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bangteamhyuk · 3 years

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Seesaw (II)

Genre: Mature/Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Neighbors with benefits/Fuck buddies, Producer! Min Yoongi, Fuck girl! OC Y/N, Neighbors AU (a Spin-Off to “Moving On”)

Warning: (NSFW! 18+) Car fingering while Yoongi drives, handjob, blowjob, cum licking/ spitting, Producer! Min Yoongi practicing SAFE SEX and ya’ll kids should do it too, mentions of bullying, suggestive abuse of power/ office boss being a d*ck, alcohol drinking and getting hammered, mention of sexist remarks, Seokjin being damn handsome AF just by walking in OC Y/N’s life like it’s okay because clearly it isn’t (I’m Jimin bias btw, I know you aren’t asking but I’m serving still) OC Y/N basically being unapologetically herself (living life in debauchery) and Yoongi knowing exactly what he needs in his damn life and he isn’t taking no for an answer.

Word count: 10,977k

SYNOPSIS: For months, you’ve been trying to hide your little crush on your neighbor who lives on the 18th floor. Until one night, you saw him drunk on the elevator with an empty bottle of Scotch, you asked if he maybe wants to have more of those in your place. And he did more than just agreeing.

Also thank you to these wonderful people: @flowerblu00 @milkyshoooky @sugaaddiction

“Of course, I’d love to….” you spoke low while taking a glass of water to drink. From the rims of the glass, you swore you could see Yoongi trying his best not to smile, playing it cool by pretending to struggle in picking the cooked meat from the grill. You bit the chopsticks to fight a smile, you must admit, that was pretty cute.

But Rush Hour. Of all the days you two choose to get laid was on Friday evening—a time where, unfortunately by default, everyone collectively decides to get laid as well. Thus, getting stuck in a sea of red lights. Needless to say, you two were bummed.

The traffic was so terrible, that it sucked you dry… literally. It’s as if a Dementor went around Yoongi’s car, found its way in, and unfashionably sucking you from underneath your seat. (Which by the way doesn’t look sexy at all. Seriously, who gets turned-on from that idea? Clearly not you) You were damn fine damp a minute ago, and now it felt uneventfully dry.

“You know what? This is ridiculous. I can see a motel nearby, why don’t we go there in the meantime?” you dramatically lamented from your seat. Yoongi, who was drinking iced coffee, almost choked to hear you declare your frustration so casually.

“Well, um…” he peered through the windshield “I can see the cars are moving in the next lane…”

“The motel is right over there” you pointed, emphasizing the short distance between the car and the building to his left.

He gulped “I uh-- I don’t like to take you to some sleazy motel. Besides, we have our own place” he starts counting by the finger “One, we don’t have to lie down on dirty sheets. Two, won’t clearly hear people moaning next door, and lastly no one’s gonna charge us by the hour…” facing you and concern

“Tell that to your friend who’s waning by the minute…” you pursed your lip pointing in his nether region. He instinctively closed his legs at your retort and chuckled “It’s fine, we’ll be fine… thanks for the genuine concern. Oh look, the light turned green! See, we’re moving? I think the next lane is pretty lax...”

You can only huff as your dry reply.

As much as he wanted to leave with you right away and get to the nearest subway station the very moment you agreed, he couldn’t. Because of all the days he decided to feel horny, he chose to go out with his car. He shut his eyes and dropped his head on the steering wheel to express his blowing resentment towards the cars, gradually becoming stationary on the said next lane. Thus, extinguishing any glimpse of hope that you two would arrive at his place, at an earlier time.

With an aching face, he wished that he could turn back the time and just to leave his damn car at the apartment building. Just so he could save his own balls from turning blue by the minute.

It was obvious that he was frustrated too, like you. Who wouldn’t? Being jammed in almost half an hour already? Still on the city street, barely moving? You had to deal with it.

Then it hit you: Yeah, why not deal with it?

However, you quickly realized that this may be a hit or miss. Not all people share the same interest or kink, but you were dying to have your back scratched, and so is he. So fuck it, you’re doing it.

You began to move your legs, slowly brushing it against Yoongi’s hand which was resting on the gear. He reacted, naturally. In fact, when the traffic light changed colors from red to green, he accidentally stepped on the gas pretty abruptly which partly shoved you down from your seat “Sorry…” furrowing his eyebrow apologetically, deep enough to find your pardon.

“It’s okay” fixing your hair from the center, and tucking it securely on your ears. Thankfully, you didn’t forget to put on a seatbelt, or else the plan you had in mind would have backfired. He sighed in relief, grateful that you accepted his apology.

Uncontented, you then pressed your hand on top of his. His hands suddenly turned cold as he tightened his grip on the gear, right before your touch. While you were certain that most men reacted positively to it, being open to a semi-public tryst, your expectations were not met. Instead, he cleared his throat and held your hands... held your damn hands.

He gently hit the brake as he approached another mob of halted cars on the next lane. Obviously flustered, he quickly moved his head to the side taking glimpses of whatever there was on his side mirror while withholding his smile. He momentarily pulled his hands away from you to shift his gear to neutral, then held your hands back. He even pushed his own finger in between its gaps and locked it. Locked your damn hands.

Slowly you closed your eyes and took one deep breath, not because your heart started to flutter, but because of your utmost disappointment at his response. This is clearly different from what you wanted to happen.

You took a mental note of the events and Yoongi’s actions, concluding that he was clearly a man who disliked beating around the bush. So, for the sake of being clear on your intention, you aggressively pulled his hand, opened his palms and let it slowly brush the skin hiding underneath your skirt.

He froze. Now you got his attention.

Nervously, he coughed on impulse. While his one hand remained clutched on the steering wheel and his eyes still focused on the road, the other hand was busy grazing your inner thigh. Surprisingly, he didn’t budge. He lets you take control, directing him where you want him to be while touching you gently. You then took his wrist, and guided his fingertips towards where you wanted it from the very beginning.

“Y/N, I just think it’s better if we wai---” for a moment, he had forgotten what he wanted to say to you next, because suddenly he felt his finger move to a place where he is afraid you'll lead it to-- your wet slit.

He swallowed, his mouth left ajar and brows lifted in absolute surprise. “Oh shit” was the only thing he could say.

Whining softly from your seat, he reluctantly moved his head to watch you introduce his fingers to the pleasure of your flesh. You then extended your arms, cautiously reaching for his legs and caressed it intently. His eyes blinked rapidly, as he turned his head back to face the road, refusing to look back. His mouth is still hanging from the air, as his head floats in uncertainty mixed with pure ecstacy.

No one asked but, really, this is what you meant by taking matters into your own hand.

It took him a minute to process what was happening, and as such, he began to return the favor. Now free from your control, he started pressing his finger on your sensitive bud and stroked it gently. He bit his lip right after he heard you moaned, “...Yoongi”

“Fuck” he suddenly saw the traffic light turn red to green. He slowly stepped on the gas pedal, careful enough to prevent you being thrown from your seat again. He was now steering the wheel with one hand as he flicked your clit with the other at a steady pace. As acknowledgement on being gratified, you opened your legs wider.

He was game.

Yoongi briefly pulled his hands away from you to maneuver the car smoothly on the highway. He grunted at the view of another sight of flooded red lights. He wanted to get home so bad. All he could think of was to get on the bed with you with his cock finally warmed. But the highway had led this poor man’s dreams down in an instant.

Though, you refused to concede to the situation. You are willing to put up a fight against the status quo, ready to deny the world from preventing yours and Yoongi’s happiness from dying each second. Thus, like a good employee of this capitalistic world, you turn this deplorable event from liability to an asset: making this a great opportunity for you and Yoongi to bond closer. (Albeit, a different kind of bonding, that is)

As soon as he stepped on the brakes, you pulled out your seatbelt and moved towards his direction “Your car is heavily tinted right?” you asked while probing the cars around you from your window.

“Yeah, why?” He asked while putting back his hands to your slit, continuing to flick your bud, now significantly fast. You decided to turn it up a notch as you reached for the button of his pants. Slowly, unbuttoning it and pulling his zipper down. He started to pant, nervous to hear you reply.

“Safety first…” You then helped him shift the gear to neutral, and began pulling his pants and boxer roughly half way.

He groaned as he watched you grasp his stiff length, stroking it slow. “Is this what you meant when you asked if my car is tinted?” he quickly jerked his head up to check if the vicinity is safe, then briefly saw you nod your head to a ‘Yes’.

He choked when he sensed his tip poke on to your lips. It didn’t take a while for you to hear him moan when he felt his tip finally pressed the entrance of your mouth, gradually moving down on your tongue and on to your inner cheek. The warmth and wetness you’re giving him puts him in immediate joy.

He hissed at the sight of you taking him whole, and helped you fix your hair by putting it to the side, letting you breathe easy while you bob your head “Nngh… Y/N”

“Like that?” you part a bit and kissed his tip.

“Why do you keep asking the obvious?” he faintly chuckled as he tossed his head from his seat, right when he felt your tongue move from the bottom shaft and up to its head. Then quickly downed on him entirely again. His eyebrow creased automatically, as if contemplating today’s wisdom from the universe that all ‘good things come to those who wait’. He concentrated on that note like a mantra, as he shut his eyes tight.

Even when you were giving him a head, he was still kind enough to help you keep your hair away from your face. Holding it fairly light, trying not to pull. If this isn’t a gentleman thing to do, then I do not know what is.

“Y/N” He began sliding his two fingers in, which left you half giggling and panting at the immediate contact.

“Mm, you are doing me good hm?” you asked while stroking him slowly and watching his eyes closed, barely breathing as he mentally called to thank the universe for being blessed by you “You can add another finger if you want…”

“Damn, you are so hot…” His eyes then lit up, biting his lip and grinning with pride, thus displaying his perfect gummy smile that takes you to greater heights every time he does. “Yeah… I really appreciate your honesty, thank you for telling me you are horny” he replied as he prods his fingers in, progressively fast. Candidly making you clench and moan his name at the same time.

And like a good co-worker, you went back to hustle. Starting from the bottom to his top.

The tightness of your mouth in his shaft, the smell of your sweet perfume, the sound of his fingers squelching inside your very core, and the sight of you taking him whole, like a prized lollipop. Oh, and the fact that he pulled his (now) three fingers out from you to have a little taste…Yes, he nodded to himself. Licking every side of his fingers as if eating at KFC. Indeed, ‘it is finger licking good’.

It became apparent that all his senses were being satisfied when you finally felt him start to shiver. Everything was met, everything was good, everything became so overwhelming for Yoongi that even with his lids close, he can still see the light shine from heaven.

He gasped, leaving him marveled at your greatness by giving him a very good head. In fact, he found it so admirable that you start to feel him throb. Evidently, he is coming.

You were so good, that he barely withholds himself from coming. Along with the fact that he became unaware that his elbow accidentally hit the switch to dwindle down the window. “Fuck!” he writhed, thrusting his hip up spurting hard in your mouth.

“Yo, Casanova! Your windows are down!” The driver on the other side shouted.

His eyes widened, still sporadically shuddering from his high. “Shit!” He quickly pushed the button to raise his windows while his other hand pulled his pants and boxers up (at the least he managed to put his boxers up while in hurry, now 80% covering his ass) only it was too late.

Resisting to swallow his cum, you began to pull yourself up from your seat and look for a tissue stashed somewhere inside your bag. Upon seeing your head pop from below though, it didn’t take long for the other driver to discern what just happened.

“Nasty” was the last thing Yoongi heard from the grinning stranger before he finally put his window back up. Now completely shielded from his embarrassment.

Just then the traffic light turned red to green. Yoongi quickly hit the gas. Staying in this traffic was definitely the last thing he wanted to be in. He then thoughtfully swore to be mindful of his surroundings next time when another opportunity like this came, or maybe he would never (It’s too soon to decide)

But one thing is for sure, he swore he can never drive and see this road the same way ever again. Thanks to you.

A lilac lacy bra resting on his lampshade, matched silken panty hanging on the side of his headboard, black pants stuck in the middle of his bedroom door, an empty packet of condom on the edge of the bed, and his brief dangling, which managed somehow to reach on top his his TV.

Sitting with his legs crossed, his back resting on a pile of pillows with his hands supporting your weight. He happily watched you grind on him with great effort for a full whole blown minute. “Y/N” humming your name, in between his grunt.

“Yoongi” you recited his name in return like litany, hands gripping on his bare shoulders as you tossed your head back in trance.

“Fuck…” he began to propel his hips against you, meeting your every movement. One of his hands sneaked its way to your breasts cupping each and kneading it gently.

“Yoongi” you repeated, calling his name, spreading your legs wider to find your balance and continuing to roll your hips in synchrony with his. For a moment, the sound of slapping skin was all you could hear until it syncopated by his heavy breathing. He pushed himself close to you, hands now reaching towards your clit. Stroking and flicking it concurrently in full earnest.

His head suddenly fell on to your shoulder, his gasp becoming audibly clear sending you into utter frenzy. In response, you pulled yourself back and began nibbling his ear, light and soft. He moaned. Yes, the kind that reverberates, delivering you to the edge. Thus reaching your high.

He snickered after hearing you whimper “For someone who initiated everything, I honestly thought you could last. I didn’t know just the sound of me moaning can send you to peak?”

With your mouth still open, you grimaced at his snide remark “Lie down, why don’t you? Let’s see if I can take you with me?”

“No need to, I’ll come any time soon” he tilts his head to the side and kisses you, simultaneously thrusting in haste. His sudden reflex jolts you in another course of delirium. As his movements became erratic, you held on tight to his shoulders taking it as a cue to give each other one final push to reach both your climax.

“Y/N…” He gagged as he squinted his eyes hard. Together, you both curse at the sensation, and deeply sighing together after hitting the zenith. You both lie down at the same time, panting. For a while it was silent, as if both of you were taking time to ponder on life in general like a hermit sage.

“…. Is this going to be a regular thing?” he suddenly asked, shifting on his bed to face the ceiling. Finally, he was asking the important question.

“Sure. You mean no strings attached right?” moving your body to face him.

He then pursed his lip to say something but quickly retracted. He figured he needed to ask it, so he just let it roll. A necessary query, he thought. “Is this going to be exclusive or….”

“Let’s not kid ourselves and make things easier for us, so no. Exclusive is quite foreign territory for me. Although I can still be monogamous, that is if you want it to… but don’t push okay? I can only go for a short period” you stretched your arm and rolled to the edge, taking the liberty to take his bottled water from the bedside table and drink.

“No, no, it’s okay. As long as we keep using protection, I guess that’s fine. We can see other people on the side, while we keep in touch? I think it’s a pretty fair deal…”

“It’s a good deal” you pointed out as he nodded in agreement.

“But what if one of us isn’t up for it any longer? Do we tell or do we not tell? Because honestly I’ll hope you’d pick the forme-- ”

“Latter” you quickly replied before he finished the word ‘Former’

He chuckled, and shook his head in disbelief with your reply.

“Fine, I can adjust. I totally understand that this isn’t just about me, so in all fairness, I’ll agree to your demands. But you have to agree with mine”

“That is?” He sat back up and pulled out his soiled condom, knotted it first before throwing it in the trash bin.

“Give me your number” you opened your palm to his direction

“Well, I thought you’d never ask” he picked up his cellphone he left from the edge of his bed, while you combed down on the floor to find yours. You two then exchange phones and enter each other’s number, and return it back. “That was easy” he raised one eyebrow smirking at you.

“With that, we can um… reach each other wherever, whenever” you pressed your lips together and gave him a smile.

He nodded “Sure, but only if you wanted”

“Only if you wanted it too” you replied, cordially mimicking his head.

“Everything sound’s good to me” he shrugged “So, Deal?” he stuck his hand out to you and you took it. “Deal” you both shook it, sealing the agreement.

Seesaw. It is one of your favorite playground activities. You enjoy the momentary high and the unpredictability of being dropped down. Although more than anything, you adore the power play. You get the euphoria from being intrigued, guessing each time who gets to take the upper hand.

You love taking predictions, you love calculating, but above all you love to wager. You wanted a brief scare from losing, only to shift the leverage to your favor. For you, Seesaw is a game of dominance. And in the game of dominance, of course you like to be the one in control.

Even when you were little you were so engrossed at that thought, obsessing to declare yourself to be the winner. You were so competitive, that it made you fall on a sandbox one time, when you were playing with your next-door neighbor, Hee-joon.

Seeing from afar, your father quickly ran to you and held you close for comfort. Although when he was dressing your bruises, you remember vividly how he warns you not to cry in front of boys, because little boys always relish seeing a weak girl cry. You always have to emerge as the victor at all times. Hence, you never did. Even now as an adult. You fight back, you always do.

That’s why Hee-joon grew up hating you, because the last time you two played Seesaw again, you managed to put him up above and watched him revel in the air. Until he realized you refused to put him back down, not until he cried. You watched him weep and plead above you. Only then you decided to put him down when his mother came. To say the least, your mother was upset with your action, but your father felt proud.

Seesaw is the game that taught you how to take the highs and lows, but more than anything, it taught you how to be the one in supreme.

Every time you deal with men, you remember every word your father told you. As such, when you reached the epiphany that love is nothing but just an illusion, you decided to take things to the sheets instead. You’d rather be engulfed with pleasure rather than unnecessary emotions under the guise of romance.

And yet, somehow deep within you, you were too scared to admit the rationale why you vehemently refuse to lose. Because at the time when you fell and your father ran to you, you saw it in his eyes. He was looking at you, fearful to see someone he loves dearly be in so much pain. He was terrified to let you know how far the depths of a wound can go, until you can no longer feel… and you’re afraid to know it too.

It is the precise reason why, right now, you are watching Yoongi cover his face on a Sunday morning. Leading him to his high, watching him revel in absolute bliss, under him… literally. Yoongi pleaded for you to stop giving him another god-tier head, and let him breathe easy, before you could deliver him any further to his overdrive. While you indeed followed his plea by halting, you decided to tease him a little by pulling yourself up from the covers and went on top of him. You took his wrist and pressed his palms against your bare chest.

“Wait” he paused as he sat up and furtively looked for a condom in his drawer. “Thank God, we still have one last…” he pulled out the shiny foil packet. You took it from his hand and helped him put the rubber on.

And just like that, Yoongi again was on a roll. For the past few weeks, neither of you resisted sex. Monday night? On your couch. Wednesday? On his kitchen counter. Friday after work? Inside his car on a dark alleyway. Saturday night? Inside his shower. Now Sunday, back on his bed.

Sex with Yoongi is great, but you already expect that.

But just like a play of Seesaw, you know that this kind of arrangement will definitely have some highs and lows. You know that one day, you and Yoongi’s sex drive will decline, frequent calls will become rare, until it’s gone. So, keep them coming right? Not that you are worried, but really what is there to lose? Especially if the sex is good and you two are on an equilibrium, like that in the game.

Well, not until Friday.

---

“Hey, good work!” someone tapped your shoulder lightly after closing the meeting room, you turned around to see who it was.

“Oh, Hoseok. Thanks!” you grinned, happy to see one of your best friends attend your team’s presentation for a Cereal Company. You’ve known Hoseok since college, and even worked with him on your first job. Even if both of you left and went to a different company now, you two still find time to catch up. It just so happens that you two are now working on the same project.

Dipping your head a little low, you whispered to his direction “I was genuinely surprised to know you work for this company, I thought you hated their cereals?”

“Unfortunately, beggars can’t choose” he replied softly as you nodded in agreement, while walking with him on the office hallway towards the elevator lobby “Great to know they promoted you as the Event’s Manager huh?”

“As long as they pay me well, I can manage whatever shit the world throws at me,” you said, twitching your lip to the side and shrugging, making Hoseok hysterical.

“Cheers to being a slave for money”

“Cheers” you both tossed an imaginary goblet from each of your hands when suddenly, you heard your phone buzzing, so did his. Both of you stopped from the elevator lobby to read the message. You rolled your eyes “Seems your boss and my boss are going to announce their engagement?”

He chuckled, “I’m pretty sure they’re straight, Y/N. But I can’t come to this ‘Night After-Work Drink’…” he put his phone back in his pocket after reading it.

“Aw, C’mon it’s going to be the weekend tomorrow! Plus, I’m going to introduce you to my colleagues, we’ll have fun! Just come, let’s go Hoseok! Don’t leave me alone, please?” you whined before him, trying your hardest to convince one of your closest friends to come by using your pleading charm.

Hoseok just stared at you and breathed.

“Why? Have you not forgiven me for that time I accidentally left my hairbrush on your car and your ex thought you were cheating on her? Hence, leaving me now on my own to suffer?”

You stepped forward to face Hoseok before he could enter the elevator with you.

He rolls his eyes “Still dramatic as always. I told you, that’s been long forgotten. Besides, I am dating someone new”

“Oh” you said inaudibly, finding Hoseok slightly displeased with your overly critical reaction.

