#And of course twitter is dog piling on her

[duckpatrolsquad]

the way that Twitter users can find someone’s innocuous if a bit strange tweets that’s not meant for their communities and then endlessly ridicule that person needs to be studied

[ckret2]

I need to know: how you think bill would be in chat if he ever got the priviledge to get a phone or use a PC?What social networks would he use?

Types in all caps at all times. Punctuation optional. If someone asks him to turn off caps he instead doubles the font size. He can do this even on sites/apps that don't allow you to change the size. He won't say how.

Considering this is 2013? He's probably a pioneer in spreading misinformation and bullshit on twitter. He's one of those "MANIFEST LOVE and $$$ get your DREAM JOB through the POWER of the LAW OF ATTRACTION" cultish New Age grifters making money off a website selling self help PDFs. He's building an internet cult.

Anyone who knows him IRL gets to hear him laughing about how stupid his followers are. However it sounds like he kind of buys some of his own New Age BS to a degree that worries people.

He gets in stupid drama and then spends all night digging up something to cancel his opponent over and sic his followers on them, not because he thinks he's justified, but sheerly for the thrill of the hunt. It makes him feel powerful. His twitter has been banned four times. People run webpages dedicated to documenting his heinous bullshit. He reads them regularly.

He's waiting til 2014 when bitcoin prices drop to like $50, buying as much as he can, spending six years waiting, and selling them in 2020 for like $69,000. He runs a blog telling people to buy crypto. He can actually foresee when the prices are going to peak and fall. He doesn't share this info. He makes bank himself and gleefully ruins everyone else's finances with no regrets. (He would encourage Mabel to buy and tell her exactly what day to sell.) (He would not tell Dipper when to sell.)

He hangs out in doomsday prepper forums so that he can make up new conspiracies and see if he can make everyone even more paranoid.

He's got a youtube channel that's a mix of all of the above BS. New Age self-help buy-crypto buy-gold our-universe-isn't-real access-the-higher-planes doomsday conspiracy mishmash. You can imagine the viewers he attracts. He disdains them all and tries to make them worse on purpose. Never shows his face, every video is a slideshow of psychedelic & pseudo-religious art (mostly stolen) with a voiceover and mystical-sounding music.

Mabel gets him on tumblr, because if Mabel has any social media of course it'd be 2013 tumblr, and probably a deviantart. She's posting her art and really badly photoshopped gif edits of her favorite cartoons and musicians, and generally acts like a normal person online.

Bill's tumblr is completely divorced from all his other horrible online activity. All he posts is cryptic rhyming couplets and terrible local photos of things that fascinate him. The photos could be anything from a car with a really sweet flaming paint job to a stunningly beautiful double rainbow over pine-covered mountains to a literal pile of dog shit because he thought it was interesting how it was drying out unevenly. Once he gets investigated for arson because he posted a picture of the house in flames within three hours of the crime. (He was, in fact, guilty, but he wheedled an alibi out of friends before they knew what he was being investigated for.)

He has like eight followers. The only content he reblogs is Eye of Providence images and pyramid images, which he tags #LITERALLY ME and thinks he's hilarious for; and also every single thing Mabel posts without exception until the end of time.

[tkblythofficial]

R is a naturally reactive person, I feel bad because the things people say about her are really nasty so I understand why she feels the way she does (always with her guard on) sadly social media and especially Twitter (or X) is a cesspool of miserable people complaining about everything and anyone. Seriously the negativity there is off the charts, and now with el*n taking over it became the perfect place for raging racists and incels to be (seriously the way the harass and mock woc celebrities like Halle, Zendaya and ofc R is really disheartening) Sadly idt the hate is going to stop anytime soon cause she keeps giving them ammunition. I love her tweets cause she's very insightful and quirky and she has my type of humor so I enjoy her content but my head hurts everytime I see her responding to hate when she could just ignore and block, those keyboard warriors are losers while she's literally a young award winning actress ffs!

Also I don't understand why T would get any hate for defending R?? by starters he's not working with her anymore so he's not going to post her on his IG promoting his work from now on, and secondly , yeah R might have an annoying fixation with responding hate comments but NO ONE deserves to be dogpilled the way she is for literally breathing

1. R is very reactive. Social media allows everyone to react in a split second which is why she should leave Twitter. Ayo Edebiri left Twitter (publicly, at least) because she used to be very responsive to fans and has thrived ever since she left.

2. R can stay on social media but she needs to use it wisely. That’s why I suggest her to not respond to hate and limit comments. Margot Robbie left social media too. Sometimes it’s just a smart thing to do.

3. No one said T would get hate for defending R? And he shouldn’t defend her which is what the anon was talking about. That’s the boar’s job actually. And he’s failed to do it. Even Halle B’s sperm donor defended her recently and he’s the bottom of the barrel too.

4. No one deserves to get dog piled on and that’s exactly my point. She can’t do anything about it except protect her own peace which she hasn’t been doing. Does T Swift deserve hate for existing? Nope! Is she protecting her own peace by ignoring people and not responding to hate that will always be there? Yup! T Swift got massive hate just for supporting that dumb jock at his job and did that stop her from going to his games? No! R needs to live her life offline. Is it fair she’s getting hate? Of course not. But she needs to learn to not care and be truly unbothered.

[pumpumdemsugah]

Are there any black women YouTubers you watch at times? I used to love ForHarriet in college but I haven’t caught up with her in a while though I know black men were dog piling on her a lot. I don’t even recall her being particularly critical of them but it seems par for the course being a black woman online. I catch up with random videos once in a while—my guilty pleasure is codependent black lesbian couple channels living their best lives and being sexy about it can’t lie lol—but so many general black women channels will start of strong and then slip into manifestation/god/traditional living and like. Ew lmao

ForHarriet is the only Black woman on YouTube I actively go out my way to catch up on what she has to say because even if I don't exactly agree with her, she's thought about what she has to say is a very well read woman who wasn't educated by the university of twitter hottakes and Tumblr posts. It's always obvious when someone is cough*shanesphere*cough

Now and again I might watch a video by Joulzey ( however you spell it ) or nappyheadedjojoba but that's really it. There's this dark skin woman and her name starts with M, her videos are fine and seem well researched but I'm just not interested in what she has to say. I don't mean in a rude way lol

There isn't a Black woman on YouTube that posts about women's issues etc that I think makes anything that's really worth shit ( minus ForHarriet ) but I feel like that about everyone on YouTube.

[daydadahlias]

hi i was wondering if you knew why people are mad at ashton - something about atl but i don’t know what that means - i keep seeing it on my timeline but no one explains shit and i figured since your ashton’s #1 fan you would know 😭

oh dear, lots of panicked ash stans in my inbox today <3 yall need to take some deep breaths, ok? things will be ok <3

anyway, it's me, Jess, ur elected representative for ash stans and I will be glad to inform you a little bit more of The Current Situation.

I have also already posted an official Press Release about it if you would like to check that out too <3

now lock in for a jessay.

so here's the situation: our lovely Hippie Himbo has yet again dropped himself into hot water because he DJed an emo nite (because who doesn't love a side quest) and, at that emo nite, Ashton made the worst mistake there is and admitted to playing All Time Low.

(im being a little sarcastic if you cant tell)

now, why is this an issue? I'll try to give you an abridged version as to why everyone (and when i say everyone i mean performative social justice warriors on twitter who have never had a real human interaction a day in their life) is so upset.

in 2021, All Time Low's guitarist Jack Barakat was accused of sexually harassing an underage girl. now, the actual details of the accusation are very blurry (as all allegations that surface anonymously on twitter are) and came with no actual factual evidence, but did that stop twitter from taking it as fact? no it sure didn't because one thing about twitter is that you are guilty until proven innocent. this also then created the dog-pile spread of misinformation that twitter is so famous for producing in which a bunch of other allegations came out about them. One user claimed she had found "97 allegations" against the band. I'm also going to point out that when she was asked where she got the number from, she admitted she made it up and deleted her account. additionally, the account that started the accusations also deleted its account not long after. so then it was just an echochamber on twitter of "oh i heard this" "oh i heard that" without any actual proof. and, listen, as an advocate for survivors, I'm definitely not saying we shouldn't believe victims but I am saying that, maybe, we should also think a little more critically about where accusations are coming from.

