#this has taken me quite a while to draft I hope it makes sense!

[gideonisms]

okay because tumblr hates me it did not save my draft of a mini fic I wrote for a prompt but I'm posting it anyway. The prompt was:

the smut is DELICIOUS but my stupid romantic brain needs some fluff...so how about.....griddlehark sneaking into the library for some midnight reading? 👀

And I can't remember who sent this one, my apologies. Hope you see it, whoever you were! I promise this is fluff but I needed to write some original flavor Griddlehark so let's pretend this is what happened after avulsion ❤️

When Gideon crawls out from her nest of blankets, aware of her surroundings at last, Harrow is gone. Gideon should have expected this. If she’d thought volunteering to have her soul sucked out through her innards was enough to melt the heart of the lady of the Ninth, she would have been wrong. Even her hallucination of Harrow hadn’t stayed to comfort her.

Not that she needs comfort. After all, Gideon isn’t dead. She just feels like she is.

Groping around on the floor for her sword, the one lady who would never betray her, Gideon almost knocks over a cup of water. Harrow must have left this for her out of some misguided sense of pity after they’d stumbled back to their rooms.

Although it makes Gideon feel a little bit like a pet left on its own while its owner goes to town, she takes the water and drinks it in huge gulps, draining the whole thing. Afterwards, she feels almost like a person—if that person had been smashed to bits and then taped up wrong.

Now to find Harrow.

Gideon gets up, aching in every bone. She considers just lying back down, possibly forever. How much trouble could Harrow even get into on her own? She’s probably just passed out somewhere again and can wait there until Gideon comes to find her.

No, Gideon should check. After all, what good is she as a cavalier if she lets Harrow wander off and get eaten by a bone monster right after they’ve won another key? It would just be embarrassing.

So she checks Harrow’s room—empty, but she does find another glass of water in there, which she drinks hastily without bothering to question how long it’s been sitting on the nightstand. She rests for a minute on Harrow’s bed, clinging to her sword more for support than because she thinks she could swing it at something.

She leaves the room as silently as she can and closes the door behind her.

The corridors of the First House are empty and dark as she searches. She keeps thinking she sees movement out of the corners of her eyes, but after the fourth time she whirls around to find nothing, accepts that this too may be a side effect of the soul sucking.

She grasps her sword in both hands as she turns down a corridor she hasn’t taken before. At this point, she’s beginning to feel not only lost, but also dizzy, and is considering calling it quits and hoping Harrow hasn’t done anything too stupid.

But there, at the end of the hallway, is a closed door. And underneath the door, a light shines. Not the light of the old-fashioned florescent bulbs or even the warm, glowing lanterns she’s seen some of the priests carrying around. No, this light is a wan, flickering candlelight that only serves to make Gideon feel colder and more unwell. Gideon would recognize that light anywhere. It has to be Harrow’s.

As she creeps towards the light, she lowers her sword. When she reaches the doorway, she tries the brass handle—locked, of course. She knocks, and behind the door, she can hear the unmistakable sound of bones clattering.

“Harrow,” she tries to say, but it comes out as more of a croak. She hears a rustling opposite the door. She tries again. “It’s me, you numbskull. Let me in!”

She’s seriously not feeling good. Maybe this whole standing up thing was a mistake.

The door suddenly opens—Gideon sways forward.

“Gideon?” Harrow says. And then Gideon passes out.

When she comes to, she’s resting on a dusty couch, head pillowed by something soft and warm.

“Harrow?”

“Shut up, idiot.” Harrow sounds small and frightened. Gideon blinks her eyes open to see her adept looking down at her from quite close up, fingers hovering in midair as though she can’t decide whether to touch Gideon or not.

Gideon thinks deliriously that she might as well, since she’s already got Gideon’s head in her lap.

Gideon looks around. There are bones strewed on the floor—probably from Harrow’s efforts to get her to the couch. And they’re in some type of library—quite small, even by Ninth standards, but Gideon can tell that it once would have been cozy.

There’s a fireplace set into one wall with ancient chairs across from it. Everywhere books are piled up; this isn’t the tidy organization of someone who owns a library for the aesthetic, but the more familiar jumble of books and crumbling papers from a person who once loved their work.

She looks back to Harrow, whose face is once again painted, but hastily. The smudged circles of black underneath her eyes make her look tired and worried.

“Gideon?” she says again. “Are you all right?”

Although Gideon has looked her death in the eyes more than once this week, it’s the tone of panic in Harrow’s voice that makes her feel like she must truly be dead. She reaches up to pinch herself on the arm, but Harrow catches her wrist.

“Woah, hold it, that’s my move,” Gideon says.

But Harrow just checks her pulse. Her thumb sweeps over the place where Gideon can feel her heart beat hardest. Then she does touch Gideon’s face—fingers brushing her hair aside to feel at her forehead.

“No fever,” she mutters. “Probably dehydrated.”

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you? You have a lot of experience, my sickly scion. Malnourished monarch.”

“This isn’t a joke! If you had collapsed somewhere out there, where I couldn’t find you in time—”

“Dehydration duchess.”

“You could have died! Did you even read my note?”

“What note?”

“You idiot,” Harrow says again, with feeling. “I left it beside the water cup.”

“So that was you. Thought it might have been the monster.”

“There is no—” Harrow breaks off and pinches the bridge of her nose, breathing in slowly. She smudges her paint when she does. There’s a little bit of skin poking through just at the top of her nose where it meets her forehead. Gideon almost reaches up to touch it without thinking.

“You will not leave the room without my permission in the future,” Harrow says.

“Like hell I won’t! You snuck off without me. What did you expect me to do?”

It’s just like Harrow to use this as an excuse to keep Gideon locked away somewhere. What else did Gideon expect?

But Harrow looks down at her with huge scared eyes, as deep and dark as the tomb itself, and Gideon can’t even be angry. Which sucks, because she’d planned to be angry with Harrow for the next few hours at least. But now that she’s with Harrow, now that she’s assured herself Harrow isn’t dead, just holed away in some obscure corner of the House reading as normal, a sense of calm steals over Gideon. She could almost go back to sleep here.

As though Harrow can read her mind, she says, “I expected you to still be asleep.”

“Tough luck. I’m as awake as I’ve ever been. I could fight off a billion bone monsters right now. Just give me my sword, and—wait, where’s my sword?”

Harrow gestures to the edge of the couch near Gideon’s feet, where to Gideon’s great relief she finds her sword propped up.

“I haven’t taken anything of yours,” Harrow says. “I only—I needed to do more research, and I thought you were safe in our rooms.”

Gideon looks around. Books are piled up on the reading stand next to the couch, right next to an ugly ninth house candle Harrow’s using in clear violation of every fire safety rule Gideon has ever learned. Harrow has of course littered the floor with books too. The candle smells waxy and unpleasant, but the familiar flickering of the feeble light makes something in Gideon’s chest unclench.

“And was it worth it? Did you find anything?”

Harrow shakes her head. “Nothing of note. This seems to be a room for the more…esoteric interests of the Lyctors. There are books here on almost everything—anatomy, various discredited magical practices, historical romances that seem improbable at best. But nothing that helps us. It’s all just…what they liked. It doesn’t tell me anything about how they achieved Lyctorhood.”

“Do they have any skin mags?” Gideon asks hopefully.

“No, you moron.”

“But how can you know if you haven’t checked for them?”

Harrow doesn’t dignify this with a response. Instead, she picks up a book from the table and starts idly thumbing through. She doesn’t dislodge Gideon from her lap. Gideon thinks about getting up, going back to her room. Maybe forcing Harrow to come with her. But the thought of leaving this couch sends a wave of nausea through her stomach, so she decides she can best do her duty as a cavalier by staying here and watching for threats.

It's seriously weird to be in Harrow’s lap, and it would normally disgust her to be so close to her adept.

From this close, Harrow smells of bloodsweat. It’s not a pleasant smell at the best of times, and it’s grown worse over the time they’ve been at Canaan House. But the warmth of her—better than the empty fireplace in the corner, anyway. Gideon’s eyes start to drift closed.

Then something occurs to her.

“If you aren’t finding anything useful, then why are you still here?”

Above her, pages turn slowly. Harrow is silent for a long moment.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says finally. “I needed a distraction.”

This might be the most honest thing Harrow has ever admitted to Gideon. Gideon has long suspected that Harrowhark spends so much time studying bone magic because she doesn’t have any other hobbies, aside from conjuring skeletons to trip Gideon while she’s going down the stairs. It’s nice to have that confirmed.

Maybe once Harrow has seen the appeal of books that aren’t dusty academic tomes, she’ll grow more lenient about Gideon’s preferred reading material.

Not that it will matter. As soon as Harrow becomes a Lyctor, Gideon will never have to see her again. Harrow will never again tell Gideon what she can and can’t read. She’ll never again feel Gideon’s pulse, checking for life.

She probably won’t even care if Gideon lives, once she’s a Lyctor.

Gideon squirms around. She hates to call it nestling, because it’s not. But she finds a more comfortable position on the couch. Harrow adjusts herself above Gideon too. She props her elbow on Gideon’s shoulder as she turns another page.

“Will you read to me?” Gideon says. She must be out of her mind with exhaustion.

“I don’t see why you would want that.”

“I need to stay awake. Protect us from threats and all. It’s not because I crave your dulcet tones, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. I know you hate me, Nav.”

Gideon almost agrees on instinct, but something stops her. Maybe it’s the quiet of the room, or maybe it’s the warmth of Harrow’s horrible little body, but she doesn’t have it in her to put up the usual fight.

Anyway, Harrow doesn’t seem to need a response. After a moment, she clears her throat and begins:

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.”

And although this intrigues Gideon, although under other conditions, Gideon would have loved to hear a story that wasn’t about how bad nuns go to hell and good nuns get to serve the King Undying, Gideon nevertheless finds herself drifting off into a comfortable doze.

She tries to keep her eyes open, but Harrow’s clear, calm voice reads on, and Gideon’s eyelids droop until she can no longer watch the flickering of the candle. At the very edges of her consciousness, she thinks she feels Harrow’s fingers brush lightly over her forehead again, smoothing back her hair.

“You can sleep,” dream Harrow says. “I’ll kill the light.”

[weaimtomaim]

When the Past Catches Up

A quick note to say that this is based on a thread I did over on discord with the lovely @wwheeljack! It’s been condensed, rewritten in some areas, and edited, but still contains writing of theirs. Thank you for joining me on this journey! 💜

Of all the things Onslaught had expected to see on Earth, a partially constructed statue of his former leader was quite low on the list.

It had started when Onslaught detected a peculiar blip on his scans. A rudimentary signal meant to deter unwanted guests. The sort of thing that would work with keeping civilians away, especially of the human variety, but would stick out to those with military experience. Was it someone with limited tools and resources on hand, or someone who was new to Earth and did not yet see the human population as able to pose a serious threat?

Either way, Onslaught wanted to investigate who was responsible for the signal. It paid to keep tabs on which Cybertronians were hanging around on Earth.

Finding a towering Megatron staring down at him made Onslaught transform to get a better look at it. He keeps expecting to blink and see something else in its place, something that makes more sense to be here. Instead, he notices a flash of green and purple beyond the statue.

Despite having taken on an Earth vehicle altmode, the colors paired with the boom on their back leave only one option for who it is: Hook.

There’s a drawn out moment of silence while Onslaught attempts to decipher the scene before him. Any idea about not engaging and simply turning around to leave, however, is tossed aside when Hook finally notices him. It’s clear the Constructicon is equally surprised by his presence, try as he might to mask it.

Hook turns out to be the one to break the silence. “Onslaught,” he greets, his tone clipped and to the point. “I did not know you were on Earth.”

As the crane stares at him, Onslaught crosses his arms. And hopes that Hook does not point out his missing insignia. With any luck, he was too surprised to even notice its absence before Onslaught blocked his view of the spot it used to be. "My team and I made our own way here. I did not expect to see... this —” he nods to the Megatron statue, just in case Hook couldn't figure out what he was referring to, "— out in the middle of seemingly nowhere on Earth."

The rigid demeanor of Hook’s quickly turns into annoyance as he grumbles in a low voice. Onslaught can’t catch most of it, but could swear Hook was calling someone a buffoon. Hook then waves a dismissive servo, “There was a fault in the design, as there has been with each of the statues commissioned by Lord Megatron since our arrival to this planet.” The notable bite in his words was unexpected.

As was the explanation itself. Megatron was no engineer; any construction he ordered would not be drafted by his hand. So, logically, the design must have come from the Constructicons, yet it was apparently flawed? Curious. Onslaught almost pushes, but decides to hold back. His priority is to keep this encounter as neutral as possible, and be able to take his leave without fuss.

He ignores the building desire to simply demand answers from Hook. Onslaught prided himself on being able to keep a cool demeanor even in high stress or emotionally charged situations, and he did not wish to lose his composure so easily in front of someone who was effectively an enemy. Especially if Hook was not yet aware of that fact.

Onslaught nods. "Megatron shares some unfortunate similarities to Starscream. I know your team was tasked with building those statues in his image as well."

The mere mention of Starscream almost causes Hook’s composure to snap, if the sudden tensing of his jaw is anything to go by. His sharp gaze turns to inspect Onslaught. Instead of commenting further on Starscream, he simply stares in silence before giving a low hmm. “It is a relief to know a sane combiner team resides on this planet besides my own. Those... wretched Stunticons are idiots. As moronic as their leader is, unfortunately for every sentient being on this planet.” There's a pointed emphasis on the words ‘their leader’, as he turns back to study the statue, rather than Onslaught.

It raises the question of who exactly Hook is referring to: Motormaster or Megatron?

Onslaught gives Hook a sidelong glance. "The Stunticons made it through the exodus in one piece then? Hm." He isn't sure how to feel about that information, but it's useful to know, regardless. "Surprising. Still failing to live up to Megatron's expectations, I assume?"

"Naturally," Hook scoffs in annoyance. "They cannot complete even the simplest of tasks without getting injured, or torquing off one of their fellow Decepticons. I tire of repairing the lot of them simply because they are unable to behave themselves. No amount of lecturing gets through to them, and neither has Megatron accepted they are a lost cause and should be removed from the duty roster. They are a drain on our limited resources."

Onslaught nods along at Hook’s explanation. It's all what he'd expected to hear, what he's heard about them countless times before. Yet now... he can’t deny he feels uneasy at hearing it. Given what his own team had gone through with the loyalty programming, and the fact that the Stunticons had been formed after their attempt to kill Megatron, the idea that the youngest Decepticon gestalt might not be in control of themselves doesn’t feel too far-fetched.  

No time to dwell on it now, though.

Luckily, he’s not given the chance, as Hook directs a question his way. "May I enquire into your team? Are you well? We have not heard from you since the fight on the Ark, and my brothers worried you had been offlined during the battle."

"We nearly did offline. Bruticus crashed back onto Cybertron’s surface from orbit. He was injured enough that he was unable to decombine for several days. It was... unpleasant." And left Bruticus traumatized, but he'd leave that part left unsaid. "Other than that, we have been surviving as best we can. We had been unable to make contact with any Decepticons since reaching Earth. Until now, it seems."

As soon as Onslaught mentions the extent of the injuries Bruticus had sustained, Hook’s gaze snaps back to him. It almost looks like concern as the Constructicon is clearly looking over his frame and asks, "Did you receive the proper repairs after Bruticus would not decombine?"

Both the concern and the inquiry are unexpected, especially since the incident had occurred years ago at this point. The anger Onslaught feels in response is also unexpected. It boils up so quickly, it almost threatens to take him over entirely. He lets out a slow vent of air in an effort to tamp it down. Hook certainly isn’t making it easy to keep up this forced casualness.

