#it's absurd how well these frames matched the meme

[jimlingss]

Love So Shallow [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 (Finale) Words: 9.2k Genre: Fluff & Humour, Best Friend to Lover!Au, College!Au (sort of) Summary: There’s no doubt about it. You’ve always been thirsty. And *ahem, not just for water. Everyone and their mothers knows it and so does your best friend Taehyung. Though, rather than desperate, he’d like to say that you’re naturally bold. Sometimes, he wishes he could be that way too. Warnings: Themes of low self-esteem, hints of fat-shaming and swearing.

Cr.

“I don’t mean to be rude but can you like...stay away from him?”

Your breath hitches and you raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Krystal rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious and you’re merely playing dumb. “You’re nice, Y/N. But I’m the one going out with Taehyung. It already makes me uncomfortable that you’re living together. He likes me, not you. So, can you back off, please?”

Oh my god.

You can’t believe this is happening. The ridiculousness of the situation makes you want to fall on the floor in hysterics. It’s entirely absurd. But you can guess what it feels like from Krystal’s point of view. She doesn’t know the true relationship between you and Taehyung. Of course, Taehyung isn’t a piece of meat that can be possessed or owned. But from an outsider, it may look like you’re trying to snake your way in in an attempt to steal him like some kind of fox.

“I can assure you that me and Taehyung are only friends.” Even if the girl in front of you has the bitchiest expression, she’s still radiating and beautiful. “Look at me. Now look at you.”

She follows your erratic gesture as you run your hands over your body. “Like really look. Do you really think Taehyung would go for someone like me?”

The sorority sister flickers her orbs up and down your frame once more. After a second, she seems to believe you. “Listen,” you coax gently, “Taehyung’s seen me fart and have diarrhea. I’ve literally hawked a loogie in his face before. We’re practically bros or actual siblings. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

It’s still absurd. The sheer thought of being something more with Taehyung makes you want to barf out your lasagna cheesy lunch. Krystal smirks at your disheveled appearance, hair that you haven’t washed in a couple of days from being lazy, the stained and ancient flannel you bought at some second-hand thrift store; in your defense, you’re not trying to impress anyone and the recent exams have literally been hell and back. She should cut you some slack.

Nonetheless, the girl seems to be satisfied with your answer.

“That chick is so shady.” Somi points out past a mouthful of chips, “like I feel like she was getting all chummy with you because you’re close to Taehyung.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrug in complete frankness. It doesn’t matter what happens to you. As long as your best friend is happy, you’ll root for him all the way.

Somi has none of it, her eyes still narrowed condescendingly as she swallows half of her red wine. “That chick has some self-esteem issues. She tries to manage her boy-toy like he’s some kind of object and doesn’t even let him have his own friends. It’s red flags galore.” Your friend rolls her eyes and continues on her tangent, “I don’t get why girls have to be pinned against each other and backstab for boys or ‘love’.” Somi makes finger quotations in the air. “It’s the worst. It’s so...eighteenth century. Ugh, I don’t like her. Bad vibes.”

Taehyung pokes his head into your bedroom. “Will you guys stop talking about her like that? And don’t call me a boy toy!”

Somi puts her hand on her chest, a fake dramatic inhale. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not.” He retorts, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s………..complicated.”

“Are you guys even officially girlfriend-boyfriend status or what?”

“Not really.” Tae grimaces and shakes his head. His voice is filled with doubt. “I don’t know. We’ve only gone out on a couple dates together and she introduced me to her friends.”

The girl who’s drinking and eating on your bed smirks. “She’s using you.”

Taehyung ignores her, “and we’ve banged it out several times.”

Your fingers stop filing through the racks of your clothing. You pull yourself from out of your closet to scowl at the man standing idly in deep thought. “I’m jealous.”

The two of them, being your high school friends for nearly half-a-decade now are all too aware of your constant envy. They don’t pay any mind to your sulking expression. “Well, spill the beans.” Somi motions with her wine glass. “How’s the girl in bed?”

“She’s decent.” He mutters before abruptly changing his mind with one single comment, “loud.”

“Like good loud or bad loud?”

“Like banshee screeching.”

Somi whispers something like ‘shame’ and you look up from digging in your makeup bag. “Yeah. She’s really loud.” A shudder grabs hold of your spine as an onslaught of memories storm into your brain - ones where you’re crying in delirium, stuffing pillows over your ears at seven a.m. “I slept with earplugs but I still heard. She’s like an alarm clock, so, it’s not that bad.”

Taehyung sighs, “sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Maybe you’re that good.” You wiggle your eyebrows and on any other day, he would indulge at how you’re boosting his ego but Taehyung seems genuinely distressed.

“I wish. She’s just very vocal. It’s not a terrible thing but-”

“I know.” Somi shares his sentiment. “Oh. Maybe you should play the silent game with her.” The both of you stare at your friend and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Of course you innocent lambs wouldn’t know. The rule is simple. First one to make a sound loses. It’s hot, fun and a good way to save your eardrums. You could do that or record one of your ‘sessions’, let her watch after and the girl will realize that she’s not acting in a porn movie.”

You look away from your shoe display. “You sound very experienced.”

Your friend smirks. “You wouldn’t know…”

At the front of your room, Taehyung moans out and cries, whining in a high pitched voice as he stomps his feet. “Can we please stop discussing my love life?”

“Fine.” You tug out two dresses, holding them by their hangers. One is a soft pink and cute floral, made of chiffon fabric that flows to your knees. The other is a royal blue, more of a bodycon style that hugs all your curves. “Which one is better?”

Somi sips her wine and thinks. “Blue.”

“Are you seriously going out on that date?” Taehyung raises his brows, “you met him online, right? What if you get kidnapped or something?”

Your eyes glisten as you swivel around to him. “You would actually care about me? I’m honoured! I knew-”

“No.” He says shortly, “a funeral would be too expensive for us.”

You scoff, no longer paying attention to your two high school friends, teasing each other back and forth and making an absolute mess in your room. Somi continues to drink and munch on her snacks, immersed with reality tv on her laptop. Taehyung finds his spot next to her, on top of your bed, fiddling with his phone and scrolling through funny memes. He laughs once in a while, showing Somi as well before she says with a straight face that it isn’t funny.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in?” She cries out as you try to perfect your eyeliner but obviously failing with a shaking hand. “We have a spot right here in the middle for you. It’s so comfortable and warm, Y/N. Don’t you want to be with your two bestest friends?”

“And risk losing the chance to meet my future husband?”

You slide into the room with a lipstick tube in one hand. “I don’t think so.”

Taehyung snorts, “you haven’t even met the guy.”

“Exactly.” You point out, “he could be my soulmate. Who knows.”

“When will you come back?”

“Don’t know. Maybe I'll get lucky tonight.”

Somi lets out a short laugh. “At least give us a call so we know you're not dead.”

You scorn the way the pair of them mock your desperate attempts but you comply. “I will.”

It's been a century since you've looked this good. Your mother would be proud of the woman you see in the mirror, a striking contrast to the monkey of a daughter she's regarded you as. Your hair is combed through and neat, dressed in prim and proper clothes, heels to match the ensemble. You feel good about yourself for once and even more so eager to meet this person.

You've met him online after scouting the depths of dating sites for a full two weeks. His name is Sejin and he appears relatively cuddly from his profile picture. You've chatted on and off with him, learning that he's a manager at a high-end store and that he would love to take you on a date.

You're not entirely idiotic to choose a private location; hence, you're now sitting at a coffee shop, nervously twiddling your thumbs while looking out the glass windows every so often.

Will he like you? What if you look too different from your pictures? What if this is the first meeting of a hundred? What if this is the beginning to your life of happiness?

What is the person who walks through that door will be your future husband?

You're jittery and excited, the evening rapidly transforming into the night.

You wait. And you wait. You wait some more. Waiting...waiting...waiting…

“Um, excuse me.” There’s a light voice and they tap your shoulder. You nearly bang your head on the table before jolting upwards, shaking away the sleepiness. “I’m so sorry but we’re closing now.” The barista holding the broom wears a pitiful and sad expression. You frown.

“What time is it?”

“It’s almost midnight.” She enunciates carefully, “are you okay?”

You’ve been waiting for five hours. He never showed up. A murmur leaves your mouth, something you can’t even process that makes the barista nod.

You limp out of the store. You’re not fine at all.

“Is everything alright?” Taehyung’s sleepy voice comes onto the other line and you shiver as the brisk air nips at your exposed skin. You’re cold. You’re hungry. You’re alone.

“Somi’s already left hours ago. So, did you get lucky or not? Was he handsome or did he turn out to be a complete weirdo? Do I need to rescue you again?” He sighs in exasperation but when there’s no answer, Taehyung’s voice rises in concern. “Y/N?! Hello?! Y/N?!”

“I got catfished by the boogie man!”

You cry and cry. Tears roll down your face off your chin, dripping on the cement. A miserable rain cloud falls upon you and as if to mock your situation further, it begins to rain. Your shivers turn to violent quivering. You’re drenched from head to toe, letting the sobs wreck through your body. It might be childish to be weeping so sorrowfully for a man you didn’t even meet but it’s more than that in ways you can’t explain.

For the hundredth time out of a thousand, you’ve been let down again.

You’re not aware of how much time passes but when you no longer feel the cold drops pummeling against your skull, you lift your head. A blue umbrella shields you away, casting a cooling shade on the man in front of you who adorns a worried glower. He drapes a trench coat over your shoulder, warming your skin. “T-Taehyung…”

“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Despite his words, he’s whispering them gently as if cooing a toddler. Your best friend stands beside you. Slowly but with confidence, he wraps his secure hand to your shoulder and begins to guide you to his car.

