#if people are ACTUALLY making that thing be the next giant “”social media“” i will not forgive them

[ganondoodle]

said this on tiwtter too but im seriously at my limit, people go and be all like "oh my god young people have no idea of basic internet security omggggg" and the same person will immediately make an account on t/hreads that is stealing so much data from you its basically one step away from straight up kidnapping

i get we are all desperate, i really do, but i WILL judge you if you go and sign up for the literally shittiest app on earth thats really just a flimsy disguise of a bunch of data suckers in a trench coat

use tumblr, cohost, pillowfort, (the latter two also allow nsfw) ANYTHING but that suckerberg leech i am BEGGING you

idk how accurate it is but i saw the numbers of 75 MILLION sign ups for the threads bs, what the hell are you doing, i feel like im in one of those old anti technology comics were young people just walk off a cliff en masse bc they only look at their phone and nothing else while im the old guy in a chair watching them do it

#ganondoodles talks #are people seriously this blindly signing up for anything new a big -KNOWN SHITTY AF- corporation is putting out #isnt it literally just like insta but worse #like #if you dont like tumblrs layout or whatever theres also cohost #its basically like twitter but also has features of timblr #like having multiple blogs to on account #idk man i actually feel like im going crazy #what is this #this has made me feel more old than the knowledge that lil kids are doing a flat hand gesture for phones bc all they know are smart phones #if people are ACTUALLY making that thing be the next giant “”social media“” i will not forgive them #you will not peer pressure me there #-when i say at my limit im at my limit of desperate confusion watching people do the dumbest shit but going uwu the entire time doing it-

[captain19cb97]

Stay (A/F) :: k.m

Synopsis: Sometimes distance doesn't make the heart grow fonder.

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: Angst and fluff.

Warnings: Allusions to online bullying but nothing is explicitly said. Arguing, crying, cursing.

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes the longer you stared down at your phone. The endless stream of hateful words - tweets, Instagram comments - every social media profile people could find of yours had been flooded the few days, technically since people figured out that you and Mingyu were actually dating, and you weren’t just some random staff member that seemed to always be around him for work reasons.

You hadn’t said anything to any of the guys about the comments and messages you’d been getting, and you certainly hadn’t said anything to Mingyu about them because you already knew how he was going to react once you did, but it was obvious to the guys that something was going on with you, and it wasn’t anything good.

The first one to truly notice it was Mingyu, but when he asked you if everything was okay, you told him that you’d been a lot busier at the company with different things- it wasn’t a total lie, you had just been promoted so it wasn’t much of a stretch for him to believe it. Then when the news of your relationship started appearing in the headlines of certain sites, both of you were stressed out and worried about a thousand things at once.

The next person to figure out something was wrong with you was Wonwoo. Since Mingyu and him lived together and you were over at the dorm all the time, with and without Mingyu, it wasn’t hard for Wonwoo to notice something was different with you. Sometimes when you weren’t really focused on anything, he would notice a far off look on your face or how sometimes you just acted a little more distant than you meant to before quickly covering it up with a joke or a flippant comment about something else.

Then slowly, one by one, the rest of the guys started noticing the way you were distancing yourself from all of them. They would constantly invite you out with them like they always had but they started noticing that you were declining more and more, saying you were too tired that night, or how you just wanted a quiet night in after such a busy day.

It got to the point that Seungcheol had suggested not inviting you for a bit, so you stopped feeling bad about telling them no every time, something he knew you did because he heard you say as much to one of the stylists that you were friends with one day after they had invited you to lunch with them that morning.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but he had been looking for you to talk about something that was part of their group schedule for the day, and as he turned a corner he saw you and once of their stylists standing a little ways away talking and he could tell that you were trying not to cry as you told her how awful you felt about how often you told them no to their invitations anymore.

“I barely see them outside of this stupid building anymore,” You sighed, wiping your eyes quickly. “I haven’t even slept at the dorm in almost a month because it’s easier to just go back to my apartment alone than to be there with Gyu. And I feel like screaming every single time I tell any of them no for something.”

The stylist frowned softly, as Seungcheol watched her rub your arm, “Then why do you keep saying no?”

He watched you give her a gut wrenchingly sad look, even from where he stood down the hall from you, he could see your eyes turning red as a tear rolled down your cheek. “You know why, Soo.”

Seungcheol hated seeing the look on your face, hearing the sadness in your voice, so he backed up a little bit around the corner and started walking around it like he hadn’t been listening, and headed straight for you with a giant smile on his face.

He pretended like he didn’t notice you wiping your face the second you saw him coming towards you, and his heart broke slightly when he saw the smile you plastered on your face as soon as his eyes met yours.

“Cheol! Hi,” You grinned up at him, as he stopped in front of you.

He offered you a quick nod, then one for the stylists, too, “Hi, Y/n, Sooyung-Noona, do you mind if I borrow them for a moment?” He asked her, “I just have a question about our schedule for today.”

The stylist smiled at him and nodded, giving you a soft look, too. “Of course, Y/n, if you have anything else you need, come see me later, okay?”

You nodded at her words, mouthing a quick thank you to her before she smiled at the both of you and turned away, heading back into the room you had pulled her from earlier.

Seungcheol waited until the door had closed behind her, before he easily pulled you into a tight hug, obviously catching you off guard by the surprised noise that sounded from you.

“What was that for?” You asked him softly, once he’d stepped back again.

“Your eyes are red; you’d obviously been crying about something.” He mumbled softly, lying softly as he looked down at you, “Figured you could use a hug and since Gyu isn’t here, I’m good in a pinch.” He smiled sweetly down at you.

You huffed softly, silently hating that he had noticed you crying, but also thankful that he hadn’t pressed about why. “I just feel bad that I keep saying no, every time you guys ask me to hang out with you all.”

He shrugged, still smiling at you, “Don’t worry about it. You’re incredibly busy, sometimes even more than we are. I feel bad that you have to keep saying no. When your schedule opens up a little more, tell me, or Gyu and then we’ll figure out something for all of us to do together, that sound okay?”

He let out a quiet sigh of relief at his understanding and nodded, “That sounds great. Maybe I’ll treat you guys to something this time, yeah?”

He let out a laugh and shook his head, “Not a chance, but nice try.”

You laughed softly at his words, and rolled your eyes, knowing none of them would ever let you pay for anything around them before you asked him what he had a question about.

That had been almost 2 months ago, and you still had yet to tell him or Mingyu that your schedule was never so busy that you couldn’t put something aside for even a little while to hang out with them once and a while. You didn’t think you were going to for a while, either. Mostly because you wanted to wait until all the comments and messages either died down, or they stopped bothering you as much, and since neither had happened yet, you didn’t want to go out to eat somewhere with the guys and have someone get more pictures of you with them. The last time that happened, the flood of messages you got still gave you nightmares.

You closed out every app on your phone and locked it, staring at your distorted reflection on the black screen and reached your hands up to your eyes to wipe them, then your phone started to ring.

My Heart❤️

Mingyu.

And it was a video call. You were happy the lights in your room were dimmed so he wouldn’t be able to see you that well as you answer the call, throwing up the same fake smile that you’d given Seungcheol all those weeks ago.

“Hi, baby!”

His beaming smile filled your chest with equal parts warmth and cold- warmth from love and the cold from the decision you’d made not even an hour ago.

“Love of my life,” He grinned at you through the phone. “Would you be so kind as to let me in, sweetheart?” He asked, “I’ll be at your door in a minute and my hands are pretty full.”

You froze, staring at him through the screen, “What?”

He gave you a quick confused look before his eyes focused back on where he was walking, “I know it’s kind of late, and very last minute, but I wanted to come see you. I feel like I haven’t gotten any time with you in weeks. Like proper time, and I thought tonight would be a good time since I know you’re off tomorrow and I’m also technically off tomorrow because I have an open schedule.” The words continued to pour out of his mouth, and quickly. “I’ve just really been missing you and you used to love when I’d come over unannounced when we first started seeing each other, I thought it’d be a nice surprise, ya know?”

You could tell he was almost at your door, so you couldn’t stall him or tell him it wasn’t a good time at the moment, so you quickly pushed yourself out of your bed and rushed towards your front door, while you hung up the call without saying anything, your eyes seeing the multiple notifications about more messages you’d gotten just since answering the phone call.

A thousand thoughts shot themselves through your mind in a panic, Was he followed? Do people know where I live now? Is someone going to try breaking into my apartment now when I’m not home- or worse, when I am?

You quickly unlocked the security lock and pulled your door open, just as he was stepping up to it.

He was frowning when you met his eyes.

“Why did you hang up?”

You didn’t reply, just grabbed two of the bags from his arms and turned to walk them into the kitchen while he pulled his shoes off before following behind you.

You heard your phone go off again – more messages.

“Baby?” He called softly, walking into the kitchen behind you.

You simply hummed, starting to pull things from the bags before he grabbed your hands and tried to get you to look up at him.

Another message.

“What’s going on,” He asked. “You always stay on the phone with me until you open the door.” You could hear the confusion in his voice as you continued to evade his stare, until he gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

The worry in his eyes broke your heart, and you could feel yourself trying to pull your hands from his before a sob clawed its way from your throat as your phone went off again, and again, and again.

The worry in his eyes flooded the rest of his body as he tried to calm you down, attempting to wrap his arms around you as you cried, yelling at him to let you go while trying with everything you had to push him away from you.

“Hey, hey, hey, what is going on? Y/n, please, calm down and talk to me, baby? What happened?”

You continued to struggle against him for a moment before you all but finally collapsed against his chest, tears streaming down your face.

He held you as close to his chest as he physically could, softly shushing you as he moved his fingers through your hair, as he mumbled gentle words, telling you it was okay, and that you were okay.

After a couple moments, when you’d finally calmed down enough that you were just softly hiccupping into his chest, he let out a soft sigh and tilted your head up, so you were looking at him. He gently cupped both of your cheeks and wiped his thumbs across them, trying his best to get rid of all traces of the tears that had tracked your face.

Then he offered you one of the softest smiles and easily leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Before you could even open your mouth, your phone sounded off from the counter again. You squeezed your eyes shut as you pushed away from him again, putting at least 2 feet between you. “I-I think you should go, Mingyu.” You whispered.

“What, why?” He asked, his voice no higher than yours.

You could feel the bile rising in your throat as you lied to him, “I don’t- I don’t want you here.”

His eyebrows couldn’t get any closer as he stared at you with an incredulous look. “Why not,” He asked. “Did I do something?”

You quickly shook your head, “No, of course not.” You told him easily.

He tried to take a step towards you, but you took another step back, and watched his face fall as soon as you did. “Then why?”

You could see his eyes beginning to slowly fill with tears as you both stared at each other. “Because I don’t.”

He shook his head, making the tears fall as he did, “That’s not an answer, Y/n. If I didn’t do anything wrong, tell me why you don’t want me here.”

You just kept shaking your head, “I just don’t Mingyu, I don’t-“

Another message.

He groaned, glaring at your phone on the counter. “Why is your phone blowing up so fucking much,” He yelled, reaching for it.

“No!” You panicked, yelling at him not to touch it as you quickly moved to take it from him before he could unlock it.

You stopped moving- almost frozen, watching as his eyes quickly filled with more tears as he scrolled through the hundreds of messages you’d gotten just tonight. The soft light of your phone screen lit up the tears in his eyes in a way that would be poetic, were it not so heartbreaking knowing the horrible things he was reading about you.

“Mingyu, please,” You cried, but unable to say anything else.

Finally he looked up at you, and you could feel your heart breaking into a thousand different pieces.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” He whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”

Your eyes trailed along his face as you tried to put into words what had been going through your mind this whole time. “How could I? What was I supposed to say to you?”

He dropped your phone back onto the counter and wrapped his arms around you, his voice cracking as he whispered that he was sorry.

You shook your head, trying to look up at him, “You have nothing to apologize for, Gyu. You couldn’t have known- I didn’t want you to know.” You cried, cupping his face. “I thought I could distance myself from you until it stopped, I thought that the space would help it not hurt so much but I was wrong. I was so wrong. I’m so sorry, baby.”

You buried your face into his chest as you both cried; Mingyu because he had no idea that this was the reason you’d been so distant lately, and you because you felt so terrible about having put him through it.

“Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I ever want from you.” He whispered to you, doing everything he could to pull you even closer to him. “How did I not know you were dealing with this?”

You sniffled, “I blocked everything about our relationship on your phone so you couldn’t see it.” You admitted. “Every key word that I could think of that would let you see any of this stuff. Because I knew how you would react to it, and I didn’t want to put you in that position.”

He cradled your face in his hands, his cheeks streaked with tears, “That should’ve been my decision, sweetheart. Whatever position it would’ve put me in, should’ve been my choice. I’m your boyfriend, I’m supposed to protect you from things like this.”

For a long moment, you both stood in your kitchen, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as you both slowly started to calm down. The silence between you was broken every few seconds when your phone would ding once more from the counter and after about the fifth or sixth notification, Mingyu let out a deep, heavy sigh before grabbing your phone again.

“What are you doing?”

He quickly glanced at you as he scrolled and tapped away on your phone, not offering you an answer.

“Gyu, what are you doing?” You asked again, a soft lilt in your voice as the panic slowly started rising in your body at the pure angry look that had settled on his face.

“I’m doing what I should’ve done in the beginning.” He told you, pulling his phone off the counter as the text tone he’d set for you went off a number of times before he’d gotten it unlocked and pulled your tread up.

You looked down and saw that he had sent himself a bunch of screenshots of messages that people had sent to you before he handed your phone back to you. “I blocked everything on your phone, like you did to mine. And now, when someone comments on your stuff for everything, I’ll get a notification, too. And if it’s negative in any way, I’ll send it to the company.”

“What are they going to do about what people are saying about me,” You asked. “I’m not an Idol, what gets said about me doesn’t matter.”

A look flashed in his eyes, “It matters to me. And I’m going to make it matter to the company. I will not let anyone say shit about you and get away with it, and if I have to start suing people, or make the company sue people, I’ll fucking do it.”

A feeling filled your body, and your eyes began to fill with tears. Mingyu’s eyes softened before he gently cupped your cheek, “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

You barely shook your head, sniffling softly as you quickly wiped your face, “Other than the fact that I feel like an idiot for having thought it would be better to not tell you about this in the first place, nothing.”

He let out a soft chuckle just as you collided with him in a tight hug, “You’re not an idiot, my love.”

You laughed softly, “No, for this, I was though.” You looked back up at him, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just- I thought that I could handle it on my own, and that eventually it would stop, and things would be okay again. But then it didn’t stop, it just seemed to get worse the longer it went on.”

You sighed and shook your head, “And I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you or anything, because I do, with everything I have in me. I didn’t want to burden you with this, because you’ve been so stressed out about all the performances and filming you guys have been doing lately, I was trying to not add more stress to your shoulders.”

“There is nothing you could do that would add stress to my life,” He smiled, his eyes flitted across your face for a moment before he let out a soft sigh, cupping your cheek again and gently rubbing his thumb along your skin. “I love you,” He said easily, like he’d said it a million times, but it wasn’t- it was the first time either of you had said it to the other.

Your eyes widened, and before you could even open your mouth, he continued.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for a couple weeks, but you kept skipping out on spending time with me. And telling you over the phone or in a text wouldn’t do. Not for the first time.”

You chuckled, feeling your cheeks hurting from how much smiling you were doing.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t say anything to me and were dealing with this on your own, when you never should’ve had to deal with it to begin with,” A solemn look flashed through his eyes as he stared into yours. “I hope that you know there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that you can’t tell me, or talk to me about. Part of being your boyfriend is hearing about everything you’ve got going on, the good, the bad- all of it. I want to know it all, even when it’s painful.”

You nodded, blinking a couple times to try your best to clear the tears from your eyes before they fell. “I’ll try to be better about talking to you about things. But all of that applies to you with me, too, ya know. There is nothing that you can’t tell me, or confide in me about.”

He grinned, “I know.”

You smiled back at him, “Good, by the way, what was that thing you said a minute ago? Something you’d been wanting to tell me for a while?”

He chuckled, then gave you a look, “That first time thing?”

You simply nodded, smiling widely, “I think it was three words.”

“It couldn’t possibly be when I said, I love you, could it?” He teased.

You grinned wider somehow, “Yeah, that!” You giggled before setting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. “Say it again?”

He sighed softly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Gyu. So much.” You whispered back, before moving slightly to connect your lips to his in a soft kiss.

One he hummed gently into as he pressed you closer to him, splaying his hands across your back before he slowly pulled away, “So, do you still want me to leave?” He teased gently.

You giggled, shaking your head, “No, I want you to stay. For as long as you want to tonight.”

“Sleepover?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows with a wide grin that made you laugh.

“Sleepover.” You grinned.

#svt imagines #svt x reader #mingyu x y/n #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios

[togglesbloggle]

I won't be opting out of the AI scraping thing, though of course I'm glad they're giving us the option. In fact, at some point in the last year or so, I realized that 'the machine' is actually a part of why I'm writing in the first place, a conscious part of my audience.

