#like why are you making a post to shit on one white man to uplift another white man

[bimboficationblues]

why do you think Gamers have the politics they do

interesting question, I feel like this might be an appearance rather than a reality. a lot of people play video games to the degree that they might reasonably be called a "gamer," but not necessarily everyone who plays a moderate to high amount of video games will identify as such.

there could be something about like personal self-identification specifically through the lens of a commodity, and a consumer product that is largely regarded as "low art", that fosters resentment and inferiority complexes which in turn gets directed at removing or responding to "threats" to the subculture. we've seen the same thing in a similarly lame way in punk rock subculture. gamers getting outraged at someone criticizing their hobby is a long-standing habit: flipping out over Roger Ebert's dismissiveness of games as an artistic medium, the vitriol for Jack Thompson and other "moral majority" types who believed games caused or promoted violence/sexual degradation. I personally agree that both of them are wrong in pretty obvious ways, but the sheer anger that came out of this was pretty astonishing.

from there it's somewhat easy to see how self-identified gamers could be primed to take "games should probably have non-racist depictions of black and Muslim people" and "not every female character needs to be a sexy lamp in a crop top" as attacks from outsiders, especially if they are white men and already have a culturally informed predisposition to get their hackles up over criticisms like that.

"nerd ressentiment" is also not a gaming-specific thing, near as I can tell. hence "ComicsGate," hence anime weirdos who concoct conspiracies that Western translators are inserting gender ideology into their subs, etc. but nerd ressentiment is both financially lucrative AND politically useful for right-wing movements: GamerGate, for example, struck at a time when reactionaries were getting loud about "politics(/'forced' diversity) in media" around a bunch of different mediums, not just games.

so it seems likely to me that this is like, a deliberate (or at least self-deceiving) fabrication on the part of right-leaning ecosystems. like the sheer loudness of GamerGate could lead one to believe that maybe they are the "true representative" of the subculture, and in fact this was their explicit message. its biggest individual targets were Anita Sarkeesian and Zoe Quinn, both of whom could be constructed as outsiders to gaming (from my understanding this was "true" of Sarkeesian, insofar as such a silly claim can be true, and obviously not true of Quinn). Quinn making a game that was explicitly about disempowerment, bucked against prevailing trends, and then getting praise for it from gaming websites allowed for the construction of a narrative where there are malevolent elites uplifting "(post-)modern" cultural trash in order to subvert something the true fans love, which ties in with right-wing narratives about degenerate art.

social media and algorithm shit also likely contributed to this. right-wing news ecosystems picked up on this basically uninteresting story about gamers having a depraved fit and fed into it, so if you're a resentment driven young man with a limited political education, a lot of time on 4Chan and YouTube, and a passion for gaming, who's been watching Sargon of Akkad "owning" Feminist Frequency, you might start getting Paul Joseph Watson and Infowars videos about it in your recommendations, then you get Peterson videos, &c. the fact that this all got perpetuated through YouTube, 4Chan, Twitter, etc. is also indicative to me of how much this was engineered by both deliberate radicalization efforts and the systemic issues with online platforms contributing to political fanaticism.

when you break it down, this "silent majority" rhetoric is obviously untrue, as it usually is with conspiratorially minded and reactionary groups. there are a lot of people who play video games who are not white men, and there are a lot of people with large audiences who play, write about, critique, and care about video games who skew liberal or socialist. it's a kind of Manichean strategy where if you make it clear enough that people who aren't politically conservative (or right-libertarian) white men aren't welcome in gaming spaces, large swaths of those "othered" by this will eventually self-select out of those spaces. meanwhile, being some kind of supervillainous arch-reactionary looks more and more like a prerequisite to being in gaming spaces.

[spacelazarwolf]

Posts like the queeranarchism one make me afraid to ID as transmasc because it feels like you're pretty much all alone. Taking about ur problems makes you labeled a conspiracy theorist

It's basically the opposite of how the larger culture treats gender. Men are right and logical, women are silly and emotional and exaggerate. Transfems have Real Problems and transmascs have cute internet problems.

yeah it comes from a very white liberal approach of “good group vs bad group” so if trans women are the good group then obviously that means trans men are the bad group, but if you have at least two brain cells to rub together you know that’s not how the real world works. so many of these posts are framed (intentionally or unintentionally) in a way that makes it impossible for folks to offer critique or criticism without the poster being able to just reply “so you hate trans women?????? why else would you have a problem with this post????????” and it’s frankly just exhausting. especially considering i’ve literally seen some absolutely vile shit thrown at trans women and femmes who step up to support trans men and mascs or uplift our voices. they’re not interested in making life better for trans women, they just want to uphold the status quo of trans men and mascs being invisible in our own community because acknowledging us and what we face would turn their understanding of queer and trans oppression upside down. and a lot of people are not ready to cope with that.

i myself was really hesitant to id as a trans man for a long time because of how i saw the queer community treat trans men. not the world in general. the queer community. i have a whole post abt it somewhere. but i think people really underestimate how deeply and severely the bias against trans men and mascs and anyone pursuing any kind of masculinizing transition affects closeted trans people. if my experience isn’t unique, which in my experience talking to other trans men it’s not, then i would absolutely not be surprised if community rejection contributed to the high rates of suicide among trans men and mascs.

#ask avishai

[literaphobe]

idk man like y’all need to stop making ‘george is the most bland and boring person ever <3’ posts not because it’s upsetting to me but because ur actually spitting in the face of tommyinnit himself and quite frankly he might hunt you down if he found out. maybe you’ve never had to hang out with georgenotfound but tommy literally can’t bring him anywhere and yet has been in public with him on multiple occasions. the man is a menace and an absolute wild card. be afraid

#text #like do u think ur being so special and quirky for takes like that? #bro GEORGE calls himself boring #he doesn’t care #tommy held an entire ted talk today because he was offended that george would ever think otherwise #im sorry if u think tommy is funny n then u have to believe him when he says george is entertaining as all hell #because its true!!!! #the funniest people in this world are those who Very Obviously funny people find hilarious/love to be around #tommy will BITE you for calling george bland #like congrats on being the 483848th person in a row to make some ‘i think george is nothing special!’ post in a bid for notes #are u happy? did u get ur baity ‘hit post’? #do u want a cookie? #georgenotfound #tommyinnit #mcyt #like why are you making a post to shit on one white man to uplift another white man? #that cancels it out pal

[masterthespianduchovny]

I’m going to be honest before I get to the Sam/Rebecca subplot: if they drop plots threads indicating that this continue into the next season and uplift this pairing, I’m out.

This storyline is gross and I can see why some people quit the show when the revealed happened.

When I say I’m repulsed by age gap relationships of this nature, this isn’t a shipping thing or a race thing. This is a moral and ethical thing. Because it’s not just an age gap, it’s also that Rebecca is Sam’s boss. I legitimately don’t see how people can overlook this and ship how “cute” this is. I’m not judging anyone, it just genuinely doesn’t make sense to me.

And for people who think I’m a hypocrite, Ted/Rebecca is not the same. Sam and Rebecca is like a principal dating a student. If you want to age Sam up, because people love to accuse others of infantilizing Sam, it’s like the president of a college dating a student. In both cases, there would be backlash, and have been, to these types of relationships.

Which would make Ted’s position that of a teacher/professor or someone higher. In most cases, there aren’t objections, however, both parties have to be transparent about their relationship and careful about how and if that influences their professional relationship with each other and others.

Last week, I mentioned a friend of mine who was 18 and dated someone who was 28. Both are white for reference. When I found out their ages and respective positions, I became concerned and doubly concerned.

Oh, they had chemistry and he made her so happy, but he was also controlling as fuck and emotionally abusive. During the duration of their relationship, he became her boss and would monitor her interactions via cameras in the back office. She was stressed out as fuck and would go to the bathroom to cry. You know, where cameras weren’t and where he couldn’t enter.

And it was a secret relationship because he could get in trouble. I didn’t say anything because she was with her boyfriend before she knew me. Me telling someone could’ve gotten him in trouble or fired, but that wouldn’t have ended the relationship. It would’ve made her end our friendship and cling closer to him. Instead, after I quit for other reasons, I sporadically checked on her to see how she was doing and give her advice and resources.

As far as the actual episode itself goes, I struggled to enjoy it due to the Sam/Rebecca situation. It should’ve ended at dinner at most.