“You dodged a bullet.” He tells you on the way back, cranking up the heating system to maximum. “He could’ve been a real creep and it could’ve been so much worse.”

You don’t say anything.

Taehyung cooks you ramen and shoves it into your hands after you’ve changed into your pajamas. He turns on a show on the dingy television and curls up with you on the disgusting couch without complaint. The two of you fall asleep in the same positions.

//

“You don’t look too great.” Namjoon makes an offhand comment and when you don’t respond, he finally gets a good look at you. “Uh...I mean you look-..uh…” The engineering student doesn’t know you too well but he’s aware from meeting you a few times that there’s something amiss.

The quirky and peculiar you is gloomy, drowning in a sweater that belongs to Taehyung. “Do you know where he is?” You push your textbook and notes aside to put your head on the table, not feeling up to studying. The person across from you continues with his hands on the calculator, pushing up his spectacles every so often.

“I think Taehyung’s with Krystal.” He already knows who you’re indicating and he doesn’t push the previous subject. “They’re going through a rough patch lately.”

You raise your brow, “they are?”

“Hmm.” Namjoon hums and scribbles down an answer to the mathematics question in his notebook. “He told me things weren’t looking too hot with her. I don’t know.” He stops for a mere moment, curious as to why you didn’t know. It’s strange considering you’re closer to Taehyung than he is.

“Oh.”

You’ve been too preoccupied with your own problems, too immersed in yourself to allow Tae a chance to speak about his own issues. It makes you feel like a bad friend and the miserable feeling inside your chest deepens.

“Hey, I know it’s none of my business.” Namjoon pipes up and you lift your head. “But I’ve heard some things…-”

You frown. “Heard what?”

“I know it’s not true!” He exclaims immediately, gaining a sharp look from the students studying around him. Namjoon leans in closer and you lurch over the table to listen. “Someone around has been saying that you’re really bad…” The boy with riled up blonde strands hesitates and your hand makes a motion for him to continue. “...in bed.”

“What?!”

The librarian shushes you but you pay no mind. Namjoon winces. Your jaw has dropped.

How ludicrous! As if you haven’t heard such absurd things recently. Were you not pathetic enough that someone out there had to go after you and sabotage your life?!

//

“You’re a scheming bitch, you know that?!” Krystal’s stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk and somehow you find yourself in a compromised position. Despite her high heels and tiny dress, she’s grabbed onto the collar of your hoodie, the same one you stole from your best friend.

You shove her off of you, smoothing out the creases she’s created. “What the fuck?”

“You slept with my boyfriend, whore!”

What the-

“I did not. Where the hell did you even hear that from?!” You despise the way people are staring and simply because the girl in front of you is prettier, you’re being looked upon as the villain and she is the victim. In reality, the sorority sister is an absolute psycho.

“I don’t know!” She screeches in hysterics, “someone...at the fraternity! They saw you both at a party and you went into the bedroom together and didn’t come out until hours later!”

“I didn’t even go to any party!” You lay your hand on your forehead, having enough of everything. You have more dignity than to stand here and let her shout groundless accusations at you. If Krystal didn’t appreciate you being kind and civilized than you could be the complete opposite.

“You’re a pest.” She gives you a dirty look, “no one even wants you. Can’t you get a boyfriend yourself instead of trying to steal other people’s?”

Something snaps.

A muscle in your cheek twitches. “Taehyung is your boyfriend and he’s my friend.” You take one stride up to her, looming over her form. “I have no intentions of ‘taking him away from you’. Do you lack so much confidence that you don’t think you can keep your own boyfriend?”

“And news flash, Taehyung isn’t someone to be owned.”

You brush past her harshly, shoving her shoulder. Krystal whimpers out a cry but you ignore the sorority girl, leaving her in the dust.

Your legs are trembling as you make the trek across campus, though you never falter once. The destination has been set and the determination causes you to continue onwards. “Y/N?”

Taehyung calls after you. He was making his way home back to your apartment but caught you shoving past a crowd. The boy hastily catches up with you and you still don’t speak a single word to him. His brows furrow, worried at your unusual tense expression. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Shut up.”

It’s two more blocks before you’ve made it on the familiar sorority and fraternity street. Taehyung gapes as you march up to a particular house and he even tries to pull you back for an explanation but is too late when you barge in, the door irresponsibly left unlocked.

A bunch of the frat boys are preparing for a party in the evening and you don’t hesitate to swipe a brand new bottle of vodka off the table. One of them turn around from the abrupt sound and they frown at the two of you, “what are you doing here-”

You recognize Jeon Jungkook - the person who had not only rejected but humiliated you all those months ago. It was a hazy memory when you woke up with a hangover but as time went by, you began to recall how he brought you into the bedroom, watched you strip and then whispered how fucking annoying you were.

You’ve never realized it before but it’s oddly strange how Taehyung left the fraternity the day after that particular incident.

The liquid flies into the air as you splash the douchebag.

He turns around in utter shock, backside drenched and the entire room is quiet, appalled at what you’ve done. Taehyung’s eyes have doubled. A pin could be heard in the deafening silence.

“I don’t know what your problem is Jeon Jungkook, but can you not make childish rumours about me like we’re still in high school? It’s time to grow up.”

His fellow brothers turn to stare at him. Jungkook opens his mouth and then closes it.

“Don’t you dare judge my goods when you haven’t even had a taste of them yet.”

Hoseok is the first to make a sound, a snort of laughter that comes through his nose. His eyes are boring into the younger who is humiliated, having raved about bedding you a few days earlier, complaining that you were horrific and that you frequently slept around with others.

Taehyung’s mind is delayed. He’s known you for nearly half-a-decade; you’re chirpy and whimsical. It takes a lot for you to lose it and become hostile. He wonders what exactly happened but he doesn’t get a chance before you’ve wrapped your hand around his wrist, dragging him out of the house.

“Don’t ask.”

“O-Okay.” He walks back to the apartment with you in silence but Taehyung can’t help letting his eyes steal glimpses of your face. If it were Krystal, she would cry and make him do something about it. But you took control of your own problems - albeit becoming insane for a second and he’s not sure if you really did solve anything.

Still, Taehyung’s never admired you more than this juncture of time. “You’re cool.”

You glance at him with a frown. “Uh, thanks?”

“You should’ve told me though.” He throws punches to the air in front of him. “We could’ve replicated a martial fighting scene. I would’ve bursted through the door with a kick and helped you fight them. We’d join fight club!”

For the first time in a while, you laugh again.

//

If you thought you were angry, you're wrong. Somi is seething.

“What the actual fuck?!” She cannot believe her ears. “Tell me that it isn’t true. Are you fucking with me, Y/N?”

“I wish I was.”

“Oh my god.” Your friend rubs her temples and she feels her heart rate on her wrist. “I think I might get high blood pressure and die. Did you punch that dick in the dick?”

You stifle back a giggle. “I doused him with an entire bottle of vodka. I don't know but I think I embarrassed him in front of his entire fraternity.”

“Good.” She sighs out and then grimaces with a hum. “I don't know if this is true but I heard Taehyung punched him before.”

“What?”

You and Somi both hold in a laugh and at the same time, you two burst out while shaking your heads. “There's no way. Where did you even hear that from? Rumours keep getting worse and worse, you'd think we're back in middle or high school.”

“I don't know, man. I just heard that's why he got thrown out of the place.”

“Nah.” You take her offering of wine, sipping from the glass as Somi gulps down a mouthful straight from the bottle. “Even if he did, he'd tell us. There's no reason he would hide it.”

“Yup.” She pours out the red liquid and she clacks the glass together with you. “Cheers to a horrible life.”

“Cheers.” You giggle and while Somi downs half of it, you retract on your words. “You know, you shouldn't tell Taehyung what I told you...about the whole Krystal thing.”

“Why not?” She frowns, “the chick is obviously psycho. I'd be nuts if I let him stay with her. She literally harassed you, threatened you and she's got some possession issues. Why can't girls be each other’s friends?! I'm so sick of the whole competition thing. Like women should be empowering each other, not ganging up and becoming enemies. We need to stick together! Have I said that before?! Ugh, it makes me so mad!”

“Yes, yes.” You appease your old high school friend that's nagging your ear off. She has a lot of truth to her words but- “We have no business or place in Taehyung’s relationships. If he likes her, then he likes her. We should be there to support him. We shouldn't butt in and it's not like he would listen to us anyways.”

“Wow, since have you turned into Mother Teresa?”

You're silent for a second. “I've been having rough times recently.”

Somi sympathizes with your feelings and she muses her thoughts aloud, “I think Taehyung would listen to you.”

“You think so?” You eye her while taking a sip of the liquid that slightly burns pleasantly down your throat.

“Yeah, he listens to you.” Somi takes the rest of the wine in her glass and then she suddenly throws her arm around your shoulder. “You know, I'm sad for you, Y/N.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Let me introduce you to someone.”

At those particular syllables, you jolt straight up. Goosebumps rise along your skin, you swallow down the saliva watering in your mouth and your eyes have grown wide. “Really?!”

You grab your friend’s hands within yours and your orbs are glimmering with newfound hope. “You would really do that for me?!”

“Sure.” Somi grins at the life force that's been brought back into your soul. She remembers the only present you've ever wanted for your birthday or Christmas was a date; you'd never fail to remind everyone around you when those holidays roll around the corner. “I met this cute guy who's a friend of Suran. He's a total sweetheart - the two of you would be good together.”

