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incarnateirony · 1 year

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I am being genuine--I think it gets lost perhaps because I'm not exactly plugged into all the stuff you seem to talk about on your blog. I haven't been here for years and years, so a lot of the context is lost on me and I ask for clarification. I can see why it could come across as me not being genuine in my questions, but it's all very interesting to me and I'm just trying to understand what your claims actually are.

I am aware that tv writers are real people with full lives. I get the impression you think I'm a part of a larger group that you're exhausted of arguing with (I'm not), which I suppose explains the hostility in your response. That's the nature of anonymity I suppose.

Thank you for answering my previous asks, either way. I've been looking through your blog for a screenshot of whatever conversation with Bobo you've been referring to but I haven't had any luck yet. Perhaps one of your followers has it handy?

It's literally, if you can find it, just a twitter screenshot of some stuff tagged to bobo with the text like "I'm not even sure who, entirely, is responsible for me losing my mind having to make this chart, but I'm certain bobo is involved" as a bit of tongue and cheek humor passing it to him and. The chart. And. A like and. Nothing else. Because that's how bobo fucking operates. And well outside this fandom's desperate need to argue everything down, The Plot Is Literally About Listening To HOW People Communicate. And there is a FUCKING reason.

And no, I'm genuinely mad. Because at this point, it just takes casual searchings of bobo's twitter to see what I'm talking about. I don't mean his cryptic tweets that have been leaking the entire show while nobody listens in ironic plot metanarrative about Dad's Notes. I mean just searching his convos with Robbie. Robbie cleared his timeline a while back, so people WOULDN'T turn and attack the product recognizing his bobo affiliation early on, or his other takes (eg destiel canon and so on). But you can still see Bobo's half of their conversations and go GEE, WOW, THESE ARE PEOPLE, THEY'RE EVEN GOOD FRIENDS BY THE CONTEXT. THEY PROBABLY TALK TO EACH OTHER, WITHOUT SOME RANDO ON TUMBLR HAVING TO JUSTIFY IT.

What I'm saying is that people need to take SOME level of actual interest and research of their own to look into basic, often public access truths that have been hidden by agenda pushers and antis and warped servers like the members of spnscripthunt for years. You can literally find a LOT of this if you bother to think, hm. Which questions do I ask. Rather than proving that these good friends talk, or asking someone to prove they're good friends, maybe I should do the lifting myself of doing public access searches BEFORE asking?

It's. Literally. Exhausting. I don't care what group anyone is from. There is an expectation of INFINITE emotional labor from me walking people through things over and over and over when they haven't cared enough to look for themselves.

The expectant angle of asks is also itself a problem. This whole like, prove to me a thing I'm implicitly doubting. Bro. It's not my responsibility to unpack everyone's bullshit, and as it is I've still been trying for years, but at this point it really needs more of a snowplow, and that snowplow is called The Winchesters.

I'm asking people to stop treating anyone--authors, me, ANYONE--as endless emotional labor machines for you guys, just because people haven't been listening or don't bother to check into basic context themselves.

It. Is. Exhausting. Maybe you don't get HOW it contributes. But it does. I can lead a horse to water but I can't make it drink. Now, one named Jensen Ackles drunk, and there was something in the water, and now there's a drunk horse in the hospital whether people accept that or not. I no longer control the horse. You can believe whoever or not got the horse drunk. The horse is still in the fucking hospital.

It's genuinely. Just. I've even drawn a line within my own server about this expectation of emotional labor. If someone comes at me asking stupid shit because they haven't unpacked their shit or listened for the last half year while sitting there, I'm going to say, fucking no. Start listening, I'm under no obligation to keep repeating shit to people who aren't really listening. "Well why aren't we doing it MY way? Why isn't the prequel MY version?" because it's fucking not, janet. Unpack your shit before you get back to me.

It's a constant buzz of entitlement. I'm not like a ~show author but I've spent years on the frontlines weathering screaming and attacks and doxxing from all lanes just trying to give clarity about the authors. And they screamed against me then buried when they were proven wrong. Every. Time. And if I'm this fucking tired after six years, I need you all to--if you acknowledge, for example, that the authors are REAL PEOPLE--ask yourselves how fucking tired THEY are of this fandom's shit.

It's not a pretty answer, is it.

I'm happy to give answers within reason, but when it's a year after I've been discussing it for months and I get "HOW DO YOU KNOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW" because I fucking do, carl. I'm not going to repeat it a twentieth time without telling someone to try to listen or check it out themselves first, at this point.

That's why i've known all the episode morals and all the shit about Roxy being a ruse and us needing to find Who She Is and ALL THE FUCKING THINGS. Rather than asking me to justify HOW I've known these real things, listening to my ongoing posts should give context enough without trying to pin me down on when and where or make me dig up articles everyone had a chance to read half a year ago again.

its. emotional. labor. I don't get paid for this. I'm half tempted to make my fucking ask box patreon exclusive at this point but then scripthunt would start screeching grifting again because I dare to put a value on my time and energy.

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shawnpetermuffins · 5 years

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Misery Business (decode 2)

A/n: and the much requested part 2. Part 1 is in my masterlist under my song based fics. This will be the final part.

Summary: Shawn's finally starting to realize what this relationship has done to him.

Warnings: angst, swearing, the usual

Word count: 2.2k

***

I should be happy. My career has never been better, my singles are doing pretty great on the charts, I'm in the top 5 most listened to artists on spotify, and I'm getting loads of publicity hanging with Camila. And don't get me wrong, she's beautiful, hourglass figure that every guy wants, I guess. There's just something wrong and it's this, she's not y/n. I thought our relationship would withstand anything my career threw at us, I really did. But I should have known that she wasn't okay with this. I knew that there was always some kind of underlying territorial battle between her and the girl that's currently holding my arm while we walk down the street, but I ignored it for the sake of a few extra views on a music video, for a few extra streams.

This publicity thing has taken y/n away from me and no one seems to notice, or care, because the songs are doing so good. Since she walked away that night no one has talked about it. No one asked what was the final straw, it was just never brought up. And all that's going around Twitter and Instagram are these God awful, staged photos of me and Camila acting like we're so in love when in reality I am heartbroken and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in most of them.

"They're looking," she says into my arm. "Kiss me now." She's been telling me to do that a lot more often recently and I'm starting to feel just how wrong it is for us to be doing this. She knows about the breakup, but it seems like she couldn't care less. She parades me around town and follows me on tour, adding a little too much tension between me, Brian and Connor who have barely spoken to me since y/n left. It's clear that they weren't on my side in this situation, but that didn't matter to Camila. She was eating the attention up. She loved knowing that people were talking and that they were talking about her, it apparently didn't matter in what context.

"Andrew," I grab my manager's attention one night before he goes into his hotel room.

"Yeah, bud?"

I clear my throat, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was still out wandering the hall, listening. I lower my voice anyway, "How much longer do Camila and I have to keep up this PR game? The fans are starting to notice it's fake."

"We have to keep it up at least until the stadium show."

"What? What happened to it ending after the VMAs?"

He shrugs, "Sorry. We need to sell more."

"The stadium's already sold out, what do you mean we need to sell more?!"

