#just tag your crap and live with the fact people are gonna block your posts don't go out of your way to be an ass

[mwolf0epsilon]

You know the star wars fandom has a massive problem when you keep finding alternate ways people tag their clone shipping shit that get past the filtering...

[jasmine-tea-latte]

Since nobody asked for my input, here’s a lovely PSA for antis in general, because some of y’all need a reminder / a reality check.

(Excluding the folks who properly tag stuff as anti-__, of course, because that’s the whole point of that tag.)

Also, please note that I’m not saying don’t engage in debates ever or feel like you should be silent about subjects that matter to you. Create dialogue! Learn from other people! By all means, share your POV! Discuss the numerous other things you’re passionate about. Speak your mind.

Also, this is not in reference to critical thinking posts regarding fandom content or metas. This is about being an ass on a post that harms absolutely no one.

This post is strictly about how we consume media for entertainment (I.e. ship preferences) and how, if you’re constantly seeing posts pop up for something you hate yet you keep diving into the tags of said thing and feel compelled to comment on it, especially if it’s that stupid “No❤️” shit - congratulations, you’re playing yourself, and I’m about to show you why.

Also, the point of this post is not to be holier than thou or overtly preachy. I posted plenty of obnoxious stuff on fandom forums back in the day, so learn from my mistakes, okay?

Here’s something you need to understand right here, right now:

You are responsible for cultivating your own internet experience.

Don’t like seeing tons of posts about a show / ship / topic you dislike or have no interest in?

Don’t interact with it.

Just keep scrolling along.

I’m serious.

Let it go.

Devote your time and energy on things you do enjoy and let the fans of whatever it is that you hate enjoy that thing in peace.

Take for instance pecan pie. I hate pecan pie with a passion. Guess what I’m not going to do, though? Go over to a forum or group of people who like it and start screaming about how gross it is and how anyone who likes pecan pie is a terrible, horrible person.

Because why waste my time deliberately going somewhere that I don’t have to be and know I won’t like, picking fights and being an asshole in general?

But if it’s posted in a public forum it’s up for debate, I hear you complain.

Yeah, so?

What do you honestly think you’re going to accomplish by raining on someone else’s parade?

Seriously, I’m asking you, what do you really think is going to happen if you waltz up and start yelling at fans of something about how they’re stupid or awful for liking XYZ?

What’s it going to cost you to keep scrolling and find something that sparks joy instead of rage?

Answer:

If you’re lucky (that is, if you present a well-thought out and cohesive argument) then you might convince some people over to your side.

But realistically in the best case scenario, you’d have a civil debate where absolutely no one changes their mind.

If that’s what your goal was, congrats! You successfully shared your opinion without making yourself look like an asshole who has nothing better to do with their time than pick unnecessary fights and looking to stir shit up just because you’re bored.

But if you go up to a table of people chowing down on pecan pie and tell them that they’re stupid for liking it when cherry / chocolate / whatever pie flavor that floats your boat exists, guess what’s gonna happen?

You will get eyerolls and be considered a douche, but no one will give an actual fvck what you have to say.

I straight up insulted a group of fans for liking something I hated and I did so by going out of my way over to their corner of the fandom. AITA?

Yes, YTA (you’re the asshole) in this scenario.

There’s a post floating around out there explaining how you wouldn’t walk into an Italian restaurant and yell about how you don’t like the food and that you’d rather eat at the Chinese restaurant across the street.

Who in their right mind would do that? Nobody, that’s who, and that’s what you look like deliberately poking around a fandom you hate to cause discord.

Also pro tip: you’re ultimately shooting yourself in the foot when you do obnoxious things like that.

The more you interact with a certain topic or spend time posting about it online, the more you’ll see of it, because that’s how the algorithms work.

It doesn’t matter if you post “I love pecan pie!” or “pecan pie is the worst!”

All that algorithm picks up on is the keyword “pecan pie” so if you hate it? Guess what, you just served yourself another slice of crap and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.

A few years ago some people on Facebook got sick and tired of seeing Buzzfeed constantly post about KUWTK. Which I get, because idgaf about them, tbh - don’t hate them but don’t care, either. But someone decided to fill the comment sections of those posts with pet pictures as a protest of sorts to prove that literally anything else was more entertaining. Yeah that’ll show them!

Except that it didn’t matter that all of their comments were irrelevant. The algorithm just saw a bunch of traffic on the KUWTK posts, which in turn caused Buzzfeed to post about them even more. It turned into a cycle of self destruction by the commenters, because the more they posted pet pics, the more traffic they gave to the very posts they wanted to destroy.

Hence why I preached earlier about how I keep scrolling whenever I see a post for a ship or movie / show / other media for something I dislike. Because guess what happens? It goes away and I only see posts for things I dislike on rare occasions.

Also, the block / hide option is sitting right there, folks.

I just don’t understand the mindset of someone who spends all their time online complaining about a ship / show / media and actively seeks it out to further spread their discontent, then is Suprised Pikachu when the topic keeps showing up in their recommended lists.

Look, I’m ultimately here to have fun and interact with other fans of media that I enjoy. I’m not here to tell you what to do or how you should use your time. If going out of your way to antagonize fans of the thing you despise fills you with warm and fuzzies then don’t let me stop you if that’s how you actually choose to live your life. Some people just want to watch the world burn, so you do you, boo.

But the fact of the matter is that you can waste your time whining about how gross pecan pie is or you can choose to spend your time by promoting the kind of pie you do like, cultivating a much more pleasant experience for yourself, not to mention peace of mind.

You don’t win the pie war by hijacking posts and acting like a tool. You win it by creating content of your favorite pie until it outnumbers the kind you dislike.

Plus, if you put out more posts praising and promoting things you do like, it’ll help the algorithm suggest more content that you actually would enjoy.

Yeah but it’s my right to do that! I hear you argue just for the sake of being argumentative or because you genuinely enjoy the attention that it gets you. So I have to ask,

Why are you making yourself mad when you could make yourself glad instead?

Basically what I’m saying is that when it comes to spewing contrarion opinions in a forum for the sake of causing drama:

The world is a shitty enough place at times already, and fandom is meant to be fun.

Stop seeking out things you hate and then bitch about seeing them. Love yourself and take care of your mental health.

Don’t be that asshole.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

And now, I’m off to go find some delicious key lime pie and be thankful that it’s not pecan.

[unityghost]

Want

For part 19 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, I've decided to respond to the following suggestion:

I keep thinking that it would be interesting (and a little painful) if later in his recovery process, Gabe does a bit of a 180 on Sam—either out of embarrassment at having needed him so much or out of the need to distance himself from anything to do with his vulnerability, he pushes him away (even unkindly). Not uncommon in people who’ve suffered severe trauma and their primary caregiver. And Sam doesn’t handle that well and then Gabe has Feelings and needs to fix it.

(Anonymous, Archive of Our Own)

This was a tough one because it's tempting to keep Gabriel on a consistent upward swing. But that's not how these things go - any recovery takes twists and turns. Thanks for challenging me!

