#we are our worst critics after all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

liberalsarecool · 10 days ago

Text

I owe my Trump-supporting friends an apology. I’ve been critical of the Trump presidency and am still exhausted from the experience.

But to be fair, President Trump wasn’t that bad, other than:

• when he incited an insurrection against the government,

• mismanaged a pandemic that killed over a million Americans

• separated children from their families

• lost those children in the bureaucracy

• tear-gassed peaceful protesters on Lafayette Square so he could hold a photo op holding a Bible in front of a church

• tried to block all Muslims from entering the country

• got impeached

• got impeached again

• had the worst jobs record of any president in modern history

• pressured Ukraine to dig dirt on Joe Biden

• fired the FBI director for investigating his ties to Russia

• bragged about firing the FBI director on TV

• took Vladimir Putin’s word over the US intelligence community

• diverted military funding to build his wall

• caused the longest government shutdown in US history

• called Black Lives Matter a “symbol of hate”

• lied nearly 40,000 times

• banned transgender people from serving in the military

• ejected reporters from the White House briefing room who asked tough questions

• vetoed the defense funding bill because it renamed military bases named for Confederate soldiers

• refused to release his tax returns

• increased the national debt by nearly $8 trillion

• had three of the highest annual trade deficits in U.S. history

• called veterans and soldiers who died in combat losers and suckers

• coddled the leader of Saudi Arabia after he ordered the execution and dismembering of a US-based journalist

• refused to concede the 2020 election

• hired his unqualified daughter and son-in-law to work in the White House

• walked out of an interview with Lesley Stahl

• called neo-Nazis “very fine people”

• suggested that people should inject bleach into their bodies to fight COVID

• abandoned our allies the Kurds to Turkey

• pushed through massive tax cuts for the wealthiest but balked at helping working Americans

• incited anti-lockdown protestors in several states at the height of the pandemic

• withdrew the US from the Paris climate accords

• withdrew the US from the Iranian nuclear deal

• withdrew the US from the Trans Pacific Partnership which was designed to block China’s advances

• insulted his own Cabinet members on Twitter

• pushed the leader of Montenegro out of the way during a photo op

• failed to reiterate US commitment to defending NATO allies

• called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries

• called the city of Baltimore the “worst in the nation”

• claimed that he single-handedly brought back the phrase “Merry Christmas” even though it hadn’t gone anywhere

• forced his Cabinet members to praise him publicly like some cult leader

• believed he should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize

• berated and belittled his hand-picked Attorney General when he recused himself from the Russia probe

• suggested the US should buy Greenland

• colluded with Mitch McConnell to push through federal judges and two Supreme Court justices after supporting efforts to prevent his predecessor from appointing judges

• repeatedly called the media “enemies of the people”

• claimed that if we tested fewer people for COVID we’d have fewer cases

• violated the emoluments clause

• thought that Nambia was a country

• told Bob Woodward in private that the coronavirus was a big deal but then downplayed it in public

• called his exceedingly faithful vice president a “p---y” for following the Constitution

• nearly got us into a war with Iran after threatening them by tweet

• nominated a corrupt head of the EPA

• nominated a corrupt head of HHS

• nominated a corrupt head of the Interior Department

• nominated a corrupt head of the USDA

• praised dictators and authoritarians around the world while criticizing allies

• refused to allow the presidential transition to begin

• insulted war hero John McCain – even after his death

• spent an obscene amount of time playing golf after criticizing Barack Obama for playing (far less) golf while president

• falsely claimed that he won the 2016 popular vote

• called the Muslim mayor of London a “stone cold loser”

• falsely claimed that he turned down being Time’s Man of the Year

• considered firing special counsel Robert Mueller on several occasions

• mocked wearing face masks to guard against transmitting COVID

• locked Congress out of its constitutional duty to confirm Cabinet officials by hiring acting ones

• used a racist dog whistle by calling COVID the “China virus”

• hired and associated with numerous shady figures that were eventually convicted of federal offenses including his campaign manager and national security adviser

• pardoned several of his shady associates

• gave the Presidential Medal of Freedom to two congressman who amplified his batshit crazy conspiracy theories

• got into telephone fight with the leader of Australia(!)

• had a Secretary of State who called him a moron

• forced his press secretary to claim without merit that his was the largest inauguration crowd in history

• botched the COVID vaccine rollout

• tweeted so much dangerous propaganda that Twitter eventually banned him

• charged the Secret Service jacked-up rates at his properties

• constantly interrupted Joe Biden in their first presidential debate

• claimed that COVID would “magically” disappear

• called a U.S. Senator “Pocahontas”

• used his Twitter account to blast Nordstrom when it stopped selling Ivanka’s merchandise

• opened up millions of pristine federal lands to development and drilling

• got into a losing tariff war with China that forced US taxpayers to bail out farmers

• claimed that his losing tariff war was a win for the US

• ignored or didn’t even take part in daily intelligence briefings

• blew off honoring American war dead in France because it was raining

• redesigned Air Force One to look like the Trump Shuttle

• got played by Kim Jung Un and his “love letters”

• threatened to go after social media companies in clear violation of the Constitution

• botched the response to Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico

• threw paper towels at Puerto Ricans when he finally visited them

• pressured the governor and secretary of state of Georgia to “find” him votes

• thought that the Virgin islands had a President

• drew on a map with a Sharpie to justify his inaccurate tweet that Alabama was threatened by a hurricane

• allowed White House staff to use personal email accounts for official businesses after blasting Hillary Clinton for doing the same thing

• rolled back regulations that protected the public from mercury and asbestos

• pushed regulators to waste time studying snake-oil remedies for COVID

• rolled back regulations that stopped coal companies from dumping waste into rivers

• held blatant campaign rallies at the White House

• tried to take away millions of Americans’ health insurance because the law was named for a Black man

• refused to attend his successors’ inauguration

• nominated the worst Education Secretary in history

• threatened judges who didn’t do what he wanted

• attacked Dr. Anthony Fauci

• promised that Mexico would pay for the wall (it didn’t)

• allowed political hacks to overrule government scientists on major reports on climate change and other issues

• struggled navigating a ramp after claiming his opponent was feeble

• called an African-American Congresswoman “low IQ”

• threatened to withhold federal aid from states and cities with Democratic leaders

• went ahead with rallies filled with maskless supporters in the middle of a pandemic

• claimed that legitimate investigations of his wrongdoing were “witch hunts,”

• seemed to demonstrate a belief that there were airports during the American Revolution

• demanded “total loyalty” from the FBI director

• praised a conspiracy theory that Democrats are Satanic pedophiles

• completely gutted the Voice of America

• placed a political hack in charge of the Postal Service

• claimed without evidence that the Obama administration bugged Trump Tower

• suggested that the US should allow more people from places like Norway into the country

• suggested that COVID wasn’t that bad because he recovered with the help of top government doctors and treatments not available to the public

• overturned energy conservation standards that even industry supported

• reduced the number of refugees the US accepts

• insulted various members of Congress and the media with infantile nicknames

• gave Rush Limbaugh a Presidential medal of Freedom at the State of the Union address

• named as head of federal personnel a 29-year old who’d previously been fired from the White House for allegations of financial improprieties

• eliminated the White House office of pandemic response

• used soldiers as campaign props

• fired any advisor who made the mistake of disagreeing with him

• demanded the Pentagon throw him a Soviet-style military parade

• hired a shit ton of white nationalists

• politicized the civil service

• did absolutely nothing after Russia hacked the U.S. government

• falsely said the Boy Scouts called him to say his bizarre Jamboree speech was the best speech ever given to the Scouts

• claimed that Black people would overrun the suburbs if Biden won

• insulted reporters of color

• insulted women reporters

• insulted women reporters of color

• suggested he was fine with China’s oppression of the Uighurs

• attacked the Supreme Court when it ruled against him

• summoned Pennsylvania state legislative leaders to the White House to pressure them to overturn the election

• spent countless hours every day watching Fox News

• refused to allow his administration to comply with Congressional subpoenas

• hired Rudy Giuliani as his lawyer

• tried to punish Amazon because the Jeff Bezos-owned Washington Post wrote negative stories about him

• acted as if the Attorney General of the United States was his personal attorney

• attempted to get the federal government to defend him in a libel lawsuit from a women who accused him of sexual assault

• held private meetings with Vladimir Putin without staff present

• didn’t disclose his private meetings with Vladimir Putin so that the US had to find out via Russian media

• stopped holding press briefings for months at a time

• “ordered” US companies to leave China even though he has no such power

• led a political party that couldn’t even be bothered to draft a policy platform

• claimed preposterously that Article II of the Constitution gave him absolute powers

• tried to pressure the U.K. to hold the British Open at his golf course

• suggested that the government nuke hurricanes

• suggested that wind turbines cause cancer

• said that he had a special aptitude for science

• fired the head of election cyber security after he said that the 2020 election was secure

• blurted out classified information to Russian officials

• tried to force the G7 to hold their meeting at his failing golf resort in Florida

• fired the acting attorney general when she refused to go along with his unconstitutional Muslim travel ban

• hired Stephen Miller

• openly discussed national security issues in the dining room at Mar-a-Lago where everyone could hear them

• interfered with plans to relocate the FBI because a new development there might compete with his hotel

• abandoned Iraqi refugees who’d helped the U.S. during the war

• tried to get Russia back into the G7

• held a COVID super spreader event in the Rose Garden

• seemed to believe that Frederick Douglass is still alive

• lost 60 election fraud cases in court including before judges he had nominated

• falsely claimed that factories were reopening when they weren’t

• shamelessly exploited terror attacks in Europe to justify his anti-immigrant policies

• still hasn’t come up with a healthcare plan

• still hasn’t come up with an infrastructure plan despite repeated “Infrastructure Weeks"

• forced Secret Service agents to drive him around Walter Reed while contagious with COVID

• told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by”

• fucked up the Census

• withdrew the U.S. from the World Health Organization in the middle of a pandemic

• did so few of his duties that his press staff were forced to state on his daily schedule “President Trump will work from early in the morning until late in the evening. He will make many calls and have many meetings,” allowed his staff to repeatedly violate the Hatch Act

• seemed not to know that Abraham Lincoln was a Republican

• stood before sacred CIA wall of heroes and bragged about his election win

• constantly claimed he was treated worse than any president which presumably includes four that were assassinated and his predecessor whose legitimacy and birthplace were challenged by a racist reality TV show star named Donald Trump

• claimed Andrew Jackson could’ve stopped the Civil War even though he died 16 years before it happened

• said that any opinion poll showing him behind was fake

• claimed that other countries laughed at us before he became president when several world leaders were literally laughing at him

• claimed that the military was out of ammunition before he became President

• created a commission to whitewash American history

• retweeted anti-Islam videos from one of the most racist people in Britain

• claimed ludicrously that the Pulse nightclub shooting wouldn’t have happened if someone there had a gun even though there was an armed security guard there

• hired a senior staffer who cited the non-existent Bowling Green Massacre as a reason to ban Muslims

• had a press secretary who claimed that Nazi Germany never used chemical weapons even though every sane human being knows they used gas to kill millions of Jews and others

• bilked the Secret Service for higher than market rates when they had to stay at Trump properties

• apparently sold pardons on his way out of the White House

• stripped protective status from 59,000 Haitians

• falsely claimed Biden wanted to defund the police

• said that the head of the CDC didn’t know what he was talking about

• tried to rescind protection from DREAMers

• gave himself an A+ for his handling of the pandemic

• tried to start a boycott of Goodyear tires due to an Internet hoax

• said U.S. rates of COVID would be lower if you didn’t count blue states

• deported U.S. veterans who served their country but were undocumented

• claimed he did more for African Americans than any president since Lincoln

• touted a “super-duper” secret “hydrosonic” missile which may or may not be a new “hypersonic” missile or may not exist at all

• retweeted a gif calling Biden a pedophile

• forced through security clearances for his family

• suggested that police officers should rough up suspects

• suggested that Biden was on performance-enhancing drugs

• tried to stop transgender students from being able to use school bathrooms in line with their gender

• suggested the US not accept COVID patients from a cruise ship because it would make US numbers look higher

• nominated a climate change skeptic to chair the committee advising the White House on environmental policy

• retweeted a video doctored to look like Biden had played a song called “Fuck tha Police” at a campaign event

• hugged a disturbingly large number of U.S. flags

• accused Democrats of “treason” for not applauding his State of the Union address

• claimed that the FBI failed to capture the Parkland school shooter because they were “spending too much time” on Russia

• mocked the testimony of Dr Christine Blasey Ford when she accused Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault

• obsessed over low-flow toilets

• ordered the re-release of more COVID vaccines when there weren’t any to release

• called for the construction of a bizarre garden of heroes with statutes of famous dead Americans as well as at least one Canadian (Alex Trebek)

• hijacked Washington’s July 4th celebrations to give a partisan speech

• took advice from the MyPillow guy

• claimed that migrants seeking a better life in the US were dangerous caravans of drug dealers and rapists

• said nothing when Vladimir Putin poisoned a leading opposition figure

• never seemed to heed the advice of his wife’s “Be Best” campaign

• falsely claimed that mail-in voting is fraudulent

• announced a precipitous withdrawal of troops from Syria which not only handed Russia and ISIS a win but also prompted his defense secretary to resign in protest

• insulted the leader of Canada

• insulted the leader of France

• insulted the leader of Britain

• insulted the leader of Germany

• insulted the leader of Sweden (Sweden!!)

• falsely claimed credit for getting NATO members to increase their share of dues

• blew off two Asia summits even though they were held virtually

• continued lying about spending lots of time at Ground Zero with 9/11 responders,

• said that the Japanese would sit back and watch their “Sony televisions” if the US were ever attacked

• left a NATO summit early in a huff

• stared directly into an eclipse even though everyone over the age of five knows not to do that

• called himself a very stable genius despite significant evidence to the contrary

• refused to commit to a peaceful transfer of power and kept his promise

And a whole bunch of other things I can’t remember .

3K notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 8 days ago

Note

I don’t have any words right now for what’s happened. Where in the fuck do we go from here?

I don't know. I really, truly don't know. We can't sugarcoat how bad things are going to get, and we can't pre-emptively give into it anyway. This is going to be an unprecedented time in American history (if, sadly, not world history) and the forces conspiring to make you obey will gain much of their power from you doing so in advance, without a struggle. It seems fair to say that America as it has always been historically constituted is over, and may not return in our lifetimes, but we also do not know that for a fact. If nothing else, the fascists will find it very hard to cancel competitive elections, and we cannot sit back, throw up our hands, conclude that voting is clearly meaningless, and let them do that. There are a lot of other things that we need to do, but that's one.

