end, Paxman mentions Hertford’s stellar guesswork, which means I wasn’t chatting nonsense (at least on that front, the jury is out on the rest of it), and says that they’ve done a really good job. Incredibly effusive praise for a score of 180. He really is going soft in his old age.

Phew, that was a long one. If you made it through the intro you deserve a prize. And that prize is that you get to come back next week for the next episode of this blog!! Woop woop!

And if this wasn’t quite enough UC content for you then you can subscribe for extra blogs on my Patreon, which features Retro Reviews from the 2015/16 series of the show. Ta x

#london business school #hertford #oxford #bbc2 #quizzy mondays #jeremy paxman

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 4 years ago

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

May 10, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

A poll today by the Associated Press (AP) and the National Opinion Research Center (NORC) shows that President Joe Biden’s administration is gaining positive traction. Sixty-three percent of Americans approve of how he is handling his job as president. Seventy-one percent approve of how he is handling the coronavirus pandemic; 62% percent approve of how he is handling health care. Fifty-seven percent approve of how he is handling the economy; 54% approve of how he is handling foreign affairs.

Fifty-four percent of Americans think the country is going in the right direction. This is the highest number since 2017, but it is split by party: 84% of Democrats like the country’s direction, while only 20% of Republicans do.

Biden’s weak spots are in immigration, where 43% approve and 54% disapprove, and gun policy, where 48% approve and 49% disapprove.

And yet, Biden’s people have been working to address the influx of migrant children; White House Secretary Jen Psaki noted last week that “At the end of March, there were more than 5,000 children in Customs and Border Protection Patrol stations. Today, that number is approximately 600…. The amount of time children spend in CBP facilities is down by 75 percent — from 131 hours at the end of March to under 30 hours now.”

The administration has backed that short-term work with a long-term initiative. Last week, Vice President Kamala Harris met virtually with Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador, the leader of the left of center populist nationalist coalition party MORENA, to talk about finding ways to promote economic development to address the root causes prompting the flight of refugees from Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador and southern Mexico. They also talked about working together to protect human rights and dismantle the criminal networks that smuggle migrants. She will travel to Guatemala and Mexico in June, where she will meet with their leaders.

Disapproval of Biden’s gun policies might well reflect a desire for a stronger stance. In April, a Morning Consult/Politico poll showed that 64% of registered voters supported stricter gun control laws. We have had an average of ten mass shootings a week in 2021, 194 in all. (A mass shooting is one in which four people are killed or wounded.)

This week, Biden will be meeting with bipartisan groups of leaders, including Representative Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) and Senator Mitch McConnell (R-KY), to begin to hammer out an infrastructure measure based on his American Jobs Plan. He will also meet with Senators John Barrasso (R-WY), Roy Blunt (R-MO), Mike Crapo (R-ID), Pat Toomey (R-PA), Roger Wicker (R-MS), and Shelley Moore Capito (R-WV), who have proposed their own $568 billion proposal without corporate tax hikes.

As the good news from the administration is starting to filter into the media, bad news from the Trump wing of the Republican Party is also starting to get traction. On Saturday, we learned that at retreats in March and April, staff for the National Republican Congressional Committee refused to tell lawmakers how badly Trump is polling in core battleground districts, where 54% see Biden favorably while only 41% still favor Trump. Vice President Kamala Harris, the $1.9 trillion American Rescue Plan, and the $2.3 trillion American Jobs Plan are all more popular in those districts than the former president.

Indeed, it is more than a little odd that party leaders are bending over backward to tie their party to a former president who, after all, never broke 50% favorability ratings—the first time in polling history that had happened—and who lost both the White House and Congress.

Another set of data from Catalist, a voter database company in Washington, D.C., shows that the 2020 election was the most diverse ever, with Latino and Asian voters turning out in bigger numbers than ever before. Black voting increased substantially, while Asian-American and Pacific Islander voters had a decisive increase in turnout. The electorate was 72% white, down 2% from 2016 and 5% from 2008. Thirty-nine percent of Biden-Harris voters were people of color (61% were white); only 15% of Trump-Pence voters were POC (85% were white).

This demographic trend is behind the new voter suppression bills in Republican states. But the racial breakdown of the 2020 vote is not the only problem for the current Republican Party. The biggest turnout gains in 2020 were among young voters, 18 to 40 years old, who now make up 31% of voters, while those over 55 have dropped to only 44% of the electorate. Younger voters skew heavily toward the Democrats. Also notable was that women break heavily toward Democrats by a 10 point gap—79% of women of color support Democrats; 58% of white women voted for Biden-Harris—and women make up 54% of the electorate overall.

News out of the private “recount” in Arizona by Cyber Ninjas, a company without experience in election recounts and whose owner has already gone on record as believing that rigged voting machines in Arizona cost Trump victory, continues to be embarrassing as well. Although the Maricopa County Board of Supervisors, which has a Republican majority, said the count was fair and opposed a recount, sixteen Republicans in the state senate voted to give the ballots for Maricopa County, which includes Phoenix, to the company for a private recount. The count has been plagued by conspiracy theories—one observer claimed they are examining the ballots for signs of bamboo in the paper to show that tens of thousands of ballots were flown in from Asia—and it turned out that one of the people recounting the ballots had been at the January 6 riot at the Capitol. Now the “recount” is running so far behind it appears it won’t be done until August, rather than May 14 as the company promised.

State senator Paul Boyer, who voted for the “audit,” told New York Times reporter Michael Wines: “It makes us look like idiots…. Looking back, I didn’t think it would be this ridiculous. It’s embarrassing to be a state senator at this point.”

And then, this morning, the Washington Post dropped a long, investigative story by reporters Emma Brown, Aaron C. Davis, Jon Swaine, and Josh Dawsey revealing that the arguments former president Trump has grabbed to “prove” the election was stolen from him were part of a long conspiracy theory hatched in 2018 by Russell J. Ramsland, Jr., “a Republican businessman who has sold everything from Tex-Mex food in London to a wellness technology that beams light into the human bloodstream.” The story follows how Ramsland’s theories, which were debunked as “bat-s**t insane” by White House lawyers, got pumped into the media by Representative Louie Gohmert (R-TX) and Trump’s lawyer Rudy Giuliani, among others, and how Trump came to embrace them.

While Republican leaders are still standing behind those theories, and the former president, opponents of the party’s direction are pushing back not just against Trump but also against those leaders supporting him. Representative Adam Kinzinger (R-IL) tweeted this morning: “A few days before Jan 6, our GOP members had a conference call. I told Kevin [McCarthy] that his words and our party’s actions would lead to violence on January 6th. Kevin dismissively responded with ‘ok Adam, operator next question.’ And we got violence.”

Representative Liz Cheney (R-WY) has narrated a video distributed by the Republican Accountability Project recalling the violence of January 6, blaming Trump for spreading lies about the election, and reminding viewers that more than 60 lawsuits disproved his claims that the election was stolen. The video says “we are the party of Lincoln. We are not the party of QAnon” (showing an image of Jacob Chansley, the so-called “QAnon Shaman,” who wore a horned headdress during the Capitol insurrection) “or white supremacy” (showing an image of Fox News Channel personality Tucker Carlson). “We cannot embrace insurrection” (showing a picture of Georgia Republican Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene). “President Trump provoked an attack on the United States Capitol which resulted in five people dying. That is a person who does not have a role as a leader of our party going forward.” The video features an image of McCarthy standing with Trump. Cheney made it clear she was not about to shut up.

This afternoon, McCarthy released a statement calling for Cheney’s ouster as conference chair, featuring the line: “[u]nlike the left, we embrace free thought and debate.” (References to George Orwell, who famously wrote about how fascists used language to rewrite history, were all over Twitter.) McCarthy and other Trump loyalists have suggested that Cheney needs to go because she keeps talking about the past, but Allan Smith of NBC News points out that Trump himself seems to be the one who cannot stop talking about the past.

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#political #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP #January 6 2021 #insurrection #Liz Cheney #Biden Administration #Heather Cox Richardson #Letters From An American

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iaintyourbro · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I just newly found out your acc and so far, I’m loving your posts/analysis. Idk if you’ve already answered or been asked this question but... how did you become a Cloti fan and the reason why you stan them (like what did you like about their tandem etc)? I’m just curious about your “journey” lol. Anyways, keep it up and have a nice day 😁

Hey anon! Thank you!

Oh you want me to ramble! I can ramble about this. Adding a Keep Reading!

You know, I’ve thought about this a lot today because of a conversation on Twitter. I can’t say I TRULY remember much about when I first played FFVII prior to the other pieces of the compilation coming out, things I saw in passing online, or other things that probably have affected how I remember it.

