#Kind of based on that one meme: wait you guys are being paid?

[lady-griffin]

Jayce and Vi: *Complaining about how their girlfriends get super passive-aggressive when they’re mad at them*

Ekko: Wait? When your girlfriends are mad at you, they become PASSIVE?!

Ekko experiences something slightly different

#Timebomb #Incorrect Arcane Quotes #EkkoJinx #CaitVi #Arcane #JayMel #Ekko #Jinx #Kind of based on that one meme: wait you guys are being paid?

[unrestedjade]

Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

#ds9 #star trek #meta #ferengi #i love them Too Much help #reliving my brief libertarian phase from high school from the opposite direction #my heart wants to make them simultaneously as queer and as repressed as possible #i didn't even make it to the goddamned blessed exchequer my head is too full #i will find beauty in this vulgarity if it kills me #this is too long #why did i spend my time this way

[twiststreet]

New favorite purchase in a while:  my copy of OffGrid magazine (or “recoil offgrid...?”)  that I bought at the Sacramento airport because I missed what magazines used to be:  little short opportunities on the most casual possible basis to find out about a world not your own, paid attention to with scrutiny but some editorial distance, I guess is how I’d put it.  The last days of magazines were a while ago (and the heyday was before I was alive, the heyday was the 60′s)-- and the internet’s attempts to do magazines all seem to have failed, RIP Grantland or whatever.  But it was an hour long plane flight and I didn’t want to read the novel I brought with me, so.

OffGrid seemed like it’d be a fun one-- I mean, that jacket.  What’s going on with that guy’s life that he was like “I need to wear this jacket?”  How much time got spent posing that collar.  Why is he in using a laptop in the woods...?  You can’t see what’s on the bag to his left but it’s the words “Mystery Ranch.”  I wanted to solve that mystery!!!

Plus: for a good solid moment, I was like, “Man, what if I had a DIY Junkyard Knife Project.  What if that’d be good for me, like, as a new thing?  What if immersing myself into high-end artisnal shivs could become a fun side hustle?  I could sell my bespoke shanks at Guns and Knives Shows.”  My whole thing lately has been trying to pivot and all, so.  You know: dreams; aspirations; etc.  (Bladeshow West is on October 8-9 in Long Beach and has the “West Coast Flipping Championship”, but I’m out of town).  

So I open it up on the plane-- inside front cover is a photograph of a socom 16 cqb, opposite a photo of a man holding the rifle. The man’s beard is exactly what you’re imagining.  Most of the ads are for guns or night vision shit (one ad is for Gatorz sunglasses, though-- “the world’s best eyewear for mission driven people”).  Besides that, it’s a normal-looking magazine, albeit not a particularly inspired one on the design side, but.  There’s a gear section like men’s magazines always have, but for the “ultimate go bag”, bikes, “urban use” hiking boots, dinner sausages, thermal optics, knives, and a book called “The Ninja Wilderness Survival Guide.”  Ninjas were big outdoorsmen.  You know: so far so good-- exactly what I wanted.  It’s a magazine for MEN in all caps so everything being sold  is exclusively black or grey or grey-brown.

And it’s got that sort of “we’re a magazine” tone to the prose, like there’s a certain style of writing that magazines always have-- it’s such a narrow band of style that people are okay with reading... but like from the survivalist sausage review:

“As much as we fancy ourselves survivalists, not all of us are going to take down a buck, field dress it, and haul it back to home base during a weekend camping trip with the family.  Sometimes we just ilke to chill and and make s’mores.”

That sort of performance of humility that magazines have.  “We’re all just people here.  Now here’s our review of a $90 hatchet” (‘perfect for batoning wood.’).  Part of me wants to live in the world of magazines...

But then you get to the Good Part-- the article “What If Your Privacy has Been Compromised by Internet Doxing” by ... “Recoil Offgrid Staff.”  Ohhhh, I see what they did there. You’re not going to dox the person who wrote this article, folks.  (Except the names of staff are all listed in the magazine credits, so not the tightest op-sec I’ve ever seen, but okay).

This article kind of catches the eye because of the extremely specific hypotheticals.

Because it’s an article about what to do about internet doxing but it begins with a section called “The Setup”, laying out a scenario that YOU, the READER, might have to worry about, a situation where you might very well get doxed and then what???  Here’s that part of the article:

The Setup: imagine you attended a city council meeting to express your concern about the side effect of a growing homeless population in your area.  You plan to voice your concern for your famliy’s safety after witnessing an increase in drug sales, sexual assaults and public defecation.  [...] Some activists who attended this meeting did so in an effort to retaliate against residents who were speaking out against the homeless problem.  [..] An  online petition appearing to solicit residents to push for legislation that imposes tougher penalties against homelessness had recently been started.  [...] Everyone who’d signed up had been catfished. [...] Now, hostile notes are being left in your mailbox, harassing calls and texts from blocked numbers are coming in and you genuinely fear that the reprisals will become physical.”  

The entire premise of the article is that you say something so hateful at a city council meeting about “how we need to punish the homeless” that the internet causes you to fear for your safety!!  Your A+ plan to **have the same decrepit bureaucracy that’s allowed a homeless crisis to just terrorize people because they can’t pay for basic survival** is so despised that you need to read a magazine article urging you to (and this is a quote) “decide whether to stay at my residence, leave my house temporarily, or permanently move.”  

(The worst doxing I ever saw was because women went near video games, but).

Just this ultra-specific hypothetical!  There’s a real “office staff” 10000% got made fun of on twitter for yelling some dumb shit stink to the proceedings from, ike, paragraph 3 on.  And if you were wondering whether the article would complain about vaccines later, you betcha.  In a later section, the article warns you to obtain situational awareness and not engage with internet crackpots, but the hypothetical example they give is “Did that person actually say they believe that anyone who’s hesitant to be vaccinated should be compelled to do so or be banned from participating in any social activity?”  Use your situational awareness!  Stay away from that person online but insist on coughing around them socially!  They can dox you just for trying to negligently murder their immuno-compromised grandpa!!  Here’s an ad for a gun.  

Here’s a drawing that comes with the article:

The reader is being asked to relate to the person looking at the phone!  “That’s probably what you look like.”  I mean... seems fair?

The next article is with a veteran of the IDF.  There’s an article about hiding secret messages in memes (the example is a meme of a dog that say “love is in the air or is that bacon?”), which suggests you hide images in “raunchy images” since casual onlookers may click away from those faster... on the internet... where raunchy images are frowned upon??  There’s an article about how to escape if you’re ever tied up with duct tape (i’m going to live forever).  There’s an article about the kinds of reptiles you want to hunt when you’re trying to survive that tells readers not to hunt crocodiles, and stick to snakes and lizards-- there goes my weekend.  

But I just love that at the very core of this, that they say the quiet part out loud, that the reason you need all this survivalist knowledge and tactical gear is... because quote “self-proclaimed social justice” people out there don’t want to hear your A+ super-good ideas about society.  A young person called me a Mayonnaise-Turd for refusing to be vaccinated and coughing on all the produce at Krogers.  What’s the best tactical knife I can buy?  Waaaah.  Just the constant fear that drips off of these morons, because they live in a world where they get called stupid finally with the regularity they’ve long deserved. Just the most scared fucking cowards-- they need night vision goggles to fucking go to Dave & Busters, because these stay-puft marshmallow men think that AntiFa is going to bumrush the Dave & Busters for their skeeball tickets.  

I love anytime you scratch away at Real Masculinity and find the throbbing, wet Hyperemotional Pussy underneath that’s there like at least 7 out of 10 times.  That was basically the premise of the entire early 00′s in comedy, and I had a really good time, but then woke comedy-scolds made them stop and then ended comedy and replaced comedy with Bo Burnham filming himself crying while waiting for Door Dash in his mansion.  I don’t understand the world anymore!  I wish I’d owned a PFC9 Compact pistol with aggressive slide serrations when children killed bromance comedies!!!!  Jason Segal and Paul Rudd haven’t made a movie together in years-- time to go off the grid! 

#Civilization is Doomed.

[danineverwenttoazkaban]

SE Appreciation Week - Fic 1 (Karol route)

@sweeteliteweek Very late but I just barely ended this not so short fic.

This is Karol’s route imagining some moments like the airport goodbye and days later while they’re at home so Papa Scholar is also featuring. I couldn’t help but add a bit of Tegan too and I tried to put several ideas I had together on the same story. Hopefully the back and forth between present and past is not too confusing. I didn’t know how to name it so I just took a song I was listening to by Wilco that is really sweet if anyone wants to listen to it.

Jesus, Etc.

The familiar vibrant and noisy city was something Scholar hadn’t think she would miss during those months at Arlington’s. Especially not the noises from the neighbor from the floor above as she rowed with her husband for the third time tonight, the people pacing up and down the stairs, the kids playing, the pizza delivery guys and Misses Jones with her 5 dogs. She smirked thinking what Karolina would say if she heard all this noise and reminisced to when they met, smiling at the thought. She would be rich by now if she was given a dollar for each time she thought of Karolina since she got on the plane home.

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

“That’s my plane, people! Enjoy the journey home!”, announced Tyler as he picked up his heavy luggage. He hadn’t explained what the heck he was carrying on his bags but Scholar assumed it was something artistic.

“Hey Tyler, don’t forget about tomorrow’s match! There will be a 30% buff bonus”, said Tegan.

“Oh man, I told you I have that thing with my parents. I’ll make it up to you later, promise”, replied Tyler.

“… ok”, said Tegan as he gave him a weak smile, clearly disappointed.

“Cheers!”, shouted Tyler as he ran towards gate A27.

Only Scholar, Tegan and Karolina remained in the departure lounge. Neither Tegan or Karolina seemed particularly happy of going home, in fact Tegan was staring at the floor as if he had just been told Christmas had been cancelled this year.

“Hey, maybe I could join? I am not very good at videogames to be honest but you can teach me”, said Scholar putting a hand on Tegan’s shoulder.

Tegan looked up and smiled blushing.

“S-sure, I think you’d make a great cleric”, Scholar had no idea what that meant but she hated the sad aspect Tegan had.

She noticed Karolina was staring at her direction, a curious look on her face. In that moment, she heard her flight being called.

“Well, I guess I have to go now”, she said to both of them.

Tegan nodded.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to set your PC ready for the match”.

“Sounds like a plan!”, she answered before giving him a quick hug.

As she let go of Tegan, she looked at Karolina, unsure on how to approach her. Scholar took a step in her direction, asking for permission, they had barely talked since the night of the basement

“… I-I… goodbye, Karolina. Enjoy the holidays”, she said with slight nervousness, waiting for an answer.

Karolina was biting her lip and seemed uneasy, as if she was making up her mind about something. She leaped forward and put her arms around Scholar. The girl let go of the breath she had unknowingly kept as she felt Karolina’s warm embrace.

“Let me know when you arrive home”, Scholar heard Karolina whisper close to her ear, her breath sending shivers down her spine. She then felt something touching her cheek, she froze when she realized it was Karolina’s lips. The touch was so soft, so slight that it could had just been Scholar’s imagination. They let go of the embrace and Scholar felt her heart sink at the idea of being apart from her so many days.

“I will, you too, please”, she answered. Both Karolina and Tegan nodded and Scholar took her luggage before parting…

 The following day, Scholar had to excuse to her father early because Tegan had opened an account for her in the game they were supposed to play, in fact he had even customized her character based on a number of questions he had asked, many of which Scholar wasn’t sure how to answer. As she started her PC and positioned on her seat, she could not help but feel excited, seeing Tegan through the webcam meant also, perhaps, seeing her as well. Tegan’s face as he logged in had a mixture of sadness, exhaustion and defeat, he didn’t have Karolina’s ability of putting on a straight face, Scholar didn’t want to push an answer out so she didn’t ask. They spent a couple of hours playing, Scholar died way too many times in pure noob style but Tegan didn’t mind, in fact he laughed each time as she panicked when the other players surrounded her with attacks.

“Thank you, Scholar. You made my day”, Tegan told her after the match was over.

“I’m glad, I had a great time even though I clearly suck for this…”, she answered giggling. Tegan laughed as well, he covered his mouth whenever he laughed and Scholar thought it was cute but sad at the same time how insecure he could be at times, even among his friends.

“… She’s busy talking to mom and dad, by the way”, Tegan added after a while, “in case you were wondering.”

“Oh… it’s ok. Is everything alright?”, Scholar asked concerned, to be honest their parents didn’t exactly sound like the kind that understood and supported their children.

“They didn’t take well all that happened in FAXION, I almost didn’t login for the game but she wanted me to let her handle it on her own”, answered Tegan, “she didn’t want me blowing up and them… “, he paused, “… doesn’t matter, I will take care of her now.”

“She’s a tough girl, she worries about you too”, said Scholar, “let me know if you need anything”

“Of course, thanks again. I will tell her you say ‘hi’ ”, said Tegan before closing the session.

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

Scholar sighed as she wondered how things had gone back at the twins’ house, hoping they were ok. The days that had followed to gaming night not much had happened. Tyler spammed them with funny selfies from the Red Carpet of God knows which movie his parents had taken him to, Tadashi and Alistair sent photos with the Drews, especially the dogs at Axel’s request, and Claire and Neha exchanged recipes for Christmas season. But barely anything from Karolina, still the fact Tegan kept sending memes mocking how bad she was at gaming was oddly comforting.

“Honey, I’m home, can you give me a hand with the bags?”, called Papa Scholar’s voice.

“Sure, dad, coming!”, answered Scholar and she walked towards the kitchen.

The bags were full of materials for her father’s famous pasta recipe but this time with a twist: he had agreed on incorporating one of Claire's many recipes. Both of them prepared everything for their movie night. Afterwards, they settled in the living room as they picked a title. They decided on one of the old movies that Scholar’s father loved “Pride and Prejudice”. Scholar had tried to get his father to watch the newer adaptation of the story but it had been pointless, the 1995 version was the one her mother loved and in a way for him watching the movie again meant reliving the joyful moments they passed together. Scholar had seen it too a handful of times yet this time it felt different, she felt connected not only because it had been her mom’s favorite movie but because the situation was now all too familiar. The pride and prejudice dance.

“You keep looking at your cell phone, expecting someone’s message?”, Papa Scholar asked as he arched an eyebrow.

“N-no, just checking the hour”, Scholar tried to reply, unconvincingly.

“Hmm, don’t forget I was your age once and fell in love at your age too”, the kind man answered giving her a warm smile.

But before Scholar could reply, they heard the alert of a new message coming in. Scholar jumped at the sound and widened her eyes at the name that appeared on the screen: “Karolina”. She quickly unlocked the cell phone, almost dropping it due to the urgency. Not paying attention to her father’s laugh at her clumsy movements, she opened the message:

Karolina: Are you awake?

Scholar: Yes, hi…

Karolina: Can I call you?

Scholar’s heart drop at her message. Almost three days without a message from her and now here she was asking for a call. She really did take that “best way to win someone is to surprise them” to the bone.

“Sorry, dad. Could we drop it here? A friend from Arlington wants to talk to me”

“Don’t worry, girl. Go call your friend”, she really did have the best dad.

 Scholar practically ran towards her room and texted her back.

Scholar: Sure.

Immediately her phone was vibrating and ringing. She answered almost as a reflex.

“Karolina?”, started Scholar, trying not to sound too excited.

“… Did I interrupt you?”, asked Karolina. Her voice on the phone was something Scholar couldn’t had foreseen would make her feel weak on the knees.

“No, uhm, I was just finishing watching a movie with my dad”

“Was it one of those cheesy old movies your dad likes?”, Karolina asked on a mocking tone. Wow, she had really paid attention…

“Ha, yeah. Pride and Prejudice… because you know how much I’m into the hate to love trope”, she blurted out surprising herself. Was it too bold to hint at ‘them’ like that? What was it about Karolina that it made her go rogue often.

Silence.

“… yes, I know”, Karolina answered. Scholar wondered, hoped, if Karolina was blushing.

“And what are you doing?”

“Our parents threw a party”

“Wow, sounds like fun.”

“It’s just the usual winter party they throw every year ”

“I’ve never been into a party like that”

“Of course not”, Karolina blurted out, “… I didn’t mean it to sound like that, I-I don’t think you’re missing anything”

“Karolina, not that I mind but why are you talking to me instead of enjoying yourself out there?”

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

Karolina was standing in front of the wall mirror of her bedroom. Her new pine green dress matched perfectly the emerald earrings her father had bought her last year as well as the red lipstick. Everything fit together

“Miss, they are waiting for you downstairs”, the maid called after softly knocking the door.

Karolina took her purse and proceeded towards the lobby, across the dining room and into the garden. The surrounding people dressed in etiquette, the tables and the exquisite centerpieces seemed all surreal. She felt disconnected to this usual display of frivolity and superfluous social interactions, greeting people with a fake smile and pretending to care about the chit-chat. These people who if given the chance would rather see them in ruins.

At dinner, she sat with a couple of acquaintances, girls she had known since her childhood, the type her parents considered ‘appropriate’ but could never truly be friends. Her mind drifted elsewhere, back to the chalet, the sensation of safety, of being seen for the first time through the façade of her strong petty attitude, the possibility of being just ‘Karol’. She excused herself as the girls looked at her questioningly, stood up and walked behind a couple of bushes seeking some privacy.

“I heard she is going down her mother’s route”, she heard a voice say from behind the bushes.

“Her scandal at FAXION was disastrous, everyone has been talking about it”, followed another voice.

“Honestly, does it surprise anyone? It was a wonder she got this far”, said a third voice.

Karolina felt the anger and hurt built inside her, she was about to turn around and face whoever felt they had the right to talk behind her back in her own house when her cellphone vibrated. She took out her cellphone and noticed Scholar had sent a message to the group thanking Claire for the last recipe attaching also a photo of Scholar and her father cooking. She smiled at how happy they seemed and got lost in the sparkle of her eyes. She bit her lip debating on whether or not to message her… Screw it.

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

 “… Hmm, Karolina, is everything ok? Can you still hear me”, Scholar asked.

“Yes, I-I just … “, Karolina answered.

“You know you can tell me anything”, Scholar said, “how is everything with your parents?”

She heard Karolina sighed.

“Not good but I’d rather not talk about it”

“I’m sorry about that but it’s fine, what do you want to talk about then?”

“Nothing really, I was just bored, this party is obnoxious”, Scholar’s heart skipped a beat at her words, does she just miss me?

“I see…”, Scholar said. With her heart palpitating like crazy and the excitement of talking to Karolina she couldn’t hold back her emotions and she added, “… I miss you too.”

“I never said… you’re right, I do”, Scholar smirked. Karolina admitting her feelings was so refreshing; Scholar would need one of Neha’s teas to calm down the butterflies in her stomach.

“So dull party, huh? Should I be thankful I didn’t get invited?”, followed Scholar.

“I don’t find this type of parties endearing anymore”

“What? Hanging out with me is harming your social standards”

“Haha, you wished. I’ve never liked these parties but it was a good opportunity to meet important people”

“Oh, did you meet anyone interesting this time?”

“No, I found out that people are still talking about my FAXION fiasco”, Scholar felt her blood boil at that.

“They did? I wished I could beat some sense into that people”,

Karolina chuckled.

“Hey, I don’t mind. It’s better if they talk about me, free publicity. Besides we technically won.”