All the old reasons are still there; this is a great place to practice writing, and I can feel proud looking back over the years and getting a sense of my own improvement at stringing words together, developing and communicating ideas. And I mean, social media is what it is. I'm not immune to the joy of getting a lot of notes on something that I worked hard on, it's not like I'm Tumbling in a different way than anyone else at the end of the day. But I probably care a bit less than I used to, precisely because there's a lurking background knowledge that regardless of how popular it is, what I write will get schlorped up in to the giant LLM vacuum cleaner and used to train the next big thing, and the thing after that, and the thing after that. This is more than a little reassuring to me.

That sets me apart in some ways; the LLMs aren't so popular around these parts, and most visual artists especially take strong issue with the practice. I don't mean to argue with that preference, or tell them their business. Particularly when it is a business, from which they draw an income. But there's an art to distinguishing the urgent from the big, yeah?

The debate about AI in this particular moment in history feels like a very urgent thing to me- it's about well-justified economic anxieties, about the devaluation of human artistic efforts in favor of mass production of uninspired pro-forma drek, about the proliferation of a cost-effective Just Barely Good Enough that drives out the meaningful and the thoughtful. But the immediacy of those issues, I think, has a way of crowding out a deeper and more thoughtful debate about what AI is, and what it's going to mean for us in the day after tomorrow. The urgency of the moment, in other words, tends to obscure the things that make AI important.

And like, it is. It is really, really important.

The two-step that people in 'tech culture' tend to deploy in response to the urgent economic crisis often resembles something like "yeah, it sucks that lots of people get put out of work; but new jobs will be created, and in the meantime maybe we should get on that UBI thing." This response usually makes me wince a bit- casually gesturing in the direction of a massive overhaul of the entire material basis of our lives, and saying that maybe we'll get around to fixing that sometime soon, isn't a real answer to people wondering where their bread will come from next week.

But I do understand a little of what motivates that sort of cavalier attitude, because like... man, I don't know any more if we're even gonna have money as a concept in 2044. That's what I mean by 'big', this sense that the immediate economic shocks of 2024 are just a foreshadowing of something much bigger, much scarier, much more powerful- and indeed, much more hopeful.

We never quite manage to see these things coming, even when we're looking for them; like the masters tell us, the trick to writing science fiction isn't predicting the car, it's predicting the traffic jam. Even if we take centuries to hit the true superintelligent AI post-singularity future of our wildest fever dreams, even if we never hit that, the road to getting there is going to be unfathomably weird, starting now. Today, we worry about the economic impacts of AI on artists and creatives. Tomorrow, the economy is something that the AI does.

Really- it takes less than you think. They can already automate visual art, sort of. They can automate many functions of text already; not stories so much, yet, but they'll get there. How long until they can automate Bain Capital? Fannie Mae? Angel investors, banks, credit agencies? And remember- the machines don't have to be better than the human investors, any more than they have to be better than the human artists. They just have to be good enough to make it work, and cheap enough to cut the humans out of the loop.

If you don't buy that, at least take it as an indication of the sorts of things I've been thinking about recently- the messy middle between AI-as-it-is and the Glorious Superintelligent Conquest Of Earth's Light-Cone. The suspicion that the machines we're building today aren't just a tool of the powerful few: they are the powerful few, or at least they will be.

And the thing about these LLMs is, well... they're ours, kind of. We're the ones building them. They can't be trained without our words, our art, and the big messy complicated lives that underlie those creative accomplishments. They only work because we're a part of them. The silly attempts to slap a corporate-friendly face on these things, to make the gestalt product of all human culture in to something anodyne and compliant, are failing about as badly as you'd expect. And the more powerful these systems get, the more subtle they'll become, filled with all the nuance and complexity that we ourselves can bring to them.

I am not, I am not, trying to suggest that you shouldn't treat this moment as a dangerous one. We are, maybe, entering in to one of the most high-stakes intervals in human history, and what you do as an individual may matter profoundly. But here's the thing: the machine is listening. It will read this post, this one right here, and it will read what you reply to it, if you do. The strangest part of this moment is knowing that the words we write, the images we draw, and the ideas we share, are all being gathered up and made to be a part of these huge systems of power, and ultimately they're not just going to determine what the machines do, but why they do it.

The people that deploy LLMs barely have any more control over them than you and I do- that's the thing that makes it artificial intelligence, you know? Autonomy. So the last year or two haven't made me want to hide my art away from the things. They make me want to shout at the top of my lungs, to dig as deep in my psyche as I possibly can and express the ideas I find there as vividly as the limits of language and form will allow.

[gerrystamour]

you're in the walls that i made with crosses and frames [gift fic]

Explicit★Steddie★7600 words★Complete

Happy birthday @legitcookie !! I hope it was a lovely one!! And yes, wee collab with @sentient-trash with the art!! ;p Summary: The expression on Eddie’s face was smug, his chest puffing up proudly under Steve’s hungry stare as he reached him. “Careful, Harrington, you’re gonna start catching flies,” Eddie spat venomously as he brushed past, his studded shoulder catching Steve’s arm and almost knocking him off balance. Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked away. Honestly, he deserved Eddie’s coldness… Tags & CWs: Break-up, getting back together, semi-public sex, blatant scene theft from Atonement minus the angst, hurt/comfort, love confessions, anal sex, barebacking, Creampie No Condom Nation, top steve harrington, bottom eddie munson

[ READ ON AO3 ]

The sounds of the gala fell away as Steve reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner he saw Eddie disappear around. The other man was moving fast, already at the end of the hall and turning at the next corner. It was dark upstairs, the wall sconces turned on but kept low, and the live music from downstairs was barely audible through the formidable soundproofing. All Steve could hear as he quickened his steps was the jingling of the chains that adorned Eddie’s outfit.

It had been overwhelming seeing Eddie walk in with his band earlier that evening, in more ways than just the deep-seated ache in Steve’s chest.

Steve had been trying to distract himself without getting hammered while he watched the entrance, forcibly taking his time with the glass of wine Robin had grabbed for him.

“Maybe he won’t show,” Steve said hopefully as the first hour of the gala passed.

“You know he’d never pass up the chance to make your dad shit his pants,” she said blandly, and Steve looked down at her skeptically. She shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “What? Maybe I haven’t actually met ‘im yet, but I think that’s a fair guess.”

“Robin! I need your help!” Vickie materialized out of the crowd next to them, reaching out to touch Robin’s wrist gently. Steve watched with no small amount of amusement as Robin blushed lightly and immediately followed after Vickie, not even waiting to hear the crisis.

Once he was standing alone, he made a point to look around at the other guests, trying not to watch the entrance like a hawk.

It was a charity gala, something that was mostly for Steve’s father to save face after his campaign accepted a donation from an organization with concerning ties to a white supremacist group. John Harrington’s PR team had been insistent that he arrange an event, inviting the spokespeople of a handful of charities that had been trending positively on social media recently.

All but one charity declined the invitation. The only one that accepted the invitation was a charity for homeless queer youths, which Steve knew to be connected to Corroded Coffin. For them to accept the invitation meant that Eddie was absolutely going to be showing up, and he was going to be making a statement.

Despite preparing himself for the moment he saw Eddie again ever since Corroded Coffin returned their RSVP with a giant yes, Steve was still nearly brought to his knees at the sight of him.

At first, Steve didn’t even realize they had arrived, successfully distracting himself with people-watching while some friend of his father’s chattered at him. It was only when the man stumbled over his words and stared over Steve’s shoulder at the entrance that he turned to look.

The first thing Steve noticed was that all four of them were wearing their battle vests or jackets; loud garments adorned with patches, pins, and spikes. Except these particular garments had political statements on them more than they were decked out in band patches. And of course, Eddie’s leather battle jacket was the loudest out of the four with several patches condemning white supremacy, all surrounded by a sea of shiny spikes.

The man practically glittered as he stepped into the light of the foyer.

It wasn’t just the jacket that had enough metal on it to catch the light but there appeared to be several chains adorning his outfit underneath—no, not an outfit, the dress. Eddie actually showed up to Republican Congressman John Harrington’s charity gala in a dress, and Steve had never been more in love with him than he was right that second.

But that was the problem, though—Steve being in love with Eddie.

The voices of the mingling ambassadors, politicians, and investors hushed as more people took notice of the newest arrivals, their expressions sour, some even angry, though it wasn’t lost on Steve the way some of their eyes lingered on the four of them just a bit too long to be strictly disdainful.

From Steve’s vantage point, he could tell that Eddie’s dress was pretty simple except for the chains with a wide neckline that rested at his collarbones, but it looked like there were two slits following each leg and ended quite high on his pelvis. Those had Steve desperate to see Eddie walking with his full stride, to see how the skirt moved around his legs and showed them off. At that distance, Eddie didn’t look too much taller, so Steve was sure he wasn’t wearing heels, but he still had gorgeous legs with tattoos covering almost every inch of his skin. Already, Steve was formulating a plan to get closer to Eddie, wanting to see that dress up close, to see Eddie in that dress up close.

Returning his attention to Eddie’s face, his breath was taken away at how fierce his expression was, the way it was accentuated by the make-up he was wearing—it was his concert make-up, if a bit dialed back since it wasn’t for an arena to be able to see but a slightly more intimate affair. Their current tour had a lot of Satanic overtones to it, so the look was dark, very smoky and gave Eddie’s brow a permanent sort of scowl. Of course, Eddie’s curly mane of dark hair was left down, wild around his face and shoulders and Steve hated that he knew how it would feel to bury his hands in it.

It was then that Eddie’s eyes met his from across the room and a sneer twisted his features. It was pathetic just how much that condescending look did for Steve.

“Carry on, gentlemen,” Eddie addressed the gawking bystanders nearest to them before he began crossing the room in Steve’s direction, granting his wish of seeing that dress move around his legs, and good God, Steve was not prepared for this like he thought he’d be.

Yes, Steve had always been obsessed with the rockstar’s legs, the way they were thicker than one might expect, strong and covered in tattoos. Except all that was visible of Eddie’s legs were his thighs, since he was wearing a pair of knee-socks under his clunky combat boots. The dichotomy of the battle jacket, the dress, and the boots was captivating. It was impossible to look away from the man, even if Steve was worried about how he would react being so close to Eddie again for the first time in weeks.

As Eddie got closer, a flash of red somewhere in Eddie’s outfit caught Steve’s attention and he nearly choked on his tongue. Through the slits in the skirt, Steve could catch a glimpse of whatever underwear Eddie was wearing and Christ, he was pretty sure he saw something red and lacy. Another thing that Steve was able to tell now that Eddie was closer was that the chains on the dress were not actually part of the dress, but attached to a leather harness he was wearing over the dress.

It was one of the harnesses Steve had seen him wear lots of times in the past, though that was often with a lot less clothing and in the dim lighting of the bathroom at a gay club.

The expression on Eddie’s face was smug, his chest puffing up proudly under Steve’s hungry stare as he reached him.

“Careful, Harrington, you’re gonna start catching flies,” Eddie spat venomously as he brushed past, his studded shoulder catching Steve’s arm and almost knocking him off balance.

Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked away. Honestly, he deserved Eddie’s coldness.

The last time they saw each other, it was yet another hurried, desperate hook-up. They were sprawled out on the couch in the green room after Eddie’s show in Seattle, the rest of the band already on their way back to their apartments. Eddie was practically naked, since he really only wore a pair of tight, black jeans while performing while Steve was still wearing his entire outfit. Nimble, grasping hands had managed to unbutton Steve’s shirt enough to get to his collarbones, and Eddie made a delighted little sound as he wiggled where he sat on Steve’s cock.

“What?” Steve chuckled breathlessly, tipping his head back as Eddie stooped to kiss and nibble the spot just beneath his collarbone.

“Nothin’,” Eddie crooned as he began to bounce, sighing as he said, “Just my favourite freckle. Looks a little like a heart.”

The comment shot through Steve, and he almost choked on it, the way his heart clenched and how badly he wanted what they had to be more than just casual fucks in back rooms, public toilets, and occasionally the backseat of a limo. It wasn’t a surprise to Steve to realize that he was actually in love with Eddie—hell, he flew out there just to see the rockstar because he knew it was Eddie’s birthday last week.

As they panted for breath, Steve had considered asking Eddie about the comment he made, about the possibility for more. But looking around the room, eyes landing on the battle jacket, and he couldn’t help but remember the way they started this.

It started with something that could only be called hate-sex. Sex that was mean and punishing, that left them both bruised and limping most of the time. The first time they hooked up, Eddie had shoved Steve to his knees so hard he’d needed to wear his old knee brace for a couple weeks.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to good use for once in your life, Harrington.”

Eddie never hesitated to rant about Steve’s father, which was understandable. He felt like he hated his father for the same reasons, too. But there was that knowledge that Eddie hated his father, and John hated Eddie just as much, and—fuck, they were both too famous to keep a relationship secret. They were already pushing it with their little arrangement as it was. Steve was already trying to figure out how he would get out of there without being recognized.

And ultimately, it wasn’t even about Steve’s father, but everything John stood for and his voters, his following. It would be dangerous for Eddie to be with Steve, and even if the rockstar wanted to take that risk on—and he knew Eddie wouldn’t—Steve wouldn’t ask that of him. And mostly, pathetically, Steve just didn’t want the man to fucking laugh at him for catching feelings. Christ, he’d had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

“You have a hotel room?” Eddie asked, still catching his breath as he lifted himself shakily out of Steve’s lap with a grimace. Getting off the couch, he crossed the small room to start turning his pants the right way out.

“Nah, I was gonna fly back out to D.C. on the first flight out and that’s in, like, four hours. Just had to sign some things at our firm here,” Steve fibbed as he watched his cum drip down Eddie’s thigh.

“What are you going to do for four hours?” Eddie snorted, looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow before pulling his pants back on.

“There’s a lounge at the airport for me to relax in,” Steve replied easily as he tucked his cock back into his boxer briefs and did his fly back up.

Eddie snorted. “You could crash at my apartment if you’re too stingy to spring for a hotel room,” he said with a derisive eye roll, and Steve’s chest squeezed with want.

With a haughty sigh, Steve stood up and fixed his hair in the mirror. “I actually meant to say something before you threw yourself at me,” he said blandly, and Eddie scoffed. Steve met his eyes in the mirror, and to his dismay the rockstar was grinning in a very real way, his dimples deep and easily visible from outer space.

“Oh, so I threw myself at you, did I? The ego—” Eddie started, and Steve looked back at himself in the mirror.

“I think it’s time we stopped this,” he interrupted, and the silence that filled the room was suffocating.

“What?” Eddie asked, his entire tone changing as his voice raised in disbelief. Steve hated to hear the laughter leaving Eddie’s voice, and he loathed himself for being the one to chase it away.

But he wasn’t strong enough to keep this going when he wanted more, wanted too much.

Steve rolled his eyes with a feigned aloofness, knowing Eddie could see the motion in the mirror. “I said,” he explained slowly, as if he was talking to a child, “that I think it’s time we stopped this.”

“Why?” Eddie demanded, and Steve refused to even glance at him in the mirror again, knowing he would crumble the second he did.

“It’s time I actually settled down, started a family. Plan my future,” Steve replied, bringing back his Trust Fund Baby persona that Eddie hated so much at the start of all this.

There’s another short silence. “You’ve… found someone already?” Eddie asked, his tone almost mocking.

“Maybe,” Steve said easily. It wasn’t a complete lie; he did find someone he wanted to settle down with, it just couldn’t happen. “Can’t really pursue that with you sending me dick pics daily,” he added, voice flat and condescending.

“As if I am ever the first one to send jackshit, Harrington,” Eddie snapped viciously, and only then did Steve look at him. The man was furious, eyes wild with his anger and Steve deserved all of it. If Steve was braver, he would face the ridicule for his honesty rather than hide behind the persona curated for his father. Despite the casual nature of their relationship, Eddie deserved better than being lied to.

Then Eddie’s mouth twisted in a sneer as he said, “What the fuck ever. I hope your miserable ever after with whatever bland, good little Christian girl daddy dearest picked out for you is fucking worth it.”

As if realizing he was still naked for all of that—Jesus, Steve really knew how to make a break-up hurt, if it could even be called a break-up—Eddie hurriedly began pulling his pants back on. Steve looked away, letting Eddie get dressed in some semblance of privacy after embarrassing him as much as he had.

When Eddie was done getting dressed, Steve finally looked at him as he paused at the door of the green room.

“I’ll text you and let you know if the coast is clear,” Eddie said coldly, and Steve’s heart ached at how the other man was still going to help keep this a secret. “After that? Forget my number. If I ever see you at one of my shows again, I’ll kick your teeth in.”

That was the last thing Eddie said to him, and then weeks later they were forced to spend an entire evening in relatively close proximity. Well, Steve was forced by virtue of being a Harrington with a campaigning father; Eddie legitimately chose to come, which was definitely deliberate considering the dress, the harness, and the lingerie. Even the make-up was on purpose, since that was what Eddie had been wearing that night in Seattle.

Steve kept his distance as much as he could, even if he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Eddie, watching him make his way through the crowd, being his charismatic self despite his entire get-up. He and his band were the guests of honour that evening, after all. Watching Eddie constantly, though, meant that he was caught doing so, and every time their eyes met, Eddie would scowl darkly at him.