“What do you like?”

Gabriel surveyed the shelf of dry pastas: ziti, capellini, tricolor. “Oh, gross, Sam. What kind of morbid freak names an ingestible substance ‘angel hair’?”

“All right, so that one’s out. Here, let’s get the pretty stuff.” He placed a box of tricolor in their grocery basket. “Unless you have a preference.”

“It’s all gonna taste the same to me. Food-flavored. Not a fan.”

Sam had thought it would be a good idea for the two of them to get outside for a while. Gabriel was tempted to stay in the bunker, where he could be alone when he felt like it, and where only the people he trusted were able to find him.

At the same time, he knew that Sam was right. Spending so many hours indoors meant that Gabriel was only growing paler and more tired. So he hadn’t resisted, especially when Sam said that all he wanted to do was make a quick grocery run.

“All right,” said Sam, “Can you think of something a little more palatable? Anything.”

“Don’t trouble yourself about it, okay? It’s not as if I technically need food.”

“You know you’re better off eating than not.”

Gabriel had the sense that Sam had come here specifically to find something Gabriel would willingly consume, rather than because he really needed to. The least Gabriel could do was try and humor him. “How about watermelon?”

Sam raised his eyebrows, perhaps not having expected Gabriel to respond. “Watermelon?”

“Or something equally sweet and insubstantial.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s go get some.” Sam turned to exit the aisle when there was a piercing shriek.

Gabriel yelped.

“No no, look,” Sam said, hastening back to his side, “It’s just a little kid, see?” He pointed to the dairy section behind them. A child aged about three was sitting at the front of a shopping cart, tears streaming down his face.

The middle-aged man steering the cart looked exhausted. “Please stop.”

The child screamed and began to kick his legs in fury.

“Nathan, seriously, knock it off. You’re breaking Daddy’s eardrums.”

Nathan sputtered something indecipherable.

“No,” the father answered, a touch of firmness creeping into his voice. “It’s not the time for peanut butter cookies; those are only for special days. Here, how about this: you can have some the next time Miss Jordan tells me you were a good listener at school.”

“I am a good listener!” the child screeched.

“Gabriel?” Sam said softly.

“Go back!” Nathan screamed. “I want cookies! I want them!”

Gabriel turned to look up at Sam, feeling himself go white. “No - no, no, no - Sam - I - ”

Sam grabbed Gabriel’s wrist. “Let’s get out of here.”

When Gabriel tried to move, his knees buckled and Sam had to pull him up by the arms. “It’s okay, I’m gonna get you home.” He half-dragged Gabriel out of the aisle, abandoning the shopping basket.

Angel hair pasta, Gabriel thought as the child’s screams began to grow dim. No thanks, Barilla.

The parking lot was mostly empty. Sam kept a loose hold on Gabriel’s arm as they walked back to the Impala.

Sam opened the passenger side door for him and eased him inside. By the time Sam was in the driver’s seat, Gabriel had begun to tremble and felt there was no chance of getting himself to stop.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s all good,” Sam soothed. “How’re you doing?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, everything's fine; I just - I knew as soon as the kid started screaming about what he wanted that you …”

The unspoken hovered between them, a block of darkness against midday.

I hate that word, Gabriel had told Sam once.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “For some reason those memories, they … they’re a special kind of messed up.”

“Well, let’s go home so you can take a breather.”

Gabriel spent the entirety of the ten-minute drive with his forehead pressed to the window, intent upon avoiding Sam’s eyes.

“Come on,” Sam said once they got inside the bunker, gesturing in the direction of his bedroom, ever conscious of the fact that Gabriel tended to feel most at home there, rather than in his own bedroom.

Gabriel followed, but remained in the doorway when they arrived. Sam turned back to look at him, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I ... “ But he faltered, unable to come up with the right words.

“What, are you still scared? Is it your stomach?”

“No. Sam, it’s - ” He gave a frustrated sigh. “Grocery shopping has got to be the most peace and quiet you ever get. The most everyday task imaginable. And I know you know I didn’t mean to, but … that one second; that one stupid, mundane thing that the four of you have never had in your entire lives. I ... I mean, ruining the most basic things ... ”

Sam offered an uneasy smile. “You almost make it sound like we’ve never been accosted by shapeshifters disguised as deli clerks.”

“It’s normal to go to the supermarket, Sam! Normal well beyond Winchester standards! It’s like - that’s where you can at least pretend to have an ordinary existence.”

“It really isn’t. You know we’re always looking over our shoulders.”

“This still feels different; I didn’t mean to throw off that one taste of mundanity you ever get!”

“Gabriel.” Sam spoke slowly, carefully, as if addressing a frightened child. “I don’t expect you to pick and choose where you keep it together. Seriously, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m not upset about it.”

“Well, I am!”

“Yes, Gabriel, I know. But you couldn’t help it.”

A spasm of rage tore through Gabriel. “Exactly! What’s next, Sam? Huh? ‘Oh, look, see that cashier’s name tag? Looks an awful lot like the pack of Go Fish Asmodeus used for his house of cards.’ ‘What’s that? Squash is in season? Sorry Sam, no can do; reminds me of the Christmas lights Asmodeus used to string up.’ ‘Oh, Sam, oh, help me, the song playing over the speakers is the same one Asmodeus used to sing in the shower!’”

“Gabriel, stop.”

“Well, I’m hardly being unrealistic!”

“Look.” Sam sounded half irritated and half desperate. “You can’t predict when something’s gonna mess with your head, okay? And I don’t expect you to. Besides, if anyone knows what a crisis is, it’s me, and this is no big deal. I didn’t think twice about it; I just need you to be okay.”

“Well, clearly I can’t even do that much. And no one is confiscating your right to self-sacrifice, but I - I just - I - ”

“You what?”

Gabriel took a deep breath. “I need to be by myself. I need you to leave me alone. For a while. Let me -” He backed out into the hall. “We can talk about this later.”

Sam’s features grew solemn. “We’re talking about this now.”

“Just give me, like, an hour to get myself together.”

“What the hell makes you think I would do that?”

“What the hell makes you think it’s okay to force me under surveillance?”

Sam was taken aback by the violence in Gabriel’s tone. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I only wanted to - ”

“It’s like being in prison all over again if I’m not allowed privacy! Stop trying to make me talk to you, because I can’t right now, I just can’t!”

It took Sam a second to assemble his response, and when he did, his voice was softer. “Look, I know you don’t feel well, but - ”

“No. Sam. Stop it. Leave me alone.” At this point, Gabriel wasn’t even sure he really wanted to be by himself. There was something flailing in him, something hard and belligerent. Where this forcefulness was coming from he couldn’t have said. All he knew was that he had to fight - that he had to tear at something, had to hurt something.

Sam moved nearer. “Let me help. Let someone help. It doesn’t have to be me. I bet Jack could cheer you up; you could hang out with him for a change. He says he wants to spend more time with you. He’s worried.”

“You really think I’m going to expose Tiny Tim to Cirque du Archangel?”