There are various postmortems to be written and nits to pick, but Harris was thrown into an impossible situation and did the best she could in 100 days. Even her critics agree she ran a pretty much flawless campaign. But this country simply decided that a well-qualified black woman could not be preferred over the most manifestly and flagrantly unfit degenerate to ever occupy the office. They decided this for many reasons, not least because large swathes of the country now live in curated misinformation bubbles that, under Government Czar Musk, will only get much, much worse. They were helped by the cowardice and complicity of the "mainstream media" that could have ended Trump's career exactly like they did to Biden after the first debate, but chose to preserve the profits of their billionaire oligarch owners and did not do so, giving Trump the benefit of the doubt and normalization at every turn. They also hounded Biden relentlessly over the four years of his presidency, never reported on the good things he did, and drove him to the historically bad approval ratings lows for a president who was by any metric, quite successful (and will quite possibly be our last ordinary American president for a very long time). Along with the searingly ingrained racism and misogyny and misinformation, Harris could not overcome that.

Democrats clearly had a messaging problem, but it's also true that the country, quite simply, does not care about "democracy" when the economy is perceived to be at stake. Not to over-egg the Hitler parallels, but yeah. This is how Hitler returned to power in 1933 -- on the backs of widespread economic collapse of the Weimar Republic; voters decided they just didn't care about the overtly fascist stuff, which he then proceeded to you know, do with genocidal vigor. Except the American economy in this case was actually doing well, which makes it even more baffling and indefensible. Enough people simply memory-holed Trump's crimes (aided at every turn by SCOTUS, Mitch McConnell not convicting him after January 6, Merrick Garland being far too slow and timid, the corporate media), liked the racist fascist behavior or felt that it wasn't a dealbreaker, and decided that in this election, he was the "change" candidate. It's insane by any metric, but that's what happened.

The country is deeply sick. We do not know what will happen. It's going to get bad. Barring a miracle, we will not have federalized abortion rights again in my lifetime, and there will be widespread attacks on public health, women's rights, immigrants, transgender people, and other vulnerable people. Even and especially the ones who voted for Trump. Never Thought Leopard Would Eat My Face, etc. Alito and Thomas will swiftly step down and allow their seats to be replaced by 40-year old wingnuts hand-selected from the worst the Federalist Society has to offer. SCOTUS is gone for the next generation at least. There is very little prospect of it being ever fixed in the foreseeable future.

Trump will never face a scintilla of consequences for his previous crimes; all the open federal cases will be closed as soon as he takes office and fires Jack Smith. The best we can hope for is that he dies in office, but then we get Vance and the cadre of alt-right techno billionaires ruled directly from the Kremlin. Putin is celebrating this morning and with good reason; he's gotten everything he wants. Trump will egg on Netanyahu in Gaza and abandon Ukraine. Democracy across the world will remain even more fragile and badly under threat. Authoritarians will be empowered and American withdrawal from international systems will percolate in very dangerous ways that cannot and will not be fixed in the short run. I really hope all the leftists who celebrate this as the "defeat of the genocide candidate" will enjoy all the genocide and suffering that's about to come. And yes, I do think the Israel-Palestine war fucked us in a large way. Jewish voters perceived the Democrats as insufficiently pro-Israel due to the presence of far-left antisemitism, even as the far left attacked the Democrats relentlessly and never targeted the Republicans. Arab voters abandoned them, possibly deservedly. What would have happened without the war? We don't know. You get the historical period that you get. Netanyahu and Trump can now do anything they want. Hope it was worth it.

As I said, I can't sugarcoat it. We are going to be paying for this in some form for the next decade, and probably longer. I'm not as absolutely shattered as I was in 2016, but I am much, much angrier. We all thought, we all hoped, America was better than this. It isn't. That, however, is something that has also happened before. What we decide to do next will shape how the next chapter unfolds.

This would be a great time to stock up on needed medicines, renew your passport online, and anything else you need to do in preparation for next year. Many of us simply do not have the wherewithal, whether financial or otherwise, to leave the country. I don't know what will happen with me. I don't know what will happen to any of us. This was utterly avoidable and yet, America didn't want to avoid it. At some point, there's nothing else you can do. You can point to media cronyism, Russian influence, etc etc., but the fact that two of the most qualified presidential candidates who happened to be women have now lost to Trump twice makes it unavoidable. The virulent rightward shift of young men (of all races) in particular paints a grim picture as to how the reactionary misogyny of the 21st century is going to essentially undo most of the progress for social and gender equality in the 20th. The patriarchy has been a problem for most of human history. Doesn't really seem like it's going to change.

The end result of this, however grim: we're still here. We are still living within our communities. If (and this is a big if) Democrats can retake the House, they can put some checks on the process for the next two years. At this point, we are in full-out buying-time, trying-to-prevent-the worst mode. We could have continued fixing things, but we won't be doing that. We will only be trying to preserve ourselves and our friends and our smaller spheres of influence. It sounds very trite to say that we have to have courage, but we do. There's not much else.

It's going to be an awful winter. We have two and a half months to see this coming and know how bad it's going to be, and... yeah. I don't know how soon the buyer's remorse will inevitably set in, but it will. Tough luck, people. You voted for him. You get the country that you decide to have. But the rest of us are also here, and what Gandalf says is still true. We wish the Ring had never come to us, we wish none of this had happened, but we still have to decide what to do with the time that is given to us.

I don't have a lot more. I'll probably be logging off for a while. I don't need to look at the internet for.... yeah, a long time. (Will I do it anyway? Probably.) I don't know what else to leave you with, aside from again:

Do not obey in advance. Do not act as if everything is foreordained and set in stone. Fascist regimes end. They always do. We are going to have to figure out how, and it will suck shit, but the alternative is worse.

Take care of yourselves. I love you.

#silverbolt200 #ask #politics for ts #the national nightmare

837 notes · View notes

queer-geordie-nerd · 5 months ago

Text

This has been said ad nauseum, I know, but the thing I just *cannot* get over is how very quickly and easily the left as a movement abandoned its most basic principles:

“Rape is an abhorrent, violating crime and we must believe and uplift survivors” - until it is done to Jewish women and girls in the name of ‘resistance’ then it’s just fine and dandy, or we might not even believe you at all.

“An armed force invading and mass murdering civilians is a war crime” - until the victims are Jews and you’ve decided it’s ‘resistance’ and ‘you don’t get to criticise how they fight back.’ No, mate, the word you’re looking for is ‘pogrom.’

“Slavery is bad” - until it is Jews being held hostage in Palestinian homes and forced to work then it’s ‘they were treated well and fed, what more do you want?’

“Indigenous peoples regaining their ancestral homelands is a key part of decolonisation and is a worthy endeavour” - until it is Jews regaining the land of Israel after centuries of disenfranchisement then it’s ‘white supremacy’ and ‘colonialism’ and the most evil thing in the world.

“Collective punishment is bad, citizens aren’t responsible for the actions of their government” - until we can treat every single Israeli like evil incarnate and deserving of the worst abuse and treatment simply for existing.

“Oppressed people know their own oppression better than you do. Listen to them and don’t presume to know better about the issues they face” - until it’s Jews talking about antisemitism and then it’s ignoring them, talking over them and accusing them of weaponising their oppression to silence criticism.

“Abuse and violence against an oppressed group must be condemned wholeheartedly and we must stand with the persecuted” - until it is Jews facing a 400% increase in antisemitism - being spat at, beaten, raped, ostracised from public spaces, having their schools and synagogues targeted, and then it’s shut our eyes and ears and pretend none of it is happening.

“Queer rights for all” - until Israel dares to be a beacon of queer rights in the Middle East and then it’s ‘pinkwashing.’

Do you even hear yourselves? Do you even care that you are being breathtaking hypocrites? How do you expect anyone to ever take you seriously ever again?

1K notes · View notes

st4rtar0t · 5 months ago

Text

Describing your love trope with your future spouse as a writer

Pick a picture

MASTERLIST ☆ PAID SERVICES

LONG POST AHEAD!

Pictures belong to their rightful owners, I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

Arranged blind date

I stared at my reflection, the dress clinging to my frame in a way that was both flattering and unfamiliar. It had been months since I’d worn anything other than sweatpants and old t-shirts. My heart pounded as I thought about the evening ahead. What had I let Emma talk me into?

“Trust me, y/n,” she had said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You deserve someone who treats you right. This guy is perfect for you.”

I wanted to believe her. After all, Emma knew me better than anyone. She had seen me through the worst of my relationship with Adam, watched as I shrank into myself, convinced I was unworthy of love and respect. She had been my rock when I finally walked away.

Now, she was determined to help me move on, even if it meant dragging me into the world of blind dates.

“You look stunning,” Emma said, stepping into my bedroom. Her smile was warm and reassuring. “And you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. “What if he’s... I don’t know, another Adam?”

Emma shook her head firmly. “He’s not. Trust me. I’ve known him for years. He’s kind, funny, and he’s been through his own share of heartbreak. You two will understand each other.”

Taking a deep breath, I followed Emma out the door and into her car. As she drove, I gazed out the window, my mind a swirl of anxiety and hope. The city lights blurred past, a cacophony of life that felt distant and unreal.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy little place with warm lighting and the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals. Emma squeezed my hand. “He’s waiting at table five. Go on, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

As I approached table five, I saw him. He was looking down at his menu, but there was something about him that immediately put me at ease. He had an air of quiet confidence, and when he looked up and our eyes met, he smiled. It was a smile that reached his eyes, genuine and warm.

“y/n?” he asked, standing up and offering his hand.

I took it, surprised by how natural it felt. “Yes. And you must be Michael.”

He nodded, his grip gentle yet reassuring. “It’s really nice to meet you. Emma’s told me a lot about you.”

I laughed nervously, taking my seat. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” he said, his eyes twinkling with kindness. “She’s very fond of you.”

As we started talking, I found myself relaxing. Michael was easy to talk to, his sense of humor lightening the mood. He shared stories about his work as a graphic designer, his passion for painting, and his dog, Max, who sounded like a real character.

“So, Emma tells me you’re quite the photographer,” he said, his tone genuinely interested.

I blushed slightly. “I dabble. It’s just a hobby, really.”

“From what I hear, you’re pretty talented,” he replied. “Maybe you could show me some of your work sometime?”

I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’d like that.”

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was enjoying myself. Michael was attentive, respectful, and genuinely interested in what I had to say. It was a stark contrast to the indifference and criticism I had grown accustomed to with Adam.

As we said our goodbyes, Michael looked at me with a hopeful expression. “I had a great time tonight, y/n. Can we do this again sometime?”

I smiled, feeling a lightness in my heart. “I’d like that very much, Michael.”

As I walked back to Emma, who was waiting with a knowing smile, I realized something. Maybe, just maybe, I was ready to open my heart again. And maybe this time, I’d find the love and respect I truly deserved.

⁠—⁠☆

Emma hugged me as soon as I reached her. “See? Told you it would be fine.”

I hugged her back, gratitude welling up in my chest. “Thank you, Emma. For everything.”

She grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

And for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful about the future.

Picture 2

Friends to lovers

I stood outside y/n’s apartment, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. The city was quiet tonight, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk. I had been here countless times, but tonight felt different. Tonight, everything was about to change.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. Almost immediately, I heard her footsteps approaching. The door swung open, and there she was, her smile lighting up the entire hallway.

“Hey! Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let me pass.

I walked in, my heart pounding in my chest. “Hey, y/n. Thanks for having me over.”

We settled on her couch, the same spot where we’d shared countless conversations, laughter, and even tears over the years. She handed me a cup of tea, her eyes sparkling with the warmth I had come to cherish.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, taking a sip of her own tea. “You sounded a bit urgent on the phone.”

I looked at her, really looked at her, and realized just how much she meant to me. Her kindness, her strength, her infectious laugh—all the little things that made her who she was. It hit me like a tidal wave. I was in love with her. I always have been.

“y/n, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began, my voice trembling slightly.

She set her cup down, her expression turning serious. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “y/n, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. You’ve been there for me through everything, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “I am your best friend. I will always be there for you no matter what happens. Now tell me, what is bothering you?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment. “But that’s the thing. I don’t just see you as my best friend anymore. Somewhere along the way, my feelings changed. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, there was a silence that felt like an eternity. My heart was in my throat, fear and hope battling within me.

“oh…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I pressed on, needing her to understand. “I know this might come as a shock, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I had to tell you. I can’t keep pretending that what I feel for you is just friendship.”

Her eyes searched mine, and I saw tears forming. Panic surged through me. Had I made a terrible mistake?

But then she smiled, a radiant, beautiful smile that took my breath away. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for so long.”

Relief washed over me like a flood. “You... you have?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’ve loved you for years. I was just too scared to tell you. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

I reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You’ll never lose me, y/n. You’re everything to me.”

She leaned into my touch, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. “I love you.”

The words were like music to my ears. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. “I love you too, y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

We sat there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. All that mattered was this moment, the love we had finally confessed, and the promise of a future together.

As I held her, I realized something. Love had been right in front of me all along, in the form of my best friend. And now that I had found it, I was never letting go.

Picture 3

Opposites attract

I watched him from across the room, the way he moved with such effortless grace and confidence. The party was in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the air, but all I could focus on was Ethan. He was the epitome of extroversion, charming everyone around him with his easy smile and quick wit.

I, on the other hand, was more comfortable in the shadows, observing rather than participating. I preferred a good book to a loud party, a quiet evening at home to a night out on the town. Yet, here I was, drawn to someone who was my complete opposite in every way.

Ethan caught my eye and waved, making his way over to me. My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling inside me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Why are you hiding over here all alone?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just taking a break from all the excitement.”

He laughed, a rich, contagious sound. “You know, you’re the only person I know who comes to a party to take a break from it.”

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on things from the sidelines.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark I was starting to adore.

“Sure,” I said, surprised by how much I wanted him to stay.

We sat down on the edge of the patio, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the crowded house. For a moment, we just sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

“You know, Y/N,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. “I’ve always admired how you can just... be. You don’t need all this noise and attention to feel happy.”

I looked at him, surprised by his honesty. “And I’ve always admired how you can light up a room just by walking into it. You make everything look so easy.”

He smiled, a softer, more genuine smile than I’d seen before. “It’s not always as easy as it looks. Sometimes, it feels like I’m just playing a role. But with you... I feel like I can be myself.”

My heart swelled at his words. “I feel the same way, Ethan. With you, I don’t feel like I have to hide.”

We continued talking, sharing pieces of ourselves we hadn’t revealed to anyone else. I told him about my love for painting, how it was my way of expressing emotions I couldn’t put into words. He opened up about his fear of being alone, how he surrounded himself with people to avoid facing his own insecurities.

As the night wore on, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we fit together in a way that felt right. His outgoing nature balanced my introversion, his confidence bolstered my shyness, and his warmth melted my reservations.

Ethan reached out, taking my hand in his. His touch was gentle, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through me. “Y/N, I know we’re different, but I can’t help how I feel. Being with you makes me want to be better, to be more.”

I looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. “I feel the same way, Ethan. You make me feel... alive, like anything is possible.”