“Hey, I know that face!” he narrowed his eyes while expressing his distaste to see your silent retort “And no, I have no plans in introducing you to her… Yet! Not until we’ve established whatever we are” he continued while pressing the elevator to the ground floor.

“Hm, still sounds trouble to me”

“We’ve only known each other for a week, Y/N. Give her some slack.”

“Then why are you cancelling extra working hours? When can you drink to your heart's content, hm? Beer will taste good, especially if you’re not the one paying” you bobbed your brows and smug “Just admit it Hoseok, she got you wrapped around her fingers. I told you, you can’t do this on a regular. Women like a little chase…”

“First of all, we’re not paid to kiss ass. Second, you also hated the idea of having to go there too and third, she’s not like you…”

You opened your mouth, clearly taken aback to hear his remark. Hoseok quickly clarified “I meant to say, you’re frighteningly the almost perfect girl…but she’s not the fooling type.”

“That’s what we all say, that’s what we all want you to believe Hoseok...” You retort incredulously “it’s better be uncompromising forthright than give you false hope. Go choose!”

Hoseok sighed deeply “Look, one day you are going to meet someone who will probably prove to you that not all men are shit.” he said while crossing his arms and stared at you, admonishingly.

“I already did. I have you” you pouted. The elevator stopped as Hoseok waited for you to step out first then followed.

“Besides me” leading you now to his car in the parking lot. His eyes flickered as he remembered something… or someone “Know what? there’s Seokjin-hyung”

“Oh, you mean Seokjin the half-god from the Film Department, in our Uni? Seokjin is infinitely out of question. Have you seen his latest drama on TV? Park Bo-gum even sent a coffee truck to congratulate him” You sighed resentfully.

“How’d you know?”

“Instagram. Okay don’t judge”

Hoseok chuckled, stopping at his car to turn it open with his car keys “I clearly am doing it right now”

“Technically, he is untouchable. You’ve seen how the girls reacted then when they saw me and him together on a couch? When we were literally just talking about Chinese Philosophy class during that frat party. And like some teen-romcom movie, rumors started to fly the next day and they multiplied by the hour” You opened the door to his passenger seat and secured yourself with a seatbelt.

“Easy A. It’s Easy A.” He stressed as he entered and adjusted the side mirror’s on the driver’s seat .

“The difference between you and Seokjin are that we’re friends… and he and I just happened to be in one class”

He starts the engine of his car, offering to drive you all the way to the bar where your team is having this week’s celebration “My point is… theoretically speaking, that there are men who are as nice, like he is. Plus, he knows those nasty rumors weren’t true. Won’t you forgive those girls?”

“They’re basically my creators? Shouldn’t this present slut thank them instead?”

“You and I both know you were once a college prude, and you never slept with any of those rumored men… Seokjin-hyung knows the truth. Even if he was conscripted to the list, unlike other men who took advantage of that, he fervently denied”

“Because that’s the truth. We never slept, Hoseok. Above every one, you know I didn’t have the guts. Wow, I am still not sure whether to feel offended or happy about it. Am I not worth it?”

“Y/N, seriously? Seokjin’s a true gentleman, that’s it. That’s the tea. I can even swear he was into you that time, until her groupies held an emergency meeting to evilly conspire against you… I’m actually glad they’ve been dealt with. This is why we can’t have nice things”

“Hoseok, okay, granted that he and I ended up dating each other back then… It is still going to fail because lov-- ”

He started to turn on the radio, loudly “What? I can’t hear you! Know what? Have a talk with your pessimism when you get to the bar. Here, I’ll even give you extra money so you could offer it a few more drinks” he pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed it over to you.

You chuckled, batting your eyes to his direction “Aw, ever the romantic Hoseok. Well, keep them I’ll collect it soon enough”

“She is going to be great, Y/N. Don’t jinx it!”

“Fuck capitalism!” your boss shouted.

“Fuck capitalism!” you all repeated and shouted it while drinking another shot all together.

“Y/N! Lara! Do that soju bomb thing together!” Your boss suddenly made his way to sourpuss the night by ordering you two to do a party trick which is gravely against your will.

Lara gave you a look and you just shrugged, telepathically and ironically accepting defeat from capitalism itself, by giving in at your boss’s request. You two were compelled to act normal as if nothing happened. Honestly, no one really needs to know about you, her, and canker Joe. As a matter of fact, you don’t want anyone to know that you tried to sleep with canker Joe from your office. Besides, didn’t Lara hide the fact that he was seeing Joe too? Maybe she was too embarrassed about him as well. Regardless, he is definitely a thing in the past and should be kept inside a box, six-feet underground for good.

“Hey!” Lara plastered a smile and handed you the glasses, as usual, to prepare both your famous tricks.

“Hey, hey!” you faked cheered as well as you helped her open more beers to spray on each glass, half filling the glass. Lara then filled each shot glass with a fair amount of soju, while you meticulously placed them strategically close so by the time you shove one, the other shot glass would follow like dominoes (dropping to beer glass like a bomb).

This never fails to amaze your boss for some reason, to see you two do it each time, much to you and Lara’s chagrin. Truthfully, if you’re being asked, you two would wish you weren’t forced to entertain anyone outside office just to have a favorable treatment by the day.

“Y/N” your boss called as he pulled out a newly opened bottle of soju to your direction, handing out your glass politely to him as a reflex. “You really did a great job with your presentation; I really like it! Don’t be too shy alright? You deserve to celebrate!”

“Thank you, sir,” you turned away from his direction and downed the alcohol in one go, respectfully showing everyone on the table that you’ve accepted the harsh reality of the need to kiss ass so you could get cash.

“Too bad, Hoseok’s not here. He’ll probably have fun” Hoseok’s boss, who joined your team, commented while watching you have another at your boss’s behest. You nodded to his direction, to feign agreement. Considering the amount of alcohol he could bear in a single night, of course not, he definitely would not have fun.

“Y/N” someone murmured on the table, after your boss moved his attention to the recently hired employees. You turned around and saw Lara staring at you “Y/N” she repeated.

“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow clearly befuddled to hear her and have your attention.

“I know you can’t handle alcohol well, just gently decline next time he offers. He has more people to oppress now” she lowered herself so you could hear her clearer and puck her lips subtly to point at the poor new recruits.

“Oh, I thought you said you didn’t want to be friends with a slut like me? Are we also going to pretend I didn’t hear that too?” you whispered back

“Whatever, just don’t come hurling at everybody and then throw up”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you”

She was right. She’s always right. By the time you downed an nth shot of soju or whatever it is they gave you (and add that fancy cocktail you wanted to try on their menu) your surroundings gradually revolve and appeared hazy. Somehow, you decided to take drunken shots of the bar and record random moments for you to post something on your social media account. Nothing too wild or nasty, just enough to flash for your friends online that you were having a great time on another Friday night.

“Y/N, is it okay if you come with me to the restroom and help with something?” Lara asked distinctly from her seat, loud enough to hear your superiors to cut you lose from drinking.

You nodded submissively, plopping down from the stool and followed Lara. By the time you two arrived at the girl’s restroom you quickly went into the nearest cubicle and threw yourself against the toilet and vomited.

“I told you so, even Hannah Montana can’t get the best of both worlds. Y/N, stop acting tough.” She crouched down and held your hair up while patting your back.

“I’m feeling fantastic Lara!” you deadpan reply while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay, you are welcome” she rolled her eyes while burrowing something from your bag, then you heard something thud. Suddenly everything went blank.

The smell of musk, leather and a little bit of smoke. The feeling of the heat of a skin nudging on your nose. Your hands pressed against someone else’s chest, and the air breezing under the soles of your feet, as if you were levitating. You blinked your eyes twice and opened it wide from your stupor… finding yourself in the middle of the busy street of Itaewon.

You shook your head a little and realized you were resting on someone’s back. “Don’t move too much, you are starting to get heavy?” said someone in a timbre filled with objection.

You knew that voice, and you knew that scent too well too “Yoongi?” you asked weakly.

“Are you gonna throw up? Just tell me…”

“Yoongi, why are you…” you shook your head, that wasn’t the right question “Why are we here?”

“You butt-dialled me, it’s been so long since you called so I thought you’d invite me over but I only heard random noises then it ended… Until you began sending me weird pictures in the dark. So, I was kind of worried and called… But it was your officemate who answered and just told me to come pick you up”

“My what?” you asked, trying to process everything you heard.

“Know what? You’re too drunk to have this conversation and so I’m just going to take you home. Don’t move too much, you are slipping” he paused for a moment while he jerked to keep him adjusted to the weight that he is carrying. “Cutie from the 18th floor huh?” you heard him snickered as he asked.

“You saw my phone?”

“No, your officemate told me. Actually she asked me if I was ‘Cutie from the 18th floor?’ She apologized instantly because she didn’t know how to address me when I came to the bar to pick you up”

“Okay, that’s it. Put me down!” you tried to shimmy your body away from him

“Are you sure about that? She took your shoes from you; said she’ll leave it on your desk tomorrow”

“God…Must be Lara…”

“Is she the best friend you told me about before?”

“Yeah…”

“She’s worried about you”

“Mmm. Right.” You shut your eyes from the blinding neon lights passing from your sight.

“…Hold on to me tight” he reminded, as you reluctantly wrapped your arms around him while he trudged with you on his back.

In clear disorientation, right in the midst of the crowd, you wonder—why above all things, he is carrying you home without any question. Slowly, you closed your eyes and sighed while clutching on his chest a little bit tighter. You rest your head again on his shoulder, burrowing your nose on the fabric of his shirt. (Not to be weird, but if someone demanded what you’re doing at a gun point you wouldn’t think twice confessing that he genuinely smells so good, and that’s the whole reason) Somehow, whatever this was, it made you feel at ease.

And he wasn’t complaining.

“Y/N…Y/N” Yoongi rouse you from your mini-slumber “We’re here, we’re at your front door” He gently put you down on the floor and help you stand upright, waiting for you to enter your apartment so he could drop you home with his conscience at peace.

You crouched down and narrowed your eyes while pressing on the numbers on your door lock, offering it with great effort.

‘Access Denied’ it buzzed.

“Shit!” cursing on your poor concentration to get it right.

Yoongi sighed “Whisper me the number code, and I’ll do it for you”

“What? And enter any time while I’m sleeping?” you replied while unnecessarily glaring at him.

“Okay, that’s it… I can leave you here or you can stay at my place…” he put his waist on each side of his waist, like an old lady giving you an ultimatum.

“Fine... it’s wait…” You pointed a finger to Yoongi and pulled out your phone, pressing down the number sequence on the screen but in full labor. Yoongi, who was losing the endmost ounce of his patience, finally pulled you up to drag you back to the elevator lobby of your floor.

“Okay, okay, it’s 5991!” you spoke harshly, demanding him to put you down. Yoongi quickly turned around, to see if anyone heard. Fortunately, no one was around your hallway to hear you blurt your code so casually. He then swiftly pressed the numbers and opened your door and pulled you in.

“Oh! I forgot my RFID is on my wallet” you raised your hand belatedly after being dragged by Yoongi inside your apartment “Wait, what? You could’ve told me this earlier!” he groaned in utmost frustration, while helping pull your blazer off and beginning to question his choices in life.

“Yoongi” you grin at him with your eyes barely open “it’s been a while yeah? I miss your cock! Let’s have sex!” you squeaked quite happily. He then dropped you pretty harshly on the bed, not that you mind since you were too inebriated to care. “Mmm. Are you into rough play tonight Mr. Hit-song Producer, sir?” You reached for him, tracing your fingers against his shirt.

“I’m not…” he replied directly, rejecting your advances while he turned away from you busily searching for something. “… unfortunately for you miss, I don’t get turned on with drunken girls on the bed. Scurry over and try to seat on your back on the head board”

Obediently, you followed his demands despite not making sense, or at least because you are too drunk to comprehend anything. You shut your eyes waiting for him to do something to you until you felt something damp on your face “Yoongi?” you slowly opened your eyes.

“I am taking the liberty…Close your eyes” he asked sternly. It was beginning to make sense now.

“Are you helping me clean up?” you asked, feeling him gently brush your eyes with a damp facial cotton. “How’d you know which one is a makeup remover?”

“I’m not dumb, Y/N. I can read” he adjusted himself to mildly take your mascara off you. Flustered, you begin to turn your head slightly away from him. As if in a snap, the effect of alcohol was beginning to wane. Just because of the thought that Yoongi was doing things for you that you never expected. “Y/N, look I’m trying!” he clicked his tongue by pressing his thumb and index finger on your chin, securing you steadily “I heard, it’s not good to sleep with a makeup on… there’s a good chance you’ll turn blind from bacteria build-up if this is left unclean for hours”

“Says, who?” trying to dissipate the towering feeling of being embarrassed. “Your ex?”

“No, the idols I get to work with who came in late. They were trying to justify their tardiness because of their face after a night of drinking. Honestly, who cares? They have a lot of fans who love them”

“It’s a girl thing, you’ll never understand”

Smoothing another batch of damp cotton on your cheeks, he finished the conversation by telling you “Well, I do. You are pretty even without it…” he said while dabbing one last time on the side of your lips until you felt his thumb pressed on the edge of your lips.

Yoongi froze, did he just? He started to wonder. You slowly opened your eyes to see his face close to yours, just a few inches away from each other's lips. He cleared his throat and immediately shifted himself away from you again, keeping distance. “Good night, Y/N”

You watched him turn his back and dimmed the lights off your room, leaving only with a soft glimmer from your bedside lamp. Feeling stunned at the chain of events, you cowered down to see your clothes still on and your chest beating heavily. You jerked and shook your head reminding yourself that ‘No, we refuse to be your victim, Yoongi’. Then you felt it, clearly your body is still jaded, realizing on its own that you still had too much alcohol in your system. So, you tried to hurry over to your bathroom, only to find your face falling flat on the floor.

Gratefully, Yoongi hasn’t completely left you yet. When he heard, he abruptly went to check on you in your room. “Just how many have you had?” he helped you up and hiked you over to the toilet. You immediately hurled yourself to it and threw whatever you had in you. He groaned mournfully, while patting your back. He knew the answer to his queries, he’s going to need to stay by your place for the night.

And he did, but on your couch. He thought, it would be awkward to be placing himself beside you on your bed if you two are not having sex. Thankfully, your couch had enough space for him to lie down, yet he couldn’t seem to find his sleep. Not when he began questioning himself as to why you had him worried for the night, he shifts to the side staring blankly on your ceiling deeply sighing at the thought. He wished he knew.

The sound of fizzle, the touch of your dried lips, and the scent of butter, emanating from the kitchen towards your room. All of those, woke your senses. You looked at your phone and find it’s 7am on Saturday. Normally, Hoseok would gladly walk into your apartment to send you over hung-over foods, but guessing at the fact that he’d be with a lady friend you assumed he’d be unavailable for you in a time of need…. And cooking? Hoseok cooking? For the longest time you two had been together as friends, he never once attempted to put himself in the kitchen. So what changes?

You took your satin robe and swiftly wrapped it around to see who it was in your kitchen. You ran out of your room with a pillow on your hand and shrieked at the familiar figure. It was Yoongi cooking in your kitchen

He pulled out his airpods and asked “What, were you calling me?”

“No, I just… I didn’t expect you’d still... be here…Are you cooking?”

“Um, yeah, why are you always asking the obvious?” he knitted his brows, eyes darting from left to right, perplexed to even answer your query. “Look, why don’t you sit down and let Chef Min do the cooking for today”

You silently sat on your island stool and watched him prepare food. “Is this what you do to everyone you sleep with?”

He stifled a smile and pursed his lips to think. “I wish I did. Unfortunately, no. Just you, for now”

You folded your arm and poked your tongue from the inside of your cheek “Well you can’t do this…”

“Huh?” He asked with his back to you, busily chopping more onions and garlic then mixing it to the cooking pan.

“Rules.”

“Rules? What part of the agreement is cooking prohibited? If my memory serves me right, you failed to mention it, so I guess this is pretty legal”

“Okay, fair point. Then why are you doing this? On my apartment, on my kitchen, on my food? Is it all for me?”

Yoongi was taken aback, but he needed to answer promptly “What, you think I’m starting to like you more than a neighbor… with benefits?” he scoffed “Such confidence, woman” he turned around to snicker, playfully flailing his arm with a cooking chopstick on hand.

“I’m sorry but I can’t help it” you merrily bemoan in retrospect and shrugged. “Didn’t you say you’ve always fancied me?”

“Naked, I fancied you naked” he corrected.

“I don’t know, sounds the same to me” You watched him perfectly toss the food while cooking, like a pro. “Hmm, impressive. Are you trying to make me weak on my knees?”

“Well, are you?” he asked stoically, as he turned the stove off and finally served you a hung-over breakfast he made out from the ingredients available in your refrigerator.

“Almost, but not quite” you playfully bite your lip, fretfully eating your smile.

“You’re welcome for the breakfast Y/N” he winked, putting his share on a plate and sat on a stool right in front of you.

“Thank you, Chef Min Yoongi” you ducked your head, to tamper down whatever you were feeling in the morning. You weren’t a prayerful person but today you decided to whisper one from your seat. You needed it, a whole of it, before chowing down your freshly cooked food made by the Chef himself in front of you. Testing you by the minute.

He watched you while you shut your eyes and chant something inaudibly, and without you knowing-- he smiled.

“Min PD nim?” one of the staff knocked on his door. Yoongi, as usual, was busy listening to the tracks he made from last week now that it is back to being Monday again.

“Han Young-woo-ssi said he wanted to talk to you sir…”

“Oh, what about?” He abruptly stopped and turned to face her.

“It sounded like it’s a personal matter sir… so I didn’t ask him any further. He is waiting outside your office sir, would you like me to tell him to come back after lunch?”

He shook his head “No-no, it’s fine. I am a little bit stressed too, I was just looking for the right lyrics to the melody but maybe talking to him might help” he went out from his seat and decided to see his visitor from the same company but in the Accounting department. Was it about his demands against the company for paying for his daily coffee needs? Or was it about denying his request to fund him for another set stereos?

“Yoongi! My friend!” Young-woo delightedly extends his arm to give him a quick hug and pat on his back.

“Hey Han!” he sat on the couch and Young-woo followed, sitting on a chair adjacent to Yoongi.

“What brings you here?”

“Well, I saw you last Saturday night in the streets of Itaewon”

He chuckled “Yeah, I decided to do some carrying as part of my daily workout routine”

Young-woo nods solemnly “I know the person you were carrying. She’s bad news…”

He furrowed his eyebrows, pausing for a moment to comprehend the sudden change of his tone.

“I knew her from college, she’s been sleeping with a lot of men... maybe until now. Just avoid her if you can. She might give you STDs or something… Just stop Yoongi. I don’t know if it’s because she slept with Seokjin? Which probably made her impertinently bold and decides to slut around”

Yoongi thwarted him from finishing his sentence. “Seokjin? You mean Kim Seokjin?”

“Yes, your high school best friend and my frat brother, Seokjin. Did he never tell you about her?”

“He mentioned a few girls, but I don’t remember her being mentioned at all.”

“Well, I guess it’s because she’s not worth mentioning”

Yoongi pressed his fingers on his temple “Do you really see girls that way, Young-woo?”

Young-woo was left fazed at his question “I-Uh…”

“Cut to the chase Young-woo, I have a lot of things on my table. It’s not my cup of tea to entertain sexist conversation especially during working hours…”

“I’m just warning you. As friend, that’s it”

“Well, if that’s all there is” He stood up and tilted his head, locking his gaze against Young-woo fervently “I’m an adult who knows exactly what I’m doing. It’s none of your business who I want to deal with day and night, unless it’s about work. I appreciate you being worried and all, but clearly at the end of the day I’ll be responsible with who and when I’ll be fucked and who gets to fuck me over.”

Young-woo conceded and sighs from his seat “I love your tenacity, my friend. But she is different from the girls you used to date, especially your ex” he stood up and walked towards the hallway

Yoongi just nodded. “Okay, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Past remains in the past. Live in the present brother, worry about your future... not mine. Well there goes the exit door, if that’s really all you have to say to me. I don’t like entertaining sexism as a visitor” he points him through the exit door as he watches Young-woo leave.

He rolled his eyes, regretting the fact that he gave Young-woo his precious time so conveniently, just to listen to a back story he was clearly uninterested in. What’s the point really? If everyone is living now in the present, what’s there to huddle over in the past? One thing’s for sure, he’s going to spend a few more minutes at the receiving area to look at his phone and find some inspiration over his social media.

Randomly scrolling, he ended up in Seokjin’s profile, entertaining himself with his random pictures with witty captions, illustrations of cute alpacas and his daily dad jokes on his Instagram stories. His eyes suddenly widened when he shifted it to the next photograph and saw a familiar face from Seokjin’s story.

“Was it true?” he breathed.

