#The YouTube reception made me feel better at least

[slutouttanowhere]

Pairing: Randy Orton x Mavis Pete x LA Knight

a/n: I am coming to y’all in the midnight hour lol it’s literally 3am, and yet again I so desperately want to post more of this story. So, if y’all didn’t know Sheamus is 1. Going by his real name Stephen instead of his in ring name. 2. He has a fitness YouTube channel called Celtic Warrior Workouts, I highly recommend those even if you’re not a fitness person, it’s a pretty interesting yt channel ft wwe superstars. This part of the story was inspired by three episodes of Celtic Warrior Workouts one of which featured the Browling Brutes, an episode that ft Bayley, and an episode that ft Austin Theory. Um also, I guess I’ve created a Sheamus x Austin Theory feud???

⏮️ Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter 3

It was an early Sunday morning. While this wasn't my designated gym day, I typically planned on Wednesday's; however, I made an exception. That being Stephen practically begged me to come film for his YouTube channel. I originally told him that we would be doing something simple like weight training, but unfortunately for him I got my days mixed up. When I walked into the gym, he’s already there with his camera crew, and when he looked up from his phone I was met with a warm reception. I dropped my gym bag, and leaped into Stephen’s large muscular arms. He squeezed me in a tight bear hug, it wasn’t so tight that it would hurt me, but enough to let me know he genuinely missed me. “Petey!” He shouted as he gently put me back on my feet, I let out a squeal at the mention of the nickname he adorned me with long ago. 

“Sorry I’m late, like, at the last minute I couldn’t find my gym shoes. Then I found them by the end of the bed, I guess you could say they…sneaked away.” I looked at Stephen expectantly, he rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight the smile that crept onto his lips. 

He playfully shoved me out the way, signaling to the camera guy, “Dork.” He quickly shot at me before pivoting towards the camera to do his intro. “Today we have a special guest, whom I've been trying to get to come aboard for a while. Well today we finally got her, and boy is she a bit bubbly today. Ladies and gentlemen, Thee Hot Girl Mavis Pete, aka Texas Pete, yes like the hot sauce, aka Money Makin Mavis.” He side stepped to make some room for me to slide into frame, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and giving me another squeeze.

“Ayee wassup everybody, it’s your Hot Girl Coach here.” The grin on my lips stretched from ear to ear, bouncing on my toes, and blew a kiss to the camera. 

“Alright, alright, I see you’re ready to get going. But first, what’s the most embarrassing thing in your playlist?” He asked, it didn’t take long for me to think about it, I slapped my palm to my face. My cheeks warmed up, I pressed my lips together trying to contain my composure.

“Gosh, you’re really asking me that?” A chagrin expression etched across my face, I wrap my arms around my midsection hugging myself. 

“Aw c’mon you watch the channel, or well you better be watching the channel.” Stephen playfully bumped my shoulder. 

“Ugh, fine, I listen to you guys' theme songs. Right now Cody’s, Punk’s old Killswitch Engage one, and John Cena’s are in rotation, especially when I work out.” I shrugged my shoulders, suddenly feeling shy under the scrutiny of the camera lens. Working in front of a camera while out of character felt odd to say the least. Stephen didn't make a huge deal out of it, he looked down at me with a grin, but quickly moved on. 

He clapped his hands then pointed to me, I perked up like a puppy, the smile growing across my lips showing my teeth. “What are we calling this work out?” He asked, my eyebrows shot up in surprise, I didn’t know I got to name the workout. 

My brain scrambled for a clever answer, “Petey’s Poper?” I rushed out, which revived a deep chuckle from Stephen. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, which turned into a playful headlock. To his demise he let loose on his grip which I pulled out of, and I turned it into an arm lock. 

“Oh shite! Why are you so strong? Jesus, let me go.” He cried out, not willing to give up yet, I tightened my hold. 

“Tap! Tap out Sheamo.” I laughed evilly, without hesitation he reached around, and tapped his shoulder desperately. When I was in my developmental days, sometimes Sheamus would come train with the guys, but I would weasel my way to the front, eager to train with the strongest talent. I’ve had his respect ever since then, and even in horseplay he doesn’t take me lightly. 

“Now that I’ve got my arm back, let’s go do a bit.” When he made his way over to the weights, I paused, looking at him sheepishly. When he realized I wasn’t talking, he looked up at me, upon seeing the expression on my face, he rolled his eyes. “What now?” His eye squinting, a knowing look in his eyes, and  a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I know when you’re up to bullshite Petey.” 

I took a half step back, he faked a punch at me, but I dodged away. “Listen, listen, listen. Don’t hate me but…today is Pilates day.” I whispered towards the end, his eyebrows shot up, and his head fell back dramatically, I turned to the camera, “Sheamus is known for being quite the primadonna guys.” I mumbled into the mic attached to my tank top, he shot me a glare, and I threw my hands up in defense. 

“Mavis, please tell me you’re joking?” He groaned, regret already morphing onto his face, and for a second I thought he was going to cry. I tried to hold in my laughter, I did feel bad, only a tiny bit. 

“Sheamus…you lift men, three times my size, and beat them on their chest, surely you can handle this. I believe in you fella!” I playfully chopped him across the chest, but he was not amused. I repeatedly chopped him, increasing my strength, still not hitting him nearly as hard as I could have. I knew he could take it, after the fifth one he finally caved. 

He chortled, “Fine, ugh, is that why you picked this gym?” He asked, watching me closely.

I bursted out a breath of laughter, “No! I genuinely thought today was my heavy day, you know I love you. I’d never put you through hell on purpose.” I said through giggles, he held the glass door open for me as we entered the opposite side of the gym with all the pilates machines.Which for  the most part was deserted with the exception of an employee changing the trash. 

“For the record, I’m complaining so much because I’ve seen Petey’s Pilaties workouts, and she tells me how much they hurt. Everyone has a different kind of muscular strength, and I highly doubt my body is ready for this at all.” Stephen explained, I rolled my lips inward, nodding my head in agreement, and placing a hand on his shoulder. I smiled up at him sweetly, from my peripheral I caught Austin Theory lingering, but I turned my back to him. He asked me out on a date two weeks ago. When I rejected him, that somehow made him more persistent, and for some reason delusional in believing he would wear me down enough to eventually say yes to him. 

“Any who, we’re gonna start with some stretches, and warm up, because god knows you’re gonna need it.” 

“Ha ha.” Stephen laughed humorlessly, and let me pull him by the arm over to an open area meant for yoga, and stretching. “So, we’re gonna do some toe touches, that’s gonna pull our hammies–

“Hamstrings.” He clarified for the viewers, a small smirk on his lips, then nodded to me, allowing me to continue.

“Mmhm, and then we’re gonna do some sumo squats, that’s gonna stretch the inner thighs, but the main goal is to loosen up your hips. Now me, I’ve been doing these for almost a year, so my body is used to getting that low. But please don’t hurt yourself babes, get as low as you can go comfortably. I don’t suggest forcing it.” As I explained, Stephen listened intently, and watched as I demonstrated each stretch for him. “I love how you’re always open to learning something new.” I laughed lightly, our friendship is so special to me, Stephen is one of my friends that just gets it.

“I love learning, in all of my 40 years–

“Damn you’re 40?” I didn’t mean to outburst, but I was truly baffled by this revelation. He took a pregnant pause, I think the realization just hit him too. 

“Yes…what are ya tryin tah say?” A grin growing on his lips, he watched me with a weary glance.

“Like where did the time go? I feel like it was just yesterday I was watching you for the first time, that means I’m getting older too.” I wanted to cry, I could feel myself getting choked up, and it didn’t help the way he peered at me. His discernment often filled in the blanks of what I wouldn't say out loud. Damn him being kind, and empathetic. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Whew, got a little heavy, but don’t think you’re getting out of this workout! Petey's Popper workout.” I clapped my hands together, and dropped into a squat popping my ass back. Anything to shake off those spiraling thoughts. 

“I hope twerking isn’t part of the warm up.” 

“Baby! You ain’t ready for that.” I said, whipping my coils, and winking into the camera. Stephen was rendered speechless, instead of trying to speak, he gave up completely, and just dropped into the sumo squats. I shrugged my shoulders, dropping down to join him, staring him right in his eyes, and just like that we both burst out into laughter. 

“Jesus, can you not stare into my soul?” Stephen stood from his squatting position, I mirrored his movements coming up the same time he did. 

“Sorry.” I giggled, then moved into the next stretch, and he tried his best to copy my form. 

“Weirdo.” He mumbled, shaking his head, but going back into his focused head space. We finished up the warm up then moved to the first round, five minutes in Stephen’s face is cherry red. Both our shirts were off, and a layer of sweat covered his face. Me being the only one conditioned Pilates, it would take a bit more work to get me to really sweat. It wasn’t until the last round that I actually started to feel my glutes, and thighs burn. 

“Agh, fuck that burns.” I cried out as my muscles finally came to a rest after I finished the set. Stephen a few seconds behind me looked more distraught than I did, he always gave it his best no matter how much it may have hurt. Even in the ring he doesn't give up easily, and that translates into his workout routines. 

“Jesus Christ, why does it hurt more after the fact?” We both crawled to the ground rolling onto our sides, we both took a moment to catch our breaths before either of us spoke again. 

“Alright last thing, what’s your favorite cheat meal?” 

“So I like to eat a lot, but I also like to stay in shape so I only eat one cheat meal a month. I throw all the calorie counting out the window, I’m consuming all the sugar I want, and I know we both have a really bad sweet tooth. So I’ll do chicken tenders, fries with chili cheese, and an Olliepop. Then I’ll have ice cream and a brownie, with caramel syrup. And sleep like a baby.” When it comes to eating, make no mistake about it, I can eat a man out of their house, and home.

 Stephen chuckled, deeply wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Yea I know your love for chicken tenders, it’s like your comfort food.” Patting me on the head with his other hand, he closed out the video, and then cut the camera. 

“Shit I’m tired, and hungry, wanna go out to eat?” I offered as we were walking out of the Pilates room. Before he had a chance to answer, Austin butted into our conversation, and of course Grayson wasn’t too far behind him. 

“Of course baby girl, my treat. Anywhere you wanna go ya boy is paying.” A grin spread across his lips as he spoke ever so arrogantly. His eyes shamelessly getting an eyefull of my body, making sure to slow up at my exposed thighs. Stephen visibly grimaced at the two younger men, Austin in particular got under the Irish brutes skin effortlessly. I’ve heard about the countless altercations they’ve gotten into backstage, and on more than a few occasions Austin started the arguments. 

“What’s crazy is that you really are cute.” I shifted my weight from one hip to the other, I let Austin soak up my compliment, because it was true. I did find Austin physically attractive, and maybe I would let him hit one day if he could prove that he can keep a secret. Grayson slapped his bestie on the shoulder, already giddy, that tiny bit of attention enough to make them excited. 

“But you’re cuter when you’re not talking.” 

“I bet, but let’s be honest, you’re just more interested in tryna be someone’s sugar baby.” 

Stephen pushed past me getting up in Austin’s face, Grayson took a step forward ready to back his friend up if necessary. While Austin is in great shape, Stephen wasn’t just a hunk of muscle. He didn’t take disrespect, to women especially, lightly at all. “Better watch that smart arse mouth of yours.” He warned, I was taken aback by his domineering tone, his eyes darkened, and his hands balled into fist. I didn’t realize how serious the heat between the two was until now, and Austin wasn’t backing down, kudos to him though. 

“Man, you ain’t  nothing, but talk. I’m not even surprised you got in my business this time, I see the way you look at Mavis, just admit it bro. You want a piece just like everyone else.” Before Austin could take the next breath, Stephen snatched Austin up by his shirt in a tight grip. His breathing heavy, I coughed trying to catch my breath from choking on my spit. There is nothing that could have prepared me for this, but I tried to gather myself. 

Austin didn't seem phased, he was satisfied with his work, but he topped it off with a cheshire grin. Stephen’s words came out in a growl, “One of these days, you’re gonna cash a check you’re arse can’t cash.” Stephen had let him go, but not before he shoved him, Austin grinned, but was quick to shove him back. 

“Oh my god, okay, okay. Calm down, he’s not worth it, Sheamo.” I quickly stepped between them, pressing my hands to his chest, I could feel his heart beating wildly underneath my palms.

“See man, ya always take it too far, shame on you.” Grayson clicked his tongue, scolding their older peer. Austin chuckled deeply, I looked up to Stephen, he tore his gaze away from the two idiots to me. 

“You good?” 

“I’m fine.” He forced out, his lips pressed together, and his eyebrows drawn. He was not fine. I turned to Austin, and Grayson who had put some space between us. Smart move on their part, because I had no doubt Stephen would take on both of them in the mood he was in. 

“Can y’all just like, get fucking lost or something?” I turned to face them, I didn’t care to waste anymore energy on them, and I definitely didn’t want the situation to blow up anymore than it already was. I could already see Hunter’s facial expression in the back of my mind when he found out I was in the middle of yet another incident between superstars. Thankfully Austin was bored now, and decided to give up. He blew me a kiss as he walked away laughing like a badass toddler. 

“Hey man what the hell?” I slapped his shoulder, his eyebrows shot up, shocked that I  reprimanded him. 

“He’s a jerk Mavis, he’s always being a tool.” 

“Yes, and?” It was easy for me to dismiss idiots like Austin, guys are always trying to press me, it came with the gig. 

“And, he always talks about you like you’re just something to check off a box. Women aren’t objects, you know how I feel about that, I wasn’t just gonna stand by, and let him disrespect you.” Stephen was an Angel in my eyes, he could do no wrong, and if anything this just validated that even more. He spoke passionately, his hands on his hips, and his gaze held mine. 

“Stephen, you know I love you, but I can’t allow you to get into trouble for me. Then I’d have to deal with your wife scolding me, and sending me paragraphs because your grumpy ass got suspended.” We wandered over to a nearby bench, and sat facing each other. He looked down at his hands, squeezing them close, and opening them as if to release the built up tension in his body. 

“I can’t help it, ya know you’re like a sister to me, a little sister. ” He joked, glancing at me, a crack of a smile on his lips. 

“Jesus, do I even wanna know what you’d look like defending your actual siblings?” I laughed playfully punching him in the shoulder, he smiled sheepishly. His hand scratched the back of his head. 

He chortled, leaning in, “Actually, my record back home is pretty nasty.” He watched the expression on my face morph from confusion to a look of interest. Letting out a spout of boisterous laughter, his hand fell to his stomach, holding himself. 

“Say whattt?” I gasped, I’m not totally surprised, but he’s never told me this. I felt like I was just told the biggest secret, which is a rare moment. Stephen is the kind of guy you could be knowing for years and not find out he’s a serial killer til he’s standing over you with a knife. 

“Only Drew really knows the details of that night, but that doesn’t matter right now. Sorry if I gave ya a scare, but something has to be done about that guy..” Stephen’s previous upbeat demeanor tarnished. I’ve never known anyone to get underneath his skin the way Austin did. 

“Don’t worry about him, trust me, Theory is all talk.” I stop up from the bench, Stephen following my lead. The gym was just now starting to get busy as we were leaving, and I’m thankful that we’re done for the day. I don’t really like crowded gyms. 

“So, back to what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, wanna go get some food?” I offered, we took our time walking through the parking lot, my adrenaline from earlier finally coming down. My body felt the after effects of the workout, I felt heavy like I was carrying another person. 

“Yea, if you don’t mind Drew tagging along? We planned on hanging out today.” Stephen leaned against the inside of my open driver's side door after I hopped in. I threw my things into the passenger side, and started the car, pumping the AC. 

I’m not around Drew much, but since he’s a friend of Stephen’s, I automatically trusted him, “Of Course! I’m gonna head back to the hotel real quick to change, and then we can meet up.” 

“Where do ya wanna go?” He asked, and I wasn’t really sure, I just knew I was hungry. 

“Mmm, you guys can pick. I’m good with whatever right now.” I said abstinently, I was too hungry to make my choice right now, and I knew Stephen would pick a good spot. We said our last goodbyes, and then he let me be on my way. 

After I made it back to the hotel to shower, I changed out of my sweaty gym clothes, and into something more comfortable. I was standing at the elevator waiting, and when it finally opened Randy was on the inside with his head down. He seemed to have been deep in thought, “Look at what the 80s drug in.” I mumbled, his head shot up, when he recognized it was me, and not some asshole stranger his lips curled into a grin. 

“Ohh, someone’s in a zesty mood today, what’s wrong didn’t have your bottle before bed last night?” Randy rebuttal quicker than I expected, and I struggled to repress what I really wanted to say. 

“Know a thing or two about babies don’t you?.” I mumbled, he didn’t find that amusing at all, but willed himself to let out an airy chuckle. 

“Real mature, bringing up the baby mama scandal, you’d think coming from someone who has nothing but rumors surrounding her, she’d show a little empathy.” He spoke as a matter of factly, I pressed my lips together, and exited the elevator in silence. “Speaking of which, I was going to say sorry for the joke I made last night. That’s all it was, a joke, but I didn’t know how much of a sore topic it was for you.” I was walking towards the lobby when he grabbed me by my arm, then let his hand slide down my forearm, and squeezed my hand. I knew I was visibly upset, it was the way his eyes softened when he finally got a good look at me, and the way his demeanor changed. 

“I know.” I tried to speak but the emotions caught me once again like they did earlier. I swallowed it down, and attempted to get through it again, Randy didn’t interject. 

“I know what some of the guys say about me, and I know what they think. That I’m some busy body, that sleeps with all the guys, and if you’re nice enough to her she might keep ya around. The truth of the matter is…I’ve only ever slept with three of the guys on the roster out of all the ones that tried to get with me.” I took a pause to let my words sink in, he did somewhat look shocked by the revelation. I’m not sure what the hell people have been telling him, but I guarantee none of it is true. 

“I’m telling you this, not because I have to justify what I do with my body, but because the next time someone tries to drop some bullshit in your ears, you’ll know the truth. From the source.” Randy doesn’t really engage in gossip, because of that, most people just skip him all together when spreading the rumors around. Now that he’s directly associated with me, people are prone to skip their happy ass’ over to him and say anything to make me look bad. 

He nodded his head, his eyes swept the ground before they found their way back to me. “Shuan said the same thing, that I shouldn’t believe whatever lies people tell me, and that you have your head on your shoulders.” 

I couldn’t help the tiny smile that crept onto my lips. He's another one that doesn’t let people bad mouth me, even if it’s not in front of my face, Shaun was more of a low key guy. Which is one of the reasons we’re still cool, he knew how to keep his chill about us around others, and it was no huge secret that maybe we were something more than friends. If you paid close enough attention. “Mmm sounds like something he’d say.” I mumbled in a soft voice, expressions in Randy’s eyes were unreadable, so I didn’t dwell on it. My phone buzzed, I glanced at it quickly, it was Stephen letting me know that they chose Chipotle for lunch. 

“Off on an adventure again?” Randy drew my attention away from the phone, when I looked up he was wearing a playful smile on his lips. 