"There were no medics in the vicinity, and we needed to follow after the rest of you as soon as we were able. We took care of our injuries in the aftermath as best we could." He's sure Hook won't find that a satisfactory answer, but what else could they have done at the time?

When Hook turns fully towards him and moves to cross the unspoken divide between them, Onslaught tenses. His arms drop to his sides to allow himself more range of movement, should Hook try anything. 

The Constructicon in question steps right up to him, huffing in annoyance as he straightens to his full height to stare down at Onslaught. "Considering the relative incompetence of your team's medical skills, I would recommend you allow me to examine you for any persisting injuries or internal issues that Bruticus' injuries could have caused. It is ill-advised to not seek medical attention after your combiner is injured." There’s a pause while Hook mutters under his breath. Then he has the audacity to prod Onslaught in the chest plate. "As your former Chief Medical Officer, I give this recommendation strongly. For the benefit of your entire team and Bruticus."

Fortunately, Onslaught isn't one to buckle under a stare down, not even one from a displeased medic. If anything, it only proves to fan the flames of his anger. This time he doesn't try to push it down. If Hook can see it? Can feel it? Good.

He meets and matches Hook's gaze. "I would suggest you keep your distance." Onslaught's tone is low. The warning is clear: keep your hands to yourself. "We have since been looked over by medical professionals. And do you know what they found?" Onslaught waits only a beat before barreling on, his voice rising in anger, "Do you? Did you know what was done to us?!"

There’s a flicker of something across Hook’s face - confusion, perhaps? - before he schools his expression. His tone when he replies can only be described as haughty, "Do so ever enlighten me, Onslaught. Clearly, I am missing some important datapoint that you presume I have prior knowledge about."

Onslaught roars and reels one arm back, then surges forward to deliver a swift punch to Hook’s abdomen. All the anger, all the hurt, it's reaching a boiling point and it wants out. 

Bruticus doesn't just get his rage from Brawl. 

"Loyalty programming," he spits out as Hook stumbles a few steps back and hunches over.

Hook has enough self-preservation instincts to raise his servos in a placating gesture. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I never came across any mention of loyalty programming in your medical records, nor found such a thing during scans.” 

The gesture turns out to not do Hook much good; if there's one thing Onslaught hates, it's being lied to directly to his face. He knows there are old medical records that reference something being installed, he's seen them with his own optics. Were he not so blinded by rage, he could come to the logical conclusion that records of any sort could be redacted or kept out of the hands of lower ranking bots. If Megatron had ordered the loyalty programming to be kept secret, and Hook hadn't been involved with its installation, it very easily could've been hidden from Hook despite him being their medic. 

But right now, Onslaught isn't thinking very logically. He grabs Hook and hefts the crane up off the ground with little resistance. “Do not lie to me," he warns, before throwing Hook into the statue of Megatron. 

There’s a clang of metal against metal as Hook makes contact, then a thud when he crumples to the ground. Onslaught doesn't advance on him yet as he groans, allowing Hook to gain his bearings as he tries to get himself sitting upright. Instead, Onslaught speaks, "After the Detention Center, after millions of years of torture, there was no mercy. No forgiveness. No second chance. Megatron had us installed with loyalty programming to make us serve him against our will." It spills out of him of its own accord. "Everything has been a lie."

Hook slowly heaves himself back to his pedes, leaning on the statue for support while doing so. When he looks up at Onslaught again, it’s through a cracked visor. "Onslaught," Hook rasps, "I am not lying. I do not disbelieve you, but I have no recollection of any loyalty coding documented anywhere for your team. You... why do you think I would know about this programming?" There’s a pause as Hook seems to put the pieces together. "Are you implying that I engineered this loyalty coding? That I installed it?"

"You said it yourself, you were our Chief Medical Officer. There are only so many individuals who could have been involved in the creation and installation of that programming." Onslaught stalks forward. "You are among them."

So far Hook has been staunchly holding the position that he had no idea about the loyalty coding. But that response was expected. Who would confess to that sort of crime when one of the victims survivors was threatening you? Of course he's claiming ignorance. 

"You know gestalts. You know us. It is not that far a leap to assume Megatron would turn to you for help in— in leashing us." Would a confession make Onslaught feel better? Not really. But there could be some closure. Some assurance in knowing how it all went down. The existence of the coding may have come to light, but there were still so many unknowns.

Yet Hook bristles with anger, as though offended by the accusation. "Megatron did not approach me for anything in regards to your team, aside from ensuring your frames adjusted to the replacement of your sparks and processors properly. I was not privy to any knowledge beyond that. I did not leash you or your team. 

"The only time I have seen traces of loyalty coding was when I did an unauthorized scan of Wildrider after he complained of hearing voices and talking to another personality. I know gestalt, but I would never lower myself to forcing loyalty coding onto one of our own kind."

That makes Onslaught freeze in place, save only for his plating that continues shifting and flaring. Wildrider had signs of loyalty programming? That likely meant the rest of the Stunticons... 

It was a possibility that the Combaticons had all landed on post-removal of the programming. That they weren't the first to have suffered that fate; perhaps not even the first combiner. And now confirmation of those suspicions was being thrown at him by Hook. 

He could be a difficult bot at the best of times, but Hook held fast to his convictions, for better or worse. Onslaught does believe that he wouldn’t have willingly helped Megatron. Of course, reality relies solely on whether or not Megatron would have thought it worth the effort to try and force Hook's compliance. With bots like Soundwave and Shockwave ready and willing to follow his command, perhaps he hadn't.

Onslaught's servos ball into fists. But after a few moments, they relax open again. Despite the rage he's still feeling, he doesn't actually want to continue escalating things. Nor does he want to continue baring his spark and emotions to someone who still has ties to Megatron. He levels a glare at Hook. "Do not follow me. Any attempt will be taken as a threat, and I will respond accordingly."

Then, without another word, Onslaught transforms and drives off. He has much to think about. Much to discuss with his team.

[whats-k-popping]

sick han with prompts 1, 31, 81 and caretaker chan?

Remember back in July when I opened requests for this prompt list?? I'm so so sorry it's taken me this long to finish! But I hope this anon is still around! Thanks for requesting it. Despite the long time it took me to finish, I really did enjoy writing for Stray Kids. While I really enjoy them, it's the first time writing them. I hope the characterization is decent.

Pairing: Chan x Han - platonic intentions but read as you want.

Prompts: "You're burning up" || "Hey, are you still with me?" || Holding your hair as you're vomiting into the toilet. You keep apologizing, but seriously I don't mind.

Words: 2197

Warnings: Fever || Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of illness || Slight Angst

Jisung's been staring at the same piece of paper for hours now. He holds his head in his hands as he watches the words blur together, swimming around whatever percentage of his vision hasn't been plagued with floating black spots.

He promised Chan he would finish these lyrics, but he hasn't been struck with a single ounce of inspiration. And he's been re-reading the draft for so long that the words he's already written hardly make sense anymore. As much as it pains him to admit, he's not going to be able to finish it. 

Chan is sitting at his desk, while Jisung's sitting cross-legged on the floor. It's amazing, Jisung thinks, just how focused and dedicated his leader is. It's nearly 2 AM, and they've been holed up in this studio trying to finish this song since 6 PM. Chan hasn't complained once. He hasn't so much as stopped for a bathroom break, still clicking away on his laptop. Meanwhile, Jisung is putting all his energy into making the words on the paper stay still. It's just not fair. 

Eventually, the swirling syllables make his head pound and his stomach roll. He suddenly feels like he's on a boat in the middle of the ocean during a tropical storm. If he so much as glances back at that paper, he's going to lose his dinner. So he pushes the pages aside. 

The rapid fluttering of the paper startles Chan, who turns and looks at the youngest producer for the first time in hours. He looks confused, "You good?" 

Jisung nods, one up and down motion because anymore may make him dizzier than he already is. "I just need a little break. Been staring at the same thing for too long. It's starting to look like gibberish." 

Chan smirks, knowing he's been there before. He glances at the time and is shocked at just how much time has passed. Working until the early hours of the morning is nothing new for him, but usually Jisung calls a quits around midnight. Especially if they have early schedules the next day. 

The leader walks over to the younger member and drapes a blanket over his shoulders, "Take a rest. It might help refresh your mind." 

Jisung only protests for a moment before he rests his head against his folded arms. The blanket brings him a warmth he didn't realize that he was missing,  "Wake me in 30 minutes." He requests before quickly succumbing to the exhaustion. 

30 minutes passes like seconds to Chan, never an expert at keeping time when in the production zone. He falls so deep into the track he's working on that he forgets Jisung is even in the room with him. He's reminded when the young rapper lets out a whine loud enough to break through the leader's headphones.

Chan turns his chair to look at Jisung, who is still curled over the table asleep. Despite the whine that alerted him, he seems rather peaceful. So the leader assumes that it was just Jisung talking in his sleep. He's no stranger to the younger mumbling weird and random things in his sleep. 

He spares a glance at the clock and finds that two hours passed in the blink of an eye. It's after 4 now and Chan thinks maybe it's time the two of them head back to the dorm. Before Jisung wakes up with an awful cramp in his neck and an ache in his lower back. They have dance practice in the afternoon, and Chan knows Minho will not shy away from scolding him if Jisung's not in his best condition. 

Making sure he's triple saved his work, he shuts down his station and slides himself beside the sleeping rapper. As he scoots a little closer, he notices that Jisung's face is glistening with sweat. And his skin is noticeably pale even under the dimmed studio lighting. Weird, he thinks, Jisung seemed fine when they were working earlier. He presses one hand against Jisung's forehead and the other against his own. Jisung's skin is blazing compared to his. 

When Chan pulls his hand away, Jisung subconsciously follows. And when he can't find the cool hand anymore, he blinks himself awake with a quivering pout. His eyes eventually settle on Chan's figure beside him and he whines. "Hyung, where'd the cold go?" He slurs the words together, it's nearly indecipherable. 

Chan quickly realizes what Jisung wants and holds his hand back out for the rapper. Jisung takes the hands and holds it close to his face like a stuffed animal, nuzzling his cheek into the leader's palm. "Feels nice." He mumbles, nearly falling asleep again. "I feel funny," he admits.

"I'd bet you do," Chan uses his other hand to play with the rapper's sweaty strands of hair, "You're burning up." 

Jisung shakes his head, and Chan feels it in both of his hands more than he sees it happening. "No, not that. My tummy." He whines, "my tummy feels funny." 

At that, Chan moves the hand from Jisung's hair and presses it over his stomach area. He finds the rapper's middle swollen. And he can feel the organ gurgling angrily through the fabric of Jisung's shirt. "Oh, Hannie." Chan comforts. "You must've caught some kind of bug. Poor thing." He rubs the younger’s stomach, trying to relieve some of the pressure. 

Jisung leans into the touch longingly, inching himself closer to Chan. "Hyung, ‘m sorry," he whines, "I don't think I can finish the lyrics tonight." The words fall out of Jisung's mouth like an afterthought, a similar slur to his sleep talking voice. 

Chan clicks his tongue. In all honestly, Chan had even forgotten about the lyrics and deadlines and group responsibilities. His sole priority right now is Jisung's health. “Don’t worry about that right now, Sungie.” he reminds in a soft voice as he strokes through Jisung’s sweaty hair. “Let’s just get you back to the dorm.”

What’s usually a simple task seems impossible. Jisung is so out of it, he can’t even force himself to stand on his own. Chan has to pull him up by the armpits. And even once he’s on his feet, Jisung sways a little before his head falls against Chan’s shoulder. “Hey,” he nudges the younger, “Are you still with me?” he panics, thinking Jisung had passed out on him. At this point, he’s thinking of skipping the dorm altogether and going right to the hospital. Jisung’s gotten too sick too quickly. 

When he feels Jisung nod his head against his chest, he relaxes a bit, just relieved that his dongsaeng is still conscious. He does his best to keep Jisung engaged while he thinks up a plan to get them back to the dorm. Walking doesn’t seem like a reliable option. 

While Chan comes to terms with the fact that he’s going to have to carry his sick member home, Jisung pushes Chan away with a force the leader didn’t know he still had. Jisung’s eyes widen and he lets out a wet hiccup. Clamping a hand over his mouth, Jisung runs out of the studio. Chan doesn’t have time to question the newfound burst of energy as he bolts after him. He follows him into the bathroom and into the largest stall at the far end. Jisung doesn’t even try to waste time locking the door. There are no obstacles in Chan’s way, which he greatly appreciates. 

Jisung bends at the waist over the clean bowl, stomach contents immediately slip between his finger tips, staining the seat and the walls. Some droplets splatter on the floor in front of him. He removes his now vomit soaked hand and uses it to grip the side of the bowl, mirroring his other hand. For a second, they are the only thing keeping him from smacking his head against the porcelain. But two hands support him quickly, one on his waist and the other on his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to resist as they guide him into a kneeling position. It’s probably for the best. His legs have nothing left after his sprint from the studio.

“Okay, okay,” Chan soothes. “I’ve got you.” 

Jisung just shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he continues to heave into the toilet. He has so many things he wants to say, but he can’t get a syllable out between gags. It’s warm and it burns his throat. The taste left behind just makes him more nauseous. When he sniffles, the sting of vomit burns the back of his nose. It’s a miserable experience. 

Strands of Jisung’s longer hair dangle in front of his face, frequently getting caught up in the sick pouring from his mouth. Chan does his best to pull them back, but every time he thinks he has them all one strand falls loose and dangles around the younger's mouth. It's a never ending cycle of carding and tugging at Jisung's hair. Chan even gets remnants of vomit on his hands in the process. But he manages to hold back the grimaces of disgust to spare Jisung's feelings. 

Jisung momentarily loses his sense of awareness to his surroundings. The only thing he can think about is the eruption of mostly digested food, stomach acid and bile pouring out of him. Every time he thinks it's over, he's starting again before he can even get in a decent breath. After 10 agonizing minutes, Jisung finally catches a break. He's able to take a deep breath that doesn't trigger a wave of nausea and assumes his whole body is empty. There's a hollow feeling in his abdomen and he briefly wonders if he's actually thrown up all of his organs in the midst of it all. 

He's shocked into reality when present company tugs at his hair, jostling his whole head. He's got a headache now, and that didn't help. He looks at the offending individual with as much malice as he can muster. It's a mere 2% intimidating. 

"Do you feel a bit better now that you've gotten it all out?" Chan asks, so gentle and kind and hand still clamped to the back of Jisung's head. He doesn't look mad. 

Jisung can't understand why he isn't. He sniffles, trying to ward off a new wave of tears. He's not sure why he's crying now. Maybe it's shame, or guilt. It could be the headache. It's probably the fever. But there's a lot going on. Jisung is overstimulated by his own emotions. It pours out of him like a fountain. "I'm sorry, hyung!" He whimpers. 

"I'm sorry for being so gross. I didn't mean to. And you had to stay with me." 

"Hannie-" 

"And I missed the toilet a bit. I made a mess here. And some of it got on you. I'm so sorry," 

"Han, it's-" 

"What if you get sick now? How will we get work done?" Jisung's eyes widen, "and I didn't finish the lyrics like I promised. I'm sorry, hyung! I tried. And you couldn't finish your work either. You stopped to take care of me." 

"Han Jisung!" Chan tried a third time in a more demanding tone. It startled the younger rapper, which Chan feels bad about. His dongsaeng needs comfort. Not scoldings. But it did finally got him to stop rambling. He softens his tone quickly. "You don't need to apologize for anything, alright?" He assures. 

Jisung just continues looking at him, still too stunned by his hyung's authoritative tone to react. 