The only emotional beat that landed, imo, was Jamie and Roy’s hug. I do think Ted’s confession was strong, but the flow was kinda weird for me. By itself it works.

Two things working for me that wasn’t at the forefront of the episode was 1. How Ted’s problem is fucking over the team. 2. That Nate is in over his head.

Even if AFC Richmond had lost with Ted being in his A game, it wouldn’t have been that made and the team would’ve been more competitive. They were sloppy and making baffling errors. Their head was not in the game and it showed. Man City wasn’t that good, Richmond was just that ill prepared.

And who led training?

Nate.

Nate has great instincts, but he isn’t ready to lead a team and he still has a lot of work to do before growing into coaching a team as head coach.

But let me stress, this falls completely on Ted and even Beard to an extent. Yes, Ted is having emotional issues, however, many people rely on him and he wasn’t there. I don’t mean literally because teams should be able to function without their head coach for stretches of time. He hasn’t been there mentally and emotionally for most of the season. Because AFC Richmond’s competition isn’t as premier as Man City, it’s easier to appear more dominant that you are, esp if you’re coach isn’t on his A game. However, when you’re up against actual Goliath’s in the league, you’ll get your ass handed to you like Richmond did.

As I mentioned earlier, if they do go through with supporting and uplifting Sam/Rebecca, my time with this fandom ends with the season 2 finale.

But if we take Ted’s dark forest into consideration, there is another way this could play out. Actually many.

The one I can see happening that can get her somewhat redeemed, because some will never get over this happening in the first place, is her hitting rock bottom via her relationship with Sam. Something will happen or make her have unflattering thoughts about herself and her actions that will drive her into a tailspin.

And I’m unsure if it’ll be just a personal crisis or if it’ll also be a professional crisis.

Some may disagree with me, but I do want this affair to come to light. Because if it doesn’t, it sets up this fucked up precedent that Rebecca can do fucked up shit and get away with it in private.

Rebecca fucked over her club, uprooted a man’s life in bad faith, and almost ruined several people’s careers due to her bullshit in the first season. The fact that she didn’t have to answer for any of this is a God damn mercy on Ted’s part even though she didn’t ask for it.

Now for her to date/fuck a player because “she just has to know.” Because she doesn’t want to let something pass her by?

Yeah…no.

Rebecca’s fear of loneliness is leading her to make very bad decisions and I fear what this means for Sam’s career and relationships if this breaks. There were people who allegedly care for Sam, yet cheered for this relationship to happen. What do you think happens with his locker room relationships? I’ve already explained in another post that either this sours those relationships OR they want favors from him because he’s dating/fucking the boss.

He’ll get crucified in the media. He may even have trouble getting employed. Why? Because that’s how racism works.

“But, masterthespianduchovny, if Sam may receive hate and racist acts committed against him, why do you want the affair exposed?”

Because this shit show of a relationship isn’t about just Sam. It’s about Rebecca’s fear of loneliness leading her to make bad decisions that effects everyone not just her and Sam. It’s the fact that a white woman isn’t thinking about how her actions could have major consequences for a young black man.

Rebecca is so obsessed with not being lonely and being loved that 1. She never sought help or productive ways to deal with the fall out and humiliation of her marriage. 2. She dated a man because he was “fine” and not because she was actually invested in him and the relationship 3. She’s getting involved with a player on her team without thinking of any of the consequences. 4. She’s not considering the other players, the coaches, or anyone else she’s responsible for.

Oh, and considering we got that call from Sam’s dad…his relationship with his father will most likely suffer as a result. AND now that Dubai Air thing looks suspect, esp because she was talking to him around that time unknowingly.

Oop! And isn’t she getting her relationship with Nora back on track? Even though Nora and Sam can’t legally date and I’m not saying every decision should be swayed by a teenage girl, however, Rebecca is literally sabotaging every relationship just because she’s afraid of being alone (I agree with another poster who said we really didn’t need to explore this storyline, but alas…)

Although Ted forgave Rebecca for her scheming in season one, I honestly don’t think he’d be so forgiving for this. It’s his job to protect players and look out for their well being and how can he one his boss is involved with one of his players, which again, affects others players. This relationship has major consequences for other people who are not in it.

Also, Sam…for someone who people love to say is mature enough to date an older woman, not once did even be consider the ramifications of getting involved with the boss.

Not once.

And that looks bad because a mature person his age would be mindful of such a thing. This isn’t considered or, at least, isn’t said onscreen. Sam os either thinking with his dick, his heart, or both, but he isn’t thinking with his head. Because there is no way you’re thinking with your head and don’t stop to say, “hey, this thing could jeopardize my relationship with my teammates and the other people I work with. Maybe I should think some more of this before pursuing a relationship with my boss.” Sam was all in from the moment he decided he wanted to have dinner with Rebecca. There was no thinking on his end.

But Sam’s super mature, right?

Another poster mentioned that there might be a screaming match between Rebecca and ted and I’m so here for that. No, I don’t think this argument will be romantic. They’ll have legitimate gripes with each other, but yeah…this is an argument that needs to happen. Which will most likely be before Rebecca gets help.

That’s all assuming this happens. Like I said, they could have Sam and Rebecca being a power couple (🤮), or handle this some other way. But if this is going to be framed as a good thing, others can enjoy it, but the show will have one less viewer from me.

#ted lasso #Rebecca welton #sam obisanya #ted lasso spoilers

[anachronisticcrab]

This has been on my mind for a while, but I’ve never actually addressed it, so here’s my honest opinion on the ‘feminism’ in PJO/HOO/TOA (I haven’t read Kane Chronicles in years, and I’ve never actually read MCGA, so I’m not addressing either of those)

The Hunters of Artemis

Fucking misandrists. It’s not feminism

Kicking people out for being wlw? Not feminist

Kicking girls out if they enjoy sex, or if they have sexual encounters? Not feminist, that’s slut shaming and it’s not okay

Preying on 8 to 16 year old girls, whose brains have not finished developing? Not fucking feminist

Treating men like they’re the scum of the Earth? Not feminist

I’m not saying that men are great. Personally, I’ve got a long and complicated history with men. But I don’t treat them like I’m better than them because I’m not a man—that’s misandry not gender equality, and not feminism

Lying and tricking young girls into hunting down mythical creatures for their entire lives (during which they will be children forever), without letting them in on the knowledge that they will be in constant danger and will never be able to see their families and friends again? Not feminist

They are the epitome of ‘not like other girl’ feminism, which is a recurring theme in Rick’s books

Plus they’re inherently ableist. The second you become a hunter, all physical imperfections disappear because they ‘make you weaker’? Plus, no way in hell would someone in a wheelchair, or someone with depression, or someone with sensory issues, or someone whose blind or deaf be allowed to join the hunters. It’s not feminist

The fact that I’m willing to bet that femme nonbinary and/or trans women won’t be allowed to join. After all, if wlw are kicked out for being wlw, why the fuck would Artemis let trans women or nonbinary ppl in? That’s not fucking feminist

Also, half the Hunters don’t think that satyrs are real guys cause they’re half goat? Like shut the fuck up, they ID as a man, they’re a man.

Artemis finds underage girls who are unhappy, tells them that they’ll have no responsibility, that they’ll be immortal, and that they’ll have fun all the time... and doesn’t tell them any of the bad parts until after they’ve pledged their eternal allegiance to her and her Hunt

The fact that she stops they’re education?? How is convincing young girls not to educate themselves feminism??

It also annoys the shit out of me that Artemis and her Hunters claim to support women, but send untrained, clueless, unsure girls who have only been a part of the hunt for two days on deadly quests where 2 ppl have been prophecized to die. Wouldn’t you want to send someone with more experience? Wouldn’t you want to actually support each other and send in someone with a higher chance of survival? And YEA, I’m talking about Bianca (not her biggest fan, but it was still fucking shitty)

In short, I freaking hate the Hunters, if you couldn’t tell. They aren’t feminist. They’re TERFs and misandrists. And Artemis is fucking creepy

The Amazon’s

Worse than the Hunters

In this case, I don’t know if they kick out wlw, trans women, or nb ppl (I don’t think so, but I’m not sure on that) so I’m gonna put that to the side for now

What I do know however is that they have actual slaves. Like motherfucking human slaves

They rape men, and force them into slavery. How the fuck is that okay? It’s not fucking feminism!

It’s not feminist to put someone in slavery; it’s fucking inhumane and terrifying! It’s a violation of about a hundred basic human rights!

