#i am not accusing anon of anything. if anything i think their intentions are pure and they most likely just want a label they *like*

[uncanny-tranny]

Could I ask what difference between transgender and transsexual is? I ask this as a trans person who wants to start using the term "transsexual," but I'm not sure if it denotes anything beyond what I've been using the term "transgender" for (i.e. not aligning with my birth sex/gender identity).

I like transsexual better as it's what our trans-cestors used, and it's a word that is so much "punchier" than transgender is, and I don't feel the same kind of "weird" when the label is applied to me. I'm just worried that these are "fake" reasons or something. Thank you, and sorry!

Honestly, I think there are more similarities between "transsexual" and "transgender" as transsexual as a term was introduced first, and then transgender replaced it

Transsexual has had a history of being used for people who were medically transitioning during a point where transness was heavily pathologized and medicalized... but I personally don't think that cis people should be allowed to sully words like that, and I really don't think that we need to stick by those ridged rules. Isn't the reason transness is so "scary" because we break those "ridged rules" so often? But I digress.

I think some people have different outlooks on their transition, and that's where the transsexual/transgender labels can help. For me, I identify as transsexual because I think it most accurately describes my relationship with my transition.

The most important thing is to not force people in or out of labels they identify with - which is why I want anybody who wants to ID as transsexual do so. So many people ID as such - trans elders, young trans people, people who are medically transitioning, people who aren't. I think a lot of why people are attracted to this word is because of political reclamation, as in reclaiming the word for political reasons, to show the word how viscerally human you are. That's part of the reason I decided to use it, at least.

#ask #anon #trans #transgender #transsexual #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #there's this stereotype that people only ID as transsexual in order to distance themself from transgender people... #...and it's like... i have seen that a couple of times *and* they don't grasp what trans liberation will mean #because trans liberation that leaves behind a single trans person will be doomed to fall apart #and separating yourself because.... just because will only hurt you in the end #i am not accusing anon of anything. if anything i think their intentions are pure and they most likely just want a label they *like* #i claimed transsexual for myself because i have a different view of my transition and the way i think it plays into my life ect ect #and i have answered this before but you KNOW how the tungler.gov.co.edu's search engine works ('works') #and i know that you can get tools to fix the search but: 1. not everybody has it 2. it is on staff to fix search not us #i for one am usually on mobile and on the app so i have to contend with the awful clunkiness 🫠😭

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I like how anon makes it sound like you said pedophilia was okay when what you said was you didn't care what people write about fictional characters. Amazing

so what's being employed there is an extremely common tactic used by people trying to make their opposition sound like they're doing something that no reasonable person would agree with. accusations of pedophilia are extremely popular for this, since it's an issue that most people, understandably, are extremely opposed to and disgusted by, and very few people want to publicly label themselves as "guy who thinks pedophilia is fine." it's a tactic designed to put people on the defensive and (ideally) isolate them from potential support, which fortunately doesn't work on me because I'm not apologizing for something that wasn't wrong and I don't care who on this hellsite likes me.

it's the motivation behind the right's recently rekindled (although never entirely vanished) obsession with portraying trans people and drag performers, other queer people, and queer-friendly educators generally, as groomers who want to give children forbidden knowledge about sex that their parents don't approve of.

in the particular instance you're referencing, re: my anon, people will level accusations of "pedophilia" at fiction depicting anything from an adult sexually assaulting a child to two teenagers consensually having sex to someone in their 20s consensually hooking up with someone in their 40s. only one of those things - the first - is actually a depiction of pedophilia, and all three are things that people are perfectly allowed to write about without having to go before a tribunal to prove that their intentions are pure. it's also just fucking baffling to me that this is only applied to depictions of sex; if you assumed that every fictional depiction of murder or violence is an admission of actual desire to do such thing, writers would be getting rounded up in droves.

this hardly needs to be said, but: yes, I do find ring cameras - surveillance technology owned by a deeply evil megacorporation that abuses the rights of its employees and freely turns over camera footage to police - more objectionable than Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower or Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita or Alissa Nutting's Tampa or any other fictional depictions of sex, because a book doesn't harm anyone and surveillance state police collusion does.

as someone lucky enough to teach youth sex education, with sessions focused especially on media literacy, teaching the self-advocacy skills to recognize potentially unsafe situations and the right to tell adults no, and emphasizing bodily autonomy, the entire thing is exhausting. which is the point, they very much want you to get so tired that you just stop saying anything, but once again I am an insane bitch who thrives on negativity so I shan't be stopping any time soon.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

This is pure vent. Tw emotional abuse I guess.

Tbh, my mom is very abusive, but only in phases. Atm she's not in such a phase so she's only annoying.

All these comment all the time, I know she probably doesn't mean to hurt me but given our relationship...

She said "Do you need to use that much conditioner??"". I have curly hair, she doesn't, I buy my own stuff so what's her problem? Or, everytime I go to the kitchen, noisy looks or "what are you doing??" (because if I make food she'll either make disgusted noises or expect me to make something for her too) and if I made food (or sometimes, if I do anything else in the kitchen) she says "Are you already eating again???" like, it is dinnertime and it is 4 hours since my last meal, which was lunch so what's her fucking problem? I even buy my own groceries so?? And my dad's family as a whole has an eating disorder and children are brought up to have an eating disorder too (weight loss challenges every year, from childhood on) so eating is a sensitive topic. My former therapist tried to explain her, years ago, but my mom gave her a look like she's the most stupid woman on earth so, she "doesn't know" my issues around food.

You know, it is not the worse, the abuse is much much worse but even during "good phases" it is never calm, always those comments. And obv our relationship doesn't give me the safety to tell her to stop. She wouldn't understand anyway because she doesn't mean it in a bad way and I am "soo sensitive".

Every day those comment, they give me the feeling like I can't do anything right, as if I am too stupid for everything...

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry to hear that your mom treats you like this. That is not okay and you don't deserve to put up with that.

I can understand how these things make you feel like you can't do anything right or that you're stupid. Her comments sound unnecessarily scrutinizing and I can see how this affects how you may view yourself. This must be causing you a lot of pain.

Please know that it doesn't matter if she doesn't mean these things in a bad way because intention isn't more important than the effect. The thing with people who do harmful things but say they meant well is that if they truly meant well they would be more apologetic for how it came off. They certainly wouldn't accuse you of being sensitive either.

I know you referenced your former therapist, but I'm wondering if you're still in therapy as I think you could use it during this time. A professional could help you process these experiences as well as their effect on you.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw emotional abuse

[t-lostinworlds]

Truth or Drink (Tom Holland)

[YouTube AU: Video 2]

a/n: this took a while asdfghjkl this was in my drafts since oct. at 7k already (but got distracted with other WIPs as always) and was suggested by this anon back in aug. so i’m sorry this took a so long hun. also, the gif took a fucking while too ‘cause we are extra in this house haha (i mean, i wanted the time in the vid to match the wc so ha). anyway, enough babbling and let’s get into the video! lol, i hope you guys enjoy this one!

summary: You and Tom do a couples Q&A where you spilled steamy secrets with the help from alcohol. pairing: tom holland x fem!reader warnings: dialogue bonanza (lots of laughing and asking), alcohol consumption, secret spilling (from both parties), teasing from everyone (will include dirty jokes from the lads), mentions of smut & risque aka sex-themed questions. word count: 14.2k+ (aha enjoy!)

☰ youtube channel | previous video << ǁ >> next video ☰ masterlist on bio & pinned post

⚠ DISCLAIMER: this is a multi-part (not a series) which is basically one-shots happening in the same universe meaning you don’t need to read the previous one to understand this one since they are not heavily connected plot wise. although each fic does happen chronologically, you don’t need to read them in order much like how you don’t need to watch youtube videos in order.

-:-:-:-:-

You knew something was about to happen the moment you walked into the dining area, the way Tom immediately went to latch onto you like a koala bear—as if he hasn't seen you just minutes before—tells all.

"What are you up to now?" you asked with a playful scrunch of your nose.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, the fabric of his pink hoodie—while you wore his other pink hoodie, outfits not at all planned since you just took the first thing you saw in his closet—soft to the touch as you took a glance at the camera that was set up at the head of the dining table. The greenery of the outside world behind the glass doors served as a backdrop to the shot.

The crease between your brows deepened at the sight, gaze landing back on the boy attached to your hip who was hugging you sideways with a certain glow in his eyes.

"I'm not up to anything," Tom denied, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck to litter the skin with sweet and soft kisses. Although the gesture made your heart melt, it also made your suspicion grow. You just know there was more to this than meets the eye.

Strong arms staying around your torso, Tom pulled away slightly so he could meet your gaze again, a certain smile growing on his lips, one you know too well. It was the usual smile he wears whenever he wants something from you, a favor perhaps. An all too powerful grin that had you made him get away with things—mostly stupid ones—easily that you aren't exactly proud to admit.

"Tom," you warned with a raise of a brow, enough seriousness and command in your tone that he was quick to give in.

"Okay, okay, we're shooting the next video," he chuckled, tracing your jaw with the tip of his nose before giving it a soft peck. "Which I am hoping you'll do with me still," he murmured, placing another kiss on your cheek before pulling away to look at you fully as he flashed you a not-so-innocent smile.

Bingo.

Tom just doesn't suddenly become so clingy—well, he normally is but more than usual anyway—especially out of nowhere without it having an underlying reason.

You narrowed your eyes at him skeptically. You stayed silent as you weighed your odds, if the enjoyment of making the video was worth it for you to endure the obvious embarrassment that would come with it. You do love this YouTube thing he's got going on, you truly do enjoy being a part of it. But with the things he's spilled in the last video, you just want to make sure that this time won't be too much, though you highly doubt it.

It was hilarious how his bottom lip started to go at your reaction, eyes turning rounder, cuter that would give Puss in Boots a run for his money. And just as you counted in your head, three, two, one—

"Please, darling? Do it with me?" Tom cooed, placing his head on your shoulder as he gave your waist a loving squeeze, fluttering his eyelashes at you in the most adorable of ways with that cute pout to match. It was his signature look whenever he wanted something, the look of handsome and adorable persuasion. "I'll keep the secret-spilling at a minimum, love. And besides, we can always edit it out."

You let out a soft sigh, shaking your head at the fact that you're saying yes either way. You can never say no whenever he puts on that very persuasive face of his, can never resist him even if you tried. And of course, Tom knows this power he has over you, and he's mastered a way on how and when to use it to his advantage.

You aren't exactly proud to say that he has never failed once, his tactic very effective and that's putting it lightly. It's sneaky and annoying sometimes but it's still cute nonetheless.

Though, never did he once abuse this weakness of yours, only using it with the little things—like letting him sneak in some snacks on set when he was instructed not to or when he wants to do certain stuff—because when it's something serious and you say 'no,' then he's quick to listen and settle when you've made your final decision. He knows you only have the best intentions when it comes to his safety and just him in general, so there's really no doubt on Tom's behalf when it comes to following you on that.

"Why me? Why not give the other boys a chance to be in the spotlight?" you proposed, not giving him the satisfaction of winning just yet.

Tom shrugged with a wide smile. "The fans love you," he hummed.

The reception of the last video was mostly positive. Maybe it was the fact that you've been with Tom for a couple years already.

Your relationship was private of course, but it wasn't a secret. It was relatively the both of you showing glimpses of it every now and then online. So, compared to when the news first broke out, this time was a bit calmer. There are still trolls and haters—they're always going to be there unfortunately—but you've learned to shut them out, turning your focus more on the ones who are very positive and supportive. They should be the only ones who should be given attention to, no point wasting your energy on random keyboard warriors.

"You mean they love it when I make fun of you?" you said, laughter escaping your lips soon after when Tom buried his face back on the crook of your neck as he groaned in dismay.

Let's just say his fans quite enjoyed how you handled him in the last video, the teasing, the banter, the whole lot. Tom hasn't been able to escape the countless clips that are circulating the good old internet. No matter which platform he uses, a clip or meme is always there to haunt him. Most of them vary from him screaming and wriggling in pain; laughing like a hyena while also wriggling in pain; the random facial expressions he's made; and even sometimes, a snapshot of you looking at him in great disappointment and/or embarrassment. That's just some among the plethora of other memes.

Tom had seen it coming of course, but it doesn't mean it's any less embarrassing, especially with how clueless he seemed when it came to women.

"Unfortunately, that too," he grumbled.

"Okay then, might as well give them more content," you teased, Tom pulling away again to gawk at you with a look of feign betrayal crossing his features. You could only laugh at that, giving his jutted out lip a kiss to replace it with one of his many sweet smiles. Despite you saying it in a joking manner, he can't really deny that that would happen either way. After all, no matter what he does, he will always be a walking meme.

Tom finally lets you go after one more peck on the cheek, guiding you towards the seat by the other end of the table soon after. He helped you in like the gentleman that he is, a kiss landing on top of your head once you were seated before he made his way towards his place.

"What are we doing this time?" you asked when Tom sat down on the chair across from you.

And as if on cue, Harry walked into the dining area with two bottles of gin on hand, Harrison following suit with a bowl of half-sliced limes along with Tuwaine with a bucket of ice and two Collins glasses.

"Truth or drink," Harry said with a wide grin, lifting the bottles of Aviation gin to further prove his point.

"You guys chose me to do this with him because I'm a lightweight, which means I'm more likely to talk, didn't you?" you said, narrowing your eyes at each of them as they placed their respective items right in front of you in the middle of the table.

All three boys gasped exaggeratedly at your accusation, shaking their heads as they made their way behind the camera, chorusing a bunched of:

"Oh no, of course not."

"That was not the plan."

"We would never."

You could only roll your eyes at them, playfully of course, turning back to Tom who was quick to throw his hands up in surrender once he took in your expression of pure suspicion.

"I swear, I just want to do this with you, plain and simple," he confessed, though his follow up sentence made you think that it wasn't as plain and simple. "But you are very funny when you have alcohol in your system."

"Does that mean I'm not when sober?" You raised your brow at the man across you, sitting straight up as you clasp your hands together, resting it on the table to seem serious.

Tom shook his head frantically. "No! You're still very funny sober!" he rushed. "Love, you know what I meant," he added with a whine, head dropping low once you let out a laugh, only lifting it back up to shoot you another pout. He can be quite gullible sometimes and you honestly love it, love teasing him about.

