#I really only meant the everyone should unfollow me as a joke

[artist-issues]

“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”

Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.

Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.

It’s like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?

But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.

If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.

Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.

Anything that’s pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.

You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.

But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”

Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”

Are we beginning to get the picture?

See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”

He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.

And then Steven Universe comes along and says “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”

And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”

And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.

And has a godlike Creator character who claims she “doesn’t need” her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they can’t meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.

And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.

White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.

And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”

And you know what?

If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.

But He is NOT.

God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we don’t meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s not the God of the Bible.

Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didn’t smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because it’s His voice puppeting us to say it.

No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we don’t deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from others—OR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”

White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.

Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.

Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?

This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.

That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.

You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.

And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.

White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.

So yeah. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.

#Steven universe #su #Pearl #amethyst #garnet #Steven universe fans #change your mind #white Diamond #Christianity #Christian’s #asked #answered #thanks #rattling the cage #Rebecca sugar

[neonbutchery]

You not seeing mystra as evil despite grooming someone just BC her victim is a man is uh a red flag ngl

okay i'm going to turn off anons for a while so this will be the last thing i'll say about this. if you do want to have a discussion about this, i'm open to having it as long as it's earnest (which judging from the tone of your message, isn't the case).

number one, the post about the evil bg3 character hairstyle was meant to be a joke. i know that saying "bro this is just a joke" is a crappy defence sometimes, but i never aimed for serious character analysis in a joke image i made in 20 minutes that came from me noticing a funny pattern.

number two: i haven't done the gale romance nor played through the gale origin. all i know about gale's story is what i've experienced through a tav that didn't romance him, so it's very likely i missed some of the content related to his story. that being said, i've seen both "mystra is evil" and "mystra isn't evil" thinkpieces, so i honestly didn't want to get into this discourse since i have zero to none knowledge about gale's wider backstory and mystra's wider dnd lore. if i had included mystra as a villain i would've probably gotten people contesting that, too, so i decided to just put her in a category that wasn't "100% maliciously evil villain". she absolutely did harm to gale, and i'm not denying that. i'm just not comfortable making a clear judgment on if she's irredeemably evil or not.

you want to go back to that image? fine. i included cazador and mizora, both of whom have male victims (astarion + all of the other male spawn, and wyll). mizora's abhorrent treatment of wyll is especially dismissed by the fandom as something that's not that serious anyways, too. are also you going to jump into the inboxes of every single person who's ever made "step on me mommy mizora" jokes and accuse them of also not caring about male victims?

finally, number three: i really don't appreciate the implication being that i condone abuse/grooming if it's directed towards men just because of a shitpost i made. i'm sorry, but you don't know nothing about me nor my personal life nor my relationships, and i don't think that making wider judgments on internet strangers based on a single meme about fictional characters from a fictional world is something that you should be doing. i can't tell you how to think, and if you're weirded out by my take (which, i reiterate, isn't even a serious character analysis) that's completely fine! feel free to mute me or block me or unfollow/unfriend me if you're one of my mutuals. i won't even hold it against you, since i know that everyone's triggers and squicks are different. but what i don't appreciate is you coming into my blog and accusing me of being a grooming apologist based on only one tumblr post that wasn't even about mystra's relationship with gale on the first place.

again: if you want to actually have a serious discussion about this, you can go off-anon and dm me. if you want to accuse me of something as heavy as being an actual abuse apologist, say it with your whole chest. have a nice night, afternoon, or morning, wherever you are.

[wavesmp3]

I am sure there would be someone more boring than you.

i know what you’re saying, but this is probably one of the funniest asks I’ve ever received

#asks #KSNDJDNDSK #thank you anon #I really only meant the everyone should unfollow me as a joke #rule number one is rarely take me seriously #but the way you worded this ask #guh I burst into laughter #I can’t even place what’s so funny about it #the implication that I am boring as is but it could be worse #in love with this ask now

[erectionsandtea]

Wow, this post is probably going to end up being a bad idea, because I am currently in the state of exhaustion that is telling me that this post is a good idea, lol

I'm p sure this will be pointless and unnecessary, though

The following post is an analysis, not of any ship or fandom specifically, but about me in relation to a certain ship in a certain fandom (Byler, ST). It's just a something to let my followers know a little bit more about me, and why I think the way I do, why I talk the way I do, in relation to the ship, and why I might try to avoid certain posts (theories, analyses, "proof" type things).

If you start to read this, please finish before interacting with me. I don't want anyone to take anything I write out of context.

Now, I don't know if this should be considered an anti-Byler post, because I'm not saying that I don't ship it...I guess it could be perceived that way, but it's not how I intend it to be. Bylers proceed with caution, as some of this may not be what you want to hear.

Also, I have been called out (for lack of better phrasing) for a possible trigger of calling a gay couple "just best friends" (Byler). The person who told me, said it was because they themselves had personally been in a situation exactly like that before. While I do not personally, fully know what that must be like (not having been in that situation myself, as I recall...), I CAN try to understand, and try to be more sensitive about that subject. So, I guess a trigger warning for...apparently internalized homophobia of calling a gay couple "just best friends" ???

I want to start by saying that I do not view Byler as canon (yet). That doesn't mean I don't think it can become canon, it doesn't mean that I don't ship it at all, because I do (to both of those).

Back when I initially didn't ship Byler at all, it was mostly because Mileven got in the way, lol, but the SECONDARY reason was that I saw a lot of myself and my friendships in them.

Yes, I was one of those people who thought that two same-sex people can be just friends (and I still am, but not specifically with Byler anymore).

I act the same way with my best friends, and I feel I would react the same way Mike did, if what happened to Will happened to one of my bffs. Basically, nothing about Byler specifically stood out to me as "gay". It just looked like a regular very-close friendship to me.

I was in drama and choir in high school. We changed in front of people, I had one friend who would grab my boobs on a daily basis, just because she could (it spawned from a running joke about how big my boobs are, in comparison to my tiny body). I've even seen some of my friends completely nude (and they have seen me). We've held hands. And while most, if not all of us, were somewhere on the rainbow spectrum (as I like to call it), all the things we did, we just did as friends and being friendly. Being queer wasn't exactly a big part of it.

Now, I'm not saying that all drama and choir kids will be the exact same as me. That's just how I ended up, and I think that's why I just see things differently (not saying I'm special by any means, everyone is different).

Anyway, Byler just didn't strike me as gay for each other. I AM of the opinion that Will is absolutely gay, lol, and I think Mike is definitely not straight (although I really don't see hard evidence for either, but I want it to be true). And I think there is absolutely potential for Byler, AND a likelihood for them to become canon.

I have read some Byler theories, and a lot of them make sense, and some pretty good points. Like how Mike keeps staring at Will's lips. On the one hand, I've done that to my friends, when I'm just staring off into space and happen to be looking at their lips, or their boobs, or whatever.

On the other hand, Mike was clearly not staring off into space, lol, he was focused.

But while the analyses and theories do make a lot of sense, that is just how I'm seeing them for now - theories, and analyses (which can neither be wrong nor right, usually). Until we get some hard, concrete proof, which, by my definition, is going to come either straight from the writer's/creator's mouths, or will show up in ST4, I do not consider anything I see from those theories as real proof or evidence.

I also know that it has been pointed out that the Duffers have put in certain details or, for ex., been very selective with certain music choices, or cinematography choices, etc. I totally see that. But you know, sometimes things in a book, movie, or show weren't meant to happen in the first place, and are just coincidences that we, the fans, take and just roll with (like the lip staring thing, for instance). I'm not necessarily saying that I believe everything the theories say are just coincidences (because I don't believe that at all, for some things), I'm just saying there are possibilities.

Another part of why I try to avoid analyses is honestly because I think they make so much sense, and the Mileven shipper in me wants Mileven to stay canon, but the analyses make so much sense that that shipper is afraid they might be right, lol. But that really doesn't have anything to do with this analysis.

I guess the point of this post is just to say that, I should be allowed to think that two same-sex people can be just friends, without being slandered and labeled as homophobic

(Because if you honestly think I am homophobic, I will link you to my Reddie fanfiction and all the other gay ships I ship which probably outnumber the straight ones, lol, I will refer you to my bisexual best friends and my bisexual father, I will even show you photos of myself marching in Pride parades. Plus, I will remind you that I am not at all straight myself.)

because not all same-sex relationships are gay, just like not all opposite-sex relationships are romantic.

THIS IS COMING FROM A BYLER SHIPPER. Just because I do not view them as canon right now doesn't mean that I don't think they will ever become canon. If they do become canon, the Byler shipper in me will be very happy! If they don't, that shipper in me will wish they had. Viewpoints can change. I guess it just takes more to persuade me. I like Byler, I just like Mileven a little bit more. That literally doesn't mean anything. It's nothing more than a preference.

So like, I guess I'm sorry that my life/my upbringing/my relationships and friendships have made me see things differently ?? I'm sorry that I didn't pick up on the same subtext as all of you ???

I'm probably coming off as a rude-ass bitch, but you were bound to find that out about me eventually.

P.S. I know that some of the homophobia comments are directed at shippers who are, very possibly, homophobic. But those comments do not apply to all of us, and we shouldn't be grouped up together just because we have ONE similar opinion (which isn't even based on the same reasoning).

I guess, if you can't accept and respect my opinion that, canonically, Byler is CURRENTLY just best friends (even though I do want them to be more), until we get proof from the source, we might not get along. I am willing to discuss the possibility, and even look at some theories occasionally, on why they might end up canon/together. But until then, it's only speculation to me, and I would appreciate it if I were not attacked for this (although I'm sure they will be).

I do not go around looking for people/posts just so I can tell them they are wrong, I respect everyone's opinion. I hope that the same can be done for me.

Thank you. <3

P.P.S. if this makes any of my Byler followers want to unfollow me, I understand (I will miss you, though)

#stranger things #I will not tag the ship in question as most shippers might not want to read this or will take it the wrong way #analysis #about me #I'm gonna take a nap now and will probably delete this later #this probably won't make any sense oh god

[griimhilde-a]

if you know, you know.

———       a response to those who refuse to move on.

EDIT: after some encouragement and realizing that, while i tried to be respectful and private about this situation, i was not given the same treatment, i’ve decided to be upfront and filterless. here is a link to my page of receipts that i did not provide in this post. 

i would like to point out that when i made the DNI, it was buried and sandwiched in my super long rules purposely so that it wasn’t explicitly visible and drawing attention. it was specifically put there for mutuals to understand my boundaries for the new blog, and as soon as i moved blogs, my guidelines underwent heavy reconstruction and the DNI section was removed overall ( i don’t like DNIs for myself ), as well as on this blog. all statements made in the DNI were what i felt to be true and based off of not only my experiences, but others’ as well, backed up with evidence i have saved that i didn’t feel the need to provide because it wasn’t meant to be a big deal, but i also felt i needed to explain why this person was on a DNI and that it wasn’t done out of malicious intent. again, if something sounds bad it is because “bad” things were done and i can’t control that.

reading the call-out had me ( and others ) confused on where it was i had bullied her, when i had her blocked since november, where it was i had manipulated her, and so forth. i’m always wanting to be a better person, so i was extremely confused on where i had done anything wrong. i also didn’t appreciate my new blog url being attached to it as it had nothing to do with it and i was trying to move forward, and it read very much like an attempt to blacklist. despite everything, i never wanted it to be a spectacle. the pinned, public call-out by this person doesn’t read to me as someone wanting to move on, but wanting to drag things further. this is not a call-out post, this is me defending myself. i will not name drop. if you know who this is about, i ask you just read this to understand the full story. 

this is going to be a long boi ( i really tried to keep it short but alkfjdklfksldf nope ). i would also like to apologize for any dryness here, but i am aiming to just state facts as they are. it feels    ----    ridiculous writing this all out because it’s something that could and should have been handled privately. but, here we go !!

everything on the DNI is true. i will not post or reveal the sources because one, they are not my stories to tell, and two, i am not going to give her the excuse to bother them. they deserve to be safe, and i am walking proof of what happens when you speak out against someone like her. if i have to bear that burden, then so be it. 

it stopped being about “just a url” a long time ago. it became more about how i was treated in that interaction, and how i was continued to be treated afterwards. not to mention the increasing tension within the rpc and having to second-guess whether or not i was truly wanted. it was about how it was affecting those around me, my time in a hobby i love, and my mental health. the amount of times a mutual has tagged me by accident when they meant to tag her is insane. it most definitely did not feel good !!! if that kept happening, it was a problem. i also had to shut off the anon feature because of the amount of anons i was receiving. some had good intentions, but others had resorted to hate. 

regarding the messages on discord --- i stand by them. i thought if you were friends with someone on discord and have previously talked over time, it was okay to message, otherwise what was the point of discord? i didn't realize it would make her uncomfortable to do so, and i’m more careful about how i approach people now !!! 

regarding the messages: there was no change in tone other than that i grew exhausted and extremely anxious ( shaking !!! palms sweaty !!! knees weak !!!! mom’s spaghetti !!! ) and wasn’t in the proper mindset to sound happy while i was being invalidated to my face. i have even apologized there if i came off as mean. i don’t “present myself” in a way. that’s just how i talk, i prefer communicating one-on-one and i try to alleviate tension that arises no matter what because these types of conversations aren’t always a walk in the park. i wanted things to be good and not stressful for all parties involved. i’m sorry my tone came off as insincere. after being in desc rpc for a year, i was a little surprised seeing a near-identical url so i think it was fair for me to message her about it. she made the decision use it, and i was allowed to react. it was said misspellings in urls made her anxious so i wanted to help and i was shot down and vilified, essentially told i made her feel unsafe and shouldn’t have messaged. if it wasn’t okay to claim i felt “unsafe” and “paranoid”, why was it okay for her to claim the same based on a choice she made herself, but not me to feel anxious about those choices? 

i have never told a blog to block her. i have never initiated conversation about her, nor have i spoken negatively about her as a person. ever. i have, in fact, even stated that i didn’t want anyone blocking and that it would be okay to interact. here’s one example after i was approached about her. i cannot control what other people do.

hardblocking her on my end was to avoid seeing her on dash as much as possible. 

i am allowed to softblock / unfollow people who interact with her after months of trying to be okay with it. what kickstarted this process was someone i thought was a close friend had dropped me and suddenly i realized i didn’t need to sacrifice my comfort for the sake of keeping a mutual. if they could do it, so could i. while i adore the descendants rpc, the rpc is not a family, we’re not obligated to interact IC or be mutuals with every single person in the rpc. it’s not causing a rift when we don’t interact on dash. i have even emphasized that i would love to stay in contact via discord and write there if possible !! why am i being vilified for trying to make my blog a safe space for me?

regarding the “vagues”: they were all responses. a mutual wrote the post, i reblogged it, my tags were in response to the post ( said mutual’s url wasn’t even blocked out so ... ). if it felt like a vague, i can’t control that. the meaning behind the url post was circulating on dash, i didn’t see any vaguing in it other than me recounting my process of choosing this url, which was true ( was i not allowed to participate?? ). the shrek meme was in response to a public dash event ( which i originally thought was a joke ) that had received copious amounts of criticism for. it wasn’t a vague and it was explicit on what it was referring to, it was meant to be silly dash commentary, nothing deep. 

this is in my rules but i have explicitly stated that my headcanons about my characters are not a vague if they differ from yours. the talk about hair styles was actually initiated in a conversation with my friends in private. it had absolutely nothing to do with her. if it sounded like a drag, i encourage everyone to look at how i’ve “dragged” many other things including the original outfits for descendants, evie thinking mermaid dresses are ugly, evie not liking wine, and so forth. my portrayal of evie =/= other portrayals of evie. while she may never do so-and-so, it doesn’t make it wrong for another portrayal to do it. ( why was my blog being kept tabs on and compared with, in the first place? that’s not duplicate friendly ).