“Nothing too big, just grabbing some food with some besties.” I explained vaguely, I couldn't give Randy too much ammunition, that’s something I recently had to learn.

“Mmm, I see. When are you gonna let me break you in, training I mean.”

“That’s right…you are supposed to be my mentor aren’t you? I’m free till the next show this week. I have a hair appointment Thursday, so what about Wednesday?” I offered, I felt his finger twitch, and that’s when I realized he was still holding onto me. My heart pounded in my chest, I wasn’t sure if I should pull away, but by the time I had the thought of doing so, he had already let me go. 

“Hmm, let’s try Saturday, we’ll be back in Florida. That way we can just go at it in the PC, how’s that sound?” He asked, and I’m not sure what it was, but I suddenly got caught in a hypnotic gaze where I couldn’t look away from him. If he would have asked me to bark like a dog, I would have. 

I found the will to verbally respond, “Yea, yea sounds cool to me.” I agreed as briefly as possible, his eyes caught how my fingers fidgeted with the hem of my shit. I’d like to think I hide my twitchyness well, but under the gaze of such observant eyes, it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Right then, I’ll let you go, I know you can’t stand in one place for too long.” He joked, his lips cracked into a half smile, and watched me as I awkwardly shuffled away from him. Amusement danced in his icy eyes. 

“Yup…see ya later.” I backed away, then turned on my heels heading in the direction of the hotel’s entrance. I let out a much needed breath as I finally got out into the fresh air. As soon as I got into the car I rolled the windows down, and pulled out of the parking lot.

[lyxthen]

Extremely mildly niche academic-ish rambling ahead. Might wanna skip this one. It is long and boring

One thing that does make me happy is the Latinoamerican Literary Boom was so big it actually went on to be translated in other languages. There are still authors that I feel need to have their works translated (mostly women, I wonder why) but many of the video essayist I watch keep mentioning Borges in their videos, and truly I can't blame them because his work is rad. I don't know about him as a person but he lives 30 layers of post ironic meta fantasy or some shit like that. Cortazar is really cool also. In terms of living authors I really like Juan Villoro, his writing style is very fun. The Wild Book is a children's book about literary theory, like, Theory of Reception, Death of the Author, stuff like that. It was a really fun read as a child but the themes are interesting as well.

I feel like, I don't know, it's so hard to find Latin American fantasy books these days, or at least they are not as available. The YA genre is dominated by books originally writen in English or on books written in Spain (think Laura Gallego, which I just found out has a Netflix series made out of her most famous series of novels, but I am derailing) with the exception of Benito Taibo, who is Mexican, and has one (1) high fantasy trilogy that is kinda mid. The ideas were great, but they could've been expanded, you know? Camino a Sognum had so much potential, and you can *see* that it was inspired by classic epic fantasy like Earthsea, but it needed some more *spark* to actually work. I have not read Normal Person, but I plan to. Maybe it is better made?

And it's funny, because a book like Mexican Gothic, that was written in English, is so darn good! But only if you read it *in English* because the Spanish translation did this thing where they try to "neutralize" the accent and manerismd of the characters to make it appeal to the wider Spanish-speaking world and it doesn't sound or feel Mexican at all.

I am not sure where I am going with this. I have been discovering the local literary scene lately (and I mean *local*, like city-wide local) and it is mostly so boring because no one is writing fantasy! No magic realism! It's all kind of depressing dwellings on how we are being gentrified and indigenous people keep being oppressed by the mestizo majority and corporations and the goverment keep stealing the land to make Coca Cola and we are dying of diabetes and we don't got water and Capitalism sucks. LIKE I AGREE BUT CAN YOU PUT FAIRIES IN THERE OR SOMETHING. And I guess that's why I've never wanted to read Cómo Agua para Chocolate, because it is just *too real*, cuz it's a story I know by memory and I don't wanna live it all over again verbatim. Probably a great book, but I just cannot.

I don't know man idk idk.

The funniest think about this is that my favorite book ever (like actually, for real) is a children's book, written from the perspective of the imaginary friend of a child, and it is so gracefully narrated, and the characters so well constructed, and it touches real problems like Teen Pregnancy and Childhood Depression and Anxiety while also managing to be funny and whimsical? The very premise of the book (memories of an almost true friend, it's called) is already so creative and the execution is masterful. BUT I AM THE ONLY GUY ON PLANET EARTH THAT SEEMS TO KNOW ABOUT ITS EXISTENCE ITS DRIVING ME INSANE.

Where was I going with this. Ah yes. Youtubers talking about Borges. Well. Um. I. I think imma translate some of my own texts to English and put them on Wattpad or something. They are not the kind of thing Wattpad people are into but I gotta archive them somewhere and doing it on AO3 feels wrong since they aren't fan works. And on that note, I also wanna write more fan works.

Ugh I could be writing an essay but you got me writing a Tumblr post. What is wrong with me. I'm too bad at word weaving.

Aaaa (??????

Thoughts?

Help

I did take my meds today BTW. I don't know what is happening to me I just wanna WRITE ok I LOVE WRITING BUT WHY MUST I DO TUMBLR INSTEAD OF MY PASSIONS?

Oi I'll end it there

[solarwonux]

84.  “I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.”

roomate!junkook x f!reader

genre: smut

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: smut, fwb, Jungkook and his tattoos, tattooartist!jungkook, dom!jungkook if you squint, spiting, cum eating, oral sex (m receiving), a brief mention of voyeurism, briefly edited, also Jungkook is kind off fluffy, this couple is weird af y’all. 

note: hello, Idk what I did but I’ve done it lol. This is also a drabble that will eventually be part of a bigger story that I have half outlines lol, so I hope you enjoy this preview. I hope you like it please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

Fourth time’s the charm.

Jungkook thought as he made his way to the front door of the tattoo shop. He pulled on the handle rather harshly making sure it was closed. Last week he had forgotten to lock the door, resulting in a drunk stranger walking in demanding a tattoo. Thankfully, the stranger’s intrusion triggered the security alarm, waking Jungkook in a fright. He ran down the steps of his apartment - the one located above the shop, half naked, carrying the bat you and him kept by the front door, his heart pounding against his chest. 

To say the least he was terrified. Scared that something would happen to the expensive tattooing equipment. Scared that Yoongi would fire him and therefore kick him out of the apartment, scared of something happening to you. His nerves subsided when he found the drunk stranger, passed out on the couch in the waiting room. 

The equipment, his job and you were all safe. 

Ever since then he had made it his mission, even writing it down on a highlighter yellow sticky note as a reminder; to check not once but four times if the front door was locked.

Jungkook sighed, giving the door one last pull, making it rattle against the locks, before deeming it locked. A fifth time wouldn’t hurt. 

He turns around, walking past the waiting room and the reception desk. He does one last look over, mumbling underneath his breath, checking to see if he had done everything he needed to do on his to-do list before turning off the lights. Quickly, he pushed aside the colorful paint splattered curtain that hid the front door to his apartment to the general public. He pressed in the code, waiting for the lock to click, going over the appointments or lack there off he had the following day. 

As of late, Jungkook, Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok hadn’t had many clients come into the shop or request an appointment via instagram. He blames the rival shop that opened a few blocks away, and their stupid flash event, where they tattooed people for free. Of course they weren’t intricate pieces, small basic ones that you would pick out from the generic tattoo binder. But it still caused a dent in their clientele. 

That night you came home after work to find the four tattooists, on the couch, shooting glares at the shop door, with a large bottle of whisky in between them, and their man-size ego down in the slumps. The solution was simple, at least it was in your head. 

“Hold an event like theirs, maybe shirtless. I’ve only seen Jungkook’s abs because he loves walking around the apartment half naked but I’m sure you guys have a promising pair.” You suggested with a shrug, earning groans and complaints from the four artists on the couch. 

Yoongi stood up first, holding a hand out as an attempt to regain his balance from the sudden movement. “I’m not degrading myself or my art for clients. I’m also not giving away my talent for free.” He slurred, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction, “and my abs are better than Kooks.” 

“Alright, it was just a suggestion.” You held your hands up in defeat, taking a step back. “I’m going to bed, enjoy your pity party.” You smiled at them before making your way to the front door and disappearing. 

In hindsight, maybe you were right. Except for the half naked part, that’s dangerous and goes against all tattoo etiquette. But maybe holding a flash event and offering tattoo’s half off was not a bad idea. It would surely bring back their clients and make way for new ones. He would have to bring it up to his coworkers tonight when they came over.

Jungkook sighed, stopping at the top of the stairs facing the final door that led to his living room. He could hear the loud poppy music you were playing behind the door. Living with you wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be when Yoongi first offered you the vacant room. You were clean, organized and relatively respectful of personal space, but he hated your music. It was generic and just way too bouncy and happy, it was a good thing you gave a great head, if not he would’ve begged Yoongi to kick you out long ago. Before he got attached.

He wasn’t a dick he just thought with his dick ninety nine percent of the time and right now it was very much needing a stress release. Jungkook punched in the final code and opened his front door, revealing you in nothing but a tight pair of leggings and a sports bra, sweat droplets running down your body as you followed along with the exercise video on youtube. You looked very much like you would look after the two of you finished fucking and it made his cock stir in his jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You said in between breaths, squatting down, finishing your last rep of squats. Jungkook bit his bottom lip, nodding in response. His hands were down by his sides, itching to squeeze your ass, to pull you against him and take you on the couch. It wouldn’t be out of pocket either. He knew you would give in the second he gave you that lust filled look of his. The one that was desperate and needy and practically begging for your touch.

You stopped pausing the video and turned to look at him, hands on your hips, chest heaving in a poor attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook knew he was fucked. “Are you sure you locked the door?” 

“Yes I checked five times tonight, have you had dinner?” He blinked rapidly, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans hiding his hardening cock as best as he could.

“An hour ago.” You reassured, unpausing the workout video and positioning yourself in downward dog. 

Jungkook looked up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths following your haggard ones and counted to ten. He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed you. Needed your mouth around him until he was painting the back of your throat white. Counting to ten once wasn’t enough to calm him down. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third recount that he felt your arms circle around his waist, a faint kiss left underneath his earlobe, that he knew he was done for. 

“I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.” You whisper leaving opening mouthed kisses down his neck tonguing the spot between his clavicle and neck. Jungkook’s eyes opened wide, his lips parting in an inaudible sigh. 

“Fuck baby please.” He caved, taking your head in his hands and pushing you away before leaning down and capturing your lips with his, in a wet, messy and needy kiss. He didn’t care that your lips were salty due to the sweat, they felt like heaven against his. 

You moaned into the kiss feeling the wet muscle of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip asking for access, in which you so rightfully gave him. His hand left your cheek and traveled down your neck until it was groping your boob through your thin sports bra. You pulled away to catch your breath for a few seconds, whimpering as his palm worked against your hardened nipple diligently before kissing him again, teeth clattering against one another. 

He pulled away pushing your sports bra up releasing your boobs, his index fingers and thumbs pinching your nipples and pulling on them gently. “Jungkook, w-what do you want?” You moan, closing your eyes as he rolled your nipples between his sweaty palms. Not only did Jungkook love touching your ass, he also loved playing with your boobs, claiming they were the best pair of boobs he had ever seen in his entire twenty six years of life. 

“Get on your knees baby girl, want to see your lips wrapped around me.” He mumbles against the crown of your head while he continues to knead at your boobs. 

You nod kissing the outline of the tattoo that was peeking against the neck of his white t-shirt. You send him a wink. A deep hum leaves his lips as you slowly kissed your way down his clothed chest, until you were face to face with his jean cladded bulge. You looked beautiful, your eyes glossy with need and your mouth watering as you couldn’t wait for the weight of his cock against your tongue.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes your face against his jeans, he was so hard he could feel himself pulsing with need. It didn’t help that your fingers were walking up his thighs at an agonizing pace, while your mouth was now kissing him through the fabric, satisfied hums leaving your lips. “You’re so fucking hard Kook.” You pull away finally unbuttoning his jeans, your fingers brushing against him while you unzip his pants slowly.

“You’re such a tease baby girl, almost makes me think that you want to get punished tonight.” He tilts his head, pushing his hips into your hands as you palmed him over his boxers, while your other hand pushes his jeans down, leaving him in only his t-shirt and black boxers. 

You look up at him smirking, leaning in to kiss the tattoo decorating his thigh. You had gotten off on it many times before, it was your favorite pastime when you were needy and bored. “Maybe I do, take your shirt off.” You demanded, biting down on his skin making him jump. 

He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks making you face him, “Be careful I’m not feeling very nice today.” The sinister look behind his eyes makes you shudder, “open your mouth,” You smile, parting your lips sticking your tongue out before Jungkook leans over, a glob of spit hitting your tongue making you moan in delight. “What do you say?” His grip on your cheeks is hard. 

“Thank you sir.” You mewl, hooking your thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, wasting no time in freeing him. His cock was pretty, you had once told him that and it made him double over in laughter. No one had ever called his cock beautiful. Maybe big but never beautiful but you were a character and he should’ve expected a comment like that from you. 

“Good girl, now go on, this is all you’re getting tonight so you better enjoy it.” He wraps his hand around himself, spitting down onto his length using it to lube himself up before guiding it to your slightly parted lips. He knew you loved to watch him touch himself, sometimes if you weren’t home and he was needy he would sit on the couch fucking his hand knowing you would walk at any minute and help him finish the job. Or sit in front of him on the coffee table, legs spread wide touching yourself, moaning his name like his fingers were inside of you instead of yours. If Yoongi knew the dirty escapades that happened behind the walls of the apartment above his tattoo shop he would never step foot inside again. Thankfully he didn’t know, yet. 

You stick your tongue out and lick his head, rolling your nipples against the palm of your hands. The sight was award winning and Jungkook wanted to so badly get his camera out and capture the moment. To add to your shared collection. “So fucking sexy baby girl, always so good for me.” He tapped the head of his cock against your tongue before you close your lips around him, running your tongue underneath the head of his cock. 

Jungkook’s hand came behind your head, guiding you further down his cock sending a thrum of arousal up his spine. You hollow out your cheeks looking up at him with watering eyes. He moans, gripping your ponytail, giving you an experimental thrust making you gag around him. It sounded like the beginning of a beautiful melody, not the ones that belonged to your shitty pop music but the one that would keep you up at night lost in thought. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” He thrusts again, while you tug on the hem of his shirt. “Want to see me, look at my tattoos while I fuck your mouth?” He grunts, quickly discarding his shirt once he hears the needy moan that escapes your cock filled mouth. He knew his tattoos were your ultimate turn on. The reason you had gotten on your knees before him the first time after living together for a full year. He couldn’t say no, not when the only thought running through his mind was the stain your red lipstick would leave behind on his cock. 

Calm him a douchebag or compare him to a hormonal filled teenager, he didn’t care. He was a man after all. One that hadn’t had sex in two years after his last girlfriend cheated on him with his brother. 

Frankly, he needed an ego boost and you were there to give it to him, so he caved.

You pull off of him breathing heavily, a thread of saliva connects your lips to the head of your cock as you try to catch your breath. The sight was anything but underwhelming and enough to make him cum, but Jungkook hated his cum going to waste. He was healthy and young and it should go to good use.

 “I-I want you to use my mouth, please.” You croak before dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. “Want you to cum in my mouth sir.” Mumbling, you tease his head with the tip of your tongue making him groan. 

“Such a dirty mouth, it's a good thing I’m making good use out of it.” He says, a cocky smirk evident on his face. You nod happily, humming with please as you take him into your mouth again, sinking further, hollowing your cheeks moaning around him as you watch his face scrunch up in pleasure. His abs contract as he tries to control himself, at least until you give him the go ahead. And you do with a slight tap of your fingers against his thighs. 

He growls, thrusting his hips into your mouth, guiding your head up and down, gagging around him. His cock feels hot and heavy against your tongue, making both of you moan simultaneously. “Always letting me use you, what would our friends say if they walked in. You know I invited them over for drinks, right?” 

You whimper around him, closing your eyes at the thought of getting caught with him, balls deep down your throat. You hated that he had caught onto your slight voyeurism kink as it was only a matter of time where he threw all tattoo etiquette he knew and lived by out on the window and fucked you in his workshop, with only a thin curtain separating you and the rest of the shop. 

His thrusts get more desperate. His orgasm was approaching quickly as he twitched inside of your mouth. You dig your nails into his thighs, creating crescent moons as you feel your lungs start to give out. He mutters a low fuck followed by a quick apology before he pulls away. You gasp resting your hand against your chest, your eyes are filled with tears, bubbles of saliva painting your chin. Jungkook swears he’s never seen a sight as beautiful as this one and once again he’s cursing himself for not giving himself enough time to grab his camera. 

“Can you go more or do you need a break?” He whispers, eyes filled with concern while he caresses your cheek with his thumb. 

You shake your head, “Just give me time to regain my breath.” With a soft smile you leave a chaste kiss against the tattoo decorating his hip. It was part of a bigger piece, one that adorned the entire right side of his body, but nevertheless for some odd reason it was your favorite one. 

Jungkook nods, wrapping his hand around himself, muffled curses escaping his beautiful lips. “I’m so close, baby girl, just let me cum on your face.” He all but begs, gripping his cock tightly and thrusting his hips into his hand. 

You pout, a sound of protest leaves your swollen lips making Jungkook roll his eyes. “You can blow me again later, open your mouth baby.” He tucks his lips in between his lips, hips casting into his hand desperately. The pool between your legs grows, overflowing as you watch the mesmerizing sight in front of you. God, he was so fucking sexy. 

You open your mouth sticking your tongue. Jungkook throws his head back moaning your name in a sweet incantation, ropes of cum hitting your tongue and cheeks, while you moan along with him. 

Jungkook opens his eyes, riding out his orgasm, painting your chin watching as you drag your tongue into your mouth swallowing his salty substance, humming in satisfaction. “J-Jungkook.” The needy way you say his name makes his cock twitch and he has to keep himself from getting hard again. 

“You look so pretty baby girl, so fucked out and pretty, only for me.” He whispers, collecting the cum that was dripping down your chin with his thumb before bringing it up your lips, coating them. “So filthy too, thank you baby.” He leans down, running his tongue against your cheek collecting his cum before kissing you slowly and sensually, pushing his tongue inside of your mouth, coating the inside with his cum. 

Jungkook hates his cum going to waste. You whimper, snaking your arms around his neck pulling him closer, sucking on his tongue. He grins against your lips and moves away, chuckling as you continue to chase his lips with yours. “I need you Kookie.” You sigh, a pout forming on your swollen lips. “Please just fuck me, use me. I don’t care anymore.” You let out a sob, your pussy throbbing begging to be touched. 

He helps you up, circling his arms around your waist, nosing your hair as he sighs. He wants to give him, lead you to the couch, but the guys were going to be here at any minute and he couldn’t have time to please you the way he wanted to. 