"Besides, it's a couples Q&A and the only couple here are you two so there aren't really any options. The only difference is that it has alcohol to spice things up a little," Harry said, now in his place behind the camera just like before.

"With equally spicy questions," Harrison added with a wriggle of his brows, coming back up on the head of the table to place a stack of white cards to which you assumed was where the questions were written.

"You guys wrote the questions didn't you? Okay, this is a set up," you joked.

"They're harmless questions I swear!" Harrison defended with a laugh before returning back to his place by the camera. Though knowing them for as long as you have, you've learned to never trust those words fully. It was highly expected that the questions aren't going to be simple, let alone safe for work.

"But if you're not comfortable doing it, it's totally fine, darling," Tom said, smiling sweetly as he grabbed your hands across the table and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He knows you have never been an avid drinker. As you've said, you are lightweight. So, if ever you wanted to back out, he's just making sure you know that you have the option to.

"No, I'm fine with it. This will be fun," you said, flashing him a true, reassuring smile of your own, squeezing his hand in return for good measure. "But can I at least have some juice or something? I'm not drinking gin straight," you added.

"Figured you'd say that," Tom said with a wide grin, rushing up from his seat and disappearing into the kitchen. He came back not long after with a bottle of orange juice on one hand all while holding a spoon and paring knife on the other. "Rollin' down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' on gin and juice," he sang the good old Snoop Dogg classic no matter how corny, placing the bottle juice right beside the gin on the head of the table.

You narrowed your eyes at your man. "You seem prepared Tom."

"Nope, I just know you too well," he hummed, giving you a sweet peck on the forehead before he was back on his seat across you.

"Right, let's give the people what they want," you said, rubbing your hands together with a wide smile.

It was Tom's turn to look at you skeptically. "Why do I have a feeling that we'll just take turns in exposing each other?"

You tilted your head at him with a grin, shrugging your shoulders and said,

"How bad can it be?"

***

"And we are rolling."

"What's up guys! Tom Holland here," he introduced with a loud clap. "I'm back with another video joined by none other than the gorgeous Y/N." You waved at the camera with a sweet smile at the mention of your name. "The rest of the gang are behind the camera as per usual," Tom added, the lads cheering at their cue unenthusiastically and totally not in sync, chuckles and giggles following soon after.

"You can feel the excitement in the room," Tom said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. "Anyhow, since lovely Ryan Reynolds sent me a case of gin just recently, I thought; why not put it to good use?" Tom shot the camera a knowing look. "Hashtag not sponsored but should be!" he yelled, making you jump slightly at the sudden loud sound.

"Do you have to be so loud?" you grumbled, playfully covering your ears in the process.

"Oh, sorry love," Tom chuckled, shooting you a sweet smile before turning back to the camera, finger pointed at it as he said, "But Ryan, my DMs are always open."

"Always looking for someone to replace me," you sighed, shaking your head dejectedly as you turned to the camera with a deep frown.

"Ah, here we go," Tom groaned, shooting you a playful glare because he knows that the teasing would only get more and more prominent from here on out.

"What? You and I both know I've got a lot of competition," you said as a matter of fact, leaning back on your seat with arms crossed over your chest. "Mainly Jake G. and Harrison, with a couple of variations here and there but you get what I mean."

Tom shook his head at you with a teasing roll of his eyes. "Once again, my girlfriend everyone," he said to the lens with a tight lip smile before turning back to you with a deadpan expression. You only shrugged in response, flashing him an innocent smile.

"Anyway, a fan suggested this in the comments of the last video so today, we're going to be doing Truth or Drink," he continued, turning back to face the camera. "Rules are simple, we take turns on reading out the questions that are written on these cards right here"—Tom lifted the stack of white, rectangular cards before placing them back on the table—"and we either answer them truthfully or we take a drink."

"Oh and a little disclaimer," you paused as you looked at the camera. "The lads wrote the questions so we have no idea what's in the cards nor did we have any involvement in the choosing of certain topics which are possibly going to be discussed in this video," you added, feeling like it was a fact that needed to be said.

"Parental guidance is advised," Tom chuckled.

"They're not that bad you divs," Harrison grumbled.

Now you're certain on who wrote most of the questions, he's been keen on taking offense whenever anyone gets suspicious over them. "We'll be the judge of that," you stated, raising a brow at Harrison before turning back to Tom.

"Let's get right into it shall we?" Tom proposed. You gave him a nod in response, jutting out two thumbs up for good measure. "Ladies first," he said, flashing you a charming grin as he gestured towards the pile of cards.

You reached over to the pile, making sure to pick the card in the middle just to make sure that it was completely random. You adore the lads, but knowing how mischievous they can get, you've learned to always keep one eye open with regard to everything that they do. Plus, it was so easy to set it up for you to pick a certain question given that it was only you and Tom taking turns on picking a card.

"We are starting off with something a tad bit dark huh." You gave the lads a swift glance before turning to the card you had on hand. "If I killed someone would you help me cover it up?" you read out loud, placing the card on the discarded pile before your gaze landed on Tom who gave you a small, secretive nod 'yes' which only made you giggle.

Tom leaned forward as he rested his elbow on the marble surface, hand playing with his chin with his eyes on the ceiling to seem that he was deep in thought. He turned back to you and said, "Do we not get any context? Was it an accident or was it on purpose? Was it due to hate or fear? Was it justified?"

"It's a yes or no answer Tom," you laughed.

"Well then, you already know the answer but for legal purposes," Tom paused, reaching for the bucket of ice and putting some in his glass. He poured the gin on top of that and then added a dash of lime, swirling around the glass to mix them all together. "My lips are sealed," he chuckled, lifting the glass up to his lips and taking a drink. "Oh, that's good stuff," he commented, taking another sip before putting the glass back down.

"Hypothetically, if you were going to help, you'll probably be the one who'll get us caught if I'm being honest," you giggled to which Tom threw his head back with a laugh.

"Yeah, you'll tell me what you did, I'll get shocked and as we're getting stuff to you know, hypothetically hide the body, I'll go 'I can't believe you killed someone' in public and then someone will hear and call the police and we're done."

You burst out in a hearty laugh at that, nodding your head in agreement. "That's exactly how it's going to happen."

It was Tom's turn to pick a question, his grin growing wider as his eyes scanned the card in his fingers. "What's the most embarrassing thing you've done in front of me?" he asked, his features brightening in excitement because he already knows the answer. There wasn't really much to begin with other than that one incident that will always haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Do you want me to tell them the story?" you sighed, leaning back on your chair with palms flat on the table. It wasn't one of your finest moments that's for sure and Tom hasn't been letting you hear the end of it. In fact, it was one of his favourite stories involving you both.

"It's up to you, love. You don't have to if you don't want to." Tom shrugged with a smirk, reaching for your glass to get your drink made. "But that moment was so adorable for me though, embarrassing for you but very adorable for me," he added with a wink.

"Adorable or ego boosting?" you pointed out with a raise of your brow.

"Both," Tom laughed, adding some ice in your glass and pouring just the right amount of gin soon after.

You watched with an adoring smile as he poured in the orange juice, the sound of silverware and glass clinking together filling the air as he mixed up the liquids. He then squeezed a bit of lime in your drink, taking the paring knife soon after to slice up another lime in a thin circle, making a small slit in the middle so he can put it on the rim of your glass easily. Tom can be extra at times, of course he felt the need to decorate your drink, even when it wasn't exactly necessary but you wouldn't want it any other way.

"Look at you being a bartender," you teased, Tom looking up from his task to shoot you playful wink with a smug smirk to match.

"You love to see it."

You shrugged, not at all denying his claim because well, you do love seeing it.

"Here you go, mi lady," he hummed, handing you your beautifully decorated drink with a proud grin on his lips.

"Thank you, kind sir."

As much as how refreshing the cocktail looked in its cold glass and bright, orange colored glory, you know you had to be strategic with drinking. Because alcohol boosts your confidence, it makes you brave, it makes you say things you wish you hadn't when sober. And with you being lightweight, it isn't exactly ideal to be happy-go-lucky with it, especially knowing how these questions can go from one thing to another real quick.

You thought it's best to share embarrassing things that you can live with to keep the drinking at a minimum, rather than take too much alcohol too fast and say worse things down the line because you got somewhat tipsy or downright drunk. There's really no way of knowing how hard it hits given that different types of alcohol affect you in different ways.

"Okay, it was when we first met, which obviously doesn't make it any less embarrassing, first impressions and all that," you started, sitting straight up as your fingers drummed around the cool surface of your glass. "Me and a friend of mine were at this park and decided it would be fun to rent out these bikes to get around quicker, so we did. Lo and behold, Tom and Harrison were also at said park—"

"Oh yeah, I remember this," Harrison laughed. "This is going to be good."

You shot the blonde lad a quick glare before continuing. "Luck wasn't on my side that day—well, depends on how you look at things because I did meet Tom and seem to have gotten far," you laughed towards the camera, giving Tom a swift glance who was quick to lock eyes with you as he nodded agreeably with a chuckle. "But add that to me being very clumsy and simply put, I fell off the bike right in front of him," you sighed dejectedly, heat coating your cheeks as the lads chuckled in their seats, purely in amusement and not at all in a demeaning way.

"Go on love, let's hear the full thing," Tom encouraged, sitting back on his chair with his arms crossed over his chest to relax, attention fully on you as if he hasn't heard this story many times before. He genuinely does love hearing it. As you've said, it was one of his favourites.

"I'm getting there," you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at Tom who only flashed you an adorable, bright smile, knowing that if he does that, you can't stay mad at him. With a another sigh, you continued, "As we were riding our bikes, we saw him and Harrison sitting on this random bench from afar doing, I don't know, maybe they were on a date or something—"

"Darling, don't try and steer the topic here," Tom laughed. You stuck out your tongue at him—yes, very mature—his laughter only growing louder at your reaction.

"I'm a big fan of the Marvel movies, so obviously, I knew who he was. I was trying to keep my cool, you know, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him and thought I'll just ride pass, don't want to disturb whatever they had going on. But as soon as we got near to where they were sat, he looked towards my direction and we made eye contact—"

"The power I have," Tom crooned with a smug smile, earning a pointed eye-roll from you.

"Oh shut up. You know that wasn't the sole reason why I fell," you scoffed. "The chains on my bike went loose so I had no full control over it. We weren't going slowly as well because this friend of mine thought it was a good idea to one up each other so we kept going faster and faster, racing towards who knows what.

"So, my next option was to just plant my foot on the ground to stop it right? But as I've said, luck wasn't on my side that day. Before I could even do it, a rock went under the front wheel—which I didn't see given that I was distracted, you lot know why—and completely took me off balance and the bike went sideways real quick that I didn't have any time to react at all. And...did I roll a few times?" You turned to your boyfriend.

"Twice," he confirmed, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he tilted his head at you sweetly.

"Now, I don't see why you find this story adorable." You narrowed your eyes at your man.

"Not the actual accident, darling. It's what happened after that I found adorable. You were so cute being all shy and embarrassed," Tom defended with a pout. "And you know for a fact that whenever I see you with the smallest scrape or cut I panic and fuss over you immediately."

"You do. A bit too overdramatically," you giggled. It was a bit much sometimes how he worries but that's just Tom being the caring and overprotective boyfriend that he is. "Anyway, so yes, I rolled on the ground twice but all I remember was that I was already lying on my back, watching the sky while my knees, forearms up to my elbows and palms were burning. Then I saw Tom approaching and I swear I was just wishing that the ground would swallow me up right then and there," you finished.

"I quickly rushed to her aid, because you know, I'm Spider-Man," Tom added with a cocky shrugged, arms open wide as if to showcase himself.

There was a loud, collective groan from the lads which earned a laugh from you and a sound of pure protest from Tom.

"It's true!" he exclaimed. "Anyway, she then went, 'oh, my knight and shining armour, my handsome Prince Charming'," Tom gushed, voice at a higher pitch with the utmost exaggeration as he placed the back of his hand over his forehead. "And I went, 'don't worry princess, I'm here to save you,' and then we kissed and lived happily ever after," he concluded with the cheekiest smile.

"We remember this story very differently." You shook your head at him with a hearty laugh. This boy is always something else. "But fine, I'll give you the Prince Charming part because you did look like it.

"What you said was, 'miss, are you alright?' which was very formal of you, especially with the accent." You turned to the camera with a suggestive wiggle of your brows, making Tom drop his head shyly with a chuckle as his cheeks turned slightly pink. "And no, we didn't kiss. You don't kiss people you just met Thomas, get a hold of yourself. He helped me up and was kind enough to offer to take me to the hospital which wasn't needed since it was just a few cuts and scrapes but still insisted that I get checked. Who knew you'd be overprotective since day one," you laughed.

Tom shrugged with a chuckle. "We got to know each other while in the hospital and after she got cleaned up, I thought, I liked talking to her and I really don't want to say goodbye just yet. So, I invited her to lunch which she surprisingly said yes," he teased, sarcasm laced in his tone at his last sentence as he shot the camera a knowing and smug look. You kicked him lightly under the table, the action catching him off guard making him let out a yelp.

"It was more of me being polite because you helped and that. Didn't want to seem rude by saying no," you said, Tom gasping in full offense at your words. You let out a laugh as you rushed, "I'm kidding! Of course I wanted to go to lunch with you. It was impossible to say no because you've been really sweet and a real gentleman that day. And well, it was fun hanging out with you."

Tom smiled widely at that, nothing but pure love coating his features as he held your gaze, hand sneaking over to yours that was on the table and giving it a quick but loving squeeze.

"Where did Harrison go?" Harry wondered, the blonde boy suddenly turning silent and surely enough when you gave him a swift glance, he was already blushing.

"I had my friend with me, Tom had Harrison, you do the math," you said plainly, laughter laced in your tone.

"Oh, so you got some that day," Tuwaine chuckled, nudging the boy beside him with his elbow.

"Shut up, Tuwaine," Harrison grumbled, swatting away his friend lightly.

"But in conclusion, I am a superhero in real life," Tom stated proudly, swiping away the imaginary dust that was lying on his shoulder. He turned to the camera with a bright and wide smile. "But I do thank that bike every day."

"A bit sadistic but okay," you added, looking at Tom skeptically with a scrunch of your nose.

"No! I meant we wouldn't have gotten to know each other if that didn't happen," Tom rushed, lips turning into a pout when you only did nothing but laugh. "You're mean."