“That you did, you two were amazing, seriously no one could rival Neha’s designs. Also, you looked so beautiful and classy… even though you weren’t feeling well, you pulled that off despite everything. I can only imagine the big things you’ll do in the near future”

“You’re sweet. But remember I could steal your third place in the Gold Tier if you’re not careful”

“Oh Miss Novakova, we’ll see about that, we could bet to me beating you up in the finals”, were they flirting for real this time?, Scholar thought.

“You’re not taking me to the cafeteria again, are you?”, oh they definitely were.

“Hmm how about taking you to the gardens? Like a picnic?”, oh god, was she asking her on a date?!

“Hmmm… ok, deal”, Scholar heard Karolina answer. She did just ask Karolina on a date and she said yes!

“Deal”, wow. But this time she wouldn’t let Karolina say it wasn’t a date.

She heard Karolina laugh on the other end and it made her grin like an idiot, she wondered if Karolina was blushing furiously like she was.

“Thank you, by the way”, Karolina said after a brief silence.

“For what?”

“Helping my brother stay calm. You didn’t have to do that”

“I’m glad to help, he’s a dear friend and it killed me to see him so sad”

“He has been happier considering…”, Scholar assumed she meant with whatever was going on in their house. She wished she could do more.

“And you? Feeling better?”, Scholar asked.

“Much better”,

“I’m glad. I’m here for you, always”

“I know, I’m here for you too”, her voice sounded soft, to think about how much had happened for them to get to this point.

“I have to hang up now, we’ll talk soon”, Karolina added.

“Oh ok, of course, go back to the party”, she didn’t know what to say, she could had kept talking to her all holidays if she could.

“Good night… Oh, and watch out your door tomorrow”, Karolina said with a curious tone in her voice, almost nervous.

“Tomorrow? What happens tomorrow?”, Scholar asked confused.

“J-just pay attention, ugh. I have to go now.”

“Ok, ok, I will do. Good night, Karolina”, and with that she was left with the usual cellphone tone.

 The following day was Christmas’ Eve. To say she had spent the morning ecstatic was an understatement. She kept circling around the call she had with Karolina, the fact she had asked her out on a date and whatever she meant by watching out for her door. Her dad was surprised that out of all the friends she had made at Arlington it was actually Karolina whom she had a crush on (she had to tell him since she couldn’t hide her joy).

“My first guess was that girl Claire who kindly gave us the recipes for Christmas dinner”, Papa Scholar said as he found out about the source of her daughter’s disturbance.

“Funny you guessed Claire, dad”, sighed Scholar remembering the fatal mistletoe incident.

“Why funny?”

“Oh dad, it’s just… a long story”, Scholar said.

“Well, I have to say that Karolina girl is drop dead gorgeous and if you say she is nicer to you, I believe you. When can you invite her here?”

“Dad! We’re not even… I mean, we almost … kissed b-but …”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it”, said Papa Scholar.

“Actually dad, can you let me check who it is?”, jumped Scholar as she headed to the door.

She peaked from the door peephole. On the other side there was a guy looking like a delivery man.

“H-hello? Who is it?”, Scholar asked.

“Good afternoon, I have a delivery for a person named Scholar”, the guy answered from the other side.

Scholar opened the door, the man was carrying a golden plastic bag with a red bow on the outside.

“Hi, I’m Scholar”

“Oh great, I’m supposed to deliver this”, he handed her the bag, “please sign here… and here”

Scholar did as he requested and looked at the bag, it looked very elegant for a plastic bag.

“Thank you, merry Christmas, ma’am”

“Thank you too, merry Christmas!”

Scholar walked towards the living room holding the odd bag on her right hand. She took a seat on the couch and placed the bag on top of the table, slowly opening it. There was a card and a small black box on the inside. She took out the small box and opened it being startled by its content. It was an astonishing silver necklace with a sapphire pendant on the center, tiny diamonds seemed to surround the almost heart-shaped figure of the pendant. Papa Scholar couldn’t believe his eyes either, he got the card out and gasped.

“Honey, you need to read the card, look”, Papa Scholar said as he handed it out for her.

Scholar took the card in her shaky hands and opened it carefully:

“Hopefully this starts your way into the better fashion sense you desperately need… Merry Christmas, Karolina”

Scholar lost no time and rushed to get her cellphone. Please answer, please answer, she thought as she heard the dialing tone.

“Hi”, she heard Karolina’s voice answer.

“I-I-… Oh god, I-I can’t even… It’s so beautiful!”, Scholar tried to say forgetting how to speak.

“I am glad you like it.”

“I just… wow… thank you! How did you know where I live?”

“Uh-oh, guess who, Scholar”, she heard Tegan’s voice say.

“Y-you! From the time we played together… should had figured. “, Scholar said laughing.

“You got me, hehe. I’ll give Karol back her cell phone. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Tegan!”

“I am sorry I had to ask him”

“Don’t be sorry, I love it”, Scholar said, almost as much as I love you, she thought, “I didn’t get you anything for Christmas, I feel awful, you went through all this and I-“

“I don’t need you to get me anything, just everything you’ve done for me and … how much I … I can’t tell you on the phone, ok?”, Karolina said.

“… s-sure. Thank you so much, Karol”, was it the first time she called her Karol out loud?

“Besides I already feel like I have my Christmas gift… Anyway, our father is calling us. Merry Christmas, Scholar”

“Merry Christmas, Karol”, Scholar replied and added, “I… you know I do too, for a while now if I’m honest.”

“I kind of knew but didn’t want to see it… Enjoy your night”

“Y-you too. Bye”.

 This was definitely the best Christmas she could had ever imagined, she only wished she could had thanked her in person but soon, very soon they will be able to figure it out.

END

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Hope you guys like it! The ending was rushed because it’s super late here so sorry for that.

#sweet elite #karolina novakova #sweet elite week 2021 #tegan novak #scholar #sweet elite fanfiction #karolina x scholar

[chemicalpink]

Take a Selfie, Fake a Life ♡ Park Jimin x Reader

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: PURE fluff (like, really) and a pinch of angst  Word Count: 3.2k  Warnings: Jimin is a broken boy, parents divorce, bi Jimin (thats not a warning but he does kinda unintentionally come out and is afraid) Summary: Park Jimin is most probably the most popular guy on campus, top student, dancing extraordinaire, Instagram star, except there is no depth to his life at all. There is only so much a camera lens can capture. A/N: Hello. I didn’t intend on writing this as it came out. I have a severe case of writers block in the middle of a depressive episode but nevertheless I liked how it turned out. Please enjoy!

Everybody knows Park Jimin. Even if they don’t, everyone has heard of Park Jimin. That’s the first thing you come to learn in your first year in college.

Truth be told, you first encounter Jimin during some maths class when you were both fifteen. It wasn’t exactly your class, but the school had decided to hold an academic competition and you just so happened to run against perfect scholar Park Jimin, head of the student council, first place in the semestral talent show and prom king two times in a row. 

All it took for you to break down his perfect facade was some stupid trigonometry question and being a mere two seconds faster at answering it than him. 

News flash: Park Jimin was not the perfect student he appeared to be. 

To say that you became non-existent to him was an understatement, he had somehow recovered from the slip two months later by becoming first place on a national elite math competition.

Not that you paid much attention to his life, but it was somehow hard to miss as years went by and he became a regular topic on campus while on college. Everybody knows Park Jimin. Even if they don’t, everyone has heard of Park Jimin. 

It was indeed hard to miss the hallway gossiping about how Park Jimin turned down Korea’s National Ballet, or how Park Jimin just got a whole another thousand followers on his Instagram because he made it into yesterday’s Dua Lipa’s Instagram story while both of them were in some exclusive bar, but you’ve come to know better than base your opinions on said man because of his social media, there is only so much a camera lens can capture; even after his unmentioned cold shoulder of five years, you had come to be a first-hand witness to his parents’ daily fights just outside your bedroom window, leading to their divorce and Jimin’s’ signature house parties just hours after he had cried himself to sleep; it wasn’t that you were nosy, but some things were just hard to miss. 

The shrine in which Park Jimin had found himself making a new home after leaving the one beside your own, the one that everybody had him on and paid their respects blinded by follower numbers on screen and price tags on the outfits he wore to school were all made of lies. 

To put it simply, Park Jimin’s life was utter bullshit but you seemed to be the only one completely aware of it.

“I could maybe, you know, talk to him for you if you’d like” Taehyung suggested as you both waited for your respective drinks after the partner lists for the campus seminar came out from the dean’s office, Park Jimin, Y/LN Y/N printed on the second to last sheet of paper, just above the terms and conditions of no change under any circumstances.

“Tae, I have no problem talking to him, really, he just likes to pretend like I don’t even exist” you said to your friend as he made a face that you knew was his way of asking for more information on the topic, a topic which you had been avoiding for the last year since you had told him you shared a past with the guy “I guess I’ll just drop by his dorm once classes are over, then he’ll just have to talk to me”

“Come on, Y/N-ie, just tell me already… did you guys used to date?” 

“You’re his friend, why don’t you pester him with these questions instead of me?” you retorted as you passed him his drink and took a sip out of yours, grimacing at the temperature of it

“I tried,” he said “But he denies even knowing you” 

You hum in acknowledgement as you both begin walking out of the café, your phone dinging as a way to let you know that you had a new notification on your social media, a message request from non-other than the devil himself, Jimin.

“Hey so, we’ll catch up later yeah?” Tae says, stopping while you still have your phone in hand “Let me know how it goes with your ex-boyfriend!”

“He’s not my ex!” you shout at him but he is already dashing down the sidewalk, opposite to you.

Jimin [just now]: hey Jimin [just now]: drop by my dorm in 10 You [just now]: oh wow, he talks! You [just now]: why don’t you drop by my dorm in 10 Jimin [just now]: I have an image to take care of, Y/N You [just now]: well so do I You [just now]: let’s meet at the library in 10 Jimin [just now]: fine.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You know, you could at least abid to common etiquette and take your glasses off while we’re in the library,” you said as you continued tapping on your computer as a good five minutes went by after Jimin made it half an hour late to your study date “Plus, it’s rude from you to turn away while I’m talking to you”

“Just go on about what I should do for the project and I’ll make sure to deliver it before the deadline” 

“And here I thought you actually deserved the valedictorian from high school,” you said as you closed your laptop and pressed your hands together in a sarcastic manner before exhaling heavily “Just tell me already what your problem with me is, we’ll work it out before beginning the project”

Silence took over the table for a few seconds before someone walked up to him and they greeted each other exchanging a few words and you just smiled their way “I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Square up, Park. We’ll either talk it out or we’ll punch each other until it all goes away”

“Listen just- let’s get this over with so we can go back to pretending we don’t know each other” 

A few days after your first meeting in the library, things slowly started to work since you had accidentally dm him a meme that was meant for Taehyung, now working together through a shared drive and a few other meetings in the library when you both had time off after classes.

You were slowly woken from your sleep as a faint knocking sound kept lingering from somewhere, turning on your bed to look at your phone that signalled 2:23 am, you made your way to your dorm door, peaking through the peephole to see none other than Jimin waiting outside, dishevelled hair, oversized hoodie and laptop in hand.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed at him as your eyes tried to shield out the light coming from the hall “Do you even know what time it is?”

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he said as he took a seat on the small desk chair beside your bed “I just had this idea stuck in my head for the project” 

“And it couldn’t have waited, I don’t know, until the morning?” 

“Not really” he turned to face his laptop as he began explaining out his idea to you, your mind not really processing the words that left his mouth but fixating on his face instead, from the way he stopped whatever he was saying every few seconds to lick his plump lips, to how his eyes shined with bright interest as his hands emphasised his words, a soft aura around him that made you wonder if you were to capture the moment, it would stand out from any other pic he currently had on his feed, even when in sweats and dark circles around his eyes, this was the first time you had truly seen Park Jimin shining because of who he was in the moment rather than who he was trying to be.

Your eyes shot open and your heart skipped a few beats as you felt an unfamiliar weight above your middle as you turned to be face to face with the owner of the hand that held you cuddled close, the same soft aura surrounding him as your mind once again wandered off; even though your relationship with Jimin was difficult and borderline uncomfortable as it was, over the days it had somehow become weirder, no doubt more uncomfortable now that you both were found cuddling against each other in your tiny dorm bed, how the night before he had appeared in your door to tell you about his input for the project only to have him dozing off a few minutes after on the desk when you had offered him to share your bed for a nap until his mind could get him back to his own dorm, which clearly did not happen as he was currently asleep beside you.

“Jimin” you nudged him a bit as he stirred and whined in protest “Jimin you should get back to your dorm before class” 

He opened his eyes reluctantly but almost jumped at the sight of you both tangled together in bed “Oh god I’m so sorry, I really fell asleep” 

You smiled a forced smile at him “yeah… no problem though”

He was quick to stretch around and bid you goodbye with a slight pink tint on his face before disappearing out the door and you slumped against your bed groaning. Sure, Jimin is quite a sight to see, he is one of the most handsome men you’ve come across, but having known him for five years, with most of the time barely talking to each other, to suddenly cuddling together over the night had your mind and heart racing. Which it shouldn’t. Because he had made it clear on the first day that after the project was done, you both would go back to how it all was before. Whatever happened in between were just… occupational hazards.

One thing that came with Park Jimin was the gossip. In exchange of thousands of followers, he had to practically give up his privacy, almost as if he was some kind of celebrity, the juicier the gossip promised to be, the faster it expanded around campus, the easier people got a hold of his most intimate moments, which you came to learn sooner than later, with Taehyungs’ text attached to a set of pictures of Jimin walking out of your dorm adorned with an overlayed white text that read ‘Walk of shame on a school night’ and a few flashing gifs. Which you guessed he saw since he didn’t contact you for the rest of the week.

The next time you saw Jimin wasn’t exactly planned. The university had sent off a few invitations to some fancy diner just outside campus to be attended by a previously selected group of students representing their majors, amongst them, obviously, Park Jimin. 

A few hours into the night, and more than a few cocktails after, you had seen most of your classmates leaving except for a certain blond one that you had seen take off to the balcony, which you approached “Jimin? I’m heading home do you want me to-oh” his hands were placed around the middle of another man as his lips trace his exposed skin, Jimin turning to face you in surprise, heat rising to his cheeks as you turned your leave

“Y/N wait!” he called after you, his shoes clicking just mere seconds after your own as you made it towards the door until his hand grabbed your wrist to turn you around “Y/N…”

“It’s- nothing Jimin, really, you and I aren’t even a thing” you smiled at him and even though the words you spoke were true, you couldn’t help the clenching of your heart at the sight you had just encountered “I’m heading to campus if you wanna share a ride” 

His eyes scanned your face, hand never leaving his grip on your wrist as he took out his phone with his free hand to call an Uber and taking both of you outside to wait as your mind raced a hundred miles per second about the whole thing.

The whole ride was silent, even though you ached to ask him why in the hell would he call a whole SUV for the two of you on a 10-minute ride back, but you came to figure it had to do with something about his ‘image’. He was kind enough to walk you back to your dorm building, despite you advising against it, given the photos from a few weeks before that had him separating from you “Listen, Y/N” he whispered as you turned to him before the glass door “I need to ask for a favour” 

You just hummed in acknowledgement for him to go on  “What you saw tonight… no one can know I’m into guys”

That just about did it. You’ve known Park Jimin for five years, you’ve seen his parents’ marriage dissolve right before your eyes, no doubt he knew about it, yet he somehow thought of you as some telltale, you held his whole real-life secrets in your hands, none of his social media, selfie-induced lifestyle. 

“There’s nothing bad about being gay, Jimin,” you said back in a whisper, on your last sanity thread you could muster

“I’m not gay” his eyes fixed on the floor beneath him as he absentmindedly played with his shoes “I’m bisexual” 

“Yeah so, is that another relatable thing for you to post on your social media? Or are you actually being true to yourself for once?” his gaze fixated on you as if you were spitting venom at him “Don’t worry about it, Jimin, just don’t ever contact me again. Your secret is safe with me. Just like all those years ago” 

You were slowly making your way back home after one of your firsts nights out with some friends when out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of an all too familiar silhouette, seated cuddled up in one of those comfortable café couches was none other than Park Jimin, lips brushing against this other guys’ you knew from school, a few years older, Min Yoongi, hands held together and as you subtly tried not to stare, you couldn’t help but feel happy for him since he seemed genuinely happy in the moment, something you thought he deserved, given the whole ordeal going on back at home.

You didn’t think much of it at the time; sure, it was kind of frowned upon in such a small and closed-minded place like Busan, and you wouldn’t even dare to think about the hell that would rise if high school heartthrob Park Jimin turned out to like guys, but Jimin seemed like the type to place his happiness first. 

Up until during one of those tedious dominical women-only Sunday brunches your mother had started to bring you to, Jimin’s mother approached you for small talk.

“So how was yesterday’s date?” the teasing tone she was using throwing you off at first but everything seemed to click at once. Jimin’s mother had always not so subtly hinted at her son that she would love to have you as her in-law, with Jimin just brushing off the comments whenever she came up with them at one of your gatherings, going as far as setting you up as her son’s plus one to a family Christmas dinner. 

Jimin had just told his mother he was going out with you to hide the fact that he was going out with a boy.

And it somehow felt like your responsibility to cover up for the boy next door with the broken home, as if the happiness you had seen him exude when you saw him kissing that boy depended on your ability to lie right there and then. And you did.

Park Jimin stayed true to your wish and didn’t even attempt to contact you for the next week or so, you could see him occasionally writing his assigned part on the drive for your final project, his social media as dead as it could get, which quickly aroused questions on his well being plus some questionable rumours once he wasn’t seen around campus for three days in a row like how he had probably just gone studying abroad, but somehow, deep down you knew better. You didn’t know the Park Jimin that was the constant talk of the campus, no, but you knew perfectly well the Park Jimin from a broken home that likes to spend his days inside and cry it all out.

Once your final grade came back with a perfect score, and Jimin had completely missed the revision session, you found yourself walking to his dorm to share the news on your joint efforts. 

The first three times you knocked on the door there was no answer, until the fifth one a messy-haired,  shirtless Park Jimin opened the door with swelled eyes and pouty lips 

“I’m sorry” you blurted out

“You have nothing to be sorry about, I was kind of asking too much of you” he mumbled, lips trembling as he stayed close to the door 

“Jimin” you reached your arm to him, in an attempt to comfort him “I am in no place to validate your sexuality, nor am I one to go around telling people  who you love, I guess…” you breathed in an attempt to calm your racing mind and trembling lips that threatened to sob “I guess I just want you to be happy for who you are, not who you let others see”

“Y/N…” 

“No, just please listen, it’s been years, I want you to know that all those things I’ve kept to myself are in no way meaning that you are somehow indebted to me, I did it because you seemed happier that way” his hand came up to hold yours, softly caressing it as he motioned for you to come in and take a seat next to him on the couch

“Y/N you’ve been there for so long, through more bad times than good ones I guess” you both giggled at that “And I’ve been so ungrateful for it. If someone is to thank for the way I’ve been able to live this fake dream life I thought I wanted, it’s you, Y/N” 

There was a long moment of silence where he kept on playing with your hand in his, and unspoken shared remembrance of all the times you were a silent witness he knew he could find solace in until he broke the silence.

“It’s true, you know?” you raised your head to meet his eyes in a questioning look “that I’m bisexual”

You smiled at his words “What is that supposed to mean, Jimin?”

