#anyways when they hashtag balance the force and balance each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nervous-ninja · 4 years

Text

Part 3 - Conclusion

Finally part 3. After this I will post this only on AO3 if you want to follow me on there. This is the end of this fic but I plan on doing an AU one soon. I hope it’s not too disappointing! AO3 account here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshaBlue/works

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 - Conclusion

“Nong!” Mew called, reaching for him as Gulf fled the room. The sudden break in contact and the force of Gulf’s push left Mew off balance. "Don't run away." Mew said under his breath, not entirely sure if he was addressing Gulf or himself. He would have to do the soul searching later, now he had to deal with his mess. Mew hurried after other man, closing the distance between them quickly. He grabbed Gulf by the elbow before he could disappear into the bathroom. “Wait a second!” Mew was still a little breathless.

Gulf let Mew tug at his arm a moment before turning around. He faced Mew with a mostly calmed expression, but would not meet his eyes, choosing to stare at his own feet instead. It was hard to reconcile the Gulf who could now barely look at him, his face a storm of shame and residual desire, with the hungry, eager man who moments early had Mew pressed against the fridge, moaning against his mouth, bold hands exploring.

“Please, Phi.” Gulf layed his hand over where Mew held on to his arm. “Can you just give me a minute?” He looked up for a moment before shying away again. Mew’s heart gave a defiant lurch at the sound of defeat in his voice. He wanted to fold him up in his arms and murmur reassurances into his ear, but getting that close did not seem like a good idea right at this moment. Instead, Mew ran his thumb over the soft inside of Gulf’s elbow and let go. Gulf instantly disappeared inside the bathroom, locking the door behind him. to think of anything better to do, Mew made his way back to the kitchen to make another attempt at some kind of dinner, his mind on the first time, and what he promised himself would be the last time they crossed that line from brothers to more.

It was months ago. The tension had been building for months, their chemistry electric from the day they met and instantly palpable to anyone around them. It became real affection, and real love not long after. It was harder and harder for Mew to maintain his guard against the onslaught of trust, care, and acceptance that Gulf directed at him while asking only for things Mew was already more than willing to give. His time with Gulf became something he increasingly looked forward to, missed when it was over or when their separations were too long. Gulf felt like home. They could be anywhere and so long as he could reach out and find his familiar warmth, Mew felt safe. From the way Gulf sought him out, clung to him, let him into his space, and always made an effort to end their fights told Mew that the affection was far from one sided. Yet even as the entire world around them declared them lovers, between themselves they never broached the subject in any way that might give their feelings clear lines and edges. They stepped around the subject like it was some fragile beautiful relic that would oxidize and crumble under the harsh light of the day.

Then came the night of the Chinese New Year event.

Even on stage in front of so many people Gulf’s was more unreserved than Mew had ever seen him. The younger man delighted Mew with his suggestive responses and flirtatious jokes. They were both at ease, happy having learned that season 2 would be happening. Gone was the dread of parting, replaced by giddy optimism. And it happened right there on stage, the right atoms collided and something passed between them through the wide channel of shared understanding formed when they met each other’s gaze. They stood close noses touching, Gulf’s hands on his neck, playing pretend lovers in front of hundreds of people. Though the pose was in the script, Gulf whispering “I love you, Phi” as he planted a soft kiss on Mew’s forehead, was not. Neither was the way Mew stopped breathing when he heard those words, meant only for him. The pretense evaporated. Gulf smiled widely as if in acknowledgement of what they both knew and Mew felt something like a small dam in him dislodge. For a moment they were both suspended inside a shared understanding. Mew felt only the beating of his own pulse, the heat of Gulf’s body in his arms and the delicate fingertips pressed against his neck. Their eyes caught in each others, spilling everything. The rest of the world disappeared. The fans, MCs, stage, lights, all faded into a barely audible hum somewhere on the periphery of their perceptions.

There was no one else in their dressing room when they stumbled in, shutting the door to any possible intrusions. Mew pretended not to notice Gulf locking the door, something he had never done before. The room was a technicolor kaleidoscope of flowers, stuffed animals, Bhat bouquets and bags of gifts. More had been delivered while they were on stage, leaving little room to stand. They were laughing at nothing of note as they moved through the room, Mew’s arms protectively around Gulf’s waist to steady him, guiding him through the narrow free space on the floor. His attention was drawn to the light catching on the heart-shaped stickers still clinging to Gulf’s neck when he lost his balance. Mew collapsed unto the love seat, landing on a large bouquet of white lilies, taking Gulf down with him.

Gulf landed in Mew’s lap, the flowers crushed beneath Mew’s bulk. Gulf was laughing as he turned around to check if he had injured Mew in anyway. The questioned died on his lips when their eyes met. Their laughter abruptly faded. Though Mew had held him like this a million times, a new feeling ran through the length of him like he had just injected some thing. For what felt like forever they both just watched each other, eyes hungry but neither quite bold enough to speak or move. Somewhere in the back of his mind protest blared but Mew could barely hear them. Then Gulf - shy, reserved, quiet Gulf - his voice soft, words polite, as straightforward as ever, just up and asked if he could kiss him, complete with khun phi and na krap. It touched the weakest spot in Mew's reluctance, sending the whole thing crumbling. Gulf’s mouth parted in a smile, eyes dancing with self satisfaction at the expression on Mew’s face before suddenly feeling shy with his own request and Mew's lack of an answer. While Mew gazed up at him the other man started to speak again. Some kind of assurances like You don’t have to. It’s ok. I’m just kidding na when Mew closed the space between them.

He moved first partly to stop that pretty mouth from talking, but mostly because he had been wanting to kiss that mouth all night.

He kissed Gulf through a smile first, almost playfully, with little depth or heat. Like he was kissing a precocious kitten. He meant to end it there, foolish faith in his own will power, but Gulf’s hands were suddenly on his face, pulling him towards him, deepening the kiss. He didn’t expect it to feel so different from what it was at work. Didn't expect the surge of what to be so strong, so all consuming, did not remember Gulfs lips being so soft.

Things escalated quickly after that.

They scrambled to fit their tall frames on the overburdened love-seat, crushing more flowers beneath them, their movements spilling petals, tearing tissue paper. After Gulf winded him with a misplaced knew or elbow for the fifth time, Mew wrapped an arm around the other man's waist and in one fluid motion, with grace belaying his size, lifted Gulf and flipped them both. Gulf landed softly beneath him, snuffing out the remaining life of a bouquet of carnations. The short “hah” that erupted from Gulf's mouth at the motion as he grinned up, his face a mix of awe and arousal, turned Mew’s thoughts into white noise. Mew wanted to watch him longer but Gulf already had his hands on the back of Mew’s neck, pulling him back down. Mew didn’t so much give in as melt into Gulf’s urging.

He did not remember when or how he managed to remove his red silk shirt or how it ended up on the other side of the room unceremoniously strewn over the face of an obscenely large teddy bear. He remembers coming up for air one more time, pulling away to take in the focused look on Gulf’s face as he worked at unbuckling Mew’s belt. He was mildly aware of his own smile and the blush growing more fierce on Gulf’s face under Mew’s intense examination. Then Gulf looked up at him, those soft brown eyes defiant, pleading, trusting. Tenderness and worry shot into Mew’s heart and then visions rose to his mind unbidden; he was suddenly back in 2018, afraid to leave his house, facing rejection and scorn when he did, the terrible, suffocating weeks of shame and heartache. He also saw the headlines, the hashtags, the comments. He recalled with sharp clarity the ordeal with Poom and the toll it took on Gulf, the way he closed in on himself. His late night LINE messages the only way he could express his pain and only to Mew. He saw Gulf on the receiving end of attacks he knew too well. Past memories swept up with horrible imaginings of what might be and a protective instinct raced down his spine. The spell was broken. He suddenly felt the stab of thorns against his leg where their movements distributed some roses, there were knocks on the door, phones vibrated and dinged with alerts. The thoughts as sobering as a punch. Whatever delirium had taken him that far dissipated and panic crashed in with savage force.

Gulf must have seen the change come over his expression, understood instantly what was running through Mew’s mind as he shot up and scrambled to stand, nearly falling again. Gulf was there at his side steadying him, saying something as he shot looks towards the door. Mew’s head buzzed and all he saw was the indefensible state of the room and their clothes. The sound of knocking and phones seemingly growing louder with each second. He was pulling on his shirt frantically, repeatedly missing a button when Gulf was there again, a comforting hand on his arm.

‘It’s ok’ He remembered Gulf saying as he moved Mew’s hands away from the shirt and buttoned it for him. Before he could find his voice again Gulf was gone. Then there were people in the room and hands pulling him along and voices talking about dates and times and then he was in the van and in his house and collapsing unto to his bed.

It was nearly 1am when his phone buzzed with a LINE message from Gulf.

-I’m outside

Mew met him at the front door.

“Did I wake you, Phi?” Gulf had asked. His face cast in shadow as the lights of his still running car silhouetted him.

“No. I couldn’t sleep.” Mew made to move aside to let Gulf come in but the other man shook his head.

“I’m not staying. I just needed to tell you this in case…” There had been hesitation in his voices but Mew was not able to read his expression in the dark.

“P’Mew…I’m not like him.”

Mew knew Gulf saw him flinch at that.

“I don’t want you to think you did anything wrong tonight. I don’t regret kissing you. I think I know what you will say yet I can’t bring myself to regret it. But the way we started. How we stopped.” He said haltingly. “I didn’t want you to think that it was impulsive. That I didn’t want it. That I haven’t wanted it for a long time.”

I wanted it too. I’m glad it happened. I don’t regret it either. I love you. I’m so happy to see you. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

Mew's mind screamed but he forced these thoughts behind the expanse of common sense. “Thank you." He said, hearing how awkward that sounded, glad he couldn't see Gulf's face. "But you didn’t need to come out all this way so late.”

“I wanted to see you. I was worried.” Gulf shifted from one foot to the other. He turned to leave. “I better get back before anyone realizes I left," he added and Mew had not missed the disappointment in his voice.

“Wait, Nong,” Mew took two steps towards him “Are we ok?” What a ridiculous question that was. For weeks after he would remember this moment and cringe at his own cowardice.

“We’re fine, Phi.” Gulf had replied with an exaggerated shrug of indifference as he kept walking away, “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“Tua eng…” he took another tentative step towards him, bare feet on gravel.

Gulf halted at the word.

Please stay.

“Message me when you get home." Mew said.

“Oh…" There was that disappointment again. The tone clawed at Mew's heart. He hated it doing this. "That’s in almost an hour, Phi. I’ll be fine.” Gulf whined as he climbed into the car.

“Message me or I will worry” Mew insisted, his hand on the car window.

“Kraaap.” Gulf groaned in agreement.

Mew stood looking after Gulf’s car long after it disappeared down the street. He had gone through all the things he should have said and all the reasons he kept them to himself. Though he returned to his bedroom he did not sleep until the message came.

“Khun Phi?”

Mew was pulled out of his reminiscing by a familiar voice. Gulf stood just outside the kitchen. He stood by the shelf, examining a framed photo of them from the day they were cast. He turned to see Mew entered and turned back to the photo. “I think I should go home,” he said flatly, “I’ll call a car.”

“You don’t need to leave. It’s late. I’ll give you space” Mew said thrown by the request, not sure which way to push.

“I don’t want space, P’Mew,” Gulf sounded tired, “And I can’t see how I can stay after what happened in there,” he nodded towards the kitchen.

“It wasn’t anything we haven’t done before.” The words left Mew's mouth the instant he knew they were they wrong things to say.

“You know as well as I do that’s bullshit. It was bullshit when I said it and it still is.” Gulf turned to face him. His face impassive, expression unreadable. He stood there, watching Mew intently. His hands still wrapped around the framed photo. Not angry, not judging, just waiting. Mew searched for the words that would somehow make this better and came up empty.

“Alright. I’ll get my keys.” He said taking the photo from Gulf’s hands and replacing it on the shelf behind him. He lingered on it a moment, pretending not to see Gulf’s expression falter.

“You won’t even try to convince me I’m wrong?” Gulf asked, a hint of anger in his tone.

“About what?” Mew fixed his gaze on Gulf in the photo, not daring to look at the real man beside him.

“About there being something more here. Tell me I’m imagining things. Convince me I’m just getting carried away. That maybe I’m tired. That maybe it’s just the emotions of the last few days. Anything?” With each sentence Mew heard Gulf’s composure crack.

“I’m not a very good liar, Nong” Mew said gently. He turned to look at him. Gulf's expression warring between fear, anger and hurt.

“Try!” The desperation and pleading in Gulf’s voice rolled through Mew like thunder. It seemed to surprise even Gulf, the plea completely erasing the front he tried to put up. He grabbed Mew by the shirt, “Convince me, Phi. Tell me you don’t feel the same way. That it doesn’t mean anything,” He pleaded giving Mew several firm shakes.

Oh Tua eng.

“Would that make it easier? Would you even believe me?” Mew placed his hands over Gulf’s fists balled up around his shirt.

“No,” Gulf said finally and dropped his gaze. His grip loosened and he fell against Mew, headbutting him in the chest. “Why is it so easy for you?” He asked, his fists lightly beating against Mew’s chest.

Easy?

Mew pulled him in closer, wrapping his arms around him. He pressed his own face into Gulf’s shoulder as he spoke. “It isn’t easy, Tua eng. Nothing makes it easy. But this.” He held Gulf tighter. “This makes it worth it. If it means keeping you safe and keeping you close…”

“This.” Gulf echoed. “And it’s enough?”

Mew pulled back to look at Gulf. He cupped the younger man’s face with one hand. “Watching you go after what you want and succeed? Being the person you go to when things are hard? Seeing the rest of the world fall in love with you? The pride on your face when you take care of your family? The way your eyes light up with every job you do well? Being here for all of these moments and more? Yes. It is” Mew smiled, knowing with his whole heart that he meant it.

"None of that has to change.” His voice urgent.

"Maybe not right away. But if people found out…”

"They'd throw us a parade" Gulf interrupted "The world already thinks we're married." He added, looking down in a moment of shyness.

Mew took hold of Gulf’s hands in his. “Some people would, yes. We’d make a lot of Waanjai’s happy,” he flashed a quick smile. “Then the media would drag us through hell,” He squeezed Gulf’s hands reassuringly, smile dropping. “It could ruin your career. You have so much success for someone so young, so many opportunities right now and it could all disappear. And for what?"

"For us." Gulf answered quickly, without so much as a second thought. Mew frustrated as he was, could not help but warm at the untarnished optimism in that answer. He beamed at the other man, "And you dare say you aren't romantic,” Mew teased.

Gulf groaned in exaggerated annoyance, not trying to hide his own smile “I’m not being romantic. I’m being serious.” The work stuff isn’t forever. I don’t even know if I want to keep doing this for the rest of my life or even next year.” Gulf pulled his hands out of Mew’s and held Mew’s face instead as he stepped closer. “I don’t know about any of that, but I do know about you. I know I want you to stay with me for a long time.” Mew felt his heart skip at the sincerity in those word, at the closeness of Gulf’s face, at the heat of his hands.

Mew covered Gulf’s hands with his own. "I won't let you throw away everything you've worked for. Your dream to help your parents. I can’t be the reason for destroying that. You understand that, right?”

"It's not your decision." Gulf said simply.

“Can you really promise me that you won’t grow to resent me later when you realize what you gave up or lost? For not protecting you better?"

Gulf swallowed and pulled back, dropping his hands. He said nothing for a moment, considering his answer. “I can’t make any promises about the future. You taught me that.” He said finally, his voice decisive, assured. “But I can make and own my own choices. I would not blame you for my mistakes,” he pressed his forehead to Mew’s.