It’s not fucking feminist to rape guys; it’s inhumane and in violation of basic human rights (again!)

They are not feminist; they’re misandrist slave owners

‘Not Like Other Girls’

Both Annabeth and Piper were portrayed as feminist icons during the series. Right? Right??

Fucking wrong. They both repeatedly put down other girls for exemplifying feminine qualities, basically saying that being feminine is weakness and it’s disgusting

How is that feminism?

Piper constantly shit talks her siblings because they’re super girly (for the most part)

She and Annabeth treat Drew like shit because she’s feminine and she goes after guys (and ok, Drew is a bit of an asshole, but there are better reasons to dislike her than she’s girly and likes guys!)

That’s not okay— feminism is about uplifting women, and supporting one another. Not about slut shaming and denoting ppl for exuding feminine qualities

Femininity does not equate to weakness. femininity does not mean you are less than. femininity does not mean you deserve less respect. femininity is not inferior to masculinity. Femininity does not mean you’re dumb, weak, silent, or cowardly. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You are always worthy of respect (unless you’re a fascist or anything along those lines)

Thalia Grace

She gets her own category cause oh my gods I hate her so much

Not only does she support the Hunters and Artemis, she’s a dedicated defender of it

On top of that, there’s her Death to Barbie pin. What the fuck? Cause Barbie isn’t feminist?

Barbie is a doll that comes in all different shapes, sizes and colours, a doll that has hundreds of different careers, a doll that shows little girls that no matter what they look like, or where they come from, they can do or be anything (I know that it used to only be a skinny white blond girl, and maybe one other white girl, but that’s changed). How is Barbie not fucking feminist?

How is sporting a pin that threatens to destroy a doll that uplifts and promotes self love and positivity to little girls all over the world feminist? How is she feminist? She’s not-like-other-girls

She simultaneously supports an ableist, transphobic, homophobic goddess who preys on young girls, is actively against anything remotely feminine, and claims to be feminist, liberal, and punk, of all things! She’s not fucking feminist, she’s not fucking punk (I’m gonna make a whole other post trashing her, cause oh my fucking God she drives me crazy)

Basically what I’m trying to say in this is that the ‘feminism’ in the Camp Half-Blood Chronicles is fucking disgusting. It’s not feminism

If you don’t agree with any of this, or if you don’t like this, dni.

#pjo #hoo #og post #the hunters of artemis #anti hunters of Artemis #anti Thalia Grace #piper mclean #annabeth chase #anti Amazon’s #amazons pjo #feminism #toa #rr crit #rr criticism

[saintprivateer]

I understand the ideas behind the zemenipearls post but can we not just have a nice fictional world? It’s not like the Kerch are made out to be a great nation of saintly people, it’s all fantasy for a reason. I won’t get started on their posts about my girl Nina and my dude Nikolai 😒

Okay... there’s a lot of ground to cover here so boot up cowhand I wrote a LOT

No matter how unlike-this-world a fantasy universe seems, it was still crafted by a real human who IS a part of this world. And humans put their own beliefs and experiences into their stories as the foundation for how ideal/ not-ideal they want the au to be. We use the environment around us as a stepping stone for our stories, and this DOUBLES if the author is saying “This World Is Not Like Ours At All”. The question authors answer of “What exactly is this au not like?” Rounds back to the place we are trying to distance ourselves from, because that is what this au is “not like.” And most often, authors craft these fantasy universes and bring the reader into a whole new world only to go back to a REAL theme of “This World Is Actually More Like Yours Than You Think.” Because that’s usually the entire point. We like fantasy because we want to see our nature mirrored in worlds unlike ours. We love that people can fly and cast spells, but we REALLY love when they’re as human as us in behavior/interests/ actions.

All that’s to say: you can’t actually write a racism-free world if you’ve never experienced a racism-free world. The ideals we want to portray will still be flawed and not 100% ideal, because the notion we have OF this ideal is fundamentally flawed. ESPECIALLY if we are still unlearning our own fallacies to these ideals. Grishaverse has anti-blackness threaded in the pages because there is anti-blackness on Earth and anti-black fallacies in the ideals Leigh Bardugo has internalized (like any other white person). If we can acknowledge the argument that meanings can be found in stories/art whether it was intended or not, then we have to acknowledge Leigh Bardugo wrote in her own prejudice or anti-black ideals into the grishaverse, whether intended or not. She wanted to write a story removed from the racism we know, and that in of itself isn’t a bad thing to imagine. But she still wrote tropes actively harmful to the minorities they represent.

“Why do you have to look for patterns that aren’t there and nitpick on characters? Why does everything have to be about race? Isn’t it enough that our heroes are TRYING to be good?”

When people say this, they usually mean “Why are you putting this in my face? We (the group not affected) were all doing fine until you decided to be grumpy about something, and I don’t want my ideals soiled by your criticisms.”

Imagine seeing the person who’s supposed to represent you and your identity be repeatedly trashed, ignored, dumbed down, dismissed, killed off, etc etc in canon and in the fandom, and when you finally get the courage to bring it up, the entirety of people not affected silence and threaten you for rocking their boat. You really can’t imagine how that actually feels unless you’ve felt it. When you write off the consistently abusive treatment of a community of people in a book as an inconvenient—and thus invalid— topic that “ruins” the characters or plots you want to root for, you’re acknowledging the privilege you have in being able to look the other way when these patterns have been brought to your attention.

There’s a lot you might not catch when you aren’t a part of the communities affected. If someone is gracious enough to extend their emotional and intellectual labor to point it out to you despite the all the gaslighting and harassment they face, the LEAST you can do is have an open mind and release the defenses and previous ideals you’ve cultivated for the characters you love. Black fans don’t owe it to you to spell it out, but they sometimes do! Despite how white fans treat them in return.

You said “it’s not like the Kerch are made out to be a nation of great saintly people.” Great! So we agree everyone should be praised and criticized accordingly? And when it’s pointed out that a character exhibits bigotry we can acknowledge that as a part of the environment they’ve lived in and thus a trait of themselves?

You can enjoy any universe or the characters that come with it in full capacity, and no one is asking you to discard stories entirely because of the mistakes. Nikolai meant and means a lot to me because of the ideals that I crafted in my head from 16 up. He’s a comfort character! He was my vision of a masc-presenting adventurer who got by with wit and charm and aesthetics. The people who love him see something of themselves in him, or someone they love. But he’s still a product of his environment. Just because I don’t want that to be true doesn’t make it untrue. Ravka is fantasy Russia but .*•*~more idealistic*.~*. This doesn’t take away the fact that the foundation is...still Russia. He’s still a privileged white king thats actively oppressing minorities in the story by upholding the kingship as it is, and if he continues the path he’s on, he’s not much better than his heritage. I love Nina to death but she’s still the jarhead kid in your algebra class ready to fight anyone who says her country merits basic criticism. The kingdom of Ravka would need to be entirely dismantled and recreated. Nikolai might seem more progressive than the kings before him, but he’s got a lot to be reprimanded for, and rebuilding can’t even start until he acknowledges and unlearns that. Which...he hasn’t, not fully, and there’s no written proof of him doing so as of now.

Before I made myself research more I got just as defensive of him and others. I’m sure I’ll get defensive over another story and have to relearn everything all over again. It’s a process and you have to check yourself all the time. But it’s a step towards the ideals we want to actually live in. If I want to imagine Nikolai a better man, I have to start from the scraps I’m given.

So yes!! You’re allowed to draw up your own themes and ideals from the stories and reimagine the characters to fit a narrative that makes your heart happy. But it won’t change the reality of the canon universe. Zemenipearls enjoyed the grishaverse so much she made a fan account for it, participates in fan-led events that celebrate the characters (and sometimes leads those events herself), commissions artists to make fanart, and has ongoing works that delve into the expansive universe that better represents her and what she wants for black characters in fantasy. And she STILL gets shit for imploring a conversation about what we all want to ignore away. Why would she put so much energy into this if she didn’t care or believe in this story too? If you also care about grishaverse that much, shouldn’t we be willing to uplift and reimagine by starting where the work needs it most?

Okay I’ve said a LOT SORRY HHHHH BUT TO WRAP UP: Ignoring a fictional character’s faults or repercussions is one thing, and I’m not about to waste energy on making people hold characters in a book accountable. We all see how people treat the Darkling.