Suddenly his small smile faded and he drew closer to your face, his hand coming up to reach your cheek and caress it a few times, his eyes fixed on your lips, waiting for you to lean into him the way he did “It means, Y/N, that these past few weeks I’ve been happier than I ever thought I could be, with you” he pecked your lips for a second “Because of you”

#bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #bts imagines #bts imagine #jimin imagine #park jimin imagine #jimin imagines #jimin fluff #bts fluff #park jimin fic #park jimin fanfic #park jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #park jimin one shot #jimin oneshot

[mavofficial]

✨Sentence Starters Adapted from My Playlists🎵

Sentence Starters Inspired by/adapted from songs on my Aesthetic of Fame playlist. It’s a playlist based around the concept of fame and such but I tried to include lines that could fit a variety of character as well! This is my first meme! So, by all means make these work for your characters how you see fit. ((So sorry for the wonky formatting Tumblr is a 100% functional website))

Circus Circus by Jenna Holiday “The thought of ‘should I stop never’ makes it to the surface, does it?”

“Glamour and your own destruction are both things that make you nervous. I can tell you that just by looking at you.”

“Somewhere along the line you lost track of your youth, wasting all your time playing nice with people that will eat you alive.”

“Go ahead! Chug until you choke, feel it incinerate your throat. Your heart is worthless.” “The wax figure of you in Madame's hardly even looks like you.”

21 by Jenna Holiday

“Does it sound like I'm still having fun?” “You want to bring love, there's no room to pack it” “Everywhere you walk is on a red carpet.” “In time I’ll fade away, only then I’ll feel safe.”

Role Model by Daysormay and Tessa Violet 

“All we have are lies, so don't tell me what to do” “I feel like I've died here so many times”

“Cause what kind of life is hoping you wake up one day as someone else?” “I’m not much of a role model, let alone an icon for your life” Silver Platters by Les Gold

“You’re sleeping on a bed of thorns, yet still you call them roses?”

“Don’t you ever think about god and all the dreams you didn't follow?”

“Such a pretty face. What was it underneath the mask for?”

“It can change if you stop going through the motions!” “What’s with the formal getup? Oh wait, I’ve seen this before. You’re trying to mitigate your fear of being normal, right?”

Plasticine Dreams by Boston Manor

“Everything is perfect, yeah?!  Of course! You got all that you need? Surely.”

“I kinda like the way you're talking to me right now… if I could understand the words you’re saying”

“Plasticine dreams, cigarettes, and beauty queens. It’s everything you need, isn’t it?” “Fake plastic trees, everything is what it seems…”

Freaking Out by the Wrecks

“I was in the backroom with a guy. He was selling happiness and hopefulness one bag at a time.”

“I'm all alone afraid of my life. I just want a home… wouldn't that be nice” “I feel fine, I'm freaking out and I feel fine” Hello by Role Model “You don't know why I'm upset, neither do I” “I'm fine if you let me be alone when I cry” “It's hard when everything is numb” “Not really the type that your momma would like”

Dying in a Hot Tub by Palaye Royale

“Have you seen yourself today? You're gonna need a haircut and a shave” “You’re so brilliant and all that potential is being wasted but you're always getting wasted...all the time” “Have you heard the news? You're on your own.” “You’re looking skinny…”

Art is Dead by Bo Burnham

“There's other people, you selfish asshole.” “I slept in late while you worked at the drugstore.” “I am an addict but I get paid to indulge in my habit.”

Everyone Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears

“Say that you never need it”

“Geez, it’s one headline, why would people believe it?” “One day the walls are going to come tumbling down but when they do, I’ll be right behind you.” “I can’t stand this indecision and my own lack of vision…” “Fuck! Live for freedom and for pleasure! Nothing ever lasts forever!” “Everybody wants to rule the world, don’t they?”

Los Angeles by Midnight “And if we live forever, let us live forever tonight”

“But I know the truth, I've seen the signs and I've seen the golden Gods in disguise”

“Tomorrow we'll go back to our lives with sand in our skin and sun in our eyes”

“My heart feels the weight of all I don't know” “Maybe this is just a dream and maybe we are still asleep but I... I will miss you when I'm gone.”

Carry On by Polite Fiction “Carry on, nous attendrons ton retour"

“How lonely it must be, sitting at the top” “You can pretend that you know it all...the world - condensed, a volume on your shelf.”

“Conjure all the friends you like because they don't mean a lot.” “Take your time, take it off, take a bow but know that we're all keeping score.”

Liability by Raleigh Ritchie 

“Let's get married, and travel to Vegas” “I'm sick of being a liability. I wanna be okay” “I just woke up with the greatest hangover” “I need to find a purpose in life and find what I want” “Maybe I'm just a little bit ittybit, still drunk”

 Brother by Gerard Way “Hey? ...and can I sleep on your couch?” “I can’t go back...I don’t think I will…” “There’s a chance we can walk away, so please hold on tight because I won’t…” “I am tired in the glow and seeing faces I don't know in this stupid, freezing club.” “Will you drive me back? ...can you take me home?” “Does anyone have the guts to shut me up?”

#sentence starter prompts #sentence starters #memes #starter memes #ooc #from dandy #long post

[searchingwardrobes]

Joint Custody

Forever ago, I had a give away contest for those who had read my book What Hindered Love. @thislassishooked​ won the drawing, and FINALLY, here it is: her gift. She asked for a fic with slightly nerdy Killian with a job in science, and a friends to lovers scenario in which they are essentially dating and don’t realize it, but all their friends do. So here you go, @thislassishooked​, your story! I hope you like it. Part of the reason it took so long is because I had another story half written, but it sucked and I had to start over. I wanted this to be a great prize for you!

This story is based on a meet cute prompt that I found on a blog somewhere. In trying to find said blog again, I learned that this particular meet-cute is considered by some to be the first one ever used in film in the 1938 movie Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife. I had no idea!

Summary: All Emma wants is a pajama top to wear to bed. All Killian needs is the bottoms. Cue the meet-cute!

Rating: T

Words: A little over 4,000

Also on Ao3

And if you’d like to read my book What Hindered Love, you can get it on Amazon here.

Tagging the usuals: :@snowbellewells​ @jennjenn615​​ @kday426​​ @let-it-raines​​ @teamhook​​@kmomof4​​ @bethacaciakay​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @thislassishooked​​ @tiganasummertree​​@whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snidgetsafan​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​ @winterbaby89​​ @distant-rose​​@shireness-says​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @optomisticgirl​​ @spartanguard​​ @branlovestowrite​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @stahlop​

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that if a woman is wearing a man’s pajama top, they’ve just engaged in some extremely enjoyable activities.

Ok, maybe it’s not a universal truth, but Killian’s fairly certain most men would make that assumption. He would have too, before Emma Swan came into his life.

Emma Swan, who is currently sitting on his couch with her feet in his lap, wearing the pajama shirt that matches the bottoms he’s currently wearing. They’re even blue to match his eyes, but not hers, because Emma’s the one who told him green wasn’t his color the day the two of them met. And because of that (the day they met, not the color of the pajamas), he’s being tortured by her long legs poking out beneath that men’s shirt, stuck frustratingly in the friend zone.

Emma Swan is wearing his pajama top, and there have been no enjoyable activities with her on her back.

He needs a cold shower.

***********************************************************

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that men and women can’t be friends.

Ok, maybe it’s only been universal since When Harry Met Sally, but Emma’s seen it. Ok, she’s never technically seen that movie, but she’s seen clips and memes and gifs, and I mean, everybody knows that movie even if they’ve never seen it. It’s how Emma knows this truth.

It’s also how she knew she could fake an orgasm before actually trying it, but that’s entirely beside the point.

Contrary to what Ruby may say, Emma did not approach Killian Jones in Modern Fashion because he was hot. He was looking at the same pajamas she was, and his build was perfect (to snatch his pajama top, that is). Emma still can’t quite believe she proposed such a thing to a complete stranger, but she was already pissed about the fake pockets on her new pair of jeans and the women’s fashion industry in general, and when Emma was pissed, her common sense sometimes flew out the window.

*********************************************************

It had all started when he arrived in Storybrooke, Maine with his research team and discovered that his wardrobe was completely lacking for New England winters. His nightwear in particular. He and his team had been traveling the Atlantic collecting data on climate change, and their previous stay in Bermuda had evidently spoiled him. He preferred to sleep on board the ship, and his boxers just weren’t cutting it for the cold Maine nights. So he’d headed downtown to the only clothing store in Storybrooke: Modern Fashion. Though “modern” was stretching it - the selection of styles were so dated, it looked like the cast of Stranger Things shopped here.

There was only one rack of men’s pajamas - sets of flannel plaid pants and button down shirts offered in shades of various colors. He was weighing his options, wondering just how many pairs he really needed, when she approached him with a pair of red ones in her hands.

“Do you even need the shirts that go with those?”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Pardon me?”

She shook her head, a slight tinge of pink upon her cheeks, and it was then that he was struck by her beauty. Long, golden blonde hair, jade green eyes, and an adorable dimple in her chin. Yet the word “adorable” wasn’t one he would dare use on this woman. There was something about her stance and the edge to her words that let him know she wasn’t one to trifle with.

“I know for a fact men rarely wear those kinds of shirts to bed. You men are like saunas radiating heat, know what I mean?”

“Are you asking me to warm your bed, lass?” he teased with a quirk of his brow.

She rolled her eyes heavenward, and for some reason he found it incredibly arousing. “Oh for the love of God, I am not hitting on you. I have a kid, for God’s sake, I don’t ask strange men to warm my bed.”

“To be fair, you did sort of walk into it, though.”

He was rewarded with a laugh at that, and he had the sudden urge to make her laugh again. Her casual mention of a child also had him glancing at her left finger. No ring. Relief flooded him.

“I guess you’re right. What I’m trying to get at is . . . “ she paused, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, “I want a shirt like this to sleep in, but I don’t want to pay for pants I’m not gonna wear, so I thought -”

“You thought we could share joint custody of the pajamas?” he finished for her with a quirk of his brow.

“Something like that,” she replied tersely.

She shuffled her feet nervously, and he could tell she was regretting approaching him. He leaned against the clothes rack and regarded her with a flirtatious waggle of his eyebrows. “Before we negotiate splitting up the pajamas, can I at least have a name?”

She pressed her lips together, and he could practically see the inner debate raging in her mind. “Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones,” he said, offering her his hand. Once her slender fingers were resting in his palm, he leaned closer, and said, “To answer your previous question, no, I was not planning on wearing the tops. I prefer to let my chest hair breath.” He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip as he pulled away, releasing her hand slowly.

**********************************************

That damn tongue should have been a warning to Emma, but oh no, she had to have her comfortable pajama tops at all costs. Why couldn’t Storybrooke have a decent, well stocked clothing store? This place was right out of Hawkins, Indiana circa 1983.

“Okay then,” Emma replied, ignoring his innuendo completely, “I’ll buy this red pair, you buy a pair, and then we divide them up.”

Thankfully, Killian dropped the flirting and shrugged his consent as he tossed the second pair in his hands back onto the shop display.

“Not those,” Emma quickly put in.

Killian quirked a brow at her. “You get to pick the colors, too?”

Emma sighed. “No, you can get those if you want, but the blue ones would look better on you. Green isn’t your color.”

“But they match your eyes.”

Emma would normally have scoffed at a comment like that, but she was taken aback at his complete sincerity as he leveled his piercing gaze on her. It suddenly felt very warm in the room as she lifted her hair off her neck with one hand for some air and then dropped it back in place.

“The blue matches yours,” she managed to say with a casual air.

“Well okay then,” he replied with a pleased grin upon his face.

She spun on her heel before he could see the red blooming on her cheeks. He fell into step beside her as they approached the counter. Lily Page, whom she had known since kindergarten, was behind the register and by the widening of her eyes, Emma knew she was in trouble. She and Lily had been friends way back in middle school, but had little in common now. That didn’t mean Lily wouldn’t pry into her business, however. That was just Storybrooke, especially when your father was the sheriff.

“You don’t have to go up to the register with me,” she hissed without looking Killian’s way.

“As you wish, love,” he answered in his swoon-worthy British accent.

Not that Emma was swooning, mind you. Smiling, maybe, but not swooning. Princess Bride was her favorite, that’s all. It had nothing to do with his accent, or his blue eyes, or his chest hair that apparently needed to breathe at night.

Killian paid for his pajamas first and left the store with nary a glance Emma’s way. Playing it cool, she was impressed. Or maybe he was too busy flirting with Lily, who thankfully did nothing but glare at him when he winked at her.

Thankfully? Wait - what? Emma didn’t care if Lily liked this guy’s winking or not. He was just a means to her pajama tops.

“So,” Lily said casually, as she folded up the red pajamas, “I saw you talking to that guy over there.”

Emma shrugged, silently cursing the blush that warmed her cheeks. “He just asked what color I thought he should get.”

“Hmm,” Lily said in a voice that clearly hinted that she wasn’t buying it, “he’s quite the flirt, though.”

“I guess,” Emma replied with a noncommittal shrug.

She had never been more relieved to grab her bags and walk away from the register. As the door to Modern Fashion shut behind her, she saw Killian Jones waiting for her on the sidewalk, his own store bag swinging from his right hand, his left slid casually into his jeans pocket. Emma approached him, pulling the red pajama pants out of her bag. He took them, but before he would hand over the blue shirt, he gave Emma a crooked smile and mischief sparkled in his eyes.

“Before I hand over the shirt, we need to discuss an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?”

“Yes, for joint custody of the pajamas. Naturally.”

Emma groaned as he leaned into her personal space. “We don’t have joint custody - I’m taking the tops and you’re taking the bottoms.”

“Remember Solomon? If you really loved them, you’d let me have them whole and unharmed.”

“Huh?”

“You know, the mothers who argued over the baby, and King Solomon knew the real mother would give the baby up to keep him safe?”

“You seriously just made a Bible reference over pajamas?”

Killian gave her a lopsided grin that absolutely did not remind her of Han Solo. “Ok, how about a pop culture reference? His and hers kids.”

Emma bit down on her lower lip to keep from smiling at his ridiculousness. “Like Parent

Trap?” God, how many pop culture references were cramming her brain today? She was turning into a Gilmore girl. Seriously, another one?

“Aye,” Killian said, “but the classic Hayley Mills one, not the Lindsey Lohan one,”

“I like the Lindsey Lohan one.”

He quirked a brow at her and sauntered closer. “Have you ever even seen the original?”

“Well . . . no.” She was trying really hard not to take a step back or, you know, swoon or something.

“Ah! Then we really must remedy that. Our first act sharing joint custody of the pajamas -”

“Quit saying joint custody.”

“As I was saying - joint custody of the pajamas means we must have a movie night. A Hayley Mills movie night. You know, for visitation.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I had a kid?”

“Bring him along!”

Emma blinked. That wasn’t the normal response she got from men when they found out she was a mom. “I don’t let men I just met hang out with my son.”

Killian nodded, all trace of flirting gone. “Of course, lass, I apologize. Enjoy your pajamas.”

He flashed her another charming smile, handed her the blue pajama tops, then turned and sauntered away. She was simultaneously touched at the way he had backed off when concern for her child came into play and strangely disappointed. At any rate, that should have been it, but Storybrooke was a small town . . .

*********************************************************

Killian first ran into her again at the drug store. His immune system had gotten used to the Florida weather too, apparently, and he had a minor cold. He turned down the cough syrup aisle, and there she was, buying cough syrup for her son. They’d chatted, him teasingly asking how the pajamas were doing. Then he’d asked about the cough syrup, and her brow had furrowed as she told him her lad - Henry - was sick. He’d wished the boy well, and they had parted ways, but he’d thought of the exchange and the motherly concern upon her face for far longer.

The second time he ran into her he’d discovered her profession. Killian had been irate when he found the beach littered with beer cans and other refuse one Sunday morning and had called the local police. His heart stuttered in his chest when she stepped out of the squad car. She had been professional, assuring him that they would try their best to discover who had littered the beach and fine them accordingly. Yet he had still managed to discover a bit more about her - that her father was the sheriff and that she had returned home to be his deputy largely because of Henry. Reading between the lines, he surmised that Henry’s father had never been in the picture. Emma Swan was a beautiful mystery that intrigued him the more he was around her.

The third time he saw her, he had the honor of finally meeting Henry. The entire time he had imagined a boy of five or six, and was taken aback to meet a lad of ten instead. Another piece of the Emma Swan puzzle fell into place as he realized how young she must have been when he was born. The way she guarded herself made much more sense.

He came into Granny’s diner to pick up his lunch order, and when he turned to leave, the boy literally ran into him.

“Henry!” Emma exclaimed. “Slow down, kid!”

“Oh, sorry,” the boy muttered sheepishly.

“No harm done,” Killian replied with a grin. He looked up at Emma. “Good to see you again, Swan.”

She rewarded him with a smile.

“Are you from England?” Henry asked. “You sound like you go to Hogwarts or have been to Narnia.”

Killian grinned broadly at the boy. “Or I’ve been to Neverland.”

“Or Wonderland,” the boy continued with a huge smile on his face.

Killian cocked his head. “Or maybe I’ve jumped into a chalk drawing or stolen from the rich to give to the poor.”

Henry laughed. “Your country got all the best stories.”

“I have to agree with you there, though you Yanks did get cowboys and Huck Finn and every character ever played by Harrison Ford.”

“Okay you two nerds,” Emma interrupted with a roll of her eyes and affection in her voice, “I’m sure Killian wants to get back to his boat and eat his lunch.”

“You live on a boat?” Henry exclaimed.

“A ship,” Killian corrected, wagging his finger at Emma, “a research ship.”

“Cool!”

“Calm down, kid,” Emma told him, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “like I said, he’s probably in a hurry.”

“Not at all, Swan,” Killian corrected, “and I love to talk about the ocean and all its mysteries.” He directed the last sentence at the lad.

“Can you stay and eat lunch with us?” Henry asked, then turned to Emma. “Please mom, can he?”

Emma shrugged. “If he wants to.”

“Do you?” Henry asked Killian, suddenly hesitant.

“Lunch with the two of you would be vastly better than alone on my ship.”

That lunch did two things for Killian. For one, Henry Swan claimed a part of his heart that he hadn’t even known had been neglected. It also was the beginning of his movie nights with the Swans. It started with Killian asking Emma if she had seen the Hayley Mills Parent Trap yet, which developed into a debate with Henry about whether or not the classic was always better than the remake. Naturally, he and Henry decided that the only way to solve their impasse was to experiment, so that night he showed up at Emma’s apartment where Henry had both versions of Parent Trap ready to stream on their television. It became somewhat of a tradition. Henry and Emma begrudgingly admitted that Hayley Mills was better at the twin swapping than Lindey Lohan. However, Killian had to admit that sometimes the remake was better after their viewing of both versions of Hairspray.

Movie nights, naturally, included dinner (pizza when Emma was in charge of the food, grilled fresh caught fish when it was Killian’s turn), but at some point they turned into all day events. Sometimes they would go to the park while other times Killian would take them out sailing. Emma and Henry both became a natural part of Killian’s life before he even realized it was happening.

He also fell in love with Emma Swan without realizing it. Slowly, over time, they began to spend time together without Henry. And sometimes, like tonight, they would have a movie night just the two of them after Henry was in bed.