“Then what about the media, the tabloids. They will tear you apart. They will be so cruel, Nong…”

“I don’t care what they say about me.” Gulf insisted. “You are smart, Suppasit but you can be really dense sometimes. These last few months I have been trying so hard to make you see, to prove to you that I am ready for it, that I am not afraid to be with you openly and publicly if that is what happens.” He met Mew’s eyes. “If that is what you want.”

What I want?

Mew watched the man before him, considering every possible horrible scenario that would face them if he actually went after what he wanted, but they came far less easily now, diverging instead into happier possibilities the longer Gulf held his hands and the longer he looked into his eyes. He felt the wall of reasons against his own happiness crumble.

"You're willing to risk everything...to be with me?"

"Yes!" I love you Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat.” He said with such intensity and force so as to leave no doubt in Mew's mind that he meant every last syllable.

Mew felt the last bit of resistance turn to dust.

“If you tell me now, once and for all, that you want us to remain as we have been, brothers or something like that. I will not push again. But if you want what I think you want, what I think we both want then I am willing to accept the risks, the hardships, the challenges.”

Mew laughed and put a hand over Gulf’s mouth. “You sound like you’re saying vows. Mr. I'm not Romantic. Enough speeches,” He said moving his hand away. He stepped away from Gulf, marveling at the him, at himself, at the foolish, wonderful thing he was about to do.

“Lets go to bed. It’s late.” Mew said, grabbing Gulf's hand, pulling him along towards the stairs.

“Wait a second. You can’t just leave it like this? What’s your answer?” Gulf protested, weakly resisting being dragged along.

“Ask me what you asked earlier, about the interview.” Mew stopped and turned. He faced Gulf, still holding his hand. Gulf, looking confused, searching Mew's face before finally speaking.

“Is…is your heart available?” he stammered out. Mew cocked his head as if considering the question. Abruptly, he tugged at Gulf's hand, pulling him towards another embrace. His hands gentle at the small of Gulf's back as he moved his face close to nearly touching. "Yes, Tua eng. It is.” He smiled

"But.." Gulf’s eyes grew wide with confusion.

“I think you should do something about that, don’t you?” Mew interrupted, eyebrow cocked. The expression on Gulfs face remained guarded and suspicious. He shoved against Mew’s hold.

“Mew, stop fooling around. What are you saying? What do you want?” Gulf demanded, even as a blush began to creep up his neck. Mew pulled him closer, nearly lifting him off the floor and pressed his nose to Gulf’s throat as he did so.

“Stop squirming.” Mew laughed. “I’m saying yes you brat. Yes to all of it. Now come on up to bed and I’ll show you what I want.” He put him down and let him go, turning towards the stairs. He paused when he realized Gulf wasn’t following and sighed, exasperated. He turned to see Gulf looking at him with suspicion. “If you’re teasing me” Gulf threatened narrowing his eyes. “I swear…Phi.”

Mew sighed with a smile. He went back, folded his arms behind his back and leaned in just next to Gulf’s ear. “Come up to bed. And I’ll show you what real teasing looks like.” He whispered, his lips intentionally brushing against the other’s ear. He paused before moving back to see the goosebumps rise on Gulfs’ neck. With a self-satisfied smile he headed for the stairs. He heard Gulf rushing to catch up behind him.

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

Gulf yawned as he slid into the makeup chair.

“Did you stay up playing video games again?” The girl asked as she smiled teasingly at Gulf. “No Phi.” Gulf mumbled reaching for the tea someone handed him. “Just doing homework late with P’Mew.”

The girl stopped her brush for a split second then continued, smiling to herself.

Gulf Pulled out his phone as she worked.

-- Can I stay at your place again tonight?

-- No. I need my rest.

-- Please na. Na kraaaaap. Na na na.

-- Brat!

-- Naaaaa

-- Yes!

“Hey” the Girl exclaimed as Gulf grinned, forcing her to smudge lipstick over his teeth. "Would you sit still."

“Oh sorry, Phi.”

She sighed.

“In a good mood are we?”

“Mmm.” Gulf looked up at the mirror as Mew entered the dressing room. They saw each other and Mew smiled when their eyes met.

“The best.” Gulf answered. The girl gave him another playful shove at the grin interrupting her careful lipstick application.

#mewgulf fanfic #mewgulf

8 notes · View notes

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

Text

One Night Only 2, Part 5

Dedicated to @muse-of-mbaku and I should've been did this a long time ago. I sowwy. Word Count: 5,290

Warnings: Softboi!Erik, Smut

Erik blinks slowly before touching his locs in a reaction that has come to mean he's not completely sold on your idea or thought process and you should think it through. "Aight so.. your plan is to fly Corey out here to the house to force him to talk to Anaya, but you say he ain't tryna see her or be around her for more than, what, ten seconds..," Erik's brow wrinkles.

"It's because he's emotional," you sigh shaking your head flippantly. "He cries easily when it comes to her and Anthony. Then he feels like a babyback bitch so he doesn't want anyone to see that side of him, but that's just how much he loves her. Which is why he needs to talk to her face to face," you gesticulate. "So I just need you to talk to him and convince him to come here because he might listen to advice coming from another quote-unquote alpha male."

He licks his lips, brow furrowing. "Watch yourself," his eyes twinkle. You offer your hand in relent.

"Chill moe. He's stubborn is all I mean, but that's another reason you could talk to him, y'all have that in common," you cheese. His brows go up in playful warning before you get serious again. "No, but you know as well as I do they belong together. They know it too, they just need to be reminded. I can't handle both of them, I can only hold one at a time. If one walks away I need you there to keep the other from leaving."

"Oh, like that?" He leans back on his elbows looking up from the bed at you as you plot your intentions.

"Bro, like that. Hopefully it doesn't come down to it, but knowing Anaya's temper and Corey's level of petty, it might."

Pulling out his phone. He dials a number and puts it on speaker. It rings twice before Corey's lazy voice picks up.

"They done got to you bruh?"

"My girl sad cuz your girl sad and it's cuz'uh you. Bring ya ass and fix it... Tired of this shit."

"Niggas got work."

"Not no more, we all held up off our schedules for this hoe shit. Get on a plane, you know the address. Don't make me have to come get you."

"Oh you tryna hoe me now? That's cool then, buy me another pair of sneakers when you touch down, bitch."

"Nigga fuck you," Erik's face scrunches.

"Since we hoein' an'shit.. yup. Hit my cash app. Have my gift in hand or be prepared to get that ass beat. Give a fuck if you a rapper nigga."

Just as you're about to step in because the conversation is getting way out of hand, you shut your mouth.

"Whatever bitch, you heard what the fuck I said. Get here," Erik mumbles.

"I said I'm coming, damn."

Corey hangs up and Erik balances the phone in his palm looking at the screen before turning his attention back to you. You don't know what the hell kind of communication that was, but if that was how they communicated, it had nothing to do with you.

"He'll be here.. What you gon' tell Anaya?"

"ANAYA ALREADY HEARD," a muffled voice fogs through the wall. Her room is a few doors away but she is nosey as hell in the next room. Erik's hard squint toward the wall only rips the sputtering snicker roughly from your lips. He's not used to people being nosey in his house.

"My bad," you almost snort when he wipes the particles from his face and stares at his hand like how dare you spit on him. "Stop, it's not poisonous. Lick it," you prompt pushing his hand to his face. He turns away like a baby not wanting the food you're pushing but he doesn't do that when he's kissing you. He leans backward on the bed seemingly to avoid you, but you see where this is going. You climb on top of him and like you suspected, he grips your ass with his free hand while you wrestle with his other thick hand trying to force it near his mouth as he snickers. You have every intention of playing along with his game. "LICK IT," you yell pushing his wrist as he tilts his head. You can feel him getting semi-hard beneath you.

"There are children in this house," Anaya yells through the wall.

"They ain't mine," Erik yells back before flipping you so that he's on top. The sloppiest kiss is what follows and then two chaste ones on your tongue since you refuse to put it back in your mouth.

"What you wanna do about the leaked number," he asks pulling back. You'd already gotten it changed, but you didn't know who posted the number onto twitter in the first place. If it wasn't Armont it had to be a business contact. You doubted it was anyone really close because they could've done it at any point and this seemed like too late in the game for bullshit like that to occur. You hadn't even seen the tweet in question though.. and you'd searched your name and your fan created hashtag #y/ngang.

"I just want to know who did it so I can move on without being paranoid. I can't even find the tweet they said was posted. I think it was deleted," you admit.

"You know damn well shit don't just disappear on the internet," he mumbles sitting up completely to dial another saved number and putting the phone on speaker. "Erik," the voice greets in a professionally chipper tone. "Quentin," Erik responds dully. "My girl's number was leaked on social media and that's a problem for me."

"Safety concerns, I get it," Quentin offers. "Shouldn't be too hard to figure things out. Did she change her number? That's the first thing I'd recommend."

"Yeah she got a new number, but I still need to know who's responsible for this leak or she can't give her new number out like she needs to. It's affecting her career and her lifestyle therefore it's a serious issue for me, you feel me?"

"Oh absolutely! Uhh, what is her account handle? I can check things out and call you back."

Erik gives him the necessary information and hangs up. "That's two problems. What was the third one? The babysitter. What she do?"

"Erik, I was disgusted," you sit up before recounting the situation of child neglect and catching the chick in your closet wearing your clothes. When you'd checked your closet it was clear she'd tried on multiple dresses and even sprayed your Dolce perfume a few times. It wasn't that you were hung up on these material items so much as the principle. She shouldn't have been in your stuff. She didn't know you and you didn't know her. "So not only had she not fed or cleaned up Anthony.. been all up and through my shit.. but when I kicked her out she ain't wanna leave immediately. I had to go downstairs and then I heard the door close like I'd scared her or something. What the fuck?"

He shakes his head unsure of what to say. "She lucky it was you who caught her and not me. She ain't mess with my shit wonder why?"

"I don't know but she weirded me out. Courtney, who we have now hasn't tried anything like that so far."

"Well you fired the other bitch and she ain't been back so things should be alright now."

"You right," you sigh letting it go. "Charge it to the game."

"That's right," he says rising and adjusting his dark grey joggers over his black briefs. "Was that it?"

"Yeah, I didn't expect you to stop and handle everything right now but--"

"Why wait," he interrupts, "Procrastination never helped anything."

"Facts.."

"I'll be in the gym," he calls over his shoulder as he shuffles from the room. Well.. that's that then. You'll just wait now to see what happens.

---

"Use your fans to track it down. Somebody gotta screenshot," Anaya says as she's beside you in the home studio spinning in a rolling chair. You've gotten far off the task of messing around with the sound of instruments for the fifth possible track on your album.. that is, if you don't switch it with the seventh track. Anaya was supposed to be telling you which order was better, but she was on her phone and deaf to the world around her. "You know what, I'll do it so your name doesn't have to get tied to it."

"Thank you because I'm not trying to dig myself deeper into anything stupid. I let my servants do the dirty work for me," you tease.

"BIIIITCH," Anaya rears ready to flame before getting distracted again.

"You got ADD," you comment. She's hooked to that phone.

"You got a nappy ass kitchen," she quips without looking up causing you to flinch at the quickness of the comeback. You feel on the hair at the back of your neck ready to come back at her but trying to find something else. "I'm a mom of a one year old boy, it's a requirement that I know how to multitask. I'm posting now trying to get some info. Hashtag Y/N. Hashtag who has those digits. Hashtag Y/Ngang. Hashtag.... wait. I just had a thought," her head shoots up. Her chair stalls.

"What if it's a page that doesn't like you?!"

"Who doesn't like me? It's me." Pft.

"But if someone's hating on you they don't see you," Anaya gestures to your general area, "They just see a generic image. Some bitch who has everything they want in life."

"I don't... hm.. damn, I do have everything..," you pause, "..but I've worked for it. It wasn't easy."

"You have."

"I may not deserve every good thing that comes--"

"Don't start that doubting shit," Anaya interrupts, her index going crazy to emphasize each point. "You deserve it. You worked for it. Anyone in your ass about it can catch these hands."

"I love it when you talk violent," you tease biting your lip.

"You so stupid. Shut the hell up," her eyes roll. "ANYWAY. I say we create a fake account but make it a hate page and talk shit. Then reach out and see what people are talking about you."

It's a good idea. You hang behind Anaya's shoulder as she creates a throw away email and a fake Twitter account handing you her phone. Instantly, you start hammering out tweets.

@ Y/N give it up, singing is not your ministry sis

People say Y/N is attractive. Okay, but consider seeing an optometrist?

If I have to hear her sing off key one more time I'm cutting my ear off like Van Gogh

"Done," you say handing the phone back to Anaya. She sputters and almost drops the phone. "What the hell," she cackles.

"What? That's the type of thing a hater would say. I've seen things like that said about me before. You've seen it too."

"Okay, but you got them beat in originality," she chuckles spinning in her chair. "Okay so let's search up the hating tags and.. here's an interesting account. There are about three, four, five.. nine tweets about you in this tag from one account. I BET they'd know something. I'm messaging them about my hate for you right now."

You stand over her shoulder to watch the screen as she sends the DM.

"They probably won't resp- Damn that was quick," she mumbles. The minutes slip away as you watch Anaya type back and forth, bullshit to this person on the other side of the screen who seems to absolutely hate every fiber of your being. You expected passive aggressive anger where they'd say something and then move on, but no. It's been twenty minutes and they haven't begun to talk their shit it seems.

And Killmonger doesn't even love her. I heard that he's gone all the time and they're not really together, it's just a publicity stunt so she can profit from his image since she lacks talent of her own.

"What the fuck....," you stare at the messages that keep popping up. Lowkey it's kind of bothering you, the passion and the time that they dedicate to hating you. Also, who is clocking Erik's schedule to know when he is and is not home?

Ooh tea? I need sources, Anaya responds with the eyes emoji. She's linked to a tea page with a discussion board consisting of twenty eight pages of back and forth chat, as well as pictures and videos of you.

What the hell....

For a bunch of people who claim to hate you, they spend a lot of time being hyperfixated on you. They look like fans. On page four there's the screenshot in question taken from Twitter and reposted with laughing emojis and various people saying that they called just to call you a bitch and hang up. Of course, you know for a fact that was a lie, you hadn't answered.

The poster of the tweet exposing your number seems to be a different account than the one you and Anaya have been chatting to. Anaya looks up the account and it's still activated, they've just taken down the tweet although they still talk shit. It's like a rabbit hole.

Anaya takes all the screenshots she can and stretches her thumb out before copying the links. You'll have to give them to Erik to pass to that guy he spoke with on the phone or get his number from Erik when he finishes his workout.

---

Over the next few days, you work only on your music in the home studio and in the recording studio where your team gathers. It's a lot of tedious work and a lot of trying different things, but it also feels good to be doing what you love. Erik is Erik.. consistently busy and everywhere and that's fine because you know you'll see him when Corey comes. Anaya has been enjoying the house, lounging and playing with Anthony while Courtney the new sitter has been stepping in mightily to give her breaks.

The day finally comes when your phone lights up with a message from Corey to say he's on the ground in LAX and taking a car. That means he'll get to your place in an hour. You check the time and call Anaya who's out back with Anthony playing in a plastic pool Courtney brought over to let Anthony splash in. You let her know she has an hour to prepare herself for whatever's about to happen. She just says okay. Then you call Erik. Corey gave him the heads up a long time ago it seems.. so he's already on his way home. Turning back to the computer before you, you put your Drop headphones back on and continue to edit your vocals for the track six, deciding it's missing something. Angling the Shure mic on the table, you speak a sentence and fade it into the next recorded verse.

You almost jump out of your skin when Erik drops his hands on your shoulders, laughing at your reaction.

"When you start rapping?"

Your heart thuds as you remove your headphones and check the time. Fourty minutes seems like ten when you're working.

"That's my greeting? Let's do this again. I'll walk out and come back. This time put a little more love in your reception."