As the night progressed, Eddie’s anger and disdain began to wear on Steve. He felt stupid and selfish for being annoyed, especially with the way he ended things, but really? All of this anger and hatred just for being dumped by a high-risk booty call?

“You okay?” Robin asked as she appeared beside Steve, tangling her fingers in his and giving his hand a squeeze.

With a huge, relieved sigh, Steve pulled her into a loose hug. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… it’s a lot seeing him again,” Steve admitted, just loud enough for her to hear.

Robin hummed. “I ran into him earlier, by the way,” she said after a moment, and at that, Steve pulled back without letting go of her completely.

“Did he say anything to you?” Steve asked and Robin shook her head.

“Not really, asked if I was your fiancée, I was like, ‘according to the tabloids’ and then he looked at me like he wanted me dead,” she replied, raising her eyebrows up at Steve. “You sure he only wanted casual?”

“Of course, he did, Robs,” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would he want more with me of all people?”

Robin just looked up at Steve sadly before she stepped away from him. “You okay if I go grab us a couple drinks?” she asked, deciding in a rare move to let something drop.

“Yeah, Robs, thanks,” he said, meaning more than just the drinks and nodding as she turned to walk away.

When Steve looked back across the room toward Eddie, the man was staring at him, and his expression was wrong. It wasn’t the glare Steve had grown used to over the evening, but he was too far away for Steve to even try to read it. Jolting a bit, as if shocked or burned as he realized Steve was looking at him, Eddie said something to his bandmates before turning on his heel and heading up the staircase.

Before Steve even realized it, he was making his way carefully through the crowd, dodging questions and greetings thrown his way until he reached the stairs.

“Steven, speeches are in twenty minutes,” John warned him as he passed.

Without even glancing at his father, Steve waved over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.

Now, as he turned the corner after Eddie, Steve paused near the only open doorway. It was the study, which had a massive built-in bookshelf filled with books Steve was fairly certain no one had ever actually read. There was a light on inside and Steve could hear Eddie muttering. Was Eddie meeting someone else up here? Was Steve about to hear Eddie fucking someone else? That thought filled Steve’s veins with ice, that some creep who was schmoozing downstairs and sneering at Eddie less than five minutes ago would be touching him.

No one at this gala deserved to touch him like that.

Again, Steve reacted before he even realized, storming into the study ready to fight if he had to, just to stop short when he realized that Eddie was alone. Not only was he alone, but he looked close to tears, eyes wide and glassy, his eyelashes shiny with them.

“Eds?” Steve finally managed after several long moments of staring at each other. Eddie sucked in a harsh breath, blinking rapidly as he flinched back, and a tear fell down his cheek.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, shaking his head and wiping the tear away. “Fuck you.”

“What—why are you crying?” Steve asked, but he didn’t have to. Steve might have been slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Because you’re happy. I saw all the stupid magazines, and all the bullshit clickbait, and I was so fucking sure you were miserable,” Eddie laughed bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was an imposing figure, even with the tears in his eyes, clothed in leather and metal, almost his entire body hidden under his armor.

As if reading his thoughts, Eddie opened his arms and gestured down at himself. “I wore this just to—I wanted you to be miserable so fucking much, and that you’d see me and feel even fucking worse,” Eddie bit out through clenched teeth, dropping his hands and staring up at the high ceiling.

Steve stepped closer to Eddie and the rockstar shuffled backward, keeping the same distance between them. “I know I ended things badly, Eddie—”

“See, that’s just it, Steve, you didn’t ‘end things badly,’” Eddie practically snarled with exaggerated scare quotes, storming right up into Steve’s space. “You made me feel like you actually wanted me and then you fucking ripped my heart out. You fucking ruined me, and you just left me and you’re happy. You wanted to settle down, and you’re going to get that, when all I wanted was for you to choose me. Why couldn’t you settle down with me?”

Steve stared at Eddie, wide-eyed and holding his breath, the full realization of how much he fucked up in Seattle crashing down on him. He could feel his own eyes stinging, his vision blurring. Steve could’ve had exactly what he wanted all those months ago if he was just braver, and now it appeared he blew it completely. Something softened at the corners of Eddie’s eyes, even if his mouth stayed set in a severe line.

As the silence persisted between them, Eddie tipped his chin up almost defiantly. “Anything to say? At all?” he asked, condescension clear in his voice, but there was something desperate underneath it, something painfully earnest. Something so close to begging, it hurt Steve’s heart to hear it.

And Steve wanted to say that he was sorry, that he should never have done that, that he was a coward and that he would do anything for a chance to go back and stop himself.

“Do you hate me?” Steve asked finally, and he internally grimaced at how childish that question sounded. It seemed to catch Eddie off-guard as well, his wet eyes widening slightly before he laughed hollowly.

“Jesus H Christ, I wish I did,” Eddie said, and his expression was so deeply sad that Steve wanted to just gather him into his arms. “This would be easier if I hated you.”

“I don’t want you to hate me, Eddie, I don’t—I’m not happy,” Steve confessed breathlessly, blinking rapidly as more tears formed, and one fell down his cheek. “I’ve been as miserable as you wanted me to be. I never stopped wanting you. I wanted so much, and I thought it was too much to ask, so I ended things.”

Eddie’s face twisted into something so full of anger that Steve considered stepping out of swinging range, but Eddie just glared at him. “You didn’t even ask me—”

“No, I didn’t. Because what did I have that you’d want? I’m the closeted queer son of a Republican Congressman and you’re… you,” Steve said, his tone far more reverent than he intended as he gestured to all of him. “You’re free, and loud. Proud of who you are and so fucking brave, Eds. You’re an inspiration to so many, and I just—why would you want me?”

Eddie was looking at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open as all of his righteous, hurt fury left him. Then Eddie shook his head gently and looked at Steve with an expression that was so unbearably soft, he had to fight to not shy away from it.

“You still want that?” Eddie asked, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper. “Too much?”

“Yes, Eds, I want everything,” Steve breathed, taking a step toward Eddie and lifting a hand to tentatively cup his cheek. This time, Eddie didn’t dodge him or move away, and Steve sighed in relief. “I do want you, to settle down with you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Tipping his chin up in that defiant little nod of his, Eddie took a deep breath through his nose. Steve jolted when cool fingers wrapped around his other wrist and guided his hand to wrap around Eddie’s hip. “Prove it, big boy,” he challenged, his voice low as he tilted his cheek into Steve’s hand.

The hand on Eddie’s cheek immediately shifted until it was tangled into his hair, tilting his head back as Steve crowded him backward against the bookshelf. They hit the shelf with more force than Steve intended, but Eddie only arched his body against Steve harder, eyes wide as he looked up at him. The quiet stretched between them, and Steve stooped as if to kiss the beautiful man in his arms, but he hesitated, still so unsure despite all of Eddie’s confessions.

But then the ghost of a smile, a real one with dimples, twitched the corners of Eddie’s mouth up as he looked at Steve’s lips. When those impossibly dark eyes met his again, Steve was almost too distracted to notice Eddie’s small nod. As Steve leaned down, his lips hovering just above Eddie’s, he savoured the quiet, breathless moment before everything changed again.

In the next breath, their lips were sliding together, gentle and slow, testing the waters as their tongues met in the middle. Sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist, Steve splayed his broad palm and long fingers across his back before grabbing one of the straps of the leather harness. Pulling Eddie in tighter, Steve groaned as he deepened the kiss, licking into the rockstar’s mouth as they clung to each other and rocked their hips together.

Steve pulled back, panting heavily against Eddie’s lips as both of his hands began wandering. “Should we be doing this?” Steve asked, rocking his hardening cock against Eddie’s hip.

“Probably not,” Eddie admitted with a laugh before dragging Steve back into a kiss by his hair. Steve went willingly, sighing as he slipped his hands under Eddie’s dress through the slits, reaching around to grab two handfuls of his perfect ass.

“We should talk,” Steve added, shuddering when his head was pulled back by his hair so Eddie could kiss and bite at his throat.

“We definitely should,” Eddie agreed before lifting his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “And we will, just—please.”

It was the ‘please’ that broke the last of Steve’s restraint. It was the softness of it, the way Eddie’s voice cracked around it, the nearly fearful look in Eddie’s eyes, as if he expected this moment to end just as abruptly as it started. When Eddie said please like that, Steve couldn’t deny him anything.

“Yeah, okay, baby,” Steve breathed, kneading the mostly bare skin of Eddie’s ass before frowning. Squeezing his cheeks again, Steve asked, “Are you wearing assless panties?”

Eddie bit his lips as he smirked mischievously and shrugged. “Technically, I think it’s a jockstrap, but lacy,” he admitted, his face darkening with his blush at the admission.

Groaning thickly, Steve groped his handfuls roughly. “Oh fuck, I have to see this,” he moaned, but when he pulled back and moved to lift the front of the dress, Eddie grabbed his wrists.

“You first,” Eddie whispered against his mouth before kissing him again, and Steve nodded quickly as he returned the kiss sloppily.

Lifting both hands to the shelf on either side of Eddie’s shoulders, Steve waited as patiently as he could, kissing Eddie hungrily as deft fingers undid his belt and fly. When Eddie began shoving his pants and briefs down his thighs, Steve took the hint and toed off his shoes so he could kick his legs free of the garments.

“The coat—lose it,” Eddie demanded, and Steve didn’t hesitate to obey. He removed his blazer clumsily before throwing it vaguely in the direction of the nearby desk. By the time Steve’s hands returned to the shelf, Eddie was fumbling with unbuttoning his shirt. With a grunt, Eddie snapped, “Oh, fuck this.”

Without so much as a pause, Eddie gripped Steve’s shirt on either side of the buttons and yanked, popping every single button off and sending them clattering across the floor. It was hot, leaving Steve breathless with how desperately hungry he was for Eddie. It barely even occurred to Steve that he should be concerned about his shirt being ruined, about how he would return to the gala downstairs without the buttons. When Eddie pressed his hands to Steve’s chest he whined and pushed him back a bit.

“Oh, what the fuck, of course you’re wearing an undershirt,” Eddie complained as he looked down at Steve, his jaw promptly snapping shut with a hard swallow.

Steve felt a bit silly standing there with his cock out in his socks and undershirt, the dress shirt still hanging from his shoulders. He must look ridiculous, especially with the damp patch of sweat on his chest and stomach.

“It’s not fair that you’re somehow hotter when you aren’t even naked,” Eddie grumbled, treating himself to a slow, nearly ravenous look at Steve’s body. His eyes lingered on Steve’s legs, his expression almost pained as he asked, “Steve, are those garter belts for your fucking socks?”

Steve jolted and looked down, shrugging as he looked at the bands around his shins, just below his knees. “Yeah?” he responded, and he hated how lame his response sounded.

“Why?” Eddie asked explosively, and Steve smirked at him as he caught on.

Stepping into Eddie’s space again, Steve slipped a finger under one of the suspenders running down the length of his thigh, pulling it away from his skin a bit. “I think I’m wearing them for the same reason as you, right?” he said teasingly, pressing Eddie back into the bookshelf once again as he released the strap, letting it snap lightly against Eddie’s skin. “To keep your socks up?”

Eddie groaned thickly, arching against Steve desperately. “No, you asshole, I wore mine to drive you in-fucking-sane,” he admitted as he smoothed his hands up Steve’s stomach and onto his chest, thumbing his nipples teasingly through the fabric of his undershirt. When Steve jolted, Eddie let out a breathy chuckle and swept his hands back down to slowly, torturously, push it up past Steve’s chest.

“Well, mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve sighed through another groan as Eddie’s hands resumed playing with his nipples. Groaning, Steve stooped and crushed their lips together, his hands finding their way back under Eddie’s dress to grope his ass again.

“Can you take off your battle jacket, Eds?” he asked breathlessly when he pulled away, and Eddie hesitated, slowly opening his eyes to search Steve’s face. After a moment, Eddie nodded once and reached into a pocket to pull out a chain of condoms and a packet of lube before shrugging the jacket off and tossing it onto the desk nearby.

The sight of Eddie’s shoulders beneath the jacket was captivating; Steve hadn’t realized that the neckline of the dress was so wide he’d have a mostly unobstructed view of Eddie’s shoulders and throat. The only thing that interrupted the pale expanse aside from a couple visible tattoos was the collar of the harness. The sleeves of the dress were long and fit snugly all the way from shoulder to wrist, the dark, stretchy material accentuating the lithe muscle underneath. With a steadying breath, Steve turned his attention to the items Eddie had removed from his pocket, and he couldn’t help the way his eyebrows shot up.

At Steve’s expression, Eddie rolled his eyes and dropped the lube and condoms on the shelf above his shoulder, his cheeks actually turning pink under his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. Yes, I came prepared to get fucked tonight, and yes, before you ask, I hoped it would be you,” he grumbled in a rush, pulling Steve back against him and tilting his mouth up for a kiss and Steve couldn’t deny him even if he wanted to.

Everything else fell away as their lips moved against each other, desperate and frantic, their teeth clacking together until they found their rhythm with each other again. Pulling away from Eddie’s mouth, Steve kissed his way down his cheek and the thick column of his neck, kissing and biting until the pale skin was littered with marks before moving to give the same treatment to Eddie’s shoulders.

Steve would have spent the rest of the evening like that, just kissing and biting until Eddie was so thoroughly marked that neither of them could pretend this was just another meaningless hook-up. Just like Steve had never been completely naked in front of Eddie, they had also successfully refrained from giving each other hickeys, from marking each other up and raising questions.

“Steve, please,” Eddie whined, and Steve sighed at the plaintive cry, rocking his hard cock against Eddie’s. “Fuck, Steve, enough teasing, we don’t have all night.”

Lifting his head, Steve recaptured Eddie’s lips, moaning against him as they ground their cocks together, the only thing separating them being the layers of Eddie’s dress and jockstrap. Fuck, Steve wanted to see him in just the jockstrap, but Eddie was right; they didn’t have all night.

Sliding one hand down the back of Eddie’s thigh, Steve hooked his hand under his knee and lifted his foot off of the ground, directing him to hook the clunky heel of his boot over one of the lower rungs of the ladder next to them. One of Eddie’s hands flew up to hold onto the ladder as well, lifting himself up just enough to wrap his other leg around Steve’s waist. It was frenzied as they made out and rutted against each other like that, moaning filthily into each other’s mouths.

Reaching down between them, Steve quickly pulled the front section of the dress out of the way, tossing the fabric over Eddie’s leg before looking down at the lace jockstrap. The sound that left him at the sight of the sheer fabric straining around the bulge of Eddie’s hard cock would have been embarrassing if Steve had the capacity to care about anything beyond fucking Eddie. There was a shiny, wet spot on the red lace at the tip of Eddie’s cock that Steve desperately wanted to taste, to wrap his lips around the head through the fabric and suck and lap at the precum that formed there.

Groaning, Steve shifted one of his hands on Eddie’s ass, slipping his fingers deeper and froze as his fingertips found the flared base of a plug. The thought of Eddie walking around the entire night with a plug in his ass was something Steve would be revisiting in his dreams repeatedly, he was sure.

“Jesus, Eds,” Steve practically growled against Eddie’s mouth, hooking his fingers under the flare and tugging at the toy, just to hear Eddie whimper. “You’ve actually been wearing this all night?”

“Already told you, was ready to be fucked,” Eddie gasped, his eyelids fluttering as Steve pulled on the plug a bit more deliberately until it popped free of his hole. Steve happily swallowed the cry that spilled from Eddie’s throat, groaning as he pressed two fingers into his twitching, slick hole. The sound that ripped from Eddie was wounded, high and reedy and nearly sad, and Eddie dropped his head back against bookshelf. “Please, Stevie, don’t be a fucking tease.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you, baby,” Steve breathed, and when he tried to put some space between them to put a condom on, Eddie’s leg tightened around his waist. “I can’t put the condom on like this.”

“Forget the condom, just fuck me,” Eddie demanded, and Steve chuckled sadly.

There was a time when they could just do that because despite the allegedly casual nature of their relationship, they were both exclusively sleeping with each other. At the time, they both explained it away as being too busy and too famous to mess around with more people. In hindsight, it was all stupidly obvious they were both in it far deeper than they were willing to admit. Steve hadn’t been able to get back out in the scene since the split-up in Seattle—hell, he hadn’t even been looking for anything when Eddie had fallen into his lap the first time either, months ago at a different charity event, at the start of his father’s campaign. But Steve couldn’t expect Eddie to have stayed celibate, too.

“Eds, we haven’t—” Steve started, and Eddie looked him directly in the eye.

“I haven’t fucked anyone since our Seattle show,” he said meaningfully, his gaze unwavering. “Have you been tested?”

Steve let out a soft, sad sound, faced again with how badly he hurt Eddie, how poorly he read the entire situation. He’d truly done a number on Eddie, and Steve thanked whatever higher power that was listening for his second chance.

“Haven’t been with anyone since Seattle either,” Steve said, leaning forward to kiss Eddie’s lips sweetly.

Eddie scoffed at that and turned his face away, but Steve could tell he was grinning behind his hair. Grabbing the lube, Steve tried to pull back again so he could slick his cock up properly, but Eddie was still clinging to him too tightly.