Following this barrage of information, ATL then posted a very (fucking piss poor) statement about the whole thing (which, as a PR minor, is not a smart move, I'm just going to say that). which went as follows:

and this really bad statement just made the whole thing a lot worse. but, then, ATL said they were going to pursue legal action against the originator of "these false claims" and sue for defamation (which, yeah, smart legal move but also looks really bad to the public eye). of course, this never actually came to fruition because... the twitter account had already deleted itself and was untraceable. so, at that point, the damage had been done, there was no proof to say they did or did not do these things, and that's just... how things go! so it's almost entirely up to the individual fan to decide if they want to believe the allegations or not. which is... a tough spot to be in. now, if we get into my personal perception of the situation, i think that All Time Low are creeps who acted creepy towards teenage girls during the early 2000s but... to be honest yall?? that's kind of how the 2000s were... and i don't want to excuse the behavior but I also don't think it's reflective of who ATL is now. And, additionally, these accusations didn't actually... affect their career at all in the long run? like, if you go look at their fucking Instagram, they're doing Fine lmfao. which makes it potentially even funnier that ashton is receiving death threats for supporting them.

that brings us to The Issue At Hand. which is that, because Ashton played All Time Low (an incredibly famous pop punk band with whom 5sos was friends with in their ~youth~ and who... all the other members of 5sos are literally still fucking friends with) at a DJ event, he's being "called out" and "cancelled" for supporting "rapists and pedophiles."

I'm now going to take this time to say that, whether or not the actual allegations against ATL are true, it does not make them pedophiles OR rapists because the allegations were over sexual HARASSMENT not actual rape. does that make the harassment okay? obviously not. but it doesn't make them PEDOPHILES????? and it is fucking batshit INSANE to me that twitter doesn't actually know the definition of that word and throws it around with such literal reckless abandon.

the real truth of the matter is that twitter is upset because it wants to be not because there is an actual reason to be. and all of the twitter users claiming they're so upset with ashton because they're trying to stand with victims of sexual abuse, do not fucking understand 1) what sexual abuse even IS and 2) what actually helps sexual abuse survivors and 3) have never fucking helped an actual survivor in real fucking life a day in their goddamn lives.

and that's the situation <3

[skyefullofdaisies]

Why do so many (though not all mind you) Nesta stans get SO defensive when you say you don’t like her? Hell some get downright mean. Much like the one they love so much. Don’t get me wrong I can get defensive over my favorite too. However I try to limit that defensiveness unless someone else is just being downright hateful towards my favorite.

These people get mean right out of the gate. Especially in the Facebook ACOTAR groups. I’m in this really great group and someone compared Nesta to Buffy. I said there really wasn’t much of a comparison because Nesta is unlikable and Buffy isn’t. This girl responds with “neither is Nesta (unlikable)” and I responded with “debatable”. That was it. She then proceeds to go off on me and, of course, I respond with the same bitchy energy she’s throwing at me. Then her other Nesta stan buddies all tried to dog pile on me insisting I was being rude. It all devolved *very* middle school-esque real fast, lol. Anyway, I just ended up blocking the original person who replied to me. I should of just ignored her to begin with because she was, clearly, looking for an argument. And, me, stuck in this tornado of grief because of my Mom and in the anger stage of the grieving process shouldn’t have given her that argument.

My favorites are Azriel and Feyre. Plenty dislike them but I’m not actively attacking others for it. I think some of these people identify with Nesta so strongly that people not liking her makes it seem like we don’t like them. Which is silly but, if that is the reason, I get it. I don’t know. Just a little venting post. I know some Nesta stans are a huge issue in the fandom. At least that’s what I see on here, Tik Tok and Twitter. We all just need to calm the fuck down, agree to disagree and enjoy our favorites. 🤷‍♀️

[sweetish-original-story]

Chapter 20

Night. As the sky dyed itself darkser and darker shades of indigo there was a sound of rhythmic chopping that came from the forest, only periodically interrupted by the twitter of a teensy tiny bird with a big head, and a gruff, tired man responding to it.

"--_--_-?" Questions the the tiny pink dot, sitting on the branch of the very tree being cut down.

"I know I should call and talk to her, but I don't want to make her angry, you know?" Dulce sighs a long exasperated sigh. It's hard to work and talk at the same time. No doubt he would have had it done faster if his mind wasn't elsewhere. But it's alright. He's made time in his usual schedule for just this type of problem. Now, if this goes past midnight, THEN it would be a problem. Hed has to move his whole day around tomorrow, even close up shop if it gets bad.

"-_--_---!" Says the bird, frustrated and tired of this conversation.

"Yes, she WAS mad, you should have seen her face, it was like she saw a ghost! Im a little off sometimes when it comes to faces, but im not that dum-"

Bubo, the rude little thing, interrups with a "__---__--!" as if it were the funniest thing in the world before squealing and rocking its head back and forth at its own joke.

Dulce, at this, in a voicemore deadpan than usual, retorted. "Oh, ha ha ha ha ha ha WOW so original. A proper comedian. Ha. It's funny because I almost died. It's so hilarious that I could jump off a bridge."

One could almost hear the sound of him rolling his eyes over the chopping of the cinnamon bark.

"You'd better be glad you're too small to eat."

A loud crack, followed by another, interrupt the both of them this time. Dulce, as if on que, positioned himself at just the right angle under the tree, with one arm out. He'd been through this so many times that there was very little guesswork involved in where to stand. Of course, for most others, this would be extremely dangerous. Even with how small the tree was, one would be crushed before having even a moment to push against it. But Dulce's people were especially strong. They had to be. They lived in the middle of a forest that had been forbidden from outsiders for a reason. One could breathe in the wrong direction and summon a whole gaggle of very carnivorous creatures. He guessed that was part of why his family worshipped what are essentially magical glowing vegan fish.

If his family ever knew he had THAT thought, they would rip his jaw off and kick him in a way that would undo his surgery, if you know what I mean. But thats what most of them are! And it's a little less magical when you know how the "important" ones are made. Like going to a theme park and learning the haunted house has a real skeleton. Or finding out what hot dogs are made of. Or the day his village found out his cousin Rosa was getting married to a nobleman outside of the village.

A long creaaaaaaaak grew into a loud, wind spitting roar as the tree toppled over, heading straight for a sweaty yet stone-faced Dulce. Once again, time slowed down. Suddenly, he was smaller and softer. It was storming. And the tree was no longer little. It was huge, the size of a house, ripped out of the ground by the base. Lifting the base was his grandfather, looking like a pile of hair like kelp, and in front of the tree, ready to catch it, was his dad. In one swift move, he caught the gigantic thing just before it fell onto Dulce. When he went to lift it up so they could all walk home, the bark groaned as the thing nearly shattered under his dads muscles. Obviously, his father didn't notice it, which his grandfather loudly reprimanded him for. His father was still somewhat young and still wasn't fully used to being unable to feel his hands. They were both late bloomers, in a way, as his ritual burns came a lot later in life, according to his grandfather. Dulce wanted nothing more in his life than to be like them, but he was born weak, and he only ever trusted him to wash clothes and carry a basket for roots and berries. One day, he'd show them all how strong he could really be.

As time came back to him, the tree picked up speed again, and his memories flowed down from his head into his spine and finally settled within the veins in his wrists. His body steeled itself for impact and as if possessed, in one quick, silent move-

His body fought against the millisecond of disorientation as he realized a small branch had broken off mid fall and smacked him on the head. Well, you can't predict everything. But the tree was secured in his arm, and he was ready to go break this thing down for fresh bark and spice.

Dulce whistled to call his little buddy as a signal that it was time to tuck away in a safe spot and head home. A long "________..." called in response, as Bubo dramatically flew down from the tree, landing in the absolute most dead dying death pose Dulce has ever seen a bird do. His mouth was agape, his tongue sticking out he even had a little flower he held to his chest.

"Oh, NOOO little BABY! Guess im gonna have to go home and eat aaaalll the freezy flower pops all by myself. This is terrible!"

"----!!!!!" At hearing the words "freezy flower pop, "Bubo instantly popped up and chirped in desperation.

"Aye." Dulce said with a smug grin. "Nuh-uh. You can't do that. Dead things are supposed to stay dead, and they can't eat anything."

Bubo screeched in defiance, settling on a branch before throwing a full-blown tantrum at him, almost as if to say, "The HECK you mean NUH-UH???". Of course, to Dulce, this just sounded like a bunch of tweets from an especially feisty,food motivated bird.

"Okay, yeah, I did it, but that doesn't mean YOU can. You are dead. All the way dead. Dead bird. No come back."