“It’s not a good idea to let you stew in your own mind right now. That was a lot, man. I know. I saw. And if you could’ve gotten a glimpse of your face - I was afraid I was going to have to get some paramedics on the scene.”

“Well, do I look like that now?”

“No, but you seem … agitated.”

“Oh, ‘agitated,’ right. Okay. Better break out the king’s guard. What do you think I’m gonna do, Sam, go on a scavenger hunt for the blades?”

Sam tensed, remembering how Gabriel had confessed to a temptation to look for the archangel blade or, alternatively, the angel blade - which, while Gabriel was stuck in a near-graceless state, would have been equally effective. “You’ve been doing okay lately. Not as okay as any of us want you to be, but … okay. You said you trust me. And the others. I know how difficult that is for you, but you can’t stop now.”

“Not trusting you? That isn’t what this is about, Sam. Where’d you get that?”

“I can tell what’s going on. You’re giving yourself crap for what happened. You’re upset and you think you’re protecting me by not letting me near you.”

Somehow this made Gabriel angrier. He barreled on, longing to stop himself but unable to contain whatever aggression had built up since the incident in the store. “Is that what I said? It isn’t what I heard. You need me to translate?”

“Gabriel, what’s wrong with you right now?”

Simultaneously enraged and ashamed, Gabriel turned away. If he could have answered Sam’s question, he would have. There was simply something he couldn’t control, something that perhaps he didn’t want to control.

“Gabriel,” Sam pleaded, “If you’re mad - you know that’s allowed. Whatever you are - that’s allowed. Just don’t try to hide it from me, okay? Please.”

Gabriel whirled around. His face and neck felt flushed. “I’m leaving.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “But why?”

“Because I should never have done what I did, that’s why!” Gabriel shrieked. “Because you were living, Sam, living in the simplest, most innocent way, just for those few seconds, and I took it from you! You don’t need me right now! Really, you don’t need me ever, but - but especially not right now! I’m - ” Gabriel found that he was having trouble breathing. “I’m as bad as that kid. A spoiled brat demanding something I don’t deserve. I don’t want to make you look at me, I don’t want to make you touch me, and I don’t want you not to make the dinner you planned on for yourself and Dean and Cas and the kid just because I didn’t give you a chance to do the one thing you were going to do that didn’t involve nursing me! You deserve what you I ruined for you because I can’t manage to hold myself together for more than ten minutes at a time!”

Sam only replied once he had recovered from Gabriel's spasm of fury. “Okay - first of all, that’s not true; you hold yourself together at least ninety percent of the time. And two, I don’t care about dinner!”

“And you have to convince yourself of that because the alternative is taking inventory of just how much you’re sacrificing and realizing how tired you are. And then you’re going to feel guilty, and that’ll make you put in twice the work, and you won’t even consider the fact that me being a disaster isn’t as important as that fragment of peace and quiet you could wrangle if you had any self-respect!”

Sam stared, eyes wide, face pale.

“So leave me alone!” Gabriel barked. “Do what you were going to do! Or punish me! Or - or just make this right!”

“Okay, okay, it’s okay - ” Sam moved to brace his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders.

Gabriel shoved him away, and Sam fell against the nightstand, hitting his hip on the corner and hissing in pain.

Gabriel, contrary to his plea for retribution, scrambled backward so that Sam wouldn’t have immediate access.

Slowly, Sam straightened himself, watching Gabriel with the same expression he got whenever he realized the body count was higher than he’d been led to believe.

The silence settled over them like the soft, teasing bite of a predator.

It was during the hush that Gabriel saw tears in Sam’s eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “Sam - I didn’t - ”

Sam opened his mouth, but it seemed he was incapable of speech. He simply shrugged, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes.

“I hurt you,” Gabriel choked. “Sam, no, I didn’t mean to hurt you; I - I didn’t - ”

Still looking away, Sam swallowed and shook his head, then strode past Gabriel to the door and disappeared into the hall.

Gabriel leaned against the wall and hugged himself. “No. No. Oh no. No.”

He’d been a lot of things since coming to the bunker - intrusive, burdensome, messy, demanding. But he’d never been dangerous. Of course, there had been a few instances of lashing out when he was caught up in his memories, scratching someone when they tried to hold him or slapping their hands away when they tried gentler contact. But his mind hadn’t been intact then: he had been in Hell, waiting for a different kind of touch.

This time, he’d been fully aware, fully present. He had simply been angry.

Gabriel’s breathing grew shallow.

It’s what he would have done to me.

Gabriel felt bile rising in his throat.

Don’t get sick on the floor. He’ll see; he’ll come back; he’ll -

“Uncle Gabriel?”

Crap. Not the kid. Why didn’t I shut the door?

Gabriel didn’t want to look up - didn’t want to show his face. Jack didn’t know how gruesome Gabriel was. He was too innocent to realize that he was breathing poisoned air.

“Hey,” said Jack, “What’re you doing? Why are you alone?”

Gabriel forced himself to raise his eyes. “Because I’m a multi-thousand-year-old grown-ass archangel who reserves the right to solitude. Except,” he added bitterly, “Who’s to say I have any rights left at all?”

Jack frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s good. You don’t need to understand any of this. It’s stupid.”

Jack’s face grew almost comically solemn. “I’m not too young to help you.”

“Hey, it isn’t about that. This just isn’t your responsibility.”

“How is it any less my responsibility than Sam’s? You let Dean and Cas take on some of the work. Why not me?”

“Okay.” Gabriel raised his index finger. “First of all, I don’t ‘let’ them do anything. They overrule every time I remind them that it isn’t their job to spoon-feed me. I’m the one who should be in charge of getting myself back in one piece. And second, you’re not supposed to see your uncle like this. No matter how old you get, I still don’t want you watching any more of this train wreck than you have to. Because I’m eons older than you. I’m supposed to be the one picking you up after you fall on your face.”

“But how many times do you think Sam has been the one to pick Dean up? Or how about the way they both get Cas back on his feet when he needs them?”

“Look, Jack, kid, dude, homie - you’re wrong. The fact that you’re still just a - ”

“If you call me a baby again, you can’t have any more of my Swiss Miss.”

“Fine. That you’re still so new means you shouldn’t be forced to be there for the adults in your life. I don’t care how much you’ve seen. I don’t care how much you’ve done. I can’t lay any of this on you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Shouldn’t.”

Jack scrutinized him. “What happened just now? Why do you look so scared?”

“Scared? I’m not scared.”

Jack didn’t reply, simply waited for Gabriel’s answer.

Gabriel sighed. “Jack, can you … can you just …”

“Can I what?”

Gabriel steadied himself and moved to the bed. “Can you come sit with me?”

Jack surveyed him, trying to ascertain whether he was serious, before obliging.

It was strange having Jack’s meager weight on the mattress instead of Sam’s. “How much do you know, kid?”

“I know that you were tortured. And that you decided you could trust Sam pretty early on. He’s a good fit for you - sort of a halfway point between Dean and Cas.”

“Fair analysis. But there’s … there’s a lot more.”