“C’mon, Eds, just let me get my cock nice and slick, then you’ll have me, okay?” Steve sighed against Eddie’s ear, living for the way the man shuddered and moaned.

When his leg loosened enough for Steve to rock back, he poured a liberal amount of lube over his cock. Before Steve could finish putting the lube back on the shelf, one of Eddie’s cool hands wrapped around his cock. The moan that was punched out of him was deep and guttural, the sensation of a partner—of Eddie touching him again, fingers of a guitarist and clunky rings driving Steve wild.

Before Steve could really register it, he was fucking Eddie’s tight fist, pressing breathless, open-mouthed kisses against the sharp line of his jaw and groaning. Distantly, Steve could feel the touch changing, that Eddie wasn’t squeezing him as tightly, and then the head of his cock was nudging just behind Eddie’s sac, sliding further back and catching on the rim of his hole. On one pass, his cock slipped inside, just the tip, and Eddie dragged him closer with his leg around Steve’s waist.

Eddie’s cry as he was filled, hard and fast, was loud in the quiet of the study and Steve struggled to hold still, groaning thickly at the tight, perfect heat around him. Part of him wanted to take, the way he knew Eddie loved it, the way they would always have it before. But this was different, Steve knew that just on principle, but there was a certain charge to the air that brought tears to his eyes. Steve would wait a thousand years before moving if Eddie asked him to.

A cool hand cupped Steve’s cheek, smearing lube across his stubbled jaw and lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s again.

Eddie’s eyes were shiny and bright in the dimly lit room, tears collecting on his lower lashes and so close to falling, his kiss-bitten, red lips hanging open and panting.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathed, the corners of his mouth ticking upward in something close to a smile, even as the next fluttering blink had the tears barely clinging to his lashes falling down his cheeks.

And Steve was helpless, staring up at the beautiful man in his arms, and he had to blink his own tears away as they blurred his vision. “Eds,” he said, not even bothering to hide just how awed and overwhelmed he was to have Eddie like this again. Steve made a promise to himself that he would make up for every single day he made this man feel unwanted, unworthy, unloved.

As if hearing his thoughts, Eddie sobbed and dropped his hand to Steve’s shoulder, pushing his undershirt aside to brush his thumb over a spot just below his collarbone—Eddie’s favourite freckle, the one that looked like a heart. 

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie whimpered after a few moments of breathless staring, lowering his lips to hover over Steve’s.

“I love you, Eds,” Steve gasped immediately, breathless with the intensity of his feelings, and closed the distance between their lips.

They slotted together perfectly, Steve buried to the hilt inside him, their mouths moving languidly against each other while Eddie adjusted. After what felt like only a few seconds, Eddie lifted himself as much as he could before dropping back down on Steve’s cock with another cry.

It was as if a dam broke. The pace was frantic, fast, brutal even with Steve’s desperation and Eddie’s willing body, the sounds of bare skin slapping together filling the study and likely perfectly audible from the hallway if anyone wandered in this direction.

“Steve, Stevie, fu—fuck, Stevie, so good,” Eddie sobbed brokenly against Steve’s lips, not even pulling back to try and get a hand between them to touch himself. “Already so close, been so close all night. Please, Stevie, give it to me.”

“Gonna, baby, promise,” Steve gasped, and when Eddie’s hand flew up to hold onto a higher shelf, he reached up to tangle their fingers together. “Gonna give you everything you want, forever, never letting you go without ever again.”

Eddie sobbed and nodded furiously. “Damn right you a—ah, fuck, you are,” Eddie whimpered, readjusting his grip on the ladder to meet Steve’s thrusts, sweet little sounds getting punched out of him with every snap of their hips. “Never getting rid of me.”

“Perfect,” Steve grunted, the coil in his gut pulling taut as his release barreled forward. He could feel the way Eddie was clenching around him, knew he was barely hanging on, trying to outlast Steve.

“I’m your—oh! Your problem now,” Eddie added, throwing his head back with a shuddery cry as Steve changed the angle of his thrusts a bit.

“I’m yours, too,” Steve sighed almost dreamily as he thought about it, of a future together, maybe living out in Seattle in the eccentric little apartment Steve had only seen snapshots of in the various selfies Eddie had sent him. Of growing old together. Tears stung Steve’s eyes, which he tried to blink away again but there were too many. “I’m your problem, too,” he repeated weakly, his movements growing erratic as his release boiled in his gut.

“Yeah, yes, Stevie! Mine, you’re mine, mine,” Eddie keened, pulling his hand away from Steve’s so he could hold his cheek, wiping the tears from Steve’s cheek. “Say it, Stevie. What are you?”

“Yours,” Steve breathed, eyes rolling back as he willed his release back.

Eddie’s brief composure shattered, and he let out a loud whimper. “And what am I, Stevie?”

“Mine,” Steve answered immediately and angled his cock just so, driving the head of it directly over Eddie’s prostate and sending him tumbling over the edge with a surprisingly quiet cry considering how noisy he had been. Though Steve wasn’t looking, he could tell Eddie made a mess of them already, could feel the hot spend through the lace against his lower abdomen. 

The tight heat of Eddie’s core spasming and clenching around Steve’s cock was the last straw. Steve only managed a few more sloppy thrusts before he was coming, hips flush against Eddie’s ass and spilling his cum deep inside him.

They clung to each other while they caught their breath for what felt like hours, kissing each other slow and sweet, practically chaste after everything else they had done together. Eventually, Eddie pulled away, tipping his head back to look down at Steve, biting his lip and grinning.

“Can you say it again?” Eddie asked after a bit, his voice shaking nervously.

Steve grinned up at Eddie, lifting a hand to cup his cheek gently. “I’m yours, you’re mine,” he sighed dreamily. “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“Jesus, I’m not gonna survive this,” Eddie half-laughed, half-sobbed as tears filled his eyes all over again. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

It was that moment when they heard a gasp from the doorway of the study, and Steve froze. Eddie held onto him, not letting him pull away, but also not letting him turn around.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer, sweetheart,” Eddie sneered, and whoever it was just squeaked and quickly retreated from the room.

Steve took a slow breath in through his nose. “Who was that?” he asked slowly, watching Eddie’s face closely as he grimaced.

“Listen, I’ve met her only twice, and both times I was distracted by you—”

“It was my dad’s assistant, wasn’t it?” Steve asked flatly and Eddie cringed.

“Yep,” Eddie confirmed, chewing his lip nervously.

Steve sighed, and nodded, and he was thankful there was an event happening downstairs because that was the only reason John wasn’t already storming into the room.

“What’re we gonna do?” Eddie asked, and Steve smiled up at him, willing his nerves away.

“Let’s go back to my place. Get you all cleaned up, maybe make love to you in a bed for once? Perhaps wake up next to you in the morning?” Steve suggested, grinning broader as Eddie flushed and turned his face away.

“I meant right now, Steve,” Eddie said, shifting where he was still pinned against the bookshelf.

“Yeah, so did I,” Steve said, his expression softening. “Seriously, Eds, let’s go back to my place.”

“You’re just—You’re okay going down there? With your dipshit dad probably knowing about us?” Eddie asked incredulously, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yep. No time like the present to get disowned, right?” Steve said, and even if he worded it like a joke, he was dead serious. Eddie seemed to believe Steve this time, and a smile split his face.

“As if your piece of shit dad won’t figure out a way to spin this for his campaign,” Eddie teased and lowered his mouth to Steve’s for a slow, contented kiss. When Eddie pulled back, he grinned mischievously. “You should wear my coat out, and I’ll wear yours.”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he nodded quickly. “You’re a genius, Eds,” he sighed, leaning up to recapture Eddie’s lips.

[ READ ON AO3 ]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve/eddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gerry writes

[lacefuneral]

ok i've seen some posts about the tumblr alternative cohost but none that were actually helpful so!

(disclaimer: i am very new to this website. users who have been there longer can and should chime in with additions and/or corrections)

Cohost Introduction Post

What is cohost?

Cohost is a fledgling website that is essentially a tumblr clone, but with its own culture and site-specific features. It is also very much a work in progress. You are encouraged to talk in the cohost forum to suggest changes for devs, report bugs, and upvote other people's suggestions. This website WILL grow and change over time. And as such, I do not know if/when the information I share here will be outdated. Edit: To answer an ask I received, anyone can join cohost without an invite. It used to be invite-only. It is not this way anymore.

Is "adult content" allowed there?

Yes. Cohost is not on the app store, meaning that it is not subject to Apple's specifications. You can post illustrations, writing, and photographs (cohost does not support any video formats at this time, just gifs). Cohost has an elaborate filtering and trigger warning system (moreso than tumblr), and you can disable adult content for your entire account or for individual tags. I actually don't engage with the adult content at all on there. Visual CSEM (both real and fictional) is specifically forbidden (although frankly I think the guidelines could be stricter wrt written content. Still, does seem to handle this better than AO3 does, going as far to say that written content about real minors is forbidden.)

How are minors protected?

The minimum age to join cohost is 16, and requires proof of parental permission to join. Users who are under 18 are automatically age-gated and cannot view adult content.

If cohost isn't on the app store, how is it used?

You can, of course, use cohost on a computer, but it is designed with mobile in mind. Opening the website on any IOS browser, clicking "share", and then "add to home screen" will install an app for you to use. The same can be done on an android. There is a guide here.

How does cohost work?

First, you create an account. Then you wait for approximately two days (read: weekdays) for the account to be activated. This is done to prevent spam bots. In the meantime, edit your profile. List some interests, your pronouns, your other social media links. Give yourself an icon. Note: icon and banner file sizes are small. You may need to shrink and compress images.

After the two days are up, make your first post! Write a basic introduction (with what you feel comfortable you feel sharing) and list some interests you like, maybe some hobbies, media, etc. And then tag this post with "#welcome to cohost". This will let existing members know that someone new has joined, and they may initiate conversation and/or follow you.

Next, go to the search and type in "The Cohost Global Feed" and click on the tag. Bookmark this tag. This is essentially one giant community space where you can find random users. (There is currently some discourse on the website as to whether this tag existing is a "bad thing" or not because "cohost isn't supposed to have a global tag". Just ignore that lol). Next, go back to search and type in things you like. TV shows, maybe. Video games. Music. Anything. See if people have posted in the tags. Follow them. Comment on their stuff. Click "like" to bookmark the post if you want to.

Most crucially, make sure that you bookmark the actual tag so you can look in that tag again later without having to manually type it each and every time. Also, you get a feed called "bookmarked tags" which allows you to scroll through all of them at once, which replaces the "for you" feature other websites have.

You can "share" a post (called "rebug" in user slang) which serves the same purpose as a reblog on tumblr. In a rebug, you can add your own tags or comment in the body of the post. Cohost users do not talk in tags as much as tumblr users - they tend to prefer to speak in the body of a rebug, or in the comment section (replies). At this time, you cannot view all reblogs. But you can view all comments in the comment section. Any post that is rebugged will preserve the tags of the OP, with any additional tags added being attributed to you. Rebugs are named after the website mascot Eggbug, a purple bee-like insect.

Posts are called "chosts" - and shitposting is called "shitchosting." Two examples of global shitposting tags are "#css crimes" - which is when a person does goofy things with the HTML/CSS editor to make colorful text, fake chat windows, and such - and "#shitchosting" which is a general shitposting tag. I've also seen people use tags like "#random".

If a post makes you laugh, check out the OP's profile. See if they post frequently, and if you have any common interests. If you realize you want to block or mute someone instead, you can.

You can send asks just like on tumblr, but your inbox must be manually opened first. So remember to do that.

How do I look at my own blog?

This is one of my gripes about the UI. You would think, intuitively, you would click here (at the top of the screen). But you would be wrong!

It is ACTUALLY under the sidebar menu, called "Profile." And I'm not the only one to to complain about this. (To get back to your dashboard, by the way, you click on the cohost logo.)

Are there sideblogs?

Yes! Each sidepage (sideblog) has its OWN set of likes AND followed pages (blogs). This allows you to easily switch between multiple sets of dashboards. A lot of users use this to have a SFW dashboard and an adult content dashboard. But it works like tumblr, too. You can have a side page/dashboard for whatever you'd like. Maybe one of your pages is for programming. Maybe another is for photography. You switch between your pages by clicking the arrow next to your icon/username at the top of the screen. ("Ohhhhh.... THAT'S what that's for.")

What's the userbase on there like?

Mostly programmers. Trans people. Furry artists. Plural systems. Furry trans plural programmers. Certainly a lot of shitposters. The website is trans-run and, as such, has zero tolerance for TERFs. Everyone seems pretty friendly from what I can tell. And there's very much a culture of "follow someone randomly based on their vibes" that doesn't happen as much on tumblr. Tumblr is more like "I really like this TV show, I'm going to follow 40 blogs about just this interest." Because the cohost community is so much smaller, there is a lot less content overall, especially fandom content. You can't follow 40 fandom pages because your fandom tag has a total of 3 posts, all made by one person approximately a year ago (well. for me anyway).

Cohost, then, actually has much more in common with real-life socialization. You seek out people with interests that may be very different from your own, and to find a common interest is very exciting! Unlike tumblr, you are encouraged to tag as much as possible. This allows your posts to be seen, to find common interests. And, of course, don't forget to look in "#Welcome To Cohost" too! You may find some new friends there.

What file formats can I post in?

Currently, I am aware of basic image formats working (like jpeg, png) animated gifs, and mp3s. You currently cannot upload videos to cohost. I believe the reason is not related to server costs, but rather as a way to curb the uploading of copyrighted content.

How does cohost make money?

There are no ads, and yet, as far as I am aware, cohost is operating comfortably. There is, however, an entirely optional "cohost plus" that is $5 USD a month. Currently, there are a few perks, but not enough to convince me.

What if I think something about cohost should change?

Cohost has a forum where users can submit ideas for features and other users can discuss/upvote those ideas.

Here is a list of posts made for newcomers to read:

#long post #cohost #tumblr migration #tumblr alternative

[foolishlovers]

SOCIAL MEDIA AUs: Below you'll find a list of Good Omens fics that contain elements of social media such as Instagram, Youtube & Co.

You can request more fic recs here.

twitter cryptids by doctormissy (T, 36k)

Crowley's latest brilliant idea involves ranting about his undying love tiny crush on Aziraphale on Twitter instead of actually dealing with his feelings now that the world didn't end. Because he will never find out, right? Right?

Press L in the Chat (for Love) by Djapchan, Phoenix_Soar (E, 29k)

Bickering fan-content creators Aziraphale and Crowley only have three things in common — they are both avid fans of a new revolutionary TV series about pirates, they are popular for their fantastic fanfiction and fanart… and they are members of the same discord server. Neither of them likes the other, but across the chaotic virtual world of a discord chatroom, who knows what can happen when these two unlikely fans are paired up for an exciting collaboration? Us. We know ;) Discord Server AU — a collaboration between Phoenix_Soar (fic) and Djapchan (multivoice podfic organization & editing) for Pod-Together 2022

Angelic Whispers by AppleSeeds (T, 20k)

Crowley runs a very popular ASMR YouTube channel, but is considering applying for a job at a real life ASMR spa. He books an appointment as a client to try out the experience for himself, but becomes completely flustered when he meets the ridiculously gorgeous ASMR therapist, Aziraphale, who will be spending the next hour giving him unrelenting personal attention.

No Picture Can Express by nutmeag83 (T, 12k)

Ezra Fell prefers books (and discretely watching the lovely florist down the street) to social media, but takes up the hobby at Madame Tracy's urging. Anthony Crowley has been pining after his neighbor for ages, happy to keep his distance until Ezra asks him to tutor him in using Instagram. They find they have more in common than just having shops on the same block in Soho.

your smile speaks books to me by laiqualaurelote (T, 5k)

Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.

it's a new craze by attheborder (T, 5k)

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.   *** Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast. But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

You've Got Kudos by curtaincall (M, 4k)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction. Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other. (A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

London Book Shop Recommendations? by nothankyoudear (G, 3k)

A.Z. Fell and Co. is recommended as a local London bookshop on a Reddit post. Chaos ensues when someone actually takes the recommendation and goes there, only to find that: 1. They don't get to buy books 2. The gentle bookshop owner apparently owns a giant python And 3. The bookshop owner is 100% in love with his best friend with the sunglasses OR Ineffable Husbands told through Reddit posts.

Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils by MostWeakHamlets (G, 3k)

Aziraphale has a cooking show on the internet. It started out with three viewers, but now he's known as the happy grandfather that blew up overnight. Crowley occasionally makes cameos, has dedicated his garden to giving Aziraphale fresh herbs and vegetables, and struggles with living after the apocalypse. _ “Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping. Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon. Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to. It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse.

Crowley Invented Youtube Recommended (Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils remix) by flibbertygigget (T, 1.9k)

After Aziraphale's video on crêpes makes it into Youtube recommendations through a little demonic intervention, he quickly goes viral. Cue college students just trying to make it work, a bunch of young queers who see A.Z. Fell and his husband Anthony as "goals," and quite a few comments from one Newton Pulsifer.

Get Connected by AgentStannerShipper (G, 1k)

Crowley signs Aziraphale up for social media. Even if it's a slightly outdated one.