As Dulce lifted the tree over his shoulder and walked in the direction of home, he tuned out the noise on the tree on his shoulder to watch as the stars shot across the sky. One in particular looked very...odd. Bright, so bright it almost lit up the night sky. Its light was golden and familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. It made him feel...scared. He stared at it for a while before confirming it was just a star and headed back into the cozy safety of the darkness.

"Okay. I'll call her."

[cyarskj1899]

Drake Slammed For Megan Thee Stallion And Serena Williams Lyrics On ‘Her Loss’

Drake is under fire for his Megan Thee Stallion lyrics on "Circo Loco" off his collaborative album 'Her Loss" alongside 21 Savage.

NewsOne Featured Video

Source: Amy Sussman / Getty

Drake is at the center of some heated criticism over his new song Circo Loco featuring 21 Savage. The Canadian Hip-Hop star made the internet raise a collective eyebrow on Thursday when the song premiered following the release of his new album Her Loss alongside 21 Savage.

In one verse, Drake seemingly threw a few lyrical jabs at Megan Thee Stallion, calling the Grammy-award-winning femcee a “b*tch” for lying about her shooting incident with Tory Lanez.

“This b**** lie ’bout getting shots, but she still a stallion/She don’t even get the joke, but she still smiling,” the 36-year-old celeb rhymes. Later in the track, Drake seemingly disses Megan’s graduation from TSU:

“Shorty say she graduated, she ain’t learn enough/Play your album, track onе, ‘kay, I heard enough,” he raps.

Megan Thee Stallion calls out Drake

Well, it didn’t take too long for the heated verse to travel back to Megan. After the song surfaced, the Houston native took to Instagram to call out Drake.

“Stop using my shooting for clout bitch ass N****s! Since when tf is it cool to joke abt women getting shot!” she tweeted. “You n****S especially RAP N*****S ARE LAME! Ready to boycott bout shoes and clothes but dog pile on a black woman when she say one of y’all homeboys abused her.”

Then, the “Hot Girl Summer” MC sent a fair warning to internet detractors, telling them to remember all of their favorite “h*e ass” rappers when the truth about the case finally came to light.  Megan will face Torey Lanez in court in the trial scheduled for Nov. 28.

Social media users slam Drake for dissing Megan Thee Stallion

Online, fans slammed Drake for featuring the questionable verse in the new song. Former CNN anchor Marc Lamont Hill lit into the famous rap star, tweeting:

“Started listening to Drake’s album. Was 3 tracks in when I read about the Megan Thee Stallion reference on Twitter. I won’t be finishing the album,” Marc Lamont Hill tweeted. “And please don’t tell me it’s just wordplay… or that it went over my head. I’m very smart. I got it. Doesn’t make it less gross.”

In a follow-up post, the political correspondentwrote: “If Drake released a song with “clever” wordplay that mocked the shooting of a male rapper, or any man for that matter, the same people defending him would be outraged. But of course, he would never do that…”

Another person noted how the verse was disrespectful, given the recent fatal shooting of Migos rapper Takeoff.

“Drake dissing Megan Thee Stallion is abusive,” the tweet read. “People joking about her allegedly being shot by a rapper is also violent & hypocritical; weren’t y’all just denouncing senseless violence in the industry regarding Takeoff’s passing? Mentally, I hope Meg feels loved & protected.”

Megan Thee Stallion wasn’t the only celeb Drake took a few lyrical shots at on the new album. The rapper also penned some questionable bars about tennis champ Serena Williams on another song off the project called “Middle of the Ocean.”

Drake called the 23-time Grand Slam champion’s husband, Alexis Ohanian, a “groupie.”

“Sidebar, Serena, your husband a groupie. He claim we don’t got a problem but. No, boo, it is like you comin’ for sushi” the rapper says around the 3:35 minute mark of the song.

According to TMZ, Drake may have dissed the Reddit co-founder because he has allegedly taken “subtle jabs” at him in the past. If you remember, Williams briefly dated Drizzy back in 2015, way before Ohanian was in the picture. Maybe he’s still yearning for his old thang? Who knows!

Ohanian responded.

Cleared.

SEE ALSO: 

The History Of The Hip-Hop Radio Mix Show

The Legend Of Eric Monte: The Genius Behind The Renaissance Of Black Television

10 photos

Drake Slammed For Megan Thee Stallion And Serena Williams Lyrics On ‘Her Loss’  was originally published on hellobeautiful.com

[90363462]

The Hotties Are Giving Drake Fits For Alleged Shady Megan Thee Stallion Subliminal Diss

Source: Prince Williams / Getty

It’s getting sticky for Drake after fans feel he took a shot at Megan Thee Stallion on a new song.

The hotties are dragging Drake by his braids after the rapper, who claims “he studies rap battles for a living,” spit some shady bars that many feels were a subliminal jab at Megan Thee Stallion.

Drake and 21 Savage’s joint effort Her Loss has finally arrived after a slight delay due to Noah “40” Shebib catching rona. While Twitter is already debating if the album is a “classic,” one song is the subject of harsh criticism.

On the song “Circo Loco,” many believe Drake took a shot at Megan Thee Stallion and made light of the incident where she was shot allegedly by Tory Lanez, who, like Drake, also happens to be Candian.

“This b***h lie about getting shots, but she still a stallion/She don’t even get the joke but she still smiling,” Drake spit on the song.

Megan Thee Stallion Was Not Here For Drake & His Playful Raps

Of course, Megan Thee Stallion, who is currently chilling, responded to the alleged “diss” in a series of tweets.

“I know I’m very popular but y’all gotta stop attaching weak ass conspiracy theories in bars to my name lol Niggas nor hoes EVER address me or @ me WITH a fact or receipts. I AM CLOUT BITCH keep sucking my pussy,” the Houston rapper tweeted.

“Stop using my shooting for clout bitch ass Niggas! Since when tf is it cool to joke abt women getting shot ! You niggas especially RAP NIGGAS ARE LAME! Ready to boycott bout shoes and clothes but dog pile on a black woman when she say one of y’all homeboys abused her,” she continued. “And when the mf facts come out remember all y’all hoe ass favorite rappers that stood behind a Nigga that SHOT A FEMALE,” she continued.

Megan Thee Stallion didn’t have to say much anyway. The Hotties and others are also dragging Drake for shady raps. Peep those reactions in the gallery below.

I hope that song from his and 21 savage album flops just as hard as that clothing store department music honestly, nevermind (and yes I called it clothing store department music because seriously listen to the album and tell me it doesn’t remind you of the music that is mostly played in stores like forever 21 )

[johaerys-writes]

My contribution for Day 1: Sunrise/Sunset of @trephacardweek! Angst, fluff and kisses, set after the end of S2, 2.8k words.

Read here on on AO3!

The place is a mess. 

There really is no better way to put it. By the time the fight is over, and all the vampires and their monster pets are dead, and Dracula is a miserable pile of ash on the floor of Alucard's childhood bedroom, there’s really nothing left but rubble and collapsed walls, torn carpets and scorched tapestries. 

Trevor and Sypha walk through the castle, just to make sure there's nothing left to kill, and to assess the damage. The inner mechanism of the castle has been pretty much melted to nothing, something that Trevor doesn’t fail to point out to Sypha. 

She, of course, conveniently deflects his point. Trevor laughs quietly at that, at the way her pretty brow wrinkles and her chin tilts up in defiance as she thoroughly rejects the notion. After this, they fall silent again. Trevor doesn’t really feel like talking in this place. The silence is thick, swallowing up their words. 

When all three of them gather at the castle’s expansive main hall, the sun’s already hovering above the mountain peaks in the east. Pale light floods the torn up hall, casts shadows on the piles of fallen stone and the half-burned portraits that are scattered on the floor. The sky beyond the tall entrance is painted in reds and golds, pinks and ambers, and the birds hidden in trees beyond the castle are twittering cheerfully into the approaching dawn.

It’s somehow the bleakest sunrise Trevor has ever seen. 

It doesn’t feel triumphant. It should have, but it doesn’t. The fight was tough, and they gave it their all, and they bloody won, but Trevor doesn’t feel like celebrating. Their victory rings hollow, like the empty and frozen castle they’re currently standing in. 

