#almost thinking I should make a tag just for this brand of dumb stuff

[bibiana112]

Me being bad with faces strikes again ffs someone matched with me and said omg didn't expect to see you here and istg there's no way I'd forget the name she has there so we probably met at a con or something 😭

[ravenadottir]

what do you think the characters would be doing after the show/how would they be using their platform? for example, i think lottie would be using hers to give people astrology readings and stuff and i think the season 3 mc would be sooo problematic online

ok but you know what? definitely! s3 mc would be causing the stir she wanted to in the villa and couldn't. i'm almost certain she would be raging and saying absurd things to get attention, something like gabby hana you know? BIG YIKES.

one thing is certain... all of them (purposely or not) would be making thirst traps... and definitely supporting masks and registering to vote. so that's a certainty for almost all of them.

lottie. witchtok constantly. not necessarily giving readings but she would be an apologist and majority on that tag. her instagram would be split into two accounts: one for her personal endeavours like thirst traps and *looks of the day*, and a second for her brand as a makeup artist/personal stylist. cause i think that would be so fucking cool! lottie knows how to perpetuate her personal brand and would use social media for that as well. here's some edits i did in the past to explain it better. i headcanon a collab with elisa for wigs that they would both wear on social media, so that's something i really like! plus, advocating for women's rights, especially when a male politician says something dumb, so you know, EVERY SINGLE DAY.

bobby. in the middle of the pandemic? can't help thinking he would be doing some humorous videos, but in my head they're not the funny type. just some cringey ones... don't get me wrong, but bobby is only funny when he's not trying to, and in social media he strikes me as the type that not only makes videos but also puts the towel over his head to play a girl, so that's probably the majority of his content. some food of course, and DEFINITELY some *cute* selfies that he knows it works as thirst traps. i think he talks about registering to vote and blm, but doesn't give his opinion on anything else, politics wise. here's bobby's feed for the rest.

gary. i'm not thrilled to inform that gary would be thirst trapping all the time. now that he's relatively famous there's no reason why not posting those pics and videos. between tik tok trends to show off his muscles, and instagram to... well, do that exact same thing, he might take some time to show nan and the soup kitchen, but overall... thirst traps. possibly being blunt about masks and registering but his content is very closed off. also, he will get a dog and encourage people to adopt. there's a lot of pranks on dicky and vice versa, so that's something i thought for his social media, just couldn't find a good faceclaim that has a variety of pics.

lucas. mostly bringing awareness about covid and the use of masks, probably pointing it out a couple of political disputes, and definitely advising people to be careful about their votes all around the world. i like to think he's a huge advocate for legalization of a certain practice that women have to beg to have (you know the one), and i think he knows exactly how to make a thirst trap without making one. stop asian hate and blm carrds present, and often giving his followers the incentive to donate. DEFINITELY 'look of the day' for at least the weekend, and lots and lots of landscape from the places he's been visiting or wishing to.

henrik. he's everywhere and he takes his phone to talk about it. no doubt henrik is having the time of his life by travelling alone, or with his wife, and doing lives at all times. i think you would see him doing lives in the middle of the night, or watching the sunset/sunrise with his followers, besides making his *questionable* forest foraging and recipes. survival videos? MOST LIKELY THAN YOU THINK. here's his social media, where i covered mostly of what his relationship would like on instagram. (heavily based off "beyond the hill").

carl. the amount of rpg on his stories? immaculate. chess? you bet! lots and lots of carl's launchings for his company, which does have a separate account but he can't quite separate himself from it and it shows on his feed. his relationship would be discreetly displayed with cryptic captions since he's not so sentimental. here's his feed with some personal things he would be encouraged to post and boost that confidence of his.

anon that asked for more hannah stuff, this is for you:

hannah. i have one for her because i do like her aesthetic. don't mind the faceclaim, it was the only one i could find in so many situations. horses, books, some *cute* selfies, travelling pics and more. on tiktok definitely booktok, no doubt about it. she might do a lot of the "telling the story of my book as a story time" trend to promote it and say "technically it's real life."

elisa. it's all about branding and she knows how to do it well! some influencers might not get political because of how they can be perceived but i think elisa doesn't give a flying fuck about that. she talks often about blm and vaccines on her stories. i get a jackie aina vibe from her when talking about brands that support/encourage dark skin models and influencers, so that's a plus. she will give shit to a makeup brand that doesn't care for shade range and won't hide her feelings about it. here's her usual feed, with looks and tours (that i'm certain she would do a lot). i also think she'll eventually cave and have a brand of wigs, clothes and makeup, AS SHE SHOULD.

hope. there's no question about her activism on social media and i like to imagine she would be speaking up against anti-vaxxers and racism, mostly. just like yewande, she would probably talk about every time she felt the show might've favoured people that don't look like her. we would be getting the hot tea on everything since she's so honest. there's also lots of looks and promoting her friends' products because she supports them so much. priya's clothing line, elisa x lottie collab, etc. here's the feed i made for her a while ago.

chelsea. she might not be that deep into politics but she'll talk about covid and how people should be more careful about it, "wearing all these cute masks my babes lozza made for us!". LOTS of *look of the day* and tours on the spaces she decorates, besides the behind the scenes of parties and weddings (of ex-islanders) that i know she would throw. her feed also includes her closet, supporting her friends' endeavours and promoting them, besides some random mug collection shots and FOR SURE a pug selfie with mc.

priya. there's not much to say except for the occasional thirst trap (with those amazing thigh, ffs she should), lots of vaccine warnings, definitely political anecdotes and her clothing brand. i love to think she would have an actual boutique once things get settled after covid, and she would use social media to promote every line. her feed consists mostly of her travelling, designs, supporting the girls and her photoshoots.

kassam. lots and lots of backstage photos and that *prickly* way of demanding people to use their brains and wear a mask, besides getting the vaccine. in studio or just before the stage, selfies with a clothing line with his logo and definitely pics with islanders he didn't get to meet but is now friends with. during covid he would be using his lives to play for his followers, like lots of dj's and musicians i've seen doing on reddit and tiktok, probably called "late night music" or something like that. encouraging followers to donate for causes as well.

noah. not so huge on social media, might be the most discrete of them all. there would be lots and lots of pictures of the mornings before he opens the library, because i sincerely think he would keep his job. not the most outspoken about certain matters but carrds like the blm's and 'stop asian hate''s are on all of his bio's. i do like to imagine him taking selfies with the boys from the show, like ibrahim. he would be so present in noah's feed it's not even funny. the casual "cute unintentional" thirst trap too. family photos from ages ago and lots of his siblings as well. he does love to write long captions for whenever he posts his girlfriend. one thing though, during the first few months on the outside, he wouldn't be so present, afraid of facing the bashing on him if he got with mc in the show. that could be a reason for him to stay away until people "forget" about it.

marisol. SO - MANY - SUITS - SELFIES it makes me cry happy tears. between advocating for women's rights in a more technical way, she would definitely be using her platform to also talk about lgbtq+, especially after the realization she had during her journey. lots and lots of activism about those things, and i think she would be doing a fine job. definitely promoting the girls' products/services and an occasional thirst trap with a braless suit look.

rocco. covidiot. (i just wanted to use this nickname one more time). he might get a hard time from followers and villa buddies because of his stance on vaccines. i just hope he reads some articles instead of sharing bibity-bobity-bullshit on facebook and instagram. there's lots of vaccine memes on his comment sections no matter what he posts though. it's gonna take a while for the public to move on.

[flamediel]

About me

ok, so I figure it was finally time for me to make one of these since i’ve been here for a bit and I hate how disorganized tumblr is. Hi, I’m Nadia, I’m 19, and this is my CNCO blog. I’m a mixed black muslim bisexual who uses they/them pronouns and I’m studying law. Other random facts about me are I box, make my own clothes, paddleboard, and love dogs. My aesthetic is all over the place and so is my brain so while typing this out i decided to make a moodboard that’s ✨my aesthetic✨ so here lol:

Was that necessary? no. did I do it anyway? yes. Moving on..

so what will you find on this blog?

Primarily, CNCO. This is a side blog so I tend to stay pretty on brand with the content I post. I tend to answer asks here, be it about fandom tea or random stuff relating to the boys, but when inspiration strikes I’ll write fics, make moodboards, or even pull together random uquizzes and zodiac interpretations no one asked for. I host a lot of events on here too like to celebrate their albums or band anniversaries, so stay tuned for that as well. As you can see we do a little bit of everything here, so feel free to stop by for a chat whenever. 

Where can I find your writing?

All my fics can be found under the ‘#my writing’ tag on my blog, so check them out there! anything tagged minors dni (or cnco smut for older posts) is 18+

What writing do you have coming up?

Chris sex tape smut

Boxdiel smut

Sub!Richard Smut

Zabdiel + Power Play

The boys while you’re pregnant (Minus Chris since it’s already up)

Richard pampering you

a ton of songfics I have half finished

And if you want anything else, I am taking requests! Keep in mind they may take a while though, I tend to write when inspired and I haven’t had the time at all lately with work. Also, if you remember requesting something that isn’t here, it’s because I likely haven’t gotten to starting it. once I do, I’ll add it here. 

Where can I find your moodboards?

These will be under the ‘#cnco moodboard’ tag on my blog! Requests for moodboards are open (and will probably be fulfilled MUCH more quickly). 

UQuizzes?

Which CNCO member are you?

Which CNCO hookup are you?

Where are your CNCO Zodiac interpretations?

I’m only doing full chart readings for the boys once we get their birth times, since I don’t like how inaccurate readings can be without houses and such (ie, Chris’s Sagittarius energy doesn’t make sense until you realize it’s all in the fourth house). That means I’ll be analyzing Joel and then Chris’s birth charts in detail for now, and when we get the rest of the info I may do the others’. This is gonna take a while since these are long and take a ton of research, sorry about that

Joel: Part 1 (part 2 coming soon)

Chris: (TBD)

Management vs record label analysis

You've done some analyses of cncos team from a legal perspective, where are they?

Joel leaving the band timeline/contract renegotiation explanation

Who owns cncos trademark

Why are some of your posts tagged minors dni?

Why didn’t you answer my ask?

personally, I don’t feel comfortable with minors interacting with any explicit content on my blog. I tag it that way for people to be able to blacklist these posts (including adults who don’t want to see them). I know minors look at this content anyway, I’m not dumb, but this gives them the opportunity to be responsible without me having to make this whole blog nsfw, andit also provides a clear warning. Minors I find repeatedly interacting with my NSFW posts are getting blocked. You’re violating my consent and disrespecting the rules I put in place on my blog, and I don’t want you around if you cant understand that.

my inbox is almost always full and it takes me a while to get to stuff! I will though, i promise, and if it takes a while maybe resend it since tumblr doesn’t like to work sometimes. 

Why do certain anons have symbols/emojis?

It’s like a signature so I can tell which anon it is. if you want one just ask!

can you tell me about X cnco thing?

usually, yes. but also, keep in mind I don’t know everything, and most of what I say is my opinion, as with everyone else here. don’t take it too seriously please. I will also sometimes answer asks sarcastically or jokingly and entertain dumb stuff, if you have a problem w that just send smth in about that instead of fighting, no need to get disrespectful over tumblr shit I swear it’s unnecessary. 

Why wont you answer dms?

I am. so so bad at checking dms. so bad. it gives me anxiety and i WILL leave people on read. honestly if you’re not my mom you should not be expecting quick replies from me. if you want to talk more and we’re mutuals, message and ask for my snap. I tend to be more active on there

Why aren’t you following me/liking my posts/in my notes? 

I probably am, this is a side blog, I interact from my main @imbrium-mare​

Any other important notes?

A couple. First, something light. info about me is in my ‘#about me’ tag, and if you care what i look like check the ‘#my face’ tag, I tend to delete those every now and then so you might not find anything.

Secondly, more heavy. Like most active cnco blogs, I’ve dealt with my fair share of “anon” hate. Most of the time, I can figure out who you are pretty easily. Yall aint slick at allll, and I am more than happy to expose anyone who thinks online bullying is okay. casual reminder, using racial and homophobic slurs is not cute. I will not tolerate it, you’ll be blocked. the fact people think this is ok to do over a BOYBAND of all things? tragic.

And finally, since this will now be my permanent pinned post, any events I host or new things I write will be linked in a reblog of this post and pinned, rather than pinning the actual post with it. That way this information is all still accessible. That’s it! have fun, and I hope you enjoy your time here xx

[saturnznct]

previous / next

series masterlist

part 34 - i’m a prodigy

word count - 1350 words

note; sorry that this is over an hour late, I kept needing a break lmao

It was absolutely freezing cold. You were drowning in one of Jaemin’s oversized hoodies, the warmth encasing you. You were surprised that it had actually managed to fit over your bump. On top of that, you were wearing a thick winter coat, which Jaemin insisted you had to wear, not that you had protested, but he had insisted nonetheless.

His mother had shown up earlier this morning, hugging the two of you tightly and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the physical photos of your ultrasounds, even though she’d seen them already over text.

It’s only three hours later when the three of you pile into Jaemin’s car, you fully wrapped up and sitting in the passenger seat, his mother sitting in the back.

Jaemin was driving, one hand on the wheel, and the other in yours. You held it in your lap, trying not to be upset when he moves your joined hands to change gears.

You stare out of the window, watching the trees and houses pass by.

It’s quiet in the car, the music on the car radio filling the quiet.

Jaemin’s mother occasionally asks questions, like what shops you’re planning to go to and if you’re feeling ok.

Once Jaemin pulls into the parking space, he immediately climbs out and comes over to the side of the car you and his mother are sat in. He firstly opens the door for his mother, and waits for her to get out before closing the door behind her. He then opens your car door, holding out a hand for you. You shuffle in your seat, turning so your legs are hanging out of the car, and grab Jaemin’s hand. You rest your spare hand on the dashboard and haul yourself upright.

Jaemin pulls you away from the car by your waist before shutting your car door behind you. You shiver at the cold.

‘We should probably get inside where it’s warm,’ Jaemin’s mother says.

The three of you rush into the shopping centre, you sighing happily when the warmth spreads through your body.

‘S’that better?’ Jaemin asks.

You nod, humming.

The store is overwhelming. You look, wide-eyed at the rows and rows of cribs and strollers.

You suddenly feel panicked. What if you buy the wrong one?

‘It’s ok,’ Jaemin’s mother senses your fear, ‘They’re all the same really. Just different brands.’

‘I think we should start with the bigger stuff first, get it out of the way,’ Jaemin suggests.

‘We ordered some drawers from IKEA,’ you hear Jaemin tell his mother, ‘so we don’t have to worry about that.’

You’re staring at a beautiful white crib. It’s almost like a basket, the sides made of like a mesh fabric, and it’s held up with white wood. You can feel yourself tearing up, imagining your baby girl lying in it, sleeping soundly.

‘This is pretty,’ you mumble.

You’re not sure if anyone actually hears you, but you feel Jaemin and his mother approaching you from behind.

‘That’s gorgeous,’ Jaemin’s mother says, running her hand over the expanse of the side.

Jaemin grabs you by the waist, noticing you crying. He laughs, and you giggle, wiping your eyes with the back of your thumbs.

‘I’m just imagining them in there,’ you whimper.

He turns to look at his mother, ‘I think this is the one.’

‘Typical, first one I look at,’ you laugh.

‘Let’s find the box for it,’ he says, looking at the label before breaking away from you to retrieve the box from the shelf.

‘Ok, next we should probably get a stroller,’ Jaemin’s mother says.

An hour later, stroller ordered, your shopping cart slowly filling with clothes, diapers, wipes, and creams for you and the baby that Jaemin’s mother insisted you needed, and would ‘thank her for’.

You’re standing in one of the toy aisles, staring at the stuffed animals, feeling overwhelmed by choice. Who knew there were so many animals?

‘Hey,’ Jaemin interrupted your thoughts, and you turn around to see him standing there sheepishly, holding something in his right hand.

‘Sorry,’ he laughs lightly, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘It’s ok,’ you say, ‘what’cha got there?’

You nod towards whatever he’s holding in his hand.

‘I thought you’d like this,’ he says, before holding in the object up.

It’s a mobile, but it’s probably one of the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen. It has the solar system strung out, which is surrounded by stars and asteroids. There are tiny faces stitched onto each planet with black thread, and you can see the sun and moon have the widest stitched smiles of them all.

‘That’s beautiful,’ you almost whisper, ‘we need to get her that.’

‘It reminded me of when I still lived with my parents, and when you came ‘round we used to watch for the constellations,’ he says.

‘You remember that?’ You’re surprised, it seems like lifetimes ago when you were still just kids in school. Now life was incredibly different.

‘Of course I do,’ he smiles.

‘I love you, you’re so dumb but I love you,’ you mumble, before giving him a short kiss, ‘put that in the cart.’

‘Hey Y/N,’ you heard Jaemin call your name from somewhere behind you.

You turn around to see him standing next to a small toddler-sized piano.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and he responds by dramatically playing a few notes. You roll your eyes at him, ‘you’re so stupid,’ you laugh.

‘I’m a prodigy,’ he says seriously.

‘I’m sure you are,’ you laugh.

At that moment, his mother rounds the corner, after paying for all the things you’d bought so far.