My Thoughts on What My Journey MAY Have Been

I played FFVII 20 years ago. Of course I THINK I remember how I felt about everything, but the more I do seriously think about it, the more I think the bulk of my opinions have been impacted by multiple different areas over that 20 years. On top of it, I’m not sure anybody who didn’t stay very active in the fandom would fully remember what went on 20 years ago with the game, nor could you truly remember what you felt prior to seeing everything else. It impacts your ability to say “Yes, I was this way, 100%.”

I wasn’t the biggest FFVII OG fan. I liked it a lot, but I preferred FFVIII and Xenogears by far. Those were the two I focused on the most. In terms of things like FanFiction, for example, I didn’t read Cloud and Tifa or Cloud and Aerith ones, I read Vincent x Lucretcia ones. As an adult, I appreciate FFVII OG much more.

I recall not being the biggest fan of Aerith, and I honestly don’t remember how I felt initially about Tifa. I do remember it feeling like it came out of left field when suddenly she’s in love with him in Mideel (we know it wasn’t sudden, but there was no real obvious buildup to me). If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think I cared at all about who Cloud “ended up with.” My assumption - and this I can say with certainty - was that Aerith died, so that was that. There wasn’t a relationship past that, nor could there be. She was dead.

Playing FFVII first, but FINISHING FFVIII first may have impacted this opinion as well. FFVIII was in your face romance. FFVII was not. There are a lot of people (myself included) that felt there was very little romance in OG. However, as with all of the other games I played, I did not question the story much at all. Cloud and Tifa have the Lifestream, which I do remember being like “WHAT?!” over that reveal of Cloud being a Shinra Soldier, not a First Class SOLDIER, they have some words Under the Highwind, and then at the end he catches her from falling. The dialogue during the ending bothered me because it made no sense to me at that point. After seeing the original story board, I can see why. I don’t think that was the intention, but for some reason they changed it. One thing I’m pretty certain on is that I got that weird feeling in my stomach where I got annoyed over that line.

I can recall being weirded out when people said that Cloud and Aerith ended up together, because I remember her dying. In life, 21 year old’s don’t pine for somebody that they knew for a month. That’s just reality. I’m not saying he didn’t feel anything for her, but it still weirds me out that people are okay with thinking he’d shut down and/or take more extreme measures to “reunite” with her, that I don’t even want to get in to. I will say that CA fans were much more vocal online, which I think is why folks like me who didn’t care never really got involved in online fandom. I never understood how it would make sense after beating the game, but I wasn’t the only one who assumed they did something weird at some point and made it where they could be together. I just didn’t care enough to look in to it.

My sister actually said to me, “Isn’t he with Aerith?” And I said, “No, but I had the same feeling at one point for some reason, and have no idea why.” And I reminded her Aerith died and she said “You’re right.. why would they be together?” Shrugs. I honestly think at one point I assumed they pulled a FFX and revived her in some offshoot game I didn’t play and that’s why people were saying CA.

Oddly enough, I think when I played KH and KH2 it made it obvious to me that they weren’t really pushing CA at all... even though I know some use those games as an argument. Mind you those are NOT canon to the FFVII Compilation, but I found it interesting that they bring in Tifa for KH2 and it ends up that a) Cloud was looking for Sephiroth and b) Tifa appears to have been his light. Even they way Aerith acts towards Cloud in KH never felt romantic to me at all.

Why I Like Cloud and Tifa

I like Cloud and Tifa because their relationship is very complex. It’s not flowers and sunshine like a lot of the FF romances. Not to say those don’t have drama - I mean Tidus is technically a dream, but they “revive” him anyway later on (never felt right about this, by the way... but I accepted it as part of the story).

Even in OG, it’s shown that they have quite a history, and Cloud pretty much has built all of his life decisions around Tifa. I do laugh every time I see the meme of the Lifestream and it’s all “Tifa Tifa Tifa”. I believe, I truly do, that the intent in the Lifestream was to make you realize that Cloud had a false persona up until he breaks at the Northern Crater, and once his TRUE SELF is revealed, along with it comes his true feelings. So up until that point, when you, as the player, could make decisions for Cloud and move him in a direction you thought was YOUR CHOICE, it’s not. It was an illusion.

I, in no way, thought that eloquently 20 years ago. However, I realized that he was in love with Tifa (which I thought was interesting for some reason) and that he created this fake personality to protect himself. The game doesn’t go into it much past that point, you get Under the Highwind, really, as a follow up to the feelings part, but that’s it. So I never saw the romantic aspect of it all as super important - it’s a nice to have.

Remake, however, really does seem to be pushing a more romantic angle, which ultimately made me a hard Cloti stan. I can’t say I WAS one before, even with all the “wait, is he with this or that one?” I never really thought he ended up with anybody TRULY except Tifa, but, like I said, I just didn’t care.

REMAKE MAKES YOU CARE ABOUT ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS. Like a lot. So I didn’t like Aerith in OG - I love Aerith in Remake. I love her relationship with Tifa, I love her sassy, judgemental attitude and her trolling of Cloud, because it’s hilarious. I don’t agree with EVERYTHING, but she’s by far better for me than she was in OG.

So Remake definitely made me go “holy cow” on the Cloti stuff. IT’S SO IN YOUR FACE. The Train Roll, the touching, the staring, the longing, the flirting. Even if you go the Aerith route, you can’t avoid a large chunk of that. You can skip all of her side-quests and still have a boatload of Cloti. Remake made me love the pairing and love all of the characters.

Cloti is now by far my favorite media pairing. When you compare it to Squall and Rinoa or Tidus and Yuna it seems much more interesting. Yeah, I’m saying it, and I’m a huge Squinoa fan. BUT - Remake didn’t make me care until now. Remake had me start researching the compilation, to understand where this and that came from. Folks on here have explained things that I may have missed or previously didn’t care about.

I also have a hard time with CA now after all of the compilation stuff. CC and ACC made it clear that Aerith loved Zack. This is NOT obvious in OG. The only references you get about Zack are “we weren’t that serious” when it’s first brought up in the park, IF you take Aerith with you to Gongaga, then she’ll say he was her first love, and Zack’s parents will say he wrote home about a girlfriend. None of that makes you believe that there was anything really serious between them.

CC clears that up, ACC reinforces it. After that, I can’t mentally do it because of the whole “bro code” thing. If Aerith knows Zack and Cloud were best friends, I can’t see her simply saying “cool I’ll just go with him now.” If Cloud was aware that his best friend was Zack, I don’t think he’d go with her. Prior to that, I can see why people would be okay with it. After finding out everything we know about how close Zack and Cloud really were, I can’t do it. This is a personal thing to me, it doesn’t mean I think nobody should ship CA. This is just how I view it, and I can’t see Aerith OR Cloud being okay with it if they were aware of it. This is also my view post compilation.

Remake reinforces, even further, the whole Zerith thing. As somebody who was meh before about them, I love them now. Remake makes you really look at the whole compilation if you’re not totally familiar with it or haven’t seen/played something in a long time.

So yes, I am definitely a Cloti stan, and probably always may have been, but just didn’t care until Remake.

But aside from all that - I took it as True Cloud’s One True Love was Tifa - and that’s part of what comes out in the Lifestream. So I don’t think True Cloud would have dropped Tifa.

#cloti #cloud x tifa #ff7r #ff7 #zerith

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if-the-crown-fits-translate-it · 4 years ago

Text

Discord pt 107

[Date: 28/03, 3:41 AM GMT - 28/03, 4:33 AM GMT]

[Direct continuation of pt 106]

jayyyyyyyy: “actually now that I think about it-- you're allowed to talk to us, but the rest of the court isnt. any idea why?”

Duke: “Today is the only exception on discord, the crown said that we may only do an introduction and answer any questions you few may have! curiosity when running rampant can be dangerous you see. With regards to twitter however, the truth is that we are simply more mature.”

jayyyyyyyy: “definitely seems like it-- you guys seem to be a lot more compact with how you respond to things”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Duke do you remember meeting crown? just curious!”

Duke: “Do not tell the others I told you this but many times I have crept down and listened to the scoldings our siblings have given each other, the brutish way they bicker and the consequences of their actions. Poor Baroness, her dress I mourn for! the Crown understands that despite us being young and despite us being newer members of the family we certainly have much more of a handle on things than the other poor lions do.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Oh”

jayyyyyyyy: “do you like dresses, Duke?”

Duke: “Meeting Crown? it was a summer's day, Ibelieve. My sister and Iwere having an outing at a beach with our family and we went off to explore and then...... Hm. It is quite interesting how joyous occasions can just slip past the mind! how time goes so quick when you are having fun it seems as though Icannot quite recall.”

jayyyyyyyy: “that-- I. hm”

Kate 👑: “Oh, the beach sounds lovely! I've never been, unfortunately- I'd get too many weird stares...”