"You're just too adorable not to pick on," you giggled, his pout turning more prominent at your words.

You so badly wanted to get up off your seat and give him a proper kiss, but those things are always reserved privately. You two had never been big with public displays of affection, just the casual holding hands and occasional hugs. There are a few instances where you'll sneak a quick kiss while hanging out with friends but that's different compared to it being on tape for the whole world to see later on.

"Anyhow, what's the most embarrassing thing that you have done in front of me?" You asked back, your turn to grin wide because you know which story it was going to be, the way Tom's cheeks were quick to be dusted red was a clear indication that you were right.

"I'm smooth as hell, would never embarrass myself in front of a lady," he said casually, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his chair, all cool and suave.

"Oh shut up and tell the story," you said with a playful roll of your eyes, Tom letting out a shy chuckle before he leaned on the table.

"Right, it was our second date and I split my trousers open," he said, short and sweet, though his blush was already deepening because Tom knows the sharing won't stop there.

"Wait, how open?" Tuwaine asked.

"Like full on, centre to back, underwear and inner thighs with a bit of butt showing open. It would have been a bit better if I wore black pants—boxers to the American people—and black trousers right? But me being unlucky, I went for light-coloured denim jeans and black pants that day so it's fully obvious that I did ripped my trousers open," he chuckled shyly, hand going to rub at his shoulder, body slightly crouched as he refused to look away from his glass of gin.

"Go on Thomas, let's hear the full thing," you prodded, throwing his previous words right back at him.

He lifted his head up to shoot you a playful glare, though sat straighter anyway, elbows now on the table with his hands clasped together as he got ready to tell his story. "We were well underway our second date, a simpler one which was a walk in a somewhat less crowded park—"

"What's with you two and parks?" Harrison pointed out with a chuckle.

"Disaster just waiting to happen as you can tell," Tom laughed.

"We've steered clear from parks after all these incidents," you joked with a giggle.

"I did a flip and didn't land the right way was basically what happened," Tom continued, turning to the camera with a look of dismay. "We were walking by a couple of street dancers who were practicing a routine and they were doing all sorts of flips and tricks. She stopped walking completely and watched—wait, correction, stared at this certain bloke who was doing backflips—"

"I was not staring," you butted in. "I was just watching him do his thing and said how cool it was. And why are you making it seem like it's my fault?" you gasped, placing a hand over your heart, feign offence crossing your features.

"I'm not!" Tom laughed, hands up in surrender before he crossed his arms over his chest. "All I'm saying was that I was trying to impress you, which is why I offered to show you a flip. And as everyone in this room knows, I do the stupidest things when trying to impress a girl, especially when I like her that much."

"I was already impressed by you as is Tom, you didn't need to do a flip," you said as a matter of fact, small giggles escaping your lips as you looked at him with nothing but pure adoration. Tom felt his heart melt at the sight and more by your words. "And besides, I already knew you could do it. But somehow you felt the need to prove yourself after you saw me complimenting that dancer," you added.

"It's what you call ego, Tom," Harry laughed.

"Shut up, Harry." Tom shot his brother a glare though chuckled right after because it was in fact a bit true.

It was the silliest thing thinking back on it now, how he just said 'you want to see me do a flip?' out of the blue. You furrowed your brows at him in response, though your smile was laced with amusement. He just wanted to impress you as he'd said. And fine, maybe his ego got struck at teeny bit, and maybe he felt a little jealous that your attention got torn off of him because he truly did like you that much.

But at the end of the day, even though he had a little mishap, it all worked out so he wasn't at all complaining. "Anyway, so I did the flip, completely disregarding the fact that my shoes were slippy and my trousers were tight. I did land upright and not on my face this time so that's something," Tom chuckled. "But my right foot slipped so I was full on going on a wide split which I normally can't do since I am not flexible enough and proceeded to fall on my bum.

"The moment I heard the sound I instantly knew and just went, 'oh no' and remained on the ground because I didn't know what to do then. I was already embarrassed because I slipped, do I really want to tell her I tore open my trousers too?" Tom laughed timidly, the blush on his cheeks turning redder as he rubbed the back of his neck in utter embarrassment.

"I kind of knew right away though because I did hear something rip," you giggled. "He then just slowly stood up, hands behind, flat on his bum and said, 'I split my trousers open' in the smallest voice like a kid who's scared to tell their mum they fell or they'll get scolded. Plus his face was beet red, just like now." You pointed towards your boyfriend, who in turn stuck his tongue out at you as his blush turned into an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Thank God I wore a jacket that day and I was able to at least hide it until we got back to the car or else someone would've clocked it, took a picture, posted it on the internet and it would've made things much worse," Tom pointed out with a chuckle, glad that there was no paparazzi or it would've been a nightmare. "And the fact that you tried so hard not to laugh but still failed made me feel so embarrassed that I was quick to think that that was it. I ruined my chances, no more third date," he added as he turned to you with a small pout.

"I couldn't help laughing because it was the most adorable thing how you went from being all confident and cocksure on doing a flip to this shy boy who refused to look me in the eyes without turning even redder," you said, pure amusement laced in your tone. "But no, that incident made me like you more, it was just too endearing. Third date never left the table after that," you concluded with a sweet smile which only made Tom's grin grow wider.

"Even though she laughed, she was so sweet and kind about it. We had to cut our date shor—actually no, we didn't. We went back to your place and decided to do a movie marathon instead," Tom said fondly, face glowing with joy as the memory brought nothing but warmth across his chest.

"Yeah, with you wearing a pair of my sweatpants," you giggled, mirroring his expression as your mind recalled the sweet moment of you and him, simply cuddled up on the couch.

"And that's on getting the girl by splitting your trousers open," Tom said with a smug smile, pointing at the camera as he shot it a knowing look with a wriggle of his brows.

"And getting the boy by falling off a bike," you added, doing exactly what he did as you turned to face the lens.

"Look at us," Tom gushed, looking back at you with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. "Hey, look at us."

"Look at us. Who would've thought?" you giggled, giving his hand a squeeze in return.

You were always quick to catch on what he was trying to do that Tom couldn't help but smile widely, heart melting ten times over at the thought of you knowing him so well. "Not me," Tom chuckled, letting go of your hand and holding up his palm for a high-five to which you gladly obliged with laughs of your own.

"You two are made for each other," Harry chuckled with a shake of his head, now just getting that you two were recreating the famous Paul Rudd meme.

"My turn right?" Tom asked. You nodded with a hum as you pushed the pile of cards towards him. He let out a loud scoff once he read the question, his reaction making you raise a brow in both curiosity and slight dread. "Be honest," he said as he looked up from the paper, gaze landing on you. "Who do you love more, me," he paused for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes at you before continuing, "Or Tessa?"

You let out a small groan as you hang your head low, fingers tracing the side of your cold glass. You let out a sigh of defeat before you met Tom's expectant gaze. "I can't possibly answer that question," you grumbled, bringing the glass up to your lips as you took a swift drink before placing it back down.

"That was such a tiny sip," Harrison pointed out.

"Alright, alright, I guess we can tell who the bad influence here is," you said with a teasing roll of your eyes, but still took another drink anyway, taking in more of it this time around. You just want to play the game fair and square. "You actually made that really well. It's really good," you hummed at Tom as you placed your drink back down, the lad grinning widely in response.

"Why thank you, darling," Tom crooned, voice smooth with a pride-filled smile, pushing over the pile of cards back in the middle of the table to get you to ask the next question.

"Okay, who wrote this?" You turned to the boys behind the camera with a raise of your brow. "If the alcohol wasn't going to do it, then this will definitely get the video restricted, unless you're going to bleep some words out?" You turned to Harry.

"I've got that covered," Harry laughed.

Glancing back at the card you had on hand, you asked, "If our sex life was porn, what genre would it be?" You looked up at Tom to see him try his best to hold back a smirk.

"Nope, not answering that," he laughed with a shake of his head as he lifted his glass off the table. "Mainly because there are too many genres that it would fit for me to only pick one," Tom muttered softly against his drink as he looked at you through his lashes. His words were muffled but you still heard it, you were closer to him after all. You felt your cheeks heat up at that, even more so when your man shot you a teasing wink before downing the shot of gin not long after.

Tom set his glass down and reached over to take another card. "What does your family think of me?" he asked with a clear of his throat.

"Well..." You slowly dragged your drink closer to you, Tom's mouth falling agape that you couldn't help but burst into a hearty laugh. "I'm kidding! You already know how much they love you," you said. "I mean, my parents call him 'son' so." You shrugged as you turned to the camera. Tom puffed out his chest all proud with a very smug smile on his lips. You rolled your eyes, sighing as you added, "They probably even love you more than they love me."

Tom chuckled, "My family loves you more than they love me, too—"

"I can vouch for that," Harry intervened.

"Thanks, Harry," Tom said sarcastically, flashing his brother a forced smile. Turning back to you, he finished, "So, I guess we're even."

You could only nod with a soft giggle, reaching over to the stack of cards to keep the pace going. "Lads! What's with these kinds of questio—you know what, I don't even expect any less from you guys," you sighed, pursing your lips as you re-read the question again before sitting straight up and looked into Tom's eyes. "What would you do if you caught me watching porn?" you asked.

"Watch it with you and help get it done, duh?" he answered without hesitation, leaning back on his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Have done a couple times actually," Tom murmured, somewhat to himself, though not really since everyone in the room—and pretty sure the camera—heard it.

"Tom!" you hissed.

You felt your body tingle, legs instinctively closing together as the countless moments it happened replayed itself inside your brain. Although what he said wasn't false, it wasn't the full truth either. He didn't exactly catch you red handed, never did since you don't watch porn often.

All you did was asked him—merely out of curiosity—what type he mostly watches. Your question sparked an idea in his head which led to you sitting in between his legs, bare back against his naked chest as the laptop sat right in front of you both with the video of his choice.

Tom then made his way with you while you watched, making sure you never take your eyes off the couple on screen or else. He was always fully in control over you every time you do it, his fingers sometimes delicate, mostly rough, touch hot and heavy all over your skin, lips warm on your neck, teeth sharp against your bare shoulder as he brings you to the edge over and over and over with nothing but his hands. And once the video ends, Tom will take it upon himself to re-enact the whole of it with you—if you could still take it of course—bringing what was on screen to real life, full recreation from start to finish.

Best believed you're properly blissed out at the stop of every play.

Your boyfriend's eyes widened once he realized the actual volume of his voice, face turning a deep shade of red, sitting straight abruptly as he rushed, "No! Wait—dammit." Tom casted his eyes down shyly when the boys let out exaggerated gasps and sounds of disapproval, a telltale sign that they already heard it. "I'm sorry, darling." He met your gaze again as he shot you a sheepish smile, his head tilted to the side guiltily to which you only responded with a shake of your head.

Typical Thomas.

"Bleurgh, too much info," Harrison gagged, the other boys following suit with their own sounds of repulsion.

"Oh fuck off you divs. You guys wrote the questions so obviously, you wanted to find out," Tom countered, shooting the lads a glare each.

"We didn't expect you to actually answer it!" Harry defended.

"We're cutting that whole part out, no way that's going up online," you grumbled, eyes staring at nothing but your drink as you tried to hide the obvious embarrassment that's coated your features.

Tom reached across the table to give your hand a squeeze, you meeting his gaze to see him mouth a gentle 'I'm sorry.' You flashed him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand in return to tell him that it was alright. It wasn't live so there wasn't any real harm done, aside from future jokes from the boys. That you can deal with than having that confidential information on the internet which will then follow you around for the rest of eternity.

Letting go of your hand, Tom sat straighter and turned to the camera. "If you guys are wondering why there's a jump cut and my face is suddenly so red, it's because I spilled something I shouldn't have that we had to cut it out. And no, it's something you'll never find out," he chuckled shyly, knowing that once the video goes out, fans are going to be so annoyed and will pester him—and everyone in the room—nonstop to try and find out what was cut.

Better that, than embarrassing you in front of millions though, so he'll deal with them no problem. Because as promised, if you weren't comfortable with it staying in the video, then it gets cut out, no questions asked. You and what you're comfortable with always come first in Tom's book.

"Yet again, thank God we didn't do this live," you muttered with a playful roll of your eyes.

Tom shot you one last apologetic smile before he cleared his throat, "Right, moving on." He shifted in his seat and took another card from the pile. "What's the one thing you'd change about me?" he asked.

"Your height," you answered without missing a beat. You chewed on your lip to suppress a grin but still failed miserably, especially when Tom looked at you with his jaw hanging and his eyes wide open.

A chorus of 'ooh's erupted from the boys which only prompted a laugh from you, the joyous sound growing louder when they started to rub it to Tom even more.

"Pfft, apply ice on the burnt area," Harry said as he blew out his cheeks.

"Mate, she's just bodied you with that," Tuwaine tutted at Tom, rising up from his seat soon after to offer you a high-five. You gladly obliged with a laugh, Tom gawking at you with utmost betrayal on his face.

"You're lucky you're very cute, especially when you laugh," Tom grumbled as he shot you a playful glare. The crinkles on the corner of your eyes deepened as you only smiled brightly at him with a tilt of your head, which honestly made you look even more endearing. He could never be mad at you, too whipped to hold a grudge no matter how much you tease him. And besides, that's all there is to it, nothing but teasing jokes and banter.

"If I were you, Tom, I'd start taking those growth pills before she starts to question why she's even with you," Harrison proposed jokingly which earned boisterous laughter from the rest of the gang.

"You lot are so fucking overdramatic. I'm not that short," Tom quipped with a roll of his eyes, gaze landing back on you with his famous pout now in play yet again. "And babe, it's a truth or drink video, not a roast me video," he stated, palms flat on cool marble as he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"I'm joking! I'm joking," you rushed with a giggle. "I wouldn't change a single thing. You know I love you, just the way you are," you sang the last line, though your voice held nothing but sincerity as you reached over to give his hand a loving squeeze. Tom nodded with a sigh, though never did he doubt your words, knowing it deep in his bones that physical traits would never outweigh how much you love him, no matter what.

"Right, let's keep this going," you said as you took another card. "Who is smarter, me or you?" you asked.

"Me," Tom said proudly.

"Well, that's a lie," you objected.

Tom couldn't help but laugh at that, nodding at you as he chuckled, "It's you, obviously. Have you seen the last video?"