"Shawn, you said you were okay with this. What's going on?"

I lost the best thing that's ever happened to me because of this stupid game. That's what's going on. But I just sigh, "Nothing. Nothing, guess I'm just worried. I don't want the fans to lose interest. I can't keep ignoring the question."

"Well you can't talk about it. We're under contract. Now it'll be over before you know it. So for now, just enjoy it. Enjoy the publicity. You need it. Gets people excited for new music."

You know what else gets people excited for new music? Promotion.

---

I'm scrolling through Instagram, seeing all the photos fan accounts are posting of me and Camila, becoming more and more emotionally drained with each passing second. But then I see something that catches my eye. It's a photo of me and y/n, one of the only photos she allowed me to post of us. Except it's split right down the middle. I hurriedly look at the caption.

Fanaccount Is no one going to talk about the fact that we don't know how, why, or WHEN y/n and Shawn broke up??? Did we all just forget that they were together for 2 years?? What happened to our girl?

Then I start reading the comments, which I shouldn't do, but I can't stop myself.

Fanaccount2 Idk if it's true but someone said she was still on tour with him up until like 2 weeks ago…

Fanaccount2 Do y'all think Camila had something to do with it?

She had everything to do with it.

fanaccount3 Who cares? He's with Camila and she's better.

Fucking liar.

fanaccount4 I know we don't know what happened, but if it's because of C that's fucked up. Y/n deserves better. Shitty PR to sell a song that's already been at #1 for weeks?? If he lost her to this I feel bad for him.

Fanaccount5 But what about her? She had to watch all this go down? It was a really dick move for him to even think it was okay to do this.

fanaccount6 Okay but look how happy he is with Camila. He clearly doesn't feel bad, so why do you???

Fanaccount4 THEY WERE TOGETHER FOR 2 YEARS! and now he's sucking face with his "best friend" come on. That's shitty and you know it.

I don't even realize that I'm crying until I can hardly catch my breath. I'm panicking. I haven't had to deal with a panic attack alone since y/n came around, but this is the third one I've talked myself out of since she left, and I've had to go back on my medication. I never realized that she was the main thing helping me through.

My phone buzzes with a notification - a message from Andrew.

It's a screenshot of my spotify account and it reads: #2 baby!!

I want to hurl - my phone or the contents of my stomach, I'm not sure. Maybe both. But I guess, we've got the fans where we want them.

But like we always do, in true Hollywood bragging, we post the screenshot to our Instagram stories. And Andrew to his feed and twitter. It's all working so well. They're buying it - the relationship, the song, everything. But when I look at my follower count and see I'm down at least 100,000… maybe not everyone is buying it.

---

We're in her hometown and every part of me wants to go see her, wants to make sure she's okay. Because I have the day off and it would be so easy to just drive out to her and make things right. But Camila won't leave my side and I'm going insane.

"Shawn, pay attention to me!"

And I snap. "What do you think I've been doing these past two months, Camila?! I've been paying attention! Jesus, fuck, give me just two minutes of alone time."

"Whoa! What's up your ass?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"You!" I scoff, throwing my hands up.

"You've been moody all week. Do you want to talk?"

"Not to you," I mumble, but she hears me.

"You're serious? This is about y/n? It's been a month, Shawn. It's time to move on."

"Move on? How am I supposed to move on when she was the literal best thing to happen to me? When I lost her because of this stupid PR move that is in no way helping me anymore, Miss number two!"

"Now I don't deserve to be number two? Really?"

I don't say anything else, I just take my phone and wallet from the coffee table and leave without another word. I don't know where I'm going until I'm there at her doorstep, breathing heavily and running my clammy hands through my already ruffled hair. Before I can talk myself out of it, I knock on the door and wait, my hands in my pocket.

"Can you get that?" I hear her say to someone inside, but I'm not expecting it to be my own best friend.

"Brian?" I say, confused.

"What are you-?"

"Bri, did you? Shawn?"

"Connor?"

"Guys, who's at the…" she stops cold in her tracks when she sees me.

"Y/n," I sigh. I can't read her face. She could be any number of things, but shocked is probably the most accurate.

"Babes, can y'all give us a second?" Her arms cross defensively over her chest while the guys retreat to the kitchen. When she walks further into the living room, I let myself in, closing the door behind me. "What the hell are you doing here, Shawn?"

"I miss you," I say desperately. "I - I know I fucked up. Severely fucked up. I put my career ahead of you and I said I'd never do that. The numbers became more important and it shouldn't have been that way. I'm so sorry. Just… please give me a second chance. Let me prove to you that you're first. Always."

"A second chance isn't going to do anything for you, Shawn."

"How do you-?"

"Because you're still pretending with her! If you're even pretending at this point! I can't be with you like this because if the numbers were all that mattered two months ago, who's to say they're still not going to matter three years from now? Your entire career revolves around them and I'm not going to be your number two. That isn't what I signed myself up for. Not to mention my Twitter mentions right now are your fans calling me a whore for standing in the way of 'Shawmila's true love!'"

I flinch, "I'll fix it."

"You can't!" She screams and I see the guys slowly make their way into the room. "Jesus, don't you get it? It doesn't matter what you think you can fix because I can't forgive you! I'm done. I'm over it. I don't want this!" She gestures between our bodies. "You don't want me, you want the familiarity. Well, why don't you teach her how to calm down your anxiety attacks. And tell her how you like your eggs in the morning, and how you'll only get out of bed after at least ten minutes of silent cuddling.

"And you go around town acting so fucking innocent, which no one believes, by the way. Teach her how to be your girlfriend, and how to do it right because clearly I wasn't doing it right," her voice cracks at the last part of her sentence and it breaks me in half. When the first year falls, I want nothing more than to take her in my arms, but I hold back, knowing damn well she doesn't want me near her.

"Y/n, it's not the same without you. The concerts aren't as fun, the days between drag on forever. I thought that being seen out would make the numbers rise, and yeah it has, but I'm losing more than im getting."

"That's not my fault. You did that." She wraps her arms around her, holding herself together. Just like I've always known her to. I notice that the tears aren't falling anymore either. She stopped then just as quickly as they started.

"This isn't how I thought we would turn out."

She bites the inside of her cheek, her clear sign that she's distraught. "You know, it's funny. It took me so long to realize that I was watching your dreams come true. Selling out arenas and winning awards and putting out awesome music. I watched all of those dreams come true. Not once did you say I was a reason for it. You always avoided the questions about if the songs were about me. I was - I was never part of your dream, Shawn. And I put mine on hold to watch you live yours. It's my turn," she looks at me with some type of fire in her eyes. "Its time for me to go for my dreams and watch them come true. I thought it was you. You were my dream for so long, but that's just not it anymore."

I suck in a shuddery breath, "no. Y/n, baby. Please."

"You need to go."

"Y/n," I reach out for her but I'm stopped quickly by my best friend.

"She told you to go, Shawn."

"I'm not leaving until we fix this."

"Just let it go, man. She doesn't want you anymore." Connor says from his same spot, only this time with y/n in his arms, her head buried deep in his chest. Seeing her in the arms of another makes me crazy and I lunge for him, but Brian pushes me back again.