Duke: “Dresses I do find intriguing! I prefer trousers and shirts though - much easier to clean and outfits do not come to ruin if a seam of either garment rips.”

jayyyyyyyy: “oh! I was asking because you said you mourn for her dress?”

emuhlee: “Oh Duke, what kind of music do you prefer?”

Duke: “Oh beaches can be quite lovely! the water usually is so soothing and lovely. Kate, perhaps one day my sister and I may escort you? there are private beaches although I am unaware where the closest one may be.”

jayyyyyyyy: “I’d love to go to the beach-- its always seemed so nice, but unfortunately water burns me :')”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I’ve never been allowed to any beahes but from what I’ve heard they're lovely!”

Duke: “I adore multiple composers, it is hard to say! Niccolo Paganini my rank among my preferred if it may help.”

Raeva: “I've never been to beach but I have been to the coast and watched the waves crash and turn.”

Kate 👑: “I've been considering... filing down my antlers so I don't get weird looks, so maybe I can go out in public- but I'd love to maybe come with you one day!”

[jayyyyyyyy: “oh! I was asking because you said you mourn for her dress?”]

Duke: “And I do mourn for her dress. It was crafted with such care and deocre. Beautiful dresses are already difficult to maintain and it is a shame when one falls due to petty arguments.”

jayyyyyyyy: “aah I see”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “Duke, how old are you and your sister? just curious!”

Duke: “I feel selfish for taking so much time and attention onto myself, do you have any interesting things about yourselves you would care to share?”

Duke: “My sister and Iare seventeen years of age.”

jayyyyyyyy: “oh! uh”

jayyyyyyyy: “well, uh.. I’ma full enderman, if you havent guessed already. a few people have commented on my eyes being green instead of purple though :]”

Kate 👑: “I mean...I have antlers like a deer... I don't know if that would be considered interesting...”

S T A L: “I'm not quite sure. Ithink I'm a human if that helps”

Duke: “These are quite interesting things! Tell me, jay are you able to teleport?And Kate do you grow velvet?”

Raeva: “I like your antlers Kate even if you tried to gouge me with them once~”

Duke: “There is no shame in being human, it is what my sister and I are afterall!”

Big G (they/them): “17 yrs old gang pog”

jayyyyyyyy: “I can teleport! Ihave a lot of control on where I teleport to, though I also tend to panic teleport if it gets to that point”

Big G (they/them): “Also I am definitely not human, which is interesting I'd say.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I have fox ears and a tail but sometimes my ears play music against my will- and I have like black holes for eyes- not sure if that's interesting but its something abt me :/”

Duke: “Oh, that is intriguing! how does it feel to teleport?”

Dollar General Tubbo: “Sorry I haven't spoken much, I am more of a listener; but I'll properly introduce myself. The name I go by is Moth. I am also an enderman... Sort of. Long story. Green eyed as well :]”

Duke: “Your ears play music?”

Duke: “Oh goodness, so many endermen! It is a pleasure to meet you, Moth. I am Duke.”

jayyyyyyyy: “it feels.. well, at first it felt, erm.. strange? it upset my stomach a little, moving within the folds of space and all. now all it feels like is as if someone flicked my stomach”

Kate 👑: “They do... it's such an awful experience. I always look like I came right out of a horror movie...”

Dollar General Tubbo: “Pleasure to meet you as well, Duke.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “uhh yeah, my fox ears sometimes switch from normal to mechanical and play music- I don't have control over it though so it gets annoying at times

like sometimes I'll be half asleep and my ears are like "mmmm melohi go brr" and then I cant sleep”

Duke: “You all are such interesting individuals! Teleporting sounds like such fun but also like such pain, Jay. It sounds so unpleasant and yet it is as natural to you as breathing is to I.

Your ears truly are a mystery though Ren! Do you know what causes it to be as such, or have you suffered from this affliction since childhood?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “like dont get me wrong mellohi is a poggers song but it's unsettling when its playing in a dark room at 2 am”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “uhh I have an idea of why ears switch.. although I’m not sure as to why they only play music-

and I mean I technically have had them since I was a child but I wasnt born with them-”

Duke: “Was it a curse?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “depends on what you mean by that..

Duke: “Nothing bad, I assure you. I am simply just curious.”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “if you mean like someone said some magic words and now I have to go on some quest to get rid of it, then no

but I see them as a curse or burden”

Kate 👑: “I'd take those ears over antlers any day...”

Duke: “My sincerest apologies to the both of you, it sounds painful.”

Raeva: “We all look like we crawled out of hell somedays.”

Big G (they/them): “lol”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I currently look like I crawled out of my hell tbh-”

Duke: “You should see me in the morning before I had my first cup of tea, I am truly a sight to behold!”

emuhlee: “You've mentioned tea a few times, what's your go-to type of tea?”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “I've been wearing the same clothes for like- how long has it been- for like 2 weeks because these are the only clothes that fit me rn, god there's so much dirt”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “yeah what type of tea person r u??”

Dollar General Tubbo: “Ren, do we need to go get you more clothes?”

Duke: “My preferred blend is Da Hong Pao. It's rich blend is truly something worth tasting.”

emuhlee: “maybe there are doll clothes laying around for you, ren/j”

Renboobigceenzatublraffectionate: “*normal clothes wouldn't fit me anyways we'd have to get van manto shrink them-”

Duke: “Have you ever crafted your own garments?”

[An argument breaks out between two of the server members that continues alongside this conversation]

Duke: “Getting in contact with a tailor may be in your best interest. While the needlework will have to be fine due to your small size the amount of fabric you use up would be less than a yard, likely evening out the cost.”

Duke: “Oh dear me. Be kind to your flock members, they are all you have.”

Kate 👑: “This is what I meant when I said that some of them don't appear to like the family, Duke...”

Duke: “The grandfather clock ticks away and I know I must leave soon. It is a shame Kate seeing your words proven true. Before I leave would you all enjoy a story?”

emuhlee: “A story sounds nice. Do indulge us?”

Duke: “"Do you love us?" asks the star to the moon, "Do you love us as you love the sun?"

"No," said the moon, for it could not lie to the ones it loves so preciously, "I love you more."

"Do you love the sun, then?"

"Indeed I do."

"Then how can you love us more?"

"Because," the moon said, gazing down at earth, "I love the ocean most of all."

Goodnight little sheep, I hope you all have sweet slumbers and lovely dreams. I myself will be having tea before bed, so I do hope you indulge in something nice before you sleep. I do hope you cease your arguing to find peace.”

#on:discord #by:duke #if the crown fits

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remember-me-to-the-parish · 5 years ago

Text

Quarantine Gothic

You sort through your pantry. There are things in there you don't remember buying.

You decide to make a sourdough starter. You feed it every day at noon. You never notice a perceptible change. It doesn't produce a good loaf until you give it a name.

An old friend from college messages you on Facebook. He says he would've like to ask you out to coffee back in the day but never had the chance. Now he's afraid he never will. But he lives in Connecticut, and probably would've never reached out any way. You blame the state of the world, but it was really the Rum and Coke. You don't know why he picked you.

You've grown attached to your red coffee mug that your sister in law gave you a Christmas or two ago; the first letter of your name was drawn on, it has now begun to fade. The mug still holds your cold tea. You can't remember when you brewed the tea.

You go for a walk to get some exercise. The streets are empty. Cars are parked neatly in driveways, covered in pollen, untouched. Children's toys aren't scattered on the lawn. Lawn chairs sit, unused. The sky is gray. You wander aimlessly till you reach a park you didn't know was in your neighborhood. It has a pond. The ducks are still swimming.

the closet needs to be cleaned. You used to claim you didn't have the time, you were too busy. You have the time now. The closet still goes unorganized.

Today is Thursday. Yesterday was also Thursday.

You don't remember when it wasn't March.

You get news alerts on your phone. Facebook notifications. Twitter Banners. Despite the need to keep up to date, you desperately wish to turn off your phone. You unlock it and read the news instead.

You remember when you went dancing in December. You met someone really special that night. He lives far away. It now feels much farther.

You can only eat so many times in one day.

Putting on your makeup feels pointless. There is no one to see you. You do it anyway. It makes you feel normal. The foundation doesn't match your skin tone anymore; you realize you've gotten paler.

You light a candle. The scent is sweet, like baked goods. You think of the bakery next to your house that you always stop at, even if you're running late. You hope to God it's still there in six months.

Your friends all complain about staying in. They play video games together online to stave off the boredom. You watch them play video games all the time when you're all together, but doing it over skype feels empty. They still make jokes and have silly arguments. You wish you could playfully jab your best friends shoulder and tell him to stop being such a little shit. But you can't.

There was a gallery exhibit at the Art Museum. You had plans to see it on Saturday. Saturday never came.