"Hmm, I don't know, I think Tom's smarter. I mean, you decided to date him, Y/N, which isn't exactly the brightest decision," Harry inferred, earning a loud gasp from his older brother.

"Excellent point," you agreed, your boyfriend's head whipping towards your direction with nothing but absolute offense written on his face.

"Babe! You're supposed to be on my side!" Tom exclaimed. "Why are we roasting me all of a sudden?" he complained.

"You're just too fun to pick on," you laughed, Tom's bottom lip jutting out at your words. "Especially when you do that, too cute," you pointed out, the apples of Tom's cheek turning pink as a smile grew on his lips at the compliment. "But I am smarter," you concluded, shooting the camera a wink.

"Will not refute," Tom chuckled, keeping the flow of the game as he took another card. "If you weren't with me, who of my brothers would you consider dating?" he said, voice pitching higher at the last few words. A look of downright disgust covered Tom's face immediately as he looked at the boys behind the camera who were snickering like the mischievous little shits that they are. "You lot are grim."

You matched Tom's expression, scrunching your nose as you shook your head quickly. Having been with Tom long enough, you now see the three of the Holland boys as your own brothers, so the mere thought of dating any of them is just—

"I'm not even going to think about it," you grumbled as you took a sip of your cocktail and then picked a card right away. "Who's the celebrity who you were the most disappointed with when you met them?" you continued swiftly, a smile on your lips as you looked at Tom who let out a sigh.

"You know I can't answer that," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, your smile growing wider as you picked up the bottle of gin and refilled his glass. "Thank you, darling," he chuckled with a shake of his head, taking a drink right after.

"Is there anyone in my friend group, famous or not, that you do not like?" Tom continued with a raise of his brow, gaze steady on you.

You emptied your glass—that was still half full—without a single word and placed it back down with a small burp. "Oh, excuse me," you cleared your throat with a laugh.

Tom's brows furrowed at you in mere curiosity, gesturing for your glass so he can remake you another drink. You slid it over to him with a soft 'thank you' and a sweet smile. He started opening up the bottle of juice though his eyes were still on you, narrowed in pure skepticism.

"Who?"

"Not part of the question, Tom," you said, flashing him an innocent smile

"I know who it is," Harry coughed fakely.

"Me too," Tuwaine added with a fake cough of his own.

"It's Harrison because he's trying to take you away from me," you commented, laughing at how the blonde lad gasped in utter protest.

"That's a lie because I know who it is too," Harrison defended.

"So, everyone knows except me?" Tom mused, rolling his eyes in the process.

"What else is new?" you giggled with a shrugged, Tom only sighing as he shot you yet another pout. This boy never ceases to use it since he knows you always swoon whenever he does. 'I'll tell you later,' you mouthed, making him nod with a proud smile.

You gently leaned back on your seat, closing your eyes when you felt a little woozy. You took in slow, deep breaths, the marble cold against your palms as your body started to grow warmer from head to toe.

Maybe downing that drink wasn't the best idea.

"You okay, darling?" Tom asked sweetly, tilting his head at you in worry as he went to take your hand in his. His brows knitted together when your skin felt unusually warm in his palms.

"Yeah," you giggled, opening your eyes to meet his concern-filled brown ones, flashing him a reassuring smile and a nod to match as you gave his hand a squeeze. "Just the alcohol slowly kicking in."

"Want to take a minute, sweetheart?"

"No, I'm good. Go on and ask the question bubba," you prompted as you beamed at him, Tom's heart melting at the beautiful curve on your features and more by the sound of that sweet nickname. Although, he knew that you'd reached your calm before the storm.

You're always smiley and extra sweet when you start to get a little tipsy. But from here on out, especially if you decide to take even more alcohol, you start switching from calm to giddily energetic. That's when the words would start flowing out your lips before your brain could even register what you've just said.

Tom replaced your hand with a white card once he was sure you were fine. A cheeky grin erupted on his face as he asked, "What's your favourite sex position?"

You pursed your lips, eyes landing on the ceiling, fingers drumming on the marble surface of the table as you pondered on it for a second. Tom watched you intently, a soft chuckle escaping him when you met his gaze again with a sweet yet shy smile.

"I've got three though," you said, mostly to him but in a not-so-hush tone. Your mind and your mouth don't cooperate sometimes when there's alcohol in the mix.

"Different one for a different mood," Tom hummed with a smirk, finishing up your drink with a squeeze of lime, mixing it up before sliding it back towards you. "Just say one or take a drink, darling."

"I need to slow down with drinking or else I'll be saying much worse things. I can already feel my filter shutting down," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at Tom for a bit of help. "But do I really want this out in the world?"

"Oh, go on Y/N, live a little," Harrison prodded with nothing but utter mischief in his eyes.

You don't know why but somehow, Harrison words were the last straw for that burst of confidence to suddenly overflow. Boldness coated your every nerve as you squeezed your eyes shut and straight up blurted,

"Doggy."

Tom's eyes grew wide, both of his brows rising as he looked at you surprised. Yes, doggy was one of your—and his—favourites, he already knew that, what surprised him was you actually saying it out loud. Although he was swift to turn cocky as he leaned back on his seat, arms crossed over his chest while he kept his gaze steady on you.

As you peaked one eye, you saw that certain smirk of his now playing on his pink lips, one you only ever see privately. You felt your face heat up at that, added from the alcohol and embarrassment. The warmth was quick to spread to the rest of your body though, with the way he was looking at you, it was so hard for it not too. And as your eyes fully soaked him in, gaze traveling from his handsome face sporting that teasing smirk to his bulging biceps, the temperature could only rise. Your senses was now somewhat heightened that you were able to notice every single thing that made your man so fucking attractive and downright hot.

Since when did his hoodie grow even tighter? And damn, why is it so hot all of a sudden? It's probably the alcohol, or mainly just Tom, or simply both.

"Favourite type of porn!" you hear someone from the gang call out—probably Harrison since he's been causing trouble from the very start—interrupting your thoughts. With the alcohol in your system, just as expected, your brain genuinely forgot to take control of your tongue before you could even tell yourself: 'don't!'

"Sometimes hardcore," you let out, slapping your hand over your mouth immediately as your eyes grew wide. You quickly met Tom's eyes, his brown orbs glowing with shock, amusement and a sprinkle of lust. He gave you a soft nod with a soft smile in response, confirming that yes, you said it out loud, and yes it was already too late. "Oh no, this was what I meant when I needed to slow down on alcohol," you groaned, rubbing your hand over your warm face before looking back across your man with a pout.

"Aye! Hardcore doggy yeah?" Harrison cheered teasingly, moving towards Tom and giving his best friend a pat on the shoulder. Tom threw his head back with a laugh, face red but the look of utmost pride was also there. Harrison swiftly offered his fist to Tom, to which the brunette gladly indulged, their knuckles colliding as chuckles escaped the two mates.

You let out a choked laugh as your eyes widened in surprise, jaw going slack with your face heating up even more. "Did you guys just fist bump to that?"

"I mean." Tom shrugged, throwing his hands up with the smuggest grin, causing you to shake your head dejectedly with a groan. You shot Harrison a pointed glare when he went back to his seat, still snickering to his heart's content as if his master plan was in the works.

What a little shit.

"I'm definitely not going to let my parents watch this video," you mumbled with a roll of your eyes.

"I've got a question for Tom though," Tuwaine started, though the glimmer in his eyes told you it wasn't a clean one. "Do you grab it or do you smack it?"

Tom wheezed before erupting into a very rowdy laugh, hands slapping on his thigh as his body shook in nothing but pure enjoyment, his face red from a mixture of embarrassment, glee and the alcohol.

"Oh my—right! Next question!" you squeaked, not giving your boyfriend any time to answer as you attempted to swiftly move on.

"Wait, wait," Tom breathed out as he slowly calmed down, getting up from his seat as he went over to your side. "Harry stop recording for a sec," he called out to his younger brother before he gestured for you to turn until your back was facing the camera.

Tom crouched down in front of you, hands on your knees with a sweet, reassuring smile on his lips. "We'll edit out the parts you're not comfortable with to stay in the vid, alright?" he stated softly.

You nodded with a smile of your own, taking his hand in yours as you played with his fingers. "I'm not opposed to keeping the last two questions since everyone has their favourite position and type of porn. It's normal," you hummed, tilting your head at him as you added, "You saying you've helped me with, you know, that was much more private though, 'cause it's our thing."

"I know, I'm sorry, love," Tom apologized, voice soft but coated with sincerity as his hand went up to cup your face lovingly, brown eyes gazing up into yours with just the same emotions. "We're cutting that part out, I promise."

"But you think your fans would take these questions well?" you queried, leaning into his touch in a way that made Tom's heart do flips inside his chest.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think it's fine. The video is going to be age restricted anyway. And besides, we're both adults, so there's nothing wrong with it," he explained. You hummed in agreement, leaning your head on his hand as you closed your eyes with a soft sigh, your skin very warm against his palm. Tom moved closer to give your lips a sweet peck. "Want some water angel?"

"No, I'm good." You smiled, Tom nodding as he mirrored your grin, giving your lips another kiss before he stood back to his full height and then sat back on his seat.

Shooting Harry the go signal to start recording again, Tom chuckled, "Sorry, needed to cool down for a sec after that." He turned towards the camera, tugging at the collar of his hoodie as he blew out his cheeks to get a point across.

You could only roll your eyes at your man, his laugh growing louder at your reaction. Swiftly taking a card from the pile, you continued with the game. "Is this going to be the theme from here on out, lads?" you asked, eyeing the boys behind the camera suspiciously before you turned back to Tom. "Is there something in the bedroom you'd like to try that you haven't told me?"

Tom's cheeks turned even redder at the question, completely shying away now as his hand went to rub at his shoulder. "I can't think of one right now," he muttered as he looked at you sheepishly. "But no, I'm not answering that since we talk about that off camera anyway," Tom settled with a timid chuckle, refilling his glass and taking a drink of the gin soon after.

"Your turn," you giggled, pushing the pile towards him.

"Oh, okay. What a way to shift the topic," Tom breathed out, scanning the card one more time as he sat up straighter. "If I was in a coma how long would you wait for me?" he asked, meeting your gaze with a tender smile.

"I'll keep waiting for you until you wake up, no matter how long," you answered, without even a single inch of doubt, despite the slight shake in your voice as your eyes started to well up. "Never giving up on you."

"Darling," Tom cooed softly with a pout, the screeching sound of his chair echoing around the space as he pushed his seat back. He went back over to your side quickly, remaining on his feet as he leaned down to engulf you in a tight and warm embrace, swaying you side to side in the most comforting way as he whispered sweet nothings against your hair.

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath, the material of his hoodie soft against your cheek. You willed your brain not to think much of it, to not dwell on that thought and focus more on the Tom's warmth that's coated you right now. Or else you'll end up a bawling mess, and with the alcohol in your system, it's not a good idea to start crying now.

Your man pulled away gently with a charming smile, cupping your face with both hands as he towered over your seated form. "I'd do the exact same, just so you know," he hummed, brown eyes locked with yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks fondly before he dipped his head to capture your lips in a loving kiss. You let out a sweet sigh as you melt at the feeling of his soft lips on yours, mind and heart at ease at familiar warmth. The gesture wasn't fully caught on camera though given that you were turned at the opposite direction.

"I love you," you hummed against his lips.

Tom chuckled sweetly, giving you a few more pecks on the lips before pulling away completely, staring right into your eyes as he whispered, "And I love you."

With that he went back to his seat again, flashing you one of his many charming grins before he turned to the group behind the camera.

"You lot are onto something I can tell," Tom said as he raised a brow at the lads who suspiciously grew quiet, looking everywhere in the room but at you two.

Not thinking much of it, you swiftly took another card and read the question. "What would you do if you suddenly get a call that I was gone?" you trailed off at the end of your sentence, brows knitting together as you turned to the group behind the camera. "Guys, this is a cruel question."

"Oh," Tom faltered, smile slowly slipping away from his face as he casted his eyes at his drink.

"Tom, you don't have to answer it," you called out softly, frown deep on your lips as you reached over to take both his hands in yours. But it was already too late when he squeezed your hand tightly, lifting his head back up to meet your gaze and you felt your heart ache. That's when you saw that his mind was already there, brown orbs glossed up as he let out a shaky breath.

"I'd literally shut down," he croaked. "I-I don't know what'd I do if that happens. I just can't imagine my life without you. I—" he stopped, head dropping as his voice broke.

"Oh Tom, come here," you cooed as you immediately got out of your seat and rounded the table, turning him around and away from shot for a bit of privacy. You squatted in between his legs that were spread apart to be much closer to him, gently cupping his face with both your hands so that you were now within eye level. "Hey, look at me," you whispered when you were met by eyes that were screwed shut.

With a deep intake of breath, Tom willed his eyes to open. He looked at you with a small smile playing on his lips, heart steadying at the sight of your beautiful orbs boring into his own. He leaned forward to close the distance between you two, just so he could feel your lips on his. Tom badly needed to. A soft satisfied sigh erupted out your chest as your hand took home on his warm cheek.

"I'm still here bubba. I'm not going anywhere," you hummed against his lips before giving him warm kisses all over his face that made him stifle out a small laugh. You pulled away a little with a loving smile, wiping away the few tears that sat on his skin with your thumb, your touch gentle and warm.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Tom whispered as he looked at you fondly, nudging the tip of his nose with yours in a wholesome manner.

"I love you too, you sweet, soft boy," you giggled, placing a sweet peck on his lips before pulling him in for a hug. You lifted your head up to shoot each of the boys a sharp glare, the three cowering away in their seats as they each said their soft apologies.

Pulling away with a smile, you cupped Tom's face with a hum, "Better?"

"Loads," Tom sighed with a sweet smile, leaning in for one last peck before he lets you go back to your seat. "You purposely put that in there to make me cry didn't you?" Tom spoke, narrowing his eyes at boys who only shrugged in feign innocence. "You lot are evil I tell you."

"Now let's get back on a lighter note!" you exclaimed, pushing the cards towards Tom since it was his turn to ask.

Tom pursed his lips as his brows furrowed at the question. "If you could sleep with any person in the world, who would it be?" he wondered, eyes locking with yours in warning. "Now, careful with your answer, love," he hummed.