"Everybody gets sick sometimes. It's out of our control. It's my job, as your leader and your hyung to take care of you when you need it. So I need you to let you me. And don't worry about work or the deadlines. I know you're doing your best with the lyrics. And they will still be there when you're feeling ready to finish them. But for now you need to focus on your health and getting better. Do you understand?" Jisung nods. "Good, now. How are you feeling? Any better than earlier?" 

Jisung shakes his head this time. "My tummy feels empty now. But I have a headache, and I'm really really cold." He admits, "Hyung, I just wanna go home." 

"That's my Hannie," Chan smiles, petting the younger man's hair. "Let's get you home. I'll get you two days off schedules so you can rest up. How does that sound?" 

Jisung smiles a bit. Chan thinks it's the smallest smile he's ever seen in his life. "Thank you, hyung" 

"You're welcome Sungie." He helps the younger to stand up and guides him out of the bathroom. He asks Jisung to wait on a hallway bench while he calls Changbin. It's nearly 5 AM now, and the third 3racha member is probably waking up to get ready for his morning workout. Probably the only member ever willingly awake this early, besides the ones who don't sleep.

While they wait for their fellow producer, Jisung bobs in and out of sleep leaning against the bathroom wall. Chan's taken to cleaning the mess that became of the stall without complaint. Because that's just what hyungs do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: The ending feels a little rushed to me. I always feel like I want to keep writing until the sickie feels better, but that would be a super long fic. So I apologize for the abrupt ending.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

[rainbowsky]

GG Esquire Cover Story

A lot of people have written me about the cover story GG did for Esquire magazine. There have been some interesting responses in my inbox, many of which have baffled me a bit, to be honest.

People have asked me for my thoughts on it all, so here they are! 😊

I've been picking away at this for ages, sorry it's coming so far after publication of the article. I have a few things like this in my drafts that are taking me a while to finish writing. I don't have the sustained resources to work on things for very long at a stretch these days.

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an OPINION piece - my take on the article. I have no special insight, and everyone is free to form their own perspectives and responses. Don't take what I say as fact. It's just one opinion among many.

The photos

I have to start out by talking about the photos, because they truly set the tone for (and perfectly illustrate) the article.

These are not the typical magazine spread photos that a lot of fans are used to seeing. Here GG is practically unstyled. The GG you would see in his downtime. His hair is tousled, his clothing is very casual. His poses are also very casual. He looks like he could be just hanging around his hotel room scrolling through his phone.

These photos are such a gift. They feel so fresh and candid and relaxed. Total Boy Next Door. I absolutely love them.

What a relief to see these photos. Nothing ostentatious or overstyled, nothing aggressively brand-forward (some of what he is wearing is his own personal clothing). Just GG. I nearly fainted. 😅

The article

The original article can be found here, and there is a fan translation here.

My relief in seeing these sweet, casual photos of GG was matched only by my relief in reading the article.

To be honest I'm rarely very excited about the sorts of interviews or stories that accompany these types of magazine covers. They are generally fan servicey puff pieces that cater to a certain type of reader - the kind of people who want to become more invested in an idol fantasy.

They tend to be fairly overtly PR pieces, aimed at positioning the idol in an appealing and often romantic, personable way that makes them more accessible to their fans.

I have often been dismissive of interview statements that other fans have taken to heart, which has caused some friction at times, but what can I say? I think a lot of what's typically covered is awkward, fake and fan servicey. I talk a little bit about that in this post.

I didn't go into reading this article with any particular expectation, except that my expectations were low and I wasn't expecting any surprises. But, much to my surprise, I found a smart, interesting, poetic, uncompromising look at a side of GG that we've rarely seen.

My biggest takeaway from this article was that GG wanted to dampen, rather than fan the flames of, fan fantasies about him; to give people a more realistic sense of who he is and what he's about.

I have rarely been prouder of him than when reading this article. It feels like with this interview he is setting boundaries and putting his honest self forward despite expectations and even demands about who he should be and what he should represent.

Sidebar Rant About Fan Culture

Sometimes I see GG's life as being like an episode of Black Mirror. He is a protagonist who has been strangled by his own fame, in some ways held hostage by people who believe that they made him who he is and put him where he is (despite the role they've frequently played in holding him back).

The situation for stars at his level is pretty crazy. Fans genuinely believe that they know better than their idols what is best for them and their careers, and they will - totally unironically and with a straight face - deliver lists of demands and conditions to their idol and their idol's management team that they expect to be met if the star hopes to maintain their love and support.

These demands can be quite detailed. How they want the management team to be structured, the types of projects they want the artist to take, the types of statements they want their idol to make, etc. It's insane.

And GG's fans have been especially difficult, because they are very deeply invested in old school ideas about fan culture that are no longer viable in the current climate. Pushing traffic, 'comment control' and 'clarification' (aka fan wars), attacking anyone they perceive to be a rival or opportunist or anyone they believe isn't treating GG how they think he should be treated (despite having no access whatsoever to verified information about how he's being treated - i.e. it's all based on their assumptions). Using dirty - even dangerous - tactics to try to harm rival fandoms, regardless of how much that puts GG at risk.

Despite the fact that their behavior has caused problems for him in the past. Despite the fact that he has repeatedly begged them to stop behaving the way they do. Despite the fact that his career has nearly been killed by this type of behavior. Despite the fact that there has been a seismic shift in how fan culture is being treated in China, and despite the policies that have been put in place to curtail some of that behavior. They just don't seem to have gotten the memo.

They have learned absolutely nothing from their past mistakes.

Increasingly, they do not seem to have his deeper interests at heart. At times they appear to be supporting him for their own vanity, clout and sense of accomplishment rather than genuinely loving him for who he is. They seem to take more pride in their ability to bring traffic, out-vote other fandoms and move brand merchandise than in who this sweet, smart man is and what he does.

They actively push some of the most toxic, hateful ideas you can find in fandom. They are some of the key drivers behind the whole 'desperate illiterate' hate campaign against DD, and in so doing put both GG and DD's careers at risk. They are constantly spreading hate and lies about DD and trying to bring scandal upon him. Any time an anti-DD campaign surfaces online, they jump on it and fuel it to the best of their ability.

These are people who have had so many opportunities to grow and change, and emulate GG's kindness and maturity, but have repeatedly failed the assignment.

Being a star can't be easy

I often wonder how GG really feels about his fans. How much of the fan culture mayhem he's fed up with, and how much of it he's taken in stride as part of the job. I know it drives me crazy, but he's obviously got a better perspective on it all and would be a lot more accustomed to it all.

As I said in a previous post, I think we need to treat the idea that he absolutely adores his fans with some degree of skepticism. There's a very real noose around his neck, and that can't feel great. I personally believe he wants to loosen that hold a bit.

With this article GG seems to be saying, "Here I am. Support me or move on, but this is the real me."

He seems to be setting some boundaries and giving fans a glimpse behind the curtain at the real him. He is challenging them to accept him for who he really is, or move on.

I feel like he is taking cautious steps toward loosening some of the stranglehold fans have over his career.

GG is a smart, savvy person. I have no doubt that he is well aware of the assumptions about him. I don't think it was an accident that this interview broke down some of those assumptions.

I love him so much. He continually blows me away with how sharp and tough he is.

Disillusionment and growth

Of course, that's not the entire story of the article. There is some alienation and loneliness here. Frustration and struggle with identity.

One of the most powerful lines in the entire article was when he said that he works for this Xiao Zhan guy as well. When he talks about not knowing anymore which GG is real and which is the persona.

"There are two Xiao Zhans, one of them is here, that’s me. There is another Xiao Zhan, the Xiao Zhan in quotes, but he is probably not me anymore. We are all working for him, including myself."

I admit I was surprised by how fractured he sounded. Not surprised that some of this has happening - that is totally to be expected given his fame - but surprised that he'd talk so openly about it. He's not normally so candid about his personal experience of fame, or about its emotional/psychological impacts on him. In his post-2/27 interviews he brushed off any notion of the emotional burden it was placing on him, for example, even though it would have been understandable had he admitted it.

What stands out to me in all of this is how powerfully he is distancing himself from his idol image and showing a mature, serious, in many ways ordinary person. How boldly he is reminding the audience that there is more to him than meets the eye.

Some might read that as cynical and jaded - the star who is playing the game by performing a role that's separate from himself. I read it as the opposite. I read it as self-actualizing and self-preserving. He doesn't believe his own hype. He is just doing a job, working for this persona, while maintaining his own integrity and independence despite all the pressure to perform and be perfect.

The mountain was such a powerful image. Climbing the mountain as a child and seeing it as this nearly insurmountable ordeal, and then later as an adult feeling like he can take a couple of long strides and be at the top. It is such a metaphor for his career and his success. And that speaks of a certain amount of demystification and disillusionment surrounding his dreams.

It was reminiscent of the line, "Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true" from The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell.

Certain jobs, when taken on, become something completely different from what we thought we signed up for.

I have often been asked why I don't open a restaurant. I always jokingly give them this very earnest and serious answer, "Because I like to cook."

If I were to open a restaurant, food would be among the least of my concerns every day. I would have to deal with marketing, I would have to deal with staff and the day-to-day running of the facility, supplies, vendor relationships, finances and management. Food would be very low on the list of things I'd have time to concern myself with.

I feel like the same has happened for GG. He thought he was becoming a singer or an actor, when it turns out he was becoming a celebrity instead. Those are totally different jobs, with totally different demands, activities and limitations.

He enjoys taking on new roles and learning new things and expanding on his skills and working on interesting projects. I doubt very much that he enjoys managing a persona, or navigating fan expectations, or addressing yet another fan-created scandal. I doubt very much he enjoys being held to the standards the top traffic star position puts him under. I doubt he enjoys the restrictions it places on his career or on his personal life.

I doubt he enjoys the limitations on what he is able to show of himself in that job.

Having the kind of job where you have to hang up your personality at the door like an overcoat every day when you walk in - that's a lonely, lonely world to be in. Soul-destroying.

I have long felt that this situation isn't sustainable for GG over the long term. I have wondered what he will do to shift things into a more comfortable, more stable existence for himself. I feel like this article gives me some ideas about that. And it is a relief to read because I get the sense that he is fully aware of that problem, and working to address it for himself so that he can continue doing what he most enjoys - acting and performing.

We have all had these theories - I'm sure most of us have, anyway - that he is trying to shed the idol image, the 'traffic star' image at least to some degree so that he can be accepted as a serious actor with a serious career.

This is a common career path for idols who want to stay in the industry past their idol shelf life. But it's one thing to believe GG might be working on that, and another to feel like I can see him taking brave steps in that direction.

Some surprises, some not

There were some things that surprise me from this interview, and some things that I was not surprised by.

One thing that really stood out to me is how much his real personality shines through. The smart, witty, intense GG we've all seen in The Untamed BTS and in some of his XNINE activities. It was a surprise. I guess I was expecting to see the persona GG - not the real GG. It was so good to see him that I nearly got choked up.

This is the GG that is very no bullshit; blunt and honest. This was the GG who outed DD for using his own meme pictures or for sending him too many selfies. This is the GG who firmly stated he wanted the het scenes deleted. The GG who was very forthright, clever and affectionately prickly with his XNINE brothers.

GG has said in the past that he is not as sweet and sentimental as his fans think he is, that behind the scenes he can actually be ruthless and demanding. This is the GG we've caught glimpses of and that he is talking about in that statement. The real, unvarnished GG.

I didn't dare hope that he would be so candid. He is usually so image-conscious. Not 'fake' by any means, but conscious of how he is coming across and careful not to offend. But in this article he has brought himself unapologetically to the forefront and for that I love and applaud him.

Another surprise for me was when he was talking about how he handles his inner struggles. I was surprised when he said that he doesn't like to talk through his problems. I had always assumed that - as a very authentic, emotionally intelligent, compassionate, personable person - he would be the kind of guy who would reach out to others during times of need.

Instead he said that he doesn't like to talk about his issues. He had such clear and rational explanations for why that even though I can't relate to his approach, I can understand it. This approach can be interpreted as self-contained, self-sufficient and pragmatic. 'If it can be fixed, fix it. If it can't, set it aside. No point talking about it.'

There's something very Zen about letting go of what you can't immediately change, rather than dwelling on it or digging into ruminations about it.

I also found his rationale for avoiding other people's confidences interesting. He 'doesn't want to be a suspect', he 'doesn't want to be burdened by other people's secrets'. I can definitely see how his approach could prevent people from getting caught up in each other's drama, and his mindset reflects healthy boundaries that can help preserve friendships.

I can see GG's characteristic cautious self-protectiveness in this approach. He's smart, strategic and - based on many things he's said in this interview - quite introverted. This approach serves all those aspects of his personality.

There's that old saying, "loose lips sink ships" and that is especially true for someone so much in the public eye. It's good that he has the sense to keep his mouth shut about personal things.

There is wisdom to that approach. It reminds me of the old nursery rhyme about the owl:

A wise old owl sat in an oak, The more he heard, the less he spoke; The less he spoke, the more he heard; Why can't we be more like that wise old bird?

Having said all that, I don't personally share the same view or the same approach in my own life. I am very much someone who likes to talk things through, and who likes to be a listening ear and a support to others as well.

I think there is a lot to be said for the way this type of communication can deepen relationships, help people better understand each other and become more bonded. Sharing burdens, sharing feelings, sharing confidences. It's riskier but the rewards can be significant.

A lot of the biggest problems in the world come from lack of communication or from crossed wires. Talking with others face to face is a great way to clear up confusion and help people stay connected and bonded.

Being the sort of person people can confide in and who talks about things that are on my mind - this really enriches my life. Although I feel like GG has done a great job of making his approach make sense to me, and even seem appealing in ways.

I want to caution people from over-interpreting these statements from him to assuming GG is uncommunicative with DD. As someone who lives with a partner who is exactly like GG when it comes to 'talking about things', I think it's highly likely that GG has a different approach with those few people who are closest to him. There's a pretty big difference between being emotionally and socially open with friends and colleagues, and being emotional and intimate with a partner.

An ordinary boy

The article focuses a lot on his childhood and some of the nostalgia and memories of his past. It's so interesting and illuminating to read about where he came from, and about the parts of that ordinary boy that survived through to adulthood. The geography of the city and the buildings are used as a metaphor for the changes in his life.

He started out in the factory district, in low grey concrete buildings full of vibrancy and activity, passed through a rainy uphill commute and ended up among shining glass skyscrapers. What a journey he has been on, and he's only 31 years old!

The fact that he's been able to maintain his integrity and authenticity and avoid being devoured by the persona - that's such a testament to his character. He really is the whole package. Smart, strong, determined, sweet, compassionate, ruthless, creative, introspective, pragmatic, down-to-earth, cautious. I have always appreciated his breadth as a person. He is very multi-dimensional.

I've talked about that a bit in the past. It's part of why I feel so frustrated sometimes when fans have really shallow, superficial, fan-fictiony takes on his personality. The sweet, soft-hearted aesthete. The tragic beleaguered victim. The playful, cute, dorky romantic. The sexy, saucy, light-hearted, effeminate artist.

None of these takes can even scratch the surface of who he really is. The more I know about him the less I think I know, but I at least know one thing: he's so much more than fans give him credit for.

Florist GG AU

I wasn't remotely surprised to hear that he sometimes thinks of quitting. Even fans sometimes daydream about him quitting. Getting his life back, getting his freedom back. Living a quieter life. Surely there are many times when he is reminded of everything he is sacrificing to do what he does. Times when it feels like too high a price to pay.

But reading this article, I can honestly say that I feel he is up to the task he's taken on. He really does know who he is and what he wants, and he has all of the integrity, emotional and psychological strength to make the most of this career.