You notice your hair has gotten longer. You usually schedule an appointment with your hairdresser every two months. You don't recall when your last appointment was. Has your hair always been that shade of copper?

Instagram is pointless now; all the important people are inside. There's no filter to hide the cracks in their facade of being interesting.

Your friend had a baby four months ago. You wonder how she will explain the first year of her child's life when she's older. Will the world that child knows when she's grown look like the one you knew before she was born?

You watch the numbers. You watch them closely. They get higher every day. You wish you didn't watch them. But you still do.

You hated being alone in crowded rooms. Now you crave the feeling of being lonely at a party, because although you were lonely, you weren't alone.

You worry about how many rolls of paper towels you have. That never used to worry you before.

There is a guitar in your storage room that sits untouched. It is collecting dust. The strings are out of tune. You pick them on by one. You turn the pegs this way and that. The notes played one by one sound hollow in the emptiness of the storage room. You play one chord, then another. Then another. They come together seamlessly. You remember that you used to be better at this. You dust off the guitar and take it to the living room.

You envision the day when this is all over. The sun is shining. There is singing in the streets. You step outside and the world is as it once was. You wonder if that day will ever come. You realize it will not. The world will never look the same as it once did. But there will be another side. Some things will be better. Some things will be worse.

But there will be another side. And you hope desperately that you will see it.

#corona #coronapocalypse #coronamemes #covid_19 #I refuse to call this Love in the Time of Corona or some bullshit like that #I posted this on facebook but now I just want to delete it but it's good enough for tumblr #hannah with an h at the end #me #my post #writing #I wrote this

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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What's your favourite sport? Do you prefer to watch it or play it?: I don’t like sports.

Who was the last person to send you a friend request on Facebook?: Some random person, so I denied it.

Have you ever been to that person's house?: Well, no.

How recently did you wash your hands?: Like 10 minutes ago.

How many girls do you know named Emma?: I don’t know any Emma’s.

Are you upset, for any reason at all?: Not at this exact moment.

How did you feel when you woke up today?: I haven’t gone to bed, yet.

When you're stressed, what helps you to relax or calm down?: Watching TV, ASMR, reading, surveys... they can help distract anyway.

What were you doing before you started this survey?: Scrolling through Tumblr and listening to an ASMR video.

Is there something else you should be doing, that's more important?: Sleep. It’s 8AM, I should have gone to sleep hours ago

When was the last time you neglected to do something that you'd planned?: Hmm.

Is there someone that can always make you smile no matter how bad you feel?: Finn. Animals are far better at that than humans. <<< Agreed. My doggo can always make me smile.

Do you have any friends that you feel don't fully appreciate you?: Meh. I don’t think a whole lot of myself, so. <<< Same.

When was the last time someone told you that you were beautiful?: I don’t remember.

Who was the last person that apologised to you?: I don’t recall.

What were they apologising for?:

Do you think they meant it?:

Would you be embarrassed if your parents looked at your Facebook?: I have my mom on Facebook.

Describe the personality of the person you have feelings for.: I don’t like anyone in that way currently.

What does your pencil case look like? What's in it?: I have a plain baby blue case I’ve been using recently for my Bible study with some pens and highlighters in it.

In your Facebook friends list, who is the first person listed under 'D'?: Dad.

How did you meet him/her?: He met me the day I was born.

Did the last person you kissed have facial hair?: Yeah, he had some scruff.

You're locked in a room with your ex. Any problems?: It’d be extremely awkward. I haven’t seen or talked to him in almost 5 years.

Be honest. What are you most afraid of?: Losing my loved ones and my health issues getting worse or never getting better.

In the last 24 hours, have you seen or spoken to anyone you dislike?: No.

What colour are the eyes of the last person that told you they loved you?: Brown.

What is a word or phrase that you say often?: lol I often jokingly say, “what a day” after being up for only like an hour or after doing nothing all day (everyday).

Name 3 songs that remind you of someone special.: Nah.

How much chocolate do you have in your house atm, if any?: We have Ho Hos.

Who is the most intelligent person you know?: My younger brother.

Do you have younger siblings? If you do, are you protective of them?: ^^^ and yes.

Who was the last person you insulted?: I don’t go around insulting people.

What are the other members of your household doing at this moment?: My mom and brother are asleep, my dad is at work.

Do you have any neighbours that you don't get along with?: No. I don’t interact with any of my neighbors.

How recently did you speak to the last person you kissed?: Not recent at all, it’s been almost 5 years.

Who was the last person you told to get lost, or something similar?: I’ve said that to myself in regards to others, like if I see a rude/mean/troll comment on something or read about something crazy I’ll be like, ‘get outta here with all that.’

Give me a random line from the last song you listened to.: “ice on my neck I’m stunnin’

Have you ever had an argument with the last person you Facebook messaged?: No.

Do you have any plans for tonight?: Same stuff as always. If ya’ll have realized, my days are all very much the same.

Where were you at 9 o'clock last night?: Here at home watching, “I’m Thinking of Ending Things” on Netflix. That movie left me like wtf??? it was trippy. I read some articles about it and have a better understanding of it now, but it’s still pretty uh interesting.

In the past week, have you slept past midday?: I’ve been getting up between 230-4PM for most of this year.

Is there anything happening tomorrow, that you're looking forward to?: Nope.

Is there anyone you used to be friends with, that you now dislike?: No. I’ve grown apart from people, but I don’t dislike them.

What is your least favourite chocolate bar?: I haven’t had a candy bar in years.

Do any of your friends or relatives have the same birthday as you?: No, but I used to know someone with the same birthday.

Name the last song that made you cry.: I get in the feels anytime I hear the acoustic version of Everlong by Foo Fighters because of the memory I have attached to it.

Who do you miss at this moment?: I’ll always miss my loved ones who passed away. I also miss one of my aunts, who I haven’t seen in like a year.

Where is that person?: She only lives like 45 minutes away.

Have you ever dyed your hair an unnatural colour?: I’ve dyed it red the past few years.

Have you had any deep conversations today?: It’s 830AM, I haven’t even talked to anyone yet.

Is your television on atm?: Yep.

If it is, what are you watching?: The Golden Girls.

Are you wearing anything blue?: Nope.

Who were the last 5 people to make you smile?: My mom, brother, and some people in TikTok and YouTube videos.

Do you use Twitter?: I do.

Tell me about the last YouTube video you watched. It’s an ASMR video about a true crime story.

Is there anything else you'd like to say?: Nope.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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shockpop · 5 years ago

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being a textbook overthinker is a strong suit denki is not particularly known for . a head regularly presumed empty has worked to incessantly churn the argument on playback over the course of three days , violet staining crescents beneath his eyes at some point between the late - night mumbling and a time wherein he doesn’t even remember falling asleep . his oh - so - gracious host is left at a loss when she is forcibly tasked with shoving him awake each morning .

as much an empath as mina prides herself in being , it ain’t exactly a cakewalk to get into a neurotic’s mindset when he’s the one insisting that he’s fine , that everything is fine ; practiced charisma a much - appreciated plus in attempts to persuade his longtime best friend that he just needed a little breathing space from the situation . because that’s what they have to call it , now . ‘ the situation ’ .

this was all before denki proceeded to peel himself from eyesore - chartreuse cushions an hour late each day , and the reason why mina now harbors heavy concern beneath the initial irritation as she beats him awake with a pillow for the third day in a row .

astonishingly enough , through all the budding bruises and little cricks of his bones , denki’s still not used to it ---- confused as to why in place of a fluffy orange butt sat directly on his face is a firm pink hand , squishing freckled cheeks that’d never quite lost their baby fat .

the phone promptly shoved in his face ( raw - eyed , drool - sticky , red where strong fingers have imprinted themselves into his skin ) reads 7:12 am , a good hour and some past his normal wakeup time . he shouldn’t be so pikachu - meme shocked when this scenario is the direct result of a profuse refusal to take the device off silent mode these past few days ---- afraid to wake up to any late - night texts or calls .

and yet here he is , eyes squeezing shut as he mutters his third , grumbly shit this short week .

❛ seriously , dude ? ❜ mina chides as she flips through the unsung alarms , each set five minutes apart from one another beginning at 5:30 in the morning .

getting himself out of bed always had been something of a chore , emphasized by recent reasoning that he’d not been catching more than half a wink prior to that exact time each day . ❛ you teach people for a living and yet remain willfully oblivious to the very accessible , very convenient do not disturb function . ❜

she lets the phone fall unceremoniously onto denki’s lap , cushions creaking beneath their weight . ❛ get off my couch , spud . ❜

he’d love to , actually . every node in his spine pops in agreement .

the minutes between then and hurriedly collecting stray pieces of clothing off the floor pass in a rheumy - eyed blur , other possessions that’re repeatedly tripped over a courtesy of the emergency overnight bag he’d emptied out over the week . kept in the back of his car for situations that call for it , this doesn’t really qualify as one of those times .