regarding sex week: i've stated it was an inappropriate event because the descendants rpc had been heavily criticized for smutting and felt it wasn't the best response, nor was it the best way to promote sex positivity. it was insanely uncomfortable to witness, as someone in this rpc. it doesn’t matter if the people or the muses involved were adults, i would still call it inappropriate had it happened in any other rpc. it wasn’t a “block and move on” situation. i’m also allowed to defend myself because i didn’t want to be associated with something she posted. i didn’t want it tied to my url. i would like to clarify that when i said "embarrassing" in the responses under that anon, it was directed at the anon for misreading the url, nobody else. ostracizing occurred when the descendants rpc was being added to DNIs because of sex week / smutting, which was posted by this person ( if you post it, you start it. simple ). i had been blocked simply because i am a descendants blog and that had never happened before. 

i was also notified that people uninvolved with this have been namedropping me on dash in an attempt to have me “written off” ( their words, not mine ) because my rules stated that i was open to exploring evie’s sexuality. below is a screenshot of my rule regarding smut. i deleted the rules page from this blog when i moved so i snatched it from my other canon descendants blog that i reuse on all blogs. the second is my elaboration on sexual content in my new evie rules. the third is what’s on my google doc, a condensed version of my rules. there is a major difference between smutting and posting a public dash event dedicated to sex versus being open to explore sexuality as a topic. they are not the same. also, me not choosing to smut does not dictate my opinion on smut, so do not make assumptions about that either. if you want to move on, why are you still talking about me on dash, especially when unprompted? if you just want to move on, why are you upset that i’m not “written off”?

this person has vagued me multiple times ( which they conveniently did not show in the call-out ), this person has been shown to talk badly of me in private ( and now, publicly as well )    ----    all of which i have not done. i have screenshots sent by others to show for it, but do not feel it’s relevant to share because this is not about her. this is just about defending myself. 

i have spent three months apologizing for feeling things, apologizing for reacting, apologizing for things i should not have been apologizing for. i have spent so long accepting blame because i felt it would help. i’m done doing that. i know what i did and what i didn’t do. people know what i did and didn’t do.

all in all, i am confused on why a call-out was made when the content provides nothing other than catty remarks meant to air out personal drama. the messages exchanged only show how i tried to remedy things. the screenshots of my “vagues” were just responses, and most of which had nothing to do with this person. my initial silly dash commentary and later discomfort over a sexual dash event posted by this person is not a vague. 

if you ( referring to maker of the call-out and others who partook ) are upset about people not talking about me in regards to the “rest of the call-out”, maybe consider the fact that there was nothing about me in it that warranted a call-out in the first place. people saw that i did nothing wrong. the only thing of substance in the call-out was something the maker themselves did : the public, sexual dash event. people are allowed to identify that as a more prominent issue as opposed to how my messages or public posts could be perceived through basic, biased narrative manipulation.

me deciding to unfollow / softblock blogs that interact with this person =/= involving the descendants rpc or making it public. i am allowed to softblock whoever i want to cultivate my dash experience. most people i know have it in their rules that they are okay with people softblocking for their comfort and that it won’t be taken personally. you know what IS making it public and involving the entire descendants rpc? this person messaging a descendants server and name dropping me in the server, reducing the situation to just being about a “url” and publicly announcing it in the server. here are the facts to consider: her message was sent jan. 21. my DNI went up feb 2. 

so, regarding the call-out: there was no bullying, no manipulation, no harassment, no gaslighting, nothing from my end, and the call-out shows precisely that the claims are just that: claims. whatever was felt is valid, but feelings =/= gravity of the actual action itself - the most common thing pointed out in therapy: feelings are valid, but are they justified? call-outs should be reserved for people who cause actual harm, not because someone wants an excuse to blacklist. if i am a “bully” for unfollowing blogs for my own comfort, then i think the rpc really needs to reevaluate what these terms mean because the misuse is harmful. 

here are the things i did do: treated everyone i talked to with respect. approached things civilly. communicated. tried to accommodate for others. attempted to make a safe space for myself. did not involve the entire rpc by announcing it in a server. did not make a call-out post nor pin it. did not continue to name drop afterwards despite claiming to want to move on.

this entire situation is absurd and should have never been public, much less made a call-out for !! while this was meant to defend myself and state facts, i understand it may not change minds. a friend has told me that people will hate me because they want to hate me, no matter what. and i can’t do anything about that !! all i have to say is that holding hate in your heart never ends well. i hope everyone can find peace at some point.

so please, let me move on. let me write with my friends. let me unfollow / softblock people to keep my dash comfortable. let me take a break from descendants while also having the choice to return at anytime. please stop talking about me when i’m not even giving this another thought and haven’t since i moved blogs. please stop name dropping. stop keeping tabs on me, stop stalking my new blog. please leave me alone. i hold absolutely nothing against anyone i may have softblocked / unfollowed or am not currently interacting with on my new blog. my IMS / discord is always available, you will not be violating my safety by messaging me, everyone is welcome, but i also understand if you feel the need to separate yourself !!! as for those of you who have interacted with the call-out post, i wish you the best but i hope you understand why i do not want to interact with you by any means in the future. 

i’m hoping this post lays everything to rest, seeing as my first one did not. honestly, what are you trying to prove if you still have to post about this? it helps nobody. this back-and-forth is exhausting and unneeded. no more. let’s be better people, yeah?

i hope everyone takes care of themselves, i hope you all have a great day / night !!! thank you for reading this long boi !!

#this is a long boi. #thank u to everyone who's offered their support these past few days! #i refuse to let people push me out with baseless claims !!! #so here are all the facts #i really don't want to talk about this anymore but if u need proof of the things this person has done u can msg me #otherwise. this ends here. #pls don't reblog!

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 23

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit​.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Long overdue make-up sex? Long overdue make-up sex. Only the epilogue left before this is all wrapped up!

***

“... I need water.”

“Seconded.”

“Thirded.”

Silence. Some shuffling.

“Well, who’s going?”

“I’m not. I went and got Coco back to sleep when she cried. Did my part.”

“I am not getting off this couch.”

“If you make me go, I’m only getting water for myself.”

“I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Uugh. No, I don’t.” Ernesto groans, rubbing his eyes before dropping his head back against the couch’s backrest. He grimaces towards the kitchen. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Three in the morning.”

“What! Where has the evening gone!”

“Where has the entire day gone, we began discussing this over lunch,” Héctor mutters, laying upside-down with his legs over the backrest.

He is not wrong, really: they have quite literally spent half a day and much of the night discussing where to go from there. They talked through lunch, through the afternoon with Coco passing from one set of arms to another whenever she was not napping, talked while Héctor changed her diapers with a frequency Ernesto found frankly concerning given the child’s small size. They took a brief break from talking while walking their dogs - best to be careful with their words outside - and feeding Coco respectively. 

More talking ensued as they put Coco in her playpen to watch a cartoon, as they cooked dinner, as they ate it, as Coco fell asleep cuddled up to Pepita while the dogs watched with envy from outside the playpen, with Dante having finally learned that trying to jump in would spell disaster. 

They discussed everything they could possibly discuss - their arrangement, how it could work going forward, whether to tell Coco, what to tell Coco once she was old enough, how to keep it private business without having to actively hide, what family members could be told and what family members could never - coming to the agreement Imelda’s brothers were probably the only ones who could be trusted, at the moment, to possibly know if it came to it.

“I never thought I’d see the day I had to say they can be trusted over our father,” Imelda said as she disappeared to put a very sleepy Coco in her crib, and Héctor and Ernesto were still snickering at the idea when she came back. They sat on the couch with a drink, resumed talking, and never stopped except for the time Coco began crying and had to be soothed by a very concerned Héctor.

Until, of course, exhaustion and thirst caught up with them at three in the damn morning. 

“So, I’m going to be the waiter from now on,” Ernesto mutters, just a little dramatically, as he finally gets off the couch to fetch everyone some water. He guzzles down a glass, fills two more, and brings them back. Héctor and Imelda drink just as greedily while he flops back down on the couch, exhausted and honestly still absolutely stunned.

“... This is-- is this really happening?” he finds himself asking, very quietly. Part of him fears this is all a dream, that he will wake up alone in his bed to find none of this has really transpired. The other two pause, look back down at him - and maybe Ernesto let something vulnerable show a bit too much, because suddenly they’re both leaning down with the clear intention of giving him a kiss. Exactly at the same time. 

With predictable results. 

Bonk.

“Ow!” Imelda yelps, wincing back.

“Agh! Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--” Héctor frets. Imelda just slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter, which just comes out of her nose with a honking sound. Ernesto just laughs, his own head unscathed but oddly light. Yes, this is happening. He couldn't have dreamed up something so stupid if he’d tried. 

It is happening, he thinks. We’re giving this a chance, he thinks. For the love of God don’t fuck it up, he tells himself, but says none of those things aloud. He just laughs until he has to catch his breath and it dies down in a snicker. That’s when Imelda leans down to kiss him briefly, this time without bumping her head against Héctor’s.

“I think that means we’re officially too tired to function,” she says. “Let’s go to bed.”

Ah. Right. It is three in the morning. Ernesto clears his throat and sits up. “Of course-- I’ll drop by after lunch, then, so we can go rehearse--”

Imelda pinches his earlobe. “Who said anything about you leaving?” she asks, an eyebrow raised. Ernesto’s words die in his throat. 

Right. Yes. This is happening.

Not that anything physical is going to happen just yet. They are all much too tired to do anything other than shuffling into the bedroom as quietly as they can - “whoever wakes her up has to calm her down”, Imelda threatens - and changing their night clothes - it is odd, finding one of his nightshirts still in their closet, washed and neatly folded - before they flop on the bed. 

At least, Ernesto and Héctor flop down on it. Imelda is decidedly more dignified, and leans down between them. Héctor pulls her close, and immediately holds out the other arm for Ernesto with a grin. Part of him is still wondering if he’s dreaming this, really, but when he slides closer, leaning against Imelda’s body with Héctor’s arm around him, again he knows he will not awaken alone after all. He smiles. 

“Your arms are freakishly long,” he mutters, very romantically, causing Héctor to snort. 

“Oh, thanks, amigo,” he mutters, but his hand keeps resting on Ernesto’s side. “Don’t hear you complain when I give the best hugs ever given.”

“That’s debatable, who decided it is you to give--”

“I said--” Imelda cuts him off, then yawns. Loudly, and without bothering to put up a hand against her mouth. “Sleep,” she mumbled, settling her head back down, forehead against Héctor’s chest and one hand resting on Ernesto’s forearm around her waist. It’s not clear whether it’s an order or just a declaration of what she’s about to do, but they do take it as an order. 

They are, after all, exhausted. There will be time to marvel over getting all of this back in the morning; for now, Ernesto leans down his head, closes his eyes, and sleeps basking in their warmth.

***

***

They get to sleep a grand total of two hours and a half before they awaken to a chorus of wailing, barking, yapping and yowling. It’s hard to tell what started first - Ernesto apparently would put money on the wailing, though Imelda is ready to counter-bet a chihuahua yapped first  - but the fact stays, someone needs to go put an end to it before half the condo is at the door with murderous intentions.

Thankfully, Héctor is out of bed almost immediately. He’s still sleepy and misses the door the first time, hitting the wall before stumbling out with a murmured ‘I’m fine’ to go make sure no horrid monster has attacked Coco in her crib. In his haste he leaves the door open, and two chihuahuas as well as the cat rush in, with the small dogs yapping and trying without success to jump up on the bed. 

The other two as well as Dante clearly decided to stay behind and watch Héctor’s baby-soothing operation. Imelda stifles a yawn, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “Those dogs are not allowed on the bed,” she says the instant Ernesto moves to pick them up, just as Pepita jumps to settle down next to her head.

Ernesto scowls. “That’s favoritism,” he points out, and a little monster yaps as though to agree. One of them whines, clearly trying to move her into relenting. Imelda remains entirely unmoved. 

“Pepita is clean,” she replies, reaching over to scratch Pepita behind the ears. Her green eyes, fixed on Ernesto, narrow. Hard to tell whether it is in pleasure for the ear scratch or in displeasure for the man back on her owners’ bed, but if it’s the latter, she will have to get used to it.

Ernesto makes a face. “I can’t imagine it’s hygienic.”

“She grooms herself for hours on end--” 

“With her it tongue, that’s not cleaning a thing--”

“Well, it’s more than dogs do. I have only ever seen them use their dogs only ever use their tongues to lick--”

“They’re clean! I bathe them every week!“

Imelda blinks. In the next room over, Coco’s wails are quieting down. “... You do?” 

“With a very expensive dog shampoo, too. I advertised it on my Instagram account - I mean, their Instagram account. Didn’t you see?”

Ah. That. “I think I unfollowed both when we-- broke things off,” Imelda admits, causing Ernesto to frown. “It stung,” she adds quickly. “Seeing you.”

“Ah.” He clears his throat. “Well, I-- I haven’t been posting a lot, so you haven’t missed much. Should get back to it. I think the dogs have more followers than I do at this point.”

“Well, they are cute. I suppose,” Imelda concedes. Pepita jumps off the bed, clearly satisfied with her dose of scritches, and is followed outside by both chihuahuas. Imelda props herself up on her elbow. “You should try with shirtless photos,”she adds. It’s mostly meant as a joke, but Ernesto is clearly considering it. 

“I already posted plenty. And a couple where I was only wearing a--”

“I mean, more shirtless photos,” Imelda rectifies, very much aware of what photos he is referring to. Unlike Héctor, whose social media accounts are bereft of any sign of life aside for the occasional photo of a guitar, a music sheet, or Imelda going over his latest work, Ernesto is very much active and not precisely trying to disguise the fact his sexuality is ‘yes’.

“I guess I could take a trip to the beach for a few more shots, after we’re back from Santa Cecilia...” he muses, and Imelda is about to ask if they’re meant to join him for that trip to the beach when Héctor walks back in, a triumphant grin on his face and phone in hand.

“She’s sleeping! Look!” he whisper-exclaims, and gets right back in bed between them before he proceeds to show them thirty identical photos of Coco sleeping. “Isn’t she the most beautiful little girl?”

“She is,” Imelda agrees with a small grin, leaning her chin on Héctor’s shoulder. “Not that I’m biased or anything.”

Ernesto scoffs. “You absolutely are.”

“Not everyone is your mamá, Ernesto,” Héctor snickers, elbowing him. “Telling everyone within earshot how handsome you were going to be once you shed your baby fat.”

“Well she was right, I did turn out-- what! She never said that, pendejo!” He huffs, giving Héctor’s shoulder a shove that almost sends him flying off the bed. He laughs it off, flopping back down. 

“She did too, Ernestito! Heard with my own ears!”

“Mph. Your stupid elephant ears.”

Héctor’s expression turns coy. “Ah, what can I say, it’s my cross to bear. Much like a dick a couple of inches longer than yours…”

“It’s not, Héctor!”

“Is too! We checked with Imelda’s measuring tape, remember?”

“... You did what with my measuring tape now?”

“We had a disagreement to settle, mi amor.”

“And we found it’s-- maybe an inch longer! At most! And mine is thicker, too!”

“Oh no, it was longer than that. Need me to refresh your memory?”

“We can arrange that, if you let me catch another couple of hours of sleep,” Imelda mutters, causing the squabble to die down. There is some grumbling, a few more shoves, but soon enough they’re all settled to sleep again, basking in the warmth and enjoying blissful silence.

For another fifty minutes.

***

“Oh my God!”

“Gah!”

“Wha--??”

Héctor barely catches himself before he falls off the bed, flailing his arms and only narrowly missing Imelda’s face. He reaches to turn on the bedside lamp, and sits up to look over to the other side of the bed where Ernesto is sitting upright, hair tousled, a horrified expression on his face as though he just awakened from the worst nightmare a human mind can conceive. 

“Ernesto? What is it?” Imelda is asking, concern plain in her voice. She puts a hand on Ernesto’s forearm and he looks back at them, eyes wide and skin ashen. 

“Oh my God, ” he repeats. “My mother has seen my Instagram.”

Ah, Héctor thinks. 