He leaned in closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “So, what do you say we give this a try? Us, I mean. I know it won’t always be easy, but I think it could be something amazing.”

I smiled, my heart full of hope and excitement. “I’d like that, Ethan. I’d like that a lot.”

As he pulled me into a gentle embrace, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected connections can be the most beautiful. Despite our differences, or maybe because of them, we were falling for each other, and I couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take us.

726 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months ago

Note

Am I the asshole for calling my boyfriend out after a party after he very Frenchly insulted our cooking?

I (25M) am dating J (27M), and we live together. For the most part he's wonderful, super sweet, and perhaps the most French man living today. He's a walking stereotype, right down to the sexiness. He's Parisian (we live in the states) and has a huge obsession with wine and cheese, and I'll be honest, he can be pretty snobby. He was raised by some well to do old money family that disowned him when they found out he was gay and it shows. He has a few antiquated ideas of what America is like, especially when it comes to food. Anything that has roots he doesn't recognize gets criticized. It's a classism problem, we recognize that, and he is trying to work on it. He slips up sometimes.

We went to a housewarming party two nights ago. It was a potluck deal and I brought a beef chili I had been working on for like two days, it was my pride and joy, and J didn't even have anything bad to say to me about it.

Anyway, an hour or so into the party we went to get food. He had a few glasses of wine, so he wasn't quite thinking straight. It turns out somebody brought homemade Frito pie (and pretty fancy frito pie too, with jalapeños and sour cream and pico de gallo, it was amazing and delicious and I am still dreaming about it), I'm southwestern and it was a staple for me growing up so I tripped over myself trying to get at it. He noticed how eager I was and scoffed at me. I asked what was so funny, and he said it was baffling that I'd go for that first since it was "comically American, down to the fried chips riddled in it." I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

Turns out the friend who made it was standing a few feet away and overheard him. She told us that she worked super hard on making the chili and cooking the pie, and if he didn't like it, he didn't have to have any. I was so fucking mortified I felt like dying. I apologized on his behalf and we stayed for a bit longer, but I was so embarrassed and angry that we left about an hour after that. I couldn't make myself have a good time. As a bit of an apology I left our friend a container of the chili I made and said if she wanted to make a pie out of it I'd be honored, and she happily accepted.

This is where I may be TA. As soon as we got in the car I blew up at him. I told him that he disrespected my culture, my cooking, my taste, and worst of all, embarrassed me in front of a friend and insulted something that brought her joy. I said "if you see Americans as so lazy, stupid, fat, and disgusting, then why are you even living here? Why the fuck do you even wanna be with me? Am I just the only good one to you?" I was laying into him for about 5 minutes. It was the worst fight we'd ever been in, not that we get in many.

He got really quiet after that and just muttered out an "I'm sorry." We were silent the ride home and we went straight to bed when we got there. I even heard him sniffling when we were trying to fall asleep, which was heartbreaking and started to make me feel like I'd fucked up, too. He's been distant for the last few days and I feel like I need to apologize.

Do I? Was I TA? I just got so upset that I couldn't take it anymore. I really love him and I just keep worrying that any second he's gonna say he wants to break up, and I never want that to happen. Any advice is appreciated.

#aita #am i the asshole

417 notes · View notes

peppertaemint · 2 months ago

Text

Jikook & "Are You Sure?!" : The Beauty of Mundane

The much-maligned reality-TV format deserves most of the criticism and ire it provokes. Schlocky production values and pre-tense often lead to melodramatic fakery that people want to believe because they're bored. We've all succumbed to it; I've seen more than my fair share of Big Brother seasons. But the thing that reality can do, if it doesn't try too hard, is give us a window to life that sits between documentary and that unscripted faux-world, and I think Are You Sure?! makes a wonderful example.

The situations are both planned and imposed on this show, from Connecticut to Jeju to Sappparo. Jungkook and Jimin planned the trip along with producers and agreed to film it as content, a loathsome word if there ever was one. What we see is not genuine real-life, despite what Jimin states in Sapporo; it's a mediated view into the pair's life on camera together -- a life they seem to want to share together and with fans.

What makes AYS work so well is their naturalness on camera and together. I'm struck by how comfortable both facets of their lives seem after just over ten years of vlogging together under agency Big Hit.

We see how much they enjoy existing together, grappling with the highs and lows of the mundanity of travel. I say mundanity specifically because so much of travel is just that -- your life simply transported to a pretty view. It's still full of stomach aches and flus, good and bad food and wide-ranging moods. Seeing Jungkook patiently take care of Jimin, ensuring he took his medicine, and then creating a doltap, the traditional practice of rock stacking to ward off bad luck and bring in good energy, was a healthy glimpse into the everyday of their shared life.

The most telling part of the show is, rather ironically, the worst part -- the three-episode interlude with their unexpected guest in Jeju, Taehyung. Our duo made no bones about the fact that the guest invited himself to their trip -- their special time -- and took every possible opportunity to remind him of his status as unwanted guest.

The entire vibe of the show changed because of Taehyung's presence, and not just because JiKook were put out by the whole thing. His presence changed their dynamic toward one another as well, seemingly disrupting their status as a duo. It was as though there was a need to cater to the guest, to an extent, and to put aside their interest in one another to a marked degree. That in itself is incredibly telling for their relationship.

Luckily, the show bookended itself with JiKook solo trips, and it ended in Sapporo where the duo seemed to be most comfortable and in their element, embracing the romance and magic of the snow resort in Japan. This was a welcome contrast to the funny, fish-out-of-water vibe of NY and Connecticut.

What will stay with me is the joy in the mundanity that the two showed throughout the show, but especially when left alone. The fun of grocery shopping when you're with your person. The enjoyment of playing cards, cooking, or simply going to bed when you're with your person. It's easy to forget there is a team of people watching over them for the majority of the show, filming or simply observing. And I wonder if sometimes Jungkook and Jimin forget, too.

#jikook #jimin x jungkook #kookmin #jimin #jungkook #are you sure?!#jikook are you sure

172 notes · View notes

princesssarisa · 4 months ago

Text

Pride and Prejudice adaptations with a modern setting – e.g. The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Bride and Prejudice, Pride and Prejudice: A Latter-Day Comedy, Fire Island – seem to almost always save Lydia from Wickham in the end. Either Darcy stops the elopement, or the elopement is replaced with an online sex tape which is taken down. Wickham is either arrested or at least left behind permanently, and Lydia learns a lesson and gets a happy ending. Neither she nor the other characters have to live with her mistake for the rest of their lives the way they do in the original.

I've just been rereading several people's posts on this subject, and about Lydia's portrayal in general, which show some very different opinions about it all.

Of course, part of the issue is that in a modern setting, it's much easier to save Lydia. In most of the modern Western world, a teenage girl running off with a 30-year-old man would result in the man being arrested, not in their needing to get married to save both the girl's reputation and her whole family's. And even if they did get married, divorce is an option.

But I suspect the bigger issue is that Austen's original ending is considered cruel, unfair, and a product of outdated morals.

People view Austen as punishing Lydia for being a "bad girl" by leaving her trapped in a loveless marriage to a worthless man and always living on the edge of poverty, when by modern standards, she's guilty only of teenage foolishness. They accuse Austen of "making an example" of Lydia to teach young female readers how to behave, in contrast to the virtuous, well-behaved Elizabeth and Jane with their happy endings, and they call it anti-feminist.

Not only is Lydia's marriage bleak for her, it slightly mars Elizabeth and Darcy's happy ending too, as well as Jane and Bingley's. It means Wickham will always be a part of their lives, and for Lydia's sake, they're forced to treat him as a family member. Darcy is forced to financially assist his worst enemy – though at least he draws the line by not letting Wickham visit Pemberley – and even Jane and Bingley's patience is worn thin by the long periods of time Wickham and Lydia stay with them.

By modern standards of romantic comedy, this isn't normal. The heroine, the hero, and all their family and friends are expected to live entirely "happily ever after," while the antagonist – especially if he's a womanizer who preys on teenage girls – is expected to be punished, then never heard from again.

But of course, Austen didn't write simple romantic comedy. Her work was social commentary. Lydia's ending arguably isn't a punishment, but simply the only way her story could end without disgracing her or killing her off, and it arguably it serves less to condemn Lydia herself than to condemn the society that lets men like Wickham get away with preying on naïve young girls and forces their victims to marry them or else be disgraced forever. It also condemns the type of bad parenting that leads to Lydia's mistake. Lydia is the product of her upbringing, after all: between Mrs. Bennet's spoiling and Mr. Bennet's neglect, she's never had any decent parental guidance or protection. And our heroines, Elizabeth and Jane, both pity their sister and regret that marriage to Wickham is the only way to save her honor. No sympathetic character ever says she deserves it.

The fact that Lydia is trapped in a bad marriage, and that Wickham does go unpunished and the other characters will always have to tolerate him and even cater to him for Lydia's sake, arguably drives home Austen's social criticism. The fact that it adds bittersweetness to the otherwise blissfully happy ending is arguably part of the point. If we change it just to create a happier ending, or in the name of "feminism" and "justice for Lydia," doesn't that dilute the message?

Then there's the fact that by the standards of Austen's era, Lydia's ending is remarkably happy. She doesn't die, or end up abandoned and forced into sex work or a life of seclusion. Nor, despite Mr. Collins' recommendation, does her family cut ties with her: the ending reveals that Jane and Elizabeth regularly welcome her into their homes, and Elizabeth "frequently" sends her money. Other authors would have punished her much more severely.

But of course, that was a different time. While in Austen's original context, Lydia's fate might seem fairly happy and lenient, by modern standards it seems more cruel. And since most of the modern retellings that change her fate are screen adaptations, not books, maybe the difference in art form further justifies the change. I'm thinking of that post I recently reblogged, which argued that some of Austen's more "merciless" plot points would seem darker on film than in print, and therefore tend to be softened in adaptations.

So how should a modernized adaptation handle Lydia's ending? Is it better and more progressive when they save her from Wickham? Or for the sake of social commentary and retaining Austen's sharp edges, should the writers follow the book and find a way (not necessarily marriage to Wickham, but some modern equivalent) for her mistake to leave her trapped in a less-than-happy life, and add a slight bittersweet note to the other characters' endings too?

I think a case can be made for both choices and I'd like to know other people's viewpoints.

#pride and prejudice #jane austen #lydia bennet #george wickham #adaptations #modernization #poll

193 notes · View notes

akookminsupporter · 3 months ago

Text

I think I'm going to get cancelled for this.

Perhaps my most honest opinion as a Jikooker so far.

Something that has always bothered me about Jikookers is how they hold Jungkook to different standards than Jimin. I’ve often seen more than one person criticize Jungkook for something he did or didn’t do—whether it’s for looking at Tae in a certain way, saying something nice to him, or not doing something —while similar behaviours by Jimin are overlooked. Jimin has always been close to Tae; we’ve often seen them cuddling or saying sweet things to each other. Tae even told Jimin that he “likes him the most.” Yet, for some reason, Jimin’s actions don’t seem to provoke similar criticism or disappointment among Jikookers, who often view Jimin and Tae’s friendship as perfectly acceptable and even celebrated because, of course, Jimin and Tae are friends! Soulmates! And that’s great! That’s how it should be. But if Jungkook were to do any of these things, the world would end. How could Jungkook possibly do that? It obviously means he doesn’t care about Jimin, that they’re not close, etc., etc.

Jungkook is the one who has to make grand gestures. He has to be special with Jimin ALL THE TIME, and not just that—he has to be special by the standards of their supposed fans; otherwise, it doesn’t count. Jimin can reach for the moon for Jungkook, and many wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t mean much. Jungkook has to reach for the sun for Jimin for people to “believe” that he cares about him. And to believe jikook is at least really close.

Jungkook can’t be sassy with Jimin; he can’t push him, and he can’t say no to him because poor Jimin! It means Jungkook doesn’t care about him. But Jimin can do these things, and no one says anything. Jimin can hit Jungkook or be sassy with him, right? Because Jimin is “delicate”? So it’s not the same. Do you know how incredibly offensive that is? And the worst part is that many of you don’t even realize it! And I’m sure that after reading this, many will insult me, block me, or unfollow me because, how dare I? I can already imagine some saying that I’m defending Jungkook and that I don’t care about Jimin, completely missing my point.

You validate the possibility of Jikook being real based on what Jungkook does or says—or doesn’t do or say.

And that’s the “fear” many of you have with the upcoming episodes of the show. You don’t care if VMin declare their love in an episode; you don’t care if you see Jimin and Jungkook together cuddling on the bed, because if Jungkook interacts with Tae in any way, that will cancel out any interaction he has had or will have with Jimin.

Why, for many of you, do the interactions Jungkook has with Tae carry more weight than those he has with Jimin? Why do the interactions Jungkook has with Tae carry more weight than those Jimin has with Tae? Why do we have to weigh the interactions of three people who know each other far better than any of us?

And yes, I know you’ll excuse yourselves with, “The problem is the subgroup…” but why does what they say have to hold any validity? Their opinion, like ours, doesn’t influence anything those three men do, and by this point, that should be obvious to everyone. Haters can say what they want; it won’t change anything. Don’t pay attention to what they say. Just report, block, and ignore as necessary, and enjoy the show. Enjoy what Jimin and Jungkook decide to share with us. And if they want to share their friendship with Tae, ANOTHER MEMBER OF BTS, well, great!

Do you know why the subgroup has never stopped invading our spaces, saying whatever nonsense they come up with? Because they know it bothers many of you or us. Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae might never know what’s said on social media, and that doesn’t matter to the subgroup because their real target is us.

I’ve always said that for tkk to be real, it depends on Jikook not being real. Meanwhile, Jikook only depends on Jimin and Jungkook to be real. The subgroup knows this, but for some reason, they believe that by getting rid of Jikookers, they would get rid of Jikook. That’s not how it works, but that’s how they see it. That’s why they attack us ALL THE TIME.

So, stop with the PENDEJADAS. Because everything I’ve seen is just that, PENDEJADAS. At the end of the day, we don’t know these three men, and if nothing between them seems to be going wrong, we need to respect that, no matter what the HATERS say.

And I’m not going to be hypocritical and claim that I’ve never side-eyed some of the things Tae has done involving Jimin and Jungkook together, but that doesn’t mean I hate him or blame him for anything. Yet, that’s exactly what many of you are doing. Some openly admit it, while others pretend not to. You often start your explanations or opinions with, “I don’t hate Tae, but…”—and that “but” negates the beginning of the sentence.

And that makes all this sadder because much of what I’ve said here applies to the subgroup, and nothing would embarrass me more than reading or hearing that the subgroup and we are the same.

#rosie's opinion #rosie's thoughts #jikookphobics #jkkrs #shippers #the vecinas

165 notes · View notes

mustainegf · 12 days ago

Note

Hi Elena!

I took a deep breath and assembled my guts to send a non-anonymous request 😂.