My hope that he will start to shed some of the toxic traffic fans and build a stronger, more enduring, more rational fanbase. That he will begin to break free of the shackles of stratospheric popularity and settle into a more stable, satisfying career as a respected actor.

AND SINGER. PLEASE GG! 🥹

It was such a great article, and I feel like I got a glimpse of something new about him that I did not know, which is so rare. I feel like I've been gifted more insight into him, and I have so much gratitude for his willingness to share that with us all.

Regarding candy

A few people wrote me in a big panic over 'what this article meant' for GG and DD's relationship. They had worked themselves up into a state where they felt that if GG and DD were in a relationship, GG wouldn't have said or felt the things he did in the article.

Glass-hearted turtles will need to transform themselves into tortoise-shelled turtles, or they will not survive this fandom. And frankly, those kinds of takes on things sometimes reflect a lack of life experience or realistic understanding of GG and DD as ordinary humans in a relationship.

Some turtles seem to view everything from or about GG and DD as either proof that they're a couple, or proof they are not, with no neutral content and no in betweens. In short, they look at everything GG and DD-related to see what kind of candy it is. And the thing they need to get through their heads is

👉🏻 almost nothing from or about GG or DD will actually be a candy. 👈🏻

Anyone who has ever been in a serious long term relationship knows, there's actually very little about our day-to-day lives that revolves around our partner. My interests and hobbies, most of my social interactions, certainly everything about my work has absolutely nothing to do with my partner. He almost never comes up as a topic or factor in any of it.

And yet we are happily married, and have been for a long time.

As I am frequently saying, GG and DD are individuals first, a couple second. We need to love and respect them in that same order.

This article is about GG and his career. It's an important article about his inner life experience as a celebrity. It has absolutely nothing to do with DD. I find it baffling why anyone would expect it to.

If you are looking for candy, most of the time you will find no candy. If that causes you pain, you are in the wrong fandom. GG and DD aren't here to give us candy. They aren't here to prove anything. Nor should we be. They don't owe us anything. Certainly not 'proof of life' in their relationship.

If you read that article and didn't get that message, then you missed the entire point of the article. GG was saying to everyone, "I'm not just what people think they see, I'm not just what people expect or what they want me to be, underneath I'm a real human being."

Turtles who remember that, and who are able to love GG and DD as individuals, will be longer-lived and happier.

GG and DD's relationship is for and about them. It exists for each other, not for us. I've no doubt they appreciate the love and support turtles give them, but it's not their job to feed us. It's not their job to be trained ponies prancing around for our amusement. They don't owe us anything. Certainly not any candy about their relationship.

More on fan expectations and black-and-white thinking here.

[nobody-for-sure]

Language Barrier (Important Notes II)

Ah shit, here we go again.

Though I find it quite unbelievable that I would have to make this announcement at all, evidently it's necessary for me to make a statement about it. So here we are.

This fanfic... now bear with me here... is mine. Therefore, you do not own it, or have the right to republish it in any way without my permission.

Crazy, isn't it? I almost thought that was common sense for a while there. But to someone, it was not. So let me make this abundantly clear: reposting (not to be confused with Tumblr's reblogging) my work is absolutely, unquestioningly prohibited. (Read: not allowed.) As is claiming it as your own, naturally.

It doesn't matter if you repost it with a different title, different username, or different platform. Fanfic readers rarely stick to a single platform - they're everywhere they can be, in hopes of consuming new content. Situations like this are going to be noticed, reported, and taken down, as someone's copy of my work has been... twice now.

(Being reported and called out by a number of people and getting DMCA'd once wasn’t enough to get the hint, apparently.)

Frankly, it's embarrassing to watch them frantically scramble around after being called out for their nonsense, having a pity party for supposedly being the victim of 'haters' (while simultaneously doxxing someone for simply telling the truth) and digging in their heels like a toddler. Some of the their prior behavior was truly appalling to me as well; for example, having the audacity to ask for writing recommendations from readers and saying they would give CREDIT, despite vehemently claiming the work thus far as their own.

Everyone knows who the story belongs to, and one only needs the obvious publishing date to prove it. (And of course, if that wasn't enough, they clearly don't know the code I used for the dialogue either.)

But I digress.

I will not be making such an announcement again. Needless to say, if I find that anyone attempts to plagiarize my work (a foolish move when my story's description clearly states where it's posted), there will be consequences.

To the people who report these things to the rightful owners, thank you for your diligence. Although the first report was enough to alert me, it's good to know there are many of you who would step up to do so. Content creators rely on people like you in order to thrive and keep creating, so needless to say, if anyone witnesses something like this is the future, I'd appreciate if you'd report it.

It also stands to reason that I would not update my story while a counterfeit is up (in this case, Dec 17-Feb 7... currently), so I apologize for the wait on that front. I do have plans for the rest of it, so although there may sometimes be a long wait between chapter releases, I do fully intend to finish this story...

...is what I'd like to say. However, if between questionable comments and blatant theft it becomes too much of a hassle, I won't. As I'm sure you know, I put a lot of work into this for free, which means the only reason to keep doing it is if I enjoy it. However, I'm not afraid of tossing it away and moving on with my life if it becomes too stressful. Though I always like to assume people aren't stupid enough to continue after a warning like this, you never know. Rest assured though that I will certainly notify you if this becomes the case.

In any event, with hopes that this situation is permanently resolved, I will be continuing to draft chapters now. However, my friends, consider this a warning: do not believe everything you read on the internet. Nor should you do anything unacceptable or unlawful, as you will likely be caught.

Or, in the spirit of our main character, for those in doubt: fuck around and find out.

[nocturnalzhagreus]

8, 11, 22, 26, and 30 for Florence; 12, 14, 16, 23, and 28 for Henry :)

Oh boy its going to be a long one, lets just start with the girlie!

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

Florence is a type of person who gets curious and interested easily so she embodies this trait into cooking. Her personal favorite is to make cookies and pasta, which she likes experimenting with new recipes. In some occasions if she's a bit worn out she likes to make a cup of goat milk and read a couple novels to unwind herself

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

It all started when i got back to the twdak fandom and was also in a brainrot after reading agatha christie's novel "and then there were none". (Spoilers if you havent read it) I was a big fan of Old Justice Wargrave (or Laurence Wargrave) because he was such a well written villain with a strong sense of justice yet an "innocent" and calm sadistic demeanor. At that time i already had Florence in my drafts but i haven't got any good refs, so i decided to make my favorite old man as the refs for my girlie :>

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

In a fight or flight situation, i do think she likes to take the risk. In making decisions or to put it simple, when she joined Krueger corp. she already knew theres no turning back because her father had already "given up" on her. So she will strive to prove that she's strong enough without him. So, a fighter.

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

As much as i wanted to answer with wacky pretty flowers, i think daisies symbolizes her quite well, since it represents "innocence", loyalty, and ability to keep secrets

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

Theyre besties, your honor. Florence would really be grateful for Fiish's company because Albert could be quite a tiring boss, especially if he asks her to clean up the recent mess his patients did. Its just girlies supporting girlies yknow (and yeah they'll probably bully him also its part of the silly agenda lmao)

Now its time for Henry's turn!

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

Yes. If you have seen the small comic i made with my friend (@im-bored-so-i-draw )'s oc, Jameson Heelshire, he's one of his homies. I dont know if they let me spoil another one but theres also another guy named Gabe, and he's also part of the group.

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

With the events of him being rejected when he signed up for Myers corp, he absolutely despises Monsieur M. (Or just Myers in general) So everytime the tv at his press office has news about Myers he would reach put for the remote and change the channel to something else. He met Albert too at some point in while working, but he's still tolerable.

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

Henry's parents is indeed still alive. But the relationship is complicated. His mother was actually forced to marry his father because she was already pregnant before they were married. And Henry's mother was a scientist at Voorhees corp. And she was actually half-hearted when she had Henry. So they got divorced, and since his father regretted all of these occurences, Henry was taken in care by his uncle, Harlan. As for his relationship with them now, he still calls his dad and also his mom. Henry could only hope one day that his mother actually aswered the call when he did.

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

Only if it also benefits him. Like if you call him with the said prompt he'll just reply "and what will you give me?" And if you answered something that pleases him (like you'll help him with his "work") he'll grab his sneakers and a brand new tire to run to you with aid.

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

I have really small understanding of english terms (it isnt my first language) so what i could gather is cliques are like those groups in highschools who has specific interests (?) So i would say he would be like a movie geek ig

(I dont know what they wear so apoliogies for not drawing :'>)

[s0ulryo]

a little explanation for my hiatus if anyone was curious under the cut :D

so, while i think i don’t have to put this out here, i kinda want to address it just because my inbox is opened for asks, and i kinda feel bad for not addressing any of my messages or asks for the past several months,, everything below this could be considered a rant!!

to be quite blunt, i’ve just been super sick—nothing catastrophic to my health, but it has taken me out of school for a while, which made it difficult to catch up with the material and keep up my grades—so i’ve just been prioritizing school over my blog

i also just lost my enjoyment for writing for a while—i’ve hated the majority of content i’ve written after may/june of 2023, and i scrapped about 95 percent of anything I’ve written for this page since then—completely stopping making drafts in september (that's when i got sick + school started)

besides losing enthusiasm for writing—i’ve had no clue what to write; i’ve been severely behind in the content for most of the fandoms i write for, so i felt like i should catch up on the new content before i wrote again (idk if that made sense)

i thought a ton of the asks I’ve received were super cool!! but a lot of them went against my rules, so i just lacked the motivation to write it—i do not mean to single anyone out,, and i’m so happy that you interacted with my page!! please just be mindful that i have rules that i’d like to follow—and i hope you’re okay with that!

i have two drafts in progress atm,, a little headcanon thing for the hazbin lovers and a little drabble for the twst lovers because every time i open tumblr, i just get blasted with both those fandoms LMAOO

so if i ever get those out, i really hope you enjoy them hehe

thank you for reading this brain rot if you did, and i hope you stop by my page again <3

[galacticlamps]

I was tagged by @terryfphanatics​ (thanks! sorry I took forever - I started answering these & didn’t finish and just remembered it was in my drafts)

What book are you currently reading?

The Two Towers! which upsets me bc I’ve been at it since August (technically - I wasn’t ‘at it’ in, uh, October, November, December, January, or February, for lack of time - but I’m back at it now, and I even convinced myself to start over from the beginning so I didn’t forget anything)

What's your favourite movie you saw in a cinema this year?

sorry but the last time I went to a movie theater was probably in 2017, 2018 at the latest, so... yeah I’ve got nothing

What do you usually wear?

jeans, boots, at this point in the winter usually some combination of flannels, sweaters and/or sweatshirts. (I’ve been really cold lately)

How tall are you?

5′6″ ish

What's your star sign?

capricorn

Do you share your birthday with a celebrity or historical event?

I do, yeah

Do you go by your name or a nickname?

mostly nicknames, I have quite a few at this point. I’ve yet to pick one to use on here, I should probably do that soon, I’ve been meaning to for years now

Did you grow up to be what you wanted to be as a child?

I don’t recall ever wanting to be anything in particular as a child, honestly, but I can say that so far I’ve pretty much stuck to the career path that first caught my interest in high school, if that counts

Are you in a relationship? Who is your crush if not?

nope! and it’s been a very long time since I’ve had a serious crush either, which I’m honestly grateful for. I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship at this exact point in my life anyway, so I’m just gonna keep vaguely admiring every funny girl who’s kind to me for the time being without actually developing feelings for her. I hope It seems to be going well so far mostly

What's something you're good at versus something you're bad at?

(I’m trying to think of two that relate to each other)

I am very good at drawing objects and not at all good at drawing people! technical plans are something I’ve dealt with extensively both academically & professionally, but in the more general sense I’ve always been an ‘I can’t draw’ person. tbh I should find some of those artists who complain about backgrounds and just do all their architecture etc for them

Dogs or cats?

nothing against dogs but cats for sure, always cats

What's something you'd like to create content for?

not to sound like a jerk, but I work in the arts industry & really hate the place ‘content creation’ has come to occupy in everyone’s vocabulary, even though I totally realize that in a context like this it’s probably just trying to be a vague enough term to be inclusive of the many different things people can create. I like writing the fanfic that I do, so without switching subjects, I would like to get better at drawing people because sometimes I have ideas that would be better expressed as images or even short comics

What's something you're currently obsessed with?

Obsessing over 60s who is my baseline so I don’t think that counts - but it’s been almost a month since I watched Holding Achilles & there have only been hours when I didn’t think of it, not entire days

What's something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

Ngl, (& not to be a total downer, but) the last 12 months-ish have been an extremely busy/hectic/unpredictable year for me, with both the good & the bad stuff coming out of left field most of the time. So while there were certainly more than enough disappointments, for the most part, they weren’t the kinds of things you could be excited about beforehand (relatives dying, people fighting, strained relationships, illnesses, work stuff in a perpetual state of flux - or as I’ve taken to calling it: death disease & dubious employment). I suppose there were a lot of events I wanted to make it to that I didn’t, due to the aforementioned junk, and I certainly imagined myself getting to read more books & write more fics than I did, but that doesn’t feel like a good specific answer.

What's a hidden talent of yours?

I suppose that depends who you ask? There are lots of work or work-adjacent skills I could name that would be news to people on here, but those are such prominent parts of my life otherwise that they definitely don’t feel ‘hidden.’ But I guess even among people who expect me to be handy/crafty, more overtly artistic things tend to surprise them - like I’ve had people forget that I was the one who painted something, for instance, because that’s not the kind of skill most associate with me. (and I am very good with color & pigment tbh)

Are you religious?

nah. I’m not like, a committed atheist or anything either, I just grew up catholic & don’t go in for that anymore, nor do I have any desire to go seek out another faith

What's something you wish to have at this moment?

time uh, let’s say a haircut

tagging people kinda seems rude after taking multiple months to come up with so many kind of non-answers oops, but if anyone would like to copy the questions, either as an opportunity to do a little q&a or an excuse to tag/ask your friends, be my guest

[wondereads]

Review of I Hope This Doesn't Find You by Ann Liang

Summary

Sadie has always been an overachiever; she's got perfect grades, she's an amazing athlete, and she's the captain of her school. Everything would be perfect if Julian, her rival in practically everything, didn't also have all those things as well. Sadie and Julian are constantly butting heads, but Sadie would never do anything to affect people's opinion of her. Whenever someone annoys her, including (mostly) Julian, she writes an email and then hides it in her drafts to never see the light of day. At least, that's how it should have been, but when all her emails are sent, Sadie has to figure out how to deal with the backlash.

Plot 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Ann Liang is really doing something right because I was consumed by anxiety for the first half or two-thirds of this book. The horror of having Sadie's personal, not very palatable thoughts aired out like that had me literally nauseous. I think there's a pretty good balance between showing how Sadie was genuinely taken advantage of and how she does overreact and take things too far. So while I definitely empathized with her and wanted her to be able to mend her relationships, it didn't feel like she was being completely wronged. As this is a romance book, it's pretty light on the plot, but Sadie's efforts to win over her classmates again don't just feel like set dressing. It also has a pretty satisfying conclusion.

I'd say the one thing I didn't like was that the setting was very vague. Due to my own bias and the fact that the book is in English, I assumed the book was set in the USA until it is mentioned that Julian has a "pretentious American accent." Ann Liang herself is from Australia, so that's probably where this is set, but just a throwaway line about a landmark or something about the country to establish the setting would have been nice.