❛ hey . what’s the status of you reevaluating your life choices so that you’re not crawling out my door late to work in the same inside - out v - neck you’ve been wearing all week ? ❜ mina prompts in midst of tossing on a jacket as gaudy in design as the rest of her , somehow completely comprehending what vague semblance of shut up , shut up , shut up denki conveys through hand gestures in between hurriedly scrubbing his teeth .

without time to style his hair this morning , he’s left to ruffle through the unkempt locks in his reflection through the elevator doors , displeased in how they refuse to obey any law of gravity but deciding that he might as well just go ahead and look as shitty as he feels . hurts less to acknowledge it himself before mina eagerly relays just how divorced he looks mere moments later .

❛ you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually , ❜ she reminds him just before they part , chaste kiss pressed to either cheek and equally reciprocated . ❛ before it’s too late . i know you’re both pretty keen on letting things fester , but how ‘bout you just nut up before your idiot boy pride makes things completely irreversible ? ❜

at her humble suggestion , denki mulls on the air of an amused hum , shouldering open one of the glass doors for her to walk through first . ❛ my idiot boy pride , huh . s'a little misandristic , don’tcha think ? ❜

she replies with a wag of her middle finger in the air behind her , a stark gesture that bakugou would appreciate and that denki hates thinking that bakugou�� would appreciate . he silently curses mina once for the reminder , then again for her uncanny talent of always being right .

on that note , he mentally checks ‘ idiot boy pride ’ as a contender for the working title of an eventual autobiography .

lunch passes by a lot more slowly in the days he’d been forcibly weened off of bakugou’s cooking . left to survive off what loose change could nab from the vending machines outside and random snacks found throughout the cabinets of the teachers’ lounge , denki finds that whey milk and loose granola by the fistful are not all that amazing a combo .

mina is wise beyond her years . this is a meal of a divor - fuckin’ - cee .

actually , the sudden absence of a balanced diet may even be reaching the point of a pressing health issue . when he brushes granola grains off his shirt ---- now worn correctly , after having uncomfortably fumbled with it in his car earlier ---- he notices how tight his chest has begun to feel over the course of the morning . an ache like a scream that won’t come out . he’s bound , yes , and dry granola has probably not made the trip down his esophagus very easy ; but had the pain always been so prominent ?

❛ didja check twitter yet ? refresh your timeline ---- look , see , it’s trending ! ❜

denki’s attention piques , turning towards the flood of students rushing by the lounge door . on their way back to their classrooms to ride out the last few periods of the day , he’s not surprised to see so many of their eyes glued to their phones as they walk , given that lunch and homeroom make up the only two slots of time wherein students are allowed access to such devices .

their conversations spill in a slew of muddled topics : is the villain big ? how’d you do on that art history exam ? shouldn’t he have backup? my sister’s taking me to that new poke bowl restaurant tonight . is he breathing ? cats can doggy paddle , can’t they ? blasty’s a top - five ! indestructible ! i hope i have a team one day . but so was jeanist , and look what happened to him .

❛ bla ---- ❜ denki starts , sparing a few minutes heading back himself to fish his phone from his cardigan . he’s usually never without it , idly recalling a time in their youth where bakugou would have to manually pluck it from his grasp so that he’d settle into bed for the night . over the past few days , though , he's been more than content to break character and distance himself from the buzz of social media under some years - too - late guise of self - care and breaking addiction .

waking his phone now , the top notification banner reads a single message from his current roommate .

are you ok?

below it , an informal update from twitter , alerting him of exactly what his curiosity demands to be sated with right now .

trending in heroics : #BLASTYEXPLODO .

he doesn’t need a little shoulder mina angel to tell him that reading about his ex is technically just the time - sensitive equivalent of purposefully sifting through bakugou’s online presence ; mostly because the app is barely flicked open when the tightness across his chest constricts to a sudden , sharp PANG .

it doesn’t take some deep search to unearth the context of his students’ obsessive chattering nearby , considering that his entire timeline is being consistently updated with live footage from the scene . a bird’s - eye view of the site below captures where several heroes can be spotted as moving dots along the destruction of the outskirts ; all save for one , reported to have been caught in the fray after a building collapsed .

fingers press deep into the pain of his chest . his shoulder hits the wall to support his weight , face paling as he forces himself to read the oncoming slew of tweets one by one . a lot are unhelpful ---- mere wishes for blasty to hang in there , some questioning where he is , false memoriam by people denki knows bakugou’s never met , lots of clickbait for merch and inappropriate thirst posts layered in between .

nothing gives him a solid answer . because nobody has a solid answer .

lacking the word association necessary to properly reply to mina’s text without stirring either concern or cause for a possible lecture , he shoots something quick to kirishima instead .

hey man , thanks for everything lately . i’ll feed the cats tonight . can you do me a solid and leave a key ?

the car ride home is as long as ever in traffic surrounding the incident . every instance of a top hero barely escaping the brink of death is all but a grim reminder that life is short , speaking volumes to average citizens rushing home to spoil their families before everything settles back into a regular , non - life - threatening routine for them tomorrow .

shortly after lunch ( and trying to shake off what he was certain were signs of a small heart attack ) , denki decided that there was no use cutting his day short to make an appearance at the scene . rapid updates from twitter and associates alike informed him that blasty had eventually made it out on two legs , triumphant as ever , before being escorted to an unspecified hospital in order to avoid the public eye in his recovery .

denki takes his chances in calling his mom between catching every red light , hope breaking in a small , audible whimper when she doesn’t answer his one - or - nine calls . bakugou wasn’t the only victim in today’s events ; he rationalizes that nariko is probably up to her neck in new admissions regardless , but the thought doesn’t exactly bring him any peace of mind .

breathe . an impossible demand to meet , but one necessary to keep his electricity from snapping at the wheel .

he doesn’t exactly know why he’d even bothered showing up , sluggish steps treading the long lengths of tiled hallway leading to bakugou’s residence . not really any use hanging around an empty apartment all night ; even despite the pressing matter of the question mark tacked behind his current living situation . he’s not really looking to task himself with packing just yet .

❛ it’s just something , ❜ denki tiredly tells himself aloud at the foot of their doorstep , head tipped to the ceiling in a brief moment of reprieve . the sentiment resonates as somewhat redundant . it’s always something . he’s got a million somethings in his life that he’s never cared to name , piling one over the other in the corner of his mind without thought to the mental repercussions dealt to everyone involved .

maybe there’s only one something afterall . maybe the common denominator was just him .

tip of his shoe peels back the corner of the mat he’d insisted on laying there some short while ago , the key tucked beneath it shining in the hallway lighting once its cover is disturbed . bless his heart , but kirishima’s not very creative in his hiding places .

this copy is as shiny and unbroken - in as the one bakugou had given denki when he first moved here , spare a few spots of dirt he brushes off before lodging it into the keyhole .

without a set of miscellaneous dangling objects attached to it , the action of turning a bare key into the lock takes him back a full year ago ---- wherein he’d rigidly haunted this exact spot on a matless tile , uneager to begin a new phase in his life eventually titled reversed strength .

unlike back then , however , the key is met this time around without resistance in its lock , nothing to combat it as it turns . the door before him is open . presently .

his stomach drops .

hesitant to ease himself inside when so actively adorned in hair - raising suspicion , denki is met with the usual stagnancy of an empty apartment ---- no wafts of food cooking on the stove , no sound of the television on for background noise , no cats tripping over each other to greet him with a howling demand for kibble and petty - pets ( which smarts a little , considering his absence ) .

there is dim warmth from sunlight pouring through the windows and little else . not even a speck of dust found to sift through it . he wonders if kirishima had simply forgotten to lock the door behind him .

and yet , even with this thought in mind ---- this silent prayer ---- denki still holds a name on his tongue as he steps fully into the apartment , pocketing the key where its triplet sits unperturbed a few feet away . it’s a momentary struggle to find his voice , and he doesn’t recognize the sound that comes out .

❛ k ------- ... katsuki ? ❜

@blstys .

#blstys #ii . reversed strength .#v : pro hero .#mom holy FUCK

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buzzworddotie · 5 years ago

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A little (not quite) Anxiety Ramble

Do something! Do SOMETHING! Don’t stop doing something!

Welcome to 2020.

It won’t stop, my brain will not shut off. We’ve been in lockdown for… to be honest off the top of my head I can’t even get dates right but I’ve been in isolation mode, working from home for about 4 weeks now maybe?

On week 2, I became more lethargic than I ever have in my life, I withdrew from any contact with other people, my brain was in a fog, I couldn’t focus. My muscles were tired and refusing to function and my energy was entirely zapped.