“Yeah, that sounds about right, I assure you Madame Song. Tomorrow is going to be epic” you nodded.

“I’m looking forward to it Ms. Y/N” she giggled, standing up from her seat, ready to leave.

You did the same and bowed before your client, displaying your gratitude and respect. You took a quick glance from the window beside the seat and saw the sun glaring hard on the pavement “Are you sure, is it really okay if you leave right now? Didn’t you say you just had your facial? The sun is pretty hard. Do you at least have an umbrella?”

“Oh, do you? Sorry I forgot mine, can I borrow? I promise to return it to you tomorrow” she asked a bit warily. Of course, they never do.

“Sure” you pulled out your foldable umbrella from your bag and handed it to her.

“Thanks dear. Oh, if you must, bring your plus one” she winked.

You dropped your head and chuckled “C’mon Madame Song, you know I don’t do plus one. I’ll ask Lara to cover that for me instead”

She paused. Her attention was momentarily stolen by something, or someone in front of the cafe window “Well, why don’t you go ask him?” she puckered her lips and pointed out towards the man entering inside the café from its door way.

“What?” you chuckled in disbelief “I can’t just go ask a random stranger and tell-- ” you turned around to see who she was referring to, until you stopped mid-sentence choking on your words.

A man in black shirt, black leather jacket, and a black baseball cap? It must be….

“Seokjin?”

He turned around to see who was calling him “Y/N?” He raised both his brows in genuine surprise.

“Mm...Seems, everything’s pretty planned out now don’t you think?” Madame Song whispered to you close before leaving you on your own. Grinning from ear to ear, knowing she made a lucky guess to find you a prospect date, who isn’t after all a stranger.

“Hey, it’s been so long! It’s nice to see you here!”

“Must be cupid’s work, huh?” Madame Song winked at you both as she left the cafe with your umbrella. You shook your head a little, embarrassed to hear her tease. Then faced the half-god handsome man before you.

You sat back on your chair and offered Seokjin the vacant seat on the front.

“Hm, I honestly don’t know what to say to that, are you working? Was she a client?” he watched you write something down on your planner for a moment.

“Yeah, and we just finished” you clicked the pen and threw your arms up to stretch “and now I can relax. What’s up Kim?”

“Ikseon-dong is where I usually take my walk for coffee and look for inspiration.I like it here, it’s traditional and yet still a very relevant place” he turned around to look at the menu board, attached above on the counter.

“Ah, I see you’re working too…” you nodded. “You know their dirty chai latte is pretty good.” You pointed it out. “So, how’s your agency treating you? I’ve seen you in TDN channel the other night, and got to the scene where you were crying after being left by Park Shin Hye… that was pretty moving”

He laughed with his eyes wrinkling, charming as always. “It was hard convincing myself to cry over a fictional argument revolving over me leaving a Peanut Butter open for long...”

“In her defense, she thought you were cheating on her over Yoon Eun Hye. But before replying to that, tell me who you will end up with, is it her or Yoon Eun Hye? Because if you asked me Yoon Eun Hye might be evil, but I totally understand where she's coming from. So yeah, I’m Team Yoon Eun Hye all the way!” You lowered yourself on the table and leaned towards him.

He squints his eyes and went forward “Not if you watch until the last episode, or you could bribe me with the most expensive thing on the menu”

You shot at him and sighed “Fine, you leave me no choice Mister Celebrity, sir. One Eggs Benedict and House Coffee, on me” he chuckled, knowing fully that those were the cheapest on the menu.

“It’s nice to know you didn’t change at all, Y/N” he gulped and smiled at you.

“Oh yeah? Don’t be disappointed if you found it to be untrue.” You stood up and ordered something for your old flame, well almost… or so you would like to think, if it wasn’t for his groupies who extinguished before it even began.

You two tried to catch on a lot of things, while taking a few photos together. Seokjin has an insane amount of following, compared to the number he had back in college (but was still considerably huge). Yet he wasn’t bothered at all, he still posted whatever he pleased.

Although he was now hyper-aware of everything online, especially the fact that some things might get him in trouble or even getting others into trouble. He made sure to explain things about what was happening in his caption before posting anything. Just to spare them from unnecessary and unfounded hate from his fans.

“Fancy bumping to a college friend *insert smiley emoji*” he said out loud while mindlessly typing it as he hit the post button.

“Why didn’t you put a sticker on my face?”

“Why should I? I already spare you from being tagged. That way, you can still keep your identity hidden, but this face?” He pouts “Too pretty to be kept away”

You blushed, abruptly shaking your head ready to say something as your defense retorted “Is this your way to get in my pants, now that you’re some big shot?”

He folds his arms and twitches his lips to the corner “You thought so lowly of me, I could’ve dated you. Should’ve asked you out 11 years ago, but I didn’t because I was afraid you’d get in to trouble because of me… yet, still you did”

You paused for a moment. “Seokjin. I—”

He batted his eyes and smiled “That night at the frat party, I was about to ask you... but chickened out last minute. I should be the one saying sorry, Y/N. I wish I was there for you; I could only imagine what your college life might have been. How are you holding it?”

You croaked, left momentarily speechless at the sudden revelation that was gradually unfolding before you “I—I’m fine. Thanks to Hoseok, my life from there became bearable. I’m sure he’s the one who shut all the people who were spreading rumors, he just wouldn’t tell”

He nods. “What if he truly wasn’t? Like maybe, somebody other than Hoseok did it for you?”

“You?” you opened your mouth in disbelief.

“It’s the least I could do. Besides, I’m partly to blame '' His phone suddenly buzzed as he pointed a finger to excuse himself for a moment to receive it. “Hey baby, yeah. I’m just here in Ikseon-dong? I’m in “Flower Yard Cafe” Meet? Where?... Okay. I love you, see you in a bit”

You lump on your lips, suppressing a chuckle. For a moment you thought you had a chance with Mr. WorldWide Handsome himself, but man you were eons late. Certainly, there are many times you want to hurl yourself over him regardless if he actually wants you too.

You were then so close to not giving any more damn to the ladies who would build a fort to push any of his prospects away. Yet maybe that’s how the world works, maybe you don’t deserve all the nice things because that’s how you were designed to live your life… or maybe it’s how the world chastises you for choosing to live a life in debauchery. Either way, You and Seokjin will never happen. That’s pretty much engraved in your destiny, if that’s not obvious enough.

“I’m sorry I got to go, my girlfriend’s having a fit”

“Hm, maybe you should delete your post about us?”

“Girl, you think I’m doing this for you? I want to annoy the girls who shit on my chance with you…”

You laughed. “Hm. Openly flirting with me still? You are playing on dangerous water, sir… How about we try next life Kim, yeah?”

“Ofcourse, just don’t get swoon with my face alone when that happens.”

You nodded in between chuckles as you bid goodbye and watched him leave the cafe. You began fixing your things and putting everything on your handbag when suddenly you heard the sound of drizzle.

“Ugh, should’ve known! That blaring sun definitely looks like it’s gonna invite rain soon... I gave my umbrella to Mrs. Song!” you complained to no one, whining softly from your seat.

Not wanting to spend another hour inside, especially when you needed to send a few paperwork to your boss for a report, you decided to just throw yourselves over the harsh rain “Know what? Fuck it, let’s just run and get wet again” you pushed the door away from you, ready to run while holding on to your handbag that was barely covering your head.

As the door swiveled far, you began to notice that the rain that was supposed to be falling over your head wasn’t just…there. You turned around and found Yoongi. His arms extended to you, holding an umbrella for you. You watched him smile despite slightly getting showered.

“Yoongi?”

“Why are you always asking the obvious? Hey Y/N” He scooted over inside the umbrella, arms pressing and pulling you close to him. His free hand held on to the handle slightly tilted, making sure you remained dry than he is. You stood there, completely frozen. Too stunned to see him at a time when you needed someone.

“You certainly like to get wet often, huh?” he snickered, trying to diffuse the momentary silence.

“It depends on the situation… I-uh… what are you doing here?”

“I was just having a walk. The weather looks good” he subtly gulped, eating his lie. After seeing you on Seokjin’s instagram, he immediately called and asked where he was. Seokjin, knowing Yoongi fully for years, did not bother to ask any more questions as he simply answered where he is currently located.

“Oh yeah?” you tilt your head to look at the dark sky.

“Well, it was, until it suddenly started to rain. Where are you headed?”

“Back in my office, just a few blocks from here. You?”

“What a coincidence, I am too”

“You also work there?” you chuckled

He rolled his eyes and sighed “Okay you got me, just let me take you there unscathed. I’ll go back to strolling around the city looking for inspiration for the song I am working on. But until then, I have to see you get there, so that I could put myself at ease knowing you went to your work completely dry.”

“Aw, that is so gentleman of you. You better credit me when you find that inspiration you were saying” you playfully teased, knowing fully well you’ll give zero contribution to his work.

He chuckled. Making you suck an air to see another gummy smile from him, which he is very frugal of him to do.

“Perhaps I will,” he shrugged, smiling weakly as he faced the street. You swiftly turn to face him, bewildered to see his sincere intent. Will he really? Thoughts were starting to run around your head.

Clearly, when was the last time you’ve been held by a man? Was it yesterday during sex with Jinyoung a fellow regular from the cafe next to your office? Or was it during a dodgeball game during 8th grade where Taecyeon, your crush pulled you away from getting hit by a ball? Or perhaps the time when your father took you in his arms when you got bruised? You could no longer remember, because right in the middle of the rain, underneath the transparent umbrella, you watched the rain fall while Yoongi was there holding you in his arms…and that was all you could think.

For the very first time, you felt safe and secured. It was warm and seemed full of ardent affection. You failed to put words into what you were feeling, because evidently you had nothing on it from your catalog for inner feelings. Yoongi remains to hold onto you close, while continuing to walk on the streets under the heavy rain... And you yielded unto him.

The feeling was so foreign and novel that you were starting to feel scared. You are so afraid of the feeling of this unfamiliarity, and perhaps the thought of it that it might one day become … too familiar.

Suddenly it dawned on you, in this seemingly game of feelings like seesaw, he was now taking the leverage because you were starting to get your high.

And for the first time in years, you were unsure how this would turn out.

A/N: Ahhhh THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING TIME! I can finally share my song inspo for this chapter. I know the lyrics isn’t appropriate to the story, but I was just vibing to this while I was watching this video when I was doing my cardio on a machine. I quickly thought of THAT scene and I was all too UwU the whole time. Anyway, hope you all have a great day! THANKING MY BETA READER FOR GIVING HER PRECIOUS TIME FOR THIS 🙃 love you! you know who you are 😉

126 notes · View notes

shadowfae · 4 years

Note

We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea.

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers.

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

#luteia laments #otherkin #fictionkin #alth #alterhuman #asks #anonymous #long post //#discussions #on community history #on politics #on public relations #commentors feel free to add your own thoughts!#Anonymous

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jasonrae117 · 4 years

Text

Night at the Wayne Casino

This is gonna be a long one, I took the advice from @bourniebna and made it longer but also making it into two parts and leaving it on a semi-cliffhanger. Thank you everyone for the support and love! Enjoy!

PART 3

Damian found himself on the third floor, a place he thought he would never be. Filled with rooms upon rooms of well equipped and private spaces for massages, mud baths, facials, and anything and everything a five-star spa could hold. He would never require the services provided here since he disliked physical contact unless it was necessary or it was self-initiated, which it typically wasn’t. Damian kept it simple with occasional handshakes or a pat on the shoulder.

When it came to women, he had been with a few. His name was enough by itself to get him laid easily, and where that wasn’t enough, his physique helped greatly. Anything that wasn’t strictly helpful to his endgame seemed inefficient and he always strived for maximum efficiency.

Here he was crossing the threshold to the Wonder Spa, a highly rated and regarded spa for ultimate luxury and innovation in experiences. He approached the reception desk where the two top ranked masseuses and overall spa managers sat preparing their completely packed schedules for the day, Cassandra ‘Cassie’ Sandsmark and Stephanie Brown.

Stephanie looked up from her tablet and a bright smile graced her face. “Damian Wayne? I never thought I’d see the day where you came to the spa!” Beside Stephanie, Cassandra perked up, eyes widened and mouth opened in excitement.

“Oh wow! Stress built up that much? We do have a full appointment schedule but we can squeeze you in.” Damian’s face remained the same, with a bored expression waiting out their excitement. He didn’t dislike the two employees, but they tended to be too peppy and care more about gossip and people’s personal lives, specifically his and whether or not it contained a girl. It was very tiresome and he currently didn't have the time nor was in the mood for their antics.

“Didn’t you say the spa was for weak patsies that like to hand over ridiculous sums of money for frivolous treatments?” Cassie thoughtfully brought a finger to her chin.

“No, I think it was that the spa was a bloodthirsty capitalistic vampire sucking money from dim-witted fools that think worthless products and services will actually make them look or feel better when in reality their lives were already a waste.” Stephanie’s eyes searching the ceiling for his quote. They both broke out in laughter and faced him again when they had calmed down.

He hadn’t moved an inch and he tried to remain calm but the overly floral scents and the girl’s mocking were grating on his nerves.

Cassie placed her tablet on the desk and rested her chin on her palm as she looked back up at him. “So really, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Damian let out a small breath and mentally counted to ten. “Yesterday a woman had possibly come here and I want any information you have on her.”

Cassie and Stephanie exchanged glances before focusing on him again. Stephanie rolled her eyes and began typing on her tablet. “Is this about Raven? What is it with all you boys?”

Damian couldn’t help the shock that appeared on his face. “How did you-”

“Oh, that one that Tim sent! God, she was gorgeous!” Cassie practically bounced in her seat.

“Yeah she is. Her skin was incredibly smooth. Cassie’s skin is pretty perfect, but this woman’s was literally flawless. I mean, it’s insane with her skin tone, no freckles or blemishes, just absolutely stunning skin.” Damian tried to fight the heat that rose to his face remembering how remarkable she looked coming out of the pool and the tiny droplets that rolled down her smooth curves, luckily Stephanie turned back to her friend, “I asked her what products she uses and what her routine is, you know what she said? She said she just washes it with some drugstore face wash and that’s it. She said she drinks a lot of water too. Luck and good genes I swear."

"Perfect skin, gorgeous, and that body! I'm pretty stacked, but her ass! I'm literally jealous. That's why all the boys are crazy about her." Cassie shrugged and leaned back.

"Sandsmark, Brown! I'm here on official business. What's this about 'all the boys'? Who else is discussing her?" Damian crossed his arms and felt his irritation coming to a peak.

"Oh my gosh! Do you have the hots for her too! First Jason, then Tim. I liked her too but you boys are wild. I wish I got this much attention."

"Brown, focus. How did you know I was talking about Miss Roth?"

"Like I was saying, Jason hung out with us after we all got off and he wouldn't shut up about the 'hot girl that dissed him'..."

"Oh, I loved when she told him that he was a..what was it?" Cassie then snapped her fingers. "A delusional cockalorum who thinks boyish tricks will woo a woman that has even the tiniest bit of self worth and respect. He didn't even know what that meant!" She burst out into another round of laughter.

"You had to look it up too!" Stephanie shook her head giggling at the memory. Her eyes caught the glare Damian's was sending and she cleared her throat. "Anyway… yesterday a woman, Raven, came in with Tim's employee discount card. She was very nervous, but naturally we were curious because it's Tim's card. She told us what happened and we sent her to change so that we could call Tim. He confirmed everything and told us to give her the works and put it on a tab for him."

Cassie was nodding to the story and jumped in. "We thought this girl must be special and were curious so during her treatments we got to talking. She told us her point of view from the Jason situation and we bonded over horror stories of men hitting on us." She smiled fondly.

"She was actually really nice and tried to pay for the services but clearly we couldn't let her. She snuck a three hundred dollar tip into our drawer though. Literally one of the best clients we had. Then Tim swung by and asked her to dinner and walked her out of here. After that we don't know. We invited her to go to a club with us on Friday because she seemed so cool, but she's leaving on Tuesday." Stephanie huffed and brought her attention back to the tablet.

"She didn't say anything about why she's here by herself?" He questioned, this trip becoming less informative and more of a nuisance than he had hoped.

Stephanie sighed loudly, eyes focused as she tried to recall the memory, "Oh, yeah. She said something about working in advertising and having to analyze the ads and products and survey something. Poor girl has to work while in Vegas, major bummer. She says she tries to work during the days and play at night. Except yesterday, she felt like she needed that."

Damian processed this new data. Stephanie's information regarding Raven's occupation matched with what Tim had found on her. That would usually be a point in her favor, but if she was as crafty and smart as Damian suspected her to be, then she could have easily set up an almost alter ego that checks out and have her backstory memorized. Her good looks probably swaying prying minds from digging deeper. No matter, he wasn't so easily duped.

"I don't blame her...Now the only question that remains, is why do you care Damian?" Cassie looked suspicious and leaned slightly forward.

"She is a suspect in the casino. We don't have hard proof but something doesn't sit well with me when it comes to her."

"Maybe because Tim swooped in before you could." Stephanie mumbled under her breath.

Damian scoffed at the remark "Enough. That is all I wanted. Now proceed with your opening procedures." He nodded farewell to them and began toward the exit.

"She asked about you…" Cassie looked at her nails acting nonchalant.

He quickly snapped around, his full attention on Cassie. "What did you tell her? Why did she want to know?" His eyes narrowed.

"Calm down. We talked about Tim and she said that she ran into you a few times and said it seemed like you were always near her. We told her that you're the head of security and take it too seriously, like an assassin traveling by shadows waiting for someone to break a rule so you can strike. It got a pretty good laugh."

"Yeah but the best part is how she described you. If she didn't accept Tim's dinner invite, I swear she'd be ready to jump your bones..or uh bone." Stephanie dramatically winked at him and they began to giggle again.

Damian kept his face stern but found it hard to swallow. He wanted to ask what Raven has said about him, but he feared it may unintentionally come across as sexually interested rather than a desire to know all information in an objective manner for the sake of the case. But perhaps he was a bit...interested. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

"Great. Did either of you think it might be unwise to divulge the status of all our employees to a stranger that may be trying to con our casino or worse? Or perhaps, you just want to hand her a key card so she can just as easily access it all by herself."

Stephanie rubbed at her temple and loosened her grip on the tablet, her words trying to coax him to a more manageable level of irritation,"Damian, relax. It's not hard to figure out that you're some big bad security for the casino. You literally stare people down and nothing else all day. You don't even try to blend in. She seemed to meet a bunch of us by accident or by everyone else's own will. It's not like she's seeking all of us out. I think you need to let it go or get laid or-"

"And I think this is why you weren't given a position on the security team and instead washed up here as a servant to drunk simpletons." His words spewed out like venom as he scowled at her.

"Ok, I think we've done our part in your stupid investigation. We have actual work to do." Cassie stood up and placed her hands on her hips.

"Tt. Then I suggest you get to it and try not to gossip or discuss our business with clients." He growled out and turned on his heel.

"Ay ay captain." Cassie saluted with a roll of her eyes.

Damian left the spa more frustrated than he went in. No matter how attractive she was, he wouldn't let her get to him. He had two and a half days to catch her and prove himself.

Raven was a slippery snake and she was able to wiggle her way out of suspicion with everyone else, but not him.

Damian groaned as he started to feel a headache coming on. He made it back down to the first floor of the casino and was about to start patrolling before he remembered it was his day off. If it were up to him, he wouldn't take one. Criminals didn't take days off but his father insisted due to laws regarding the matter.

He just had to stay away from Jon and Richard since they'd be the first to call him out and force him to leave. He couldn't actively patrol but he could visit his coworker in the security room, picking up his notebook he had 'accidentally' left behind.

He had to keep tabs on Raven if he wanted to get a step ahead of her. His talk within the spa proved almost useless except finding out that she was interested in him, in possibly more ways than one. Damian shook the thought from his head. That's what she wants me to think. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and looked across the large room to the hallway where the security room was located.

He would have proceeded normally had it not been for the two figures draped over each other tangled in a heated kiss. His primal instinct was to sprint over to them and yank Tim off of Raven and throw him as far away as he could, and lead Raven away to where they'd be alone. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could cutting off that train of thought. After a deep breath he refocused on the pair.

Tim had her pinned against the wall and his hands were roaming over her navy lace dress. Fuck, why did she have so many sexy dresses and why did they have to look THAT good on her? His jaw tightened as her hands curled in Tim's hair pulling him closer. Tim brought his mouth to her neck and Damian almost lost it when his hand slid to the curve of her ass.

He immediately began to head over as soon as Tim pulled out his key card and inserted it in the lock, clumsily pressing his finger on the scanner until it clicked open for him. Damian watched as Tim pulled Raven inside and although he couldn't hear past the noise of the music and sounds of the slot machines, he was sure she let out a surprised gasp. He cleared the space slower than he would have liked, but he couldn't exactly plow through everyone that got in his way.