“Ah,” he says, mind already wandering to some photos that are probably not meant for the eyes of one’s own mother. 

“Oh,” Imelda repeats, clearly thinking the same. 

They succeed in staying serious for almost five seconds before Héctor cracks, and Imelda is quick to follow. 

“Pffft…”

“Heh…”

“She has been looking up my account for ages-- she even mentioned it, I had forgotten-- what if my father-- stop laughing!” his voice comes out a whine, and it’s what entirely undoes them. “This is serious! Stop laughing! I’ll have to look her in the eye when we go back for Coco’s christening! I-- uuugh!” Ernesto lets himself drop back on the pillow with a groan, covering his face with an arm. “I hate you both.”

“No, you do not.” Héctor grins down at him and, while Ernesto scoffs, he fails to say otherwise. 

“If she brings it up, I will dig myself a grave and crawl in it.”

Imelda snickers, leaning across his chest. “If they’re that terrible I don’t think she’ll want to bring them up.”

He pulls his arm off his eyes, frowning a little. “Not that I’m naked in those photos, I’m not an idiot, but I--” he trails off with a sudden intake of breath when Imelda’s hand slips beneath his nightshirt, across his chest. Héctor sits back a moment, watching them - Imelda’s tousled hair and the strap of the nightgown falling off her shoulder, the way Ernesto arches a little at her touch. 

It’s not the most alluring sight he’s ever laid his eyes on, but it comes pretty close - and it hits him suddenly, the realization that they have this again. It leaves a lump in his throat and a dumb smile spreading on his face while he watches Imelda lean in and kiss Ernesto’s lips. When they break apart, Ernesto’s breathing is quicker and his eyes wide. 

Imelda grins, and tugs at his nightshirt. “Since we clearly are getting no more sleep this morning, would you mind getting this out of the way and let me take your mind off your mother going through embarrassing Instagram photos?”

Ernesto is sitting up and pulling the shirt up over his head before she’s even done speaking, but he doesn’t get to take it off - not before Héctor moves suddenly to pull them both in his arms, and squeeze tight. 

“Agh!”

“What the--”

“Really?”

“And here I was trying to be seductive,” Imelda mutters, face pressed against Héctor’s chest.

“It was a very good effort,” Ernesto informs her, head still tangled in the shirt. 

“Thanks.”

“Unfortunately, you married an idiot.”

“Oh, like you didn’t stick to the idiot long before I got him to put a ring on it.”

“What can I say, I felt bad for him.”

“... You guys realize I can hear you, right?”

“No doubt you can, with those ears,” Ernesto mutters, voice still muffled by the shirt wrapped around his head. “Can you let me go now?”

“Do I have to?”

“If you want us to get anything done before Coco needs breakfast, yes,” Imelda says against his chest. “Now, if you’d let go and fetch the lube and condoms…” she adds, and Héctor is off them and across the room so fast he almost topples on the floor. 

With most of his blood flow already getting redirected in his nether regions, Ernesto’s power of thought may not be at his highest. However, as he gets the shirt off his head and throws it off the side of the bed, he does pause a moment to think. Or try to. Something is definitely different. 

“Condoms? Not on the pill anymore?”

“Not yet. It already failed, anyway, and I really am not ready for another little miracle. At least if the condom breaks we’ll notice right away.” She reaches up to brush back his hair, and leans against him. She is warm against his bare chest, her lips so close to Ernesto’s own. Her nails rake lightly down the back of his neck, and he swallows. “But it shouldn’t happen, if you know how to put one on properly.”

He makes a face. “Well, of course I know how to put on a--” Ernesto begins, and then trails off. The amount of blood going straight to his cock is making it very hard to think about anything else, but he’s not yet so far gone he can’t catch the meaning of her words. He stares at Imelda, mouth hanging open.

There are...few things they did not at least experiment with throughout the relationship, but at no point did Ernesto get to be in her. Not with his cock, anyway. It simply never happened, Ernesto would think, but he knows deep down that was not it. It was a line Imelda did not want to cross, the one that marked the difference between her husband and the annoying-- acquaintance -- friend turned unlikely lover. Something Héctor could have while he could not. Until now.

He should try and play it cool, of course. Get cocky and say he’s glad she changed her mind there, she has no idea what she has missed out on. Instead, he sputters.

“What-- are you-- sure?”

Imelda’s expression turns coy, a finger running down his chest. “Well, if you’re afraid to disappoint…”

What!

“What!” Ernesto huffs, crossing his arms. “For your information, I never disappoint.”

“Sofía told me otherwise.”

“Sofía should mind her own-- wait a moment, since when are the two of you on gossiping terms?” he asks, just a hint of panic making it to his voice as he tries to run the numbers on the amount of ammunition Sofía may have to use against him. Unaware of his worry, or maybe all too aware of it and hiding it very well, Imelda shrugs. 

“She ordered a pair of shoes and we got talking.”

Talking about what, Ernesto wants to ask, but before he can open his mouth Héctor is back on the bed and kissing his shoulder, causing him to trail off and his breath to catch a moment.

“Here,” Héctor smiles against his skin, pressing a condom in his hand. “Put it to good use, we have no others left until we restock.”

Despite the rising heat, his own quickening breath and the by now unbearable friction of underwear on his erection, Ernesto raises an eyebrow. “That busy, even with the baby?”

“Not really. It’s that Dante found the box.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ah. The vet judged me the entire time. Not that he said anything, but--”

“... Surely we can have this conversation another time?” Imelda intervenes, tapping her fingers against Ernesto’s chest in a motion that is… a little more annoyed than seductive now. Héctor blushes a little, and gives a sheepish grin. 

“Heh. Right,” he says, and without warning he suddenly pushes Ernesto forward, causing him to fall over on top of Imelda. He barely catches himself, hands braced against the mattress, and almost protests - but then he looks down to see Imelda leaning on her back beneath him, head between his arms and hair spread across the pillow. Her skin is flushed, and ah, the way she looks at him. If one could bottle that look to sell it, they’d make billions.

“I can’t help but feel I’m terribly overdressed for the occasion,” she tells him, and starts unbuttoning her nightgown. She barely makes it to half the buttons before Ernesto’s mouth comes down on hers, hard. She melts into the kiss in a way he cannot recall her ever doing before, fingers tangling in his hair and Christ - Christ - it is almost worth the long months without them, waking up in his own bed.

Ah, it’s good to be home.

“Ah--” Imelda sighs and throws back her head while Ernesto’s mouth trails down her throat, to her breasts. He only stops with a startled gasp against her nipple when a pair of familiar hands pull off his boxers, and a very familiar finger begins to probe as him, slick with lube. 

“Oh, don’t mind me back here,” Héctor calls out, and Ernesto can almost feel the grin in his voice when he slides the finger in, slowly but without hesitation, getting another gasp out of Ernesto he barely muffles against Imelda’s skin. “Want me to put on the condom for you while I’m at it? You look busy,” he adds. His other hand closes on Ernesto’s cock in a soft squeeze, and he almost cries out.

“Christ-- don’t do that!” he pants, suddenly terrified he’s going to just come like that, before anything can happen. Héctor chuckles, but does pull back the hand. The other hand pushes in another finger, sending more shivers up his back. God, he’s shaking - this is bliss, never enough and yet too much, how can he possibly hold himself together?

“That horny?” Héctor asks lightly, as though conversing over a glass of wine. Ernesto snarls.

“I’m about to fuck your wife, what do you think?”

“Ah, good point.”

Beneath him Imelda, who somehow managed to unbutton the rest of her nightgown and shrug it off, laughs and forces his head back by the hair to kiss his mouth. He doesn’t resist - how can he resist? - and only lets out a noise of surrender. The finger within him retreats and Héctor is leaning across his back, putting the condom on him with surprisingly delicate fingers. His own cock presses against Ernesto’s thigh, hard and hot and already slick with lube. When he pulls back, Ernesto lets out a whine. 

“Don’t bother with fingers,” he groans. “I can take it-- por favor--”

A kiss on the back of his neck, just as Imelda’s mouth presses on his throat. She has a leg on either side of Ernesto, and his cock brushes against the warm skin on the inside of her thigh. It is only a soft brush, but it’s almost unbearable on heated flesh. He lets out a shuddering breath, and glances down to meet her eyes. 

Are you sure?, he asks without words, and Imelda responds just as wordlessly, pulling his mouth down on hers and arching beneath him. Whatever shred of self-control Ernesto had left is annihilated and he kisses her back, frantic, before pushing his hips forward purely out of instinct and oh--

He slides in so easily and for a long, blissful moment, Ernesto forgets how to breathe or move or think. There is only that tight heat, Imelda’s scent in his nostrils and her breath against the side of his neck as she clenches around him - the soft moan filling his ears and the nails sinking in the skin of his shoulders.

And then Héctor is bearing down on him, mouth on the back of his neck and weight across his back, pushing into him unbearably slowly and all too fast at once. Everything is too much. Nothing is enough. He wants and needs and yearns and yet it’s everything he could possibly ask for, and more. 

As much as he enjoyed the strap-on and Héctor’s ass, this might just be the best variation of Ernesto sandwich he’s ever had.

“Pepita got your tongue?” Héctor chuckles against his ear, settling deep into him, resting his chin on his shoulder and glancing over at Imelda. “You good?” he breathes. Imelda lifts her head to kiss his lips. Her skin is flushed, eyes half-lidded. 

“Oh, yes,” she says, and kisses Ernesto’s neck again. “You are thicker, I’ll give you that,” she whispers, perfectly audible to Héctor, whose chuckling protests are not very believable. Her hand cups Ernesto’s cheek, her fingers calloused from working leather. “Don’t worry about a thing,” she murmurs, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. “We’ll take good care of you.”

“Christ--” Ernesto pants, and manages to lift himself up on his elbows just enough to get some weight off her, and rest his forehead on hers. He’s so acutely aware of everything - the smoothness of her skin and Héctor’s chest hair against his back, her hand cupping his cheek and his chin on his shoulder, the heat around his cock and the cock in him. “I don’t know-- how long I can last,” he manages to admit. 

“Ah, don’t worry about that, amigo,” Héctor speaks, and tilts his hips, sending a jolt of pleasure up Ernesto’s spine and tearing a gasp out of him. “Wouldn’t be the first time. And we can do this whenever we wish…”

He says something else after that, or Imelda does, but none of their words makes it to Ernesto’s brain. They start moving in tandem, in him and around him and on him and beneath, and it is all that Ernesto can think of or feel. It is all he wants to feel right now. 

The moans that leave him are louder than advisable, with Coco sleeping just a couple of rooms over, but Imelda is quick to muffle any noise he makes with a kiss. Good move, that.

None of them is in the right state of mind to go soothe a cranky baby, after all.

***

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#pixar coco #hector rivera #ernesto de la cruz #imelda rivera #coco #mind the gap

[empiregalaxy]

Leaving Tumblr

Dear Tumblr, 

The cliche goes 'this is a hard post to write.' Well, it's not. This is very easy to write. I'm leaving Tumblr, and you should too. Here's why.

I joined this social media site in 2012, as I was drawn to discussing films. Soon, I got into 'fandoms', mainly Buffy The Vampire Slayer and A Song Of Ice And Fire. For the first few years, there was no problem. Well, except one. Let's call her 'MN.' MN and I met on Yahoo Answers, and we shared private e-mails. I felt safe around her, and I confided in her some of my secrets. She helped me when a Tumblr user were sending sexually crass messages to me. During a time when my social life was falling apart, she helped me. Then one day, she stopped talking to me. She didn't block or unfollow me, but she pretended that I didn't exist. No replies to my friendly comments (she'd reply to everyone else).

 At the time, I thought I did something wrong. But now I realise she was a coward who didn't have the guts to tell me that she no longer wanted to be my friend. That's the thing about Tumblr. It's full of cowards, who lack the intellectual or moral ability to confront their 'friends.'  And when you mention that, they convince you that the problem lies with you.

So I moved away from the film fandom. 

During the next few years, I get more involved in the ASOIAF fandom, particularly the Arya Stark section. And yeah, I was an SJW (vomit!). I would write posts about Arya, how sucky the Sansa fandom was. But overtime, I saw a shift. What started as simple, light-hearted bashing of Sansa fans turned sinister. They 'controlled' the fandom and the mods at ASOIAF university. Looking back it, I want to tell them that Arya and Sansa are both fictional characters. They aren't real. But the Sansa fans you were bashing and calling names, spreading lies about? They are. I often say that 'Tumblr treats real people like fictional characters, and fictional characters like real people.' It's true. All of these characters that you care about... they aren't real. And people don't have to treat them like they are. 

So I 'defect' from the Arya fandom. And oh boy did they turn on me. Some are more slower than others, and they tell me that the reason why they didn't block me immediately was because 'they didn't want to hurt my feelings.' That's utter bullshit. They did it because they were scared of the fallout. They were cowards. But once they did block me, they'd post lies about me. That I was a stalker. That I was a bad person. I was open slather once they decided that I was no longer one of them. That's the thing about Tumblr: it's tribal. People think there actions are morally justified, if the person receiving them is 'bad.' Everything about me was insulted, even my gifsets.

A user who was particularly vicious was Marie. She and I were mutuals for well over 18 months. But she'd call me a bad person, a creep, mentally ill, an evil Reylo or whatever. Worse, was that these Arya stans were discussing me on Twitter. When I exposed them, I only had my closest mutuals at the time supporting me. (I had over 2,000 followers. Only 3 bothered to ask if I was okay). Users I never heard of suddenly had 'hot takes' about me. 

Lies were spread about me, non stop. I realised that not only was this behaviour permitted on Tumblr, but it was actively rewarded.

And it was all over a FUCKING FICTIONAL CHARACTER. 

This happened in 2016, which involved Brexit and the presidental election of Donald Trump. Look, I believe in free speech. I don't care if you are for or against them. Personally, I despise the European Union and if I were American, yeah, I could have voted Republican. But that's irrelevant. Tumblr users were so unhappy with those results, that anyone who did like Trump and Farage were labelled all the awful names in the book. Racist. Sexist. Nazi. Not only did this teach me that Tumblr users have no idea what those words mean, but that they are willing to use them liberally in order to gain power. Looking back at it, I'm glad Trump won. I'm glad Brexit happened. Not only because of politics, but it meant that you guys LOST. You better get used to that feeling, because if you continue to treat people the way you treated me, that feeling will soon be the only thing you know. 

A common misconception in the media is that Tumblr users act like 'SJWs' because they are young and ignorant. I mean, sure. But Tumblr users act like SJWs because they are fundamentally, cultish in nature and adhere to a hideous morality. I study Modern History, and a big part of that is empathy. What motivates someone to join the SS? Or run a gulag? Or torture someone? I manage to answer those questions, with relative ease. But I still have no idea why Tumblr users are so nasty and stupid. Like, none of you know shit about anything. 

The breaking point, when I realised 'we are all fucked' was when neo-Nazi Richard Spencer got punched. Look, I disagree with EVERYTHING Antifa and the Alt-right do. Celebrating any form of political violence leads to a nasty path. One day you are celebrating some one getting punched, and the next, you are cheering people getting slaughtered. People should never be CELEBRATED for violence. There is no moral justification for it. And you guys are too stupid to figure out that once all the 'Nazis' are gone, you are next to be sent to the gulag. You see yourself as distributing justice, but never receiving punishment. And oh, that is going to hurt you long term.

I would subtely mention why Spencer getting punched was wrong. But people on Tumblr were saying 'if anyone doesn't support Antifa, they should get punched too.' That's utter tyranny, and its something a Nazi would do. Since 2017, the countless violence by AntiFa is astounding. And Tumblr cheers it on like its a fucking joke. Like the real world is a theatre, and we are all patrons in the globe. Well, I've got news for you. The world doesn't exist for your pleasure. People don't have to act in certain ways to make you happy. The universe is not a 'safe space.' And you have the arrogant audacity to think you can bully it into changing.

Worse, was that I was fearful to speak out against it. That's utter evil. I understood the meaning of the term 'self-censorship' and since then, have become a free speech advocate.