A humongous smile has spread into your cheeks. At the mere thought of this stranger that you've never met, seen or even know the name of, your heart is fluttering. If your friend thinks he’s good and suitable for you, then the chances are much higher as well. You don't have to worry that it's some scammer on the internet or someone who will catfish you.

You never heard back from Sejin after being left abandoned at the spot you were supposed to meet but the memories fade away with the prospect of someone new.

//

“Which one is better?” You hold up three different sets of lingerie, one which is more sheer and revealing, one that's frilly with lace and the others range in between. “Red for sexiness or black for a sleek look? This pink one is pretty cute though. What would a guy like?”

Taehyung is staring at you with an unimpressed expression. You look off at them, judging with a long hum. “Isn't this your first date?”

“Yes. But who knows what might happen.” You turn around with a wink thrown in your friend’s direction, choosing the black set since it could never go wrong. Tae rolls his eyes and pretends to gag. “If I get the chance, I'll nab it.”

“Don't make your expectations too high,” he mutters, “we know what happened last time.”

“Don't be mean!”

“I just don't want to have to pick up your sobbing ass.” Taehyung’s tongue is ruthless and sharper than intended. He just doesn't like to see you cry and doesn't want his friend to be heartbroken yet again.

“Don't worry.” You pop your head out the bathroom, “even if it goes horribly, I'll make sure I won't call you. Thanks for the support.”

He exhales in exasperation. “That's not what I mean!”

The door slams shut. Taehyung knows you're not truly angry at him. It's not like you to hold grudges about petty and mindless comments anyways. Hence, he rolls onto his stomach, the stench of the couch unnoticeable from his nose blindness and he scrolls through his phone.

Half-an-hour later, there's a ring at the door and he jumps up to open it. “Hey.”

Someone with ebony hair, chubby cheeks and an adorable face is on the other side. The shorter boy is dressed in a fluffy, cream-coloured turtleneck and black pants ripped at the knees. His eyes are crinkled, adorning a soft smile. “H-hi...umm...I'm looking for a Y/N. Is she in right now?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s brain is boggling. “She's in the bathroom.”

The guy in front of him is perfect for you.

“O-oh, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm sorry. I'm Jimin. Park Jimin.”

“I'm Taehyung.” They shake hands. “I'm her roommate and old high school friend.” There's an awkward silence where Jimin scratches the back of his neck out of nervousness and Taehyung studies him. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don't think so-...oh! We shared that 331 Calculus course together!”

“Right!” Taehyung points at him, his mouth dropping open. Then, they high-five each other. “That class was absolutely hell! I almost died. How did you do on the finals?”

“Well-”

Your shouting voice from the bathroom interrupts their conversation. “Don’t open the door yet, Tae! I’ve got a bad case of fucking diarrhea! Great.” Taehyung bolts his head over to Jimin who’s now standing inside the entryway and he shouts back ‘uh-huh, okay’.

“Oops.” Taehyung grins and Jimin sheepishly smiles. “You’re a computer science major?”

“Yup. And you’re an engineering student? What type?”

“I’m thinking civil but I’m not sure yet.”

The both of them take their seats on the couch, discussing things from class materials to the horrible professors they’ve encountered. They laugh, joke around and jab at each other like they’ve known the other for decades. Taehyung muses that he’s found a good friend.

They ultimately forget about you.

“Tae. I think I got my period- Oh my god! Jimin! You’re here?!” You stutter out nervously and they look at you in surprise, having completely forgotten about the date. He waves with a polite ‘hello’ and you blush. “Wait here. Uh...hold on a second.”

You frantically disappear to check on your makeup and any smudges. Meanwhile, your best friend sighs exhaustingly. “She’s a bit....strange. But the kid is pretty fun when you get to know her.”

Jimin nods and he continues on his ramble with a grin. “Pro tip, if you have any awkward silences, ask her about her rock collection at home and she’ll go on for hours. She knows a bit about horoscopes too since she’s tried to match herself and find special ‘romance’ dates. You’re a good guy,” Taehyung broods, “no pressure but take good care of her, alright? It’s a mess when she comes home crying”

Jimin stares at him for a lengthy moment. “You must know her well.”

“Since high school.” Taehyung shrugs, “she came up to me, put her foot on my desk and proposed that we’d be friends. Never looked back since.”

He laughs until you come back. Like a father figure, Taehyung in a humorous tone, demands for you to come home before it gets too dark out. The man even goes as far as to humiliate you, standing out on the hallway with crossed arms and a stern expression. When you leave the building, you can see him grinning from the windows upstairs. “What a nerd.”

The date goes well. Spectacular. Mind Blowing. The best you’ve ever been on.

First, the kind boy takes you out to the movies. You two pick the same one simultaneously, finding that you have similar tastes. It’s a lighthearted film, one that makes you feel warm by the end. Afterwards, you bring him to a restaurant and you bond over old stories. You tell him about Somi and Taehyung, your times in school and old substitutes that were absolutely insane, how Somi had come out of the closet but you and Tae already knew. Jimin recalls how he met Suran and the pair of you draw back to Somi and Suran’s love story, how they got together but from different perspectives. He even asks you about your hobbies, the rock collection you started as a kid and astrology that you’ve been dipping your toes into lately.

It’s crazy how well you connect together.

There's not a single wink of time where you feel uncomfortable. You're nearly led to believe that you've discovered your soulmate, all thanks to a certain Somi.

At the end of the date, Jimin holds your hand. It's the first time you've ever done it.

You're so entirely joyous and ecstatic as his palm grazes yours before his fingers interlocks with your fingers. Your heart could leap out of your chest, especially with the shy smile he gives you. Heaven’s angels are singing. Your eyes are flashing hearts. The world is shining brighter. You wonder how the sun is up when it's nighttime and the moon is hanging in the sky - but then you realize it's just Park Jimin illuminating sunlight beams at you.

You can finally die happy.

“Well…”

“Yup…”

He lingers outside the door, both not knowing what to say. Jimin clears his threat, stealing a glimpse of you and you swallow hard. You shut your eyes, puckering your lips for a first kiss….your first kiss. A few anxious seconds pass.

You wait….waiting...wait…

And then you open your eyes. He's gone down the hall. You sigh in disappointment. Jimin turns around when he feels your gaze and he smiles. “Good night. I'll call you.” He waves and you mimic the motion with a sheepish exhale.

“Someone had a good night….” Taehyung scratches his bed hair, having woken up from a nice nap. He notices how you're not even listening, floating on cloud nine, singing a Disney tune with a huge smile. “You’re kind of creepy, right now. Did it go well?”

“It went fantastic!” You spin on your heels, embracing your lovely life. You want to call your parents and thank them for giving birth to you. “I think he's the one. I want to marry him, Tae.”

“Woah, that's a bit too soon to send out wedding invitations, dude.” He imitates your wide smile. “Glad you had fun though.” Taehyung latches onto your dancing form and he rubs your hair. “Finally! I don’t have to deal with your lame ass alone.”

“Puh-lease.” You roll your eyes, unable to take the jab seriously when your head is still in the clouds.

You stay up for another four hours, too anxious to sleep, constantly checking your phone. You kick your blanket, giggle into your pillow, bounce on top of your covers - until Taehyung slams his fist on the thin wall and tells you to go to bed already.

When you wake up early that morning, your mobile device screen is glued to your cheek but you peel it off with bleary eyes that are barely opening, checking once more for a text message or a missed call. There’s nothing...which is okay!

Jimin’s probably just giving it some time before he says something. Somi told you that it wasn’t good to be clingy and that budding relationships were weird...apparently you couldn’t text them right away? She doesn’t really understand it either but it’s fine.

Everything’s totally fine.

//

It’s not fine. Nope.

Two more days pass and when you finally shoot him a text - [Y/N] Hey Jimin! I had a really fun time. Hope to see you again - the message is left read but unanswered.

After agonizing for a whole nother day, Jimin finally calls you and it’s over.

Whatever you had...which was nothing at all...it’s over.

“Hey! Jimin?!” Taehyung stomps up to the boy leaving the dance studio.

Jimin looks over and smiles, waving a quick goodbye to his group of friends as he meets Taehyung halfway in the hall. “What’s up? I haven’t seen you aro-”

“What the hell, man?” Tae lightly shoves him back in complete anger. “You broke up with her?”

There are other people brushing past that stare at the volume of his voice. Jimin grabs onto him. “We should talk about this somewhere else.”

Taehyung’s fully aware that he’s being irrational. It’s not like Jimin was your boyfriend or you’ve been dating for five years. It was one, single date. But he still can’t understand. If it went as well as you were gushing about, what went wrong? You want answers and he needs them as well.

As your friend, he’s always got your back.

“Y/N’s really nice.” Jimin murmurs out in a soft breath, the pair of them sitting outside on a bench together. “The date went well. She’s cute...funny even.”

“What happened then?”

“I couldn’t handle it.” After Taehyung had gone on a rant about watching over you, Jimin felt pressured. “She’s genuine and she’s looking for a future with someone to marry, to spend the rest of her life with. I’m not ready for that. I-...I think she deserves better than me.”

“Oh c’mon.” Tae knocks his head back to look at the sky before he darts his pupils onto the friend in beside him. “That’s a cliche and bulshit excuse - we both know that.”

“It’s not a lie. But if you want me to be more truthful,” Jimin hesitates, “I feel like she needs someone like you.”