Alucard, too, is quiet, barely speaking a word. The morning light paints the side of his face golden and catches in the highlights in his blonde hair, but his complexion is deathly pale, his eyes dark and downcast. He looks like a man already dead, and, really, who can blame him? Trevor’s no stranger to grief. He’s had his fair share of it when his family was killed, when his home was burnt before his eyes. He remembers the numbness and the shock, the pain that followed, the anger— it’s all part of it, isn’t it? This tumult of emotion, this tangled up thread that has a beginning but no end. It’s a menace, if Trevor has anything to say about it, and it dogs him to this day. 

But Alucard… he’s different. There is hardly any emotion on his face, his eyes glide over the space, over them, without really seeing them. He’s a tough nut to crack, and an impossible bastard to read, and Trevor finds himself standing there awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Sypha once said that Alucard’s sadness is bottomless, like a deep well; if Trevor drops a pebble in it, he’s not sure he’ll ever hear it landing. 

Still, he wants to try. He wants to drop the bloody pebble, he wants to shake him— but he doesn’t know how.  

Alucard speaks, breaking the silence that has fallen amongst them.

“I can’t leave,” he says, his even baritone echoing through the dusty hall. “It’d be nothing but a grave to be looted.” He pauses for a moment, as if considering his words. “So let it be my grave,” he finally whispers. 

Alucard’s golden eyes meet Sypha's, then his, and Trevor’s heart squeezes into something small and tight. He shakes it off with a snort and a roll of his eyes. 

“The tragic prince act doesn’t suit you, Alucard,” he says, walking over to him with confident strides. “Not as much as you think.” He drops his hand on Alucard’s shoulder, and feels a small shiver running over the man's skin underneath his shirt. “Make the Belmont Hold and the castle your home. Not your grave.”

Alucard gazes at him in surprise for a moment, eyes widening ever so slightly. Then, he smiles —a small quirk of the lip, really, but a small nonetheless— and nods. Trevor smiles back, keeping his hand on his shoulder a moment longer than perhaps he should before he lets it fall. 

It’s not the perfect solution, Trevor knows that well. There is no perfect solution, not after everything that’s happened. But it’s something. It’s a start. 

Is it?

Trevor frowns at the silent question, trying his best to ignore the doubt that lingers in its wake.

~~

 

Belmont and Sypha are leaving together. Adrian knows that, before they say a word. He knows, and he understands. 

He wouldn’t have wanted to be there either, if he were them. But he isn’t, so he stays, haunting the dark corridors like a ghost. A fitting image, he thinks, as he helps them haul their few belongings and all the food he was happy to part with.

They spent most of the day cleaning up whatever they could —Belmont helped him fix the shattered hinges of the main entrance, and Sypha's magic swept most of the rubble out— and then they prepared the carriage. The day was already old when they’d started, and now the sun is setting, its amber light falling upon them all, upon the living and the dead. 

Anorher fitting image. The world is full of clever ironies like this, isn’t it? he muses, and stands back to watch them get on the carriage. Sypha’s hand is warm inside his own when he helps her up. 

“Take care of yourself, alright?” she asks, her eyes gliding softly over his features. 

Adrian gazes at them both for a long moment, at the warm blue of Sypha's eyes, at the fiery blaze of the winter sunset that catches in the chestnut highlights in Belmont's hair, and something wild and desperate claws at his chest. The words stir in him, rise to his throat.

Don't go, he wants to say. Stay for a moment; only for a little while.

Sypha tilts her head to the side in question at his long silence.

“You, too,” Adrian finally says, more lightly than he feels. Belmont raises his hand for a final goodbye, and Adrian flips him off, and they all laugh. For a moment, it’s almost as if time has wound back, as if they’re all ready to depart for a brand new adventure. 

Instead, he stares after the carriage as it draws away, stands there until he sees it disappearing down the curve of the road.

The castle feels colder than it did a moment ago when he steps in. The door closes behind him, and he drifts through the corridors. He walks past his father’s library, his study, his laboratory. This entire place is his, Dracula’s; his presence is overwhelming, as if he’s still there. Adrian fancies that if he turns the corner, he’ll see him there, looming over him, wrapped up in his black cloak, his crimson eyes dark and thoughtful. 

Adrian’s never felt smaller, more alone than he does now. 

He sits in his father’s chair, by the fireplace his father used to sit, gazing at his mother’s portrait, like his father used to, and on his shoulders an impossible weight rests. A realisation he can no longer ignore.

All this time, from the moment he locked himself up in the tomb under Gresit, he had told himself, over and over, that Dracula was not his father. Not anymore.

It had been the only way to make himself do what he had to do: if he made himself believe, if only for moment, if only long enough to put a stake through his heart, that this man was a stranger. That it was some hidden, forgotten, suppressed part of the legendary Dracula that had finally broken through; that he had lost his mind entirely.  

That this madman that was preparing to unleash his fury upon the world, that had made blood rain over cities and towns, was not the man Adrian once knew. He was not the man his mother had fallen in love with. He was not the man that had taught Adrian his letters, that had helped him practice his swordwork, that had read to him from his countless books while Adrian sat on his knee. 

That man, who had raised his sword against his own son, who had left Adrian to grieve for his mother alone, was not his father. 

Only it was.

In those final moments, just before Adrian staked him through the heart, just before Dracula collapsed in a pile of ashes at his feet, Adrian saw his father. He saw him, as he used to be. He was there, sorrow and regret writ clear across his features, reaching for him—

And then he was gone. Just like his mother was.

The tears are hot as they run down Adrian’s cheeks. There, in the empty castle, amidst the dust and ruin, next to his mother’s portrait, he grieves. He grieves for both of them, for all of them, for everything that was, everything that could have been, everything that will never again be.  

~~

The blood of the night creature stains the snow crimson, its ashes melting into the damp ground. Sypha sighs and brushes the back of her hand over her brow, where the fallen snowflakes are melting. 

“Should we set up camp here, Alu—” she starts, and stops herself mid-sentence. It is the force of habit that makes her ask; Alucard was always picky with their camp spots, his nose wrinkling in faint disgust at their most obvious choices. Sypha misses that quiet disdain of his now, the sharp and wry jokes that infuriated Trevor, and often sparked an amused smile from her. It’s only been a day, but already his absence is eating away at whatever joy she might have felt for the adventures she’d longed to go on. 

“Did you say something?” Trevor asks, gathering his whip chain. 

"Nothing." Sypha shakes her head and forces a smile. “I’ll get the fire going for dinner.”

The bread is tough and tasteless, even after they toast it, and the goat jerky is salted to the heavens, but Sypha’s had worse — and less— to eat. She chews silently, gazing at the fire, and Trevor does, too. It is dark now, and the only sounds between them are the wind that rustles through the leaves, the crackling of the logs, the animals slithering through the undergrowth.

They haven’t spoken that much, ever since leaving Dracula’s castle. Or perhaps they have, but it was only to fill the silence. After the initial excitement wore off, they simply watched as the narrow dirt road twisted before them like a serpent. She doesn’t want to admit it —she’s sure Trevor doesn’t want to, either— but she knows there’s something missing. Something that can’t be replaced. 

It just isn’t the same, when Alucard’s not there. The thought of him alone in that dark castle, where only ghosts and memories linger, is enough to make her stomach twist. She puts down her humble meal, at the exact moment that Trevor turns his head to look at her, lips parted as if to speak.

“Do you think we made the right choice,” she asks quietly, speaking first, “leaving the castle? Leaving... him?”

Trevor blinks at her, closing his mouth. He considers his words, the flames dancing in his eyes. “If he wanted us to stay, wouldn’t he have asked?”

No, she thinks with sudden clarity. The quiet that settles between them once more is evidence enough that Trevor is thinking the same.  

“I think,” she whispers, “that sometimes, the hardest things to ask for are those we need the most.”

~~

The bottle of wine is half empty in Adrian’s lap. It's been days since Sypha and Belmont left; he hasn't even bothered to count how many. The night is still dark beyond his window, the dawn only a sword’s edge on the horizon, and the embers of the fire are glowing in the hearth.  

He doesn’t expect the sounds. His ears twitch when they catch the distant echo of a carriage stopping outside the castle’s door, the horses neighing softly as their reins are pulled taut. He sets the bottle down and reaches for his sword. Whoever it is, they’re not welcome; not here. 

He’s halfway down the stairs when the doors creak open, and he stops there, gazing at the two figures that stand at the threshold, waiting.