Characters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I really like Sadie. Like I mentioned with the plot, she is definitely in the wrong sometimes, but it is very easy to see things from her point of view, and there are just enough moments where she is obviously the one being wronged that the reader will really want to root for her. The story behind her obsession with perfection fits well, and I like that we take the time to also address her family issues, outside her academics and the romance. Julian is a great love interest; it's very clear why he likes Sadie, and he also has a good reason for their rivalry.

Concerning their relationship, it was so fun to see a genuine rivalry. Sadie and Julian are constantly snipping at each other and it seems Julian is just as irked by Sadie as she is by him. The way they are forced and then gradually grow closer together is very cute, and they're a great match. I just know their class has a betting pool around them.

Abigail is Sadie's best friend, and she plays a very interesting role. There is some conflict concerning her, and I appreciate how her flaws are set up very early in the story so it doesn't feel like something out of left field. Finally, Sadie's family is pretty great, especially for how they bring out Sadie's character and provide a good side conflict for the story. Sadie's brother being much more go-with-the-flow and noncommittal is a good foil to her, especially with the development at the end.

Writing Style 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Ann Liang's writing style is pretty standard for YA, she's not particularly flowery or unique, but she does a great job at capturing Sadie's character and values in the way she narrates. The way she tries to convince the reader to side with her against Julian tells us a lot about what she considers important and hints at her people-pleasing tendencies.

Also, the pacing is quite good. There's a great sense of tension that makes you want to keep reading; I likely would've finished this book in one night if I could stay up that late during the semester. With only a couple of exceptions, major scenes lead into each other pretty smoothly, creating that feeling of "well, I can't put it down now!"

Overall 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

This was an absolutely adorable contemporary romance with an amazing main character and lovely love interest. The plot is, of course, not a focus, but it strikes a good balance between fluffy wish-fulfillment and being somewhat grounded in reality. The side characters are quite well-developed, and it has that feel of un-put-down-ability with pacing that pulls you in. There are some oversights in terms of small details, but other than that this was so much fun to read and Ann Liang continues to deliver when it comes to academic rivals-to-lovers. I can always trust her with this trope!

The Author

Ann Liang: Chinese-Australian, has a labradoodle, also wrote If You Could See the Sun and This Time It's Real

The Reviewer

Hi, I'm Rose, and I review, recommend, and just talk about books. I take recommendations for books to review, and you can learn more about me in my pinned post :)

[everyonesfavoritepipecleaner]

Found

Summary: in which Spencer finds a whole lot more than a book

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2500 on the dot!

Genre: fluff, fluff, fluff ☁️

Content Warning: none!

A/N: this is the first piece of writing I’ve ever released from my drafts and into the light of day and I’m slightly terrified so bear with me!! when I wrote this I was picturing baby Spence, just so awkward in the absolute cutest way where you can’t help but fall in love with him, but there’s nothing that ties it to a specific time in the show

tagging @notanotherreidgirl - finally posting this a whole two days later, yay!

please feel free to let me know your thoughts and feedback! alright, that’s enough from me. I hope you enjoy!!

There are some people who fall in love with strangers they pass on the sidewalk, who take the long way home in search of adventure, who are predisposed to peer through the rough edges of the world in search of the beauty between the cracks.

Spencer Reid has never been the type.

He’s sitting on the metro, heading home after a long day. The team hasn’t been called on a case in almost two weeks, though there’s still the ever-present backlog of paperwork to trudge through. While Spencer normally doesn’t mind the more mundane parts of the job, it’s gotten to the point where even he has to admit he’s ready for a change of pace.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

The question cuts through the noise of the metro and Spencer snaps to attention. He looks around in a split second of confusion before he realizes his satchel is taking up the last empty seat.

“Oh. Oh! No, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes as he scrambles to pull the bag onto his lap. He had been so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice the train had grown so crowded.

“No, that’s okay!” you assure him and plop down with a small sigh of relief, resting your own bag on the floor under your seat.

Spencer, who in his flurry of movement had really only looked at your torso and your shoes, casts a curious glance to the side.

He almost wishes he hadn’t, because he’s not prepared for what he sees—sitting next to him is quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Not beautiful in a purely physical way, though he certainly thinks you are, but more so in the way that he can tell you’re wholly, unapologetically yourself. That you’re comfortable with who you are and your place in the world.

You’re a breathtaking, captivating presence, and his typically over-active mind is devoid of all thoughts but these: he wants to say hello, he feels like your paths were supposed to cross, and it doesn’t make any sense that he’s thinking this way about a complete stranger who’s spoken a total of nine words to him. Your mere existence and subsequent proximity to him have caused something to short-circuit in his brain. As he’s trying desperately to work up the courage to introduce himself the train comes to a stop—yours evidently, because just like that, you’re gone.

Disappointment settles hard into his chest. Why can’t he be more confident, more outgoing? It shouldn’t have taken him four stops to decide to strike up a conversation. He stares intently at the spot where you had been, hoping to solidify your presence in his mind, when it catches his eye: the well-worn cover of a book peeking out from below the seat. He thinks it must have slipped from your bag and leans down to grasp it, turning it over gently in his hands to be met with the title. Anna Karenina. Tolstoy.

A smile tugs at his lips as he recalls the story. He’s read it countless times, and judging by the condition of the book, so have you. His heart rate increases at the thought that you have something in common. It increases further still when it crosses his mind that there might be something identifiable in the book…something that could help him return it to you, to see you again.

He cracks open the front cover and as luck would have it, finds your name — Y/N Y/L/N — scrawled out in sweeping letters. However, that’s all he finds. No phone number, no other means of contacting you. Just your name.

His tongue pokes out to run over his bottom lip as he considers asking Garcia to find your information. But would that be crossing a line, having the FBI’s technical analyst look you up, just so he can return your book? Probably…definitely. He resigns himself to the fact that it makes more sense to turn it into the transit authority lost and found and hope it makes its way back to you.

That can wait for tomorrow, he decides, and tucks your book into his satchel where it sits among his own. Some selfish part of him wants to keep it for a while longer, if only to prolong that connection he felt. It was such an innocent moment, an everyday interaction between strangers, and yet he can't stop thinking about it.

About you.

When he arrives home, he settles onto his couch and pulls your book back out, handling it delicately like it might shatter in his hands. He opens it up to find it’s marked with annotations and doodles in the margins, sticky notes folded over the pages, and your favorite lines highlighted in a myriad of colors. Intrigued, he flips back the pages and starts from the beginning, allowing himself to be immersed in your world of thought. He almost feels guilty for peering into this window of your life you surely weren’t planning on sharing with a stranger on the metro, analyzing your handwriting and trying (but ultimately failing) not to profile you through the lens of your observations.

Almost being the operative word here. He’s too wrapped up in the honesty of your commentary, the optimistic openness your handwriting conveys, the thought-provoking questions in the margins, and the highlighted quotes that are all of his favorites, too, to feel truly guilty about anything. In fact, it only serves to heighten the inexplicable way he feels drawn to you. He wonders how it’s possible to feel this strong of a connection solely through a fleeting glance, a few words spoken, and thoughts written on a page.

He huffs out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. For someone who touts the cold hard facts of science all day, he often forgets how much of a romantic he is at heart. He can practically hear Morgan teasing him for believing, even for a millisecond, that finding this book was part of the universe’s cosmic plan, set in motion eons ago to bring two strangers together. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought, but continues exploring the notes you left in the margins anyway.

It’s the early hours of the morning before Spencer finally manages to tear himself away from your book. He simply couldn’t find the willpower to put it down, memorizing the looping curves of your handwriting as he re-lived the story through your perspective. He can’t help but laugh to himself, because of course the most brilliantly annotated book also belongs to the most mesmerizing girl he’s ever laid eyes on. After spending the night engrossed in your thoughts, he has to remind himself that he doesn’t actually know you.

But he wants to.

God, how he wants to.

At work the next day, Spencer walks into the break room with Anna Karenina still in hand. While it’s far from unusual for him to be preoccupied by a book, it’s the dreamy smile on his face that catches the attention of his teammates.

“Morning, Spence,” JJ chirps from her spot at the table with Penelope.

He doesn’t respond, too focused on the quote in front of him, ‘I always loved you, and if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be.’ It’s been highlighted so many times that the color has bled through the page and the words have taken on a subtle fade, their ink lifting ever so slightly with each pass of the highlighter. In all the times you’ve re-read the book, this is the line that stood out to you every single time, and the thought fills him with an unexpected sense of warmth.

The girls exchange a knowing look, and JJ elbows Penelope when she notices Spencer almost pour salt into his coffee instead of sugar.

Never one to exemplify patience when she feels there's gossip to uncover, the tech analyst strides over to him and plucks the book from his hands before he can object. She studies him, an uncontrollable grin breaking out on her face as he grows progressively more red under her discerning gaze. Penelope Garcia may not be a profiler, but she’s second to none when it comes to sniffing out potential romance.

“Spencer Reid! Who’s Y/N?!” She squeals gleefully as she opens the front cover and sees your name.

“Um...no one?” he says, well aware of the fact that there’s no way Garcia will drop the subject until she gets an explanation. Her raised eyebrow and crossed arms prove this, and that’s all it takes for him to cave.

“Really, I don’t know her. She sat next to me on the metro yesterday and it must have slipped out of her bag. I read it and all of her annotations last night and she just—she seems so smart, and witty, and sweet!” He rushes, hardly stopping for a breath between words. “And maybe it’s all in my head—or my heart, I don’t know —but I feel like I’m supposed to see her again.”

“You want me to look her up?” Penelope asks, all too eager at the chance to play matchmaker.

Spencer’s face changes from scarlet to a deep vermillion, “The thought did cross my mind, but, uh…it just feels like an overstep? Like I said, I don’t even know her.”

“You’re overthinking things, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “I mean, everyone’s so easy to find on social media nowadays that I don’t think—”

“I’m not on social media,” Spencer’s quick to remind her.

“Well, you’re a special circumstance,” she laughs at his interruption, “But my point is, looking someone up online to return a lost book is not as weird as you’re making it out to be.”

He considers it, about to ask his friends exactly how one goes about contacting the person who could quite possibly be the love of their life on the internet, when Derek walks over and delivers the words that signify the end of their two-week paperwork streak.

“Hotch needs us in the conference room.”

__________

Spencer steps onto the metro, ready to head home after an exhausting case. He’s staring blankly ahead, his mind running over all the things that went well and all the things that should have gone better, when a familiar face catches his attention. You look up and catch him at the exact moment he’s noticed you, the flicker of recognition shining behind your eyes. His mouth goes dry and he can hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He’s been able to think of little else than this moment since he missed his chance to say hello six days ago, but now that it’s here he has no idea what to do.

“It’s you,” he finally manages to murmur, cringing the second the words leave his mouth. Miraculously, his reaction doesn’t phase you, a laugh tumbling from your lips that threatens to melt his heart.

“It’s me,” you answer with a warm smile as he settles down into the seat next to you. “I’ve been hoping I’d run into you again.”

“You have?” he asks, incredulous. It never crossed his mind that you might have been thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you.

“Mmhmm,” you nod eagerly, and he’s sure he’s never seen anything so adorable, “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid, but just Spencer — Spencer is fine!” he rushes, his face heating up when you giggle.

“Well it’s nice to officially meet you, just Spencer,” you say, a teasing smile tugging at your features.

“It’s nice to meet you too. Oh! I, actually—“ he clears his throat as he reaches into his satchel to retrieve your book, “I actually think I have something of yours. It was on the ground under your seat the other night.”

“Oh my God! I’ve been looking everywhere for this, it’s my favorite book! I was so upset when I thought I’d lost it. Thank you!”

“I planned on taking it to the lost and found,” he insists, “but then I read it and read your annotations—which were incredibly insightful, by the way—and I…I think I held onto it hoping I’d see you again, too.”

“Well, lucky us,” you marvel at him, “I guess some things are just meant to be.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “yeah, I guess they are.”

“Wait. Hold on.” You pause, circling back to something he glossed over. “You read all of Anna Karenina in less than a week?”

“One night, actually,” he blushes.

“Wow, who are you Dr. Reid?” you ask, and there’s your laugh again, the lilting sound that makes him feel lightheaded as he smiles back at you.

The train begins to slow and you start gathering your belongings. “This is me,” you say reluctantly. “Listen, um, I know this is a bit forward, but would you want to go out sometime? Dinner, maybe?”

He’s fully beaming now, “Yeah — yes! I’d love that.” The way your face lights up when you hear his answer makes him certain he’d be willing to do absolutely anything to make you happy.

“Great!” You take out a pen and scribble something under your name on the inside cover, then hand the book over to him. “Here’s my number.” He opens his mouth to protest that he can’t take your favorite book, but you grin and shake your head as if you can read his mind.

“Add your own annotations and give it back to me on our date. I’d love to hear your thoughts. I think it’s only fair since you’ve already read mine,” you say with a wink. You wrap your hands on top of his to solidify his grip on the book and he’s quite literally shocked by the lightning he feels chase through his veins at your touch.

He blinks back, awestruck. At a loss for words for maybe the first time in his life, all he can manage to stammer out is a soft, “okay.”

“I’m really glad we met, Spencer. I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely! I’ll call you,” he says, standing up to follow you to the door as you step out onto the platform.

“Looking forward to it,” you reply with a giddy smile. You turning to wave to him as the doors close and the train pulls away, leaving you silhouetted in the fluorescent lights. He stares after you like he’s been waiting in the dark his whole life and you’re the first light on the horizon—the dawn of a new day, a promise of good to come.

There are some people who fall in love with strangers they pass on the sidewalk, who take the long way home in search of adventure, who are predisposed to peer through the rough edges of the world in search of the beauty between the cracks.

Spencer Reid has never been the type.

But with you, he feels like he could be.

[licncourt]

We all know Louis is quite vain and he knows he is attractive, but that's not enough for me and I have questions

Does he himself think he is attractive, or does he just know other people find him so?

What does he really think about his appearance and how it changed from when he was human to after he became a vampire and then throughout the decades as what's considered attractive changed? (Undoubtedly he was considered far less attractive when thin=poor and unhealthy than when heroin chic was all the rage) What decade's style was his favorite?

Though he is vain, how much does Louis actually like being this beautiful, and how much does he resent it, because it did put him into 'Helen of Troy' situations?

If you have anything more to add please do because I can never get enough of you talking about our blorbo

I am SO sorry, this is an ancient ask!! I just found it in my drafts along with a couple others!! I do have a lot of thoughts on this though

In short, I do believe Louis thinks he's attractive (and probably enjoys it to some degree), but like with plenty of other things, I imagine that comes with a lot of shame. The sins of pride and vanity would have been drilled into his head along with all the others, so I assume any enjoyment he derived from being considered attractive would've been overshadowed by that, another reason to consider himself a bad person.

I imagine that increases even further when his looks are the main reason he attracts Lestat and is chosen to be turned, and then it definitely becomes a Helen of Troy situation with Lestat and Armand, not to mention the attraction characters like David, Marius, Merrick, and even (gagvomitscreamcry) Claudia express for him. I can't see a situation where Louis feels like inspiring copious amounts of "immoral" (especially gay) lust would be a positive, especially with Lestat and Armand coming to blows over it. Yet another reason for him to see himself as inherently evil.

None of that is even mentioning the way his beauty leads to him being reduced to a pretty object by essentially everyone he considers a friend. That alone would make him resentful of it I think. Everything he's done for himself, all of his complexity as a person, gets reduced to that by friends, enemies, acquaintances, and even partners. It must hurt to be characterized as a pretty face with nothing to offer anyone even by those you love and/or would hope respect you.