“I know.”

“You really don’t. You have no idea how much you don’t want to be a part of this.”

“Just tell me.”

“You’ve already had a taste. I’m assuming you haven’t forgotten that you were the first to catch me flailing around in a puddle of my own vomit two weeks ago.”

“Of course. So that happens a lot?”

Gabriel sighed. “Those three - they’ve seen that and more. Over and over again. And that’s not even counting the times I don’t let them catch on. I mean yes, I’m an archangel. And yes, that gives it a whole new spin. This is a deep, deep low. But if I were something else - angel, human, anything else - this would still be degrading. The honest truth is it’s hard for all of us to watch - and that includes Sam.”

“What, you think I’m not watching?”

Gabriel made a noise of disgust. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Well, I am.”

There was a long silence, during which Gabriel tried to shut out the echoes of the little boy: I want them, I want them, I want them …

“What does he do?”

Gabriel shook his head, trying to clear it. “What?”

“What does Sam do to keep you trusting him?”

“He …” Gabriel couldn’t quite figure out how to explain his relationship with Sam. “When I first escaped, when I was dragged here - he just sat with me and let me lose control. It was horrible but it shook me out of my own head a little. I sobbed like a kid at Grandma’s funeral. I shattered glass and puked into the mess." He ran a hand through his hair. "Man, I wish I couldn’t remember all this so well, but … I remember it because of Sam. Because of the way he just let me hurt.”

Jack contemplated this; and Gabriel wondered, stomach curling with shame, if he was trying to picture this grotesque moment in Gabriel’s recovery. “And what about now?”

“Now? Well, now he does the same thing. Drives me nuts, but I don’t think I could keep going without him running into my room in the middle of the night the second he hears me hit the wall when I’m trying to find the door. And the way he puts up with me even though I bring back memories of Lucifer. He’s got the patient of a f-” Gabriel glanced at Jack’s intent, painfully innocent gaze. “Funky saint. And if I had to babysit a terminally insane Messenger of God, I’d send it to an orphanage.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Jack protested. “I know you. What if I was terminally insane?”

“All right, all right, you got me. Fine. But there’s no way I’d be able to play mom if you had a bottomless inventory of memories about being held captive in Hell. Sam and I both do, and he gets overwhelmed. He told me he gets overwhelmed. So he passed some of the cleanup duty on to Dean and Castiel, but he still always wants to be the one to bring me back to reality. I don’t understand it, but man, do I freakin’ need it."

For a few moments, Jack didn’t speak, processing Gabriel’s explanation. Then he asked, “Why were you alone just now?”

Gabriel shifted. “Because right now I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.”

By this point, Jack already knew too much. There was little point in trying to shield him from further fallout. “Because I got mad at Sam for doing what he does - caring about me - after I messed up his day. I threw him into the nightstand. It’d be better for him to stay away from me for a while. For his sake.”

Jack shook his head. “He just wanted to help.”

“Yeah, of course, but I … I screwed him over and he was still being nice to me, and I haven’t had a lot of sleep, and I got real touchy after this whole scene in the pasta aisle, and - ”

“Uncle Gabriel,” Jack said quietly, “You should talk to Sam. No way is he angry. He never gets angry at you.”

“Not true, actually. When he’s had enough of my drama, and he thinks I’m gonna hurt myself …”

“That’s not really angry; that’s scared.”

“Well, he always says as much. Do you even know where he is? Where’d he camp out after I assaulted him?”

“You should check the library.”

Gabriel stared at the floor. “Have you seen him? Is he okay?”

“Well no, I haven’t, but I know he’s not gonna be okay unless you are.”

“I’m never okay. It’s gone out of style. Anyway, doesn’t matter. I’ve got to tell him I’m sorry for treating him the same way Asmodeus would’ve treated me.”

Jack laughed in disbelief. “No way did you do anything like that.”

Suddenly unable to speak, Gabriel shrugged.

“Hey, Uncle Gabriel - I can go get him right now. I can bring him to you. He’s not gonna be mad, I promise.”

Gabriel swallowed and shook his head again, no matter that seconds ago he had insisted upon seeking Sam out.

“Don’t you want his help?” Jack pressed.

Gabriel jerked his head up. “I don’t want anything.”

“What? We all want things.”

“No. No, not me. I don’t. I don’t want anything.”

Stop it; stop touching me, stop!

What’s that just come outta your mouth, boy?

“Uncle Gabriel.” Jack sounded alarmed. “What’s wrong, what’s the matter?”

Which one of us do you think has the authority to use that word around here? It ain’t me runnin’ empty now, is it?

You took enough! You can wait!

Doesn’t matter if I have enough, Gabriel. So long as your grace is down for the count, well, I just might not have what I need when I need it, will I? It’s you that’s gotta be ready for action. And you dare to expect special treatment just because you’re feelin’ a little … what? Sleepy? Queasy? You oughta know better ‘n that by now, boy.

“Uncle Gabe, please talk to me!”

I’m sorry!

I know you’re sorry.

Grace - grace is supposed to come back faster with food. Please, I need to eat, I -

You have the nerve - !

Please, I’m hungry!

Oh, you’re hungry, are you? I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’ when I fed you your last meal.

Gabriel could taste it, then and there, on the bed: the sour slickness of his own insides as Asmodeus pinned him to the floor.

And what use is there in giving you something you’re just gonna puke up all over me?

I won’t if you stay away from me!

“No, wait, hey, Uncle Gabriel, I’m right here!”

I’m sorry, what was that?

Nothing, that was nothing -

That wasn’t ‘nothing.’

"Okay, here, hold my hand. Isn't that what you like? When you're with Sam?"

I come in here to find you empty as an Easter basket on Halloween, and you dare tell me to give you a little me-time? Is that what I heard? ‘Cause that’s what it sounded like.

Please, I’m hungry!

“What can I do? Uncle Gabriel, what can I do?”

All right then, angel-pie. Here, I can make you a little something-something to satisfy that sweet tooth of yours, how does that sound? Wouldn’t want you dyin’ on me, after all now, would I?

“Sam!”

Please, no -

I didn’t hear you say ‘thank you.’

I’m sorry - I’m sorry - thank you -

“Sam! Where are you? Sam, I need your help!”

No, boy, it’s too late. ‘Sides, if I have to sit here and watch you shovel my food into your mouth like the greedy little pig you are, fattening yourself up -

Don’t take it, it’s mine; I want it!

“Oh my god - holy crap - Jack, what’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know; he won’t move, he won’t talk to me.”

I want it! Give it back; I want it, I want it!

Gabriel felt his face pressed into Sam’s chest, heard Sam murmuring to him, telling him it was okay, that he was safe, that there was nothing to be afraid of. He felt his body jerking with sobs, heard his own hoarse wailing.

“Easy. Easy does it. Jack, maybe you should get out of here; I know this is a lot.”

“No, I’m not leaving him.”

I’m hungry!

Gabriel was shivering and moaning now, and Sam tightened his grip in order to keep him as steady as possible.

Give it back, give it back; I want it!