You watch amused as he walks back out looking back at you repeatedly. He peaks his head in before sauntering into the room and approaching you. You stand and meet him half way hugging him before smoothing down his beard gently.

"Now that's better. Thank you," he mumbles bumping your nose with his and walking to the screen where you've been working on your project. "Can I hear what you have?"

"Of course." You want him to hear everything you have so far but you have to show him when you both have the time. For now, you just play track six watching his face closely for any change in expression as he shakes his head gently to the rhythm. "What do you think?"

"It's not finished, but it's good.." He's really focusing on the individual sounds you can tell. "I like where it's going, but... Yeah, you'll figure it out," he nods cutting his commentary short. He's not feeling it, but he's not one to harp on negative things regarding you or at all really. He sees that you understand the song kinda sucks right now. You nod in response deciding that the song is nowhere near being complete as he said and suddenly you hear where parts could be smoother and words could be omitted. It also comes to mind to change the entire arrangement. "I think I got it," you smile.

"I know you do," he confirms, "You always figure it out."

Leaning your head onto his chest, you hug him again and he rubs your back. So you decide to go a step further and slip your hand under his white graphic button down. There's a black and white image of a big fearsome cat printed near the neck. You begin unbuttoning the shiny magenta buttons from the bottom. He did make the shirt look damn good. You peel it off of him and toss it over your chair, working on his slim black Louis belt then his black Levi's. Close the door, you remind yourself before scooting off to lock it.

Your cut off hoodie comes off in a lithe motion followed by your shorts and panties in another quick push. When you reach him, you each have the same idea simultaneously yanking each other roughly, clashing bodies. He's got you by the waist and the low bun and your nails sink deeply into the keloids of his biceps as you sink to the floor intertwined, his body under yours. Your head swings to the side and your body envelops his, covering him and like a second skin while you slide back and forth.

"Grab my dick.. Put me inside." He holds your hips in place while you reach under and grab his length, sliding the tip along your lower lips and slipping it into your cave. "Don't tease my shit, ride."

You sit with the dick inside, shallow, and make slow even rotations taking his hands from your hips and pinning them near his head. You tend to do this slowly and watch his patience deteriorate bit by bit. He doesn't speak again, but you watch his eyes fixed unblinking on yours as you continue your slow wind, smug.

You keep winding and then pause, realizing it's not giving you the feeling you want and are used to. He's not reacting the way you expected either. You wanted him to get frustrated and take that passion out on you but..

"That's it? Or did you wanna dry hump me too?"

"You're annoying."

"Nah, I just wondered how long you'd do that knowing it wasn't hitting shit for you or me. Did you have fun?"

Planting your hands on his chest you push from your knees to the balls of your feet and bounce up and down taking him deep the way he likes it. It's mildly painful, but also very pleasurable. This is the position that changes his tune. If he's mad, you can always hit this position in the bedroom and soon he's back to singing your praises. A little clit stimulation and you'd be closer to coming too. Reading your mind, his fingers swipe his tongue and then reach to rub your small nerve bundle in the way you love.

"Bounce it, gimme all that."

You go as long as you can, taking the pounding in stride no matter what.. until your knees give from the fatigue and your body gets weak from the pressure of your building orgasm. You decide to ride, rocking against him from on your knees. You're close.

"Faster," he whispers, a hard quick slap to your ass. Oh shit.. You go faster until your body gives you that jolt like you're about to cum. "Wait what you doing," he panics suddenly.

"Reverse cowgirl." Giving yourself a quick and slick break, you have to pause to turn around, but you manage to keep the dick in and start back riding building your speed. Reaching down, you grab his balls gently to force him closer to orgasm. He moans a little when you play with them and you continue until he grips your legs.

"You tryna make me nut first."

"What was your first clue," you smirk giving his sack a mild tug forcing him to cuss sharply. He likes this.. and so do you. You want him to cum and after two more well timed pulls, the white creamy fluid shoots inside you.

---

"I missed this," he pants, his minty breath on your ear as you claw his back and bite your lip, your knees high on either side of his large body.

"I'm coming," you breathe letting the electric current cause your body to shake and jolt. When you finally calm down some, he pulls out and you pant quietly while he lays beside you. A glass of water at this point would be great. Swallowing, you sigh big. "It's a shame Corey had to come to bring you back home to me," you pout. His kryptonite. He kisses his teeth.

"You know I got a lot I be doing," he whispers but you're not truly upset with him and he knows that. You know better than to fault him for his career and interests. He never did that to you.

"I forgive you. You're here now," you smile seeing the warmth in his almost black eyes.

"I ASKED YOU A SIMPLE QUESTION," Corey's voice yells so loudly that it carries to where you are. You check the time realizing you'd done forgot all about him. Shit, shit shit. Scurrying, you pull on all your clothes piece by piece and Erik stands leisurely putting his clothes back on but leaves the shirt unbuttoned and his sneakers off and on the floor.

Following the shouting, you walk out into the hall and see Corey outside of the guest room facing the doorway. Anaya's calm angry voice is loud now too.

"And I don't have to answer the way you want me to. I answer the question how I answer it and you take what I say as what I mean. I mean exactly what I said," she asserts loudly. You get close enough to lay eyes on them both and you notice baby Anthony on the bed sleep. How he could sleep through all the yelling was beyond you. Must be used to it.

"...I'm a ask you one mo' damn time," Cory points walking into the room straight up to Anaya with two fingers, almost pushed into her face. She doesn't budge knowing he knows better than to put them any closer. He's not that reckless afterall.

"What's the question," you yell cutting in with a hand between the angry couple. Anaya's eyes go straight to you, her hand flying up in exasperation.

"He keeps asking me if I'm FUCKING anyone at WORK.. I don't know how many fucking ways to say no. Do I need to sing it in a song because words don't penetrate."

Gaping, you flatten your hand in the air and lower it signaling her to come down a notch. Few times have you ever seen her this angry. Her lips purse and her eyes shift briefly before her head tilts and her foot swings on its heel. She's trying.

"Corey. Back the hell up," you say slowly pushing your hand forward to gesture he should step back. He takes two quick dramatic steps back, shrugs, and crosses his arms. "Show me the picture," you prompt moving closer to him and watching his phone screen when he takes it out. It looks like a woman who looks like Anaya and it does look like she's on her knees and her head is obstructed by a mans ass and groin area though his pants are up.... it doesn't look good. His fly could be down... He's got one hand in front of him because on camera you can't see it. It looks like he could be palming her head. "Um.. wait. Neither of y'all say a word to each other. I need to examine this."

How can you tell Corey that the photo is a lie when you'd think the same thing as him seeing the photo with no context. Anaya said she was picking stuff up from the floor, but the photo is cropped so there's no proof. But there's also no concrete, hardcore evidence that Anaya is lying.

"She wouldn't do something like this especially in public," you say aloud looking at every detail you can and zooming on the photo.

"No offense, Y/N, you like a sister to me for real, but no one figured you for sex in public with niggas you barely know but look how that turned out. How am I supposed to be sure? I'm just supposed to accept that she just might be cheating on my ass and that's supposed to be okay? I gave everything to this fuckin relationship I can't st- Man, shit." He made it halfway to the door before Erik blocked it.

"For starters, fuck you," you glare. "Second, look at you right now acting like a bitch. You always forcing me to do some shit saying I need to boss up? Yeah, it's your turn to face your relationship head on. Put your big boy pants on. Stop being a BITCH."

"You call me a bitch one more time," he points.

"And you'll do what," you challenge stepping closer.

"Pluck you in that bigass sixhead. Sit ya ass down."

"I wish you would! You lucky Anaya loves you, stupid ass. But you need to trust her! Anyone who gets accused constantly like that and not believed would be mad. You're basically calling her a hoe. How long is she supposed to hear that she's a hoe from you?"

"Maybe don't do hoe-ish shit," Corey snarks narrowing his eyes with sarcasm. You can feel Anaya's rage behind you building. It's a concoction of anger, frustration, pain, and annoyance. This is cutting her deeply to her core.

"Corey... Do you honestly think that lowly of her?" Your own heart is shredding at this point and heavy.

"I don't think lowly of her, I still love her... I still love you and shit," he says to her now, "But goddamn I don't know what to do. I always felt like some nigga would come along and try to take my place.. I tried to do everything so you wouldn't feel a need to go to no other nigga for nothing and then I hear that you suckin dick in the office and y'all messing around. Bitch sends a damn PICTURE. What would you do with that? You'd leave my ass. Lie and say you wouldn't. Lie and say you wouldn't!"

"Get out my face," Anaya sighs.

A loud smash steals the attention of the room and it wakes the baby who looks confused and a little scared before going back to sleep. There is Erik with a stack of plates. You hadn't noticed he'd left. One plate is shattered on the floor from hitting the wall.

"We taking this downstairs." Erik's eyes narrow and he turns leaving the room. You see Anaya look to Anthony who's sleep again and the three of you head downstairs after Erik finding him in the middle of the living room. He hands a plate to Corey. "Smash it," he commands. Corey eyes him, feeling the weight of the plate in his hand and staring at the wall before throwing the plate.

"FUCK," he yells throwing his arms and stretching them.

"Feels good," Erik nods handing Anaya a plate. He doesn't have to tell her. She smashes it and then another one, her body dropping the tension, arms going slack and hanging. It's so sudden when she starts sobbing, you're shocked but you rush in to hold her as she let's loose on your shoulder, shaking.

"Regardless of what the pictures show... This the mother of your child," Erik speaks, his eyes on Corey whose arms are over his head like he's trying to stay standing. "This is the one who takes care of your home, feeds your child. This is the one you decided to marry. Till death do you part. Y'all ain't dead," he shrugs. "Neither are your feelings for each other apparently."

You can't see Corey's face but you can hear him sniffling and see his hand moving constantly to wipe at his face and he groans like he's frustrated at himself for crying.

"Y'all gonna get over this. It won't be easy. But you both need to." He's looking at Anaya now and he touches her shoulder gently not taking her from your embrace. His voice comes out lowly and it's so warm and kind it's comforting you as well and you're not even the target. "Now you know this damp ass nigga be crying himself to sleep to Jodeci. You got the type of nigga to sing Frank Ocean to a picture of you, thinking bout you.. You really finna let that go? ....When you know he luh you that much?"

Her sobs have slowed and her breathing has begun to even. He turns back to Corey.

"Y'all are meant to be together.. People gonna test to see if they can get between y'all.. Don't let em," he nearly whispers. "I stay getting DMs saying my girl been with hella other niggas in the industry."

"Hold up, what DMs," you murmur looking over. Not to ruin the moment. But what DMs??

"--other niggas who ain't got a pot to piss in," he adds.

"Who is sending these DMs," you ask a bit louder.

"I even seen shit photoshopped to look damn realistic... but I trust her. She ain't give me a reason not to. Even if she did, I'm not giving her up that easy. NOOO," he frowns. "That's mine. She stuck with my ass."

"Ok but can we go back to who is working so diligently to craft such ridiculous lies? Can we get that info?"

"Y/N.... Shut up. This ain't about you. See that?" He turns back to Corey. "How long it take y'all to be comfortable and real with each other like that? Love when you reach a certain point.. it ain't always worth starting all the way the fuck over. Some relationships ain't meant to be, true. But it took Y/N to come along and teach me that there will be someone in your life worth fighting and dying for and nigga.. you got two. Don't fuck this up. This small shit. Look at this girl, how in love she is witcha ugly ass.. You see that shit?"

A moment passes and Corey approaches you and Anaya slowly, locking eyes with you and requesting permission to Anaya which you grant. Carefully you pull back and let Corey take your place holding her. She starts to cry again and this time he's rubbing comforting circles on her back and rocking her gently. Erik tilts his head giving you the sign to go with him upstairs leaving them alone and the two of you silently make your exit.

@imaginewhoever @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @blackpantherimagine @vikkidc @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @drsunshine97 @purplehairgawdess @trevantesbrat @indigoxsummers @cccccx1 @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @fonville-designs @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent @blackpinup22

#one night only #original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger imagines #erik stevens au #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger x reader #erik x reader #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens x you #killmonger smut #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction

171 notes · View notes

francesderwent · 5 years

Text

contagiousgrace said: I want all of your Hart of Dixie thoughts

I am more than happy to oblige!! =D

I think I’ve just seen Hart of Dixie all the way through once, and I’ve seen the first season at least three times by now, so my strongest opinions are season one adjacent!

First: it must be said, Zoe Hart is a difficult main character. She’s not extraordinarily endearing, and she’s also not very funny. Her grasp of social situations and how to be a good friend is about on par with that of a protagonist in a Disney Channel original show. That said, I do really appreciate that she’s a character on an adult tv show who’s not down with casual sex! Her decisions in the heat wave episode, and her arc with Wade in season two (“casual…monogamously”), are really, really refreshing. As far as I remember, the narrative doesn’t force her to “grow up” by sleeping around and not caring about it, she remains a very uptight, possessive serial-monogamist, looking for the person she’s really meant to be with – and that actually fits with the overall theme! Zoe is looking for belonging, that’s what the show is about, so if she were able to hook up indiscriminately and not care that she didn’t have a person who was hers it would have run counter to her ultimate arc. She wants to belong to a place and a person. Hashtag Lover. Etc.

George and Lemon’s story in season one (excluding the finale) is better than any of their subsequent arcs separate from each other. I just can’t think of anything else like it! George, choosing to live the small town life with his high school sweetheart, even though he had a taste of something bigger, and even though Zoe is always there, reminding him of all that he’s giving up. Lemon, desperately afraid that she’s inherited her mother’s weakness and struggling to know what to do about her past infidelity. When she tells Lavon, “You were right to turn me away, the right thing to do was to confide in George, and now that he knows about my mother we’re closer than ever” – I mean!! It’s a story about making a choice, and sticking to it, even when you find yourself tempted by all the other options out there. It’s about forgiveness!! It’s about the true meaning of fidelity!!! It’s about the reality that feelings of love aren’t more real just because they’re new!!!! I just don’t understand how anybody could watch the second half of season one and not want them to stay together, not because they’re soulmates or anything silly like that, but because it’s such a good story!! I would have been really interested to see them learn how to forgive each other and trust each other again!! If I had to rewrite it, they would probably postpone their wedding after they get counseling, because two weeks isn’t long enough to get over being cheated on, but George does love Lemon, and so they should have gotten married on/by the season two finale!! He knows that he loves her in the show, but then he decides to leave her at the altar because he also has feelings for Zoe?? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. If you have feelings for two women, when in doubt, remain faithful to the one you’ve been with for fifteen years, because those are the feelings that are based in truth. (I realize now that I’ve basically been ranting for 300+ words about how George and Lemon could have been @itspileofgoodthings‘s novel. So. I’ll just wait for that!!)

Overall, Hart of Dixie has a good dose of HIMYM/Gossip Girl syndrome, where they accidentally land on a really good OTP mid-series that’s better than their planned endgame couple, so that the last season just kind of feels like, “.....really? them?” George and Lemon are, as I’ve said, great together – and so are Lavon and Annabeth, from what I remember!! (Even George and Tansy are better than George and Annabeth, who are basically the most egregious case of Pair the Spares I have ever seen.)

George and Lemon are also just more interesting as individual characters when they’re paired with each other. George needs Lemon’s sharpness, ruthlessness, and occasional spontaneity to balance him out, or else he’s just not remotely interesting – also, his fidelity to Lemon is what makes him a good person and not just a nice one. And Lemon’s arc with her career would have been more interesting if it wasn’t written as an alternative to marriage. Season one says, “Lemon is intent on being the perfect wife and southern belle because she wants her mother’s approval”, and then subsequent seasons say, “Lemon isn’t afraid of her mother anymore, so she can be a single careerwoman now.” But that seems like a shallow solution to me – and kind of turns Lemon into her mother. I loved that Lemon, in season one, found her identity in charity work and town preservation and tradition! I didn’t think that made her weak at all!! I wanted to see her find a way to be both traditional Belle, wife and mother, and learn how to navigate having a job.