But when you participate in or ignore the bullying and threatening that happens to REAL people, when people JUSTIFY that shit as if it merits denying a person their humanity, THATS the actual harm being done. (Not saying you’ve done that, but the mindset I’m seeing here is what feeds into that compliance.)

If we have the energy to protect and coddle our fictional white boys and let them burn the sandbox down, I KNOW we have energy to respect and protect black fans who have just as much say in how they see the story or how they reimagine it. If you have the energy to accept/tolerate the stuff alarkling fans promote, I KNOW you have the energy to put your pride away and acknowledge fallacies in your own ideals for characters. And regardless!!! of whether you “agree” with the criticisms or not, does that mean the person who spoke up about the issue deserves to be harassed?

I’m gonna ask the white ya majority reading this to be humble and open your hearts up to change the way you do for fictional edgy white dudes. Y’all have the SPIRIT but then it funnels into the WRONG IDEAS!!! PLEASE use your heads you’d be unstoppable if you used your privilege to amplify the ones who need amplifying. I promise Cardan BlackBerry and Alesksxxander Marigold aren’t gonna be disappointed in you 😔🙏

#that’s my piece on THAT sorry I’ve had time to sit with this #I wanted to go ahead and get it out on one thing too so I can refer back possibly #fandom racism #anti blackness #grishaverse #Nikolai Lantsov #kos king of scars #Nina Zenik #Ravka #analysis #ya fiction #zemenipearls #tgt the grisha trilogy #soc six of crows #ck crooked kingdom

[gukyi]

the coffee shop contract | jjk

summary: apparently, having an instagram profile with a different girl in every picture is reason enough for your friends to strike up a deal where they’ll pay you to have a relationship. well, jeon jungkook’s no good at relationships, but a fake relationship isn’t a real relationship. is it?

{fake dating!au, college!au}

pairing: jungkook x female reader genre: just fluff because i have a one-genre mindset word count: 18k warnings: alcohol consumption but no main character is overly drunk, dumb college antics, i know this is a fic but please don’t do these things in college actually a/n: yes, this story is actually based on a real instagram account my friend showed me in college. oh yeah, college? that’s a thing. i’m sorry for taking so long with this fic, i’m trying my best but college is hard. please wait patiently for me and enjoy this plotless piece of garbage!

Jeon Jungkook thinks that his college experience is overwhelmingly standard. He goes to his classes (most of the time), goes to parties on the weekends (sometimes), goofs off with his friends when he’s supposed to be studying (all of the time), and eats like shit. 

(The plus side to his eating-like-shit habits is that he’s a gym junkie, which means that in theory, every time he exercises he burns off all of the shit and just leaves the energy behind. In theory.)

He operates under the assumption that he leads a very normal college life. He is but a typical student with a very small budget who detests the fact that he has to buy brand new versions of his textbooks just so he can get the online access code. He thinks he’s nothing but average. 

His friends think differently. 

“It’s not that weird, guys,” Jungkook insists in a group study room one day, where neither he nor his friends happen to be studying. In fact, Jungkook’s laptop is dead. He forgot his charger in his bedroom. He has no idea what he thought he would be doing when Taehyung texted and asked if he wanted to come and study with them. 

They are doing anything but studying. 

Taehyung has been on his phone the entire time, and the same topic of conversation that circles their friend group every now and then is at hand. “Yes it is, Jungkook,” he insists. He holds his phone up to both Jungkook and Jimin to prove a point. “Think about it. Okay, I’m scrolling back and forth on Tinder—”

“You just swiped right on some random dude,” Jungkook points out monotonously, a single eyebrow raised. Next to him, Jimin bursts into the laughter he was doing a poor job of holding in. “Why do you even have Tinder? You’re dating someone, and he’s sitting right next to you.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung mutters in exclamation, quickly pulling his phone back to try and rectify his carelessness. “Wait, never mind, he’s cute.” Jungkook shakes his head to himself. “Stop trying to distract me! I’m trying to explain something to you!”

Taehyung resumes. 

“Anyway, think about it. I’m scrolling back and forth on Tinder and I see this cute guy who goes to my school named Jungkook. His pictures feature some pretty decent selfies, no workout or shirtless pics, and an awful shot of him with two hot dogs shoved into his mouth at once, courtesy of his best friend,” Taehyung explains, beaming. He even makes a point to pull up the aforementioned hot dog picture. It’s not pretty, but it’s a good conversation starter. “His bio is pretty standard, likes adventuring, hates doing required readings for class, lives off of coffee. I like the look of him.”

“Get to the point, Tae,” Jungkook says with a sigh, tossing his head back in exasperation. It’s not as if he’s in any sort of rush to move on from the conversation because he has something better to do, because he doesn’t. He just doesn’t need to be grilled like this. 

“I go to look him up on Instagram, because maybe he’s the kind of guy to have his profile public for the viewing of others.” Taehyung pulls up Jungkook’s Instagram. He had forgotten about how good his aesthetic was. “Lo and behold, his profile is public! Hurrah! I can stalk him happily just to see if he really is my type. But, wait, what’s this?”

Jungkook facepalms. 

Taehyung keeps going, scrolling further and further down Jungkook’s page. “It looks like every single Instagram post is with a different girl. Wait! Maybe they’re the same one—nope, they just did their hair similarly. Huh. That’s strange. Every picture features a different girl, no repeats. Now I really don’t think I want to swipe right anymore. So I go back to Tinder, and I avoid the guy by the name of Jungkook at all costs.”

Jungkook thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have come to the group study room at all. Maybe, if he leaves now under the excuse that he forgot his laptop charger, he just won’t have to come back. Ever. For the rest of his educational career. 

Taehyung puts his phone down on the table with a smack, staring at Jungkook with an extremely unimpressed look on his face. 

“Are you going to do this every time I tell you I went on a date and I don’t think I want to go on another one?” Jungkook frowns. Maybe he needs new friends. Maybe that would be a better solution. 

“Yes, because you’re a stand-up guy who’s funny and smart and got a hot ‘bod and you can’t seem to tie down anybody for more than a couple of months, max,” Taehyung tells him pointedly. He’s always been extremely good at backhanded compliments. “Aside from us, your best friends.”

“I’m rethinking the ‘best friends’ part,” Jungkook says. He can’t believe it, but he thinks he would rather be studying. 

“You wouldn’t do that to the man who paid for new Airpods for you!” Taehyung cries out, loud enough for someone in the main study room to turn around and glare at the three of them. 

“You’re the one who broke them! You dropped them on the street and let some biker ride right over them!” Jungkook reminds him, eyes wide. He remembers the image vividly, Taehyung snatching his earphones out of his hands as they walked towards their favorite Korean place, watching them tumble right out of his slippery fingers and onto the pavement, and a bicyclist with those flashing red lights attached their handles coming speeding down, right over the case. It was the most tragic thing that Jungkook has ever witnessed. 

“And I bought you brand new ones that were engraved with your name like a good, rich best friend would.” He may be an eclectic international student majoring in economics like half of the campus, but at least Taehyung’s self aware. 

“Well, it’s not like Jungkook’s going to redo his entire Instagram feed or anything,” Jimin adds callously. Someone gets it. “He’s got this whole muted, neutral-toned aesthetic going on. He also doesn’t seem to mind the lack of commitment.”

Taehyung tuts, shaking his head. He’s still on page one of his fifty-page reading on Economic Disparities in the Post-Cold War Global Stage. He has not even picked up his highlighter. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweet Jiminie.”

“I know you guys are dating, but please never say the phrase ‘Sweet Jiminie’ in front of me ever again,” Jungkook pleads. 

“I’m willing to wager that with the right incentive, Jungkook will actually make an attempt at maintaining a real, long-term, committed relationship with someone he’s genuinely interested in,” Taehyung says, a devilish glint lacing his dark brown eyes. 

Jungkook hates that look. It’s the same look he had when he suggested they roll their office chairs down the hall of the dorm at three in the morning freshman year. Same look he had when he had Jungkook take sensual nudes of him to send to Jimin pre-relationship because Jungkook apparently had the photography skills of Photous, the photography god (that Taehyung is convinced exists in Greek mythology). Same look he had right before he downed five Monster drinks consecutively, which had the opposite of the intended effect and caused him to pass out in the group study room. 

“No favor you could do for me would make me even consider accepting this wager,” Jungkook tells him immediately. He loves his best friend, but multiple times Taehyung has said he’d do Jungkook’s laundry and ended up turning all of his white belongings pink—his bedsheets, towels, and a couple of his favorite shirts are now all cotton candy-tinged. 

Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m not talking about favors, young padawan. I am talking cash, the cold, hard kind that you can feel clenched between your closed fist.”

Taehyung comes from a family with money to burn but never does he spend it so recklessly. Except maybe when he bought five Monster drinks with the intention to drink them all like vodka shots. He shuffles around his backpack (work still forgotten) before pulling out his wallet, slapping two hundred dollars onto the table in front of them. 

Jungkook, the money-starved college student he is, immediately reaches out for the stack of bills, but Taehyung nabs it from him before he can regain any semblance of personal dignity. 

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts condescendingly. Jungkook shrinks back into his wheely chair as he reminds himself that while taking Taehyung’s money may have short-term benefits, he will feel long-term guilt. “Not yet, Jungkookie. First, you need to accept and complete the wager.”

Jungkook huffs. This feels like a drug deal. “Specifications,” he coughs out. 

“If you actually find yourself in a committed, loving, uplifting, and completely real relationship with someone that you are mutually attracted to for longer than three months, with at least three Instagram posts of them on your page, I will give you money,” Taehyung says. This immediately crosses out Jungkook’s plan to coerce his favorite music production major (and other best friend), Min Yoongi, into helping him.

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “How much money?”

Taehyung ponders the question for a moment, checking his wallet one more time just to make sure the same amount that was in there two minutes ago is still there now. “I’ll be generous,” he says with a shrug. “Four hundred.”

Jungkook’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Sure, he’s well aware that his best friend is one-hundred percent loaded, but four hundred dollars could finance his textbooks for the next two semesters, probably. It could buy him a new computer program and matching equipment for his average mixtape-making skills. He could send it home to his parents and they could go on a wholesale store shopping spree. They could buy him all the granola bars and multigrain crackers he could ever dream of. 

“Are you serious?” Jungkook asks, gobsmacked. 

Taehyung nods nonchalantly. “Yeah, why not? If you didn’t use the money, then I’d just buy some dumbass shit like more energy drinks. I’d say it’s a pretty good use of my cash.”

Jimin’s looking at Jungkook like he’d be a fool not to accept the deal. Jungkook wonders what the harm is. He succeeds, and not only does he get four hundred dollars, he also gets to be in a genuinely enjoyable relationship with someone he actually cares about. He’s in college, too, which means that it’s the perfect time to make some possibly-regrettable and extremely stupid decisions. And maybe, for once in his life, Taehyung’s right. Maybe having an Instagram feed with a different girl in each picture gives off fuckboy-let’s hook up and then I’ll never speak to you ever again vibes. Maybe he should really rethink his Instagram aesthetic. 

“Choose quickly, Jungkookie, or I might come to my senses and go buy one hundred Chicken McNuggets with the money instead,” Taehyung advises. 

Taehyung’s hand makes to put the two hundred dollars clenched between his fingers back in his wallet, and that’s when Jungkook impulsively shouts, “Yes! I’ll do it. Fine. Whatever.”

Taehyung cackles like the Wicked Witch of the West. Jungkook wonders if there’s a downside to this. 

But to his clouded, 1AM mind, surrounded by friends that make him lose even more brain cells, it seems like the perfect decision. 

“You do realize that Taehyung is basically paying you to court someone, right?” Yoongi asks over coffee the next day. It’s four in the afternoon, Jungkook’s finished with classes, Yoongi hasn’t started his homework, the both of them have ordered the most caffeinated drinks possible. 

“So?” Jungkook asks as he takes another sip, shivers as he feels it run through his blood. 

“So, any person you actually try and date for the next three months will find out about the deal one way or another and then feel used, and you’ll feel shitty. If you do somehow manage to date someone for the next three months successfully, they’ll find out about the money and dump your dumb ass,” Yoongi explains callously. He downs half of his coffee in a single go. 

Jungkook grins. “I’m really loving the confidence that all of my friends have in me when it comes to maintaining long-term relationships. It makes me feel so great.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You know that I’m right, Jungkook. You can’t just accept this deal and expect the person you end up dating, if you even end up dating someone, not to find out. That’s unrealistic and basically grounds for a terrible breakup rom-com.”

“I already told him that I’d do it. I want the money because I am a broke college student. It seemed like a no-brainer at the time,” Jungkook says, exasperated. He sighs into his coffee and the foam wobbles. “What am I supposed to do? Tell Taehyung that the deal’s off and let him make fun of me for the rest of recorded human history?” Jungkook whines. 

“I don’t think he’ll do that.”

He definitely will. Taehyung’s gravestone will say Don’t Forget to Find Jeon Jungkook’s Grave and Laugh At Him For Me. Jungkook will spend the rest of eternity buried six feet under with random strangers laughing at him until the sun absorbs the Earth and wipes out life on the planet entirely. 

“Yes he will,” says Jungkook, pouting. “What other option do I have?”

A chair screeches on the wooden floor next to him and Yoongi and suddenly, someone speaks. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping even though I definitely was, and I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be in some sort of monetary predicament,” you say, looking at Jungkook with wide eyes. You look familiar, but Jungkook can’t place where from. Maybe one of his classes?

“Can I help you?” Jungkook asks, taken aback by your sudden brazenness. The last time Jungkook came face to face with someone so shameless was the first time he met Seokjin while at a house party in Namjoon’s apartment. Seokjin walked through the front doors blasting Who Let the Dogs Out from his iPhone and immediately declared himself king of the household before Namjoon could even say hello. 

You shrug, shoulders nonchalant and unbothered. “I think I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

Jungkook’s flabbergasted. He turns to Yoongi, who, like he does with most things that don’t directly involve him, seems to have already assumed a hands-off position. Like it’s not his problem that his best friend has just been approached by a random stranger in a coffeeshop who looks to be promising a solution to his problems. Like the Shadow Man from Disney’s Princess and the Frog. Like a mafia boss. 

With a non-comforting pat on Jungkook’s back, Yoongi stands up, finishes the rest of his coffee in a single gulp, and says, “Looks like this one’s on you, ‘Kook.” He doesn’t say anything else and, five seconds later, he’s gone. 

“Jungkook, right?” You ask the moment Yoongi’s out the door. You’ve fully shifted your chair to face Jungkook, and Jungkook doesn’t know where to look when your eyes are staring right at him. 

“How do you know my na—”

“I’m Y/N. I hope you don’t mind me barging in on your conversation like this,” you say, not at all deterred by Jungkook’s very obvious bewilderment. 

“Um—”

“See, I was just drinking my hot chocolate even though it’s still warm outside, and I overheard that you were in quite the dilemma,” you say. Even though you technically aren’t invading any of his actual personal space—you’re not touching the table, accidentally brushing your foot against his leg, leaning in aggressively close—Jungkook feels like you couldn’t be any nearer to him. Like all this overwhelming forwardness and confidence is rendering him speechless and keenly cognizant of his personal bubble. “And I’m here to propose a solution.”

“Do you go here?” Jungkook somehow manages to get out. 

“Me? Yeah, I’m majoring in communications,” you tell him casually. Jungkook wonders why he’s not surprised to hear that. 

“Okay…” Jungkook still doesn’t know what to say. 

“In any case, in the past five minutes I’ve spent listening to you talk about how your friends said they’d pay you if you managed to date someone for more than three months, I’ve devised a foolproof solution that benefits all parties involved,” you tell him like you’re trying to get him to sign onto a business deal. Jungkook swears that there must be fine print somewhere. He just can’t tell where. 

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. He’s interested. “Which is…?”

“Date me.”

If Jungkook’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when Taehyung pulled out that fat stack of cash in the group study room, they must jump right out and roll onto the wooden floor at this.

“I’m sorry, w-what?” Jungkook sputters, like he hadn’t heard you correctly even though he definitely had. He was expecting something maybe more in the realm of counselor, like tell your friends you don’t want to do the deal, if they’re really your friends they’ll honor your wishes, or maybe even on the opposite side of the spectrum, like if you run away to Norway now and change your identity they’ll never be able to find you, here I know a guy. Not date me. 

Certainly not Date Me. 

“Date me,” you repeat. It’s the simplest phrase. And yet, it befuddles Jungkook more than his theoretical computer science class does. “Maybe I should rephrase it. Fake date me. How’s that sound?”

Jungkook lets out something between a cough, a chuckle, and the noise a dying Canadian goose would make. 