"You need to go. I'm not saying it again," he's practically dragging me out the house.

I point an angry finger at Connor, "You're fired."

"That's fine," he says. "Good luck with the rest of the tour." He shoots me a glare and then his attention is back to my sad ex-girlfriend. And I'm out the door before I realize it.

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask aloud because I feel Brian standing behind me, making sure I don't get any ideas to go back inside.

"Sounds to me like you need to reevaluate your priorities. You chose this career, and up until recently you were able to balance love and music. Find that again. Now go back to the hotel. I'll see you for soundcheck tomorrow." The door closes once again. But this time it's closing on everything that was and everything that could've been. I know I'm not getting her back. I chose the music business, but now it's the misery business and there's no way to get out of it.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson @lifeoftheparty74 @shawnssongs @luvluvxx

I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry for the angst. Like, reblog, and leave feedback!! 💙💙

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angelic-holland · 5 years

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Drive North // th x fem!reader

Summary: Dating a famous person can suck sometimes, this is one of those times. You may hate LA but you sure do love your boyfriend.

Part of my Drive North series. Take a listen to the song Drive North as it inspired this fic.

Warnings: Insecurities, smut, nsfw, 18+ please

Word count: 3k

You never wanted this, the “fame” as Tom called it that came along with dating him. You actually really hated it, you hated that you two couldn’t go on normal dates without being swarmed by people, that you couldn’t go on Twitter or Instagram without people saying you looked fat in a dress you wore out with him or that they thought he would be better off with someone like him, someone famous. And you most certainly were not famous. You were studying to become a guidance counselor, nowhere near as glamorous as the life Tom led but it’s what you loved, what you’ve always wanted to do.

You and he were on a little vacation in California, the Far From Home premiere finished, you both wanted to relax a little, so you rented a car and drove as far away from LA as possible, towards the mountains of Northern California. He rented a small lake house which you said was totally unnecessary but he insisted upon it.

You flopped down on the large bed, Tom insisted you rest while he brought your bags in since you drove. You pulled out your phone, absentmindedly opening twitter. You were about to turn to your private account, the one only your friends followed, you had a different name, your profile picture wasn’t even a picture of your face just so people wouldn’t find you by accident. You cleared your notifications from your public account, seeing you and Tom tagged in a few pictures of the two of you from the premiere. You made the mistake of clicking on it, seeing the second picture is a close up of your face. Granted, your period just ended and you were dealing with the aftermath of your pimples and spots.

The caption is what got you, normally you ignored them but your hormones got the best of you.

Can you believe Y/N couldn’t even be bothered to cover up all the spots on her face? She’s on a red carpet not going to the grocery store.

You didn’t ever really wear makeup, your skin was sensitive and foundation made you break out and since you were already breaking out with your period, you had the makeup artist who put together you and Tom just put a very light layer of tinted moisturizer on. You figured you’d deal with the backlash from random people online easier than your face breaking out even worse. It was a lose, lose situation; they’d make fun of you for not wearing enough makeup then, but if you did wear enough makeup to cover your spots, they’d make fun of you later when your face broke out even more.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you heard Tom drop your bags on the ground at the bedroom door, rushing to your side.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” He says as you put your phone on the bedside table.

“Nothing, just stupid,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Nothing’s stupid,” he says, crawling up onto the bed and laying down on his stomach next to you. You groan, your face pressed into your arms so he doesn’t see you cry.

“Just, someone said something stupid.”

“Well if it’s stupid why’re you letting it bother you?”

You knew he meant well by what he said if what they said was dumb if they wouldn’t understand the half of it, if they were strangers on the internet why let it bother you?

“Because, they’re kinda right,” you mumble, sniffling a little.

“What’re they right about love?” He asks, his hand rubbing your back as you take a few deep breaths.

“I should’ve worn more makeup, for the premiere, looked dumb next to everyone else with their perfect skin.”

“What? Nobody’s got perfect skin, you know that, I had some spots they covered up, only difference is I can use that hardcore makeup that could cover up a murder or something, my skin doesn’t react bad like yours. But we’re all different.”

“I know, just wish I didn’t see the tweet.”

“People suck,” he says, as you look up at him. His thumb wipes away a tear from your cheek as you nod.

“Don’t know how you and everyone else does it, fucking hate how people treat you and every other famous person.”

“It gets too much sometimes, just gotta realize that you’re better than people who are leaving strangers hate on the internet.”

“I know, just wish I dealt with it better.”

“Everyone deals with it differently, you’re allowed to deal with it like this, cause I’m always gonna be here for you darling.”

“Thank you Tommy,” you say as he kisses your temple, lips pressed against your skin.

“Always love,” he whispers, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you snug against his side.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?” He asks after a few moments of comfortable silence, you nod, trying to rub the red from your eyes.

“Come on love, let’s watch your favorite, Ragnarok,” he laughs, getting up and grabbing his laptop from the backpack he left by the door.

“Gonna thank everyone for all the love from the premiere first,” he says, “Wanna set up the movie? I’ll be back.”

You nod, all the love, because you’re sure you got all the love too. His fans would praise his looks, how hot he was, how amazing he was that he did the Brothers trust event, talk about how good of a person he was, all while bullying you. Albeit, not all of his fans were like this, almost none were he assured you time and time again. But of course you were going to fixate on the bad ones, it’s the human condition isn’t it?

You open up his laptop, typing in his password, you’ve never hid passwords from each other, you never had anything to hide anyways. You opened up Netflix and typed in Ragnarok, by far your favorite MCU film, Tom loved to tease you about it, asking why your favorite wasn’t Spiderman. You’ve both debated the topic time and time again and neither of you would budge so he let you have Ragnarok as long as you indulged him by watching Homecoming every few months with him.

You paused the movie at the start, knowing he’d be back shortly, wanting to watch it with him. You grabbed your phone, checking your texts. Your sister had sent you about 100 messages and you rolled your eyes.

Queen, literal queen

Y/N I can’t believe you both looked so god damn GOOD

Legit how are you the hottest couple to exist

She sent you about then pictures and then screenshots of tweets praising your look, and Tom’s, how the two of you matched, how Tom looked so much better on this red carpet than his Homecoming one. The she sent a long message with just a plethora of heart emojis. You smiled a little, the tweets were all really nice, hyping you up like she was.

You: thanks sis, love you so much

You got a notification that Tom posted to his Instagram story and made a post, opening Instagram.

You smiled at the picture he posted, the two of you on the red carpet, he was smiling at you, you rolling your eyes, you’re pretty sure this was taken right after he called you his princess. He put a grayscale filter on the first photo, you swiped to the next which was the same but in color. You scrolled down to the caption and almost cried.

tomholland2013: you’ve made this seemingly dull world full of color, love you princess

You smiled as Tom came back into the room, laying down next to you again. You didn’t realize you were crying until his hands cupped your face, wiping away the tears.

“I hope these are happy tears,” he says, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and pressing his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss, nodding as he rolls on top of you.

“Love you,” Tom whispers against your lips as your hands push up his T-shirt. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling his beating heart as he kisses down your neck.