It feels like Taehyung has been doused in a bucket of ice water.

This is not what he’s expecting at all. “What?”

“When you were talking about her and when she was talking about you...there was just something-” The computer science major scratches the back of his neck, not sure how to convey it correctly. “Do you guys have a thing for each other? Is there something going on?”

“She’s just a friend.” He explains as if for the millionth time to people around him. Taehyung even lets out a snort of laughter. “There’s nothing going on between me and Y/N. Believe me in that.”

Jimin seems a bit confused. “Why not?”

“I adore Y/N but only as a friend. She’s funny and humorous but…”

It feels wrong to say his thoughts out loud, the inner consciousness that has always echoed in the hollows but never spoken on tongue. He feels like he’s betraying you, that he’s selfish and malicious for saying what he’s about to say but if Taehyung was being completely honest…

“She’s not dating material to me. Y/N’s shallow. She looks at people like they’re a piece of meat. She only cares about exteriors and about herself. She wants to be loved and constantly tries to get into relationships.” From the binoculars you bring around on occasion, scouting out handsome men and beautiful girls, from the dating sites you scour without even looking at their profiles, to asking strangers for their number - it seems like you love the idea of love more than desiring to be in a committed relationship. “Don’t get me wrong. Y/N’s a great friend, my best friend, but I’ve never thought twice about her as something more.”

The two of them sit in silence for the next five minutes. Each understands the other’s choices and when they leave, they have mutual respect for each other, even making verbal plans of hanging out sometime.

Taehyung muses that there’s truly no other better word to describe you as…

Shallow.

//

The sobbing can be heard from the other side of the front door. As a couple passes him in the trashy hallway, they stare and he sighs helplessly. Taehyung hesitates to put the key through the lock, throwing open the hinges to deal with you for the next few hours. He lingers for at least twenty heartbeats, under the yellow glow of the overhead lights swinging from the ceiling. It’s not that he finds you unbearable but the guilt has begun to eat at his bones. If you knew about what he said to Jimin, the truth that he’s always thought in his mind, you’d forgive him.

But Taehyung would never be able to forgive himself.

“What are you doing?!” The door swings shut behind him.

You’re watching a romance movie on television, sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table. There’s two tubs of ice cream out, one in your lap with the spoon pierced through the top of the melting sweetness. There are empty bottles of liquor rolling near your feet. As you’re weeping, you bring the beer bottle to your lips and he winces, wondering how hurt you are to be drinking something as disgusting as beer. He knows you hate it the most out of the entire alcohol selections in the world.

“They’re so in love!” You shout at the screen in bitter anger. The pair on screen are having some kind of montage - laughing in each other’s arms, running through a field of flowers with held hands. You’re drunk.

“Goddamn it, Y/N.” Your best friend takes off his shoes and places the bottles upright beside you. He looks down at your body sprawled on the ground and when his eyes flicker to the table, he does a double take. “What the hell are these?!”

He holds up the black and white printed pictures of babies. As much as he loves kids, he can tell they’re computer generated and all wonky. “I-I…” You sob without the tears, “they’re baby pictures I put through the internet. It’s what me and Jimin’s kids are supposed to look like together. B-but now, it’s all ruined!”

The word ‘ruined’ is half-screamed, half-cried out and your high school friend wonders if the neighbors will file a noise complaint soon or the landlady will march up to their room and scold his ear off. He’s also appalled and impressed that you went to such lengths.

Taehyung brushes off how creepy it is and he flickers off the television to stop yourself from being tortured to death. He joins you on the floor, gathering his knees across from you, staring and letting you cry out your eyes while your mouth rants.

“I can’t even hate him! He was so nice to me. D-do you know what he said? Jimin said I deserve someone better and he didn’t have the time to treat me the way I deserved. I don’t even think it was bullcrapin’, Tae. He sounded so genuine! He’s so perfect! That’s why I’m mad.”

You hiccup through it all, slurring the syllables, wiping away your eyes. As you bring the bottle to your mouth again, he snatches it away from your grips.

You’re in too much chaos to protest or fight him. “My marriage is over! My future is gone! I swear, I’mma die a kissless virgin!”

Taehyung nods at your hysterics and he curses himself as to let you go unwatched. Drunk Y/N was an emotional Y/N. “Did you even want to marry him?”

“Maybe.” You shrug, not realizing how ridiculous you were being. There’s a lot more silence as you calm down and a croak leaves your parted lips, “am I unlovable?”

“You’re not.”

“Then why doesn’t anyone want to be with me? This happens every single time.” You spit it out with a new fervour, punching the table for emphasis. “I’m so tired of being used, so tired of feeling this way and being on the receiving end of this. But I don’t want to give up! I-I...I don’t want to give up.”

In the darkness of the apartment living room where the glass windows flood in the city nightlights in distorted beams, Taehyung tips his head and gazes at you. Your skin is soaked in the blue luminescences, the moon paling in comparison to the mosaic of reds and yellows, coming from cars’ head beams to airplane navigation flashes. It’s become a lot more peaceful now that the television isn’t blaring and you’ve stopped sobbing.

“Those ‘loves’ that you felt or had, they were fleeting. They’re not real. They’re not true. It was shallow. They were shallow kinds of love.”

He meets your eyes and gently smiles. “Remember Changmin in high school? What, you had a crush on him for like two days? And you swore you were in love with him.” You tearfully giggle at the memory, sniffling in and Taehyung continues, “one day. Maybe it’s not meant for now. But one day you’ll meet someone amazing and become happy.”

You hum. He’s not sure how much you caught when you’re this intoxicated. “Do you believe in fate, Taehyung?”

He contemplates the answer for an extended moment. “I do.”

Taehyung launches him upwards to his feet, standing over you and he reaches out his hand. “Let’s get you ready for bed.” You smile, clasping his hand, ready to be pulled up and away from your sorrows. But your friend miscalculates your weight.

As he leans on his toes and you lean backwards, having planted your butt down for the last two hours, he’s pulled down. “Oh shi-”

In the most ungraceful manner, with teeth and full impact, his lips smack against yours.

He flops down to the floor, head in your lap. No one moves. The brief movement that lasted quicker than a blink registers in your drunken consciousness…

And you scream, throwing him off of you.

Just like that, the peace that was created vanishes. Taehyung groans at how he rolled on the ground and he wipes away the saliva on his mouth before stumbling to the bathroom where you’re washing your lips. “My purity!” You’re crying again, “you soiled it!”

You’re splashing your face furiously with water and on any other occasion, your friend would laugh at you but he feels quite disgusted himself. He turns on the shower and lets the harsh pressure splash against his face. What did he just do. Oh lord. Fucking hell.

“It wasn’t even a kiss!” He screams as he turns off the shower head, wiping his face and he marches to turn off the tap so you can stop wasting water and spike up their bills next month. “It was an accident all right?! It didn’t count! It doesn’t count!”

Taehyung’s not sure if he’s trying to soothe you or convince himself.

You’re crying again. The last wave of drunkenness has hit you full force, the bottles of alcohol sinking into your blood veins. No amount of comforting words could calm you down now.

It’s as if the peck on your lips have caused the ship in your soul to crash full force into the iceberg - titanic style.

You slide down the cabinets of the washroom to the ground once more and Taehyung collapses next to the toilet. He’s exhausted from the entire ordeal. “I don’t understand!”

“What is it now?” He rubs his forehead, ready to get up and leave you be, although he’s too aware that he would never abandon you on the cold floor of the dirty bathroom.

“When my parents got divorced and remarried, they started their own families.” You’re crying more sincerely than before, tears rolling off your cheeks, eyes glistening with water. It’s unrestrained and honest. “I-I had to shuffle between them. I just want to be part of a family.”

“I want to know what it feels like to be part of a family. A-and,” you hiccup, “if I have my own then they can’t leave me the way I was left!”

You wail like your soul’s been taken from your body, like the truest agony has settled into your bone. This time it isn’t for some boy who didn’t want to meet you again. It’s not because you don’t have a lover, a girlfriend or boyfriend, no romance within your life. It isn’t a shallow reason.

Taehyung stares at you without uttering a word. He’s shocked. He didn’t know that you felt this way, not even as your best friend for half-a-decade. It’s your innermost struggle that you’ve never told anyone before. His own heart aches to watch you.

He has always known that you’ve celebrated two holidays every time they rolled around, two birthdays and Christmases. Your parents had broken up before he even knew you. You went away sometimes to where your dad lived, always speaking little about your family. When he asked you a long time ago about it, you shrugged him off.

“I just want to have my own family.” Your head hangs low, “I just want to be part of a family.”

“I-it’s not fair. Am I unlovable?”

Taehyung’s silent.

The clock hits one in the morning and he pokes his foot at you, calling out your name softly. “Y/N?” That’s when he finds that you’re snoring, having fallen asleep after a sobbing fest.

The universe has shifted. His very eyes are playing tricks on him. It’s altered.

It’s not only because you’ve finally opened up the depths of your heart to him. It’s not only because he finally knows the reason for your desperate attempts. It’s not only because his cheeks are flushing and heating up from the matter that occurred mere moments ago.

Not because his lips are still tingling. Taehyung was wrong about you.

He frankly never realized….all you wanted was to be loved-

And that’s the least shallow thing in the world.

//

The next morning you wake up suffering under a massive hangover, headache pounding and nauseous from your very core. The sunlight high in the sky burns to the back of your lids as the world tilts at forty-five degrees but something’s changed.

You have a new sense of self.