It’s the classic trope of being James’s controversially younger GF. She has a secret insta account so she occasionally checks the comments. And many people criticize her for being a gold digger and using James to get famous (despite she got no official social media accounts and doesn’t do events, unless she’s there with James). But she’s mostly saddened because they criticize him and call him a pervert for being with a much younger woman. So she decides to break up with him for his sake and public image, but never tells him it was because of cyber bullying.

And maybe a few weeks after the break up, one of other band members shows him the comments and some fans are celebrating that they broke up. And he realizes the true reason for the break up? And in the end, they reconcile and maybe he makes a statement asking everyone to respect his personal life?

I’m a big fan your blog, so hopefully you’ll like the request sgd will consider writing a story 😊. No pressure though))

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ²⁰²³

Just all attention that I never wanted, and people obviously stared, judged, and picked apart everything that I was doing, making me super exposed in the most unimaginable way. But yeah, that is a given when you're dating somebody like James Hetfield. Perhaps his name fills up stadiums and blows up newsfeeds.

So looking back, I didn't know what lay ahead as I met him. It was obviously just me and him at first, laughing at little stuff and having a good time over music and life. It was like finally, here's someone who understands me in a way nobody ever has. But man, it all flipped once we went public.

It just seemed like, overnight, it wasn't just us anymore. I never thought it would blow up this bad. People thought I was in it for all the wrong reasons, that I was a gold digger trying to leech off of his fame. But to be honest, the worst of it all wasn't even what they said about me, it was the stuff they said about him.

"He's a pervert."

"How could he be with someone so young?

"They look ridiculous together."

All that that was commented on, I could have completely avoided. I didn't have any social media other than this private Instagram for my use. Yet, honestly, I'd be lying if I said that I never went onto it. I would scroll through and read the comments of some random fan posting in search of some sort of acceptance. But of course, it was just the same brutal tale, the fans tore into James, calling him a creep for even dating anyone of my age.

Man, that hurt. It was not about me, the rumors and all the whispering around, I could handle it. It just was for him, you know? He was a legend, he'd given so much to the world with his music. And now, it felt like people were just using me to take shots at his legacy.

He had totally missed those comments. James wasn't the type to spend too much time online. The real world was sufficient for him.

He had been so nice to me, really supportive, and utterly clueless about all the hate coming our way. He was of the opinion that what we had was strong and would get us through anything. I wanted that to be true, too. Yet, with every post claiming him a creep, or that he's lost all his dignity, I was just simply ruining his reputation.

I liked him so much, and because of that, I made the toughest decision: I broke up with him.

I didn't tell him what it really was for. I just told him I needed space. Of course, he didn't get it. How could he? Everything was all right; there wasn't a fight or at least any huge issue.

I could definitely see the confusion and pain in his eyes as I walked out that day. It really got to me, but I kept telling myself, it's all for his good. He would be much better off in the long run rather than having me holding him back in front of his fans.

The weeks that succeeded seemed to be like a vacuum. I missed him more than I had ever thought I would: how he hummed a tune of some old song while cooking or how he stared at me as though nobody existed in a room full of people. I never changed my mind but kept my distance and followed his movements through whispers of mutual friends, sometimes in the news and other media.

So, one day, this was the fan post I came across from my secret Instagram feed: an appreciation post due to our breakup, saying, "Finally, James can move on and find someone better." Plenty of those comments, cheering on the end of us and acting like they knew what was good for him. Well to be frank, part of me was relieved; I did make the right choice.

But another part of me kinda felt gross, I guess. These people didn't know him like I did. They didn't see the dude behind the music, the one that'd hug me tight after a long day and make everything feel okay.

A few weeks passed, then finally I heard from James himself, by that time I had thought he'd moved on, found his peace in the break up. One of the band members showed him the comments, Lars, if I can recall. I didn't expect that. I thought all the poisonous words of the fans would never find their way to him, that he would never have to see just how cruel people could be. But Lars showed him, and suddenly everything came back.

I got his call pretty soon afterwards. His voice sounded just like it was then, chilled yet serious, in a continuous effort to sort out something big.

He asks, "Why didn't you just tell me.?"

Well, I played the role of clueless well, like I didn't know what he was talking about, but James really wasn't buying that. He got it, saw comments, accusations, those low remarks, judgments, and thus put them together. He knew why I had bailed.

"I thought it was best that way," I finally managed to respond.

"For who?" he asked in a voice that was slightly hoarse.

"For you," I said; my voice was all choked up. "I didn't want people constantly putting you down because of me."

There was nothing but silence on the other side of the line for a long period of time. Then he spoke again, "I don't care what they say, you know?"

All I wanted was to just have the ability to trust him, but I knew words cut, even when people act like it did not hurt. I knew how committed he was with his legacy, how the fans looked up to him. I just did not want to be that to ruin it.

"I care," I said softly. "I just can't handle them ripping you to shreds because of me."

After some time, the reply came in the form of James's soft, subdued voice, "I want you, not them."

This well of my tears, you know the ones that almost spill but hold back. He was too good, you know. He was so understanding, and all the time. Yet, I did not know whether this could mend that which already was messed up.

Days later, James gave a statement to the public. He did not name anybody, but it was like you could read between the lines. He was asking for respect, not just for himself but for the people surrounding him, he owed no one explanation for whom he chose to love, this is his own thing. And honestly, if people are not able to handle it, then maybe they were never true fans to begin with.

The weight of his words was much heavier than what I could ever have imagined. Just words, but powerful words,he was defending me, defending us, in a manner I couldn't even have imagined, and it suddenly felt like this cross of public opinion wasn't weighing on me as much as I thought it had been.

After that statement, James called me up again, and this time I didn't give it a second thought. We met, and the very moment I saw him, everything fell in place once again, the stress, the distance, just gone in his arms.

"I never wanted to hurt you," I said, my voice all shaky.

"You didn't," he said, reaching and pulling me close. "I only wish you had told me sooner."

Of course, people judge and whisper behind our backs, but honestly, that doesn't weigh me down like it used to, since now I have James with me, and I know what we have is tougher than anything those random people can say.

This time I am definitely hanging on.

97 notes · View notes

slavghoul · 1 year ago

Text

Interview from Sweden Rock Magazine 10/2023

Hi, hi. There is an interview with Tobias in SRM’s newest issue, but it’s in the subscribers only section, so I thought I’d translate/share since I guess not many people will be able to get their hands on it. It is about Prequelle and it’s part of SRM’s „200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time” series. Prequelle placed #68. The other albums may have scored higher, but for now we don’t know the whole list. Either way, enjoy. Very insightful.

„Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?” Now that’s an unusual opening question. Especially when the interview is about an album that Sweden Rock Magazine's writers and qualified Swedish hard rock musicians (including Tobias Forge) have voted as one of the 200 best Swedish hard rock albums of all time. The question wasn’t planned, but comes spontaneously, as a reaction to the first thing Tobias Forge says when we sit down on opposite sofas in the record company office. I'm here for a two-part interview, partly about the EP "Phantomime" (published in #6 2023), partly about "Prequelle". Neither record companies, artists, voters, nor even our writers who conduct interviews for this series of articles have any idea what placement an album has received. Interviews are often done well in advance and we simply don't want placements to leak and become public long before publication.

No Ghost album has ever been on the list before. The idea is actually to end the day with the "Prequelle" talk, but when Tobias Forge suddenly starts with a funny little comment that this album is probably the one that those who have voted think is Ghost's worst or least popular album, I just have to take the opportunity to ask the question: Do you think that "Prequelle" is Ghost's worst album?

No, absolutely not, he says and laughs. If I'm going to be completely pragmatic, I'd say: "How many songs do we actually play from that record?" There are songs that work damn well live and sit where they should. So it's a pretty strong album.

But is this what you are basing it on? "Prequelle" was released after Ghost had become really big so it can't be compared to "Opus Eponymous" and "Infestissumam" which you don't play many songs from. I mean, no matter what kind of record you had released when "Prequelle" came out, you would still have played many songs from it and they would have worked precisely because Ghost's songs nowadays are moulded more to the arena format.

I don't know how to answer that, it's difficult. If the album had been different, it would have been. If I'm going to talk somehow both artistically and practically, I know that for every record we have become exponentially bigger. "Prequelle" was definitely no exception, but it also took us a big step forward and upwards and we became bigger and broader. To the extent that when we introduce old songs in the live set, you notice that there are elements on albums one and two that make some songs more difficult to play. Not technically, we can play the songs, but they don't work in quite the same way as the later songs, which means that there is a slight favouritism.

I asked the original question about whether you think it's Ghost's worst album only because you directly said that this means it's the least popular one.

I'm just so full of myself I assumed all the other albums are also in the top 200, which may actually be incorrect. This might be the best album and the others aren't even there, haha.

It wasn't long after "Prequelle" was released that you were self-critical of the album in interviews, saying that it was too ballad-heavy and a bit too soft. I haven't noticed that before, you being so self-critical shortly after the release.

Yes, but I still feel that way. If, as an artist, I am only going to look at the work with the criticism that one can feel towards one's own work, I think that if things had been different or if I had more time, I might have wished that I had managed to get maybe two more hard songs. Maybe one more hard song would have fit on the album and another harder song might have phased out one of the ballads. Now five years after the album came out, I know that the two ballads ("Pro Memoria" and "Life Eternal"), which I may not think are bad, are one too many. But I know that many of the people who like the band like both of them, so it's kind of a useless argument.

Who sets the length of an album? Have you set a limit, that it can't be longer than this and have no more songs than that?

No, but it must fit on an LP disc and there is a physical limit. I think the absolute pain threshold is 46 minutes and that's 23 minutes on each side. Now maybe Mikkey Dee (co-owner of Spinroad Vinyl Factory) will raise his hand here: "But I can make it longer!" And it's maybe 48 minutes, I don't know, but I do know that when a disc starts getting so full that you start getting close to the sticker, it starts to sound bad. Especially nowadays, because recordings today are so very maximalist in scope. It's one thing if you record 60s music with drums, a guitar and bass where the sound is cleaner and finer or if you play acoustic stuff with just vocals. Bob Dylan records could have eight songs on each side and it worked all the way through. But this kind of fairly compact music doesn't work well. Not only am I a militant vinyl advocate, I think we should respect the fact that most artists don't manage to create more than 45 minutes of good music on a regular basis. A lot of famous double records are not that good. I don't think the Rolling Stones "Exile On Main St" is very good. It might as well have been on one disc. And if I'm actually going to turn it into something completely mundane, I'd say that I think it's irresponsible to sit and make records with twelve songs if it results in the record being 63 minutes long and you automatically have to make a double record. It's pretty wasteful.

When you said that it's irresponsible, I thought you were going to say that it's irresponsible to print a double vinyl because of the environmental destruction that it entails.

Of course, if we're going to be completely straightforward and not do anything that harms nature, we shouldn't even release any records, so I say this with reservation. But with that in mind and for the sake of art, I think more people should embrace the actual given format that has been the most prevalent in rock history. There is a reason why a film is usually one hour and 30 minutes. You can’t take any more. There's a certain dramaturgical structure and there’s a certain comfort in it. Then the CDs came along they screwed that up, and suddenly there weren't two sides anymore but it started one way and ended another. Now that the CD is no longer important and we've gone back to vinyl, creators should follow suit and start embracing the physical rules.

Are there songs that have been rounded off just because you thought „I have to round off here, because if I continue, it won't fit on the vinyl disc"?

We actually had that problem on the last album. „Watcher In The Sky” ended the A-side and the outro is much longer on the CD and digitally. Two minutes longer I think. Much, much, much longer. It's long, noisy and has all these dives. It's a very chaotic soundscape. You get the feeling that it goes on and on, and on the vinyl it's just the beginning of an outro and then it drops almost immediately. I think that was a huge mistake.

So the overall sound quality was more important than vinyl buyers getting everything? Because you could have pressed the vinyl and it would have fit, but you would have had to compromise the sound quality.

Yes, exactly. You can get the song to just keep going until the vinyl simply runs out. Then it just starts spinning in the middle, depending on what kind of record player you have. But the problem then, if you want to anticipate events at a creative stage, is that people today buy and listen to vinyl records and are sensitive. It's quite common for people to complain that the record is broken. I don't just mean our records, but people complain a lot about the presses. If you make ten songs, it's therefore stupid to have a too thick soundscape towards the end of song number five and song number ten. If you want to be really good and old school, that's where you put a piano ballad because it's an easier sound to handle so far into the record. This is what I think about when I make records. But clearly sometimes I miscalculate.

This must cut right through the record collector Tobias Forge's whole body and soul, that "Watcher In The Sky” is shortened by two minutes on the vinyl of all versions.

Well... I don't toss and turn and wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it anymore. But when it happened, I was livid. Luckily it was just an outro. It would have been worse if it had continued with some kind of narrative into the next song. Now I can't remember in my head how long "Prequelle" is, but if I'd had to go back in time and just re-construct it, the re-construction wouldn't have had much to do with the existing material, I would have just wanted to add a scene. And it's not a scene that's missing, it's just for the sake of balance. It became asymmetrical in a way that bothers me a bit.

You've talked about this before, but it was before "Prequelle" that you really started to talk a lot about how you were thinking about what kind of new songs might suit the live show. Can you get stuck in that mindset, thinking more about what songs are needed live right now rather than creating an album that will last 30 years?

Hmm... (long pause)... The reason I'm sitting here thinking is because I'm trying to come up with examples of other bands that I think might have gone through something similar. I’m looking for examples to the answer I'm about to formulate and that is that: yes, I think there comes a point in the career when most bands make a record because they simply feel they need to… Because what we're talking about is that when you go from playing in small smoky clubs in front of an already inveterate audience that already understands the perhaps a little more chewy expression, that experience can change if you start playing in front of a larger and especially a different type of audience. When a different type of audience comes and you play in a different format, you discover that this song doesn't work very well, it doesn't sound very good and it's difficult to get the sound right. Then there's usually a record or two or three during your career when this transition happens where you start filling in with songs that work better live. Look at Piece of mind", "Powerslave" and "Somewhere in time". There's a reason why Iron Maiden didn't play a lot of the first two albums there and then, because it was easier to play the new songs. You get to that point somewhere in your career and it's very difficult to say when it is - there's no given rule and there are artists who continue to release relevant records and have an amazing ability to release new records and just play the whole new record. Well, now Iron Maiden does that and tests their audience a little bit in that way, but then they will always compensate by doing like a "best of" set the following year so everything is forgiven. Now we're in the middle of the "Impera" period here and have a very strong set, but I'm starting to feel that now that I'm about to start writing a new album, it feels like it's not really on my agenda to write three more albums that will change the live setlist ten years ahead. I think we already have the blueprint for what is Ghost's setlist, especially if you include the entire catalogue. After a while, each new record you make becomes a little less important. It's really hard to know when that point comes, but the truth is that new records don't matter in the same way. Slayer didn't have to release "Divine Intervention”. They definitely didn't have to release "Diabolus In Musica". I didn't care about it and I just wanted to hear the old stuff. If they had just come up and played "Reign In Blood" I would have been soooo happy. And that's the way it is with most bands. Nobody would be sad if the Rolling Stones came up and didn't play anything from "Emotional Rescue". And that's just the way it is. In the future, I can see a scenario where there is probably a basis to possibly build up an alternative setlist. There are so many songs that we do not play and that I have nothing against - I love them too! But it would almost be easier to build up a completely alternative setlist and run a show with only the odd songs. There are so many songs now. There's no reason not to build on that. But when I want to make a new record, it's irresponsible for me not to consider that there might have to be some songs that are a bit more direct. But it doesn't hurt me if we have more songs that we don't play live. I don't know if this answers your question...