“Love you too,” you say, voice turning to a whimper as his hands glide up your stomach under your shirt, lightly gripping your breasts.

“Still wanna watch that movie?”

“Maybe later,” you say, tugging his shirt off. He pulls off your shirt as well, helping you sit up to get your bra off.

“So gorgeous,” He says, kissing down your neck, lips leaving soft marks behind. Your hands are lightly gripping his hair when you remember the laptop sitting precariously at the edge of the bed.

“Wait,” you say and his lips leave your body, sitting up.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? We don’t haveta-,”

“No, no just the laptop, don’t want it to break,” you laugh and Tom reaches up in front of you and grabs it, shutting it and putting it on the bedside table.

He continues kissing down your stomach, taking your nipple in his mouth, his fingers pinching your other nipple. You softly whimper his name.

He’s about to continue lower when his phone rings and you both groan.

“Stuff’s gotta stop interrupting us,” he mutters, pulling his phone out to check who’s calling.

“Just Harry,” He says about to click it off.

“No answer him,” you say, sitting up.

“What?” Tom asks, a little pissed off that Harry was interrupting you.

“Oh thank fuck,” you hear Harry groan into the phone.

“What?”

“You uh, did you know you had your Instagram live on?”

“My what on? How was it on?”

“It was streaming for the past like eight minutes.”

“Oh fuck,” Tom says, face paling as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Is it off now?” You ask, you’re shaking, did the entire fucking world just hear you and Tom about to fuck?

“Is it off Harry?” Tom asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, turned off when you answered my call.”

“Well thank god I did,” he says, “wait do people save those? Was it just, wait did you watch it what did you see?”

“Nothing just blackness since I’m guessing it was in your pants pocket, just heard, well heard everything.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, Tom laughing against you.

“Not funny Tom, people screen record that shit and keep it forever!”

“Okay, it’s not recording anymore so I’ll, uh, let you two work things out,” Harry says, hanging up.

“How could you even Instagram live anyways? Didn’t you just post a photo or something?”

“Made a story, here we can see it,” Tom says, opening Instagram and clicking on his profile. He played the story for you.

“Hey everyone! wanted to thank you all for the love for Far From Home, Y/N and I are going to take a little vacation for the next week, I’ll probably take a little break from instagram so again thank you all so so much, bye!” Tom waves in the video and fumbles with the camera before the video cuts off.

The live video Harry was talking about wasn’t up anymore but there were swarms of comments on his latest post that you two laughed about. You didn’t see any mean ones, mainly people joking about Tom not understanding technology which was true, he’s had plenty of Instagram mishaps before.

“You okay?” He asks, head resting on your bare shoulder.

“I mean, is that video like, of us, saved? Or do people have it saved or whatever? Cause I was being all whiny.”

“I mean, wait what’s screen recording again? You record what the screen shows? Does that include sound?”

You nod.

“Maybe? But I mean, I would hope they respect the both of us enough to not spread it around.”

“I guess,” you say, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, thank god you made me pick up the phone then or else they’d get a sex tape out of us.”

You groan, head resting on top of his own, “I could only imagine what they’d do with that.”

“Oh I don’t want to sweetheart,” he says, arm wrapping around your bare waist.

“What would you rather do?” You ask as his fingers run up and down your side.

“One second,” he says, taking his phone and yours and jogging out of the room. You giggle when he runs back in.

“Just in case,” he says tugging off his shirt.

You roll your eyes as he tugs his jeans down, you do the same with your shorts, wanting to move things along. He climbs back on top of you, kissing you sweetly as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Love you,” He says as his hips meet yours, you buck up at the feeling of his hard cock straining beneath his underwear, rubbing against your core.

“Love you too Tom, just please,” you beg, moving your hips against his.

“Please what princess?”

“Fuck me Tom,” you whimper as his hands play with the edges of your panties.

“No, no fucking tonight, we’re gonna make love tonight princess,” Tom says, smiling against your neck as he pulls your panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

You whimper at his words as his fingers swipe through your juices, he’s never really said those words “make love” before. You’ve done it plenty, when you both wanted to move a little slower, when you wanted to take your time, worshipping you, telling you how much he loves you and your body.

He kisses down your neck, fingers slightly dipping into your entrance before slipping out again, making you whine.

He makes his way down your body, lifting your legs over his shoulders. You look down at him, sitting between your thighs, hands holding them up, he’s got a wide grin on his face before he kisses along your thighs, slowly making his way to where you wanted him the most.

He gently breathed against your core, making you squirm against him before kissing right above your clit.

“Tom, please,” you whine, hands tugging his hair.

“Got you princess,” he says before kissing your clit, pushing a finger into your dripping hole.

He slowly pumps his finger, crooking it to find your sweet spot almost right away, his tongue lapping at your clit. You whimper against him, hands gripping the sheet.

You moan his name as another finger slides in beside the first.

He continues his motions, fucking you with his fingers while he switches between lapping at your clit and lightly sucking on it.

“Gonna come for me princess?” He asks, looking up at you behind heavily lidded eyes. Despite being incredibly embarrassed just a short time ago, you still were on edge, wanted to come so fucking bad.

His teeth graze your clit and you were a goner, coming with a cry of his name.

He slows his movements as you come, clenching hard around his fingers as he kisses up and down your thighs.

His fingers slip out of you and you almost come again when he sucks them into his mouth, moaning around them as he moves back up your body, dropping your legs to the bed.

Your hands push down his underwear, he helps you pull them all the way off, legs straddling your own.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, arms wrapping around his neck to play with the short curls there.

“Please what princess?”

“Please, make love to me Tommy,” you say before his lips press against yours, tongue meeting your own. He guides his cock to your hole, slowly sliding in as you kiss, his hand moving to grip your hip.

He pauses once he’s fully inside you, kissing down your neck as you whimper, legs locking behind his own, urging him to move. And he does. But slowly. He takes his time, making every thrust deliberate. He’s leaving marks down your skin, usually he made sure to leave them light enough so that they would fade within a day or two but he was going to town on your neck, determined to make the marks last.

One of his hands traveled between the two of you, thumb gently pressing against your clit, causing you to gasp and arch your back against him.

“Tommy,” you whine, feeling yourself get close.

“Love you,” he groans, his hips stuttering, cock twitching inside you. You knew he was close as well.

“Fuck, love you, love you too,” you stuttered as you came, arms right around his neck as your legs fell to the bed.

“Love you, love you, love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Tom groans as he comes, collapsing on top of you as your hands card through his hair, kissing him as his cock softens inside of you. You stay like that for you don’t know how long, enjoying the feeling of him inside you and the warmth of his body on top of you before he’s pulling out of you, gathering your body in his arms once he’s stood up.

“Come on, let’s go clean up,” he says, carrying you to the bathroom. You wrap your arm around his neck, holding on as he moves. He sets you down on the toilet before turning on the shower.

You pee and try to clean yourself as best as you can before washing your hands, Tom is testing the water and pulling out two fluffy towels from the small closet by the door.

“You know, if you hate LA so much, why do ya stand me?” Tom asks as you both step into the shower.

“Because Tommy, I love you.”