No. That’s his first thought. It can’t be, is his second. Hope stirs in his chest, but the shadows are too stark for him to grasp it. It’s a trick of his weary mind, surely: Belmont and Sypha must be far away from the castle by now, somewhere he can’t possibly reach them. 

“Are you just going to stand there, staring at us?” Belmont says, and Adrian can almost hear the smile in his voice when it rings clearly through the hall. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost; we haven’t been gone that long, have we?”

Adrian’s eyes are burning beneath his eyelids when the sword slips through his fingers, falling on the floor with a clatter. He glides down the stairs and crosses the distance between them as if in a dream— and it should be a dream. They shouldn’t be there, gazing at him with so much fondness he aches, the cold wind that blows in through the open door ruffling their hair, their cloaks whispering about their feet. 

They shouldn’t be there, but they are. They are. 

Sypha takes a step forward, her arms coming around his neck to pull him close. Her warm, clean scent of lavender soap and woodsmoke reaches his nostrils and he inhales deeply as he hugs her back, letting it fill his lungs. 

“You’re back,” he whispers through the lump in his throat, and is only a little embarrassed at the tears that are quick to return, at his voice that trembles. “You’re back.” 

“Yes,” she says, her breath warm by his ear. "We are." She rises up on her tip toes, her fingers threading through his hair. The cold tip of her nose brushes his own momentarily, the single beat of a butterfly's wings— and then her lips are on his, soft and warm and just a little chapped from the cold. It is everything he needs, everything he has been missing. With a trembling sigh he pulls her close, surrendering to their kiss, drinking her in as if he's a man in the desert and she's the bread for his hunger, the water for his thirst. 

He takes a breath and blinks as she edges back to look at him, her eyes gleaming just like his own must be, her lips rosy and glistening. She smiles, her cheeks flushing. "We're home."

"But... how?" he asks quietly. "Why?"

Belmont returns Adrian's astonishment with a smile. “Figured you’d need some help fixing this place up. It really needs some work. Besides, I couldn't well leave my legacy at the hands of a sulky half-vampire bastard, could I?”

"Is that really the reason why you came back?" 

"That," Belmont chuckles, a low throaty sound, "and something else." He reaches up to push a lock of hair behind Adrian's ear, leaning in to press his lips against his own, just as Sypha did. He tastes of whiskey and honey, and Adrian can almost smell the sweet musk of his skin now that they're so close, and it's all he can do to keep his balance and not let his knees buckle.

Belmont's hand is a firm, reassuring pressure on the small of Adrian's back after he pulls back just a little, his other arm wrapping around Sypha’s waist to hold her near as they both look at him with expectation in their eyes. "So," he says with a small smile. “Think you can spare a bedroom or two?”

Adrian laughs softly, brushing his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. Relief floods him, at the same time that the rays of the early morning sun peak over the distant mountain range to burn the mist away. The light touches his skin, warming him, and it sends their elongated shadows trailing along the floor behind them, so closely intertwined that he can’t tell them apart. 

In another life, he might have never met them, or they might have never returned. In another life, he might have kept them out and faced the endless darkness that falls after every sunset alone, fought on his own the demons that linger in the shadows. 

In this life, though, he has them. And in this life, the sun always rises after it has set. 

“Yes,” Adrian whispers as he leans into their embrace once more, closing his eyes. "Always."

[tomdutch]

dude i don’t wanna start anything but someone called moonlane is saying you’re race faking and i just wanna make sure it’s not true because yk,, that’s fucked up if you are.

hhhhhhh

okay saur. that person didn’t publicly say it was me at least as far as i know but they apparently are going around dming ppl abt me & i was informed by a mutual who licherally knows me and has seen my selfies before bc obviously accusations of racefaking aren’t just jokes. so this tells me you probably are mutuals with them and they told you my url and that’s why you’re here so you absolutely are tryna start smth but i digress.

this whole racefaking bullshit started last february when this demented blog wocs started dog piling on rpf blogs and then spread a rumour i’m racefaking and sending her slurs bc telling me to kill myself nonstop for a week just wasn’t enough. that same day, i posted selfies that i kept up for 4 hours bc i’m not a freak who would lie abt my race for what?? tumblr clout?? who knows me lmao this is a stupid lil blog for me to fuck around with my friends. what clout could i possibly be getting.

anyway that moonlane person told my friend and i’m assuming you and several more ppl i’m racefaking without any evidence other than that wocs girl speaking on me & put me in a position where i had to send a picture of myself and my family members to said friend to prove i’m actually arab and black. never mind that i’ve posted selfies on this blog many times before and deleted them bc a zendaya stan lied abt doxxing me on twitter 😀 never mind that i’ve facetimed with mutuals on here and regularly send selfies to my friends on discord bc i trust them & ppl on this app have proven to me time and time again y’all are untrustworthy hoes 😀

so i’m only gonna say this one last time: i am not racefaking. i would never do smth so fucking idiotic and pointless, especially not to gain 12 followers on this app. that moonlane girl and wocs just wanted to talk shit abt me and accuse me of being racist bc i don’t eat the crust out of zendaya’s drawers and of course the only reason someone doesn’t like a celebrity is bc of racism and they can’t say i’m racist if i’m licherally half black too they gotta come up with smth. in conclusion you can all suck my clit. peace & love ❤️

[bloody-bee-tea]

Green

SOMEONE only told me a day in advance that it's her birthday today, so I had to rush to get something out, but here we go. I wish you the happiest birthday @joyful-king on Tumblr or Winya on Twitter!!! I hope you have a wonderful day and that you enjoy this!

It feels like the gift-cards in front of Jiang Cheng are burning a hole into the table and he tries really hard not to look at them for too long.

But those gift-cards, the bottle of the spiciest sauce Wei Wuxian could find, a picture of Jin Ling and the fan from Nie Huaisang are the only birthday gifts he got and Jiang Cheng feels bad even thinking about it like that.

It’s just—it stings. Like it does every year.

He long ago gave up on hoping for anything more from his parents, because it’s clear they don’t care enough to get him anything he would really like and at least he’s getting something from them, but Jiang Cheng always hopes for more from his siblings.

He knows he’s not the easiest person when it comes to gifts but he does have interests—dogs, baking, history. It shouldn’t be too hard to get him something that at least touches on these subjects.

Nie Huaisang actually came closest with the fan, because it’s an antique and while Nie Huaisang got it for him more because of the art that is on it, there’s actually a lot to read up on and the subject does seem interesting.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know a lot about the history and legacy of fan painting and he’s looking forward to reading up on it.

But his siblings—that’s a different story.

They should know what to get Jiang Cheng but it seems like they can’t be bothered to put any thought into it.

Jiang Cheng morosely pokes the bottle of hot sauce, watching as it falls over and he doesn’t care enough to right it. Sure, he likes his food with a bit of spice, but he’s not like Wei Wuxian. He actually wants to taste the flavour of the food he’s eating and not burn his taste buds completely off, so he’s pretty sure he will only ever use the sauce when Wei Wuxian comes over for lunch or dinner.

Jin Ling’s picture is a nice touch, but Jiang Cheng has several pictures of him up around the apartment and if he’s being honest, he has better, cuter ones on his phone. Still, Jiang Cheng tries to remind himself. It’s a good gift, even if the picture is in a green frame. He doesn’t even like green.

It’s still better than the lotus pork rib soup Jiang Yanli made for him, because that is more Wei Wuxian’s comfort soup than Jiang Cheng’s. There are several other dishes his sister makes that he likes better, but whenever it’s the three of them, it somehow always ends up to be that soup.

Jiang Cheng is a little bit sick of it if he’s being honest.

His eyes fall onto the gift-cards again and there is a bitter taste in his mouth when he realizes that they aren’t even for anything specific.

They are just generic mall gift-cards, not restricted to any specific shops or maybe a museum or something.

Jiang Cheng reaches out for the fan he got from Nie Huaisang and opens it. There’s some beautiful landscape painted on it and Jiang Cheng hopes he can find out about the technique so he can read up on it.

Maybe he can ask Nie Huaisang what to look for, Jiang Cheng thinks and then sinks back into the couch.

He fights the urge to reach for his phone and check it for any messages, but it’s unlikely that Nie Mingjue will have messaged him.

Jiang Cheng deliberately didn’t tell him that it’s his birthday and when he sees the gifts on his table he figures he was right not to.

Nie Mingjue and he haven’t been in a relationship for that long, and Jiang Cheng figured it would be unfair to put Nie Mingjue onto the spot like this when obviously not even his own siblings can figure out what to get him.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t stand a chance at doing better, and Jiang Cheng thought this would be easier.