I would actually like to ask exactly the same question again, because I wonder if you yourself feel that you get stuck during the making of the record. You said that you would have liked to include another hard song because "Prequelle" doesn't have the balance that you would have liked to have in retrospect.

Exactly, but the explanation for that has more to do with my mental capacity there and then. I simply couldn't cope. I felt that I had probably maxed out… It was probably about as much as I could do that year. That's the simple explanation. To get another song that would have fit and that would have fulfilled this requirement that I now in retrospect would have wished I had, it would have required something that I did not have there and then. The only thing that could have made it easier is if I had more time. It is difficult to reason about it, you see.

I was in the studio for a few days during the recording and it's one of the few times in all these years that I've done interviews where someone has started crying during an interview. It was quite obvious that everything that had happened with the split of the band affected you.

Yes. Of course. It did.

Is "Prequelle" a difficult album to listen to for you? Can you sit and listen to it all the way through?

Well, at the moment I have to do that from time to time, and listen to all the records, because we're just about to start rehearsing again and then I sometimes have to go back and just listen to the record to go: "Fuck, is that really how I sing?" Especially when we start rehearsing, I can be a bit like: "Damn, who changed this bit?” Then I usually sit down and it hits me: "Oh, it's me who has changed my song!" You simply do that over the years, you start singing it in a slightly different way. So sometimes I have to go back and listen, but it’s more practical. I don't think it's fun to listen them. I do it until they are finished. I listen over and over and over again and really try to listen with all the imaginary ears and all the imaginary perspectives you can have. "How would I have listened to this if I had heard it from this perspective?" Just to get as "objective" a perspective as I can until I'm satisfied, but then it's like „No, I don't want to hear this anymore". But I have to say that I think "Prequelle" is a very tolerable disc despite everything that interfered with the process. Therapeutically, it works quite well considering that we are still playing at least half of the album. For every artist there are songs that you want to play, and there are songs that you don’t want to play because they feel too personal. I don't feel that way about this one, it's more like: "Ah hell, they're part of the setlist and people like it and it sounds good. So that's what we're doing."

On a personal level, was Tom Dalgety the perfect producer for you, the way you were feeling at the time? Tom feels like the kindest, sweetest producer you can meet. He wasn't the kind of producer who pushed you very much, it was more of a nice atmosphere between you.

Yes, really, and it would have been different if Klas Åhlund, who is more confrontational, had been in the room. Now Klas and I are great mates, so it would certainly have been very therapeutic also, but it would have been a different process. If an artist comes in who is in such bad shape that they can't make a record, or a band where the main songwriter has just left them, then a Bob Ezrin goes in and says: "If you don't make the record, I'll make the record myself.” And he goes and makes Kiss "Destroyer" or Alice Cooper records. I'm not saying they didn't make them, just that you hear that Bob Ezrin made "Beth". It's a type of producer that's very different from a lot of other producers who maybe act a little bit more like buddies and cheerleaders and make the atmosphere good. Bob Ezrin doesn't care so much about the atmosphere in the room. Klas is somewhere in between, I would say. Given the condition I was in during "Prequelle", the result could probably have been different if Klas had come in. Ironically, there was actually talk of him doing it, but he didn't have the time and we'll never know how it would have turned out. I only know that it would have been different, but right there and then Tom was fantastic. I know that a lot of bands like to work with him because he is technically brilliant. He's really good at those typical sounds that people like: cool drums, guitar, bass, tone and clarity. He is also very "happy go lucky", a nice guy who sits and jokes all the time. Even if he has a bad day, it doesn't affect anyone else, which is convenient.

Let me compare it to when a writer contacts me after an interview and says "that was such a nice interview". For me, "nice" is not something positive in such a work situation and the result is often better when there is a little friction.

Mmm, and that is more Klas. There is more friction and more confrontation. And I was much better equipped for that at "Meliora" and later at "Impera". I felt better and was simply stronger. There wasn't the same survival instinct as on "Prequelle". If I think back, not about how the album turned out and how I have to live with it, but if I think back to the situation I was in, I was very anxious all the time. Even though I'm happy with the result, I wouldn't want to go through the recording again, even though Tom was great. Because it's hard to work when you're under attack. I realised that now when I made "Impera", when it was no longer like that. You are much more comfortable, it doesn't feel the same, you are more mature, you make better decisions, you are more controlled or dare to be uncontrolled. When things are this serious, you can end up in a freeze mode. Maybe that's also why there wasn't another song. The song that I miss doesn't exist because I simply squeezed out everything I had. If I had been in a different emotional state, I might have been more comfortable working out something at the last second from bits and pieces. But I felt that I really just wanted to get it done, deliver it, get back out on tour and start over again.

When you described being more mature during "Impera" you sounded like a 70-year-old, kind of like all the Aerosmith-like bands that have been fighting all their lives and now that they're in their 70s they say "we're soooo mature,” haha.

I think with all artists, especially when they're required to work in a group, there are many recordings that have been a collision with a wall because you're expected to function in a context all the time, whatever and whenever. But you do change and from one year to a few years down the line there can be a huge difference in a person's drive, hunger and priorities in life. Whether you have the same band structure as I do or whether you play in Metallica, people come in one state and they may end up in another, because you have different priorities at different times. It's unfortunately against the whole rock myth. I think that's the biggest problem for bands and businesses, that you always have this idea that if you just get to a certain stage - not just monetarily or career-wise, but you get to a certain stage of fun - then we've reached the status quo. But that is never the case! Never! There’s always something. Even in the best moments when everything is working, the band is awesome, everyone is working well, the crew is awesome, everyone is laughing, it's just a party all the time mentally, you have the world's best tour manager, everything is flowing and the tickets are selling, there will always be someone who doesn't like it and then has to break away and want to do their thing because it's no longer fun. It's usually somewhere in the lead-up to a stage where it's interesting and then once you've achieved it, it all becomes a bit boring. Just like in a relationship some people may eventually think, "well, that's a bit boring, I have to go out and do something else".

Since I was in the studio when you were laying down guitars on "Witch Image", my heart beats a little extra for that song and I thought it would be a great live song, but you've barely played it (at the time of writing it's Ghost's forty-fourth most played song live).

We did it during the "Prequelle" tour, or "A Pale Tour Named Death" as it was called. Then we did quite a few "an evening with" concerts, for better or worse. The advantage was that if you were a big fan of the band we actually played a lot of songs and actually a lot of the first albums, like "Idolatrine" - or "Witch Image". We did a set, a break and then a whole other set. That was a bit of a taste of what I was talking about earlier: doing a slightly larger set and then a slightly smaller one. You just shouldn't do it on the same night because it gets a bit stale. We played for two hours and 30 minutes or something and that wasn’t a good idea, haha. At least we did "Witch Image", but it has fallen behind a bit and it doesn't mean that we will never play it again, just that we don't do it right now. What I've been happy about is that there has been a feeling for the records that we've made recently, "Prequelle" and "Impera", that people still want to hear the new stuff. We haven't gotten to that stage that I talked about earlier when it doesn't matter anymore. Then it's very fun to try to find a new way to perform the songs, not technically, but suddenly a song like "Witch Image" might fulfill a very nice purpose between a completely new song and another song.

Let me speculate: in 30 years, I think "Rats" will be considered the great hard rock song, "Dance Macabre" the great hit and "Life Eternal" the great ballad. What do you think? Will this in the future be seen as the three big songs of the album?

Yes, that makes sense, I think. I understand that an instrumental song automatically ends up in the wake of a "best of" collection, in the sense that you do one in 30 years. I realise it's not a hit but the instrumental "Miasma" is a big part of our live show. It's strong and feels like such a keeper. Now we don't play "Life Eternal" very often actually, but it was very well received. For some reason people like to get married to it, I don’t know why, hehe. It's nice but it's also a bit like U2’s „I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and you don't use that one at a wedding. But people like it and I guess interpret it differently to me. It’s also a song that I don't think is fun to play live.

And why not?

Because I find it hard to play ballads. Physically, they don't feel the same as rock songs. I miss the "dunka dunka". Now everyone who plays music today knows what I mean - sorry, readers who don't play music - and it's that there's a small problem with having in-ear monitors. This means that you have to reach a certain frequency of beats in order to feel the music, unlike when you played at clubs with only a guitar amp behind you. You felt every single note you made and it just went through your body. Nowadays, I think it's sometimes hard when you play slow songs, because you have to trust that it sounds good, whereas when you play a rock song, you feel that it sounds good.

Does it also apply to "He Is” which is such a huge ballad, not least live?

Well, just the intro and then it gets going quite quickly and suddenly becomes a hard and rather fast-paced song. The classic ballad concept has always been that you play so-called edge beats to make it sound soft, while "He Is” is actually a rather hard-played song considering that it is a ballad. Once the drums come in – boom, boom – it's got AC/DC bite to it. It has a rock feel to it that "Life Eternal" doesn't really have. As I said, I don't think that "Life Eternal" is a lot of fun to perform, but that doesn't mean that it isn't quite good to listen to. It’s just that when I play "Dance Macabre" or "Mummy Dust" I feel that I can express myself physically more in line with what the text says and what it means.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview #prequelle era

558 notes · View notes

megamindsecretlair · 1 year ago

Text

Pray For Me

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!Shy!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), size kink, all consensual. Praise kink. Use of n-word. Mention of jail, smoking, and drinking. Established friendship.

Summary: Franklin has just been released from jail. Jerome and Louie welcome him home in style. You had grown up around the corner from Jerome and you stop by to show Franklin a little love.

Word Count: 3,404k

A/N: Sometimes you gotta take your own advice. I was nervous to write this. But we are our own worst critics! I had fun writing this though, and hopefully it's one of many. Hello brainrot. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: Special shoutout to @planetblaque for encouraging me to watch this show and fall in love with this man!

You heard the music before you rounded the corner with your friends. You tugged on your skirt for the thousandth time, wondering if you should’ve just worn jeans and been done with it.

“Girl, you look fine, c’mon,” your friend said and pulled you into the house. Damn, it’d been a good while since you were here. Probably not since the fourth when Jerome nearly set the roof on fire. There were plenty of bodies spilling out of the house, people hanging on the porch and in the front yard.

Plumes of smoke rose into the air with the loud stink of weed. “How you doin’ ladies,” someone said as you passed by the front door.

“I thought you said this was more lowkey,” you said. Somehow, you didn’t think Franklin was into…all of this. You grew up on the block near his uncle, so it was nothing for you to see Franklin from time to time. Over the years, he only got more handsome. He was tall, good looking, and that voice…

You spent many a night dreaming of that voice. You’d kill to have him look your way once. Just once. But everyone knew that he and Melody had something going on, always sniffing after each other. So you only got to admire him from afar and at the few moments like these, spent at parties at his uncle’s house.

Your friends dragged you inside and you immediately searched the room for Franklin. You didn’t see him yet but..fuck, it seemed like half the block was inside Jerome’s house.

“Hey baby!” You turned to the sound of Louie’s voice and smiled wide. You hugged her and leaned back.

“You look good!” You told her. Louie was always who you wanted to be when you got older. She was so pretty and she always had her hair in interesting styles.

“I always look good!” She said and you laughed with her.

She moved on throughout the party. There was shouting in one corner and through the press of bodies, you saw Jerome shadow boxing with Leon. The size difference between them made you want to laugh. They were both handsome in their own ways, but you weren’t sure how Louie handled Jerome’s jheri curl.

You gave up your search for Franklin. He probably had a hundred people congratulating him on getting out or wanting more of his time. Or he had his tongue down Melody’s throat somewhere, if her dad let her out of the house.

You came here to celebrate him, yes, but also just to get out and be among your people. There was something cathartic about having like-minded people all in a good mood. Dancing, drinking, or smoking or just having a good time. No arguments, no petty dramas. Nothing but Black folk and good music.

The song switched and Cutie Pie came on. The party exploded in noise and people flocked to the living room, bumping hips and pulling each other into dancing. You shook your head of thoughts of Franklin and focused on having fun with your girls.

You danced and moved around the tight space, singing along to the words. You twirled the floor with your friends and got lost in the music. Heat erupted in the living room as everyone moved in tandem. You laughed as guys tried to show out for the women.

“Goofy ass niggas,” your friend cackled.

“You like them goofy ass niggas!” You said.

“And!” Your friend said and you laughed with her.

After a few songs, you were worn out. You waved your hand as your friends tried to keep you going. You had sweat pouring everywhere. If you didn’t sit down now, you were going to pass out. You fanned yourself as you collapsed on the couch. Your leg bumped someone’s.

“My bad,” you said.

“You look like you’re havin’ fun.” There. That voice.

You looked to your right and saw Franklin Saint smiling at you. Franklin. Smiling at you.

“Yeah, I am.” You swallowed hard and was thankful that the music was so loud that he couldn’t hear it. Damn. He looked amazing. Dressed in a simple purple T-shirt and dark jeans, he looked delicious enough to eat.

Franklin nodded and smirked. “You don’t though,” you said. You weren’t sure where that came from, but the more you looked at him, the more you realized it was true. He looked set apart from everyone else.

“I’m havin’ fun,” he said. He had to yell a bit to be heard over the music. His head dipped towards yours and you smiled. He smelled so good. You hadn’t been this close to him in forever. You soaked up every single detail. You felt silly, but this was already the greatest night ever.

“Been a minute since I seen you,” he said.

You shrugged. “Just been workin’,” you said. The more you spoke to him, the more the initial shock wore off. You were able to hold a conversation like a normal person. Slowly, Franklin seemed to relax into the conversation just like you. You didn’t talk about anything important, really. Just the latest books you’d read, the latest movies you’d gone to see, or how work was going.

“What?” You asked. You were in the middle of talking about work when you noticed that Franklin was just staring at you.

“You’re really beautiful,” he said softly, his words nearly drowned out by the loud music. You ducked your head and scratched absently at your cheek. Franklin took that hand in his and played with your fingers.

His large hands swallowed yours and you stared at your hands intertwined. His hand was warm and sent tingles up your arm. You looked at him to find him focused on your face. “Thank you, Franklin,” you said with a smile.

“I should be thankin’ you,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re the first person to talk to me like I’m normal. Since I got out,” he said.