“Let’s go shower, I promise the second the guys leave I’ll eat you out like a starved man.” He suggests, leaving a light kiss against your forehead. He didn’t feel as stressed as he was earlier, but that’s all thanks to you and how easy it was for him to get lost in your world.

“Is that a promise?” You tilt your head curiously, toying with the hair resting against the back of his neck.  

“I always keep promises, baby girl.”

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 19: ILYSB

[prev] [next]

[masterlist]

PLAY THIS FOR EXTRA FEELS

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

You drive to the farm and see Kita’s truck already parked. Getting out of the car, you see Kita smile at you. Quickly, you run to him then give him a hug. The only light source you have is that one beanpole, the stars and the moon, but Kita is shining as always. “Alisa is going to kill me for meeting you here.”

“Atsumu warned me so many times not to see you, too,” Kita chuckles, embracing you tightly. “It felt so wrong not seeing you for a day.”

“Save that for later,” you warn him, putting a finger over his lips. Kita wants to tell you so many things but you’re right, he should save it for your wedding vows. “I know we’re already married but actually having the wedding feels like I’m getting married again.”

“I’ll marry you everyday if you want,” Kita tells you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Can we practice our first dance? I’m nervous.”

You put your hands together and you lead the dance, guiding him all throughout. “It feels weird without the music,” you comment and Kita just hums.

“Mad cool in all my clothes, mad warm when you get close to me...” He starts so you stop dancing in surprise. He pulls your hand just like in the choreography you both have learned, and this time he’s the one who leads. You are too mesmerized by his voice that it’s all you can think about.

“Slow dance these summer nights. Our disco ball’s my kitchen light,” he continues to sing, and you just smile at him. Even his voice is perfect. What can he not do? You can’t believe that you are serenaded by the one and only Kita Shinsuke.

Seeing the smile on your face, Kita forgets the dance and cups your cheek, allowing your bodies to sway freely. “And you need to know, that nobody can take your place. And you need to know that I’m hella obsessed with your face... your face.” He kisses your nose so you giggle.

Kita places his forehead over yours, hands still on your cheeks, eyes closed with a contented smile on your lips. “Oh my heart hurts so good. I love you, babe, so bad, so bad.”

“I love you, too, so, so, so bad,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist. Kita’s eyelids flutter open and he stares you lovingly before pulling you in for a kiss.

“See you later, my bride.”

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

Kita is finally wearing the 3-piece grey suit with the help of his groomsmen, aka the Inarizaki Volleyball Team. “I’m nervous,” he tells them with his usual face.

Kita has never felt nervous, but right now, he’s excitedly anxious for unknown reasons. You both love each other and he knows that nothing can go wrong at your wedding, because he made sure of that. He double checked everything even before today, so why is he nervous?

Aran groans, “at least show your nervousness! You still look like you don’t care!” Kita raises his trembling hands and his friends start laughing.

“Did you not practice enough?” Omimi asks.

“I have been practicing my vows since we got back together but I’m still nervous,” Kita admits and everyone else smiles because of his honesty.

Osamu, then, hands Kita a shot of alcohol, confusing the groom so much. “Take a shot for confidence.” Kita’s eyes waver in uncertainty, but takes the shot anyways. He won’t get drunk from one single shot, and he’s willing to do anything that will get rid of the new feeling he has never felt before.

“I think I’m nervous about the dance we’re going to do,” Kita explains.

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m nervous, too,” Aran speaks, staring blankly at the wall. “Whose idea is the surprise dance anyways?”

“It’s Atsumu’s of course,” Suna answers, rolling his eyes.

“It’s all over Youtube! (Y/N) would be so happy if we do it!” Atsumu says with confidence. Kita suddenly lets out a loud shout, silencing the room.

“I’m not angry. I’m just letting out my anxiety,” Kita explains, and the team just sighs in relief.

They hear scratches from the suite’s door so Gin opens opens to see what it is. Rice walks in the room, carrying a paper bag in his mouth. He is wearing a dog suit that is similiar with Kita’s, causing the boys in the room to awe and coo at him.

“Hi, boy! What’s that?” Kita asks the small dog, taking the small paper bag from his mouth. Rice sits in front of him and wags his tail, waiting for Kita to open the box. “Oh, it’s a gift from your mom.”

“Is this how he usually talks with Rice?” Suna asks Osamu, completely new to the scenario in front of him. He has only imagined Kita baby talking with his pet in high school, and this is way better than his imagination allowed.

“Yes. He treats him like his child,” Osamu answers while they stare at the father-son (dog) duo.

Kita pets Rice’s head before opening the bag. He takes out the box that is in it and slowly opens it, painfully making everyone else in the room wait in anticipation. It’s a luxurious watch. He hates it when you give him expensive gifts, but today he’ll let it pass since it’s your wedding. He reads the message on card and snort unknowingly.

When im eighty, I'll look back on three big things in my life: getting married, having kids and the first time I laid eyes on you.

Kita takes a small gift bag from his bag and let’s Rice bite on the string as well. “Give this to your mom.” He orders Rice and the dog leaves the room to go back to yours.

At the bridal suite, only you and your Nekoma friends are in there. Alisa is doing your makeup while the boys are just chilling and talking at the couch. They’re giving unnecessary comments here and there about your wedding ceremony and reception. Like how you will trip while walking down the aisle, or how you will cry so hard during the wedding vow that you Kita won’t be able to understand. Your friends are crazy, but they’re the ones who stuck with you through thick and thin.

“Rice is back,” Lev mentions as he opens the door for the dog. Your pet sits next to your chair, looking up to you to present the gift in his mouth. You pat his head and take the bag from him. He then jumps on your lap to nap.

You open the bag excitedly and see a necklace designed like a leaf branch made of diamonds and white diamond. You stop yourself from crying, not wanting Alisa to start your makeup all over agin. You put it on and check yourself at the mirror. Then, you realize that there is also a small card that came along with the necklace.

You are my favorite plant. I will water you everyday with my love. I will make sure that you have enough sunlight through making you happy. I will take care of you until we’re old and withered.

Kuroo’s wife enters the suite, causing Kuroo to keep quiet. You eye your friend teasingingly so he rolls his eyes at you. His wife is your wedding planner and organization so she has come in the room to check up on you. She doesn’t even spare a glance at Kuroo.

“It’s time to put on your wedding dress,” she tells you as she carries out your dress from the wardrobe. It’s a simple dress, something you never thought you’d wear in your wedding.

Ever since you were little, your idea of your wedding was for it to be glamorous and extravagant since it’s the only kind of wedding you have been attending since you were little. You had always imagined wearing a big ball gown dress with all the Swarovski crystals in can hold. It is the opposite of your wedding that is about to take place.

You only have around 75 guests, consisting of your closest friends and family. The wedding will take place in a small garden so you can be surrounded with plants that Kita loves so much. Your dress? It’s a an a-line dress with a square neckline and low back. It’s made charmeuse fabric and that alone. No lace, no crystals, no anything. It’s a plain simple dress that you know Kita will love.

Everyone else would say that a woman’s wedding is her wedding day, but that’s not Kuroo’s wife, your wedding planner, told you. She said, and you will never forget.

“A wedding is not a woman’s or a man’s happiest day, it’s supposed to be a day where married couples look back on and then remember why they said, ‘I do.’ It’s a special day they share as a couple and not as individuals.”

So you throw all your imaginations and fantasies out of the window and thought of Kita, and him alone, while designing your dress. It’s both yours and Kita’s day. But you’re willing to take an extra mile to make him happy, to make him say, “I do” with all his heart.

You are in the bathroom suite with Kuroo’s wife since Alisa is too anxious to dress you up. The guys obviously can’t help you. You take your robe off and Kuroo’s wife helps you slip on to the dress, but she stops midway when she sees your slightly protruding stomach. She looks at you in shock and you just put a finger over your lips.

“It’s a surprise,” you tell her and she nods.

“Congratulations,” she says to you, and you grin widely.

Yes, you’re pregnant. After trying for a very long time, you’re finally carrying another Kita. In fact, you have been pregnant for two months but just found out a week ago. You wanted to tell Kita immediately but you thought that it’d be best to tell him during your wedding vow for that extra tear jerking scene.

Certainly, Kita will never forget your wedding day.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—

“We come now to the words Shinsuke and (Y/N) want to hear the most today. Before you say your vows to one another, I want to hear you confirm that it is indeed your intention to be married today,” your officiant starts so you and Kita face each other.

“Kita Shinsuke, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to (L/N) (F/N) in marriage?”

“I do.”

“(L/N) (F/N), do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Kita Shinsuke in marriage?

“I do.”

“Shinsuke and (Y/N), having heard that it is your intention to be married to each other, I now ask you to declare your marriage vows.”

Kita takes your hand in his and looks you straight in your eyes and you can see all the emotions from his orbs that his face isn’t revealing. He looks so calm yet his eyes are screaming that he’s excited and nervous at the same time.

“I see these vows not as promises but as privileges. I get to make you smile, hear you laugh. I can take care of you and share my everything with you. I get to wake up next to you every morning and sleep next to you every night. I get to witness at your every milestone and the breakdowns before that. I won’t promise that I will cherish you or honor you, because even without those promises, I will do it. Because being married to you is not a responsibility or a task; it’s a gift, a present. You don’t know how lucky I am to be able to call you my wife,” Kita starts and the guests are already sobbing and crying.

Atsumu is leaning on his twin brother’s shoulder, while the other twin is patting his back. Aran is crying as well, his handkerchief already wet from too much tears. But you don’t hear anything or anything except for the man who’s standing in front of you right now.

Kita takes a deep breath in before he continues, “I love you with my whole heart with a passion that can't be expressed in words, only in soft kisses, tight hugs, late night trips, stolen glances, and years of being by your side. You always tell me that I’m the best man in existence, but believe me when I say this, I am a better man because of you.”

You’re already crying at this point, his word piercing right through your heart, but you don’t feel the pain. It’s a feeling of mixed happiness and contentment that Kita has been giving you since the day you met him. But now it’s your turn to say your vows so you have to stop yourself from crying.

“Shinsuke...” you start and then cry again. You hear your friends’ laughters and giggles, so you chuckle in embarrassment. Kita gives your hand a slight squeeze so you take a deep breath in before attempting to say your vows again.

“When I first saw you, I knew I had to have you. A lot of people said that we’re not going to work out or that you’ll never like me back, but here we are now,” you laugh cockily, causing the guests to laugh as well. “Before I say anything that will make you cry, I just want to clarify that when I said, ‘I do,’ I didn’t mean the dishes. I promise with all my heart that I will continue to make our friends jealous of our astonishing relationship.”

“We get it! We’ll be single forever!” Yaku shouts so it’s laughter once again.

Kita is smiling at you lovingly even if you’re joking during your wedding vows. You clear your throat before starting to speak again, “You have made me the happiest woman in the world today by agreeing to share your life with me. I promise to respect you and honor you. I pledge to be your honest, faithful, and loving wife for the rest of my days. Shinsuke, you are my every dream come true, and I can't wait for the reality we get to build together.”

You want to say it. You want to tell him that you’re pregnant. The words are already at the tip of your tongue but it doesn’t seem to want to slip out. The officiant starts to speak again but you don’t hear him. Your thoughts are clouded with regrets on why you didn’t tell your husband about your pregnancy.

“Your wedding ring are the outward and visible sign of the inward and invisible bond which already unites you two hearts in love,” the officiant says and Rice comes running to the two of you with the wedding rings placed in a small bag.

Rice is your best man. He’s been there since day 1 of your relationship and have been your mediator ever since. He’s a dog that represents your love and he deserves to have that special spot on your wedding day.

Kita slips in your wedding ring as he says, “I give you this ring. Wear it with love and joy. As this ring has no end, my love is also forever.”

You take his hand this time and repeat his words. “I give you this ring. Wear it with love and joy. As this ring has no end, my love is also forever.”

“It is my honor and delight to declare you husband and wife. You may seal this declaration with a kiss,” the officiant declares so Kita takes your veil off to clearly reveal your face.

Your lips meet his. The kiss speaks a lot for the two of you since your lips are both sealed by each other’s. You can feel his promises from his lips and he can taste your sincerity from yours. It’s a kiss you’ll never forget.

The reception after the ceremony was a simple and short one yet also fun and memorable. The former Inarizaki Volleyball Team surprised you with a dance, a sexy one at that, and you blush just thinking about how hot your husband looked while dancing.

At the part where you had to throw the bouquet to the crowd, Kuroo’s wife caught it, so you and your friends were a laughing mess when that happened. Kuroo was so red even if he wasn’t the one who caught the bouquet.

It was perfect. Your wedding day was perfect. Everything went as planned except for your plan of telling him that you’re pregnant.

After the wedding reception, you head to your suite to finally rest and spend alone time with each other. Kita’s hands have never left your body ever since he got to hold it. His mouth would whisper sweet nothings in your ear. His eyes gazed at you every chance he got.

“I really love that dress on you,” Kita tells you as you are about to take off your wedding dress in front of the full body mirror in the room. He wraps his arms around you, his chin on your shoulder, his lips dangerously close to your neck.

“And I love that your hair is pushed back,” you reply, letting your hands fall on his forearms.

“Should I wear my hair like this everyday?” Kita asks and you shake your head immediately. “Why not?”

“I would die from too much handsomeness and hotness,” you answer without hesitance so he chuckles. “For real. You look amazing today. My heart may or may not have skipped a beat or two when you danced.”

“I could show you again,” he whispers into your ear seductively causing chills to run down your spine. “A special show only for you.”

“Baby,” you call him, changing the topic. He humms in response, his lips already attached to the skin of your exposed shoulder. “I have to tell you something important.”

“What is it?” He turns you around, then hugs you again. Tears start to roll down your cheeks so he gets worried. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Not all,” you tell him reassuringly but he doesn’t believe your words since you’re crying like a baby in front of him.

“Then why are you crying?” He wipes the tears on your cheeks with his thumb, worry visible in your eyes. It should be a happy day, why are you crying?

“I’m just glad that we finally had our married and that we will have an addition to our family,” you say subtly, hugging him tightly. Kita is frozen in his spot, did he understand your words right? Do you mean what he thinks you mean?

“What did you say?” He makes you repeat. You cup his cheeks and grin at him. You can see his tears at the brim of his eyes, and just one confirmation for you, the two of you will be crying in thankfulness and happiness the whole night.

“I’m pregnant.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—

[prev] [next]

Taglist:  @vicassa​​  @ptv-hades​​  @steggy4ever​  @booklover240​ @toripersonalacc @mkazuyuh​  @smoltiddygf @adrasteiaxandromedaa @leinnah  @a-applepi​ @kellesvt @xxlightsaberxx  @youpieceofwasabi @bandolls @wheelzzzies @apollochjld @neomuxuxi @tnu-ree @mindofess @alittlebitofrain @agaashesmilktea​ @aquzairus @ynjimenez @sempiternal-amour @diyosku @dinablossom @atomicpie1115 @lililiynx​ @onlyshinji @melodiamore @bunnybitesthedust @angrylittleriri @rogueofbullshit @8zmingi @aam1na @yuueisteria @4kaashl  @ohhoneyvee @amberalisa​ @kouffee-ink @flavostella02 @mint-mai @iminlovewhaikyuu @alexandriamentos @tsumtsumsamu @izumikunmy @akaashi-todorki @nycvalntyne @yeibuub @todobruhski @koushiwrites @maitenight

[2amtechnicolor]

things i'm doing that have helped me feel better

🌙 sleeping earlier

i used to sleep 3am-11am and while that was a full 8 hours, i would miss a whole chunk of the day. the hours i had at night (9pm-3am) were usually spent mindlessly scrolling. i couldn't do anything at that time. by sleeping earlier (12am-8am), i've been more alert and more receptive to going out since i won't have to change my sleep schedule to accommodate.

☀️ having a morning routine

having a morning routine gives me a sense of momentum in the mornings. it allows my head to slowly adapt to the day ahead.

🏅 doing daily exercises

i'm still not very athletic, but doing some daily stretching and mild calisthenics keeps me feeling good. i also play groovecoaster and i've gotten pretty good!

🍎 eating better food

i used to basically only eat carbs and while they tasted good, they didn't do much for my body. i also would just eat when i was bored and wanted something to do with my hands which also isn't great. i'm not someone who likes cooking, so i have pre-packaged protein bars and fun greek yogurts when i'm feeling hungry, and i try not to snack if i don't need it. i portion control what i'm eating now instead of taking the whole bag and i try to be mindful of what my body is telling me instead of just reaching for whatever's available.

🌊 showering

i try to shower every day. it's part of my routine. i use the same shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. it just keeps me feeling clean and like i can face the day ahead. i always feel better about myself and my appearance after i shower.

💊 taking my medication daily

i take them in the morning after my shower. i know i don't get enough nutrients in my diet, so i have fruity gummy vitamins that i take daily! i keep them with my meds so i remember to take those too. what keeps me on track is the daily med holder i have and the fact that i've skipped days before and they always make me feel awful. medication works, don't stop taking it if it works for you.

✏️ bullet journaling

i have a prompt that i copy and paste into a diary app every day, it asks me if i did each part of my morning routine, what my schedule is, what anime i watched, what games i played, what i ate that day, and if there's anything else on my mind. i have designated emojis for everything. it makes me feel accomplished.

🎨 giving myself time to be creative

i try to set aside at least 15 minutes to an hour to draw every day. it keeps my skills sharp and keeps me motivated to finish art. i try to stay as focused on my art as possible, and limit my social media use.

🎮 giving myself time to do something fun

i give myself time in the evenings to play a game or watch youtube or read manga. i try to stay away from social media during this time and just focus on making myself feel good.

📱 limiting my social media use (particularly twitter and instagram)

social media is designed to make you mad. i made a rule to no longer follow people who upset me, or look up things that upset me. it's easiest to do this on tumblr, which is why i usually have no problems scrolling my dash. however, on twitter, the news is in my face, and on instagram, i find myself spiraling down into a rabbithole of comparisons and self-doubt. when i spend time away from those spaces, i do feel a lot better.

💞 reaching out to friends

when i feel lonely and isolated, i ramp up my time on social media. but validation from strangers doesn't necessarily fill the void of love. so i try to spent a little time each day chatting with a friend or spending time with my family.

🏠 spending time outside my room

this is a big one, and one that i struggle with. my room is my safe haven, but it's also isolating. when i move outside that environment, i'm giving myself permission to take up space, reminding myself that it's my home too. while there are certain activities i prefer to do in my room, i try to spend a little time each day in a different area of the house.

these haven't fixed all my mental health problems. i still struggle with work stress and communicating with people. my executive function when it comes to chores and adult tasks is still terrible. i hate cooking and cleaning. however, several months ago, i couldn't do any of the above. i felt like i was just waiting for the day to end, for my life to pass by, and that's not a way to live.

i'm taking care of me, because i didn't in the past, and i want to make up for the time i've lost by just existing, but not living.