I managed to pull myself out of that by attempting to not guilt myself for eating that bowl of carb loaded cereal or allowing myself to rationalise that it’s OK to just watch a movie.

But here I find myself in that cloudy little place again. My anxiety is in such a way that my brain refuses to shut down and my motivation is becoming a precious commodity that I’m unsure of how exactly to keep it in a steady flow.

When the anxiety kicks in like this for me, I stress and worry about every and any thing. Things entirely out of my control, other people, how I am perceived, why I am not now or have ever been good enough for anything or anyone.

My rational brain packs its bags and heads for the door as I stare in the mirror and hate everything I see looking back. My doubts, my insecurities, my shame - every dark little voice that can be mustered up gets louder and louder.

And so I overthink every action I make, I try too hard to impress a version of myself on people. I try too hard to force anyone who might give a shit that I am in fact OK! And you know there’s nothing saner than someone screaming “I’M OK!!” directly into another person's face manically.

Sleeping is the worst, or in my case not sleeping. It doesn’t matter how tired I may or may not be, I can be assured that as soon as I lay my head down that anxiety demon comes alive.

I cannot remember the last time I slept for a solid 7 - 8 hours. I can recall what it feels like to be at complete odds and ends at 4am because it’s happening every goddamn night!

Is this a symptom of what is happening in the world right now or is it just an exemplification of how screwed up I might actually be? These are the beautiful thoughts which haunt my brain in between scrolling through Twitter or Reddit, telling myself to not scroll through Twitter or Reddit and then, you know, casually reminding myself that I will never be good enough for whatever the fuck I think I should be good enough for!

I’ve always been a bit of an introverted extrovert, or am I an extroverted introvert? I’m not sure, the point is I’ve never had a problem being a bit “isolated”. I’m quite happy in my own company and just pondering about, in my own little world doing whatever silly things I decide to do with myself. However, that world of mine was always interrupted with everyday interactions - people I work with, the ability to visit someone and general activities which we just take for granted.

I’m starting to even question if I am as introverted as I liked to think I was at all! I told myself that being locked down wasn’t a big deal for me, not a massive shift in my life. I’m single, I live alone… Just a real wholesome and healthy picture there! “I’m OK!!!”

First World Problems.

One thing about me I’ve known since childhood is that I love my independence. I was told by my parents growing up I was the most independent of all my siblings. There is a sense of freedom that comes with independence and I think losing that is throwing me for a bit of a loop.

The freedom and independence to just make a decision to do something in the moment and being able to just do it. Even the smallest, stupidest of things like going for a browse in a shop. Such a boring and mundane activity but an activity that clearly ticked some kind of box for my mind.

Of course, I am wary of banging on about this word “freedom” but allow me to state, I do not mean freedom with the gusto of some hardcore, right wing, gun toting Murican (Or the Irish lady, she whom shall not be named… We all know).

No, I’m not trying to suggest my first world concept of freedom is being threatened on some conspiracy level, I accept the merit in the fact that for a period of time we have to do what’s best for the greater good. But jaysus, it’s not easy at times is it?

Without the fundamental freedoms which I take for granted as everyday life it’s as if my brain is being withheld vital nutrients for it to operate full steam ahead. Don’t get me wrong, this anxiety trip isn’t a new phenomenon for me, I know the bitch well, but I had such a great grip on things and I think the hardest part for a minute there was trying to figure out how I was allowing it all to spiral so ferociously when I know I have the tools to not do that.

It also bothers me because I am, by nature, incredibly laid back and positive. I flip between Energizer Bunny, Everything is Awesome and easily passing for a hippie stoner on my good days. So seeing myself behave erratically at times now makes me not recognise or like the person I am having to live with during this lockdown! Her neediness and desire to please is very, very off putting to me.

But maybe I just need to let her be a little bit, maybe I just need to let her know that it is fine. It is fine if a momentary lapse in the mind causes a mini freak out which embodies itself as wanting to just shut down, it is fine if she does just go a bit OTT at times with people to overly compensate for how weak and low she is feeling. It’s fine.

It is fine. Once you recognise that that’s all it is, it does not lessen your worth to behave in a way you might later regret and it does not lessen your value if you allow your insecurities or vulnerabilities to sneak through every now and then. You just have to hope that whoever is lucky enough to get the brunt of your vulnerability can appreciate the value in getting a taste of it at all. Because that right there, that vulnerability, that is a precious thing which is not afforded to many, if any at all.

It is the most beautiful aspect of humanity, to be vulnerable. And it is really fucking hard to let go of. Vulnerability takes an incredible amount of strength, it’s a feather that keeps on floating through regardless of how much dirt and debris gets attached to weigh it down. It is delicate and strong all at the same time.

And for me, it is terrifying to let that wall down. It feels frightening to think for a moment I let someone see weakness or gave a hint that I, with all my positivity and strength and being there for other people, could have a moment of weakness. It cracks the veneer of who I want to pretend I am.

Meet my friend, Anxiety.

Anxiety has been an under current which has existed within me since my childhood but something I only recognised as I began to get older and, yes, get help. Speaking to a professional allowed me the opportunity to begin to understand myself and learn about myself, gain self awareness.

Where I am now compared to where I was back then are completely opposed. At its worst, I was consumed by my anxiety and all the other little niggly things which tortured my brain. It all manifested in self-hate usually, maybe hate is a strong word but certainly a really strong dislike of myself! I would allow that to spin in circles in my mind until I was lost in it and trying to fix a million and one things about myself and others which really, was all very surface or non-existent.

The difference today is that I can, at last, recognise it. I can see the signs, at times I am deep within them and it takes a step back to shake it off and see it but at least I can find it within myself to rationalise and take that step back.

It doesn’t make it easy, there is nothing easy about managing mental health in the same sense there is nothing easy about managing physical health. If I want that toned stomach I will have to feel the burn and it has to work the same for mental health too!

Jesus, it is not easy at times. I will always remember an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race in which the contestant Katya suffered severely from debilitating anxiety. During a walk through Ru asked the Queen if she was, in fact, addicted to the anxiety. This registered with Katya and as time has gone by and that interaction replays in my own mind, I realise it often registers for me too.

When it is all you know, you can easily become all consumed by the anxiety, the worry, the stress and you can get sucked right down into it. And you can find a level of comfort within that discomfort, it’s recognisable and it can feel easier to submit yourself to it than seek out the light and pull yourself back from it.

When I break it down I can see the various triggers for my anxiety:

Opening up and being vulnerable = Opening myself up for rejection.

Feeling like I cannot help = Opening myself up for failure.

Failure, rejection = Not good enough.

Attempting to improve and increase my self worth is really something that I never understood was such an issue for me, mostly because the concept of “self worth” was never something that even showed up on my radar. But guess what? It’s a thing!

Self love is not about having an over inflated and delirious ego, it is about recognising that you do have worth as a human being. Recognise yourself as a human being.

Oh god, she’s going to talk about her childhood...

So, why is it that I may not have always recognised myself as a human being, worthy of care and love? Well, I will refrain from the details that will cause my very being to quiver but I was raised in a home in which I received a lot of love, but it was unstable. Arguments, raised voices, depression and a lack of seeing love between my parents. A tumultuous family backstory which, while I was not in existence for much of it, carried a heavy cloud over all proceedings. I was in existence for difficult times with siblings and parents who butted heads constantly.

I was a witness, I was shielded from being on the receiving end for the most part but I still stayed awake at night waiting for things to take a turn for the worse. I jumped at nothing and everything, like a scared little mouse. I was reserved and private with friends, I held the problems into myself and did not expose anyone to it.

As well as this, I faced a level of mental, physical and, like so many other girls and women out there, sexual abuse. I won’t delve into all the details but it seems like some sick, twisted joke that once you are forced to be subjected to this as a child, you do not recognise the issue with it which leaves you vulnerable for it again as you mature into an adult and set off on your own.

This is because your self worth has been destroyed. So when you see ladies coming to the fore as part of #MeToo or another movement, or no movement at all, don’t be so quick to judge. These ladies have likely held their tongue because their self worth has been so low that until they became exposed to others discussing it they didn’t even realise what had happened to them.

I won’t dwell too long on that, I could spend a long time dissecting it but it isn’t for now.

I will note, neither of my parents were responsible for that abuse. However, what my beautiful, kind and lovely parents were responsible for was me and as much as it absolutely kills me to have to admit, there were failings. Aside from generally being exposed to an unhappy home, as a child I was used to bridge the gap. Something which ran into my adulthood.

If my father was angry, upset or, as I now reflect and realise, in a spiral of depression it was my responsibility to pick him out of it. From a young age, I was the fixer - a tool to try to make things better.