He stopped as he reached the door and flushed when he heard a moan that definitely came from the woman within. He couldn't take it. Not only was he not the biggest fan of Tim Drake, he was harboring a suspect, while on duty, in an authorized personnel only area. He was a bit scared of what he might walk into but that was his woman in there...his wanted woman...fuck, his suspect. He slammed his card in and held his thumb to the scanner and he was quickly granted access.

His face was crimson with the rage that filled him and his fists were clenched. Suddenly though, the red in his face went from being caused by his anger to being caused by the sight in front of him.

Raven was in nothing but black lacy panties, a matching bra, and thigh high stockings held up by a garter belt. Her ivory skin shone brightly through the lace and the blush on her cheeks added to the look. Her swollen lips were parted and her head was thrown back as Tim was in the process of kissing down her chest as one of her bra straps hung off her shoulder. She was sitting on the desk with all the papers pushed aside and Tim between her legs with his own shirt unbuttoned.

Damian was shocked at how quickly they had moved in the relatively short time it had taken him to cross the casino floor, but in reality it was only one piece of clothing missing.

Taking one last look at her and committing it to memory, Damian steeled his resolve and regained his stiff posture and his menacing glare. "What the hell are you doing Drake!"

"Fuck!" Tim broke away from her and Raven yelped and covered herself, climbing off the desk. "Shit Damian, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I asked you that and I have yet to be given an answer!" His voice began to raise in volume.

"Can we talk about it in a second." Tim began smoothing his hair and attempted to straighten his clothes.

"Why the hell is there a guest in the security room and why are you trying to fuck her on company property on company time!"

Damian noticed Raven slowly bending down to reclaim her dress without exposing herself further. Damian scoffed and turned around giving her a small bit of privacy. He heard the shuffle of fabric and she quietly cleared her throat.

He turned back around and narrowed his eyes at the woman whose face was now bright red with embarrassment. "I should...uh..go. I'm sorry, really." She had stepped closer to him and licked her lips uncomfortably. "It's my fault. It won't happen again. Uh..thank you?" She shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and slipped past him.

Once she was gone, Damian turned his attention back to Tim who had just finished buttoning up his shirt. Tim held out his hands in surrender. "I know. Trust me, I know it all. I'll report myself. I wasn't thinking and I compromised our security. Although nothing actually happened thanks to you. And I don't mean to be snarky about it, I know that I probably wouldn't have stopped myself at all. But it's not her fault. So please don't turn this into one of your theories about her. I take full responsibility."

"You disgust me Drake. Can't even control your urges when it comes to your job. You'll be lucky if you even have one tomorrow. If it wasn't close to prime time and short notice, I'd dismiss you right now." Damian stood tall and crossed his arms, staring Tim down.

Tim took in a deep breath and released it slowly as he plopped into the computer chair. "Noted. I..um..think I've wasted enough time. I'll get started on the report and do a few sweeps of the casino." He didn't look Damian in the eye and pulled up to the desk, a blush rising to his cheeks while he rearranged the papers that had been strewn about.

"Good, about time you take your job seriously. Although a bit too late in my opinion." He watched as Tim's movements stilled and his fists clenched. He didn't make a move though, it would be futile. Damian let out a small laugh before exiting the office.

He began planning his next move to get more information on Raven that didn't involve her revealing more skin. Although he enjoyed what he saw, it distracted him and that wasn't good for his mission. A cheery voice broke his thoughts as he was crossing the casino floor.

"Hey Damian." Jon walked up to him a look of concern overlaying his usual happy demeanor. "I saw Raven fleeing from here." Great, was everyone on a first name basis with his number one target? "You didn't terrorize her with an interrogation without me, did you?" He playfully nudged his shoulder and added a chuckle trying to mask the seriousness of his question.

"No, Jon. I just caught Drake almost fucking her in the security room."

"Oh. Tough break…" Damian scowled at him. "I mean, wow unbelievable. So, what's your next move?"

"You all are infuriating. Could, at least you, stop implying that I'm trying to court our top suspect?" Damian began walking toward the elevator with Jon following right beside him.

"I would if you quit acting like it. She's hot, and I guess intelligent according to you, and she has the record for a woman, hell anyone, holding your attention this long without you losing interest." Damian was about to open his mouth to respond but Jon cut him off once more. "I'm only saying this because I care about you, as your best and only friend. It would do you some good to relax and actually stop working for once. The rest of us can handle a day without you, you gotta trust us."

"How can I trust the man that brought a potential criminal into our security office?"

Jon hesitated and paused to find the right words. "I'm not saying it was ok, but you know he hasn't been the only one to do it. Yes, you were pissed then and it wasn't the security office per se, but I think you're taking this a little more to heart because of whom it entails."

"A criminal!"

"A very attractive woman that has the unfortunate burden of once being labeled as a suspect and then having you get attached in that mindset. Maybe the situation with Tim spooked her, and you can finally try to talk to her as Damian and not as head of security?" Jon looked pleadingly at him as Damian hit the button to call the elevator.

"You all may think she's innocent, but I don't. Perhaps I am a bit attracted to her, but unlike Drake, I am professional and can contain myself around women."

Jon rolled his eyes and Damian stepped into the elevator. "Ok, well you go actually take the night off and contain yourself at the rooftop party tonight." He winked at him just before the door slid close.

Rooftop party...that's where she'll be. This is why Jon was tolerable enough to be his friend. Damian made his way to his suite a few floors down from where he was headed later that night. He would attend as regular Damian Wayne, but that didn't mean that his head of security side couldn't be 'undercover'.

If he wanted to catch her, he knew he had to go at it by himself, everyone else had been compromised. Tonight was the night he was sure he'd get lucky.

#Damian Wayne #raven x damian #demonbirds #damirae #raven #raven roth #timrae #Tim Drake #night at the wayne casino #casino au #the next part is gonna be wild

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years

Note

Hello! I'm pretty sure I saw you mention a while ago that you were disappointed by confessions of the fox, would you mind explaining why? I've seen mostly good things about it myself. If I misremembered then I'm sorry and I hope you have a good day :))

I think this is one of my less popular opinions. And I understand - we so rarely get historical fiction with trans folk as the titular character (indeed, we rarely get any fiction what that). So I get people’s desire to laud it.

For me though? It fundamentally didn’t work as a book. As a story.

Let me count the ways. (Apologies in advance for the length of this.)

First: If you’re trans-ing someone who was historically cis instead of seeking to find a real, historical trans or gender-nonconforming person, I have questions.

Most of the questions can be summed up as: Why?

I struggle with historical fiction that takes a cis person and re-imagines them as trans as if there aren’t already literal historical, real trans people out there whose stories can be told. It smacks as (unintended, well meaning) erasure of lived experiences.

Jack Sheppard, to the best of our knowledge, was a cis dude. There were trans folk in London in the 1710s and ‘20s. You might have to dig a bit for them, but they’re there. Because trans folk have always been there.

Second: Characterisation

This is more personal taste, but I found Jack and his girlfriend Bess to be inexcusably boring. How a trans, thief and gaolbreaker in 1720s gin-soaked London can be written as boring is anyone’s guess. But he was.

Jack had no real personality and I found his story to be uninteresting. Oh, he’s the world’s best thief and gaolbreaker, that’s nice. But on its own it isn’t enough.

He had few to no faults. Childhood trauma isn’t a personality. Nor is being trans. And the author relies heavily on gender + occupation (thief-ness) to equal personality. So it falls very flat.

Bess, his girlfriend, is a mixed-race sex worker from the Fens (even though actual real-Bess was from Edgeware). She seems to only exist to demonstrate that Jack is good at sex. She also veers a little into the Mystical Woman of Colour Healer Who Aids The White Person on their Journey of Self Discovery trope.

Neither Bess nor Jack undergo any real change in the book. They exist in a weird stasis and experience no development, despite living through some harrowing things. They’re wooden dolls who move through the story without really engaging with, or being influenced by, the things around them.

The other “main” character is a modern Academic who “found” this supposed “manuscript” of Jack’s life and is annotating it. His story unfolds in the foot notes and it’s just so messy if not a bit contrived. It didn’t make sense. I think the author was trying to convey that the Academic was in a sort of dystopian future, but if that’s the case it didn’t work. And if that’s not the case, the entire inclusion of the Academic’s story served only to annoy and take me out of the reading experience.

E.g. There’s a scene where the Academic is being taken to task by the Dean for playing stupid games on his phone during office hours and like honey, lapsed-historian/academic here, trust me the Dean doesn’t give a fuck what you do during your office hours so long as you’re in your office and students can come bother you about their poor marks.

The manuscript is supposedly being sought after by this pharmaceutical company for nefarious reasons that never struck me as being entirely realistic/believable. Also, the university was spying on this non-tenured, slightly useless Academic as if he somehow mattered? Which made zero sense. Anyway, it was stupid and should have been ripped out of the final version. OR changed substantially.

Jonathan Wild, the thief taker (main antagonist to Jack), is probably the only interesting person.

Third: Lack of Follow Through, or, the Fabulism Was Not Used Well

The book tries to blend in some fabulism to the world by giving Jack the ability to “hear” the thoughts of inanimate objects. This could have been fun and gone to some interesting places, but it failed to deliver.

I personally found the shoe-horning in of “capitalism commodifies everything” to be sloppy and heavy handed. It was done with little grace and didn’t sit right given that we are dealing with the early modern period. Yes, you can use the past to critique our modern woes, but do it intelligently. Don’t slap modern points of view and understandings of things onto the past and expect them to make sense.

Anyway, Jack spends the book hearing inanimate objects talk to him, asking him to “free” them, or something. And uh .. .it doesn’t go anywhere interesting after that.

Also the correlation one can draw from these objects to, you know, slaves, is uncomfortable. Especially as it’s the cargo of the EIC ships that Jack hears. I don’t think it’s intended in any sort of malicious way, but the allusion is there and I always found it to be distinctly uncomfortable.

Fourth: Misuse of Marxist Theory, or, More Heavy Handed Moralizing that Annoyed the Dear Reader because it wasn’t subtle and, more importantly, it wasn’t done intelligently.

So, the author is an academic - studies 18th century lit. Which is readily apparent as his Academic (self-insert) character is, I believe, supposed to be a historian and uh ... you can tell that the author doesn’t know enough to wing that. E.g. How he interprets some of the laws and customs of the time. Instead of understanding the social, economic and, most importantly, environmental issues that gave birth to laws like “the corporation of the city of London owns the streets so you can’t muckrake” he chooses to understand them through a very 21st century lens (and a Marxist one at that. I know I’m perhaps a bit uncool for this, but I find the application of Marxist theory to the early modern period to be ... not useful).

Do you know why, mid/late 17th century London passed these municipal laws? Because of the god damn fucking plague you numb nut. You absolute buffoon. It had nothing to do with “oh the City/government is evil and wants to own you” it had to do with the fact that no one cleaned the goddamn street. So the city took over doing it.

Prior to this, in London, you were supposed to keep the street in front of your building clear of waste, debris, refuse etc. No one did this, of course. I live where it’s cold and snows a lot and people can barely shovel the 2 sq ft of sidewalk in front of their driveway in the winter. I dread the idea of an average homeowner being expected to keep the street clear and clean.

Anyway, guess what dirty streets attract? Vermin. Guess what comes with vermin? Plague. Guess what happened in 1665/66? The great plague of London!

17th century England might not have understood germ theory, but they did understand correlation. (Also, the population of London was doubling at the back half of the 17th century and streets needed to be reliably cleared for through-traffic reasons etc. etc.)

ugh, sorry, that one in particular drove me up the wall. Not everything is a capitalist conspiracy. Especially when we’re talking about municipal by-laws from the 17th century.

And I understand the temptation to read a lot of modern interpretation of words like “corporation” and “company” onto bodies that used these same words in 17th and 18th centuries. But the weight, meaning and connotation of “the worshipful company of merchant adventurers” is different from, I don’t know, “the tech company google” or whatever. The early 18th century is when we start seeing the birth of the stock market, of “venture companies” (i.e. merchant adventure companies), of a lot of the language and proto-iterations of what will grow to be economic institutions of our time. But it doesn’t mean they’re the same and that difference is important. Because Jack Sheppard is a man living in 1720 he’s not going to be having our modern 21st century critiques of capitalism because his engagement with the economic systems of his time would have been radically different to our own experiences.

Fifth: Unbelievable Top Surgery & Recovery

So, Jack gets top surgery. In 1720s fever-ridden London. While quarantining in a brothel.

And he lived! No infection! No tearing! He was up and about in a matter of days. I don’t remember if his nipples survived the operation or not but somehow Jack did. Without anesthetics! Or you know, any concept of hygiene.

His Mystical Girlfriend Who Exists to Show How Good Jack is at Sex is also somehow Magically Very Literate and also Magically a Surgeon? and performs this surgery on Jack in the middle of a plague.

The entire ordeal was so poorly handled in terms of believability that I literally set the book down and said “what the fucking fuck” to the empty room then drank wine before finishing the chapter.

An aside, it is funny thinking about the quarantine chapters at this point. I read COTF when it first came out a few years ago. Sweet summer children, we none of us had any idea how to write quarantine scenes.

That reminds me: the entire quarantine thing was presented as the government trying to control movement and take away people’s rights etc. instead of a very normal, typical response that cities had been enacting since 1350. Samuel Pepys, who lived through the 1665/66 epidemic, barely even notes the restrictions. He’s like just “hmmm I’d love to go to the pub but I also don’t want to die. so. *shrug*”

At the time of the author’s writing, most of us in the western world had no idea how normal and day-to-day disease was for our ancestors and yes, sometimes there would be crackdowns to try and curb it if an epidemic hit. That was part and parcel of life. So again, Jack and Bess wouldn’t be like “ooooh we’re 21st century slightly libertarian lefitsts who think the government is doing this to control us and for nefarious purposes”. Much more likely, they would have been like Pepys and viewed it as nuisance, albeit a necessary one.

Sixth: Overall Lack of Realism

I think I’ve noted the big moments where I was like “no one in the early 18th century would think that I’m pretty certain”. This isn’t to say people didn’t grouse, complain about London government (and the king etc.), critique or question the world they lived in. They absolutely did! Regularly. With great verve and gusto, if the broadsheets are anything to go by. But their critiques, their complaints, suggestions for bettering life, are not the same as ours. Because how could they be? They lived in a different world, were responding to specific things, grew up hearing and believing certain things etc.

Jack, aside from having minimal to no character, really did read like a modern slightly-libertarian leftist who was plunked into a novel that takes place three hundred years ago.

In addition to unrealistic political views, his understanding of body, gender, sexuality and identity also read as incredibly modern. Now this is harder, because we have so few extant sources from that time on those who lived non-gender conforming lives, and from their point of view, so yes creative imagining and interpretation is the rule of the day for writing that.

But, we do know how in general the average person engaged and understood gender and sexuality and that would, naturally, inform anyone whose experience was different. And that base line of “probably what a typical cis Englishman or woman felt about their body and identity” wasn’t present. At all.

Indeed, gender engagement at that time was interesting. The concept of the body, the role of the physical body, how it was interpreted is absolutely fascinating and the author could have done some really cool things with that. But he didn’t. He went for slapping a modern interpretation onto the past.

At this point, write a dystopian novel and make Jack a fictional character. That probably would have gone over better, for me at least. The conceit can remain the same: It’s the year 4056 and an Academic found a manuscript from the year 3045 when the Dystopia Was a Thing - and go from there.

---

I think part of what made this very popular and why people seem so taken with it is that it reads smart. It reads like someone who has immersed themselves in that world etc. because of the slang and language used.

Yet, for me, as someone who has studied this period extensively, especially queerness in London in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, it read flat and unrealistic.

I was initially very enthused when I started it. There are some posts to that effect on my blog. But it very quickly went south. It tries very hard to be Radical and Smart and Subversive and Critiquing Everything and so I think it fails at the fundamental thing it should be doing: telling a good story.

(Note: The book does try and address racism in London at this time. It also felt a bit forced. And Jack seemed to have no prejudices or preconceived notions about Indian and Black folk which isn’t realistic. Like, it might make him #Problematic but my dude, you’re writing a man born in 1702. He’s going to have some iffy views. That can be challenged! Absolutely. But they still would have existed.)

---

Thank you for the ask! I again apologize for the length of the reply.

#reply #ask #anon #lit #books #writing #confessions of the fox

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tfw-no-tennis · 4 years

Text

mtmte liveblog issue 19

it’s 2021 now!! time for more transformers

we start off w/a flashback showing tyrest retrieving ultra magnus’s body from the ship - and we get a look at magnus’s spark, which is the green color of a 0.1%er [eyes emoji]

tyrest punching magnus..... grrrrr leave my dad alone bastard man

‘the divided self’ what a good title

rodimus is like listen man this is a lot for my poor thot brain to take in

in flashback land, we see tyrest immediately launch into a crazy person spiel about how he can and will edit the law as he sees fit to conform to the situation, because that doesn't seem like a blatant abuse of power or a huge conflict of interest or anything

oooh the screen in the corner that says ‘thought warfare,’ I see that

oof, poor magnus. its gotta be rough to hear your boss rant about how bad at your job you are....especially bc this is right after overlord called magnus a joke and nearly killed him

its especially brutal bc as magnus says, his job is his life

augh, I love the panel where the armor is falling off around minimus, and then the one where he’s holding the ultra magnus head...poetic

its fascinating that there was an ‘original’ magnus who was an actual guy, and then tyrest chose to make him into this legacy symbol - I'm assuming the OG magnus had no say in this, and probably didn't even know that he was gonna become this lawman legacy figure

I do wanna know though - obviously everyone thought that ultra magnus was one dude, but how did the different guys wearing the armor deal w/that? like, did minimus have people coming up to him like ‘hey ultra magnus old buddy! remember when we fought those guys in that one place? good times!’ like, do they have to study up on the lives of the past armor wearers to prepare for the role of ultra magnus?

augh poor minimus, of course he’s been wondering about what happened with overlord after he was KO’d

oof, drift...I feel like minimus looks surprised and a little skeptical at the idea that drift was the one behind the entire overlord thing - which is interesting bc as we saw at the beginning of the story, he doesn't exactly trust drift, but it’s still pretty far-fetched that one person orchestrated the entire thing

tailgate :(

the concept of a load-bearer is SUPER cool, I love it so much

it also puts a much-needed limit on things - as in, there IS a limit to how much weight/mass a normal cybertronian frame can carry, which is why you don't see everybody upgrading to be Massive - bc they actually CANT

oof, the worst part is that tyrest is RIGHT, minimus essentially DID have a nervous breakdown after the war ended bc of the rigid way he views the world

mental health support is clearly in shambles for cybertronians, yikes. they literally have 1 therapist for their entire race, and he’s not even licensed anymore due to hipaa violations. what a mess

the ‘attention deflectors’ thing is so cool and clever and also a great explanation as to why ratchet or anyone else never said ‘hey wait a minute, you're actually a much smaller dude in a trench coat’

I love tailgate knowing all the stuff about the autobot code bc of magnus...my BOY

and THATS why minimus was asking about skids specifically earlier!

oh minimus, please don't put so much stock in tyrest being stable and resonable...

aaaand there's skids and swerve! brainstorm says it best - ‘because something unexpected hasn't happened for at least nine seconds.’ lmao ily brainstorm

finally checking in w/whirl and cyclonus - god I love that. whirl asking cyclonus how many cons he killed and cyc is like psh I wasn't keeping count....................ok it was six

hhhhh cyclonus IS looking for a cure for tailgate, even though he told tg that there wasn’t anything to hope for....excuse me as I go be emo

and now we flash over to the unethical medical conduct hell zone, where pharma is being weird and horny and ratchet is appropriately horrified

I seriously love how unhinged pharma looks, the art & colors do such a good job conveying his feral energy

ratchet has some massive dick energy for taunting pharma when he’s currently just a head and pharma has dual chainsaws for hands

ugh, I love whirls speech about anger...and I feel like he really does see cyclonus as a peer, despite cyclonus wanting to kill him, which is why he tells cyclonus all of this

I fuckgin love that cyclonus’s reaction to very suddenly getting stabbed thru the abdomen is to just glance down at the sword, looking mildly inconvenienced

back over to ratchet - and at first its like oh wow I can’t believe pharma was stupid enough to let ratchet goad him into this contest....but then you see first aid and ambulon and its like UH OH this is gonna be BAD

the idea that getting sliced in half is no big deal for a cybertronian is wild

‘you're gonna let doctor djd cut us in half?’ yeahhhh that's an appropriate reaction, yikes

FUCKING LENGTHWAYS GOD

pharma you piece of shit

poor ambulon :( :( :( that's fucking brutal. amazing panel but....jesus

and like, to further my point from last issue’s liveblog - the fact that this very gore-y panel is okay, but swearing isn't...that's really funny honestly. I guess robo-gore is acceptable, while I'm guessing regular ole run of the mill human gore wouldn't be

then back to cyclonus, who is still looking only vaguely put out by the sword stuck right thru him

and then cyclonus just pulls it right out, which is a very bad idea for humans but probably not as big of a deal for big near-immortal alien robots

circle of light stuck in capitalistic urban hellscape cubicals

poor skids, being asked to stand trial while having no idea what his crime is due to Big Amnesia

OH SHITTTT I totally forgot that getaway shows up here

that is super clever though, with chromedome confusing the name ‘getaway’ with the concept ‘needing to escape’

cant believe tyrest is really dumb enough to tell minimus all his evil plans

BUT that means its time for some very important forged vs constructed cold lore

jro spelling ‘program’ as ‘programme’ made me remember when he said that he considers everyone on the lost light to be british, which is perhaps the least valid thing he’s ever said vhbghjsdbfjkhasbjk

the idea that they used the matrix - which is portrayed as kind of a holy object - in reproductive experiments is really interesting

AUGHHHHH this is all so good and interesting...im really fascinated w/this particular brand of like, alien robot racism/constructism/whatever you wanna call it - I feel like it does such a good job as a plot device, where many other ‘fantasy racism’ concepts from other franchises fail, bc there's not really a ‘human metaphor’ being used here (as far as I know/can tell) - as in, this isn't a thinly veiled metaphor for something that happened/could happen in human history

in fact, this type of bigotry (or w/e you wanna call it) isn't something that is even really possible in humans - I guess if there was a stigma against being born via ivf or something...? but there isn't, so there's no obvious real-world equivalent, which I take as a sign of good writing and worldbuilding - it makes the cybertronians feel more Real, bc of course they would have their own types of bigotry based off of completely different things than humans

additionally - and this is crucial - tyrest is wrong: there’s no like, inherent moral corruption in cold constructed bots. there's no difference at all, other than method of construction. fantasy racism plotlines often flounder here, with the oppressors having a ‘valid reason’ for oppressing the oppressed, but tyrest is just operated on religious zealot bs and some biased science

like, dude, did you ever think that maybe there are other reasons why your trials only condemned cold constructed bots? like, maybe the trial itself was biased? or societal conditions were to blame? correlation is not causation, my dude, especially when the conclusion is ‘cold constructed bots are inherently SINNERS’ lmao

like, tyrest rlly said ‘FUCK separation of church and state,’ huh

anyways I just think the whole cold construction vs forged thing is really interesting and well-done, and serves as a good precursor to the more fleshed-out functionism stuff we see later

so tyrest is clearly off his rockers w/the whole drilling thing - dude, you accidentally gave yourself a lobotomy, okay - but I find it kinda funny that he’s right about a lot of that stuff he said at the end, about primus and the guiding hand and stuff being real

cyclonus saying ‘tailgate and the others’...I see you, man, I see you

also cyclonus looks fine now??? didn't he just get stabbed???

ah, tyrest sprinkling a little light genocide onto his plan to find salvation. nice, dude!