[bumbleartz]

So got inspired by @sondrawr and @gotham-mother-of-monsters and had this ramble pop into my head. Hadn't flipped through my Mercy books in a while so it was fun to go back and refresh. Covers from the first book up to Storm Cursed and has spoilers if you haven't gotten that far.

Jesse has heard the title Marrok on and off throughout her childhood. Usually the title is whispered between the wolves or her father in tones she isn't supposed to hear. These conversations always ended in her being hustled off to the care of her mother or after the divorce being sent off to her room. The first time it became more than a hushed precursor to her being shuffled off is after being taken hostage. Her father had pulled her into his office and given her a name to go with the title along with a number to enter into her phone. "He is the head of all the wolves. If something happens regarding pack business or you feel for some reason you can't get to any of us or Mercy you call that number." She'd dutifully filed the number away as instructed under Bran Cornick and promptly had the conversation fade to where she kept the rest of what was considered pack information. 

The first time she sees the Marrok is in the entryway way to the house in the middle of the night. She's too distracted by the fact her father is home safe to pay much attention to the others in the room as she is carefully wrapped into his arms. He looks like crap and smells worse even to her normal human nose. She can't bring herself to care as the tears she's fought so hard not to shed wet her eyes. When she unburies her face from her father's chest long enough to take note of the others there she's honestly too tired from the stressful nights of waiting to register anything beyond them being in one piece and alive. Later, after the first good night's sleep she's had in days, there will have been too many new faces for her to register who was who. The only one she can place a name to with any certainty is Charles. Mercy laughs and tells her Charles has that effect on people when she goes to see her later. 

The first time Jesse meets the Marrok is not long after on a midnight escapade to calm her nerves. Another nightmare has had her shooting awake and the images are still playing in full technicolor behind her lids each time she closes them. It's been almost a year since she was taken hostage and yet the blinding terror feels as fresh as ever. She'd turned down therapy when it was offered. What was she supposed to say? Yeah, some werewolf thought they could use me as leverage to make my dad behave so they could use him in some murder plot with a side of treason? She'd known how well that would have gone over. She'd thought they would fade over time. Maybe they would have if things had gone back to normal; a demon vampire threat, murder plotting psychos, and the attack on Mercy had happened instead. Jesse didn't bother adding the destruction of her social life and ongoing mom issues to the list since they just seemed to pale in comparison to the rest. Anymore Jesse found herself waiting for the next horror story. The most recent of which was currently causing all the wolves various fits. She currently wasn't clear which was bothering them more: one of their own being resurrected or Mercy being pulled into the pack. The kitchen light is on as she rounds the corner and she expects to see any number of people outside of the vaguely familiar stranger currently staring back at her. Somewhere between him asking her if she couldn't sleep and making the hot chocolate the same way Mercy does it dawns on her this person who looks barely older than her is the Marrok. Her tired brain tries to summon up the awe with a side of shock she should be feeling and fails miserably. Instead she finds herself nursing her mug of cocoa and making small talk while the Marrok takes drinks of his own. In the midst of the conversation he manages to get her to verbal vomit about her nightmares and the troubles she's been having at school. She manages to find out he has a deep dislike of Shakespeare, has a deep love for music, and possesses a terrifying wit. By the time she is making her way back to her room and he to the guest room she is feeling better then she has in months. He's already gone when she gets up leaving her without ever getting a chance to say thanks. While it isn't a big thing it bothers her just enough to pull her phone out and send a text to the number she'd all but forgotten. The simple thank you is accompanied with a YouTube link to her favorite Lindsey Stirling video. After all, Jesse views not knowing who she is and being a violinist as a crime. The little smiley face emoji she gets in reply makes her grin. 

The next time they meet she's the one providing the hot chocolate. The pack has managed to get themselves entangled with a fairy queen and Mercy has yet again made the sacrifice play. Everyone is chasing their proverbial tails trying to find her while remaining outside of her father's war path. In the meantime, Jesse feels she's improved in her chaos handling as she's only broken down twice. Apparently having your boyfriend kidnapped and going on to a fairy queen's court doesn't have the same punch as other things she has dealt with lately. When she sets the mug on the coffee table it's the wee hours of the morning and the Marrok has been seated cross legged on their monstrosity of a couch for the better part of a day. If she hadn't gotten to know him a little better over the previous months she would have felt she was intruding. However, Bran was not against using all available resources and she'd been pulled in regarding the newest resident of Aspen Creek. Kara and Jesse had clicked right off the bat and become faithful texting pals ever since. Bran rubs the bridge of his nose and blinks hard a few times despite his eyes having been closed before reaching for the mug. He looks beyond exhausted and she knows not all of it has to do with the current situation. Kara has confided in her about his lack of sleep and the way he's been running himself ragged. Jesse does her best to lighten the mood with a joke about the fairies contacting them any moment begging them to take Mercy back. Her effort is rewarded with an amused smirk and a quiet chuckle. She ends up rambling about different ways Mercy is driving the fairies nuts and is encouraged when Bran joins in. Jesse wakes to the noise of people rushing around. Bran is smiling and gripping a walking stick with a white knuckled grip from his spot on the couch when he tells her Mercy has been found.

Jesse is biting her lip to keep from laughing too loud as she informs everyone the butterflies have succeeded where the dove idea failed. Marji is cackling on the video feed in victory while Bran seems too amused to care he has just lost a hundred bucks. Two days pass in a blur of emergency calls and group texts. Despite the short time frame the wedding goes off without a hitch. Mercy is surprised and Jesse can't remember the last time her father looked so blissfully happy. Once the two love birds are off Jesse spends the rest of the reception twirling around the dance floor with Gabriel. The raised eyebrow this gets her from Bran makes her stick out her tongue. The fact Mercy comes back from the honeymoon in a wheelchair shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Jesse can picture Bran doing his iconic bridge pinch when she sends him the picture. 

Bran's text to Mercy makes Jesse's lips quirk in amusement. After the destruction of the Rabbit she could use the humor. That humor plummets when the number comes up disconnected when Mercy tries to reply. The knot of concern only tightens with each person Mercy tries and fails to reach. The pain of it becomes near unbearable when they find Ben and no one else. The pain doesn't start to ease until she recognizes the dark haired man fighting beside Tad. After months of having Asil tease her about her hair after seeing it during a video chat with Kara she'd know him anywhere. Seeing her father and the pack alive and well makes the knot come undone. At least it does until she realizes one is missing and hears of Peter's death. She knows how her father will take the loss and can't bring herself to add more weight to those already overburdened shoulders. So she turns her focus to looking after the younger Sandoval children and burying her feelings as deep as possible. This works until Asil catches up to her in the kitchen getting together snacks for the kids. All he has to do is ask if she's alright and she falls apart. Asil pulls her into a hug and gives reassurances in Spanish. Jesse doesn't understand a word but it soothes her all the same. He tells her everyone in Montana is safe and she sags in relief. When everything is over and she gets a new phone that has been programmed by Charles, Asil's number is listed in the contacts. 

Her mother has only been living with them for a day and Jesse wants to scream. She loves her mother but watching the resulting train wreck her mere presence is causing makes her wish she'd just leave them all alone. Even though her talk with Mercy has eased some of the hurt and anger, it hasn't gotten rid of it. Mostly because despite what Mercy said she can see the way her mother has gotten under her skin and cut her to the quick. Anger and the need for a voice of reason has her contacting Bran. Bran gently reminds her Mercy is more than capable of holding her own in a dominance dance. He must know this isn't what she was looking to hear because the next message contains Charles' number and instructions to text him. Jesse has no idea why Bran would have her talking to Charles but she copies and pastes the message she previously sent like instructed. Bran must have warned his son because Charles doesn't seem surprised to get the message. Charles turns out to be an unexpected fount of wisdom when it comes to the difficulty of broken family dynamics. It's odd how hearing from someone else that she is allowed to love her mother and yet not like her makes it feel OK. By the time her mother's stalker has been dealt with Jesse thinks she might finally be finding the path between love and hate. 

Jesse isn't a wolf, but she can still feel the moment Bran breaks ties with the Columbia Basin Pack. She doesn't wait for her father and Mercy to come out of the office. Tad seems to know something is up but doesn't say anything when she gives the excuse of homework and heads to her room. Her phone is a lead weight in her hand because what do you say to someone who just had to throw away someone they love? A part of her is angry too. Angry at the pain she knows this has caused Mercy and the difficulty it will cause her father. However, Jesse knows what it is like to be caught in a situation outside your control due to the actions of those you love. She types out a promise to do what she can for Mercy and to send a warning the instant something happens requiring help. She ends the text with a little heart emoji. Current circumstances might make it harder but family out ranked all else. Jesse already knew if something happened Bran would help. She's proven right when Baba Yaga saves her father in Underhill.

Jesse's proven right again when Bran goes with her father to get Mercy back from the Lord of Night. He sends her a message promising her he will bring Mercy and her father back in one piece. She replies telling him she knows. She also tells him to come back in one piece too or she's going to have to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At this point she's gone to battle to protect her new pyro of an adopted younger brother and managed to keep him from burning the house to the ground. She's pretty sure she can at least annoy a vampire lord. The fact she'd have backup from an Italian mercenary, a Dark Smith and more than one werewolf pack was completely irrelevant. After all the one thing she knew for certain was you always looked out for your pack, your family. Which is why as soon as she hears everyone is returning from Italy in one piece she sends a message to Tad for him to tell his dad. She also makes sure Warren passes on the message to Stefan though he doesn't need reminding. She snaps a picture of everyone getting out of the car when it pulls up and sends it to Charles and Asil because she knows hearing someone you care about is safe is not the same as seeing it. And because he is family in her eyes at this point, after she hugs her father and Mercy, she hugs Bran too. 

[jonathanrook]

legally i have to give you intern 2

em you have awoken an ungodly beast inside me so i need to warn everyone that this post is. incomprehensible. but so is mymusic so i guess we're all used to it.

How I feel about this character:

i watched mymusic as it was airing/running/coming out specifically bc i'm a jack stannie, and as a kid melvin was my second favorite character (w scene being in first, obvs) for mostly that reason. he basically hovered around this ranking until my most recent rewatch in the summer of 2020, which was actually spurred by some events in my personal life that vaguely reminded me of scene's season two arc w jeff, and i thought it'd been a funny/nostalgic way to get my mind off things.

(i want to side note here that -- i know you didn't ask, but -- i love jeff. i have since i was a kid. like, obviously not as a person but i think he's honestly the best written character in the series, w indie close in second. idk what it says about the f*nes that their most interesting and well rounded characters are the villains, but i digress. to this day i'm salty that jeff never got added to the theme song and wasn't really included in promotional merch.)

however, in said rewatch, certain things about how he was written started to really get under my skin, and certain moments in particular have really stuck out to me in a negative way. like, for the entirety of season one and a good chunk of season two he's one person, and then he leaves mymusic and we have an entirely different person, but not in a nuanced character building sort of way.

i've said a few of these points before but i'll repeat them here regardless. at the risk of sounding like i've put on a tin-foil hat, it's my sneaking suspicion that scindie was supposed to be endgame, but since fan reception to it was pretty neutral, and scenechart stans were, at the very least, more vocal, changes were made to the intended finale, which is why in the last scene he's basically just. indie. like, if everything about the show was exactly the same but indie was the one who had ended up w scene in the end that would have made so much more sense since a) scene had a crush on indie that he/everyone knew about and b) indie was kind of a dick despite the half-assed attempts at redemption, so both combined make it slightly less weird/out-of-nowhere that he kisses her w/o her consent (since, even though like. implied consent is not real at worst and a fuzzy subject at best but you could argue that scene would want indie to kiss her); and this isn't even taking into consideration that c) melvin is heavily queer-coded in both seasons, with his friendship with nerdcore being, dare i say, homoerotic at times, and his arc about leaving the company and changing his name mirroring nerdcore's almost perfectly (with nerdcore being a character who b*nny [at least] has all but confirmed is actually gay).

i've also been on the fence about melvin's behavior in that final scene making more sense for indie's character being an intentional decision as a way of shoe-horning in a theme about the lasting effects of abuse/cycles of abuse/the corruption of power but i also don't think the f*nes are smart enough for that. however, for the sake of defending my straw theory, i also point to the scene where indie comes to visit the acid factory after melvin told him to shut up, and we see melvin use reggie as a foot-stool, going as far as to say that it feels good to do so (which, in all honesty, i think is a bit that was entirely improvised, since the f*nes were "notorious for never saying cut" [paraphrased from a bts video], but work w me here). he's also given a seltzer mug that perfectly resembles indie's kombucha mug. in these moment melvin is directly emulating the behavior of his previous abuser, purposefully or not, literal moments after being promoted to an equal position of authority, which was totally just included as a joke, but could also be argued is meant to show that he's becoming indie; or, if we acknowledge that the f*nes have no fucking clue what they're doing and were just directing like chickens with their heads cut off, it at least shows that melvin's new position of power is leading him to understand where indie was coming from, which is supported by their conversation in the finale.

the following contains a couple brief mentions of irl sexual assault so if that's something you'd like to avoid skip to the next section!

HOWEVER, that alone isn't what i have a problem with, since i think melvin is completely justified in being a dick to indie (and also reggie enthusiastically consents to being used as an ottoman so good for him i guess). the issue comes completely in how he treats scene in the scenes where the f*nes clearly thought what they were writing was super romantic. like, the fact that the only thing he's got hung on his cubicle wall is a single picture of scene taken from the fucking opening credits (like. how hard would it have been to have. literally any other photo[s] esp since there's an abundance of cute bts pics of the cast in costume that could have been put there) and him scrolling through her twitter at work really creep me out (and at the risk of oversharing the weird, like, social media stalking angle really fucks w me bc that may or may not have been the exact fucking thing i was trying to escape in rewatching mymusic in the first place). also, having him sexually assault scene as a means of comforting her after she had just been sexually assaulted in the same way by someone else was... a choice (which is also, uh, personally familiar).

again, i recognize that demonizing melvin wasn't what the f*nes were trying to do here, and i perhaps seem hypocritical for opening liking jeff, but what makes jeff work is he's intentionally "the bad guy." having melvin do the same things as indie and jeff uncritically only proves further that the f*nes can't write for shit, and ruins his character which had, up until he quit mymusic, been unironically good. like, it's obviously not beneficial that the exact asshole things he does are personally triggering, but the character would still be a mess and i would still dislike him regardless.

i want to say though that jack delivers a surprisingly great performance despite how shoddily his character is constructed and how little experience he has as an actor. like, it's clear he was having a lot of fun on set and i would love to see him in something, like, good; i think he could pull off even like, guest television roles, which is a lot more than can be said for other youtubers.

-----

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

nerdchart should have been canon i'm sorry. i know that close, nonromantic male friendships are valuable, esp between queer men, but also gd wouldn't it have been baller to have a canon interracial mlm ship. like. c'mon. and they could have been such a good friends to lovers story! we already got to see how melvin was the only person nerdcore could really be himself around so it would have been so cool if melvin's self-advocacy arc/flowchart arc had revolved more around nerdcore with a little role-reversal! and then they kiss! like god intended!

also i ship him and indie bc i'm a grubby little gremlin man ohoho. enemies w weird sexual tension? sign me up. not even enemies to lovers i'm not saying this one should have been canon i just love the vibes. do you think melvin and indie ever explored each other's bod-- *gunshot*

-----

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

i wish him and scene had just been bros. god remember in season one when they were just bros that was the life.

alternatively, i wish we'd seen more bonding w him and metal, as a means of reconciling that. uh. moment from season one. along similar lines i would have loved to see him get closer w rayna in a similar way to how she bonded w nerdcore in season two. i think that could have also worked to show how she'd grown between the two seasons.

-----

My unpopular opinion about this character:

HIM. AND. SCENE. SHOULD. HAVE. JUST. BEEN. BROS. (though i think my general dislike of him is pretty unpopular, lmao).

when the show was coming out i don't think it's unfair to say that scenechart/scenetern 2 was the most popular ship (aside from potentially techstep whatever) but luckily we're all gay and have better taste now. unfortunately i totally fell into this camp and scenechart was even my otp for years (until it was arguably more unfortunately usurped by reddie in 2019) and i didn't even realise that it's a hot mess until, again, the summer of 2020.

when actually watching the show the choices the f*nes made in regards to how the ship actually became canon are so odd and out of place, too? okay, so, on one hand everyone just shipped scenechart bc it was the whitest hettiest ship in the show (esp in season two when idol left) aside from scindie (and we already discussed what's wrong w that). but, on the other hand, lainey and jack clearly also just got along? and i suspect that lainey probably also admired jack's work and was happy to be working with him bc we have so many shots throughout even the first season when the ship wasn't the intended endgame of lainey scene looking really fondly at jack melvin at times when it doesn't make much sense at all, esp since she's smitten w indie? this trend continues into the second season which arguably works but it still seems really out of place for him to be the one to ultimately make the first move on her since it's clear she was the one crushing this whole time and also he's gay! this bitch is gay what the fuck!!

-----

One thing I wish had happened with this character in canon:

at this point i'm struggling to think of anything i haven't covered yet. oops.

i've talked at length before about how he should have been a woman/lesbian, but the tl;dr is that it would have solved a lot of the queer-coding "problems" that just didn't get resolved in the show. if he'd been a lesbian then not only would the friendship w nerdcore still made sense, but scenechart would have as well (not even mentioning that both of scene's other relationships w men make a lot of sense as comphet anyway).

[fizzyxcustard]

Something Borrowed (1)

Fandom: North and South (modern AU)

Summary: Requested by the wonderful @dabisburntnut Your eldest sister is getting married and you have been invited. However, your family are quite pushy about hooking you up with someone, so you ask your boss (and friend), John Thornton to go with you. 

Pairings: Modern!John Thornton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Silliness, insecurity, drunkenness, very slight anxiety mention, slight overweight!reader mention. 

Word count: 1544

Comments/Notes: My newest tag list is still under construction, so by all means send me an ask or message if you want to be added for all fics, a particular series or fandom. I’m using Lucas North as my modern!John Thornton. Come on, it’s RA anyway. ;) 

Music listened to while writing this piece: ASMR video by FredsVoice ASMR on YouTube.

Masterlist of fan fiction here

It was your lunch break. You plopped down in the seat opposite John, your boss and owner of the factory where you worked as his receptionist. “Can I borrow you for the weekend?” you asked, grinning.

John looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and gave a tired smile.

“You bloody well need it by the looks of it,” you said, seeing the dark circles beneath your friend’s eyes. Had John been sleeping at work again? A couple of times you’d come in at half seven, only to find him asleep in his chair, arms and head on the desk.

“Isn’t your sister getting married?” John asked, stretching back in his seat.

“She is, and my mum is pushing at me to take a guest with me, preferably a man,” you sighed.

“Ahh, a means to an end?” John chuckled wryly.

“No. I didn’t say that,” you replied. “I was thinking of asking you before, but you’ve been so snowed under with all these orders and signing them off, and opening up the new factory, I didn’t think you’d want to go. Or have time to. I’m comfortable with you, John. I don’t feel that with many people.”