"Is that a threat Holland?" you challenged with a raise of your brow.

"I'm just saying, I may already know or will meet this person in the futur—"

"Chris Hemsworth," you blurted, Tom's mouth falling open as he gawked at you in shock. "I'm kidding," you rushed with a hearty laugh.

"Are you though?" Tom doubted, squinting at you suspiciously.

You bit your bottom lip as you held his gaze, Tom letting out a loud gasp when you suddenly took a drink all while maintaining eye contact with him.

"I'm going to have a word with you later missy," he grumbled, voice suddenly an octave deeper, somewhat a soft growl, one that you felt down to your core.

You shifted in your seat with a clear of your throat, shooting him an innocent smile as you said, "To be fair, you did say—publicly may I add—that you'd sleep with Hemsworth too when you did fuck, marry and kill with the three Chrises so, roll the clip!"

Tom shook his head at you with a playful roll of his eyes. "Touché," he sighed, brows furrowed in confusion when you suddenly covered your mouth.

"Oops, I just realized I said the F-word, sorry Harry," you said meekly, a certain smile on your lips which guaranteed that you were now dancing onto drunken territory. Tom knows you like the back of his hand, if the way you were smiling wasn't enough then, the simple look in your eyes would let him know that the alcohol has fully hit you this time.

"It's alright. One bleep word is nothing compared to last week's video. And it's not like this video has been clean anyway," the young twin chuckled.

"So, Fuck Hemsworth, who are you marrying and who are you killing?" Tuwaine asked.

"Marry Evans, Kill Pratt," you answered promptly.

Tom leaned back on his seat as he crossed his arms over his chest, running his tongue over his teeth slowly all while staring you down. "That's a quick answer Y/N," he hummed, shooting you a teasing glare.

"Oh please, yours was quick too, Thomas," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest as you mirrored him, never backing down from his stare even though it was making you feel certain things.

"Wait, if you're marrying Evans and killing Pratt, and I'm marrying Pratt and killing Evans, does that mean we're set out to kill each other's husband?" Tom started as he leaned forward and towards the table.

"So, if you were successful in killing Evans, and I was successful in killing Pratt, that means we're both widowed," you continued, laying your hands now flat on the marble surface.

"Meaning there's still a chance that we will still end up together. Meant to be if you ask me," Tom concluded, lifting up a hand.

You moved forward to give him a high-five, missing his hand by a lot which made you let out a loud, hearty laugh, Tom following suit with laughs of his own.

"What are you two on?" Harrison said with a crinkle of his nose.

"Alcohol," you and Tom answered at the same time. Both of your mouths turned into the shape of O's as you looked at each other properly delighted.

"Jinx!" both of you exclaimed in unison. "Jinx again!"

"Our mental synchronization; can have but one explanation," you and Tom sang in harmony, never breaking your gaze as you both smiled proudly.

"You—"

"And I—"

"Were—"

"Just—"

"Meant to be!" You two ended with fits of laughter, raising your hands to go for another high five. You missed Tom's hand again which only made you wheeze, tears of joy brimming in yours and his eyes as you tried for the second time, both of you cheering loudly when it finally landed.

"Cringe, really made for each other," Harry gagged teasingly with a grimace to match.

And then Harrison intervened. "How about fuck, marry, kill, Tom Hiddleston, Tom Felton and," he paused, grin turning wider like a Cheshire cat as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. "Tom Holland?"

"That's not part of the game," you protested with a pout.

"Answer the question, darling," Tom encouraged, looking at you expectantly.

"I'm taking a shot," you muttered, going for your drink but before you could even do so, Tom had already taken it far away from your reach. "Hey!" you whined.

Tom chuckled softly as he shook his head no. "You said it's not part of the game so no, you have to answer," he said. "And that's enough alcohol for you, my love," he cooed, tilting his head at you knowingly with a sweet smile. If Tom will let you continue with the drinking then you'll surely be complaining nonstop about the throbbing headache you'll get and the constant nausea after all this.

You sat back on your chair with your bottom lip jutted out, arms crossed over your chest to match, much like a child as you started to think about your answer. Although the process took way longer than you'd expect it to be and the boys were quick to notice.

"Uh oh, she's having a hard time," Harry teased when a few long seconds has gone by and you still haven't given an answer.

"I don't know how I feel about the hesitation here," Tom admitted as he looked at you curiously, brows furrowing with a chuckle when you were still deep in thought after a few seconds more.

"She genuinely is having a hard time," Tuwaine laughed.

"This is so unfair," you grumbled dejectedly as you looked at your man with a sweet, adorable pout, silently asking for help.

"What'd you do with me first to make things easier," Tom offered with a chuckle.

As if there was a hidden message to his words—there wasn't—your face suddenly lit up, slapping your palms on the table excitedly as you sat straighter. "You know what, kill the other two and I'll fuck and marry you," you declared heartily, eyes locked securely with Tom's with the proudest grin playing on your lips.

Tom's heart did somersaults at the mere fact of you wanting to marry him, grin wide and bright as he stared into your orbs, utmost love glowing in yours that was wholesomely mirrored by his brown ones.

It wasn't long until Tom felt his blood rush down though, heat dancing on his skin as his brain got occupied with the thought of you fucking him too. Certain memories flooded his mind, one after the other that it was getting harder for him to stay calm in his seat.

You are honestly giving him a whiplash with how you make him feel one emotion to another in a span of seconds, though Tom wasn't at all complaining.

"That's not how the game works!" Harrison exclaimed.

"I'm pretty happy with that answer," Tom shrugged with a wide, cocky grin, eyes never leaving yours as he raised a brow at you suggestively. You held his gaze with a tilt of your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth to try and stop your smile from growing.

The interaction didn't go unnoticed by Harry though. "Okay, stop eye-fucking each other you horny teenagers," the younger brother complained.

Tom laughed at that, shifting in his seat as he turned towards the camera. "On that note, we're ending the video there. This has been Tom Holland," he paused, giving you a nod as a cue.

"And Mrs. Holland," you blurted at the camera with a smile, eyes widening once you realised the choice of words you've just used. "Oh wait! No! Fuc—I don't mean no as in 'no,' I meant not yet," you fumbled. "We're not even engaged yet! Don't start with the headlines you." You pointed at the camera in warning.

He shook his head with a chuckle, red tinting his cheeks but pure admiration glowed in his eyes. "You own my fucking heart, you know that? You make me melt all the damn time," Tom gushed through gritted teeth, and it was taking a whole lot of his self-control to not jump over the table and just kiss you senseless. You felt your heart grow at his words but you could only bury your face in your hands with a groan of pure embarrassment. "She's drunk, my apologies," Tom added with a laugh as he turned towards the camera.

"Tipsy, there's a difference," you corrected as you shot him a glare.

Tom chuckled, smiling at you widely before turning back to the lens. "Anyway, see you on the next one and peace!" he finished with the sign and then a salute, Harry throwing out an upturned thumb to signal cut.

Once he saw that the camera was off, Tom was out of his seat in record speed, moving over to your now standing form as he swiftly wrapped both his arms around your waist and crashed his lips onto yours with a low groan. His arms tightened around you as he relished the feeling of finally having you so close.

You giggled against the kiss, resting your arms over his shoulders as you leaned back on the table to keep your balance, your bum half-rested on the marble while your foot stayed steady on the floor, legs apart so that Tom can situate himself between them easily.

"So, fuck and marry me huh?" Tom hummed deeply against your mouth, playfully nibbling at your bottom lip before pulling away so he can see your gorgeous face fully.

"Out of all the things I've said, that's what stuck with you?" you giggled with a shake of your head.

"I mean, you fucking me will never fail to sound very hot, reminds me of the few times you did." Tom wriggled his brows at you suggestively, hands giving your waist as teasing squeeze. "Though I don't know which one's hotter, that or you marrying me," he said with the proudest smirk.

"Will you two take this somewhere else?" Harry complained, always the last one to be left in the room given that he's mostly in-charge with taking care of the camera. Harrison and Tuwaine were already gone, continuing whatever they had to do that day.

"Don't think that would make a difference though," Tom chuckled smugly, looking back at you with a knowing grin.

"Which reminds me how we need to sound proof the fucking walls you nasty rabbits."

"I was kidding. We're not that loud fuck off," Tom remarked, rolling his eyes at his brother.

And to prove how wrong Tom's point was, Harrison suddenly started moaning so piercingly right in the next room, his voice a bit muffled but you can still hear him, loud and obnoxious.

"Fuck! Love! Fuck yes! Just like that, darling! Shit baby I'm gonna—"

"Fuck off Harrison you fucking twat!" Tom yelled at the top of his lungs, the blonde lad's boisterous and annoying laugh echoing soon after.

Tom turned crimson red as the embarrassment coated him from head to toe, head dropping for him to hide his face on the crook of your neck with a groan. You let out a soft giggle, hand landing on the back of his head as you ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly. Your face was warm as you were embarrassed just the same, although there was more of a sense of pride on your behalf because yes, Tom does get a bit loud sometimes, all courtesy to you.

It wasn't always of course, both of you aren't evil enough to torture the lads that much. Aside from the fact that Tom is rarely even home—meaning you don't do the deed that much in this house—the two of you had made a pact to make sure that you're completely alone before properly going at it. Admittedly, it does get a bit hard to keep the noise down sometimes, so the boys have to endure it every now and then. They do get back at you guys soon after as they are quick to be little shits with the teasing and dirty jokes, much like now.

"Maybe we do need to soundproof our walls," you teased once your man pulled away to look at you with a soft sigh, hands running up and down your waist sweetly.

"Or we could finally look for our own place to move in?" Tom proposed with a charming smile, your heart melting at the sight and skipping a beat at his words.

Granted, you've been with Tom for a fair three and a half years already, but neither of you had gone to take that step of actually living fully on your own where it's just no one but him and you in your own home. You've been living in this house for roughly the same time—maybe a year or two less—and you've got no problem living with the lads, you consider them as your brothers now. But you won't deny that having a place exclusively for you and Tom only would be pure bliss.

Of course you've talked about getting your own place and neither of you were opposed to it. It all just came down to Tom being constantly busy and barely even home. You'd rather live with the boys for the mean time than sulk all alone in a house while slowly being buried in the emotions of missing your boyfriend.

Tom also wanted to be there for the most of it—choosing and buying furniture, decorating a thing or two, moving, the likes—but with his schedule, it was hard to find the perfect time.

But now he's promised you that he'd slow down for a bit.

He genuinely hasn't done anything but work nonstop. It was just projects upon projects with only so little breaks in between, a month if he's lucky. Tom is one hardworking man, that's one of the many things you love about him, but he sometimes doesn't realize when he's pushing himself too far.

That's when you step in.

You'd encouraged him to take a breather, even if it's just for half a year or so but you never did pester him about it constantly as you weren't one to take him away from doing what he loves. Unless it gets way out of hand, then that's when you'll be putting your foot down. You know he'll do it whenever he's ready to slow down and now with most of his projects wrapped, he's finally decided that it was the right time to take that much needed break.

"I love the sound of that," you giggled, treading your fingers through his hair before tracing it down his chiseled jaw. "Not as much as I love the sound of you moaning though," you hummed teasingly.

"Well then, let's find our own place so you can hear me moan all for you and as loud as you want, darling," Tom purred lowly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his darkened orbs bored into yours, his hands sliding down to rest on the swell of your bum. He fondled the flesh hotly as he started to lean closer to capture your lips. But before Tom could even do so a loud voice made you both jump away from each other.

"For fuck's sake guys! I'm still fucking here!" Harry yelled, throwing both his hands in the air in downright annoyance and disgust as he screwed his eyes shut. "Go to your fucking room for the love of my sanity!"

You didn't even get a chance to apologise to the young lad as Tom swiftly grabbed your hand and rushed to your shared bedroom.

Nothing happened though apart from a couple minutes of making out, Tom deciding not to take it further given that you were all tipsy and intoxicated. Him deciding since you were persistent on saying you were fine even though you were giggling nonstop, easily tickled no matter how feather-like his kisses were. Not to mention how you could barely even keep your eyes open. So, both of you ended up taking a warm bath and then a nap right after that, instead.

Although the minute you sobered up, Tom made sure you weren't at all quiet this time around. It was due to the pent up tension that's been building since that somewhat steamy Q&A. And maybe, just maybe to get back at the boys a teeny bit for being little shits with both the teasing jokes and the dirty questions.

The two of you went out of your bedroom only at dinner time, stepping foot in the dining area where Harry, Tuwaine and Harrison were all situated. You felt the embarrassment coat every inch of your body when you took sight of the boys, more specifically, their expressions. Tom, on the other hand, had the cockiest smirk playing on his lips as he held his head high, tauntingly chuckling at his mates.

The three lads were sitting around the table with nothing but grimaces and downright disgust on their faces as they all grumbled in unison,

"Rabbits."

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! tell me your thoughts! <3

♛ Overall/Everything Taglist: @theunwantedomega​ @badreputatiom​ @fallinfortom​ @disneysamara​ @avengersficwriter​ @musicalkeys​ @apatheticanvas67482​ @camimndess​ @tom-hlover​ @jjandreidsgirl​ @blossomparkers​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @miraclesoflove​ ♛ Tom H. Taglist: @hollandfanficlove​​ @averyfosterthoughts​​ @2018shawn​​ @darlingspidey​​ @namoreno​​ @spacebitch2 @hollanddolanfangirl​​ @keepingupwiththehollands​​ @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​​ @unbelievableholland​​ @kittenruby​​ @sunkisseddreamer​​ @worldoftom​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @big-galaxy-chaos​​ @clara-licht​​ @dummiesshort​​ @imanativeofswlondondahling​​ @sonofabitchstyles​​ @perspectiveparker​​ @geminiparkers​​ @parker-hollandx​​ @arivera-30​ @rebekkah4766​ @particularnarry​ @iwannabekilledtwice​ @prettyintopeerpressure​ @fancyxholland​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @asoftie4bucky​ @dandelionxgal​ @peterspideysstuff​ @zspideyy​​

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland reader insert #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x female reader #tom holland x youtube #tom holland stories #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shots #tom holland oneshots #tom holland imagines #my writing

[ihopesocomic]

I don't want to sound rude or to appear like I'm causing trouble but am I the only one who is all 'bruh' at people like the Twelve anon who claim they aren't accusing you of stealing but they're ""just curious"" if it's a coincidence that a pretty generic idea that any two creators could come up has been used by two creators? i'm sorry but I just find those type of questions unnecessary, especially when I like to think that an artist like RJ would cite inspiration for an idea if she used one.