You squeezed his hand. “You are normal, Franklin,” you said. You made sure to look him in the eye so that he really believed you. He smirked and nodded. “You just need some rest, that’s all.”

“Or maybe I need to hang around you more often,” he said with a grin.

You sucked your teeth. “Stop playin’,” you said.

“I’m not playin’. I like talkin’ to you,” he said.

Your heart plopped to the floor. Warmth spread through your body and you curled your toes in your shoes. “I like talkin’ to you, too,” you said.

“You want a drink or somethin’?” He asked.

You shook your head and played with his hand. Your thumb ran over the space between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t mess with that stuff.”

“Me neither. Why don’t you?” Franklin’s attention was unnerving. It was hard looking him in the eyes sometimes. Almost as if he was peering into the depths of your soul and judging what he saw.

“The truth?”

“Always the truth,” he said.

“I got control issues sometimes. Drinkin’ or smokin’, I don’t like being that out of control.”

Franklin’s smile was slow but it spread from one side to the other. He laughed and shook his head.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You said and shoved his knee. He shook his head but continued to laugh.

“I’m not!”

“Then why you laughin’?” You watched him settle down and shake his head.

“Just somethin’ funny. You might like being out of control sometimes,” he said.

“I’on know about that,” you said. You knew it was an issue with you. But you couldn’t help it. Between your family and your job, you were constantly thrown in responsible roles before you were truly ready. It wasn’t like you had a choice to not rise to the challenge. You saw the way drinking and smoking made people crazy. You weren’t into it.

“Hey, wanna come with me?” He asked.

Before you could ask him what he meant, he smiled and stood up from the couch. The living room had cleared out a bit since you had been talking to Franklin. How long had you sat there? It was a little disorienting looking around. The crowd had pushed out onto the front lawn. There was more room to breathe and think.

He pulled you up by the hand he still held. He was really damn tall. You looked up into his mischievous eyes. His smile never left as he inclined his head and pulled you through the living room towards the hallway.

You suppressed a giggle as he pulled you into a room and closed the door. The music from the main room was still thumping, but it was significantly muffled by the closed door. Your ears rang as Franklin turned on a light. This time you giggled. You were standing in Franklin Saint’s room. The situation was a little absurd.

“It looks like you,” you said.

Your eyes roamed around the things he put on the wall and his cassette collection. You leaned down and looked through the tapes.

“What it look like? Tell me,” he said.

“Clean and studious. Lots of books,” you said and pointed to the books on his desk.

“What, a nigga can’t read?”

You laughed. “I didn’t say it was bad,” you said.

Franklin turned that assessing gaze on you as if he couldn’t figure you out. Like you were a mystery book and he hadn’t reached the final reveal yet. He stood leaning by the door so he walked slowly towards you. You stood your ground.

He brought his hand up and traced your lips with his thumb. He leaned down and kissed you. You committed every detail to memory. The way his lips slanted against yours. The heat was pouring off of his body. The way the purple shirt rustled against yours. His hand as it dropped to your shoulder and then to your waist to pull you closer.

You smiled when you broke apart and glanced at Franklin. “Damn. You sure no one’s gonna come barging in?”

“Door locked. Scared?” He asked with a smirk.

“No. I’m a lady,” you said and Franklin laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “I just want to make sure no one’s gonna walk in,” you said. You were too shy to say what you really meant. And you also needed time to think.

This was completely unreal. You were standing in Franklin’s room, kissing him. It was like someone peeked inside your head and offered you everything you dreamt of.

“Hey, it’s just us. I promise,” he said. “Trust me?”

This was Franklin. You’d known him all your life. You nodded and smiled. You did trust him. Damn everything, but you did.

Franklin kissed you again and you relaxed into it, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders and hugging him tight. His arms came around your waist and he started to walk you backwards towards the bed.

Once your legs hit it, he stopped and smirked down at you. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his chest. You’re pretty sure you drooled as you took him in. Your hands explored his body as he lifted your shirt out of your skirt and pulled it over your head.

You took off your bra as he unzipped his jeans. You kept your eyes on each other, smiling and giggling as you two quickly disrobed. His eyes perused your body and you never felt sexier.

“So beautiful,” he said.

You ducked your head but it only made you look at his swelling dick. You knew he was packing, skinny dudes usually were, but damn. How the hell did he walk with that between his legs? It was a miracle he wasn’t always drooping forward.

“Oh shit,” you said.

Franklin laughed and kissed you again, distracting you. You could become addicted to his kisses. They were at once soft and hard. Sweet but forceful. He kissed down to the side of your jaw and then onto your neck.

His big, juicy lips suckled on your neck as he lowered you to the bed and climbed on top. You moaned just from the feel of him slotting in between your legs. His dick pressed into the crook of your leg, warm and thick.

Franklin kissed up to your ear. “That pussy wet for me?”

You moaned and bit your lip. You wouldn’t survive a night with Franklin Saint. Not if he kept talkin’ nasty like that. You nodded.

“Let me hear that pretty voice then,” he said. He kissed back down from your neck to your chest. When he got to your nipples, he hummed in pleasure and suckled one of them into his mouth. You watched as he turned that intense gaze to your chest. Sucking on your nipples as if it was his only job in the world.

You moaned and squirmed beneath him. If you were wet before, you were soaking right now as his warm tongue teased your nipple into a needy little bud.

“Franklin,” you said with a gasp.

He let go of your nipple with a loud pop. He looked at you as he lowered his mouth towards your other nipple and gave that one as much attention. Keeping eye contact was hard when all you wanted to do was roll your eyes back. Your hands massaged his shoulders and the back of his neck.

“Focus,” he said. He kept going until your nipples were matching buds. He kissed down your belly stopping every so often to suckle a bit of skin in between his teeth.

You twitched every time he did that and you slapped at his shoulder. “Franklin!”

He chuckled as he continued to travel down, nosing your damp curls and inhaling. You bit your lip and wiggled. You were used to guys getting right down to having sex. It was rare that someone went down on you without you having to beg like a fool.

“Hm, lemme taste it,” he said, that slow drawl of his like its own symphony. He didn’t wait for permission. He latched those beautiful lips to your pussy and you moaned and melted into his bed. It smelled like him too. You moaned from smelling his clean scent and from the magic he weaved in between your thighs.

Your legs involuntarily closed around his head. He felt so damn good. He alternated between flicking your clit and suckling on it. Between licking you like his own popsicle and tracing little circles.

“Oh fuck,” you whined and rolled your hips. Franklin grabbed your thick thighs and pried them apart. You looked down at him with an apology on your lips but licked your pussy again and robbed you of all coherent thought.

“Need some room to work, woman,” he said. He kissed your pussy and then dived back in, fucking you with his tongue.

“Oh, oh, oh,” you said. He returned his attention to your clit and sucked hard. You came on his tongue, your body betraying you and twitching and jerking.

Franklin found your hands with his and held you as your orgasm ripped through you. You held on for dear life as your moans competed with the music outside. He continued to kiss and makeout with your pussy as you convulsed. As you came down, he rubbed the remainder of your juices on the back of your thighs.

He crawled up the bed and braced himself with his elbows. He was level with you as he kissed you. You faintly tasted yourself on his tongue. As he kissed, he moved his hips until his dick pressed against your entrance.

He started to push in and you moaned into his mouth. “Let me hear you,” he said.

He looked into your eyes as he pushed further in. The sweet burn of him stretching you out made you hiss. You drew your legs up and wrapped them around his lean frame. “Franklin!” You wrapped your arms around him as he started to stroke.

With each stroke, he pushed in deeper until he hit a spot deep inside of you. You fell apart under him. That stroke was a switch inside of you. You never felt someone go so deep or so hard before and you were clutching him to you, shaking and moaning as your orgasm fractured you into a million tiny shards.

Franklin watched you as you floated back down to your body, panting. The room was burning up. Or maybe that was you. You were both slick with sweat as Franklin smirked at you.

He continued his slow, deep strokes. Again, he hit that spot deep inside of you. “I can’t, I–”

Fuck, you had cum so many times already. But with every glide of his dick, your belly flipped and your pussy clenched him.

“Sure you can,” he said. He nodded and continued to move inside of you. He hiked your legs higher until your feet hit the top of his ass. It allowed him to truly move deeper inside of you.

Your arms wrapped under his so that your palms were directly on his back muscles, feeling them contract and expand as he slid in and out of you. It brought his chest down to rest on top of yours. He held his weight, but now your overly sensitive nipples rubbed his chest.

“Franklin, please,” you said. You weren’t exactly pushing him off. But these slow strokes were killing you. You could deal with jack rabbit niggas that just wanted to bust and get off of you. You could even deal with the niggas that thought they had a little game and you managed to get something out of it.

Franklin was completely different. He took his time. Your pleasure came first. This was the difference between fucking with ignorant muthafuckas and a grown man. Something must have shown on your face because he kissed you, bringing you back to the moment.

“Please, what?” He demanded.

“I can’t…” You still couldn’t form the words. His dick was slick with your juices. He slid in and out with ease. He eased all the way out and went even slower sliding back in.

The noises that left you should leave you embarrassed. But you felt nothing but safe in his arms. Safe to be yourself. Safe to give him every moan, every excited utterance, and every cry. Another orgasm was building in your belly.

“Can’t what?” He asked.

You looked into his eyes. That was a big mistake. You were trapped in the liquid pool of his eyes. His grin spread across his face. He was having fun while he was breaking you apart.

“Franklin,” you cried. You pushed at his shoulders but he was an immovable force. He pecked your lips and smiled at you.

“I just want one mo,” he said.

You shook your head back and forth. There was no way. Franklin kissed you and toyed with your lips while he continued his deep strokes. Never breaking eye contact.

You didn’t want him to stop but you also needed him to. He felt too good stretching you out and wringing any and all sounds you were capable of.

“I know you can do it,” he said and kissed you again.

“Fuck,” you whispered as your orgasm rolled over you like a bulldozer. You tensed up, cries and moans scratching the back of your throat, clutching him to you as if he were the only thing keeping you together. Your pussy contracted around him and triggered his own release.

“Goddamn,” he moaned as his cum spilled inside of you. You felt each hot spurt bathe your pussy.

Franklin held you as you calmed down. He rained kisses all over your face as he slipped out slowly so he wouldn’t hurt you. You caught your breath as you felt him leave you. You shivered and Franklin rolled onto his side and pulled you closer.

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while,” he said.

“You have?” You asked and looked at him.

“Mhm,” he said. He pulled your leg over his and he rubbed your thigh. You caressed his cheek and he smiled at you.

“I wanna do that again,” you whispered to him. He chuckled and nodded. You didn’t have to pinch yourself. This may have been a dream come true, but it was a reality you weren’t ready to wake up from.

Liked this? There's more! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

#megaminds secret files #The Secret Franklin Saint Files #Franklin Saint x Black!reader #Franklin Saint x Black reader #Franklin Saint x Fem!reader #Franklin Saint x Fem reader #Franklin Saint x Shy!reader #Franklin Saint x Shy reader #Franklin Saint fanfic #Franklin Saint fan fic #Franklin Saint fanfiction #Franklin Saint fan fiction #Snowfall fanfic #Snowfall fanfiction #Snowfall fan fic

564 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 9 days ago

Text

I assume this is because I criticized Kamala Harris in my last post.

I want to address this because it's important to me and frustrations currently consuming my life, and I'm very emotionally unwell right now. I want to share my experiences and make a point I feel is important at this time.

Once again, this is very unfitting of the smut fanfiction blog and will be deleted later, even though I'm sure this is a huge follower-losing post, but whatever.

Forgive me for rambling so much, but I encourage you and people who think like this to read in entirety.

I realize things are tense right now in the US.

Part of the reason for my inactivity the past while (besides multiple hospitalizations) is that I'm glued to my screen every night now because I'm very scared. I've been spending all my time researching, watching videos from economists, etc.

(Preemptively, sources for everything I'm about to say: the FEMA Privacy Act Statement itself, the official CPB database, Helene People Finder, United States Council of Foreign Relations, Samaritan's Purse, NYC.gov, Starlink, Politico, ABC, CNBC, georgia.gov, nc.gov, tn.gov, my own life)

The US is an extremely high-tension, polarized political climate, largely due to the bipartisan system.

However, no one should be immune from criticism.

All politicians should be criticized when they do harm. I am allowed to criticize her, and I will.

Criticizing one candidate is not the same thing as endorsing/supporting their opposition.

3,000+ Appalachians are missing. The current death toll makes this the deadliest single event in the US since 1862. A higher death toll than Hurricane Katrina, a higher death toll than the events of 9/11/2001, a higher death toll than any mass shooting.

However, it is largely going completely ignored, and mainstream news media has barely acknowledged it, in part due to elections, but largely because the people who live in Appalachia are poor, rural people. And the harsh reality is that poor people's lives are not treated with the same value as people of higher classes.

FEMA continues to do nothing, and the feds are now threatening to take children away from homeless parents... yet they blocked donations of trailers and campers from nearby areas that would help those people to, you know, not be homeless. A kind group of Amish have come down from Pennsylvania to build shelters, and FEMA may tear them down too since they don't have "permits."

Harris had the opportunity to do something, and has the authority to order FEMA agents to act differently, but she chose to exploit the situation for publicity, then leave and otherwise ignore them. She then went on to pay Beyonce $10,000,000 to speak for 5 minutes.

That deserves to be criticized.

Her campaign continues to claim a good economy and job market, when inflation and cost of living has peaked, and just this month, their policies actually have officially led to one of the worst employment outcomes the United States has seen since the Great Depression, disproportionately affecting low-income workers.

That deserves to be criticized.

She has a bad track record during her time in the judicial system for the way her actions harshly affected underprivileged people, especially Jamal Trulove, who was terribly wronged.

That deserves to be criticized.

Furthermore, the reason FEMA/the government does not have money for Appalachia is for a few reasons, all of which were ordered, facilitated or allowed by the current administration:

1) we've sent over $100 BILLION to the IDF so they can keep blowing up hospitals and kindergartens,

2) we sent $175 BILLION to Zelensky so he can keep sending young men into violent deaths even if its against their will,

3) we just sent $100+ million to Lebanon even after the hurricane crisis, meaning the federal government explicitly chose to prioritize foreign aid over its own people,

4) money was taken directly from FEMA reserves for crises like ours, and used as part of a whopping $150,000,000,000 spent on mass migration — including free flights, a $20 million welcome center with a free-use "game room" with dozens of Xboxes plus free food/lodging, and in NY, an average of $1400 prepaid debit card per individual each month.

Meanwhile, Appalachians get a one-time $750 per family, and if you have insurance to cover anything, it's a LOAN you have to pay back (many "fact-checkers" are claiming this is false when its literally in the FEMA eligibility statement). Many of the independent line workers FEMA hired for repairs are reporting they have not been paid AT ALL since starting.

In other words, the money that was specifically reserved for saving lives in times of crisis was spent on video games and free money handouts.