I wish Lemon and Zoe had more scenes together. The scene where Zoe tells Lemon she’ll be a good mother is one of the most touching moments in the whole show, and there’s always a few gestures toward friendship per season, but they don’t go anywhere until the very end, and that’s sad.

Lemon and Wade are a friendship for the ages!

I’m not sure what to say about Wade and Zoe except that I enjoy them a lot, and he deserves all the happiness in the world. Favorite moments (that I remember, due to recent rewatching) include: Wade sleeping over because Zoe’s afraid of ghosts! The absolute bucket o’tropes (with bonus baby goat) which is the season one finale! Their being so bad at secrecy – “is that Wade’s shirt??” “…is it? WADE! I told you to do your own laundry and stop throwing your stuff in with mine!” “yeah I sure…hate her”

tldr: I’m in the weird position of thinking that almost everybody ended up with the wrong person, but that individual arcs were largely upward-swinging. I prefer this to Gilmore Girls, where everyone ends up with the right person (or the revival implies they will, anyway) but individual arcs swing downward.

#replies #meta whine and rant #hart of dixie #hod #I want to know all your thoughts too!!!!!!!!!

12 notes · View notes

kenbunshokus · 5 years

Text

#ZOSAN

zoro/sanji, nami/vivi | 3.5k words | 1 of 7 chapters

“Who are they even… 'shipping' me with? They know Usopp is with Kaya, and didn’t you just make your whole thing with Vivi public a few weeks ago—“ Zoro trails off as realization hits him, all at once, and he feels his stomach drop in the same way it would whenever he faces a particularly strong opponent in a kendo match.

“No,” he breathes.

“Obviously,” Nami says, shoves her phone into his face and points at a comment that says, OMG PLZ blonde and green are sitting side by side again. OTP! as Zoro sees his life flash before his eyes. “They’re shipping you with Sanji.”

(Or, the one where the Strawhats are Youtube personalities and people, naturally, start shipping Zoro and Sanji.)

(ao3)

catburglar 572 posts | 2.1M followers | 47 following Nami Bellemere stealing your hearts, one picture at a time http://youtube.com/user/thestrawhatshub

❤ 8,277 Likes catburglar lunch with the fam @sogeking @pirateking @strawhats #food #nofilter #cafe

View all 5,405 comments

ivolatan OMG THOSE TWO GUYS ARE IN THE PICTURE AGAIN

bananapigeon ok seriously, who are those two untagged guys in these pics. esp the blond one with the eyebrow. i keep seeing them in the vlogs too.

mikphail @catburglar Can you tell us the name of the green-haired guy sitting on the right? Beside the blonde? Asking for a friend.

“People are asking for you,” is the first thing Nami says as Zoro walks into the apartment she shares with Usopp and heads straight towards the fridge.

“Which people?” Zoro asks, suspicious. The comment seems innocent out of context, but Zoro narrows his eyes at her anyways because it’s Nami. “Actual people? Or,” he pauses, sifting through his mental vocabulary before giving up and settling with, “your people.”

He can hear her laugh from the living room. “Zoro, people from the internet are still real people.”

“They aren’t just people,” Usopp pokes his head out of his room to join in the conversation, “they are the subscribers, nay, followers— nay — fans of the Great Usopp—“

“They’re strangers,” Zoro points out, matter-of-factly. He doesn’t really get this whole…internet thing Usopp and Nami seem to have made a decent amount of money from no matter how many Technology 101 Lectures from Franky he’s sat through. They work for Luffy’s YouTube Channel—the Strawhats Hub—and post a bunch of videos online about how they have burger for lunch or some other mundane shit, and somehow people pay for that. Well, the sponsors pay for that, technically, but they get money all the same. Zoro doesn’t really get it.

He does understand one thing for sure, though. “I don’t give out my details to strangers.”

“Zoro, you’re like, a decade too old for Stranger Danger,” Nami says, disapproving, “and you know you can’t avoid being famous if you want to be the strongest swordsman in the world.”

Zoro sighs at the familiar argument between them, and makes sure he groans loud enough for her to hear. He’s usually up for any kind of sparring, verbal or otherwise, but not today—not after four back-to-back, two-hour lectures at the university and kendo club training afterwards with no breaks in between. He snatches the nearest canned beer with a little too much force, and it hits the fridge door with a loud bang.

Nami seems to catch on the sour mood and switches the subject. “You know, I think they’re shipping you.”

Zoro blinks. He waits for a second, two, three...yeah, the words still don't make sense. He gives her a confused stare. “What does that even mean?”

“it means they want you to be together with someone,” Usopp, their designated Technology-to-Zoro translator, explains. “Like, together together.”

Zoro scoffs. “What is this, high school?” He waves a dismissive hand at Nami, deciding to focus more on the free beer in his hand instead, eyeing it appreciatively. Nami’s an unpredictable storm with a flexible moral compass reminiscent of a witch, but she provides an endless supply of booze and is the only person who can hold her own against him, so Zoro figures it all balances out in the end.

The cold liquid hits the back of his throat with a familiar biting sensation, and it calms him down enough to finally process Usopp’s words. “Who are they even… shipping me with?” The foreign word stumbles clumsily out of his mouth, and he pauses, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. “They know Usopp is with Kaya, and didn’t you just make your whole thing with Vivi public a few weeks ago—“

Zoro trails off as realization hits him, all at once, and he feels his stomach drop in the same way it would whenever he faces a particularly strong opponent in a kendo match.

“No,” he breathes.

“Obviously,” Nami says, shoves her phone into his face and points at a YouTube comment that says, OMG PLZ blonde and green are sitting side by side again. OTP! as Zoro sees his life flash before his eyes. “They’re shipping you with Sanji.”

nami @catburglar

We’re kind of bored, so @sogeking and I are answering everyone’s questions in the next hour! Don’t forget to use the hashtag #AskUsoNa <3

nami @catburglar

so a million dollar AND a free trip around the world? I’d take it!

\m/ @queenmelissa

Would you get a million dollar but every time you sneeze you’re being teleported to a random place in the world #Askusona

nami @catburglar

I’ve known Usopp since high school. I’ve known Luffy the longest, though. We’ve been friends since we were cute little ten-year-olds.

Jenna Rowen @jrowen

#AskUsoNa How did you get to know each other? Love your vids!

nami @catburglar

Zoro and Sanji are roommates, not dating. Or are they? ;)

bad luck kate @gingerchic

are the two guys in some of your vids dating (U KNOW WHICH TWO) #askusona @sogeking @catburglar

bad luck kate @gingerchic replying to @catburglar

HOLY SHIT DID U JUST

bad luck kate @gingerchic replying to @gingerchic @catburglar

WE JUST GOT A FUCKING NAMES REVEAL. @ STRAWHAT RPF FANDOM THIS IS NOT A DRILL

The smell of well-cooked seafood, mixed with a tinge of booze, touches every nook and cranny of his apartment as people eat, drink, or laugh with each other (or, in Luffy’s case, all three of them at once). Zoro sprawls comfortably across his favorite sofa in the middle of the cacophony, and he closes his eyes, soaking in the familiar atmosphere, a half-empty can of beer dangling by his right hand.

Today isn’t their usual weekly Friday Night Hang Out; today, Ace is on leave from the military for the first time in ages. Luffy promised his big brother a huge, awesome feast, and their ragtag group of broke college students deliver the way they know how—His and Sanji’s apartment, Brook’s music, Sanji’s food.

Zoro doesn’t care much about parties, but he does like Ace and his stories about Whitebeard's platoon. Free booze is also a plus.

“Tired already?” A voice asks over his head, and Zoro has spent enough time with Luffy’s family ever since he was ten to know it’s Ace without having to look up.

“As if,” he says, skipping the greeting. “Just making sure I don’t appear in Usopp’s videos.” He thinks of the photo Nami showed him a few days ago, the one on the… instant… gram… thing… and adds, “or photos.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about that!” Ace plops onto the other sofa across the table, entering Zoro’s field of vision. “I heard somebody’s famous now.”

“Tch,” Zoro grunts, but refuses to elaborate. He doesn’t like where the conversation is going.

“And I heard,” Ace continues anyways, his grin all-too-innocent and therefore completely terrifying, “someone’s famous with someone else.”

Zoro jolts upright from his position, for once ignoring the beer he spilled on the carpet—Sanji will kill him for that later, but whatever—and turns to search for Usopp among the crowd. He glares at Usopp in a way that says, I’m going to deliver you a drawn-out, painful death, and Usopp pointedly looks anywhere but back at him.

Ace chuckles, impervious to Zoro’s death glares. “Actually, Luffy was the one who told me.”

“The shipping thing sounds so cool,” Luffy, that traitor, chimes in around a mouthful of meatballs. “I wonder who they’d ship me with.”

“Meat, probably,” Sanji says before Zoro could, and bodily pushes Luffy aside with his leg to place a plateful of fried prawns on the table. Both brothers’ eyes widen comically at the sight and the two of them dive into the plate as Sanji narrows his eyes at Zoro, “that is, if people can even be trusted these days. I still can’t believe they, what’s the word— ship me with marimo head over here when Nami is also in the picture.”

That—well.

Stings a little.

Zoro mentally maneuvers around the flare of jealousy and opts for anger, because it’s easier. Familiar. “Not like I’m enjoying the idea of being a boyfriend of someone with those eyebrows,” he fires back.

Sanji’s left eye twitches at that. “Didn’t know you have enough intelligence to even form an idea, seaweed brain.”

“Pervert cook.”

“Brainless moss.”

“Please keep the lover’s spat within the privacy of your bedroom,” Nami teases as she somehow manages to gracefully pluck a prawn out of the mess Ace and Luffy are making on the table.

“Right, Mellorine!” Sanji sing-songs in record speed.

Zoro sighs and puts his face in his hand. “Do you even listen to yourself, idiot,” he says, and narrowly dodges a kick to the head.

“Says the person who got lost so often the train station officers from the neighboring city start recognizing him!” Sanji yells back, and avoids the pillow thrown at him with practiced ease clearly born through repeated fights.

“How are you two even friends,” Ace observes in between chews, amused.

Zoro and Sanji instantly whip their heads towards Ace in unison, and say, in eerie synchronicity, “we’re not friends.”

Nami shakes her head, but it’s fond. “That’s how.”

❤ 2,103 Likes catburglar exclusive photo of Zoro enjoying Sanji’s food #nofilter #candid

View all 7,151 comments

martiknee I assume Sanji is a chef, then?

thefantasyren I still can’t believe we’ve been blessed with their names. Strawhat Fandom, rejoice!

ostenmah @martiknee ur an idiot, he could just be someone whos really good at cooking

martiknee Wow, thanks for the unprompted hostility, I was just asking. Either way, do you fucking have eyes, look at those prawns. Look me in the eyes and tell me he cooks THOSE and doesn’t cook for a living. @ostenmah

brie @strawhatnami

so I heard Zoro is in his college’s kendo club

a gay @bisexualusopp replying to @strahwatnami

he’s the CAPTAIN

brie @strawhatnami replying to @bisexualusopp

source pls?

Kal @THEKALZONE replying to @strawhatnami @bisexualusopp

can confirm, my brother goes to the same college as him, wasn’t exactly difficult to find a dude w green hair named zoro

a gay @bisexualusopp replying to @THEKALZONE @strawhatnami

apparently he used to appear on a bunch of tv shows about modern swordsmen or sth with his sister back then?

brie @strawhatnami replying to @bisexualusopp @THEKALZONE

HOLY SHIT I REMEMBER WATCHING IT WHEN I WAS LIKE. FIVE. kuina was my fave. I wonder if she goes to the same college too?

The thing is—the crux of the problem of this whole mess of a situation is that—Zoro has code. Some sort of personal, unsaid rules he has dedicated his life to following. And now this whole fiasco is slowly breaking these codes—two, particularly:

Zoro, as a general rule, dislikes attention. He used to be some sort of a child star way back when, before Usopp and Nami and even Luffy, before—the thing with Kuina. It was hardly bearable when Kuina was with him, holding his hand whenever it started to tremble during tapings, and now with her gone he’s not touching that industry with a ten-feet pole. That means no stupid interviews with awkward pauses and one-word answers, no troublesome photo shoots that leave him with cramps at places he didn’t know could get cramps, and most importantly, no getting recognized on the street by random strangers. He looks like shit on photos. He doesn’t even have an autograph.

Zoro has the largest, most pathetic crush on Sanji, and nobody can find out.

The second rule is more important than the first, of course. So far the breaking of the first code only results in minor inconveniences, but the fact that there’s a whole group of people dedicated to telling the world that Zoro wants to get into Sanji’s pants is not something he can live with. Not something Sanji can live with, that’s for sure. Sanji has been brushing them off as a joke, thankfully, but Zoro figures there’s only so much the Straightest Man on Earth could take before he would start avoiding Zoro in disgust and pretty much stomping on Zoro’s heart in the process.

Which is why, as soon as he spots Usopp coming out of the college’s workshop, Zoro stops him in his track and growls, “this is all your fault.”

Usopp covers his head out of instinct and stammers, “whatever it is, I didn’t do it and I’m sorry.”

Zoro crosses his arms in front of his chest and huffs. “Stop it—I’d never hit you just because I feel like it.”

“This bump on the right side of my head disagrees,” Usopp says as he peeks through his fingers, “I think it’s developing into a tumor .”

“You can’t get a tumor from getting knocked in the head,” Zoro says.

“I don’t think you’re qualified to make that judgment,” Usopp insists, but visibly relaxes anyways when he doesn’t see Zoro’s hands anywhere near his head. “What is it?”

“It’s just,” Zoro says, almost ominously. “People.”

“You’re not a fan of them. Yeah, I got that, like, five years ago when I first met you.”

“Shut up, I’m not done. People, they—“ Zoro drops his voice as low as possible to adequately convey the severity of his predicament, “—they started recognizing me. From your pictures.”

Usopp visibly perks up at that. “I know , right? People say, Usopp, being famous on the internet is nothing, no one’s going to know who you are in real life, but hater’s gonna hate, you know? One time a princess from a European country asked for my autograph—“

“It’s not a good thing,” Zoro cuts in, ignoring Usopp’s make-believe story. “Three different people asked for my photograph on the way here. A girl tried taking a picture while I was eating and I accidentally spat in her face.”

Usopp at least has the audacity to grimace at that. “I guess—I guess I can see where you’re coming from, but come on, Zoro, live a little!” He emphasizes with a friendly pat on Zoro’s shoulder. “There are, literally, thousands of people lining up to be in your shoes.”

Zoro can’t help bristling at the touch. “I didn’t sign up for this. Not like you and Nami did, with Luffy and the whole YouTube thing,” he says and adds, more urgently, “especially not for the whole thing with the Cook.”

Usopp should know. Usopp does know, because Zoro told him once under the influence of one too many drinks. They never really talked about it afterwards because Zoro has the emotional constipation of a sixteen-year-old emo teen who still listens to My Chemical Romance, and Usopp has enough self-preservation instinct not to bring it up, but there’s always this silent agreement that Usopp knows.

Usopp raises his hands in the universal sign of defeat. “Look, I admit things did go out of hands a little bit, but it’s nothing big. It’s the internet. People will ship any two people who so much breathe the same air.”

Zoro narrows his eyes critically at Usopp, and while Usopp gulps under the scrutiny, he also looks—honest. Trustworthy. Damn it, Zoro does have a soft spot for his tattletale of a friend, and one day it’s going to be his downfall.

“All right, fine, I’ll take your word for it,” he says, and Usopp releases a relieved sigh, which immediately gets sucked back in as soon as Zoro growls, “but if Nami even says something remotely different—“

“If I say something what?”