Of course, no letter about leaving Tumblr would be complete without mentioning Lindsay. Oh Lindsay. We were friends for 2 years, and then I said a historical fact (that the Nazis persecuted people beyond Jewish people) and she flipped out. She blocked me, sent me anon hate, and told all the Reylos to block me. And you know what? Alot did. I was put on hit and block lists. 

Now, anyone who has studied World War II history knows that I am right. But because Tumblr is contrived of people who can't put Austria on a map, I was attacked and slandered. Lindsay would try to bully my friends into blocking me. They obviously refused. But Lindsay probably does the same shit to other people. Good thing she's a boring basic bitch with no personality, who has the charisma of a rock, because people with her mindset can really hurt people. She'll probably call me a 'Holocaust revisionist' for making fun of her. 

I honestly don't care what she thinks of me. I don't care what Marie thinks of me. They will probably interpret me leaving Tumblr as a victory of sorts. And yeah, I'm gone from Tumblr. But I'm not gone from this world. I will continue to live, to write, to create, to argue. I know I matter. I know I'm a good person capable of a positive impact. I am not what you think I am, and I never will be.

You will always have the knowledge that I am out there, being me, being different and weird, and changing the world. Whilst you, are stuck on a computer screen, bullying people who think differently than you.

That's a bloody victory for me, and a sore loss for you. Although I am leaving, I will not delete this blog. I want people to comb through it, and study it. And learn. See my flaws, and know that it possible to leave Tumblr, and still have a good fucking life. 

Goodbye Tumblr. Madeleine.

PS: I will say that the Sansa fandom and (some) parts of the Reylo fandom has been kind to me. It's sad to leave, because I will miss them. If you are one of them and you'd like to maintain contact, send me an e-mail at [email protected] and I'll give you my Facebook, Twitter or personal e-mail.

#i am done caring about this shitty place

[deepphantomstarfish]

Starting a Tumblr

I stared at the screen in dumbfound shock, realizing, lost in an abyss of wondering why, that I had been brushed off. From friendship, from life, from a girl who I thought was my friend and wanted to see me grow. My thumb hovered over the list of followers on instagram, wondering why. I thought this girl was my friend.

I’ve been on an up and down spiral these past few days locked inside my house and room, the cold whispering in spiraling snowflakes outside my window, leaving me and my family to remain in our own little bubbles once again. I’m surprised I don’t consider myself a ballerina in a snow globe by now, just waiting to be turned to the enjoyment of those around me.

I can’t remember what ‘triggered’ it, what set me off on deciding I was going to go through my instagram followers and those I was following and start trimming off any emotional baggage or weight preventing me from growing. I think I was already considering it for a long time as I’d been getting signs, thoughts, and just thinking in general about leaving instagram for a while due to the toxicity its had on my life and others as a whole. So that’s what I’ve been doing these past couple of days - considering leaving I decided before I did anything too drastic and just pulled a plug all together perhaps following a guide to reduce the amount of people I follow and following smartly might help my negativity surrounding it. But, that’s when I stumbled across something that I never expected and I wasn’t prepared for;

A girl, who I thought I was pretty good friends with, had unfollowed me and I didn’t even know when. I hadn’t even considered it a possibility that she would have, especially because I went to her birthday party just a few weeks ago and had a absolutely great time. I had even spent all day gathering her a gift, a gift I knew I would have loved, of cute trinkets such as a candle, body exfoliator, some super soft soap, and a picture frame with recently developed some pictures I took on my phone when we were still in high school. I even included more thinking that, since it was her 21st I wanted to get her a nice gift as I did with all my friends I appreciated in the past. 

But I had to leave the party early, which I told her before I left why I had to leave. Maybe I should have told her before I came to her party but anyway I had to leave early. However, she seemed fine before I left.

Yet, here I am. I don’t know what led me to look under her following list. I’ve felt like a bit superficial in the past few days unfollowing anybody who doesn’t or hasn’t followed me back but if I’m going to be honest I don’t judge anyone too harshly for it. But it does feel so liberating especially considering this isn’t a new thing for me; ever since I was little... I was always the friend put second. And I’d always put up with that. I’d always taken whatever anyone would give thinking the best of everybody. I was always the one no one ever invited not because I was negative I assume... honestly I don’t know why. I never complained though because well I’m gonna be blunt... No one wants to hear the woes of a girl who has ‘it all’ on the outside, living with a/c, electricity, and a bed to comfort her. However, it has always bothered me even though it wasn’t something I could really complain about - being the second girl. The one no one really took the time to remember. Being on the outside I always wanted friends, lots of them. I just wanted what anyone else did - to be happy. 

And yet, why couldn’t anybody see? Why was everyone so willing to put me second? To live as though I was fine with being forgotten?

So if I’m going to be honest, going through my social media followings in order to reduce the negativity in my life felt so liberating as the more I just thought - well why not? Let’s just reduce our platform so we don’t have to spend so much time on it, the more I felt like I was starting to put myself first. It was a feeling I... it made me happier, feel freer the more I went on. The rules were twofold- don’t go out searching like some crazed number psychopath. Just next time you get on, the first few people who pop up in your feed see if they’ve been following you, ask yourself what are they contributing to your life or if they are even in your day to day, week to week life. If they aren’t in your life and they haven’t followed you back, you don’t have to keep following them. You aren’t under any obligation, you don’t owe them a thing. Apologies if I sound so shallow and childish. This should be common sense but I guess it took me a while to learn to start taking care of myself.

Anyway, I’ve actually... been enjoying this process of growth I guess. Oh boy, does that make me a sociopath? Who knows, I don’t know. All I know is every time I stopped giving my energy to people who seemingly were on my feed, I was following out of some social obligation, out of hope they might turn around one day and say ‘hey you you’re worthy of my time and attention too! Even though I don’t follow you’, even though in the grand scheme of things this might all be baloney... I still felt. Lighter, I guess. It was so relieving. 

But then when I was out last night with my family to celebrate my little sister’s birthday, and decided to text the girl I’m referring to, a girl I assumed I was friends with, if she wanted to celebrate with us at our house later, I didn’t get an answer. I was confused as I’d seen her story the past few days. I’d replied to a few of them to no response. Which wasn’t odd - I don’t blame her, we can’t all reply to people 24/7. Not to mention this is something she’s asked me before and I have always been so delighted every time she’d invite me over, I thought it was time to return the offer. But the longer I continued to check for a response, or to see the usual ‘read’ receipt on the text, the longer I began to suspect something was up. 

Could she... have just ignored me? I thought.

No. 

No, she wouldn't; I don’t think she’s that kind of person. She wouldn’t just get upset about something and not tell me right? She wouldn’t just drop me from our life?

The thought hit me; check her following. 

No, how childish can I be right? It’s just instagram, it’s not like she’d literally drop me without telling me. It doesn’t mean anything. But if that’s the case, then... what’s the harm, right?

I went to check. Low and behold. She was following everyone in our circle but me.

Once again, sorry if this sounds so arrogant. The world isn’t only mine. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.

No warning. No confrontation. I even gave her a card I’d taken the time to write just for her and our friendship. Not even a reply to my text. To this moment, even though it was last night I still haven’t gotten a response and I’m just going to assume I’m not going to because this girl is, whenever she’s not at work, literally on her phone 24/7 and it’s the running joke we have in our circle. 

Stunned, I refreshed the page over and over again. Days of finding out who I thought was just stringing me along as a digit in their follower count, of finding out who it was that actually wanted to watch me grow, or maybe this doesn’t mean anything at all and she just doesn’t want to follow me anymore it’s possible... even though I know to her that’s unlikely - instagram means something to girls like this. And, honestly. To girls like me too. No, not the follow count. Not the superficial lies of it all. 

Just the truth echoing behind the screens. And this lie was all I needed to see to understand a truth I thought didn’t extend to her -- I was excess. A photographer for her pretty lies. This surprised me because I just, I guess I thought she was better than the other girls who’d come and gone so easily in my life; from grade school to high school, I could tell the ones who reciprocated the energy I gave to them and I thought she cared about our friendship. So, if our exchanges meant so little to her when I thought we were close... if I was the second piece, not someone to support her in everything she did like I try to be in all my friendships,

I was done.

Days of realizing who treated the instagram machine like their own personal game and their actual social circle, I was done trying to pretend like this didn’t hurt me anymore. I won’t lie- this did kind of hurt. 

But if she wants to show up and pretend like I didn’t notice, just know; I’m done trying to pretend like people put me second. I am worthy of having people in my life who care about me in my circle, and actually care. If anyone actually reads this, feel free to make fun of me but just know don’t pretend like instagram doesn’t mean anything to some people. I’m learning to downsize mine so it means less. But you know as well as I do there are those out there treating it like their personal wealth machine, dragging their ‘friends’ along like spare bodies to hold the camera instead of actual support systems.

So anyway. Learning to put myself first isn’t going to be easy. Especially when I've been grading myself morally for so long on putting up with others, taking whatever comes my way and going the extra mile for everyone. I still will. But now, as someone who is starting to learn how to have healthy relationships with herself and others for her own happiness, someone who is prioritizing growing in this weird time of my life, I’m going to say fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. But drop me three times, I’m going to be kind to everyone and learn to forgive, but it’s time I start taking care of myself and knowing where my happiness really is.

This Tumblr is my journey. Of life, and my career. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know where I’ll be, but if you like this is going to be my journey. In writing, trying to become a successful author hopefully or wherever my thoughts and life takes me. This is my first step in choosing how to show up for myself.

As a reminder, it’s okay to still love other people, forgive and support them. But the moment it becomes at the expense of yourself is the moment you need to take a step back. I hope whoever is reading this knows they are worthy of true happiness, no matter who they might offend. A clean and kind one. This Tumblr is my journey to a healthy life (not a professional guide. Just me, a girl trying to find her way in her own little world), a better me conducive to the mindset and future I’ve always not dreamt of, but needed. If you want to tag along, thank you. I guess the first step to learning how to enjoy life is to let go of all that no longer carries you and to just know that, it’s okay to put yourself first on the road too healing.

I’m not going to pretend like I know it all- I’m just an ordinary 20 year old girl in an odd 21st century. Who overthinks all the time, loves sea creatures and wild orca/killer whale pics, loves books and writing even though her ADDD can be hard to manage still she tries, who wants to write a book even though she has writer’s block most of the time, but is always observing. Always hoping to learn more. A girl who loves God, but  has also unfortunately seen the downsides of religion. A girl who for most of her life has wanted happiness, has wanted just for once not to be second place in her own life. This blog, these are my thoughts and this is just my ordinary journey to finding out where I want to be. A place where I can be me, happy and loved in my own life. Tag along if you like!  

Thank you for reading this. Even if it literally seems like the silliest most emotionally overblown post about social media (lol), thank you.

#growth #happiness #social media #healthylife

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) 

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post. 

He smiles down at the screen, scrolling through the hilarious comments on the post. The exaggerated marriage proposals are probably his favourite because, honestly, same but he’d never be caught dead saying shit like that. Even as a joke.

Maybe.

Lucas sinks deeper into the couch, dimming the brightness on his phone screen just in case Yann happens to look over at some point. It’s not like Yann doesn’t know what he’s up to most of the time, but he’d still like to save himself from some of the teasing, thank you very much.

“Did you see that?” Yann yells at no one in particular, fully engrossed in the game they’re playing. Or they had been playing, since Lucas died in the game a good few minutes ago. He’s got better things to do anyway— like check the guy’s profile for any new updates he might have missed. Lucas isn’t exactly on top of his game when it comes to keeping up with Instagram but ever since his great discovery, he’s spent more time scrolling through the app in more recent times that his entire high school years combined.

“I’m doing another round of this before we switch up the game, okay?” Yann murmurs, already pressing the buttons before Lucas even replies. The latter shrugs, doesn’t care whether he gets to play for the next while. He’s much too preoccupied staring at the new photo he’s been graced with.

The dude, the myth, the legend. Eliott Demaury.

Lucas found out about him nearly two months ago— or more accurately, he found Eliott’s short film, Polaris, while scrolling through Youtube one dull Friday night. He’d watched the entire thing at three o’clock in the morning and promptly obsessed over it for the next couple of hours. Finding the director’s Instagram and seeing a puzzle posted on it hadn’t doused his interest either. If anything, that just made it worse. His last two braincells had worked in overdrive trying to rewatch the film and solve the puzzle at the same time.

Needless to say, he’d managed to find Eliott’s personal account in the end but the feeling of accomplishment only lasted until he saw that quite a lot of people had also found it. Mr. Demaury, has, in fact, half a million followers on his Instagram and Lucas could have probably found it easily if he’d just googled it instead of driving himself nuts figuring out what the riddle meant.

“Man, this is too hard.” Yann groans from beside him and Lucas can only assume he’s lost another round. He offers a vague noise of sympathy for his friend. “Are you really doing this right now?”

“Hm?”

“You’re really out here stalking your man during our we time?”

Lucas drags his gaze off of Eliott’s majestic photo so Yann can get a full view of his frown. “Our what now?”

“This is our time, Lucas. Best friend bonding time. 22h to 24h, it’s on the contract.”

He starts laughing, can’t help it when faced with the truly affronted expression all over Yann’s face. “What contract?”

“You signed it when you were like two years old.”

“Uh huh.” Now certain that Yann’s just talking nonsense, Lucas returns his attention back on his phone. “Legit age to be signing contracts.”

Yann doesn’t say anything but he steals Lucas’ phone from his grip and holds it out of reach when Lucas scrambles to get it back. “You don’t even follow him, what the hell?”

“That doesn’t matter, give it back!”

“So what, you just search up his profile all the time?”

“What about it?”

“That’s so sad, Lucas.”

“Shut up,” he says, snatching his phone back once it’s finally in his reach. “Imane knows this guy, I won’t hear the end of it if they get even a little hint that I’m looking at— Yann!” he screeches, shaking Yann’s shoulder with one hand while his other holds the phone up to his face.

The horror in his voice must be evident because Yann immediately straightens up, dragging Lucas close so he can take a look at the screen as well. “What?”

“Oh no… oh no no no.”

“Oh shit.”

“What do I do?!” Lucas waves his phone at Yann, almost decking him on the nose in the process. Yann stills him, shaking his head at the bright red heart below Eliott’s post. “Do you think I should unlike it? I can still do that right? He won’t see the notification, he gets a lot anyway.”

“No, man, that just makes it weird.”

“But…”

“You have to follow him.”

Lucas gives him a withering look. “Are you serious right now?”

“It’s natural! You like the post, okay, chill, next you follow. He gets lots of notifications, as you said. By the time he checks back, 200 other people would have followed him too. Wait a couple more days then unfollow and unlike.” Yann rubs at his back, sounding so sure of himself. “Then you can go back to your sad stalking ways after that.”

He shoves at Yann with a scowl, making sure to kick at his friend’s limbs as he slides off from where he’d basically crawled into the other’s lap in a desperate bid to retrieve his phone. And look where all that effort has gotten him.

“You sure that’s not weird?”

Yann throws a pillow at his face. “I already said it’s natural. Honestly if somebody did that to me I wouldn’t think anything weird of it.”

“Okay.”

Lucas hits the follow button, closes out of the app, and shoves his phone under the cushions. Whatever happens next is a problem for tomorrow.

He doesn’t go back on Instagram until well into Tuesday evening, choosing instead to finish all of his homework and maybe do a little bit of reading ahead of time for his biology class. It’s a wonder how much one is capable of getting done while avoiding the thing they usually obsess over.

But he’s only human. So letting go of all the self control he’s managed to conjure up the entire morning, he pulls up the app and slowly scrolls through the new content. He doesn’t know why he’s dreading this so much anyway— literally nothing is probably going to happen. Eliott won’t even notice the new addition to his massive following and Lucas would be able to see his posts without having to search up his username all the goddamn time. It’s a win-win.