MINIMUS NOOOOOOOOO

‘fully deserved’ SHUT UP BIIIIITCH

poor minimus is taking a lot of Ls this arc, geez

oof, great issue! again, as usual....I loved the lore we got this issue, its so interesting...and some good character stuff too. I love minimus, I feel like he’s gonna be my fav this readthru; my first read my fav was brainstorm, second readthru was whirl, and I feel like its minimus/magnus this time. I just love his character arc...

hype af for more B)

#lj rereads mtmte

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meetmeatthecoda · 5 years

Note

hope I’m not too late with this but could I have Lizzington + 5 for the valentines prompts 👀

Hello friend!! 😄 Not to worry, it’s never too late for Valentine’s Day Lizzington prompts!! 😁 Though I am sorry for the wait on this... 👀 I borrowed Ressler for this little thing, I really hope you like it!! 😊 Much love to you, friend, I hope you’re doing great!! ❤️

Valentine’s Day Prompts

5. “I refuse to take part in this.”

“Please, Ress!”

“No way, Liz, too weird. Plus, I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Aww, come on, it’s not a big deal!”

“Nope. I refuse to take part in this.”

“Oh, just help me out, you owe me!”

“What?! I do not!”

“Yes, you do! I covered for your lazy ass with Cooper last week when you came in late, remember?”

“So what, big deal!”

“Oh, so, you weren’t stuck in traffic, after all? Were you in fact recovering from a late-night date with that cute blonde analyst? What’s her name again? Annie? Do you think Copper would be interested to know that?”

“…All right, fine. I’ll help you. But I won’t enjoy it.”

“Don’t care.”

“…”

“Thanks, Ress.”

“Sure, Keen.”

Ressler turns on the last tiny, battery-powered candle and places it into the final paper boat, pushing it out gently to float on the surface of the small lake with all the others.

“Jeez, Keen, you got enough candles? I don’t think Smokey the Bear would like this very much.”

“They’re LEDs, asshole.”

“Whatever.”

Now that all the candles are afloat, Ressler steps back to admire the view. It really looks quite nice; the sun is just starting to set, and the little boats are flickering nicely on the surface of the water. It makes the perfect scene from the bench on the bank of the lake, where Liz is currently making last minute adjustments to the rose petals scattered haphazardly over the grass and the champagne bottle chilling in the ice bucket.

It looks like something out of a particularly gag-worthy rom-com.

(And while Ressler professes to hate all things romance and lovey-dovey, even he has to admit… Keen’s done a pretty good job.)

Ressler looks over at Liz, hovering over the bench, making minute adjustments to the angle of the champagne bottle in the bucket, chewing on her lip anxiously as she does so.

Ressler rolls his eyes. “Keen,” he drawls.

She looks up, a little too startled considering they’re the only two here.

“Leave it alone, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asks uncertainly. “I want it to be perfect but –”

“Liz,” Ressler interrupts her firmly. “Relax. He’s gonna love it.”

Her face softens. “Thanks, Ress.”

And then she jumps again, this time at the sound of crunching tires.

“He’s here!” she exclaims, looking so girlishly excited that Ressler can’t help but grin a little. “You remember what to do, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Ressler mumbles, working hard to look more like his trademark grumpy self.

(Valentine’s Day may be stupid holiday, just a dumb excuse for capitalist jerks to sell more candy and stuffed animals, but…this is kind of fun.)

He trudges off, a little pep in his step despite his complaining. He knows that if he doesn’t intercept Reddington before he gets out of the car, Liz’ll give him hell.

“Hey, Reddington!”

Ressler sees movement behind the tinted windows of the backseat and breaks into a jog, skidding to a halt in front of the car door right as Reddington pushes it open, effectively blocking Reddington’s view of the lake with his body.

Red looks up at him in surprise, frozen halfway out of the car. “…Donald,” he greets after a long moment, audibly confused. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?”

“Sure,” Ressler nods matter-of-factly. “You gotta close your eyes and follow me over to the lake. Keen’s orders.”

Red frowns.

“I thought I was meeting Elizabeth here –”

“You are,” Ressler interrupts. “But she’s got a surprise for you. Something to do with Valentine’s Day…?”

Ressler trails off suggestively and watches as Red’s expression changes from one of mild confusion to surprise to something like…wonder.

Ressler shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “Well, you coming or what? She’s excited.”

Red looks down for a moment, seeming to gather himself, and when he looks up again, Ressler sees the return of the Concierge of Crime. Ressler feels a little relieved at the sight.

(He’s much more familiar with the Concierge than he is with that odd, love-struck Reddington.)

Red gets out of the car and straightens to face him, regarding him for a moment before raising a skeptical eyebrow. “And you volunteered to help Agent Keen with this little romantic endeavor? I find that hard to believe.”

Ressler snorts. “Yeah, not exactly. She blackmailed me.”

Reddington chuckles, his eyes glinting in something that looks annoyingly like pride.

Ressler rolls his eyes and turns around. “Eyes closed and hand on my shoulder, Reddington. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He waits until he feels Reddington lightly grasp his left shoulder before he starts walking forward, slowly enough that they won’t trip over each other on the uneven grassy surface. They head back towards Liz, who Ressler can see in the dim light of the setting sun and glow of flickering candles, standing by the bench and bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet.

Ressler smirks at her. She rolls her eyes at him in response.

“Donald, I’ll have you know,” Reddington speaks idly from behind him, as Ressler leads him carefully around a large rock near the bench. “If you lead me into the lake and get my $400 Armani shoes wet…I will shoot you.”

Ressler barks a short laugh. “Thanks for the warning,” he says, finally drawing them both to a stop about five paces in front of Liz. “But, unfortunately, it’s not needed. We’re here, you can open your eyes.”

Ressler shrugs out from under Reddington’s hand and moves off to the side, turning to watch Red open his eyes and take in the sight before him.

The illuminated lake. The rose petals. The champagne.

Liz.

And Ressler once again sees the appearance of the soft, vulnerable Red that made him so uncomfortable before but, when coupled with the look on Liz’s face – tentative, emotional, loving – it creates a picture that Ressler can’t quite tear his eyes away from.

Something about the blatant adoration between them is…sort of captivating.

(And, looking at his two friends so happy with each other, Ressler can’t help having the rueful thought…maybe this stupid holiday isn’t so bad, after all.)

Red is alternately looking around in awe and looking at Liz like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “Lizzie…” he murmurs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Red,” Liz says quietly and then she’s stepping forward into Reddington’s open arms.

And they’re hugging tightly and Liz is stroking the back of his head and Reddington’s rubbing her back and they’re really pretty cute together, Ressler thinks, as he smiles fondly at them and oh – oh, now they’re kissing and –

Ew.

It’s, uh, time for him to go. Maybe he’ll catch Keen later. After Valentine’s Day.

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #mine #fanfic #adoration #prompts #valentine's day prompts #ask #agxntkeen #i hope this isn't too meh #i really hope you like it #despite the fact that valentine's day was 4 years ago lol im sorry #:D #thank you for the prompt friend!!#:)#much love to you!!!!!#<3

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 5 years

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Holiday Cheer?

For @newsies-secret-santa I got @radioactivepigeons which is kinda funny and I thought was totally rad so please enjoy this silly fic! Words: 4,637 Rating: PG Summary: Blink got a job at Target and has to work Black Friday in the electronics department. Really things can only go up from here. AO3

Blink wanted to die. Well not literally. But if the choices were death and this? At least he wouldn’t have been miserable with the former.

He’d needed the extra cash, even though he despised the holiday season and the capitalist hellscape that it created with a deep burning passion, Blink’s laptop was about to die and there was just no way he could buy a new one and pay rent for the month. Thus, the seasonal hours he was picking up at a Target out on Long Island. Which meant working Black Friday. Joy to the ducking world.

It was now almost three hours into his shift and he was being screamed at by his fourth Suburban Mom With Bad Highlights. Honestly? Blink was kinda numb to it at this point. In some not so distant aisle a baby wailed. Soccer Mom took a breath and Blink seized his opportunity before she could continue yelling at him.

“I’m sorry ma’am but we are sold out. Our system says that there’s three left at our West Orange location though.”

She huffed but grabbed her cart and shoved her way out of the electronics department.

In the aftermath, Blink allowed his faux charming smile to falter for just a second. He hadn’t been able to let it drop so far since his manager had informed him that the costumers might find his eye patch “off putting” which he would normally reply a “fuck you” to but he really needed this job.

If Blink’s ancient laptop finally bit the dust, then he wouldn’t be able to use the text to speech program that he needed to complete his readings. Because after a day full of classes, meetings, essays, research, and TA-ing he was tired. Reading was just. Not an option. He was lucky his vision held out until he got home. If his laptop died, he could kiss his long dreamt of PhD in English Lit goodbye. And Blink was one stubborn son of a bitch so that was not happening. He’d gotten this far; he could get through December.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

He had to get through today first though. And damn these people were sure making that hard.

The baby stopped crying abruptly and a John Mulaney quote sprung to Blink’s mind. He didn’t mean to, but he mumbled it anyway, “You hope it was a miracle… but probably not.”

A muffled snort sounded from in front of Blink and he felt himself flush with embarrassment when he looked up to see a guy standing there on the other side of the counter. A very good-looking guy. A downright hot guy with a mess of curls and what appeared to be dimples as he laughed at Blink. And oh duck. He was laughing at Blink.

“Please tell me you were consciously aware of the fact that you were quoting John Mulaney about a baby,” Hot Guy was saying now. And god it was shitty of Blink to just completely objectify him like that but damn it was internal, barely six a.m., and what else was he supposed to call him?

Blink smiled, for real this time, and gave a shrug. Which actually felt kinda good after having not moved from this spot since the store opened. “Can you blame me? It’s true.”

Hot Guy laughed again, louder and longer this time and throwing his head back as he did so. It gave Blink a perfect view of his smooth, dark throat, his skin just a few shades lighter than his curls. He’d started to nod as he chuckled. “It’s true,” he was saying between laughs. And Blink couldn’t tell if he was agreeing with Blink or repeating what he’d said.

Blink knew he was just grinning dopily him, but he really couldn’t help himself. He was practically dead on his feet and he hadn’t even had “lunch” yet here stood Blink’s dream partner. Cute, laughed at his stupid comments, knew John Mulaney quotes. Look, Blink knew it was a low bar, but you’d be surprised how few people managed to cross it. Normally it was the second point that tripped them up.

Finally, Blink managed to come back to where and more importantly when he was. “Sorry, uh, is there anything I can help you with?”

Th guy shook his head, his hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets and when he made a sweeping motion it pulled his unzipped coat into a sail. “Honestly? I’m just biding my time while my mom guilts my aunt into giving her the last of whatever toy my cousin desperately wants so that she can be the hero come Christmas morning.”

“Wow,” Blink said with a low whistle. “That is some next level family drama.”

Hot Guy rolled his eyes but that smile never slipped. And thank god, Blink was pretty sure that looking at that smile for the rest of the holiday shopping season would keep him from wanting to commit a felony.

“They’re so competitive,” he was saying, “that now they have to come up with new ways to be competitive. It’s a mess. But can’t say that it makes for a dull holiday.”

He was buffeted by an overlarge man, pushing him closer to Blink’s counter and causing him to stumble. Instinctively, Blink reached out to steady him and managed to grab his upper arm. What felt like his very toned upper arm. Oh duck. Blink was so dead. He didn’t even know this guy’s name and he was already gone on him.

“Thanks,” Hot Guy said once he was steadied. He glanced to Blink’s nametag before looking back up at him with that brilliant smile. “Louis. Thanks Louis.”

“No problem,” Blink heard himself saying because that was it. Wherever Blink was now it wasn’t this plane of existence. He had no clue what he was doing or saying because internally he was just a mess of giddy screams. Pretty people just should not exist because this is what happened to Blink when they talked to him. “It’s insane in here, not your fault.” Oh duck. Had he been rambling? Man, he hoped he hadn’t been rambling.

The smile never slipped though so whatever nonsense was coming out of Blink’s mouth Hot Guy didn’t seem to mind.

Suddenly a voice cut through the chaos. “MIKEY! WE’RE LEAVING!”

His smile twisted into an apologetic wince. “That’s my mom,” Hot Guy told him and Blink was pulled none too gently back to reality. “I’ve gotta go or I will be left here. You always on electronics?” he asked quickly as he started backing away.

“Um, no just today.”

Hot Guy had reached the main aisle and was nodding. “Ok. Um, I’ll find you then?”

Blink nodded and raised his hand in a wave. Hot Guy, well apparently his name was Mikey, flashed him one last smile before sprinting towards the front of the store.

Blink meant to watch him as he walked away but a little old lady’s perm had filled his vision and when he looked down she was rather urgently holding out a stack of coupons and a flyer opened to the new iPhone. He had a few thoughts – who thought it was a good idea to let an octogenarian out Black Friday shopping at the peak of the crazy, there was no way those coupons were actually going to be accepted today, he was not authorized to sell iPhones, he did not have the patience to explain that he was not authorized to sell iPhones to her – but they all were shoved down as she started talking at him.

Two p.m. and the end of Blink’s shift did not come soon enough. He was due back bright and early tomorrow at seven, but luckily he was just stocking shelves the first few hours and wouldn’t have to properly think again until he had to work a register after lunch.

It was odd walking out into the bright afternoon sun after having gone into the liminal space that he now called his place of employment in total darkness. The parking lot was still full, and he squinted against the light as he searched for Sarah’s silver Toyota in a sea of silver sedans.

He finally found her at the back of the lot, seemingly talking to herself and waving her hands around as she did so. He knocked on the passenger window and she turned to beam at him before unlocking the car and continuing her conversation.

“I mean, I stand by what I said.”

“Oh, I know you do,” Katherine’s voice came out of the speakers, obviously on the other end of the call. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a viable option.”

“What are we talking about?” Blink asked. He rubbed his hands and held them up to the vent where Sarah was blasting warm air. The walk wasn’t that far but the wind had been killer.

“Murder,” Sarah said cheerily at the same time that Katherine said, “My family.”

“Ah, holidays,” Blink said with sarcasm laced cheer. The girls laughed and Blink sank further back into the seat, exhaustion finally hitting him full force.

“Ok, well I’ll let you two go. See you soon!” There was the sound of raised voices somewhere in the background and Blink guessed that Kath wasn’t just hanging up to let Blink and Sarah talk.

“Bye Kath’rine,” he mumbled.

“Bye Kath!” Sarah said brightly and then there was the weird boop of the call disconnecting. She turned to Blink – or at least he assumed she turned to him but Blink had enough seeing for one day thank you very much and so had pushed his eye patch up onto his forehead and had his eyes closed with his hands pressed over them – and started talking to him with the same enthusiasm. Which was refreshing from the faux happy of his coworkers and the misery of the shoppers but like Blink was not on that level. “So how was work?”

“I hate capitalism. And middle-aged white women. And Christmas.”

Sarah hummed as she put the car in drive and began to back out of the spot. “Yeah, best part of being Jewish? Not doing all that.”

Blink laughed. He hadn’t really done Christmas growing up, after his dad died it’d just been his mom and his brothers and him and his mom really tried but money was tight. Normally they each got a new book and just watched A Christmas Story. Which Blink really didn’t mind and he loved reading and well, he still uses the whole “You’ll shoot your eye out!” thing as his excuse when people ask him about the patch. Just says, “Ralphie was lucky, he was wearing glasses. Me… well I used to have 20/20 vision.” It made people laugh and he didn’t actually have to answer the question.

But all this Black Friday nonsense? All this “buying the perfect gift” and making it the “best Christmas ever” and trying to be a picture-perfect Norman Rockwell family just for the one day a year even though everyone knew it was a sham? Yeah, that was bullshit and a load of bullshit Blink really didn’t need in his life. But damn he needed that new laptop.

“Well thanks,” Blink said after a short silence.

“For what?” Sarah asked. They were good friends, thanks to Jack being one of Blink’s buddies from high school and Jack and Davey meeting in college and being, well, Jack and Davey and then Sarah being Dave’s sister it only made sense that they’d crossed paths freshman year and hit it off. Though they were probably the most surprised of anybody when they’d gotten so close over the next couple of years. Even then, Sarah wasn’t a mind reader and Blink had a habit of non sequiturs.

“Driving me to and from work. Especially today what with the hours. And then being willing to bring me out here every weekend for the next month,” Blink explained.

Sarah scoffed but Blink kept talking before she could start telling him how little she minded. He needed to get it off his chest.

“And for inviting me to Thanksgiving and letting me stay with you and your folks. I already thanked ‘em yesterday for it and for letting me stay the weekends but you’re driving and I’ll pay you for some of the gas once I get my first paycheck and-”

“Louis!” She cut him off and Sarah only ever called him Louis if she really needed his attention. “It’s fine! You don’t have to thank me or pay for gas! Jeez. I’m helping Les prep for his SATs and coming out every weekend anyway, it’s literally not a problem. Besides, my parents love you and since they moved out here they have the spare room. On top of all that, you’re one of my best friends, you’re always welcome at the Jacobs Family Thanksgiving, with all its insanity, and I’m more than happy to help you out in any way I can. We all are.”

Blink sighed and sat up to look at her. Sarah was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction. “You’re too good.”

She just smirked and shrugged. “I mean, I’m going to make you help me help Les so really you might want to rethink that.”

Blink laughed and he could tell that Sarah was pleased with herself. She let him sit in silence for a little while longer as she turned into the development that her parents had moved to when the twins were in high school. Mr. Jacobs had gotten injured at work due to the company cutting corners and not following the proper safety protocols. They’d sued and managed to win enough that they covered the medical bills and moved to the family out of their cramped apartment in Lower Manhattan to the nice house in suburban Long Island. Now, Mr. Jacobs served on the town council and worked as a safety inspector and the house had become a weekend refuge for their children’s ragtag group of friends.