And that’s how he got here, sexually frustrated with Emma in one of those damn pajama tops that showed off almost all of her legs. The light of the television flickered over her face, highlighting her cheekbones and playing across her golden hair.

“Emma,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” she smiled at him, and the fear of losing that smile almost made him chicken out. Almost

“I can’t do this anymore.”

There went the smile. Her brow furrowed and she pulled her feet quickly out of Killian’s lap, tucking them beneath her instead.

“What are you talking about?”

Killian sighed and ran his hand down his face. He slid across the couch until their thighs were pressed together, and he took it as a small victory when she didn’t move away. His eyes scanned her face, falling to land on her lips.

“This just friends thing.” His breath was ragged now. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Emma, and I can’t . . . “

His voice trailed off as he leaned closer, his nose brushing hers.

“Can’t what?” she asked breathlessly. He took that as a small victory too.

“I want more.”

“What about Henry?”

“I care about Henry, too. I’m in this for the long haul, Emma.”

They were breathing the same air now, their foreheads pressed together. Killian slanted his lips over hers and exulted when she melted against him, their bodies molding together as they slid against the cushions of the couch to a horizontal position. His tongue slid against hers, one hand tangled in her hair and the other sliding up the length of her bare leg.

“Emma,” he moaned as he broke away to trail kisses down her neck.

“I’m . . . we . . . “ Emma’s words were incoherent and he smiled against her collarbone. He felt her swallow. “Killian,” she finally managed to say in a normal voice as she pushed against his chest and slid back to a seated position. He blinked at her in confusion.

“Emma?”

“You need to go. Now.”

He reached out for her, but she rose from the couch, wrapping herself in a throw blanket.

“Let’s talk about this, love.”

Emma hugged the blanket tighter around herself as she shook her head. “I should have been more careful. This can’t happen Killian.”

He rose and took a step towards her, but she took three steps back. “Why not? This isn’t a casual thing for me, Emma, believe me.”

Emma bit her lower lip as her eyes welled with tears. “I know that. And that’s why I . . . “ she shook her head again. “Please,” she whispered, “just go.”

Killian sighed in defeat. “As you wish.”

**************************************************************

“And you just kicked him out?”

Emma winced because Ruby was practically shouting in the middle of Granny’s. “Could you keep your voice down?”

“Though it is a legitimate question,” Regina snarked before taking a bite of her salad.

“I didn’t kick him out! I asked him to leave, there’s a difference.”

“You had the man horizontal on your couch, and you didn’t take advantage of it?”

“Ruby!” Emma’s face burned red.

“Again, a legitimate question,” Regina put in.

Emma rubbed her face wearily. “First of all, I can’t be making out on my couch. I’ve got a kid!”

“No, Emma,” Regina told her, lifting one finger in the air with way too much authority. There was a reason Emma’s dad jokingly called her queen mayor. “Stop using Henry as an excuse. If anyone has proven himself where Henry is concerned its Killian.”

“But that’s just it!” Emma argued. “If Killian and I get involved, Henry is the one who will get hurt when it ends.”

Ruby and Regina glanced at each other and then burst out laughing. Emma scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What’s so funny?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Emma, are you that dense? You and Killian already are involved.”

It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes. “It isn’t like that with him.”

“Let’s look at the evidence,” Regina said, ticking each one off on her finger. “You spend all your free time together. You talk about him constantly. He hangs out with your son. You text each other all day long. You, my friend, have a boyfriend whether you want to admit it or not.”

“But,” Emma sputtered, “we don’t . . . I mean we haven’t . . . “

“Yeah,” Ruby teased, “and I don’t get that at all. Why haven’t you?”

“Because she’s scared,” Regina answered for her.

“No I’m not! I’m just smart.” Emma argued. “I have to be cautious. I’m a single mom.”

“Or,” Ruby said softly, placing a hand over Emma’s, “Neal hurt you so badly you don’t want to risk your heart again.”

Emma sagged in the booth. “Maybe,” she admitted softly, “which is exactly why Killian and I make no sense.”

Regina shook her head. “No, you’re not making any sense. You two are perfect together.”

“What difference does that make when he’s just going to leave?”

Ruby furrowed her brow. “I can’t see him doing that at all.”

“I already know he will! It’s his job! Don’t you two see? He’s collecting marine research. He doesn’t put down roots.”

Regina threw her head back and laughed again. It was beginning to get on Emma’s nerves.

“My god, Emma, do you and lover boy even talk?”

“Of course we talk, according to you two, we talk too much and not enough . . . you know . . . “

Regina shook her head. “Emma, Killian’s about to finish his research. Then he can analyze it and write up his results anywhere he wants.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, what? How would you know anything about it?”

“He and Robin have become good friends. Killian even told Robin that he likes Storybrooke and can see a future here.”

“Let me guess,” Ruby said with a sing-song voice and a teasing smile, “with Emma and Henry.”

Emma felt slightly dizzy and her heartbeat stuttered. “I . . . I’ve got to go . . . “ she muttered as she jumped up from the booth.

**********************************************************

There was a pounding on the door to Killian ‘s quarters on his research ship. His team had already headed their separate ways now that all the data was collected, so Killian was curious who would be knocking shortly after lunch on a weekday. He opened the door, and his heart practically stopped when he saw Emma standing there, her cheeks flushed and a sheepish grin lifting her lips. She twisted her beanie nervously in her hands.

“Is it true?” she asked him.

“Um,” Killian shook his head, “is what true?”

“You want to put down roots here in Storybrooke?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Aye, I do.”

Emma’s eyes searched his. “Why here? I mean, what reason would you have to stay?”

“Oh Emma,” he said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek, “don’t you know? It’s you.”

A single tear slid down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “Good,” she said with a sparkle in her tear filled eyes. Then she slid her hand around his neck and dug her fingers into the ends of his hair. With agonizing slowness, she pulled his lips down to hers.

They were home.

Six Months Later . . .

Killian shivered as Emma hooked her toes around the hem of his pajama pants and slid her ice cold feet up his leg. Her arm came around his bare chest as she pulled herself flush against him.

“You’re so warm,” she mumbled against his upper back.

He grinned as he turned in her embrace. “Well, you did once ask me to warm your bed, love.”

She smirked as he fiddled with the buttons of her pajama top, which matched the pants he wore.

“I asked nothing of the sort.”

Killian nuzzled his nose into her collarbone and grinned as she shivered. “That’s the way I remember it,” he mumbled against her skin as he edged her shirt open farther. He slipped another button open. “You don’t actually need this top, do you?”

As the sun rose higher over Storybrooke, Mrs. Jones’s pajama top and Mr. Jones’s pajama bottoms ended up discarded on the floor.

Reunited at last.

#cs ff #cs ff modern au #meet-cute #friends to lovers #don't know they are dating #but everyone else does #give away #for thislassishooked

[boyfriend-cal]

Rumor - Calum Hood

Note: guess what!! another song fic lol. ps, take a look at my masterlist to see my works in progress that are coming soon!

Description: One night getting a little too close to Calum, and the whole town is buzzing about your possible relationship. Based on the song Rumor by Lee Brice.

friendly reminders: masterlist, request, taglist

Word count: 3.8k

++

Your forehead is pressed into Calums neck. You can feel his pulse, it’s quick but even. His arms are wrapped tightly around your waist, and your chests were pressed together. It felt like the two of you were in your own bubble.

Calum had been around your whole life. Your moms were close, but he’d always kind of been in the background. That was until the two of you fell into the same group at the local community college after high school. There was only one place to hang out in the town, so you and your friends had adopted it as your own.

It’d only been one semester into school, but you’d consider Cal, your best friend. At first, it was a little weird. Do you talk to him like you’ve known him your whole life and ignore the fact that you were never close friends, or do you keep your distance? The progress was slow. It went from stealing glances across the table to remembering what the other's favorite drink was and ordering when one of you was late. It quickly turned into never sitting with one person between you and usually riding together to the bar. You even had a shared playlist on Calum’s Spotify that was a mix of songs you liked and songs he liked, so you never had to argue.

It should’ve seemed weird to be so close to him right now. After knowing each other so long but never being physically intimate, it should’ve felt uncomfortable, but it was the exact opposite. You could barely hear his heart beating over the slow song pumping loudly onto the dance floor. You weren’t sure if your other friends were dancing too because you didn’t want to focus on anything else. 

Dancing with Calum wasn’t new, but being this close and slow dancing was. Sometimes when there was a line dance that called for partners, he’d agree to be yours, but it wasn’t often. Most of the time, the boys sat back and watched. You liked that about your group, everyone was always looking out for one another. 

The music starts to fade, and you lift your chin to look at Calum. It makes you realize just how close you are because you’re not sure that you noticed the stubble that’s started to grow on his chin before. The bar is dimly lit, but his brown eyes have a golden glow to them. While you’re holding eye contact, you open your mouth to say something, but you’re interrupted.

A massive hand lands on Calums shoulder. Cal turns his head, not wholly pulling apart from you yet. The other three boys of the group are standing there, looking between the two of you. Aaron, the most outgoing of the group, motions his hand to point at both of you. “Could y’all get any closer? The song ended.” 

You cough as you step away from Calum, taking your hands off of him. Without looking at him, you spin on your heels to find the girls. They’re sitting at your usual table. The guys shuffle to the edge of the dance floor when people begin dancing again, but the four of you stay at the table. Its the first time the eight of you hadn’t sat together since the time Ashley and Carter hooked up and made things awkward. 

“They’re teasing him about dancing with you, so they’re not going to come over here. Have to prove their manliness and whatnot.” Ashley rolls her eyes. The other two agree. Ashley, Grace, and Kate had been your friends for the longest. Carter, Aaron, Nick, and Calum had only somewhat recently joined the group. 

“Of course they are. They’re dickheads.” You roll your eyes and take another sip of your beer.

“So... are you going to tell us why the two of you looked so cozy or what?” Grace asks. Grace and Nick were an item, but Grace was one of those people that loved love. She was always looking for boyfriends for the other three of you. Ashley is a firecracker, so that seemed like an impossible task for her. Kate was a quiet, shy girl, and you fell somewhere in the middle.

“Oh, so y’all can tease me about it like they are him?” You joke. “I don’t know. It was nothing probably. People had started to disperse when the slow song came on, and I don’t think I had noticed I was going to be alone, but he did. He’s my best friend, so he’s good at things like that.” 

Collectively, they all three take a drink, and it seems suspiciously like a real-life version of a meme. You brush it off. It really wasn’t any different than anything Calum had done for you before. Sure, you almost had a moment, right there at the end, but it was cut off, and nothing happened.

It was already getting late, and the party at the bar hadn’t been as lively as it usually was. Nick parts from the boys and comes over to ask if Grace was ready to leave. Ashley and Kate excused themselves after that. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride home with us? Aaron doesn’t look like he wants to leave any time soon, and Calum will wait on him.” 

Ashley gets in your personal space to look you in the eyes and make sure you’re okay. You aren’t sure why everyone is making a big deal out of it. 

“Yeah, I always ride home with Calum.” Besides, Carter can watch Aaron if Calum is ready to go.

She nods, and the two girls go to tell the boys they’re leaving. You kick your feet up into the seat and wait for Calum to say to you he’s ready. It’s only about five minutes before he taps your feet.

“You ready?” He stands at the end of the booth, shoulder broad and dimples showing.

“Are you sure you are? I don’t mind sitting here.” Calum usually likes to shut the place down. He doesn’t ever drink too much, but he loved watching as people filtered out the later it got. Cal always says the atmosphere is unique and nothing like anything else.

“I can’t have the prettiest girl in the bar waiting on me. Let’s go.” Calum flicks his head towards the door, and your cheeks heat up at his compliment. His hand stretches out to yours, and you scoot out of the booth with his help.

His hand stays on your back as you walk out to his car. The few people left are locals that you recognize, so you nod and smile politely. The parking lot has a yellow haze from the old street lights towering over. Only a handful of cars are left. Suddenly, Calum’s hand is in yours, and he’s spinning you around like you’re still on the dance floor. Your shoes scuff against the gravel, but your smile couldn’t be any bigger.

“Alright prince charming, take me home.” You tease.

“Your carriage awaits.” Calum teases right back, opening the passenger door of his Range Rover. 

++

You don’t notice anything out of particular at first. Monday, three days after slow dancing with Calum, you’re getting your hair done, and your stylist keeps eyeing your phone over your shoulder. The girls were trying to make plans for the weekend because school was out on Friday for a candle lighting your town always did right before the New Year. 

“So, how are you and Calum?” You’re a little too busy on your phone to notice that she grouped you together instead of asking about you individually.

“Oh, he’s a goof, like always. Makes things interesting.” You’re not really paying attention to the conversation, so she stops asking.

Then, on Tuesday, you’re at the grocery store. There’s only one in town. You needed ingredients to make a dessert for the event that weekend. The store was empty save for a couple of your mom's friends and the cashier, but everyone seemed to be looking at you.

At the checkout, the sweet old lady scanned your items and bagged them for you. “Where’s Calum today?”

Because you and Calum had known each other your whole lives and recently had been seen everywhere together, it wasn’t completely unordinary for people to ask you about him. Calum was reserved, as much as you could be in a small town like yours, so if someone wanted information, they usually asked you.

“Uhm... I think it’s a cleanup day at the college so he might be there. I’m sure I’ll see him later.” You shrugged again and left with a smile. It was a little strange that you’d been asked about him two days in a row, but maybe because his birthday was soon, they were all planning something.

On Wednesday, when your baking attempt turned into multiple fails, you entered the local bakery to order an assortment of pastries to be picked up on Friday. 

Mrs. Mary, owner of Mary’s Sweets N’ Treats, greets you by calling your name and smiling. Her place is packed because Wednesday was the day the town elders gathered here to hold their meetings. “Hi, Mary. Can I order three dozen assorted pastries for the lantern lighting and ball this weekend? I’ll come to pick them up on Friday around 12.”

“For sure, Hon! I’ll have them ready. Oh, and I have something else for you.” she scribbles something that looks like chicken scratch on her order pad and then whisks away into the back room.

When she emerges, she has a small box with a bow on top. “Make sure to give these to Calum for me, okay? And tell him to share.” 

As you take the box from her hands, she winks at you, and you nod slowly. Calum comes in here to get coffee every morning, couldn’t he get them himself? “Will do. Should I pay for the cookies now or later?”

“Later is fine, dear. See you soon.” She moves on to another customer, and you’re still looking at the little box, wondering why she needed to give it to you.

+

For Calum, it was obvious on Monday morning what was happening. He stopped in at Mary’s to get his morning Americano before school. He never saw you on Monday’s because he had early classes and yours were in the afternoon. Even though school was out, you weren’t an early riser like he was.

Everyone in the small bakery turned to look at him. Mary hadn’t said anything as she handed him his coffee and to-go bag with his typical pastry. He paid and walked outside. The vibe of the small room was giving him a weird feeling. 

Calum opens his bag and sees two sweets. One is his usual, and the other is your favorite. Before he crosses the street, he glances back through the window of the bakery, and Mary is already waving at him. She didn’t have to say anything. He knew what she meant.

He spent the whole day trying to figure out if it would’ve been their friend group or the locals at the bar that started this rumor. He also wondered if anyone had said anything to you about it. 

On Tuesday, he was at the college in the commons area getting something to eat for lunch. The school was on a break, but they had these quarterly volunteer days that he always showed up for. A professor passed him waiting in line and seemed to do a double-take. “Y/N didn’t come with you today?” 

Calum looked around, not to figure out of the man was talking to him, but to see if anyone here even remotely looked like Y/N. Not that cleaning up was strictly a man's job, but there weren’t usually any girls on campus during these days. “Nah, not today. Maybe next time.”

It was a ridiculous question, but all Calum thought was that he hoped people weren't as blatant to you about it. He wanted his own shot. 

On Wednesday, Calum was leaving the antique store. His mom had been searching for a specific teapot to complete their kitchen set but to no avail. Even the owner had hinted multiple times that he should pick out something for his new girlfriend, so he left with a very fragile and not that antique-looking glass galaxy rose. Calum sees you standing outside of the bakery, small box in hand, and a confused look on your face.

Your attention is caught by someone calling your name across the street. Since your town was small, there was a square or quad area, and all of the shops littered the outside. Except for the bar, it was on your way out of town.

Calum is standing in the middle of the square waving to you. There were people already setting up strings of fairy lights for this weekend. You look before you cross the street and then make your way over. You’re relieved to see him, maybe he knows why everyone's been asking about him. 

“Hey, the weirdest thing happened. Mary said these were for you.” 

“Do you want to go to lunch? And also, this was forced on me as a gift for you.” 

You both speak at the same time and then burst into laughter right after. You’re each holding boxes out to each other. 

“Not that I didn’t want to get you a gift, it was just weird.” Calum stutters a little bit, but you wave him off. 

“Lunch sounds great. How about Chinese?” 

You two settle down in a booth by a window in the Wok Shop. People are still staring. Most of them are at least familiar to you if you can’t call them by name. 

“It’s been so weird this past couple of days.” You sigh. Calum tries to decide if you really don’t know what’s going on or if you’re trying to be funny.

“There’s a rumor going around. Everyone in town is going crazy because they think we’re together now.” Calum takes a big bite right after he speaks, so he doesn’t have to say anything else and can gauge your reaction.

“Is this because we danced together the other night? The girls were giving me a hard time about it. Why can’t we dance together? These people have nothing to do.” You laugh. Calum laughs too. 

“You know, I could just stand up and tell them all they’re crazy. We could shut it down before it goes any further.” Calum opens his palm and motions around the room.

You suddenly have a lack of words. Before this very second, you considered the dance to be nothing. You hadn’t even thought you had feelings for Calum until the possibility of you two being anything was threatened to disappear.

“Or...” Calum leans closer over the table. “You could plant one on me right here, and we’ll really give them something to talk about.”

Did he want you to kiss him? Did you want to? You did. You’d partly always wondered what it would be like. All you could think about currently is the way his arms felt around you on Friday night. The turn this conversation took wasn’t something your heart had been prepared for.

You can’t decide if it's fortunate or unfortunate that the loud shrill of his phone ringing makes you jump apart from him. You hadn’t even realized you’d leaned in. “Sorry I should answer this.”

You dismiss him with a nod as he stands up and walks to the door. A deep sigh leaves your lips, followed by a harsh inhale of air. What the hell just happened? Were you actually going to kiss him?

Both of your plates are pretty much empty, so you get up and pay the bill. You grab his jacket and box of treats before meeting him outside. “I think I’m going to go, I’ll see you at the ball on Friday.”

For just a second, he pulls the phone away from his ear to listen to you. He looks like he’s thinking about saying something, but he doesn’t. Calum takes his jacket and box from you and lets you go.

+

“Come on, Y/N. Quit saying no to every dress I show you.” Ashley groans and puts back yet another dress into her closet.

“I don’t even want to go. Calum and I actually had a moment, at least I think, and now I don’t know if I want to see him.” You fall back onto her bed, where Grace and Kate are already laying.

“Wait, you what?” All three of them look at you. Maybe you hadn’t told them yet. You’d been trying to figure out if you had actually wanted to kiss him before you said anything. The conclusion was that you did. You really did, but what was going to happen if you did?

So you tell them what happened. At first, it was playful, but then he suggested kissing, and it’s like your hormones went haywire. You weren’t a twelve-year-old boy going through puberty, but that’s what it felt like.