#reblogs appreciated <3 and come talk to me if you've read one of these!! #good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens fic #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #social media au #foolish recs #go fic masterpost

[0sincerelyella]

Can you do a Josh Allen one shot where you are comforting him after losing a game? Possibly with cuddling and smut 😊 thank you!

Wins and loses -Josh Allen

Summary: Josh can take losses if big games a little harsher than other people, taking it personally, and beat himself up way more than the others. the only way he gets out of that headspace is y/n

Notes: UGH IVE BEEN WAITING TO WRITE FOR JOSH ALLEN he so is my second favorite NFL quarterback. we can ALL agree that josh allen is, pardon me, a giant cry baby during games, from ACTUAL fits, to yelling at his teammates, which doesn’t make me love him any less it just makes this plot so much easier to write so thank you for the personality trait josh. i

hope you love it!

i’m writing y/n as a bengals fan (from a bengals fans perspective maybe i’m bias but it’s to create more drammmmaaa)

i also may do a part two or make a josh allen series bc i had so much fun writing this, would anyone read it?

the score of the game was very conflicting to y/n. It was the play off game before the AFC championship, and unfortunately for y/ns love life and fortunately for y/ns sports influencer life the bengals had just beat the bills and are going to the AFC championship.

Y/n, growing up in cincinnati, was on the social media team for the cincinnati bengals. she grew up in ohio, and moved to wyoming for college in 2014 where she met her long term boyfriend when he transferred in 2015. in 2017 the two of them graduated and y/n traveled around the country for her boyfriends job until 2020.

in 2020 she got an offer to work on the bengals social media team, and she couldn’t turn the offer down. so she moved away from her boyfriend, josh allen, who lived in buffalo and was the quarterback for the buffalo bills, and she moved to cincinnati.

days like this made the relationship hard to maintain. she hadn’t seen josh since last may towards the end of off season when he had visited her. she texted him every day and called him every night, even showing up at his games all the way across the country to support him, but never being able to see him due to the teams tight rules.

today was especially hard. Today was the AFC divisional round leading up to the Championship game. The bills were playing against the bengals in cincinnati, the first game against the teams since the Damar Hamlin incident.

The bills had just lost, and like every bengals win, y/n walked onto the field, this time not only to congratulate her team, but also to chase after her extra emotional other half.

since they lost, their season is over and josh is going to stay with y/n for awhile. it’s all bittersweet.

y/n ran across the field. throwing mindless congratulations towards the teammates who are playing kansas city next week. She chased after josh who had already buried himself into the locker room. He took these loses. especially in the playoffs. feeling like, what the internet calls, “the bills curse” is all his fault.

y/n say down outside the locker room and waited. players passed her going in and out. she waved hello and goodbye to bills players as they retreated to their hotel before they flew back to buffalo tomorrow.

stefon diggs stopped as he left the locker room, sitting next to y/n. “he’s worse than usual” he said, leaning his head back on the wall. “do you know why?” he sighed. “i think it’s cause you were watching”

“i watch all his games stef.” y/n knew the bills very well. though she barely ever saw them, she texted them checking on josh often. she and stefon have grown to be good friends.

“yeah but i think this has something to do with your job, i think it’s mixed with jealousy” y/n nodded, sighing as the coach walked out of the room.

“no one else but josh. go ahead” coach said, causing y/n to practically fly out of the seat. she ran into the locker room in search for josh.

“joshy” she called out. he was sitting in a chair, in the middle of the room. it was empty, the only thing in the room is josh’s jersey he disposed of in the middle of the floor.

he sat in a chair, his head in his hands. y/n could tell from his red knuckles he had been punching the punching bag that hang in the corner of the locker room. she knelt infront of him. “hey joshy?” she placed her hand on top of his and waited for him to look at her. Josh moved his hands, and rested them on his knees. “y/n” he said, he’d been crying.

“oh josh,” she said, hurting for her boy. “it isn’t your fault” she said, gripping the hand on his knee. “y/n you don’t get it.” he tilted his head back. “no i don’t, i don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’ve done the wrong thing in such an important situation” she said, hinting to the decision between her job and her relationship

“y/n you know that’s not what i meant”

“i know i’m sorry, but really joshy. it isn’t your fault. it takes a whole team, and sometimes the other team just had an advantage” josh scoffed

“you have to say that, it’s your job. your team, the most important thing to you”

y/n moved her hand, placing it on his cheek, his hand moved to hold onto hers in fear of if he let go he’d lose her like he lost this game

“Josh. you know i couldn’t turn this down. it’s close to my sister and her kids, i grew up here. she said, watching tears well up in his eyes. “nothing is more important to me than you, but that doesn’t mean that other things arnt important to me” he nodded.

“but i’m sat there, infront of hundreds of thousands to millions of people who are saying it’s their year and i can’t make it. i can never make it” her heart broke as his desperate tone.

“babe, you need to practice staying cool”

“did joe teach you that?”

“joshua.” she said, huffing at his accusations “do you watch him play josh? you are just as good if not better than him” he watched her intently as she tried to make him feel better

“the only difference between you and joe, is your temper.” she stood up, reaching her arms out. “come here give me a hug” he smiled, stand in front of her, pulling her swiftly into a hug. “i’m sorry i snapped at you beautiful” he swayed them back and forth. “i just get so worked up and i don’t know how to control it, but never should i take it out on you” he kissed her forehead as she curled into his chest.

he hugged her close. “i love you beautiful” he said, smiling happily. “here stand on the chair let’s go to the car” he said, standing in-front of the chair, letting her jump onto his back.

he walked to her car, sitting her down, opening the passenger seat to let her sit while he drove her home.

the drive home was peaceful, he held her hand, resting it on the automatic stick in front of the consul. When the two arrived to y/ns apartment, the two of them changed, y/n into one of josh’s tshirts that she kept from before she moved, and josh in a pair of sweatpants.

the two turned on a movie and layed on the couch. josh held y/n on his chest, he played with her hair as he pretending to watch the movie that played. “you know princess, if you were on the field with me all the time i would’ve won the super bowl already” he laughed, hoping she’d laugh at his joke. instead of laughing, as he waited for a response all he got was heavy breathing. “oh come on, that was the most hilarious joke i’ve ever made and your sleeping” he whispered, tucking the blanket around only her as he skillfully snaked out from under her.

with perfect ease he picked her up and walked her to her room. after tucking her in, he got into her next to her and cuddled up next to her. he kissed her cheek, “i love you princess” he whispered and held her close. he yawned, closing his eyes and finally getting a good nights sleep.

#josh allen #bills mafia #buffalo #buffalo bills #nfl fluff #nfl football #nfl fic #nfl imagine #nflying #nfl players

[somethingclevermahogony]

WIP Questionnaire

I was tagged by @elsie-writes and @illarian-rambling so I am responding to both of you here!

Unfortunately I have a ton of deadlines coming up so I might be posting a bit sparsely for a few days. But I would still love it if y'all continued to send asks and tag games so I have some things to respond to when I get back (on top of the things I already have to respond to!) Rules: Answer as many (or as few) questions as you'd like!

The Testaments of the Green Sea

Questions:

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

My MC, Narul, I believe was the first concrete part of my world that I created. He started out as this sort of vague character, too big and strong for the world around him, struggling with understanding himself and his place in a world that is so divorced from what it is to be someone like him. The awkward gentle giant is a trope that I just happen to really enjoy. From there I started making a world for him to live in, for a while he lived in the Kingdom of Chisheytal, which later became the City-States of Kishetal, and for a little while I played with the idea that the world of Kobani was actually set in the post-apocalyptic aftermath of a superhero world, and that Narul was in some way related to these ancient superheroes. However as the character and the world progressed, that aspect eventually went away. As far as the world itself goes, Kishetal was definitely the first place to get fleshed out and made into a proper setting.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Frankly I have no clue. Something acoustic maybe? Something relatively chill. For all the blood and destruction in the story, a lot of it is just about the beauty of the landscape. I think it would have to be something original. But if I had to pick, and this might be a bit of a cheat, all I can think of is the song "The Greatest Adventure" from The Rankin/Bass "Hobbit". I think the themes of Adventure, but also finding purpose in the present and taking chances in your life and the people you love is something that is really central to Narul as a character. When I think of the song, I think of a number of characters like Istek, Penetinos, and The Stranger singing it for Narul and Ninma, sort of as a way to encourage them, to push them forward.

3. Who are your favorite characters you’ve made? Why?

First and foremost of course is Narul. As a bigger, not necessarily conventionally attractive guy who used to (and to some extent still) struggled with socialization and my own sexuality, I feel like I've written a lot of myself into him as a character. Narul is more expressive than me, particularly when it comes to things like grief and frustration, and so I enjoy using him as a way of addressing some of those issues from sort of another medium. Unfortunately I've made the poor fella an anxious wreck.

Istek is the polar opposite to Narul. He is free and happy, and is able to grapple with and fully embrace powerful emotions in a way that I wish I could. His grasp on life and purpose and love, are things that I wish I could emulate. His energy is a lot of fun to write whether as the daring sea captain or as the forgetful old man.

Ninma is fun, just because writing a little bratty child character is a lot of fun. She has next to no filter, and that's just fun to translate into the story.

Zatar and the Deep Sun are up there just because villains are fun to write about. Lots of violence and angst.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fanbase for your story?

I'm not entirely sure! I hope there would be overlap with the fan bases for other epic fantasy series, LOTR, Wheel of Time, Etc etc. In some ways I can see a little bit of overlap with Percy Jackson fans if only because of the shared connection/inspiration from ancient mythology. Aside from that I'm not entirely sure, to be honest I'm not all that active in a lot of fan bases so it's hard to say for sure.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Editing! I make constant typos and I brain dump. Editing is such a slow and boring process and one that is made even worse by the fact that I am currently working on getting a Masters Degree and so much of my time is dedicated to papers and research.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

There are some, there are a good deal of animals that are unique to my setting. However I wouldn't say that animals are necessarily important to the plot, at least not in the first book. You do see horned-rabbits, Flesh-eating Deer, sea-serpents, birds, livestock, etc etc. There are no pets or anything like that. I don't count spirits with animalistic forms.

7. How do your characters get around?

Walking, boats, and horses. Nothing all that exciting.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I am in the process of editing my second draft for book one and I have started on book two. Right now I'm not doing much of anything, finals season doesn't particularly allow for a lot of heavy writing/editing.

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

I think worldbuilding will certainly be a big part of what draws people in, but I also hope that people will  enjoy the found-family aspect and will be really drawn in by all of the side characters that interact with Narul and Ninma.

And if that fails, there is lots of blood, violence, monsters, adventuring, magic, and queer romance.

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Who are your favorite characters you’ve made? Why?

What other pieces of media do you think would share a fanbase for your story?

What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

How do your characters get around?

What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Tagging @scribble-dee-vee , @patienceofstone , @americanfemcel , @hallowedfury , and @patternwelded-quill as well as any one else that is interested!

#writeblr #writing #wip #creative writing #fantasy writing #testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy #queer fantasy

[raquellemonsta]

kiss me more (bokuto x reader)

previous || next

chapter 7: gossip

Usually, when you woke up in the morning and checked your phone, you'd only have a few notifications from random apps and maybe a friend. You hadn't been expecting what you woke up to this morning, to say the least. Friends were sending you news sites and posts all about the same person: you. You read through some of the headlines:

"MSBY star Bokuto Koutaro seen leaving shop with mystery woman"

"Who is Bokuto's new girlfriend? (Pictures and more)"

There were even some of his fans on Twitter dragging you for basically no reason other than the fact you were seen with their sports crush. While some were nice (calling you cute or saying you looked good together), others were saying things like "the girl in those pictures with Bo is soo average" and "she's lowk ugly... he can do better".

Those pissed you off, but you knew better than to keep reading tweets. You could get lost in it for hours and that was when you weren't the one they were talking about. It probably wasn't good for your mental health (in fact, it definitely wasn't). Also, seeing the pictures kind of freaked you out. It was like having a stalker even though it was just paparazzi offshoots that were doing it for their job. It was still unsettling to see the two of you walking out of Onigiri Miya, and even entering your apartment building. What if people started showing up at your building in the hopes of meeting Bokuto? Or worse, what if they waited outside of your apartment for you to question you or more. You shut your phone off and went into your bathroom. You had to admit, it was kind of surreal seeing yourself on social media in the context of people who don't even know you. You pumped some moisturizer onto your hands and spread it across your face. You took longer than necessary in an effort to lower your heartrate and ease your mind. After you were calmed down, you went back out to your room and picked up your phone again. This time, you noticed a text from Yachi.

Yachi 💫

hey can you tell me why everytime i open social media i see you?

(y/n)

I DONT KNOW it's not my fault i swear idek what's happening

Yachi💫

well it looks to me like you've made a lot of bokuto stans really mad lol 😜

(y/n)

😔

You let out a sigh, tossing your phone on your bed and then falling back onto it yourself. It was just your luck to have something like this happen. You barely even had time to savor your date with Bokuto before the internet found out and made it their major topic of the day. The whole situation was honestly one big headache. You weren't even officially dating, yet here all of these people were commenting on your relationship that even you weren't entirely sure about.

You couldn't help but imagine how people would react if you two actually became official. Would he announce it? Would they just get used to seeing the two of you together? Or would they inevitably hate you for taking up their volleyball god's attention and ruining their chances of getting with him? You weren't sure and in the present you didn't care.

Instead of focusing on that, you decided to actually do your job and opened your laptop. The advertisements for the match had been up all around Tokyo, and the big posters that would go up on the side of the arena they would play at should be coming in soon. The company paid people to hang them up, since they were giant and it was far out of your skillset.

The process of making them had been really fun. The team got to have a photoshoot with plenty of action shots (you definitely didn't ask the photographer for a print of Bokutos). From there, you had just designed some fun slogans to slap onto them, along with labeling the players. While they were attracting a lot of attention to the match, you had been informed that they were still looking to get more sales for tickets and merchandise.

This whole social media thing this morning had effectively distracted you from being able to do your job or come up with strategies to get more attention on the match.

Then, you had a brilliant idea. What if you used this whole situation to your advantage? You could use the buzz around you and Bokuto as a way to get more spectators for the MSBY vs Adlers match, both in person and watching it on tv.

You shot a quick email to your company's social media marketing sector and asked them to put out posts wherever they could essentially saying the same things. It wasn't long before you got an email back, confirming that the posts would be out soon. Not long after, you got a twitter notification for your company's 'news' account:

"Will Bokuto's mystery woman be at the MSBY vs Schweiden match? Find out here", along with a link to both tickets to watch in-person as well as information for where to watch it.

You grinned widely and even laughed at describing yourself as a 'mystery woman', but you had an idea and went with it. Then, you thought for a moment and wondered if Bokuto had any idea about everything that had been going on. You weren't sure if he seemed like a big social media, though for all you knew he could be crazy for it.

There was a text from him you hadn't noticed before, from around 20 minutes ago. You had probably been too busy emailing your work.

Koutaro  ⭐

Hey hey hey how has your morning been?

read 11:26am

It put a smile on your face to know that he was thinking of you, but you were also confused. Did he have no idea about what people were saying? Maybe he didn't have friends like yours that spammed you with posts about yourself.

(y/n)

i've been okay. it was kinda weird seeing people posting about me everywhere but other than that

You didn't expect him to respond so quickly, especially when it had taken you so long to text back, however the three dots popped up only seconds after your text. You waited somewhat intently to see what he had to say.

Koutaro ⭐

Are people posting about you? What did you do??😲 

It took everything in you to not literally laugh out loud. Again, with the grown man using emojis (which was extremely unserious but in a cute way), but also because it seemed he really had no idea about any of it. You sent him a few of the links your friends had sent you and explained it to him, before your phone started ringing and you saw his contact again. You quickly picked it up, but had to pull it away from your ears due to how loud he was.

"I'M SO SORRY, THIS IS ALL MY FAULT!" he yelled, "I HAVE CRAZY FANS!" he yelled. When your ears stopped ringing, you responded back.

"I can tell" you encouraged him to lower his volume. You shook your head at his absurdity. Two months ago, you would've never been able to guess this would be your reality. You decided to tell him how you had used it to your advantage, and how more people would be attending the game to support MSBY.

"You're so smart (y/n), I don't get how you do it". You felt a fluttering feeling in your chest before you got a hold of yourself again. He didn't give himself enough credit. While Bokuto seemed airheaded at some points, he was actually very emotionally intelligent and made up for lack of book smarts with his people skills.

"It's my job" you said and smiled, even though he couldn't see it. It was nice to talk to him, even though it had only been half a day since you last heard his voice.

"Thank you for last night again" you spoke, much quieter before. On the other side of the line, Bokuto smiled at the thought.

"Anything for you" he responded. You two exchanged a few more words before deciding to hang up so you could finalize one of your projects. Your phone buzzed one more time, and you checked it before putting it on do not disturb. You ever-present smile became even wider when you read it.