She’d left you to have a sit down on some of the display sofas in the store, your tired body instantly melting into the comfortable position.

You half debate taking your shoes off, your feet aching. Jaemin was attempting to make you feel better by messing around with all the toys, despite your attempts to tell him to stop.

‘You ready to go?’ Jaemin’s mother asks you, and once again Jaemin holds his hand out for you.

Once you’re up, he grabs a couple of the shopping bags from his mother, before turning to you and saying ‘I’ll run you a bath once we get home.’

You hum in appreciation, before mumbling ‘I’m so tired.’

‘We can just go have a nap first if you want?’

‘I think we might have to,’ you laugh.

Later that night, after your nap, and after your long bath, you’re sat on the floor in the nursery, watching and occasionally helping Jaemin unpack your purchases. He pushes furniture boxes to the corner of the room, and you help him sort the wipes and other products into piles to put into drawers later.

‘I think we did good for our first proper shop,’ he remarks, folding some clothes and adding them to the growing pile.

‘Yeah, I think we’re just gonna have to keep chipping away at stuff now.’

‘I feel like we just need to sort this room out before you start your 3rd trimester, then you can rest.’

‘I don’t want to just sit around all the time.’

‘Hey, you need to protect baby girl, not just yourself.’

‘Well, we will have hopefully baby-proofed the apartment by then, so I won’t be bumping into any corners.’

‘I will make sure you want.’

You yawn loudly.

‘Tired again gorgeous?’ He asks, and you nod.

‘We only just had a nap,’ Jaemin laughs.

‘That was almost two hours ago,’ you argue, ‘but can you blame me? I am quite pregnant.’

He puts what he’s holding down onto the floor, ‘ok, let’s go to bed then,’ he leans over and kisses your cheek, before lowering his head to kiss your stomach, then helping you up for what felt like the 100th time that day.

You felt your eyes fluttering shut.

‘Hey, come on,’ Jaemin starts guiding you towards your room, ‘I’d pick you up if you weren’t-‘

‘I know,’ you roll your eyes.

You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

taglist (send me an ask if you’d like to be added!!);

@wendyaftrnn @kayleegglass @jaeminparadise @ncityy04 @mark-zone

@soleilchannie @k-n-e-o @kiyeowooncity @thatanonymousgirl-as14

@peachykrystal @jesusagrees @moloprint

@nctwhippedculture @aoitorii

couldn’t tag;

@freshwitchpost @r2njun @greentea-beach

[embrythecall]

a twilight tag game, you say?

pick 5-10 characters and write your take on the canon version of them vs. fanon version of them. fanon doesn’t have to be what is generally accepted in the fandom, it can be your own idea of what you think a character is like. then tag the same number of people as characters you pick, if you can.

I was tagged by @teamjacobthot -- thank you so much! I’m excited to get into this :) 

EMBRY 

(obviously because i adore him with my whole soul) 

Canon:

chill aka probably just shy let’s be real here

likes to bet on things? 

seems to have the most common sense

Fanon:

HERE WE GO, EVERYBODY *cracks knuckles*

def the smartest one out of him, jake and quil. 

an observer. definitely a people watcher. he reads the VIBEZ

very, super, ultra, mega sarcastic. almost cynical. I feel like he’s probably a realist in a lot of situations rather than either an optimist or a pessimist. probably leans a little more towards pessimism though 

refuses to learn about his dad (though, I personally believe it’s Joshua Uley, but that’s a long headcanon for another day unless someone specifically wants to know my thoughts on it more haha)

a super romantic without knowing he’s a romantic? 

real tight with his mom-- they’ve only ever had each other since old daddio has been out of the picture the entire time and she’s probably never really dated (once again, i have more thoughts on that too but you know, i digress)

also i SUPER headcanon that he almost ALWAYS only refers to her as, “Ma,” unless it is a serious situation in which he uses ‘mother’ but i do NOT feel like he is a ‘mom’ person. at least for his own mother. 

honestly these are just all my own headcanon i have no idea what people think about him :S 

for me, i think him and Jacob are closer than Quil is to either of them. In my mind, when embry’s mom Tiffany first got to town, she became really good friends with Sarah Black and thus, Jacob and Embry have kind of been friends since birth, quil only coming in a little later maybe and just not having the same kind of friendship that embry and jake have

I think him and Leah secretly get each other. Like they don’t talk much or anything, but Embry never makes comments to or about her and doesn’t participate in the guys being absolute jerks to her. 

also, he just guzzles that respect women juice. like, he was raised solely by his mother so like... he was taught to respect women and also i think this makes him more empathetic to other people which is why he wouldn’t be mean to leah or say mean things about her because he’d understand to a level and might even see pieces of his own mother in her because they both were screwed over by men and he never EVER wants to be that to anybody ever

probably plays guitar but NEVER shows anybody 

usually the but of a joke between jake and quil. 

also the decider in arguments between jake and quil

i have a zillion more but i’ll quit while i’m ahead

also

is a slut for muffins

QUIL ATEARA V

Canon:

he thinks he’s a ladies man (thinks) 

more outgoing?

likes hanging out with friends 

took his cousin to prom 

Fanon:

so, so, so funny as in a total dork with a lot of unearned confidence

book smart but NOT street smart

prefers name brand foods over generic because it just ‘has that extra something something’ and also, class

loves to debate with jacob. he always ends up taking it somehow more seriously than jacob does. 

i actually do not know why nobody talks about quil i feel like he’s super underrated and actually hilarious.

@teamjacobthot‘s one of this tag game mentioned he was a soundcloud rapper and i think i DIED so imma also go with that and second you there

very particular about how things are done 

a lover of the puns

toy story is his favorite childhood film, and he announces it as so. 

LEAH CLEARWATER

Canon:

angry and bitter 

thinks nothing more than of sam 

hates vampires 

sassy

Fanon:

i absolutely LOVE practically every fanon i’ve ever seen of leah in the fandom like...ever. they are all so amazing and i actually just want tons and tons of fanfictions about all of them

Ngl, i really am a big AngelaxLeah fan

BUT 

I PERSONALLY hc that leah gets fed up with being in the pack and she feels like there’s really nothing there for her. She ends up leaving la puzb to go off and explore the world-- she wants to see it and experience more than just the memories and the life that surrounds her in la push. she travels all over and often does so in wolf form when she can. I HC she imprints there-- on a real nice super cool lady from some other country. (this is another thing i could go on for days about, i will write a fanfic about it one day. ONE DAY i shall PREVAIL!) 

Honestly, i really do like Leah as she was canon. I think that it was the way everybody acted around her that i would change and i feel like the fandom as a whole agrees on that 

like yeah, Leah is a badass bitch with a great sense of humor. she’s witty and sarcastic and smart and wise and i just love her to pieces. everyone else just needs to wise up and be nicer

JACOB 

Canon:

super supportive and kind and loving and understanding and THEN smeyer swooped in and DESTROYED MY BOY. 

like, don’t even get me STARTED on my feelings about what she did to her OWN CHARACTER 

i mean really

smeyer straight up didn’t know what to do with him so she did... all of THAT. it makes me want to wheep.

Fanon:

the fanons out there on Jacob are just... they are SO WONDERFUL and give me SO MUCH JOY 

i’ve heard him being a mechanic obviously, i’ve heard about the HILARIOUS details of his friendship with like, alice and rosalie and emmett like... that shit is so funny i live for it 

i could read jacob fanons all day

i guess personally, i just love to bits. he’s super patient. very funny but also is really understanding and can (and loves) to get into deep discussions about stuff and listen to other people’s passions and share his own. 

purposefully pushes quil’s buttons so he can get a rise out of him because he LOVES their dumb bickering and enjoys a good debate 

is also almost always right in those debates 

quil probably won like... twice in all of history and it was based on some kind of weird trivia fact he learned in a biology class or something lol

i bet that when the time came he had kids (not with you-know-who obviously cause just...no), he’d be SUCH a great dad and he’d be SUPER hands-on with them, like always taking them places and teaching them how to do various stuff

and if one of his kids was really into something he didn’t know how to do, you KNOW his ass is up on youtube all night long learning how to do it so he can spend THAT MUCH MORE TIME with his kids 

oh he’s just so sweet love him to pieces 

RENESMESS

...I had to do this but i have a good reason:

Canon:

exists

Fanon:

absolutely does NOT exist

who?

the only ONLY acknowledgement i will give her is i read a fanon somewhere about how she HATES her name. like she is downright royally not okay with it and when she gets older and has to go to school for eternity with her family (weird. seriously so weird but i’m pushing through this) she decides to announce that she is only going by this other name (personally i feel like it’s Carlie because it’s still her middle name and jfd;akfsd but also because it’s A NORMAL NAME) and so she is never called renesmee again because that is straight up a monster name and even her nickname is a monster so like, ugh. 

also, i REFUSE to believe that Jacob imprinted on her, okay? if she has to exist, he did NOT imprint on her and they can be buds or something but just... no. (i have so many issues with imprinting guys, i should just sit down and write a long post about it but the ENERGY and it isn’t like it’s not all things that have been said before. it’s more what I’d fix about it so it could still exist but not be a legit code word for grooming and an excuse for blatant p*d* grossness because that’s all it is and i HATE THAT) 

so I don’t talk to anyone in the fandom really because i don’t really know how to start conversations like... at all. I really WANT to talk to people but I’m a chicken and i have a hard time, BUT, i really admire so many of the blogs on here and i LOVE so much of their content. Off the top of my head, i shall tag: 

@chiefjacob @911esme @jacobblackredemptionblog @embrycallsmuffin @leahclearwaterdefensesquad AND anyone else who wishes to do this! it was so much fun! I say do it! and if you’ve already done it, i just tip my hat to you for being an awesome blog :) 

seriously! tag me when you do it, i want to see your answers!! 

[tangled-cl0wn-core]

Where, besides Tumblr, can people find you doing fannish things? (Obviously only mention sites and usernames you actually want to be found at. Don’t expose your secret identities on my account.)

What other names have you gone by on these platforms, including Tumblr, if any?

When did you join the IT fandom? And what got you into fandom, to begin with?

What are your favorite ships, or characters, if any, and why? What do they mean to you?

In what ways do you participate in fandom? (ex. Posting memes, reblogging/commenting on content, writing fanfic, making fanart, creating fanmixes, etc.)

Do you have any in-fandom inspirations? Other members of the community that drive you? (And if you have the time/energy, in what ways do they inspire you?)

Name and link some of your favorite works, please!

Do you have any works of your own that you feel particularly proud of, or wish more people would’ve consumed? Please provide links if possible.

Have you ever participated in a fannish event (ie. IT Week, a fic Big Bang) or applied to be a part of a fanzine? If so, which ones, and can you please link them?

Without any form of bashing or lashing out, what is something you feel this fandom is missing?

 HI!! since you asked before sending it, I knew this was coming but my First Cool Guy Tumblr Ask is so neat,, anyway!!

This is my only IT-specific account, but I post almost everything I draw on my instagram, https://www.instagram.com/fabricsofteners/ (I don't know how people make links cool on tumblr aaa) I also have an AO3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangledheadphonecord , where I might post this one really long fic I’m working on (maybe not, as it’s super lame but God am I putting in work)? But mostly it’s just really old stuff atm, and no IT content right now - just some random drabbles from past hyperfixations tbh.

I used to be ‘fabricsofteners’ everywhere besides here - tangledheadphonecord is a username I used for my tumblr because I want a change from the fabricsofteners brand, as I've had it for quite a few years and have just grown kind of bored - just waiting a bit to change my instagram user. I also used to be ‘unbrandedmarkers’ like, three years ago on instagram? but, that era ended fast. I think I might have an old Tumblr under some variation of ‘fabric softener’ but honestly even if anything is up on it I’d probably be embarassed to look at it now.

I watched IT for the first time in 2019, I believe, but wasn’t really in the fandom until actually like, April of this year. I entered the fandom and developed a hyperfixation (sobs) by complete mistake - I read all the fics for michael mell/rich goranski on ao3, and was on a camping trip and wanted to read some Homosexual Fanfiction and literally remembered IT on a whim (rich-to-richie association) and read a bunch of Reddie fics, and it was all down (up?) hill from there.

Unshockingly, I’m sure, Reddie is my number one favourite IT ship. I’m also an enjoyer of Benverly, as well as Stanley/Patty - IT is like, the only fandom where I actually like the canon ships. I do also think Streddie/Stozier is really cute and Bill/Mike (unsure of the shipname?) is nice when I see it!! I think Reddis is cute because I am a total sucker for best-friends-to-lovers, as well asthe  ‘I tease everyone but mostly you’ and the ‘I’m so tired of you bullying me but if you ever stop I’ll cry’ and... just, the entire dynamic that they have. Stanley/Patty - there is no reasoning, I just want Stanley to be happy. Benverly - the way they were each other’s first Meaningful Interactions in so like?? agony, they’re so cute. They both deserve to be happy, and I’m so happy they find that happiness in each other. 

As for characters - Richie is absolutely my favourite. I (unfortunately /hj) kin and relate to him on so many levels it hurts. Having a character that feels that fear of their sexuality because of a horrible environment is painfully real. covering up struggles with humour and all that?? yeah, mood (also, crushing on your best friend-). What he means to me, in a sense, isn’t really canon - I read strictly fix-it fics, because I want to feel that hope that like fanon Richie, I don’t have to hide forever. I can be myself and be happy. Obviously I can’t much look to the movies or anything for that but hey - what’re Andy or Stephen gonna do, tell me to stop reading fics? 

I also really like Stanley!! I don’t,, have a reason. I just think he’s adorable and I love his dynamic with the other Losers a lot. Stanley breathed like, once, and instantly became a comfort character and not even I know why at this point, he just is. Eddie & Bev are up there, too - honestly, Bill is the only Loser I don’t have a strong attachment too. And honestly, he’s growing on me rapidly.

I mostly draw whatever my goblin hyperfixated brain can think of, as well as rebloging just about every post that I see and like (art, jokes, edits, fics, etc.) - I start and stop a lot of fics, maybe one day I’ll finish one but as of yet I have not... Sigh.

I honestly don’t think I do have anyone to tag for inspiration? I follow IT blogs but none I would go to for inspiration (no offense to any mutuals-) inspiration for me is mostly just seeing a pose and going ‘okay’ and suddenly I have a drawing - I have no clue what happens in between.

So, my current all-time favourite IT fic atm is https://archiveofourown.org/works/18213215/chapters/43087232, though I will say it’s a really heavy fic and to read with caution. Going away from Angst, any ‘famous Reddie’ AUs are amazing, but I constantly reread the entire https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560019 series. It’s cute and funny and I THRIVE for domestic Reddie content. 

Actually not Reddie, I throughly enjoyed https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201011 for giving me the Mike content the movies have robbed me of for too long, as well as https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262698 which is pure stanlon greatness and made my heart flutter for the boys more than once.

I don’t really have any IT fics up of my own creation, and honestly my reception in way of Tumblr notes is far better than I expected so honestly, I have none to link lol. As long as I get minimun interaction I will thrive.

I wish I could say I’ve been in anything like a zine or anything, but I have not! I’m relatively new to the fandom (and having a social media dedicated to one thing) so I wouldn’t even know where to begin to join or be qualified for one, y’know? I’ve done art weeks in the past and found them incredibly fun but haven’t seen any for IT - but if anyone does happen to know of any... Feel free to send them my way-

As for the last question - other than like, hyping up Chosen and Jeremy just as much as we do the other IT kids (which, honestly I’m not even sure if is still a problem - I’ve just seen posts about it and it’s made me wary), I’m not sure? I’ve honestly not encountered anything in the fandom I find awful and honestly, for a fandom about a movie that is... Well, IT, I’ve really just kind of enjoyed my time in the fandom thus far?

(I will say we need 200% more attention being drawn to 1990s adult Eddie Kaspbrak, who is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen - but I also feel that way about James Ransone, so I’m not mad.)

(Also, we should be calling out the 1990s IT more, I watched it recently and it’s so bad /lh)

Anyway!! I feel like this answer was incredibly long and I am so sorry!! But like, thank you so much for asking me anything at all fihabsfhbafb I thrive at any chance to talk about the dumb clown movie. (Also, i’m sorry I say ‘honestly’ so much-)

[dwaynepride]

the unfortunate case of nonchalance

PART II - BIRDS OF A KIND

summary: while in town, jethro bumps into the endearing lady he met several days ago. and he finds it hard to tell her no.

words: 3,943

warnings: female reader

tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @pageofultron @stanathanxoox​ @kittenlittle24​

author’s note: part 2 of the cowboy!au series. this is a part of meg’s 11k challenge. the prompts are cowboy au and secret relationship trope.

PART I | PART III

February 22th, 1889

It finally feels as if we’re settling down, even just a bit. Nobody likes being this far East - I can see how on edge everyone is. But we’re safe here, for the time being. That’s what matters.

Anthony still hasn’t told me his grand money-making scheme. Says he won’t until he’s worked everything out, but that don’t make me feel any better. There was a time when such promises of a plan would’ve interested me. But now, it only leaves me with a sour gut feeling.

For now, I’ll wait and hope that man has enough sense in his skull not to get us all killed.