Zoro is a skillful and trained martial art practitioner. Rumor has it that he has no openings; opponents who go into a fight expecting one would get a reality check in the form of a kendo sword to the head. He’s like a wild predator, they all say, and you are his natural prey.

They are all wrong. Sitting comfortably on the apex of the food pyramid is Nami, and she knows all of Zoro’s weaknesses like the back of her hand.

Zoro jumps and thinks his heart stops for a moment as Nami appears out of nowhere and joins in the conversation, and she laughs when she notices his surprise.

“Shut up,” he growls, and she just grins even wider.

“I was just telling him about the shippers,” Usopp fills her in, oblivious to Zoro’s mini-heart attack, “that they’re. You know. Harmless?”

Zoro doesn’t like the unspoken question mark tacked at the end of Usopp’s sentence, and he likes it even less when Nami says, “well, I wouldn’t exactly call them harmless.”

Zoro glowers at that. “Explain.”

“I mean, you’ve been way too closed up about yourself, you’re practically an urban legend,” Nami says, “and people love knowing things, Zoro. It makes them feel like they’re part of something special. When the internet wants something, there’s no stopping the internet.”

“Like legalizing weed,” Usopp adds, “give them information and you can control what’s coming out. Give them nothing and you’re unleashing a hungry beast.”

“I’m not going to start using The Instant Gram for them,” Zoro says, frustrated, and bits his lips in a way that almost resembles a pout. Not that he pouts, of course.

“I told you it’s not called the Instant—you know what, I tried,” Usopp says under his breath, and Zoro ignores him.

“We’ve been at this before, you know,” Nami continues, shaking her head, “they want to know things about you, and they’re going to find out. Age. Height. Blood type. The brand of shampoo you use. Which side of the bed you’re sleeping in. The fact that you have a crush on Sanji—“

Zoro stops in his track. He blinks. “No one—no one knows that,” he says, and curses himself for stuttering. He catches Usopp’s eyes, and reluctantly adds, “unless I told them.”

“You never told me,” Nami points out.

“You don’t count,” Zoro insists, “you can read me like a book.”

“I want to be flattered,” Nami pats him on the head, like humoring a small child, “but it frankly doesn’t feel like much of an accomplishment when your book only says I HAVE A CRUSH ON SANJI in eighty point bold font.”

He definitely doesn’t blush at that. Desperate, he turns to Usopp. “This isn’t what you told me.”

Nami looks at him, and is that—damn it. Is that pity in her eyes? “Zoro, I don’t know what lies Usopp has been telling you this time, but everyone knows you have a Big Gay Crush on Sanji.”

“One, it’s not a—a Big Gay Crush,” he sputters, “and two, both of you hardly counts as ‘everyone.’”

“No, really,” Nami says as she pulls up safari on her iPhone to open the fuckyeahzosan tumblr page, “I mean everyone.”

FuckYeahZosan

The very first Zosan Blog. Zoro and Sanji flirt with each other and ignore everyone else in group pictures because they’re assholes in love.

mods: zorosanjis and queerbellemere

our edits

fanart | fanfics | fanmixes

fuckyeahzosan

Nami just posted a new picture and it’s everything we’ve ever hoped for.

#sanji is cooking for zoro #what is air #zosan #official

452 notes

fuckyeahzosan reblogged zoro-sanji-for-the-win

I can’t believe we only got their names a month ago and today we’ve got two dozens new pictures where they surreptitiously look into each other’s eyes, found out they’ve been roommates for years, gone on yearly road trips with just the two of them, and are practically canon.

I feel like this has all been a collective fever dream we just haven’t woken up from.

It’s all real and you better believe it.

#reblogged #text

2,252 notes

anonymous asked

Ugh, people like you are the reason why I hate the Strawhat Fandom so much. Zoro and Sanji aren’t even SIGNED to the Strawhats Agency. They’re just FRIENDS of Nami and Usopp. And now they’re the most popular pairing in this fandom? Bullshit.

Sorry, we can’t hear you over how often Zoro and Sanji appear in the Strawhats' videos they may as well be Strawhats, and how even Shanks treat them like they’re part of the fandom.

#asks and answers #mod a

564 notes

fuckyeahzosan reblogged queennami

zoro + looking at sanji with a love-struck look on his face when he thinks no one’s looking

#THE THING THAT REALLY GOT ME ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP #or friendship or whatever #is that it’s so loud and flashy you can’t help but notice #but with glimpses of quiet moments like this #like you KNOW they have the typical alpha male friendship #roughhousing and name calling; the whole package #from the way nami and usopp talk about them in interviews and stuff #and how they glare at each other in pictures with insults teetering on the tips of their tongues #but sometimes we get glimpses of this when they think no one’s looking #zoro staring at sanji – startsruck – like there are constellations clinging on sanji’s back #and there’s always that small smile zoro probably reserves just for sanji #and I Die #stab me in the chest and it would’ve hurt less #zoro #sanji #zosan #strawhatedit #rpf for ts (via queennami)

#reblogged #photoset #tags #lord have mercy on me

4,425 notes

Usopp is so going home with a new bump on his head.

#zosan #namivivi #roronoa zoro #sanji #one piece #my writing //#zoro #op

125 notes · View notes

salamoonder · 6 years

Text

Dark Side | [ch. 5]

Virgil’s mastered the knack of replacing one kind of pain with another.

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: self harm, moderately graphic

A/N: Here we go, kids. Here’s the beginning of the dark stuff. My poor Virgil is...not very good at coping. As always I don’t condone any of his actions and if you’re upset by this chapter and need someone to talk to....my dms are open. But!! Please don’t read this if you’re not in a good place to do so. Love y’all. <3

|| Read on AO3 ||

“I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

“Virgil, please…”

Virgil flops onto his completely unmade bed and screams quietly into the mattress, sits there for a couple extra seconds with his jaw gaping for good measure, then closes his mouth, swallows, and tries again, this time directing the noise into words. “I said NO, Patton. I’m NOT GOING.”

There’s a freshman welcome barbecue on the main lawn and Patton’s been needling him to come for the past twenty minutes, but it feels more like years. It takes a lot of social energy to reject any kind of invitation from Patton, never mind rejecting it angrily, but he’d rather be angry than suppressed right now. He feels like Patton’s forcing his hand.

He can practically feel the hurt and bad emotion emanating from Patton, who is standing in the narrow doorway and making puppy eyes at him. That’s the problem with Patton; he feels everything so damn deep down. He never shoulders a feeling, he sets it squarely on his chest and lets it sink in hard. Virgil gets up and walks to the door.

“I’ll talk to you later, Pat,” he says, and closes it in his face.

He feels awful. It’s really not Patton’s fault, but he suspects Patton isn’t taking him seriously. Virgil doesn’t think he can survive, living with anyone but Patton. And Patton seems to think it’ll be nothing but a new adventure.

Well, it would be for Patton. He’d already cozied up to Remy. Everything was a new adventure to Patton.

The guilt is already sticking to the roof of his mouth, sealing it shut, even as the frustration and anger builds up in his fists. And his new roommate...he doesn’t even want to think about him.

When he walked into the room there had been a boy sprawled out on the second bed, which was completely made. A dozen or so Disney posters covered the wall above it, and a cork board above one of the desks was covered in pictures. Virgil was too far away to see them, but he could tell that they were all group or couple pictures.

Presumably his very social roommate with his many, many friends.

A bluetooth speaker on the desk next to a sleek macbook was playing something from the Hercules soundtrack at top volume. Boxes were splayed across the room, some of them on what Virgil assumed was supposed to be his side.

When he’d pulled the door open the kid had looked up from his phone and scowled. “Ah, rude! You could’ve at least knocked! This is my room, you know!”

He really talked like that, like every statement had an exclamation point at the end. He was long and lanky but solidly built. He looked like the kind of guy who could pick Virgil up and punt him like a football. And he was wearing expensive clothes, all name brand, but he was wearing them so casually they might as well have been Goodwill finds. He had his legs up and his ankles crossed as he lounged across his bed, like those cute pictures that roommates took of each other and posted to their studyblrs with hashtags like “aesthetic” ”dorm life” and “best roomie”.

Virgil immediately disliked him.

“It’s my room, too, jackass,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, even though what he’d been thinking of in his head was a lot more diplomatic.

The kid on the bed raised an eyebrow and sat up super slowly, as dramatically as though it was the worst thing anyone had ever said to him.

“Well,” he said in a shocked tone, “I can see I’m not welcome here,”

And then he had taken his phone and walked out. Virgil noted with distaste how expensive his shoes looked before slamming the door after him. Being considered a rich snob, it didn’t usually take him too long to spot another one.

“Well,” he said to the empty room, “that went well.”

Since then he’d been wandering his room, debating going out to the car for more boxes, considering leaving all of Patton’s boxes on the sidewalk and just driving back home, or plotting what the best way to survive by locking himself in the bathroom all semester would be.

In the end, none of the options won out, and so he spent a few uncomfortable minutes pacing around the room before finally getting completely sick of the Disney songs pulsing from the bluetooth speaker and slamming the laptop shut. Normally Virgil hated touching other people’s things, but he couldn’t even hear himself think. It was like...roommate kid....thought he was at a rave. A Disney rave.

A few minutes later he was lying face down on the floor hyperventilating into the carpet, and Patton had chosen that exact moment to helpfully pop in and let him know that he was going to the freshman barbecue. And so Virgil had gotten up, walked over to the bed, and done approximately the same thing there.

His roommate still hadn’t come back yet, and he’d lied and said he must’ve just missed him when Patton asked. Virgil seriously hoped he’d gone to the freshman barbecue as well.

Virgil hoped he would make tons and tons of snobby, dramatic friends and spend all of his time outside of his room, taking a ridiculous number of group photos and leaving Virgil firmly out of all of it.

Actually, Virgil hoped he could go straight to the housing office and get them to change his living arrangements back to strictly Patton only as soon as possible. Or better yet get counselling to convince Patton to forget about this whole college thing and go home with him. Live out a nice, boring existence at home.

Virgil’s been lying on the floor thinking all these things when a tiny voice in the back of his head says “you know...you could always just bleed all these feelings away.”

Normally he would fight it, even if it was the smallest, most pathetic fight in the history of humanity. But I’m comfortable here. But I’ll have to actually look at the blood. But...just. Tiny excuses. Tiny little useless excuses. But today he listens to the voice and says, “You know what? You’re right.”

Almost out loud. Almost.

He gets up, slips the keycard into his pocket (he’s been holding it in his fist this entire time) and sneaks out of the hall, looking out for Patton lest he mistake his sudden activity for unexpected enthusiasm for the freshman barbecue. Luckily he makes it to the car with no encounters.

Patton’s left all of Virgil’s boxes stacked neatly on the sidewalk next to the car; all his boxes must be inside already. A peace offering. Or, really, just a nice thing that Patton did because he’s Patton and nice is what he does. Virgil feels another pang of guilt shoot through him, but he pushes all thoughts of the outside, non depressed world out of his head and picks up the first two boxes, balancing them carefully on top of each other.

It doesn’t take him very long to take all the boxes back to his room. The book box had been the heaviest, and going downhill really helped. It only takes a little digging to find the roll of paper towels stuffed with bandaids wrapped carefully in a towel, and a little more careful looking to find the book containing the razor blades he’s taped to the inside flap of the back cover. It’s not particularly subtle, but you’d still really have to be looking to find anything.

He steps into their suite bathroom, locks the doors on both sides (great, he thinks, the neighbors are going to hate me already--hopefully they’re at the stupid freshman barbecue too) and starts his work.

His hands are shaking a bit; it’s been a few days since he’s done this. He understands, he really does, why this is considered an addiction. He feels drunk; feels like the first time he’d taken an edible and all the colors in his eyes had swirled and blurred together and lifted him up in a happy little rainbow bubble; recalls the numb warmth pushing against his hands.

This is like that, with the shaking and the adrenaline, but it feels sharper somehow. Clearer. Weed and alcohol had dulled all his senses; cutting enhances them. Brings everything into needlepoint focus.

He keeps going and going until he feels a little delirious, until the blood splashes on the counter and he lunges forward to dab up the spill with a paper towel. He’s learned the hard way that even on supposedly easily cleanable surfaces blood can leave its mark.

That seems to be his cue that enough is enough. He runs his arms under the cold water, teeth bearing down hard on the front of his hoodie so he doesn’t cry out. This pain is different somehow, worse. He hates this part.

But eventually it’s over and he dabs his arms dry, painstakingly slowly, with a few paper towels. Then he gets to work spreading bandaids over every inch of his arms where he’s left his mark. He would prefer gauze and medical tape but that’s simply not practical right now. Anyway, gauze makes everything look more serious. Someone is more likely to gasp and yelp “oh my gosh what happened?” over gauze than they are over a dozen bandaids. Of course the bandaids look pretty suspicious but they still give Virgil the slimmest of outs-- “had a fight with a cat”-- if someone for any reason catches him without his ever present hoodie.

Ugh, he hadn’t even thought about changing in a room with someone who isn’t Patton.

Patton knows, of course, but he mostly pretends not to. Except when it gets real bad. Then the talk of seeing a therapist comes up.

Virgil grinds the heels of his hands carefully into his eyes, trying not to bend his wrists too much and reopen the cuts.

He’s focusing too hard on that to remember to stop himself from crying, though. He usually cries after he cuts. Somewhat because he feels disgusting, but also because he’s relieved.

He’s always relieved, to some degree or another.

He’s mastered the knack of crying silently. When someone from the other side knocks, he calls “just a minute,” voice practiced and steadied, clears his supplies, and gets out.

He sits on the bed, feeling better and worse and too hot in his hoodie but too nervous to take it off, even with the door closed and locked. After all, roommate kid has a key, too. He peeks his head out of the door for a second just to check his name on the door because it’s bothering him that he doesn’t know it.

Roman. Ugh. Sounds just as pretentious as he seems.

Virgil manages to find the energy to pull out all his bedding but is only halfway through pulling the fitted sheet over his mattress when he collapses and decides he’s not moving another inch until someone makes him.

He falls asleep about five minutes later, and misses the well meaning knock of Remy, who’s come back because Patton asked her to check on him.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil #roman #patton #logan #college au #tw: self harm

3 notes · View notes

maybeyoumissthisf-kingpost · 3 years

Text

Feminism and gender equality: Why does it suck?

First of all, this article is for Feminists, and is not contraindicated for women who are drawn into the Feminism movement without understanding the political tricks of the wire-pullers behind. I respect every woman. They are half of this world. I bet you'll agree with me on one thing: Women have always been honored for their direct and indirect contributions to human civilization. Because of that, I feel I have a responsibility to protect them from the malicious conspiracy of the Feminism movement.

In Vietnam, the liars call Feminism Feminism. But what RIGHTS? Where is the RIGHT? Which word in “Feminism” has RIGHT in it?

I call Feminism the Supreme Feminism

The press, as well as the simps with their pussy on their heads, praised this toxic choleraism, making the sisters think that this was a movement to fight for equal rights for women. I say,

My body is like a drop of rain. Seeds go to the castle, seeds go to the field to plow

Even if the raindrops don't have the same starting point, how can there be equality in this world? Can anyone try to name an equal country for me? There is no right. The leftists always do not draw two words EQUALITY to attract losers in society. Gender equality, income equality, racial equality, class equality? An all-too-familiar scenario for shepherding stupid sheep.

Want to know toxic feminism? Ask the Feminists!

Going back to the Mao or Bolshevik era in the mid-twentieth century, also with the scenario of class struggle for equal rights, a series of bourgeoisie were denounced, executed and executed [1][2]. Today, gender equality has the same color. There will be a day when the men - the object of attack by the struggle group - will fade away like the bourgeois in the revolutionary era. Of course, similar massacres are hard to come by in the modern world, but it will be done more delicately, instilling slowly and killing you like a Poison Mushroom. Remember, there is NEVER a struggle for equality that stops at the balance of interests, but it is always directed towards the exclusion and elimination of that object from society. If you think I'm taking it too seriously, you can check with the hashtag #KillAllMen on social media to see if it's terror enough. Too obvious for the toxicity of the modern feminist movement!