John couldn’t help but smile shyly at you. “Well, I’m glad you feel like that.”

“The wedding is at some large country townhouse. Most of what my sister tells me just goes in one ear and out the other, so I don’t really know. All I know is that I’m getting a lift up with my auntie and uncle. We don’t want to take too many cars, so we’re all piling in as few as we can.”

John leaned forward in his chair and watched you, your arms moving this way and that as you explained everything to him. He loved watching you gesticulate; you were so passionate and every word you spoke always sounded so heartfelt. You did nothing by half measure. So if he had been invited to such a close family member’s wedding, then you must have really thought a lot of him.

When you left the office, John sighed to himself and leaned back in his chair, looking out the window behind him. His heart was finally beginning to settle back down to its normal rhythm. You always had this effect on him, but he enjoyed every second of it. The only thing he didn’t enjoy was pondering constantly if you actually felt something for him as he did you. Each lunch break you shared with him; you text each other regularly out of work and, a few times, John had even given you a lift to and from work when your car was being repaired.

***

For the next three days, you began searching for your dress. Of course, like you normally did, you left things to the last minute if they were things you didn’t want to do. Seeing your sister get married was not something that particularly bothered you; she had always seemed to dislike you, constantly taking the opposite stance to you in debates, and she made it clear that her life was more complete because she now had a man she was about to marry and had three children from a previous relationship. Her husband to be wasn’t much better either. Most of the time he ignored you, only passing pleasantries because he felt obliged. The saving grace in all of this was John. He would be your comfort and your familiarity. None of your family made sense to you. Your parents were middle-aged, fairly well off, and found more interest in their twice yearly holidays in Spain and Italy. Your two sisters had their own lives to lead now, and you rarely saw them.

It hadn’t come as a surprise that your sister hadn’t chosen you to be a bridesmaid or her maid of honour. Those titles went to your sister’s best friends, more people who looked down on you like you were a piece of excrement they had just trod in.

By the time you chose your dress, it was almost closing time, two days before the big day. You had settled on a lilac strap dress. It was quite modest, simple and wouldn’t (hopefully) bring too much attention to your thicker curves.

***

On the morning of your travel to the wedding venue, you got up and began your normal routine of shower, breakfast and podcasts on your phone. John would be arriving at ten and then your aunt and uncle at eleven to pick you both up. Your uncle was nearing eighty now so you had asked John if he would possibly take over driving half way as the town house was about a two-hour drive away in the middle of nowhere.

Your small suitcase was ready for the two-night stay away. The voice of a kind man spoke into your ears as he discussed ways of combating anxiety and making the most of your life. Listening to podcasts in a morning and journaling always encouraged you to meet the day with a brave face, and today you would desperately need that brave face. The thought of all your judgemental family in one place didn’t particularly please you. If only the earth could open up and you could disappear somewhere for a couple of days.

John arrived at ten promptly. You let him in and closed your eyes, basking in his wonderful aroma as he wafted past you. “Do you want any breakfast?” you asked.

“I already ate before I came out,” he replied. John placed his weekender bag down in the hallway next to your wheelie suitcase.

***

The drive to the venue was quite uneventful. Your uncle Mike drove slowly and you couldn’t help but keep looking across at John from your seat, ready to laugh at the speed. In the middle of you was your five-year-old niece, Lily. She kept looking up at John, grinning.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Lily asked you.

“No, he’s my friend,” you replied, blushing hard.

“Come on now, dear. You’d make a lovely couple,” your aunt Janet chuckled.

John folded his arms and looked out of the car window. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him; his long legs made him look incredibly uncomfortable, as though he had been folded over many times to fit in the car.

“You should be looking for a nice husband, you know?” uncle Mike said, looking at you through the review mirror. “Mr. Thornton here seems like a good match.”

“Can we just change topic, please?” you insisted. “I think you’re embarrassing him.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it,” aunt Janet replied, sounding sad for upsetting you both.

Once you had arrived at the large house, the grounds covered in acres of trees, plantations and fountains, you all grabbed your belongings from the car and began a steady walk to the hotel which was situated just behind.

Lily held your hand, and for the first time you wondered why she had been forced to come with you. Why hadn’t she gone with your mum and dad? Not that you minded your niece coming along, but it seemed quite harsh breaking her up from her siblings. At least she was with family.

“Auntie (y/n)?” Lily asked politely.

“Yes, sweets?”

She beckoned you down with her small hand so she could whisper in your ear. Her high pitched, melodic voice became low in your ear. “Can you ask Mr. Thornton to dance with me?”

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” you replied, looking over at John.

“Pardon?” John asked, still looking a little uncomfortable and out of place.

“Lily was asking if you’d dance with her at the reception.”

John bent down to the little blonde haired girl and smiled. “You’ll be first on my list,” he said.

The sight of John interacting with your niece made you feel something warm in your chest and it spread outward through you.

“Come on, darlings,” aunt Janet called.

The hotel behind the main venue was a lot more modern, having television screens in the reception and plenty of coffee machines. “Hello,” a well set, dark-haired man said, offering you all a smile. He was dressed in a black suit and you noticed the name Peter on his name badge. “You must be part of the group for the wedding planned for this weekend?”

“We are,” aunt Janet said.

You still kept hold of Lily’s hand and watched John avert his gaze towards the door, as though he wanted to disappear and never be seen again.

“You’ve all been booked into rooms. Can I take all of your names, please?” Peter asked.

Of course you knew that Lily would have to check in properly with her mum and dad, who were strangely absent. Considering that your uncle drove so slow, you seemed to be the first group who had arrived.

Peter then turned to you and John. “I see we just have a ‘plus one’ for you, Sir,” he told John. “But can we take a name.”

“John Thornton.”

“That has all been checked for you. A king-size room is now available for you both.”

You blanched. “Is that one bed or two?” you asked.

“It’s one large bed.”

Oh, shit!

Main tag list: @shikin83​ @deepestfirefun​ @emrfangirl​ @dabisburntnut​ @aspookybunny​ @karlthecat15722​ @tigereyesf​ @swoopswishsward​ @sunnysidesidra @la-meneur-louve​ @moony-artnstuff​ @mama-tole-me-not-2-come​ @wolfavatar17​ @morganofthecoves1​ @narnvaeron​ @hobbitoferebor​ @meganlpie​ @thequeenoferebor​ @mynameisnoneya1991​ @jumpingmanatee​ @xxbyimm​ @annewoods91 @nowiloveandwilllove​ @inhabitant-of-the-void​ @thorinthehottotty​ @rachel1959​ @reinabell​ @paracosmfantasy​ @blankdblank​ @sherala007​ @creativelyquestioninglife​ @c-s-stars​ @phyreblue​ @middleearthmama​ @luna-xial​ 

[ilovenearlyeverything]

Secret Santa Gift

Dear @fht-drawings this is your gift from your now not so Secret Santa! 🎅 I wish you Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!🎄✨ Let's hope 2021 is a good one! ✨

I really hope you like your gift.🎁 I thought what would have happened if the Norwegian jumpers wouldn't have been allowed to go home for Christmas? Read and find out 🥰

The Norwegian Christmas Bubble

It was Christmas Eve and Daniel looked out of the staircase window of the deserted Hotel in Engelberg. Yes, it was Christmas Eve and he was still in Engelberg. Well, not only him, the whole Norwegian Team was still here. The Norwegian Ski Federation had decided that it would be the best if they would stay in their "bubble" and not go home for Christmas and risk "contamination" with their families. After the recent Corona cases in the other teams he could understand, but he was still sad. He would have liked to be home at Christmas. And so would the others. The hotel was empty except for the Norwegian ski jumpers and staff. The hotel staff had been reduced to one receptionist and the necessary kitchen workers. After they had a rather quiet dinner together, he was on his way back to his room. As he watched the snow outside fall, he thought about what Netflix film to watch on this lonely evening. Of course he would call his Family before.

"Hei Danni, I have an idea!" Suddenly Halvor appeared behind him.

"Woah okay, please announce yourself man! And I'm not gonna du anything stupid!"

Halvor laughed, but then his faced showed a more serious look:

"I thought it would be really shitty for everyone to be alone this evening. Soo, why don’t we get that little tree that’s standing on the second-floor landing and put it up in one of the rooms? The lady at the reception is fine with it! And if we are quick, maybe some kitchen guys could give us some more snacks. I already bought a few but you know Marius, if he starts snacking…” Halvor looked really excited and Daniel couldn’t help feeling the same.

“You are right. I was in my room alone enough the last few days! Let’s do this!”

“Wow! I didn’t really expect that much enthusiasm. Can we decorate your room?”

“Ehm. Well I did clean yesterday. So, okay, let’s do it!” Daniel waited for Halvor to announce the plan. He did not have to wait long, the younger one started to give commands immediately:

“You go get the little tree. And make room for the team to sit around it. Maybe cushions? And we need more fairy lights. I’ll ask the receptionist and get the snacks, then we will decorate everything and prepare it for the boys!” And off he went. Daniel had to smile as he was walking up the stairs to get the tree. Halvor really was an idiot sometimes but then had great ideas to help all of them through this shitty time. Their YouTube format had kept them busy the last weeks and had enabled Daniel to get his head away from his not so great jumps. And Halvors amazing results got the whole teams spirit up, especially after their win at the Ski Flying World Championships.

The tree on the second-floor landing was a fake one and reached up to Daniels hip. After unplugging the lights, he carried it to his room, tripping only once. There was enough space in there to put the tree in one corner and an improvised seating area in the other. With all the extra cushions the hotel had gave him, he managed to get everything quite comfortable til he heard a knock at the door. It was Halvor, his arms full of fruit and crisps, chocolate and … olives?

“I like them!”, the younger one had noticed his questioning look. “I have another set of lights as well!” He presented them and went on to sling them around the bedposts. Meanwhile Daniel lined up the food on a table together with some soft drinks and two thermos flasks with tea and hot chocolate. He decided not to ask Halvor where he got all that from.

“It looks really nice now! And we know from the last few days, that Robert and Johann have a few card games with them. This will be cool!”

“We now just have to get them all to come here. It should be a surprise, so how will we do that?” Halvor had an answer to that problem as well:

“You just have to text Johann to come see a movie. That is not a problem. Marius as well. He will bring Sander. The only concern I have is Robert. He was really annoyed the last few days.”

“Well of course. It’s his daughters first Christmas and he has to spend it with us!”

“Yeah I know. Let’s get the others in first!”

And as Halvor had predicted, Johann came as soon as Daniel asked to watch a movie together and his eyes widened as he saw the room:

“Wow guys! This is cool! I’ll get the cards!” And off he was again. As he was fetching the game, Marius and Sander arrived, amazed by the decorations, and the food of course. When Johann came back, they all sat down and thought about Robert.

“When we tell him one of us is not feeling well, I think he’ll come help”, Johann suggested.

“I think that would be the easiest thing to do. Since this is Daniels room, Dani why are you not feeling well?” Sander asked.

“Ehm. Homesickness?”

“Fine. Since this is all my idea, I’ll get him!” Halvor got up. “Wish me luck.” Halvor walked down the corridor towards Roberts room, where he stopped. He heard Robert talking:

“I think she just wants to sleep now. Enough seeing Dad through the phone screen. Give her a kiss from me. I miss you girls.” Halvor couldn’t understand the answer but it wasn’t his to listen to anyway. So he stepped away from the door until he heard a loud sigh and the sound of something hitting the floor. He knocked.

“What?” Okay, Roberts mood was crappy.

“I need your help!”

“Granerud I swear if this is something stupid…” Robert opened the door and Halvor looked him up and down. He also looked crappy.

“Did you cry?” He blurted out.

“No. allergies. Why are you here?”

“Ehm, Daniel doesn’t feel well at all. Homesickness. We’ve already tried everything. Can’t you come help?” Halvor attempted to make puppy eyes at Robert.

“Fine”, the older growled. “Where is he?”

“His room.”

“I’ll be there in two minutes.” He closed the door. Halvor went back to the others and knocked four times. They had a made a code. two times meant with Robert, four without.

“He isn’t coming?” Sander looked sad.

“Roberts beard is the closest we have to Santa!” Marius exclaimed. “Your so called beard does not count!”, he added as Johann wanted to protest.

“He will be here in a few minutes. And he is really grumpy.” Halvor explained, as he heard footsteps outside.

“Okay, I think he is here now! Turn off the lights!” Dani commanded as someone knocked at the door. While Halvor was away, everybody was assigned a light switch or plug to control.

“Come in!” Daniel shouted and as the door opened, they turned on all the lights and shouted “Merry Christmas!”

In the door stood Alex Stöckl, a little bewildered.

“Merry Christmas to you guys as well. But what’s going on here? I’ve been looking for you”, he asked.

“Well, we thought a little Christmas Party never killed nobody?” Halvor suggested.

“That’s true I guess. But next time at least tell me?” Alex laughed and grabbed a bag of crisps. “The trainers are thankful for your gift.” He took off, leaving the door open.

“Okay, that went well” Daniel exhaled.

“You did not think he would give us shit, did you?” Johann asked.

“No it’s Alex!”

“What is going on here?” Nobody had noticed Robert standing in the open door.

“Ehm. Merry Christmas?” Sander grinned.

“Go get your Cards Robert! We have Christmas to celebrate!” Johann tried to get the plan back together, but the oldest still looked sceptical.

“We wanted to have a nice Christmas Eve. All together! And especially for you, because you should have been at home this year. With Olympia.” Halvor explained.

Roberts gaze softened a bit as he started to Take in the room.

“You guys are idiots. Did you steel all that food?” he suddenly laughed.

“No, Halvor managed everything with the hotel personnel!” Daniel answered.

“I’ll get the cards. You lot better lose tonight.” Robert turned away with a grin on his face.

The tension the others had felt fell of them and they laughed.

 As they still sat on the ground a few hours later, Sander nearly falling asleep, Johann trying his best to not to beat Robert at UNO, Halvor getting himself more hot chocolate and Marius eating his fourth apple, Daniel looked out of the window again. This was way better than watching movies on his own. He loved his team.

[sharada-n]

prompt: papyrus dealing with quarantine by deciding he can NOT stay in his house for six months so he moves into the forest to become a cryptid covered in flower.

This gave me a good ol’ chuckle and made my own quarantine mood a bit better so thank you Anon! Have a thing:

The search lasted for three days.

Three days that didn’t feel like three days, more like three months or three years, or three hours. Time was beginning to blur for Sans in a way that was uncomfortable and way too reminiscent of something else entirely he rather not think about. His human therapist had told him this was not an uncommon experience during a period like this and he hadn’t corrected them.

How long had Papyrus even been gone? Sans wasn’t about to admit he didn’t know, because he rather suspected Undyne would break every single bone that made up his body if he did, and he really needed those bones. But the truth was he hadn’t even noticed his brother was gone at first. Things were crazy - had been crazy for weeks now - and there was no sign of it letting up anytime soon. Sans didn’t leave the house unless he had a good reason to and more than anything he had a good reason not to now. He mostly spent time in his room, read books, scrolled the vast internet and slept. There wasn’t much else to do really.

And Papyrus did... Sans didn’t know what Papyrus did during this time, but he thought it would just be the same things Papyrus did any other time when Sans wasn’t looking. But then the dishes in the sink kept piling up and the heap of socks on the living room floor started to reassemble the pyramids of Egypt and Sans had thought, ‘I sure do wonder when Papyrus is gonna pick those up’, before ordering take-out from Grillby’s for dinner.

The next morning their electricity got cut because the bill hadn’t been paid and Sans realized that maybe the dishes and the socks were a bad sign.

Panic didn’t set in immediately. Papyrus had taken his violin and the pet rock, so Sans was pretty sure he had not been kidnapped. Unless the kidnappers were looking for a concert and a dissertation on proper pet care, at least. But he called Papyrus about a gazillion times and his brother did not pick up. Sans texted, and Papyrus did not respond.

The search lasted for three days, during which Sans had exaggerated his original assessment that “this must be Papyrus’ idea of teen rebellion” into “this must be Papyrus’ idea of a midlife crisis” until he arrived at the final and most logical conclusion that Papyrus must be absolutely, most certainly dead.

Papyrus was not absolutely, most certainly dead. He was quite fine, as he assured Sans multiple times, while Sans tried to not channel his inner Undyne (not a phrase he would often use) and break Papyrus in half. Mostly since that was a fight he was not prepared to have, and was definitely not going to win. But it simmered beneath the surface as Papyrus stared at him, a wreath of baby’s breath and wild ginger on his head, blinking at him with the innocence of a fawn.

For all Sans knew of his brother, this was quite the opposite.

“You scared me half to dead,” Sans said, solemnly, seriously.

“I see you are being hyperbolic for dramatic purposes,” Papyrus answered, then went back to braiding another flower crown of red and blue blossoms.

There had been no reception in the forest, was a much more simple and less gruesome conclusion.

Sans sat down, and pulled up his legs before he lost one of his slippers into the stream running through the meadow. “Well, not me maybe. But plenty of people.”

Papyrus scoffed. “Hardly my fault they made me a being of myth, Sans.” He plucked some blades of long grass to tie his creation together. “Humans are fanciful.”

“Tell me about it...” Sans groaned.

The only reason they had found Papyrus, the only way they had any idea of where he had disappeared to, was because Alphys had shown them an internet forum full of bizarre sightings humans had made in this area. Rumors spread like wildfire that something strange was living in the woods, something that wandered away from the paths and could only be caught by glimpses through the branches. Something tall and dangerous that abducted children and made them its dinner.

That last one was probably just a remnant of the superstitious humans had built around monsters over the year, but seeing a walking skeleton in the middle of the forest on your evening quarantine stroll was sure to upset folks. And the distant sounds of violin in the night did not help.

Sans shook his head. “Are you coming home?”

The question was considered for a moment, then Papyrus shrugged. “Am I?”

“Hey, I asked first.”

“I rather like being a creature of myth, Sans.”

Well, that was one way to put it. Sans was pretty sure it wouldn’t be long before humans with cameras and popular youtube channels would be trampling through these woods in search of the cryptid rumored to live here. Papyrus would probably appreciate such a thing. “I think they’re gonna build you a gift shop, Pap,” he said.

“They better sell T-shirts.” Papyrus turned to Sans and put the flower crown on his head, adjusting it so it wouldn’t fall off easily. “I’m sorry, Sans.”

“For what?”

“For leaving without warning. For getting tired of sitting at home and not being able to go anywhere or do anything. It feels like...”

Papyrus didn’t finish his sentence, but Sans could do it for him. “Like the world is ending?”

“How come people think I’m the dramatic one,” Papyrus shot back, but then followed it up with, “maybe not ending but it certainly feels like nothing will ever be normal again. And that can be scary too.”

Sans knew what that felt like and Papyrus knew it too.

“And living in the forest like some horrifying bedtime story for human children is not scary?”