“Get up, Taehyung.” You poke the lump in the covers, having barged into his room without a second thought. He whimpers and whines but you take the back scratcher he bought from the dollarama, using it to poke his body. “Get up! We’re going to the gym, bitch!”

The air is completely still. You hear him take a large inhale...then, Taehyung throws the covers off of himself. “What did you just say?”

It’s not long until you’re holding three-pound dumbbells in each of your hands, flexing your arms every other second. The orange tracksuit that you never used, pushed to the back of your closet is on, zipped all the way up your neck. With the light cereal breakfast in your stomach, you feel ready to go.

Taehyung is riding the stationary bike, unable to fathom why he gave in and decided to join you. He wonders if this is a sign of the apocalypse. You wouldn’t be caught dead in a gym out of your own free will otherwise.

He steals a glance at you, clearing his throat. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything from yesterday?”

“Nope.” Your brain is clear, not even an ounce of hazy memories. It’s as if you blacked out or went into a coma for the entire evening and night. “Did I do something weird?”

You’re not exactly sure what transpired. You simply woke up this morning with a new determination, like you had an epiphany last night, despite not remembering at all.

He’s baffled at you, annoyed to no end that you’ve failed to retain the memories that’s caused him-

“No.” Taehyung looks away, “nothing happened.”

“I’ve failed time and time again.” You mutter, forgetting about the other topic. You continue to bend your arms with the weights while darting your eyes around. “I’ve hit rock bottom. There’s no way but up.”

He scoffs and laughs slightly, “that’s one way to look at it.”

“I’m going to make myself a better person. I’ll become irresistible and desirable.”

The gym is hot. And you don’t mean just temperature wise.

Everywhere you look, there are attractive people in every single corner. You could trip anywhere and someone would catch you. There are women running on the treadmill in only a sports bra, men bench pressing a hundred pounds, someone on the row machine, sliding back and forth vigorously. Someone’s doing chin ups, holding on to the bar, flexing their arm muscles with each movement. A stranger is doing squats, leaving a lot to view and beside them, another is doing forceful push ups.

They’re drenched, sweat slick off their skin. The people’s hair are sticking to their foreheads, toned abs and thighs exposed, broad shoulders to match. They’re out of breath, opening their mouths wide to tip back their heads for water. God. You could live here.

“You’re drooling.”

Your best friend whispers in your ear, snickering and you swallow the mouthful of built up saliva. Your arms have stopped moving long ago, Taehyung taking the dumbbells before you forget and open your palm, letting the heavyweight crush your foot like you’ve done in the past.

“This is a gym, not an adult movie theater.”

“I should ask someone if they need someone to spot for them or if they want someone to hold their legs as they do sit ups.” You nod to yourself, convinced by your own words. Taehyung unfortunately is not as convinced and he holds the collar of your tracksuit before you walk off and harass someone.

“I don’t think so.”

“Tae…” You whine, stamping your feet like a child. He grins and keeps his hold on you like it’s a leash. “Let me go!”

“So you can terrorize others and potentially get thrown out for sexual harassment? The least I can do for this world is make sure that doesn’t happen.” He gives you a fifteen pound kettlebell to entertain yourself with. You complain, arms that shake when you try to lift it.

“Oh my god.” You drop the heavy mass, luckily landing on the mat safely and not on any toes. “I think some guy just winked at me.”

Your best friend facepalms. “It was just a blink.”

“I swear-”

“Stop misunderstanding other people’s intentions.” He grumbles, taking you away and deciding to torture you. If you dragged him out on a Saturday morning to go work out, he was going to make sure that you were going to leave sore.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You pout, facing Taehyung upside down as you’re bent over the equipment. “I’m tired! Don’t you have somewhere to be? When was the last time you met with Krystal?”

“Oh, I ended things with her this morning.”

You nearly fall off, bolting up with a tremendous gasp that garners attention from your surroundings. “But she’s so hot! And she liked you so much! What happened?!”

Taehyung has a cryptic expression. He stares at you without a smile. After a minute, he shrugs.

“Things just didn’t end up working out. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Huh.” Once again, guilt bombards you for not knowing what was going on Taehyung’s romantic life when you kept on talking about yours. Strangely, he doesn’t seem sad about it. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s whatever.” He pats the equipment. “Now give me ten reps.”

You comply with fresh energy, appeasing your best friend who’s got his heart broken.

By the time you leave the gym, you vow never to go back. Even if there’s a sea of attractive people, it’s still not worth it.

//

The trio of you, old high school friends and all, soon meet up again with each other. You go out for lunch, catching up with recent developments that causes Somi to go on tangents like she usually does. After, you join her at an old folks home. With Somi’s nursing degree that she’s working towards, she frequently volunteers at retirement homes. They were having a special event today and you both agreed to help out as well.

“Hey, is there something wrong with Tae?” Somi furrows her brows as she divides the paper plates and you frown with the cups in your hands.

“No, why?’

“He keeps staring at y-....you know what? Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” Your friend suddenly brushes it off with a coy smile and moves on before you can question her.

There’s something about homes for the elderly that has always resonated with you. Aside from the memories of running around with your grandmother in one as you were a child, the folks here are brimming with knowledge. They’re retired, stark hair and wrinkled skin, fatigued but bright eyes displaying the youth they once had. These people have lived their entire lives already, felt love and sadness, holding onto countless stories and lessons.

Most of them are satisfied with the life that they’ve led. When you’re with them, it’s as if you’re reading the last few pages of their book; a bittersweet ending, for accomplishing so much but having to say goodbye so soon.

You sigh sheepishly, sitting on a chair at the sidelines, next to your best friend.

The old but classic music is streaming from the record player. The tiny crowd begins to form as the elderly become nostalgic, reminiscing on these songs that they’ve heard when they were teenagers. You watch as an old couple hold hands to the dance floor. They embrace each other, swaying back and forth the melody. It’s a heartwarming, sweet sight that makes you smile.

You don’t notice Taehyung staring at you.

“I just want to be with someone.” You sigh softly again, unable to think of anything better than growing old together with another and always still being in love with them. “To feel love and to be loved…”

Taehyung smiles, “you’re already loved.”

Your own expression matches his and you turn to him. “So, you love me?”

The man beside you has never been more sincere. “I do.”

“I do too.” You throw your arm over him with a lighthearted giggle. “You’re my best friend after all.”

“O-oh.” Taehyung laughs nervously, cheeks heating up. The foreign feeling in his chest is only manifesting with your close proximity and touch. Such a common gesture has suddenly become far too intimate. “Yeah...sure.”

#sfwbangtan stories #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenario #WOOO #One more chapter left!! #OC's thirst is so real y'all

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Always Happy

Framed by a dense forest surrounding it, a beautiful old house stood at the end of a long dirt road. Secluded, in the middle of nowhere in this lush rural countryside.

Crickets chirped and cicadas buzzed in the summer heat. Bruce wiped some sweat off of his forehead and shot Ria a glance. With fatigue in her eyes but refusing to show it in her gait, she returned the look and they then both surveyed the house. It was one of those old colonial era buildings but had been kept in good shape, with a refurbished wood facade and a coat of stark white paint to make the place truly shine on this sunny day. Whoever was responsible for the gardening work on the surrounding hedges and trees was an artist, having created an idyllic and inviting atmosphere that would have lured anybody in.

The backpacking couple walked what they figured would be the final mile of the day as they approached the house. They were dressed in T-shirts, sturdy cargo shorts, hiking boots, and baseball caps. Their colors did not match, but they might as well have.

“I expected way worse,” Bruce said with an approving nod.

Ria’s giggle in response reflected how their nervousness flew away in that instant. Their phone reception was impeccable here, but they had been unable to find any motels or hotels posted online for this tiny backwater town. After asking around, though, they had learned of Miss Lister’s place, who offered bed and breakfast services. They could not even find her house on a map, they had followed directions to get there.

On the way over, they had joked about how it would be some ramshackle hillbilly’s serial killer house like in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, or a trailer park filled with mutants, or some other absurd scenario straight out of horror flicks. Lister’s house was the exact opposite of those expectations and that proved to be refreshing in its own right because some part of the couple had truly expected to encounter something awful at the end of the road.

On the front porch, Ria looked around for a doorbell and found no button. She turned to Bruce who was trying to look through a window inside but failed to see much between the red velvet curtains. Ria asked, “Should we knock?”

Bruce shrugged and raised his hand to rap at the front door.

Before his knuckles hit any wood, the door swung open and a woman in her mid-twenties who was a head shorter than either of the couple looked up at them all wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. She was dressed in a simple pink blouse, jean shorts, and white tennis shoes. Just about in the time they had to take in her appearance, she snapped out of it and gave the two guests a wide, toothy smile. Her pearly whites were straight and perfect.

“Hi,” she said with a cheery ring to the word.

Ria cleared her throat and said, “Uh, Miss Lister?”

“Missy’s my name, honey,” Missy Lister said in the same drawl that was common in these parts, followed by a shrill giggle, her eyes still wide as saucers as she looked the two up and down.

“I’m sorry, I must have misheard your name from the other people in town, I thought it was Miss Lister, not Missy,” Ria said, turning redder in the face by the second. She gave Missy a sheepish grin.

“No, don’t you worry ‘bout it, hon’,” Missy replied as she pushed the door farther open. She waved her hand for them to come inside, and she demonstratively looked that way with her big blue eyes, inviting the couple to follow her gaze.