All of that said, Louis strikes me as a greener grass person. I'm sure he thinks his beauty is a curse in a lot of ways and wishes he were plainer looking, that he'd be left alone and taken more seriously, but I fully believe he wouldn't like it much if he lost his looks. Louis has an ego and I think his looks contribute to that a lot, to his sense of superiority in general more than he realizes. It's another trait that makes him naturally "better" than others

As much as it's a hindrance to him, Louis' looks also add greatly to his power over others, especially Lestat, which is something he seems to enjoy very much. While in many cases he's taken less seriously because of it, being so mythologized and revered as this incredible beauty gives him significant sway when he wants something. This goes double with Lestat. Obviously Lestat loves him as person, but it's pretty obvious how completely infatuated he is with Louis' beauty and how weak he is for it.

Basically: Is he annoyed when people interrupt him reading to ask for his number? Yes. Would he psychologically collapse if that ceased to be the case? Also yes.

As far as beauty standards throughout time, I guess that comes down to how exactly you picture Louis. Personally, I imagine him as very slender and fine-boned (the way he's described), but not skinny and skeletal. He spent a lifetime in the upper class, so he would've had access better quality food, a lot of more of it, and significant leisure time. That would suggest to me that he would probably reflect that physically with a fairly healthy frame, thin, even willowy, but still proportionate and filled out. This is just my interpretation obviously, there are lots of reasons that could be different, but I think the fact that he seems to have been considered attractive as a mortal lends some credence to that.

Still, the tall, thin, sad prettyboy look would've gotten him a long way in the 90s, so that, combined with the lower maintenance clothing styles, makes me think he would've liked it. It's undeniably nice to your personal features be "in style", even if you're Louis. If the fashion matches what you like, even better. Layers, dark colors, earth tones, artfully unbrushed hair, comfort and functionality as a staple of fashion, all if sounds very Louis. The 80s and 00s seem way more Lestat-friendly in terms of fashion.

(I'll spare y'all on this post, but ask me about my Louis and Lestat NPC outfits)

[pumpkinpaix]

mdzs fandom, diaspora, and cultural exchange

Hey everyone. This post contains a statement that’s been posted to my twitter, but was a collaborative effort between several diaspora fans over the last few weeks. Some of the specifics are part of a twitter-localized discourse, but the general sentiments and issues raised are applicable across the board, including here on tumblr.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably seen a few of my posts about this fandom, cultural exchange, and diasporic identity. For example, here, here, and here. This statement more directly criticizes some of the general issues I and others have raised in the past, and also hopefully provides a little more insight into where those issues come from. I would be happy if people took the time to read and reblog this, as the thought that went into it is not trivial, and neither is the subject matter. Thank you.

Introduction

Hello. I'm a member of a Chinese diaspora discord server - I volunteered to try and compile a thread of some thoughts regarding our place and roles in the fandom expressed in some of our recent discussions. This was primarily drafted by me and reviewed/edited by others with the hopes that we can share a cohesive statement on our honest feelings instead of repeatedly sharing multiple, fragmented versions of similar threads in isolation.

This was compiled by one group of diaspora and cannot be taken to represent diaspora as a whole, but we hope that our input can be considered with compassion and understanding of such.

For context, we are referencing two connected instances: the conflict described in these two threads (here and here), and when @/jelenedra tweeted about giving Jewish practices to the Lans. Regarding the latter, we felt that it tread into the territory of cultural erasure, and that it came from a person who had already disrespected diaspora’s work and input.

Context

The Lans have their own religious and cultural practices, rooted both in the cultural history of China and the genre of xianxia. Superimposing a different religious practice onto the Lans amidst other researched, canonical or culturally accurate details felt as if something important of ours was being overwritten for another’s personal satisfaction. Because canon is so intrinsically tied to real cultural, historical, and religious practices, replacing those practices in a canon setting fic feels like erasure. While MDZS is a fantasy novel, the religious practices contained therein are not. This was uncomfortable for many of us, and we wanted to point it out and have it resolved amicably. We were hoping for a discussion or exchange as there are many parallels and points of relation between Chinese and Jewish cultures, but that did not turn out quite as expected.

What happened next felt like a long game of outrage telephone that resulted in a confusion of issues that deflected responsibility, distracted from the origin of the conflict, and swept our concern under the rug.

Specifically, we are concerned about how these two incidents are part of what we feel is a repeated, widespread pattern of the devaluing of Chinese fans’ work and concerns within this fandom. This recent round of discourse is just one of many instances where we have found ourselves in a position of feeling spoken over within a space that is nominally ours. Regardless of what the telephone game was actually about, the way it played out revealed something about how issues are prioritized.

Background

MDZS is one of the first and largest franchises of cmedia that has become popular and easily accessible outside of China. Moreover, it’s a piece of queer Chinese media that is easily accessible to those of us overseas. For many non-Chinese fans, this is the first piece of cmedia they have connected with, and it’s serving as their introduction to a culture previously opaque to them. What perhaps is less obvious is that for many Chinese diaspora fans, this is also the first piece of cmedia THEY have connected with, found community with, seen themselves in.

Many, many of us have a fraught relationship with our heritage, our language—we often suffer from a sense of alienation, both from our families and from our surrounding peers. For our families, our command of the language and culture is often considered superficial, clunky, childish. Often, connecting with our culture is framed as a mandatory academic duty, and such an approach often fosters resentment towards our own heritage. For our non-Chinese peers, our culture is seen as exotic and strange and other, something shiny and interesting to observe, while we, trapped in the middle, find ourselves uprooted and adrift.

MDZS holds an incredibly important place in many diaspora’s hearts. Speaking for myself, this is literally the first time in my life I have felt motivated and excited about my own native tongue. It's the first time I have felt genuine hope that I might one day be able to speak and read it without fear and self-doubt. It is also the first time that so many people have expressed interest in learning from me, in hearing my thoughts and opinions about my culture.

This past year and a half in fandom has been an incredible experience. I know that I am not alone in this. So many diaspora I have spoken to just in the last week have expressed similar sentiments about the place MDZS holds in their lives. It is a precious thing to us, both because we love the story itself, and because it represents a lifeline to a heritage that’s never felt fully ours to grasp.

It’s wonderful to feel like we are able to welcome our friends into our home and show them all these things that have been so formative to our identities, and to be received with such enthusiasm and interest. Introducing this to non-Chinese friends and fans has also been an opportunity to bridge gaps and be humanized in a way that has been especially important in a year where yellow peril fear mongering has been at an all-time high.  

History

However, MDZS’ rise in popularity among non-Chinese audiences has also come with certain difficulties. It is natural to want to take a story you love and make it your own: that’s what transformative fandom is all about. It is also natural that misunderstandings and unintentional missteps might happen when you aren’t familiar with the ins and outs of the culture and political history of the story in question. This is understandable and forgivable—perfection is impossible, even for ourselves.

We hope for consideration and respect when we give our knowledge freely and when we raise the issue of our own discomfort with certain statements or actions regarding our culture. Please remember that what is an isolated incident to you might be a pattern of growing microaggressions to us. In non-Asian spaces, Asian diaspora are often lumped together under one umbrella. In the west, a lot of Chinese diaspora attach themselves to Korean and Japanese media in order to feel some semblance of connection to a media which approximates our cultures because there are cultural similarities. This is the first time we've collectively found community around something that is actually ours, so the specificities matter.

There is a bitterness about being Asian diaspora and a misery in having to put up a united front about racial issues. Enmity towards one group becomes a danger to all of us, all while our own conflicted histories with one another continue to pass trauma down through the generations. Many of us don’t even watch anime in front of our grandparents because of that lingering cultural antipathy. When the distinctions between our cultures are muddled, it feels once again like that very fraught history is flattened and forgotten.

Without the lived experience of it, it’s hard to understand how pervasive the contradictory web of anti-Asian and, more specifically, anti-Chinese racial aggressions are and how insidious its effects are. The conflation of China the political entity (as perceived and presented by the US and Europe) with its people, culture, and diaspora results in an exhausting litany of criticism levied like a bludgeon, often by people who don’t understand the complicated nature of a situation against those of us who do.

There is often a frankly stunning lack of self-awareness re: cultural biases and blind spots when it comes to discussions of MDZS, particularly moral ones. There are countless righteous claims and hot takes on certain aspects of the story, its author, and the characters that are so clearly rooted in a Euroamerican political and moral framework that does not reflect Chinese cultural realities and experiences. Some of these takes have become so widespread they are essentially accepted as fanon.

This is a pattern of behavior within the fandom. It is not limited to any specific group, nor does it even exclude ourselves—we are, after all, not a monolith, and we should not be placed on pedestals to have our differing opinions weaponized against one another in fandom squabbles. We are not flawless in our own understandings and approaches, and we would appreciate it if others would remember this before using any of us as ultimate authorities to settle a personal score.

It is difficult not to be disheartened when enthusiastic interest crosses the line into entitled demand and when transformative work crosses into erasure, especially when the reactions to our raised concerns have so frequently been dismissive and hostile. The overwhelming cultural and emotional labor we bring to the table is often taken advantage of and then criticized in bad faith. We are bombarded with racist aggressions, micro and macro, and then met with ridicule and annoyance when we push back. Worse, we sometimes face accusations of hostility that force us to apologize, back down, and let the matter go.

When we bring up our issues, it usually seems to come with the expectation that there are other issues that should be addressed before we can address ours. It feels like it’s never really the time to talk about Asian issues.

On the internet and in fandom spaces, Western-coded media, politics and perspectives are assumed to be general knowledge and experience that everyone knows and has. It feels like a double standard that we are expected to know the ins and outs of western politics and to engage on these terms, but most non-Chinese have not even the slightest grasp of the sort of politics that are at play within our communities. We end up feeling used for our specialized knowledge and cultural background and then dismissed when our opinions and problems are inconvenient.

As the culture represented in MDZS is not a culture that most non-Chinese fans are familiar with, we’d like to remind you that you do not get to decide which parts of it are or are not important. While sharing this space with Chinese diaspora who have a close connection to the work and the painful history that goes along with being diaspora, we ask that you be mindful of listening to our concerns.

Cultural erasure is tied to a lot of intense historical and generational trauma for us that maybe isn't immediately evident: the horrors of the Pacific theatre, the far-reaching consequences of colonization, racial tensions both among ourselves and with non-Chinese etc. These are not minor or simple things, and when we talk about our issues within fandom, this is often what underlies them. This is one of the first and only places many of us have been able to find community to discuss our unique issues without feeling as if we’re speaking out of turn.

With the HK protests, COVID, the anti-Chinese platforms of the US election etc., anti-Chinese sentiment has been at the forefront of the global news cycle for some time now, and it is with complete sincerity that we emphasize once again how important MDZS fandom has been as a haven for humanizing and valuing Chinese people through cultural exchange.

Experiencing racial aggression within that space stings, not just because it’s a space we love, but because it feels like we’ve been swimming in rapidly rising racial aggression for over a year at this point.

Feelings

This is a difficult topic to broach at the best of times, and these are not the best of times. Many of us have a wariness of rocking the boat instilled in us from our upbringings, and it is not uncommon for us to feel like we should be grateful that people want to engage with something of ours at all. When we do decide to speak up, we’ve learned that there is a not insignificant chance that we’ll be turned on and trampled over because what we’ve said is inconvenient or uncomfortable. When it is already so difficult to speak up, we end up second-guessing and gaslighting ourselves into wondering whether there really was a problem at all.

We’d like to be able to share what we know about our culture and have our knowledge and experience be taken seriously and treated with courtesy. This is a beautiful, rich world built with the history of our ancestors, one that we too are trying to connect with. When we find it in ourselves to speak up about it, we would appreciate being met with consideration instead of hostility.

We don't have the luxury of stepping away from our culture when we get tired of it. We don't get to put it down and walk away when it’s difficult. But if you're not Chinese or Chinese diaspora, you get to put this book down—we'd like to kindly request that you put it down gently because of how much it matters to all of us in this fandom, regardless of heritage.

What we are asking for is reflection and thoughtfulness as we continue to engage with this work and with one another, especially with regards to how Chinese issues are positioned. When we raise issues of our own discomfort, please take a moment to reflect before reacting defensively or trying to shut us down for spoiling the fun—don’t deprioritize our concerns, especially in a fandom for a piece of Chinese media. We promise most of us are not trying to start shit for the sake of a fight. Most of the time, all we want is acknowledgement and a genuine attempt at understanding.

Our hope with this statement is to encourage more openness and understanding between diaspora and non-Chinese fans while we navigate this place that we’re sharing. Please remember that for many of us, MDZS is far more intense than a typical fandom experience. Remember that the knowledge we have and research we do is freely and happily given, and that it costs us both materially and emotionally. Please don’t take that for granted. Remember too that sometimes the reason for our discomfort may not be immediately evident to you: what seems culturally neutral and harmless might touch upon specific loaded issues for us. We ask for patience, and we ask for sincerity as we try to communicate with one another.

We are writing this because there’s a collective sense of imposed silence—that every time the newest round of discourse crops up, we often feel as if we’re walking away having created no meaningful change, and nursing new wounds that we’ll never get to address. But without speaking up about it, this is a cycle that will keep repeating.

This is not meant to shame or guilt the fandom into throwing themselves at our feet, either to thank us or beg for forgiveness—far from that. We’re just your friends and your fellow fans. We are happy to have you here, and we’re happy to create and share and play together. We just ask to be respected and heard.

Thank you. Thank you for listening. Several of us will be stepping back from twitter for a while. We’ll see you when we get back. ❤️

* A final addendum: here are two articles with solid practical advice on writing stories regarding a culture other than your own.

Cultural Appropriation for the Worried Writer: Some Practical Advice

Cultural Appropriation: Some More Practical Advice

The thread on twitter is linked in the source of this post. Thanks everyone.

[bardic-inspo]

Writing/Personal Update

Hey friends/acquaintances/denizens of an overlapping internet space! I’ve been sort of quiet for a while and might be for a bit longer, but I’m still here, I swear! And I just wanted to update you on the state of Megh and things Megh Writes. 

Things Megh: 

Now that I’ve gotten a chance to share with some close friends/family, I can share here, too: I got engaged a couple weekends ago!! Holy shit!!

My partner and I have been together for about nine years, living together for five or so. We’re not traditional in most senses, and while we’re still planning to celebrate, it’s sort of a micro version of the big party thing. Marriage means a lot of things to different folks. To us, I think it’s a formality. Not really meant to mark a definitive change in the relationship, but a nod to what we’ve built over time and what we intend to build in the future. We had talked about it quite a lot and I had a sense it was coming soon, but he did surprise me! And apparently, he’s been trying to execute that surprise all summer, but I’ve been unwittingly foiling his plans of getting me to a particular location. Woops!  😂

Also, I’m traveling soon! And also maybe buying a fixer-upper house, who knows! I sure don’t at the time I’m writing this. 😂They haven’t gotten back to us yet. I quit my chiropractor and started physical therapy and it’s amazing! My boss quit and work is so far, so much better. Ahh!!

Anyways, all that to say, I’m doing very well, but a lot of things have been happening all suddenly at once in big ways, and so I’m trying to catch my breath and just take in the moment a little bit. It has made writing time slim lately.

Things Megh Writes:

I have started BtG Chapter 28, I swear! But it’s going to be some time yet before it’s ready to be read. Instead of doing Nano as I’d considered this November, I’m hoping to get the chapter out in the first half of November, and am making it my goal to get drafted a chapter ahead again before the end of the year.

I do have something smaller I’ve been tinkering with that I hope to share sometime soon.  😉

And in the meantime please know that I so appreciate the support. Even if I’ve taken time to respond or haven’t yet, just know that it means the world <3 And I hope the world is being very kind all of you!! 