“Then you one hundred percent have to go tonight. You left before he could come back, which means you don’t know what could’ve happened!” Grace sits up excitedly.

“Can you imagine anything prettier? All of the lanterns glowing and making everything look softer. It’s literally like a fairytale.” She babbles.

“Okay, Miss. Storybook. The most important part is that you look hot.” Ashley pulls out another dress. It’s hard to believe she has so many. It’s a bright-colored, tight fitted dress. It’s too much.

Your nose scrunch makes her scream into her closet. “I hate letting you borrow clothes.”

Eventually, she pulls out a pretty baby blue dress. In classic Ashley style, it has a low cut front, but the rest of it is actually okay. The whole thing is lace, featuring long sleeves that are perfect for the chilly weather. The top has sparkling beads that disperse as you get to the bottom of the dress. It’s ideal for the occasion, and breathtaking. You’ve never even seen Ashley wear it.

“A dress isn’t even that important, I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. What if he doesn’t bring it up? I don’t want to be the first one. God. He’s my best friend, I’m not going. We aren’t doing this.” You scrub your hand over your face.

“So let’s pretend that we’re all going to go with that. What happens next? You ignore your best friend forever? The worst thing he can say is that he doesn’t feel that way, then what did you lose? Maybe your pride is bruised, but it’ll get better, and you two can be friends. I think we all know that’s not going to happen, he’s totally in love with you.” Kate shoves the dress into your hands and points to the bathroom to tell you to get dressed.

“No more protesting. We have to have time to curl your hair, so put it on.” Ashley pulls you off the bed and pushes you into the next room. Sometimes, you didn’t like your best friends.

+

The whole ride there, you think about what kind of approach you want to go with. Do you want to act dumb? Do you want to say something straight forward off the bat? Should you let him say something first?

When you arrive, it’s moments before the actual lantern lighting part. The four of you quickly grab your own and join in on the fun. The sun has just set, so the sky still has a faint glow. Grace was right about the way the square glows. It’s beautiful.

You’re taking turns snapping pictures of each other holding lights to make it look more Instagram worthy when Grace bumps your arm. Confused, you look away from the phone in your hand, and the other two posing in front of it. All four of you look, and Calum isn’t too far away. He’s already looking at you.

Calum is wearing a black suit and tie. His smile is small, but it’s very present. You don’t pay attention to who you hand the phone to because you suddenly know exactly what you want to say to him. You vaguely hear the girls behind you hollering and cheering you on.

Finally, you get within arms reach of Calum. Your first instinct is to hug him, so you do. Your arms are wrapped around him before he can blink and they’re tighter than they’ve ever been. Calum starts talking when you start pulling away. “Y/N I realized that what I said earlier probably made you un-“

“Let’s make it true.” You blurt, cutting him off completely. Calums eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

“What?”

“The rumor. Let’s make it true. It doesn’t have to just be a rumor, and I’m hoping you don’t think so because I really don’t want it to be.” You’re a little breathless just from the buildup of the situation. You’d been thinking about this for two days now.

You realize you’re close again. He’s holding you by the elbows as if he thought you’d run away after you hugged him. Calum side glances, but you can only look at him. 

“So, how about that kiss now?” He looks back at you and actually giggles. 

Calum lifts one of his hands to cup your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are warm and soft despite it being winter. For a split second, you worry that yours might be chapped, but then you remind yourself to focus. This is happening, even if you didn’t know it was something you wanted until recently.

Both of your eyes are wide as you pull away to look at each other. “I can’t believe we’ve never done that before.” 

Calum laughs as your response and gently sets his forehead against yours. He’s about to say something else, but people around you start cheering. They’re full out jumping up and down just because you two are finally together. You pull away from Calum when your cheeks start to heat up. 

“Everyone happy now?” Calum jokes. More cheers erupt. 

Your small hometown was occasionally annoying, but you had them to thank for giving you the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

++

don’t forget to reblog if you liked it! feedback is always appreciated💕

taglist:  @calumsnatchedmyheart @cthoodsthetic @calssunflower @aulxna @sebastian-sunshine-stan @mikeyglifford @fluffsshawn @lustingfor5sos @bodaciousbonzi1996 @calum-booo

#kris10 writes #calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood one shot #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood au #calum hood fluff #bestfriend!calum #boyfriend!calum #bestfriend to lover #song fic #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos one shot #writing #calum fluff #fanfiction #fanfic

[lumikinetic]

*flops down on sofa*

*exhales*

Tumblr gives me a lot of wild shit every now and again. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's hilarious, sometimes it's disheartening. And then yesterday came along and gave me the one-two punch of:

Captain Marvel being dolled up by the Russos instead of a jacket, S.H.I.E.L.D baseball cap and a Nine Inch Nails shirt, which is how she should be (not gonna talk about this, just want it out there that I'm pissed about it)

One Day At A Time being cancelled

ODAAT I'm gonna kind of touch on because it's not really what I want to talk about, but it did help me finalize the words for what I do, and that's capitalism in entertainment.

The most annoying goddamn trend in filmmaking (and of course in TV and Netflix/Prime originals) is companies caring more about their bottom line and less about making good content, and yeah I know this dead horse isn't just beaten, it's thrown into an active supervolcano but it really pisses me off and it's why I hate the new Star Wars stuff (well OK hate is a bit strong but they're uh Not Good) but I'll get to that. What corpos can't seem to get into their bloated skulls is that one cannot exist without the other. You need to put out good, quality content with value so that fans like it so they give you money so they increase your profits so you can make more content and so on. But somewhere down the line some fuckhead went "what if we just pushed out what we have?" and just kinda expected us to not take notice.

Now before the comments section gets all hot and bothered because I know some people on this site don't have the gift of reading comprehension, I know profits are important, I'm saying when companies shun good filmmaking for more money, they get lazy and all they can think about is profit and not how they make that profit, they don't care at all about using that money to make more good, valuable content.

One Day At A Time

I've never watched One Day At A Time but the fact Netflix just outright cancelled it knowing damn well what it meant to the people the characters are representing is just disgusting. And they have the fucking audacity to blame it on the viewership? I've seen hundreds of artworks, gifs and a video clip here and there of this show. I've seen precisely one (1) meme of 13 Reasons Why and that is literally it. I'm not following the tags for either. Plus, #saveODAAT has, last I checked, 350k tweets on trending or thereabouts?

So obviously the viewership isn't the problem, it's the racism and homophobia of cancelling a Spanish (? - again, never seen it), LGBT+ focused show that a lot of people quite happily and positively connect with when a crap show about suicide and Friends gets to stay on. It's just ugh. Cancelling a show like this then paying something like $100mil to keep Friends. I was going to expand on the shitty capitalism here but tbh that's it, Netflix are making bad decisions and like I say, I'm only going to touch on it because it's not the main part.

Star Wars

Go watch the original trilogy and it's clear George Lucas was trying to create and do. He was trying to make art. The key difference between that and modern SW to me is BB8. Look at C3PO and R2D2 and already you can see they belong. C3PO is a translator droid and I'm not sure what exactly R2's job description is but it's obvious he does some kind of pilot assistance for X-Wing fighters. I never understood people who said R2 never did anything, because they obviously haven't seen Star Wars. You get that this is an R2 unit, right? Like, there's more than one out there and they have a job they were specifically built to do, it's just this one particular R2 unit who had to carry the message? Anyway, I'm derailing. R2 and C3PO have functions and they're clearly not new, they've been used for a long time. Then you look at BB8 and instantly it's like "this is a toy. This so called character was designed to sell toys". And then he was. He's a toy, he's on bags, notebooks, pens, clothes, everywhere. Disney is less concerned about making a Star Wars movie and more about making money off of the Star Wars name.

Into The Spider-Verse VS YA Movies

YA movies tend to suck because they were adapted from books and we all know how that pans out but the reason I'm using YA books specifically is because my mind jumped to The Hunger Games. I couldn't tell you a single fucking thing that happens in those movies. They're so dull and dead and forgettable and the characters are borderline unlikeable but you know which one I do like? Catching Fire, for one reason and one reason only: Jena Malone as Joanna Mason. Save for Haymitch, she's the only character I liked because those two are the only characters with any kind of charisma or life to them. They made an at most halfway decent attempt overall at recreating some otherwise really great books and they made a big show out of it, hiring some pretty well known names. And I'm not disparaging their performances, it was just what I call, ever since Suicide Squad came out, the Harley Quinn effect, in which good actors get given a good character and perform them really well and, through no fault of their own, fuck it up because the character was written poorly and no matter how well they act, if the script doesn't change, the performance will always be shit. The same for Divergent. And Percy Jackson. And Fault In Our Stars.

Then outside all of that you have Perks Of Being A Wallflower which is just a great, heartwarming movie because the characters feel like people and the brightness isn't turned way the fuck down in post and you actually want to be invested, and they're not afraid to have a colour palette beyond a splash of pink here and blue there and red there. Plus, Ant-Man as an English teacher. THEN you go watch Spider-Verse and oh hey. I can actually see the movie now. And I mean see it. They do not slack off when it comes to visuals. Even by animation's standards, everyone is so expressive and alive and... animated. Sorry, I couldn't get a better word but they are! When you look at Miles in comparison to Katniss in terms of writing and performance, the difference is just startling. The only times I can think of where Katniss shows any kind of emotion in the first movie is when she slams the knife in the table and Rue's funeral and I had to think about that. Without thinking for Miles, already I've got "who's Morales?", the scene where Uncle Aaron teaches him the shoulder touch, the scene where Miles spray paints in the subway, that scene in the alley, the moment in Olivia's office when he just freezes after she says she can't wait to watch Peter in immense pain Like That and made all the wlws melt in their seats. You get the idea. So what's the point for this section? Well, as simply as I can put it, Hunger Games was made with money, for money. Spiderverse was made with love, for love. Spiderverse cared about people who read comic books and paid more than enough tribute to the art forms people think of as lesser for no goddamn reason other than elitism and proved for the thousandth time that it is something that can be used in filmmaking. They were trying to make art. Hunger Games and most other YA novel movie adaptations saw a preestablished fan base they could exploit for money. They were trying to make money.

Rambo

This was a weird one, yeah. Don't worry I was confused too when it popped into my head. I saw the original Rambo a while back and what I liked about it (and Apocalypse Now) is it wasn't a war film where the USA charge in and hooray everything's all right, this movie grabs your shirt and says "hey. Vietnam did something to these guys and they're not OK. Probably they'll never be OK". Then I watched the Rambo reboot that came out in like 2011 or something and I remember thinking "OK so now he's just this dude? Who lives in Thailand... And what, that's it?" There was no scene to show his psychological state today. Nothing to acknowledge his PTSD. They just thought "hey! Let's make Rambo but this time, just give him guns and and yelling and spray some blood!" The reason I kind of ended this train of thought quickly is because I realised that, let's be real, the main body of Rambo's audience just want to see Sly Stallone kill some fools. But yeah, the fact that they just ignored John's mental state in place of mega violence is such a glaringly obvious move to just appeal to violent teenage boys.

The Auteur

My favourite director is Wes Anderson and my favourite movie is The Grand Budapest Hotel (though Panos Cosmatos seems to be eyeing these titles with Beyond The Black Rainbow and Mandy, I haven't watched them yet). Quentin Tarantino, Spike Lee, Wes Anderson, auteurs always stand out even though their movies are all the same, and I think the reason they're so successful is because that specific style is so much better than most other mainstream cinema. I'm not saying that those other movies are bad, I love them and will watch them again and again but I'm saying Wes Anderson could make a short movie and it would be better than most Marvel movies put together (don't talk to me about Captain Marvel, I haven't seen it yet. Gonna see it this Sunday). No matter what you think of these directors, you can instantly tell the difference between these movies that they care about and the passion and hard work they put in and Disney pumping out their 400th reboot.

It Keeps Working

You guys wanna know the thought that keeps me up at night? Someday they're going to make a Fortnite movie. You guys wanna know why it keeps me up at night? Because it's going to be popular. Yeah, obviously not at the box office, because it'll be a videogame movie and those are worse than book movies, but it will be popular for no apparent reason. And what pisses me off is that Fortnite's popularity is only because of the battle royale mode, which has now essentially become synonymous with dying franchises and it just adds another layer to the lack of creative effort and the movie will just be Hunger Games with guns. Exactly the same as what I said at the start of this rant, there's a really noticeable shift from making content to jumping on whatever bandwagon is passing by because you know it'll make you money. Yeah, you have to spend money to make money but that doesn't mean you get complacent in what you spend your money on or if you spend money at all because when you cut corners, consumers can see that shit.

Anyway I'm done complaining thanks for having the willpower to pay attention to my dumb opinions.

#discourse #odaat #one day at a time #capitalism #star wars #into the spiderverse #rambo #long post #hunger games #hunger games: catching fire #ya fiction #young adult fiction #netflix #eat the rich #corpo #captain marvel #marvel #disney

[fandom]

We did it. We made it through! 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 2017 is almost over. Let’s celebrate the stuff that made you happy. Here’s a toast to your favorite things on Tumblr. 

This is Tumblr’s Year in Review: 2017

We looked over thousands of lines of data, scouring each and every popular tag in each and every popular category. We sorted this data with our very own Fandometrics rating technique, the pleasingly scientific system that measures searches, original posts, reblogs, and likes to rank your enthusiasm and love. 

For the first year ever, we have a community guest post. Meme Documentation (@memedocumentation) got deep into the nostalgia surrounding 2017's most popular memes.

Have questions about how this works? Wonder why Guy Fieri is not on any of these lists? Ask away! We’re going to answer your questions live on our Instagram on Wednesday, December 6 and again Wednesday, December 13.

Now here’s what you’ve been waiting for. Tumblr’s favorite things in 2017:

Ships Remember: If your OTP didn’t make this list, it’s okay. It just means you are directly responsible and should’ve made more posts about them.

Animated TV The only list where a self-loathing horse and an extremely rich duck can be found in competition with each other.

Live-Action TV In the golden age of television, every single one of these is a winner. Some are just winnier than others.

Movies Moonlight beat La La Land in this list, too, but neither were No. 1.

Actresses You like them! You really like them!

Actors Once again we find ourselves with a disproportionate amount of men named Chris. No one is complaining. Especially the men named Chris.

Models 20 women who have perfected everything from their smizes to their struts.

Television Personalities The alternative name was “people who get paid a lot for being themselves on TV,” but that wasn’t very catchy.

Athletes For a community based on competition, the sports community on Tumblr is incredibly supportive and kind.

Wrestling Superstars Hit up this link or we’ll break out our meanest piledriver.

Web Series We put all of your favorite stuff from the internet onto one list on the internet.

Web Celebrities The definitive list of your favorite YouTubers, Twitchers, and podcasters.  

Solo Artists We’re warning you now: Taylor Swift was knocked down a peg. There’s a new No. 1 in these here parts.

Bands Five of these bands have numbers in their names, ranging from one to 1975.

K-Pop Get your light sticks ready!

K-Pop Band Members Did your ultimate bias make No. 1?

Musicals While we’re talking, let us offer you some free advice: Block less. Reblog more. Let your followers know what musical you’re against or what you’re for.

Video Games ⬆️⬆️⬇️⬇️⬅️➡️⬅️➡️🅱️🅰️

Books You asked, we delivered. Feast your eyes on these words, you incredible bookworms.

Authors Fun (?) fact: This is the only list in the batch that features a man who died over 400 years ago.

Anime & Manga You’re gonna triple axel when you see what’s No. 1.

Tumblr Communities They aren’t any more or less important than the communities that didn’t make the cut. They’re just the ones that tagged their posts the most.

Food & Drink This list is zero carbs, and yet it’s full of carbs.

Animals Old MacDonald had a blog, T-U-M-B-L-R.

Dog Breeds Some puppers, a few pupperinos, a couple of fluffers, and, of course, a h*ckin’ boofer. boop this list, fren

Memes Tired: Tagging your friend in a meme. Wired: Tagging your friend in the replies to the Memes post.

#year in review #tumblr2017

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.1

Eyyoooo, first chapter of my TMNT fanfic :’) Now, what the fawck is going on? Welp, it’s a lil’ lovey-dovey story based on the 2014-2016 universe. The turtles are aged up to their mid 20′s.Aaannd it’s going to be rated mature (especially for language, anxiety/depression mentions, explicit stuff and future sex scenes yaasss). The main pairing is DonatelloXOC (self-insert). If you’re not a fan of that, it’s perfectly understandable and you may go on your merry way~. Writing this kind of stuff helps me with my own anxiety ( ´ ▽ ` )b  heh Also I want to apologize in advance for any errors I may make. My first language is French and sometimes my brain farts some nonsense. I always try to correct things as fast as I can though ! ANYWHOOORE, time for some reading ! Enjoy :) First Chapter --> You’re here mah precious Next Chapter --> HERE