At least Doctor Mallard is rescuing me from sitting in camp - he wants to go into town for supplies, and asked if I would accompany him. He says he’ll need help bringing everything back, but I suspect he knows I’ve been idle for too long.

He thinks I’ve been distracted. Thinking about what we left behind in the West.

I’ll let him keeping thinking that.

-

Doctor Mallard brought only one sack to carry the supplies in. And Jethro’s holding that single sack, tucked against the crook of his arm. It only confirmed his suspicions that the older man felt Jethro was spending too much time in camp. As tedious as camp is, though, it’s preferable to walking through town.

A man bumped into Jethro’s shoulder. “Hey!” He snapped, but the man just kept walking without a single apology. And it made Jethro huff. “Rude bastard.”

“The youth today have scarcely any manners, Jethro,” Doctor Mallard muses. He didn’t seem all that bothered by the rude display.

Jethro just gives a small hum, head shaking as he hitches the sack up higher and glances around at the bustling street. People coming in going, paying little attention to two dirty cowboys who are merely making their way back to their horses. Their clothes are spotless, stylish, full of lace and pristine furs - Jethro’s never felt quite so different than he does now.

The sun comes down on them hard. The long brim of his hat keeps the light out of Jethro’s eyes, but the day is long and hot. He’s looking forward to riding out of the stifling town. Feeling the wind and returning to the camp, where everything seems more free. More normal.

They pass the bank. Jethro’s eyes are shielded by his hat; he doesn’t see the person coming out of the building. Barely cares, until he hears her voice say his name in a way he recognizes.

Well, it’s more like his body recognizes it. Because his feet stop, his head comes up, and his eyes peer out from under the shade.

“Mr. Gibbs,” you repeat. Slower, this time. But still high-pitched; obviously pleased to see him away, and Jethro honestly cannot tell if he feels the same. He enjoyed your company, sure. Enjoyed talking to you. Found you amusing and endearing and interesting, all that once.

On the other hand, Doctor Mallard was right there...

“Is this your friend?”

You’re looking to the doctor now, stepping closer and holding out a hand, which he obviously takes. Jethro has to swallow before nodding his head. “This is Donald Mallard. He’s a very good friend of mine,” he answers. And the older doctor may be able to fool strangers, but Jethro was no such fool. When he introduced Mallard to the girl, he gave Jethro a look. So nonchalant - barely there - but he knew its meaning:

She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?

Jethro looked away so his face wouldn’t answer.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“Believe me, dear. The pleasure is mine.”

“Well, we must be leaving,” Jethro cuts in quickly. You look at him, surprised. But he keeps his eyes away as he puts on hand on Doctor Mallard’s shoulder, trying to steer him away. “Our friends need these supplies...”

“Oh, that’s alright! I was just on my way home, anyway!” You call out after them. And Jethro can’t help feeling relieved. He can only imagine how Doctor Mallard will tease him about this back at camp. Meeting and befriending a pretty lady without mentioning it - scandalous stuff.

But the Doctor stops, and for an old man, his feet are rooted to the ground quite firmly. Despite Jethro’s shoves, he turns back to the woman still standing before the bank. “Jethro, what kind of gentleman are you?” He asks in a scolding voice. “You’re not going to offer to take this nice lady home?”

Jethro sighs, his fingers tight on Doctor Mallard’s shoulder but lets his hand drop away. He knows what the older man is playing at, but he’s also right.

“That’s not necessary,” you pipe up. When Jethro looks over, you’re smiling shyly. Obviously trying to wave off the offer.

And yet, Jethro hands the sack over to Doctor Mallard, who takes it gleefully. “No, it’d be my pleasure,” Jethro says. And he hopes you don’t catch rueful tone of his voice.

“Our horses are hitched right over here, dear.” You and Jethro follow Doctor Mallard in silence. He’s ranting off about the price of canned goods in this town; how they’re impossibly high compared to other towns. Jethro barely listens. He’s focused too much on you - how you’re walking next to him, movements so elegant, it’s alien to a rough cowboy like him. His own spurs clinked against the gravel road, footfalls heavy. A startling contradiction.

Jethro waits silently as the doctor pulls himself onto his old nag. And once he’s settled, Jethro dips his head to him. “Safe ride,” he says simply.

“And you, as well,” Doctor Mallard replies. And there’s a certain edge in his voice, almost teasing without being blatant about it. But Jethro heard the mischief in his voice - it made him scowl and turn to his own horse.

You’re waiting patiently, wearing a soft smile, and he realizes why the good doctor had told him to ride safe.

“You live far?” Jethro asks while pulling himself up. Once he’s in the saddle, he reaches down for your hand. And when you take it, his eyes avert away. The contact was so small and simple but the soft skin of your hand and the light grip you have, it affects him. And he hopes the wide brim of his hat is enough to hide his face as Jethro pulls you up to sit behind him.

“Not very. On the edge of town - it’s the big white house. Just head down the main street-”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Jethro cuts in. He pulls the reins and starts heading down the main road. “Big house like that, it’s kinda hard to miss.”

There’s a light laugh from you. Jethro’s grateful his back is turned, face hidden. “Almost too big, in fact. There’s a lot of empty rooms. Sometimes it feels almost....lonely,” you reply.

Feeling lonely in a big ol’ house, that’s not a feeling Jethro was too familiar with. Then again, he knows he owns his own brand of loneliness. The type that lingers, even when he’s surrounded by people. Especially in this town, when the strangers are even more strange to him than usual.

He doesn’t feel that loneliness right now, though.

Jethro clears his throat, head turning a bit to see you in his periphery before looking forward again. “So, what were you doing in that bank?” He asks nonchalantly. Though, he scolds himself; the question was both mundane and prying.

But you didn’t seem bothered, remarkably. “Visiting my father and his associate,” you answer quickly. “He says I should become familiar with how the business is run, since I may be involved running it, one day.”

He hums low while pulling the reins, turning his horse in the direction of your big white house. “Sounds like your father’s got your life all figured out,” Jethro says.

You’re quiet for a moment, and Jethro’s worried that perhaps he’s offended your father. Or worst yet, offended you. “Oh, it’s not like that,” you tell him. “I’m happy to learn. And he’s right, after all.”

Still, Jethro disagrees. But he doesn’t say anything, this time. Doesn’t want to run the risk of angering you. Or give you a reason to stop seeing him in a good light. And Jethro’s well aware that such a thing will happen eventually; just not right now.

There’s a bit of rough terrain on the road. Lots of mud from when it rained the night before, and it has the horse’s hooves sliding. It lets out a little whine, and Jethro pulls on its reins to keep it balanced. But the sudden jolting around must’ve spooked you - your arms are suddenly around his midsection. Holding on tight, afraid to fall. A normal reaction, of course.

But it shocks Jethro. His hands grip the reins even harder, and he’s grateful for the muddy road. Because you can’t feel the way his lungs suck in a deep breath.

What a humiliating response, Jethro chides himself. It’s as if he’s some dumb young man getting squirrelly when a woman touches him. And yet, that’s how he’s feeling. With your arms around his midsection, your front against his back, Jethro can’t think of any words to use to continue the conversation.

He rolls his eyes at himself.

It feels like an eternity to reach your home, riding in silence. But Jethro stops by the end of the fence, lifting his eyes to get a good look at the impressive white house. He imagines it must be even more beautiful inside, and quickly decides it fits you just fine.

“Thank you for the ride home, Mr. Gibbs.”

Your voice draws his attention away from the house. Jethro immediately dips his head, and his hand comes out to help you down from the back of his horse. “Wasn’t a problem,” he replies simply. Once down, your hands run down the length of your dress, straightening it back out.

He’s gotta go.

“Well, you have a good day, miss,” Jethro says. And with another nod of his head, he steers his horse away from the magnificent homestead. He’ll just ride back to camp and lock himself away in his tent for the rest of the day...

“Mr. Gibbs, hold on a moment.”

Despite himself, Jethro stops his horse. Sighs, and turns to look at you. “Yeah?”

You’re nervous, he can tell. Not on your face, but in your hands. How they wring together and keeping running down the fabric of your dress. “Would you like to join me for a drink in the saloon tonight?” You ask.

A drink? Jethro doesn’t know how to respond. He knows his answer should be no. He should make up an excuse for not being able to join you tonight, or any other night. Instead, he says nothing. Just stares.

Still nervous, you continue. “Or perhaps not tonight, if you’re otherwise engaged. I would just like to thank you for bringing me home when you didn’t need to.”

Jethro’s hands are in his lap, absently fiddling with the old leather reins. “A lady like yourself enjoys the company in a saloon?” He asks, tone conveying a teasing disbelief.

Just say no, you old bastard...

Finally, you smile. Jethro doubts he’ll be able to go through with his plans.

“You forget my father, sir.” Your hands come behind your back; more relaxed than you outta be, around him. “No man dares to lay a hand on me, if he knows what’s good for him. Not without my consent, that is.” You add on that last part with haste, and Jethro doesn’t miss it.

In spite of himself, he smiles and shakes his head. Disbelieving that you’re so able to change his mind in a snap, but somehow, not adverse to it. “I think I’ll let you buy me that drink, ma’am. I will meet you there tonight.”

Looking pleased, you dip your head to him and turn to walk up to the house. Jethro watches, just for a few moments. Once the breeze picks up and starts billowing your dress, that’s when he turns and rides toward camp. And he doesn’t see when you look back to him.

The ride back to camp was slower than usual. It gave Jethro a few peaceful moments to think things over. It was just a simple drink, he told himself. A thank you from a nice lady because he rode her home. Not all the women in this town are so snooty and uptight, he reminds himself. A couple glasses of the finest bourbon they have (Jethro’s confident you can afford it), and he’ll be gone.

He’s still in his own head when Jethro comes back into camp. Everyone seems to be doing their own thing; too preoccupied to bother with him. Abigail and Eleanor doing chores. Doctor Mallard going through his medicinal stores. Tim seems to be scolding Jimmy for getting the fishing line in knots again.

Jethro ducks into his tent, going straight for his clothing chest. Surely he has something decent to wear. It won’t be anywhere close to the level of prestige he’s sure you’re used to, but it’ll have to do.

He opens the chest, and instantly spots a pure white cotton shirt. That outta suffice.

“Hey, Boss!”

Instantly, Jethro closes the chest and straightens up when Anthony comes in.

He’s wearing that troubling grin again. Jethro’s mood instantly drops a little; he has a hunch of what the younger man is here for. “What do you want?”

Anthony isn’t turned off from Jethro’s icy question. In fact, it prompts him to step closer. The excitement is nearly palpable from the Italian, and it’s slightly worrying. Anthony’s not-exactly-legal idea to get some cash was something he hadn’t divulge that day in town. He said he wanted to work out a plan first. Wanted to make sure it was full proof.

Evidently, he’s worked it out.

“My plan to get us some money,” Anthony starts off. His grin turns into a proud smile, and he’s standing straight. Jethro’s stomach is suddenly a little tight. “The big bank in town. It’s sure to have a lot of money and valuables in it - you know these rich folk would keep their money in a vault. Tim and Jimmy said they’d come along as extra guns. Even Ellie is going to provide a distraction. I’ve worked it out, and it can’t go wrong. Especially if you’re there with us.”

Perhaps in the past, and Jethro was a little more reckless, he’d agree to the plan. And for what it’s worth, it seemed pretty solid. Anthony’s annoying, but he’s competent. A born thief and this is just flexing his muscles.

But Jethro remembers just this afternoon when you came out of the bank - how much time you must spend in there. Knows that you think him a good man, for whatever reason that he can’t understand.

“No,” he says. And instantly, Anthony’s face falls. Jethro’s head shakes as he takes a step closer to the younger man. “Our plan was to lie low. To not get into trouble while we’re here. Our life is out west, don’t you remember that? A bank robbery would ruin all that.”

“We’re wearing masks. Nobody would know-”

“You have my answer, Anthony,” Jethro snaps out. “I suggest you go tell the others that your plan is off. We’ll find other ways to get money.”

Anthony’s silent. Doesn’t move for a few tense moments, and Jethro wonders if he’ll continue to fight for his plan. But eventually, he huffs and stomps out of the tent. Jethro watches him go, and he hopes he rejected the plan for the right reasons.

-

The music could be heard from outside the saloon. Music, and the rowdy noises of dozens of people inside. Every one of them drunk and that’s what gets Jethro wary. Drunk people are often very stupid.

Still, he knows you’re inside. Waiting to buy him a glass of bourbon, and Jethro’s not known for keeping a lady waiting.

He pushes through the door, and instantly gets more than a few sets of eyes cast on him. And by now, he’s used to it. Being in this town, looking how he looks, he’s accustomed to side glances as these rich people size him up and decide he’s likely lower than dirt.

But while they’re looking at him, Jethro instantly finds you. He notices you’re wearing a finer dress than you were earlier, and new sets of jewelry twinkle in the saloon lights. Jethro’s not really a religious man, but he reckons this is about as close as angels can look. Both ethereal and warm.

His good mood is halted, however, when his eyes finally drift away from you. There’s a man beside you, leaning against the bar on one arm but facing you and judging from the look you’re wearing, this man isn’t wanted. The look, Jethro notes, is more-so the lack of an expression. Because he’s known you to be smiley and friendly with those you like.

There’s not any smile gracing your lips.

The man touches your arm. Not aggressively, granted. A brush of his fingers. But Jethro recalls your words earlier, and his feet are instantly moving. Thudding hard against the wood to bring himself to you.

And you see him approach first. Your eyes lighten up, but there’s still no smile.

So Jethro stops beside the man. His clothes are expensive, and his hair (if it weren’t so messy) is expertly cut. He can dress like a gentleman all he wants, but Jethro knows better. “Leave the lady alone, alright? She don’t want your company.”

The drunken man looks to him, only just realizing his presence. And then he pushes off the bar, standing at full height, but Jethro keeps his eyes steady on his. “Excuse me, sir? Don’t believe you were invited in on this conversation,” the man rolls out. His words are slurred and his breath reeks of liquor. Jethro can’t help but wrinkle his nose.

“You ain’t excused,” he replies steely cold. “Go stink up some other poor bastard’s saloon.”

It seems the man is finally catching on that Jethro was antagonizing him. His red eyes narrow, shoulders squaring. Jethro’s hands curl into fists, even after he feels your hand on his arm. A light squeeze, almost desperate. “Let’s just leave him, Mr. Gibbs. It ain’t worth-”

“I’ll show you who’s excused!”

The punch he throws is sloppy. Uncoordinated. Jethro should’ve been able to dodge it. But your hand had been on his arm. He was distracted.

The fist connected with his face, just below his eye - a solid hit, despite a poor swing. Pain exploded against Jethro’s face, and it’s nearly enough to knock him to the floor. But his hands hit the wood first, and he stumbles back up to his feet; Jethro’s not about to let some drunken idiot get on top.

He whirls around, fists up, ready to strike. In the background, he notices the music stop. People are cheering. But Jethro’s attention is only on the man advancing on him, arm cranking back for another punch.

But this time, Jethro’s ready. He dodged the punch easily, even feeling the wind of it brush past his face. And in the next second, his own fist connects with the man’s jaw. A more solid punch than he was given. More power behind it. More pain delivered.

It sent him crumbling to the ground, hitting the wood floor with a solid thump and made the bar patrons all gasp in shock. A few of the drunker, more rowdy ones even cheered. Jethro kept his eyes on the man, now out cold but silently hoping he’d get back up. To give him another reason to deliver another hard punch.

There’s a hand on his arm again. The same soft, lightly gripping touch that Jethro was so quickly becoming familiar with. His head swung around, instantly catching your eyes. They were wide and worried; a bit frightened, but he couldn’t tell why you’d be afraid. He’d just taken care of the problem. “Let’s go, Mr. Gibbs. You should get that cut cleaned up.”

Cut? What cut?

It was then when Jethro remembering the throbbing ache of his cheekbone. And rest assured, when he raised a hand to touch it, his fingers came away red.

You started pulling him away toward the back of the bar before the bartender called out. “Hold on, little lady! Your man just caused a fight - the law’ll want to speak with him!”

With a huff, you turn back around. Jethro wasn’t aware you could look so mean, but the look on your face was nearly enough to make him go running for the hills. “I know you saw that big oaf swing the first punch. If anything, my man was only defending himself - and me! You wanna bother the law about something like this?”

Jethro watches the bartender grapple with his words before sighing and turning away back to his work. That’s when you continued pulling him along to one of the back rooms, grumbling about the no-good idiots in this place, but Jethro was only really focused on how you called him your man.

That drunken bastard must’ve hit him worse than he realized.

He’s silent as he watches you move to the washing basin, soaking a piece of cloth in the water. “Sit on the bed, please,” you tell him. A polite request spoken in a snipped voice, so Jethro doesn’t think twice to obey. And just as he sits, you’re approaching him.

“That was a very stupid thing you did,” you remark sternly. The cloth is cool, at least. It soothes the quickly-swelling bruise. But still, he’s bleeding. Jethro can’t help but wince when you have to rub harder.

You scoff at his wincing, not seeming to care. “I swear, you’re just as much a ruffian as any cowboy I’ve ever met. Are you in the habit of getting into fights over something so trivial?”