[phoebe-delia]

Hi Phoebe! May I please ask for #15 from your song prompts list? ☺️

El, hello!! @3lvendork I am so sorry this has taken so long. I don't forget about the prompts in my ask box, and I'm lucky to have quite a handful between my inbox and my drafts, but I wait for inspiration to strike and the timing to be right for each one so I can give it my best. Still, apologies for the wait!

So, this song is "cardigan" by Taylor Swift (shocking, I know). For those who may not know, this song is part of a trilogy story on the album "folklore." It's a love triangle, with three songs each from the perspective of a different character, and I'm going to follow in that lead and do a little trilogy of my own! I've already done the one for "august." That being said, you don't have to have read the "august" fic for this to make sense, but it is taking place in the same universe, as will the eventual "betty" fic. Enjoy! cw: struggling marriage (not Drarry).

He's prettier than me.

It's okay, I know it's true. He's just pretty, with his aristocratic cheekbones and storm-colored eyes and unblemished skin; I'm covered in freckles, and I've got acne scars on the round cheeks I inherited from my mother. He's lithe and slender, and I'm stockier, my hips full and curved. And just because he's prettier doesn't make me ugly—please don't be so patronizing as to assume that I need your validation, nor am I trying to deflect so you think I'm trying to be strong.

I don't have to try to be strong; I already am.

That's the difference between him and me; well, one of them, anyway. I don't need you as motivation to be courageous. It's in my blood, in my voice, in my eyes. I am strength, and that's what you love about me.

I thought that would be enough. I thought that summer you spent with him was the last of your savior complex burning itself out before you were ready to be with someone who didn't need rescuing. And maybe if it had been anyone else, that would've been true.

Honestly, I should've known it would be different with him. You've always been different with him.

Growing up, I had to prove that I was tough, resilient, in a house full of older boys. I had to show them I was just as fast, as powerful, as smart. And yet, there's something about being the younger sister that means I'll always be a step behind in their eyes, no matter how many miles ahead I really am.

Maybe you really were too much like my brother for us to be together in the way I want—wanted. Maybe you'll always see me that way: speedwalking to keep up, trying to hide my panting breaths through snarky retorts. Because it didn't matter how many boys in your year I dated, or Quidditch matches I won, or times I kissed you first. You have six brothers, but I'll always be the closest thing you have to a little sister.

I knew that the promise of legally entering my family would be enough to bring you back to me, and I'd hoped the connection we'd had before the war would be enough to keep you there. I think it was—it is. We loved each other fully, for a while. I remember long talks on sunbathed sidewalks, nights full of takeaway and stupid films on the couch, kisses under the mistletoe, and snowball fights at the Burrow for Christmas. We fixed up your parents' old place in Godric's Hollow. Ron and Hermione come over for dinner once a week. We have a crup that we just trained to piss outside. We have jobs that make us happy to leave the house every morning and a home worth returning to. There's even a book of baby names on my bedside table.

But that doesn't stop you from glancing around the room at Ministry events to seek out the shock of white-blond hair. You'll let yourself be pulled into his orbit as much as the tether to my side will allow, but your eyes, your mind, your devotion comes back to me, ever faithful. Even if your heart is elsewhere.

Should I wait it out? Should I play the part of the oblivious wife who doesn't notice her husband's wandering eyes? Or should I live up to my promise to myself to never lose my nerve, tap into the force I keep in my blood, my voice, my eyes, and hurl the truth at your feet? Show you how strong I really am?

Maybe I'll just wait until one of us runs out of love first. Who will get there first? Will it be you, tired of pining away and wracked with guilt, sliding the divorce papers across the table for me to sign? Or will it be me, tired of trying to make you love a version of me who probably never existed in the first place, watching you desperately want someone who I can tell not only loves you but also needs you? It'll be a race to the end, in a contest with no winner.

I'll see you at the finish line, Harry.

I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[chocominnie]

Wasted Times- Pjm.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: A lot of Fluff, Angry Sex, Slight BDSM, Dom!Jimin, Jealous Reader, Fuckboy!Jimin, oral sex, Penatration, Foot Job?, kissing, spankings, seriously lots of jealousy and tension, use of the word ‘’whore’’, exhibitionism, cum in pants

Word count: 5.8k

Authors Note: So this is a draft of mine from way long ago. It was also posted on another account I used to be apart of, but no longer am. It’s an oldie but goodie. 

Copyright:  please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken.

Summary:  Two weeks, five days and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

If it wasn’t for Hoseok that whole night wouldn’t have happened. Despite you already knowing of Jimin, what you didn’t know is that looks can deceive. Oh yes, they deceived you very well. When you met him it felt like it was unreal? It felt as though you were talking to an angel. The butterflies in your stomach whenever he spoke made you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. So unreal.

A cute cheeky smile and a squeaky laugh. Someone’s who’s kind hearted, as what you previously had heard from Hoseok himself. Oh, but did he leave the major detail out from you.

He’s a fuckboy.

One that knows exactly how to play his cards right. Knows how to get into a girl's pants and make them melt with the sweet and dirty things that pout out his mouth like honey. He has the looks and charms for it. The hand he runs through his hair constantly, those pink full lips begging to be touched by someone else. 

You’ve only recently found out about most of the girls he’s slept with. It wasn’t a lot but enough for him to qualify to get tested every month. All because he can’t keep his god damn dick in his pants. And you, the fool, fell for it. You fell for his ways. 

Yet he pretends to know nothing. He pretends like he didn’t break your heart by saying he can’t commit to a relationship. He was just a one night stand. He fucking acts that nothing happened between you two prior to having sex.... and it hurts.

Now you’re sitting in your office stuck in-between whether to let that night go, or to bring it up with him. Because surely, he felt something too when you guys made love for an hour and a half right? Right?

‘‘Y/N. Did you hear me?’ ‘  

You quickly snap back to reality to the nagging voice beside you. Taking a sip of your peppermint tea, you turn towards the young girl. Her full bangs compliment her perfectly shaped face. Her long, straight hair that curls at the end a bit is jet black with no sign of split ends or damage. She holds a blue folder tightly to her chest with a cheeky smile upon her face.  

‘‘Mrs. Jane would like to see your work for this month’s upcoming project. Do you have the rough draft done?’ ‘  

You nod, ‘’ I’ve finished it already. Are you collecting?’’ The girl nods her head and holds out her dainty pale hand. Next to you is your documents drawer which you rummage through for a good minute or so before finding your pink folder with all the information and sketches.  

‘‘Thanks..’‘ She smiles, then walks away to her next prey. You let out a big sigh and place your hands in-between your head. Never have you had someone constantly be on your mind.  

It was killing you.  

‘‘ Child are you okay?’‘ 

You turn towards the voice to your left which sits next to you is your best-friend. Her smirk lets you know she knows what you’re thinking about. She knows. She also knows about that one night stand that you couldn’t shut up about two weeks ago. 

You try to hold back your laugh, ‘’ I’m. fine.’’ You manage to choke out. She shakes her head again with that damned smirk on her face. ‘’ Was he that good that he has you sitting here contemplating life honey?’’ 

Your eyes go eyes go wide and soon enough you find yourself swatting her thigh while trying to cover your face of embarrassment. ‘’ Stop! Geez I shouldn’t have even told you about it.’’

‘‘ I knew about him before you even did. Once you told me after the fact, I automatically recognized who he was by the way you described his features so well.’‘ She shrugs, swiveling her chair around to face you. You do the same.

‘‘ What?’‘

‘‘ I went to high school with him. Park Jimin right? He was a ladies girl. Everyone wanted him. Plus he was a former dancer.’‘ 

Former dancer? It all makes sense. The way his body was nicely toned, not to muscly but noticeable. The way his hips moved every which way making sure his sinful area poked and pried at every nerve inside your walls. Made you let out strings of moans and whimpers because of how good he felt inside you. You’ve never felt something like that before. How dare he.

‘’ Well he has a cute friend. His name is Tae... Tae something. I don’t know but they were also friends in highschool. He was a handsome boy as well. If you would like to you know... tap that.’‘ She giggles.

Who does she think you are? Some type of person who gives away sex for a living? Definitely not. By the looks of your face she quickly abandons the subject. You decide it’s best to get back on task before your whore of a boss comes back around.

Only before that petite girl, with the bangs and perfectly trimmed straight hair, comes back with your folder and a ton of papers for you. As if this this day could  get any worse.

‘‘ No I don’t want to go tonight.’’ 

It feels like you’ve said this on the phone more than ten times. You’re sure of it. He just doesn’t want to give up. You’d rather be in the comfort of your home cuddled up in a blanket watching Netflix all day. After-all, it is a Friday night and it has been a very stressful week for you in the office. A nice hot bath and a binge worthy tv show is all you want right now. It’s what you deserve.

‘‘ Come with us it’ll be fun. You can invite your hot best friend too.’‘ He says, and you know he’s smirking on the other line. ‘‘ Hoseok for one, you will not hook up with my best friend understand? Two, i’m tired. I want to sleep.’‘

‘‘ Oh come on Y/N it’ll be fun. It’s just a night out on the strip. It’ll be fun. I’m bringing Jimin.’‘ He tapers off at the end to wait for your reaction. 

Could this be it? Another chance to see Jimin. Your chance to ask him.. if that night he felt something. Surely he did right? 

‘‘ I’ll come. But that doesn’t mean i’m coming for Jimin. I’m bringing Scar with me as well.’‘

A few seconds of silence fills the other line. Which you know that Hoseok probably muted himself to scream in success. You take this time to think about what you’re going to wear. Something that’s eye catching? Or something that’s casual yet classy since it is just hanging around downtown. Why not do both?

Hoseok come’s back to the line and you notice he’s more cheerful. It makes you smile to yourself, how cute. ‘‘ Be there in 45 minutes. We’ll be waiting by Krystal okay? Meet us out front of that place.’‘

You two say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. Anticipation runs deep through you lacing your blood with it. Just the thought of seeing him again rubs you the right way. 

Going into your closet, you take a good look at it and decide on a casual yet classy outfit. One that will surely catch his attention but very presentable as well. You hope that it’s going to pull through. Taking out your phone, you send a text message to Scarlet telling her all the details and to meet you here. 

‘’This will be one hell of a night.’’ You smirk to yourself as you pull out the accessories to your outfit. 

It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell constantly ring that broke you out of your trance of admiring yourself in the mirror. You look ravishing. Delectable. Every thing in the book. Surely you must have been admiring for quite some time because twenty minutes had passed and you didn’t even know it.

The doorbell ringing comes to a halt once you open the door forcefully. Scarlet greets you with a smile and a hug before coming inside. 

‘’ Okay does this make my ass look bigger than it already is?’’

You glance over at Scarlet who’s posing in-front of the hallway mirror, earning a small chuckle from you. ‘’ Yes, that dress always look’s good on you.’’

Scarlet grins at you, ‘’ Thanks. I try I try. You look sexy Y/N. Who’s getting it tonight? ’’

You giggle once more before  adjusting your black dress ‘’ You look so good Y/N i’m not lying. Did you put some make-up on?’’

You shyly nod your head yes, ‘’ Just a little. Not one of my dramatic looks.’’

‘‘ It suits the mood for tonight. Nothing to dramatic, more neutral.’‘ Scarlet says, picking up her purse again. ‘’ The dress does bring out your curves.’‘ She steps back and pulls out her phone for a snapchat picture. 

The two of you pose in the mirror for a quick second then giggle afterwards. Scarlet brings her phone back down as her fingers begin to type at a rapid speed. ‘I’m going to caption it; Going out with my babe!’’ 

You on the other hand were to busy into the hearts snapchat filter with Scar in the background of your video. You tap her with a smile and she looks up with a smile as well. ‘’ We are so gonna be late Scar. ’’

‘‘ Okay. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.’‘ 

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. The cool breeze is enough for you to handle. Not to cold and not to hot of a breeze. Downtown is busy tonight, especially the strip. The neon signs blare into your vision, the cars speed past with drunk laughing people. Music plays coming from each store or bar you two pass. There’s a jazz man who’s playing some cool tunes next to the giant water fountain. You drop a ten dollar bill into his case hoping to brighten those tunes up a bit. Couples are everywhere you look. You haven’t been downtown in such a long time. Everything feels so brand new to you. It’s so lively. 

Scarlet walks confidently in-front of you, hips swaying naturally. You see Hoseok down the sidewalk waiting at the entrance for your arrival. Behind him is Jimin who looks fine tonight. He wears a long sleeve white Stussy t-shirt with black distressed jeans that show off his thighs. The same thighs that flexed with each thrust two weeks ago. The same thighs you wanted to ride because they had you soaking wet. Oh geez.

‘‘ Y/N! ahhh you look so good tonight!’‘ Hoseok grabs your hand and twirls you around a little. ‘‘ You’re right. Wow Y/N.’‘ A voice comes from behind him.

Part of you just wants to melt right into his arms right then and there. Keep it together.

‘‘ You don’t look bad yourself Jimin.’‘ It’s like your eyes refused to make eye contact with him. You want to, but can’t pull yourself to do it. ‘‘ And this is my best friend Scarlet.’‘

‘‘ Hello I’m Scarlet or Scar for short. Nice to meet you.’‘ She smiles, Jimin takes her hand and gives it a kiss. His eyes never leaves hers when he does so.

Scarlet lets out one of her nervous giggles as he lets her hand go. ‘’ How sweet.’’ Jimin smirks at her, ‘’ No worries. I’m Jimin, Park Jimin my love.’’ 

You almost choke at those last two words. My love? Seriously?

‘‘ Okay enough now that you’ve met my flirty friend who doesn’t know boundaries...’‘ Hoseok glares at him, earning a shrug from Jimin. ‘‘ .. I’m Hoseok. I’ve seen you on Y/N’s social media.. and I must say you are very pretty.’‘

‘‘ Thank you Hoseok. You are handsome as well.’’ She says.

You decide to end this introduction and start off the night. ‘‘ Alright enough of the talking. Can we have some fun tonight?’‘

‘‘ I agree, let’s get some drinks first.’‘ 

Only one hour in and you’ve only had one long island ice tea that you haven’t even finished yet. Somehow you’ve got tricked into third wheeling. Hoseok and Scarlet seem to be hitting it off very well walking in front of you.  But walking next to you is a quite Jimin. He’s to busy scrolling and typing on social media for him to even notice you. Oh so you thought.

‘‘ Y/N...’‘

The butterflies in your stomach begin. What could he want? ‘’ Hmm.’’

Jimin locks his phone and places it in his pocket. He then looks at you with that oh so familiar warm smile. ‘’ They seem to be hitting it off well yeah?’’

Oh. ‘’ Yeah. I ship it.’’ You giggle, crossing your arms.’’ How have you been? Haven’t seen your pretty self in weeks.’’ 

‘‘ I’m fine. You know, work and stuff.’‘ 

‘‘ Yes I can say the same. I’ve got some things going on as well.’‘ His eyes shift back towards the busy city. ‘‘ I’d be lying if I didn’t say I missed you.’‘

You stop dead in your tracks. He missed you? All this time you had thought he didn’t care but he does? ‘’ Missed me huh. Or did you miss the idea of me.’’

He smiles, ‘’ Can it be both?’’

You decide to let that comment slide. ‘’ Well Jimin. I missed you too.’’

‘‘ Great so I can do this.’‘

You’re caught off guard by his lips connecting with yours. Both of you move in sync with each other. Jimin open’s his mouth more so his tongue can move more freely inside of yours.  Both of your tongues fight for dominance making you moan inside the kiss. His hands cup your face, sending chills up your spine. Soon you find yourself whimpering for more, but you can’t let it go this far so you break away first.