Until I actually discussed this with a professional I never saw the problem here, everything was normalised to me, but apparently not great! It’s a lot of pressure to put on a child!

Add into that a complex / chip on my shoulder of never being as good as an older sibling, whom I perceived as the ‘golden child’, feeling like I had to keep things hurting me hidden for fear of disrupting an already disruptive home for which I felt responsible for keeping the peace or holding together and well, you get yourself a nice little stew that is a recipe for absolute fucked up adulthood!

Honest Reflection.

How could I ever expect to grow into a well developed individual? The balance of genuine love I did receive from my parents is what I believe kept me from falling down an even more desperate track, a track which I pondered along on many occasions. A dark road with flickering lights where the allure of escape was often far too real.

However, my internal commentary of having to be responsible for others actually kept me from ending it on many occasions as I could not release the feeling of not wanting to let anyone down.

Jesus, unpack this shit and it’s an absolute shit show! But I don’t claim to be special or unique, the sad reality is how many people went through a similar journey or worse and are now in their early to mid adulthood and attempting to get to grips with it all. And that’s only if they managed to find the tools and resources to recognise it in the first place.

Recognise that 1. You are not mental and 2. You are not a terrible human being.

I can’t speak to anyone else but clearly I have lacked the tools to manage or cope with my emotions. Anything outside of my control freaks me out and I lose the absolute run of myself! I panic, I seek out approval and validation and often in unhealthy ways. I have had eating disorders which I have been in denial about, I have drank too much, gone off the rails and slept with far too many people!

What now? What triggered my writing, which has evidently turned into an unintentional essay about myself (fair play if you’ve made it this far, you’re a better person than me).

I recognised irrational behaviour and a deep dip in my mood as well as an increase of self critical behaviours. That was when I began writing, this is now the future, or present, or wait, is this inception? I’ve incepted myself, just know as you read now a couple of days have passed.

And it took those couple of days for the lightbulb to click on but better late than never!

Let there be Light!

I began writing this aimlessly as a means to just put my thoughts down and that was a step in the direction of realising I had to do something. I am now slowly picking myself back up from it all.

First step, I went to the chemist and I just asked what can you give me for anxiety, I am not sleeping, I have not had a proper night sleep in close to two weeks or more - I asked for…… Help!

Gulp, scary, try it sometime.

The Pharmacist gave me a product called “Avena Sativa” (check it out). I added 20-30 drops to a little bit of water and it immediately relaxed and eased my mind. I took more before bed and baby, when I say I slept! Pure, deep, joyful sleep - all the z’s.

But wait, there’s more! Thinking I might as well hit this from all angles, I also grabbed some Vitamin D supplements and began retaking my B-12. I don’t know if one or all of these things did the trick but I can certainly feel the easing effects.

So that’s the taking stuff, but that isn’t all I did - Oh no, that would be too short for me!

I knew I really needed to hit this hard if I wanted to pull myself out of the hole I could eventually be down deep within. I’m a fan of meditation, I get that some skeptical people might huff it off as new age hippie nonsense or whatever, but it can work. Youtube has a host of wonderful meditation videos and for me, switching off from the world and onto one of those helps me massively.

Additionally, I stopped hanging out of my phone, for the best part at least. I have a bit of anxiety with my phone (of course I do). I went through a period of time where my phone was a bearer of bad news, any phone call could have been bad news and eventually, it was. I realised I find it hard to let go of that, the idea that if I do not have my phone on me and with sound on 24/7 I risk not getting an important piece of news, I risk letting someone down or not being there as I should be.

Should = dangerous word. Don’t let ‘should’ govern your life or mind. Every ‘should’ is an expectation and additional level of stress you are putting on yourself. Best advice I received was to replace ‘I should’ with ‘I want to’ and see what the end result becomes.

Let’s wrap this up.

All in all, this is a time that can lead those susceptible to anxiety, and even those who are not typically, to find themselves in the mental trenches. It’s imperative to look at yourself from the outside and attempt to recognise what might be the deep rooted cause of what is effing you up. Do you really hate your body right now or is your self worth a bit low because of some other reason that deserves to be addressed?

Maybe consider going a bit easy on yourself? Don’t beat yourself up over that response or message that you regret. Don’t assume you can control others, just be yourself. Speak your truth at any given time and allow yourself that beautiful release of scary, scary vulnerability.

Don’t run from it or beat yourself up over every and any little interaction or negative thought, give yourself a break and pull yourself out of the addiction of dark thoughts. Seek out help, ask for help - even if you are just asking yourself. Make healthy choices that will have a knock on effect of making you feel good about yourself or happy in your decision.

It is far from easy, but again, nothing worth having in this life is ever easy. But then the end result, when you push through and put in that effort - it is so, so very worth it to be able to have that moment of that day when you actually don’t doubt yourself or hate yourself.

I will keep motoring along with my own work and efforts and I ask that you do the same, if you find yourself in that dark place. Push through and don’t give up on yourself, you’re all you’ve got and that’s a pretty amazing thing to have.

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psycho-slytherin · 5 years ago

Text

Strangers ch. 36

Your relationship with Yoongi gets picked apart, and the commercial begins.

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Genre: fluff, angst

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Your heart drops into your stomach, rips through your body, and continues down through the Earth’s crust. “Oh, c’mon, that wasn’t me. You have to know that wasn’t me.” It’s who I was before I knew you, a voice in your head echoes. God, did you love this man before you met him, before you fully registered that he was real.

Yoongi laughs. “Oh, I figured– I only wanted to tease you. You’ve been hacked, right?”

“I must’ve been, yeah. I haven’t liked any tweets like that.” You wink exaggeratedly. “At least, not since I knew you.” There’s something about the newfound freedom in your heart, the lightweight truth, that lends you far more confidence than you’ve had lately. He is your friend, after all.

Yoongi rests his elbows on the table. “I just hope you’ve changed your password already, before your hacker does it first.”

“Oh shit, you’re right!” You’ve had the same password for most of your online accounts for years, and it’s probably time to change them around before someone else gets into your electronic life. You hurriedly grab your phone and change your Twitter password; thankfully, it doesn’t seem like whoever trolled you did so first.

“How are you doing, by the way? With the cold, I mean.”

“Heh, what do you think?” You unzip your jacket to reveal a sweater underneath. After your photoshoot yesterday, you felt like you’d never be warm again. “It’s weird, I never minded the cold before.”

“After what happened, it’s no wonder you’re traumatized.” Yoongi rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and some part of your heart begins to sing. “Just, you gotta know that your body is warm enough already, and I don’t want you to get heatstroke from all those layers.”

“I’ll be careful.” Seoul’s central hospital is probably sick of you at this point, not that you can blame them.

“Good.” Yoongi leans back, and the loss of contact is almost startling. “Watcha up to this week, workaholic?”

“Besides Moon Over the Sea?” You check your work calendar, the one both you and Lisa have access to. “I’ve got a commercial shoot for some cologne all day Friday and Saturday.”

Yoongi whistles. “Why’ve they got you scheduled for men’s cologne? And damn, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over to our place Saturday night for dinner but it sounds like you’ll be busy. We’re gonna be working in Japan but we get back Saturday.”

“Don’t count on it, but I’ll see if I can make it. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Sure.” Your friend rises from his chair. “Well, I better be off. See ya tomorrow for filming, and…” he winks. “Don’t get too distracted by my tongue, hm?”

Every drop of blood in your body rushes to your cheeks as Yoongi bursts out laughing. “I was hacked, you goddamn flirt!” You swat at him, forcing your racing heart to calm. “God, does Hobi know you’re cheating on him?”

“You know him, he’s worse than I am.” Yoongi’s voice is still full of mirth, his lips pulled back to expose his gums. It’s the kind of expression you died for when you were an ARMY… and it seems it’s still affecting you now.

“Just go away, nerd. Aren’t you working on your next mixtape?”

“Yeah, and it’s gonna be fire.”

“Enjoy arson then, but enjoy it in your own studio. I have homework.” With a final lighthearted salute, Yoongi departs and you’re left alone in your apartment, your heart hammering dangerously. You don’t have homework. Or, you do, but you certainly don’t plan on doing it. You’re an actress now, and gaining acclaim. You have better things to do– which is why it’s so frustrating that you’re letting Yoongi mess with your head. You thought you’d put the feelings you’d had as an ARMY behind you– those childlike emotions, the rush of excitement that left you reeling, the breathlessness at his every verse– you’d fallen in love with Suga, just like every other ARMY.

Once you got to know Yoongi, and not just Suga, you were certain your heart would stop skipping a beat when you saw him. And it did for a while, when you were dating Xiumin. But now, now that you’re supposed to be dating Suga…

It feels… different. You feel different.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your buzzing phone. More hate comments, you’re sure. One of these days you’re gonna be mad enough to respond to the shit you’re getting, and that’s gonna be a fucking good day.