“So,” Sarah said as they neared her parents’ house, “anything that you need to curse about from today before we get home?”

Groaning and throwing his hands up in the air made her laugh but the look Sarah gave him said she wasn’t going to accept that as an answer. Blink sighed. “If I never hear a thick Long Island accent again it’ll be too soon.”

That got him a snort. “You’re friends with Spot Conlon-”

“Who has a Brooklyn accent and yes there is a difference!”

Sarah scoffed, obviously not buying it but Blink was willing to die on this hill.

“I really don’t understand what everyone needs a seventy-five-inch tv for. Honestly. And now I officially cringe anytime I see a woman with a ‘Can I Speak to Your Manager’ haircut.”

Sarah turned into her driveway and parked but didn’t turn off the car yet. “That it?”

Blink shrugged and began to nod before freezing. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I nearly forgot.”

Sarah looked concerned and he knew he must have a horrified expression.

He turned to her and looked at her seriously. “Sarah.”

“Blink?”

“I met the love of my life this morning.”

“Really.” She sounded incredulous.

“I swear to you. I am in ducking love.”

“Uh huh. You get their number?”

Blink winced, remembering his mistake from being dead on his feet when he met the guy. “No…”

“Blink!”

“Look! It was early! Like before sunrise! And I was on the electronics counter! I’m lucky I was able to speak coherent English!”

Sarah snorted but remained silent, giving him the opportunity to redeem himself.

“I got his name,” Blink told her and was rewarded with an impressed raise of the brows. “And he said he’s gonna come back another day when it’s not crazy to see me so…”

With a sigh and a shake of the head Sarah showed that he’d lost any points he got by getting the guy’s name. “So? Who is he?”

“Uh, Mikey.”

“Mikey…? What. What’s his last name.”

Blink winced. “I just know his name’s Mikey.”

Sarah gave him a blank look and turned to shut off the car and get out. Blink resettled his eye patch and hurried to follow her. “You’re hopeless,” Sarah called over her shoulder as she walked to the door.

Blink sighed and followed. “I know.”

Saturday passed in a blur. Thankfully it was significantly less busy and Blink actually knew the answers to all the questions he was asked but it still drained him. He practically collapsed when he got in Sarah’s car.

“Mystery Mikey show up?” she teased but Blink knew there was genuine interest in there too.

Blink sighed. “No.”

“Well you’ve got time.”

Blink just shrugged and allowed himself to doze off as they drove.

Sunday afternoon saw Blink climbing out of Sarah’s car so he could get his bag and climb back into Sarah’s car so she, Blink, and Davey could all get back to the city. He felt absolutely wiped from his first weekend working at Target but knew it was all because of the sales. Some not so distant part of him said that he should just get used to this though because he was working weekends all holiday season and this was just going to be his life now.

He thanked Mr. Jacobs again and gave Mrs. Jacobs one last hug and Les’s hair one last ruffle before following Davey out the door. They both threw their bags in the trunk and Dave shot him a quizzical look.

“You even pack anything? You only needed red shirts and khakis,” he deadpanned.

Blink stared at him for a few seconds. “Wow. That joke? It was so funny I forgot to laugh.”

Davey snorted and Blink responded with an eyeroll. Normally he’d have smiled but he was too tired to do much else than turn to get back in the car.

He stopped as he caught sight of the next-door neighbors’ driveway. Next to a blue Honda was a mother hugging her adult son tightly. The guy had his eyes turned skyward and seemed to be enduring her public display of affection. It looked like he was gearing up to say something to her when he saw Blink though.

That was when Blink knew. He’d thought it was Mikey, his mystery crush from Friday, but when he froze Blink knew it was him.

Mikey’s mother could be heard asking him what was wrong as he stiffly released her and then she was turning to watch him cross over the grass dividing the two driveways and walk up to Blink.

They stood there staring at each other in shock. Sarah had come out and distantly Blink heard her ask Davey what was going on and Davey mumbling something back. But Blink didn’t care because what’re the odds that he’d actually meet the guy he’d decided he’d fallen in love with again?

“What’re you doing at the Jacobs?” Mikey finally asked in awe.

“Uh, spending the holiday? They’re letting me stay here while I work too cause I live in the city. And Sarah likes me for some reason so she’s driving me around.” Blink didn’t know where the blatant honesty word vomit had come from, but he blamed the shock.

Mikey laughed. Blink could do little else but stare.

“Blink!” Sarah finally called from where she stood at the driver’s door. “What is going on?”

“This is him!” Blink gestured towards the man in front of him, hoping desperately that Sarah would understand.

“Mush? Mush is who?” Sarah obviously did not understand.

“Him! Him,” Blink implored. “The guy from Black Friday!”

“What’re you talking about?” Davey sounded tired. But Davey always sounded tired. Blink elected to ignore him and go back to grinning dumbly at Mikey.

“Hold up,” Sarah said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Your Mystery Mikey is Mush from Next Door?”

“Apparently!” Mikey, or was it Mush? Did he have a preference? Or did Blink have to earn that? Was it an inside joke?

“I’m so lost,” Davey informed them and went to sit in the car.

“Why didn’t you just say that it was Mush?” Sarah sighed. “It could’ve saved so many melodramatic sighs.”

Blink felt his cheeks heat and glanced to see that Mush had bit his lip to try and keep from laughing. Duck that was adorable.

“Um, in Louis’s defense I never actually said my name,” Mikey/Mush finally spoke up. “If I’d have thought to properly introduce myself it would’ve been as Mush Meyers but I’m guessing you and the entire store heard my mom call me Mikey so…” He trailed off with a shrug.

Sarah snorted before Blink could reply. “You actually said your name was Louis?”

“It’s what’s on my nametag! No way I’m gonna run around telling random costumers to call me Blink. And it was busy and I was distracted,” here he gestured vaguely at Mush, “so I didn’t get the chance to say that I go by Kid Blink but most of my friends just call me Blink. Only people who don’t are my mom, my professors – with the exception of Jackson but he’s my advisor – and now my coworkers.”

“And me when I’m annoyed with you or want your attention,” Sarah added.

“And Sarah when she’s annoyed with me or wants my attention,” Blink corrected.

Mush nodded, that easy smile Blink had called to mind so many times in the past couple days was back. “Ok, let’s try this again.” He held out his hand, “Hi, name’s Mush.”

Blink beamed at him and shook his hand. “Kid Blink, but you can just call me Blink.”

“I think you’re really cute and funny and I’d love to get to know you better, want to get coffee some time?”

He didn’t think he could smile any wider after a six-hour shift as a cashier but somehow Blink managed it. “I would love that.”

“Awww, cute,” Sarah interrupted.

Blink turned to glare at her, but he caught Mush biting his lip again out of the corner of his eye. He was going to make sure that Mush always stood on his good side because Blink wasn’t ever going to miss a glimpse of that face if he could help it.

“Can you exchange numbers and plan this date that way?” She continued. “Not to be pushy but I really don’t want to get stuck in traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“Brooklyn,” Blink muttered in annoyance and was surprised to hear Mush do so too.

At Blink’s raised brows Mush shrugged. “It’s this guy I know, Spot Conlon, it’s his turf.”

“You know Spot?” Blink had to pause a second. How was it this guy lived next door to the Jacobs, or his mom obviously did, and he knew Spot Conlon and Blink had met him on the worst day of the year in a ducking Target electronics department.

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure it’s a thrilling story and I’m sure you’ll discover a million more little connections because Long Island and New York City are the biggest small town in the world and everybody knows somebody who knows somebody who knows you but traffic is not going to get any better the longer we stand here in the cold,” Sarah huffed.

Dave rolled down his window. “She’s right and will only get meaner.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said primly. Davey just nodded and the window went back up.

Blink turned back to Mush to see he already had his phone out and a new contact page pulled up. He took it and put in “Kid Blink” and in the company line “Alex from Target 2.0” before typing his number and sending himself a text.

Mush laughed when he took it back and Blink smiled in triumph. “I’ll text you,” Mush said firmly and he slid it back in his coat pocket.

“Uh, actually can I call you when I get home? It’s uh, it’s um-”

“Absolutely,” Mush cut him off and kept smiling. “Whatever you prefer.”

Blink smiled back and nodded. “Ok. Cool. Thanks.”

They both stood there grinning stupidly at each other until Sarah honked the horn, obviously having gotten cold and impatient. Blink waved as he got in and Sarah backed out of the driveway, watching Mush wave back until he disappeared.

The next Friday when Blink slid into Sarah’s car where she pulled up outside of his apartment building, he was met with a “Hello” and a surprise hug from the backseat. Blink turned to see Mush sitting back there and grinning wildly. They’d talked nearly every day this week and had gone on their first official date on Wednesday.

“What’re you doing here?” Blink asked in awe.

“My mom wants me to help put up the Christmas lights and I remembered you saying Sarah was taking you out with her on the weekends, so I texted her and asked if she’d mind if I tagged along.”

“Obviously I said no he couldn’t,” Sarah said dryly. “He’s also been recruited into the ‘Les Jacobs SAT Prep Squad.’” She looked at him seriously in the rearview mirror and Blink knew she wasn’t joking about that. Mush just laughed and shrugged.

“If I were a better friend and a worse sister, I’d have left him drive you,” she told Blink softly.

He looked back over the seat to Mush before turning back to Sarah. “Nah, this is perfect.”

They all chatted as they neared the Brooklyn Bridge before Sarah started grumbling about rush hour traffic.

“You know,” Blink said suddenly. “You never did say how you know Spot.”

Mush started laughing and launched into the story. Blink was so swept up in it, and most importantly Mush animatedly telling it, that he hardly even noticed as Sarah cursed up a storm.

Blink might still hate the holiday season. And really hate working retail. And especially hate working retail during the holiday season. And need a new laptop. But, with meeting Mush he thought that it was all more than worth it.

#newsies #newsies secret santa 2019 #kid blink #mush meyers #sarah jacobs #david jacobs #92sies #my fic #writing #own writing

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

I Don't Care About the Presents Underneath the Christmas Tree (Mom Sharon- Daughter Aquaria) - Sammy Indigo

A/N: And it’s Day 4! This is part of my Mom Sharon- Daughter Aquaria verse, set back when Aquaira was five years old. This is the first time I’ve published an interaction with Jinkx in this universe and I hope you enjoy it. xxx

It was three weeks until Christmas day and Sharon was two months late paying her phone bill.

“She’s beautiful.” Aquaria sighed, nose pressed against the glass front of the store. “Like an angel.”

“Don’t put your face on there, Aqua, it’s dirty.”

“But I wanna look at the doll, Mommy.”

Sharon squinted at the doll through the water marked glass. The blonde Barbie was central to the bright red and green display, her massive red ball gown taking up much of the window, despite the doll’s small size.

Aquaria traced the outline of the dress with her fingers. “She’s the most beautifulist person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“No.” Sharon frowned. “She’s an unrealistic standard of femininity that does nothing to empower young girls.” She tried to steer Aquaria away from the view, but the little girl resisted, pulling back to gawk at the holiday-themed doll. Sharon frowned at the large price tag shaped into what she supposed was meant to be an unthreatening Christmas tree shape. “Plus, girl thinks she’s worth a hundred dollars. Goddamn capitalist society.”

“I’d pay a million trillion dollars for her.” Aquaria said. “She’s worth that much, I think.”

“Yeah, well,” Sharon grabbed her hand and tugged her away down the street, “you’re five, so you don’t get an opinion on the capitalist economy.”

Aquaria looked up at her, little face barely visible beneath the woolly hat that kept slipping into her eyes. “I’m gonna ask Santa for her.”

Sharon’s heart sank. “Oh, yeah?” She said.

“Mmhmm.” Aquaria ran a little to keep up with Sharon’s quick pace. “You said I’ve been good, so he’ll bring her for me.”

“You sure you want a stupid, lame, boring old doll like that?” She weaved the two of them around the various groups of people taking up the sidewalk. “Seems a little mainstream.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Common.” Sharon said. “Like, everyone has one.”

Aquaria squeezed her hand. “That’s because everyone loves her.”

Christmas was three weeks away and Sharon was poor.

So far, the only thing Aquaria had asked for was a ‘sparkly dress’, and Sharon had managed to find some black and grey tulle in a back corner of Jinkx’s hallway closet, and had fashioned it into a tutu. She had been planning on gluing rhinestones onto it once she got her hands on some glue.

When she was ten months old, for her first Christmas, Jinkx had made Aquaria a stocking from an old ugly Christmas sweater, and every year Sharon filled it with candy, and shit from the dollar store. Thus far in her short life, that had been enough for Aquaria. It was all Sharon had to offer.

“She’s all I’ve ever wanted ever.” Aquaria said wistfully.

Sharon currently had three dollars sixty five cents in her bank account, two dollars thirty eight in her wallet, and somewhere around ninety dollars in a used coffee jar that she kept hidden in a shoebox under her bed, that she was slowly saving for Aquaria’s future.

Andshe was a week late with rent.

Andshe hadn’t paid her phone bill.

Andshe owed Jinkx over six hundred dollars from six years of borrowing here and there from her friend just to get by.

She refused to acknowledge the thousands of dollars she owed in student loans, at least until she actually had a qualification in her hand to prove it was all worth it.

“A hundred dollars is a lot of money, kiddo.” Sharon said.

Aquaria smiled up at her. “Don’t worry. Santa can get it.”

“What if Santa is a little short on cash this year?”

The little girl frowned. “But the elves make the toys. Santa doesn’t need to pay.”

Sharon nodded. “Right. No middle man for Santa.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy.” Aquaria said with a smile, “I’ve been super good this year, you said I have, so Santa will get me my Barbie.”

…………….

It was two weeks until Christmas day and the rent had been paid.

Jinkx had done overtime at the job she hated, but had still had to sacrifice hours in order to help out Sharon with childcare. Sharon had taken four extra shifts waitressing straight after her night classes and had turned up the charm to painful levels of pleasantness to gain extra tips from willing customers. She had barely seen Aquaria, dropping her off at school, going to work, going to class, going back to work, and returning home in the early hours to Aquaria already asleep.

It was enough to scrape together rent money. Not enough for the late fees. Their landlord liked Jinkx better, so she took the money in person, toting along an enchanting Aquaria with hopes of the older woman taking pity and waiving their late fee. Kasha was a sucker for Aqua’s doe eyes, and Jinkx returned home happy, clutching a rental receipt, with a just as happy Aquaria, clutching a ten-cent sucker.

Sharon’s phone bill remained unpaid.

“I told Mrs Kasha about my Barbie that Santa’s bringing me.” Aquaria said, licking the purple lolly. “She says that Santa will bring me anything I want ‘cause I’m so damn cute.”

“Oh.” Sharon eyed Jinkx. “She said that did she?”

“Uh huh. And she gave me this lollipop.”

“How kind.”

Aquaria stood from her place at the table, sticking the sucker in one cheek, like a hamster, and wiping her hands on her tights. “Can I go colour in our room?”

“Sure.” Sharon said, and the little girl took off towards the room off the far side of the living room. “But stay off our bed!” Sharon called after her. “All my school work is on there. Don’t mess it up.”

“Okay.” She called back.

“And don’t draw anymore rainbows on my printouts. While I appreciated the artistry, my professor did not.” Sharon railed off as Aquaria kicked the bedroom door closed. As soon as the kid was out of sight, Sharon let her head fall to the table top, sighing dramatically. ��I’m fucked.”

Jinkx flicked her ear. “No, we’re fucked.” She said as Sharon sat up. “This is a team effort.”

“Jinkxy I have nothing. Nothing.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You have lots of things.” Jinkx said. “You have me, your best friend in the whole entire world.” She pinched her arm. “You have Aquaria, you have a roof over your head for another month.” She shrugged. “Plenty of people don’t even have that.”

“I guess.”

“Plus, in the grand scheme of things, this ‘being horrifically broke’ thing, will just be another chapter in your biography that will make you more relatable in the long run.”

Sharon gently kicked Jinkx in the shin under the table. “You’re stupid.” She smirked.

“But it made you smile.” She said. Jinkx took her hand. “Hey,” she dropped her voice, “six years ago, you were six months pregnant, lying on my futon in my studio apartment, trying to convince me you hadn’t just been rubbing coke on your gums-,”

“Don’t-,”

“Sharon,” Jinkx said firmly, “it happened, it was a bad time, but it happened.”

“I just, I just hate thinking about it.” Sharon said, casing her eyes down to the chipped black polish on her thumb. “I like to pretend it wasn’t real.”

“But it was. And it was awful. And I have a point.” She squeezed her hand. “Sharon, it will never be that bad again. I’ve seen you at your lowest, and thatwas it.” Jinkx grinned. “So fucking what if you can’t afford rent, or school, or-,”

“A fucking holiday Barbie?”

“Right!” Jinkx clapped. “Who cares? You’re good. You’re great!” She punched Sharon in the shoulder. “It’ll all be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“We will?”

“Oh, yeah. One day I’m going to open my store of curious curiosities, and one day you’ll live out your lesbian suburban fantasy.” She crumpled up the rental receipt. “Fuck all this shit, you’ll have a fucking mortgage!”

Sharon smirked. “I’ll even invite you to my house on Christmas and you can watch me and my sexy wife make out under the mistletoe.”

“While I get drunk on Goldschläger?”

“Sure.”

“And where is your daughter in all this?”

“Aquaria’s in our huge ass living room, in front of our huge ass fire place, playing with a fucking Holiday Barbie doll.” She groaned. “Kid has never shown interest in fucking Barbies her entire life. Why now?”

“She’s five. Five year olds love dolls.”

“I don’t want my kid playing with a symbol of misogyny.” Sharon said. “Plus her tits are fake.”

“The whole of her is fake, genius.” Jinkx laughed. “It’s a doll. And I don’t think Barbie is too bad. I mean, girl has had some pretty great jobs. Doctor, teacher, astronaut. That’s a role model.”

“No, it just shows she can’t hold down a career. She’s a flake. And a fraud.”

“Well,” Jinkx shrugged, “Aquaria likes her now, so you better get used to the blonde bitch.”

The bedroom door opened and Aquaria skipped into the kitchen, placing a piece of paper down on the table. “I made my letter.” She said proudly. “Can you mail it to Santa? He needs to know A-snap what I want.”

“A-snap?” Jinkx asked, glancing to Sharon. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah.” Aquaria said. “It means right now. My teacher always says ‘I need a drink a-snap with these kids!’ She’s always thirsty.”

“ASAP.” Sharon said, chuckling. “As soon as possible. And we might need to make sure your teacher is okay.”

Aquaria ignored her. “So can you mail it for me, Mommy?”

“Sure.”

Aquaria pulled her down by her neck to give her a kiss. “I’m gonna go draw you a picture to make you happy, Mama, ‘kay?” She kissed her, again. “I love you, Mommy. My whole heart loves you.” Aquaria let her go and ran back off to the bedroom.

The door closed. Sharon turned to Jinkx. “You know, Jinkxy, prostitution really wasn’t that bad.”

“I know you’re joking but it still makes my skin crawl.”

“Five blow jobs on the south side of town and I could get her that damn doll.”

“You’d only charge twenty dollars for a blow job?”

“That was my rate.” Sharon shrugged.

Jinkx grimaced. “I guess that’s another thing to add to your biography.” She shook her head. “Glad that chapter’s over.”

“Same.” Sharon said. She propped her head up in her hand. “The crabs just aren’t worth it.”

Jinkx threw the rental receipt at her head.

……………………….

It was the Christmas Eve and Sharon was in Goodwill.

She had eighteen dollars in tips from waitressing earlier in the day, and twelve minutes until the store closed.

Sharon’s phone bill remained unpaid.

The store was busy, which she hadn’t expected, and the sheer amount of people pushing past each other to get to the toys and children’s clothing selection, made Sharon feel better about herself. The holiday Barbie was a pipe dream, and Santa would not be leaving one under the tree for Aquaria. That was something Sharon just had to live with.

Sharon had a lot she just had to live with.

Goodwill had Barbie dolls. Most were naked, sealed in little clear plastic bags, with a price sticker stuck to the front. The clothes were in the same plastic bags, spread out over a shelf.

Sharon picked one up. “God, fake or not,” she muttered, “you do have great tits, Barbara.”

There weren’t many dolls left, and the one Sharon had in her hand, had a pen mark down the leg. She put it back. Barbie dolls had never really spoken to Sharon on an emotional level. It sounded stupid, but it was a fact. As a child Sharon had been bought countless Barbies, Sindys, Jems, the cars, the horses, the dream house. Her mother had been relentless in attempting to pass on her love of the fashion dolls, but Sharon had just never felt for them. They were the girls she hated in school. They were the toys that reminded her she was supposed to look a certain way. Act a certain way.

Aquaria didn’t need that. At least, not yet. Not at five years old. Maybe when she was older and could spell ‘misogynistic gender stereotypes’.