“Okay, ssh, it’s okay; you’re not with him, you’re with us. With me.”

No, I want that, it’s mine! That’s mine! Give it to me!

“Jack, go get the bucket in case he throws up. It’s in the closet.”

Gabriel knew this wasn’t real, but it felt so immediate - so right there -

I’m hungry!

Gabriel took in sharp, short breaths. “Sam - ”

“Hey, yeah, that’s it. I’m here. So’s Jack.”

“Sam,” said Jack, “He thinks you’re mad at him. Because he pushed you.”

“What? No, Gabriel!”

“I hurt you.” Gabriel spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t - Sam, I - ”

“Gabe, stop. I’m not hurt. No need to feel guilty, okay?”

Gabriel whimpered.

“Hey, hey - deep breaths.”

Gabriel slowed his breathing as best he could. Nausea tickled his throat.

“Jack,” Gabriel said, voice trembling, “Can you leave?”

Gabriel couldn’t see Jack’s face, but he sounded dejected when he replied. “Why?”

“‘Cause I think I might get sick and I don’t want you to watch.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Jack,” Sam interrupted, “Go get a cold towel, okay? It’ll help.”

Jack hesitated for only a second. “Sure. I can do that.”

There was the sound of Jack’s footsteps, and then Sam eased Gabriel away so that he could look at his face. “Whatever that was, it’s over. You’re not there.”

“No, I know, I just - the way it feels, I - ”

“Yeah. It’s okay. I get it. Let yourself come back. Slow as you need.”

Gabriel nodded and rested his head against Sam’s chest again. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Sam, you left; you were about to cry.”

“I - that was because I felt like I wasn’t helping you. I was trying and it wasn’t working. That’s all. I just didn’t like seeing you so deep into it that I couldn’t reach you.”

Gabriel groaned.

“Feeling sick?”

“A little.”

“No problem. Just give me a heads up if it gets bad.”

Gabriel caught the sound of hurried footsteps, then Jack’s voice. “Here.”

“Thanks, Jack. Hey, Gabriel, I’m gonna put this wet cloth on your neck, okay?”

“Okay.” Gabriel still flinched when Sam laid it there, but the cold proved a nice distraction from the nausea.

Even so, the voices refused to tone down. Gabriel gagged once and Sam shifted to maneuver the bucket over to him. “You’re okay. Just focus on me.”

Gabriel was still trembling. “Where’s Jack?”

“Right here!” Jack sounded alert, almost eager. “Can I do anything?”

“Jack,” said Gabriel, “Seriously, I need you to leave. Please.”

“Gabriel - ” Sam began, but Jack cut him off. “It’s all right. I mean … if he needs time with you … and if I’m going to make things worse …”

“You’re not,” Gabriel told him. “Just do me a favor and don’t let yourself watch me vomit if it comes to that. Whether or not it bothers you, it bugs the crap out of me.”

There were a few seconds of silence.

“Okay,” Jack said, and Gabriel heard him leave. He even had the courtesy to shut the door behind him.

“It’s better if it’s just you,” Gabriel muttered, still held steady in Sam’s embrace. “I’m not ready for him to see any more of the worst.”

“Maybe you can let him in eventually.”

“I don’t know, Sam. I kinda just wanna wrap him up in an electric blanket and watch The Great British Bake Off with him. He’s ... I can’t infect him with this. I know he’s desperate to help, but I - ” Gabriel swallowed. “I can’t believe I just had one of my signature psychotic breakdowns in front of him.”

“He’s fine. Just worried about you, like we all are. He cares. And like I said, he’s seen plenty already. You’re a part of his life now, and he doesn’t like to watch you hurting.”

“But if he sees me as something he needs to take care of, instead of the other way around - ”

“Hey, come on, stop. He sees you exactly like we do. The only difference is that he didn’t know you before. Don’t fight him on it, okay?”

“Sam,” Gabriel replied, “Sometimes I think you don’t understand just the depth of my self-disgust.”

“What? Where did that come from?”

“Kid shouldn’t be around me. I don’t like being around me.”

“I like being around you.”

“That’s because you’re some kind of freak of nature.”

“We all like being around you.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. He longed for that to be true - and if it was true, he hoped that wouldn’t change. Because Sam and the others ...

I want them.

Gabriel pressed himself more closely to Sam.

I want them. They’re so good to me.

“Are you okay?” Sam murmured.

Don’t leave. I want you.

And if he wanted, if he wanted anything at all ...

I want you right now, please -

“Okay, all right, there we go, it’s okay - ” Sam positioned Gabriel’s head over the bucket. “Just get it out - ”

There was mostly bile for Gabriel to vomit, and the taste was enough to keep him heaving for several minutes after it had been expelled.

“You’re okay, you’re good; just breathe as much as you can, Gabriel.”

Again and again his stomach contracted, and the word echoed in his head - want, I want, give it to me, I want it, I want you, help me -“Calm down; don’t hurt yourself. It’ll all be over soon.”

All Gabriel could do was wait, and it felt as if the sickness would go on forever, that he would never be able to stop no matter how much Sam reassured him, that this violent nausea was a casket holding him hostage from the inside.

“Gabe, there’s nothing left. You gotta relax.”

Gabriel felt dizzy as he gasped for breath. Somewhere in his mind, he registered just how pathetic the sound was.

Sam eased Gabriel onto his back, shifting his head so that it was on the pillow. “You need water,” Sam told him. “I’m gonna get some; I promise I’ll be right back, okay?”

“No,” Gabriel grated out. “No!”

“Okay - okay. I won’t. Here, let’s fix this up.” Sam tugged the blankets out from underneath Gabriel and covered his body. Now Gabriel felt too warm. Sam seemed to notice, because he reapplied the damp towel. “We’ve got to get you some water. Where did Jack - ”

“Sam,” Gabriel croaked, “I hurt you.”

“No you didn’t. That has nothing to do with anything.”

“I’m dangerous.”

“Gabe, come on.”

“I shoved you, I threw you - ”

“Ssh. You were upset. You had a lot going on.”

“Don’t let me hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me. You’re hurting you because you’re so rough on yourself. Now listen, I’m gonna get someone in here to bring you water and then you need to sleep.”

“Creative son of a bitch,” Gabriel mumbled.

“What?”

“Asmodeus. Always coming up with something new.”

“I know. I know, Gabriel.”

“Did the dumbest things to hurt me.” Gabriel felt that he had little control over what he was saying. “Me begging for food, asking for my brothers, groveling at his feet, pleading with him not to leave me alone. Bad as being flayed alive, Sam.”

Sam grimaced.

“All I did was want, and he kept breaking me. Guy knew what he was doing.” Sam looked blurry, and Gabriel blinked, mouth dry, stomach still uneasy. “Should’ve put his mind to something more productive. Horror novels. BDSM. ‘You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you? Mmm, you want your kidneys ripped out with a back scratcher, don’t you?’”

“You need water,” Sam said. “Right now. Then you need to sleep.”

“No, I don’t need water; I need you.”