“Basically, what I’m thinking, what my vision is, is that you and I agree to fake date for two weeks past the designated period—in your case, three months. This prevents your friends from thinking that the whole relationship was all for show and so you can preserve your dignity. I, as your honorable and true girlfriend, will do any and all things necessary to make your friends believe that you are genuinely committed to our relationship. Then, your friends pay you after the three months is up, and because it takes two to tango, I get half. Sound good?” You propose. You seem to have thought of everything. 

The first problem is that Jungkook doesn’t know how he’s going to maintain the facade of a real relationship with someone he 1) barely knows and 2) barely knows. The reason he doesn’t commit to anything isn’t because he’s afraid of commitment (okay, maybe he is) but because all of the dates he ever goes on are Tinder dates or hookups-post-one-night-stand. He doesn’t date people he’s already familiar with, and then it never goes further. Even if he didn’t meet you on Tinder or sleep with you after a shitty frat party, he doesn’t see how this scenario is much different. 

The second problem is that, true to his college student nature, Jungkook is starved for cash. When Taehyung promised him four hundred dollars, he immediately began thinking of ways to spend each and every cent. But the prospect of him losing half of that money to someone he barely knows has him more than hesitant. How will his parents go on their wholesale store shopping spree without four hundred in cash to blow? If Jungkook wants those four hundred dollars so badly, why not put in the effort?

The third problem is that Jungkook is a phenomenally terrible actor. When he was in grade school and everybody had to participate in the class play on why smoking is bad for you, Jungkook’s role was Kid In The Background Sitting On A Chair Reading A Book. He was on stage for a total of two minutes as the main character was peer pressured into smoking, and he never set foot on it again. 

So, if Jungkook were to arrange this into a five-paragraph essay with Times New Roman size twelve font, he’d have a pretty good argument for why your proposal is probably not a good idea. 

But then, Jungkook is reminded of a few key things that keep him from declining right off the bat. 

First, he’s already said yes. Which means that, if he wants those four hundred dollars, he’s going to have to go through with Taehyung’s deal. 

Second, going through with Taehyung’s deal and keeping the four hundred dollars all to himself will require lots of effort on his part. He will have to keep going on dates until he finds someone he clicks with, and then he will have to keep going on dates with that specific person for the next three months and develop a meaningful relationship. 

Third, Yoongi’s right, as he usually is. Even if Jungkook establishes a relationship, the deal will always be in the back of his mind, and the truth will eventually come out. This may lead to Jungkook’s first genuine heartbreak—if he’s committed to the relationship—and Jungkook isn’t mentally prepared for that either. 

And somehow, as Jungkook makes it through the labyrinth that is his mind, he comes to the overarching conclusion that maybe accepting your proposal isn’t such a bad idea after all. If you already know about the money, you’re willing to help him dupe his friends, and you don’t really care about splitting up in three and a half months, then the only thing that Jungkook is losing is two hundred dollars. And while that may be a lot, he’ll still have two hundred of his own to console him. 

Despite the lack of communication between the two of you, surrounded by the white noise of the ambient coffee shop, you don’t appear at all deterred by Jungkook’s radio silence. You’ve put the deal down on the table and are waiting for Jungkook to either pick it up or push it off. 

“You get half?” He asks, just for clarification. It’s difficult to miss the fact that you are, essentially, halving the benefits he’s reaping from accepting Taehyung’s deal. 

You nod. “Yup. But in return, any dates we go on I will pay for my share, so you don’t have to worry about that. I will also be a loving and doting girlfriend you gets you coffee, croissants, and Dunkin’ whenever you ask, and even sometimes when you don’t. So I think that it evens out.”

“You’re sure about this?” Jungkook asks. 

You laugh, cracking a smile that shows off your teeth and fills out your cheeks. Jungkook looks right at you, and maybe he doesn’t feel anything right now, but he thinks he might be able to find a friend in this along the way. “I’m the one who suggested it, aren’t I?”

Jungkook sits resolutely. He just prays that neither Taehyung nor Jimin ever find out about this. If they do, he really will have to escape to Norway and change his identity. 

“Okay,” Jungkook says, his eyes staring firmly into yours. “I’m in.”

Seeing as the both of you are college students with the most updated technology at your fingertips, you pull out your laptop and situate it between the both of you. You’ve shifted tables so now that you can face your future fake-boyfriend, and Jungkook feels more and more like he’s signing up for some shady website in the hope that it’ll give him the answers to his problem set. Immediately, you share a Google Doc with him. 

“What should we call it?” You ask, cursor hovering over the Untitled document. 

“The contract?” Jungkook suggests weakly. He was never good at titles. 

“The Coffee Shop Contract,” you add on, typing it dutifully into the bar. “Sounds official.”

“It’s official because there’s money involved,” Jungkook points out. You wouldn’t be writing up this formal contract if you weren’t reaping any financial benefits so long as you both honor it. 

“Maybe it’s just because we don’t know each other yet, but you seem like the type of guy to swindle me out of promised cash,” you observe, albeit somewhat inaccurately. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m untrustworthy?” Jungkook asks, only a little offended. 

You purse your lips into a thin smile. “My friends make fun of you because you’ve got a different girl in every single one of your Instagram posts. Can you blame me?”

Jungkook tosses his head back, exasperated. “It’s not that weird!” He exclaims. 

“It’s kinda weird.”

You type up a brief outline of the requirements. It looks like this: 

The Coffee Shop Contract

Signatories Jungkook and Y/N.

This contract entails a fake relationship between the signatories of Jungkook and Y/N.

This fake relationship shall last no less than three months and one week and no longer than three months and two weeks. 

Both parties involved shall do any and all things possible to ensure that this fake relationship appears as realistic as possible. 

Both parties will pay for their share of any and all outings made together. 

Three Instagram posts on Jungkook’s account must be made throughout the duration of the relationship. 

Should this fake relationship be successful, Jungkook shall give half of his payment to Y/N as compensation for her efforts. 

No falling in love with each other.

No one can know. 

Signatures: _______________________ and __________________________

“What was the reason you needed to type up a whole contract? I thought we had already discussed all of this,” Jungkook asks when you’re finished, eyeing the document on the screen. It looks much too official for his liking. Jungkook, if he could, would probably write his essays on a series of Post-It Notes—specifically the accordion-style ones, because those bring more joy into Jungkook’s life than he cares to admit. 

“This solidifies it,” you inform him sternly, fingertips moving quickly across your keyboard. “So that way if either of us breaks the rules, the deal’s off.”

Jungkook frowns slightly, tilting his head. “What if we both break the rules?”

“Well then,” you tell him firmly, resolutely, putting your hand on top of his. Jungkook jumps slightly at the touch, but your palm is warm and it wraps around his with determination. “I suppose that we go down together, or we don’t go down at all.”

When Jungkook’s alarm goes off at ten o’clock that Sunday, the first person to say anything is Taehyung. He comes stumbling out of his bedroom in their two-bed one-bath off-campus apartment, hair disheveled and still wrapped up in the hoodie he’s been wearing for the past forty-eight hours. 

“Jungkook?” He asks hazily, voice muffled and thick from sleep and the retainers still in his mouth. “What are you doing up?”

Jungkook looks up from where he was mid-washing his mouth out post-teeth brush, and stares at Taehyung’s reflection in the mirror. The fluorescent light of their bathroom illuminates his undereye bags and the hickey he seems to have acquired in the past 12 hours extremely well. 

“Huh?” He asks, mouth only slightly full. 

“What are you doing up? Didn’t you get back at like, four last night?” Taehyung asks. He must faintly recall the door slamming shut as Jungkook stumbled back, the alcohol from whatever parties he ended up slowly making its way out of his system. Jungkook does not over-drink… but he also doesn’t under-drink. He was with Jimin the whole time, though, who was flat out hammered, and when Jungkook wrapped an arm around his waist and insisted he drop him back off at his apartment across the street from his and Taehyung’s, Jimin told Jungkook that he was very nice and attractive but that he had a boyfriend. 

Jungkook wonders if Jimin’s going to wake up before three this afternoon. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. He splashes his face for good measure before slapping on some of the lotion they have on the edge of the sink that he always mistakes for soap. His mother told him that furiously smacking skincare into your face wakes you up and depuffs your eyes. So he does it. “I’m meeting someone for brunch.”

Taehyung slaps himself in the face. 

“Don’t tell me Jeon Jungkook is awake at ten in the morning to meet someone for brunch,” Taehyung says, even though that’s exactly what Jungkook is telling him. 