“Mean it?” “Hmmm, I mean it so much I can’t even describe how much I love you,” you say as his chest presses up against your back.

“That’s okay, I know how much ya love me.”

“Love you enough to tolerate all that,” you giggle as his hands rub your shoulders.

“Love you too, Y/N,’ he kisses your neck before helping you wash your hair.

“Think we should lock our phones up for the week though.”

“And I should learn how to use instagram.”

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland one shot #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland reader insert #tom holland reader insert smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader oneshot

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anonymous-cs · 3 years

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Blog submission

Booshweasel here to also address the recent discussion about branded and I. (I’m posting this to both blogs so there may be some cross references.)

First of all, you guys have the ages all wrong. We met when I was 17, and he was 19. We were both born in the month of may, about 2-3 weeks apart. He turned 20 a week ago, and I’m turning 18 in under two weeks. We did not meet when I was 16, we didn’t know each other when I was 14. Our exact age difference is 2 years and 23 days. I promise half of your parents have larger age gaps than us.

Second of all. Who thought that it was okay to go “oh this person is a minor, I should post their age publicly and start debating about their relationship in a PUBLIC PLACE?” I’m very uncomfortable with having my age posted on here for everyone on cs to see, especially when there’s so much false information being spread about it. I know that branded feels the same way about his age. ALSO the discussion about where we live, even if it’s just speculation about the country we live in, is INCREDIBLY intrusive and uncomfortable, especially when you’re all so wound up about how I’m a “literal child” (keep in mind, I’m less than two weeks from being a “literal adult”).

My next point. The word fiancé is defined on google as so: “a man to whom someone is engaged to be married”

It doesn’t mean “people who are having sex” (an assumption we saw during this whole debate while branded is literally asexual) nor does it mean “predator” or “pedophile” or “creep” or “freak.” It means a person who someone else intends to marry. It doesn’t mean we’re getting married tomorrow or in a week. Many people are engaged for YEARS before they actually get married. It’s not unheard of for someone my age to find someone they intend to marry someday. ALSO to address the ask that said we’ve been engaged since august (I also was NOT 16 in august lmao). Where did that even come from? We got engaged on January 31st of this year, I am happy to share a screenshot of the proposal even.

All of this has been incredibly intrusive and damaging to branded and I, and I hope you all know how much hurt and damage you’ve caused with these accusations based in only half correct information.

The following information I have permission to share, solely for the purpose of expressing to you guys the damage you’ve caused. Branded has been raped, abused, and molested by pedophiles pretty much his entire life. He had a miscarriage when he was far too young to even be pregnant, and he thinks about that child every fucking day of his life. He has pocd, a form of ocd where he is so afraid of becoming like his abusers that he avoids children at pretty much all costs. He doesn’t talk to people under 14 (if he’s aware of their age) and he has panic attacks around children he doesn’t know. He LOVES kids, and he would genuinely rather die than hurt a child in any way. When he found out about these accusations being thrown around, he spiraled into a panic attack, relapsed, and nearly committed suicide and almost was admitted to psych. You guys nearly drove my fiancé to suicide. I almost lost him to you petty drama seekers who didn’t give a shit about “protecting a child,” you just wanted something to fight about. He said several times during this crisis that you guys won. You achieved what you wanted, you broke a person down to nothing. He can’t take this, and he’s really really struggling currently because of this. You guys nearly broke him by bringing up so much of his trauma and accusing him of being like the ones that did it to him. I can share screenshots of any of the things I said above if you doubt it.

We nearly broke up because of this, which would have been catastrophic for us. We love each other so much, and losing each other because of some stupid internet drama seekers would’ve destroyed us.

And for the record: I initiated pretty much everything in our relationship. I confessed feelings, I asked to be together, I asked to go visit him (and both my mother and my GRANDMOTHER went with me on this trip and made sure he was safe and not a predator). I’m not being trapped, controlled, cornered, or anything you guys think I am. I am happier than I have ever been, and in the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in. You guys do not get to take this away from us because YOU think you have the right to an opinion on the 2 years and 23 days that separate us.

I’m not a child. I’m making my own money, driving a car, I’m out of school, I’m paying for my own shit. Hell, branded and I are at the same level in life right now. Not to mention that our relationship is perfectly legal. Romeo and Juliet laws are in place, which we fall under because we’re less than 3 years apart. And in under two weeks, literally none of this will matter anyways because I will be 18 (not that I owe any of you this personal information that random people on cs now somehow know about me). 2 years and 23 days makes no difference at this point in our lives, so please shut the fuck up and let us continue being happy. You don’t get to have an opinion, not to mention you’re wrong anyways 💖

(As a side note: I saw my history on the old blog dug up, and I just wanted to note that that was a very long time ago and I submitted a public apology about that and learned from it, and I’m disgusted with my past behaviors. I’m also literally a trans man so I’m obviously not in the business of defending transphobes anymore. I was dumb and uneducated and I have learned, and publicly apologized for it. If you still have beef with me over it, that’s fine, but I’m not holding myself to my past actions that I’ve grown and learned from because that’s a surefire way to not get anywhere in life and just feel like shit all the time.)

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auk-blogs · 7 years

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My name is Peter. I identify as the Doctor from the TV show Doctor Who (I am fictionkin). I have something very important to say, and it is time that I broke my silence. Before I begin, it is important that I disclose that I am diagnosed bipolar type 1 (severe) with psychotic features, and that I have been being treated for it since December 15th 2016. Any mistakes that I make in the following are due to the time that has passed and my faulty memory due to stress. I apologize that I do not have screenshots of any of this. I beg of you to believe me on the strength of my word alone. It is all I have.

The Gallifreyan Tradition is a cult, and the leader of that cult Cassandra Oakdown is an abusive person who personally contributed to my mental health breakdown that included but was not limited to self harm, suicidal idealization, and psychotic breaks from reality. Cassandra is a danger to the Doctor Who kin community and the Doctor Who fandom community at large.

It all began on January 25th, 2016. That's the day I made my sideblog for contemplating my newly discovered Doctor kintype separately from my main blog. I wanted to separate it from my main blog to study my feelings on my own, uninterrupted from outside influence. The Awakening process is a delicate one and I wanted to be left alone.

I made the mistake of using some tags that alerted Cassandra to my presence, likely “tenthdoctorkin” or “doctorwhokin.” She literally pounced on me within days of having made the blog, aggressively talking to me until I finally responded. As I was a lonely person who was struggling to make friends, I was elated that someone wanted to be my friend. I saw nothing wrong at first.

Nothing was wrong at first. We bonded over some shared media interests, some books we both read, some movies we both watched. I don't remember what. She told me she was a non-canon Gallifreyan of some personal import to the Doctor, having been married to his (also non-canon) cousin. I congratulated myself on having found potential canonmates so quickly and eagerly allowed myself to be enveloped into her social circle.

I became introduced to several others of import, Tau and Taurus. Tau was Cassandra's girlfriend of this life, and believes herself to be her non-canon Gallifreyan wife in a past life and the Doctor's non-canon cousin. Taurus is the non-canon son of the Doctor. There was also a Koschei (aka the Master) for a brief time. Oh, and there was Shilo, who was a TARDIS who established themselves as being my TARDIS but kept talking to other Doctors. Later on, I was also introduced to a non-canon brother named Teddy (who later renamed themselves Skyler).