Lucas doesn’t curb the smile pulling at the corners of his lips, even though a small part of him is a little disappointed. Not that he’s expecting anything to come out of this ridiculous infatuation anyway but knowing what Polaris is paired with that caption, the post sounds increasingly more romantic the longer he thinks about it.

So Eliott’s taken already. That’s cool. Great. But this is nice, at least, Eliott’s posts being readily accessible for him like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have made a big deal about following the guy in the first place. Only Imane seems to know both Eliott and Lucas anyway and she’s not the type to unnecessarily pry into other people’s business. 

He still doesn’t hit like on the post though. He has to be subtle about this, he’ll wait a couple more posts to go before liking another one. Lucas is extra careful to avoid double tapping the screen when he goes back to his feed, no longer holding his breath for a catastrophe as he mindlessly goes through other new posts and notifications. 

Which explains why he’s entirely too unprepared for what happens next.

srodulv started following you.

He clutches at his phone with both hands, forcibly shoving down the urge to scream and throw his phone out the window. He’s ill-equipped to deal with this. It’s not supposed to happen; Eliott shouldn’t have noticed him and Lucas should be free to get on with his life without knowing that some god in human form has probably seen the dumb photos he posts with him and the gang and— oh god, what did he post during that party last week again? It doesn’t look too stupid does it?

Lucas frantically skims through his own profile, wanting to shrivel up and die for every post he finds way too embarrassing to be seen by the guy. 

The apartment door creaks open and Lucas throws himself off his bed, running out to the living room and most likely startling Yann out of his mind but that doesn’t matter right now.

“Yann!” he yells out, reminiscent of the panicked tone he’d used the night before.

“Huh?” Yann turns around, dropping his bag on the floor as he slips out of his shoes.

Lucas stands in front of him, holding out the phone over his head like it’s Simba. “He noticed me,” he whispers as if there’s a chance that anyone else would hear them.

“Who?” Yann looks from Lucas’ wide eyes to the phone in his hand. The screen is eye level for Yann so he merely peeks up to see what all the fuss is about. “Oh.”

And then Yann starts laughing. Lucas, personally, doesn’t find anything amusing in this situation.

“Can you stop that? I’m so stressed out right now,” he huffs, bringing the phone back down to his chest so he can stare some more at the notification that changed his life.

“Sorry, you gotta admit it’s a little funny.”

It’s not, but okay. Lucas continues frowning down at the screen, wondering if it would be too weird to mass delete half of his old posts.

Yann takes his phone away before he does anything stupid.

“You said he won’t even realize,” Lucas mumbles miserably, mind flashing back to that one stupid meme he’d posted about three weeks ago. God, Eliott’s going to unfollow in the next ten minutes.

“I’m not right about everything. Anyway, isn’t this a good thing? The guy only follows like 20 people and you’re one of them.”

Wait, what?

He reaches up, tilts his own phone in Yann’s hand so he can confirm that with his own eyes.

And okay, maybe that makes him feel a little giddy inside. Deep down. Just a little.

“Congrats, man. Not everyone gets noticed by their crush.” 

“I don’t have a crush.”

“Sure.”

“Shut up.” 

His phone beeps with another notification and they both look down at it simultaneously, like birds honing in on loose bread. It’s almost comical the way they gasp in unison when the notifications start popping up. From instagram user srodulv. Eliott. Eliott’s straight up just… liking a lot of his posts. Embarrassing memes included. 

Yann opens his mouth to say something but Lucas grabs the phone out of his grip and runs back into his room, shutting the door so he can freak out in peace. 

#elu #skam france #skamfr #elu fic #thats a lotta tags #did i make this blog just so i can post this? #more likely than you think #this is how i cope #all the au #i feel like we're all just staring into the void #waiting for the clip to drop #im gonna sleep #elu insta au #fictag

[mfackenthal]

The MFackenthal Show with Special Guest @choicesarehard

banner created by the amazing @choicesarehard

Disclaimer:  This interview was conducted on July 1, 2019. 

Megs: Welcome, welcome everyone to my 10th show!  I am so blessed that this show has done so well and the network has given me a full 23 episode slot.  I have to tell you - the remaining 13 slots are currently filled!  Which just means that my producers are working on a season 2.  If you want to be on the show - please let me know.  And if you think someone else should be on the show - let me know that too. In fact, today’s show couldn’t have happened without the help of @leelee10898.  

Tonight, I have a wonderful special guest with me tonight, everyone please give a round of applause to @choicesarehard!

Ellie:  stays seated next to Megs on the couch, gives a little smile and waves to the audience. 

Megs:  Ellie, I am so excited to have you on the show tonight.  When we were chatting backstage, I promised I would start today’s show with a story - something to help you forget that my amazing audience is staring at you.  Hmmm .. I’m trying to think of an embarrassing one … let’s see ... I’ve been taught to always sing loud and proud … but that means people often catch me not quite knowing the words to the song I’m singing.  That’s not terribly embarrassing though … Oh!  I understand that you like to travel … I have to be really careful that I don’t sing when I’m on a plane.  It’s harder for me than it sounds.  Ooooh oooh oh - idea forming right now!  We should have plane karaoke.  I really think flights could be more fun if we had a little more to drink and a few more songs to sing together.  Plus I never forget the words when I’m singing karaoke - the words are always right there on the screen.  

Ellie: laughs.  You would certainly have a captive audience.  

Megs:  Exactly!  Okay, your turn.  Tell me a travel story. 

Ellie: Hmmm ... well, Megs, you see, I’m a Texan, and we tend to be really friendly people. Sometimes, a little too friendly. On a flight home from London recently, a British man in front of us was struggling to fill out his immigration form. He asked the flight attendant “What if I don’t know where I’m staying?” This Texas woman next to me, who does not know this man at all, immediately pipes up, “Sugar, don’t give it another thought, you’ll stay with us. We have a spare room.” And the British man looks absolutely terrified, and squeaks “I meant I don't know the address!” It was the most perfect culture clash I’ve ever seen, and I loved every second of it. 

Megs:  Oh, that is a great story.  Gotta love Texans.  

Ellie:  Agreed!

Megs:  Okay, so Ellie, tell me, when did you join the fandom and what brought you here? 

Ellie:  I joined Tumblr in January, after reading every single Damien x MC story on the Choices Fan Fiction Archive. No, seriously, like, all of them. I was desperately Googling for more content, and discovered all the amazing creators on here. I made an account that night!

Now, as I can be pretty shy, I didn’t make a single post or even comment on stories my first month on Tumblr. I probably would have stayed a wallflower if @walkerismychoice hadn’t written a story so amazing I had to say something. So I sent her a DM and panicked until she responded. Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Maggie took me under her wing, showed me how to tag and post, sent me my first Ask, and even encouraged me to write my first drabble! Friends like her and what really brought me away from the metaphorical wall and onto the fandom dance-floor.

Megs:  And we’re so glad you are here!  Megs turns to the audience.  As there may be a few of you here who don’t know Ellie very well, let me tell you - she is multi-talented. Not only does she write, but she also creates gorgeous edits.  Seriously, did you see that banner of us when you first turned on the show?  That was all Ellie!  She’s amazing. 

Ellie:  Megs - stop, you’re making me blush!

Megs:  Nope, won’t stop.  Seriously Ellie, you should charge a commission fee! I would have paid for my icon and banners!!! *wink* Ellie:  Ha! You are the sweetest, and I actually get that a lot. But edits are my little way of saying thank you to the fandom for being so kind to the new kid! 

Megs:  Awh, you’re not so new anymore, friend!  So tell us a little about your work.  What’s your favorite work that you’ve written?  

Ellie:  Oh goodness, I can be pretty critical of my own work, but I’m trying to shake that habit.  And I am definitely proud of His Hands. Sometimes the things we hate about ourselves are the things that draw others to us, and it was fun to show both those perspectives in one piece.

Megs:  Oh, that is so beautiful!  Can you tell me more about your edits? 

Ellie:  The edits started as a way to illustrate one of my Outfit Drabbles — these kind of insane little stories I write about the worst outfits in the game. But I started doing edits seriously about two months ago! Clearly, it has kind of spiraled out of control since then, and I’m slapping wrinkles and tattoos and prison uniforms on everyone. I’ve also started making Choices Aesthetics recently. I love trying to capture the feeling and mood of a book or character in just six panels. My Wishful Thinking Emu board is probably my favorite thing I’ve ever made. 

Megs:  Everyone should check those out.  That Wishful Thinking board is amazing!  So, do you prefer writing or the edits? 

Ellie: Oh Megs! Don’t make me choose! Oh goodness, let me think. Making an edit is definitely more fun than writing. I’m giggling almost the entire time I’m creating one. And it’s a much, much faster process. But I pour so much of myself into my stories, and I really love getting to share them with other fans. And I think my stories mean more to me on a personal level. So uh...both? Can I say both? 

Megs:  Of course! I mean, I should probably share something really fast ... if ever I am playing a game - I will look for a way to cheat.  So in either/or questions - I highly respect an answer of both.  

Ellie:  That does explain so much about you, Megs. 

Megs:  Laughs.  Okay, well, getting back to you sharing your work with this fandom.  What do you love about this fandom?  Is there anything you’re less than happy with? 

Ellie: I love how welcoming the fandom is to new writers and artists. My first drabble was literally 77 words… and I had a whopping 13 followers. It should have been totally lost in the noise. But wonderful people like @bobasheebaby @sinclaire-made-me-sin and @ritachacha were so supportive; it made me feel brave enough to write a second story, and a third, and…well, here we are!

And listen, I know no online experience is going to be perfect, but if I don’t like a given topic or series I just filter it from my dashboard, or unfollow the user.  Beyond that, I just try to surround myself with people who are kind. 

Megs:  Do you have any advice for other people in the fandom?  Especially other fanfic writers? 

Ellie: I’m an incredibly slow writer. Seriously, trees grow to maturity while I finish a single drabble. And it can be intimidating to see a flurry of new content appear as I’m writing. But I’ve had to teach myself not to worry about what stories have already been told or are being told as I write. Our voices will always be unique, so even if the trope or setting is familiar, our work will be something that only we could have created.

Megs:  Well … I can’t say much about anyone’s speed of writing.  I’m lucky if I get something out every other week.   Those are truly beautiful words about uniqueness.  Thank you, Ellie!  What’s your writing process? 

Ellie: Simple - I write three words. Then I panic. Erase two of them. Panic some more. I’m kidding…mostly. In all seriousness, most of my writing wouldn’t exist without @brightpinkpeppercorn. We’re both night owls, and tend to brainstorm ideas long past midnight. Telling a story’s concept to a friend helps me develop the idea without the pressure of formatting or picking the perfect words — especially when that friend has an incredible sense of narrative and how to move a story forward. I really do think writing takes a community sometimes, and I’m so lucky to have one on Tumblr. 

Megs:  I love hearing about the community really coming together.  And speaking of community and coming together … fangirl with me about Choices for a little while.  Have you read all the books, what’s your favorite book, favorite One True Pairing (OTP), etc? 

Ellie:  Well, Megs, don’t tell anyone but … I actually haven’t played three of the biggest series — The Crown and the Flame, Endless Summer, and It Lives Beneath. I really want to, but there’s so much amazing new content each week, how’s a girl supposed to find the time?  

Megs:  I don’t know!  I often whine about not being paid to read all the fanfiction out there.  I’m behind right now on both canon and so much fanfiction ... and that is so weird for me.  Oh, but I saw that you’ve decided to read Veil of Secrets next.  Everyone, check out this post on how you can read or reread it with Ellie, if you want! 

Ellie:  Awh, thanks Megs.  Yeah - everyone should read it with me.  As for a favorite choices book … Saying this in an interview makes it real, doesn’t it?  gets up and starts to pace in front of Megs  Oh gosh, oh gosh … sits back down and takes Megs hands … I’m so sorry Damien, but...it’s Ride or Die. Releases Megs hands and faces the audience.  Listen, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Ride or Die was supposed to be a fluffy little story I’d play for diamonds and laugh at. But the narrative has so much more depth and nuance than I’d expected, and your decisions have real consequences. And did I mention the three incredible Love Interests?

Megs:  You actually didn’t no. 

Ellie:  Oh - shush you!  Laughs.  Well, let me get back to my OTP -  It will always be Damien and Kai from Perfect Match. Damien is a man who loves every part of you — your bad jokes, your terrible cooking — and has loved you for years. Besides, his banter is hysterical, and his ability in bed is literally legendary on Tumblr. I mean, come on. It’s a no brainer.

Megs: I do miss Damien!  Sigh  And, on that note, we are out of time.  Thank you, Ellie, for joining me on today’s show.  It was a pleasure to have you on the show.  

Ellie:  Wait, wait - Megs.  Before you go, I have one thing I have to give you. 

This is an edit of us on today’s show.  Thank you for having me and for helping me through my shyness.  

Megs:  It is gorgeous, Ellie!  Thank you soooooo much!  I love it!

Ellie:  You’re so very welcome. 

Megs and Ellie hug then turn to the audience and wave.  