“I am,” says Jungkook. 

“Who?” Taehyung demands to know, leaning against the doorframe. While his body may be falling asleep, his mind sure still runs a mile a minute. 

“Uh, some girl,” Jungkook says, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible. Jungkook accepted Taehyung’s deal a week ago, and you had told him to only start mentioning ‘a girl’ after time had passed to keep Taehyung less suspicious. So you had texted him last night while he was four vodka shots into the night, saying that you should meet up for brunch the next day, and Jungkook, the dumbass he is, said yes without realizing the time you had suggested. 

And now he is paying the price in bags. 

Eye bags. 

“A girl?” Taehyung asks, immediately more awake. “Did you meet her last night?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jungkook lies. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Did she give you that?” He points to Jungkook’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook lies again.

“Wow, what a ladies’ man, huh?” Taehyung asks, giving Jungkook a good punch in the shoulder before he pulls his hoodie right over his head, tugs on the drawstrings for the South Park effect, and trots back to bed. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair before his eyes focus back on the hickey on his neck. He can’t remember a damn thing about who gave it to him. For all he knows, it could have been Jimin. Jimin has, for the record, mistaken Jungkook for Taehyung quite a few times when drunk, though clearly he was able to distinguish between the two of them last night. He grabs Taehyung’s concealer (which is two shades darker than his skin tone) from the cabinet behind the mirror, tries his best to hide it, and prays that you won’t make fun of him when you meet up. 

“The fuck is on your neck?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth when Jungkook appears at the corner table of the brunch place. He was late, as per usual, but only because Jimin came knocking on the door and Jungkook had to direct him to Taehyung’s room before he collapsed face-first on their couch and stayed there for the next two days. 

“Uh,” Jungkook says. 

“Is that a hickey? Are you attempting to conceal a hickey with concealer that is literally two shades darker than you?” You ask, squinting as you lean in. 

“Uh,” Jungkook says again. He sits down, because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“I ordered us orange juice already,” you tell him. “But it seems like you had a lot of fun last night. Care to tell me anything about it?”

Jungkook picks up the menu to keep his hands busy and give himself an excuse not to meet your eyes. The french toast looks good, and is less expensive than the avocado toast for some strange reason. Classic brunch problems. “I mean, it’s not really that important—”

“Hey,” you say, leaning over and snapping your fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “I’m your fake girlfriend now. I’m obligated to be interested in what activities you get up to when I’m not with you. So, what did you do last night?”

Jungkook figures that since he walked in here five minutes late with mismatched concealer poorly hiding a hickey, you have a right to know what the hell happened last night. If he even remembers what happened last night. 

“I went out around ten with my roommate’s boyfriend,” Jungkook begins, because that part he knows happened. 

“Wait, your roommate’s boyfriend? Why not your roommate, too?” You interrupt, though it’s a valid question. 

“Well, Taehyung’s not really a partier. I mean, he met his boyfriend, Jimin, at a party, but he doesn’t really like going out and getting drunk that much, and he’s also a damn lightweight so you really can’t take him anywhere unless you want hin clinging to your side the whole night,” Jungkook explains. 

“How did they meet?” You ask, not out of obligation but because you’re genuinely interested. Which is nice, Jungkook realizes, that you actually want to keep listening to him talk instead of disregarding him in favor of the menu. Jungkook can’t really think of many dates where both he and the person he was with weren’t asking questions just for the sake of asking questions. But you seem to have a different approach. “If he’s not a partier.”

“That’s actually a funny story,” Jungkook begins, already laughing. “Taehyung hates parties but that night he was determined to go to one because this cute boy he saw on Tinder was going to be there. And so he dragged me out to this party at eleven at night to try and find this boy, but then gets roped into a game of beer pong with said boy, so, mission accomplished. Except, because Taehyung’s a lightweight and a terrible shot, he misses entirely and bonks the shorter kid next to the cute boy on the head.”

“Let me guess,” you finish. “That was Jimin?”

Jungkook nods. “Only Taehyung would end up falling in love with the best friend of the boy he thirsted over on Tinder.”

“Can I ask who the cute boy is?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Oh, that’s Hoseok. We’re actually all really good friends now,” Jungkook says, because that’s just how the cookie crumbles. “His boyfriend is a really close friend of mine.”

“Wait, are you talking about Jung Hoseok?” You ask, eyes wide. Jungkook nods. “My friend’s in the dance group he leads. He’s dating this guy named Yoongi, right? She says they’re super cute together, and that he drops into practice all the time to say hello, and Hoseok makes him dance with them.”

Jungkook nearly bursts into laughter in the middle of this crowded restaurant at the image of Yoongi trying to hip-hop choreography that Hoseok creates. He loves Yoongi, but he’s got the coordination of a baby giraffe and two left feet. Which is exactly why he sticks to music production, the less physical of two musical evils. “Yeah, he was with me in the coffee place when we first started talking.”

“That was him? No way,” you say, shocked. 

Jungkook has to say that he’s equally as surprised. You seemed familiar, but Jungkook assumed that it was because you had the same class or something. What he wasn’t expecting was this labyrinth of mutual acquaintanceships that draws a path between you and him. 

“I guess we’re closer than you think,” Jungkook says with a shrug. The waiter comes over to ask for their orders, and Jungkook, because he’s reckless and you’re grinning at him with a smile wider than the sun, orders the avocado toast. 

You nod, handing your menu to the waiter before he whizzes off. “Isn’t it funny how that works?”

After the second time you go out to a restaurant—this one a relatively nice but not upscale pizza place—Taehyung wants to meet you. 

It’s not so much wants. 

It’s more like demands. 

“Two dates, Jungkook!” Taehyung screeches at the same time the first kernel in their microwave popcorn bag pops, making Jungkook wince. “You’ve been on two entirely separate dates with the same person, and I haven’t met them yet!”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Jungkook says awkwardly, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze so as not to watch him go bug-eyed right in front of Jungkook’s nonexistent salad as he slowly waits for their microwave to implode and burn their entire apartment complex down. “it’s just two dates.”

“Which is two more than you normally go on,” Taehyung insists, holding up two fingers just in case Jungkook was unsure as to what number he’s been saying repeatedly as the popcorn pops. “Perspective, Jungkook! This is a big deal for you!”

“You act like I’ve never been on a date before when I, in fact, have,” Jungkook deadpans with a frown. He tries not to flinch when the popcorn surprises him with the last few kernels. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says like a white girl in a Netflix original movie, opening up their shoddy microwave to a steaming (and slightly overcooked) bag of dollar store popcorn. “But when was the last time you went on two dates with the same person?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond when he realizes he can’t give an answer without incriminating himself. It’s definitely been a while.

Taehyung picks up on the nanosecond of silence and Jungkook’s fish gape immediately, cackling as he tears open the popcorn and a quarter of the pieces go flying across their tiny counter island, still sticky in some places where Taehyung forgot to wipe up the juice from the watermelon he was cutting (sans cutting board) last night at two in the morning. 

“Perspective! Matters!” Taehyung says, interjecting each word with a piece of popcorn in his mouth. Jungkook reaches over to take some for himself, just happy knowing that the microwave hasn’t caused his tragic demise and he can put off death-by-microwave for another day. 

“You’re an Economics and Fine Arts double major, perspective is all you care about,” Jungkook says, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk preparing for winter. “I think you’re being dramatic.”

“I think that two dates is a record,” Taehyung tells him pointedly. 

“How noncommittal do you think I am?” Jungkook asks, shocked. He’s been in committed, long-term relationships. In high school. And nowadays in college, the definition of long-term has become so distant from what it used to be that three weeks is pretty much long-term at this point. 

“Very,” Taehyung says. He tilts the popcorn bag into his mouth and finishes it, and Jungkook is both horrified and impressed, because the bag was still a quarter-full when Taehyung decided it would be a good time to chug carbohydrates covered in butter. “I gotta meet them, Jungkook. I’m your best friend. I have to!”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “You do not have to meet her. In fact, you shouldn’t even be involved in my existent or nonexistent dating life at all. You have a boyfriend.” 

“Excuse me, I am still your best friend despite already having met the man I’m going to marry and adopt three dogs and a giant iguana with, and therefore I’m allowed to want to meet her. We should do something fun,” Taehyung says, before his eyes light up in the same way they did before Taehyung once suggested they take an extremely pricey Uber out into the suburbs just so they could go to the biggest wholesale store in the area and buy as many sixty-brownie packs as possible. 