Are you noticing a pattern here? All but Koschei and the TARDIS of these “canonmates” are non-canon.

It is also of import to note that Cassandra has a “soulbond” of Rassilon in her head. Now I see this as a huge warning sign, knowing my Doctor Who lore a lot better, but at first I believed her when she said that “he's a different Rassilon.” I believe that this Rassilon character is the source of a lot of trouble, and perhaps can be blamed for a lot of Cassandra's behavior. Maybe Cassandra's not so bad on her own, but was corrupted by the arguably insane Time Lord. Long story short, I don't trust the guy.

It is important to note that from the start, I had a bit of a crush on Cassandra. She is my type – brunette chin-length hair and intelligent and charismatic, and I wasn't aware that she was engaged when I first met her. In fact, within days of meeting her she admitted to having relationship troubles with Tau and asked if she should leave Tau – which makes me feel like I was being strung along with the possibility that one day me and Cassandra could be a thing. (I would never accept her now, of course, after everything she's done to me.)

Cassandra, Tau, Taurus,Shilo, and Koschei all spoke of me as their Doctor without any confirmation on my part. Remember that I was newly Awakened without any memories to confirm or deny what they were saying. I was so starved for affection and community that when they would say things that marked me as belonging to them, I didn't argue. I remember one distinct instance where Cassandra recalled an instance where her Doctor proclaimed himself “a Dance Lord” instead of a Time Lord and she phrased as “remember when you called yourself a Dance Lord instead of a Time Lord?” or something like that. There were many instances like this where my memories were subtly manipulated without me noticing.

I would like to draw particular attention to this kind of phrasing in conversation because nowhere on this hell website have I ever seen any kind of warning against it. If someone approaches you and starts saying things like, “do you remember when you did (x)” or “I remember when you (x)” unprompted excessively (without giving you room to say “no, I didn't do that”), they could be attempting to gaslight you and manipulate your memories. Please be careful!

Sometime in August or July of 2016, there was an incident. Koschei lived in Germany, and the legal drinking age is lower. Long story short, Koschei got drunk and made an appearance in the group chat. I have an alcoholic uncle and became vastly panicked when Koschei accidentally sounded exactly like my uncle. I privately messaged Koschei to tell him that I had something important to tell him when he got sober, but he picked it into a fight and in a blind panic I told him that I didn't want anything to do with him any more because I was terrified of drunk people. It split the “Gallifamily” in half. Koschei left the group chat that night.

That was the first time I attempted suicide. I was so emotionally agonized that I tied a necktie around my neck and tried to tighten it, but I chickened out. I told Tau and she freaked out.

That was the beginning of the trouble. Tau attempted to mend the rift between Koschei and I, but I continued to panic if I was in the same chat room as him. Cassandra continued to reblog from him even when I expressed that I was having panic attacks (genuine ones that left me hyperventilating and shaking in the public library) if I even saw his username on my dashboard. Eventually the Koschei incident blew over, but the group was left Koschi-less as we did not find a replacement “double.”

That was the first time that I began to suspect that Cassandra was not entirely on my side.

After that, my memory begins to get really, really shaky because of my mental illness. I do remember that it was the beginning of my nausea and that I began puking every few mornings because of my anxiety.

I suppose now is a good time to mention the Gallifreyan Tradition, since I mentioned it earlier. The Gallifreyan Tradition was sold to me as a social reconstruction of Gallifrey, a group of people who wanted to recreate the values and culture of Gallifrey here on Earth. It sounded really interesting and cool to me, as I was extremely new to the series of Doctor Who and did not know about the unpleasant lore of Gallifrey – and indeed had not recovered my own unpleasant memories of the place. At the time, the Gallifreyan Tradition just sounded like a nerdy place for a newly Awakened Doctor to call home.

I was never fully recruited to the GT. I always skirted just around the edges, and for that I am glad. But what I learned about it horrifies me now. Cassandra has absolute power over everyone else, and they call her “Lord President,” a title that even the Doctor himself in canon shunned. They hijack fandom posts to try and recruit members. They encourage their members to cyberbully – I was unfortunately part of one of those attacks, which I will elaborate on below. Other people who were deeper in the GT can probably provide more information.

As part of being recruited to the GT, Cassandra told me about the Patron Theory. She supposed that there was a person out there for each one of the old Patrons of Gallifrey. She, obviously was with Rassilon who was in her head as a Soulbond. She supposed that I was a match for a Patron who was called the Other. I was leery about the theory at first, but after a couple of “supernatural” signs (I found a burned piece of paper in a creek that seemed to have a cryptic message for me, and tarot cards seemed to point toward the Other, and divination through music seemed to contact the Other), I accepted her theory. Unbeknownst to me, some time after I started attempting spirit work, the GT officially abandoned the Patron Theory as a silly idea. I seem to be mocked for ever believing it seriously now although Cassandra was entirely serious when she presented it to me in the first place.

Just to note – I no longer attempt to work with the Other. If I have a spirit guide from Gallifrey, they can shove their signs and signals up their arse and go right back to that accursed, burning place.

About the cyberbulling – I am deeply, deeply shamed for what I have done. I would apologize to the ones I hurt if I could remember their urls. I am not entirely sure any more what incited the incident except Cassandra claimed that some members of the fandom had attacked her in some way. I suggested a harmless attack back with funny memes, such as a picture of a cat flying through space spammed to their submit boxes multiple times. It was Cassandra's place as a leader to say “no, that is inappropriate.” But she did not. And I became her willing weapon in the cyberbulling incident. I take full responsibility for attacking those innocent people. If it's any consolation, I cut my attack short because the guilt overwhelmed me as I realized that they were innocent people who just enjoyed the same media as I did.

After the cyberbullying, I began to lose my trust in Cassandra, and I suspect that she began to lose her trust in me. But I wasn't sure about losing her and cutting her out of my life. She had become my closest friend. I began to neglect my in real life friendships because it felt like Cassandra was my only friend. She was only a text away, only a Tumblr message away. She was always there. We shared stories, memories, fanfiction recs, theories about reincarnation... I remember I only got interested in the television show Firefly because she was too. I can't stand to watch it now. I regret buying it because now I can't get rid of it without my mum asking awkward questions.

But Cassandra began to change. And I didn't understand why. She grew distant. She began to vanish from conversations while I was mid sentence. I felt like I was going crazy. It was more than what they claim, her going to eat and shower and take care of her needs. A decent person would at least drop a “bbs” before leaving mid sentence. I believe that her vanishing was purposefully done to manipulate me and to freak me out.

I'm sorry. This is the most painful part of the story for me to recall. And honestly I don't remember much. It's a great big blank hole in my memory.

I can only assume that Cassandra was gaslighting me and was triggering psychotic breaks with reality. I remember that I began self harming in this period – August 4th 2016 was the first day I took a blade to my arm. She encouraged me to “control your emotions” which only made me self harm more – and she knew it. And she kept saying it.