Getting into fights? Sure, he’s used to it. But Jethro wouldn’t call defending you to be trivial. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He doesn’t say so. He’s too focused on how gentle you are in cleaning him up. Perhaps gentle in a way he doesn’t deserve - you’re right, he is a no-good bar-fighting ruffian. It’s difficult to understand why you’re this gentle with him.

So Jethro watches your face, screwed up with tight brows and a flat frown. And he can’t help his own lips from quirking up. “Are you busy tomorrow?” He asks.

You stop, and your eyes flicker to meet his. Jethro could’ve sworn he’d seen your face flush. “Don’t change the subject, Mr. Gibbs.”

“I’m not attempting to,” he replies quickly. “In fact, I’m trying to stop something like this from happening again.”

You’re confused. Looking skeptical, but your head shakes slowly. “I’m having brunch with my mother tomorrow at noon. But after that, I’m available. Why do you ask?”

The quirk in his lips grows into a small smile. “Good. Meet me behind the old church on the south side of town after your brunch.”

A small sigh comes from your lungs as your hands fall away from his face. The blood must be cleaned up, but Jethro can’t even feel the throb of his swollen cheek. “Can I ask what for?” You prod on.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shoot a man who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Red Pens and Keyboards

For those of you who prefer this format to having to click a link and go to Ao3.  Cursed Coffee Shop AU. Lancewain Rated T for minor swearing and suggestive themes.  Summary: Lancelot is a new writer. Gawain is his editor. They meet outside the office for once at a nook in the wall coffee shop. A little bit of chaos ensues. Percival is the the one with the relationship knowledge in this one. His dad needs to ask Lancelot out already. 

Lancelot ran. He was fucked. This was the third time in as many weeks he had been late for meeting his editor. It hadn’t been a common occurrence until lately. For months he had been on time, but the last few weeks he’d been feeling increasingly more inspired and had been staying up later and later to write. That was in his opinion a valid reason for being late of course. He had overslept. Again. He was currently working fulltime and then some during the day and when he returned home at night he wrote. Last night he had been especially inspired, the same way he had been the last three times he’d been meant to meet with Gawain. He didn’t think too deeply as to why the inspiration was linked to these nights, but he certainly would not push it away. 

He jumped over a large puddle in the middle of the sidewalk and nearly slipped. Righting himself he carried on, satchel thrown over his shoulder and nose tucked into his greying scarf. Grimacing he hoped that the rain wouldn't ruin the manuscript and his laptop. He’d forgotten his umbrella because of course he did. He ducked around the corner and, avoiding the drip edge of the shop roofs, bolted towards the coffee shop at the end of the block. The problem, he mused, with being a brand new and unknown author is that it didn’t provide an income that was live able. He had self published and had a meager following. Then one day a man had called and offered to take him on Pro Bono. It was a risky move for Gawain to have taken and Lancelot was certain this would be the last straw. Stopping outside Nemos he gathered himself, rain splashing on his face. He looked through the water speckled window for the brown haired man. He couldn't help but smile to himself when he saw him tucked in the back corner table. Gawain was well put together and wearing that green sweater that absolutely did not highlight his eyes or make him look a hundred times more attractive. Lancelot blushed to himself and shook his head. He was half an hour late and looked like shit in comparison. He had thrown his hair hastily into a bun, and knew he had circles that rivaled a raccoon's mask ringing his eyes. Taking a breath and setting his features to polite indifference he entered the store with his shoulders squared. If he was going to lose this gig, better do it with dignity. He approached the table where Gawain was tapping away on his laptop. Swallowing he opened his mouth to speak. Gawain, of course, chose that moment to make eye contact with him and smile. The words died in his suddenly very dry throat. His composure breaks just a touch with it. “Over sleep again?” “Uhm.” He sounded very dumb but Gawain just laughed. “The writing bug got you last night, then?” “Definitely.” He said sitting in the adjacent chair. Why wasn’t he getting his ass chewed?  “I apologize. I’ve wasted your time.” “Nonsense. It happens when one works in our business. I can edit just as well here as my office so I’ve been working. Besides, you're my only meeting today.” The editor said putting his laptop aside. “Did you bring the printed version for me?” “Just like you asked.” “Very good, go grab some coffee so you look like you could use it.”  Lancelot nodded and left the table as Gawain set to work with his pen. He wondered if the man knew how adorable he was with his face screwed up in concentration, pen resting idly against his very kissable lips. Lancelot rubbed his face. He really needed some caffeine. That was his editor. Nothing more. Despite his serious caffeine addiction, Lancelot did not drink coffee. Tea and energy drinks were his go to, and this being a coffee shop changed nothing. He ordered a hot extra strong, meaning very bitter, black tea. He couldn’t be bothered to care what kind, or brand, only that it was strong. He rubbed his numb fingers together in a poor attempt to regain blood flow. It stung when he was handed the almost too hot cup of tea. He lifted it to his lips and thought better of it. He did not need to scald his tongue and make a fool of himself. The embarrassment of being late was enough. Turning back towards the table he stopped. There was a young boy engaged in conversation with Gawain. He recognized him from the photos in his office. The office that they currently were not meeting in. He brushed the thought aside to be evaluated at a later time and worked his way back to the couple. “How much longer?” The boy asks as though it’s an innocent question. “You’ve got somewhere to be?” Gawain is far from moved by the question, eyes barely leaving the papers in front of him. “No, but I'm bored.” He stretches the “r” and lands hard on the “d”as if to emphasize his point. “You asked to come with me Percival.” And that must be Gawain's dad voice, because the man sounds about as done as done can be with this line of conversation. At least he assumes he's the boy's father. “I know. But really this place is bloody awful, it smells like burnt coffee.” If one's voice could sound like an eye roll that was definitely it. “Percival!” Even Lancelot straightens his spine at the stern tone. “Sorry.” He wants to laugh, the boy isn’t wrong so he bites his lip and smiles, tucking his nose back into his scarf. Quietly so as not to interrupt the conversation, but definitely noticed he sets his drink down and pulls his laptop out. They have a system, Gawain edits, he writes, then he makes those edits on the digital copy. But Gawain likes him to be present for the editing, which is why they go chapter by chapter. He promises that he will read it all at once when it's finished as a final edit and continuity check and that's good enough for Lance. He isn’t the editor after all.  Gawain sighs and it brings him from his thoughts. He looks up from the login screen he's been staring at. He should do that eventually. “Lancelot, this is Percival, Percival meet Lancelot.” “Nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand and the boy takes it politely. “You're sure this isn’t a date? Because you never meet people outside your office.”  Lancelot feels his face burn and pointedly doesn’t look at Gawain. That is definitely interesting knowledge to possess. The silence that follows lasts a beat or three to long. “I am technically working. And for the record Percival, dates don’t always occur by going out .  Now, we have work to do, so here is my laptop, you know the rules, fix your boredom.” The boy rolls his eyes and takes the offered electronic. “Sorry about that.” Gawain murmurs halfheartedly, eyes cast at the manuscript before him, pen twirling in his fingers, and face unmistakably flushed. “That's alright. He’s your son, right?” “Adopted, yes. His parents were good friends of mine.” “I’m sorry.” “Thank you. He seems to be adjusting well.” He tracks Gawain's gaze to the dirty blond boy and smiles. “He seems like a spit fire.” “He is. With a foul tongue at that.”  They share a laugh over it. Lancelot changes the subject after. He’s a little unsure where the boundaries are and decides to play it safe by speaking about work. “There's two chapters there… I managed a full chapter last night, and then some.” “That's impressive. How much sleep did you end up getting then?” “Uhm… I think four hours or so.”  He squirms under the scrutiny of Gawain's gaze, and withers at the deadpan admonishment that he receives. “It's a wonder your heart doesn’t give out, between your caffeine addiction and lack of sleep.” He nods. There isn’t an argument in his favor. Swallowing he starts again, “If we don’t get through it all that's fine. I just figured I would bring it since I have it.” “I’m grateful you did. One chapter never seems quiet enough. Reminds me of some of the stories I read online. I may be an editor, but I am highly impatient when it comes to stories I enjoy.” “Online, as in self published stuff? Or… fanfiction?”  Gawain tilts his head and smirks, “Both.” “Oh my god. Is that how you found me?”  He panics, heart racing in his chest as he thinks about everything he's ever posted. Maybe his pseudonyms hadn’t been different enough if Gawain had found him. Or maybe he hadn’t put it together that the Weeping Monk and The Gray Monk were the same writer. Even when he had self published he hadn’t had the courage to do so under his real name, more accustomed to running around with usernames and gamer tags. “You did self publish via Amazon. And I am always looking for good writers, Monk.” He wants to die. He can feel the burn of embarrassment spread up his neck and slither across his cheeks. He doesn’t know if Gawain knows but that doesn’t stop his brain from running down every possibility in 10 seconds flat. And if he didn’t put it together he sure as hell could now. He’d as good as admitted that he writes for fandoms. Gawain takes mercy on him and chuckles lightly before turning back to his work. Horrified, Lancelot takes a long drink from his still too hot, very bitter tea. Today has been insane and it's only 9:56. He needs to go back to bed. He licks his lips and turns to his laptop. He needs to write. He’s certain that if he can just bury himself in the world he has created for long enough the embarrassment and stray thoughts about asking Gawain out will leave him alone. With some effort he manages to zone out of the coffee shop around them, the sounds and smells fading into the background. His tea goes cold while he works. Patrons have begun flooding the shop for the lunch rush and he doesn't notice it, nor does he notice the muffin that's sitting beside him now. What he does notice is that his character's love interest is starting to resemble his own quiet vividly. Angrily he highlights the section and deletes it with a growl. Can’t have that. What would Gawain think? He has no idea what Gawain's preference is, and the other man hasn’t given much in the way of indication in the matter… not that Lancelot is great at picking up on it anyways. He starts the section over. He focuses on the click clack of his keyboard and writes Gavin slightly differently. It’s not working and he sighs defeated. He should really change the name too. This is his introduction chapter. Gawain hasn’t seen it. There's still time. He’s about to stand and stretch, take a drink of his tea and ask about Gawain's progress when all movement in Nemos stops. “ Why do they have a magic portal in the bathtub? ” Gawain's shocked tone is loud enough that he recoils away from it. He makes eye contact and sucks in a breath. Have Gawain's eyes always been this green? They are shiny with water. Was he going to cry? Laugh? Wait there was a question he was probably supposed to answer. “Uh, comedy? Magic?”  Gawain actually glares at him, and he takes a slow measured drink from very cold tea. That was apparently very much not the right answer. He swallows with difficulty, because how can those eyes be this distracting right now. He ignores the spike of arousal it sends down his spine. Nope. This is very much not the correct environment for this. He looks around the room casually. “Lancelot?” “I wrote myself into a corner and needed a convenient way for my protagonist to escape. It seemed clever when I wrote it. Apparently not.” He shrugs and turns back to his laptop. “I can fix it later, when I have more sleep in my system.” “I, no. I,” Gawain reaches across the table and grabs his wrist. He looks up at the man, hurt must be written on his face, because Gawain frowns at him. “I think it’s brilliant and very funny. I just was so unprepared for it. The rest of the book has been so serious and the magic has been all designed for the purposes of combat. I’m concerned you’ll need to go back and fix that or offer an explanation in the following chapters.— “ Gawain's hand is surprisingly calloused and very warm against his own inherently cool skin. He tries not to focus on the point of contact but can't help it. He desperately wants to turn his hand over and hold the others more correctly. He knows Gawain is telling him something important but he can't seem to get his mind to follow what's being said. The contact is a bit much, more than he has had in some time and he is loath to do anything that might break it; so, he nods hoping that it's sufficient for whatever Gawain has just asked. He knows his throat won't push out the air required for speech, even if he willed it with all his being. He tilts his head and licks his lips and gets lost in Gawain's gaze. He has no idea at all what is being said now and can’t seem to get his mind to focus. Percivals' voice is what finally gets his attention. The boy is all attitude when he speaks. “Not a date? You two look like you should be kissing each other senseless. Holding hands and all. You're so embarrassing Gawain. Can I have the power cord, it's been hours and the damn thing is going to die.” Slowly he comes back to himself and glances down at his arm. Gawain rubs his thumb over the skin on the back of his wrist, exposed from removing his jacket at some point, and then pulls away. “If you ask politely.”  Gawain says, unfazed save for the slight pink tinging his neck. “Fine, Can I please have the power cord for the laptop, Gawain?” The boy says rolling his eyes and giving a full body shrug. It’s not polite but Gawain's eyes are full of amusement as he digs in his bag for the cord. “Alright, here.” Gawain hands it over, from the depths of his bag. Gawain watches the boy go, and turns back ready to say something but Lancelot is quicker. “Whose muffin?” “Oh, huh, uh  yours if you want it. I got one for Percival and I a bit ago and figured you hadn’t eaten.” Gawain laughs out sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, you guessed correctly. Thank you.” He pulls the muffin closer with an awkward smile. “Don’t mention it. I was happy too. Though I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so I went with lemon. I thought it might compliment the tea.”  He follows the casual gesture with his eyes, and flicks them back to the others face. “It’s one of my preferences. You guessed correctly. You seem to be on a streak for that today.” “That’s good.” Gawain says with a wry smile, all his confidence seeming to leave in an instant. Lancelot frowns. He doesn’t think anything he said should have that kind of effect. He tears a piece off of the muffin and chews it slowly, noting the way Gawain tracks the movement. Feeling a little like prey under the others gaze he manages a weak, “You didn’t poison it did you. I mean if my writing is that bad…” He trails off as the other snorts. Good, this is better. He doesn’t like it when Gawain frowns; it doesn’t suit him at all, and he definitely has too many lines from doing it too often. Gawain shakes his head and smiles at him. “Nothing of the sort. I enjoy the eccentricities of it. I was just thinking…” “About?” He takes another bite to fill the silence, and again Gawain tracks the movement and suddenly Lancelot thinks that he wasn’t wrong about the times he glanced up and thought he’d been being watched. It had happened a lot in the office, but more today. “If I’m three for three.” “That depends on what you're guessing.”  He shrugs and takes a drink of tea, grimaces from the bitterness. Cold tea always seems more bitter to him than it does when it's hot. He waits patiently for Gawain to supply his guess. The man's face changes emotions several times in the process. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, frowning and then focusing, like a fish out of water. He’s finished both his muffin and his tea by the time Gawain finally say’s what it is he wants to say. “I’m guessing that if I asked you out you’d say yes.”  Gawain stares him down, and Lancelot for his part does not let his emotions get the better of him. He keeps his face stoic and posture rigid. “That depends.”  Gawain swallows and he follows the bob of his Adam's apple with hungry eyes. Lets them linger at Gawain's collar for a moment and then brings them slowly back to his eyes, lingering on his lips momentarily; predatory where before he had been prey. “On?” Gawain asks a waver in his voice. “If you’ll make me breakfast.”  No one said he was good at flirting. “I think I can arrange that. Someone has to make sure you eat more than caffeine and sugar.” Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Hmmm…. I think that depends on if you like me as a member of the undead or not.” “Being dead could have some, how shall we say, negative effects.” The suggestively raised eyebrow does it for Lancelot. He feels his composure fracture as he hangs his head and laughs. Any chance of continuing their work is gone with it, lost in the early afternoon chaos of their favorite coffee shop.

[shippeh]

Another RFC Submission - Tetsu Goes Out

(The ending is kind of abrupt, but I ran out of steam and I wanted to write another vignette after this where Mina gets to smell Tetsu for the first time but ILU and I hope you enjoy this)

When Tetsu goes out, he takes the shuttle. It takes them to the therapist, to “expeditions” where they learn and relearn skills like meal planning and grocery shopping, to temple or to tabernacle or to church, to approved meeting locations for interviews for those who are ready to graduate the program. Usually he takes the shuttle in a group, and sometimes it’s too loud and too crowded and he can’t scent or posture or make room for himself even though he’s not really supposed to scent or posture or make room for himself, and he hates it. But that’s how it is for him and the other fighters in the program, the ones that haven’t moved out to start living independently, or the one or two that have flunked out and disappeared.

  They aren’t supposed to talk about it like that, like graduation and flunking out. The counselors and guides keep reminding them. Everyone heals at their own pace, learns at their own pace, grows at their own pace. He hears, but it’s hard to believe he’s making progress when sometimes even a closed window is too much like a cage or he knows his rut’s coming up and he wants to crawl outside of his own skin before he touches anyone. 

  Tetsu’s not ready to graduate the program yet, not nearly. But he’s earned some privileges. He can go out without a counselor or a keeper to his therapy sessions now. He’s allowed to meet Kirishima at the coffee shop to study without any chaperones except the general public, and he hasn’t messed it up. He’s even managed to have a few small, slow, painfully stilted conversations with the pink haired bitch omega girl that works there when she drops off his iced latte. 

  He was stupidly proud of himself when he asked her if he could have less ice in his iced latte, because of his teeth, and he told his therapist about it later that day. Taishiro said it was okay to be proud of himself. Healing was nonlinear, and all that. Making polite requests was part of living independently. 