Megs:  Have a great weekend, everyone!

~~~~~

And now for the tags.  If you want to be added to the tag list for these or removed, please let me know!

@hopefulmoonobject @queen-among-writers, @hopelessromantic1352, @lilyofchoices, @msjpuddleduck, @theroyalweisme, @lady-kato

#Guest Star Choicesarehard #Episode 10 #13 more in the season #I love glasses #She created my icon with Ethan #I wish I actually had that shirt and necklace #And the necklace she is wearing #The Mfackenthal Show #I almost forgot to tag my own show #Oops #If you hear singing on a plane that will be me #Plane karaoke

[pepperstrawberry]

Thoughts on the Ban...

For those that don’t follow the MTG side of things, this might not interest you as much: Long story short, some folks have been harassed, others have been banned because of it.

Now, I have been seeing the usual ‘they did nothing wrong’ posts here and on twitter. So I’m going to make things a touch more clear here:

Jeremy of MTGHeadquarters/unsleevedmedia/thequartering was hit with a perma-ban in all things Magic for harassment. This is very good news. For too long, his brand of garbage has been deeply rooted in just about every corner of really every fandom if we are honest. For Magic, this means LGS, Protour/grand prix, Twitch chats, Twitter, Amino, and here in our little corner of the net. He is one of many, but it’s a solid start. Wizards, as well as our community as a whole have put up with the garbage enough and it’s time for everyone to get with the program of ‘inclusivity’ or just get out. Getting a perma-ban is really the least that can happen to the sort of crass, garbage spewing, super negative, red-pill swallowing, alt-right/nazi sort that Jeremy is.

In short, good riddance.

As for Travis Woo. Even setting aside his ‘thought experiment’ about Hitler (please read as much sarcasm as you can into ‘thought experiment’), and even ignoring his racist slurs against Japanese people, and even accepting his word that he didn’t know what was going on in his little ‘Magic for Bad’ facebook group (which, seriously? You named it that, what did you freaking expect would happen?), there is an important fact that remains: He was creator and mod for that group, and as per his statements it was months ago the ‘First pick draft’ ladies thing happened. My dude? You are still responsible. You DO NOT turn of your alerts for a room you create/mod. That shows a lack of respect and an ignoring of responsibility. And on top of that, rather then deleting it, he just locked it.

Look, I get it in some cases, you are worried about these toxic people finding new homes... thing is, they will only learn (if ever) by being shunned for their actions. If every group does this, kicks out of or closes down ever room that these jerks are hanging out in, while informing them as to the why, even if they are thick, they are going to eventually start to think that maybe the problem is with them. Not all of them, mind, but more then you would expect would start to come around.

Some of these jerks are just brats that were never forced to grow up (ironic consider many of them think folks like us are the babies because we ‘can’t handle a few words’).

Leaving them to just fester without appropriate action can actually cause the issues to be come worse not better.

And the cherry on top was his active stating on twitter about ‘disavowing’ the actions of folks like Jeremy and his own facebook group. My dude, again: You DON’T GET THAT LUXURY. Your room, your responsibility. You accept responsibility, you accept the mistake you made, you make apologizes as appropriate, and you SHUT THE DANG THING DOWN. He did not do these things. Part of me feels like if it were just this one thing, that -maybe- a year ban is a bit much... But then you bring back in his history, and it almost doesn’t feel enough.

Be happy, Travis Woo, that you got just a year with option to appeal. Your history puts you into a precarious position

Four others tied to these issues were also banned for 4 months, but I have no further info on them, so not going to go on any longer on this part...

--------

Now, all this said: Things everyone should take from this:

1) “They are just words” is not a justification. “Just a joke” isn’t a defense. And “They did nothing wrong” is just a flat out lie. As far as Jeremy alone goes, even if you discount the tweets in the Professor’s video, there where long enough clips of Jeremy’s actual voice and statements that a clear case can be made. If you honestly still think he did nothing wrong, then there is literally no convincing you and no point in continuing any conversation.

2) Creating a place the like of “Magic for bad”, even as a joke, has large potential for harm. If it was meant to be satire, remember that satire is not an easy thing. Far too often, even well meaning satire can be used very easily for awful. A satire, poorly aimed/understood is no different from the real thing. A room like Magic for Bad should have either been sharply modded or never created in the first place.

What we need is more places of honesty and respect rather then more places of sarcasm and “satire”. Sarcasm and satire only work in small doses, and are even harder to create and spread on the net due mostly in part to who many social media platforms are text based. Sarcasm especially can get lost without the right tone behind it. A place of honesty and respect will build a stronger, healthier community then one based on jokes that are assumed everyone understood (and that is giving benefit of the doubt that said ‘jokes’ are not just being an asshole and using a BS defense)

3) Putting an emphasis here: We, as a community, on tumblr, twitter, at your lgs, on twitch, at protours and grand prix, need to respect and hold each other accountable. To raise the standard and to continue make the world around us that much more welcoming.

We are all human. We are all deserving of at least the most basic of respects. And Magic, as a game and a culture, is not the property of one aspect of this community, but for the whole.

IMPORTANT:

 If you feel the need to defend the named people above, or people like them; if you honestly think that the Prof’s vid didn’t have any evidence, if you think we are all ‘snowflakes’ or some garbage like that, and especially if you are some alt-right, red pill, nazi, unfollow me.

No, I’m not joking. I have zero time for you. This post is not a debate, it’s a statement of history and purpose going forward. We, as a community on tumblr and twitter, came together over the last week plus. Many of us declared a standard of respect and acceptance. We raised a banner around each other.

Tolerant of all but Intolerance.

A paradox, but one necessary for society to grow in a healthy, vibrant way. And Harassment is a form of intolerance. It’s someone saying ‘no, you don’t belong’. I’m sorry, no. People like Jeremy are like brats in a crib, crying that other kids are getting toys too. Stop being a brat. Share. Be welcoming or get out. That simple.

A cosplayer is doing something because of passion, because of love. A spike can even show compassion for a timmy/tammy White, Black, Yellow, Red, and any others, all are human And let love be love, let people be who they are, even if it doesn’t make sense to you.

It’s that simple, and it’s not hard.

#Pepper Rants #Heavy thoughts #mtg community #Our Standard

[freevoidman]

Okay, y’know what, gonna vent about something. If you don’t want my opinions about fandom space, social media, my mental health status, and the seriously terrible issues currently happening in Minneapolis, DON’T click the read more.

For those of you that don’t know, I’m active on twitter. I go on there mostly for fandom stuff, but it’s also my personal twitter account. I’m also involved with a few fandom Discord servers as well, and don’t worry, all of this will tie into the rant that will follow.

The recent incident with George Floyd is terrible, and is a symptom of police brutality that has been going on for decades, and his death was reprehensible and it should have never happened. I obviously feel sympathy for his family, and I’m furious that the cops have gone free with barely any punishment whatsoever. The riots are terrible, and I hope the innocents and protesters that got injured recover quickly with no long-lasting effects.

However, I am not in Minneapolis and cannot take direct action against this. I am in New York, with a few degrees of separation from this, and hearing about serious real world stuff on the news and on social media almost constantly stresses me out and destroys my mental health. I’ve also been in quarantine and abiding by my state’s health laws for the past four or so months, I haven’t gotten out much, and I haven’t been able to talk to my therapist because the phone reception is super shit where I live, and she doesn’t do skype/discord/zoom/whatever sessions. The only things that do improve my mental health is video games (which I can’t do every hour of the day), and engaging with fandom and submersing myself in creative content and creative outlets.

Despite this and my best efforts, my mental health right now is still abysmal, because my support network has been drastically fucked, for lack of better word. So hearing stuff about George Floyd and the protests and riots, while my heart goes out to everyone impacted, is not healthy for me. I have to avoid the news right now, otherwise I could go into a depressive spiral that would lead to really, really stupid decisions on my behalf that I’d rather not do.

This is not an issue on Tumblr, where mainstream news isn’t really a thing and I can blacklist tags and easily jump past serious posts with the hot-keys. I already have these tags blacklisted and I’ve been avoiding things just fine on here. All have you that I follow have been great, and I haven’t been triggered by anything yet. 

But I cannot dodge tags like this on Twitter. There is no hotkey for skipping past tweets (at least, not ones that aren’t shit), blacklist isn’t a thing, and even then, not all posts are tagged with specific key phrases or contain key words. Twitter also has a hub of news networks, activists, and plenty of well-meaning people I follow trying to bring my attention to it. 

I would unfollow, but here comes the kicker: almost everyone I follow on twitter produces fandom content. Unless I cut myself off from the one thing giving my mental health a boost, I can’t avoid current events on twitter. So, I did the smart thing and logged off twitter and went to Discord instead which, as I mentioned before, was primarily fandom-based servers. There are specific channels meant for venting and serious discussion, which I usually ignore.

However, when people that are on the server go into the OTHER channels and start posting things related to George Floyd, channels that, up until these messages, were only for FANDOM CONTENT that I do not ignore or have muted, it pisses me off and, yes, actually triggers me. 

I need escapism to boost my mental health, no joke. I have anxiety, depression, and I’ve self-harmed, so going into a downwards spiral in fucking quarantine isn’t great, especially when I live in a state where hospitals are packed and I wouldn’t be able to go home for months because both of my parents are in the at-risk category for covid-19.

And I understand that this is an important issue that people should care about. Despite this post, I do actually fucking care about police brutality and racism and how to stop it. However, I have to have a decent mental health to engage in these discussions in the first place, and I’m basically starting every morning with a half-filled container that drains very quickly throughout the day. I know that people are justifiably angry and do want to talk about this, but I can’t, not without a way to make sure the conversations won’t make me more depressed than I already am.

I have avenues for escapism, but when they get filled with things like this, my mental health plummets. In times like this, I need to maintain my mental health, so you won’t see a lot of political posts here. You may even here me say “dang, I hate it when political stuff infiltrates fandom space” because yeah, believe it or not, I don’t like it when that happens, for all the reasons listed above.

#personal #vent #if i'm wrong i'm wrong and i'll take the L #but fuck man i have a limit for certain things

[artificialqueens]

Finding You (Witney) - pureCAMP

A/N – I, like a horrific government employee, enjoy capitalizing on things that are stressing us all out in order to gain attention.

(this is a note from nymph for the light of my life pureCAMP to say i love you the most and i hope everyone reads this because i cried and as we all know i am heartless)

Right when it had all kicked off, Alaska had told Willam and Courtney fair and square. She wasn’t going to take sides, she wasn’t going to get involved, she’d sit back and let them do their thing. Interfering never worked – this was something Alaska knew well. If they wanted to fight, fine. They could fight. As long as it didn’t get in the way of Alaska’s main priority, their newly-formed band, they could fight as much as they wanted.

And it had worked. They argued when Alaska wasn’t around, caused stirs on social media, hashed things out the way drag queens do best – dramatically. Alaska was content to let them just deal with it, uninterested in their petty, mysterious drama, until it had gone too far.

Something had happened on the tour bus whilst Alaska was out picking up some snacks, she knew it. The air was filled with that tense silence, the one that not even Alaska could break. As much as she could try and start a conversation with one of them, or bring up a universal topic they could all chat mindlessly about, nothing happened. Both were clearly fuming over something, but Alaska was fucked if she knew what. Their whole fight meant nothing to her. She, along with everybody else on the fucking internet, had no idea why they were fighting. But she’d had enough of it.

So it had been tense. That was fine, Alaska could cope with that. Hell, she’d been the source of months and months of tension, way back when on the BOTS tour. Whether Willam and Courtney had broken up, that she didn’t know, but their behaviour certainly reminded her of her own. Still, she made the foolish mistake of assuming they’d remain professional, as they had so far, and continue with the show.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

“Courtney, do you have any more of that super pretty rainbow glitter? I lost mine back in Colorado.” Alaska drawled, amused at her half-painted face in the mirror.

Courtney handed hers over. “Don’t use it all, I still want some.”

“Thank you! Willam, isn’t this glitter so pretty?”

Willam barely glanced at the makeup product in Alaska’s hand, nodding stiffly and resuming her beat. The two blondes were seated either side of Alaska, facing away from each other, with Alaska left in the middle like the single child in the midst of a divorce. At the very least, Alaska thought to herself, her and Sharon didn’t have any tragic lovechildren left behind in their wake of their breakup.

Their stupid fight was causing more stress than Alaska wanted to admit. She felt torn between wanting to smack them both upside the head, wanting to shake Willam until she stopped being a dick, and wanting to throw out their phones and lock them in a room together. They’d unwittingly dragged Alaska into the feud with every mention of the AAA Girls that cropped up, leaving Alaska to feel strangely alone and distressed. If she spent too much time with Courtney, would Willam get pissed at her? If she went to Willam for a chat before Courtney, would Courtney think she was taking sides?

It was ridiculous. They were grown men – though none of them were particularly masculine, the point still stood – and yet they were arguing like teenagers. They had fans to please, shows to perform, a perfect facade of fame and friendship to keep up.

Alaska didn’t know who she was more annoyed at, despite trying her best to look at them both in the same positive light as she had before. Willam, for one, had made the feud known to everyone. She was the one openly claiming she was pissed at her, unfollowing her social medias, throwing shade in that cutesy trademark Willam way. On the other hand, Courtney hadn’t said anything, somewhat playing the angel in a situation Alaska knew involved her as much as Willam. If the nightly screaming matches were anything to go by, Courtney had played her part too.

“Willam, can you lace me up please?” Alaska turned her back to the queen, gesturing to her loose corset.

“Sure. Let me know if you want it tighter or looser. Love the wig, bitch.” Willam commented.

Alaska ran her fingers through her hair and smiled. “Some give like fifty blowjobs for a lacefront like thiiiiis!” She sang in a low voice, hardly even thinking.

Behind her, Willam stiffened.  “Done.” She said abruptly.

Of course, Alaska thought. She’s so fucking touchy that if you bring up the song you’re going to be singing later, which happens to be about a wig company that Courtney co-owns, Willam will get pissed. This is just great.

The entire time they’d been getting ready it had been like that – cold, awkward. Alaska felt as though she were walking on eggshells in high heels, an elevated version of the usual idiom. Nothing she said was right. One thing upset Courtney, another irritated Willam. There was just no winning.

Regardless, she pushed on. For the most part, the show had being going well, other than the fact that her two counterparts had refused to interact on stage, at all. It wasn’t like Alaska hadn’t expected it; she was willing to put in the extra legwork and be energetic enough for both of them if it meant some of the drama would die down a little. Then things had taken a turn for the worse.

See, Willam and Courtney had been playing an unspoken game. On stage, they acted as though their fight was a joke. Willam would read Courtney, and Courtney would smile wide – the kind of smile that deliberately indicated bitterness and hatred. It was something akin to a Sharon vs Phi Phi dynamic, only cuntier and more dramatic. Fans went wild watching them, and Alaska would laugh to herself… until she came off stage, and the dynamic worsened to full on arguments.

That was exactly what they’d been doing that night, until it went a step too far.

“Thank you so much for all the love!” Courtney called out. “You’re all amazing, and-“

Willam cut her off. “How is she though?!” She tossed her head, the fans screaming as her wig flipped over her shoulders.

Obviously irritated by her vanity, Courtney spoke up. “You just interrupted me!”

“Whatever, bitch.” Willam laughed, snorting the way she always did. “Someone had to. You know in the end of Tuck Tape, where the song trails off to Courtney talking? That’s actually how this bitch talks. It’s never ending. Someone has to shut her up.”

The laughter that followed was nervous, like the fans didn’t know whether they should be laughing or not. Alaska stood in the centre of the stage, her heart pounding. Was tonight going to be the night they blew up in public? If so, she wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with the fallout. She gripped her microphone nervously, twisting it between her fingers as she watched the interaction.

“How is everyone tonight?” Alaska butted in, desperate to ease the situation in the only way she knew how. Talking to the fans, addressing them and practically begging for their love. When there was a problem, she could always rely on crazed fans to fix it.

The loud cheering that followed her question appeared to have worked to silence the argument. Both of the queens either side of her fell quiet, letting the audience scream their love towards the three.

“Oh, shut up Willam.”

Fuck. Alaska couldn’t control her features in time, her face contorting into a wince as she watched Courtney – sugar-sweet, typically kind Courtney – snap back at Willam.

Willam’s eyes narrowed. “You really think I’m gonna listen to you? Cute, that’s real cute.”

“Fuck you.”