Papyrus pushed him aside playfully and one of his slippers slid loose, falling into the stream with a little splash. Sans cursed but for once Papyrus ignored him.

“I’m just saying it’s fun. It’s not normal, and so the not-normal turns into not-not-normal, and feels a little more normal.”

Sans watched his slipper float on its merry way, a lost cause. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does,” Papyrus declared, “I should know, I’m an urban legend and have probably been around for centuries.”

Sans scoffed but didn’t disagree.

"Are you going to stay?” Papyrus asked, like he didn’t really care. The pet rock was sitting in the moss in front of them, dainty little flower crown on its head. Papyrus had his violin in one hand, like he was waiting for an answer to decide to play or not.

Sans knew he would play anyway.

“I think I have to, bro,” he answered, putting both hands behind his skull so he could lie down in the moss. “My slipper is probably gone all the way to the ocean by now. No way I’m getting that back.”

“You can teleport.”

“Too tired.”

Papyrus started to play a tune, his favorite, one that was easy to fall asleep to. And Sans could sleep anywhere, so that worked out perfectly.

[redantsunderneath]

On Analysis - Introduction (the “why” part)

“He had the feeling that everything he saw was a broken-off piece of some giant blank thing that he had forgotten had happened to him.” ― Flannery O'Connor, Wise Blood

Maybe some broader personal context would help understating why in god’s name I write shit about how Age of Ultron is a remake of Eraserhead and Marvel crossovers are inherently about self hating creatives going to war with editorial. Like everyone else, I love a well told story but want to be surprised - seeing Star Wars is still the single biggest event in my life in supercharging my interest in narrative art.  But from early on, I had this left brain/right brain conflict going on. I was super interested in details and loved anything that required getting all the pieces to understand (that one episode of Speed Racer where they explain all the buttons I only saw once but I must have excitedly told everyone in the schoolyard about it 2 or 3 times) and I’ve always been down for the even the shittiest world-building that makes you dig for details (maybe this why Star Wars’ gesturing at a larger canvas lit my fuse so hard and how my introduction to Marvel comics became the second stage rocket booster 3 years later - see my retropseudonostalgia post). This also is probably common, especially here.

But it’s the right brain impulse became an overriding unconscious attractor. I saw The Man with the X-Ray eyes very young and had some serious nightmares, but mostly remember actually wanting to recapture that dread.  This became a pattern.  Anything that unsettled me or made me feel weird, my brain interpreted as a good experience. 1977 was a real flashpoint for me: Star Wars, sure, and 8 is the right age for Thanatos to start haunting you, but I also got super fucking sucked in to the Prisoner and imprinted on BBC’s Dracula (especially the baby eating scene where I remembered the brides actually eating the baby on camera until the clip showed up on YouTube and, turns out, it was just a cut to a flame effect and the baby eating was all in my and Q anon’s head). The thing that unites these later two is a the feeling of Unheimliche, or something - a sort of out of body experience due to transgressive touching of something in the reptile brain, recognizable but hard to formulate in language.  

Again, not saying this is an unusual experience, but I sought after this diencephalonic impact aggressively and spent years chasing this particular dragon before I figured out what I was doing. Rank and file horror didn’t cut it because I wanted not only to feel it but to understand what it was telling me and doing to me, to wrestle with it, so needed to something resonant to be there. Kubrick’s one neat trick was having an entirely rational approach to relentlessly assembling this kind of ineffable experience… depth of meaning by design.  I think Christopher Nolan is only popular because we have so few architect directors today so we’ll take a B- stab at it (though the thematic waters he sails on are a bit shallow). This is what I was doing receptively, wanting to cognitively reverse engineer the texts that moved me and autopsy my reaction .  There were elements the things that got to me had in common - there was an existential abjection that felt like a kind of rapture, a transgressive daring in showing me something I shouldn’t see, a experience of Mark Fisher’s version of the weird and/or the eerie, but most of all a feeling that there was a story underneath there being told in an abstract language that I innately understood but my conscious mind couldn’t quite get to.

On the other side of my brain, I was sparring with narrative structure and was captivated by the way periodical narrative produced this fuzziness and that trashy or disreputable forms were better at doing some really complex things. After a late 70s of consuming everything I could, like sitcoms no-one remembers, 1930s and 40s franchise B movies, Godzilla, ABC hourlongs (it was the time that Fantasy Island and the Bionic Woman strode the airwaves), etc - just absolute garbage - Comics hit me in 1980 and hijacked my brain for half a decade.  This mostly satisfied that architectural impulse, though, and the need for the uncanny reasserted itself as a shifting obsession to pop/rock music, “hard” books, and catholic moviegoing (and I guess some of that right brain stuff is intrinsically libidinous and the pubertal timing seems right).  

My childhood book consumption till 77 was all atlases, history, and encyclopedias.  77 to 83 it was SF/Fantasy.  The one work of fiction I strongly remember as a small child was There’s a Monster at the End of this Book which is a work of absolute intersubjective terror that implicates the crap out you - I never bought the ending and saw it as a necessary contrivance to make it OK for kids but I repeatedly endangered Grover anyway, enjoying the transporting dread, and learned meta in Kindergarten as a bonus! But in 1984 (during the Sarajevo Olympics, that’s etched in my brain) I read Moby Dick, which was my first formative struggle with understanding subliminal story.  I was already in love with symbolism and conversant with nuts and bolts MFA program bullshit, as any ironically pretentious HS student would be, but reading that and writing about it and other “tough” books (especially the next year in Junior English where I learned to write, full stop) taught me I could think about this stuff and hold these abstractions in my head long enough to see what was happening under the waterline.

Movies really dominated the late 80s, though, and I became obsessed with everything from the Godfather to Die Hard, but I was only just peaking under the hood, until the left brain brought me back to TV and and thinking about narrative structure.  Twin peaks (and Wild at Heart) made me a real Lynch fan and I sensed what I sought was in that direction, but it wasn’t until I watched the whole show and movie in one weekend in 1997 that I had my conversion experience. Moby Dick opened the door a bit, but that weekend kicked it in.  My first real resource for understanding (other than HS English, a couple of hits of acid, and dorm room bull sessions with sort of smart people) was alt.tv.twin-peaks where there were many amateur scholars trying to understand the red room and above the convenience store scenes, complete with ascii maps.  

The final inciting event was Inland Empire.  The thing about David Lynch that is so perfect for my hobbyhorses is that he works within a scene entirely intuitively, connecting to really primordial stuff, and puts everything together by “painting” with feelings instead of paint, never thinking about it, just knowing when it’s right. But he usually works with a writer and editor who helps shape everything into something at least fitfully comprehensible for someone wanting to follow the surface story. You get the general idea and can meditate on the areas that are clearly not “real” in some sense and require either aesthetic surrender or a lot of thought and one hell of an interpretive toolkit - you can see the frame even if you don’t understand every bit of the picture.  Inland Empire, which he made with no other behind the camera people, is pretty much all the mind-blowing bits with very little skeleton, an abstract painting with no frame. This forces you, if you want to understand in any way beyond just enjoying the moments viscerally, to effort like hell.  The project of this for me, the reason I started this Tumblr, was using the internet for procuring and learning to use interpretive tools and, in so doing, writing my way to constructing an understanding of this one movie.  As a result, my approach to all narrative art was changed.  I figure it is time to unpack this into a framework and try to recall the specific things that helped me get here.

[halequeenjas]

Solt Circle || Connor, Orion, & Jasmine

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @connorspiracy @3starsquinn & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jasmine offers Connor the chance to come help her with a ghost at one of her listings. Rio comes along to film and ghost-y times are had.

Connor was excited to work with Jasmine. Knowing that she’d been the one to banish Bloody Mary and the Sandman had given him the biggest fanboy hearteyes. She was exactly what he’d been lacking in his life; a mentor, a leader, a bloody inspiration. She wasn’t like one of his family’s old friends who couldn’t stand ‘em and helped Connor out of some begrudging sense of community while still holding it against him that his dad had fucked off to do a boring grown-up job. She was actually excited to work with him, and if she could get rid of Bloody Mary, maybe she could actually help Nadia. Honestly, it was a relief to know her inability to get rid of Larry Bob wasn’t a reflection on her talents. Whatever healthy skepticism he’d had about her had subsided. Not only that, but she was offering him his own banishing, and letting him film it. “Mate this is gonna be epic,” he said excitedly as he got out of the car with Rio right outside the address Jasmine had given him. Her car was already parked, and he could see the For Sale sign swinging in the autumnal breeze. “Way better than last time. You’re gonna get to meet another exorcist. I reckon she’s really rich too, judging by her… well, everything, and she’s paying us for this.” He knocked on the door, film, but polite. 

While banishing ghosts was never how Jasmine pictured her life when she was younger, it was a duty she took very seriously. She’d seen too many times first hand just how dangerous White Crest could be and if she could make it even a little safer while still making a profit, it seemed like a no brainer it was what she had to do. Everything with Larry Bob was currently on hold with her arm still broken and body sore. But a banishment would be easy enough and she wanted to encourage Connor to keep practicing. While the whole YouTube thing made her shake her head a bit, she appreciated his eagerness to learn and become better with his craft. It was apparent he was very excited for this and it was a warm feeling that she welcomed. She opened the door when they arrived and greeted, “Welcome to the haunted cabin. I could probably leave it haunted and sell to some hipsters, but that’s unethical so here we are.” She gestured with her good arm for them to come inside and knew Connor would immediately be able to see Mrs. Solt’s ghost. She was an elderly woman who just had a hard time letting go of her home and wasn’t particularly malicious. They had spoken some and Jasmine told her she’d be helping her move on and find peace. She wasn’t a poltergeist, so it was possible. She seemed afraid but receptive. “So I’ve got some snacks just in case we need a little boost at any point. I’m going to let you take the reins on this one and step in if needed. As you can see, I’m a bit out of commission right now.” She eyes the skinny kid in baggy clothes and asked, “Who’s your friend?”  

Orion was always thrilled by Connor’s excitement to see new, haunted areas. Now, Connor seemed more excited than Rio might have seen him at any of the locations they had visited. He understood his friend’s excitement, the idea of meeting anyone with a similar hobby or passion was thrilling enough. Add in the bonus of seeing a ghost and filming it just seemed to be the icing on the cake. “It’s really cool that she’s helping out with this stuff.” Rio agreed with Connor, clutching the bag around his shoulder that held the equipment he worked for Connor. Helping film and edit had been a welcome distraction from having to deal with the onslaught of people in his life attempting to comfort him following his parent’s death. They seemed to come from all directions. The actual friends in his life, people from the hospital and gym his parents worked at and even former neighbors that found him around town. Considering his parents had lived here for over twenty years and had a pretty strong reputation within the town didn’t help Rio’s anonymity. The kindness was appreciated, though it forced a narrative on Rio to be heartbroken and mourning that he wasn’t sure he could live up to.When Jasmine opened the door, he recognized her almost immediately. Though his parents had already been living here since Rio was born, he had become familiar with her brand selling other houses within Harris Island. Initially surprised by the realization that a seemingly normal realtor was actually an exorcist, Rio eventually settled on being impressed. “Hi! I’m Rio. Er- Orion. Quinn. But I go by Rio usually.” He held out his hand in offering if she was the type to formally introduce himself. “I’m Connor’s friend. And Coworker. I help film sometimes.” Introductions weren’t exactly Rio’s strong suit. But considering he was here to film and not speak, he at least figured he wouldn’t have to talk much today as the two worked their magic. 

"Yeah, I mean, we help each other, I guess? She seems way more experienced than me, but she has this one guy she can't get rid of, so I'm helping her back." Jasmine had quite the presence, broken arm and all. He hoped Rio wouldn't be too intimidated by her. Connor gave a low chuckle at Jasmine's ghost. "That's what you get for taking on Bloody freaking Mary," he said, clearly still impressed. He found her ethics around the supernatural to be interesting. "You've got people like me who travel around visiting haunted places. You should probably have a subset of clients who want to buy the places as tourist attractions." He realised with a brief moment of panic that he'd forgotten to mention Rio was coming. "Oh, sorry. I should have mentioned. Kind of distracted with all the Bloody Mary and Sandman stuff. But this is Rio, my camera-man." With the door open, they stepped inside and Connor looked around the entryway, taking in the energy of the place. "So what kind of haunting are we dealing with? Annoying kind that knocks your eggs off the counter or like the real bad kind?"  

“Someone had to do it. I just happened to have some know-how and figured why not me,” Jasmine said with a wide grin on her features. It was more than evident that both Connor and Blanche were beginning to look up to her which was a pleasant feeling in itself. Being able to put those younger than her on the right path was an honor she took seriously and it was nice they seemed to respect her all the more for it.  She extended her hand to Rio and responded, “It’s good to meet you, Rio. I’m Jasmine Hale.” She noted the familiarity of the name Quinn and the recent news article but opted against mentioning it. Seemed like poor timing though it had been just on the tip of her tongue. While Connor’s gimmick was one she’d thought of plenty of times before, it still seemed wrong to let ghosts be some sort of tourist attraction and gave too much potential to endanger people. “You might be on to something, but probably better to avoid that for now. Don’t want ghosts getting angry and spiteful on people.” She led them into the living area and began to explain, “Mrs. Solt is far from an antagonist ghost. She just wants everything in her home to stay the same and is having a tough time moving on. I told her we’d help her. Mrs. Solt,” she called out at the end of her sentence and an elderly ghost appeared. She wore the same floral nightie she always wore and looked uneasy as she approached the trio. 

After introducing himself, Orion planned on remaining in the backseat. After all, exorcisms and ghost stuff were more Connor and apparently Jasmine’s area of expertise. While Rio had done as much reading up on what the Scribrary had to offer on spirits, he wouldn’t say he knew much about them. Plus, as the three settled into the space, it was clear the two were discussing someone that Rio couldn’t see. The ghost of the woman that owned the house, from what Jasmine had said. But aside from her words, Rio had no sense of a fourth presence besides a small nagging paranoia that he was in danger. And Rio felt that everywhere he went. “Sounds a bit sad, honestly.” Rio chimed in quietly, wondering if he died somewhere in town if he would be able to move on or not. “Uh- I can’t see you Mrs. Solt but hello” Rio gave a nervous smile and waved around the room, no idea where he was actually trying to signal. He turned back towards Jasmine and Connor, “Where do you want me to set up so I’m out of your way?”

Although Jasmine came across as a snobby Karen-type personality at first glance, someone who thought the whole world revolved around her and her needs, Connor was beginning to see that there was more to her than that. He sort of admired the strength of her moral compass. Before he'd become an exorcist, he'd attended countless haunted tourist attractions and left the ghosts remaining there after he left. Of course, there were some he'd been able to help move on just by talking to them, understanding them, but the majority of the time he treated the visits like a one night stand; get in, get what you wanted, and get out. 

"You won't be in the way," Connor reassured Rio, his voice quiet and reassuring. "We'll set up a couple of fixed cameras in different parts of the room and you can handheld the rest." He turned on the GoPro that was attached to the front of his jacket, letting Rio get the tripods set up, and he made his way towards Mrs. Solt, taking a seat on the end of one of the sofas. He understood what Jasmine meant. She didn't feel ominous, just lost and confused. "I'm Connor," he introduced himself, trying to get her attention. "Did you live here a long time?"

“It is a little sad, but that’s why we’re going to help her,” Jasmine explained to Rio. If she were being honest, this was the kind of haunting she preferred. Poltergeists and possessions always resulted in some sort of pain. But this? Mrs. Solt could be banished and not have her soul destroyed. She was a sweet woman and Jasmine wished peace for her. In the same vein, that sweetness could only last for so long before she veered into instability. She shook her head and quickly added, “You definitely won’t be in the way. Though I will be staying out of the shot. The whole of the internet does not need to see me in this thing.” She held up the cast with a look of distaste on her face. 

She watched quietly as Connor interacted with the ghost, wanting to see how he spoke with her. “Nice to meet you, Connor,” Mrs. Solt said in her most endearing voice. “I have. Raised both my daughter and granddaughter here.” There was something wistful in the way she spoke as if it had been too long since she’d seen either of them. It was enough to pull at her own heartstrings, but she let Connor take direction here. Maybe a little talk would do it after all, but she knew Mrs. Solt still held out hope that her granddaughter would reappear. Come home after all these years. In this town, the missing often didn’t just show up again and Jasmine couldn’t help but think something terrible happened to her. 

Orion busied himself with setting up tripods and cameras. Since he wasn’t much help when it came to spirits, he could at least have everything ready to film just in case something happened. For now, the view was pretty similar to a lot of the filming that Rio had done since landing the job, Connor holding a conversation with an empty house.  But Rio knew the truth, even if he couldn’t see it for himself. Once the extra camera was recording from the tripod, Rio held the other camera close to his chest and tried to get some other shots from different angles just for editing options. 

"Ruin your public image, would it?" Connor teased as Jamine said she’d rather stay off-camera. He had a wry grin on his face for a moment, then he became perfectly charming as he made himself at home on the couch. Some spirits, he found, preferred it when you just acted completely normal, like you belonged. Some took it as an affront. He got the impression Mrs Solt could just use some company. She'd probably been alone here for years. 

"Really, your daughter and your granddaughter? Three generations of Solt women," he chuckled kindly. "What are they up to these days?" He trusted Rio to let the camera roll. Anything that Jasmine appeared in, they could edit. "Do you smoke, Mrs Solt?" he asked, offering her one from the packet and taking one for himself. It was a simple test, really, just to see how corporeal she was. If that didn't work, he'd offer her a mint. "Of course, I won't light one if you'd rather I didn't." 

“Exactly,” Jasmine had responded with an easy smirk on her face. She leaned against the bannister to the staircase as Rio set up the cameras. There was a proud look on her face as she watched Connor converse with Mrs. Solt with ease. Treating nonviolent spirits with respect could always go a long way. It seemed like he was really amping up the charm, too. She could practically see the posh English charm seeping in. 

“Yes,” Mrs. Solt answered somewhat quietly as she looked sadly ahead, “My daughter moved out a few years ago after little Jessie went missing. She’s in New York now.” Terrible city and no one here if Jessie ever found her way home. She looked back up to Connor with sad eyes and momentarily glanced at the cigarette. “Oh no, I shouldn’t. I haven’t had one since before Melody was born.” Then again, it was a little too late to care for her health. “Oh, what the hell, I’ll take one.” She reached for the cigarette, her fingers managing to wrap around it for only a few seconds before they simply went through it. “Silly me, I forget about that sometimes. Thank you for the offer though, sweetie.” 

“And you shouldn’t be smoking in here,” Jasmine added on. 