He’s not quite regretting it now, but he would like to speak to Nie Mingjue, would like to message him. But then he’d have to tell him what he did today and there’s no way he can keep it a secret that it’s his birthday if they get talking.

Nie Mingjue knows enough to realize that Jiang Cheng would never voluntarily go to his parent’s place for breakfast.

It still doesn’t change the fact that he wants to talk to him but he restrains himself. He will survive one day without Nie Mingjue. He did it before they got together so now shouldn’t be all too different.

Jiang Cheng manages to maintain that line of thought for at least ten minutes before he gives in and reaches for his phone.

His heart beats a little bit faster when he sees that he has a message and it accelerates even more when Jiang Cheng realizes that the message is from Nie Mingjue.

‘Are you home?’ it says and Jiang Cheng is still debating if it’s worth lying to Nie Mingjue over this when someone knocks at his door.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and he tries to shove the gift-cards all together so that it’s not quite as obvious that they are all gifts, but even Jiang Cheng realizes that it’s a futile effort.

When it knocks a second time, Jiang Cheng gives up with the gift-cards and instead goes to open the door and of course he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue, who smiles at him.

“Hi,” Jiang Cheng greets him, and for all that he didn’t want to see Nie Mingjue today, he’s insanely happy that he does get to see him.

“Hi,” Nie Mingjue gives back and leans in for a kiss. “Can I come in?” he wants to know when they part and Jiang Cheng steps aside to let him in.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng asks and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“You didn’t answer my message but I thought I’d take my chances.” He shuffles his feet in an uncharacteristic manner and Jiang Cheng frowns at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Nie Mingjue immediately says. “It’s just—a little birdy told me that today is your birthday.”

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng realizes with a sigh and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know why you didn’t want me to know that, but I have something for you. If that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug, forcing himself to stay calm and to not expect anything special.

Nie Mingjue can’t have known about his birthday for long and Jiang Cheng can’t expect him to do better than his own siblings. He reminds himself that it’s the thought that counts.

Nie Mingjue pulls out an un-shapely gift-wrapped something from behind his back and Jiang Cheng already feels like crying because this is clearly not a gift-card and is therefore already more than he could ever have hoped for.

“You shouldn’t have,” Jiang Cheng whispers as he takes the gift but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“I should have done more. But Huaisang only told me about this yesterday, so I was a little pressed for time.”

“Yeah, sorry for that,” Jiang Cheng mutters but Nie Mingjue shakes his head, motioning for him to unwrap the gift instead.

Jiang Cheng does so and he tries not to think about how this is the only gift that actually came gift wrapped today, because that’s just a depressing thought on its own and he doesn’t want to worry Nie Mingjue.

He notices that the gift is rather squishy and soft in his hands and it only spurs Jiang Cheng on to unwrap it faster until he reveals a shiba plushie.

“You got me a plushie,” Jiang Cheng whispers, unable to take his eyes off it. “You got me a dog plushie.”

“I hope it’s okay? I mean, you love dogs, so I’m not concerned about that, but some people can get weird with plushies?”

Jiang Cheng is long past pretending to be weirded out by plushies, especially since he has no legs to stand on, seeing as he never quite manages to take all the plushies Jin Ling leaves in his bed out.

“I love it,” Jiang Cheng honestly tells Nie Mingjue and steps forward for a hug. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, my heart,” Nie Mingjue says as he wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng and presses a kiss to his head. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

“I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you,” Jiang Cheng mumbles and Nie Mingjue doesn’t even have to say anything for Jiang Cheng to hear the follow up question.

“I’m kind of hard to shop for,” he admits and tries very hard not to feel dejected when Nie Mingjue pushes him away.

“You are not hard to shop for,” Nie Mingjue tells him with vehemence. “Even someone who has only known you for an hour would know that anything with a dog on it would make you happy.”

Jiang Cheng lets out a wet chuckle at that, because Nie Mingjue is goddamn right about that and it hurts even more that his siblings don’t seem to know it.

“I also wanted to get you a baking book, but I know you have a few already and I didn’t want to buy you a duplicate.”

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng says and pulls Nie Mingjue in for another kiss. “This is the best birthday present.”

Jiang Cheng can tell that Nie Mingjue wants to ask about that, can see the worried frown on his face but Nie Mingjue doesn’t voice his questions.

“Huaisang will be so mad that I outdid him.”

“He comes in a close second,” Jiang Cheng allows and looks at the plushie again. “I’ll name her Sunshine and she’ll keep me company every night.”

“Just say that you’d prefer her in your bed over me,” Nie Mingjue says with a big sigh and huge dejected eyes. “I gifted you my own replacement.”

It startles a laugh out of Jiang Cheng and he realizes that now, like this, it’s actually a pretty good birthday.

“I could never replace you,” he promises Nie Mingjue and then pulls him further into the apartment. “Stay for dinner?”

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue immediately agrees and it feels like a huge weight falls off Jiang Cheng.

He knows that Nie Mingjue likely still has questions—especially when his eyes fall onto the gift-card pile—but with Sunshine in his lap and Nie Mingjue at his side, it might be easier to talk about.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[toastedkiwi]

The Phone

Summary: you lose your phone on the subway.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Deaf!Reader

Everything is on your phone. It’s how you communicate with the hearing world since they can’t communicate with you in the way that’s best for you. And you’ve lost your phone. You have to go back to the basics of writing things down or typing on your laptop. You’re thankful for having understanding coworkers as well as a boss.

Chris comes across the phone with the many stickers on a clear case. He picks up off the ground and looks around at the other people in the subway. Everyone is on their phones. Chris opens up the phone only to get a lock screen filled with notifications and missed calls and texts. He ends up sliding the phone into his pocket seeing that he’s got a meeting to get to at the One World Trade Center.

“I didn’t know you were into stickers, Chris,” Melissa, his publicist, said.

“It’s not my phone,” Chris said.

“Who’s is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he said.

“You stole someone’s phone,” she said.

“No! I found it and I need you to google some names for me,” Chris said.

“Really?” Melissa said.

“Yes! This is important,” he said.

“So is your partnership with Tom Ford and GQ,” she sassed.

@ChrisEvans tweeted: is anyone missing a phone in NY and off the World Trade Center Station? You’ve got a lot messages and FaceTime missed calls. I don’t know your password. I’d reply to your messages if I could especially to your ex. He seems like a real piece of shit. You have a cute dog btw. Don’t worry, I’ve been charging your phone as well.

You get sent the link to the tweet by a coworker. You click on it to see pictures of your phone with your case and the lock screen of your dog. You’re thankful that he cleared the notifications. And you can’t believe Chris Evans found your phone. You immediately decide the best thing to do is send him a message and hope it doesn’t get lost in the others that we’ll try to claim it as yours pile.

@y/ndoesfashion 11:23am

The password is 696957 and please don’t harass my ex. I don’t need him harassing me.

You get back to work with Twitter in a background tab. You hope he responds. You truly want your phone back. Having your phone makes it so much easier to communicate with strangers and it’s how you order food or drinks at restaurants or cafés.

Chris gasped and immediately tries the password. It unlocks your phone. He has so much power in his hands and he knows he’s gonna be a little shit. He starts rearranging your apps. He plays some of your games. He goes on your Instagram. He scrolls through what you’ve posted. Your page is very professional with snaps of food pictures from nearby cafés and your page is filled with fashion oriented things.

“Oh my god, you got into the phone?” Melissa asked coming into his hotel room.

“Yes. She’s very cute,” Chris smiled.

“Did ya contact her?”

“Oh! I gotta respond back,” he said pulling out his own phone.

@ChrisEvans 3:25pm

thank u very much! I beat level 34 for u

@y/ndoesfashion 3:28pm

You dick.

@ChrisEvans 3:30pm

Let’s meet up and I’ll give u back ur phone. Where are u at rn?

@y/ndoesfashion 3:30pm

Work

@ChrisEvans 3:31pm

When do u get off?

@y/ndoesfashion 3:32pm

Around 5

@ChrisEvans 3:34pm

Where do u work at? I’ll pick u up.

@y/ndoesfashion sent her location! 3:35pm

@ChrisEvans 3:37pm

omg I was just there. I’ll meet u in the lobby.