  He managed to say as much to Ashido as he did to Kirishima, now, when they studied. That still wasn’t much, but it was enough to learn that she was in college, that she was almost done her art degree, that she was fiercely defensive of Kirishima and her other coworkers.

  It was enough to learn that she had drawn him - studies, she said, practices in perspective - and before he could decide if he was upset or not, she left a page of her sketchbook with his drink before vanishing to restock the bakery case. 

  Tetsu hadn’t wanted to look at the sketches. He didn’t want to see himself, didn’t want to see how she saw him. One movie night they had watched a Disney movie, and Tetsu couldn’t make it through, too familiar with the self-loathing the Beast expressed. Who could ever love a Beast stand an alpha like him, all teeth and claws and scars and clumsy tongue?

  Kirishima saw too much. He always did. And instead of just telling him to look at the pictures, he mentioned, offhandedly, half an hour after she had placed the sketches down, how he had some of her sketches in his room, of him and the others, and even his plants, and how it was nice, sometimes, to see what other people saw. 

  He waited until Kirishima went to the restroom to look. 

  Tetsu didn’t know enough about art to know what she had done them in, some kind of extra thick pencil it looked like, but there were half a dozen Tetsus over the page, one from behind bent over a book. Ashido had carefully outlined the muscles in his back and his shoulders as he hunched low and reached for his latte. There were Tetsus in profile, a Tetsu with his head in his hands, a Tetsu looking up, not with a smile, but without a growl.

  Ashido hadn’t shied away from showing the scars on his neck or his arms or his lips, hadn’t hidden his teeth, and part of him ached to know that she saw them. But she had drawn more than that; the shadows in his hair and the light in his eyes and the life in his lungs were staring back at him. He looked different, so different, from the pictures they had taken after the ring was broken. In those, all Tetsu saw was a monster.

  In Ashido’s sketches, he could see a man. 

After that, Tetsu wanted to use some of his hard earned privileges. It had been almost three months since he had last launched himself at someone, six weeks since he growled and postured in group or in public, and he knew Taishiro would support him if he asked nicely and if he had a plan. 

  He was going to get Ashido a present. In return for the sketches, which he had passed on to his dad, who cried over them. 

  The art store was a little farther out than he expected.  It wasn’t one of his usual stops - the cafe, the Alpha gym that opened early especially for the ex-fighters, the dentist - but it was close enough to the temple that some of the others went to so that he could walk the rest of the way. Taishiro made him review his plan several times, the directions between the shuttle stop and the art supply store, and what time he had to be back, and what he should do if he got overwhelmed. 

  The best laid plans of mice and men usually get fucked up.

  The ride to the temple was fine. Shoji and the driver were the only other alphas in the bus, and Tetsu looked away and didn’t react when Shoji passed his seat.

  Walking to the art supply store was fine, too. It was a twelve minute walk, although it took Tetsu sixteen because of waiting for the crossing light and moving to the side to let people pass when they walked too close behind him.

  Finding something for Ashido …  that’s when things began to go wrong. 

  For one thing, Tetsu didn’t actually know anything about art. He knew that Ashido drew in pencil, and Kirishima had mentioned her spilling ink all over the couch, and he had heard her mention things about sculpting, but what kind of paper did she use? There were literal aisles of sketch pads and paper packs with slight variations of white and strings of letters and numbers that Tetsu had no understanding of. The pencils were almost as bad - there were pencils in individual cubby holes and pencils in tins and packs of pencils for sketching, and there were charcoals and pastels. He took one look at all the little wires and sticks that were supposed to be sculpting tools and turned around. 

  The other part was that everything seemed so expensive. Could a pack of colored pencils really cost that much?

  This had been a stupid idea. 

  The goth omega that was stocking shelves spoke up when Testu growled to himself.

  “Do you need something that’s not on the shelves? We can special order it if you don’t see it.”

  Fuck. Now he had to talk. He hated talking to people. And he hadn’t practiced like he had the hello and good bye and thank you he would need at check out. 

  “No - itsh -” G-ddamnit he sounded drunk.  He needed to talk more. “Itsh a thank you gift, and - I don’t know what she wantsh.”

  The omega was nodded like he had some kind of inner knowledge of gift giving. 

  “The labyrinth of gift giving can suck anyone into the black mire of despair. What kind of stuff does she make?”

  “Uh, she drawsh - drawz - uh, in pensh - pen-cil. And shometimes, I think, doesh - does - a lot of little doodles, in pen? But I don’t know the brand.”

  “Strictly black and white or does she do color as well?”

  “I’m not shure, but - her hair’s pink? And she wearsh a lot of bright makeup.”

  “Pink hair, loud makeup. A familiar sight. You aren’t talking about Ashido, are you?”

  Struck dumb, Tetsu nodded.

  “Wonders will never cease. I know exactly what you should get her. She’s been drooling over this set for weeks. She’s waxed poetic about the blends, talks to the pencils like a lover.”

  That was when the first mistake happened. The omega got a little too close and Testsu didn’t like the idea of Ashido talking to the clerk - talking to anyone else - anyone else - talking to pencils - anyone hearing Ashido talk like that. 

  The omega backed up, startled, and glanced toward the front of the store. 

  “Wait, no - shorry, I just - sh- sorry. Sorry. Which pack wash she looking at?”

  Tetsu backed up to give the omega room and ducked his head, keeping his hands down. Taishiro called it reverse-posturing, trying to look less intimidating and take up less space. The omega paused before coming closer, than reached to the top shelf and handed him a box of Tomo Irojiten pencils. 

  “This one has the flourescents. It’s a cornucopia of colors for her.”

  Tetsu looked between the box and the price tag. He would be short almost 1000 yen with this.

  “Maybe, uh, a shmaller box? It’sh, a, just a thank you gift.”

  “There’s a 20% first time shopper coupon, if you want to use it. We’ve got a stack of ‘em up front. Come on.”

  Tetsu allowed himself to be led to the front, where the clerk - his tag, handdrawn in black and silver, said ‘Tokoyami’ - rung the pencils in and scanned the coupon.

“Hey, Kouda! Can you gift wrap this? It’s for Ashido.”

  Another omega - tall and silent - wrapped the pencil box in striped paper and put it in the shopping bag as Tokoyami counted out his change. 

  With one hurdle down, Tetsu felt good. It hadn’t gone perfectly, but he got it. 

  He still had extra time before the shuttle came back. 

  And he liked the iced lattes Ashido got him.

  He could stop and get something to drink. 

  It wasn’t until he was ordering in the busy cafe that he remembered he had spent all of his money, and he stumbled over his words as tried to apologize and cancel his order, but the shop was busy and the line behind him wasn’t patient and there were already more people just in line then there ever were at Kirishima’s cafe and his nerves were fraying. The victory of finding Ashido a good present was not enough to keep his spirits up. 

  “Come on, dude, hurry up!”

  “G-d, I’ll pay for him, just let’s go! It’s hot out here!”

  “Get out of the fuckin’ line, mush mouth!” 

With the command, the alpha behind him shoved his shoulder and Tetsu’s control snapped. 

He didn’t want to think about it. The alpha that shoved him had gone down, bloody and fast, and the cops were called to drag a hissing and spitting Tetsu into the squad car from a cafe that stank of fear and aggression. 

  Ashido’s pencils had gotten broken in the fight, and Tetsu held them to his chest as he very deliberately didn’t cry. 

------

BY @mtorolite WHO IS LIKE NOW OFFICIALLY THE OFFICIAL AUTHOR OF RFC MINATETSU

AND THE SAD ENDING IM,,,,,,,,,, OUCH WOW THIS IS SO CUTE AND GOOD TAHKN YODFU ASDFHASFA

[adhdtoomanycommas]

Emotional Abuse and ADHD

Ok, first real post on the ADHD sideblog, so lets dive straight into the heavy stuff.   TW/CW for emotional abuse, gaslighting, and probably some other things too (please feel free to let me know if I should add additional tags).

I had trouble sleeping last night because my brain kept insisting I needed to start this blog, like immediately, despite it being clearly not an opportune time to do anything of the sort. Or at least, it insisted, I needed to jot down all the essay/ramble/whatever topic ideas I had complicated thoughts on so I could start the blog today. I managed to resist doing both of those things, and get to sleep eventually, but here I am.  The first topic that brought this on was wanting to talk about my experience in an emotionally abusive relationship and how many aspects of that were exacerbated by various symptoms of my (then undiagnosed) ADHD. 

I’m going to assume a certain amount of baseline familiarity with some terminology and whatnot here, if you’re confused by any of the ADHD terms I use here I recommend heading over to theadhdmanual.com and reading their very helpful “three pillars” articles which do a great job of explaining Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) and emotional hyperarrousal (also elsewhere called emotional disregulation, I’ll be using both terms interchangably but won’t be abbreviating the latter for hopefully obvious reasons).  On the emotional abuse terminology front, there’s a couple great articles on gaslighting on everydayfeminism.com that I recommend seeking out. 

It is possible I am slightly stalling here by providing all this context.

At this point damn near ten years ago, for most of my senior year of college and for a good few months afterwards (I don’t remember how long exactly since adhd brains suck at timelines and I don’t feel like logicing it out right now) I was in what I later realized (with help from the aforementioned everydayfeminism articles) was an emotionally abusive relationship.  My then-boyfriend, who I will call Al, was insecure and jealous. I had more sexual experience than him going into the relationship, and he used that as an excuse to guilt-trip, manipulate, and ultimately control me.  I realize now, that the primary weapon he would use against me was my own RSD. 

Whenever I did something that upset Al, (typical infractions included things like accidentally mentioning one of my exes, correcting him about something,  “flirting with” --read: talking to-- any of my friends who were more my friend than his, or singing along to music) he would generally make his displeasure known by ignoring me--withdrawing all physical affection, coupled with the silent treatment.  If you’re familiar with RSD, you can already guess how effective this was.  If you’re not, then for comparison you should know that ADHD people can spiral very quickly into completely irrational “they hate me, don’t they?” thought spiral from something as small as a delayed text.  Al would almost never tell me what I did to upset him, and in my guilt-spiral I would usually tearfully beg forgiveness for everything I could think of until I guessed correctly and/or he arbitrarily decided I’d had enough. 

As an aside,  he would often do this silent treatment toward me in public while being perfectly cheerful and whatnot with our other friends, often making it seem to others like he was just joking or messing with me. On one memorable occasion he refused to say anything to me but the word “spoon” with varying inflections for the better part of a day--a pretty skillful gaslight because to everyone else around this just seemed like goofy ol’ Al being his silly self, but from context I knew this was part of a punishment, and I couldn’t express any kind of being upset about this, even annoyance, without looking like I was overreacting to a dumb joke.

Ultimately much of what he actually did (or didn’t do) in public didn’t look like much to an outside observer, but he knew my (RSD fueled) insecurity would make it hurt, especially when I wouldn’t be able to address anything with him until we were in private later. 

Also (and I intend to write a whole different post about this later) my particular brand of emotional disregulation takes the form of crying extremely easily.  I cry when I’m sad, when I’m tired, when I’m happy, when I see something too cute to handle, and (most importantly, in this instance) when I’m angry.  Because of this, every time I tried to address some relationship concern I had with him, whenever I tried to call out some of his shitty behavior or bring attention to my own emotional needs, it was extremely difficult--nigh impossible--to do so without crying.  This gave him a massive amount of gaslighting ammunition--it made it very easy for him to say I was overreacting, overemotional, irrational, trying to manipulate him, et cetera.   And it was hard to defend myself against that, even to myself. After all, lacking the ADHD diagnosis and resources about emotional disregulation that I have now, I had pretty much internalized the idea that I’m just “oversensitive” when it comes to crying, so I rationalized that I was also being oversensitive about whatever concern I started with in the first place. So every time a conversation started with me telling him he hurt me some way, it inevitably ended with me apologizing to him instead of the other way around.

Just to add to the already nasty cycle, Al also considered crying over something he didn’t deem worth crying over a punishable offense, so it often triggered the previously discussed silent treatment. 

A third aspect of ADHD I haven’t discussed yet also played a major part in how I was abused--Memory.  I don’t have a good resource to link on this one (I’m pretty sure there are some good howtoadhd videos on it on youtube but I’m not going to go dig for them right now), but ADHD people, on the whole, have terrible memories, especially short term/working memory.  Mine in particular might be even worse for some kinds of things  for unrelated reasons (aphantasia, which I might write about later but this is already really long and it’s not actually that relevant here).

Al was perpetually convinced that I was cheating on him, and any time we were apart he would quiz me afterwards on where exactly I was, what I did, for how long, and in what order.  Any inconsistency in my account, or any “I don’t remember”s would mean he would accuse me of lying about the whole thing.  I am pretty sure I have in common with most ADHD people that between time blindness and bad working memories, giving a consistent and accurate account like that is basically impossible, so this rarely went well for me.  Just to further complicate matters, being accused of lying when I’m not is practically guaranteed to make me cry, and trying to keep from crying (to avoid angering him further) means I swallow a lot, and somewhere Al had heard that excessive swallowing is a sign that someone is lying, so again these various ADHD symptoms would combine to just make everything worse.  

 I eventually got out of that relationship, and not too long afterwards got together with my now-husband, who is wonderful, so that’s a happy ending. Getting diagnosed with ADHD a few months ago, learning about these symptoms, and figuring all this out has made this make much more sense to me than before.   But in addition to my ADHD symptoms making me more vulnerable to these emotional abuse tactics,  I’m pretty sure the leftover baggage from the emotional abuse may have made those very same ADHD symptoms worse, and while my new meds seem to help immensely with the executive disfunction aspects of ADHD, they don’t do a damn thing about RSD spirals or emotional disregulation.  Healing and processing it all is slow going, but it has gotten a lot better over the years, and knowing now that even another aspect of this isn’t my fault helps too.  And taking my meds today did help me motivate myself to write all this out, so maybe that will help as well. 

I’m not sure what the takeaway is here, other than I strongly suggest everyone learn what gaslighting and emotional abuse in general looks like, but especially if you have ADHD or suspect you might have ADHD because we might be more vulnerable to being on the receiving end of it than most people.  If anything I talked about here sounds a little too familiar, I strongly recommend reading up on gaslighting, and consider getting the heck away from anyone who sounds too much like Al.  Maybe us ADHDers will inevitably get into some nasty thought-spirals or bad emotional places sometimes, maybe we’ll cry over nothing or worry too much that something we said will make everyone hate us, but if anyone tries to use any of that against you, uses it to get you to do what they want, or intentionally makes you feel worse, they’re not someone worth being around, and I promise you deserve better.

Not sure if anyone will read this, much less any fellow ADHDers because yeah, it’s a big ol’ wall of text and I get that can be hard, but if you made it this far, thanks for listening and I’ll try to go not quite so heavy with my next post, (assuming, of course, that I have a next post and this blog doesn’t become yet another started-and-abandoned project).

That’s all for now.

[eiloh-dystonic]

Movie Night with the Mothman

Pairing: indruck

Words: 2,228

Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, anxiety, dissociation, first kiss

Summary: Indrid has been having a hard time not dwelling on a particularly bad vision.

luckly duck knows just how to help

With bad movies!!

***

Duck would consider Indrid a friend. They had gotten fairly close after things settled down with the latest abomination. At first, Duck found Indrid unnerving, but after all the shit he's been through lately, he's beginning to find Indrids more pleasant brand of creepy, somewhat comforting.

They had actually gotten close enough that they were actually beginning to make late night conversations and hang outs a regular thing. This is why Duck started feeling uneasy when the clock hit midnight and his landline was still silent. It was Friday night, and Indrid always called around 10:30 on Friday nights, just when he new Duck would be free and open to talking.

12:30 hit and Duck was really starting to worry now. He’s gotten pretty used to their little routine by now and it rarely ever deviated.     

What could be holding Indrid up this badly? It was probably just something dumb, right? Like he got held up at the store buying nog, or….or. He would call if something happened, right? Unless he couldn't call! Oh god, Where is he? What could have happened to him? Is he hurt?

Duck quickly fumbled for his phone and punched in the number, desperate for anything to ease his racing thought. He started pacing about his bedroom as the dial tone stretched on longer and longer. Why isn't he picking up? Jesus, something must be wrong! So so so so wrong! Was the next abomination early? Did stern find him out?

Then duck hears a click. And then a voice.

“Hello, duck,” Indrids pleasant tone parted the frantic sea of thoughts flooding Duck's mind and he let out a deep breath.

“Jesus, Indrid! You scared the shit out of me!” Duck blurted out just as Indrid said “sorry for scaring you, Duck.”

“Fuck, nah, it’s fine, ‘was just worried about ya ‘drid.”

“That's… entirely understandable. I really do apologize, though. I seem to have… lost track of time. What time is it now?” and then a short pause, “woah! 12:42?”

Now with a slightly clearer head, Duck noticed a telltale waver in Indrids voice.

“Yeah, man, it’s late. Hey, are you ok over there though, bud? You sounded kinda nervous.” There was the sound of paper rustling, and then a long silence and a sigh.

“Quite frankly duck, I’ve been a bit…distracted lately. There’s been as particularly nasty future that’s been sticking in the forefront of my mind.” Indrid eventually said.