I normally wouldn't publish an ask like this because I'm still uncertain about the last anon's intentions but some things really need to be said about this "no idea is unoriginal, you must've been inspired by someone" mindset: Unfortunately, I just think we're still dealing with the by-product of big artists on DeviantART believing that they came up with a concept first, that nobody else can come up with the same concept and nobody else gets to use it. It was just a downright shitty and nasty time because artists were legit afraid of being attacked by this artist and their fans that they'd never even heard of before, much less "stolen" an idea from.

I do agree that I find such questions unnecessary because who even cares? Sure, you're "curious" but why? Does it really matter if I was inspired by something or not? Just let artists work with whatever ideas they want. 99.99% of the time there's no nefarious idea laundering scheme behind an artist's work. It's 2022, it should be known by now that it is indeed purely coincidental when artists work with similar ideas.

Also, I don't feel you're being rude or w/e at all, anon. Coming to me via anon on a blog that has absolutely nothing to do with the OCs in question when they could've directed the question to my Toyhouse and other socials? And to make special mention that they're not accusing me of anything while appearing quite accusatory?

Sorry, but fast track way to make it appear the question is being asked in bad faith right from the off imho. And you're right, I would've made reference to any inspiration. Just like myself and Cat have always done with this comic.

Sorry if I seem rude myself but asking artists if they lifted an idea from somewhere (whether you're "just curious" or not) is considered bad practice and has been for years now. Let's not do it, people. - RJ

#ask #ask us stuff

[btsandvmin]

Answering asks in regards to my recent post about shipping

Ok, so I got a few asks which I think are all responses to my recent post How much do we really know?

I got a few others but these are the ones I am choosing to reply to.

If you follow me and have done so for a while you probably understood my post already, and thus most of these replies might not be that interesting to my general readers. This for the most part just a reply to explain the points I felt got completely misunderstood by these particular anons. But I also go through some others that asks as well. Those will be at the bottom of the post if you want to skip the explenations.

Here goes. So the first ask I got was this:

Anonymous asked:

You mentioned in a post that during the billboard Vlive V suggested that him and Jimin “sleep together casually.” But the very next day Jimin said in a press conference that he was with JK all night and cried with him over the #1 spot. Do you think you ignore things JM says or does to fit your Vmin narrative? There just seems to be a big confirmation bias. A lot of your evidence seems to come from V’s songs but that’s entirely your analysis based off your perception of their relationship. (Not that I don’t agree with you on some of it.) How do you step back and look at things unbiasedly or rationally?

First of all, yes I did mention this but I didn't say that Jimin and Taehyung slept together that particular time/day. I am not 100% sure the post you read was the "How much do we really know?" but if it was, I said this:

"....or that Vmin seem to casually sleep together in private (if we take Tae’s words for it in the Billboard vlive)..."

Meanwhile in that vlive this is what Taehyung said.

"I told him to sleep next to me" followed by "...as he's too lazy to come to my place" it makes it sound like they normally would have gone to either place to sleep together, but both were too lazy to do so this time. Thus they didn't sleep together this instance, but the way Tae talks makes it sound like they casually ask each other to sleep together at times and like it almost was a given that one of them go to the other.

Worth noting is also that the way Taehyung says it (though there is always room for error since I don't speak Korean) it seems he was asking Jimin to come over first, and he wasn't even aware of the Billboard result. He also asked Jimin to do this on JK's birthday, so clrealy it didn't seem like a big deal at least from Tae's side to ask Jimin to come over to him on this particular day.

What I said in my post applies even if they didn't do it that day. Because it doesn't matter if Jimin went in the end or not, Tae still "casually" asked Jimin to come to his place to sleep.

You can look at the whole vlive (1st in BILLBOARD! Gather ARMY!) from September 1st 2020 and get your own understanding, it's not that long and it's full of cute moments.

But if we get into Ji/kook a little bit, the way I understood the situation from what they said is that of course yes, Jimin did tell JK about it. He said as much and of course I will believe him when he says it.

I never said that Jimin didn't say this, so I don't understand how my post would in any way imply that I ignore what Jimin says or does to fit a Vmin narrative. I didn't even mention Jimin, because it wasn't what I was talking about. Jimin's situation didn't matter in that context, just that Tae asked Jimin to come sleep with him.

Sadly I can't include all pictures because there is a photo limit, but Jimin also says he wasn't prepared for the news, and he was talking with Taehyung, and then he started to cry as he got the news. To me it seems he might have told Tae first (and that they already were on the phone when Jimin got the news?), and that JK likely wasn’t with Jimin when he got the news himself, but that he told JK at a later point.

But aren't you ignoring how they told the story a bit as well if you see this as a pure ji/kook moment?

The thing is that to me, no matter what ji/kook did that night doesn't even matter for what Tae said. It still indicates Vmin sleep together casually in their private time even if they didn't end up doing it that particular day. And if Tae could say that and ask that on the night leading into JK's birthday then how does that make Ji/kook seem like likely lovers even if they were together? Of course it doesn't mean that Vmin automatically becomes real, but I never said that either. Maybe the two ships cancel each other out, but in the end the fact that Taehyung said this, said it like it was normal, and suggested it the night before JK's birthday says something to me.

It's fine if Ji/kookers love the fact that JM told JK, I don't blame them, but they in turn need to take Tae's words into account as well. The whole point of my original post was to say I don't understand how shippers can feel confident in their ship being real, and this is a perfect example of why focusing in on one thing and ignoring or not noticing another makes these beliefs based on too little information.

You also seemed to ignore the rest of the post (if that was indeed what you were reading) where I state that I do have a bias and where ALL shippers use narratives that fit their ship to tell a certain story.

You also mention me ignoring moments and having confirmation bias, and sure I can't truly get rid of that, but again... I didn't ignore Ji/kook. I never said those things didn't happen. If anything I keep saying all ships have moments and shippers focus on them so much they don't see others have similar moments. Likewise I won't deny ji/kook moments when they clearly exist, that was a big part of the post, if you actually read it and didn't just get stuck on the small details. But it's good you are curious about and know confirmation bias. I have brought it up as a problem many times as well, and I will surely talk about it more in the future too.

Then, moving on to your point about "evidence" I would once again like to say (like in the post) that there is no such thing as proof or evidence for ANY ship. Just moments that shippers put together with their interpretations into a narrative. So you saying "A lot of your evidence seems to come from V’s songs but that’s entirely your analysis based off your perception of their relationship. (Not that I don’t agree with you on some of it.)" is why I felt you somehow misunderstood my whole post.

Of course it’s all my analysis based on my perception of their relationship. That’s the WHOLE POINT about how all shipping analyses work. Not just mine, but all.

Also, yes Taehyung's songs is a big part of why Vmin is suspicious, but it's far from the only reasons I have to question them. I simply used Tae's actions as an example in my post because they are quite many and out there. Many facts tied together, but of course what they mean is always a guess. Which I also stated clearly. I literally brought up a lot of examples of Vmin and said they make a lot of sense, but that doesn't mean we can be sure or "know" Vmin is real.

So, yes, I do feel you misunderstood me on several points, and it seemed you didn't read properly at all but rather got stuck on the details and then used Ji/kook moments to "refute" me even though it in my opinion wasn't relevant to the post at all. Which is why I in turn posted this reply:

It didn’t take long for someone to misunderstand my posts and get caught up on the details and examples instead of the general message. While they were at it they decide to throw in a good “accusation” of something I legit have said I am many times and no one can avoid. Good to know some people just don’t want to understand. 😗👍

Not only you but less interesting/good asks as well might have made me feel a bit annoyed, so I replied like this, I suppose I misunderstood your intentions too.

You also asked "How do you step back and look at things unbiasedly or rationally?" and my personal belief is that I can't. I am biased towards Vmin, and I do try to see things from many ways and to get content in its full context. But simply by consuming and remembering more about Vmin than other dynamics I will still remain biased. I don't think any shipper can truly remain neutral.

Then I got a a second ask (Edit; I now know this is by another person than the first ask).

This isn’t me trying to misunderstand you, I’m just genuinely curious how you ship vmin while also questioning Tae’s honesty (your BB night comment) and thus also Jimin’s, and also hand over the best tools to anti-vminnie who can use your words as proof that “well even vminnie don’t believe vmin so why should we?” And if all ships are basically equal, why ship at all, or why ship vmin? They have the most conclusive things and yet the more we get the more you question and doubt them.Why?

And suddenly there came a whole new additional set of problems.

I suggest reading my post Shipping vs Believing because if you knew my stance you would understand that I think there is a huge difference between shipping and believing and that you can ship whatever you like and it doesn't have to be tied to reality at all.

In general this ask makes you sound like a delusional and defensive believer, so I perhaps suggest reading my post Can shipping turn into conspiracy theories? as well. This additional ask is why I replied with this second short post:

You say I question the honesty of Tae or Jimin's words, but hopefully you understand this is not at all true since I explained what I actually meant in my original post. Tae asking Jimin to sleep with him is just as true as Jimin telling JK about the win. These two things don't contradict each other and I trust both of the statments to be real.

Also, how am I "handing over tools" to anti-vminies? These things are all out there, and I wasn't even talking about anything negative? Just because I have a more healthy approach than "Vmin is obviously real" that doesn't mean my words should be interpreted as "shipping Vmiin is pointless". However, you did get it right that I don't believe in Vmin, but you seem to have the wrong idea of why I have that stance to begin with. Which again, was part of the message in the original post which you here continue to not understand in other ways.

Me not talking as if Vmin is 100% real doesn't mean I hand out tools to antis. Personally I think that's a weird interpretation of my text, but I can't do anything but try to explain my view on shipping, which I feel that I have many times.

I also don't personally think all ships are equal, but I do think many ships have similar moments and that those moments either get ignored or hyper focused on in a way that makes shipping analysis less trustworhty and always biased and not based purely on facts and the full context. Basically yes, a lot of ships seem to cancel each other out, but that shouldn't stop anyone from shipping. BUT it should make people careful about calling moments "proof" and be sure their narrative is the only possible truth.

I also don't think it's fair to say "They have the most conclusive things and yet the more we get the more you question and doubt them.Why?". I've always tried to keep a distance between shipping and analysis and while we do get more and more for Vmin it's not that I start doubting them more... It's just that I remain open to other things despite more things happening that fits in a Vmin narrative.

I honestly can't tell if you have read a lot of my posts before or not, but it doesn't seem like it, and thus it feels even more unfair for you to lay this judgement on me as well.

Then I got a third ask (edit: which was a second one from the first anon):

Anonymous asked:

I think I’m the anon you responded to. I did read more of your posts where you question things a bit. It’s nice to see you still have a healthy view point on things. I wasn’t really disagreeing with your posts, just wondering if you felt everything was being considered when coming to conclusions. Have a good one !

All this drama, and for what? :P But have a good one too I guess. Thanks for taking the time to read more and trying to understand my point of view.

I also got this ask from another person, and I hope you might understand what I meant after reading my reply to the first anon.

Hi I am sorry I am confused. Can you tell me why specifically you think Vmin alluded to sleeping together during the Billboard Vlive? Didn't Tae say he was talking to Jimin on the phone and told him to come over? Then at the press conference Jimin said "I was with Jungkook" and they were sitting stroking their phones. I am not a shipper or an anti shipper or anything like that. I just would love to see the receipts on this if you have them?

Again, I didn't mean Vmin slept together that day. But the fact that he asked and it seemed like a very normal (even perhaps expected) thing that one of them would go to the other, I can still express it as Tae alluding to Vmin sleeping together at least sometimes during their private time.

Now onto another anon, with a very different take. :)

Anonymous asked:

Spot on. Shipping is one thing but how can some people "believe" in a ship, I'll never understand. People need to realize that even with all the content we get (from concerts to DVDs to Run to BV to interviews), we only see them for maybe like 2-3 days (total) out of 365 days. Like? They visit a country for 7 days and we only get 10 hours of content from it. Do we have any idea what any of them is doing right at this moment? "Supporting" a ship is stupid even if you're right at the end.

Thank you anon. I don't fully agree that we get as little as 2-3 days total out of a year, but we definitely don't see the majority of their lives. And while you are a bit crude, I agree... Even if a ship is real, supporting and believing and being convinced of only one ship is at least in my opinion not the right way to go about it. Which is why I say let's speculate but also support them all whatever the truth might turn out to be.

There we go... It ended up being a lot of drama made out of nothing else than a small misunderstanding. Anyways, I hope I made myself clear. Thanks for the asks, sorry for the somewhat annoyed attitude and I hope you understood what I tried to say.

Thanks for reading. If any of you had the patience to do so all the way through I salute you. <3

#vmin #vmin analysis #bts shipping #btsandvmin answer #btsandvmin ask #btsandvmin #my post #this felt a bit like a waste of time #i hope someone reads it #but at least it will give me some peace of mind #rant

[oliverwvvd]

the devil in me, part ii

Back to writing these two, inevitably, at long last. This is for the lovely anon who dropped by and mentioned this one, despite it having been years since the last post. This is slightly trigger heavy, so sorry if the triggers contain spoilers, but people's mental health comes first so they can choose whether or not to engage with the content.

This is part of a series. You can find part one here.

pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood

premise: When Marcus wakes again in the endless white of St Mungo's, Oliver is still there, and his wand is still gone. Marcus thinks it's about debts owed, or at least, that's what he's trying to tell himself. Whatever other reasons might keep Oliver Wood at his bedside aren't remotely within a framework he's equipped to handle. [possible triggers: severe PTSD, hospitals, battle situations, Legilimency, implied invasion of the mind, implied intention not to survive]

When he wakes, one needle is back in his arm and Marcus’ first inclination is to be pissed off about it. Of course it is. Being angry is the best alternative, sublimation for all of the other emotions he should be feeling and isn’t. He doesn’t need any St Mungo’s trained therapist to tell him about that, mainly because it’s deliberate on his part.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “I don’t want painkiller withdrawal on top of everything else. The dosage has to be sky-high for me not to be feeling anything.”

“So you’d rather have the searing amount of pain that makes you pass out within minutes instead? You’re right; being a masochist is a much better idea.”