The days pass, and the filming of Moon Over the Sea continues smoothly.

“Ji-Woo! A letter! Ji-Woo’s got a letter!” The actress playing one of your sisters hurries to you, clutching an elegant envelope.

“A letter?” The rest of your character’s family crowds around you as your ‘mother’ speaks. “Go on, Ji-Woo, read it!”

You tear open the prop envelope. “It’s from Mr. Moon’s sister…” You pretend to read. The scene is all about you discovering that Yoongi’s character has gone back to the city without warning, even after he said he loved you. It’s about you learning that you’ll never see him again.

Never seeing Yoongi again… the thought makes your heart ache and you feel tears begin to well up, almost spilling over. You grip the paper tighter, struggling to maintain your composure. Yoongi’s not on set today, and it makes it easier for you remember those times, those terrible, stupid times when you and Yoongi stopped talking for weeks or months because of some dumb argument or another. You can’t even begin to imagine being truly separated from your friend again.

“Oh, give me that!” Your sister snatches the letter out of your hand– you’d been so zoned out you forgot to say your lines. Shit, what kind of actress are you? “It says that they’re leaving for the city! Without a goodbye? I thought for sure that Mr. Moon was in love with Ji-Woo!”

“Oh, mercy!” Your mother wails, wringing her hands. “I was so certain there’d be a wedding by the end of the summer!”

You turn sharply. A wedding? As if Yoongi would ever marry you. Yet how many times had you, as his fan, dreamt of such a day?

Bo-Young, the main character, draws you away. “Are you alright, Ji-Woo?”

“I’m-” At last, you’re able to recall your lines, what you’re here for. “I’m perfectly fine. We were friendly acquaintances… nothing more.” Yes, just strangers. You remember when you had to pretend Yoongi was a stranger to you, and not a man you’d fallen for four years earlier. You summon that familiar sense of utter denial and let it rest upon your shoulders, relaxing your features, even as you feel close to breaking.

“Come, Ji-Woo, I know that’s not true!” “I said I’m fine, sister.” you reply sharply.

“And cut! That was spectacular, ladies, I think we’re keeping that take– Jeongyeon, good improvising. And y/n…” Avery turns to you. “That was great acting. Really great. I could feel the emotion there.”

“No wonder, it’s her boyfriend that’s left,” one of your costars, Jeongyeon, giggles. “She’d better get used to it.”

“Jeongyeon!” Bo-Young scolds. “That’s mean.”

“What? Y/n’s dating Suga from BTS! You really think they’re going to stay together?” Jeongyeon shoots you a glance. “Sorry, y/n, it’s just the truth.”

“Oh, I…” There’s nothing you can say. “I mean, you’re allowed to speak your mind.”

“But you do like him, right?” Jeongyeon leans forward and you laugh nervously, shrinking back as she looms over you.

“What are you, a reporter?”

“I’m just curious! It’s not like you two are all lovey-dovey– you don’t even seem like a couple!”

“Love doesn’t need to be physical,” Bo-Young steps in and you smile at her gratefully. “As long as they’re happy together, it’s none of our business. I’m sure y/n has enough on her shoulders without her costars attacking her as well, Jeongyeon.”

“Sorry, sorry, sheesh– c’mon, y/n, you know we all love you! Except your haters, amirite?” Jeongyeon pokes you teasingly and flounces away.

“Sorry about her,” Bo-Young says later, as the crew packs up the set for the day. “She’s just a gossip– Jeongyeon doesn’t mean any harm. Are you gonna be okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. I’m used to it.” You chuckle hollowly while slipping on your street clothes. “It’s whatever. Thanks for the help.”

“Of course. You’re getting a lot of hate, I’ve seen it online. We’ve all been there, y/n, and the only thing you can really do is turn to your friends when it gets hard.”

“Thanks, Bo-Young.” You check your phone and notice the time. The commercial shoot is in forty minutes. “Shit! I gotta get going– see you at filming tomorrow!” You bid your costar a hasty goodbye and hurry to the door, already opening your phone to call a car when you hear a honk outside the studio.

For a second, you feel excitement flood your veins– did Yoongi decide to pick you up even though he didn’t have to be onset today?

Lisa pokes her head out of the window. “C’mon, girl!”

Oh, right. The members of BTS are promoting in Japan.

“Thanks for the lift,” you say as you climb into your friend’s car.

“Of course! I mean, your address hasn’t leaked online and we have to keep it that way, ya feel?” Lisa clasps her hands together. “No more rideshare apps for you, miss y/n!”

You laugh. “Love you, Lisa– and please keep your eyes on the road.”

Your friend coughs. “Right back atcha, darling. The love, not the road.”

The drive to your shoot is quiet for a moment before Lisa speaks again. “Hey, there haven’t been any weirdos around set, right? I’ve been seeing a ton of online rumors that there’s a plan to leak Moon Over the Sea footage to, and I quote, ‘ruin y/n’s career’.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve seen those. Yeah, no creeps that I’ve noticed, and I have a feeling they’d only come to film Yoongi, not me.”

“Speaking of, how’s your Prince Charming doing?” Lisa asks, raising a brow.

You sigh. “He’s not my Prince Charming.” Honestly, the one time you tell the truth is the one time your friend doesn’t believe you. Talk about crying wolf.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re keeping it quiet for the cameras, I get it. Just let me know if he breaks your heart, got it?” Lisa cracks her knuckles menacingly.

“Hands on the wheel, girl!”

“It’s fine, I’ve never crashed before.” Still, Lisa straightens up and grips the wheel once more. “Hey, do you ever get to meet the rest of BTS?”

“Uh…” What should you do, what can you say? “Sometimes?”

“Woah. See, that’s fuckin’ amazing. My best friend, everyone! Casually meeting the greatest musicians on the planet!”

You laugh at Lisa’s enthusiasm. “Turn right, the studio is down there.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I was wondering if you could, y’know, maybe…” Lisa’s tone turns wheedling. “Let me meet them? Or at least just send me another video of Jimin talking to me?”

“I…” You should’ve expected this– it’s the kind of thing your best friend would consider a given. “I’ll see what I can do, okay? No promises.”

“Thanks, love! I appreciate it more than you could ever know.” Lisa stops the car outside the studio. “Break a leg!”

“Only if you don’t break yours,” you reply as you get out and head towards the studio door. “Drive safe, Lisa!”

Once inside, you make your way to the front desk. A pretty woman with a tight bun greets you.

“Hi, I’m l/n y/n here for the cologne shoot?”

“Miss l/n…” The woman shuffles through some papers. “Ah, here you are! Yep, that’ll be on set number three, second door on the left.”

“Thanks!” You follow the directions, wondering what exactly your role will be in a men’s advertisement.

Soon enough, you have your answer.

“Y/n, darling, come on, get a little closer to Wonho!”

“I– how do I even do that? Like, physically?” You adjust yourself on your coworker’s lap, hyperaware of your surroundings. Wonho is shirtless and– not that you noticed– very well built, with broad shoulders and an almost illegal amount of taut muscle.

The commercial director stands with a sigh. “Just… lean into him. The whole point is this cologne makes girls fall all over you, y/n. You gotta be all over him.”

“Yes sir,” you mutter under your breath. Wonho must hear you, because you sense him stifling a chuckle. You can barely inhale with the black halter top and high-waisted shorts they’ve dressed you in– and god, you’re cold. You’re sitting pretty in Wonho’s lap, and his hand is resting lightly on your hip.

“You’re doing fine,” Wonho says while the director is distracted by your latest take. You take the opportunity to slide off of him and sit in your own chair.

“W-what?”

“I can feel your heartbeat– it’s kinda hard not to. You’re nervous, huh?”

You laugh hollowly. “You can tell?”

“Yeah, but the camera can’t. You look great, y/n, and you don’t need to worry. If anything, I’m the one that should be nervous.

“Why’s that?”

“Ah, shit– I don’t want Yoongi to kill me once this commercial gets out!” Wonho grins mirthfully.

You start. “You know Yoongi?”

“Sure, our paths have crossed during work and we’ve been to the same parties– the fact that he’s gonna see me with you on my lap is probably gonna make him pretty jealous.”

You scoff to hide your blush. “Uh… Yoongi doesn’t really get jealous.” After all, why would he be jealous? You’re not really dating.

Wonho raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Back to work, people! We’ve got a day and a half to shoot this so let’s get it right and we can all go home early tomorrow, eh?” The director claps his hands and you and Wonho scramble back onto set. Yoongi gets back tomorrow, and if you finish up early, maybe you can surprise him. How cool would that be?

A/N: Please don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog! <3

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