Done. That was the only word that went through Vee's mind as she closed the apartment's door behind her, leaning into it with a long sigh. She was done with the day, done with her exhausting shift at work. Done with life. Hanging her black trench coat and removing her autumn boots, she wandered to the kitchen, finding the place void of any other presence. April O'Neil, her roomate, had been rather occupied with her job, being a reporter for Channel 6 no easy thing. Also Vee was noticing how the other woman was somehow avoiding her for an unknown reason... She shrugged, trying to chase the thoughts away, filling an electric kettle with water in order to prepare a cup of tea. As she was waiting for the water to boil, she stopped to a standing mirror, grabbing her long light brown hair so she could assemble them in a messy bun. She couldn't help noticing the dark circles under her green eyes, a clear sign of fatigue and stress. A new sigh escaped her lips as she pushed on her glasses, repositionning them to their rightful place. Ever since she moved in to New York city, six months ago, she felt like her spark was vanishing with each passing months. Coming from Montréal, Canada, to work and live here had been a big step in her life, but it had also been a dued change. Her initial thrill and thirst for adventure had fueled her, dreaming of the endless possibilities New York's creative scene could offer her... Alas, she was nothing more but a single raindrop in a massive ocean of artists just like her. Was her life reduced to the endless loop of eat-work-sleep? Indeed. And she despised it. Especially since her job consisted of folding clothes and being a cashier to bratty customers who would complain day and night about not finding the perfect size of jeans or t-shirt. So exciting!... At least it paid the bills and rent. Click Vee turned to the kettle, mindlessly pouring hot water in a cup and dropping a bag of green tea, next making her way towards her bedroom. The place wasn't too big, only offering enough space for her double size bed, a desk on which sat her laptop and, not too far, her prized electric piano, most practical when she needed to practice and would only need to plug in headphones so only she could hear the precious melodies. Vee was an artist in many forms. From music to drawing, with a side of writing, she have had the opportunity to lay her hands on many projects, also spending a good part of her past twenty-five years in schools and colleges, studying and mastering her creative side. Vee was a dreamer, her mind always up and running, never at peace. She had so many ideas and so little time... At some point she wished she could just puke them out of her brain, knowing it'd be way easier to sort them out. Instead, she had a wall filled with post-its, papers, anything that she could write on, filled with words, drawings, things that inspired her or wouldn't just leave her thoughts. That was her way of keeping a planner, knowing it'd be way too frustrating to flip through many pages of a book only to find THE idea she'd be looking for! Undressing so she could put on a large t-shirt and keep her legs free of any pants' restraint, she plopped on her chair, facing her desk and turned on her laptop, the screen's light blaring through her unamused, souless even, expression. Her fingers moved expertedly over her keyboard, typing in her password, next sipping her tea without care. Her thoughts slowly started to shift to a new subject. Him. She hoped he'd be online... A month or two before she departed from Montréal, she had started to notice the sudden interest of a new follower on her various online accounts. At first she didn’t mind, but soon both began to chat and discovered that they had many interests in common. They liked talking about science, sending eachothers stupid memes and simply going from serious conversations to hilarious ones. He said his name was Donatello. A bit of a pretentious name. It was certainly not his real one (or else his parents must have been total Renaissance nerds). And his username was no better: donino, a simple mix of his name and that domino pizza place. He liked pizza. URG. STUPID PUNS. Vee smiled when she noticed he was on, already opening a chatbox. (veelicious): Afbabshabvdfshdsbf (donino): Hi? (veelicious): My brain is trying to reboot. (donino): Long day I presume? (veelicious): HMMMRRR I wish I could land on a good job opportunity in my domain rather than hearing people complain about how they'll just go to another store only because we don't have an item that ran out of stock. (veelicious): I'm not even complaining. Go shop somewhere else, customer from hell. I won't miss your needy ass. (donino): Yikes! Sorry people can be such dickheads :( …. Have you tried looking for another place? I could help you search? (veelicious): You're sweet, Don, but you don't need to go into all that trouble for me. Don't worry, I'm always on the lookout for something else :) She always thought it was cute how he was always ready to help her. … Even though both were now living in the same city, they've never met. He would always give a reason to postpone any actual meeting and Vee couldn't help feeling hurt about that. They'd been chatting, both via text and voice, for a little bit more than half a year, developping a strong friendship …. Why would he deny seeing her? She suspected that he might be lying about living in the city, but on the other hand she couldn't believe that, the guy too truthful in nature. (donino): Is there anything I can do to help and make you feel better though? (veelicious): Yeah, what about a coffee date? She slapped her palm to her face, cursing herself. (donino): Vee idk... (veelicious): For fuck's sake Donnie, what could go wrong? I just want to get to know a new friendly face around here. (veelicious): I really enjoy talking to you. … April's been giving me the cold shoulder for some unknown reason, added to her being almost non-existent in this frickin' apartment. And now you just always come up with excuses. (veelicious): I may be a stupid introvert, but damn sometimes I just hate being alone. … I just want to talk. (donino): We can voice chat if you want. (veelicious): No Donnie. … I want to see you. I want to see your face, be able to put a picture over your name. I want to see you when you laugh. I want to see you smile. … Jfc, I don't bite. She took a long sip of her tea, her hands slightly shaking. She felt like she was confessing something, but deep down she just wanted to be able to hang out with someone other than herself, April or any stupid coworker... She got no answer for a good couple of minutes, knowing she had probably scared him. Ding Her eyes moved back to the screen. (donino): Tomorrow night. Come alone. Go on top of the building that's on the corner of 4th ave. and 12th st. (donino): … I know this sounds super creepy and weird as hell, but trust me, it's the only way. (donino): Oh and yeah, bring coffees :) Vee's eyes were now wide open, her heart suddenly beating hard. She was confused and excited, a large grin coming to her face. The request did sound off, but at least she FINALLY got a result. *** This september night felt chilly, the month nearing its end. Vee was glad to be holding the two cups of coffee, warming her hands. Wearing her black trench coat, she couldn't help snorting at the mental image of herself, dressed like some sort of hip business woman, walking fast with her coffees, ready to tackle any late work. HA! She wished. She found the place, a modest apartment building which had an emergency metal staircase to its side, Vee then going to it in order to reach the top. She found herself alone, gazing upon the nearby streets, sipping her cup from times to times and butteflies destroying her stomach due to stress. Why was she so anxious to meet him? The worst was probably that she had no idea what he looked like. He never described himself much, only stating that he wore glasses and was tall. At least that was a start? Vee was about to leave a cup down to check her phone that she heard a sound; someone clearing their throat to bring attention. She quickly turned towards the sound, noticing a form in the shadows. ''… Donnie?'' she asked. ''Uhm, yeah, hi.'' A large smile came on Vee's face, recognizing his voice. She proceeded to walk in his direction so she could hand him his cup, but was promptly stopped. ''Wait!'' his voice sounding slightly nervous. ''… This is hard for me, please, just stay where you are.'' Vee was confused but obeyed, her eyes trying to scan his form. He looked tall, easily over six feet! He seemed to be carrying some sort of gear- She heard him sigh, finally moving. The first word to come up in her mind was green. Then purple. Glasses. Golden eyes. Technology. Shell. Shell? Turtle?! They stood there, in complete silence, Donatello now immobile and in plain sight. He gulped, starting to feel anxious as he could only notice how wide Vee's eyes were now... ''Wow,'' she finally said. She walked to him, closing the distance. Donnie was tempted to fall back, but remained in place, his eyes never leaving the human. Vee handed him a cup, her hand slightly shaking, her gaze plunged in his. She felt his hand around hers, taking the cup, only then her mind was brought back to reality, trying to find words only to speak again: ''Is … is this why you never wanted to meet?'' she asked, now both her hands around her cup. The turtle swallowed hard again, trying to focus. ''Well, yeah!'' He finally frowned a little in disbelief, a hand going to his hip, trying to understand the situation. ''Wait,'' he puffed a little. ''No screaming? No fainting? Just 'wow'?'' Vee shrugged, unsure, taking a quick sip of coffee before commenting: ''Okay, let me say something else then. … Holy hell! There. Any better?'' A small laugh escaped her, mostly dued to stress, but she was quick to calm it, sighing. ''Look... I can't deny that I'm a bit scared right now, but I'm mostly curious. I mean, you're a walking, talking turtle person! Gee, that's not something you get to see everyday, at least for me.'' ''… You don't think I'm a monster?'' he asked shyly. ''Oh please, what now? Monster is a synonym for 'bad'? Am I supposed to be afraid senseless and run away? … As I'm aware, you're a good person.'' Donatello's fingers fiddled on his cup. ''… I- I don't know what to say,'' he mumbled. ''Vee, you're probably the first human to be kind when meeting me.'' The woman lifted her cup in a 'toast' gesture, a smirk on her lips. ''I'm your friend. If I were to scream and throw myself off this building in fear, that would make me a terrible one.'' Donnie clinked his cup to hers, a smile now on his face too. ''Glad that didn't happen then. I'll drink to that friendship.'' *** ''April, what the fuck?'' Vee said as soon as she entered the apartment and saw her roomate sitting on the couch, carelessly going through her phone. The brunette lifted her eyes: ''… Yes?'' Vee knew everything. Donatello had told her about how he knew April, how she'd be working with them – yes because there was a 'them' as in there were others like him! ''Why did you never tell me about Donatello being a freaking mutant turtle?'' April's body jolted back to life, sitting straight, her eyes wide open. ''Wait, how did you-'' ''I just met him,'' cut Vee, her hands resting on her hips, a deadpan, non amused look on her face. The reporter was at a loss for words, going through several emotions, trying to find the right words. ''… What, he actually met you? He told me he didn't want to.'' ''SEE! THIS! Why the secret? You knew I was talking to him. If he was so scared, why didn't he stop talking to me? What the fuck is going on?!'' April sighed, gesturing for Vee to come sit by her side. ''Vee, I'm sorry.'' She sounded sincere. ''Can you just understand that this situation was really … delicate? I can't just go around and tell people that I know some freakin' ninja turtles-'' ''Wait, ninjas?'' ''Yes, they're ninjas. Now don't interrupt me! … They've been living in secrecy for many years now and they come up at night to help around with justice and stuff. Their main goal around here is to protect the city.'' ''Wow, okay, so like some sort of super heroes?'' asked Vee, genuinely curious. ''Yes! Remember Shredder? The Technodrome? It's not Vern or the police that took care of all that, that was them! They run around, jumping and stuff and they fight back.... Usually they're very careful, but you had to fall upon the only one who's a real tech genius and probably spends more time on the internet than his brothers.'' She took Vee's hands, looking straight into her eyes. ''… How did you react when meeting him?'' ''I was surprised,'' answered the other with a small smile. ''I did not scream, although I was a bit scared, but I was just so happy to finally see him...'' ''Heh, lucky. First time I met them I fainted.'' *** (veelicious): I can't believe we actually met! (donino): Me too, to be honest. I was so nervous.... (veelicious): I'm really grateful that you went over your fear and showed yourself. … I have the feeling that I sounded selfish and mean last time we chatted and I'm so sorry. I didn't want to rush things like that... (donino): No! Actually, I'm glad you did. … You're a good person, Vee, and I guess I low-key knew that you would react the way you did when we met. I don't know how to explain it... … (veelicious): I want to meet you again. (donino): Same. (veelicious): April told me everything. … If you and your family are okay with it, we could meet up at your place? I'd be curious to see how it looks down there. April would come with me. (donino): Unless you have troubles with slight sewer odors, you're welcome here! I'll keep you up to date regarding the others though... (veelicious): Looking forward to it ;)

#chapter #writing #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt donatello #fanfic #fancharacter #oc #selfinsert #*hides in my corner of shame* #HERE WE GO BOHOHO

[bastardtravel]

August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire.

After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as “Michael Jackson’s favorite grinder”, we were in dire need of respite.

Establishing a forward operating base was our first priority. For my part, I can sleep anywhere. My bonfire days in the Frozen North frequently necessitated pitching a $10 K-Mart tent over gravel, then drinking bottom-shelf whiskey until you didn’t realize you were sleeping in a puddle of rainwater and broken glass. That’s not a knack you lose. It’s like riding a bike. The Girl was always more discerning, and became doubly so after our experience in Phoenix with the inept criminal front halfway house hotel. We agreed that she can veto any of the lodgings I book. Sometimes, late at night, I’ll hold a flashlight under my chin and tell her spoOoOoky stories about hostels in Ireland.

She insisted on the airport Super 8. I was hoping to stay in a quaint deep woods motel called “Unsmiling Jed’s Sleepaway”, attached to sister business “Unsmiling Jed’s Discount Plastic Surgery Silo and Chili Kitchen”.

If I can’t protect it, I don’t deserve to have it. That goes double for life.

A friendly foreign woman checked us in at the Super 8, then proceeded into utter bafflement when I asked for a first aid kid. I chewed myself up pretty good climbing Bancroft’s Castle, and I’d spent the last half hour bleeding into an oily dog blanket to avoid ruining my upholstery. I’m pretty sure that’s how plagues start.

There were no band-aids here, or antiseptics, or possibly medicine as a concept. There was a three gallon tub of hand sanitizer. I thanked her for the offer but gently declined.

We went up to the third floor. The hallways were lined with people sitting on the carpet outside their rooms, shouting and smoking cigarettes. The room itself was clean and the air conditioning worked. All my boxes were checked. The bathroom reeked of weed, which some would interpret as a bonus. I scrubbed my wounds raw in the sink, tucked away the precious cargo of wine and peaches, and set out to investigate downtown Manchester.

Streetlight technology has not yet made its way to Manchester, so we spent twenty minutes missing exits in ocean-floor darkness. It looked worryingly like Wilkes-Barre, which is not where one would choose to vacation, were one sane.

Downtown erupted from nowhere like graphic pop-in on a video game running at its lowest resolution. One second you’re in leatherface country, with nothing breaking the abyssal darkness but the occasional half-broken Jiffy Lube sign. The next, you’re on vibrant neon market strip, replete with hipsters and the homeless.

We knew we had hit downtown proper when we passed by the “craft grilled cheese bistro”.

only programmers will understand!!!! like and reblog if u get it

Since I am an adult man, grilled cheese cannot be dinner. Both “gastropubs” we tried, despite their bitchin Greek mythology names, offered generic terrible burgers and a draft list that consisted of Coors Light.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl told me. “I’m gonna die.”

“We all will,” I assured her. “Soon.”

Yelp claimed there was a brewery five blocks away. We walked off the only lit street, into absolute, encompassing blackness. It would’ve been spooky if I didn’t always kind of hope some Putty Patrol mook would lunge at me from the dark while I’m far away from home, having told no one where I’m going and left no paper trail.

There were no incidents. No one was murdered in self-defense. No one knows what we did last summer. The Stark Brewing Company was in the basement of a grim looking office complex, and it was vacant save for two other wanderers.

We sat at the bar and ordered a flight and an imperial stout. I was pushing for finding an actual restaurant, but the Girl ordered “Penne with vodka sauce”, which was not the right color, flavor, or texture to be anything but penne bolognese. The Girl didn’t seem to mind. I ate a pulled pork sandwich.

The beers were warm, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the beers were, so long as they were beers. And not Coors Light. The brewery themed all of their beers off of dogs, for some reason, which I believe to be the ideal business model. According to the bartenders, the brewery had been open for 25 years, but hadn’t yet received their big boom. I was outraged. The beers were excellent, and would probably be even better if they weren’t room temperature, and the taps were not only named for specific dogs, but also provided pictures.

To say nothing of the bathroom, which was covered in sharpie beer lore.

The bartender and waitresses swore a lot more than you would normally expect in this context. The Girl maintains they were swearing at us. I disagreed.

“They were swearing <i>with</i> us,” I mansplained.

“We weren’t swearing,” she countered.

“But if we HAD been.”

As I’ve grown larger and more sinuous, I’ve tried to cut back on how often I cuss at strangers. Cultural relativism is the understanding that not everyone grew up among the coalcrackers, and good-natured oaths like “how the hell are you” or using the fuck-word as a conversational placeholder, while subjectively soothing, can set off fight-or-flight in the small, soft, and bourgeoisie.

I try to maintain direct proportionality between my barbarism and my well-heeledness. Neither the wait staff nor the other two customers shared my bond, and the middle-aged guy on my right proceeded to tell me how his hometown of Denver, Colorado is the greatest fuckin’ city in America, next to maybe Southern California. Which is not a city.

We talked about our homes and travels for a while, then I got my pulled pork sandwich and they left. The sandwich was slightly warmer than the beer, which beat the alternative.

An armada of children came into the bar.

“Oh, shit,” the woman tending bar said. They were visibly teenagers, and on the wrong side of it. They had that gangly awkwardness you get around fourteen or fifteen, and if they were trying to play it off, they were woefully bad at it. There were also nearly twenty of them. It looked like a field trip.

People in their twenties don’t travel in packs of more than six. It’s hard to transport a throng, unless you have a party bus, and why do you have a party bus when you’re twenty-eight? You’re twenty-eight and party buses have always been sad. Get a job. Also, it’s hard to get that many adults to agree on something.

It can be done. You can say, “Hey, adults, you want to do some drugs?” And in a sufficiently sized crowd, you’ll manage to pull twenty or so who will follow you to your house or whatever. This is called an “afterparty”. It doesn’t go to bars at 9pm.

Have you felt out the social zeitgeist recently? Look at a random handful of current memes and it’ll be pretty clear that most adults consider socialization to be a required burden, like paying emotional taxes. “Going out” is the price of living in a civilized society. You’re not going to scare up twenty people, then put them in a party bus, then take them to an abandoned bar half a mile outside of where the actual nightlife is.

“Hey, we’re just about to close,” the bartender said.

A reedy blonde in a top that seemed to consist mostly of straps screeched, “But your WEBSITE said you were open til ONE!”

Screeched.

The bar fell silent. Well, more silent. The Girl and I traded looks, her horror for my delight.

“Uhhhhhh,” the bartender said, but with excellent elocution, as though that were the word she had deliberately chosen. “Okay.”

They sat the itinerant mall food court in an enormous corner table, whereupon they requested shots.

The waitress who had sworn at/with us the least came back to the bar and said, “You guys said you were from Pennsylvania, right?”

We nodded.

“Can I see one of your licenses quick?”

She compared mine against the obviously fake ID one of the tweens had given her. After a moment she said, “Yeah, you can see, the font is different. And the picture looks like it’s photoshopped.”

“Yeah, no one’s license picture ever looks this good,” the Girl said, studying the fake ID.

“Except mine,” I added. They ignored me. I didn’t take it personally.

The waitresses disappeared into the back. Five minutes later, the only dude working at the place was gendered into being the bad cop. He sulked over to the teens.

“You guys gotta leave,” he said. “We know your ID’s fake. We’re not trying to get fined. You gotta go.”

For maximum accuracy, imagine this said in Toby’s voice from the Office. Shamefaced, the flash mob of children dispersed.

We paid for our room temperature beers and left the poor, foul-mouthed brewery to close at 9:30 on a Friday. The Girl and I accidentally stalked the battalion of teens through the street, but only because we were all moving back toward the only lights in the city, not unlike moths. They turned a corner and vanished, presumably to find an arcade or laser tag or some sort of large carousel.

The Girl and I followed the sounds of some obnoxious bros announcing, “It’s like a fahkin sketchy ally, dewd”.

It was, in fact, the least sketchy alley I’d ever been in. Cat Alley was the best lit venue in all of New Hampshire. It was clean and well-maintained, and it was covered less in graffiti and more in an outdoor art gallery dedicated to cats.

There were more, but they didn’t all warrant a picture.

Portland Pie Co loomed from the endless darkness like a beacon in the night, hearkening back to those days lost in Maine during the Great Lobster Drought of 2017. We split a bourbon barrel ale which did me in. It was bedtime.

On the way back, toward the end of the main drag, a man made of pure light rode by blasting EZ-Listenin from his Tron bicycle, also made of pure light.

I can’t prove he wasn’t Jesus.

Heartened, we returned to the hotel, where no one was smoking or yelling in the hallway anymore. Excellent.

Next stop, Portsmouth.

Love,

The Bastard

Into the Abyss August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire. After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as "Michael Jackson's favorite grinder", we were in dire need of respite.

#alley #armada #barbarian #bastard #beer #bistro #bonfire #bourgeoisie #brewery #cat alley #cats #cheddar #children #cigarettes #coors lite #culture #doggo #dogs #downtown #fake id #first aid #forward base #grilled cheese #hipster #hostels #hotel #hungry #jesus #jiffy lube #leatherface

[nyxi-styx]

It’s hard joining a new fandom sometimes

I’m just going to take a minute to vent a little bit of my feelings and I honestly don’t care if anyone reads this.

At 25 years old (24 when I started getting dragged into it all), I thought I was “too old” to be a YouTube fan. It was, after all, rather after my time. Established in 2005, I didn’t really experience anything on YouTube until about 2007-2008. Back then it was meme-y BS like Shoop-da-Whoop, “Shoes”, Charlie the Unicorn, and Potter Puppet Pals. As I grew older, YouTube seemed like something better left to teens. Maybe use it to look up a music video or something instructional and then fall down a Slow-Mo Guys or choreography rabbit hole. Still not a fandom. The closest I came to such was binge-watching Rob Dyke’s WWYPTOTI series and Twisted Tens series.