That, holy hell, deserves to be criticized.

Secondly, I want to address the message itself.

I realize that a lot of the american tumblr userbase is 1) people young enough that they're still partially financially dependent on parents and/or 2) are, like most of the US statistically, earning middle-class incomes, and live in fairly population-dense environments.

Most people outside the US, on the other hand, are getting their perceptions of life, politics, etc in the US from the posts/narratives of people within the aforementioned groups, popular culture, and their own local media, so their perspective is often quite limited, to no fault of their own. I'm sure my perspective of life in other countries is also very limited.

Most of you live in places other than where I live, and live very different lives from mine. As humans, we are naturally prone to subconsciously assuming the lives of others are not too different from our own, and do not naturally stop to consider how various factors might affect people's lives and decisions.

We are social beings, prone to adopting the beliefs of others who have the same experiences and thereby the same limited perspectives as us, especially in ideologically homogenous environments.

However, I have just as much of a voice as anyone else.

My hope is that I can use my words and experience to foster empathy for one another between different people in a very polarized climate at a very tense time.

I'm originally from a fairly rural community of about 8,000 people, largely low-income, low-education, evangelical blue-collar workers and farmers, in the Bible Belt.

It is well-known that this demographic overwhelmingly voted for Trump. I don't deny that. I visit home a lot, I see the yard signs everywhere, flags hanging from pickup trucks and farm fenceposts, lots of red hats.

There is a reason for that.

The administration of the past four years has utterly destroyed many rural, low-income communities.

It caused a huge spike in job layoffs, leading to homelessness, drug abuse, hunger and poverty for many already low-income people, and for select communities, violent crime.

I'm fortunate enough to have had parents better off than most of the community, but I'm self-sufficient now, and I am in the bottom 20% of incomes in the US, even with a degree. I could write endless paragraphs on how hard it is to get by, but to summarize for the sake of shortening — it's very, very rough.

Everything has become drastically more expensive, very rapidly over the course of a few years. Groceries are 3x their 2021 prices. I had to get a guarantor for a one-bedroom apartment.

Many rural families resort to drastic measures to get by. Small farmers are being financially strangled out of their way of life.

The actions of the Biden-Harris administration is the reason a huge portion of my extended family was laid off and now face total destitution, as there are simply no jobs left available.

The Biden-Harris border and crime policies are responsible for the brutal rape of a significant number of women and girls in this geographic region. Statistically, these rapes have quadrupled compared to the previous administration.

A woman was raped and stabbed to death about a mile from where I live.

Our nearby neighbor, a cow farmer back home, was attacked on his own property.

I have personally faced multiple instances of sexual harassment and aggression, some of which were very frightening. I know other girls nearby experienced the same or worse.

Alcoholism and hard drugs due to the spike in unemployment and poverty has ruined many lives, and help is often hard to access in rural regions.

A woman my mom was acquainted with ended her own life in 2023 because her children were taken from her due to her drug addiction and poverty. People I played with on the church playground as kids are now unemployed heroin addicts.

I've watched my mom driven to tears after realizing how drastically her income tax increased, and how little she has left after them despite working around the clock.

All of these can be traced back to the policies and actions of the current administration, and the current Harris-Walz platform's proposals will drastically increase it all — largely voted for by people who live in economic situations and locations as such that they are fairly unaffected by these consequences, so they may not understand how it affects these people.

I could write endless paragraphs of all the people I know who have been at best negatively affected, at worst utterly ruined, by the current administration.

Since I have the unique background of understanding these people whilst having more liberal values as an individual, with a broad range of people I interact with now, I have tried to have discussions on this over the last year or so, in real life and virtually. I believed that raising awareness would make people on the left-leaning side empathize with them, and inspire dialogue to work to implement ways to account for the concerns and needs of the rural poor, and incorporate that into their existing proposals.

I was incorrect. I've been very polite and respectful in how I address others in these discussions. In the vast majority of interactions, I was not given the same in return.

A few were receptive, which I appreciate, but in most of my experiences, the same group that is known for encouraging empathy, apparently doesn't apply that philosophy to people they dislike — no matter how I presented it, they immediately rushed to demonize, censor, humiliate, shame and gaslight me, and expressed callous apathy at best, if not active contempt, for my people.

They say "that doesn't happen," and I think they genuinely believe that due to limited perspective — but the reality is that they're simply in a position of privilege as such that it isn't happening to them.

Similarly, what you have to understand is that from the perspective of many rural people in red areas, their experience is that more privileged people inflicted this suffering on them by voting for it, then silence and shame them for speaking out about it.

Likewise, they also have a limited perspective — for them, the issue I see is that they adamantly believe the "other side" is already well-aware of the effects their choices have on others. I don't think this is true, I think many on the other end are unaware of these issues.

This dual lack of understanding creates mutual resentment and bitterness, which fuels tension.

I will say that trying to explain how girls in my community were assaulted or my own harassment, only to have it spammed with replies along the lines of "don't care" or "deserved" or calling me a liar, seeing posts mocking or wishing harm on people like my family accumulate tens of thousands of likes, having people I care about referred to as "trailer trash," passive-aggressive statements implying I'm too unattractive for a man to harass — this, along with other distasteful actions I've seen, has pushed me away from the left as a community, and I don't think that's unreasonable.

Similarly, labeling people you know nothing about as bad people, without making any effort to understand their circumstances or what they actually believe and why, will drive people away and make them resentful.

My community is multiracial, women are highly valued in southern culture for various reasons, and they themselves are marginalized and underprivileged. They're kind people who have been good to me.

I haven't really met any people who are hateful, nor is hate the reason for their votes — they're all voting as they do because they are scared, exhausted, grieving and desperate. A lot of people in the area never voted before, but are now registering to vote in droves because they feel their backs are against the wall, so to speak.

Moreover, Orange Man himself redirected $14 million dollars to Appalachia, continues to raise awareness for them in speeches, and Musk, who is associated with him, has a team working to help Appalachians. He's also the only noteworthy figure that has acknowledged certain issues affecting them.

They realize that the situation in Appalachia could just as easily be them in the future, that they'd be given the same treatment.

This has resulted in a lot of rural poor people feeling that he cares more for their lives, compared to Biden/Harris who more or less neglected them. Which, considering that, is a fairly reasonable conclusion on their end.

Finally, it is true that blue voters tend to be in favor of abolishing or ruining crucial aspects of our way of life that, I say this politely, they do not fully understand, while the people here want to preserve their way of life.

So, while I have more liberal values that differ from most people back home, I don't believe they are bad people. They are reacting very reasonably to the circumstances they're in.

All I ask of others is to consider, no matter where you are or what beliefs you align with, and no matter what happens tomorrow, that the "other side" to your own may not be the evil people you have been led to believe they are, but are humans whose lives are simply different from yours, and they are acting in accordance to their experiences, circumstances, and fears.

The growing trend of demonizing political opposition with no attempt at empathy, only creates more pain in the world. I hope this has helped to foster better understanding, and that people can be kind to one another.

That is all I wanted to say.

73 notes · View notes

threepandas · 2 months ago

Text

Bad End: After The War (Next ->)

The click of a button in a mostly quiet room. Machines humming as they churn an endless stream of data. Listening. Receiving. Filtering through the noise, for those bits of intelligence that might win us the war. The outpost was quite. As much as it could be, at least, on this god forsaken moon.

"Perimeter Check?"

More specifically, 'did you get your ass eaten by those horrifying eel-snakes? Because you promised not too, and I WILL be mad.' 'Cept, you know, these channels are technically recorded. Rather not have my snark On Record, thanks. So SUBTEXT.

The familiar, oh so melodious, demonic death screeching of abomination eels and blaster fire comes on comm. A symphony straight out of some sci-fi horror movie, act 3. The part where everybody's getting eaten. Except NOT, because this? This is just my life.

Though the eaten part is still a Very Real Risk.

Which Is FUN.

I wait. Hope I just caught Headshot at just a bad time. Not, you know, in his final moments. Ha ha... Nope! Not! Thinking 'bout that! He's immortal, I'm immortal, and we both live in a happy fun time fairy land of FUCKING WONDERS. Denial? Fuck yeah I know her! Best friend, that one. Gonna be my future kids godparent. Walk me down the aisle. We BESTIES.

There is finally, at long last, ominous silence. Dead or dying? Dead or dying? Which side, eels or Headshot, is Dead or-?

Click.

"Perimeter looks good. Bit of a mess near the east gate, though. We'll need to get the droids to shove some mess over the ledge. They tried to climb again."

Oh thank FUCK. Tension bleeds out of me. This post is hell on my anxiety. I send back the confirm. Slump back on my seat as I keep an eye on his tracker's dot, on the patrol read out. I fucking HATE perimeter checks. They aren't safe. But... well...

This universe? I'm pretty sure, it's an "all the serial numbers filed off" blatant rip off of Star Wars. Might be a fan fiction? Cause, while the troupes are familiar, the "characters", no one is where or WHO they should be. There are also other "totally not X" bits here and there, all of which confuses the fuck out me.

But what I DO know? Is that making a fuss about the safety and well-being of us peons? During this, the "totally not the Clone Wars"? While Evil Dick, Sith-y Pants the Obvious is in charge? GREAT way for our entire outpost to get "tragic casualties of war"-'d. So yeah, no thanks.

Keeping my mouth shut.

And, hey! At least they ate our complete asshole of a commander. Technically we SHOULD be getting a new one... but we were told to make do. Same with all the OTHER critical roles currently empty.

The DICK.

Like? I know he wants to drag out the war and maximize suffering for Evil Not-Sith, Off Brand Space Wizards Of EVIL Powers? But like? Fffffuck yoooou, dude. What the hell. Hope he stubs EVERY toe, always.

The Clones deserve better then this. The SECOND the war is over? I'm stealing Headshot. Fuck this "property of the state" bullshit. Just me 'n him, man. We could go explore the wilds. Or get him a beard and fake glasses. Clone? What clone! This is my BROTHER, Headshot. Our parents were gun-toting hippies. My names Moonrock. Fuck off, maybe. Keep walking.

The second I see him cross the base threshold, I switch over to Droid command. They can't hold my shift forever, but for a bit? Should be fine.

Jogging down the hall and sliding down a few ladders, I finally catch sight of Headshot as he leaves the staging area. Oof. That is a LOT of eel blood. The cleaning bots are cursing up a storm as they follow him. Even from the other end of the hallway... he smells... ripe.

I give him a second to lead the way and for the bots to work behind him. Then join in the little parade. Ah, eel goo. The third worst thing that could come out of going outside. Right behind losing a limb or dying. But hey! I restocked the soaps for ya!

"Doesn't change that it's on my everywhere, Commander."

Oooooh~ breaking out the COMMANDER are we? Is that SASS I hear? Snark perhaps? Why HEADSHOT! Such insubordination~! What EVER shall I do?

He snorts and suggest something anatomically impossible as he gestures to the shower rooms door. I tap it open for him. Goo boy that he is. Grinning I follow and find a bench where I can sit so my back is to him. It... used to be weird, to be honest, this level of living in each others pockets. But time and isolation has eroded a lot.

Clones don't really see boundaries like everyone else. Don't have the same taboos or unspoken social rules. After all... they're all the same gender. Were forced to live basicly in a breadbox with each other. The culture that developed reflects that. And I? Am more of a follower then a "type A". Not passive by any stretch of the imagination, just... eh.

I don't have the social outgoing-ness? I guess? To drag the culture of our base towards MY social norms as opposed towards his. It made him comfortable. I shrugged and went okay. Rinse and repeat. To be honest I was just glad he trusted me enough to SHARE.

Booting up my definitely-not-a-tablet, (which is of course, STUFFED full of various bits of sci-fi technology that only half makes sense) I once again try and connect to the wider army's mainframe. Nothing. I've BEEN trying for weeks now. But for some reason? We're cut off.

No new commands. No new forms to fill. No demands for information.

No UPDATES on what the FUCK is HAPPENING out there.

I'm... not gonna lie, getting nervous. We're a listening outpost. Some of our information is time sensitive. And our SUPPLIES are not infinite. Forget food, if we run out of AMMO? Those nightmare snake-eel THINGS will... Look, long and short of it? I've got an "empty" blaster shoved under my bunk. Two shots left. And compared to the slow, SLOW digestion and meat threshing teeth those horrors have?

At least it's FAST.

But I would REALLY prefer we NOT fucking come to that, you know? That someone would fucking PICK UP. Or? I don't know!? Notice we're offline? Whatever the problem is! The fact that we've gone dark is SPOOKING the fuck out of me.

Not to mention? That even BEFORE communication went down? The chat rooms and update boards weren't making a whole lot of sense. Lot of clone specific references that I didn't get. Memes, maybe? I don't KNOW and that's the part that's killing me. I had no way to CHECK. It all just... went dark.

We're still GETTING data. But? We can't seem to SEND it. Headshot and I checked. I checked the droids while he got the dish and other external devices. Clambering around the roof with his sniper rifle like a well armed, circus trained, mechanic. Nothing was wrong with the droids. And according to Headshot? Nothing was wrong with the dish.

After a while I gave up. Again.

Reminded myself to practice my meditative breathing. In... out... IN... OUT... do NOT trough your only Data Tablet. You'll break it. You can't REPLACE it. It might FEEL satisfying in the moment... but it's Not Worth It. Just listen to the sound of the running water. The quite of the room. Breathe... unclench your jaw, make your muscles relax, c'mon you can do this.

Fuck, I needed my anti-anxiety meds. But we were starting to ween me off them so I didn't go cold turkey when we ran out. It was fucking with my head. But, hey! At least I wouldn't run the risk of seizures! Or any suicidal ideation! No, just slowly building anxiety, in this, History's Most Stressful Outpost.

The shower shut off behind me. Leaning forward to grab a towel from the stack, I tossed it blindly over my shoulder. Heard him catch it. Wet feet slapping quietly against tiles as he walked forward, drying himself. From the feel of droplets and heat, looming just behind me? He was leaning over my shoulder. The man always did like to damn near boil himself in the shower.

"Still nothing? We've run out of D6 bolts. Not to mention your meds..." He commented, still drying off. I could feel the occasional brush of a towel. A bare arm reached over my shoulder to tap at the screen. "Have you tried...? Shit."

He tried several commands. Leaning over me, damn near cradling the back of my head against his bare chest. But nothing worked. Plopping his chin down on the top of my head, he casually wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leaning his weight on me as he considered the problem. The fans kicked in overhead, dehumidifing and hopefully preventing any sort of alien molds.

I told him to go put on some fuckin pants, before he frozen something he might miss off.

With an amused snort he stood and wandered over to the armor cleaner. Grabbing a new undersuit. Blacks went on, armor freshly de-goo-d, he called that he was presentable once more. I swung my legs over the bench. No need to stand, after all, if we're not leaving yet. Besides, exhaustion was a symptom of the withdrawals. Med changes are a BITCH.