Even against the one sided conversation that Orion was able to see, it was evident that Connor was winning the woman over. When it came to social cues, Rio had been a wreck the majority of his life. Seeing the ease that people like Connor had with people and ghosts had always perplexed Rio. When the two had first met, Rio had spent hours watching every video that Connor had uploaded. At first he had assumed that it was a persona. Just an act that he kept up for the fans on the other side of the screen. As it turned out, Connor was just as easy going in real life. “He certainly has a way with words.” Rio spoke softly, mostly to Jasmine so he could avoid interrupting any conversation between Connor and the ghost. He had learned to talk in between the conversations, only when he knew that he could edit certain parts out. A small grin broke out across his face when the cigarette hovered for a split second before falling to the ground. Bingo. Without a second thought, Rio found himself adding onto Jasmine’s statement, “You shouldn’t be smoking at all.” It took a moment before he realized how much of a mom he sounded like and began blushing immediately, “It’s uh- bad for your health.”

"Oh," Connor's face changed. So that was why she clung on. She was holding out hope that Jessie, whoever she was, would come home. "Is Jessie your granddaughter?" he asked, puzzle pieces sliding together. He gave a sympathetic understanding smile as Mrs. Solt's hand slid through the cigarette packet. Okay, so she wasn't a spirit who was particularly prone to control over corporeal things. "Okay, well, it would be impolite of me to smoke if you can't." He put the cigarette packet back in his inside jacket pocket. "Yeah, yeah," he chuckled, waving a hand at Rio. "Sorry about my mate over there. I do lots of things that are bad for my health." He adjusted his position, leaning back, more relaxed, hoping Mrs. Solt would copy his body language. "Can you tell me about Jessie?" 

“He’s right,” Jasmine agreed as Rio mentioned he shouldn’t be smoking at all. It was a habit that Jasmine personally hated, but noticed it seemed to be popular on the other side of the sea. The smell and health dangers were enough to make her scrunch her nose. She peered over Rio’s shoulder to see what this all looked like on camera. “Huh, surprisingly good shot for not being able to see all the subject matter.” Her focus shifted back to Connor and Mrs. Solt who were conversing easily. Maybe she didn’t have any right to feel a sense of pride as she watched them, but she did all the same. Connor still had a lot to learn and he was eager to do so. Still, he showed a certain level of maturity and understanding while talking to Mrs. Solt that told Jasmine he took all of this seriously. 

“Jessie was sixteen when she went missing about five years ago,” Mrs. Solt explained through teary eyes though she could produce no real tears. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the odds and knew it was unlikely Jessie was still alive, but hope was a fickle thing. She couldn’t just let go of that. Couldn’t just let go of the idea that maybe her little girl was still out there. Who would she turn to if she did find her way back? The idea of her alone in the world or worse distressed Mrs. Solt. “I need to be here in case she comes home.” 

Even with as simple of a compliment as telling him that his camera angling was good, Orion could feel his face heating and could only imagine how bright red it was glowing at the moment. He had never been great at accepting compliments, but he was even worse at taking them from strangers. “Oh uh- Thank you. I’ve gotten a good bit of experience now trying to film stuff that I can’t see.” It was frustrating at times, only catching Connor’s side of a conversation and trying to piece the full context together. He was picking up on the reason why Mrs. Solt hadn’t left. Something to do with a missing relative, Jessie. Knowing that they were helping these spirits was still rewarding all the same. Whether Rio could see them or not. “Thanks by the way, for helping him. Connor gets super excited about all of this stuff so I know he must be thrilled to have someone else that he can learn things from.” 

He tried to fill in as much as possible, looking to the camera and telling them what Mrs Solt had said. As much as Connor enjoyed the excitement and certain level of recklessness that came with being a YouTuber for the supernatural, that didn’t mean he couldn’t equally treat a clearly sensitive situation with the respect it deserved. He could practically feel Mrs. Solt’s suffering. It hung in the air, engulfing the entire home. Her spirit was so ingrained in this place. Her loss, too. “I’m so sorry,” he said, voice soft. “Mrs. Solt, you clearly love her a great deal. But…” He had to do this sensitively. “But if Jessie is still alive, she wouldn’t be able to see you even if she did come back. And… she doesn’t know you’re here.” He reached out his hand. He couldn’t quite touch her, but he put his hand on hers all the same. “If you move on, if the worst has happened and she’s… not coming back, then she’ll be on the other side waiting for you.” 

The way Rio flushed as she complimented the shot didn’t go unnoticed by Jasmine. She was far too interested in seeing how Connor engaged with the ghost to call it out. Too many people didn’t know how to take a compliment around here. It wasn’t a problem she ever had, but she still found it mildly perplexing. Mrs. Solt was opening up to Connor and he was asking all the right questions. As it stood, they could probably do without a banishment which was always preferred. It was a gentler way to go. Her head tilted as she watched them with a soft smile on her face. She turned back to Rio and simply answered, “Of course. Connor’s a good kid. He’ll be helping me with some things, too. It only makes sense to teach him what I know.” There was also the fact it was rewarding to pass on some of what she knew to the younger generation. 

Mrs. Solt sat there quietly for a few moments. She’d never really been able to let herself believe that Jessie could be dead. For all these years, she’d held on to hope even if her heart broke every single day that Jessie didn’t return home. Somewhere in the darker corners of her mind, she knew it was unlikely Jessie was alive. She’d been missing far too long. Phantom tears rolled down her cheeks as she quietly whispered, “I know you’re right. Even just to see her alive one more time…” See the likely beautiful woman she’d grown up to be. Hear her voice. It’d be everything. If she wasn’t though, that just meant she’d kept her little girl waiting on the other side needlessly. “I think I’m ready.” She focused on letting go of the fear. Of seeing her little Jessie on the other side. There was barely time to wave as she felt herself fade away. 

Though Orion couldn’t see the ghost, he could read a room. The way that Connor’s words seemed to wind down. The deeper focus on Jasmine’s face all told him that something was happening. Something that he couldn’t hear or see or maybe even feel, but was definitely happening nonetheless. “Is something happening?” Rio asked quietly again, squinting his eyes as if doing so held any chance of him catching a glimpse of the woman the other two could so easily see. Right now, all he could do was trust that Connor was working his usual charm and doing the right thing. If they were lucky, when they reviewed the footage they would be able to capture at least a few glimpses of the experience. Even an orb or a flashing light would be enough for some of the fanbase. “Something totally just happened. Man, not being able to see ghosts is such a drag when I’m like technically a ghost hunter.” Was Rio a ghost hunter now? He didn’t really feel like one, though he supposed he did work for one. 

She passed onto her new afterlife with Connor holding onto her hand. He couldn’t quite feel her, but he knew it had helped, even if only the gesture of it. These were some of the best exorcisms to take part in. He stared silently at the spot where Mrs Solt had been just a moment before, as if saying a silent goodbye. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice tender. “She just needed a little bit of encouragement. I think she’ll be happier now.” He stood, gesturing to the area she’d have appeared on camera. “You should see some changes, right here. There’ll have been some orbs in the shot, or something that looked like dust in the air, now cleared up.” He explained both for Rio and for the audience. “There are lots of reasons people stick around after death. Sometimes they just need to say goodbye, even if it’s only mentally.” 

Moments like these were never easy, but they were always rewarding in their way. Too many people like them could forget that ghosts were once real people, too. Jasmine was proud of the way Connor handled the situation with Mrs. Solt with an amount of compassion she hoped he never lost. She nodded along slowly as Connor explained to Rio what had just happened. All she could hope was that maybe Mrs. Soly was reunited with her granddaughter again. In this town, it wasn’t likely she was alive after missing all these years. “You did well,” she told Connor as she approached and place a hand on his shoulder. It felt as if something should be done for Mrs. Solt though she wasn’t quite sure what. She simply stated, “I think I’ll maybe say a few words to honor her. She seemed like a good woman. Mrs. Solt, I hope you find peace in your new afterlife and that one day you’re reunited with both your girls. I have no doubt they never stopped feeling your love.” This always felt off, talking to the dead once they were gone, but the woman deserved some sort of remembrance. 

Turning the camera off after Connor had wrapped, Orion let his arms fall to his side so he could join the two of them. A ghost passing over always seemed like it was bittersweet. Sure, their spirit had moved on to an assumingly better place, but it also meant that they were just… gone. Never to be seen again. “Nice job!” Rio agreed with Jasmine and gave Connor a thumbs up. “I think we got some good footage too. I mean, I can’t actually see anything. But the shots all looked good.” Since it seemed like more of a teaching moment between the two, Rio busied himself by collecting the rest of the equipment and starting to pack it away. It was cool seeing them work together on something like this, both things that the two seemed to be passionate about. “Is it sad that I know the spirit in this place was good and it still creeps me out?” Rio asked once things seemed to have wrapped, “Are we done here?”

Connor nodded, solemn but hopeful. Today had been a good one, and he didn’t get many of those these days. “Yeah. We’re done.”

[fallynleaf]

(This is under a cut because it’s a long post about wrestling awards, but it’s also about creative storytelling in bleak conditions, the incredible emotional power of stories about love, and Japanese women’s wrestling taking important strides in bucking the idol-culture-esque trend where joshi wrestlers are expected to retire before they get married)

I don’t really put much stock into wrestling awards, because it’s all extremely subjective, and many of them, like the Tokyo Sports Awards, are heavily kayfabed/politicked anyway, but the 2020 Net Pro-Wrestling Awards, which were voted on by fans in Japan, were really fascinating to me.

The top 10 promotions were [source]:

NJPW

NOAH

DDT

Stardom

Muscle

TJPW

AEW

ChocoPro

AJPW

Ice Ribbon

This list is interesting, because it basically reflects the direction our own discord server’s interest took this year (though we’d probably rank them in a different order). The top promotions in our server currently are probably NJPW, NOAH, TJPW, Stardom, DDT, AEW, and ChocoPro, (not necessarily in that order). I’ve spent a lot of time over the past year thinking about which companies did the best job, creatively, with having to adapt to pandemic-era wrestling conditions, and I think this list reflects that somewhat. Many of these companies produced matches and performers that really stood out despite putting on shows in less than ideal conditions.

I’m especially happy that ChocoPro did as well as it did (beating WWE, you love to see it). It’s a very small promotion, but out of all of the companies in the list, it’s the only one that was specifically designed to operate in pandemic conditions, and it has a genuinely innovative format that was born from that. It’s also very accessible! ChocoPro operates with a no paywall model, and it’s distributed on youtube completely for free!

Also, four of these companies are directly part of the DDT family (and ChocoPro has extensive DDT connections), and two others (AEW and NJPW) currently have former DDT wrestlers as their world champions. I constantly think about how DDT has had more influence on the wrestling industry as a whole than most people really give it credit for, haha, but 2020 really proved that. DDT is simply better at creative adaption than most.

The top 10 MVP list was [source]:

Go Shiozaki (NOAH)

Tetsuya Naito (NJPW)

Hiromu Takahashi (NJPW)

Tetsuya Endo (DDT)

Minoru Fujita

Kota Ibushi (NJPW)

El Desperado (NJPW)

Kenta (NJPW)

Asuka (WWE)

Katsuhiko Nakajima (NOAH)

Fans voted Go Shiozaki as the top MVP of 2020, and that made me happy, because it’s very deserved!! He narrowly missed out on receiving the Tokyo Sports MVP award, so I’m glad to see him recognized here. Go truly did carry NOAH throughout 2020, and he really put the company back on the map again for many people.

I had no interest in watching NOAH before this year, but I ended up watching Go Shiozaki vs Kazuyuki Fujita from the March 29 show because I heard so much about it, and it blew me away. I’ve already talked about this match in bits and pieces; it’s the one that starts with a literal 30-minute staredown. It was a very avant garde decision to make, because it changes the entire structure of the match (it was a title match with a 60-minute time limit), and it’s something they never could have gotten away with if they’d had a crowd in the venue. But, performing in an empty arena, they could do it. It’s amazing how compelling it can be, just watching two wrestlers stare at each other, but it was really, really cool.

That match was Go’s first title defense (he won the GHC title shortly before the pandemic shut everything down), and he’s really had quite the run with the title ever since. The next thing he did that got me to tune back in to NOAH was when he got betrayed by his tag partner (Katsuhiko Nakajima, number 10 on the list), which of course pushed all of my favorite wrestling narrative buttons.

There’s just something about Go that makes him so compelling. It was even enough to get some friends of mine who primarily root for heels to really want him to succeed, haha. And I just really have to commend him for that. He was a late-blooming ace tasked with the incredibly rough responsibility of representing his company through a dramatic business shakeup while also weathering a global pandemic that drastically affected every aspect of the wrestling medium itself, and he was still able to put on innovative performances and tell very emotional stories and bring in new fans even in less than ideal conditions.

Some highlights from the list of top matches [source]:

1. Hiromu Takahashi vs El Desperado (12/11) NJPW 2. Go Shiozaki vs Katsuhiko Nakajima (11/22) NOAH 3. Go Shiozaki vs Kazuyuki Fujita (3/29) NOAH 4. Go Shiozaki vs Takashi Sugiura (12/6) NOAH 5. Tetsuya Naito vs Kazuchika Okada (1/5) NJPW 6. Go Shiozaki vs Kenoh (8/10) NOAH 7. Yuka Sakazaki vs Mizuki (11/7) TJPW 9. Tetsuya Endo vs Daisuke Sasaki (11/3) DDT 10. Kazuchika Okada vs Kota Ibushi (1/4) NJPW 11. Tetsuya Naito vs Hiroshi Tanahashi (9/20) NJPW 16. Hyper Misao vs Super Sasadango Machine (11/20) TJPW

There are a few things that really stand out to me here (I omitted matches from promotions that I don’t watch because I can’t speak to those). The first is that Go is all over this list lol. He’s in four of the top ten matches!

The second thing is that wrestling fans really enjoy stories about love. This is the least surprising thing to me, because those kinds of stories are ultimately why I watch this medium, but it’s still amazing to see that reflected in lists like this. In the list above, the top ranked matches in NJPW (#1), NOAH (#2), TJPW (#7), and DDT (#9) are all matches that are explicitly about love. They’re all different stories and different matches, but love is at the core of all of them.

I giffed all four of those matches (linked above!), and wrote up a short explanation of the stories for everything except for Despy/Hiromu, who have a dynamic that is too complicated for me to attempt to summarize. But they have explicitly described their feelings for each other as “love,” and have talked about their matches in terms of “making love.” I also wrote up a post about those three NOAH, TJPW, and DDT matches specifically.

It’s amazing to me how wrestling is, on its surface, a medium that revolves around hate and competition, but beneath that, it’s really a medium about love and cooperation. There’s simply far more at stake in a match between wrestlers who love each other (or who once loved each other) than there is in a match between wrestlers who hate each other.

I was surprised but happy to see that Hyper Misao vs Super Sasadango Machine got number 16 on this list, even though that match really did a number on me emotionally. This match was incredibly nontraditional. It involved a retirement announcement, a powerpoint presentation, a Bachelorette parody, a poetry contest, a retirement match, an unretirement, and a marriage announcement.

Misao started off by announcing that she was retiring, which devastated me. But by the end of the match, she decided that she wasn’t going to retire until peace and love had returned to the world, and she also decided that she wasn’t going to wait to pursue her other dream, too, which was to get married. Her husband-to-be came out into the ring, and the company put out a marriage announcement up on the website, and everybody cheered and celebrated the announcement. Misao became the first married wrestler on the TJPW roster.

This might not seem notable, but there are very, very few Japanese women wrestlers who are married and who are still actively wrestling. Joshi wrestlers often have very short careers and early retirements, and it is common for them to quit wrestling in order to get married. Misao also started her wrestling career fairly late: she began wrestling at 25, and almost quit at 30. In addition to all of that, she loves wrestling very unconventional matches (case in point: this one), and worries that her nontraditional style isn’t what fans are interested in seeing.

So, considering all of that, I love the fact that this match is getting so much positive recognition. It was very creative and emotional, and the reception to it really demonstrates how much the fans truly love Misao, as unconventional as she may be, and how happy we all are that she decided to get married and keep wrestling. I hope this match helps pave the way for other joshi wrestlers, too.

As always with awards like these, I wish there was more women’s wrestling represented, but it’s fascinating to look back at a year like the one we just had, and think about some of the things that resonated with me, and how those same things were received by other fans.

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part four ~ it was them like that ~ 

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

A/N: I rewrote this part twice wanting it to be perfect readable. I am grateful for every like/retweet: to quote our boy himself “I wish I could shake all your little hands.” Messages/asks are always highly appreciated. Strive to have a good quarantine, and take care of yourself!

Summary: Alex goes to find Sammy at his apartment and is met with an odd reception from Y/N.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language. Minor (Non-Graphic) Injury.

Word Count: 2.6k

Alex woke to the feeling of incessant buzzing in his hand. It was not a bright morning. With a groan, he opened his eyes – feeling the crust in the corners of them – and looked to his phone in his right hand. It buzzed with silenced notifications, and the screen lit up with banners and alerts. He tried to fight through his exhaustion. There was an odd taste in his mouth; he swirled his tongue around, attempting to produce saliva to little avail.

Propping himself on his elbows, he pulled his phone to his chest and read the lock screen. Nothing it said made sense. When he activated the touch ID, his phone opened to instagram and the last thing he watched before passing out (in his street clothes on top of his bedding). He had been watching an instagram story he was tagged in – even worse – it was George's instagram story.

To his horror, George had posted a solid three minutes of him dancing. Despite the overall low quality of the videos and darkness of the club, it was clear that it was indeed Alex who was throwing his limbs and jumping around erratically.  

George had also managed, even in his inebriated state, to post the worst of the videos on twitter. And his followers were going mad. Three hundred retweets, five hundred comments, and at least a thousand laughing-crying emojis in all. 

Alex groaned and tossed his phone to the end of the bed.

Getting up was a slow process. He had to stop to ground himself every few steps. While grasping a weak hand on his side table, he picked a pair of black joggers off the floor and replaced his white jeans with them. He moved steadily, grazing his fingertips along the wall as he went to his cupboard, and ripped a shirt from its hanger in an almost aggressive manner. He changed into it.

Eventually, he made it to his bathroom. After splashing water on his face and sticking his head under the faucet for a good minute, slurping the water like he would if he were drinking from a garden hose, he felt better. Alex tossed his hair around with his hand, pulling it forward and down, smoothing the cowlicks. Its slight greasiness was not too noticeable. He huffed, gathered his essentials (wallet, keys, phone) from his desk/bed, and left.

"You up already?" George called from where he sat on the sofa eating cereal. "It's before noon."

"Shut up. I saw your instagram story." Alex stood in the kitchen with a blank gaze debating whether to eat then or later. "You made me look like a complete bellend; I don't appreciate it."

"You wanted to dance! Who am I to deny the imallexx stans their behind-the-scenes exclusive?"

Rolling his eyes, Alex left the kitchen. At the front door, he slipped on the most available shoes there: which happened to be George's crocs (he swears he bought as a laugh but wore all the time).

"I'm going to go pick-up Sammy.” 

George snorted and said, "You mean pick-up off the floor, probably."

"Just be ready to film when we get back."

Standing out in the hall, breathing in the fixed smell of wet dog in the carpet, Alex thanked himself for being young enough to be able to near blackout and be just a touch ill in the morning.