“Well shit, must be pretty bad is if it kept ya distracted so long. You wanna talk about it? maybe?” Duck said, trying not let his own nerves taint his comforting tone.

“I would…prefer not to focus on it more than have to.” Indrid out his guard down slightly, and a bit more of his nerves seeped into his voice. “Its not even a likely future… only about a one in fourteen million chance” he let out another shakey breath. “This one has just been particularly… unpleasant. And stubborn.”

“Do you want me to distract ya?” duck blurted out before he really had to think about it. It just seemed like what he would want if he were in Indrid’s shoes. Hell, he has been in Indrid's shoes and that was what he had wanted.

Duck heard the slight rustling on the other end of the phone, while he waited for Indrid to respond. Eventually he spoke gain, a bit softer than his usual tone.

“That would be nice, Duck.” Another rustling. “Did you have anything specific in mind?”

The realization that he had absolutely no plan hit Duck like a truck. “Uuhhh….uh, shit! Give me a sec.”

Indrid laughed softly at Ducks plight. At least he's managing to brake the tension a little bit.

After a few more minutes of Duck’s stuttering and swearing, he finally thought of something. “Hey, do you happen to have a t.v.?”

Indrid silenced his giggling and spoke, “yes I do, it’s old but it does its job. Why do y-"

“Cool! Ok good I can work with that!” Duck nearly yelled out, cutting Indrid off. He slammed the phone back down on the receiver, and confident matched directly into his kitchen. He opened a cabinet, grabbed a large bowl, and started gathering up snacks. A few bags of microwave popcorn, a bag of chips, some gummy bears. He quickly grabbed some of the dumbest movies he owned. After making a quick stop at his closet to gather up as many spare blankets as he could, and stumbled out the door, giving Chicken a few Pat’s on the way out. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his pajamas, and desperately hoped Leo didn’t see him fumbling down the stairs covered in blankets with his arms full of food.

***

The drive up to the Eastwood camp ground an RV park went by in a flash. Duck was on a mission and he wasn't going to let anything stop him

That was, until he actually got out of his truck and started walking up to Indrid’s winnebago. He stopped just short of the door and froze. He hadn’t even told Indrid he was coming. What if he didn’t want him here? Was this invasive? He should have just kept his distance. This was a stupid idea anyway. He should just go home.

Then the door to the winnebago swung open, Indrid stood in the door way. Welp, there's  no going back now.

A nervous smile spread across Duck's face as he shook the snack bowl a bit for emphasis. “Movie night?” they said in tandem before erupting into a fit of giggles and snorts.

After a good few moments of laughter Duck caught his breath and spoke. “God, this is dumb ain’t it? Just stopn' by and bein' like ‘ya wanna watch some Adam Sandler movies?’”

“I think it’s just the right amount of ridiculous, Duck. Although, we really should go inside. It’s a bit cold out tonight.”

“Oh shit, yeah! Sorry. Oh and I almost forgot!” Duck squeezed past Indrid to get inside the winnebago, passing him the large mound of blankets as he went by. “I thought these might help.” Indrid closed the door and immediately started draping the blankets over his own shoulders. He looked like a walking burrito, but like in a cute way.

Duck noticed that Indrid’s home was a bit messier than usual, but it was obvious that he had made an effort to clean up last minute before he showed up. Cloths and garbage on the floor had been pushed into a pile in the corner, dishes haphazardly tossed into the sink, and trash bin practically overflowing. For the most part, he was getting better about stuff like this. It was worrying that he apparently hadn't been able to keep it up lately.

“Why don't ya pick a movie and get it ready while I microwave us some popcorn? Indrid?” He just started straight ahead, almost through Duck.

Duck waited patiently a few more seconds to see if he would respond. When Indrid started shaking slightly, he gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He startled to attention and promptly started apologizing.

“Hey, no. You got nothing to be apologizing about, ok?” He squeezed Indrid’s shoulder softly. He let out a tired sigh and placed a hand over Duck's own. “now why don’t we get this movie going?”

***

Duck took the last bag of popcorn out of the microwave and poured it out into the large bowl on the countertop. He poured a couple glasses of eggnog and tossed the bags of candy and chips over to the couch, before heading over there himself. Indrid was still crouched in front of the t.v., trying to get the movie to play, when he sat down. He shoved some popcorn into his mouth until he heard the t.v. come to life saw indrid stand up

“Paul Blart?” Duck said, holding back a laugh.

“It was at the top of the stack,” Indrid said, as he sat next to Duck, pulled his knees to his chest, and tightened his hold on his shrouded of blankets. He was hyper aware of how close they were now. “And you where the one who brought it in the first place.”

“Hey don’t Blart shame me!” Indrid snickered at that. He grabbed a glass of eggnog and settled back into the couch as the movie began to play.

***

They were about a third of the way through their second movie now, and they popcorn was long gone. Indrid had also eaten nearly the entire bag of gummy bears, and an empty eggnog carton laid abandoned on the floor.

Duck turned to Indrid to make a snide comment about the special effects of the movie, when he noticed that he wasn’t looking at the screen.

“Hey, Indrid? You with me bud?” He frowned at the lack of response. He quietly scooted closer to him on the couch, careful not to startle him again. “I’m gonna touch you now, ok?” He scooted even closer, and tentatively reached his arms around him.

Indrid relaxed slightly in his arms, but he still didn’t seem to be fully present. Duck started rubbing gentle circles on his back. “Hey, it’s ok. You're here, in the present, with me. That future isn't gonna happen ok, everything's gonna be fine.” Eventually, Indrid's arm raised up to cling to Duck's torso. He fully turned around to press his face into the crook of Duck’s neck. It wasn’t until a small wet spot started to seep through his shirt that Duck realized Indrid had been crying.

“Shhhhh, its ok,” Duck said as he brought his hand up to run his hand through Indrid's hair. He relaxed into his touch and sniffled a little. “I also brought Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2…”

Indrid snorted into Duck's shoulder and tightened his grip. “Its…such a bad movie…”

“Shhhh, I know, and I love it.” Duck was starting to laugh now too. He leaned forward to nuzzle closer in to Indrid. “You doin’ a bit better?” he whispered.

“yeah…I think so" Indrid said without lifting his head

“Fuck, these visions really have been persistent, huh?”

“Mhm" he nodded slightly and tightened his grip on Duck again.

He pulled back slightly and  brought a hand up to cup Indrids cheek. He guides his face up so they could make eye contact. Well, as closes as they could get to eye contact through Indrid's glasses. “I’m here for you ‘drid. If this starts getting bad again just tell me. You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit alone.”

Indrid’s face started feeling hot when he realized how close he was to Duck's own. He nodded again, mouth slightly agape. He felt himself subconsciously lean forward, and Duck met him the rest of the way.

Before Duck could even think about it, he had already pressed his lips to Indrid's. It just felt right. Like it was just the natural progression of things. They kissed softly, and neither of them were in the mindset to wrestle with the full implications of that just yet, but it didn’t matter. They were kissing, and it made Indrid's visions melt away for a brief moment before his mind flooded again. This time with visions of hope, of comfort, of caring, …of love.

Indrid pulled back slightly and the widest smile he made all night spread across his face.

“You’re grinning like an idiot,” Duck muttered light heartedly. He rubbed his thumb gently over his cheek, and Indrid leaned into the touch.

“So are you!" he said as credits began to roll on the t.v.

“We're just a couple of old saps, huh?” Indrid leans back in to hug Duck again, and hums an affirmative.

“Hey Duck?” he said softly into his ear.

“Yeah ‘drid?”

“Could you…perhaps…stay here tonight?”  Indrid said meekly.

“Well, yeah. Of course, Indrid.” He pressed another gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Besides…we still got the live action Cat in the Hat movie to watch!”

“Oh no!!” Indrid sat up and screamed in mock horror. “anything but that! The cat with haunt my dreams!” Be could barely make it through the bit ducks giggles and his own.

They let their laughter drag on for a few more minutes, before eventually catching their breath, before getting everything ready for the next movie. Indrid got up to place the disk in the DVD player while Duck commandeer all of his blankets. He was almost upset before Duck opened his arms and pestered for him to join him under the blankets. He happily curled up at Ducks side, practically in his lap, and waited for the movie to start. Duck wrapped his arms back around him and rested his head closer to Indrid's.

They only made is a little over half way through the movie before Indrid started dozing off. Duck gently pulled them both down so they laying lengthwise on the couch, with Indrid on top of him. He pressed one last sleepy kiss to Ducks cheek before nuzzling into his chest and falling asleep. Duck spent a few more moments watching Indrid sleep and playing with his hair before he to was out cold

Ok yeah, maybe Duck considered Indrid a bit more than a friend.

[itsreigns]

Work For It

Sheamus x Reader

Requested by @xfirespritex​

Sheamus meets (Y/N) at an open tryout for WWE and he is really interested but doesn’t make a move or anything. He can’t stop thinking about her. One day he goes to the PC and she’s working out there, because she was given a developmental contract in NXT.

(A/N): This is almost 2k! Damn. Please, let me know what you think. Leave comments, constructive criticism, or more ideas or even if you another part, on my inbox. I’ll definitely appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this fic. If you want to get tagged let me know. (I just deleted this ugh so I have to repost it...)

Tag Squad:

@xfirespritex | @hardcorewwetrash | @shadow-of-wonder | @oreillyskyle | @crazyprettychick | @wwe-smutfics | @heelsamizayn | @heygargano | @helluvawriter | @tryingtofindaplaceinthisworld | @damnbuvky | @caramara3 |

With a duffel bag resting on his pale shoulder and the hot Floridian sun beating down on his back, Sheamus made his way to the entrance of the Performance Center. He stopped in his tracks once his eyes landed on you.

Sheamus didn’t recognize you, so you surely were at the PC for the open tryout, and you were… stunning. At least for him, you were.

For a few seconds, he studied you.

You stood there, with your dark brown hair tight in a ponytail, completely caught up in a conversation with another woman. Your big brown eyes sparkled as you laughed at something the woman said.

You were definitely something special, Sheamus thought. He couldn’t quite come up with a specific explanation as to how or why he was completely drawn to this woman… only that he was.

Suddenly, your gaze moved, landing on him, and your eyes met. Sheamus felt like a deer in headlights. He quickly averted his gaze and walked towards the locker room, feeling his face blush.

You shrugged it off. Slightly. Because it somehow caused a twisted feeling on your stomach.

You know Sheamus. Well, not personally, you just know the character he plays. And you love it. Still, you were always curious to know how he is behind the spotlight and the cameras.

You’re very attracted to the man, physically. Not the persona, but the man behind it. The way he wore his hair, down and natural, as it was just now… his beard… the way he just is a simple and laidback guy, wearing comfy clothes and laying low. Yeah, he was your type.

You snap out of your thoughts, suddenly realizing you’ve completely zoned out of the conversation for a couple of seconds.

----

The tryout had gone out pretty well. After the individual presentations, the group was distributed through some of the WWE wrestlers. You and three other girls ended up with Cesaro. So currently, you were just doing a small briefing with him and the girls.

When you’re done, you and Cesaro walk down to the locker room together, the other girls staying behind you, chatting. The walk was quiet, and you were slightly lost in thought. But suddenly, Cesaro’s voice snap you out of it.

“(Y/N), hello? Hey? You in there?” He snaps his long fingers in front of your face, chuckling. You finally face him, your cheeks tinted with a slight blush, worsening when you notice Sheamus standing beside him. “Now that you’re back on Earth, as I was saying, (Y/N), this is Sheamus. Sheamus, this is (Y/N).”

There’s a few seconds of awkward silence. You and Sheamus are both blushing, fidgeting nervously, as Cesaro looks between the both of you, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you… (Y/N).” Sheamus finally says, his voice rougher than what you were used to from TV, and Jesus Christ, the way he said your name… his goddamn accent.

Your heart is beating madly in your chest, and you could swear your legs turned to jelly.

“I- Hm, it’s nice to meet you too.” You mumble, feeling your face hot as a tomato.

The awkward silence turned into uncomfortable, and Cesaro really didn’t understand what was going on, but he definitely intended on asking Sheamus about it.

“Oookay.” Cesaro exhales deeply. “We’ll talk soon, (Y/N). See ya.”

“See ya.” You reply, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your gaze locked with Sheamus’ briefly, before they head to the locker room, leaving you in the middle of the hall, heart and mind racing, watching them walk away.

----

Fifteen minutes later, in the men’s locker room…

“Man, what the hell was that all about?” Cesaro shoots, as Sheamus dried himself off, after taking a shower.

Sheamus stops his motions to face him. “That what?” He shrugs it off.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cesaro looks at him, well-knowingly that he’s hiding something from him. “Ok, fine. I guess you’ll tell me about her when you’re ready.”

Sheamus briefly glances at Cesaro, but didn’t say anything else.

A month after that day, Cesaro was definitely proven right. As he knew he would.

“I knew it. I so knew it.”

“Stop, man.” Sheamus pleads, maintaining his attention on packing his suitcase.

“Nope. Not until you tell me all about it.” He grins, sitting at the bottom of the bed, looking down at Sheamus, who’s sitting at the carpet, packing his stuff.

“There’s nothing to tell, brother… I just liked her.” He shrugs, taking a second to look at Cesaro.

“Pfff… you just liked her? Really? That’s all you’re going to say?” Cesaro shakes his head in disbelief. “Man, I know what I saw. You were nervous as fuck back then, all blushing… You didn’t just like her.”

“Gah, Jesus Christ! I don’t know either, man!” Sheamus shoots, finally placing his whole attention on the conversation. “I just saw her and… I don’t know. There was something about her. I can’t explain… I just feel it. And I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“That’s so romantic.” Cesaro smiles widely, in a lovey-dovey manner.

“See? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” Sheamus scoffs, both sad and angry.

“I was kidding, man… I think that was a sign. Stuff happens for a reason. Fate. Destiny.” He says, standing up and patting his back. “You should ask her out. See where it goes.”

“That’s if she wants anything to do with me… I mean, she’s like what… 30? And I’m close to be an old fucker…” He mumbles, as Cesaro frowns after hearing his buddy putting himself down this way. “She deserves better. She probably wants better.”

“Are you fucking stupid, man? Didn’t you see that she looked exactly like you did when you two met? Jeez, you gotta be blind.”

“Don’t bother… I’m not going to see her again anyway, so…”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Cesaro mutters, but Sheamus catches up on what he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Sheamus was still suspicious with what his friend had said, but decided to ignore it. He knows that the odds of running into you again are very low.

----

It’s been two months since your awkward encounter. During this time, you’ve gotten yourself a brand new WWE contract, and you couldn’t be happier. It’s a developmental contract in NXT, so you spent a lot of time working out and training at the PC lately.

Not many people know yet. You only told your family, Cesaro, and a couple of friends from the roster. You didn’t want to make a big buzz about it. You’re still in training and working on your character, so you want to work your ass off and let things flow. That way, when you debut, it’ll be a complete surprise.

Today, you thought it would just another day in the PC. But soon after arriving, you were proven wrong.

You’re doing some weights when you start feeling observed. So you stop your motions, and look behind you.

Only to find Sheamus in the exact same spot, with the exact same look on his face, just like two months ago. Surprisingly though, after a couple of seconds, and after an awkward stare down, he walks up to you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks somewhat nervously.

“Uh… hello to you too.” You mumble, gazing down at your feet. “I’m working out…”

“Yeah, I noticed… but why here?” You can tell he had absolutely no clue you’d be here. He looks distressed, nervous, but a lot surprised too. Maybe he secretly hates you. It sure does look like it.

“I, uh… I got a developmental contract, so yeah, I’m working out here.”

“Wait, you were hired?”

“Yep.”

“That son of a bitch…” He mutters, thinking about Cesaro and how he never mentioned you getting a contract, and also how he tricked him into going to the PC because it’d be  a ‘calmer place’. Unfortunately, you can’t quite figure out what he said. “Well, congratulations.” He adds, simply.

“Thanks…” You sigh. Then, you try to contain yourself but you just couldn’t. “I’m sorry if I bother you. You don’t have to put up with me. I’ll just stay over here, quiet in my corner.”

Sheamus mentally punched himself in the face a thousand times when those words left your lips.

“You don’t bother me. I mean, you do. But not bother bother, you know. Well, uh, I-” He’s rambling, but stops for a few seconds to gather his thoughts when he sees your brows furrowed in confusion. “You do bother me, but in a different way… a good one.”

“Is there a good way to bother someone?”

For the first time, he looked at you right in the eye.

You honestly don’t know how long you stood there just looking at each other… just taking each other in properly. It’s Sheamus’ voice in a smooth, gentle tone that snaps you out of it.

“Shit, she really is beautiful.” He whispers, but you knew you weren’t meant to hear it.

“W-what?”

“Fuck. I said that shit out loud, didn’t I?” You nod, as you notice the blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I mean, you are beautiful. At least I think you are beautiful. I just didn’t mean to say it out loud, you know, because it’s probably creepy that I just said that to you and-“

“Hey, stop.” You place the palm of your hand over chest as you speak. “It’s ok.” He somehow looked more relaxed after that small gesture. “I appreciated it, thank you. And for the record, I think you’re beautiful too.”