“Okay, well, just sit tight. All I’m gonna do is open the door and get Jack’s attention, okay? And he can get you something to drink. I think you need to clear your head a little.”

“No, don’t - ”

But Sam stood up and hastened to the door. When he next spoke, his voice was full of surprise. “Have you been there the whole time?”

“I thought you might need help.”

“Uh, yeah, actually, can you get a glass of water? He’s dehydrated to the point of delirium.”

“Then can I come see him?”

There was no reply, and Gabriel suspected that Sam was either nodding or shaking his head. At this point, Gabriel was too weak to care who saw him like this.

The next thing he knew, Sam was lifting his head and pressing a glass to his lips. “Just a little, okay?”

Gabriel took a single swallow.

“Yeah. Good. That’s it. Think you can manage some more?”

“Mm.”

“Here, let me.” This time it was Jack who coaxed him to drink, while Sam supported his head. Gabriel collapsed after the second sip, limp and exhausted.

“Sam.” Jack sounded worried. “Is he gonna be okay? He looks almost … dead.”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. But I’m going to hang around. He’ll freak out if he wakes up and I’m not here.”

“Let me know if you need a break. ‘Cause, you know. I’ll be around too.”

“Okay.” Gabriel heard the smile in Sam’s voice. “I will.”

After Jack left, Gabriel opened his eyes. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“Gabe - ”

“Not just for hurting you. For trying to get you to leave. I know you only meant to help. And if you ever stopped helping, I’d … I would … please just don’t. No matter how many times I tell you to piss off.”

“I just need you to trust me. That’s my only standard for you. Trust me, it’s gonna make such a difference if you decide to go all in and not worry about me ditching you. Doesn’t matter how many times you throw me into furniture. I know why you did it. You can’t be in total control every day. That’s just how these things go. Now listen - go to sleep. You really need it. I’ll wake you up in an hour or two if you want.”

“Don’t want anything,” Gabriel whispered.

Sam pressed the towel to Gabriel’s forehead, wiping the sticky sweat from his hairline. “Changed my mind; I have another standard for you to meet.”

Gabriel squinted, peering up at him, trying to get him into focus.

“Want something,” Sam instructed. “Want anything.” He inched the blankets upwards so that Gabriel was covered more securely.

“And then,” he added softly, “Ask for it.”

[gt-lifetime-blog]

The Bigger They Are: Owen

Part I - Sunday, October 1, 2017

“He said what?” I gasped in disbelief, throwing my towel on the floor. “Dude, I’m sorry, but Boss said you’re fired,” my coworker, Tommy, said.

“What did I do?” I asked him. “‘Owen’s expendable,’ he said,” the other tried to explain, “‘Why do you think he’s been stuck washing dishes?’ and then he said, ‘When I had him serving, he kept dropping the plates, remember? Apparently they were too heavy for him.’ I mean, I tried to argue with him. It’s not your fault that you’re four feet tall. I mean, that’s the reason, right?” “God, Tommy, I swear... One, I’m four feet and three and a sixth inches tall, and, two,” I grinded my teeth in frustration, “I’m gonna talk some sense into him, ‘cause that’s bullcrap. The plates were heavy, by the way!” A few moments later, yelling and screaming could be heard from behind the kitchen, and I stumbled out, my blue eyes puffy. I threw my invalid employee tag on the floor, groaning as I sat in a booth where my friends waited. “That’s the third job I’ve lost since July,” I whined, “All conveniently before the paycheck!”

Giovanni and Zachary, my two friends, were waiting in the booth and awkwardly patted my back. It was a horrible attempt to cheer me up, but at least they tried.

Okay, let me tell you a bit about myself. I’m Owen, I’m going to be thirteen in about a month - wait, no, exactly a month and one day! I’m a midget in the eighth grade, but that doesn’t stop me from looking fabulous! I mean, I think I look pretty attractive. Anyways, I have fluffy dirty-blonde hair with some blonde highlights, blue eyes, a skinny frame, and a high-pitched voice, which irritates me sometimes. Aren’t I adorable? Just kidding, don’t call me that, or I will kill you.

Some people say I’m stubborn. I wonder why...

Anyways, when I had calmed down, we ordered our food from the same worker that had broke the news of my firing to me. I was the last to order, taking the same thing I had every time. “Hey, Tommy, can I get the, uh, Dix Hills Delight?” I raised my eyebrows when I got no response, “Hello?”

Tommy snapped out of his trance after staring at me, apologizing, “Oops, sorry! Was it the Dix Hills Delight?” “Yup,” I responded, and Tommy walked away.

“So, from here, we’ll walk to Elwood Cinema, okay?” Giovanni confirmed.

“Yeah, sounds good. It’s, like, a block away, right?” Zachary asked.

“Correct, but no. It takes me longer than you guys,” Owen complained. “Then we’ll carry you!” the other two chimed in unison.

“Very funny…” I rolled my eyes, but saw that their faces were unchanged, “Wait, you were joking, right? Gino? Zach?”

I should’ve sucked it up and walked, but, no, I had to be a stubborn son of a biscuit. Zachary carried me, hands on my butt (fun fact: I’m supposedly “thicc”), while Giovanni took a video and multiple pictures, much to my dismay. He probably posted them everywhere, and I knew because I had many notifications on my phone. God, being short sucks.

Once we arrived at the theater, I was dropped down quite roughly, and I punched Zachary where it hurt. I’m not gonna say where, since that’s inappropriate. I didn’t hurt Giovanni, though, because he threatened to pick me up, like Zachary did, and I wasn’t going to challenge that.

“I can’t wait for Kingsman: the Golden Circle, even though we’re right here!” I literally jumped up and down, but slowed to a complete stop when I saw my friends’ confused expression. “Owen, we’re seeing IT, not Kingsman,” Zachary explained, and my face fell. “WHAT?!” I screeched, and I felt all eyes on the ticket line focused on me, “Guys, you know how much I hate horror movies!” Zachary gave Giovanni a worried look, to which he responded with a guilty one. He squatted, which only furthered my anger, and gazed at me with serious eyes. “I, um, I said we were gonna watch Kingsman so you could come, Owen,” he apologized, “But, c’mon, it’s not that bad! If it scares you, cover your eyes.” I would’ve argued, but I noticed that people started to take out their phones, taking pictures of the argument between the midget and the taller, probably for some Tumblr crap. Sure, I might’ve laughed at the difference, but I was not in the mood. However, one thing certified my ambition to not be a wimp - one of the most popular kids at school, more popular than Tommy, had just walked in. If I made a fool of myself, word would travel like a wildfire from his snappy lips, so I needed to make sure I was “cool.”

“Fine,” I muttered, and Giovanni ruffled my dirty-blonde hair, but my eyes followed the sight of the boy.

I might seem like a wuss for being cautious to watch IT, but here’s another fun fact: I’m easily scared. Tap me on the shoulder? I scream. Yell when I’m not expecting it? I scream and run! So, you can understand why I was frightened, however, the basically-famous kid was there! I didn’t want to seem namby-pamby. Now, come to think of it, I am.