@y/ndoesfashion 3:38pm

ok

You get off the elevator closer to 6 than 5. You’re hoping Chris is waiting for you. He is and he’s been playing on your phone. You head over to the man stupidly wearing a Red Sox’s hat. You try taking your phone out of his hands.

“N-oooo,” Chris said shaking his head no.

He’s quick to stand up and hold your phone high above his head. You try reaching for it. You’re determined to get it and god, you wished he was smaller like they all say when meeting an avenger or an actor.

“Oh my god, you’re adorable,” he said chuckling.

You give up and decide your best course of action is taking his phone. It’s in his back pocket of his jeans. You swipe it and he gasped. You’re bold. It shocks him but he likes it.

You head out the door and he follows. You start trying to unlock it. You feel his arm go around your shoulders. He’s probably trying to talk to you but you can’t hear him.

You put the phone up to his face seeing that his has facial recognition and it unlocks. You looked to see he’s got an “oh shit” face and you laughed.

“Okay, okay, let’s trade,” Chris said.

He hands over your phone and you give him back his. You lock arms as you get into your phone and find he rearranged all your apps.

“You’re such a dick,” you signed looking up at him.

“Wait... you’re deaf,” he said.

You nod your head.

“Shit. -How do you know what I’m saying?” He asked checking to see if you have hearing aids.

You point to your lips. He just nods still confused. It makes you grin.

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

You nod your head and can’t help but smile.

[caspianjames]

BONUS Up And Coming: Julie and the Phantoms

Up and Coming: Julie and the Phantoms Jennifer McCreedy, Junior Correspondent 

On this month’s issue of Up and Coming I had the privilege of sitting down with one of America’s biggest up and coming bands, Julie and the Phantoms. Julie Molina (17), Reggie Peters (18), Alex Mercer (17), and Luke Patterson (17) began rapidly gaining popularity as YouTube stars last fall. They created music videos for songs they wrote themselves, editing them to appear as if the band were ghosts “popping in” behind Julie. Don’t understand what I mean? You can click here to check it out for yourself!

The band has a strong air of camaraderie, and it’s the first thing I notice when I walk into the room with them. They’re all piled on our big interview couch, Molina and Mercer are pressed together whispering. Patterson is bantering with Peters and flicks him in the forehead. They’re like any group of teenagers bordering on adulthood, excited and eager to please. It’s immediately apparent that to all of them, the band has a deep meaning of friendship and support. 

Of course, the first topic of conversation was about the band - what inspired the structure of their music videos, how they got their name, and which came first - the ghost music videos or the ghost band! 

“Since my mom died, my brother has really been into ghosts,” Molina explained to me. “It was actually his idea for the band to pop in like that. My dad does videography as his job, so he was able to help us film and edit. My best friend, Flynn Taylor, came up with the band name.”

The boys all laugh when I ask if they liked the name right away or if there were discussions before they went public with it. “Flynn doesn’t do discussions,” Mercer smiles at Julie like there’s an inside joke there. There probably is, seeing how close these four are. “They came up with the name and made us posters, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter before even asking us what we thought.”

“We loved it,” Peters is quick to jump in. “And we love Flynn. She knew we’d like it, or they wouldn’t have gone ahead with everything.”

Flynn Taylor, Julie’s best friend, doubles as the band manager - she is on tour with them, but opted not to be present for the interview. 

Since beginning their tour with Panic! At the Disco, all their videos have amassed over one million views each on YouTube and their music has been released on Spotify with startlingly quick success. Molina, I discovered, is actually the newest member of the band, although I would never have known from watching the four bandmates interact. She is also the youngest by a year, having just had her seventeenth birthday as the boys are all turning eighteen, but she holds herself with a quiet confidence that all the boys seem to look to. Even this early into the interview they defer to her to answer questions and look to her for reactions to their own answers. 

This made it especially surprising to find out that the band existed before Julie joined it, just under a different name. Sunset Curve. Clearly, it did not have the popularity that Julie and the Phantoms has even a few months into their creation. “We played a couple school shows and stuff,” Patterson told me, “but nothing clicked until we met Julie.” Luke Patterson carries a humming energy with him that comes across in his words. In true rocker fashion, he struggles to sit still, tapping his fingers on his thighs and softly bouncing on the couch. 

Unsurprisingly, Molina used similar words to describe the band’s first meeting. “The first time I sang with them at school we just clicked,” she says, smiling at Luke. 

Of course, given their success, I had to ask the question everyone wants to know. How did they end up opening for Panic! At the Disco, despite being relatively unknown outside the Los Angeles music scene previous to their debut at The Orpheum?

“We’ve seen some wild theories,” Mercer confides to me with a small smile on his face. He is arguably the most subdued of the group and generally seems content to watch his bandmates answer my questions. Don’t be fooled, though - not only is he a phenomenal drummer, he also sings backup vocals for Julie and the Phantoms. “My favouirte theory was one that caught a lot of steam on Twitter about us using ‘ghost powers’,” he adds air quotes with his hands and laughs, “to hide the scheduled opener’s tour bus and then pop into the venue in their place at the time they were supposed to perform.”

The whole band laughs at this - clearly it is a favourite theory amongst them. Peters adds, though, that it was clearly an unfounded theory given that “Julie doesn’t have any ghost powers, anyways. That’s why it’s Julie and the Phantoms. But I’d kill for ghost powers in real life.” When I ask what he’d use them for, though, he seems stumped. “I think it would just be cool to walk through walls.” We’re with you on that one, Reggie!

But what actually did happen to get them into the coveted opening spot at The Orpheum? Molina gives me a modest smile when I ask. “We were honestly just in the right place at the right time,” she explains. 

Patterson picks up the story from there with a little bit more flair, telling me that the opening band had actually gotten food poisoning - “from a street dog vendor, believe it or not” - and the manager of the Orpheum happened to be familiar with the Julie and the Phantoms YouTube page. 

“Since we were local,” Peters explains, “It was just a phone call. And then suddenly we were on stage doing a proper professional soundcheck for the first time in our lives.”

“Everything moved so fast after that,” Patterson adds. Each of his bandmates nod in agreement as he speaks. “We blinked and we were on a tour bus, suddenly.”

It seems that the band is handling the change well, though. 

“It’s definitely different,” Molina tells me. “We have to be responsible for our own school and make sure we’re turning in assignments on time. There’s a lot of driving and a lot of time to kill. We can get on each other’s nerves quite a bit, but there’s always a lot of time for songwriting, too.”

When I prompt her about who gets on who’s nerves, the whole band turns in tandem to look at Luke. He laughs and shrugs at me. “I’m an early riser,” he explains. “I like music in my hands twenty-four seven. I always have my guitar, but it isn’t always appreciated.”

“We’ve had to compromise,” Mercer says with a long-suffering sigh. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the oldest of the group. “Luke isn’t allowed to start playing music until eleven in the morning the day after a show.”

As for being on tour with Panic!, none of them seem all too bothered by the fame of the headliners. “They’re really cool,” Peters explains to me. “They’ve been doing this a long time and they always have advice for us which I think we really value right now.”

Otherwise, though, the band seems to keep to themselves. When asked about their favouirte hobbies, Peters speaks at length about Star Wars. “I can’t watch the prequels before bed,” he says. His bandmates groan and shake their heads, although he seems unbothered. “Jar-Jar gives me nightmares.”

Other than Star Wars, “We try to make sure we get time and space for ourselves every day,” Molina says. “It’s a lot of us in a small space, and if we don’t get away from each other for a bit we argue a lot more.”

When I ask each of them who their favourite bandmate is to live with, all the boys say Julie and then turn expectantly for her answer. “I suppose Flynn doesn’t count as a bandmate,” she said with a sigh. “Probably Alex, but we live together normally so it’s not something that’s new.”

Mercer confirms this piece of information with a nod and a smile. “I prefer sharing a room with your brother to sharing a bus with you, though,” he says to Julie. She just rolls her eyes. 

When pushed, Mercer elaborates a little bit. “I’ve been living with Julie’s family for my senior year. It’s a better environment for me and is much closer to our school than where I lived. My parents are happy that it gives me more time to focus on school.”

Since I have Mercer’s attention now, I ask him a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. Does he know what a role model he is to gay and questioning children and teens that get to see him be himself so publicly? 

As all the boys have been doing, he looks to Julie before answering. “I don’t think about it much, to be honest,” he says candidly. “If people think I’m a role model then I’m glad, but I’m just me. And being gay is part of me, a part of me that’s always been completely accepted by my band, just like my drumming or my singing.”