“Ha, beautiful. That’s the first time I’m hearing that one. Well, second, but my mom doesn’t count.” He jokes, followed by a genuine, light chuckle.

“Maybe you haven’t heard it, but it’s still true.” You smile gently, watching as his face grew serious. He looked intently at you, as if studying you, your features.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, grab some coffee with me?” He offers, scratching the back of his neck, nervously. “Only if you want, of course. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I understand, it’s-“

“I’d love to.” You cut his rambles off once again, smiling widely.

“Really?” His face was still serious, and it genuinely broke your heart to see that he actually doubted that you’d agree to go out with him so easily.

“Really. I’d absolutely love it.”

“Ok, then… we’re set.”

“I’ll give you my number, so we can arrange the time and place.”

The smile on his face is so genuine and wide, it made your heart flutter in your chest. You watched as he typed his number down on your phone. He looked lighter, happier. You don’t know why, but something about him told you that this man would be a very big part of your life.

You texted Sheamus that night, you just couldn’t stop yourself. And he replied. So sweetly.

It’s been almost a month since that day, and you’ve texted back and forth every day, and about everything. You’ve became really close. But that coffee date hasn’t happened yet.

But tonight... tonight, the text you were longing for, finally arrives.

“Tomorrow, coffee? I’ll pick you up at 8.”

PART 2???? Also, wanna get tagged? Let me know.

[measuringlife]

Measuring Me: Buuuut After This Week Things Will Slow Down a Bit

Week of August 4: My Birthday!  And Bad News

Lots of celebrations including friend visiting from all over the place. I get a call while at the African American History Museum while touring with dear friends and their baby who are in from Boston that my Mom is in the hospital with a broken hip. Kept birthday festivities scheduled as planned, including Jazz in the Garden with a wonderful crowd of friends who made me feel so supported and loved.

Week of August 11: Long Island NY - Round 1

I flew up to NY on Sunday night towards the tail end of my Boston's friends trip. It was grueling deciding if I should rush up there or not, but looking back I made the right decision. I couldn't handle all the business I needed to handle until Monday anyway. It was a flurry of hospitals, rehabs, doctors, etc. There was also going into my Mom's house after having not been inside for close to 2 years. My sister and I who had a falling out in the spring, made amends and were off to the races. Banks, respite housing, lawyers, notaries, a lot was handled in a short bit of time. Let's not forget I flew back to DC on Wednesday with a new addition, my mom's 4-year-old Chorkie (Chihuahua/Yorkie), Louie is ours indefinitely. 

Week of August 18: Fall Welcome Events, and Senior Living Tours

When I wasn't running 3 large orientations, onboarding a new grad student, supporting other major Welcome/Back to school events I was researching and email independent senior living communities near-ish me. Mom was surprisingly agreeable to not go back to the house she's lived in for 40 years and move down to be near me. However, finding the right spot was a multistep task. I wound up visiting 3 places this week and 2 more places the next. I also squeezed in a Hanson concert, and ACA meeting, a 90-minute massage as well as a mani/pedi this week. I've learned I need to take care of me before I can take care of anyone else!

Week of August 25: Grad classes, Vet visits, Musicals, Wedding calls, More Senior Living Tours, and back up to NY

This week was the first work of classes where I work, which was also the first week of classes for me as a brand new grad student! I had 2 classes, one Wed and one Thurs from 5:30pm-8pm. I actually had to race out of my first class which thankfully let out a little early to uber to the Kennedy Center to see am 8pm performance of Dear Evan Hansen - it was amazing! I also visited the last 2 senior living options for mom that week and had 2 Lisbon-based wedding planner calls. One planner was great, but her price tag was steep. One planner was rude and made me feel dumb. I had a wedding planning meltdown, but had a good chat with my dear friend SC who helped me re-group. I've been building (and will continue to build) a nice pot of wedding/honeymoon money. However, when I think about all the side hustles and sacrifices I've made for a lot of this money I don't want to blow it on "a party" that usually has more bells and whistles than we are interested in. So I'm hoping to plan a celebration vacation with loved ones and I'm working with a travel agent friend of mine. I spent Labor Day weekend back in NY, this time I drove - I left as the sun rose on Saturday morning and had a full weekend of bank nonsense, errands, got Mom settled in her "respite" stay at an assisted living community, went over senior living options with Mom, and going through my childhood bedroom - including my sister and I wearing our prom dresses. We took Freddie off all his meds because he health has not been improving and it seems the meds were only making him feel sicker - the change has actually seemed to help outwardly, but still super stressful. Also, poor Louie got neutered this week and was in a cone of shame for 2 weeks!

Week of September 1: NY, Grad School, Hiking, and Pump Official

I was in NY until Tuesday and then drove back down, I had another week of two grad classes, but after sitting through my second nutrition class I was sure that it was too much science and more work than I could handle. I ended up dropping that class before the add/drop period ended and felt relieved. I did another visit to Mom's top two senior living choices to view the exact rooms that were open. I also made time for fitness. I got a permanent gig teaching Body Pump on Fridays at 6pm, I had been long term subbing the class since April, but the instructor decided to give it up and I got to take it over! The half-semester Urban Hiking class I teach started this week, which has once again proven to be a delightful highlight in my life! I also squeezed in another concert too!

Week of September 8: Fitness, Mercedes Bastards, Injury, and Friend Dates

I kicked off the week with an all-day AFAA (Athletics and Fitness Association of American) continuing ed workshop that I had already postponed once due to my crazy schedule. It was really great though, I'm glad I went. I signed papers on a place for Mom which didn't come without its own Mom drama - but at least it was relatively mild. I squeezed in a couple of friends dates: manicures with AL, walk with LH, and a dinner date LB. I was still chugging through my one grad class, but having some concerns about if this program was the right direction for me, it's much more Public Health-oriented than the Fitness and Wellness aspect of health I'm truly interested in. I had a bunch of petsitting clients and have had them during all the previous crazy weeks. I already separately about the ordeal with my Mom's leased car, but Mercedes are crooks! I had toyed with officially taking over the lease, but there is like a $1500 transfer fee that "they can't waive." There's no way they are getting a penny more than we have to pay. I made a bunch of calls to NY based insurance folks I know as well as talked to my mom's insurance agency and my insurance agency to make sure when I start driving her car everything is squared away. Also, this week my colleague aka one other coworker because I manage an office of two had a personal injury that had her out of the office for about a week. As I well know, life happens, but it started to feel like when it rains it pours....

Week of Sept 15: Drag Brunch, Euro Trips, a Resignation, and Back to NY for an Explosive Visit

I kicked off this week with a highly anticipated Sunday Funday with some fabulous work friends. I got all dolled up and headed to a drag brunch in DC which led to gay bar-hopping on a beautiful afternoon. Despite making my way home at 6pm, I still felt like trash most of Monday, but thankfully I was off. I did have my first celebration vacation in Portugal call with my friend DR who is a travel agent. It was a really exciting call and the fact that I know DR already makes things a lot easier. We have a plan for me to make the most of my scouting trip in November which is a relief. I was having a particularly busy week and was just pushing through until we get Mom moved, when my coworker (aka person 2 of our 2 person department) drop a bomb on me, she got a new job and is resigning effective 10/10 which is 3 weeks notice. I can say I'm surprised she's a great employee, had a tough job, and has been with me for almost 2.5 years. I was more shocked by her not giving me any sort of heads up. I went to a tailspin back in Jan 2017 when the other half of my office left and I was alone. Thankfully I am not 5 months into my job like I was then, this time of year is honestly "the best" time to be short-staffed and I am looking to do a re-org that hopefully would make things even better in the future. However, it means a lot more work on me all the way around. I head back to NY via train this time! I actually had my Urban Hiking class start and end at Union Station which made for a great hike and for me to easily make a 4:15pm train. Saturday night was just pizza and wine with my sister. Sunday we headed to Long Island to see my Mom. We needed a durable power of attorney signed - the one we did when my Mom was first in the hospital didn't cover as much as we need and my sister and I need the power to act on my Mother's behalf independently since I'll be handling VA business and my sister is handling NY business. My sister has a friend who is a notary and the friend was also going to on LI visiting family and agreed to come to Mom's assisted living place to have us all sign paperwork. Well, my Mom out of the blue demanded cigarettes and wine before agreeing to sign the papers. This was extremely hurtful. Most of you know my Mother is an alcoholic. Did she fall down down the stairs and break her hip because she was drunk, it's possible. Has her drinking made my life a nightmare especially the last few years? Yes. Having her hospitalized and in the care of others meant she wasn't drinking, she was actually taking her meds, and she had company and therefore didn't need to call me all the G-D time. Well, apparently my Mom's sister bought her cigarettes the week the before (WHY?!?!). My Mom was having bullshit anxiety over an eye doctor appointment because for the 15th time she's convinced she's going blind (she's not, she's fine). She NEEDED the wine and cigarettes and threw a tantrum right in the lobby, right in front of my sister's notary friend (who at least knows some of my Mom's craziness), it was horrifying and embarrassing. My sister started crying and here I am trying to keep it together. I tried to explain to Mom that her drinking was hurtful to us, especially since we've both dropped everything to tend to her situation. I explained that it feels like she is choosing wine over us and she didn't deny it. I needed these papers signed so I conceded and said after we did house stuff that day I'd take her to buy cigarettes, but I don't want to be anywhere near her when or soon after she's been drinking. After some more bank business and errands, I dropped her at a liquor store (walker and all) to get herself her precious wine. I told her I needed to cool off and needed a break from her for a few days, I would call her when I was ready. 

Week of September 22: Grad School Drop Out, Wedding Planning, & Car Sales

As I drove back to DC on Monday knowing that I didn't get a chance to do my reading for grad school or work on a paper, I felt stressed (plus the stress of driving my Mom's brand new Mercedes 300 miles to DC as essentially it's maiden voyage). I have so much stress on between Mom stuff, being an office of one, wedding stuff and just general life I was at my max. The class was something I could do something about. I emailed the professor asking for an extension (I automatically have more compassion for my students now), but also let him know I was investigated dropping the class. Since add/drop and the refund period was over I was worried that since this class was being paid for my employer's tuition benefit that there might be some major financial implication. I reached out to the department chair and the HR benefits lady. The way the benefits work and the fact I hadn't used them before means I'm not on the hook for the $5000+ tuition or any of the taxes related. There is only a $27 gap that I will pay taxes on, OKAY. So I dropped the class and ultimately withdrew from the grad certificate program. I feel major relief, not only over this semester, but over the next 2 years that I had penciled in grad school for. I quickly realized that the AFAA professional development workshop is more in line with what I want than anything overly academic - I mean I already have a masters. I think eventually may get an AFAA nutrition certificate which is far less intensive and way more applicable than the route I was going to take. Now with my Wednesdays free again, I was able to make my triumphant return to my Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) meeting and I was so happy to be there with my people. I also tried to carve out more time this week for wedding stuff. Talked through my new vacation celebration idea with some friends who will be on the invite list, talked more with my travel agent D, and with my friend DM who is traveling with me for the scouting trip. I'm feeling more focused and ready to make decisions. I also sold my 2007 Camry to a coworker who happened to be in the market for a reliable used car, just as I was learning that I would be driving my mom's car and therefore wanted to sell mine. We hit a couple of snags, like the fact that my car's aftermarket tints that came on the car when I bought them were too dark to pass MD inspection. Or that I needed to sign the back of the title over to my friend, the buyer. She learned AFTER spending 3 hours at the DMV, oops! I cleaned the car out and removed my stickers from the window and bumper - that 26.2 sticker did not want to budge!

What will the next 2 weeks hold is yet to be fully seen, but here's the summary I'm expecting

Week of September 29: Senior living lease signing, 1000 last-minute Mom things, ACA, Running a 2,000 person Family/Alumni Weekend, Teaching my last Urban Hiking class of the semester and driving to NY with my fiance T and Freddie (we don't Louie thinking he is going back). 

Week of October 6: Pack up the stuff that's going to VA with my Mom in a U-Haul van T is driving, I'm driving my Mom down (AKA the woman who hasn't left NY state in at least 10 years), move her into her new place, have two last days in the office having transition meeting with my colleague before she leaves on 10/10, I also have birthday celebration plans for T and my friend SL whose birthdays are this week. Also, it's my Mom's birthday so I imagine we'll be taking her out. 

[demonweasel]

The NSFW Tumblr ban and an over abundance of “airquotes”

Watching the news and reactions to PG Tumblr  is just a wild ride for me. The sheer crass idiocy of the move to ban “adult content” and the ham-fisted, completely random examples that people are showing about how their “algorithm” is determining what is “adult material” should make everyone involved in approving and implementing this decision deeply embarrassed.  I mean, they’re all getting paid anyway so I’m sure they aren’t going to be but they should. 

I haven’t posted any adult material on this blog in a long while now, not because I stopped liking it but because I know it’s not for everyone and I didn’t really want to type a nsfw tag on every post in the hopes that other people had gone ahead and blacklisted that tag. Instead I just started a new blog and voila, all my smut went there. 

This gets me thinking a lot about blogging and social media in general. I don’t talk a lot about my personal life except for general, sweeping terms because on here I’m trying to be...”professional,” I guess is the word for it. I’m a guy in his 40s who has a lot of emotional ups and downs, is in a committed open relationship and is working hard towards making a living jut through my writing and other little things I come up with. I’d have to be dumb to not see that some of that stuff doesn’t play well with the others. 

If you go waaaaaay back through my this blog you’ll find lots of smut and NSFW stuff as well as plenty of emotional, on-line outbursts from the various ups and downs in my life. Not to play the “I remember when” card but I grew up right as the ‘net and what would be social media took off. It was one of the first places an awkward kid like me could find a place to just vent and meet people and just find new and cool things. I joke at times that I was in it so early it was before you could even send a picture to someone; I had to mail a girl my photograph in order for her to reject me (which yes, is a real thing that happened).

Fast forward to now to where Tumblr, a platform I’ve used for almost ten years and have made some of the best friends that I have now, is making this ridiculous change in order to make some rich people slightly richer (or keep them from getting slightly less rich). So many people use this site to express their genuine selves online much the way I did back when it was BBS then chatrooms then Livejournal then Twitter. Through all of those platforms, and this one, I’ve made deep and lasting connections (and, occasionally, short and hurtful ones). 

I’m always envious of the people who freely post what they want, however they want, with no worry about “How is this going to affect my brand?” or “Will this keep someone from wanting to work with me?” or “Will a reader be offended by this?” Maybe I worry about that too much and I should just “be myself” and let the prudes be damned. Of course, when even very successful people get penalized for what they do on social media when someone takes exception to it I should probably still watch my step (not that there aren’t some people who should absolutely be penalized for posting shitty things).

Maybe it says something about me that I’m equating a ban on “adult content” to not being able to show my “authentic self.” Then again I’m someone who enjoys consuming “adult content” and has a sex-positive lifestyle. I like being able to connect and meet people who feel the same. Yeah, there’s a time and a place for everything and you don’t need to wave your kinks and desires out in front of every passer-by but there’s a middle ground that doesn’t involve having a cat in a demogorgon costume being flagged as “inappropriate.” 

Worse, they’re severely damaging the financial livelihood of the people who make adult content and use this site to promote it. There’s nothing wrong with that, as usual, once a company sees someone else trying to make money off of something they created they’re going to shut it down.

I’ll probably hang around here for a bit still and see how things go. I’m sure at some point they’ll sort-of get their filters right but this place won’t be the same, at least not for me. I’ll still post and reblog and talk about my work and D&D and comics and maybe I’ll try to be more of the “authentic me” on here, or at least point people to where the unfiltered “authentic me” ends up living. Of course, I may just decide to unbrand that one, tell no one about it but my closest friends, and just have it all out there like it’s the late 90s again.

[montybadun]

THE HAPPENING → PARTY

TAGGING → Monty Badun & Pari Nasir (@perfectlypari)

TIMELINE → May 19, 2018

SETTING → Walt High Gymnasium

SUMMARY → Monty does his best impersonation of a ‘prince’ to try and give his friend Pari the perfect night at morp.

Pari couldn't believe how well the morp was going. She had said sophomore year was going to be her year, and here she was, starting a whole new tradition in the school and making her mark. It felt pretty great. And it definitely helped that she felt super cute in her outfit and was getting compliments left and right for the decorations. After making her rounds on the dance floor, taking selfies with friends and such, she spotted Monty off to the side, very characteristically standing in a corner with his Freddie Kreuger outfit on. With a smirk, Pari took up some bloody punch in two plastic cups and approached him. "So? Are you like slayed, O M G murdered, O M G hashtag-dying in a good way, or totally hashtag-kill-me in a bad way about this dance? It's okay if it's the latter, I'm open to criticism!"

Monty had been spending so much of this evening avoiding his cousin and any weird prodding about girls he should be dancing with that he’d accidentally ended up avoiding everyone. It wasn’t bad, though; there were few people he really liked talking to anyway, and the less people that got near him, the less likely he was to be called out for having taken off the finger-knife component of his costume. Still, Pari’s excited face was a welcome change from the watcher-on-the-wall act, and he offered her a half-smile, better than anyone else had gotten all night. “Can I create a new hashtag? I don’t want to have to share with Brandon,” Monty grumbled, even though he’d been having his own version of fun. “Hashtag-Pari looks like she’s having an awesome time so Monty’s glad she convinced him to come? Or is that too long?”