At Indy PopCon 2016, I was there with friends to see a guest (and caught glimpses of a passing Kevin Smith as I was so that was badass). Two of my friends were already in the YouTube culture world and fans of Markiplier and Dan & Phil. While we were having a snack and playing a card game, they spotted Wade (THE LordMinion777) taking some photos with fans int eh same food court area. I went over and took the photo of them with him, having no idea who this dude was. Less than a month later, (I’d say about 2 weeks) one of those two friends finally introduced me to Markiplier. I don’t remember the reasoning, but she showed me I Am Bread first. It was funny. I liked it. I didn’t think I’d get as into it as she did. However, curiosity had the better of me and I went to my room that night and watched him play ALL of OctoDad: Dadliest Catch. I laughed so hard I cried and that sold it for me. I fell in love. Of course, I had known a little about him due to gratuitous gifs and photos all over this godforsaken hellsite and I always thought he seemed like a nice, genuine person. Overtime, I just kept watching. I got to know about Bob and Wade and Team Edge. I fell in love with Chica. I just really enjoyed myself. Of course, I knew a little bit about JackSepticEye too, but I though being a Markiplier fan was about as deep into YouTube fandom as I was going to get.

About February, I saw a recommended playlist of JSE videos on an unrelated site. At this point, the post with the playlist was about 4 months old. I decided to go ahead and watch it, just to try something new. Naturally, I fell in love. I loved Jack more than I love Mark soon enough, not through any fault of Mark or anything. He’s still a wonderful person. I just loved that Jack was jsut unabashedly, fully, enjoying himself and nerding out and THEN doing the “professional” thing and reviewing the game whereas Mark would try to review while playing and get distracted by his own emotions and reactions. Not that that is a bad thing. That doesn’t mean Jack is better than Mark. I love them both SO much, but I find it easier to connect with Jack that way because that’s how I am too. I think that’s how most of us are. Once again, I thought this was as deep into YouTube fandom as I was going to get. I caught up with most of their videos (both Mark and Jack). The ones that interested me anyway. And then I would go back and forth and catch up on their latest. So, naturally, I got to know Tyler and Ethan too.

Unfortunately- and I feel like dirt admitting this, like I feel so fucking guilty and that’s why I’m venting here- I paid a lot of attention to Tyler and Mark and not a whole lot to Ethan. I didn’t have anything against him at all. He was funny and adorable. I just... *shrug*. But eventually, his self-deprecating jokes about “my channel is dying” started echoing in my head. And I found myself going “Why?” I knew they would tease him about his opening (which I think is a little unfair since it happens to be joked about more than Mark’s or Jack though there’s are targeted too) and that was about it. So, I finally went and I hit that subscribe button and waited until I had a little bit of time to really check out the content.

I finally sat down and opened the Crank Gameplays channel and started saving playlists of content that I found interesting. I don’t remember where exactly I started but I was kind of like “Okay. Cool. Cool. I mean there’s a lot of similarities between YouTube gamers, so how much can you really do?” But then I saw the video of Ethan and his brother singing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” and I was like “Wow! He can sing! He’s got a really nice voice! It’s kind of that rugged jazzy, folks-y type voice. He kinda reminds me of like... Train or Matt Nathanson. Neato.” But then in ‘recommended’ came a video (I assume a clip from a livestream) of Ethan playing ukulele and covering “Can’t Help Falling In Love”. If there’s one thing I’m a sucker for, it’s Elvis songs.

I watched that video and fell. in. LOVE. Instant stan. I don’t know what it was but I just... couldn’t help falling in love. Haha.

Like I do, I instantly tried to find out a lot about him as if to play catch up. I was surprised to find out he’s a bit younger than me. But he’s got the same birthday as my dad (three days before mine and 3 days after my favourite actor) so of course I thought that was pretty freaking cool.

Maybe it’s because I always root for the underdog and the secondary characters... maybe it’s because blue is my favourite colour... maybe it’s because I am a sucker for hazel eyes... maybe it’s because I always fall for the biggest dork... I don’t know. I can’t pinpoint it, but Ethan is so wildly different from Mark and Jack. They’re all super nice, super genuine guys, but something about Ethan tugs at my heartstrings way more.

Whatever it is, I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to watch him grow and succeed in the next year. And I’m SO excited to have the chance to meet him at Indy PopCon 2018.

The thing is, though... I feel... like I don’t belong here. In Mark’s fandom, I really am just a number. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. In Jack’s fandom... well, the Overnight Watch was my first foray into community interaction and I was so surprised and overwhelmed by how welcome I was. Like it didn’t matter how long I had been a fan, what mattered was that I was a fan and I was happy to be interacting. And it’s nice to be a part of a fandom in which there’s little to no toxicity and drama and hatred amongst fans. It’s nice to be completely accepted.

In Ethan’s fandom... well, I’ve been here all of about a week... and I feel like I’m trying too hard. Like I shouldn’t be in this community because everyone else has been here longer. Everyone else understands more. Everyone else is better than me. I don’t matter.

This is why it’s nice to have @markidarkimoo as a friend. She stans with me no matter who or what.

The worst of it all in these three fandoms is that I can’t make fanart. I am shit at mood/aesthetic boards. I CAN make video edits, but my current laptop will not support my preferred software and I can’t afford a better laptop for a while. I am shit at photo edits.

I just... I can’t do anything worthwhile. I see all this other amazing work that all of the rest of you put out and I just... feel so insignificant.

Being part of a “big box” fandom like Supernatural or Marvel or Sherlock is easy for me because they’re all fictional characters and people eat up fanfic like they’re starving to death. Doesn’t matter if I can’t fan art. I can contribute to the fandom and show my love by making stories.

YouTube is different. It’s not based on fictional characters (Jack’s Egos and Darkiplier aside), it’s based all on real people. I can’t fanfic that unless it’s reader insert and that’s not something for the creators to see (*if they ever do, please kill me*) and enjoy.

I don’t know... I just feel pretty useless. These fandoms are smaller than the “big box” fandoms so I feel like I have to contribute something in order to properly show my love and appreciation and gratitude. But I can’t. I’m just useless. I’m just a blip.

#personal vent/rant #i'm sorry i'm useless #i can't contribute anything because i have no talent #jacksepticeye #markiplier #crank gameplays #crankgameplays #cgpa #ethan nestor #ethan nestor darling #mark fishbach #mark edward fishbach #sean william mcloughlin #tyler scheid #apocalypto_12 #lordminion777 #wade #bob #muyskerm #bob muyskens #cw: feelings of uselessness #cw: feelings of hopelessness

[geminimoonbeamx]

Electric Feel: Part One

A/N: Alright you guys so last night I re-watched the movie ‘Savages’. You know, the one with Quicksilver and Serena Vander-Woodsen in it? Yeah, it totally rekindled my love for Polyamorous relationships and after reading a fuck ton of amazing Stucky one’s this site, I decided I just had to write my own. This is going to be a short series. Only five or so parts of fluff and smut. Smut with plot, but smut none the less lol. Enjoy ya’ll. Steve/OC/Bucky

CURRENTLY ON HOLD. WILL RECONTINUE IN 2018

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy mentions Panic disorder, Anxiety, Depression and use of Prescription Drugs. Mental health/illness will be a heavy topic in this one so if it triggers you, I’m sorry my beautiful buttercups but this story might not be the one for you. Cussing because I have the worst mouth and my vocab is made up of four letter words.

Story Summary: Y/N, an overworked plus size model, is struggling to balance her career and her worsening panic disorder. Moving into Avengers Tower, at her Aunt Peppers request, was supposed to relieve some of the stress. She never expected to find solace in the arms of not one, but both of the Towers resident super soldiers

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Dragging yourself across the lobby of ‘Avengers Tower’ you feel absolutely numb. The static in your head seemed far away, like a station you just couldn’t tune into. Not that you wanted to. No, you’d take this reprieve, this moment of nothingness happily. At least you felt like you could breathe, like your lungs we’re actually working again, doing the simplest of tasks.

Jesus. How sad is that? That your actually happy you could breathe normally? The most natural thing a human could do, and yet even that seemed like a heralding task to you lately.

“Hello Ms. Y/N” The receptionist at the circular desk greeted as you passed and on queue you forced a smile on your face.

You’d gotten good at it by now, so good, that the woman didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and went on with her work. Typing away at who knows what. It was nearly thirty minutes past 10. What could Tony have her working on so late? Whatever, you deduce. Whatever it was, you knew she was probably getting paid beautifully for it.

And wasn’t that the point of it all? What made the world go round?

Money is the reason we exist. Everybody knows it, it’s a fact. Kiss, kiss.

You recite to your self as you push your floor button on the elevator and lean back heavily on the rail. It’s only when the doors shut, leaving you in the solitary, boxed in space, that you let the smile fall off of your face, your cheeks felt relieved. The daily strain on your cheeks from holding that fake, plasticine smile sucked and as your face sagged you feel the most yourself.

“You have one major case of resting bitch face, kid” You remember Tony laughing at you years ago. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heart a thousand times before. Your features we’re naturally…sharp. Moody. Your full lips instinctively pulled down at the corners unless you were either A)genuinely smiling or B) putting on that mask that you’d perfected.

In your line of work, resting bitch face was both a blessing and a curse. That pout of yours, yeah it had scored you a lot of high end jobs. Shooting for A-list magazines with renound photographers. Making you a bit of a “hot commodity” in the modeling world. But it had also earned you a reputation. Everyone had this image of you; thought you we’re extremely bitchy and stuck up. It was already hard, working in the modeling community. Plus size modeling was just starting to boom, to become a norm but even you didn’t fit some of the major guidelines. At well over two hundred pounds and barley reaching 5'3, you we’re an unusual peice for the industry in the first place.

Having everyone think you we’re a high maintenance, hard to work with cunt- well that didn’t help either.

They just didn’t know you, which you almost laughed at because isn’t that what everyone’s excuse is? ‘They don’t know me, I’m so misunderstood’.

Fuck, you we’re a walking cliché, you chide yourself.

Most who met you tended to think you we’re “stuck up” because a good chunk of the time you we’re so stuck in your own head that you couldn’t focus on anyone around you. Trying to breath, trying to focus on anything but the near constant bubble of nervousness that never seemed to leave your stomach. Running through your therapists guide list on how to avoid your next panic attack.

In truth, when most got to know you they were honestly shocked at your goofy, nerdy nature. Those few people, who tried to delve under the surface, we’re greeted with a girl who could make a joke out of just about anything and would rather stay in bed and binge on Star Wars movies and buffalo wings(well maybe no one would be surprised about that your love of chicken wings, you think humorously. Bitterly)

It hadn’t always been this bad, you recite to yourself. It would get better, you encourage.

When you get to your floor, all you want to do is go to sleep. The thought of having to have to drone through any other kind of human interaction physically made you wince.

Most of the time, you didn’t mind the floor you we’re on. Actually, you quite liked your “floor mates”. Yeah, it had been a little weird at first being “bunked” with all guys, but you’d soon found that you wouldn’t have wanted to be placed anywhere else. Steve, Sam and Bucky we’re good to you, yeah they babied you a little and left messes in the living room, but you had your own hoard of annoying tendencies and still, they never treated you like anything but…family.

Like the older brothers you never wanted- while simultaneously being the little brothers you had DEFINATLEY never fucking wanted because Jesus Christ, who had left the empty Oreo package in the middle of the floor? You bend down, almost robotically, to pick it up.

Steve and Bucky are lounging on opposite sides of the long couch, watching some sports show that you didn’t really care to know. You barley notice them, and you really hope that they’re not going to notice you. That they’re too invested in the game on the mammoth flat screen-

“Hey, babydoll. How was work?”

No dice. Not that you’d really thought for a second they we’re just going to ignore your entrance.

The smile, that smile, you plaster on is almost painful.

They both look up at you, Bucky’s head slightly cocked as he waits for an answer.

“It was fine, I’m really tired though. I’m going to change”

To anyone else your tone would have sounded pleasant. Tired, but normal.

To Steve, it’s a big red flag. Gone is the usual bite in your voice, the giggle. The light. You sound…monotone. Like you weren’t really there at all. And that’s what really makes him look at you, take you in. The bags under your eyes are pronounced, even with the makeup that adorns your skin. Your posture is rigid and you look like you might strain a muscle just from standing there but it’s your eyes that confirm it for him. He’d seen that look in them many a time before. He feels the tug on his heart strings as you hurry out of the room.

When Steve turns his head to Bucky, the mans eyes are still glued on your retreating frame. But the look on his face matches the one Steve knew he himself was sporting.

You’d had another hard one. Another attack. Being ‘roomies’ with you meant that they we’re no stranger to your illness, they’d experienced first hand what you went through on a near day to day bases. Hell, Bucky went through his fair share of his own. But it never ceased to put a felling akin to stones in their throats to see you in that state

“I want to go check on her, man” Bucky announces “She looked real rough”

Steve shook his head. They’d been through this. The trial and error of it all.

“Nah, pal. You know she’ll freak out if you go after her right now…let her go cool off” Steve reminds his friend. Didn’t he remember the last time…it hadn’t gone over well.

Bucky sighs through his nose and nurses the beer bottle in his hand. He knew what it was like, what she was going through and it made it worse, the thought of her feeling even a fraction of the strain that he himself frequently endured had him tied in knots. He felt like he had to get up, and go to her. And check on her and make sure that she was playing on her phone like she liked to do, laughing at some meme he knew she’d show him later and not curled up in a corner.

He still winces at that mental image. When he’d found her in the kitchens with her hands over her eyes and her knees pulled up to her chest.

“I’m worried about her, too” Steve’s voice cuts through the silence. He can see the cogs working in Bucky’s head.

Bucky nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip. Yeah, he knew.

Knew that they we’re both royally fucked.

And had been for a while now. Because nothing good could come from the way that they both felt about you. He’d never really thought about it before. Maybe, even though it was a little screwed up, it was because back in the forties he could run circles around Steve when it came to girls. Back then he’d never be in competition with the him. Plus Steve had always loved dark haired dames and Bucky had a thing for Redheads, so he never really thought there would be a day when they a single woman caught both pairs of their eyes.

And then came you. When Bucky had learned Pepper’s niece was coming to live at the compound he’d never in his wildest dreams could have imagined you. All ass and sass and bambi eyes. All understanding touches and long talks in the middle of the night when neither of you could sleep because your brains just wouldnt turn off. You seemed to understand him in a way that he didn’t even understand himself.

You’d snuck up on Bucky…

Steve was different. He’d met you a handful of times before you’d moved in. You were Peppers niece, after all, so you’d been around the tower. Never staying for long- just long enough to throw him that smile. To flip your sheet of hair over your shoulder and be the sweetest thing he’d ever encountered. You rotted his teeth. You brought out the side of him, the one that was foreign to everyone but Bucky.

You hadn’t snuck up on Steve. You’d hit him like a god damn freight train.

And it yet no one was willing to admit it, even though it was nearly palpable. The three of you went on, holding onto a friendship that seemed to keep all of you a float.

Because Bucky needed Steve. It wasn’t a fact he was ignorant to. He needed his best friend if he had any hope of ever truly getting back to the man he’d once been and Steve needed him back. The only link he had to his true self. To the man behind the shield.

So, they kept it unspoken. They didn’t even talk about it to each other, which if you knew Bucky and Steve you’d know was in-fucking-sane because those two told eachother EVERYTHING. Neither of them we’re willing to risk the century long friendship.

Hell no…

But did they really even have to say it? Steve witnessed the way you touched Bucky, your hands trailing over him in something liken to worship and Bucky noticed the way you sought out Steve. The way you needed him, the way you looked at him like he was the sun.

Funny thing? It didn’t make either of them jealous, there was no animosity. No hurt feelings just…need.

Need of what? Neither of them knew.

And so, almost simultaneously, they both tipped their beer bottles back heavily, the screen illuminating their faces. They could lie to themselves. But they never did get the hang of lying to each other.

You stand in the shower for what feels like ages, allowing the scorching water to rush over you. Trying to practice those visionary exercises you’d worked on in therapy. Letting all of the negativity swirl down the drain. When you exit the glass, walk in shower you feel a little better. When you go to your bedside table and pop one of the tiny, yellow pills in your mouth, that helps even more. You’d learned long ago to take your medicine. You would question taking Dayquil when you had a could, so why would you do that in this case?

You didn’t need to feel ashamed for having to use medicine. You repeated yourself that daily, still. It was such a stigma, you we’re still working through it.

You pull a pair of sliky pink pajama shorts up your curvy legs. They we’re your favorite ones, the little cactus’ print always made you smile and then threw on an oversized grey sweater, the one you’d had for years. The littering of holes on the bottom of the sleeves was just proof to your immense love for it. You then brushed through your mess of wet hair, getting out all of the snarls, working through the small kinks before you slathered on your face serum’s and body lotions.

You had to do this.

Because your job required you to take care of your appearance and because your therapist assured you that taking care of yourself even when you felt low was one of the keys to happiness. To getting through it…and you would get through it.

When your finish your nightly routine you stare at yourself in the vanity mirror for a minute or two or five.

You look like a fucking eleven year old without makeup. Your face child like without the sharp eye liner of defining bronzer. But there was a prettiness to you, your eyes seemed even (e/c)er. You shake out your hair, watching the still damp tendrils fall across your shoulder before slipping into a pair of slippers, feeling good enough to go and scower the fridge because your tummy was growling viciously and you knew it was a shit idea to let those pills kick in on an empty stomach.

Your not surprised to see Steve and Bucky still immersed in their game- or maybe it’s a different game because this one looks like hockey and you could have sworn the other was baseball.

“What'er you guys watching?” You inquire, just to start a conversation, as you walk across the living room.

Your voice is still worn out, but you look better. Like you always do after showering off the long day.

“The Rangers game. We’re gettin’ our asses handed to us” Bucky gruffs, taking a look-see at you. Your hairs long down your back, your swimming in that old sweater of yours and your face is bare. Just like he likes you best.

“Hey, have a little faith! We can still pull through” Steve urges and you giggle as you open the stainless steel fridge door.

“We got you an order of those perogi’s you like from Kinga’s” He tells you just as your eyes land on the white take out box and you thank whatever creation there might be for your boys.

“Mmm, thank you kindly sirs” You pop them in the microwave “Sam still on that mission?”

It been a week and you we’re starting to get a little worried. You knew him, Nat and Thor could more then handle themselves but you we’re starting to really miss his booming jokes. His dirty laundry basket in the hallway, not so much. You’d almost killed yourself on that thing in the middle of the night too many times.

“Yeah, don’t worry, he’ll be back on Friday. Unfortunately” Bucky hollers to you and you just roll your eyes and chuckle. Those two pretended to hate each other, but really you’d heard Bucky questioning the bird mans return this morning. No one brewed a pot of coffee like Sam.

When you come back to the living room, your hands full; the take out box in one and a glass of that green tea blend that you could never get either of them could drink because apparently it tasted like grass, it’s no shock that you plop down in the middle of them.

It would have been weirder if you had chosen to sit on one of the empty couches.

It was just normal for you now, your place between them and the comfortable conversation that ensues feels like home. You ask about how their day had gone, wanting to hear details from both about what they’d done for the duration of it. And then, they ask about yours.

To anyone else, even your Aunt Pepper, you probably would of lied. Would have told a wound a nice story about how the shoot had been so amazing. The team, the outfits. The set.

And that was true. Partially. But you don’t tell them the partial truth. You never do.

“I mean it was okay-” Bucky shoots you a knowing look and you sigh “The photographer was really intense. I mean he’s known for that, his crazy antics make for some kick-ass shots but that plus the lights that were set up was all just really…sucky”

You admit, quirking your mouth and swirling your tea. Steve reaches over, his big scorching palm coming to rest on your shoulder. The weight of it reassuring.