Sharon eyed the parents rummaging through the piles of doll clothes on the shelf and thought again about her mother. She hadn’t spoken to her mother or father since before Aquaria was born, and they hadn’t replied to any of the letters Sharon had sent over the years, so she had just stopped trying. But she thought of them. She thought her mother would probably accuse her of being ‘too P.C.’ for not buying Aqua the doll. She moved around the corner to the other toys.

Eighteen dollars and five minutes.

The staff were kindly, but firmly, reminding the customers still in the store that they had five minutes before closing. Many pushed forward to the cash registers, a line forming, while Sharon picked through the shelves of cars and games and jigsaws and books.

“It’s all just crap.” She said aloud.

A passing man with an armful of board games and a baby doll hanging from his fist by her hair, laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “but kids love crap.” He moved off to join the line at the registers.

Sharon turned back to the toys.

Eighteen dollars and five minutes to give her child a Christmas that she wouldn’t feel the need to discuss in therapy as an adult. It was a lot of pressure. Therapy was expensive.

…………………

It was Christmas day.

Aquaria had woken up at five am.

Sharon hadn’t been to bed.

Jinkx was getting ready for work.

Sharon still hadn’t paid her phone bill.

“Oh my gosh!” Aquaria squealed, bouncing into the living room. “Santa came!” She rushed over to the tiny fake tree they had propped up on the coffee table, and pointed at the small selection of gifts placed there.

Sharon’s stomach was tight.

“Well, you were a good girl.” Jinkx said, smiling, buttoning her uniform shirt. “He’s been watching.”

Aqua nodded, excitedly. She turned to Sharon, climbing up onto her lap where she sat on the couch. “Mommy, it’s Christmas!”

“I know. Merry Christmas, kiddo.” She hugged Aquaria, pulling her onto her chest and kissing her head. “Merry Christmas.”

For a moment, and perhaps due to her late bedtime and early awakening, Aquaria allowed Sharon to cuddle her quietly, wrapping an arm around her neck and putting her thumb in her mouth. Sharon closed her eyes.

The moment was short-lived. Aquaria squirmed away, pulling her thumb away from her mouth. “Can I open them?”

Sharon glanced at the pathetic collection of presents on the coffee table. They hadn’t had any wrapping paper so she had used some of Jinkx’s miscellaneous fabric from the closet and tied it with odds of ribbon. It looked a mess. The candy she had bought from 7/11 on the way home from Goodwill wasn’t even wrapped, just stuffed into the stocking.

“Please, Mommy. Can I open them?”

Sharon smiled her best smile and nodded at Aqua, who immediately began emptying the stocking.

“Wow!” Aquaria exclaimed over the contents. “Look, Mommy! Chocolate!” She laughed, giddily. “And soda!”

Jinkx snorted a laugh somewhere behind Sharon. “Santa brought you a Fanta?”

“Yeah!” Aquaria said. “I love Fanta!”

“Maybe Santawas looking for things he could use to make the stocking look a little less flat.” Sharon said, glaring at Jinkx.

Jinkx zipped up her jacket. “Good idea of Santa.”

“And Cheetos!”

Jinkx snorted, covering her mouth at the glare Sharon gave to her. “How kind of Santa.”

“Mmm.” Sharon hummed. She couldn’t help the genuine smile that came to her face at the innocent joy Aquaria was getting from the things in her stocking. It was literally seven dollars worth of candy, chips, and soda, and kid was acting like she had been given a golden ticket to Wonka’s chocolate factory.

“This is the best day ever.” Aquaria said, brightly. “I’m so happy.”

Jinkx sat down next to Sharon. “See.” She said quietly, smiling fondly at Aqua. “Santa did good.”

Sharon dropped her voice to almost nothing and leaned into Jinkx. “Santa’s still got three presents for her to open before she realises she’s not getting that damn doll.”

They watched together as Aquaria looked between the three remaining gifts. She looked up at them.

“Which one should I open first?”

Jinkx looked to Sharon. “Which one do you think?”

Sharon shrugged. “Up to you, kiddo.”

Aquaria looked back down at the gifts. “I love how Santa wrapped them.” She said absently. “Beautiful.”

Jinkx elbowed Sharon. “Beautiful wrapping.”

Sharon glared at her.

“This one, first!” Aqua exclaimed, and picked up the puffy package, wrapped in a pink lace, the black of the gift showing through. Aquaria pulled away the fabric wrappings to reveal the tutu, now completed with a hand-stoned pattern throughout the fabric. The held it out in front of her. “Mommy!” She called, gleefully. “It’s my sparkle dress. It’s perfect.”

Sharon blinked hard and sniffed away the burning at the back of her eyes. “You like it?”

Aquaria began pulling on the skirt atop her pyjamas, spinning as she did. “I love it. I love it.” She laughed and jumped on the spot. “It’s perfect, Mama!” She began dancing around the room, twirling and curtsying in her tutu, singing a nonsensical song.

“Come on, Aqua, open the others!” Jinkx said.

Aquaria stopped her song, running back over to the coffee table. She looked between the remaining gifts with concentration etched onto her little face.

“Hurry up.” Jinkx laughed. “I want to see what Santa brought you, but I have to leave in five minutes to sit behind a desk in a hotel lobby and pretend to be happy for rich people.”

Jinkx’s encouragement seemed to resign Aquaria to picking out the smaller of the two gifts, flat and wrapped in a navy blue satin with a white ribbon. She gently lifted the gift from the table and pulled at the bow on the ribbon. The fabric fell away, and Sharon pushed herself further back in her seat.

Aquaria gasped. “I love it.” She said. “It’s a book!” She held it out to Sharon and Jinkx. “Look at my book. Look at my book.”

“I see it.” Jinkx smiled. “Do you know what book it is?”

Sharon watched, chewing on her chipped thumbnail, as Aqua frowned at the front over of the book, attempting to decipher the title. She hoped she didn’t notice the slight discolouration of the pages, or the way the hardcover spine was bunched on the bottom edge.

“It’s too hard.” Aquaria said. “Jinkxy read it, please?”

“It says ‘Guess How Much I Love You’.”

“And it has bunnies on the pictures!” Aquaria began flipping through the book. “It’s my favourite book ever.”

“You haven’t read it, yet.” Sharon said.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s my favourite.”

Sharon had to bite her knuckle and close her eyes for a second. She was not going to fucking cry over this.

Jinkx leaned forward in her seat. “Open the other one, Aquaria.”

The kid picked up the last gift, and barely had to touch the ribbon before the orange fabric fell away to reveal what was nota Barbie underneath. Aqua held up the present, mouth open slightly, and head tilted.

“Hello.” She said in a small voice. “You are the most beautifulist person I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Jinkx cackled. “It’s a cat not a person!”

“He’s still a person and I love him.” Aquaria hugged the stuffed animal tight to her chest, rocking from side to side. “He’s perfect. He’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten ever!”

Sharon stood up and crossed over to the kitchen, standing by the sink with her back to the living area. She frantically wiped the tears from her cheeks, swallowing hard.

“Mommy, I got a kitty.” Aquaria ran to her, wrapping her arms around Sharon’s legs. “Mama, look at my kitty. Isn’t he perfect?”

“Yeah.” Sharon, sniffed hard. “He’s pretty perfect.”

She turned and picked up Aquaria, resting her on her hip and hugging her tightly. “I’m glad you liked your gifts.”

“I love them. They’re my favourite things ever.”

Sharon kissed her. “You’re my favourite thing ever.”

Aquaria giggled. She held up the cat. “Meow.”

…………

It was mid March and Sharon was poor.

The phone bill had never been paid and her service had been cut off.

They were two weeks late on rent.

Sharon had worked every day for the past seventeen days.

But life was good.

She rushed home from another night of school to get back before Jinkx could put Aquaria to bed. The little girl was brushing her teeth when Sharon peeked her head around the bathroom door.

“Mommy’s home.” Aquaria smiled, mouth covered in white foam. “Hi, Mommy. I missed you.”

Sharon wiped her mouth with a towel and gave her a kiss. “I told you I’d be here to snuggle you before bed.”

Aquaria reached up her arms and Sharon picked her up, walking her through to the bedroom.

“Night, night, Jinkxy.” Aqua called.

“Sleep tight, Aqua.”

Sharon gave Jinkx a quick wave before going into her and Aquaria’s room and closing the door. “Ready for bedtime?”

Aquaria climbed onto their bed from Sharon’s arms. “Yeah. And we’re gonna read my story?”

“Sure.” Sharon climbed into the bed. “Go get it and we’ll read.” As she settled herself against the pillows at the head of the bed, Sharon watched as Aqua reached to the window sill to grab the small hardback book. Not that she really needed the book, Aquaria could recite it from memory, the two of them read it so often, but the pictures were still nice for her to look at, and the routine of reading in bed was soothing to the both of them.

“And where’s Cerrone?” Sharon asked as Aquaria snuggled next to her.

“He’s just here.” The kid produced the fluffy stuffed cat from underneath the covers. I tucked him in before you got home.”

“Okay,” Sharon said, “so we’re all ready?”

“Yep.”

“Aqua’s here.” Sharon kissed her head. “And Cerrone’s here.” She kissed the fluffy head of the stuffed cat. “And Mommy’s here.” She kissed her own hand and Aquaria giggled.

“No, I gotta kiss you, silly.”

Sharon gasped. “Oh, you’re right. I can’t believe I forgot!” She let herself be pulled down by the collar of her shirt for Aquaria to kiss her.

“There.” Aqua chirped, snuggling back into the blankets. “Now we can read the story.” She prodded the book in Sharon’s hand. “Start the story, Mommy.”

“Okay.” Sharon said, wrapping an arm around Aquaria’s shoulders. She opened the book and let Aqua turn to the first page. “Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare’s very long ears.”

#sharon needles #aquaria #jinkx monsoon #fluff #family #25 holiday fics #sammy indigo #rpdr fanfiction #submission #domestic #aquaria & sharon #mother/daughter

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spikeisawesome456 · 6 years

Text

So... I decided to do all of these asks, because I was bored. :-D

Obscure Asks.

1. what’s your favorite way to dress? Uhh… Comfortably. I tend to just wear yoga pants, graphic t-shirts, and a Dipper hat.

2. if you could change anything about yourself, what would it be? Ohhh… I both want to say lots of things, and nothing. Because on one hand, there are things about me that annoy me (I overshare, I sometimes get insanely hyper, like now, I can be really mean/rude, etc.…), but on the other hand, I do enjoy who I am. For all my faults, I am proud of the person I’ve become, and the person I’m still becoming. Maybe I’d make my memory better, so I could really utilize my intelligence, and stop forgetting people’s names because it’s starting to get really rude.

3. what movie/game/etc. helps you calm down? Eh… I like to play Stardew Valley, but it doesn’t help me calm down. I play it when I’m calm. It actually used to stress me out… probably not a good example. Uh… Nothing, I guess. Music helps. Sometimes. Basically, when I’m stressed, the only thing that can help is solving the problem or ignoring the problem. And if I can’t ignore it, I just… get stressed. Hugging my mom sometimes helps.

4. what does your room smell like? Like… a room? It smells okay? It recently smells like Maple Cinnamon Pancakes, because I got a Maple Cinnamon Pancake candle from Bath and Body Works, so… yeah?

5. do you like to organize? Ehh… Like to, yes. Do I do it? Noooo….

6. what kind of music would you listen to if you could only choose one? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Why Would You Ask Me This???????????? Also I’m assuming this means genre. But… Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

7. what song is your aesthetic? Um… I don’t really know my Aesthetic? I’m a bit all over the place. Girly, tom boy, shiny, glittery, matte…. Fast, slow, everything in between and outside. If you know of a song like that, then that’s me! Otherwise… Eh.

8. what color do you think goes best with your personality? Uh… No idea. I like blue, though. I’m not that calm a person, though. Well, sometimes, but not always. Well, it depends on what you mean by calm. So… Probably purple, a mix between loud red/orange and cool blue.

9. do you believe in auras? Not… really? A little? Like, we each have our own personal feel, and energy. Like, in a psychological way. But in the color way? Not really. Can people feel other’s energy better than others? Sure! But that’s just a hyper awareness of self and other, not a “six sense,” or whatever.

10. what do you wish you hated, but actually like? I don’t wish to hate anything.

11. vague about your crush(es) I… don’t have any. I decided a long time ago that crushes were stupid, after I ruined a good friendship with my weird crush. Plus, I don’t spend enough time around people to develop crushes.

12. is there someone you have mixed feelings towards? Not… really? Some of my old professors, maybe. My Abnormal Psychology professor was nice, sometimes, but could say such mean things at times about people with mental illness.

13. talk about an au or story you came up with Oh! I made up a story about a man who has two sons (though I changed it so one child, the elder, was a daughter in the last edit, so…) who sold his soul to keep them safe and happy, after he lost all his money when his business partner skipped town and left his embezzlement charges with the man. The man didn’t get sent to jail, since the small town had pity on him, but he did lose all his money, meaning his eldest, now a daughter, had to steal. Hating that, he made a deal with the devil. 2 years later, the devil (who isn’t evil, but more like the Jewish idea of the devil, who is a temptation) comes knocking and the man learns that instead of taking his soul, since the devil would get it at his death regardless (in order to make a deal with the devil you had to commit the greatest sin, murder, thus tainting your soul), the devil took the thing you loved most. For selfish men, it would be their fame and money. For lustful men, it would be their object of affection. For the man, who had made the deal for selfless reasons, it was his children, whom he loved more than anything.

The plot would have gone into the man trying to escape the devil, who graciously gave him a week to prepare, but I didn’t know how to write it, and it’s kind of been in my notes on my iPod for years. It would have ended with the devil catching up to the family, with the man finally begging the devil to let his children live, that it wasn’t their fault. And the devil would have smiled, sweetly, before killing the children while the man watched. As the devil turned away, the man would have brokenly asked why? Why he couldn’t have left them alone? And the devil would have chuckled sadly and said that it was what had always been planned. That the entire chase had been futile from the very first moment. The devil had sympathy for the man, but he couldn’t go against the orders of God (my version of the devil is kinder, more sympathetic to the plights of humans, since I view the “devil” not as an enemy, but as, I previously mentioned, a temptation. He tempts people, on God’s orders, but doesn’t have any true animosity towards humanity. He just follows orders). Finally, the man begs the devil to kill him, to end his suffering, that even an eternity in Hell would be better than living knowing he killed his children. And then, I’m split on the ending. In the dream that inspired this story, the devil smiles wickedly and says, “I thought you’d never ask,” before bashing the man (me, in the dream) over the head with a bat, since in the dream the devil was eviler. But I think it’s more poignant to let the devil laugh softly again, turn, and say “Oh, my dear man. That’s the whole point,” before walking away/disappearing.

Anyway, that was my main story idea. I really like it, and wrote about 20,000 words for it, but got stuck on the middle part. I wanted to add an old friend of the man’s, who became an alcoholic following the death of one of their old friends. The friend group fell apart after the man left for plot reasons, which I don’t have time to explain, and it grew worse until one of their friends died, and the whole friend group fell apart and she became an alcoholic. However, I wasn’t sure if this subplot took away from the whole plot, and I felt it was written poorly, so I kind of gave up. Plus, I had no idea what obstacles the devil could put in their way, since I don’t know religion. Though… I am currently taking a bible course in college, so maybe I’ll revisit the story. If anyone wants to read what I have, send me a message. :-)

14. do you like makeup? Eh… Depends. I sometimes like it. Also, after writing about my whole story, going back to these questions just feel weird. Eh.

15. do you prefer space or the ocean? I like the ocean, since I can see it more often. Though, I love looking at the stars when I can. I just live in a city with tons of light pollution and can’t ever see the stars.

16. if you could pick any planet besides earth, where would you live? ????? What other planets could I live on??? I don’t know any real planets that have life on them, and none of the 7 others we have interest me much. Or is this fictional? In which case… I don’t know?

17. what form of government do you like the most? (capitalism, socialism, etc.) Um… this took a dark turn. “Hey, what’s your favorite color??” “Do you like makeup??? :-D” “What is your political preference, you capitalist/commie scum???” This question just feels like a trap the cops laid in the middle of a silly, fun little quiz.

18. what animal would you keep as a pet, if you could? I’d keep a cat, but I’m allergic. And a little afraid. Also, I think this means like, wild animal, or mythical creature, but I wouldn’t want to keep a wild animal captive, even if I could. Same with mythical creature.

19. what do you think our purpose is in the universe? To do our best and to enjoy the life we’ve been given. This relates to the next question, but I believe that if there is a God, they’d want us to enjoy life.

20. do you believe in god(s)? Continuing from the last question, yes and no. I believe in a higher power, since I don’t see how the entire universe and life can just be random, but I don’t really believe in “God” or “gods” as humans have imagined them, as helpful or destructive forces that meddle with humanity. I believe they would be a high creature, humans unable to sense them since we don’t have the body parts available to “see” them. There would likely be multiple higher beings, but it is possible one is in charge of earth, to look over us. Though, no miracle granting or listening in, since they probably aren’t on the same timeline we are, or an entire generation to us is a second to them. The afterlife is tricky, which is why I’m so terrified to die, so I won’t go into it. But, long story short, yes. I do believe in a sort of “God.” What they mean to earth, what they want with us, I don’t know. But I do believe something created the universe, and watches over the various planets. Also, I believe that other planets have life, and that aliens may or may not have visited earth, but if they did, we might not have known, since, like with “God,” we don’t have the appendages or body parts available to “see” them. I mean, if we didn’t have eyes or ears, we’d never know what we were missing. Who knows what we can’t “see” because we don’t have the right parts?

21. is there a song you can’t handle listening to, even though you like it? Ehh…. Nothing, really. But, there was a P!nk song I had to turn off halfway through. Not because I hated it, but because it reminded me of my family too much it hurt. I didn’t really like the song, but it was okay. I think it was called Family Portrait? Update, I looked it up, and yes, it is called Family Portrait, by P!nk. It’s not completely similar to my family, but it’s close enough that it just… hurt.

22. what ex do you miss the most, if you have one? If you never date, you can never have an ex you miss the most. *Insert guy tapping his forehead meme here*

23. do you like soft, fluffy blankets or rough/smooth blankets? Soft ones. Who… who likes rough blankets??? What??? I mean, I prefer smoother ones, I guess, to super fluffy. But rough? Really??

24. what is your favorite thing to learn about? Psychology!!! I love it!

25. what country’s history do you find the most interesting? Um… I don’t really like history. I’m taking a history class, though, and I liked Islam’s history. No one country, but the history of the Middle East and Islam.

26. what do you think about genderbent ____ (insert someone here) I think this is one where you had to send in a question for. So, feel free to ask me about any genderbend you like, but warning: I tend not to like genderbent characters. I just think it’s weird, and pointless. Especially if you genderbend a character to make a gay ship straight. Like… dude. Or, vice versa, to make a straight ship gay. It’s just… unnecessary. Make new characters or find a different ship.

27. what breakup was the hardest, if you had one? *insert answer from question 22, but exchange “Ex you miss the most” for “hardest breakup”

28. do you have someone where you can’t decide if you like them romantically or just as a friend? Not really. Going back to question 11, I don’t spend enough time around people to really know. But, as I have weird understandings of friendship and love, as well as a deep loneliness that makes me emotionally invested in anyone who is even slightly a friend, this sort of happens all the time. I just want to be less lonely, usually. I’m just… bad at people. I tend not to like them, and they bore me, yet I long to be around people and have friends. So. Lots of contradictions.

29. what do you think about Tumblr discourse? Eh. I think most of it is stupid. Just… chill. The world sucks, it’s best just to do things you enjoy, don’t sweat the small stuff. Even the big stuff. If there’s nothing you can do, just… move on. Live with it, and live your life. Don’t yell at random people, even If they’re “terrible.” Nothing is black and white, and as soon as you start attacking others because of your opinion, you’re becoming a person in the wrong, even if your view is virtuous. No one is right. No one is wrong. It’s just a matter of opinion. Now, does that mean you shouldn’t argue your point? No! Your view is valid and if it matters to you, express it. But don’t hate on another because of it. Or else you lose your virtue, your moral “righteousness.” Sorry, this went in a wrong direction. But… yeah.

30. what instrument do you wish you could master? Piano, guitar, and violin. Piano the most, though.

31. how easy is it for you to be honest? Pretty easy? I tend to be honest, most often, because I don’t really see why not. But it’s also easy to tell white lies or to omit truths, if it makes my life easier. So. Eh.

32. do you have any strange interests? Nothing I can really think of? Nothing that other people aren’t interested in. I like collecting coins, but so do many others.

33. do you have any strange fears? Ehh… I’m a bit afraid of animals, but it’s mostly because I’m afraid of them hurting me, which isn’t really strange?? So… again, not really? Most of my fears are common. Maybe my fear of holes? Like, on the skin? But people have that fear, too. And it’s less a fear and more of a disgust.