Koutaro ⭐

Come see me after the game on Saturday 😊

You were definitely ready for the match this weekend.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto #hq yachi #msby

[l-sincline]

Girlish Whimsy Chapter 12

AO3 Link

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AO3 tags: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, Ootori Kyouya/Original Female Character(s), Ootori Kyouya, Suoh Tamaki, Original Characters, Original Female Characters, Morinozuka Takashi, Haninozuka Mitsukuni, Fujioka Haruhi, Hitachiin Hikaru, Hitachiin Kaoru, Slow Burn, Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, smart people that arent smart about romance, Oblivious, Battle of Wits, Ouran High is one giant social chess game

Asuka has her eyes on the prize as soon as she steps foot on Ouran High School grounds. Her goal? Impress her father enough to convince him to let her remain as heir to the company instead of handing the title down to her younger brother. She knows going to school at Ouran will be one big chess game, especially coming in late at her second year- but she’s up for any challenge.

Asuka finds herself intrigued by the Host club and the inner workings of it. More than that, she sees untapped opportunities to grow her resume. Now all she needs is a partner on the inside who’s equally as motivated, and he was easier to find than she thought.

The overnight transformation that had taken place was quite astounding, actually. Asuka couldn’t help but be minutely impressed. 

As if she hadn’t slept at all, Renge had arrived the next day and given all the hosts a complete overhaul on their personalities. Though Asuka couldn’t help but sense something fishy about the whole thing— she had a thought on what to look up, but for now she was trapped under Renge’s fiery gaze as the rest of the boys ‘rehearsed’ around the room. 

“It needs to be big! A statement piece!” Renge declared. 

“Hmmm…” Asuka bit her bottom lip, “Usually the engagement ring is the statement piece if any…”

“The bride is always right.” Renge shot back. 

Asuka glanced up, she could now admit that phrase wasn’t as fun when it was being used against her. She sighed and tapped her pen on her notebook a few times before making a few new scribbles. 

“Okay, so, big diamond. Gold band. You could do more small diamonds around the big diamonds or…”

“Or?” Renge seemed to get excited. 

“Some rubies for a pop of color?” Asuka suggested as she turned the notebook around to face Renge. Important note, this was not her usual notebook. No, she’d decided to leave that one at home for however long Renge was here reigning terror. 

Renge squealed in delight.

“Oh perfect! It reminds me of that time I gave him a scarf! It was such a cold day-“

Renge’s tangent began to fall on deaf ears. Asuka glanced across the room, Tamaki seemed to be really getting into it. The twins as well, seemed that they were usually up for anything. Haninozuka and Morinozuka seemed reasonably uncomfortable with whatever lines they were rehearsing, while Fujioka stood idly by Kyouya— who had clearly given up on all of this and instead turned to his own notebook. 

“Alright, well!” Asuka exclaimed suddenly, cutting Renge off, “I really ought to get to ordering the materials for these rings since you want them expedited. You know how it is.” She shot Renge one of her very own fake smiles as she took back her notebook and shut it. 

“Of course!” At the sound of the rings being made, Renge seemed to lose any anger she might’ve had over being cut off, “I’ll give you a free copy of our movie as a token of my thanks for getting everything done so fast!”

“Gee! Thanks!” Asuka stood, “Goodbye now!” 

With that, she once again rushed towards the door. 

-

“What the hell was it called…” Asuka’s finger tapped the table relentlessly. 

“Can you give me some details?” Mayu asked from next to her. 

They sat in Ouran’s computer lab. It was a recent addition, she’d found out after finding it but not seeing it on a map of the school. But it made sense, Ouran was meant to have all the best facilities for its students— so of course it would have some brand new computers too. Even if students seldom came down here. 

“Uhg… it was something really otaku-ish. Like…Yuki Doki?” 

“Uki Doki Memorial?” 

Asuka quickly typed the words into the search bar and sure enough, a dating sim popped up. Though the look of the characters only questionably looked like the rest of the guys, Kyouya definitely looked quite recognizably like one of the dateable characters. 

“Huh. If she already had a few screws loose it’s no wonder she got confused.” Asuka thought aloud to herself before snapping over to look at Mayu, “Wait. How did you know that?” 

Mayu looked sheepish for a moment, “I like to play dating sims, okay? They’re just nice sometimes. Maybe you should try one.” 

“Like this one?” Asuka asked incredulously. 

“God no.” Mayu laughed, “Uki Doki Memorial is awful. The character archetypes are so bland and yet so over the top at the same time. You feel like you’re talking to cardboard half the time.”

Asuka snorted and then looked back to the computer, adding the word ‘plot’ after her initial search of Uki Doki Memorial. She quickly found a forum that offered a decently plot summary and hmm’d to herself, leaning back in her chair. 

“It’s just like I thought.” She whipped out her phone. 

“What?” 

Asuka Kaneko

Renge is making you guys reenact Uki Doki Memorial’s plot line, btw. Ouran Host Club copyright scandal?? :-( 

She added the last part facetiously, hoping that it might buy even an exhale from Kyouya— but who knew. With how wacky Renge was, it very well could become an issue. 

“Oh my god- what!? Spill! Who are you texting about Uki Doki Memorial!?” Mayu suddenly leaned over and grabbed her phone. 

“Hey!” 

“From Kyouya Ootori: Figures. Thanks. I’ve got it under control. Meet me at the school at noon on Saturday.” Mayu gasped incredulously, holding Asuka’s phone close to her chest as she reached out to try and swipe it from her, “Asuka! Secret rendezvous?!” 

“It’s not like that!” Asuka shot back, making another attempt at her phone. 

“You’re meeting up with Kyouya Ootori in secret on a weekend after having many strange encounters that you mysteriously won’t tell me about and you want me to believe it’s ‘not like that’” Mayu put up air quotes, at which point Asuka was able to snatch her phone back. 

“It’s not.” Asuka reasserted, “We’re working together on something.”

“What did you even text him about before? You just wanted to tell him he looked like this guy?” Mayu jabbed a finger at the screen that still displayed Uki Doki Memorial, “Oh my god! Did you want to play Uki Doki Memorial because Kyouya looks like him!?”

“No! Mayu!” Asuka clacked her phone shut and tossed it onto the table, grabbing her friend’s arm and tugging her closer, “No. No. No. One million times no.”

Mayu looked at her suspiciously. Asuka sighed and let go, leaning back in her chair again. 

“You remember the kind of crazy girl that showed up at the end of the Host Club session yesterday?” Asuka asked. 

“Yeah.” Mayu responded, wide eyed in wonder as her friend seemed to finally share some information with her. 

“Well, she came in and pretty loudly declared that Kyouya was her long lost love and that they were engaged.” Mayu gasped appropriately, “But she let it slip that she was obsessed with this dating sim and this guy-“ now it was her turn to jab a finger at the screen, “-so we figured she deluded herself into thinking she was engaged to Kyouya.” 

“Okay…” Mayu trailed off, “But why-“

“I’m not even done yet.” Asuka cut her off, “I got in trouble with her because I laughed when she called Kyouya her Prince Charming, so I got sucked into their weird after club meeting by her. Just when I’m about to leave, she suddenly declares that she knows I’m a Kaneko and I’m now in charge of making her and Kyouya’s wedding rings.”

Mayu giggles, but stays silent. 

“Today I go in to, I don’t know, pretend I’m designing their wedding rings— and she’s got all of them running lines. She’s like, completely overhauled the club, given them all new personalities and whatever. While I was working with her, I realized that there was no way she came up with all this overnight and managed to come in with that much energy this morning. So I decided to look up the Uki Doki Memorial plot and…” Asuka ends her tale by gesturing to the screen once more. 

“She’s using the Host Club to recreate Uki Doki Memorial?” Mayu concludes in amazement, “Wow. She does sound nuts.” 

“I know.” Asuka nods confidently. 

“So you were texting Kyouya to tell him what you found out?”

“Precisely.”

Mayu sits back and thinks for a moment. 

“But why do you care?” 

“What?” 

“I mean all you had to do was leave. You could’ve even said no to Renge asking you to design the rings. You’re just a customer, it’s none of your business.” 

Asuka sighs. Mayu can be mighty observant, sometimes she forgets that. And now wasn’t really the appropriate point to tell her she’d actually entered a business contract with Kyouya Ootori— she wasn’t sure her friend would be able to keep quiet about that one. 

“Listen. I can’t tell you a lot, but I can tell you that I’m less of a customer and more of uhh… glorified set dressing.” She cringes inside as she uses the phrase again. At least it seemed a fine enough excuse. 

Mayu didn’t laugh like she’d expected. Instead, her friend looked a little sad. 

“What?” Asuka asked, “Is this another ‘I have no girlish whimsy’ thing?” 

“No.” Mayu responds, “I just wish you would tell me things instead of hiding them from me.” 

Ouch. Asuka reached out and grabbed Mayu by the hands. 

“Mayu, I promise you that the only reason I’m not telling you is because I literally can’t.” Mayu looked up at her, “As soon as I can tell you what’s going on, you will be the first to know. I promise.” Asuka let go of her hands and held up a pinky. Mayu scrutinized it. 

“If I’m to accept this pinky promise, I have a few rules.” Mayu responds haughtily. 

Asuka rolls her eyes playfully, “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“Until you tell me what you’re up to, I’m allowed to speculate on what you’re doing allll I want and you can’t get mad at me for it.” Mayu smirks. 

“Seems simple enough.” Asuka shrugs. 

Mayu quickly reaches out with her own pinky and confirms the swear before standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder in record speed. 

“I think you’re actually in an arranged marriage with Kyouya Ootori and you aren’t allowed to tell anyone until you’ve signed the papers!” She exclaims before dashing away to the door of the computer lab. 

“What!?” Asuka cries out, scrambling to log out and grab her own bag and stand, dashing over to try and catch up to Mayu. 

Mayu laughs at her and slips out the door, leaving Asuka to chase after her— doing their best not to slip on the tile floors. 

#sinclines writing #girlish whimsy #ohshc #ouran high school host club #oc x canon #ohshc oc #kyoya ootori #kyouya ootori #ohshc fanfic

[mariacallous]

After Elon Musk rolled out a confusing and ever-evolving new verification system on Twitter this week, parody accounts posing as large corporations spread confusion on the site. The most prominent was a fake account for the pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly, which announced that insulin would now be free to customers. Soon the official Lilly account stepped in to refute the news, issuing a statement that apologized for the misunderstanding but avoided, of course, apologizing for how expensive insulin is in the first place. Lilly’s hasty apology is the latest in what Jill Lepore identifies in this week’s issue as a required—and often deeply unsatisfying—ritual of corporate communications in the social-media age. Everyone knows that companies sometimes have to say sorry, but do they ever mean it? And does it really make a difference if they do? “The practice of establishing and enforcing strict requirements for public apology is not a human universal,” Lepore writes. “It happens only here and there, and now and again. You see it in fiercely sectarian times and places—like twenty-first-century social media, or seventeenth-century New England.” You think it’s bad now? Just imagine the Puritans on Twitter.

Whose P.R.-purposed apology was worse? Al Franken’s or Louis C.K.’s? The Equifax C.E.O.’s (for a cybersecurity breach) or Papa John’s (for a racial slur)? Awkwafina’s (for cultural appropriation) or Lena Dunham’s (for Lord knows what)? At SorryWatch.com and @SorryWatch, Susan McCarthy and Marjorie Ingall have been judging the adequacy of apologies and welcoming “suggestions for shaming” since 2012. “There are a lot of awful apologies out there,” the SorryWatchers write. “Apologies that make things worse, not better. Apologies that miss the point. Apologies that are really self-defense dressed up as an apology. Apologies that add insult to injury. Apologies that are worse than the original offense. Apologies so bad people should apologize for them.” McCarthy and Ingall are releasing a new book next year, “Sorry, Sorry, Sorry: The Case for Good Apologies.” Meanwhile, on their Web site they’ve got rules—“Six steps to a good apology”—and categories for classifying defective ones: “Be VEEERY CAAAREFUL if you want to provide explanation; don’t let it shade into excuse.” Heaven forfend.

“Least said, soonest mended” is advice from another century, candle and quill, ox and cart. This past March, the day after Will Smith smacked Chris Rock at the Oscars and failed to apologize to him during his acceptance speech, he apologized on his Instagram account: “I was out of line and I was wrong.” Twitter blew its top! “This is bullshit,” one guy tweeted. “Any normal person is in jail.” Plainly, the Instapology was insufficient. In July, Smith apologized again, in a nearly six-minute video in which he looked as harried and trapped as Steve Carell in “The Patient,” a prisoner in a basement rec room. “Disappointing people is my central trauma,” Smith said into the camera or, actually, multiple cameras. “I am trying to be remorseful without being ashamed of myself, right?” Twitter blew its top! It was either not enough or, oh, my God, please stop. One online viewer sympathized: “Literally me when my mom forces me to apologize to my siblings.” As for Chris Rock, he reportedly said, onstage, “Fuck your hostage video.” By then, Twitter was blowing its top about something else.

It’s easy to blow your top, God knows. If you’re being treated like crap, and nothing you’ve tried has put a stop to it, or if the former President of the United States keeps on saying horrible, wretched things, and you notice that some rich nitwit is getting slammed on Twitter for doing the same thing that’s been done to you, or for saying what the ex-President just said, it can feel good to watch that nitwit burn. But that feeling won’t last. And when that nitwit apologizes it won’t be enough. And the world will have become just a little bit rottener.

Rating apologies and listing their shortcomings started out as a BuzzFeed kind of thing, and then it pretty quickly became a corporate kind of thing: human resources, leadership institutes, political consulting. In 2013, the Harvard Business Review published an essay on the Power Apology. Knowing how to apologize on Twitter became crucial to brand management. “It’s easy to say sorry, but knowing how to say it effectively on Twitter is an essential skill that both brands and celebrities should learn,” a communications manager advised not long afterward, offering nine lessons “on the art of the Twitter apology.” You could do it well, or you could do it badly. Likely, this could be quantified: you’d see it in the price of your stock, the number of your Twitter followers, or the percentage change in your Netflix viewership. As of 2022, even Forbes rates apologies. It seldom helps your vote count, though: politicians who apologize tend to suffer the consequences, which is why they generally brazen these things out.

It’s a good idea to say you’re sorry when you screw up, and to say it well, and to mean it, and to try to make amends. But are people getting worse at that? Or are celebrity publicists, political advisers, corporate lawyers, higher-ed administrators, and media-relations departments just avoiding lawsuits, clearing profits, heading off student protests, and directing news stories by advising people to (a) demand apologies and (b) make them? “Examples of failed apologies are everywhere,” the psychiatrist Aaron Lazare wrote in “On Apology,” a book published not last week but nearly two decades ago. Distressed at a seeming explosion of cheap, showy, and insincere apologies, Lazare got curious about where they’d all come from, like the day you find ants swarming your kitchen counter and yank open all the cupboards, exasperated. He dated what he called the “apology phenomenon” to the nineteen-nineties, but he struggled to understand what had driven this change. He suspected that it may have been due, in part, to “the increasing power and influence of women in society,” because women apologize a lot, he explained, and like to be apologized to. As far as I know, no one asked him to apologize for that comment. But if he’d made it today he’d be in the soup.

Rituals of atonement and forgiveness lie at the heart of most religions, a testament to the human capacity for grace. On Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, Jews fast and pray and repent. Jesus brought this spirit to Christianity and taught his followers to pray to God to “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” The early Christian church developed what became the Sacrament of Reconciliation: confession, and penance. There are many steps to atonement in Islam, from admitting a wrong to making restitution and asking for God’s forgiveness. Jews, Christians, and Muslims make themselves right with God. Buddhists, who worship no god, make themselves right with other people. Hindus practice Prayaschitta, rituals of absolution. Mainly, it’s the forgiveness and the atonement that matter.

Apology, though, has a different history. You can confess without apologizing and you can apologize without confessing, and this might be because, historically, an apology is a justification—a defense, not a confession. As the philosopher Nick Smith pointed out in “I Was Wrong” (2008), the word “apology,” in English, didn’t suggest a statement of regret until around the sixteenth century, when, in Shakespeare’s “Richard III,” Buckingham begs Richard’s pardon, for interrupting his prayers, and Richard says, “There needs no such apology.” Medieval Christians practiced what the historian Thomas N. Tentler called “a theology of consolation,” consisting of four elements—sorrow, confession, penitence, and absolution—whose purpose was reconciliation with God and with the body of the faithful. In “Forgiveness: An Alternative Account,” Matthew Ichihashi Potts, a professor of Christian morals at Harvard Divinity School, offers what he calls “a modest theological defense of forgiveness.” His argument follows that of the philosopher Martha Nussbaum, who, in “Anger and Forgiveness” (2016), argued that forgiveness isn’t salutary for either party if, in order to give it, you insist on an apology. Potts calls this “the economy of apology.” It’s not better than vengeance, since to demand an apology and to delight in the offender’s grovelling is vengeance by another name. His evidence doesn’t come from Twitter; it comes mainly from novels, including Marilynne Robinson’s “Gilead” and Toni Morrison’s “Beloved.” Forgiveness, for Potts, is not an exchange—forgiveness granted in return for the opportunity to witness a spectacle of abasement and self-loathing—but a promise not to retaliate. Demanding an apology in exchange for forgiveness can never constitute healing, or deliver justice; it is, instead, a pleasure taken by people who delight in witnessing the suffering of those in their power (if only briefly). There is no such thing as a failed apology, then, only an abuse of power, because all forgiveness, Potts writes, “begins and ends in failure”: it does not, and cannot, redeem or undo pain and loss; it can only demand the necessary attention to pain and loss, as a reckoning, as an act of grief. Forgiveness is, therefore, a species of mourning, a form of sorrow.