The interior of the house was furnished completely in a pleasant contrast of dark wood with brass ornaments and neat white doilies strategically placed all about. Numerous house plants in different shapes and colors lined the corridor and flanked the doorways to other rooms. Cool air-conditioned wind seemed to flow out from the inside, instilling a sense of yearning in the two arrivals to enter and find refuge from a sweltering day of hiking.

Ria and Bruce exchanged another glance with each other. Excited smiles lit up on both their faces, and they followed Missy inside the house. She softly closed the door behind them and started giving them a tour of the ground floor, complete with a comfortable den and a roomy kitchen. Her accent and the lovely decorations paired up to give a delightful albeit quirky first impression.

In front of one of the doors, Missy paused and stared at it for a few seconds before she looked back at the two with a wide smile.

“Gimme a moment, you two. This here’s the cellar, and I need to check if my laundry’s done yet,” she told them with another ear-to-ear smile.

Before they could respond, she had already shut the cellar door behind her and disappeared down the dark stairs, with soft footsteps gaining distance.

“She reminds me of someone,” Ria said to Bruce in a hushed murmur.

Bruce chuckled and responded in the same fashion, “Yeah, that girl from the overly-attached girlfriend meme?”

Ria covered her mouth with her palm to stifle a giggle, muffling the words she added, “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Just before they could ponder that any further, the cellar door opened and Missy returned, closing the door behind her again.

“Nope, still going. Pardon me for that interruption. Wanna see the garden? I’m told it’s magical,” Missy said, her words cascading out without pause, like a waterfall.

“After you,” Bruce said with an abrupt chuckle.

Missy walked ahead to lead the way, and the couple exchanged glances again, furrowing their brows almost simultaneously.

Stepping outside into the backyard indeed looked and felt like they had entered another world. The place looked like a small enchanted meadow surrounded by weeping willows and other large trees that cast a welcoming shade from the summer sun. Separated by arrangements of fist-sized rocks, perfectly kept patches of colorful flowers in bloom encircled the field and sparkled in single rays of light. A beautiful bench made of sand-colored wood and wrought black iron stood in the shade of the largest willow.

Bruce stifled a relieved groan as he unburdened himself from the weight of his heavy backpack and set it down on the backyard porch before walking out. Ria followed suit and they moved up to where Missy stood in the garden.

The grass and soil cushioned every step underfoot like the softest mattress imaginable. The mouths of both guests were agape as they turned and looked around while standing in the middle of this garden.

“This is amazing,” Ria said. Turning around to look at Missy, she asked, “Do you do all the garden work here? It’s amazing.”

Missy beamed and had an odd glint in her eyes.

“Yes, I do indeed. Well, I get some help from neighbors and even some of the guests every now and then, kind of a past-time with friends and all that, you know, we get together, do some gardening for fun, have iced tea, the works,” Missy rattled on. Turning away from her guests and surveying the garden herself, she continued, with a sense of marvel in her own voice, “I usually plant new flowers for each guest that stays here for a while.”

Bruce gently elbowed Ria in her side, and she followed his eyes before she could express her discomfort. While Missy monologued, the couple stared at some statues between the trees, overgrown by vines and other vegetation.

“You know, something based on the guests, something that reminds me of them,” Missy said, not noticing where the two were looking.

The statues looked infinitely old, and utterly wrong, in a way that made both of their stomachs knot. One of the statues had tentacles where a mouth should be, and a non-human, angular head with eerie, slit-like eyes. Another looked like a winged and bulbous-headed eyeless something, with elongated claws clutching a pole covered in alien-looking symbols that neither of them could decipher. There were more, but Missy distracted them from getting a closer look as she audibly turned around.

“You have a red cap, and you have a blue cap, so maybe I’ll get a rose and violet to represent you two lovebirds,” Missy said while giving them another wide, toothy smile. “C'mon, lemme show you your rooms, you’ll love ‘em so much you won’t wanna leave!”

She walked past them with her usual energy. Bruce and Ria’s next set of exchanged looks carried a hint of worry in them. Just before they arrived on the porch behind Missy, the small woman heaved both of their backpacks off the wooden floorboards and onto each of her own shoulders as if they weighed nothing.

“Lemme get that for you, you two look exhausted,” Missy said with a giggle.

Before they could respond to her, she barged back inside. Bruce cleared his throat but dared not speak up. Ria grabbed his hand. He squeezed back tighter than she did.

They followed the thumping footsteps of Missy guiding them upstairs to the bedrooms. She showed them around the upper floor as any tour guide would, and it was all just as flawless and picture-perfect as the rest of the house. Everything Missy said during the tour was as innocent and upbeat as ever. But the grip of the couple holding hands remained as tight as a vice all the while.

In one of the spacious guest rooms, Bruce finally broke the ice by clearing his throat again and idly asking, “I take it this is a really safe town, huh? Like, do you have anything beyond a sheriff out here? It’s really secluded, I bet nobody can—”

Ria squeezed his hand so tight that it felt like a bone might pop out. Bruce flinched and forced a smile.

“I mean, it is so quiet out here, I bet I could sleep like a baby. It’s, uh, lovely. So, uh, do you get, uh,” Bruce stammered. Ria’s grip did not loosen, and the pain caused him to almost wheeze out the next words, “Do you get a lot of guests this time of year?”

Missy slowly turned and stared blankly at the air between them. A semblance of her wide smile remained on her face, though it faded. Just when an uncomfortably long moment of silence had passed and Ria swallowed, Missy snapped out of her trance and gave them her usual toothy smile.

She blurted out, “Under the sky of Talithoth, the Zulovol are always happy and without sorrow!”

Ria and Bruce gave each other and Missy some awkward nods and the worst impressions of a smile, for they could muster no better.

“Ah, right,” Ria said with a cracking voice.

“This is your room, by the way,” Missy said, the facade of her smiling face never breaking, always perfect, like the exterior of the house. “You want me to draw you a bath? It’d be great on a hot day like this. Lemme draw you a nice bath,” she said without stopping to inhale.

Missy set the two backpacks down on the floor with a loud thud each and stormed past the two. The second she had turned the corner outside the room’s doorway, the couple grabbed their bags with the speed of people close to panicking and stepped back out into the hallway.

Missy had disappeared into the white-tiled room at the end of the hallway. The door to the bathroom was ajar. Sounds of sloshing water carried to the two as they stood there, captivated with a mixture of curiosity and fear. When they heard something that they would later describe as the sound of tearing flesh, fear took over. They fled from Missy’s house. Bruce could have sworn that someone or something chased them to the front door but neither of them dared to look back as they ran away, trailing back down the dirt road.

They told the story of this bed and breakfast to some friends even though they hardly believed it themselves. A year later, they heard from those friends again.

Their friends said this house did not exist.

—Submitted by Wratts

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #my writing #literature #spooky #fiction #submission #always happy #lovecraft #lovecraftian #house in the woods #colonial #middle of nowhere #creepy #creepy-friendly #bed and breakfast #BnB #backpacking #hiking #forest #Ria and Bruce #Missy

[the-cryptographer]

I must ask you about JouKai for the meme, predictably. Nice questions, btw!!

Don’t worry! It’s predictable in a good kind of way :D

And thank you! I’m glad you liked the questions! I feel like you can determine my terrible taste in fic by reading these questions~

Rest under the cut:

What they watch during movie dates and what kind of snacks they get from concessions.

Hehe. I think we talked about them watching horrible realityTV and avant garde films that neither of them can stand. But, for the movies,they probably watch really lame live action kids movies with monsters andDRAGONS. Jounouchi also likes genre pieces, like samurai and yakuza flicks.Anyhow, yeah, Jounouchi buys popcorn and sour gumdrops from concessions withthe intent of feeding Kaiba in small increments through the movie, but he getstoo into watching the screen and eats it all himself.

Which one gets in to a fight with the other’s parents.

You’d think it’d be Kaiba given his own parents are too DEADfor Jounouchi to fight with. But, yeah, I can’t really see Kaiba doing it. Hemanages some passive aggressive snark when Shizuka forces Jounouchi and himinto the presence of Jou’s mom, but he’s trying to be nice and also not tryingto pick fights with nobodies, so hekeeps himself contained for the most part. He also tries to be passiveaggressively snarky with Jou’s dad, but Jou’s ready to kick anyone who is meanto his dad straight out the door, so Kaiba also contains himself there too.Anyhow, it’d totally be Jounouchi if Kaiba’s parents or Gouzaburou were stillalive. Jounouchi might be intimidated by Gouzaburou at first, but eventuallyGouzaburou would cross some line in Jounouchi’s presence and from then onJounouchi would be ready to fight him ALL THE TIME, 24/7, NO BREAKS. Ugly, uglystuff :v

What kind of street performance they’d put on to raise money if they were stranded somewhere.

Despite being a comedy routine in motion, I kind of doubtthey’d jump to that immediately. At first Jounouchi’s like – let’s put on aduel as a performance. And then Kaiba’s like – no – and walks off. Jounouchistarts out juggling, and singing/busking, and trying to do a kind of one manstand-up comedy show, and it’s just not working, and so over time it startsdevolving and he starts pleading with every nice looking nee-san and jii-chan thatpasses by – lend me some cash pls pls. And then Kaiba returns because in themeantime he’s hijacked somebody’s street cart and pounded its business intoshape and aggressively sold a bunch of extra units. It’s probably good Kaiba gotback when he did, because Jounouchi’s next method of recourse is probablymugging people…

How they’d be as parents if they had-a-kid/someone-forced-a-kid-on-them.