34. what food do you binge on when you’re lazy? Anything I can, really. I tend not to get super hungry, so I only eat when I’m bored or “lazy”, or when I know people should eat. Also, I dislike calling it lazy, since I think that’s a negative word for a more complicated feeling. For me, at least.

35. when you get angry, how do you show it? I tend to go quiet and seethe. I don’t usually yell, though I will if the other person (my dad usually) is yelling. I prefer leaving the room, though, or else getting all “righteous”. Like, righteous fury, though I’m not always righteous when I get angry.

36. do you have any impulsive movements? (twitches, ticks, flapping, etc.) Dude, yes. I tend to crack my knuckles/twist my hands impulsively/nervously. I also tap/rub my thumb against my fingers, or move my foot. Mostly when I’m “hyper,” or possibly manic. Otherwise, when I’m more down, it’s just the cracking knuckles thing.

37. what do you listen to music on? iPod/Phone, and my computer. I tend not to listen to radio. Sometimes I’ll listen to new music on YouTube, but it’s mostly iTunes/the iPod/phone music app.

38. are you left brained or right brained? Well, we all have both right and left brains, so I am both. Since no one side of the brain can be really more dominant. Unless part of your brain is dead, like my mother’s, who is more right brained, since parts of her left brain died when she was born. But, since I understand what this question is asking, I am, really, both. I’m creative and logical. Shocker.

39. earbuds or headphones? Oh, headphones, every time. I HATE earbuds. They always fall out of my ears. I mean I’ll take them if I have nothing else, but I hate them.

40. do you like light blankets or heavy blankets? Eh…. I tend to have heavy blankets, even though it’s hot where I am, and I need a fan to keep me cool. So. Yeah.

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zucca101 · 7 years

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Response: The 2nd

I again ask of my viewers and followers NOT to attempt to seek this person out or cause them any inconvenience. This is my thing to tackle and had they not blocked me, I would be able to respond within the confines, but I felt it was neccesary to allow this debate to be in the public forum.

It's funny how you still try to worm your way out of having to accept that maybe, just maybe, you fucked up. Democrats aren't even fucking leftists, and never were; historically they were the more conservative party all around, over the course of the 1930s to the 1960s the parties' relative positions switched around, today they're liberals. Every other country in the world considers liberalism a right-wing ideology, at best a centrist one for a reason (hint: it has something to do with being vehemently pro-capitalist)

Incorrect. That is a pernicious and commonly held myth that does not hold up to scrutiny.

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Also, Sargon, left of center? Reads-the-headlines-and-nothing-else-of-the-articles-he-cites Sargon? Constantly complains about The Left™ like you do and constantly apes the same rhetoric coming from the far right Sargon? That Sargon? Yeah, no.

He is on the Left. He’s become disenfranchised with the Social Justice angle it’s adopted and the Islamophilia as well. And God only knows, there’s enough I disagree with him on to fill a book, but someone who actively challenged him and pored over his vids, found one thing Sargon got incorrect, and it was something he had already retracted.

I don’t agree with him on everything. But I trust him due to his intellectual integrity. Same with Teal Deer, same with the others I watch.

"And I CHALLENGE YOU to show me where I said that women should not have access to healthcare. Or even hinted at it." That's not even what I said, and you damn well know it. My implication was that you're in favor of restricting healthcare access to the poor, which guess what, if you're going to be in favor of repealing shit that makes healthcare more accessible to them, basic logic would dictate that's going to happen. You manage to go off on an entire tirade about abortion when what I was addressing was the supposed line of thought behind it.

Fair to say, but that’s not what I’m in favor of either. The Affordable Healthcare Act was like a shiny used car sold by a constantly smiling, charming salesman. It ran fine for the first stretch, but broke down after you got around the bend. Libertarian that I am, I believe such an act was foolish because it was nothing more than a scam by the insurance companies lining up to get all the business they could ever ask for because signing up for healthcare became COMPULSORY. Which is bullshit.

Also? I hate to be the one to give you the newsflash, but jobs aren't going to save society. We already work far more than we need to to keep things going, or even to afford a high living standard - most jobs that currently exist do because either it's marginally cheaper to severely underpay people for them rather than to automatize them, or otherwise only exist as an artifact of capitalism itself - many different corporations that require management, marketing that simply wouldn't exist under literally any other economic system.

I’d love to see citation for that which doesn’t reek of Socialist claptrap. Automation is progressing, to be sure, but progress is progress, right? That doesn’t mean there isn’t work to be had if you either look for it or try to find it outside of your comfort zones. I had to work at a Wal-Mart of all places, but I swallowed my pride and I did it. Didn’t enjoy it, but I did my job.

Between this and the ongoing trend towards atuomatization? Those jobs are going to disappear, and there aren't going to be new ones in sufficient numbers to avoid giant swathes of people in permanent unemployment. That's not me doomspeaking, that's a logical consequence of what's going on today.

It tickles me something fierce that you don’t actually address the automation. You think SOCIALISM would fix that? By making things so shitty that automation isn’t an option, perhaps. No, Socialism would cram everyone into a job and regardless of whether they want it or not, they MUST do that job.

By the way, speaking from years of first hand and second hand experience here: unemployed people don't actually sit on their asses all day, contrary to what you've been led to believe by people who have a vested interest in keeping everyone working for scraps.

Speaking from second hand experience myself, I’ve had friends and friends of friends who NEVER got real jobs and instead collected food stamps they bartered for room and board. I’ve known people who have chosen to panhandle and beg on the street rather than go to a job. (And to be fair, that’s non-taxable income…) So I’m afraid anecdotal evidence from either of us is not enough to conclusively prove this one.

Therefor…

http://www.epi.org/publication/missing-workers/

http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2017/03/07/employment-vs-unemployment-different-stories-from-the-jobs-numbers/

Jobs aren't the only way to contribute to society, most artists do work that can't support itself under capitalism (and that logically the artist themselves wouldn't be able to keep themselves fed on without at the very least some sort of social safety net), and if we only kept going with that art that proves to be profitable enough to support someone, thereby only appealing to the lowest common denominator?

And…. And you think COMMUNISM or SOCIALISM will let you art the way you want to? At least in Capitalism, an artist can make money for their work! Hell, the internet and Patreon has made it easier than ever for someone to make a living with their art or at least supplement their living. I know HUNDREDS of artists who balance art for its own sake, art for income and a normal job. And they’re not unique in that sense. Art enriches a culture, absolutely, but when it’s dependent on the government… then why would one go BACK to a normal job if they can make a period blood painting, throw it on the wall and demand money from the government? Art should be independent of governmental meddling.

And if you ask Joe Average if he would rather be COMPELLED by the government to pay forty bucks every month to contribute to art or fill his car’s gas tank, buy a few bags of groceries for his family or get used shoes at the Thrift Store, what do you think he’d do?

Art flourishes when free of meddling.

You’re an artist, yes? Suppose you got a check from the government for creating art… but suppose your art did not hold up to some arbitrary definition? It’s taxpayer money after all. So you would have to create art… but only as the government sees fit. Which is no different than making art by commission… except for the fact that under capitalism, you can create art as work, you can create art after working hours, you can create art just to make someone smile. You aren’t beholden.

I can tell you right away this world would be an immensely darker place for it, and all that precious inflation art would vanish overnight.

Heh, the one I had in mind at the top of my list when mentioning those hundreds of artists is a very prominent one. He works a daily job, he makes money with his art, and he makes art for its own sake.

Take a look at this picture…

https://zucca-xerfantes.deviantart.com/art/Berlin-Wall-piece-from-Reagan-Library-612126840

Riddle me this…

The side you see if colorful and full of art and vibrant colors and the other side is matte gray, untouched.

Take a WILD guess which side was the Commies’…

In addition to that, it's beyond unethical to force people who can't work to beg for scraps from charities that both A) impose their will on them (like the Salvation Army), and B) even if all perfectly good natured, wouldn't collectively have the resources to support everyone anyway, especially not when it's entirely within the state's means to give those people a decent standard of living.

Uh, I think I already said that I’m not against government assistance for those who are literally unable to work.

As for your examples, the Salvation Army’s policy is NOT to deny service to trans or homosexual people. A same sex couple can be permitted, but as separate individuals. I don’t hold to that part, but hey, their house, their rules, and they’re not turning them away outright. Now while it’s true that SOME SA people refuse service, that is not the organization’s policy. And considering they saved the life of an IRL trans friend of mine, I am STRONGLY disinclined to believe smear stories.

As for the second, See first paragraph in this section.

"Constantly pretend to…. universally bad…? WHAT….?" You know damn well what I was talking about. The constant "oh, Muslims throw gay people off of buildings all the time! You should be thankful!" takes? The kind of bullshit that you spout to propagate hate against them in the name of "protecting us" when you subsequently turn around and support people like Mike Pence who wishes we'd all vanish, one way or another? I see you, and your cutesy "but I have black friends" argument doesn't fucking work here.

If you can prove me wrong about how Islam as a whole feels about homosexual people and transsexual people, then I will apologize right now. Imams view the murder of homosexuals as A MERCY for fuck’s sake. That is some kind of bona fide evil. Yet for some reason, your fluffy Social Justice Totem Pole places a Death Cult’s feelings above YOUR RIGHT TO *LIVE* SO JUST EXCUSE THE SHIT OUT OF ME FOR CALLING IT OUT.

And supporting Mike Pence….??? I couldn’t give less of a crap about him if I tried. The dude is an advocate of conversion therapy, which does not work. Case closed. Frankly I think Trump picked him for the same reason Obama picked Biden. Assassination prevention! ‘You might kill me, but SERIOUSLY, look at THIS guy… you want HIM instead?’

Jokes aside, I don’t agree with Pence. If, God forbid, he became president, I’d support the office but if he started making life harder for the gay people for no reason, then I’d be fundamentally opposed.

Again, you know this, but damned if you’ll permit that to get in the way of a good strawman whoopin’, eh?

And I find it ASTONISHING that you lie to yourself that Pence is the one to be feared when there is nothing he can legally do to hurt you, but the Death Cult wants you to actually die and are SANCTIONED in such acts.

Pulse Nightclub ring a bell? Fifty innocent people murdered by a guy whose religion told him that his only salvation for his sins was to become a martyr.

By the way, you also don't get to decide who's actually trans and who isn't. Trans people detransition or don't bother transitioning for any number of reasons. Doesn't mean the person underneath isn't transgender, most of the time it's just because society is so fucking harsh against us that they decide living in the wrong body and being seen the wrong way by others is less painful than the outright hostility we can expect on a daily basis.

I’m speaking real here… I cannot possibly understand what it’s like to be Trans. I cannot appreciate the struggles that a trans person is forced to go through. A friend of mine lost her wife and her children because she transitioned. And she’s one of the most gentle and decent souls I’ve ever known.

But she is a real Transsexual. Not some idiot child enamored by the idea of being Transsexual. Not some teen who wants to piss off their parents, or some snowflake who wants to be that much more special. What they do is an INSULT to the Trans people who struggle with it. Who, as you have pointed out, have a ton of shit they have to put up with without their struggles being trivialized..

I’m not of the notion that Trans people have it easy because PC culture has elevated them above others (Except for the fanatical Death Cult that wants to kill them) or anything like that.

I disagree with that notion which is held by a large number of YouTube personalities I watch regularly.

However… in the same way I have nothing but contempt for idiotic children and childish adults who pretend to have Multiple Personality Disorder because they think it’s some kind of fun game where The Doctor and Loki play around in their head, I can’t stand the same kind of idiot children who think they can switch their gender like a toggle and to be SUPER SPECIAL AWESOME have a fantasy word to describe their nonexistent gender.

But oh no, I’M the scientific illiterate. >_>

As for "you don't have the right not to fuck a trans person" (lol), literally nobody is actually saying that - those takes are about dismissing the idea of having sex with someone who's trans out of hand, not saying no if the opportunity were to actually come up.

…

Honest question, you haven’t heard of Riley Dennis, have you? Very prominent Trans YouTuber who has numerous videos now shaming straight people for not wanting to get into a sexual relationship with a trans person.

Riley is of the mind that straight people don’t have a right to refuse, lest they be bigots. >_>

And if you think that’s an absurd thing to say, then bless you. We’re in agreement.

And if it were just Riley, that’d be one thing, but here on Tumblr and on Twitter, there are posts saying much the same, but not in the weasely, round-about way Riley did.

Do I think that’s the majority opinion? No.

But it is not a case of ‘Literally no on believes that’.

And if Christians have to be lumped in with wretches like the KKK and Westboro, well then... what’s good for the goose ought to suffice for the gander, hm?

As for where you're anti-science? Ho boy, where do I begin. Those hot anti-climate change takes of yours are a good start, dismissing everything that happens in that regard as "just the weather" when sea level rise, melting ice in the polar areas as a result of it, and year after year of hottest yearly average temperatures have not only been happening for at least the past century, but have also been accelerating more recently. I'd know, I literally live in one of the places directly affected by this. Most of this country is below sea level, we keep having to build up our dams and dunes even higher to avoid flooding the damn place like what happened back in 1953. To dismiss all that as "the weather" is beyond foolish.

I never said Climate Change isn’t real.

Nor have those I’ve reblogged.

The notion of manmade Global Warming is what is contested.

See, there was a smart way to go about spreading the message and a stupid way to go about it.

The stupid way was to let hypocritical hacks like Al Gore dominate the stage.

The smart way would’ve been to appeal to everyone’s common need to save money and how many green tech save water, electricity and gas bills.

But nope…. Shaming was WAY more fun and satisfying. And now it’s become politicized.

I’m a wildlife conservationist of a sensible variety. Sharks, whales, rhinos and cheetahs are being driven over a cliff and it needs to stop.

And there are more than a few Conservatives on the same boat. Michael Savage, radio host, for instance.

But stereotyping and shaming is SO MUCH MORE SATISFYING TO THE BASE URGE OF APPEASING ONE’S INNER RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION.

ISN’T IT?

"Capitalism gives everyone the same shot at living" is an even more ridiculous take if I ever saw one. Yes, I'm sure my disabled, mixed and poor ass has the exact same chances as Reginald who can simply ask daddy for money to start up any business he likes, or hell - just live off of that, put it all in stocks, hire some people to make sure his investments don't go to waste and be set for life! He doesn't even need to work! At all! No rich person does!

Step away from the Marxist teacher, amigo. They are NOT your friend…

You’re full of shit.

I’ll out and say it right here.

You are so full of shit on this one that your eyes are turning brown.

You’re just barfing up the same politics of envy nonsense that every single frakking Socialist hack barfs up.

“I can’t work because there’s some rich guy out there who has more stuff than I do!!!! HARUMPH!!!!!!!!” Do you hear yourself...?

Does the nature of your disability preclude you from doing ANY work? If so, then that is a case wherein you should be lent aid.

But if you have your hands… you can work. If you have your legs, you can work. If you have your eyes, you can work. If you have your wits, you can work. If you can’t find work, look harder. Or make your own. That’s what I did. I was destitute only seven years ago. And I’ve built myself up. And that was all done with clinical depression weighing me down like lead.

Self-determination? Ah yes, being forced to slave away at a minimum wage job because you simply can't get hired elsewhere for the rest of your life, or starving. That's self-determination in the same sense that having the choice between following orders and maybe be allowed to live, or don't and be killed when someone holds a gun to your head is. Venezuela, or any other socialist country in the world is/has been hardly perfect, but you know what's not helping?

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WORK AT A MINIMUM WAGE JOB FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

Sorry, sorry… you’re like the fiftieth person whose thrown that at me and it gets cringier every time I hear it… I apologize.

But seriously, if you think that min wage is for life, you’ve not made very good decisions.

You start at the bottom and work your way up. Just because you spend a few years flipping burgers doesn’t mean you’re stuck there!

Fuck… you can apprentice with a plumber and be making SIX FIGURES in FIVE YEARS!

I kid thee not!

Fascist protestors literally burning supplies that are already hard to get by. Action taken by the US to undermine pretty much any socialist country that has ever existed. As for more internal problems? Guess what, those can be improved upon. It's an economic system, not a religion.

Can be? Doubt it, but maybe.

Will be? No.

And as for being an economic system and not a religion…

That’s a mighty tall claim, considering the fact that Socialism tends to butt out religion and replace it with itself. Take China for example. All their rich culture, their ancient heritage, their majestic architecture, their thousands of years of history and artifacts…. FUCKING RUINED BY A LITTLE SHIT WITH HIS LITTLE RED BOOK.

The very basic premise you utterly fail to process here is that this shit is subject to constant rethinking and revision, something made impossible when some strongman figure decides to take power, no matter what side of the political spectrum they're on - that said, the right loves those far, far more than anyone left of center will, as a matter of basic principles that define either side.

Which is one of the fundamental flaws in Socialism and Communism. You can’t build off of that when the foundation is garbage. And how many MOUNTAINS OF CORPSES do you wish to produce before we ‘Get Socialism right’?

Thanks, but Capitalism has existed LONG before Socialism.

Otem from the Mountain People went to Trajk of the Plains People because the Plains People make masterful spears. He traded a basket, which the Mountain People make better than anyone, including the Plains People, for a spear. Both people are wealthier as a result.

And that also leads us to why I consider right-wingers universally shitty people: plainly speaking, they simply are.

And you call ME the bigot…?

It's at best ignorant, at worst astonishingly hypocritical as can be to act like you care about the poor, only to deliberately make their lives harder using the political apparatus in place.

You know that is not the motivation of capitalists. And if that’s what you think, then you are simply incorrect.

You can't say you care about groups of people, then vote for those who are all too happy to take their rights away.

I DO care and I disagree with the ban. While I find it iffy to put people who deal with what Trans people do into severely high-stress situations, if they believe they can hack it, I believe they have a right to stand proudly beside the other defenders of the country.

Actions speak louder than words, and actions that affect an entire country weigh far more heavily than those taken on an individual basis - giving money to individual homeless people simply doesn't counterbalance supporting the people who make sure they can't sleep anywhere by putting spikes out in public places.

Spikes out? It’s the LABOR PARTY in the UK who want to fine homeless people a thousand pounds for sleeping in public.

See my above points for further rebuttal. I’m not repeating myself.

Don't bother acting like I'm saying all this out of ignorance either - I've been there myself. I've had a right-wing phase, I only need to look back at my own past actions to see the hypocrisy that lies underneath.

I’m not going to say that everyone one the Right are Saints. You know that’s not my position. I also don’t think everyone on the Left are foolish. Fuck, I don’t even think the majority of them are bad people at all! I think they’re people whose hearts are generally in the right place, but feel rather than think. But you are, inversely, able to forgive EVERY sin of the Left while, and I quote, labeling every right-winger as universally bad people.

That is some FRIGHTENING SHIT right there, amigo. That you can de-humanize EVERYONE on the opposite political spectrum because you’re so high on your own moral superiority that you’ve willfully blinded yourself.

And while ignorance itself is forgivable, you've repeatedly shown not to care in the slightest for anything that would lead you to reconsider your ideas, nor do you have any interest in actually putting your money where your mouth is on the grander scale with just about anything you mentioned in your post.

HAH… if you only knew…

So yeah. Come back to me when you've learned to genuinely care about other people beyond those in your direct personal sphere.

So you’re moving the goalposts, huh?

I contested that I’m not the evil strawman you have created and now you’re saying ‘Well, you may care about the people around you, BUT WHAT ABOUT EVERYBODY ELSE?!’

Friendo… I can’t care about everybody else. Everybody else are adults, or will be someday. Then everybody else can care about everybody else. They’re my neighbors and I genuinely wish them well. I’ll help a stranger’s reasonable request just for the asking. But I am not Atlas. I cannot take on all the problems of the world. I can voice my opinion on how they should be dealt with, to be sure. Because I have that freedom.

I care for my country and fellow citizens, and I will vote according to how I believe they can best be helped. But it is *not* my responsibility to solve all of their problems for them.

Even if I could, I would not. Because it’s our problems and our struggles that make us grow.

The butterfly cannot fly if it doesn’t struggle its way out of the cocoon. A well meaning person may peel the cocoon away, but that dooms the butterfly to a flightless life.

Buddha said that life is a struggle. And he wasn’t wrong there.

But while we can help our friends, our neighbors and even strangers, that does not mean that it’s relative across the board.

Poverty in the West is a child asking his father why he’s crying as he weeps over a stack of bills on the table. Poverty in the third world is emaciated children with rice-bloated bellies.

Both are heartbreaking, but both are unique to their places of origin and therefore are not comparable.

You can lie to yourself all day about who I am, what my motivations are and what my heart is like.

But if you found out who I am, what I’m like, how I behave, then you may be willing to face down your other prejudice against an entire group of people you have frighteningly labeled as universally evil.

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