Looking back at Feminist's harsh words to men, plus the cheers of the left-wing media, do you see the danger? They inject young girls with the image of men as scum – lustful, slutty, wretched, etc. ALL MEN ARE WRONG is the mindset you can easily see in young girls these days. .

I know many female friends who have suffered a lot of hurt, even humiliation when going through toxic relationships with some assholes. I'm not defending those fuckboys. But women, the gender that is dominated by negative emotions [3][4][5] , after the breakup of a love affair is often easily lured into movements that boycott men with extreme arguments such as :

1. Women suffer many disadvantages when getting married and having children. Men do not have pain in childbirth, so they never appreciate this sacrifice of women.

2. All men are rapists [6] .

3. Women in the past could not study, could not participate in elections, so they always lost compared to men; Moreover, women are bound by many strict dogmas, marriage must be completely dependent on their husbands.

However, NO ONE told them:

1. The man carries the national responsibility on his shoulders. He could die, be stabbed by swords, shot by bullets, burned alive, dismembered, etc. on the battlefield to protect women and their children at home.

2. Even if two people have a completely voluntary relationship, if the girl accuses the boy of raping, he will still have to go to prison to schedule a schedule [7] . On the other hand, if a man alleges that he was raped by a woman, guess what percentage of him will win the case?

3. A man is by default the one who provides and protects his family for the rest of his life, and at the same time is the one who bears all the responsibilities – that is an inescapable destiny. He will be despised by people and despised by society if he cannot afford to take care of his wife and children. More than 150 years ago, if the wife committed a crime, it was the husband who would be punished or imprisoned under Coverture laws. Also in the old society, women can't vote, and men... can't vote anyway?! In feudal times, was the potato gourd? Kings follow the tradition of passing from father to son, but there is no election. Only in Western society do women have the right to vote, but under Coverture law, the husband will be the representative of the will of both.

No school, school, or newspaper tells today's boys and girls about these things. And young people are easily attracted by the new radical movements, resulting in society spawning the following groups:

The conspiracy behind the cover of gender equality: Breaking the gender line

The interests of men and women are inherently balanced, only when Feminism movements arose, that balance gradually tilted to one side. Worth mentioning, this bias is NOT beneficial to women, but only to benefit the policies and voting of the left. By taking advantage of the image of the LGBT community, Feminists argue that there is no difference between men and women, thereby breaking down gender boundaries. What is the result? It's the FEMALE, I'm not mistaken, the WOMEN are the recipients.

When it goes beyond the limits of the laws of nature, breaking the gender line has dire consequences for women.

Typically, Fallon Fox, a male MMA fighter (transgender) allowed to compete in the women's category, caused female boxer Tamikka Brents to break her skull and brain injury in just the first round. Another example is Mary Gregory, a transgender man who broke the record of four female weightlifters in a single day [8] .

So, does this movement really bring equality to women, or does it only increase social injustice? Of course, the madness of these guys won't stop, just think that one day when the genders are no longer distinguished, men will be able to enter the women's toilets!? Oh what a disaster!

Men and women are inherently different

Back in the beginning of the world, Eve was born from the body of Adam. She was not born from the bones of Adam's head so that she would rule over Adam; nor was she born from the bones of Adam's feet to be trampled upon by Adam; that she borne from Adam's rib that the two might be equal, under Adam's arm that she might be sheltered, near Adam's heart that she might be loved.

Both men and women are born different, taking on different roles in life. There are areas for men to control, and there are areas for women to control. Although there are many studies that have shown differences in brain thinking in both sexes, Feminists still try to deny this difference. Again, this distinction is a FACT (truth). Therefore, to deny this difference is to bend the truth.

Correct. Bend the truth is what Feminist is doing.1. Feminist: “Women must be treated like men”

There's a saying that goes, "Women can do anything a man can." However, history has always shown the opposite. Women rarely choose to confront, take responsibility for key decisions. This is easy to see that even in family relationships, the wife always gives her husband the right to decide when there is an important issue. To emphasize, this behavior is NOT BAD at all. Because it is the NATIONAL, the divinity of a woman.

I am not saying that men or women are better, but since ancient times, men have been identified as the ones who take the lead. He must be RESPONSIBLE and stand to solve his own and the woman's problems.

Therefore, women need to be treated like EVERYONE, not LIKE MAN. Again, I respect every woman. But if you want to win the respect of society, you must learn to be responsible… like a man.

2. Feminist: “Women must have the same salary as men”

In fact, it is not men who are paid more, but women who always choose lower paying jobs [9] . However, how to choose a job, it is completely the freedom of each person. Feminists want to force girls to work against their wishes, it can be said that it is an unethical behavior.

3. Feminist: “Women should be allowed to do men's jobs”

Everyone is given equal opportunities, but each gender has qualities that make us superior to the other half in some areas. For men, it's physical health, hard work is naturally suitable for men. For women, it is the ability to care, so women dominate the nursing field. Such division of labor is to ensure the highest economic efficiency for society. So, women don't need to do the work of men, they just need to do the work that they feel LIKE and DO GOOD.

4. Feminist: “Women must be treated by law in the same way as men”

The law is now “favoring” women, that is the reality, due to pressures from far-left movements. Specifically, we have women's rights, children's rights, but not men's rights. Even in the US, when it comes to legal protection, men even lose to dogs and cats. That is the imbalance caused by the Feminist and the leftists.

There is a funny story like this: “Oranges look both beautiful and delicious, so they are often used as juice; and the bitter melon is both bitter and rough, so no one has ever forced it to drink. Then one day the bitter melons rebelled to overthrow Orangeism. Proponents of bitter gourd believe that oranges can make juice, so can bitter melons. As a result, after years of struggle, the government passed the Plant Equality law, according to which anyone who drinks orange juice but does not drink bitter gourd juice will be jailed.”

Sounds absurd right? In short, men and women are inherently different. Both sexes are born to DO BETTER what the other cannot be in charge of. Orange has its own application, so does bitter melon. We cannot use others to measure ourselves. Doing so only shows that you are lowering your self-worth.

If you're not equal, don't be equal

It is ironic that Feminists are always anti-men, but covet their values. Value is something that takes effort to build, but cannot be asked to be recognized or given by others. To me, the value of a person lies in their usefulness. So be useful to family, friends and society; study and work kindly; serve and love the community. Don't compare yourself to others. Also, don't put others down, because it doesn't raise your self-worth. Because only what you do shows who you are in this world.

All credit goes to trantuansang.com.

1 note · View note

itzfabi · 6 years

Text

A Very Unmerry Birthday

Who: @dagnyjuniper & @itzfabi

When: Dagny’s Birthday aka Princess Day

Where: 1160 Wizard Way

What: This chatzy is from March don’t come for us we KNOW. Also: After Dagny kissed Fab at his birthday party back in November, Fab decides to return the favor thanks to a few months of reflection on whether or not he’d like to date his best friend. Things do not go according to plan.

Fab hadn't really known what had been on his mind since the dance. It had been a month, and he was still feeling weird about that Secret Admirer thing -- of course, it was just Massie, and she was doing it to be a friend, and that was cool of her. But he'd kind of hyped it up in his head that it could've been Dagny...after their kiss on his birthday, of course. And he had no clue why, after all was said and done, he still couldn't get his mind off of it -- off of her. Maybe now that Kally was all official with her hot new boyfriend, he was feeling some compulsion to move on, too, and his brain was getting alll confused over what kind of 'like' he felt for Dagny. But in any case, she had said that she wanted to spend her birthday with him and only him and how could he say no to that? Besides...Did that mean she felt something with him at the dance, too? He had asked her to dance. Maybe the spark wasn't so one-sided after all. After setting up the big, pink kiddie princess tent that he'd rush-ordered online, Fabi waited inside her cottage (after getting her roommates to let him in and eventually split) with the handmade birthday cake in hand, waiting for her to come home. As soon as the door opened, his reaction may have been a little premature, as he instantly blew into his party horn and exclaimed, "Happy Birthday!" before she could even really enter the cottage.

Dagny had gone out on a limb by saying she didn't want an official Princess Day. Typically, it had to be some huge celebration put on by the Neverlanders, but she figured after she'd made such a blunder by sleeping with Marsh on DJ's birthday, it might be best to keep things lowkey for her own party. She knew Kally was busy hanging out with Leverett, or whatever she was doing to spend her time nowadays, so she hit up Fab to be her official birthday plans. Things seemed to finally be balanced out with them after the Valentine's Day Ball, so she wasn't worried about things being super awkward. Wow, she was starting to realize that maybe birthdays in general just weren't something she's particularly skilled at. She opened the door to her cottage, expecting Fab to show up once she'd sent him a text that she was back in her cottage, but upon entering through the door she was startled by the sound of a party horn. "Ah!" She jumped back, nearly falling into the door frame. It took her a few seconds to recover from the sudden horn noise before she straightened up and finally saw Fab standing there, cake in hand. "Jingles, Fab! You wanna spend my birthday taking me to the hospital?" She joked, setting her stuff down on the floor before moving to give her friend a careful side hug so as not to knock the cake out of his hands. She looked around at the princess tent, "Ha! Very cute." She turned back to Fab, "Thanks for coming to celebrate my birthday. I totally didn't want to have to deal with all nine million Neverlanders trying to throw me a party."

Fab didn't realize that maybe he should've waited for her to recognize his presence before going all out with the exclamation until Dagny screamed. Letting the party horn fall from his lips, Fab started toward her to apologize but she seemed to recover quickly. "Sorry!" he exclaimed through laughter, "I guess I was so excited I got a little ahead of myself. You're lucky I would've needed both hands to set off a party popper," he chuckled before leaning into the girl's embrace. "No problem," he shrugged, making his way over to the tent. "I mean, from what I've heard, Princess Day sounds like a good time for them, not necessarily for the birthday girls, though. So I'm just honored to be your guest of choice," he smiled warmly before gesturing out toward the tent. "After you, Princess." He was joking, mostly, but hey -- it was still Princess Day, he was gonna milk that for as many laughs as possible. Grabbing two forks, Fab made a move for the light switch, flipping it down so now the only source of light in the cottage were the glow-in-the-dark stars that he'd stuck to the ceiling. They'd be able to see, since their legs and heads would probably be poking out from either sides of the tent anyway. "Ta-da!" Fab smirked, rather proud of himself as he crawled into the tent.

Dagny climbed into the small tent, making herself as comfortable as she could in the limited amount of space. "I'm apparently only princess by birth and not by popular vote. I'm pretty sure my little sister made the Not My Princess hashtag spread even to Pixie Hollow, where there isn't a even a need for hashtags," Dagny groaned. It was no secret that she was constantly stressed over the idea of someday having to take over her parents' job of overseeing literally all of the fairy business when it came to changing seasons and distributing pixie dust. Dagny stared up at the stars stuck to the ceiling, pretty amazed she had a friend like Fab who would do this sort of cheesy stuff for her. "Excellent ambience choice," She congratulated him, wriggling around a little to make more room for him. "Seriously, you're the best. I know we haven't hung out as much since-" She paused for a second, trying to figure out if she should bring up her disastrous kiss attempt, "-your birthday. But, new year, new me...She says in March of the aforementioned new year." She laughed awkwardly, hoping to slide right on by that topic, regretting even bringing it up in the first place. "So, tell me again about the weird secret Valentine's Day gifts?" She asked, grabbing one of the forks that Fab had brought in preparation to dive right into that sweet, sweet cake. "You hadn't like, planned to serenade me Happy Birthday or anything, right? Because this cake is about to get demolished."

Fab gave a pout, not really one to understand monarchy like that, but it seemed like it must suck to not be liked by the people you were gonna rule someday. "Well until they figure out some kind of coups, they're stuck with you, so they're gonna have to deal," he chuckled, amused by the mere idea of anyone they knew from Pixie Hollow staging a coups. They were more of a talkative bunch who would fight with nothing but a hashtag, he was certain. After making himself comfortable alongside her, Fab gave a contented sigh. They were so close to each other, the only thing between them being the cake, and he didn't think much of it until she brought up his birthday. Ah, yes, the thing he hadn't been able to get off of his mind since it happened. "Hey, I think a New Years resolution is valid at any point in the year -- we're not even halfway there yet, 2018 is still relatively new!" Fabi smirked, flipping onto his side to face Dagny once she asked about his "secret admirer". "Oh, no, you don't want to hear me do that -- dig in," he approved, nudging the cake toward her, before actually answering her question. "Well...Massie is really sweet, and knew that Valentine's Day -- specifically the dance -- was gonna be hard for me, so she sent me a bunch of secret admirer stuff, like a bunch of cards and an Edible Arrangement and a fleshlight -- you know, cute stuff like that -- and I really had no clue it was her until she told me at the dance." He wanted desperately to add that he had kind of worked up in his mind that it could have been Dagny behind it all, as kind of a segue into talking about the slightly-confusing things he'd been feeling since. But instead of doing that, Fab stabbed his fork into the cake and shoved a bite into his mouth to shut himself up.

Dagny went ahead and forked a piece of cake as soon as Fab gave her permission to do so. She'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't keep Fab around partly for his superior baking skills. "Oh, right," Dagny thought on that. She'd almost forgotten that Kally and Fab had broken up around that same time the year previous. She was on board with Fab until he got to the part about the fleshlight. "That Massie...she's always trying to make you...feel good?" Was all Dagny could come up with in the moment after her original plan to commend Fab's roommate had been thrown by the sudden appearance of the sex toy. "Did you have any idea who it was? Like, could you sus out Massie's handwriting or something? Or was it totally a surprise?" She questioned, finding the whole story rather funny. She knew Fab had great roommates, having hung out with all of them several times, but the secret admirer thing was really something special.

Fab laughed, nodding in agreement that Massie sure was special. "Yep! Gotta love her," he chuckled before taking another bite of cake. Dagny asked, then, if he knew it had been Massie all along. He blinked a few times, chewing the bite that he had in his mouth very slowly as he worked up the nerve to speak the truth. "No. I actually...Thought it could've been you. You know, since my birthday and all," he nodded slowly, rolling over onto his back to avoid seeing Dagny's reaction. He stared at the ceiling, taking inspiration from the glowing star stickers above him, and continued. "And I don't know...After I got out of my head about it, and like...really sat down and thought things through, I wouldn't have minded if it was you." He rolled over onto his side, facing her again. "I actually wanted it to be you."

Dagny almost choked on the hunk of cake she was devouring when Fab told her he thought it might have been her sending him the gifts. Dagny started to protest immediately when Fab brought up the birthday thing again, but she was cut off by Fab saying he wanted it to be her. She set her fork down slowly, trying to fill the pause with something before she was forced to speak. "Oh," She started, "Yeah, well, you know the birthday thing was just...it was just an accident. I read the whole situation wrong and plus there's like, Kally. I mean, talk about a large shadow to cower behind..." She waved her arm, referencing the place where their third friend normally sat. Dagny looked around the tent, trying to find something else to look at other than Fab, but there wasn't much else around she could stare at without looking weird, so her eyes ended up back on Fab. "Okay, confession time," She swallowed nervously, "I did have a crush on you. Or I do. Since like, high school. It's super embarrassing and I wish I hadn't told you, but I'm actually kinda glad I did because I've been sitting on that secret by myself for literal years."