He closes his eyes. “Why are you still here, again?”

“Waiting for you to take your head out of your arse, though it seems I’ll be in for a long wait.” The tart rejoinder in a lovely, rolling Scottish brogue that he instinctively wants to wrap himself in doesn’t help his temper. Neither does the fact that Oliver is still too earnest despite the familiar barb in the words, as though he thinks he owes Marcus something. The stubborn set to his jaw is familiar too, viewed more than once when facing him on a Quidditch pitch.

It makes Marcus want to push him away for his own safety, because don’t you know what I am? Instead, his gaze is sulky, as though he’s a teenager again in a way he hasn’t been in years, and it’s solely fixed on Oliver. “I don’t like you, and I don’t want you here,” he says, and if that’s not the biggest lie he’s told in the past couple of years, he’s not entirely sure what is.

Oliver shrugs. “That’s too bad, Flint, because I’m not going anywhere.” He’s wearing a poloneck jumper, just like he used to at school when it got to winter weekends out of uniform, and Marcus has the fleeting, horrifying thought that maybe it covers bruises or worse. A second thought just as horrifying resurfaces: he still doesn’t have his wand.

That thought makes him abruptly change the subject. “Alright, Wood, since you’re here, be a good boy and tell me why I don’t have my wand.” It’s not a question. He doesn’t phrase it as one. To punctuate it and make it clear he’s not asking, Marcus opts to verbally twist the knife for good measure. “You owe me. That’s why you’re here, right? To settle the debt. So start talking.” That’s not a question either, because why else Oliver might be there is more than he can possibly handle getting into.

Oliver’s (Wood’s, damn it) expression darkens momentarily, as though he’s about to pick a fight. Marcus wants him to, because at least that would be normal, but he sees it the moment that Oliver registers he’s in a hospital bed all over again, sees the way his gaze turns pained and then the shutters draw closed again so he’s at a loss for what the other is thinking. He doesn’t like it. Oliver was always an open book, no filter, no love lost on his side of the equation. He doesn’t know what this new thing is.

He clears his throat brusquely. “Well?”

Oliver sighs. “They’re concerned about your mental state as well. That’s why you don’t have your wand. They thought you might try something you’d regret.”

Fury is, of course, the quickest and most reliable reaction. “So they thought they’d improve things by taking away the only piece of autonomy I had available to me for months? That’s genius thinking, that is. Who do I need to see to recommend them for promotion?”

Oliver’s lips twitch briefly then, clearly catching the sarcasm, but at the same time seemingly unable to smile at it. That’s fine, because it’s not funny at all.

Marcus exhales a sharp sigh, one that’s less exasperated by this point than unimpressed. “I suppose they thought I’d curse the whole place down, eh?” This time, it is a question, and the smile that goes with it isn’t genuine, it’s mean and sharp-edged. It’s an echo of all the ugly things that have stained his hands and his mind, and it occurs to him that throughout that, Oliver has been the only good thing, a pure thing he’d constructed for himself, a secret he kept that was sometimes the only reason he didn’t give in altogether. Now that’s done and it’s back to reality.

To his consternation, Oliver shakes his head, as though he can sense what Marcus is thinking. “No one believes that after the battle. You threw yourself in the way of someone that would have been dead if you hadn’t, without knowing whether you’d survive.” The words seemed hard for Oliver to speak, as though it was like a demon lived in his throat for as long as they sat there. “They didn’t know if you were going to pull through, the first couple of days.”

An eye-roll is Marcus’ first response to that, and he averts his gaze from Oliver then. “That was sort of the bloody point, Wood.” The words fall heavily in the room between them, but this time it’s not out of malice, it’s from defeat, an admission that he should have kept to himself. The anger hasn’t emptied its well yet, but for the time being, it’s quiet, a savage thing made somnolent again by the fact that he can feel the needle in his arm start to pour more potion into him. Presumably, it’s going to knock him out eventually.

Oliver’s own exhale is shaken, as though Marcus has punched him square in the solar plexus and it hurts, badly. After all these months of silence, it’s as though the casually cruel words aiming to drive him away are doing more damage than even the war has managed to. “Flint, you can’t just…”

Marcus wants to sit up again but the potion, damn it, feels like it’s got him pinned in place. That makes him edgy, makes him feel the cold sweat of panic beginning to prick, and he absolutely will not have a panic attack of any kind in front of an audience. He swallows hard, and Oliver seems unable to finish the sentence. It hangs there between them, unfinished.

That’s the moment that the door creaks open and the healer walks in, oblivious to the conversation that had been happening beforehand. Oliver leans back in the chair beside Marcus’ bed.

Marcus’ lip curls just slightly. “Come to check I’m still breathing?” he asks snidely. “Sorry to disappoint. You can go now, your duty is done.”

The healer does no such thing. “I’d hoped you’d be asleep by now,” he says with a tsk tsk sound that reminds Marcus of the teachers from school whenever he didn’t do his homework correctly. It does nothing to endear the man to him at all. “Evidently we need to increase your dosage. You shouldn’t have ripped those needles out of your arm as soon as you did, but Mr Wood tells me you have a remarkably high tolerance for pain.”

That causes Marcus’ gaze to narrow in Oliver’s direction, and it’s as accusing as it gets.

Oliver, to his credit (the little of it that Marcus is currently willing to give) doesn’t look away. “I’ve been in the Hospital Wing with you multiple times,” is the reminder that unexpectedly arrives, softer than he’s ever deserved. “You never took your painkillers. You always cast Evanesco.”

On the one hand, Marcus’ glare only intensifies, because Oliver’s just ratted him out to the healer. On the other, what does it even mean that Oliver remembers; how there seems to be something dark and sad behind his gaze ever since a few minutes ago. It doesn’t correlate with his real life knowledge of Wood, only the fantasy version he constructed in his head to have a reason to go on, and Marcus is fully aware of how incredibly unhealthy that was and is.

It’s only the healer’s voice that interrupts their charged stare, clearly ready to go for another lecture. “Well, there will be no hiding painkillers here. What were you thinking, taking those out? Did you just not realise the degree of damage you took?” It isn’t an indignant pair of questions, instead asked with the tone of someone who wants to understand the subject they are studying. It presses all of the wrong buttons for Marcus, and he endures it in silence until he can’t.

This is the moment he snaps. But it isn’t like every other time he’s lost his temper. No, this is different; his voice is surprisingly quiet and unsteady when he speaks. “Why does everyone want to know what I’m thinking suddenly? I’ve just spent the last two years having my mind pulled apart at a moment’s notice. All that I want is for everyone to stop trying to get into my head because I don’t want anyone in there ever again. Got it? It’s none of your business what I’m thinking.”

Dimly, he registers that Oliver has gone pale as he starts to understand what Marcus means. The healer looks appalled, because evidently, this was something undetectable while he was unconscious, and he’s beyond lashing out, because this has hit places he doesn’t want to go.

“Get out.” The words are quieter still, and there’s a flat, dulled down, deadly note to them.

Even half-conscious on a bed, drugged by the potion, it leaves to question what Marcus is capable of, the one thing no one has dared to think about so far. It’s a weak threat, but his voice carries all of it, like it’s every atom of a star at the moment of destruction.

The healer leaves. Oliver doesn’t, because Oliver hasn’t learned to be afraid of him, even though he should have.

When Marcus looks at him again, he thinks that he sees Oliver flinch, just a little around the eyes, and he knows he’s going to say something unforgivable if he isn’t left alone. “I meant you as well.” The words are empty. You need to go before I do any more things that I regret, and I can’t live with any more.

Oliver doesn’t listen. Instead, he does something that Marcus can handle even less. He climbs onto the bed and rests there next to him, close enough for Marcus to feel him breathe. “You’re really not a good listener, Flint. I already told you. I’m not leaving.”

Marcus’ hands suddenly feel too heavy, utterly ineffectual when he tries to raise them to push Wood right off the bed. Land on his arse. That’ll show him. Instead, his head starts to nod forward, and Oliver, the scheming bastard, must have known that the potion would take effect soon, had kept him talking until he had no choice but to go back to sleep again.

He’s so angry. He’s exhausted. He’s repeating the same cycle, inescapable, stuck on a loop of his own making. There’s wool against his face, something warm against his back. Oliver’s voice is there, he can feel it rumble in his chest, but the words don’t even register. It’s a warm sound, like copper and firelight, and it’s the last thing in his dwindling awareness before the world is lost altogether.

The frightening part is that he’s starting to want to wake up again. 

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

#the devil in me #ol writes things #flintwood #flintwoodnet #marcus flint #oliver wood #marcus x oliver

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

#personal

[mandaloriangf]

the reylo batb au debacle

long post ahead. tw: racism

i. preface

i dont make call out posts. i think a lot of people abuse call outs, like that one reylo who made a post about me that just consisted of screenshots of me venting on my own blog in the proper tags. i dont know if i would call this a call out, per se. most people (antis, reylos, and bystanders) probably already know the gist of this situation. my reason for making this post is primarily because the original post of mine has gotten rather long with me reblogging it and adding on (you can see the most recent version here) and i would like to have more of a masterpost of sorts, since im a petty bitch who can’t let things go. 

ii. the story

i was alerted by an anon to a fic, which is an a/b/o beauty and the beast retelling with rey as belle and kylo as the beast. in gaston’s place is finn. i haven’t read the fic word for word nor do i want to, but i searched finn’s name in the fic and this is what came up.

(note: most of these screenshots are from my original post, but i’ve added on with chapters that have been published since then)

“Myself if necessary; somewhere out there is my mate, and I will wait for them.” She said resolutely, holding her breath against the smell of pine and charcoal rolling off him. She had never found Finn’s scent a pleasant one.

“I believe Rey is missing,” Finn said with a scowl. “and I don’t like it when my things go missing.”

“Rey has never been yours.” Obi snapped. “She’s not a piece of property.”

“Details.” Finn smirked. “Now, are you going to tell me where she’s really run off to? Or are you holding fast to your ridiculous story of monsters and secret castles?”

Obi narrowed his eyes, refusing to entertain the brute anymore than he had to. “I think it’s time you were on your way, Finn. Please feel free to head in the opposite direction should you feel the urge to call upon me again.”

Finn shook his head, rolling his eyes heavily. “I’ll be back, Obi. I will find out where Rey is hiding.”

Obi shut the door in his face quickly, eager to be rid of the boorish oaf. He leaned against the wood, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing gently to ease his frustration. He should have been more open to Finn’s help, he could take all of it that he could get. Still, seeking aid in Finn felt like escaping the hounds to land in the fire. Hardly an improvement.  

“She’s the only one who’s rejected me. Me. The nerve of her. No. This won’t stand. I’ll track her down if it’s the last thing I do.” Finn snarled.

Finn took a long swig from his freshly filled tankard the server had just finished capping off, a small smile playing at his mouth as his plan gained more and more merit in his mind. Rey would not allude him for much longer. He would find her, and show her exactly who she belonged to.

Charles frowned. “I don’t want Finn anywhere near Rey. I don’t trust him. He’d sooner force her into mating with him as rescue her.”

They crept deeper into the forest, making sure to maintain vigilance as they scanned the forest for anything strange. Finn wondered idly how Rey would have even made it through this woods, a mere woman. When he brought her back home, he would be sure to have a talk with her about what is and isn’t acceptable.

She scrambled backwards then, her back meeting Artoo’s haunches as he pranced away. She felt distress coursing through her, wanting no part of Finn or his strange obsession with her. “You’ll not touch me.”

“Shh.” He whispered. “You’re only confused. All will be well.”

“Leave, Finn. Go back to Jakku. No one wants you here, least of all me.” She spat.

He growled low, yanking her up by her hair. “You’ll learn your place, Rey. Once I bring you back to Jakku. First though, I will take care of the bastard who dared to touch what was mine.”

“I. Am. Not. Yours.” She ground out, her scalp smarting from the grip he still kept on her hair.

“You will be.” He assured darkly.

He didn’t realize he had lost until it was too late. He glanced down, the iron bolt plunged deep into his chest. For a moment he merely stared at it, his breath coming out in heavy pants as he tried to process what he was seeing. A gurgle sounded in his chest, coughing up a spray of blood. His mouth fell open in disbelief, taking a step backwards as his hand went to the bolt.

He gripped it in his fist, tugging it outwards and throwing it to the ground. His hands pawed at the hole in his chest, blood pouring over his fingers as he swayed slightly. His knees trembled, falling to be ground and kneeling. He gave a final shuddering breath, falling forward in a slump and going still. Rey dropped the bow as if it burned her, leaning her back against the tree she’d used to steady herself and gasping for breath. She felt relief and remorse in that moment, the knowledge that she’d taken a life outweighed only by the knowledge that she’d saved one.

(context: the above is rey murdering finn to save kylo)

as you can see, finn, star wars’ first ever black lead, is portrayed as a violent, aggressive, rapey misogynist who threatens rey psychically and sexually. he believes rey, a white woman, is his property and rey must kill him to save her lover, a white man. i mean, this whole thing should be very obvious. i dont care that its fiction, i dont care that its fanfiction. fiction does not exist in a vacuum and if you believe so, biases like this WILL go unchecked. 

i was infuriated after reading this and found a note where the author addresses previous accusations of racism

I was more or less labeled as a racist today for my characterization of Finn, and I felt the need to briefly address that. It was never my intention to lead anyone to believe that my dislike of Finn has anything to do with his race. I dislike his character canonically purely for reasons that have nothing to do with the color of his skin. I obviously realize he’s not a villain, and that he’s out of character. I will not apologize for the way that I’ve written him, as I know in my heart I meant no malicious intent, but I will apologize to anyone who has thought even in the slightest that I was being oppressive or insensitive. I know myself and that’s not who I am, and that was never my intention. I want to go ahead and post this because I don’t know when my next will be and I wanted to leave it on a good note. I don’t foresee a long gap, don’t worry, but at this moment I don’t feel good about the story and I need a few days to reassess where it is going.

iii. the comments

while i easily could’ve just moved on since there are a number of reylo fics out there much like this one, knowing that this one had such popularity and such a tone deaf author, i decided to venture into the comments and lo and behold, the amount of hate for finn was blinding. 

there are plenty more, but i hope this can give you a taste of what the comments section looks like. 

the author’s hate for finn basically boils down to this: he’s indecisive and he lied to rey. that’s it. that’s what the author uses to justify writing finn in a vicious, anti-black stereotype. 

at some point, an anonymous commenter called out the racism.

a concerned citizen: So are you ever gonna address how racist your characterization of Finn is or what.

ktf: Oh lord. No because it’s blatantly not true. He is characterized heavily in concordance with the classic Gaston character. Possessive, arrogant, pig headed… Your complaint is reaching and you can take it elsewhere. Jeez Louise. So silly. Have you even seen Beauty and the Beast? I don’t like Finn as a a character in canon for reasons that have nothing to do with his race (because I admittedly love John Boyega irl as well as in Pacific Rim, the only other film I’ve seen him in) and as such I characterize him as an asshole for my own self satisfaction.

a concerned citizen: Look I love Reylo as much as the next guy but if you need explaining why it’s racist to make the black character who is, in canon, nothing but a kind and supportive friend, into a sexually aggressive misogynist then I don’t know what to tell you. It costs zero dollars not to demonize black characters for your own “self satisfaction.”

ktf: So, to be clear, if I had used ANY other character from the film who had been kind and supportive, Poe, Han, Holdo, Leia, Snap, Kaydel, Luke… as long as they hadn’t been a POC it would totally fine? Do you see my confusion? It’s an alternate universe.

a concerned citizen: A: Demonizing black men as sexual aggressors bent on possessing/raping white women is a long-standing trope used by white supremacists. It’s done to dehumanize black men and drum up fear in white folk so that they feel threatened enough to commit acts of violence. This is one of the most basic tactics of antiblack racism.