I remember that she belittled any mentioning of my own abuse at home. I remember one specific instance where I made a post where I said something along the lines of, “I feel like I can’t say I have an abusive family because it’s never escalated into physical violence,” and she commented “Some people have it so easy.” That phrase has been very damaging to me and was used as a weapon against me to make me believe that the situation I was in - am still in - was lesser and hardly important compared to Cassandra’s. Cassandra took every opportunity to make sure that I felt like I couldn’t talk about my abuse. I still feel like I can’t. Because I’ve had it so easy, you see.

I became obsessed with her, I'll admit that. I remember begging her not to leave me, and her saying “I can't keep lighting myself on fire to keep you warm.” I still don't know what she meant. I was so terrified that all the people I knew and loved were going to leave. All my life, I have been socially isolated (I have exactly one irl friend, and I've only known him for about three years), and I had recently experienced a loss of my entire social world which is not relevant to this tale. And the incident with Koschei had made me keenly aware that people could leave and not come back. All I knew is that Cassandra was leaving and I couldn't hold on to her. I was terrified.

In the end, I tried to slit my wrists. Luckily, the blade I used wasn't so sharp. I survived with nary a mark to show for it. Hell, not even the repeated cutting on my arm and thigh have left scars, which pisses me off because shouldn't I have scars from that hell?

Then I started making plans on swallowing a bottle of aspirin. Aspirin is reputedly poison to Time Lords, so I thought it would be apropos to end my life that way. It would be a nasty death, and an agonizing one. I thought it would be enough to finally apologize to Cassandra for however I had hurt her. And to end my emotional suffering.

On December 15th, 2016, I was taken to a therapy appointment where I admitted to self harm and my multiple suicide attempts and my current plans to end my life. I was admitted to a treatment facility that afternoon. I was eventually diagnosed with bipolar type 1, severe, with psychotic features.

As a result of my interactions with the Gallifreyan Tradition and Cassandra Oakdown, I believe that I have PTSD. I am triggered to anxiety, panic attacks, flashbacks, and self-harm urges where they didn't exist before by such things as Gallifreyan writing, owls, a certain shade of red, names such as Prydon and Oakdown, and Tumblr urls that are too hecking long and have too many hyphens.

I firmly believe that the Gallifreyan Tradition is a danger to all Doctor Who fictionkin and that Cassandra Oakdown is the worst danger of the entire group.

If I may take a few more minutes of your time? Remember Shilo, that I mentioned earlier? I entered a relationship with them before I was entered into the treatment facility, a queer platonic relationship. Look it up if you don't know what it is. Shilo was a major emotional support while I was hospitalized, and I called them every single day – sometimes multiple times the same day. But after I came home, something began to change. They became distant, and eventually they blocked me on Tumblr and expected me to carry on as if nothing had happened. I had been dumped for no reason. In the end, Shilo kept dumping emotion bombs like that on me and running away and not letting us have any dialogue about our relationship. Remember how Shilo had established themselves as being my TARDIS, but kept talking to other Doctors? Totally unfair. I believe that Shilo is just as abusive as Cassandra is, just in a subtler way. Doctors, beware.

The one person I haven't brought up is Skyler. Believe it or not, they're not so bad. We both realized we were being abused by the cult and escaped together.

Thank you for reading, and thank you if you believe me.

#doctorwhokin #auk.txt #long post #suicide #callout #kin stuff #kin tag #dwkin

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horror-sc0pe · 7 years

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People are the way they are for a reason. I'm paranoid, anxious, insecure, and lonely. There hasnt been a lot of times that anyone made me feel secure and safe with myself or them.

It wasnt fun spending 2nd - 6th grade hearing how big my teeth were and how weird I was for liking anime, and that wouldn't have been too bad if it didn't adapt into something worse.

It wasnt fun spending 7th - 12th grade upgrading the teasing to harassment. " You look like a horse" "You're fake and your boyfriend is using you" "Whats wrong with your face" "You look like a holocaust victim"

Its not fun when your first boyfriend is cheating on you, multiple times with multiple people, but you're hearing it from his brothers friends who are being dicks just to fuck things up, or hearing it on formspring where everyone else was already spewing negative things. Its not fun when someone finally steps up and sends you screenshots of proof and you just wasted a year thinking it was his brothers friends, when you find out after things are true. And it wasnt fun having his mom call me and my mom sluts or rude bc we treated him better than she did and she was jealous. It wasnt fun when she only allowed him to see me outside of school, once or twice a month and in that time all he did was try to touch me and force things on me after I said no and wasnt ready.

Its not fun when the week you and your second boyfriend get together, hes kicked out of his house to go live in maryland and in that month 1/2 time, you only see him for a week before he changes his tumblr name to the name of another girl and breaks up with you after.

Its not fun when your 3rd boyfriend doesnt let you break up with them because you were ambushed by him right after you got rejected and made you feel wanted when you previously didnt, then realize the mistake and try to be truthful, but he wont let you. Then starts taking his anger out on you by saying everything you like is dumb and treats you like a dog. Literally. And when he finally lets the break up happen, stalks you for the next year, contacting your friends, or have strangers message you, shows up in public places, and letters begging for you back, and that theres nothing left to live for. It definitely didnt make you feel guilty and anxious because you did make a mistake, but you also tried to end it in the beginning.

Its not fun when your 4th boyfriend actually gets contacted the second your relationship status goes up with a threat from the 3rd boyfriend saying that he's gonna get you back. Its not fun when your 4th boyfriend tells you he has cancer, he's adopted, and he's been sexually abused. Will text you in the middle of the night saying he took a bunch of pills because he was trying to kill himself. Sexually abuse you. Tell his friends that you tell him to starve himself (when it never happened), attacked you online, and lets his friends do the same. Its not fun when he says hes going to the hospital for surgery the exact day you asked him to hang out and a half assed aplogy months later.

Its not fun when your 5th boyfriend is actually the best you've had, but his (ex) best friend spends a year giving him ultimatums, writing on twitter that you're in love with someone else, you killed his cat, you're only with him for money, calling your store asking for you, you can overdose on all the pills you're taking for your "fake" anxiety, you're a cunt and she knows where you live. Its not fun when you feel like you're the reason he's having a hard time bc he's put in the situation too and neither of you can do anything about it. When all you did was exist and its hard to enjoy a relationship when its being ripped apart (even though lies) online, constantly.

Its not fun losing all your friends in a couple of months. Getting your face put on a horses. Told that you're gonna be recorded running with retarded horse music in the background. Having someone you care about attempt suicide. Being 'neighed' at in the mall or at school. Even saying you have anxiety and others telling you "yeah well I deal with this, this and this and have anxiety but I can do it, you're being immature" doesn't make anything feel good. Ive already written so much and its amazing how much more is left that I didnt say. Yikes.