“Hey, Mike!” I called, practically dragging my friends toward where he was sitting. “Hey, Owen!” Michael greeted, standing up from his seat awkwardly.

I noticed myself staring into his eyes, but shook my head to concentrate on the movie. However, I didn’t watch the movie that much, rather, Giovanni was covering my eyes (thanks), but it wasn’t enough to keep me calm, for I still heard poor Georgie’s screams. After a while, I got used to it, for there weren’t many jumpscares, and I could close my eyes when I knew something was coming. But what if I didn’t?

It was the projector scene - I remember it perfectly - Eddie, my favorite, tore down the map, screaming at the rest of the Losers, when the projector started to move on its own. I knew I should’ve closed my eyes, but Michael was stealing glances at me! I couldn’t look frightened. I was brave! I was strong! I was fearle-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” I screamed, the jumpscare making my stomach lurch.

My eyes closed - I felt sick. I ran out of the theater, refusing my friends’ accompaniment, for I couldn’t ruin their night. Slamming the bathroom door, I stared at myself in the mirror. Wait, let me fix that - I stared at the tip of my forehead in the mirror. I turned away, looking for a garbage can to vomit in if I needed too, then looked back, finding my forehead gone! Okay, it wasn’t literally gone, but the mirror wasn’t showing it! I lifted myself onto the garbage can to look in the mirror - okay, not invisible. I would thank God, but I knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

I finally vomited, but, of course, I was on the trash can, so it got all over my new shoes, which felt surprisingly big. Mother hubbard! I slipped them off and onto the counter, jumping off the trash can, and - wait, what the freak?! Not only could I not reach the sink, but I was at lower cabinet level. And, let me tell you, the lower cabinets were a foot tall. A foot tall?! I realized how loose my clothes were, just like my shoes, and the only thing stayed put was my shirt, since the collar was still smaller than my shoulders. Why am I so calm, you might ask? I didn’t mention how much I was screaming, but, a mistake on the theater’s part, the single bathrooms were soundproof, so it doesn’t even matter if I talk about how my throat hurt after screaming so much. “So, this is what it feels to shrink?” I said to myself, then realized, “How am I going to live?! I’ve seen videos on this shit - I’m going to die! I’m going to die! I’M GOING TO DIE!”

I started to run as my shirt finally fell, almost trapping me as I got smaller, when the door was burst open by some random guy. I craned my neck to see the details of his face, and I didn’t notice the enormous structure swinging at me…

SMACK! I was propelled across the room, and the man didn’t even notice. My vision started to get blurry, and I couldn’t see straight, couldn’t even make a sound. My hand traveled to the back of my head and came back with gushing dark red - blood.

The last thing I saw was the blinding ceiling of the bathroom.

My eyes closed.

The last thing I heard was Michael, Zachary, and Giovanni calling my name from outside the bathroom.

I fell unconscious.

[laurinebruder]

Writing Tag!

For my blog post this week, I decided to do a writing tag. This one is by @writerscreed. So, here we go!

Writers Creed Ask Game

1. What got you into writing?

The answer that immediately springs to mind is “fairy tales” but that's not true. It was Sailor Moon and Power Rangers. I was 9 years old and I created my first original character who was, somehow, both a Sailor Senshi and a Power Ranger. And it kind of exploded from there.

2. Favorite writer

Tamora Pierce. Hands down. No matter how many years pass by or how many new books come on the scene, I always swing back to Tamora Pierce.

3. Where do you get inspired most?

From other books, from TV shows, movies. I got really inspired by Coco recently, about the ideas of family and what family means.

4. What inspires you most?

I can't really say what inspires me “the most” because I can get inspiration anytime, anywhere, from anything.

5. What is your surrounding like while you’re writing?

An office, haha. Seriously, I'm incredibly lucky, and it's why I've stayed in my mediocre job instead of looking for something better. I work third shift in a call center and in between calls, I can do whatever kind of crafty project I want. I've written 2-3 novels in the course of my 6 years of employment at the office.

6. Favorite book

Don't make me pick! I can't pick!

7. Last time you read a book? What was it?

This past week, and I read 2 actually. I read “Everless” by Sara Holland and “Beneath the Haunting Sea” by Joanna Ruth Meyer.

8. Favourite quotes

“Whatever it is, I didn't do it.”

“You can't control over people, you can only control yourself.”

“Write something damnit! Even if it sucks, just get words on paper.”

“What the heckie is going on?” (From @sbbofficialblog)

9. Tag 5 favourite blogs that you admire

@jennamoreci, she's an amazing author and woman, whose advice, wit, and skills continue to inspire me.

@stdennard, who's created one of the most awesome worlds I've read in a while with her Witchlands novels and is just an overall awesome person.

@tamorapierce, my favorite author of all time.

@bitchesgetriches, whose advice about money and finances has helped me climb out of the hole of debt I've found myself in, and whose social commentary is both hilarious and thoughtful.

@bigfatscience, I know, they're not a writing blog either, but the amount of time, energy, and dedication they take to debunking fat phobia, fat myths, fat “science,” and all sorts of other things, as well as offering advice and support is awesome.

10. What does writing mean to you.

Wow, we're really going with the loaded questions, eh? Writing to me...means life. It's who I am, who I've always been, as far back as I can remember. I learned how to live through stories. I learned about morals and convictions and choices and sometimes you can't save everyone. Writing gave me an outlet to express myself when I had no other words. It gave me a chance to explore who I was as a teenager and now, who I am as an adult. Writing is everything.

11. Tag a writer you are a fan of and type in your feelings

Just one? Wow, that's cruel. I'll just refer you back to question 9.

12. Prose or Poetry? Why?

Prose. I can't write poetry for beans. Except haiku. Haiku are awesome.

13. How do you overcome writer’s block?

By fighting through it. Even if what I put down on the paper is absolute crap, it still keeps me in the writing mindset and, eventually, I will break out of it and find something better. If even that doesn't work, I read something new to get inspired.

14. Have you ever read your poem out loud in public? If so, where?

Nope, because I don't write poetry.

15. Favorite poet

Don't have one.

16. Do you write everyday?

I try to, but on my weekends, I tend to not write, except for my blog post. I need time to recharge the ol' batteries so to speak, so I can go back to work with a rested mind and a cleansed palette.

17. How do you integrate personal and general aspects of your writing? In other words, how do you blend your experiences with the subject of the poem?

Well, I don't know about poems, but when it comes to my writing, I just put it in there. If I want to write about family, I give the characters similar family experiences to myself. If I want to write about friendships I've had, I give the characters friends similar to those I have. I'm not really one for subtlety in that regard.

18. Do you enjoy collaborating? If so, what do you like about it?

I did when I was younger. I wrote IM roleplays with friends and it was great. But, it took energy away from the writing that I wanted to do for myself, so I don't do it so much anymore. I loved the camaraderie and the fact that I had someone there to bounce ideas off of and think things through with. Plus, the worlds and characters we created were a ton of fun.

19. Describe your writing style in a sentence.

Myself.