Of course, to fans the argument didn’t sound that intense. Sure, it was a little awkward, but it was just forced, right? They were just drumming up some excitement for their tour, trying to get talked about on social media, that was all. However, Alaska felt her heart drop into her stomach. She was the one noticing the subtle changes in the tones of voice, the angry glances, the cocked eyebrows and clenched fists. Things were definitely going to escalate – and quickly.

With her parting blow, Courtney tossed the microphone to the floor, the sound equipment emitting a horrible squeal as it landed, and stormed off the stage. A loud gasp swept across the arena as it dawned on the crowd that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t fake after all. Panicked, Alaska set down her own microphone in the stand and bolted after her friend, not bothering to check if Willam was going to follow or not. If her prediction was correct, Willam would be behind her shortly – most likely to continue the argument.

Upon the frantic questioning from Alaska, the crew behind the scenes managed to provide her with some vital information. One, Courtney was angry. Two, she wasn’t in the dressing room. Three, she had ran outside, which meant she was most likely fuming in the tour bus. Brilliant. There was nothing like an enclosed space to bring out the worst in a fighting drag queen. Again, Alaska knew this well.

“COURTNEY!” Alaska made the mistake of yelling, bursting through the fire doors that led out into the car park. Instantly, a horde of fans were upon her, descending down in an unholy chorus of ‘Hieeee!’s and outstretched hands clutching Sharpies.

Alaska pushed through them as best as she could, stammering apologies and excuses as she fought her way out. Usually she would never say no to a fan wanting an autograph, reasoning that it was a minute or two of her life that may seem trivial, but meant the world to those dedicated kids. Even so, the logic this time dictated that if she didn’t refuse and run to the bus, she might have to arrive to a destroyed tour bus, an angry Courtney, and an equally angry Willam squaring up for a fight.

Finally, the fans ceased their swarming, Alaska forcing her way through the last of them as the tour bus loomed ever closer. As quickly as she could in her huge shoes, she ran up the steps to the door, typing in the passcode with her nails and dashing inside.

“Courtney!” She yelled again, her voice desperate. Her eyes landed on the Australian queen, red in the face and breathing heavily. Some papers that Alaska guessed had once been on the table were now scattered in disarray across the floor.

“COURTNEY!” Came another yell, this one angrier rather than desperate. Willam wasn’t far behind.

Shit. Alaska had to act fast. Her mind started racing, but before a solution could come into fruition, Willam burst onto the bus.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done, you stupid little slut?! You’ve basically ruined this entire fucking tour and our careers as we know it! Are you fucking happy yet, Courtney? Have you done enough? Or is there something else you’d like to fuck up?” Willam’s eyes were glowing with hatred, her skin mottled with fury.

Courtney scoffed. “Oh, I’m the stupid slut here?! Have you ever looked at yourself, or is it too confusing to see someone who looks just like you in the mirror? Can you even comprehend the function of a reflective surface, or do you just see something shiny with your face on it and go ‘Ooh, pretty!’”

“Stop changing the fucking subject! You know exactly why I’m fucking mad at you, don’t try and pretend this has anything to do with fucking vanity or some shit!”

Try as she might, Alaska couldn’t muster a single word. She stood in between the pair, watching them fight.

“Of course I know! How could I not?! You’re so fucking see-through, Willam!” Courtney shouted, raking her hands through her hair in frustration. “You’re jealous because I decided to do something about my lonely love life and find somebody with MTV! That’s why you’re so fucking pressed!”

Alaska frowned. “Wait-”

“Shut it, Alaska.” Willam cursed. “You think I’m jealous?! Oh, sweet lord above, give me strength. Why the fuck would I be jealous of you?! What do you have that I don’t?!”

Courtney was trembling. “A life outside of the fucking friends-with-benefits bullshit, that’s what I have that you don’t! You’re obsessed! We hashed this out a long time ago, Willam! You said it yourself! No feelings, no strings, no nothing! You’re not my fucking boyfriend! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

There it was, the truth. After so long of arguing, so long of not knowing why they were so angry at one another, it was coming out. It was as if a plug had been pulled, and now everything was spilling out of Courtney and Willam beyond their control.

Alaska couldn’t believe it. What was she even supposed to focus on? Her best friends and their – supposedly former – friends-with-benefits contract? The fact that Willam was jealous of Courtney going on dates? Courtney’s sheer anger?

“I – what? This is what this arguing is about?” Alaska cried in disbelief.

Willam ignored her. “Christ, Courtney, I know I’m not your fucking boyfriend! But we talked about this! Anything relationship-y happens, we break this shit off for good! You don’t just – you don’t just run off to go be single on MTV and then still get to reap the benefits from me, fucking leading me on!”

“Leading you on?!” Courtney mocked. “Well fuck me, now I’ve heard it all! How am I leading you on?! Do you have some kind of fucking crush on me?!”

Willam faltered. Alaska seized the opportunity.

“GUYS! Will you shut the fuck up? I can’t believe you’re arguing over a fucking friends-with-benefits pact gone wrong!” She exclaimed, looking between the two.

Willam’s face twisted into an evil snarl, her fiery gaze honing on on Alaska. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m fucking feeling.” She spat maliciously. “Everyone knows about you and Sharon, and I know for a fact it tears you up inside to watch her flirting, kissing or fucking with other guys. You know exactly how this feels.”

Alaska froze.

That was a low blow. How did Willam know about her and Sharon? Had she been told? Did she just pick up on the chemistry between them? A mixture of panic and anger bubbled up inside her, creating waves of nausea in the pit of Alaska’s stomach. If Willam knew, who else knew? Who had she told, if anyone?

“I-I-” She stuttered, suddenly shell-shocked. “ H-How did you – but we’re not – and –”

“That’s right.” Willam sneered. “It’s common knowledge to everyone with a functioning brain that you and Needles haven’t been able to let each other go. But you’re the one with the emotional ties, aren’t you? She doesn’t care about you. That’s why it ended all those years ago.”

Tears filled Alaska’s eyes. “You’re lying. She does care about me.”

“Oh, really? I think you care about her more than she’ll ever care about you.” Willam laughed cruelly. “I bet it killed you seeing us together. You saw us kiss at West 5 during London Pride, I know it made your blood boil. But she cares?”

“She does!” Alaska insisted, a pain in her chest. “She does care about me, I know it.”

“Funny, she said the exact opposite when she was inside me. Guess she’s as good as Courtney when it comes to lying to get what she wants.”

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally broke free, rolling down Alaska’s cheeks as Willam’s words appeared to have their desired effect. Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to cover her trembling lips as the carefully-shaded eye makeup she’d applied earlier disintegrated into black tear-tracks that stained her foundation.

At the same time, Courtney saw red. “Are you done ruining lives?! Look at what you’ve done to Alaska, look how much you’ve upset her! She was the one thing keeping us two afloat in this fucked up little dispute and now you’ve gone and hurt her, too! When will enough be enough?!”

Alaska’s vision was blurry from her tears, her shoulders shaking, but she heard the telltale choked-up quality to Willam’s voice that indicated she too had cracked.

“Why don’t you tell me, Court? Why don’t you tell me?” She replied, her previous anger fading into what sounded like sadness. “Why has it taken me hurting Alaska for you to see that I feel the same as she does?”

Courtney’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. “You… you what?”

“It hurts. It hurts that you don’t care about me like I care about you. Why is it that you didn’t see that until I’d hurt Alaska in the same way?”

Then, “Come here, girl.”

Alaska didn’t need telling twice, latching onto Willam and letting out the rest of her sobs. The older queen sighed and hugged her close, barely holding back her own tears as she rubbed Alaska’s back to try and comfort her. A little way across from them, hardly ten feet, Courtney’s gaze softened.

“I… I was afraid of looking. I was afraid if I looked to you I’d see something that I didn’t want to. I couldn’t – I couldn’t let myself get worked up on false hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d…”

She trailed off. “…care about me.”

There was a long pause. For one, prolonged moment, everyone took the time to process what they needed to. No jumping to conclusions. No arguing back. Just a moment of quiet, profound understanding. It was broken by Willam letting out a teary laugh.

“You bitch. Get over here.”

And then Courtney was running towards them, her arms wide open, enveloping both Alaska and Willam in an enormous hug, apologies spilling from her lips faster than any of them could comprehend. Just like that, in a moment, all of the pent-up anger and heartache was released. Both blondes wrapped their arms around Alaska, using her as a link like they always did, reuniting.

“I’m sorry, Lasky.” Willam sniffed. “I’m a h-horrible friend. I shouldn’t have – shouldn’t have lied and tried to hurt you like that. We all know that when it comes to you, Sharon’s as whipped as cream. Of course she cares.”

Alaska giggled in spite of herself. “Can I wriggle free so I can call her? Pretty please?”

Willam and Courtney shared a look, before laughing weakly and nodding. Untangling herself from their grip, Alaska made her way out of the embrace and smiled at her friends, watching how naturally their hands slipped into one another’s to be held. She collected her phone from where she’d left it on the middle of the table and dialled the familiar number.

“Any reason you’re calling me at five in the morning?” Came the grumbled greeting, blaring out of her phone’s speaker for the whole tour bus to hear.

Alaska pulled a face. “Oh shit, sorry! Did I wake you?”

Sharon must’ve noticed how thick Alaska’s voice sounded, because she didn’t answer the question. “You okay, doll? You don’t sound too good.”

“I’m – I’m fine.” Alaska reassured her. “I just – I wanted to ask something.”

She could hear the sound of bedsheets rustling. “Go ahead, baby.”

“Do you love me?”

Alaska instantly winced. Had she really pressed on about asking such a heavy question at five in the fucking morning? She was officially worse than all of Willam and Courtney’s fighting combined.

“Of course, pumpkin. Is something wrong? Everything okay? You can talk to me.”

Across from her, Alaska saw Willam start to laugh. “I’m fine. That’s all, but I gotta go now. I’ll call you back.”

After Sharon had said her goodbyes – another ten minutes down the phone, of course – Alaska hung up, turning to her friends with a smile.

“Well,” Courtney said. “There’s your answer. Pretty conclusive.”

Alaska’s phone buzzed with a twitter notification.

Willam - @willam – Aug. 24th

All’s well that ends well, I guess.

#willam belli #alaska thunderfuck #courtney act #aaa girls #witney #shalaska #purecamp #rpdr fanfiction

[kissmyflash]

Belle’s Story - The Misogyny of Devin Faraci, the Alamo & Working as a Female Film Critic

After my story went public I offered my blog to be used for any other woman who was targeted by Devin Faraci, the Alamo Drafthouse, or misogyny within the film community at large. I promised that I would allow them to stay anonymous, and simply print their own experiences in their own words. Today I received an email from a woman asking to have her story heard. It is her hope that by being the first to come forward anonymously others might be empowered to do the same. For the purpose of keeping each story straight they will be given an alias inspired by a character in film.

This story is from “Belle”* (*it should be noted the point of these stories is not to try to name the woman, but to hear her story. Please don’t try to “figure it out”.) I wrote for a number of outlets, more years ago now than I care to count. 

The tale of my days of film journalism are depressing and sordid. Sexism and misogyny isn't just rampant, it defined every interaction.  For example, editor has a plus one, and he offers it to you. "You can come as my date." "Or I can come as your friend?" "You can come as my date." Oh, and he's married. Once, I was very upset at a nasty, sexist comment left in my comment field calling me "a fucking gash." I begged them to delete it, and ban the user. "Sweetie, it's not like it is racism." And yes, I blasted him for calling me sweetie. I put up with it for my entire, short career thinking “Well, it’s just locker room talk and I want people to think I’m cool, so I won’t let it bother me.”  And then you realize no, it’s the reality and when you reject these guys, you’re done.  To confront them was to be told they were joking and be gaslamped into thinking they had harassed you at all. Faraci and I were, I thought, friends. He reached out to me in my early days, and I was beyond thrilled and flattered.  He was a big name. He championed my work, he encouraged people to read me on Twitter and I really thought he was one of the good guys. I constantly defended him against detractors, quoted his scoops and gave him press. In my view, most of my colleagues were unpleasant guys who couldn’t say a nice word about me or my work, routinely harassed me and exposed me to harassment, but were happy to call themselves feminists. Faraci, on the other hand, was a vocal defender who would call out the trolls they wouldn’t.  And we all mimicked his snarky, bully tone. He set the voice for film criticism at that time. Faraci and I hung out at events. Very friendly. He flirted and complimented, and I felt like I saw this sad, sensitive side of him that he didn’t let on to many people.  I remember messaging him and telling him something encouraging about his weight, and he thanked me and said I was very sweet.  Again, I appreciated his support and camaraderie on a very cruel Internet. I already detailed my exceedingly polite rejection of his advances (to the Daily Beast). What I'd like to stress was how nauseated I was the next day -- not only from the alcohol but what almost happened.  I thought well, today will be awkward but I am sure he’ll be cool about it.  We’re adults, we were drinking, it happens and we are friends. But he never spoke to me again. Not on the set visit itself, not after, never again.  He unfollowed me on Twitter. He shunned me.  We could be in the same room together, and he wouldn’t make eye contact or say hi, I was completely invisible.  It was beyond uncomfortable and hurtful. What happened was not rape or assault, but I felt like garbage. I was made to feel as if I'd done something wrong.  Of course, it was nowhere near the level of assault or even harassment, but as a woman, it gets really tiring to feel BAD for not having sex with someone. And it never really went away.  In my last gig,writing for yet another editor who assumed his own female staff was fair game, I was told “Well, see, I was told you fucked Faraci.” I’ve never known where that piece of gossip originated. Devin himself?  The editor who called me up on that fateful set visit, heard Devin in the background, and said he’d tell everyone I slept with him before cackling and hanging up? Even when I myself went to work for a branch of the Alamo, and Faraci KNEW I worked for his same company, he still shunned me. It was a pretty blatant snub, and one that didn’t exactly go unnoticed.  Drafthouse patrons knew me and my work.  I’d be called out at dish pit because they recognized my voice from podcasts.  “Why don’t you write for BMD?”   “Eh, not interested."  It's conjecture as to why, but i felt strongly that one rejection was the reason. Amusingly, he once passed me in the hallway of Drafthouse while I was carrying dirty dishes, and actually said hi, but it was because he didn’t recognize me at all.  I joked about it with some friends — as I recall, I made a Les Miserables joke about having fallen so far into the gutter that my old colleagues didn’t even recognize me. Devin heard about it, and was angry that I hadn’t identified myself. When I reached out and said “Well, it was me, hi Devin,” he never even acknowledged me. There is simply no way Tim League didn’t know about Devin’s so-called dark side, or ever believed he was some sturdy feminist.  Faraci’s work on CHUD was full of T&A and oogling. He proudly shared a video clip of himself gawking at Scarlett Johannson’s butt.  He had a profile picture of himself looking down a Medieval Times wench’s dress — and it was the replacement for the profile picture of himself gaping at a booth babe who was wearing nothing but duct tape. This was Devin.  This is all of online film culture, this is the Drafthouse.  When they introduced their new female programmer, who was set to focus on girl friendly programming, her official Drafthouse photo was of her in tiny underwear/shorts, sucking on a lollypop in her pink bedroom. I should stress that I’ve never interacted with League directly. I worked a franchise, so we had our own GM and owners. There has been a lot of ugliness with the Alamo’s franchising, and just what League will claim to have knowledge of or direct action in.  I do know that Tim seems to have a persistent death wish to keep bad blood around. I had a lot of fun working for the Drafthouse initially.  I started before they even broke ground, and helped them run their outdoor events publicizing their theatre. I loved everything they stood for.  When they opened officially, I applied to work as a server. That’s how badly I wanted in. But, to my delight, my past efforts for them were remembered and I was moved from food to programming. For its first summer, I was basically its creative department, though “officially unofficial." I had confidence this nebulous position would be permanent. One day, the boss calls me up and tells me he is hiring a new Creative Manager, and I’d have a new boss. I was never offered the position, told it was open, nothing. He listed the candidates he'd rejected -- one of whom, he complained, never showed up to the events that were meant to be his audition. These were events I had worked -- I'd organized them! Why weren't they my audition? Now, to be entirely impartial, maybe I wasn't a good fit. Maybe they were dissatisfied with my work. I had never been given that feedback or impression, though. Quite the opposite. The distinct feeling I had was "You're not the bearded guy who is our audience." And sure enough, I walked in one day and I had no job. But, I was still loyal! I happily went to work at box office. And I scrubbed their bathrooms and wood paneling.  Anything to stay within the Drafthouse and hope I could work back up to a creative or programming position.  Not surprisingly, that never happened and due to the abusive management, I quit. Amusingly, when I needed a second chance from the Alamo — and had been promised I would always be welcome  — I was told they would not renew their relationship with me.  Second chances are not, it seems, for everyone. Now, it's probably unfair to say that in that I have no relationship with League. He didn't personally reject me. I’m sure he doesn’t know the particulars.Yet he always knew when our bathrooms were shut down for cleaning, and would fire off an email wanting them reopened within the hour.   But that’s the mystery of League and the Drafthouse. Somehow, no one is in charge when someone is getting hurt, and a lot of people got hurt there.  Somehow League is “above it all,” too big for the daily grind of the Drafthouse, except when suddenly he isn’t. This probably reads like I have an axe to grind…and hey, I do. It has eaten at me for years that one factor that separated me from terrific gigs was that I didn’t sleep with the right people or wasn't the typical Drafthouse dude.  Was it the only factor? No. But it's the one that shouldn't even exist in the 21st century. It makes me angry that Faraci is not the only predator, and that all of these guys still have great gigs while many were forced into new lines of work. It is appalling to me that Faraci's superiors felt that non-movie work wasn't good enough for someone of his stature.  Plenty of talented writers are working food and retail. Many juggled these jobs while writing because the pay was so poor. Why was he better than anyone else? And that is a question that lingers like a stink over the whole field. Look at the female voices in comparison to the male. Ask why so many women, who were so prominent in the early days of online film writing, are gone now.  Ask why the same guys get chances again and again. Faraci is not the only offender, but the fact that he WAS one for so long says volumes about who he is, the world he works in, what the Drafthouse enables.