Jounouchi’s all into being nurturing in my head. So he’s cookingmeals, and blowing bubbles in the bath, and listening to the kid’s problems,and also he functions as a human jungle gym some of the time. Totally fussy, soccermom, and also goofy dad jokes. Also definitely the parent to go to if you’relooking for sympathy and support, and to get away with shit. Omg, he’s theworst at discipline.Yeah, so Kaiba gets to play bad cop a lot. Jounouchi would probably also stickhim with icky jobs like diaper duty a disproportionate amount of time. ButKaiba also maybe does stuff like tell bedtime stories – quiet things. Comparedto Jounouchi – he’s hard to draw approval and affection out of, so the momentswhen he shows these things become very !!! You’d want to make him proud and tonot disappoint him.Also, you totally wouldn’t realise as a kid, but as you’d get older you’drealise that Jou and Kaiba were totally playing you. Like, they were working insynch this whole time and providing really complementary things as parents, andyou’d suddenly be blown away by how much the things you appreciated or blamedone for and not the other were really a joint effort all along, and you wereTRICKED! Haha, I think they’d be good parents x’)

Who would cause the most trouble during a camping trip and how.

Kaiba would be such a bump on a log during a camping trip. Ifeel like he wouldn’t be into it AT ALL. How dare you drag him away from workfor this bullshit.

“C’mon, Kaiba, if you don’t help get this fire started, we can’t eat.”“Wecan just not eat then.”

So, since Kaiba’s not willing to do anything on this camping trip, he doesn’tactually cause any trouble. But, by the same token, Jounouchi’s definitely theone that solves all the trouble he creates by himself. Jounouchi gets themlost, and Jounouchi manages to get them unlost. Jounouchi breaks the frame forthe tent and then repairs it using twigs and woven grass. Jounouchi doesn’t sealup the food properly and wild animals get into it, and Jounouchi has to chaseoff the bears and monkeys and everything by himself and then make entire mealsfrom the one can of beans that’s left over and whatever he forages. Jounouchi’sa resourceful idiot, so somehow they make it out okay.

What they would give each other as both a serious gift and a troll gift.

I don’t feel like they’re a gift-y kind of couple because Jounouchihas no money and Kaiba doesn’t need anything and also Kaiba actually beingsentimental enough to give out presents(??)Serious gifts from Kaiba are probably like ‘my undivided attention forhalf-an-hour’ and ‘I paid for this apartment, and also your health and life insurance’and ‘I am touching your shoulder and attempting to be emotionally supportive. Doyou see how hard this is for me?’ They are spontaneous and touching gifts… Exceptfor the insurance bills; he pays those every month. Troll gifts from him… I’mnot sure Kaiba knows how to troll Jou without being rude and cruel. It isunknown~Serious gifts from Jou are probably in the realm of 500 sandwiches deliveredover the course of a year, or I brought you chocolate for Valentines and friedchicken for Christmas. Troll gifts are probably honestly the kind of thingKaiba gets for his birthday. Jou buys him things like KaibaLand souvenir cups, orridiculous neon glow-in-the-dark-sex toys he doesn’t even think Kaiba wouldlike, or little blue dragon hair clippies for little girls.

Who moves in with them as an unfortunate third wheel roommate.

I’m pretty sure Kaiba is the unfortunate third wheel roommatein most of my headcanons considering both ettuship and battleship. But- okay,let me do this for real.Although I’m sure Kaiba would be annoyed by anybody that moved in unexpectedlywith the possible exception of Mokuba, none of Jou’s friends are really allthat unfortunate. It’d probably be… Pegasus or Siegfried (maaaaaybe Amelda) manipulatingthe fuck out of Seto, and creating some elaborate set of fake circumstances andalso blackmail for why they can’t stay at the hotel while they’re in town, and bothSeto and Jou would very much like them to leave but- no.

How they feel about handholding and sudden kisses in the ear-cheek vicinity.

Handholding: no. not casually at least. Sudden kisses: in public– no. in private – one of the few joys in Seto’s life.

Who’s always snapping photos and who’s pack-ratting clutter.

Jounouchi’s definitely the one snapping selfies andcapturing Kaiba’s frowny face on camera during all important life junctures. Phonecamera is getting worn out.I don’t think either of them is very pack ratty. Probably Jounouchi sometimesgets into moods where they can’t throw the thing out because what if we need it later. (‘We’ll buy another one,’Kaiba says, honestly confused by the question.) But even Jounouchi’s probablyof the personal philosophy that every important thing in life can be carried ina backpack, so I think for the most part he’s not collecting clutter.

Who hogs the bathroom in the morning and who causes toothpaste related drama.

Neither one of them is hogging the bathroom. And, idk, whois the real causer of toothpaste drama – the one doing the toothpaste thing, orthe one making a big deal out of the inconsequential toothpaste thing? Well,squeezing the toothpaste from the top of the tube, leaving toothpaste on the sink,trying purposefully to be annoying and writing messages on the mirror withtoothpaste – Jounouchi does all those things. Also, in an attempt to solve the issueof squeezing Kaiba’s toothpaste tube wrong, he buys his own tube of toothpasteso they each have their own. But he buys annoying flavours like bubblegum andbanana and it kind of pisses Seto off.

What their matching costumes were for that one party.

Probably it should be Duel Monsters themed, yeah?! Lord ofDragons and Red Eyes? Kaibaman and Flame Swordsman? But imagine Jou as Marioand Seto as Luigi and Jou tried to convince Seto to go as Princess Peach butKaiba was like, ‘absolutely not’, and Jou was like ‘yeah, you’re right.Princess Peach actually has an ass’, and everything was terrible.

If I think they’d get married and why or why not.

Never say never. But, honestly, probably not? Headcanon isJounouchi thinks marriage is like, ‘I have a promise and responsibility as aman to always protect and support my spouse and our kids.’ And Kaiba thinksmarriage is like, ‘I want to bind us together for eternity.’ And I thinkneither of those is really compatible with their relationship with one another.Jou’s view is kind of condescending to begin with, but it probably even strikeshim as condescending when it comes to the absurdity of him providing (physical)protection or (fiscal) support to Kaiba. And Kaiba probably spends his timetrying to figure out not how to bind himself closer to Jou, but rather how to createspace and breathing room in their relationship in a way that isn’t cruel orharsh or pushing Jou away for good. So I don’t think either one would reallyhave an inclination to approach the topic with one another – even though I’m allfor them being together until and after they’ve become crotchety old men.Also, you know Seto went through hell and also murdered people to get thatsurname? It’s a big deal for him. He’s not letting his surname go and, also, onlyhim and Mokuba are worthy of the name Kaiba – you have to prove yourself. And, withany luck, by the time Seto and Jou are settled enough for this to ever come up,Jou will probably be sure enough in himself to go, ‘fuck you. I’ve got nothingto prove. you can have your smelly name all to yourself’. And, also, we shouldpity the poor girl or boy Mokuba decides he wants to marry, because who knowswhat hell awaits them before they are accepted™ by Mr Kaibaman.

Who has over a thousand unread emails in their inbox or five hundred icons on their computer desktop and how the other reacts to this gross mismanagement.

Kaiba. Definitely. Thousands of emails. Hundreds of desktopicons. It’s a kind of orderly disaster. Jounouchi doesn’t care. He reacts byslowly trying to shut Kaiba’s laptop, and then Kaiba tells him to knock it off.

What their hidden artistic talents are and how appreciative the other is of these talents.

Jounouchi’s handy and canonically good with model kits and stuff,but I think Kaiba’s the more classically artistic. For some reason I think he’sboth a good singer and good at drawing – although he doesn’t do more thanrandom sketches. Kaiba himself doesn’t put much time or value into either ofthese talents (except when drawing comes in handy for invention concept art andconstruction blueprints) but Jou – Jou kind of thinks it’s both super cool andsuper annoying bc, gdi, why is Kaiba good at everything?!

What they consider each other’s most attractive quality and/or their favourite thing about the other.

I think I answered this one a while back, but Kaiba’scharmed by Jou’s smile and that Jou is so unrelentingly sturdy. And Jou kind ofadmires Kaiba’s pride and persistence, and also how much he cares for Mokuba.

…

Thank you for the ask :D

#JouKai #save me from this card game hell #ask

[cultofzac]

YouTube’s Monster: PewDiePie & His Populist Revolt

Felix Kjellberg, known to his fans as PewDiePie, is by far YouTube’s biggest star. His videos, a mix of video-game narration, humorous rants and commentary, have cumulatively been viewed billions of times, and more than 53 million people subscribe to his channel. He has been called “the king of YouTube” and countless variations thereon, and he has remained unchallenged on that perch for years, making millions of dollars and leveraging his popularity into outside ventures.

But Monday night, The Wall Street Journal reported that the Disney-owned Maker Studios, a longtime partner of Kjellberg’s, would no longer have anything to do with him; later, YouTube announced that it was canceling a show developed with Kjellberg, and removing his channel from its lucrative “Google Preferred” advertising program. At issue was a series of recent comedy videos. In one, he found performers on the freelance site Fiverr willing to dance and hold up a sign of the client’s choosing. He asked them to write “Death to all Jews,” and they did; in his subsequent video, he expressed shock that the request had made it through. “It was a funny meme, and I didn’t think it would work,” he said, mock-begging news outlets not to make too much of his stunt. “I swear, I love Jews,” he said, “I love them,” before playing a few notes on a kazoo.