20. What is the favorite thing you’ve written so far? Why?

The Act 2 outline for my current WIP. It's like, the best Act 2 I've ever written in my writing career because I FINALLY understand story structure. But I got a feeling I can make it even better, so that's what I'm gonna do.

21. Confession time: have you ever written a poem while driving?

Nope, nor a book either.

Whoot, that was fun :D I do like writing about writing, and about other authors I admire. Thank you so much for stopping by. If you want to reach me on social media, I'm on Twitter @LaurineBruder or send a question to my ask box here on Tumblr. Take care, everyone, and I'll see you next time.

[angel-nique]

Sorry if you don't like what I say

Ok so I had a little problem with one of my post so I deleted it

So I’m gonna say what I was talking about, ok so I was in kard’s tag up here on Tumblr and I seen some people saying how ARMY’s couldn’t have an opinion on j.seph and jiwoo royally messing up and saying Nigga

So I replied and I said that people need to stop dragging rap monster and bts into something everytime an idol fucks up, because they do, and I also brung up Hwasa, mamamoo and BamBam saying how hwasa’s and Mamamoo’s was worse but I defended BamBam so don’t worry about that one

But anyways I went further on saying that the reason that mamamoo’s was worse because they did blackface(which I find very offensive as a black female), Hwasa through in the N-word in a old song that clearly didn’t have it there

Now I also talked about how mamamoo’s fans stuck up for Hwasa and Mamamoo talking about how she only said the word once and how they weren’t doing blackface because Bruno mars isn’t black, like nigga what? But Bruno’s group of guys that was with him and has been for a little bit now their all black and not everyone of the girls were playing Bruno so I can guarantee you that someone was doing blackface

And with the Nigga thing with Hwasa she added it into the song, she didn’t just fucking slip, no she added that Shiz in there, I will put all the lyrics to irreplaceable by Beyonce on here for you guys if you want to see, I’d even put the audio up here but I won’t

But you know the sad thing about this all wasn’t the fact that they did these things it was the point that everyone let it go, like it didn’t happen it wasn’t all over the place for a week, a month or a few months no it disappeared like we just didn’t care, when we should have

But you wanna know who got backlash longer then them?, BamBam did and it wasn’t even his fault it was some other guy at the party that told that boy that nigga meant “Friend” and yes it does sometimes, when two black friends say it to each other, but not for that guy and not for BamBam either, it doesn’t for any race other then blacks

And then we go onto rap monster that has hate for saying that word 1 time but this time it was actually In the song and the song was actually by a Korean group that are known as legends(shinhwa) and yes I’m not gonna defend rap monster for saying the word at all but I sure as hell will stand up for him for him learning to not say that ever again

And I will respect him because he apologized for it more then once and I respect whasa and Mamamoo once again BECAUSE they apologized just like BamBam

Anyways we as human beings don’t understand sometimes how it feels to get dragged into things that have absolutely nothing to do with us

Ever since I was young I was dragged and dragged into so many rumors and altercations that it made me depressed and it made me feel like crap like I was a piece of gum stuck on the bottom of someones shoe and let me tell you, it doesn’t feel good, it makes you feel like you’re less then everyone in this world and thats how you end up seeing yourself for a very long time

Until I guess it stops and I’m saying I guess cause I still feel like this to this day and I’m saying this because I’m going to stand up for rap monster because he apologized and he learned from it so I forgive him just like so many people in this world have made mistakes and they were forgiven, rap monster can be too

Now someone called me “koreaboo” because I simply stood up for rap monster because that’s what I feel is right but the meaning of a Koreaboo is when you literally want to be Korean, when all you do is eat their food, you speak random Korean words like you know the language even if you dont, you dressed like they would, you do their makeup like they would, you think all your favorites are absolutely perfect and do nothing wrong and think their above all, put idols that you dont like down and you start calling all your favorite boy groups, Oppa and your favorite girl groups unnie

Now honey I do neither because first of all I ain’t Korean nor am I asian I’ll tell you exactly what I am

My mixed ass is Puerto Rican, Cherokee indian, African American and Cuban from new rochelle NY most definitely not south Korea and I am proud to be what the hell I am and where I’m from and I definitely don’t need no one else telling me different, Cause I’m most definitely not having any of it

So if anyone else wants to come for me calling me shit and not even having the correct definition of the word then I’ll gladly shut you down, Cause I am sick and tired of some of the damn disrespect that I get up here

But you know what if you want to bash rap monster, a human being with actual feelings for the rest of your life like some pathetic attention whore then gladly do it because either way he’ll have his fans, his members and family supporting him and he’ll be alright just like he is with his group climbing charts that pathetic haters won’t be able to stop him from doing

And once again let me clarify that I am not defending rap monster for dropping the N-word without any care in the world because I am not heck a few weeks ago me, my cousin and sister went bowling and me and my cousin thought we heard some little white boy say the word and I was this 👊 close to punching his lights out

I don’t take that word from no one but blacks because we have the right to say that word and Rap Monster should’ve absolutely picked another word but he apologized and I forgive him now if you don’t want to then kudos to you go right on ahead

But just remember god is the only one that has the right to judge and whatever you think ultimately does not matter

And about the hair thing, you know suga having braids at the mama’s and Rap Monster when they debuted, its their hair they can do absolutely anything with it even if they get hate, remember that it’s still Their hair and no one else so you ultimately need to get over that one

Like no black person that is fully black is naturally born with blonde hair but do you see anyone complaining when they dye it blonde? No because in the end all the hate is lost oxygen that you could be using for good because it’s their hair and they can dye it blonde, blue, red, yellow, orange, all the fucking colors of the rainbow because

STILL. IN. THE. END. IT’S. THEIR. HAIR!!!!

Get over it please?😂

But before I finish this know that I don’t think that rap monster or any idol are perfect because they are not, just like I’m not and I never will be, EVER! because no one in this world is perfect, you make mistakes, you apologize and you learn from them, that’s how the world goes and we can’t go on in life if all people do is bring up our past

So after this post I won’t bring up mamamoo, whasa, bambam and kard messing up, because they made mistakes and Mamamoo, Hwasa, bambam and Rap Monster, apologized and learned from them And as for kard I don’t know if j.seph and jiwoo apologized but if they did I’m glad and I appreciate it

Ok I’m done, now goodbye I hope everyone who read this long butt post has a good life and lives it to the fullest and if you’re someone that people won’t leave alone and are depressed just know that you’re beautiful and that everything will in the end be OK👌

And I’m saying this now that if anybody that read this wants to be rude, I ain’t having it I will block you instantly because I don’t care for ignorance anymore and people who think everyone around them is wrong and their right, anyone is allowed to have an opinion, which you can have while not being ignorant nor rude so if you choose to be one or both of those things then you are irrelevant and are officially blocked I did it to a girl that decided that she was right about everything and I was wrong and she also thought that people don’t deserve to be forgiven which is wrong because she, me and you(everyone reading this) don’t have any right to judge anyone. Thank you😎

Smxxches💋