Just as I was about to suggest anough brainstorming session, though?

Our comms both ping. LOUDLY.

That's the emergency signal from the control room. SHIT. I'm up and running before the sound even fades. Headshot right behind me. Not so much because he can't out run me, as he'd stop to grab his weapons as was bringing up the rear. Guarding my back. I prayed, PRAYED, this wasn't an attack. We were supposed to be a fourteen person team.

There were TWO OF US.

We'd never be able to hold the line. Would DIE here. Fuck, I didn't even have time to get that gun! I should have been carrying it. It had been too morbid. But... but...!

I slam into the control room. Headshot a half step behind. The droids frantically churning away. Okay. Okay! What's happening? A ship, big one, in orbit. Oooooh fuck. How Big? I ask. Am informed? "Wipe us from the face of the galaxy" Big. Ha ha! FUCKING FANTASTIC. Great! Merry fucking Christmas to me, I guess! Okay. Okay!

Let's DO this.

Get on the short range ship comm, (never thought I'd USE it but here we fucking ARE) and ask, politely, for them to Fucking Identify Themselves. (Because we have Big Guns and are NOT afraid to use um!)

There is a long tense moment. Then? Oh thank merciful FUCK. A Clone's voice comes on the line. General Spark of the 153rd, in pursuit, they're here to catch traitors and resupply if we need anything. Permission to land a few ships?

I. Could. WEEP.

Yes! Oh, ABSOLUTELY yes! Whoever they're chasing picked a REALLY stupid planet to hide out on, not gonna lie. They'll be picking their traitors up in PIECES. But? Never has a voice been more beautiful. Send Techs! You have FULL use of the outpost General! Welcome!

Setting the droids to navigating the incoming ships safely through landing, I all but DRAG Headshot towards the landing pad. People! Actual, real, PEOPLE! Supplies! Oh thank FUCK! We might be able to figure out what wrong with our relays! Get NEWS! And? That was a CLONE GENERAL!!!

That NEVER happens!

I can practically feel my self vibrating with excitement. Bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, as the ships come in for a landing. The officers that roll out are all clones. Their armor more personalized then I've ever seen it. It's BEAUTIFUL. I can't help but lean over and whisper to Headshot, saying as much. Wondering if we can get him some of the supplies they must of used.

You know, assuming he WANTS any of um.

If not? Dibs.

His shoulders are shaking. Why are-? One of the officers thanks me for the compliment. Headshot you SON OF A SUBSTANDARD VAT. Was your SHORT RANGE MIC ON!? Why would you not-!? Bastard! Dead to me! Sorry general, I've never met this man before in my LIFE. Couldn't introduce if I TRIED.

Still! High ranking clones? We love to see it. I am THRILLED. It's been long over due.

Dooooesn't mean we should hang out in Eel Country though. Everybody INSIDE! Let's goooo. Nice and safe, where no ones getting eaten, m'kay? Thank you! And yes! I DO have a list of resupply needs! A LONG list. Starting with my meds, followed by ammo. Though honestly they're tied at first...

As me and the, now rather concerned, medic chat about the collapsing state of our highly rationed medical supplies? Headshot and the General are off to the side... talking about... something. Not sure. Probably not important, or he'd include me. I show the medic our "infirmary" and medical charts. Then get pulled away by the mechanic.

I barely get to SEE Headshot over the next two days. Forget sitting down. The only breaks I get? Meals and lights out. It's kinda awesome. Exhausting, yes, but? After so long isolated? It's a good type of exhausted. The sort where you feel like? For ONCE? You're actually being productive.

There are SO MANY eel burrows to scan? Potential landing sites? And all the MAINTENANCE? Dear merciful FUCK. Literally everything is out of date and cheap as BALLS. Held together with shoe strings and a prayer. But finally! FINALLY! Someone in budgeting GIVES A SHIT!!! Better equipment! Actual medical supplies! Real bedding! And best of ALL?

AIs! As in Actual, information sorting, artificial intelligences!

Because there literally hasn't been a REASON for humanoids to do this job for CENTURIES aside from a misplaced sense of superiority and distrust of droids! All WE need to do? Is stay on base and make sure THEY don't go rogue or break down from the extended isolation! Woooo desk job!

I'm gonna name um. They shall be my BABIES.

That said? None of this? Is very... Off Brand Sith-y. Little too "cares about their fellow man"-ish, you know? And... I'm not stupid. Excited as FUCK, for all the supplies and new changes... but not? Stupid. Blind.

They're keeping me away from the control room.

Keeping me out of important discussions. Sending me off on errands. All of which? SEEM important. ARE important, on the surface, but hide the fact that they are intentionally scheduled? Just as Certain Things Are Discussed. I am being... handled. Like a child. A fool.

When I confront Headshot? In our bunkroom, which we've shared for YEARS at this point. Slept just across from each other, so this lonely hell might feel just a little less empty? So when the dark thoughts creep in? That we might die in this God forsaken place, forgotten by the universe, left to ROT here, and wouldn't it just be easier to-? Someone there, so we won't. So we still matter.

He stands across from me. In OUR place. OUR room.

And FUCKING LIES.

......I guess I know where I stand, huh? And I know... I KNOW, I shouldn't feel betrayed. Clones come first, always. That's the party line. How they survived. I'm a Nat. There was always a power imbalance between us. I would always have been held just that bit further away then one of the brothers. Guess... guess it just finally happened.

I shouldn't feel betrayed. I have no RIGHT to feel betrayed.

But I do.

Headshot looks alarmed, hands twitching at his side, even as he tries to maintain his facade. Nothing's happing. They aren't doing anything. Right. Uh huh. His lie sits between us like a field of broken glass. The words, the arguments, I'd been looking for now seeming so useless. What's the point? He's made his decision.

I feel like crying. Don't want to talk anymore.

Good NIGHT, Headshot.

In the morning, I don't bother asking. I know he notices. Is waiting, restless, for us to continue on as we always have. We always check schedules after all. But what's the point? He'll lie. Instead I pull my armor on and go. Go to your brothers, Headshot. Whatever's happening here, I'm clearly not trusted enough to be part of it.

I just get out of your way.

There's a lot of busy work on my schedule, but honestly? The new AIs are learning to handle it. Instead, I head down to the new supply crates. Grab some bedding. A cart. Then head back. Pack up my shit. I just... can't.

Moving it all to a different bunk, I still have most of the day left to go. Could...? Probably? Check out if we actually DO have space rats? The droids have been reporting dust and noise in the basement, near the food stores. So likely vermin of some kind. Gonna be horrifying to find out what kind of vermin exsist HERE, but better then nothing, I guess.

Grabbing one of the better ration bars to shove in my face on the way to the gun locker, I count it a breakfast. Everyone's busy with a clone only meeting. Good for them, I guess. Not upset with General Spark or his men, I realize, as I check over the gun, no... just Headshot. Because he hurt me.

All he had to say was "I can't tell you." Or "trust me" and I WOULD have. But no. He LIED. To my FACE. And now? Now I feel like I'm waking around with shards of glass where my heart should be. Like I want to hit something. I need a distraction. So down to long term storage I go.

Normally? It's only droids down here. I have to ride a cramped little maintenance elevator lined with blast doors. You know, incase Satan's favorite pet somehow burrows in. The fuckers. It's also freezing. Which, I mean? Great for food storage, not so much for thermal regulation.

The level is eerie quiet.

Which.... huh. That's? Not right.

I reach for my comm before pausing. The hurt in my chest throbbing. I know I shouldn't let it get in the way of professionalism. Of protocol. The rules are there for a reason. To keep us alive and safe. But... God, I don't want to hear his fucking voice right now. I might cry. Say something I don't mean and regret later. You don't LAST long, isolated out in Hellpit, Nowhere, without doing a little soul searching.

Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

My hand drops. It's fine. I'm FINE. There's nothing down here. Or, well, should be nothing down here. We'll find out.

Slowly moving forward, I begin to check the stacks. I don't see any of the droids. Don't HEAR any of them. There should be at least thirty down here. But all I hear? Is the circulation fans. The sound of my foot steps. Something isn't right.

It's a loose, half melted screw in the path that saves me. At first I think it's a bug. But the quite clink when my foot nudges it is unmistakable. It makes me look sideways. There, a cleaning droid, cut down from behind. Tiny little mechanical claws still reaching out to claw itself to safety. Wheels shredded. The marks of a lazer blade are unmistakable.

The hiss-hum even more so.

I BARELY dodge.

Half my gun, simply sheared away. Molten slag dripping from the cut point, the battery already violently destabilizing ask it's nicked. I throw it, before I have the chance to lose a limb. The blast takes out a crate. I'm thrown. Barely roll in time to dodge the downward stab of the hissing blade. A brutal, magic-enhanced, kick sends me flying.

Straight through a stack of ration crates, into a wall mounted medical case. I land among the corpses of the droids. Each, a picture of terror and betrayal. I don't understand what's happening. The blades not red or black! It's blue! That's a not-jedi! Right?! Why are they!? Crates are lifted into the air. Threatening to smash down and bury me alive.

Can't move. Something twisted, badly, in my leg. My chest burning. Something cracked, I could feel it. I'm gonna die. Oh good, I'm gonna DIE.

"Wait! She's not a clone!"

I stare up into the face of the so called "good guys" and feel nothing but terror. Around me, the pieces of thirty droids I'd named and known, dead and dumped like trash upon the ground. Flower with his fussy need to have everything just so, Chirp who loved to sing, Mouse with the wheel I could never get to stop squeeking.

Nothing but Cannon fodder.

They died so afraid.

"Oh! You're right! Sorry! I thought you were one of those 'peating bastards. Are you okay? How long have they held you?" The Knight said. His Apprentice nodding eagerly.

My brain was static. Empty. Held? Slurs? W-what in God's name? I stayed down. Feeling small, lost, and confused. Pain rocking my body from being thrown around. The Apprentice, at least, seemed to pick up on the fact that I had no idea what the fuck they were on about.

"Ah. You don't know what's happened." She said sympathetically. It would be nicer, if she hadn't stood back while I was hurt, before they got around to asking who's side I was on. "The Clones betrayed the Republic. Took it over by force. They've made an empire. They killed the old Chancellor, who was Fallen, but then instead of handing the Republic back to the people? Kept it! Said we couldn't be trusted with it."

The last part was said mockingly. As though everyone and their brother hadn't been aware the Republic was on the brink of collapse. Corruption at an all time high. As though that same Republic hadn't been using the Clones as a SLAVE ARMY.

Slaves do tend to take exception to their chains, historically.

I wasn't really sure why the fuck they were surprised.

"Now come on, you can join the Rebellion. You must know all sort of information, from sitting out here, right? You can-!"

Click.

My helmet went full dark and internal audio only. Which was interesting because I still could barely move. But then bright light and sound, popped and cracked not to far away from my head. A flash grenade. And I finally, FINALLY? Remembered that all standardized armor? Comes with in built life support feeds.

Headshot's mystery meeting was in the command room... where my life sign readout would be. The life support feedback. Real time monitoring from me getting my ass kicked and WHERE.

A hand grabs the drag handle built into each armor, for EXACTLY this reason, and I feel my self pulled out of the danger zone. Can hear heavy, open fire. Shit. There goes our supplies. My helmet clears and I recognize the shoulder I've been careful thrown over. Headshot. He came.

He falls back at some signal I can't see. Straight to the elevator.

The shoulder under me is shaking, just slightly. Adrenaline, fear, anger. I can't tell. But... I... I'm...

"Don't." His voice is rough. Choked out through gritted teeth. His grip just carefully loose enough not to bruise. It seems to be taking everything he has. "You don't get to die. Do you understand me? You're not ALLOWED to die. Not now. Not ever. We didn't survive this long for you to leave me now."

He barely waits long enough for the door to open. Stride smooth and desperate as he races us towards the medic. I rest my head against his shoulder and breathe. Let myself be manhandled. Ha ha... a-at least? I know what he's keeping from me now. So there's that. Ow. Oh god.

The medic has to put me under. Bone fragments.

I drift.

Wake up, bandaged to hell and back, in ou-... in Headshot's bunkroom. Across from the empty bunk that used to be mine. Bed's softer then it should be, still smelling like Headshot. We haven't had the new sheets long enough. Knowing him, he probably stacked um.

The door opens. Headshot stalks in, dragging a cart behind him. His usual "pleasantly amused by life" expression nowhere to be seen. Instead? His expression is... blank. A determined, almost violent, edge to the set of his shoulders.

In silence, I watch as he unloads the cart. Bedding, knickknacks, the various bit of cobbled together wall art. All carefully stuck right back where it had been before. As though he had memorized the proper location of each and every piece. Even as he worked, with his back to me, every line of his body was daring me to be dumb enough to argue.

I didn't want too. I was just... just fucking tired.

Didn't like that we were arguing. If that was even what we were doing.

"Why?" I asked. Summing up everything and distilling it. Why didn't you just fucking TELL me? Why didn't you TRUST me? Why did you think I'd turn on you? Why would you lie? Why were we cut off? Was it REALLY a technical error? Why take the Republic? Why ANY of this?

Just... WHY, Headshot? Please...

"I refuse to lose you. When the war ended, you were going to leave. You said you'd take me with you... but honestly? That was naive. There would be no where safe we could ever go. We all knew that. We all had favorites." He finally stopped organizing my bed. Instead, smoothing down the sheet. Running both hands across it as he stared down, unseeing. "It was all so unorganized. Filthy. They treated us like DIRT. But we were... we ARE better. Designed to be superior. Stronger, smarter, faster. More durable. Why were we listening to them?"

"Then we found out why. Control chips in the brain. The nervous system. Carefully hidden, yes. But not carefully enough. You weren't authorized, you know. I'm glad. If you had been? I'd never have forgiven you. You'd never know you were dead before you died. But... I promise."

"I would have made it fast." His smile was a terrible thing. All broken edges and betrayal. Teeth upon teeth. A mania finally set free.

"Never thought those hypocrites would run here. Expect us to die for them. The happy little slaves. For the glory of THEIR Republic. You'll be okay, Commander. The General's agreed to stay until your back on your feet, just in case."

Headshot slides onto the bunk, sitting at my side, sweetly brushing hair from my face as though he hasn't lost his god damned mind. He's the picture of relief, now that there's no more secrets between us. Now that I'm injured and dependent on his help. Yet... it's teetering.

As though at any minute...

He could slide into some... unhinged state of mind. How LONG has he been on his last thread? Barely holding together? He leans forward and my mind goes utterly still. His lips pressed gently against mine. Chaste. Sweet. A warm, calloused hand, cradling my poor bruised cheek.

"I promise we'll stay together." He whispers against my stunned mouth. Eyes intent and mad, utterly loving. Like a strangers. "I won't let them seperate us. Not for anything. Now that it's done? We can be assigned anywhere. I'll take you with me. War's over, love. We're finally free."

Were we?

89 notes · View notes