I repeat this so many times. I keep saying it over and over. Ive told a lot of people. But it's never satisfying. I never feel heard enough. That's just another me problem. Im on medications now, I have friends now, I'm older now, and yet I have such a hard time moving forward. When I take a step in the right direction, I have a panic attack and feel even worse about myself. I tried going to school for cosmetology, 2 months in and I found myself in the bathroom crying, holding my knees and texting my mom to get me out of there. Same with a job. And every time I break down, I just stay there bc whenever I take a step, its gonna go backwards again. I'm not an adult. I'm barely a person. Why do I constantly feel like my experiences need to be heard. No one gives a fuck they all have their own problems. Its not anything new, this already happened, people have it worse and raise so much higher than I can. Even hanging out with friends my nervous system feels overwhelmed after a couple of hours. OH WAIT I KNOW IVE SAID THAT IN OTHER POSTS TOO. Well aren't I just a special snowflake. Best part is I don't even know how to build a wall around myself to keep my emotions protected till someone breaks it down. I really dont know how to do it. Life's a mess. Idk how people get places successfully.

#rant

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cyberpoetryballoon · 4 years

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Everyone Wants to Return to 'Normal.' That Doesn't Mean You Should

A strange phenomenon has begun to occur in big cities, particularly Los Angeles and New York. Inklings of the behavior started to appear on my Instagram Stories weeks ago—people, three to 10 deep, hanging out in public, drinking in groups, eating in restaurants. I have to assume the individuals at these gatherings were aware there's a deadly pandemic still ravaging the country, as some were wearing masks, yet many are choosing to forget the other measures being asked of us to prevent the spread of coronavirus. And it really is a choice.

New York City entered phase 1 of the reopening process on June 8, allowing construction work and curbside or in-store pick-up at retailers. While Phase 2 is slated for June 22—opening up outdoor dining, barbershops, and salons, as well as additional retail and other services—and Los Angeles is in Phase 3—allowing zoos, aquariums, and music, film, and TV production to resume business—it hasn't stopped experts from questioning the speed of reopening as a public health concern. Simultaneously, many denizens of these cities are fully abandoning social distancing and self-isolation guidelines, seemingly believing that these reopenings signal the end of the virus itself. In LA, an underground dance party drew about 100 people last week. That same day, St. Mark's Place in New York City was crowded with mostly unmasked people raging as a New Orleans-style jazz band played live outside a local bar. It looked like a block party, not a city heeding and grieving the hundreds of thousands of residents sickened (and nearly 20,000 killed) by a deadly pandemic.

I'm not exactly sure when it started, but this disparity between awareness and personal behavior has progressively become common on my timeline. Weeks ago, I sent friends screenshots of an ex-boyfriend's Instagram Stories in which he goes from decrying the government's handling of the COVID-19 crisis to a video of him partying with friends on a boat, no masks in sight. I've seen acquaintances post about relatives struggling with coronavirus, admitting that at first they didn't take the virus seriously, only to see them follow up with social media posts at the beach, drinking and laughing with a PPE-free group of friends. I've heard of containing multitudes, but, uh, that ain't it.

It all came to a head on Saturday afternoon, when a friend and I met up for a social-distanced hang. Masks on, we walked to a nearby bar that was empty, got frozen watermelon margarita road sodas, and headed to a park, where we sat for a few hours soaking up the sun while keeping to opposite ends of my large picnic blanket. We used hand sanitizer liberally and frequently, and avoided all touch. It felt comforting to feel a sense of normalcy again, even if it had to be adjusted for the current conditions. Those are easy sacrifices, though, when you consider the consequences (i.e. dying, or someone else dying because you're an asshole). About a hundred feet away, we saw a picnic table full of people celebrating a birthday. For a moment I thought nothing of it, until it came back to me, like a memory triggered from hearing a song or seeing a Hyundai Sonata or whatever else gets the brain remembering things: This isn't normal anymore.

Then, I suddenly heard chants of "no justice, no peace." Hundreds of protestors marched through the park, following the paved pathway to meet at the monument in the center of the park. It was a strange collision of the world we're now living in, and the layers of cognitive dissonance that are spreading throughout our collective consciousness in various degrees. To see these gatherings—myself and my friend cautiously catching a fade at the park, a large cluster of people abandoning concern for an afternoon of celebration, and protestors fighting for a greater good despite fears of illness and brutalization from police—made me realize the mental gymnastics we're all performing out of fear or necessity.

Simply Psychology explains that cognitive dissonance "refers to a situation involving conflicting attitudes, beliefs or behaviors. This produces a feeling of mental discomfort leading to an alteration in one of the attitudes, beliefs or behaviors to reduce the discomfort and restore balance." Meaning, we do not-great shit, convince ourselves why we have to do the not-great shit, and then, when we can feel your own brain dragging us to filth, we quiet the demons by reminding ourselves that surely, we're actually a Good Person who just had to do some not-great shit. It's how society got both reality TV stars and certain breeds of Nazi sympathizers.

For protestors, there are dueling conflicting attitudes and behaviors: protecting oneself and others during a pandemic, and protecting and fighting for Black people in the face of racial injustice. To do one, the other has to be sacrificed, even if participants are taking precautions like wearing face masks, using hand sanitizer, and staying home if they have any symptoms. When I chose to protest these past weeks, it all came down to a simple fact: I have health insurance. I can afford to put my body on the line in the service of an important fight, because I have the privilege of a medical safety net. But for others, and for the drunken partiers convening and raging like it's pandemic Spring Break even when they know they shouldn't according to the pleas of health experts, it's bafflingly irresponsible. So many people are inexplicably getting comfortable, and dropping their guard too damn low.

The reminders of the time we're living in are everywhere—on signs in storefronts, in the masked faces on the street, in the daily push notifications—so seeing such a large number of people, both in real life and online, blatantly contradict themselves is surreal and upsetting. It boggles the mind, especially when coming from people who ostensibly know better. Do they believe they're immune in some way? How many of these people are getting regularly tested for COVID-19? Perhaps a positive antibody result has led some to believe that they're impervious to coronavirus, despite the fact that experts say that may not be the case. Are the people crowding restaurants and throwing backyard parties with dozens of friends and family considering their forays outside of the stifling bounds of quarantine a little treat? Something so small that it's probably harmless?

It's understanding to deeply grieve for normalcy—to yearn for the joy that comes with being drunk with your friends, laughing at a bar, gossiping at a restaurant. The act of communing over food and drink is ancient, and beautiful, and above all, really fun. But if it means you and all your friends end up with COVID after one night of getting shithoused at a Florida Irish Pub, would it be worth it? Imagine being willing to risk it all for a pint of semi-cold Guinness. Wild!

The anti-mask, pro-reopening brigade is loud and misled, but so are those who are crying online and in person about the horrible impacts of COVID only to turn around and put others at risk out of a sense of personal entitlement or willingness to allow themselves a pass. Offering our patronage to small businesses like bars and restaurants is absolutely important, especially when so many across the country are faced with the difficult choice of having to open prematurely and putting their staff at risk of contracting COVID or lose their livelihood and their ability to pay their staff. The government has done far too little to help these workers, but there are ways we can help support them besides by crowding their tables and pretending that Everything Is Fine, when the numbers show that we're still in a very bad place. So instead of choosing to forget, instead of choosing to pretend that we're safe just because their doors are reopening, consider getting takeout, or buying merch. Bars and restaurants can still be supported in full, in a safe way.