#film #hollywood #the daily beast #misogyny #feminism #sexism

[kaepop-trash]

OTEverybody: Proposal

Rated: I honestly don’t know

Pairing: *mumbles incoherently* Everyone

Summary: Being NCT’s manager was challenging as it is, add to that the fact that suddenly half of them feel the need to win your affection.

(A/N): I don’t know what this is or why this is, it was just really fun to write. Before people start unfollowing me I have to point out that THIS IS A JOKE. It’s just something really stupid I’m writing for fun, so just take it as that.

Proposal | Practice Room | Meeting| Third Floor | Airport

“Did you hear?” One of the make up artists, Jaehee suddenly asked. You only looked up confused, mid texting.

“There is a new sm town concert being considered.” She looked excited.

“How do you know?” Taeyong suddenly spoke looking at her through the mirror.

“Well Leeteuk-sshi’s make up artist comes to work on the same bus as I do and he was apparently talking on the phone with the chairman.” Taeyong mouthed a wow and you scoffed.

“The SM network is really thriving these days.” You said amused, going back to texting.

“Noona!” Donghyuck barged in, pushing the door loudly. You looked up with a frown at the loud noise.

“Have you seen my neck tie? I swear I had it in my pocket a moment ago.” He patted his pockets as if making a point.

“I told you to not take it off didn’t I?” You sighed.

“But it makes me feel so stuffy!” He whined in protest. Suddenly Mark peeked into the room, looking relieved when he noticed Donghyuck.

“You dropped your tie.” He pushed the object into Donghyuck’s hands and he blushed, smiling shyly.

“Honestly this group would fall apart without you Mark.” You said gratefully, you were already calculating the amount that would have to be paid if Donghyuck had lost the tie loaned to them by a very expensive brand. Mark blushed at the compliment, fumbling a reply.

“I’m the leader you know!” Taeyong whined.

“I stand by my statement.” You said teasingly and he pouted. Donghyuck came and sat beside you on the sofa, doing his best cute act.

“I’m not that bad Noona.” He did a cute voice and Mark gagged loudly.

“You’re the worst. I’m not even your manager and you still give me the hardest time.” You said with a frown, giving him a side glance.

“It’s only because I love you!” He hit your arm playfully.

“Haechan get out.” Taeyong said with a serious voice.

“Oooh, Hyung’s Jealous again.” Taeyong threw his cap at his face, trying to hide the deep blush creeping onto his face.

Everyone suddenly focused on a high pitched laugh approaching in the corridor that could only be one person. Everyone in the room poking their heads out of the room to see him running to the main area of the green rooms. Chenle stopped running abruptly and almost tripped over.

“He’s going to get himself killed one day.” Donghyuck whispered and Mark nodded in agreement.

“We’re going to Hawaii.” He screamed so loudly you were sure even the artists in the far corner heard him. He cheered to himself doing a little dance.

“Are you serious?” Doyoung emerged from the room beside the one you were in.

“I wanted to be the one to tell them!” A deep voice complained from a room. Chanyeol emerged from a room from the other side in full costume ready for his performance.

“Hey.” He gave you a beautiful smirk that made you blush. Donghyuck looked between you both with a deductive expression, tightening his jaw.

“Did you know about this?” Johnny emerged from the same room as Doyoung, asking you in English

“Not a clue. I guess I’m not going.” You tried to hide your disappointment.

“How can they not take you when we’re going to America? You’re our Manager.” Mark spoke defensively while everyone else stared confused at the unfamiliar words.

“They can’t take all the managers.” You shrugged.

“Can someone explain to the rest of us what is happening?” Donghyuck interjected loudly.

“She probably isn’t going to Hawaii with us despite being the English speaking member’s Manager. Jaehyun emerged too.

“Why?” Taeyong said turning to her, she shrugged again.

“Of course you are.” Chanyeol said confused at the speculation, “I put in a word for you myself.” You were caught off guard at the sudden gesture, blushing.

“Thank you.” You said shyly.

“Ow!” Mark suddenly shouted, diverting you attention. He glared at Donghyuck who was giving him a cute smile.

“Sorry it was a mistake.” He said sticking his tongue out.

“You pinched me you idiot.” Mark said quietly, his expression stuck between confused and mad. Your phone dinged and you opened it to read whatever message you received.

“Haechan stop bullying Mark. Taeyong make Haechan stop bullying Mark.” Taeyong looked at her confused at the sudden thrust of responsibility, “You're the leader after all.” You smirked at him referring to his earlier complaint.

“I have to go, they called a meeting. Best of luck for your performance guys.” You rushed through your words, going back into the room to pick up the rest of your stuff.

“Donghyuck said you were the best rapper to a stylist the other day.” You told Mark in english, winking at him and he laughed.

“I heard my name!” Donghyuck said looking betrayed.

“She said you suck your thumb in your sleep.” Mark put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“That was one time!” He defended himself loudly and everybody laughed.

You were about to leave when you heard your name being called in a sing song voice. You turned to see Baekhyun come out of the EXO dressing room.

“Do you want a donut?” He said shoving a half eaten donut out at you, “I know you like the ones from this bakery a lot.”

“How did you-” You looked at him confused.

“He made me tell him.” Johnny scoffed going back into his dressing room.

“Yah you know it's rude to speak in a language everyone else doesn't understand!” Baekhyun cursed at him.

“I was saving you the embarrassment Hyung.” Johnny shouted back from the room and Baekhyun blushed.

“Thank you for the offer but I'm really late Baekhyun-shhi.” You bowed apologetically.

“You should call me Oppa already.” A sudden gag noise turned everyone's attention to Taeyong. Who coughed and pretended nothing happened.

“I-uh,” You looked between everyone extremely confused with the situation, “I'm late for a meeting with the chairman.” With that you left.

Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun standing with a half eaten donut in his hand, smirking and taking it away while he wasn't paying attention.

“That's mine!” He said with his loud voice echoing making everyone around wince.

“Try harder next time.” He said walking back into the room, eating the donut.

After the performance, everyone went back into the room, sitting back and drying the sweat off their faces.

“Hyung.” Donghyuck called Taeyong, looking distracted. Taeyong hummed at him as he drank water.

“We can't compete with Chanyeol and Baekhyun hyung.” Taeyong choked on his water.

“W-what are you talking about.” He fumbled with his words looking nervous. Donghyuck rolled his eyes.

“It's one thing if we're competing. But we can beat EXO. They're EXO! She'll choose them over us. Taeyong looked at him like he was trying to understand what he meant. The room was suddenly silent.

“Why would she do that?” Taeyong proceeded with caution, giving into his words.

“With us it's a competition amongst equals Hyung.” Donghyuck spoke to him like he was explaining a difficult subject to a child.

“What makes you think you and I are equals.” Taeyong frowned at his words and Donghyuck only looked him up and down like it was obvious. Taeyong bit back a curse.

“Focus Hyung. My point is, we have to eliminate the competition from the people who obviously have an advantage, before we can win her affection.” Donghyuck looked satisfied with his plan. Another sound of someone choking on water turned their attention to Doyoung.

“Are you planning murder or something because I'm leaving before I'm an accomplice.” Donghyuck rolled his eyes again.

“Don't be overdramatic. I just think if we make them look a little bad in front of her we'll be fine.” He shrugged like it was the simplest plan.

“You're seriously evil. What makes you think she would like you even after you embarrass our seniors and mentors in front of her. Let her live in peace.” Mark said incredulously.

“No one asked for your opinion Mark. I just want her to know how much I like her.” Donghyuck blushed at his sudden confession. At least three people scoffed.

“Oh no by all means proceed. I'll enjoy watching this backfire.” Mark sat back.

“Whatever, you just can't tell her anything. Seriously stay out of it.” Donghyuck warned and Mark begrudgingly agreed.

“It's something Taeyong Hyung. Otherwise you can just keep pouting everytime she talks about another guy.” Taeyong was flustered at the sudden attack.

“F-fine. But we can't do anything too bad or obvious. We might get in trouble.” He sighed at his own words.

“When have my plans ever backfired?” There was a long awkward silence followed by a few awkward coughs.

“Count me in this plan.” Yuta coughed awkwardly, getting up and walking out. Everyone stared in stunned silence.

“Umm..me too.” Jaehyun added fumbling with the zipper on his jacket avoiding eye contact.

“We're going to lose our manager Hyung.” Mark turned to Johnny with a expression of disbelief. Johnny avoided his gaze and Mark's eyes grew wide.

“Not you too!” He said feeling betrayed. Johnny only laughed awkwardly.

“Is it just me or did the atmosphere get very tense suddenly.” Donghyuck said and promptly Mark threw a towel at him.

“I'm going to the Dream dressing room. Where people don't scheme.” Mark said getting up.

“I'm pretty sure I heard Renjun tell Chenle how amazing his Noona is once.” Win Win suddenly added.

“I'm going to give all of you the silent treatment.”

#nct #exo #jaehyun #taeyong #doyoung #taeil #yuta #win win #johnny #mark #haechan #jeno #jisung #renjun #chenle #jaemin #ten #hansol #kun #yukhei #lucas #jungwoo #chanyeol #baekhyun #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct fanfic #exo scenarios #exo fluff #exo fanfiction

[blackrupee]

Wow your life sounds complicated right now I'm sorry for that. So you aren't gonna have any managers what the fuck? And OH MY GOD I hate when people come in to eat so close to close!!!! ( I work @ zaxbys) if someone is acting passive aggressive I would act even more passive aggressive- make that bitch regret it- regarding the 2 guys: 2 guys is better than no guys:))) wish the first one didn't pressure you though. How did the 2nd one hurt you? - and I care so don't worry about boring me

hi hello would you like to read a novel on my life thanks i talk too much (tldrs at end)

nah like.. we had been managing with a general manager and 3 assistant managers even though we really need 4 so as not to overwork anyone. we recently hired a new one from a corporate arbys (we’re franchised) and two just quit. like i mentioned, theyre not coming back even though the original plan was that their new jobs would be only temporary (6 weeks). sooooo now we have a general manager who only works weekday day shifts, one assistant manager who is relatively new (she had been working at this place for a while but was promoted to manager 6ish months ago) and another who is brand new but still has some experience. they said theyre looking to promote from within initially, but they might have to hire outside people if no suitable potential manager is picked. id love to get manager pay and its not like managers do anything hard so id be WILLING to be a manager..like the whole reason why i got trained on backline was because we have such a big turnover rate with backline people since it fucking SUCKS and i was wanting to be helpful and flexible. so like. thats what i offerred. but one assistant manager was like “lmao all youd do is swear at the customers” and im like bitch when have i ever?? i talk shit about them all the time but ive only sworn IN FRONT OF a customer twice and neither time was it directed at them. but i mean im sitting on a small handful of customer complaints so its not like the gm would even consider me probably. idk dude. i can be nice if you pay me to be nice. but i get paid to do food and do it fast……….so

but yeah literallyyyyyyyyy i have no idea how people can be so??? inconsiderate???? and they dont??? care??? im learning that my contant frustration with people in my personal interactions is due to a disconnect between what i value in  expectations and what actually happens. like. when i go somewhere i already KNOW what i want, so i say it quickly and competently. i preface a lot of my interactions with people im requesting food or services from with “i’m sorry but…”. i phrase things as “could i get” as opposed to “get me” or “i want” which sound HELLA rude tbh. id always have my money ready at the window or the register, im always trying to pay attention and not miss anything or just….be rude in any way bc i know fast food fucking sucks. i know some of the people i interact with probably hate their job as much as i do and i want to be the smallest burden i can be. and it seems like nearly no one else has these same values???? and i dont understand how people can just??? be? so? inconsiderate?

also yes bitch im the queen of passive aggression. literally the night before i was working a short shift and my friend was closing frontline and this bitch was closing drivethrough. i just got the okay to clock out and i was like “bye! have a beautiful night! just know that i love you so much and ive everything ive ever said has always been fake until this point! never meant anything ive ever said until now especially if your name starts with k or ends with ristin (drivethrough girl/the one whos being so difficult is named kristin) but just know that i love you!” and basically being really dramatic and extra as satire.

i guess for context the whole reason she decided to be mad at me was the other night when she was drunk and was like “do you even likeeeeeee meeee i feel like you hateeeee meeee wahh wahh wahhhh” even though im like…..yes bitch i enjoy your company? i joke/use hyperbole/satire/irony/whatever a lot but like occasionally id be like “ey yo you know its all jokes right u know i love u right” just to ensure that she knows but she fucking. ignores it all. i feel like she so desperately WANTS me to hate her and tbh i got fucking sick and tired of hearing her complain all the time about this shit! i fucking hate repeating myself! so sure. if you want me to hate you so fucking much there. i hate you. i fucking hate you so fucking much. like is that what you want to hear? is that validating? are you fucking happy?

its so fucking frustrating

but i will not be held accountable for her decision to be upset. because thats what it is. she wants to be upset, and she wants me to be responsible for it when its literally not my responsibility. i am absolutely not going to stand for this shit like i kind of want to say its emotional abuse lmaooo but im just so fucking sick of it. 

everyone knows that i take chicken tenders and turnovers that would be thrown out at the end of the night and she was closing frontline yesterday and made a point to throw out the turnovers right next to me without asking if i wanted any/leaving any for me. i mean i completely expected her to be that petty of a bitch so it was kind of funny tbhonestly. also im p sure she unfollowed me here lmaoo

with regards to the guys and this paragraph could get a bit tmi/nsfw: yeah the first one kind of sucked but i feel like a little bit of the New Person Nerves have worn down so id do better if we were to hookup again. because like i totally would love to have fucked him but…..anxiety. he was hot tho. like 10/10 body and ass holy shit. plus he complimented me on my ass eating so (assuming that was genuine and not a vapid ego boost haha paranoia am i right) hopefully he comes back for seconds. 

second guy ive had a longish history with. started talking to him at the beginning of last fall semester and we hooked up kinda regularly for about a month. things fell apart, we both understood that we wouldn’t be good dating wise but still enjoyed meaningless cuddles. whatever. it got to a point where he would only hit me up like once every month and a half or so and towards like january-ish he hits me up again. so im like nice cool lets chill. im getting ready for this but my phone is in the other room. while im doing this he drove by my place to pick me up (since he was on his way back from nashville), didnt get a response to an “im here” text (bc i was busy and tbh not expecting him to do that), and left. he lives within like walking distance tho so im like “?? sorry i was busy are you still out or should i walk over?“ and he texts me like “sorry hold up a thing just happened” and im like…….okay. so im just.. waiting around for him. periodically texting like “hey are we good for tonight and whats going on?” because like there was some drama with his friend? hes like.. apologizing and shit but this goes on for an hour. BUT. the ENTIRE time he’s dealing with this friend problem or whatever he’s literally on grindr. and at the end of this hour im like in full blown paranoia panic mode and i literally text him something mentioning this and he BLOCKS ME ON GRINDR so im like ??????!!!!??? and i text him (all while saying “not to be crazy or paranoid bc im probably coming off that way but like could i get an answer or something??”) AND HE LITERALLY SAYS HE DELETED HIS GRINDR. but thats a LIE because i have a secondary account to see like……if guys are still on grindr/if a thing with a guy might turn into something more like if i see he’s not on grindr as much?? thats prob incredibly stalkerish and probably really creepy but hey. thats me. so i KNOW he lied to me but i cant really say “hey ur a liar” without disclosing this weird creepy stalker part of me (funnily enough this isnt the first time a guy has lied to me and i caught it with my secondary account! so it proves to have some function use in the end. not totally crazy). so. yeah. that was the incident. after this i dont trust him at all, and i still dont, but i had it in my mind to like somehow get him to fall in love with me just so i could break his heart for doing this? never really worked out. so now im at the point where im like….eh he’s a piece of shit and i hate him but ill cuddle with him bc it feels good

back to nsfw/tmi: the sex was okay. he’s weird about people being near his like….dick and stuff because he was raped and i totally get it bc i was too but he was comfortable enough for me to finger him and my finger still hurts from where he clenched when he came lmaoooooo. was totally hot tho. and i got to east his ass so im like eyyyyyyyy. its been so long since ive eaten ass so having it two consecutive nights in a row has been cathartic.

tldr; we have 2 assisant managers and a gm rn. looking for more

tldr; bitch. same.

tldr; bitch. same.

tldr; he’s a liar

#also anon ilusm i love the attention and you god bless