Pari couldn't contain the little squeal that rose up in her throat from learning that Monty was having fun. If he was able to enjoy himself, this dance must have really been a success. "Ah, you're having fun!" she exclaimed, clutching him by the bicep out of excitement. "That's great, though, I'm so glad this thing is really coming together." She bit her lip and glanced around the gym, unrecognizable in all its horror-y goodness. "And I'm glad that you're glad you came -- and dressed up. You look really good!" she eyed his Freddie Kreuger getup with a nod of approval, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Monty looked around. He didn't go to a lot of parties, but it seemed like it was a good one. Better than the cheesy Valentine's decorations and how nervous and weird he'd felt when he'd gotten paired with Ember after his dumb secret admirer gifts, at least. "Yeah, the decorations are cool. I hope they give people nightmares, how totally real would that be?" he asked her, wondering if he started to sound too much like Brandon around her. But oh well. She was his friend; she made it easy to get kind of excited and almost care about stuff. "Yeah! Also part of the whole nightmare thing, not just me being mean," he promised, tipping his Freddy hat towards her. "I mean, your costume's like you just walked out of a bucket of blood, the least I could do was wear a sweater and say '1, 2, Freddy's coming for you' when I want people to go away." He stood a little straighter at the compliment, still not used to them even after almost two whole years in Walt. "So did it turn out the way you wanted it to? I mean, it doesn't look like anything's missing, right? Except maybe your Boo-shadow, but I'm sure he'll find you again soon."

Pari laughed at Monty’s idea, knowing better than to be fooled by his costume and think that he was suddenly some social butterfly. He was still telling people to go away, and for some reason she was glad he hadn’t changed. It just meant she could keep trying to get him to come out of his shell, and even if he never did, at least this little game was fun. She shrugged at his question, beaming at the entirety of the dance. “I mean....I dunno! It’s horror and stuff, and it’s a huge success so I’m so grateful, but — and I wasn’t gonna tell anyone — but it’s also my birthday...? So I was kind of hoping for something a little more....magical. No matter how off-Brand and counterintuitive that would make this whole thing.” Pari shook her head, laughing at herself. She was just never satisfied, that was all.

Crap . Monty should have known when her birthday was, but he'd been completely unprepared for that. And he'd proven firsthand how rotten he was at gift-giving, but if he'd remembered he would have at least tried to do something nice for her. Now all he could do was be nice with his words, and that was always awkward for him; nice things didn't just flow out of his mouth without any effort the way they did for other people. "That's cool! So it's like, an unofficial party for you, everytime you see someone having fun you can think that it's in your honor," he tried tentatively, but the words felt clumsy and off-brand coming out of his mouth. Monty cleared his throat and tried again. "That's not dumb. I mean, if you said you wanted like, someone to carry you around while you sat on a throne or something and strangers showered you with presents, that would be dumb. But what, you just... want morp to be more like prom? With like, someone to give you flowers and dance with you and kiss you and tell you look pretty and stuff? Seems normal," Monty shrugged.

Pari scrunched up her nose at the idea of it being like a party for her -- that was so bougie, throwing an entire dance just to feel like people were celebrating her birthday. "I mean, kind of? Not really? I honestly forgot my own birthday when I planned this," she shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay, getting carried around on a throne and showered with presents doesn't sound bad..." she chuckled, "I'm totally joking. But yeah! I was so anti-prom but I guess since the Valentine's Ball went so bad for me, I feel kind of robbed of a magical night or something." She loved it all, but totally wished she could be wearing her pretty red dress and sparkly flats at an event that was so successful, not her bloody everything. Twiddling her thumbs, Pari looked up at Monty and gave a sigh as the song that was playing on the dance floor slowed down to a haunting balld. "Will you dance with me, Monty? I know I like to force you to do things out of your comfort zone but that isn't the reason I'm asking this time. It could be like a birthday present."

Monty scrunched his face up in disgust. "Nope, no way, if you're putting me on a portable throne you better be taking me to an alligator pit, because all the attention will make me want to get ripped apart by a bunch of chomping gators or something," Monty informed her matter of factly. "You're also just a sophomore and not allowed to go to prom anyway, so like... screw the system. But mostly screw the jerk who ditched you on Valentine's Day. Did you ever figure out who it was?" Monty tried to ask the question casually, but if Pari did know... well, Boo probably would have beaten him up already, but for Pari? Monty would definitely go back and beat him up again. Or at least pee in his shoes or something. Monty got distracted by Pari's question instead, though, and he swallowed the lump that instantly formed in his throat. He was a terrible dancer, and Pari would just end up disappointed... but even as he started to shake his head no, his words betrayed him. "You're not going to have fun, Brandon would be way better at this, but uh..." Monty rubbed his gloved hands together, giving Pari a second to change her mind, but when she actually seemed serious, he said, "But yeah, of course I'll dance with you. I got a little practice on Valentine's Day, so at least it was good for like, one thing." Monty extended his arm to her, using his free arm for a one-shouldered shrug. "Most magical dancing I can muster, here we go."

Pari laughed quietly at Monty's joke. "Attention isn't bad!" she smiled, "Except when it is bad. But most of the time, it's fun." That was one thing she'd learned this year -- that attention sucked when everyone was making fun of you, but was great when everyone was wanting to be your friend. "Yeah, screw him I guess -- and no. And I kind of never want to find out, for his own safety," she chuckled. Not that she would do anything, but Valentine's Day proved that she had some very dedicated friends and she didn't put it past Ember or Boo to fight for her honor or something. She shrugged when Monty responded to her request, having expected some kind of resistance from him. "I don't want to dance with Brandon, I want to dance with you," she chuckled, taking his arm and leading him out to the dance floor. "Oh yeah, you and Ember! How'd that go? Your secret admirer thing was super cute -- I hope it paid off," she smirked, putting her arms up on the boy's shoulders.

Monty pretended to gag, even though Pari was right. Monty just wasn't used to attention, at least not in any sort of normal way; and even if he started getting it now, he doubted it would be the good kind like Pari wanted and deserved. It wasn't about him, though; it was about her, and he was totally happy to step up and help her out whenever she needed him. "Hey! If you really didn't want us to hurt him, I'd just send Brandon to annoy him to death, that would probably be worse anyway," Monty grinned, amused by his own terrible ideas. "Okay, if I have to," Monty added, but he was still smiling; Pari would know he didn't mean it. Even if he'd been scowling, he had a feeling she knew he liked her enough that he didn't mean it. "Oh -- uh, she didn't think I was a total creep? She just also didn't like me, which is fine. I like, temporarily lost my mind anyway, I'm not like the secret admirer type," Monty shrugged as he gently put his hands on Pari's waist, hoping he was doing this right. It was what he'd done before, and for some reason, he was just as nervous tonight as he'd been at Valentine's Day, dancing with a pretty girl who was totally way too cool for him but who was like, willing to hang around him anyway. "Besides, if it had gone well, I'd probably be here with her tonight and then I wouldn't be able to be your poser-prince."

Pari stifled a laugh at the boy's jab at his cousin. She loved Brandon, really, she did, so that's why she didn't want to outwardly LOL at Monty's comment, but she also very much understood where Monty was coming from. "That really does sound like a better plan!" she mused, nodding with a giggle. Once they were dancing, Pari settled her arms around his neck and gave a contented sigh. This was nice -- exactly what she'd hoped for out of prom night (er...morp night). "She didn't like you?!" she asked, admittedly a little shocked -- Ember was so cool and so was Monty so like, why not? "That sucks, but at least she didn't think you were a creep. That's good," she chuckled, holding him a bit closer once his hands found her hips. "Yeah, I guess that's true! But I mean, there's nothing bad about being a poser prince. Aladdin posed as a prince and he got his princess and a whole kingdom," Pari shrugged. She'd always loved listening to her dad tell that story of how he helped a street rat woo the princess. "So you could totally be Aladdin in this scenario."

Monty pursed his lips. "Close enough," he admitted. He wasn't sure if Ember had actually said those words directly, but it had felt a lot like an I don't like you to his fragile ears. Enough like one to where he'd managed to put the other girl out of his head almost entirely since Valentine's Day had happened, at least, and just focus on the friends thing. He didn't want to be gross and extra like Brandon was about that Liam boy, anyway; if something ever did work out between Monty and a girl, he had every intention of being more cool and chill about it. Or at least, he thought he did, but hearing Pari talk about how he could be cool like Aladdin gave him a weird surge of confidence. Aladdin was cool, Aladdin got the princess, Aladdin was all kinds of stuff Monty usually was not. But tonight, maybe Monty could be. He seemed to be doing a good job of giving her the fantasy night she wanted, dancing with her and complimenting her and stuff, but didn't prom movies always have kisses? Without overthinking it too much, Monty ducked his head down and pressed his lips to Pari's, like cool guys always seemed to do at the end of the stories she liked so much.

Pari gave a small, sad sigh when Monty admitted to Ember not liking him. That must have really sucked — he went through so much effort just to get kind of rejected, and on Valentine’a Day, no less! And she had been so engrossed in her own drama that night that she didn’t even notice. Planning this morp had really taken a lot out of her — she was so out of the loop from her friends’ lives. Giving him a little ego boost with the Aladdin talk seemed like the best she could do. But then, suddenly, Monty’s Head dipped down and his lips were on hers. Pari’s eyes widened at first, glancing around to be sure this was really happening. She’d never been kissed before, and once she got over the initial shock, it felt...great. She kissed back for just a second before pulling away. “Whoa,” Pari gulped, looking up at Monty’s eyes with a little bit of confusion and fear in her own. She was speechless. Part of her wanted to know what possessed him to do that, and the other part of her didn’t care — she just wanted to kiss him again. But the first side was winning, and she continued to stand there, staring at him, frozen.

Monty hadn't really been reading any logical, decipherable signs to get to deciding he was going to kiss Pari; he'd just sort of lost his mind and let it happen. At least this mind loss was more spontaneous than his weird gifts for Ember, although he'd been scared it was about to have the same results. But then Pari kissed back, and Monty stopped worrying if he was doing it wrong or if his friend totally wanted to slap him or get Boo to murder him instead and just went with it, for as long as she seemed like he wanted to. It felt good, and he almost wished he'd thought of kissing people as like, a thing he could actually do way sooner... Except a part of him sort of thought kissing other girls wouldn't be as good. Pari was his favorite one, even if he'd never thought about just how much better he liked her than the other's before. "Oh, uh -- was that a good prince impersonation, or would I have been a better prince if I'd asked if it was okay first?"

Pari gulped, gazing up at Monty. She was unsure of what was supposed to come next. She'd never kissed anyone, let alone a good friend. Where were they supposed to go from here? In movies, this was where the credits would roll -- but then again, if this were a movie, there would've been some kind of epic narrative that all led up to this. As Pari started recounting what had to have been romantic moments with Monty that she'd somehow missed in their time together as friends, he asked some kind of cute and funny question and her mind went blank. A smile grew on her lips and she stood on her toes to kiss him again before deciding this would be a good time to 'go check things' as the organizer of the dance. But really, she just wanted to leave things on a positive note without them getting too awkward. "No, you were a perfect prince," she nodded, before kissing him firmly one last time. She pulled away and started backing up into the crowd. "I'm gonna go check around. See you at school on Monday!" And with that, Pari ran off into the crowd with the biggest, dopiest smile on her face while she tried to process what could've possibly just happened.

[blue-shaded]

Hi Dolphin anon! It’s me again. Thanks for reading the whole long message, I did not realize how long it was while I was typing it out LMAO. Yeah I’ll concede a lot of your points as well, when I spoke on the reputation of the MC speedrunning community, I was more so speaking about it in terms of just the Minecraft community itself, I hadn’t really considered the perspective of those in other speedrunning categories, so fair enough! As for the moderating team, yeah, their legitimacy and fairness did get called into question but like I said in my last submission, I think this questioning was a little deserved. Geosquare was the one who was heading (or seemed to be taking the lead) on the Dream situation so most looked to him as the figurehead of the mod team, and I think by allowing his bias to affect how he handled the situation initially, I think he shot himself as well as the other moderators in the foot. So on that end, I think the bias deserved to be called out, but you’re, as always, welcome to disagree!

I also agree that he needs to say it more publicly on his twitter. He has a tendency to say it on his private account and in replies because he tends to be very reactionary. Usually if he makes a separate tweet on his alt or main twitter account, it’s after he’s already seriously replied to people or made a serious thread on his private, so he just starts making lighthearted jokes about the situation to try to get both sides to stop taking it seriously in hopes that they’ll stop sending hate and move on.

To his credit, I think he likes to more explicitly say that stuff on livestream. I don’t know how closely you saw or if you saw the Kaceytron situation at all, but when he went on her stream to discuss with her, he explicitly states “I do not condone any death threats or doxxing or any sort of hate” and I know he’s shared similar sentiments on other livestreams. But he definitely needs to have it somewhere on his main Twitter accounts where it’s easily accessible.

And yes I agree that things get trended way too easily, but I think people are too focused on the wrong thing (not you, just people with this argument in general). There have been multiple instances where POC fans try to get people to shut up or to stop livetweeting or to go private (so that their tweets don’t add to trending phrases) whenever important things are happening and while there are many people who listen, it’s unfortunately just not possible to stop it from trending. Because of how fans recieve the content (typically live, all reactions are immediate, whether it be in response to a content creator’s tweet or talking about a stream), there’s a tendency for a word or name or phrase to get repeated amongst several tweets. The Twitter trending algorithm tends to favor sudden influx of tweets over longevity. This is why you’ll sometimes see something MCYT-related at the top of the trending page despite the fact that it says it only has around 1,000-2,000 tweets, whereas other phrases and trends will have tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of tweets and still sit lower on the trending tab because those tweets slowly came in over throughout the course of the whole day rather than all at once.

If we’re focusing specifically on Dream and not MCYTs as a whole, he himself can average around a good 130K watchers, if not more, while streaming. Say that an important real world issue is being talked about on Twitter, and most people who are watching, aren’t tweeting about the livestream (either because they don’t use Twitter or they’re someone who knows of the situation and is being conscious and respectful to the community being affected by that situation) and that only 1% of the people watching that stream are still tweeting (whether bc they’re ignorant or bigoted or just don’t know of the situation. regardless, definitely a low-balled percentage). That’s still a sudden influx of 1.3K tweets and is still enough to put it near the top and if not the very top of the trending page. And it sucks and it’s dumb and people have tried to find ways around it. Many people in the community censor names if they’re livetweeting while something else is going on, the last time this happened, people censored karl as “k4rl” and k4rl got tweeted so much that it ended up trending anyways. So 100% get what you’re saying and I get the criticisms of the fanbase surrounding that, but I think it’s just a thing of Twitter needing to fix its algorithm because it should not favor sudden influxes over longevity like that.

If you want an upcoming example of this problem, I’d suggest for you to keep an eye on the trending tab on the 19th! Many black people within the community have been speaking up about Juneteenth and it’s importance to them as a community and that fans should try not to trend anything that day. Specifically they’ve asked Karl Jacob’s community (known as honktwt) to not post for honktwtselfieday, which happens every month on the 19th. These tweets have gained a lot of traction and have been seen by Karl Jacobs himself and he replied and said that he wouldn’t be posting for his selfie day and that he discouraged all of his fans from posting for this month’s selfie day either. Despite this, I’m almost entirely sure that a few people are going to be posting for the selfie day anyway (whether it be bc they’re ignorant n don’t care or they somehow don’t know), though it’s going to be much much less than the amount of people who would usually be postijgnfornthebselfiebday, but I’m sure you’ll see honktwtselfieday trending at some point on the 19th regardless.

Also! as for the shooters4dream tag, yeah, as an Asian, that was disgusting to see. I will say that it wasn’t the antis, though antis did boost it further by posting on it later on and saying to not use the tag (very. counterintuitive, but I digress). That tag came from inside the community as a joke (an incredibly poorly timed one). It’s a borrowed joke from the kpop community to say that you’re a shooter for ___, as in a defender of them, and some people were just being senseless when making the joke and it was really disheartening to see that people weren’t really thinking before using it. I think it’s since been widely addressed that shooters4___ probably isn’t a good joke to make at any time, so I think a lot of people have taken to saying shields for ___ instead.

I also don’t get the hate around the merch. I personally haven’t gotten any, but I don’t think it should come as a surprise to anyone that it’s just a smiley face when that’s his whole brand— the dream smile blob. People are obviously allowed to have their own tastes in clothes but the hate on that front seemed excessive. I think there are plenty of valid criticisms towards Dream, but I don’t think the topic of merch design is one of them.

As for your friend! Yeah I get that, and it’s sucks that she’s not practicing what she preaches. I think it’s very easy to get caught up on the toxicity of social media and it’s sounds like that’s what’s happened to her. Hope you do what’s best for you and your mental health! Like last time, this isn’t any hate towards you (in case any of it seemed like it was) and thank you to Blue for putting up with the longass submissions and for being a conduit for the conversation 💀

sdlkfjslkd don't worry about the long posts Passing on to dolphin anon.