There was no tension, the band members explain, upon finding out about Alex’s sexuality. “No one was surprised when Alex came out,” Patterson adds. “We were only, like, twelve when he came out to us, anyway. It’s just a fact about who he is. Like, Alex is gay and hates mornings and I play the guitar and love mornings and we’re best friends.”

“Plus, I’m bisexual,” Peters adds, “So it would be hypocritical to have a problem with Alex.”

“I’m pansexual,” Patterson pipes up again. “And Alex being himself helped me figure out that part of myself.”

Molina doesn’t seem to have much to add. “Alex was already out when I met him,” she says. “It was never a surprise and someone’s sexuality shouldn’t be something that causes tension or makes people upset anyways.”

When I point out that it has seemed to cause some tension among fans, they all sigh. For unaware readers, the band has been stirring up quite the debate on Twitter and Instagram amongst fans and haters alike as to who is dating who. Patterson and Molina confirmed their relationship before going on tour and have been dating since before their band became popular. Recently, a Twitter user attending a Julie and the Phantoms meet and greet noted the closeness between Molina and Peters, causing fans to speculate that Molina is cheating on Patterson with Peters. When I ask if they'd like to address it, however, they all nod. 

“Luke and I have been dating for a few months,” Julie says, “very happily. Neither of us have cheated on each other, nor would we ever. But we’re both also dating Reggie.”

When I ask for clarification, Peters adds, “I’m dating Luke and Julie, just like Julie is dating me and Luke and Luke is dating Julie and me.” Although it doesn’t sound clear, it does seem to be clear for them. 

“We’d like people to give us our privacy, although we know that probably won’t happen,” Molina says. “We’re allowed to define our own relationships in the way that works for us, we don’t have to hold them up to anyone else’s expectations or preconceived notions of what a relationship should look like.”

When I ask if there’s anything they’d like to add before we wrap up, Patterson pipes up with a confident “Yes.” 

“We’re Julie and the Phantoms,” he says, prompting Peters to follow up with “Tell your friends!”

Tell your friends, indeed. You can find Julie and the Phantoms everywhere that Panic! At the Disco is playing for the next four weeks. 

masterpost

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taglist under teh cut (ask to be added or removed!!)

@screamin-amuseum​ @angelwiththeblue-box​ @defultuser​ @peter-parkerson​ @willex-molina​ @thedepthsofhell​ @themongosianhorse​ @theamd426​ @k-padfoot39​ @wholitzukoonfire​ @invisibleraven​ @williesskateboard​ @leodolphin​ @moss-on-a-tree15​

[anoutlandishfanfic]

The Alaskan Endeavor: Ch1 - The Ballad of Roger Mac

This lovely wee fic has been clattering around in my brain for some time, earning the accurate nickname of The Balto!Frasers— so bestowed by beta @thefraserwitch. Thanks to Beta Fish @walkinginland for helping me solidify the title and generally being wonderful.

A little back story as to WHY THE HECK SLED DOGS: I grew up around them and was familiar with them, even though they were my cousin’s team. CousinPaul had spent a couple years up in Kotzebue, AK — yes, it’s a real place! — between his residency and being employed as the wonderful physician he is in a regular hospital AND FELL IN LOVE WITH SLED DOGS. Wisconsin, specifically NORTHERN WI where I’m from, is a great place to have sled dogs as it gets nice and cold but has pretty mild summers.

That’s the history — but RECENTLY, I stumbled upon musher Blair Braverman on Twitter and caught the Sled Doggo bug again. She’s from WI and qualified and RACED in the Iditarod last year. Give her a follow: @BlairBraverman on Twitter.

Also, the chapter posting is in honor of the FIRST FEMALE WINNER of the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon since 1998! I feel like Claire would’ve be doin’ a lil dance.

--------------------------

June 11th, 2013 Kotzebue, Alaska.

Roger Wakefield.

I blinked down at the clipboard in my hand, then tentatively read the name aloud to the vet clinic’s packed waiting room.

Someone named their golden retriever Roger Wakefield?!

Looking up, I found a petite brunette making her way towards me with an expression of annoyance mingled with completely founded exasperation. The adolescent pup she was tugging along had absolutely no intention of leaving the new friend he had made and let out a series of trilling barks that kept up his end of the conversation… almost as if in song. I bit my lip in an effort to suppress a smile as I watched their labored progress — no pun intended as the woman was very obviously pregnant — and shook my head as Roger finally gave up, leaving his furry friend behind.

“Ah, yes,” I nodded and gestured for them to enter through the open doorway beside me, skillfully dodging the wet nose Roger tried to plunge between my legs in eager greeting.

“But, please, call me Claire.”

She stood there for half a moment, tipping her head to one side as if examining me. I did feel like I was being scrutinized, but it was rather mitigated somehow by the fact that the top of the messy bun piled high atop her head barely reached the top of my shoulders.

All of this was gone again in a second and she patted my arm on her way past, chuckling, “Aye, you’ll do just fine, Dr Claire.”

…

Roger nearly wriggled out of my arms in his effort to lick my face clean off as I tried to extricate him from my exam table.

“Yes, thank you,” I commented dryly, finally setting him down on all fours.

“He’s a bit of a lover, I’m afraid,” Jenny sighed, barely hiding a grin and taking no small amount of delight in my discomfort. “I don’t think my brother has quite forgiven him yet for impregnating one of his lead dogs.”

I stretched, taking a moment to shed my gloves and dry off my face, “Oh?”

“Mhmm,” she wrangled the dog back into a sitting position. “It was right before they started training this season and, of course, she can’t race if she’s whelping.”

I nodded, but didn’t comment, scrambling to gather the threads of what I knew about dog racing.

She can’t possibly be talking about greyhounds, Beauchamp.

Sled dogs.

Huskies.

I made an effort to shove aside my prejudice against dogs working in and being exposed to ridiculously low temperatures, forced to pull a heavy load and run on icy trails, but I apparently failed as Jenny interrupted this train of thought.

“You don’t approve of mushing, then?” her voice changed, dropped lower and became more guarded.

I hedged, trying out the new term, “Mushing?”

“Aye, that’s what sled dog racing is called,” Jenny clarified, not impatiently. “You’re against it?”

I sighed heavily, cursing my glass face.

“I’m not sure I know enough about it to be against it,” I confessed. “It’s just the concept seems terribly unfair to the dogs.”

A smile began to tug at one corner of Jenny’s mouth, “On the surface, aye, maybe it would seem so.”

I let out a sigh of relief, having seemed to have diffused the situation, and turned to resume my post-exam routine. I froze in place, however, my hands hovering over restocking some trivial item when she changed topics completely.

“Do you have dinner plans for tonight, Dr Claire?”

Where in the bloody hell did THAT come from?

Peering over my shoulder at her, I gaped, “Excuse me?”

“I’d like you to meet my family,” she explained, a full grin now on display. “To get a feel of how Kotzebue and Alaska really is… to see for yourself how a musher — a good one — treats his dogs.”

“I see,” I commented lamely, turning back around and sagging into my work counter, my mind still reeling.

“Can we expect you at, say, six o’clock?”

I took a good look at her then, her face awash with eager excitement. It made her eyes dance and hands tap nervously at her side.

I didn’t think they’d abduct me… hold me hostage somewhere until Joe — my business partner in the clinic — paid my ransom… and, actually, he’d been encouraging me just this morning to get to know more of the community members…

Why not, Beauchamp?

Oh, what the hell.

Geronimo, as they say.

“Of course,” I swallowed hard, accepting her invitation. “Can I bring anything?”

Jenny shook her head vigorously, beaming as she insisted, “Just yourself.”

[youdisgustmepod]

Episode 4: Armadillo Cookie Butter Ice Cream Sandwich is now available to stream!

We hope you're hungry cause this week is a hot pile of delicious topics. For appetizers we have terrible sexy Halloween costumes and a dog that ate something pink and made of silicone that rhymes with schmildo. The main courses are strange rural American hobbies/foods and Stull Cemetery.

You Disgust Me is a biweekly, bisexual podcast hosted by besties Francis (she/her) and Marin (she/they). Every episode, the pair shares unsettling facts from history, science, or true crime with one goal in mind: to gross out their co-host.

Content Warnings for this episode: detailed description of foods (28:45-39:25) + calorie counting (37:45-38:40)

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Email us at youdisgustmepod@gmail.com