“I just feel- ugh fuck, you know? Like I cant go running away every time set gets a little loud or they shine a weird light in my eyes”

“But you didn’t run away right? You stayed and finished it” Steve’s voice is gentle- but not in that annoying clinical way. No, it’s easing the push, it’s encouraging not belittling.

“Yeah. After I had a minor breakdown in my changing room” that was an understatement, you recall the way you’d grasped at your chest. The way all the air in the room had seemingly gone out.

“Then? That’s an impressive feat all on it’s own, sugar” He continues on and you shake your head, poking at your perogi. Unable meeting either of their eyes.

“I’m just thinking maybe I’m not cut out for this anymore” It was so, so hard to admit that. To admit that maybe it was time to change your dreams, to let go of what you’d wanted for so.

Bucky’s chest aches for you, the empathy he feels in that moment is immense, he cant help but reach out. His hand going to you thigh, his thumb rubbing little circles into the smooth, plush skin as he talks.

“Why? Even when you felt awful you stayed put. Listen, doll, anyone who knows you knows how much you want this…I mean you we’re born for the camera, just look at that face- you roll your eyes and he chuckles- Not to mention if you don’t have a professional taking em’ your just going to sit in your room and take a thousand of those selfers anyway. Might as well get paid for your troubles ”

That makes you laugh hard and you tilt your head to him “Selfies, Bucky! God, you’re so old”

They have a way of doing this- making you feel better. Making it all melt away, even if it’s just for those moments when the three of you are huddled together. You dream of this shit, no joke. Of the feeling of both of their hands on you like they are now.

“You wound me, doll” Bucky melodramatically holds his chest leaning back into the couch, not moving his hand.

You continue eating, your stomach feeling more settled. You close your eyes and moan at the heaven sent explosion of favor.

“Mmm, Stevie, taste this” You urge as you stab one of the potato dumplings and hold it out to the lighter haired man, your hand underneath it incase it spilled over. Steve grins and opens his mouth wide and inviting as you pop the entire thing in.

“Amazing, right?”

“Uh, huh ‘real ‘ood” he says around the mouthful of food and you and Bucky both chuckle.

“Don’t hurt yourself there, punk” Bucky teases and Steve reaches across you to swat at his shoulder.

“Jerk”

Your more then used to them being hundred year old children “Alright boys let’s watch something that doesn’t make my brain bleed, yes?”

There’s a few moans and groans of protest, from the both of them, but in the end they do what they always do; give you what you want. You’re vaguely aware of your power over the two men and you deviously think how dangerous it is to have them at your beck and call. You end up making them watch ‘The Men in Black’ with you because “It’s a classic, oh my gosh I cant believe you guys have never seen this before” and of course you fall asleep twenty minutes in.

When people talk about anxiety attacks, they don’t ever mention how they physically drain the life out of you. The exhaustion that comes with them.

You end up sprawled out, your head resting on a pillow in Steve’s lap and your legs tangled with Bucky’s as he stretched out on the opposite side of you. Not an unusual positon for the three of you to contort into.

Steve plays with the near dry tendrils of your hair idly, he can feel your short, puff like breaths on his thigh. Bucky’s vibranium hand rests on your leg, where knee meets thigh, the warmth of your sweet smelling skin radiating off of you. It’s peace, the one sliver of peace it seems that you all will ever find.

“Steve” Bucky speaks first. He’s always been the bolder of the two. He’d known he was going to have to be the one to speak up sooner or later.

“Yeah?” Steve can hear it in his voice. Knows what’s coming.

“You love her” it’s not a question or an accusation. Just a statement.

“So do you” Is all Steve can think to retort and Bucky just sighs and nods wordlessly.

Will Smith fights aliens on the TV screen as they both acknowledge what they’d known wouldn’t stay unspoken.

“Ya’ know our lives would be a hellava lot easier if these guys really existed” Steve’s eyes narrow as he drinks in the film. Bucky’s snort fills the room. Aint that the truth.

There’s a moment of silence where they let the movie play, where your little wheezes and extraterrestrial battle sounds fill the living room.

“Your Agent K and I’m agent J” Bucky smirks, knowing his little comment is going to grate his best friend. Steve’s head snaps in his direction.

“That’s a load of crap, your older then me!”

“In years, yes. In spirit-”

“Fuck off, Bucky”

And even in your sleep state, you manage to be a smart ass. Because even though Steve cursed around you plenty, you’d grown up on those tapes of him that they played in school. And the cussing one had always stuck with you. “Language cap'n” you mother incoherently.

They both look like their eyes might pop out of their heads.

——————-

Okay guys I hope you liked this first part! I’m still trying to figure out the dynamic I want for the three of them, but I think I’ve got it. Please give me feed back, because I live on that shit. It’s the air I breathe. If you want to be tagged, let me know!😬💛

#bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnesxreader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers smut #mcu smut #plus size reader #pepper potts #stucky x reader

[htarletondigitalmktg]

Glossier

Semi-Humble Beginnings

In 2010, Emily Weiss began the blog Into the Gloss in her spare time while she worked as a Vogue styling assistant. Into the Gloss started as a way to open the dialogue about women’s beauty routines. It was a result of discovering that people believed “admitting you have a beauty routine must mean you’re frivolous or maybe shouldn’t be taken too seriously” — something she’d observed in her time working in the fashion industry (Giacobbe). Very quickly, this venture that began from a $500 investment turned into something more — and Weiss wanted to take advantage of the community.

Just four years after her blog’s beginnings, Weiss hinted at a product launch through the reveal of the Instagram account, @Glossier. Then in October, she released four products under this brand name, to be sold exclusively online at glossier.com (Weiss). Glossier’s advertising was equally exclusive on digital mediums, though 70 percent of online sales came from “peer-to-peer referrals, a number that’s remained constant” (Giacobbe). Even though the company spent no money on advertising (“it was all social-driven”), by the end of 2015, waiting lists for products reached 10,000 people long (Giacobbe). Social media and organic marketing had proven to be significantly effective with Glossier, and continue to work today with Glossier’s 40+ product lineup. In fact, without the power of social media, Glossier would be nowhere near as successful as it is today.

Let’s Get Social

Weiss says Instagram is Glossier’s most powerful social platform — which may answer why they have two accounts (or three, if you count Into The Gloss as a branch). This February, Glossier launched a new brand by posting three animated logos on a separate Instagram account, @GlossierPlay. Immediately, commenters tried to guess what was next in store for the company. @sophia.cari wondered if it was “maybe an app/game???” while @issy.seigel asked “is it a subscription box??”. Through carefully teased and distorted images of products, swatches, and disco clubs, it was revealed that Glossier Play was a colorful new makeup line — a step away from the “barely there” makeup that Glossier had previously been selling. After just over a month, this new account gained over 115 thousand followers, which is still only a piece of the 1.9 million follower pie @Glossier’s Instagram boasts.

Glossier’s @GlossierPlay account

The traditional Glossier social media accounts remain consistent across platforms. On Instagram, the brand mostly reposts content from fans: images of beauty looks, “shelfies” (an industry term for an image of someone’s product shelf), and even memes. Each post gets an average of 30,000 likes. Glossier’s Because the majority of content is user-generated, consumers and followers fell as though they have a stake in the company, which makes them feel less like customers and more like fans. As a result, their Instagram does not feel like outright advertising — and instead a fanpage for the brand. The voice they capture is friendly, as if it’s just a good pal sharing some beautiful images. This voice allows the brand to feel level with its consumers.

Glossier’s Instagram Page

The Glossier YouTube page comes in second with most interaction. Similar to Instagram, this page feels less like advertising for the brand and more like a community and fanpage. On Glossier’s YouTube (referred to cheekily by the handle @GlossierTV), they often post “Get Ready With Me” videos and makeup tutorials, mimicking the content of a beauty vlogger. These videos often feature trendy female and male influencers, or even regular people. This page has 139k followers and the average amount of likes on a video is about 90k.

Glossier also has a Twitter, with 83.3 thousand followers, but the majority of its content is shared from their Instagram. Occasionally, like on Instagram, they will retweet a user’s image of products, but for the most part it’s used to answer fans’ concerns. Typically a Tweet will get under 100 likes.

In addition to these three social platforms, they use Pinterest as an aesthetic representation of the brand and collection of relevant Into the Gloss articles. Their Pinterest account has 11k followers.

Taking it straight from the consumer

Dave Evans, in his article “The Social Web and Engagement”, argues that “engagement is central to the effective use of social technology and the creation of social business”. I believe that Weiss would agree with this statement. Shortly after Glossier’s launch, “the company announced $8.4 million in Series A funding led by Thrive Capital” (Giacobbe). This funding lead to the creation of technology that allowed Weiss and Glossier to study social platforms in order to measure how well Glossier posts and products were doing across mediums. Weiss wanted to study which user-generated posts were most effective to promote engagement with the brand and, of course, consumption. This innovation reflects on why Weiss herself sees Glossier as “a pretty unique kind of beauty company, that’s also a tech company” (Johnson). It allowed this research and development department to take full advantage of Instagram as their own marketing tool without too much effort. In a huge way, this technique has developed Glossier’s growth, and in turn consumer engagement.

Evans offers a social feedback cycle in his article that I believe Glossier has followed almost identically, albeit a little bit backwards. Glossier has a unique beginning which, in turn, gives them a unique relationship towards this cycle. Because they began with a blog, the company essentially based itself off user-generated articles, posts, and discussions about other products. It was this community that sparked the idea in Weiss’ head to begin Glossier, after all. In her Glossier launch essay on Into the Gloss, Weiss writes:

Beauty, like fashion, touches everyone in different ways and offers you endless choices about how you’d like to feel and act and appear. But you already know this, because you’re here, which means you most likely have a Top Shelf of your own that’s been informed by this website. Which is incredible. The sheer fact that there’s a place on the internet that celebrates women’s brains and beauty, fosters community, and brings to light the best products in the world, is enough to make me retire, take up golf, and sleep 8-10 hours a night.

In this essay, Weiss talks about how she literally tapped into the social feedback cycle in order to create a brand that feeds off of it. Her observation of readers taking information given to them from her blog not only revealed issues in other products’ features, but also showed her that there was a space for her own products to blossom.

Henry Davis, Glossier’s previous President, discusses how important the company takes user-generated content and social feedback when dealing with marketing, “When your friend says, ‘you have to try this thing’, you listen. You cannot buy that much goodwill with all the advertising and the best creatives in the world. That’s what we’re focused on” (Rogers). Glossier is very much aware that no amount of advertising money can trump the power of social feedback. Thankfully, this focus has paid off.

In an interview with Kara Swisher from Recode Magazine, Weiss shared that, “...70 percent of our growth so far has been through peer to peer or organic, because people just fundamentally want to share that they enjoyed their Boy Brow.” An example of how the company has capitalized on peer to peer marketing is how Glossier handled their latest product launch. Glossier gifted product to “500 superfans”, who the company saw were engaging the most on social media, instead of popular influencers. That ended up being their most successful launch to date (Rogers).

Engagement is key

In his article, Evans offers a Structured Engagement model which has four steps towards achieving what he believes is ideal engagement: consumption, where the customer is, well, consuming the product; curation, where the consumers begin to interact with a company through reviews, likes, etc.; creation, which requires “community members [to] actually offer up something that they have made themselves”; and collaboration, which “occurs naturally between members of the community when given the chance” (Evans). I believe Glossier has achieved all of these, which places them at the final step of collaboration.

Many times Weiss has discussed how social media easily allows the brand to collaborate with consumers — and also the huge benefit of doing so. As one example, when Glossier was looking to release a face wash, they reached out on social media to ask a strange question: Who would play your dream face wash in a movie? Shockingly, people actually responded, and the top three choices were Eddie Redmayne, Emma Stone, and Julianne Moore. Weiss remembers feeling like, “What? Like, you guys are really answering this? They did, and I thought that was very interesting, because they all had sort of fair skin and red hair, and we thought like, ‘Okay, maybe this is about like sort of like a sensitive skin wash, or something that’...” (Swisher). These answers inspired the sort of pale, milky formula that their Milky Jelly Cleanser (now the best selling product of the Glossier line) became.

It helps that Glossier also reads and responds to every single direct message they receive, even though it’s time consuming. In the same interview, Weiss discussed how one comment changed the formula of one of their products. They received a direct message inquiring them to maybe “cut the water with 50 percent rose water” because it would make it more hydrating and add a nice smell. And in the end, Glossier did just that — all from a simple message.

Weiss knows the value of the social feedback cycle and the engagement process. She’s an intelligent beauty guru, turned beauty woman, turned tech CEO. “...You can be an incumbent beauty company and pay Google, like, I don’t know, $100,000 to serve the top beauty search terms or trends, or you can read one of the five DMs that Glossier gets in a minute. There might be one nugget in there that says, “Hey, why don’t you cut the rose water, have 30 percent rose water?” And that is like an aha moment for us” (Swisher).

https://intothegloss.com/2014/10/emily-weiss-glossier/

https://www.marketingweek.com/2018/06/25/glossier-ripping-up-marketing-playbook/

https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/298014

[facebookfacepalmed]

Hissy Fit

Wow. There’s a lot of pain, anger and nonsense packed into this little rant. Also, a lot of REAL bullshit.

Let’s start with the quote that apparently set this person off: “billionaires need to pay their fair share”. Really? You DISAGREE with this? We can disagree about what constitutes a fair share, but I’d really like to hear a good argument for why a billionaire shouldn’t pay his fair share. I mean, if we’re going to have any tax system, shouldn’t we ALL pay our fair share? Why exclude billionaires, the group most likely to be able to afford it? We should all pay our fair share, except the people who have the most money?

I love the idea that billionaires risked 20+ years, toiling away with no salary, so that they could make MY life better. What a noble sacrifice that is. “It’s not for me I’m amassing a gigantic fortune, it’s for the betterment of the people.” Sure, that will fly. Here’s your poster child for that argument:

Or pick any CEO behind the opioid crisis, the tobacco industry, industrial pollution, the housing market collapse, or that got rich by not paying a living wage. What a bunch of selfless princes.

If Jeff Bezos paid 800,000 people 10 billion a year in salaries, that would work out to an average salary of 12 million dollars PER EMPLOYEE if it were distributed equally. I think, since the majority of his workers make slightly less than that ($15 an hour, which works out to more like $30,000 a year), his salary might just be skewing the average a little bit. Here’s the thing: sure, Jeff Bezos should be making more money than anybody in his company. He took the risks, and he could have failed....as many others, just as hardworking and “deserving”, did, and will. But, he can’t make ANY money without employees, and a lot of them. He needs them. Without them, he can’t make a dime.

I don’t sit on my ass waiting for Amazon to deliver packages. Neither do most of the people who order from Amazon. They go to their jobs, the jobs that a lot of people have to do in order for Jeff Bezos to make billions of dollars a year. No employees, no money for Jeff. No customers, no money for Jeff. He didn’t do it alone, he can’t do it alone.

Nobody ever did it alone.

How about YOU be honest. You can be energetic, skilled, driven, motivated, educated, intelligent, resourceful, and creative, and STILL fail, especially if you consider becoming a billionaire the measure of your success. Most people with all of the attributes you list, 99% of them,  DON’T become billionaires. That includes doctors, scientists, inventors, lawyers, athletes, movie stars, engineers, people who work in essential fields like law enforcement, education, the military, construction, skilled trades, and infrastructure maintenance, and people whose work is essential to the continuance of our lifestyle and survival as a species like farmers, factory workers, nurses, child care providers, road crews, and, yes people in the service industry like waiters, sales people, cooks, dishwashers, janitors, and a lot I’m sure I’ve left out. We need ALL of these people. Do you know who isn’t essential, to any job, service, or work you might need done? Billionaires. Plumbing stopped up? Got a brain tumor? Who are you going to call, a billionaire?

What do you base your claim that on, that this is the easiest time ever to succeed? It certainly isn’t facts. We have near full employment, which means all the lazy people you malign are WORKING, many at more than one job, making CEO’s, stockholders, and board members richer, but they themselves aren’t anywhere near as well off as their parents were. Salaries have not kept up with inflation.  Do you know what else we had thirty years ago? Fewer billionaires. Didn’t need them then, don’t need them now.

No business should be “too big to fail”. If a business is too big to fail, it’s too big, period.

Oh, and capitalism didn’t sell students worthless $200k degrees? Since when? I don’t recall when the universities went socialist, or the government started setting prices, or making colleges free or affordable. Worthless &200k degrees are purely the result of unfettered capitalism, and those aren’t socialist banks writing student loans at high rates either.

I wouldn’t ask you to sympathize with the “victim poor me mentality”, whatever that is, either. I would ask you to wake up and realize that, no matter what the system, there will be losers and winners, and calling people lazy is the one of  oldest excuses for selfishness and stinginess there is, right up there with claiming it’s “god’s will.” People will make mistakes and miscalculations. Whole industries and skill sets will become obsolete. The economy, the stock market, and forces beyond anyone’s control or ability to predict--will happen. People will get sick, victims of illnesses or accidents that have nothing to do with how lazy they are, and become unable to work. People will get old, and unable to work, mo matter how much they may want to. It could happen to any of us. Some of it will happen to most of us.

I worked for forty years. A lot of people work that much or more without seeing much or a return, so cry me a river for somebody having “risked it all” for only twenty..or less. My work ethic was an essential part of my character. But in addition to being not lazy and industrious  I was FORTUNATE never to need, and after ten years of retirement, still have never needed what you would call a handout from other people. But, I was GRATEFUL that such programs existed because I knew I they were there if I needed them, and that other people who DID need them weren’t reduced to starvation and homelessness or becoming a burden on their relatives because they weren’t as lucky as I was. That’s who social programs and safety nets are for: potentially, any one of us, even Jeff Bezos. If we don’t need to use them, great But what kind of immoral, selfish, callous dickhead begrudges social services for people who fall by the wayside, when, IF WE ALL PAY OUR FAIR SHARE, we can easily afford it? A decent human being is someone who is more concerned about people who encounter bad times not going hungry and homeless than he is about some people being lazy. A jerk is somebody who prefers to see victims of accidents and a bad economy go hungry and homeless, just so he doesn’t have to support a few “lazy” people. Maybe you ought to go out and round up some of these “lazy” people, because I haven’t met very many myself. 

Maybe, once a guy is a billionaire, he ought to get his hand out of other people’s pockets. Maybe ALL of us would be better off, if we didn’t admire  billionaires. And by the way, most billionaires didn’t start from scratch. They had inherited fortunes to begin with. If making a billionaire dollars is merely the result of working hard and taking risks for twenty years, maybe the rich should show how much they believe in the system by not leaving any money at all to their children. You know, really level the playing field that you claim is already level...if it’s so damn easy, and the only thing keeping people from succeeding is laziness. 

None of the people I admire got rich by keeping wages down, sending jobs overseas to save even more money, buying congressmen and political parties to get corporate and personal tax breaks, or even more unconscionably to gut environmental and work safety protections, or by paying trolls to generate memes like this one that try to shift attention away from their own malfeasances and crimes by blaming the poor.

Final point, none of the people I know who have either shared or liked this meme on Facebook are billionaires, or on their way to becoming billionaires...it’s baffling to me why they endorse this, unless it’s to justify being stingy and selfish themselves, and they are under the delusion that, someday, thanks to their smarts and hard work, they’re going to be billionaires. I hate to break it to them but they’re not. I guess deep down they’re all lazy bastards who need to take a closer look in the mirror.