It was not a full two minutes between Alex leaving George and him stepping out of the lift onto the floor above. Coming up on Sammy and Y/N's apartment, there was a fleeting regret that he wished he had thought in his morning haze to brush his teeth before showing up unannounced. But it was too late as his hand was raised and rapping on their door.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Alex watched the door handle jump as it was twisted and pulled on the tiniest amount possible. Just enough for the latch bolt to disengage and reengage so that it rested – holding the door open – against the doorframe. There was no proper greeting. He felt like an intruder having to push on the almost closed door and let himself into the apartment: though invited not necessarily welcome.

Inside it was bright with all available light fixtures on including a scattering of floor and table lamps. There was the sound of a running shower.

To his left was Y/N ducked into her refrigerator. She pushed things around on the top shelf before landing her hand on a carton of eggs. Taking them out, she sat them on the counter next to a mixing bowl. She turned her back to Alex but not before flashing him a tense near straight-line smile.

"Hi." Y/N counted out three eggs from the carton. "Sam's in the shower."

Alex grabbed a bar seat. He rested slouched against the backrest but kept his shoulders square and arms open. Hair fell from his fringe, and he jerked his head out of instinct, flipping the hair out of his face. A bit bedraggled. The chain still around his neck from his night-out. Lithe arms stuck out from armholes three times their size as he drowned in the large yellow crewneck.

It was the same yellow as the one Y/N complimented him on earlier. Not that he recognized it when he was throwing on clothes. Not that he would admit he recognized it.

Y/N cracked three eggs into the mixing bowl with one hand and tossed the shells into the kitchen bin. She stood, her feet set like an arrow, with her toes touching. Next to the mixing bowl was a waffle iron with a red light on top and a baking mix box. She held it up; her mouth moved as she read off the ingredients on the recipe on the back of the box to herself.

Alex forced a light chuckle. "I'm surprised he's up. He was out of it when we dropped him off."

"You all were," mumbled Y/N into her collar. She placed the box down and stirred the contents of the mixing bowl with a fork and a quick hand. Her head was down focused on what she was doing; a little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows.

"You got me there." Alex shifted in his seat, scooching up so he might rest his forearms on the counter. He proceeded to crack his knuckles to occupy his nervous hands. "How is Sammy?"

"Fine."

"He's helping me film a video." Like a smiling dog promised and expecting a treat, Alex straightened up in his seat. He searched Y/N's side profile for a read on her but came up blank.

"Hmm," hummed Y/N letting up on her battering of the waffle batter.

It was evident in how his spine slumped and how he returned to resting on his arms that it was not the reaction Alex expected. The reaction he hoped for was a reaction at all but no such luck.

"I guess he would have told you. I'm a youtuber." Alex added in a stronger voice (as if her not hearing him was the issue), "So is George."

"Uh-huh." Polite in tone but nonetheless dismissive.

"I was hoping you'd text me, then I'd have your number as well."

Y/N gave no response. Her eyes were clouded and distant. Leaving the batter to sit, she crossed the kitchen and pulled open a drawer of miscellaneous utensils. While she searched for what she wanted, the fingers of her non-dominate hand drummed a rhythm against her hip.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Alex.

"What?"

"Was it last night? Did I do something to offend you? I was trashed." He spoke plain, hiding the hint of hurt in his voice. His open palm-up hands moved in a series of give and take type gestures.

His bit of babbling grabbed Y/N's full attention. She pulled her focus up, from her search in the utensil drawer to Alex's face. Her hesitant gaze stopped at his mouth and nose before going further up.

Their eyes met. Alex felt a surge of warmth rushing upon him: a warmth he could lie in forever. Die in. So even his bones might one afternoon be exposed to it. It was clear at that moment (as if it was not before) that being around Y/N was not something Alex knew how to handle or react to.

There was an undeniable switch in her gaze – a moment of real recognition – and if eyes could talk, hers would have sighed and happily said, oh, it's you.

Alex reiterated, "I promise I don't remember a thing."

"Sorry, Al." (a pause like she did intend the nickname but then thought it inappropriate) "Sorry, Alex. It's not you. I just have a lot I'm thinking about."

"You don’t have to apologize; I was just a little worried is all." He relaxed, dropping his hands, letting them fall to his lap.

"You're sweet. Thank you." Her hand settled in the utensil drawer; she pulled out an ice cream scoop and held it at an odd angle. Fiddling with the lever as if checking it worked. It did. Y/N turned her back to him once more to place the ice cream scoop on the counter with the mixing bowl. She picked out the fork from the bowl and continued stirring the batter.

Sore from slouching and general aching muscles, Alex stood from the bar seat and stretched.

"You make a lot of breakfast foods, huh?" he asked as he stood with solid feet and twisted at the middle as far to his left as he could; he twisted to the other side as his spine screamed at him. "Is that your favourite then?"

"Why? Got something against breakfast?"

"I like buttered toast as much as the next—" Alex was distracted mid-thought when he lifted his foot and put it down again to the sound of a quiet crunch. Light speckles of paint dotted the floor, and when he lifted his foot, under it was a small chip of plasterboard.

"Toast, you said? How extravagant!"

A framed picture was stuck on the wall nearest Alex: one he did not recognize as being there before, but half the apartment was not yet unpacked when he last was there. How bad could you screw up your wall hanging something? He pulled on a bottom corner of the frame and peered behind it.

It was a fine hanging job. There was just a fist-sized hole in the plasterboard wall. And the framed picture was covering it.

Y/N glanced over to him. "That's nothing – just a little accident from last night. Could thank George for that if you like."

"George did that?"  He exclaimed, reeling as if he were about to faint. Alex made a fist and compared it to the hole. George and him about matched in height – matched hand sizes. While the hole in the plasterboard could eat Alex's hand.

Y/N's face dropped as she rushed to correct herself, "No! Not at all."

"You scared me," the words rode out on his bated breath. He put the framed picture back in place, moving to retake the bar seat.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that." Y/N gave a shallow shake of the head.

"What did happen?"

"Oh," she sounded exhausted, "Sam got angry because George was teasing him about something."

"What was it about?"

"I couldn't understand it. None of you lot were making sense," she said unconvincingly

"Come on, Red."

And there at his words or in reaction to the strange atmosphere Y/N rolled her left shoulder back and, when it returned to its natural resting position, she twitched. Her head turned forty-five degrees to the left, and her chin lifted so that her cheek was parallel to the ground for about half a second until her muscles relaxed, and she stood regular. Y/N spoke soft, "I don't know."

"Well, Sammy must have said something. Or George."

"Stop." Y/N spoke clear and stern, throwing her voice despite not facing him. "You were all giggling like idiots and piss drunk. Ok? It was bound to happen."

Atop the waffle iron, the red light switched to green. Y/N tilted the mixing bowl toward herself and grabbed the ice cream scoop. She stirred it around the bowl. Her elbow lifted from her side in the motion. It was shaking. She was shaking. Trembling – even if just a small amount.

"Ok," Alex said without thinking. 

The ice cream scoop gathered the golden batter. It would have looked delicious if his stomach was not so knotted.

Lifting the waffle iron lid, Y/N poured the batter in a circle from the outside-in, when the lid dropped, snapping shut on two of her fingers. "Ow! Shit."

She raced to the sink: turning it on to its coldest setting: she kept her hurt hand at a distance. Her free hand grasped her inner elbow supporting the extended arm. As the water bathed her burnt fingers, Y/N stood bent over with her head tucked under her arms and muttered a string of curses.

"Fuck. Are you alright?" Alex rushed around the counter. "Did you break them?"

"N-no. No." She was stuttering through distressed gasps.

"Red, it's not great." Alex laid a hand on her shoulder and another over her free hand on her arm. He felt her continuing to struggle for breath and start a self-soothing type rocking on her feet – not about to give in to the panic. "It’s not great, but you got to calm down. Follow me."

He pulled his lips in and inhaled a slow breath as if through a straw, exhaling it just the same. It took ten seconds of him doing the exercise on his own before Y/N began to follow. And it was them like that. And it was nice – given the circumstances.

Both their shirts were damp from the splashback of the running sink.

Half a minute passed. Y/N had not gained her complete composure, but her breathing evened out, and her muscles relaxed enough that Alex had to reposition himself to support her as she leaned into him slightly.

"Thank you." It was audible though her chin was still tucked to her chest.

"It's alright...I can't cook either."

She laughed a short laugh. "You were lying earlier?"

"I know, pretty believable."

Sammy walked in from the master bedroom: shirtless with his wet hair dripping water onto the floor: and his eyebrows knit together in immediate confusion and concern. Set in action, he rushed over to the kitchen and pulled Alex off Y/N (sending him stumbling over himself to regain balance). At Y/N's side, he turned off the sink and took hold of her hands, avoiding the burned fingers.

"Red. What did you do?" he asked.

"It's alright," she assured, and it was, as most minor burns are after a few seconds under cold water.

Alex was frozen in place – watching them – reconciling his protective instincts with his disorientation. And despite where his eyes landed in physical space, he was far off in another place in his mind.

Staring at him with a skewed frown, Sammy asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm– I was going to pick you up to film."

"Right." He straightened Y/N and himself up to be standing. "I'll be up in a bit."

It took a moment for the command from Alex's brain (move) to reach his legs. In that time, he stole a glance at Y/N whose face canvased a flustered blush. She smiled. A metaphorical dart whizzed around his head, striking a metaphorical bullseye, and producing a singular thought.™

He wished he could go back to about twenty-three lines ago. To when she was leaning on him.

Alex smiled a reassuring smile in return and shuffled out of the apartment. Two steps from the closed door, he heard Sammy say to Y/N in a hushed voice, "I’m here for you, Red, but you should have known better."

[gumnut-logic]

The Fight (Bit 9)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6 | Bit 7 | Bit 8 | Bit 9 

So, I fell asleep while watching YouTube videos on New Zealand. It should be noted that I was sitting up vertical on the lounge at the time ::sigh:: Not a great thing for one’s neck muscles. I ended curled up on the couch, sleeping until about 1am. Then stumbled into bed and promptly proved that no, I couldn’t sleep anymore, which is why I shouldn’t fall asleep on the couch! It is currently 3.35am. I have done none of the things I should have during that time I was asleep, so I am now behind again. However, my dopey brain has delivered a bit more of this fic - between thinking about work and the plot issues I’m currently having with this fic? This is why I couldn’t sleep. I hope you enjoy this little bit anyway.

Many thanks to @scribbles97 and @tsarinatorment for both listening to my plot woes and offering suggestions ::hugs you::

-o-o-o-

“If not for yourself, then for your son.”

Her eyes darted to him, fear in every line of the woman’s body. Slowly, ever so slowly, her hand reached out and took the square of glossy card. Her fingers rubbed the pink surface like it was a set of worry beads.

She didn’t say anything to Virgil, but her eyes were wide and scared.

A soft, reassuring rumble. “We can help you.”

A single nod was her only response.

Virgil must have seen it as a positive because he risked one more question. “Are you safe tonight?”

Rory was staring at his mother, his eyes darting to Virgil and back again.

The woman nodded and turned away.

Virgil’s lips thinned, his concern slipping into obvious worry. His eyes did not leave the hunched figure of Mrs MacIntyre as she clutched her son’s hand and, escorted by Deidre, left the building.

“John, you got it?” It was little more than a whisper under Virgil’s breath, but Anna heard it. “Good. Keep an eye on her.”

“Ms Kent, are you okay?” Scott was frowning at her and she realised she was standing in the corridor doing nothing much at all.

“Uh, yeah, fine.” She resisted the urge to rub her hands all over her face and scream into the nether.

That earned her an even deeper frown, but he appeared to accept her word for the moment at least. “Alan may not be in for a couple of days. I suspect our grandmother will want to give that eye some time to heal. If there is any work he needs to catch up on, please forward it to the usual email address.

“Of course.”

He continued to frown at her, worry in those blue eyes. “You may also get a call from our lawyer. If there is anything you need regarding this incident, don’t hesitate to contact me.” He held out a card to her.

Her fingers touched plastic as she took it, the IR symbol embossed into the surface.

“Of course.” She was suddenly ever so tired. Adrenalin spent, she desperately needed to just sit down and, well, probably cry. But she was a professional...a professional, damnit. She drew in a calming breath. “Same here. If there is anything you or Alan need from me, don’t hesitate to ask.” She turned to her young student who had crept out of the principal’s office, creepy Kyrano in tow. “Do you have all your homework?”

The one blue eye that wasn’t swollen widened a little and Alan dashed over to the reception desk where he had stashed his bag earlier. A zipper and a moment of rifling through its contents and he threw a ‘yes’ in her direction.

“The project on South America is due by Friday, however, you can have an extension until Monday. Let me know if you have any problems. You can email it in if you are not back at school.”

“Yes, Ms Kent.”

She eyed him. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“I will. Thank you, Ms Kent.”

She had the urge to hug the youngest Tracy. He was such a good kid. Eager to learn, ever so polite, smart and despite occasionally showing his next older brother’s rapscallion tendencies, just a good young man in the making. 

But considering the influences he had at home, it was no wonder. Not like poor Rory. Again she ran through the local agencies in her mind. There had to be some help out there for him and his mother.

There was a stifled groan from Virgil and she looked up to find the man had obviously moved the wrong way. Scott’s response was immediate. “Okay, time to go.” He began herding his brother out the door. “Thank you, Ms Kent. We’ll be in touch.” Kyrano put his hand on Alan’s shoulder and the four men moved as one out the door and into the schoolyard.

It was late afternoon and the grounds should have been empty.

If it wasn’t for the massive presence of Thunderbird Two parked on the Green. A crowd of buzzing bystanders, possibly half the town, were hovering about the school fence.

Scott sent her a small smile and a nod in farewell before bustling Virgil out to the giant plane. Kyrano and Alan kept in pace.

A hatchway extended down from the forward section and the Tracys climbed aboard. A matter of seconds and they were swallowed by the Thunderbird.

A few seconds later, the big ship’s VTOL engaged and she launched herself into the air in a flurry of hot wind. Her rockets fired with a mighty roar and then she was simply gone from the sky.

Anna blinked.

So bloody fast.

Eyes were staring at her from the crowd.

She turned and made her way back inside. Time to go home. She had a date with some cathartic tears.

-o-o-o-

Next

[ashekirk]

On Contrapoints

I have thoughts. Unfortunately I can have a hard time putting my thoughts into words with enough precision to be understood well. So please, if you have a strong reaction to anything I write here, ask me to clarify before making any definitive statements about it, because it might not have been what I intended. The reason I've written the above paragraph can also be seen as one of the reasons I have the opinions I do. See, online, people have a tendency to take things people have said and written in the least charitable way. In some instances, they can be correct such as when they are pointing out dog whistles. I don't want to take away from that aspect, but they seem to extend it to anyone that they have any kind of beef towards, and it can cause them to make snap judgements about others that are unfair.

OK, let's zoom out a bit. This post is to try and articulate my thoughts about Contrapoints (Natalie Wynn) and the shitstorm surrounding her, the video she just released about it, and the general concepts of cancellation and criticism.

But first, a little about me. My name's Ashe, and I'm intersex non-binary. I've identified as enby since 2006, and known I was intersex since 2007, so I've been around. My given name is Natalie, so be happy I am not using that name here lol. Around 2014 or so, I entered the small burgeoning feminist community that was slowly growing to fight against the tide of anti-feminism on YouTube and in GamerGate. Over time, I found myself in a Facebook group of people, some of whom are currently fairly well-known on YouTube. One of those people was Natalie Wynn, who at the time I first encountered her, was still an egg (one who hasn't fully realised they are trans). I'm not going to say that I knew her, because we barely interacted in the group. But I was among her earliest fans on her Contrapoints channel (I understand she had previously had a different YouTube as well, but I only knew her as Contra). One of her earliest videos was pushing back on the— at the time fairly new— concept of "transtrenders." She was the first person I ever saw on YouTube defending Milo Stewart, who was an extremely hated figure at the time merely for being non-binary. That should be your first clue that the narrative that she's some kind of truscum is wrong. But let me continue. It was in that Facebook group that I, for the first time, asked people to refer to me as "they/them" because I felt so safe in that group. It wasn't without its infighting though, and it eventually came to an end after someone betrayed the trust of the group.

Anyway, Natalie's controversies happened to start after that group was gone. I no longer had any real line of communication with her so I just kind of watched them happen. But it came to be obvious that every time something happened, she would kind of go into hiding for a bit. To me, this makes it clear that she was having a hard time dealing with the hate. Now I'm not here to engage in apologetics for the mistakes she has made. She has written things that came across as hurtful to enbies, and she has not done the best job at apologising. Having said that, many of my fellow enbies have been very unfair in their judgements and characterisation of her views. Some of the things Natalie went through in her video showed a vicious, bad faith side of our community that I cannot support.

Here's the thing. When someone well-known fucks up, they will obviously receive criticism from lots of people. Some will be constructive, others just abuse. My suggestion would be, don't give criticism unless you are sure nobody else has given that same criticism. And do not ever abuse. A person can have 10 comments of praise, but it only takes 1 piece of abuse to make that person feel bad. It's human nature to ruminate on the worst, most vicious feedback. And getting it in droves can make them feel like they are universally hated, even if there are plenty of supporters. This makes a person withdraw. In some cases, it makes a person double down. Be happy that Natalie tends not to do that. But it's clear from her video that she is in a period of self-loathing. Her mental health is really fucked. So to abuse her, knowing her mental state, is no better for her than a right wing bully making fun of her for being trans. But it's even worse, in fact. In her video, she states that she had turned to the online trans community for emotional support. To have people she trusted and loved turn on her for what she perceived as dumb mistakes or unfair interpretations, is more damaging to a psyche than some dime-a-dozen troll. Now I do see both sides - many enbies felt the same way, reversed, when they perceived Natalie to dismiss them or say something callous about them. It's perfectly valid to feel that way. But that doesn't give you carte blanche to dismiss her attempt to explain that she didn't mean how you interpreted what she said. Ugh, see the ramble here? This is what I meant when I said I have trouble putting my thoughts into words. My mind is not ordered well enough to explain myself. 

Let's back up again and take stock. I haven't used the term "cancel culture" here, because I think that it is a distraction from the real meat of the problem. From what I see, the problem is people are too quick to form their opinions and too slow to give people the benefit of the doubt. Kneejerk reaction is what right wingers do - let's not be like them. Think. Ask questions. Try to understand. Additionally, don't try to force your opinions of people on others. Let others come to their own conclusions. Don't assume the worst of people, but get to know their views better before jumping to conclusions.

I don't say this to be some kind of fence-sitting centrist, I say this to encourage empathy. Compassion. Critical thinking. Values on which the left prides itself. As I've said, Natalie is not without her problems. But it's far better to come to her about it with an open mind and heart than with wrath and anger. The former will make her far more receptive than the latter. If we can resist lashing out, we could shape her into a great ally of enbies. At least I think so.

If you managed to make sense of this stream of consciousness, I applaud you.