"Oh no, yeah, for sure," Fab said over Dagny's rambling about what had had happened on his birthday, but then knit his brow when she mentioned Kally. "Whoa, you'd never be in Kally's shadow," he said tenderly. He could only imagine how Dagny felt being the third among him and Kally for so long, and how weird it must have been for her. She confessed, then, that she had a crush on him, which he already kind of knew given what happened on his birthday. But, judging by the way she was acting right now, he had thought that maybe she no longer felt that way, so he was surprised when she corrected herself and said she still did. He smiled, then, moving closer to her -- well, as close as he could with half of a cake between them. "I'm glad you told me too. Cause I don't know, after you kissed me -- or, tried to kiss me -- I couldn't stop thinking about it. And I know it sounds crazy, especially considering I dated Kally for five whole years, but my mind's been so focused on that that maybe I missed something that could've been just as great. Or, you know, more great -- you never know." He got quiet, trying to feel out where they could possibly go from here now that they'd both pretty much admitted feelings for each other. Without really thinking, something in his body told him that the only way to go was forward. So he reached over, caught Dagny by the cheek, and placed a determined kiss on her lips.

Dagny listened to Fab basically admit he also had feelings for her too, and when she should've been ecstatic that the guy she'd been crushing on for literal years liked her back, something just felt off. She was about to protest that he shouldn't discount his relationship with Kally just because dating her would have been different when Fab reached over and kissed her. Kissing Fab somehow felt like the changing seasons and the end of the world all at once. On one hand, him kissing her back was the thing she had imagined for years and on the other it was also the only secret she'd ever kept from both Fab and Kally. It just felt slightly wrong, like somehow she was the other woman when Kally and Fab had been broken up for over a year. Of course, she couldn't properly think all this over when Fab's lips were still on hers, so she pulled away begrudgingly. "Okay, but we can't just suddenly be-" She motioned back and forth between them, "-together. Doesn't that feel odd to you?"

Fab furrowed his brow when his kiss was met with more confusion than excitement from Dagny. Not that his ego was that big, but he liked to think that if she really liked him as much as she said she did, and for as long as she said she did, she'd be a little more...elated and would reciprocate the butterflies that were fluttering around in his stomach. "I mean...No. Not really. Kally's moved on," he chuckled a little bit awkwardly, knowing he had no right to feel some type of way about Kalasin and Leverett, which he didn't, but it was still weird. "It's time I did, too, and who to better move on with than my beautiful, awesome best friend? And if it's too odd then we can go back to being friends, it shouldn't be that hard." He was always the optimist, though he knew that he'd tried the same thing with Kally and it didn't exactly work out how they'd planned. But maybe things with Dagny would be different.

Dagny thought about what Fab said. It would be awesome to finally get to experience what she’d been fantasizing about literally since high school, and she was almost convinced to say yes but Kally’s face kept popping up in the back of her mind. “I really thought I could if ever the opportunity presented itself, but I definitely cannot do anything without talking to Kally first. Even if you’re both over each other it wouldn’t feel morally correct to let her know first.” Of course, talking to Kally proved more difficult than usual since she was almost always with Leverett now, but she’d find a way. She sat up suddenly, putting her head in her hands. “UGH,” She groaned, “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’m a fairy and you’re a human. There’s no way I could stay in Walt for the summer and there’s also no good way to get in touch with anyone in Pixie Hollow if you’re not in Pixie Hollow. Especially because I would just sound like bells to you! Oh my God! Why have I never thought of this before!?” She knew that was a reach, but in this moment in time all her brain could think of were reasons why they shouldn’t be together. It was contradictory to literally her whole life right before this moment, but maybe she was just scared. She saw how Kally and Fab’s relationship had ended and how awkward it had been for them afterwards. If the same thing happened to her and Fab their entire friend group would completely fall apart and Dagny didn’t know what she would do without Fab in her life. “Sorry. I think I’m ruining my own birthday celebration.”

Fab gave a sigh, totally understanding where she was coming from. Should he have been more apprehensive, too? Was he being a bad “friend” to Kally by not really considering her feelings on the matter too much? To him, she’d moved on, but he hadn’t really thought of how this would affect her and Dagny’s friendship. “You’re right, you’re right,” he agreed, slumping back down onto his back, feeling a little like his pride had been shot. Then Dagny shot up, and began ranting about a bunch of things that had never even crossed his mind. “Whoa, whoa -- “ Fab said in an attempt to slow her down, “We were gonna be friends with you as a fairy and me as a human, is there really that much of a difference?” he attempted, but like -- of course, there was. Couples had sex and intimate moments that would require them to be at least within the same realm of size proportions. “You’re not ruining anything, I just -- it sucks that we’ve got so much working against us.” Fab shrugged, finding no other way to say it. “Should I leave?”

Dagny hung her head in defeat. It really should not be this hard to just date Fab. It really should not be. She guessed it was just her inner saboteur working against her yet again. “I’ll talk to Kally,” She promised. What she didn’t mention was that ever since Dagny had kissed Fab at his birthday, talking to Kally felt like the equivalent of swallowing knives and therefore was avoided at basically all costs. She reached over and squeezed Fab’s hand, “Usually I’d say something kinda inspirational and very liberal about how our differences make us stronger, but considering that our differences make me three inches tall and a fairy princess, I’d say it definitely is working against us,” She agreed, letting out a huge sigh at the end for punctuation. “That’s probably a good idea,” Dagny said when Fab asked if he should leave. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and thank you again for the cake for this.” She motioned to the playhouse around them and the stars on the ceiling. “Still friends. No matter how awkward this gets from here on out,” She attempted a joke, trying to lighten the mood. She wasn’t sure if it landed or not, but she was already crawling on her knees out of the tent so she couldn’t gauge Fab’s reaction. She stood up and walked over the door, holding it open for him. “Again, I promise I’ll talk to Kally and if you still like me after that then we’ll see what happens.”

Fab nodded, agreeing that talking to Kally was probably best for the both of them -- or, all three of them -- in this situation. He really wished things were different. Not that he and Kally had never dated so that he and Dagny could give it a go without any of this awkwardness, but moreso he wished that society didn’t have these weird rules about dating a friend’s ex or that fairies can’t realistically be with humans outside of Walt. He knew it wasn’t true that he didn’t deserve her just because she was a princess, but boy was that kind of how it felt. Fab got up with a shrug, brushing off her gratitude. “It’s really no problem, anything for my best friend,” he nodded, before cracking a half-hearted smile at her joke. He knew she was just trying to make this less weird, but Fab didn’t think that was very possible. “Still friends,” he agreed as he made a move toward the door. He fought the urge to say ‘Of course I’ll still like you’ when Dagny gave him the opportunity, but bit his tongue instead. If it was meant to work out, it would. “Great -- we’ll see,” he nodded as if they’d just made a business deal and leisurely walked out of the cottage. So this was how his love life was going to be now…great.

#( interaction: dagny )#( feat: dagny )

2 notes · View notes

orbemnews · 3 years

Link

This little-known Japanese fruit now has a cult following As the group vice president of produce and floral at the grocery store chain Albertsons, Callahan is essentially a produce trend-spotter by trade — and he’s eaten a lot of fruit. But he described Sumo Citrus as unique. “The eating experience, there’s just nothing like it,” he said. The fruit may appear unappealing at first: It looks like a small, wrinkly orange with a knob akin to the top knot worn by the Sumo wrestlers for which it’s named. But it’s actually a hybrid of navel oranges, pomelos and mandarins and tastes like an extra-sweet mandarin. It peels easily, thanks in part to that knobby handle, and doesn’t make your fingers too sticky. But Sumo Citrus didn’t go crazy in the United States, at least not right away. In the years immediately after Callahan took that first bite, the fruit’s popularity grew slowly. There wasn’t much of the fruit to go around, anyway — AC Brands, the company behind Sumo Citrus, started selling its produce here in 2011 and increased its crop over time. But as more hit stores, more sold. And then once production hit a critical mass, Callahan’s prediction started to come true. Now, once you start paying attention, it may feel like the Sumo Citrus is everywhere. That could be because over the past two years, AC Brands — confident in both its relationship with retailers and in the size of its crop — invested in a major marketing push to place Sumo in front of the right consumers. It has built (and built off) buzz from Instagram influencers, and placed splashy magazine ads and targeted billboards to attract consumers willing to shell out up to $4 per pound of fruit. Over the past year, consumers spent nearly $62 million on Sumo Citrus fruits, according to Nielsen, still a small sliver of the $2.1 billion mandarin market. To make sure people try the product — and back up that price — AC Brands has been spreading the Sumo Citrus gospel. In its branding, it nods to the fruit’s heritage and to how it’s grown (painstakingly, carefully, with attention paid to each fruit). The short selling season that could be a drawback has also been used as an upside, helping the company to build buzz. Before the fruit hits the shelves for a period from January to April and again during a brief window in the fall, the brand can generate hype, and then encourage shoppers not to miss their chance to get it. US sales have jumped around 35% each year since March 2018, according to Nielsen data. “When you walk in our stores, in a lot of cases, you’re going to see them right at the front door with a great big display,” Callahan said. “Because we know the customers are hungry for them, and they want them.” But fruit marketing can be a fickle business. People who love Sumo Citrus today might find a new fruit to love tomorrow. And professionals like Callahan are always looking for the next big thing. So AC Brands has only a little while to ensure the product has the staying power to keep selling when the next hot fruit starts to trend. Sumo comes to America Sumo Citrus is the brand name for a type of fruit called shiranui, which is commonly referred to as the Dekopon, itself a brand name, in its home country of Japan. The fruit was born in the early 1970s. By the 1990s, it had become a popular, beloved fruit in Japan, selling for as much as $10 a pop, the self-described “Fruit Detective” David Karp wrote in a 2011 Los Angeles Times article titled “The Dekopon arrives in California.” Karp described a years-long effort by American growers to get their hands on the seedlings. Some smuggled the product over and were forced to cut trees down by the government, which feared that they would spread harmful plant viruses in the country. Eventually, Suntreat, which has since become AC Brands, was able to legally set up shiranui groves in California, an effort it undertook in secret. The growers involved “had signed confidentiality and exclusive marketing agreements with Suntreat,” Karp wrote. “No one was supposed to even breathe the word ‘Dekopon.'” By 2011, the company was ready to make its secret public and to introduce the new fruit to Americans under a different name. AC Brands didn’t think that the name shiranui or Dekopon would make sense to US consumers. So it came up with something new. “The Sumo Citrus brand was created because of … what the fruit looks like,” Sunnia Gull, director of brand management at AC Brands, told CNN Business. “It’s this giant fruit” compared to a traditional mandarin, she said, with “that top knot, which is sort of like what a Sumo wrestler has in the ring.” When branding something new, like a hybrid fruit, you want to go with something that is “approachable, easy to spell [and] easy to ask for in a store,” said David Placek, founder and president of Lexicon Branding, which helps companies name products. Plus, he said, by turning that knobby top into a feature, AC Brands is taking “what would be possibly a disadvantage, the way the fruit actually looks, [and] turning that into an advantage.” Ultimately, marketers are “looking for a story,” he said — something that will explain to consumers why this product is better than the rest, and why they should buy it. The most pampered fruit in the world Sumo Citrus is “probably the world’s most pampered fruit,” said Albertsons’ Callahan. A lot goes into making sure that the Sumo Citrus fruits that reach grocery stores are tasty enough to convince customers that they’re worth the price. “The trees are hand-pruned and trimmed,” said Gull. “The skin of the Sumo Citrus is actually so delicate that there’s this sort of clay that is put on, a sunscreen, over the summer,” for protection, she said. “We’re talking about every piece of fruit,” she emphasized. Each fruit is hand-picked and packed in pallets to make sure they don’t bruise on the way to stores. Other, sturdier citrus fruit don’t need quite as much attention. Scaling that process up could be challenging, said Roland Fumasi, a food and agribusiness research analyst at Rabobank, an agriculture focused bank. People won’t spend on a pricey fruit if they’re disappointed by the product. “You have to be careful that your quality control is maintained.” And, he noted, there’s a careful balance of supply and demand for AC Brands to consider, as there is for any product. Grow too little and it could miss out on potential sales. Grow too much and it might have to cut prices — or watch as that pampered fruit rots unsold. Influencers and New Yorker ads Some people may have first learned about Sumo Citrus through the Instagram of Eva Chen, director of fashion partnerships at Instagram and an influencer in her own right with 1.6 million followers. Chen has been raving about the fruit online since 2019. One recent photo shows Chen in her classic #evachenpose — feet casually up on the back seat of a car, with shoes, purse and a snack, often a fruit, on display — with a Sumo mandarin. One post from last year shows Chen illustrated in the manner of the surrealist artist Magritte, a floating Sumo blocking her bowler hat-topped head. Another shows her pulling a stack of Sumo Citrus crates, looking stylish in an Oscar de La Renta top and Chanel flats. The all-caps, multi-exclamatory caption reads “SUMO CITRUS FOR THE WHOLE OFFICE!!!” Chen’s initial interest in Sumo was “all organic,” Gull said. “There was nothing paid around that.” But over the past few years Sumo has started paid partnerships with influencers in an effort to reach more millennials. Online, influencers with slim bodies and wide smiles post photos of themselves with the fruit, promising giveaways. They often use the hashtag #healthyobsession, positioning the fruit as a health food. Sumo also sent Jenna Fischer, known for her role as Pam on “The Office,” a tree of her own. On the Sumo Citrus instagram account you can see a smiling Fischer kneeling beside the young tree, sporting a bright orange “Sumo Citrus” beanie. AC Brands declined to say how much it spends on marketing. In addition to social media campaigns, it has launched targeted ads to reach high-income individuals — those who might not bat an eye over the cost of the fruit. “We partnered with New Yorker magazine as well as Bon Appetit,” Gull said. “There’s electronic vehicle charging stations outside some key retailers, we’re advertising there and testing that,” she said. Sumo has also posted small billboard advertising in Boston, LA and Minneapolis, “key” markets where Sumo consumption grew last season. AC Brands also distributes marketing materials to retailers to help advertise the product in stores. Last year, it introduced new purple displays to grocers. Sumo also holds a contest, with prizes, for retail partners that have put together the most creative in-store display. Getting top billing in the grocery aisle Creating buzz online is one thing. Making a splash in grocery stores is an entirely different challenge. That depends in large part on convincing retailers to place products in highly-visible, well-trafficked locations. A big, prominent display can encourage people who may not have heard of the fruit to try it. At Stop and Shop, which has been carrying Sumo Citrus for over four years, customers can often find the product near the front of the produce section, said Joe Connolly, the chain’s category manager for produce. “If we brought them in and we just displayed them in the citrus section, amongst everything else, they’d probably be lost,” he said. So far, the strategy is working. “Each and every year we’ve been selling more and more of them,” he said. That doesn’t mean it’ll work forever. Sumo Citrus is starting to see competition. Fowler Packing, which sells mandarins under the Peelz brand, announced last month that it is adding a Dekopon product to the Peelz portfolio, which is already well known among mandarin lovers. Trinity Fruit Company, which sells peaches, pomegranates and mandarins among other fruit, recently started selling Big Honey Dekopons. Big Honeys, which have the same taste profile as Sumo Citrus, have gotten some buzz in niche markets: Earlier this year, the Produce Moms blog named the Big Honey one of the its 21 Must-Try Produce Items in 2021, after the “plumsicle” but ahead of the PinkGlow Pineapple, which is pink on the inside. And one day, Sumo Citrus could be dethroned by an even trendier citrus. Items that were hot one year can go out of vogue, and grocers have no reason to try to revitalize the sale of a flailing product — they can just move on to the next big disruptor in the space. It’s happened before, Albertsons’ Callahan said. “Seeded watermelons used to be the watermelon to buy,” he said. “And we were able to develop a seedless watermelon, and all of a sudden the seedless watermelon basically took over.” (Of course, trends can be cyclical: seeded watermelons are starting to make a comeback, he noted.) Another example? Red apples, which have been squeezed by more popular varieties. “There’s so many apples that are better than red apples today. Honeycrisp really changed the apple industry, it was really that first apple that just exploded across the country.” Already, Callahan is excited about a new product. “We’ve got this new lemon plum that we’re just starting to get ahold of that we’ve had really for the last couple of years,” he said. “It’s certainly not something that’s across the country and every one of our stores, but it’s really gaining popularity,” he said. “That’s one that I can see coming on.” Source link Orbem News #cult #Fruit #Japanese #Littleknown

1 note · View note

stellar-0 · 6 years

Text

Anuchard: devlog ~03 - World Concept

last time i was writing about gameplay and progress, now i’ll be talking about concepts.