As he anticipated, plenty of news outlets saw a story in his antics. Others saw something more. A post on The Daily Stormer, a neo-Nazi site, marveled at Kjellberg’s performances, and wondered in disbelief if they might signal sympathy for its ideology. “Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, since the effect is the same,” the post said, “it normalizes Nazism, and marginalizes our enemies.” As the controversy mounted, Kjellberg denounced the “hate-based groups” that had taken notice of his videos. “I was trying to show how crazy the modern world is, specifically some of the services available online,” he said in a Feb. 12 Tumblr post. “I think of the content that I create as entertainment, and not a place for any serious political commentary. I know my audience understand that, and that is why they come to my channel.” This explanation, unsurprisingly, did not satisfy Maker Studios, or, for that matter, Google.

It’s tempting to write off this scandal as an inscrutable product of a teen subculture, wrapped up in layers of irony and the peculiar language and aesthetics of YouTube. It is likewise easy to frame the episode as an isolated collision between offensive speech and careful sponsors. But it’s most useful to understand Kjellberg’s meltdown in the context of the vast platform on which it took place — YouTube — and the nascent strains of politics that could come to define it.

With more than a billion users, YouTube has become not merely a platform but almost a kind of internet nation-state: the host of a gigantic economy and a set of cultures governed by a new and novel sort of corporation, sometimes at arm’s length and other times up close. It’s a system Kjellberg has spent recent months antagonizing in a broader and less-inflammatory way, even as he continued to thrive within it. He bemoaned its structure and the way it had changed; he balked at its limits and took joy in causing offense and flouting rules. Over time, he grew into an unlikely, disorienting and insistently unserious political identity: He became YouTube’s very own populist reactionary.

In December 2016, Kjellberg’s account was about to pass 50 million subscribers — a milestone, and a record. But in his videos, he seemed to be ending the year on a pessimistic note. “It’s time for me to complain about YouTube,” he said in a video. “Again.” The platform, he suggested, had changed in a way that he found worrying, and maybe punitive. Subscriptions are the fundamental organizing principle of YouTube – akin to a Twitter feed, they deliver to users exactly what they’ve signed up to see – but, Kjellberg said, they were becoming less important to the way viewers found videos. What YouTube was doing instead, he claimed, was packing people’s feeds with material they didn’t care about, from channels they’d never subscribed to. His viewership numbers had suffered as a result, he said. His rant spiraled on from there, swerving among resentment and self-deprecation, grievance and absurdity, toying with both revolutionary and reactionary tropes, and ending where it had begun: with a threat to close his account.

It might seem hard to believe that anyone would want to watch a YouTube video complaining about YouTube’s internal economic politics, but more than 20 million people did (the video’s title, “DELETING MY CHANNEL AT 50 MILLION,” surely helped). For years now, in fact, YouTube has been one of Kjellberg’s most-addressed subjects, second only perhaps to video games. In September, he even collapsed the distinction between the two, releasing a smartphone game called Tuber Simulator. The object is to become a famous YouTube star. Players begin their careers in a dank, windowless room and scrounge for views and cash, with videos like “Bikini Wax Your Pets” and “GO Outside – Walkthrough,” the latter a play on a common form of video-game vlog. It’s both an extended joke about making money online and a functioning, moneymaking app. “If the intention was to make a biting critique of late capitalism, Pewdiepie and Outerminds have wildly succeeded,” Gita Jackson wrote for the gaming site Kotaku. “But if not,” she continued, “the game still gets there by accident.”

For product reviewers and gamers, for the unboxers and the how-to teachers, for the interchannel drama analysts, the bloggers, the makeup artists and the pranksters, YouTube looms large not just as a context but also as a character. The daily exigencies of life on YouTube are perhaps the only subject that cuts across every major YouTube category. Showbiz loves to make movies about showbiz, and television loves to make television about TV. YouTube has simply democratized this impulse.

It makes sense that YouTube would become home to such a performatively self-aware economy. It is, after all, one of the most mature of the major social platforms. It is extremely culturally productive, and can claim genuine stars as its own. Above all, it pays. And in the people who depend on the platform to pay their bills, it inspires a peculiar mixture of paranoia, desire, gratefulness and disdain that shows up clearly in their work. YouTube’s peculiar relationship with the economy within it is fraught, promising and poorly understood. It’s also unique among social-media platforms — but maybe not for much longer. For now, most of the biggest internet platforms are understood as venues for communication, expression and consumption. YouTube has given us a glimpse at what happens when users start associating social platforms with something more: livelihoods.

Watch enough YouTube programming on any subject and you’ll gradually come to understand the struggles of starting and maintaining a channel. You’ll become familiar with the mementos Google sends creators at subscriber milestones — a silver “play” button at 100,000, around which time your favorite YouTubers might start talking about quitting their day jobs, and a gold one at a million, when they are more to likely have done so. You’ll hear plenty about conversations with YouTube support, many of which contradict one another. You’ll develop opinions about YouTube’s copyright rules, age restrictions and advertising policies. You’ll get an intuitive sense of the YouTube attention marketplace and how people try to take advantage of it, and you’ll hear about advertising rates. You’ll hear conspiracy theories — some rooted in daily shared YouTube experience, others rooted in less visible fears, desires and resentments — some of which gain considerable traction.

And why shouldn’t you? YouTubers are not employed by YouTube, but they are paid by YouTube, because it matches their videos, automatically, with advertisers. The platform and the video-makers share a clear and common goal: to persuade audiences to watch more videos in order to make more money from ads. But even with a unifying cause, creators inevitably discover smaller ways in which their goals and YouTube’s are at odds. It is in YouTube creators’ interest, for example, to understand the best practices for getting the most YouTube subscribers, or the best strategies for making videos that YouTube might algorithmically recommend. But it is in YouTube’s interest for the inner workings of its platform — including recommendation algorithms, the way it calculates advertising rates and the precise locations of its boundaries — to remain at least somewhat secret, to prevent creators from gaming the platform’s quirks at the expense of either YouTube’s user experience or its bottom line. Criticism from its creators is one of the many things YouTube tolerates to maintain this arrangement, which is otherwise clearly working to their benefit.

Emergent politics of social platforms differ in scope and character and sit along peculiar axes, some familiar, others new. On Twitter, which does not pay popular users, they revolve around matters of speech and harassment; the platform hosts a range of progressive movements as well as an extremely visible and openly racist reactionary movement, and they have been at war. On Facebook, which is bigger and less combative, they focus on censorship and governance. But on any major platform, they tend to grow from the same fertile place: the gap between the structures built by the company and what users are allowed to do within them. Inevitably, this leads users to fundamental political questions: Who gets what, and why? Who gets to do what, and why?

Kjellberg’s December video drew responses from other YouTubers, debunking or explaining or affirming the claim by YouTube’s biggest star that the platform just wasn’t what it used to be, some gathering millions of views of their own. In retrospect, though, one brief moment in the original video was especially notable. As he wound down his rant, he hinted at a different sense of victimhood, drawing from the same sense of umbrage but directing it in a startling direction. After criticizing the platform for not understanding the realities of working on YouTube and wondering aloud if he was being punished, or somehow demoted, he affected a sincere voice and said, “I’m white.”

“Can I make that comment? But I do think that’s a problem,” he continued, before a smash-cut and a return to a mocking rant about not letting YouTube win — another assurance to viewers that, as always, he was just kidding, and that the offensiveness of the prior claim was the reason he’d made it.

Here, again, it is helpful to situate Kjellberg properly. He initially rose to popularity within the video-gaming subculture, which, beginning with the “GamerGate” movement and continuing through the American presidential election, became surprisingly and darkly politicized. His core audience is young, and his sensibility clearly appeals to a masculine teenage impulse to shock and provoke. The YouTube platform plainly incentivizes such attention-grabbing behavior, right up until the point that it becomes a liability to its operators or their other partners — a familiar dilemma in the entertainment world, sure, but one that plays out quite differently on YouTube, which is considerably and deliberately less hands-on with its talent. It’s telling that YouTube’s biggest star portrayed the platform as distant and capricious. It’s alarming that following his performative hostility led him to where it did: attempting to rationalize the use of anti-Semitic speech under the guise of transgression.

Kjellberg had, either instinctively or intentionally, constructed a political identity as YouTube’s insider class-traitor, raging against a system that’s — trust him, but also he’s just joking, but he would know — totally rigged. Now he is sketching out what a far more toxic YouTube politics of ressentiment might look like, under the threadbare cover of ironic bigotry, the recent history of which is worryingly instructive. In the meantime, the self-identified real racists are laughing along heartily, even as Kjellberg strenuously attempts to distance himself from them.

Maker Studios, which seeks to create a sort of auxiliary production apparatus for YouTube, has less of a connection to the platform than any of the YouTubers it has partnered with, who belong much more to their audiences, and to YouTube. Its severing of ties, in the bigger context of YouTube, amounts to a disavowal. YouTube’s reaction, and how it follows up, is the thing to watch. As, of course, is Kjellberg’s. His most recent video, posted after Maker Studios and Google made their announcements, was a lighthearted play-through of a gag video game called “Genital Jousting,” and did not reference the scandal. His commenters, on the other hand, did, asking almost uniformly that he not apologize for anything.

The full character of the burgeoning politics of platforms remains to be seen. But right-wing movements have found early traction and see opportunity. Even as farce, Kjellberg’s performance has been illustrative, and a small number of eager observers say they hope that, as backlash mounts, it will be galvanizing. “If Pewdiepie wasn’t #AltRight before,” Vox Day, a former video-game designer and an alt-right leader posted on Gab.ai, a private, Twitterlike service popular with the movement, “he is now.”

#Youtube #Pewdiepie #populist #racism #alt-right #Felix Kjellberg #news