B: Gaston was never a part of the original fairy tale. He was made up for the Disney adaptation to add tension and to counterbalance the Beast to make the message crystal clear for the little ones watching– don’t fear The Other. Gaston represents the cultural hegemony of masculine behavior in Belle’s culture; the Beast, on the other hand, is The Other, the outsider, the marginalized force. Black people have practically been The Other in Western media for centuries. Now I’m not telling you that you have to make Finn the Beast or else it’s bunk, just that you have to be aware of the characters’ roles and what they fulfill in the narrative. Making Finn the Gaston character was a conscious decision you made– you took a black character and plopped him into a role that was specifically made to be the representation of toxic masculinity, that decision isn’t made in a vacuum.

C: Absolutely no one is holding your feet to the fire to make sure that you follow the plotline of the source material verbatim. Certainly you took liberties with what form of beastliness Kylo had, so you could have similarly chose to alter Gaston’s characterization in some way or you could have made Finn a different character entirely. Like I mentioned before, Gaston was not in the original fairy tale and so the narrative works fine without him. Finn exhibits none of Gaston’s character traits in canon so you chose willingly to sand him down so you could fit a square peg in a round hole– an action that, as mentioned previously, reflects the rhetoric of white supremacy for the past few centuries.

ktf: Okay. You know what? You obviously woke up this morning itching for a soapbox. So, may the force be with you and may your crusade keep you warm at night. This is a fan fiction, not a doctoral thesis, so if you don’t mind I’m just going to continue living my life. I can assure you no thoughts of “demonizing” a race ever crossed my mind while writing this. It’s not who I am. This doesn’t deserve my time because you, A. Know nothing about me. B. Obviously have way too much time on your hands. C. Aren’t worth the stress you’re causing. Have a blessed day!

iv. the aftermath

since my original post, i have been silently blocked by the author. antis who are poc have gotten anon hate, which has often been radicalized while i, a white anti, have not received anything wrt this fic. the author has gotten cocky about the whole situation, she has a bunch of adoring readers who coddle her, and she refuses to listen to any form of criticism.

now that i’m at the end of this post, i’m not really sure what i want to come out of it. i wanted to include more, but there’s so much shit to wade through in the comments and that doesn’t even account for what’s on the author’s tumblr. reylos, this shit has to fucking stop. you need to hold each other accountable, you need to call each other out bc this is exhausting. 

#anti reylo #this is basically a summary with all the receipts i have

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Some Parting Words

I would like to preface this by saying thank you to all the wonderful people who have sent in anons and replies, wishing me luck, saying I inspired them, saying they love my work and all that sappy stuff. 

You are the reason I kept coming back to this place. You are what made writeblr worth coming back to. You are what holds this community together. 

I won’t ever be able to repay you for the support you’ve shown me, but I promise I won’t ever forget it. My work and my person has changed for the better thanks to you.

So yeah. 

Thank you!<3

Now for the tea. This is an open letter to all of writeblr. 

The comment that apparently started it all was definitely intended as a casual note, like an “hey, thought this might be useful to know” thing. Not an OMG YOU IDIOT YOU DIDN’T DO YOUR FUCKING RESEARCH AND SHOULD BURN IN HELL thing.

But tbh I strongly feel that the people crawling up my ass about this don’t actually care that much about what I said, but how I said it. (And also that this was something that has been brewing for a while, and only now is coming into the light once it found a catalyst, but that’s another topic.)

You see, here on writeblr, there’s a very heavy emphasis on how pure and good this community is, how we all love each other and all that crap. And man, good on you that you’ve had this amazing experience and I’m totally all about it, but we’re all human here. This, as much as I like to believe that most of y’all are good people at heart, is a facade that’s kept up for the comfort for everyone. 

And that’s FINE. 

The problem arises when someone says something that is percieved as not positive enough. I made a comment that wasn’t covered in compliments and flattery and wasn’t me tripping over myself to apologize for this major offense that was my casually pointing something out in which I have some experience. My tone doesn’t fit writeblr, it’s too casual, not familiar or friendly enough, and thus people who are of the opinion that writeblr is their personal safe haven believe that I’m instantly hostile or hateful. (Combined with what has been confirmed as a long-brewing personal dislike for yours truly, which is understandable, but shouldn’t affect matters like these in a community that’s all about understanding and respect, but clearly does, so go figure.)

And ... I’m not. 

I know, wild right?

Just because something isn’t obviously positive, or something phrased in a way that can be interpreted as not obviously positive, doesn’t mean that it’s suddenly negative, and not only negative, but outright hateful.

I think this is a problem that comes from the widely held belief that writeblr is this holy, wholesome place and that anything that isn’t explicitly positive is the spawn of Satan himself.

Anyone who advocates for positivity at the expense of honesty, anyone who tries to enforce positivity through silencing of discussion and dissenting opinions, anyone who claims to always be positive and loving and accepting while always assuming the worst about anyone who dares to make what they see as a mistake?

They’re lying. Not to you, but to themselves. And you need to tread carefully, because they haven’t yet realized that they’re human, that mistakes are ok, that not everyone who makes a mistake is evil and needs to be frozen out, that everyone will perceive actions differently even if they regard them as mistakes.

How do I know that? I used to be that person. I sometimes still am. I still have lots to learn and I fully acknowledge my mistakes whenever my feelings and assumptions get the best of me. Whenever someone says something that might be interpreted as offensive, I go off, always assuming the worst, always assuming the person saying it is a fake ally or an ignorant dipshit or, of course, a patronizing jackass. Assuming they were out to destroy my “positive environment”.

But 99% of the time? They aren’t. And I had to apologize and try to do better.

I’ve made the mistake before of “calling people out” based on assumptions of intent, and you know what? It sucked. It ruined some potential friendships that I’m still lowkey mourning. So I’ve learned to do better. For the sake of myself and everyone else.

If we all knew this, we could have calm discussions and have a truly positive place. Right now? This is how it is:

Some writeblrs are so terrified of doing wrong and so set on keeping up a facade of acceptance and perfect woke-ness and positivity that they react to the slightest criticism or comment not caked in praise by blowing up and accuse the accuser of being “negative” and “hateful” and someone who doesn’t belong in this community because everyone here is always quiet and reserved and loves and supports each other without question. 

But like. It’s ok. It’s ok to admit you hecked up, I promise. You’re a person and you made a mistake. It has happened before. It will happen again. That’s life, baby.

And the person doing the calling out? I’m sure they have good intentions, too. (I know I certainly had, even if it came out completely wrong.) They want to keep this place inclusive and welcoming, so anything that isn’t explicitly written as such is interpreted and labeled as hate and negativity, which doesn’t belong in a good community. 

Am I saying you shouldn’t call people out? No. But you need to call people out from with the goal to understand and inform, not to silence and shame. Are you here to educate, or to prove that you’re the wokest?

So ... you know. I’m not going to finish this by saying that you should be nice to each other, because you can’t and absolutely shouldn’t (watch this get taken out of context), but that you should, maybe, not always assume the worst about the stranger on the other side of the screen? And that maybe sometimes, you should just note the thing you disagree with and move on without using your assumptions to try to silence people in the name of positivity. 

Just my two cents.

It’s been swell, mostly. I wish you luck, writeblr!

This is Eff, logging out. 

#blog stuff

[huntypastellance]

hi its me @keithkog on twitter and since you so conveniently forget to mention all the times i’ve apologized and when i deleted the video or any of my explanation, let me tell you about it. there was no excuse for me to post videos without the parent’s consent. that i agree with. it was stupid and wrong, and i genuinely regret that. once i realized my mistake, i deleted the videos. there is NO EXCUSE FOR THAT. but the “sexual assault” thing was unprompted. i never talked about that with her (1/)

and i also never said anything about it. obviously she doesn’t know what that means, since as an anti i still dont think “sexual assault” is a correct term for sheith, its more statutory rape if you’re going to put it into that category w the age of consent. but of course she wouldn’t understand that, and i only laughed in the video bc i was taken aback by her knowledge of that word. regardless, i didn’t press the issue further because you’re right, i have no right to talk about that with a (2/)

a child im babysitting. so i just left it at that. look, i understand if you’re upset by it because you’re a shaladin but you’re making me seem like some huge monster. voltron is literally made for kids their age, and the term “force” was a joke. we’ve watched it together before, and they only protested bc they’re stubborn but they actually rlly enjoyed it after i showed them more. the point i was making about them being mature was in response to someone saying “she’s only 9 she shouldn’t be(3/)

watching voltron” which i disagreed with because both of the girls are mature for their age and can understand it. the only reason they thought it was confusing was bc when we watched episode 1 we were making cookies and they werent paying attention the whole time. i would appreciate if you would take down your posts or at least remove some things because in no way did i force them to talk about sex or bring it up in the first place. thank you.

ps, you have no proof that i fed anyone lines about sexual assault and i promise you i DID NOT. the kid’s parents let them watch a lot of older shows and they have older sibblings and thats how they know about it im guessing. i was surprised to but please don’t accuse me of feeding them lines about sexual assault because thats absolutely disgusting and you have no proof of that

do you exist purely to ignore people’s apologies? Bc my friend the one y'all keep talking about from Twitter, yeah she’s apologized multiple times so could y'all maybe just leave her alone? Bc she had literally 0 intentions for what happened to happen and the fact you all ignore her constant apologies here y'all are being petty and I’m honestly sick of it. Grow the FUCK up y'all she’s a minor too CHRIST. You think it’s ok to harass a minor? Bc if so y'all are even worse than my abuser lmao :/ 

Okay, I’m going to answer this seriously & without the whole “We, the Great & Glorious Lord Pastel Lance” schtick even though I don’t think you actually deserve it. I’m just trying to prove my point here.

> If you were so shocked that a 9 year old said the phrase “sexual assault”, why did you POST IT ONLINE AS A VIDEO TWEET?

>Oh boohoo, you took it down. What, do you want a gold star for that? Well newsflash asshole, if you had bothered to read through my post, you’d know that someone archived your entire tweet thread before you took down the videos. So now there are PERMANENT screenshots of the kids’ faces that were put online WITHOUT PARENTAL PERMISSION because of YOU, you illiterate jackass.

> Why would you EVER laugh at a child, who you’ve claimed to know & babysat for YEARS, having ANY knowledge of what sexual assault is?

> Nice try deflecting dumbass, I’m a Klance shipper AND a Sheith shipper, not just some gross shallie.

> Again, you don’t MAKE kids like the stuff you like. My brothers don’t like Ben 10 after the first 5 minutes of showing them it, (& without me trying to convince them by telling them that gets “really good” later & spoiling shit for them), so I switch the channel to Paw Patrol or search up a Youtube about Minecraft for them instead. I don’t MAKE them continue to marathon Ben 10 with me. You are a shit babysitter.

> Why do you keep suddenly being surprised when people get mad at your own freaking words when you are the one leaving out information & context? 

> It’s still really creepy that you keep saying that the kids are “mature for their age”. That’s literally fucking pedo logic right there, I don’t care about the fucking context, that’s a skeevy thing to say about kids.

> Seriously, what the fuck is stopping you from using the phrase “they’re old enough to watch Voltron, see the TV rating for it?” That is literally so much less creepier.

> You can’t just fucking ASSUME that the kids learned the phrase “sexual assault” from watching TV shows for older kids! That is something you NEED to tell the parents about!

> And you’re not even worried about those older siblings casually talking about sexual assault in front of their baby siblings? At all? Bitch, there are some things that SHOULDN’T be talked about in front of kids!!

> Well, you’re right in that I don’t have actual proof. But given how you & your friends constantly lie & refuse to provide any proof, I don’t give a shit. At this rate, a freaking ANON comment is more trustworthy than your own words.

> Her apologies don’t mean SHIT because as I’ve pointed out before: they’re not real apologies. There was no notion to make amends, to promise to not do the same thing again, etc. Her apologies are HOLLOW. And, frankly, so are your’s. Especially with your friends commenting below about the “nasty shallies” forcing you to apologize. You didn’t “TECHNICALLY” do something wrong, you ACTUALLY did something wrong & fucking illegal, jackass!

> I don’t give a shit if she or you are minors. That doesn’t fucking excuse your behavior. You both can still be arrested or legally punished for this kind of crap.

> When you say shit like that, that I, some random asshole on the Internet documenting your own freaking words, am WORSE than your abuser…..

that just proves to me that you’ve never actually been abused before.

That you don’t give a shit about real abuse & don’t know what it’s like.

No abuse victim would ever make such a flippant comparison to their trauma like that.

You’re the one who’s sick here, not me.

Disclaimer: This response is entirely the opinion of Lord Pastel Lance & NOT of anyone else. Just me. If you have problems with it, criticize me, not other people.

#k1ance #she1th #vld discourse #anti-shaladin #pro-shaladin #lpln #anonymous