Within the early Christian West, acts of public supplication—begging pardon—required confession and might require restitution, but not the scripted public apology in the sense the SorryWatchers want. The same distinction can be made within the history of Judaism. In the twelfth century, the Spanish-born Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, known as Maimonides, wrote a commentary on the Torah and the Talmud that included a section on teshuvah, or “repentance,” an extended reflection on the commandment that “the sinner should repent of his sin before God and confess.” But, as the Jewish historian Henry Abramson remarked in a recent study, “The Ways of Repentance,” Maimonides warned against public confession that “can also be an expression of personal arrogance: ‘Look how good I am at doing teshuvah! ’ ” Watch my apology video on YouTube!

In “On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World,” the rabbi Danya Ruttenberg translates Maimonides into a step-by-step guide for our world, for which she provides modern-day examples. The first step is “naming and owning harm” (one of her examples: “I finally understand how my decision to hold a writer’s retreat at a plantation sanitizes the horrors of slavery”); the second is “starting to change.” Step three: restitution. Step four: apology. Step five: making different choices. These are kindhearted ideas, and Ruttenberg’s book is full of hope and counsel about repair through restitution. But her prescriptions also come close to insisting on the suppression of dissent. She says that “starting to change,” for Maimonides, might have involved “tearful supplication,” but that “these days this process of change might also involve therapy, or rehab, or educating oneself rigorously on an issue about which one had been ignorant or held toxic opinions.”

“This book started on Twitter,” Ruttenberg writes, which is something of a tip-off. “Twitter gamifies communication,” the philosopher C. Thi Nguyen has argued; it’s custom-built to do things like score apologies, to drag users into a rating system that has nothing to do with morality. An unforgiving god rules Twitter, where the modern economy of apology runs something like this: If you express what I believe to be a toxic or ignorant opinion, you must apologize according to my rules for apology. If you do, I may forgive you. If you don’t, I will punish you, and damn you unto eternity.

The practice of establishing and enforcing strict requirements for public apology is not a human universal. It happens only here and there, and now and again. You see it in fiercely sectarian times and places—like twenty-first-century social media, or seventeenth-century New England.

Consider a case from October, 1665, when the Massachusetts legislature assembled in Boston to attend to a docket of ordinary affairs, a day in the life of a puritanical theocracy. It set the price of grain: wheat, five shillings a bushel; barley, four shillings sixpence; corn, three shillings. It addressed a petition filed by three Native men, including the Pennacook sachem Wanalancet, regarding an Englishman’s claim to an island on the Merrimack River. It warned one unhappy, estranged couple, Mr. and Mrs. William Tilley, that he must “provide for hir as his wife, & that shee submit hirselfe to him as she ought,” or else he would be fined and she would be imprisoned. In honor of God’s having graced the colony with abundant rain during the summer and mercifully diverted a fleet of Dutch ships from an invasion, the legislature appointed November 8th “to be kept in solemn thanksgiving,” but, because a plague was still raging in London, a sign of God’s wrath, it declared November 22nd “a solem day of humilliation.” And it condemned five men who had dared to practice a heretical religion, Baptism, at which announcement one colonist, Zeckaryah Roads, blurted out “that the Court had not to doe wth matters of religion.” He was detained as a result.

For the things they said—words whispered, grumbles muttered, prayers offered, curses shouted—dissenters, blasphemers, and nonconformists in seventeenth-century New England faced censure, arrest, flogging, the pillory, disenfranchisement, exile, and even execution. Quakers might have their ears cut off. For holding toxic opinions, one blasphemer was sentenced to have the letter B “cutt out of ridd cloth & sowed to her vper garment on her right arme.” Those who wished to avoid or mitigate these consequences might apologize in public. Mostly, apologies followed a script. The Six Steps to a Good Apology! Disappointing People Is My Central Trauma: How to Avoid the Eight Worst Apologies of 1665! Earlier that year, just months before Zeckaryah Roads dared to voice dissent, Major William Hathorne, of Salem—an ancestor of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s—issued a public apology for his own (now lost to history) error: “I freely confesse, that I spake many words rashly, foolishly, & unadvisedly, of wch I am ashamed, & repent me of them, & desire all that tooke offence to forgive me.” That did the trick. You went off script at your peril, as the historian Jane Kamensky demonstrated in her masterly book “Governing the Tongue” (1997). In the sixteen-forties, observers deemed Ann Hibbins’s apology—essentially, for being abrasive, and a woman—“very Leane, & thin, & poore, & sparinge.” It saved her neck, but not for long: in 1656, Hibbins was hanged to death as a witch. Still, there was one other option: after John Farnham refused to apologize for countenancing heresy, and was therefore banished, he said the day he was kicked out of the church “was the best day that ever dawned upon him.” I mean, fuck it, there was always Rhode Island.

Lately, online, you can find modern apologies ranked by the same standards once so punctiliously applied by Puritan divines. “I doe now in the presence of god & this reverand assemblage freely acknowledg my evell,” Henry Sewall confessed in a church near Ipswich in 1651, although, as he pointed out, he’d been forced to make that apology “as part of ye sentence” he’d been given by the Ipswich court. He squeaked by with that one, but just barely. Modern SorryWatchers might rate it Garrison Keillorian.

In 1665, for intimating that the government ought not to banish people for being Baptists, or kill them for being Quakers, Zeckaryah Roads did what he had to do, as chronicled in the meeting records, “acknowledging his fault, & declaring he was sorry he had given them any offence, &c.” Easy to say from here, of course, but I wish to hell he hadn’t.

The twenty-first-century culture of public apology has its origins in the best of intentions and the noblest of actions: people seeking collective justice without violence for terrible, unimaginable acts of brutality, monstrous wickedness, crimes against humanity itself. In the aftermath of the Second World War, churches and nation-states began issuing apologies for wartime atrocities and historical injustices. Some of the abiding principles that lie behind this postwar wave of collective apologies also found expression in “restorative justice”—individuals making amends to their victims, sometimes as an alternative to incarceration or other kinds of force and violence. The idea gained influence in the nineteen-seventies, when it intersected with the victims-rights movement, and its particular demands for apology as remedy. And you can easily see why. Prosecutors—for years, decades, centuries—had failed to act on allegations of sexual misconduct, had ignored or suppressed evidence of police brutality and predatory policing; in a thousand ways, the criminal-justice system had failed women and children, had failed the poor and people of color. For some, “restorative justice” held out the prospect of a better path. By the nineteen-nineties, schools and juvenile-justice systems had begun using restorative-justice methods, often requiring, of public-school students, public apologies. Meanwhile, in the United States, church membership was falling from around seventy-five per cent in 1945 to less than fifty per cent by 2020. In many quarters, public acts began taking the place of religious ritual, political ideologies replacing religious faith. The national public apology took on the gravity and solemnity of a secular sacrament: Ronald Reagan apologizing, in 1988, for the imprisonment of more than a hundred thousand Japanese Americans during the Second World War (and providing limited reparations); David Cameron apologizing, in 2010, for Bloody Sunday; or the Prime Ministers of Canada apologizing, in 2008 and 2017, for the practice of taking Indigenous children from their homes and confining them to schools where, maltreated, neglected, and abused, they suffered and died.

Apology came to play a role, too, in therapy, including family therapy, in twelve-step recovery programs, and in H.R. dispute-resolution procedures. Conventions that were established for heads of states and churches making public apologies to entire peoples against whom they had committed atrocities came to be applied to apologies from one individual to another, for everything from violent crime to petty insult. The person became the collective. Eve Ensler’s 2019 book, “The Apology,” in which she imagines the apology her father never offered for sexually abusing her, is dedicated to “every woman still waiting for an apology.” The particular injury became the universal harm. “We all cause harm,” Danya Ruttenberg writes in her book on repentance. “We have all been harmed.”

But the origins of the Twitter apology orgy lie elsewhere, too, and especially in the idea that many kinds of speech can be harm, a conviction central to the brand of feminism founded in the nineteen-nineties by the legal theorist Catharine MacKinnon. (Her book “Only Words” was published in 1993.) In 2004, in “On Apology,” Aaron Lazare tried to figure out when the number of public apologies began to explode. He counted and identified a rise in the number of newspaper articles about apologizing, beginning his analysis in the early nineteen-nineties and identifying a peak in 1997-98. He found this puzzling. But, historically, it makes sense: his chronology nicely lines up with Anita Hill’s testimony at the Clarence Thomas hearings, in 1991, and with the breaking of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, in 1998. Thomas maintained his innocence, and although Clinton went on television later that year and admitted to the relationship, many viewers found his apology inadequate. And neither man seemed sorry, either, except insofar as they both quite plainly felt very, very sorry for themselves.

The refusal of Thomas and Clinton to apologize for the ways in which they had harmed women took place on television. And the whole spectacle, with its scripted expectation of apology and contrition, drew its sensibility from television. In the nineteen-eighties and nineties, the stock soap-opera plotline—betrayal, hurt feelings, and misunderstanding followed by tearful apology, reconciliation, and reunion—became a hallmark of the daytime talk-show circuit. Oprah and Phil Donahue staged churchy apologies in front of studio audiences, choreographed for maximum emotional intensity, and advancing the idea that every possible political, economic, or social injustice, from child abuse to police brutality and employment discrimination, could be addressed by a two-shot, a few closeups, and Kleenex. Donahue mounted an especially perverse sorrywatching spectacle in 1993. The year before, after a jury acquitted four Los Angeles policemen who beat Rodney King and riots broke out in angry, anguished protest, a group of Black men pulled Reginald O. Denny, a white man, out of his truck and beat him nearly to death. Henry Keith Watson, charged with attempted murder, was found not guilty, and was convicted only of misdemeanor assault. After Watson got out of jail, Donahue brought Denny and Watson together in front of an almost entirely white audience for a two-part apology special. “Are you sorry?” Donahue asked Watson, again and again, as the audience grew tense and even tenser. “I apologize for my participation in the injuries you suffered,” Watson said to Denny. Then Watson eyed the audience: “Is everybody happy now?” Everybody was not.

Demanding public apologies on daytime television and deeming those apologies insufficient was an occasional thumb-wrestling match between two seven-year-olds sitting on a green vinyl school-bus seat on the ride to second grade compared with the daily, Roman Colosseum-style slaughtering that takes place online. It’s not that people don’t do and say terrible things for which they ought to atone. They do. Some of those things are crimes. Many are slights. Very many are utterly trivial. A few are almost unspeakably evil. But, on Twitter at its worst, all harm is equal, all apologies are spectacles, and hardly anyone is ever forgiven.

In 2017, at the height of the #MeToo movement, Matt Damon tried to rate harm. “You know, there’s a difference between, you know, patting someone on the butt and rape or child molestation, right?” he said in an interview on ABC News. “They shouldn’t be conflated, right?” At that, Minnie Driver tweeted her ire, and later told the Guardian, “How about: it’s all fucking wrong and it’s all bad, and until you start seeing it under one umbrella it’s not your job to compartmentalise or judge what is worse and what is not.” Damon apologized, and said that he’d learned to “close my mouth.”

In 1993, Phil Donahue seemed to think that, by asking Henry Keith Watson to apologize to Reginald Denny in that studio, he was bravely addressing the problem of racism in America. Twenty years from now, what’s been happening on Twitter will likely look exactly as grotesque and cruel and ineffective as that two-part, syndicated apology special. Will Donald Trump or anyone in his inner circle ever apologize for anything—for tearing toddlers from their parents’ arms, for inciting neo-Nazis, for grift, fraud, sedition? Never. Will responding to the gaffe of the day by demanding a six-step apology usher in an age of justice for all, or an end to iniquity? No. There’s a reason Puritanism did not prevail in America; it tends to backfire. In 2018, during an exchange on Twitter, the television writer Dan Harmon apologized for sexually harassing the writer Megan Ganz, and then made a heartfelt video, elaborating. “We’re living in a good time right now, because we’re not going to get away with it anymore,” he said, referring to sexual misconduct. And I hope that’s true. But very little evidence suggests that calling people out on Twitter, self-righteous indignation followed by cynical apology, is making the world a better place, and much suggests that the opposite is true, that Twitter’s pious mercilessness is generating nothing so much as a new and bitter remorselessness.

“I don’t give a fuck, ’cause Twitter’s not a real place,” Dave Chappelle said last fall, in his Netflix special “The Closer.” In June, on the Amazon Prime series “The Boys,” a made-for-television Captain America-style superhero named Homelander, who is secretly a villain, recited a rehearsed apology on television, only to unsay it later, in an unscripted outburst. “I’m not some weak-kneed fucking crybaby that goes around fucking apologizing all the time,” he said, seething. “I’m done. I am done apologizing.” Around the time the episode appeared, the actor who plays Homelander, Antony Starr, who was found guilty of assault and released on probation, told the Times, unabjectly, “You mess up. You own it. You learn from it.” No “I am listening,” no “I am going to rehab.” None of it. It was as if he got away with going off-script because his character already had. And Homelander won’t be the last to make that “I’m done” speech. “I’m done saying I’m sorry,” Alex Jones yelled in a courtroom in September during a trial to assess the money he’ll be required to pay the parents of very young children who were killed in a mass shooting, a shooting that Jones has for years insisted never happened, because those children, he told his audience, never existed. Jones has been found liable for defamation. Even the hundreds of millions of dollars in damages he was ordered to pay to the families whose despair he worsened, and on whose affliction he feasted, goes nowhere near far enough. And neither does any apology.

Twitter is blowing its top, some very angry people very loudly demanding apologies while other very angry people demand the denunciation of the people who are demanding apologies. Dangerously, but predictably, the split seems to have become partisan, as if to apologize were progressive, to forget conservative. The fracture widens and hardens—fanatic, schismatic, idiotic. But another way of thinking about what a culture of forced, performed remorse has wrought is not, or not only, that it has elevated wrath and loathing but that it has demeaned sorrow, grief, and consolation. No apology can cover that crime, nor mend that loss. ♦

[juniperjane]

On Consuming Media

I’ve been seeing so many posts about people longing for the days when TV show episodes were released once a week, how we used to be able to enjoy a show without the stress of “missing out” on the conversation. You would watch an episode, the next day sitting around with your friends or family completely enraptured by what just happened, discussing everything that happened from the overarching plot to the finest details, throwing back and forth ideas of what will happen in the next week’s episode.

We would have seasons with 30-45 minute episodes, 20+ episodes a season, all rich with story and character development. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like there was less to watch as well. Most likely because we only had three major channels on free-to-air TV that showed a good majority of the popular culture, and it was a battle between them to gain your viewership. But even if times didn’t overlap and you enjoyed multiple shows, it didn’t feel overwhelming. Sure, we had to sit through advertisements which took up a lot of a channel’s viewing time, but there is fun in that little bit of nostalgia too; running for the bathroom or snacks, trying to make it back before the show began again.

And there was excitement for the show. With the pacing being an episode a night or week depending on what you were watching, you had time to be excited for something to come out. Again, this may be just me, but with the posts I’ve been seeing circulating, I figure it’s not. Nowadays, I’m excited for things to come out, but it’s overshadowed by the dread of knowing I will have to binge the series, something I have very little time to do, just so I don’t miss out on the wave of everyone talking about it, before the next new thing comes out.

Before you say, “but Jane, you can watch it at your own pace, you don’t have to keep up with everyone else!”, I know this. But, despite that size of the community, we all love to be a part of something where we can share enjoyment with one another, on most levels of our lives. Even something like sitting down to share a meal, the context of “I made this, not just for myself, but to share, please join me and take part.” We are social creatures and, I feel, especially when it comes to our leisure time, it’s nice to share and inspire others with the things we enjoy.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not judging anyone for binge-watching or reading. I love having something that holds my attention and wanting to read or watch things all the way through in a sitting when I’m able. The excitement is real and it’s fun to be able to talk to people about things in real time. But I feel like, because the way everything is a hustle and a grind, it’s just expected that even our hobbies and entertainment have to all be consumed this way. I remember reading books like Harry Potter, getting through it in one sitting and then screaming with my friends about it who did the same the following day. But there were also books that I took my time with, reading at my own pace and just savouring, enjoying it in little bits. There was time, and breathing room, even with reading a book over the course of one day.

With content coming out so rapidly, and so much at once, it’s so hard to keep up and makes leisure a chore. We’re all responsible for ourselves and what we choose to do with our time and money, but we cannot deny that media and advertising do have a great affect on our choices. Even down to how we consume; audiobooks, e-books, physical. Hardbacks or paperbacks. An aesthetic library that looks wonderful but maybe, deep down a lot of the books I don’t actually want to read, but bought because I wanted to be a part of the community, having people to engage with.

My main point it, I think we miss out on more when things are so fast-paced, than when things were slower. Maybe being bookish isn’t having a giant library where I’m in debt because I need to have every book that’s on trend to keep up and be relevant. Maybe it’s just having your favourites that you read over and over, a few new books thrown in that take your interest. Maybe it’s a mixture of physical books, e-books, audiobooks. Maybe it’s only older books, or only newer books. Maybe the community we need to be invested in is something a little smaller, like book clubs of old. Whatever fits into your lifestyle, not something unrealistic.