‘‘ Hmm I missed those lips on mine. Sorry if I spooked you my love.’‘ Those dark brown eyes look deep into yours. ‘‘ I missed us talking constantly before we..’‘ He trails off, looking away from you smiling shyly.

‘‘ Yeah me too. We spent a lot of time texting and calling each other before that. But after that night we sort of.. stopped? I’ve been meaning to bring this up without it being awkward.’‘ You bite your lip, fiddling with your fingers.

Jimin looks around you guys. Scarlet and Hoseok are nowhere to be found. As he expected. ‘’ Well it looks like our friends ditched us. Have you eaten?’’

‘‘ I munched on something before I came here with you guys.’‘ You say, eyes shifting towards the city again. ‘‘ Well if you’re up for a little bit more of a walk I know this good place on the boardwalk. We are getting closer and closer to the beach.’‘

‘‘ Is this you asking me on a date Park Jimin?’‘ You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. ‘‘ It can be considered our first friendly date. I would love to take you out some other time where it’s not last minute my love.’‘

‘‘ Stop saying that.’‘

‘‘ Saying what?’‘

You roll your eyes playfully, ‘’ My love. Stop saying it.’’

Jimin raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, ‘’ Did you just roll your eye at me.. my love?’’ Your cheeks have never hurt this much before from constantly smiling, but tonight you just cant stop them. ‘’ And if I did?’’

‘‘ I suggest you don’t do that again.’‘ 

The walk wasn’t as far as you thought. Jimin had linked his hand in yours on the way there. It surprised you for a minute but you let it happen. He hasn’t let go since. The two of you are sat down at a table outside by a waitress who cannot keep her eyes away from Jimin. Only if she knew how much of a sex god he was. Then she really wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes away.

‘‘ The moon looks beautiful tonight.’‘ He nods his head over towards the sky. Your eyes gaze over the sandy beach and waves that crash onto the shore. The moon lit sky peering over it looks beautiful.

Jimin brings both of your hands onto the table and intertwines them with his. A smile appears on his face when he sees you shyly try to hide your smile from him. Jimin’s most favorite feature of you is your smile, and moans of course, but your smile brings him happiness. It’s something about the way your lips curl up into a smile and your eyes narrow a little bit with it. Or when you laugh at one of his comments or jokes. It makes him happy inside and out.

‘‘ So, what were you saying earlier my love?’‘

You playfully roll your eyes again at that nickname. Before you can roll them again, Jimin’s smile drops and he let’s go of your right hand. You furrow your eyebrows at him for a second until you’re caught off guard with a tiny slap to the inside of your thigh. You hiss at the pain.

He says, ‘‘ Stop rolling your eyes at me. playful or not my love, I don’t like it.’‘ 

‘‘ Fine but stop calling me that nickname. You said it to Scarlet. Now I don’t want it anymore.’‘ You say, attitude high with your arms crossed.

Jimin chuckles and lets his tongue swipe across the inside of his jaw, ‘’Someone’s jealous.’’

‘’ I just see the name is useless is all if you’re calling other girls that.’‘

‘‘ Hmm jealous now aren’t we?’‘ He smirks, leaning back in his chair. ‘‘ Says the one who was all over me that night. Practically craving me. Now, what If i let someone else do that hmm? Equivalent to you calling other girls that name.’‘

His smirk never lets up. You know you trying to act all tough isn’t going to last. It’s just not in you. But what you can do is make him jealous and tease him for a while. You consider it a payback for those two weeks of hell you went through.

‘‘ I’m enjoying our night out Jimin. Thank you for taking the time to catch up with me tonight.’‘ Your face is innocent as ever, sipping on your water. 

His expression changes when your foot travels up his leg and onto his crotch and slowly grazes over the tip of his dick. Jimin glares and bites his lip at the constant friction between the head and your foot going in agonizingly slow circles. He let’s both of your hands go to try and pry your leg away but you increase pressure making him choke out a small wince.

‘‘ Aww. Cute.’‘ 

Jimin’s head pops up with a death glare on his face, ‘’ Don’t call me that after you just tried to pull some type of stun-’’

Your foot begins it’s slow circles again. It’s fun watching him stop his sentences. The way he holds in his moans and bites his lip. It turns you on very much.

“Fuck,” He grunts, eye’s closed.

You stop once your food arrives. The same waitress that can’t keep her eyes off of Jimin. She makes eye contact with her, and he winks as she places the food in-front of him. Your face drops into a stone cold expression. Once the waitress leaves his head slowly turns towards you with his famous sly smirk. He knew just how to press your buttons. 

You start back up again, going at an even faster pace at this point. He curses at himself and his eyes close again. You smile when he starts to shake his legs and breathe heavily. Only for Jimin’s eyes pop open with a devilish smile that confuses you. He grabs your leg and makes sure that your foot is positioned right ontop of his dick. He rolls his hips to the movement of yours, looking you dead straight in the eyes. You go along with it for now. But your eyes almost buck out of your head when he starts letting out moans and grunts as he throws his head back.

‘‘ Mmm fuck Y/N you do this so well.’‘

You’re at loss for words. The risk of being caught mixed with the sight you’re seeing now has your panties becoming wet.It takes all your might not to just jump over the table and devour him when he sighs in relief. You watch his body convulse of the aftershocks. So fucking sexy. 

And as if nothing had just happened, he picks up his fork and begins to eat his pasta. The rest of the night is silent. You both eat in silence but in the inside you want to say something but you know better. The stunt you just pulled has something coming for you. Maybe payback wasn’t such a good thing after all.

After Jimin comes back from the restroom, assuming he cleaned himself up well down there, he sits back down at the table with a warm smile. It confuses you.

‘‘ Do you want to leave now? We can go to my place and just chill for the night. Looks like the two love birds might have already went back to one of their place’s.’‘ He says, grabbing your hand once again.

You nod your head dumbfounded at what you didn’t know that was going to happen at his place. But you agree to go. What can go wrong?

The moment you guys enter his luxurious apartment, he pins you against the wall and raises your hands above you head. He tilts your head and nips at your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking. He hit one of your sweet spots that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

‘‘ Please Jimin.’‘ You cry out. Slowly pulling away, he pulls you from against the wall and bends to dip an arm under your legs to lift you up bridal style.

He deeply chuckles into your ear, ‘‘ You have an eventful night planned out for pulling that stunt at the restaurant sweetheart.’‘ His words sends shivers down your spine. 

Jimin closes the door behind him, giving you a taste of comfort before he has his way with you. He places you on his bed and you stare into those dark brown eyes that you love oh so much. 

‘‘ Face down, ass up now.’‘ He growls. 

You nod your head and do as told. Soon you feel your dress being unzipped and thrown to the floor. You’re in nothing but your bra and baby pink lace thong. His hands run up and down your spine, then to your ass. 

‘‘ You ruined my pants today. Made me cum inside them since you wanted to feel like you had control over me.. babygirl.’‘ He says, hands stopping right above your ass.

‘‘ Count for me Y/N.’‘

You don’t even have time to take a breath in when the first hard impact comes. It wells tears in your eyes but you love it. You love every smack and every second of it. And so you count for him, you count all fifteen hits to your sore,red ass. 

‘‘ You’ve taken your punishment well.’‘ Jimin says soothing the pain by rubbing over it softly. ‘‘ You looked so pretty doing what you’re told my beautiful girl. You deserve every inch of me. You deserve all of me.��’ His voice is soft and low. It intoxicates you. 

Jimin shifts you onto your back, his hands tracing every inch of your body. You prop yourself up with your shoulders and you don’t jerk away, instead you let him lean in and kiss you passionately. The lewd sounds of the two of you sharing a wet, sloppy kiss can be heard throughout the apartment. You whine in his arms wanting more than just the kiss. He growls in return, yanking your head back to mark up that pretty neck some more. His hands swiftly makes their way towards your nipples, you moan out in response.

“mmm so cute and hard for me.” He flicks your hard nipples with his index and middle fingers on both your breasts. The way he speaks is sinful. Your panties grow even more wet as he pinches your nipples to make you whimper. “ Making pretty sounds for me hmm? Got you all wet baby?’’

With his hands dropping to your hips, he pushes you to lay down on the bed. Your breasts look so captivating to him. Your back arches when his lips connect to your right breast and soon to your left.

“Jimin...’’ You whimper, tugging on his hair to get him to look at you. He pauses the swirling of his tongue on your breast and looks up with lust filled eyes.

“ Yes sweetheart?” He coos.

‘’Off... t-take it off.’’ You whine, moving your hands towards his clothing and tugging on it firmly.

Jimin smiles before balancing on his knees to lift off his shirt. You watch him strip his shirt off, revealing his beautifully toned stomach and sharp v-line. You want nothing more than to run your tongue across him, leaving hickies behind.

Once he takes off his shirt, he dips back down to you to kiss your lips once more. ‘’ Your reaction was instantaneous, your back arching as your hands flew to his hair in shock at the pleasure it gave you. You really were sexually frustrated. Just him kissing you was all too much for you to handle.

As if he could tell what you wanted, his hand found its way to the hem of your lace thong. He feels how wet you were with his index finger sliding up and down your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slid them off with his teeth.

Your mouth instantly falls open when one thick finger slides inside you, your wetness pouring out beneath his finger. Once his finger is coated in your juices, he pulls out of you leaving you whimpering at the loss of friction. You watch him slide his wet finger into his mouth, his eyes close as he hums around it.

“You taste so fucking good. Let me have more of you yeah? He says, waiting for some type of consent from you. 

You nod, wanting him more than ever.

Jimin props both your legs up onto his shoulder, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening core. You are left exposed to his lustful gaze as he took in the appearance of your swollen lips. Your lips spread apart to expose your clit that desperately seeks attention.  

And so he provides it. His head dips down to get to work on your cunt.  The pleasure you feel is outrageous, it has you clawing at his back, not even letting up, before letting out your never ending moans. You knew for a fact that Jimin’s tongue was a work of art when put to the test.

“Oh fuck! ” You yell out, arching your back when his lips begin to suck harshly on your clit, that bubbly feeling in your stomach appears. 

“Do I make you feel good ? Hmm, use your words.” He encourages, using two fingers to spread your folds apart to lick and suck on your clit.

“It feels so good Jimin, oh my gosh, please don’t stop. Fuck!” You cry out, tossing your head back as you clutch onto the sheets once more, leaving his hair alone. As soon as he hears that, he seemed to lose control. His fingers start abuse your g-spot in sync with his sucking on your clit. That’s all you took for you to explode around his fingers. Your body spasms when you close your eyes. You can practically hear your heartbeat pounding in your head.

That doesn’t stop Jimin though. He continues to abuse your hole but you can’t handle the over-stimulation. You grip his wrists to stop him in which he obliges. He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and shows you them before sucking on them harshly.  

“ Such a naughty girl now aren’t we.” He coos, rubbing your thighs that shake endlessly. “Want more princess?”

You nod your head, to busy lost in a trance. His words always get to you. A boy who knows his way with his words. The things that come out his mouth laced with either sweet venom or sugar. Damn him. Damn him for making you feel like this. Damn him for letting you fall under his ways. 

You don’t realize all of his clothes were off until the head of his cock is sitting at your entrance. He’s a nice size, as you remember, but it’s the thickness that gets you. He has a lot of girth and it damn sure stretches you out. 

“Shit, oh my gosh.” You moan, letting your head fall back as he starts easing into you. 

“ Mmm babygirl,” He growls, using one of his hands to spread your lips, giving him the bes view of you taking him all the way. “Fuck just look at that baby. Your little pussy stretching to take my thick cock. Feels good yeah?”

“ Yes Jimin, fuck, it feels so good please. ” You whimper, wanting to feel all stuffed and full. Finally he bottoms out and you definitely feel it in you.

Jimin’s hands grip your hips as he starts to move inside of you. Since your previous orgasm residue was still there, mixing with your fresh juices,  every time moved in and out your juices would drip.Lewd, wet slaps filled the room as the pace quickened, wanting to get you to cum again.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room. There was no point in hiding them now.  With his hips moving at a fast pace, and his dick murdering your g-spot, it makes you feel that familiar feeling again. 

“My good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” Jimin smiles, praising you as you become undone around him. Your hole spasms around his length and it feels like heaven for him. Jimin holds himself up on his elbows, resting his face against yours while he gently eases you through your orgasm. 

“You don’t know the things your body does to me Y/N. The faces you make when i’m fucking your brains out. You look like you’re in pure ecstasy because of me and only me, baby.” He whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You nod and press your lips against his. Smiling into the kiss, his hips begin fucking you  again, getting up to his previous pace.

Your body is automatically put into over-stimulation mode. “Are you going to cum again for me?”

“Mhm, oh my god!” You whimper, closing your eyes shut harshly. Jimin pulls out of you, and starts to slide his cock up and down your folds to bring you to another orgasm. You let out a scream as Jimin watch your juices fly and soak everywhere around you both. Your death grip on the sheets havent left and your back is arched so high from the bed that he has to bring you back down. 

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re squirting princess.” He praises you, smiling as he doesn’t stop movement, juices everywhere. “You’re squirting so much baby look at you.’’

The feeling is too much for you so you shut your legs around him. Jimin smiles at you when you finally open your eyes. They hardly stay open but long enough for you to see him get himself off using his right hand. You open your mouth to say something, but he interrupts “Shh princess, you’re too sensitive. Maybe next time.”

You nodded with a small pout on your lips. You want him to cum inside you. To feel his hot sperm coat your insides. Your body says otherwise. You are spent, exhausted to the max..

Just as he is about to cum, you sit up and climb over to him. Your mouth quickly finds it’s way to his length and as if a habit, you begin to suck. ‘’You don’t have to princes- fuck.’’ He groans, releasing his load inside your mouth while you deep throat all his length.

Soon you pull away from his cock after he cums. You open your mouth to show him and then swallow it all down. ‘’ Filthy whore.’’ He smirks, pecking your lips.

Jimin kisses your forehead once more, before lifting up and disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet towel to clean up the mess between your legs. Your eyes flutter open and close. You catch a glimpse of his nicely toned back when he turns to disregard the towel. He comes back again with a green t-shirt which makes your heart flutter as he pulls it over your head. Another forehead kiss, then those nose, then the lips. 

‘’ Jimin?’‘ You coo.

He climbs in bed beside you, ‘’ Yes?’’

‘’ We never discussed what we are...’’ You say quietly, picking at your fingers. 

He laughs softly, ‘’ You know I can’t commit right now. I have too many things going on and-’’

‘’ Excuses Jimin.’’ You pout, turning away from him. ‘’ Aww come on don’t be like that. Listen, if I ever get my life together and the ladies off of me you’ll be the first one I run to, my love.’’ 

‘’ Promise?’’ 

‘’ I promise.’’

Oh so you had thought. Another two weeks had passed and the same thing happened. Now you’re stuck in your office again contemplating life, as Scarlet would say. The only difference is, he texts you more often. Usually good morning and goodnight texts. An occasional ‘how was your day.’ 

You can’t help but to wonder what he’s probably doing with other girls. Feeding them empty promises. Saying sweet nothings in their ears. Letting them hear what they want to. It’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing. No doubt.

Only if he hadn’t wasted your time.

Two weeks and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

[homosexuhauls]

15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM

Dearest Chimamanda,

Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.

I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.

I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.

I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.

Have a wonderful day today.

Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM

Dear Chimamanda,

I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.

I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.

You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.

I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.

Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.

All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM

Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.

All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.

Thank you, with all my heart.

PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM

Greetings!

I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.

I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.

All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie

Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM

I’m writing about X

She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.

Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.

I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.

It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.

To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.

I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.