Anuchard’s Universe Design

eventhough the name -Anuchard- came from project’s codename, we thought it’s good enough as name of the world.

these two images was my first sketch for the Orchard (the home village). my main reference was Yggdrasil tree, and orchard from Legend of Mana (again). but since floating island is kinda cliche, so the other idea was a deserted island inside a cave (right one).

i intended to put baobabs and statue of owl, but ended up just using the baobab. later on i did some random research on Madagascar and African Tribes for village ideas.

what i would think first myself: “Which older games i had played back then that i find the hometown or basecamp most interesting or homey?” as project main inspiration, Legend of Mana came across first of course, later specifically, Rico mentioned about Chrono Cross’ Arni Village.

above is only a small capture of my Orchard reference map (tips! use PureRef for awesome ref board). that reminds me i have to research and play-through Bastion (as the premise might be close enough).

pls click “Keep reading” to continue! (just had to shorten posts so it doesn’t flood tumblr’s dashboard/ reblogs)

as the island inside a cave accepted as the hometown concept, then i continue to explore and get the feel of it.

this was what i get in my head BEFORE i thought about the story.

if you ask did i design without concluding a background story? NANI?!

actually yes. it sucks tho.

Background Story and Ideas

it’s hard to think or visually concept something when you have no story behind it, especially if the artist, which is MYSELF, has a minus balance on creativity bank account (i do need lot of reading and watching).

so i had to think a simple background story to connect with the gameplay aspect too. well to be honest, i think i’m the less-inspired person in team, but i tried to improve my storywriting skill so... i thought, just do it, and quickly.

then i browsed our GDDs (yes it’s multiple, blame Rico) and the project specifications. most important thing i did consider was: how many dungeons and bosses? then how to connect them with planting and cooking? and how i’m gonna connect it with the boss-feeding mechanic?

as we plan to make 5 dungeons with a boss of each one, i start to think about the relationship between people of Anuchard (including us main character), with the bosses. they’re gonna be the Gods of the Anuchard, the creators and governors. i then refer them as “Guardian”.

then i wrote this (pleasecorrect me for grammar error, i mean it!) :

Anuchard was a vast prosperous floating island inhabited by hundreds of citizen, living peacefully. Protected and guided by five ancient guardians; Green, Gold, Indigo, Red, and Platinum, people never felt any less secure, the place was said to be a true utopia.

Until one day, all the guardians decided to leave the land, without (actually with) notice, the island fell to the surface of an ocean cave, split into fragments of dungeons full of dangerous monsters and traps, connected by mystical force.

at least that settles up the premise or the game introduction.

Green (nature theme), Gold (ancient Egypt elegant theme), Indigo (Moai and sea theme), Red (oriental and hot theme), Platinum (geometric, sacred and checkers theme). the themes will also be used for the dungeon’s visual and level design.

then about the other aspect of gameplay: hometown building and the villager interactions.

i imagined this project’s feel would be somewhat like classic JRPG dungeon crawling like Azure Dreams and Chocobo Dungeon, and other games that has feature to expand their hometown through the storyline or level progression, like Digimon World 1, Suikoden series and Brave Fencer Musashi (kinda?). and later i found out older games like Soul Blazer that uses “retrieve missing villagers or rebuild your city”.

usually the plot would be something like:

Chosen one gets a sacred weapon or role,

Any brave adolescents (usually son of legendary person), trained to go scavenge the dungeon (or tower),

Beat a big threatening things to save their hometown, or your (also chosen one) girl (with healing power).

i could totally use those idea, HAHA!

anyway it’s already so long, so i have to conclude this devlog. next time i’ll be covering about our Main Character!

for closing: and THIS, is what i could pull for concept, after we made some backstory (and research, of course). see the difference?

moral of the story for myself, developing a backstory is necessary for knowing what things i need to explore and research, without them, i would put all random things i like from my unresourceful brain. *sadreactonly*

because no GIF no fun, please have this video instead:

A post shared by stellarNull (@stellar.null) on Jan 3, 2017 at 7:51pm PST

check out other posts about Anuchard! if you like what we’re making, please do reblog or fav!! <3

useful links:

dev hashtag on twitter: #anuchard

twitter: @stellarnull

tumblr blog: @stellar-0

Instagram: @stellar.null

Rico’s twitter: @ricolemba

clea’s twitter: @clealeshlick

my twitter: @lazcht

Ciao!

~ @lazcht

#gamedev #indiedev #indiegamedev #indie game dev #indie game development #devlog #concept art #concept #universe building #game developers #game development #video game #Anuchard #インディーゲーム #インデイ #ゲーム #ゲームデブ

0 notes

2centsofsilver · 7 years

Text

1/20/17

Inauguration Day. I love making life funny by creating my own relevant hashtags to bullshit. Some of my instagram hashtags today were: endorphins social justice worst day ever world going to hell fuck inauguration 2017 cats are life my cat is my best friend art party blaze pizza 21 day fix talking myself through this justice for pizza splurging pizza cures political depression pizza got me out of bed today pizza saves lives it was gluten free no i don’t need a glove change blaze trying in 2017 Trying in 2017 is probably my favorite hashtag ever! I use it sarcastically, but honestly ANY time I am trying to make 2017 go well and something interferes with it. I love coming up with stupid, funny hashtags that make other people laugh. My confidence is very much centered around social media.... *rolls eyes* Today me and my cat slept/stayed in bed till 4pm. I was so depressed I just couldn’t get out of bed, understandably. Pretty sure all of America felt the same way. I laid in my bed and watched live protest videos streaming on facebook/CNN mixed with other random shit to balance it out. I woke and fell asleep hundreds of times, had weird dreams. I felt very cloudy. I try and lighten the mood lately by, when I do finally go outside, saying something like, “No wonder you feel so shitty Katie, look at the weather!” *rolls eyes* I have absolutely no idea why and am sickened by the fact that police are arresting protesters and blocking them from entering the streets. Tonight I really wanted to go to the Kzoo peaceful vigil march downtown and I asked two people who I knew were going, if I could come along. Of course they don’t have facebook messenger on their phone *rolls eyes* so they never got the memo. I’m always greeted with a well-meaning message way after the fact saying something like, “So sorry Katie, I didn’t see this! I hope you still ended up going!” *rolls eyes* No, I obviously did not end up going because I had no one to go with. Did you not read your message? Was it not clear? Social Anxiety Disorder prevents me from absolutely everything I ever want to experience. Most people I know chose not to attend after a lot of thought because they were concerned for their own safety. That is just. I, on the other hand, was concerned about people seeing me alone, especially people I knew. That doesn’t make any sense (to others), but it makes sense and is reality, to me. It’s like last summer when my friends got married and I was scared to socialize at the wedding receptions alone. So I asked 20+ people I knew, half were people I knew VERY well, close. The other half were such a stretch that I had to shield myself from the inevitable embaressment I caused myself in real-time, as I did it, because I couldn’t face my own reality within myself. Let’s be real. They didn’t go NOT because they couldn’t, but because they didn’t want to. I’m not an idiot. Also, this is random, but because I’m feeling extraordinarily sarcastic, I’m going to say it anyway. I do not intend to be pushy. Recently, someone I was supposed to go on a date with in East Lansing, sent me a text the morning of, saying I was too pushy about it. Any my response was, “You’re the one who invited me over to your apartment to wait while you got off work when we have never even met each other. You’re the one who asked me to drive us around town because you don’t have a car. You’re the one who would not shut up, listing a million places along Grand River that we should go, when really I only had about an hour. There is something wrong with you here.” I didn’t actually say ALL of that, but I said most of it. My response to all of that was, “Yeah for sure. We can do that. Honestly I’m open to anything. Whatever works for you. Whatever is easiest. Whatever makes sense.” You pushed and you pushed and you pushed, and I remained flexible, but practical. And you came back and told me I was “pushy.” Fuck you. What I was going to say, however, was that I don’t intend to be pushy and it was the first time anyone had ever called me that and it immediately threw me into mortifying shock when I realized that maybe that’s why all those friends last year left. Like, maybe they thought I was too overwhelming or pushy or needy. I can see it. I’m not an idiot. They thought I was too excessive. I am excessive. I don’t WANT or TRY to be excessive. It’s actually something I really hate about myself because it’s not who I really am or try to be, it just comes off that way accidentally, because I fear getting hurt. Example: Charlevoix Friend from work makes plans with me earlier in the year Cancels Friend reschedules Cancels Friend reschedules Cancels Friend “definitely” (she says) reschedules for when I am up north later in the summer Given I was with my parents, I knew it’d be hard for me to get away to visit her, so I decided to DRIVE MYSELF UP NORTH 10 HOURS SEPARATELY FROM MY FAMILY IN MY OWN CAR. Get up there, Day 1, she cancels. Parents resented me for the entire next week and a half that I was stuck up there with them trapped Endless fights. It’s maybe when and how we became SO fucking bad recently. We went to the U.P. and it was the worst experience of our lives because “Katie ruined the trip.” We all hated each other and they told me they were never going anywhere with me again. They told me it was the worst vacation of their life. This is a location we’ve been going to for 25 years together. It’s a very special place together, very close to our hearts, very meaningful. VERY VERY special annual time we spend together. And this entire fucking thing ruined the entire fucking trip to the point where we can never go anywhere with each other ever again Example to Demonstrate Point Above: When friend cancelled Day 1 of us being in the cabin together, I could not face the reality/embaressment within myself of what had happened. I had no idea how to break that to my parents because they would look down on me the whole trip for “a good friend cancelling on Katie.” AND OF COURSE, inevitably, it was MY fault for ruining the trip by driving my own car up north. They resented me wanting to spend an hour or 2 with a friend up north away from their time with me. They said I could not drive their car. I had my heart set on seeing this friend who I made through work. It was something I’d looked forward to ALL YEAR LONG. I proposed driving up there separately to make it easier for the entire family. But no. I was a horrible, horrible person for wasting all the gas and driving my own car all the way up there. I was a horrible person because, “of course it didn’t work out Katie. Why would she ever want to hang out with you?” So on Day 1, sitting in that rocking chair on the top of the hill overlooking Lake Leelanau at Whaleback Inn, outside, when this friend told me she could no longer hang out, I pressed her. I pressed and I pressed. I acknowledged that she couldn’t. I said I understood. I DEFINITELY expressed disappointment and attempted to slightly imply that it was sort of inconvenient and shitty considering I had driven up there specifically for her, but I didn’t use those words. I didn’t press as in, forced her. I just “continued” by saying things like the following: “Aww ok I understand, well let me know if anything changes.” “No no of course I understand. Life comes up! You’re a busy girl. You have a lot going on! You just moved into your new house. Don’t feel bad. Of course I understand. If you end up having an extra moment where you just wanna get away from it all though, let me know.” That’s what I mean when I say pressing. I wouldn’t personally call it pressing, but I guess I can see where I might come off as pushy. What she and everyone else doesn’t understand is: I’m not actually meaning to press/push them personally. I am trying to make up for the humiliation I then had to face within myself for the entire fucking ordeal: own personal shame/embaressment for not being enough to this friend, own personal shame/embaressment for driving all the way up there, and the absolute hell I would soon have to face from my parents. I was putting up shields. “Of course I understand, just let me know if you change your mind!” Like pure absolute kindness and understanding. But trying to remain positive (for myself), leaving it open-ended (for myself)- So I wouldn’t feel so fucking horrible and sick about it. If I just left it as, “I understand.” or “That’s ok.” or “No worries, I hope you get all your stuff done,” I failed. I failed as a friend, human being, person. Everything would be on me, my fault. Like the world would be saying, “Aww, that’s too bad Katie. That it happened again.” So then later, fucking MONTHS later, I commented on this girl’s FB status. She posted like, cupcakes or something with a celebrity face on them, and I said something like, “Haha who’s that?” And one of her friends commented back to me saying it was “none of my business.” I was so confused, like a smack in the face for something absolutely ridiculous. Several days passed, maybe even a few weeks. I started having “S word” ideations, and reached out to this friend who I hadn’t spoken to in months. Hadn’t heard from her. But that’s sorta how our friendship was. Like wouldn’t talk for months, but she’d randomly text me or vice versa and we’d just pick up where we left off no problem. So I sent her a random text while I was in the bathroom one night that said, “Having feelings of not wanting to live lately, it really sucks. Lots of problems with my family. Hope you’re doing well, really miss you. And by the way, I’m sorry for commenting on your fb photo a few weeks ago. I’m confused by what I did wrong, but I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” She wrote back the LONGEST FUCKING TEXT MESSAGE EVER about a plethora of unrelated things: How she didn’t want to hurt my feelings up north, but had this this and this going on, how I just wouldn’t let up about it, and it made her feel guilty, how she cares about me very much and hopes I feel better soon, but that if I mentioned the ideations again, she would report me to law enforcement, how she takes S word ideations very seriously (as if I don’t), how she wants to be there for me/cares about my happiness a lot, tons of smiley faces, etc, and then ended it with a nice big fat, “I do feel you think this friendship is more progressed than it is.” :0 What in the fucking hell was that. I will never forget that response. I started shaking, I was appalled and stunned and didn’t understand any of her logic or connections. Nothing in her text had anything to do with my text. And she certainly made no attempts to talk to me about any of it ever and didn’t come off as someone who was building things up and just snapped. It was very odd, very bizarre, very strange, and very unnecessary. She sent a ton of smiley faces and said she cares etc etc, then blocked me on facebook, and never made contact with me again. I sent her 1 text message several weeks later expressing profound confusion. No response. Pretty much told all my friends. Kept it from my parents and therapist. Never wrote about it. Internalized everything. Sought support from my friends, received the support, it helped. I moved on relatively quickly from that loss, but added onto all the others, it definitely contributed to one hell of a year. So yeah. If “pushiness” contributed to that August 2016 fiasco, which also I should mention mirror-resembled verbatim from a prior friend’s email earlier that summer (they work together), then I honestly have nothing to say other than I’m sorry I come off that way. I do not mean it. I’ll take 40% of the blame. But it isn’t a reason to walk away from someone. You want to help someone by leaving. There is something messed up about that, but it’s also one of those stereotypical responses, outdated, that you read about in classic literature. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with people. I take half the blame. But still. I don’t know. People say I have to stop blaming myself so much. But I don’t want to fully blame others either. They say by saying this, I’m taking everything on as my own fault. I feel if I don’t though, I’m constantly coming off as if I think I’m off the hook. I don’t. Ultimately, I know I’m the deficient one for some rhyme or reason. There is something wrong with me as to why so many things happen. I get the implication loud and strong from others that I should take a look at myself since the pattern just keeps happening. But I do. I’m not an idiot. I’m not an idiot. I do have friends who consistently tell me, “You just keep coming across the wrong people. It’s not you. We love you. You gave us that chance to get to know the real you, and we’re not going anywhere.” It’s black and white. The contrast is black and white. I have friends who act like they love love love me and then people who fall off the face of the earth. That’s how I know I’m a good person. I mean even without that validation, I know that I’m a good person. It’s just.... this experience didn’t make any sense. Neither did the one preceding it or the one following it. All 3 experiences were almost completely identical. So is there something wrong with them, me, or all of us. Or none of us. We’re all human. I still think they’re good people. I’m not an idiot.

0 notes