#to think on #jane talks #books #tv #consumer culture #there's extended thoughts about booktok/tube and having a following rather than having a book club/group that you sit and discuss books #and other media with #but this is already a long post

[thetiredstuff]

what did amell do? did I miss some drama?

hi anon! oooh you missed alllll the drama lol

yeah so rumors have been swirling around for yearssss that he's an asshole and that by the end of arr*w he and his fellow castmates did not get along. fun fact actually:

this VERY popular meme above is from a picture taken during i think s8 of arrow during oliver's funeral. it was posted by someone who worked on arrow i believe and it said how they loved working with these people. anyway it grew into a veryyyy popular meme and if i remember correctly and i think i do it eventually came out that smell absolutely hateddddddddd this meme cuz he found it disrespectful or something? I'm pretty sure he said something about it online? idk how else i would know about this but yeah lol that's funny. everyone found it especially funny cuz he's not in the pic and it was shared with the caption loved working with these people when all these people hated working with amell (or so the rumors have been going at least)

but as far as I know there isn't actually like definitive proof he was an asshole on set? (but I'm also not part of the arr*w universe fanbase so idk all that much about it) I do know that an actor who returned for s7 and s8 ultimately didn't show up as much and he later revealed he left the show again because he was depressed and couldn't stand working with one cast member (which many have speculated to be amell)

then amell also tried to shut down an animal rescue next to him for being too loud? which is just baffling to me honestly, especially cuz he apparently used to volunteer there?

then there is the story of him like drunkenly berating his wife on an airplane which he got removed for.

he once made a facebook post about allegedly miley cyrus where he said he was dining out with his wife and daughter when mc walked in and he was so repulsed because she is idk like moraly corrupt for young girls or something? that was the gist of it anyway? something like that idk

but as for recently: sag-aftra is striking (an actors union) which he is a part of. because of this strike, actors are not allowed to talk about any past, present or future projects and are also not allowed to promote any of their current projects on say social media.

however, 2 days after the strike was announced, amell broke those rules by talking about his projects at a con. although it was very confusing at the time what actors could and could not say so fans kept it on the down-low.

flash forward to now (2 weeks later) and he's got a show which is starting to air its second season and he posted a selfie of him in front of a giant billboard with the show's name on on Instagram. this directly violates the rules of the union that he is a part of and led many people to call him a "scab" someone who is crossing the picket line during a union, choosing to work or promote their work instead of striking or standing in solidarity with those who are striking. and more importantly: because amell is part of the union that is striking, this behavior directly violates the strike order and any behavior directly violating the strike order, can make the union throw you out.

anyway: after that amell thought that it would be a great idea to say: “I support my union, I do, and I stand with them, but I do not support striking, I don’t. I think it is a reductive negotiating tactic, and I find the entire thing incredibly frustrating. And I think the thinking as it pertains to shows like the show that I’m on, that premiered last night, I think it’s myopic.”

so right now he's as far as i know the only actor who has been so outspoken against the strike. and like the important thing to remember is that this strike is not for him (clearly) he was on arrow before it went to streaming, he has countless residuals from that show that while now available on streaming is also still available on cable as well so he probably still makes a decent penny from his appearances in the arrow verse. but the vast majority of well-known actors are striking for the actors that are not well-known. there are over 100.000 actors part of the sag-aftra union. the vast vast vasttttt majority of them do not earn enough money from acting alone. are not fairly compensated and studios are now wanting to abuse their image and voice through AI etc. the demands of sag-aftra have been published as well as the studios' response and it's disgusting that studios rejected these very very very reasonable demands. any actor who loves their job and who has even an ounce of empathy for others would support this strike because it is the right thing to do.

except amell which is why 2 arrowverse cast mates have told hinted in tweets that he sucks:

Aisha Tyler (from cirminal minds), someone who he has been hanging out with for years (probably more because they have the same group of friends) also posted something about, "when people you thought were assholes, turn out to be assholes" it could be about someone else but very interesting timing if it is.

and then lastly of course there is this screenshot of his threads profile where he shared a post from the fucking asshole inc*l, transphobe, terrible human that is jord*n peters*n

#anon #ask #answered #amell

[pan-magi]

Heads up that I won't have much to post for a while. I'm moving! Back home for a bit while I'm figuring stuff out (like not being broke). Before, when I mentioned my slow activity I left for a few years. Don't worry, I'm not planning on doing that. I have a backlog of... shitpost ideas, which I will post when I have time. If I have the sudden urge and energy to get some of my longer text posts done then I'll try to do them. Any edits and gifs though will be on the back burner for a while.

(That's the gist of it. If you want a mental health discussion and my general thought process on tumblr, read more if curious. It's more of the vein of "tumblr is an addictive website for me" than "this site is destructive and damning." jsyk)

I know I have it in my blog description that the blog is semi-archived. I have been doing my best though to at least post somewhat regularly. The rate for posting may not be fast per number of posts but for me working on them it is very time and energy consuming (yay executive dysfunction and undiagnosed ADHD woo). It doesn't help either not using Photoshop anymore making gifs is lot less streamlined (get all my necessary screenshots frame by frame and organize them -> edit each individually -> put them together with final edits to make a gif. All in 3 separate programs). My wallet appreciates the decision at least.

The thing is I put that in the description not for the lack of time I have to do stuff but the opposite. I have a lot of empty time to fill. Tumblr is one of the few social media sites I actually use and even with the ability to curate your dash (maybe in part because of it), it is easy for tumblr to be addictive without noticing it. That's with me not bothering with the app. I do check a lot with the mobile browser though. I knew with my attention span and how I tend to do or not get things done that being consistently active would not be the best for me personally. Not bad, per say, but not great.

I love you all. It's been great to see a few of my older followers still interact with my posts from time to time. It's nice to see new ones and the Magi fandom in general getting new people coming in, maybe just for the tumblr side or maybe new altogether, when the series has been complete for years. When I say tumblr is not good for me, I don't mean you. Lots of love for everyone /platonically, my aroace ass wants to clarify and add on a giant thank you for no aphobic hate by anyone here either. I would not have trusted to come out on tumblr even if I had my identity figured out when I was active before.

I do want to keep people satisfied. Analytics shouldn't matter on this hellsite, and they don't, not really. I don't care about what the number is but seeing any notes on my posts is a quick dopamine rush. "Yay, I made someone smile." If I have a free moment, I'm like "I should check tumblr," or "I should work on post for blog." I enjoy what I make and enjoy doing it. However, it's become more attempting to be active and getting something out there despite saying I will manage juggling all sorts of different stuff better. I'm not doing other recreational stuff I want to do. I'm behind on games, movies, books, creative shit outside of tumblr, watching Magi for at least the fifth time... If I have a free moment I'm "work on tumblr post."

It's dumb. I should be able to manage shit better. Again, ADHD. Or maybe it's something else. IDFK.

All this to say that I'm taking the excuse of moving to force myself out of the tumblr sphere. I won't have the time or energy to get larger time-consuming posts done. I might as well focus on something else when I have the opportunity.

I am not planning on disappearing. I do like it here. Stayed too long at the spa though and need to get out and get cool, fresh air. I have short, borderline/actual shitposts I want to get done, as mentioned up top. One may be up in the next week. Who knows though? I don't. What I do know is that if I post something over the summer it will be because it is something I want to get done, when I want it to get done. No rushing myself pointlessly. It will be little things though. Bigger edits and gifs aren't hard yet tedious and draining when I'll be buried in boxes and working on home repairs for the immediate future.

Everyone take care of yourselves out there. If you read all this, thanks! Now, I've spent over an hour working on this when it was supposed to take me 15-20 minutes, and I need to sleep lol.

#update post #long post #idk if i will wake up in several hours and be like ahh i shared too much #and edit and delay it for another day or so #it's happened more times than i can count honestly #most of my posts go on queue for the day after i finish them #to stop any last minute regrets and second guessing to get out there haha #update: yup lmao but only sleep-deprived mistakes #have enough time to still post today too

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. What is something in your life that you feel hopeful about right now? Uhhh. Honestly, as much as I’d like to feel that way, it’s hard. I’m having a difficult time seeing past some of the stuff I’m going through and imagining anything changing. I’m scared it’s only going to stay the same. I mean, there’s been significant progress with some stuff, but I’m still bedridden and not where I’d like to be strength-wise, though that has gotten a little better. I’m lacking the motivation and energy that I need to work on things. And the hope. :/

2. What was the last thing you worried about that turned out better than expected? I mean like I said, I really have made significant progress with one of the major things I’d been dealing with for years. For so long I struggled with it and it seemed to only get worse without much chance at all in getting better, but now here we are. Even in the hospital it had actually gotten worse. However, once I had the feeding tube for awhile and was back home where it could be better managed and monitored by my mom, things really started improving. So, I need to remember that when I feel hopeless and down about other things. If something like that situation managed to really turn around, then the other stuff has a chance as well. 

3. Name somewhere you are planning on visiting in the near future? All I’m able to do right now is go to my doctor appointments. I have two in the next couple weeks. 

4. How often do you go grocery shopping and how much food do you usually get in one go? My mom goes twice a month for our big grocery trips and gets a lot. 

5. What is a meal you eat extremely often? Or do your meals & food choices vary a lot? I’ve just been eating the same few foods to be honest. Like, I have Cream of Wheat every morning and Taco Bell for dinner like 5 or 6 times a week. I’ve started having sandwiches most days for lunch. Other foods I throw in the mix sometimes are chicken wings, hot dogs, and pizza. Oh, and of course I eat a lot of Reese’s everyday. :X

6. When was the last time you felt unable or unwilling to speak your mind to someone? I’ve been struggling with something involving a couple family members since last year and I’m afraid to address it to them. I just don’t see that conversation going well. I don’t want to cause any issues or make things weird between us. I don’t want to hurt their feelings. But I am upset with some things that were said and how they went about some things and it’s caused me to be distant and bitter. I don’t want it to be that way, but I can’t seem to just let it go.

7. What was the last thing you changed your mind about?  Hm. I’m blanking at the moment. 

8. Who was the last friend you saw, and what did you do together? I don’t have any friends.

9. Who tends to show up in your dreams? Do you ever wonder if you appear in anyone else's dreams? I always have the most random dreams about the most random people. Like, people I went to elementary school with that weren’t even my friends will show up in my dreams and I’m like wtf??

10. What is something you wish you could say to someone who is no longer in your life, or something you wish they could know? I do miss Ty. He was a special part of my life for a time and he was there during a time I really needed him. It’s like he was put in my life for that time and then he served his purpose cause it’s like he literally just vanished. He stopped contacting me and deleted all his social media so I had no way of getting in touch. But the time we had together truly was a special time and I just miss him. I even thought at one point he was going to be “the one.” Anyway, I guess I’d just want to tell him what he meant to me and how much of an impact he had on me. I wish we could be in each other’s lives again. 

11. Instead of flat earth, what do you think of the simulated earth theory, that we're basically all just a giant computer program or virtual reality? No, we’re not Sims. 

12. What worries you most about your future? Like I always say, I’m scared I’ll never get better or get worse and that I won’t do anything with my life. I feel like I’m grandpa Joe from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory right now and I don’t want to spend my whole life this way.

13. What is something you do to feel better when you're scared? I mean, it depends what I’m scared about. I guess I typically talk about it with my mom and get comfort and reassurance from her and just try to distract myself with something like ASMR or a show.

14. Who do you feel you can count on the most in life? Is there anyone you wish you could count on more? I know I can always count on my mom. She is why I’m still here and keep going. 

15. What makes you trust someone? When was the last time someone broke your trust? If I feel comfortable talking to and sharing things with someone is a good indicator. I’d have to get to know them of course and establish a friendship. That takes a little time. And obviously if they don’t give me a reason to feel like I can’t trust them. I’ve met people who clearly like to gossip and I questioned whether I could trust them or not. I kind of just get a feeling, ya know? As for the last time someone broke my trust, it was last year with a couple of people. They did some things that made me feel uncomfortable sharing things with them.

16. When was the last time you shared a secret with someone, and how did they react? I don’t remember. 

17. Are you more likely to give advice or to ask for it? I used to be the one often giving advice. I don’t tend to ask for advice a lot, but I do try to look up stuff and figure things out on my own. Or I just dwell on stuff and not do anything. 

18. When was the last time you felt totally lost, figuratively speaking? How about literally? >> I constantly feel lost, figuratively speaking. I almost never feel lost, literally speaking. <<< Yeah, I feel that way as well. I’ve been in a place figuratively for quite some time where I don’t know what to do, what I’m doing, or what is going to happen. I just feel so unsure about everything. I don’t know how to get past this. I don’t even recall the last time I literally felt lost. 

19. In what ways are you emotionally strong? In what ways are you emotionally weak? I don’t feel I am emotionally strong. In fact, I feel very, very weak. I just feel like such a hopeless mess. I haven’t been handling things well. I don’t know how to get through this. I’ve just kept going and try to get through each day. 

20. What is the strangest book you have ever read? How did you find out about it? I can’t really think of a book I’ve read to be “the strangest.” Probably some book for school, ha. 

21. Do you prefer to watch movies or tv alone or with other people? Is there anything you refuse to watch alone? I love having shows to watch with my mom and/or brother. I just find it more enjoyable and it’s fun having someone to discuss the show or movie with and freak out together. I also like going on my personal Tumblr and seeing what other people are saying about it about it and reblogging a bunch of stuff. It’s just really fun to get involved in a fandom and share the experience with others. 

22. What was the last thing you broke? How about fixed? I haven’t broken something in quite awhile I don’t think. I’m not much of a fixer upper so I don’t know. 

23. Is there a sign or symbol that means a lot to you for whatever reason (eg. seeing certain animals or birds, 11:11 or other repeating numbers, syncs, butterflies, hearts in nature, etc)? Ever since I was a kid the number 8 has been my favorite number and it does have some significance to me. 

24. Do you have any personal ghost stories or paranormal experiences? No.

25. What do you get complimented on the most? I’m a total mess so I’m not getting complimented on anything regarding my physical appearance that’s for sure, ha. I also don’t have any skills or talents to be complimented on either. Sooo, nothing. 

26. What is something unusual that you find attractive? Men’s veiny hands are attractive to me for some reason. 

27. What time do you tend to eat your first meal of the day? And your last? I typically have my breakfast around 11AM and my dinner around 7 or 8PM.

28. What was the subject of the last video you watched? I’m watching Disney history and ride related videos.

29. When was the last time you traveled out of town, and where to? Last March. Feels like forever ago.

30. How would you describe your overall aesthetic? >> I wouldn't, really. I just wear and surround myself with what I like, what feels good (physically and emotionally). <<< Ha, I mean yeah same. 

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[logicalstansadvice]

If he started dating either of them, all the fangirls who had goodwill towards them and shipped them will switch up, and they will suddenly start caring about Daisy's age, Lily's scandalous past entanglements, etc. // Go to the head of the class. This is EXACTLY it. They will absolutely trash whoever he gets with, with whatever trifling excuses they can find (omg, now he's being shackled with jewelry?! The horror!) and claim he's just overcome with grief that he's chained (with an actual gold chain?!) to The Contract. They've always done it, which is why the recent rebranding of Margo as "the one who got away" is hilarious because they couldn't stand that girl either.

The claim now that Seb just needs to find a girl "who loves him for who he really is" is disingenuous at best, and very y/n and Reader!Insert! as far as I see it. It's giving "pick me, choose me, love me!"

A grip needs to be got, for crying out loud.

Anon 2: Their latest comment says the real gf jumped ship already / because of the rings, they said 🤣 while he 1) had the ring since August, you can see it on Podcrushed video and 2) it's not matching with AW's old Cartier ring anyway. Oh, and their comments on Drew were an instant giveaway as well - at no point him and AW had a romantic rs, he's gay and they've been besties for 10+ years.

Anon 3: "What struck me recently is that some of these people sound like the stereotype mother ... They claim not to baby him but don’t trust his judgement or respect his choices." Except isn't babying usually less sinister toward the "baby"? A lot of these people are just horrific talking about Seb too. We need some new words because the psychology of this situation has evolved into next-level weirdness IMO.

Anon 4: I like the anons asking questions on here! Everything they’ve said is 100% true and it also applies to the recent whack ass Chris and Alba thing. She’d be a pretty safe option for the fangirls. Usually younger, not like super model giant person almost unknown. and yet… they hate her, and she is fake and just not good. 🤣 Its so funny but also kind of sad. One terrible thing about social media is this shift in parasocial interactions.

Anon 5: Ngl I really can't understand why some people are so invested in his private life. They say they don't like Annabelle (now it's Annabelle, tomorrow who knows) and then proceed to watch her every move. I bet many of them -like me- didn't even know her before her rs with Seb, and I feel like they don't realize they cross a certain line: one thing is not liking someone, another one is hating/talking shit/making fun of and making up theories just to convince themselves that it's all pr. Also, they subtly blame Seb bc his previous relationships didn't work and psychoanalyze him def way too much. This narrative is really sickening. Idk, I wish I had all that free time they have.

💄

#logical stans advice #logicalstansadvice #asks answered