The same way they did before Taehyung thought it was a good idea to pay Jungkook money to get himself into a committed relationship, and the same way they did when Jungkook agreed. 

“Oh my God, we should go play laser tag! That’s so much fun!” Taehyung begins to jump up and down in the middle of their apartment like an eight-year-old boy at an amusement park for his birthday, and Jungkook has reason to be worried he’ll fall right through the floorboards and into the apartment below. 

Jungkook couldn’t think of a worse group outing for you to meet his friends. While Taehyung definitely sucks at laser tag (Jungkook always wins), a furiously competitive, glow-in-the-dark, shriek-inducing, friendship-ending activity may very well be the last thing Jungkook wants to do with you while you meet his friends. He wants you to like them. He wants them to like you. Laser tag doesn’t promise either of those things. Laser tag, in fact, actively promotes immediate dislike. 

“Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m introducing you to her in a laser tag setting,” Jungkook immediately rejects Taehyung’s suggestion. Taehyung frowns, probably trying to think of some other equally as infuriating activity for the four of you to do together. Jungkook racks his brain, trying to think of something else that appeases Taehyung’s desire for physical competition while also minimizing the potential for disaster (which is very high whenever Taehyung is involved). “How about… mini golf?”

Taehyung breaks out into a devilish grin, and Jungkook wonders if mini-golf was an even worse suggestion. 

“Mini-golf?” You ask as you arrive at the mini-golf place, a little outside location far away from the hubbub of the city but close enough to not require an overpriced Uber. 

“It was this or laser tag,” Jungkook says, whipping his head around to see if Taehyung and Jimin have arrived yet. He can’t seem to see Taehyung’s faded teal hair nor Jimin’s pink, which would otherwise be easy to spot because whenever they walk anywhere, Gen Z’ers stop them on the street to remind them that they look like Cosmo and Wanda from The Fairly OddParents. 

“Laser tag!” You exclaim, punching Jungkook in the shoulder for emphasis. “That would have been such a good idea! Mini-golf is so overdone, I would have loved to go to laser tag.”

Jungkook pouts. He can’t believe he already royally fucked up the first meeting between his fake girlfriend and his best friend (and his best friend’s equally-as-chaotic just not-as-loud boyfriend) because you and Taehyung wanted to play laser tag and Jungkook was the dumbass who thought that mini-golf would be a better idea. Maybe Jungkook should just try to get knocked in the head with a mini-golf ball going at one hundred miles an hour like it did in Avril Lavigne’s VMA-deserving music video Girlfriend, fall on the ground and roll into a Porta Potty, and then wake up with no recollection of any of the day’s events. 

You notice Jungkook’s pout immediately as you hand over eight dollars so he isn’t paying for the both of you, and pat him on the back. “But I still like mini-golf. It could be worse. We could be at a Kidz Bop concert right now.”

Jungkook supposes that there’s always a silver lining. 

The silver lining vanishes the moment he hears a preteen boy who’s on hole eight shout, “Oh my God, it’s Cosmo and Wanda!”

“That would be the other half of our party,” Jungkook says with a grimace, staring distantly into the void as Taehyung and Jimin clamber onto the course. Taehyung carelessly gives the poor teenager in the booth a twenty, does not take his change, and picks up a golf club that is nowhere near the right size for his nearly-six-feet-tall figure. Maybe if Jungkook makes eye contact with the supermassive black hole that Taehyung is convinced actually exists at the center of the Milky Way galaxy, he’ll just get sucked right in and lose all the matter in his body so he doesn’t have to deal with this shit for the next two hours. 

“I’m Taehyung,” Taehyung introduces himself aggressively, holding out an enormous hand for you to shake. You do so hesitantly but firmly, trying not to break eye contact with Taehyung, a task you will soon find to be quite difficult, as Taehyung can keep his eyes open for over five minutes straight. “And unfortunately, my charming personality and extreme good looks have already attracted a mate. This is my soon-to-be husband, Jimin.”

Jimin waves respectfully, pink hair bouncing. 

“They’re not engaged,” Jungkook says, feeling the need to elaborate because Jungkook’s known Taehyung since before freshman year of college, and sometimes even he can’t tell when he’s kidding. 

“Real shame, but I actually have my eye on the only natural-hair-colored college-aged super buff guy in the group,” you say, nudging Jungkook’s side with a wink. Jungkook thinks he might vomit at your description of him. 

“Kook’s a real looker, but he flakes on us all the time. I’m impressed you even managed to get him to come with us,” Taehyung jokes, but the comment nonetheless makes Jungkook’s mouth open in indignation. 

“I’m the only mutuality between all of us,” he re-emphasizes, “I’m the one who organized the whole thing!”

Taehyung leans in to whisper into your ear, but Taehyung’s whisper is normal people’s regular outside voice, so Jungkook can hear every word. “Truthfully, I wanted to go play laser tag.”

You nod enthusiastically. “So did I! Jungkook just mentioned it and I wish we had gone there instead. We’ll have to go sometime. Just a warning: I’ll crush you.”

“I accept your challenge,” Taehyung says with a firm nod. 

Jungkook coughs loud enough to interrupt the both of you and even attract the attention of the next family who’s come up to pay. He feels bad for them—they’re going to be stuck behind the four of you for the rest of this hellhole of a mini-golf game. 

“Are we here to play some mini-golf, or what?” Jungkook asks, tiny golf pencil and paper stuffed into his back pocket to record scores, because Jungkook came here to win, and winning is what he will do. 

Jungkook does not win. 

He actually loses by one point. A singular value. A sole divisor. 

He’s pissed, but also impressed. 

Taehyung comes in dead last, as he normally does even when he’s playing mini-golf with a club that’s actually the right size, but the gap between him and Jimin’s third place is significantly larger considering his club is meant for someone who’s about a foot shorter than he is. Even so, he seems to give no shits whatsoever about his abysmal performance, and is instead spending most of his time post-mini-golf game high-fiving the shit out of you. 

“You beat him! I can’t believe it! I don’t think Jungkook’s ever lost a game of anything in his entire life!” Taehyung exclaims, making Jungkook wince. It was down to the wire the entire game with you and Jungkook neck-and-neck, Jimin a fair few points behind the both of you, and Taehyung hardly in the same ballpark. And on the last hole, Jungkook overshot the curve and his ball jumped the hole while yours sailed in, leaving him to wallow in his second-place pity. 

“Just doing my job,” you say with a flip of the nonexistent hair next to your left shoulder. Your hair is nowhere near your hand whatsoever. “He was the one who suggested mini-golf before he knew what a pro I was.”

“It was one point,” Jungkook reminds you, fuming. “If my golf ball hadn’t skipped the hole we’d be tied,” he says, consoling himself more than anyone else. 

“But it did, and now you owe me dinner because you lost and I won,” you tease as you walk out of the mini-golf place, sipping on overpriced sodas from the generic mini-golf diner. 

“That was not part of the deal whatsoever,” Jungkook says with a frown. “I never agreed to that. We never said anything about dinner. What the fuck.”

You laugh, tilting your head back as you chuckle, Sprite fizzing in your hand. Taehyung insisted nobody get straws, and now you all have disposable open (and full) cups of soda in your hands as you make the treacherous journey back to your campus. “Fine. How about we go out to get some bubble tea after this?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that. He’s been craving some taro tea recently. 

“Deal,” he says with a nod, and the two of you shake hands to seal it. 

Jungkook finds that he’s actually really looking forward to getting bubble tea with you post-mini-golf game. He’s spent so much time with you and the rest of his friends (however many there are) that you haven’t gone out alone, just the two of you, in a while. Jungkook misses that. 

You get along so well together. 

Jimin grabs your attention with a question about Hoseok, since the two of you happen to be connected through his dance group, giving Taehyung just enough time to swoop in and wrap an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, Dr. Pepper spilling onto the asphalt beneath them. 

“Damn, she really knows how to keep up with you,” Taehyung says, quieter than he’s ever spoken before. 

“Are you implying that I’m difficult to keep up with?” Jungkook immediately retorts. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “No, you dumbass. I’m saying that you’ve never been on a date with someone who meshes so well with your own personality. No wonder you guys have been on two dates.”

“I can’t believe you think I’m this one-date-wonder kind of guy.”

“You guys go really well with each other,” Taehyung says, and that sort of out-of-the-blue, genuinely complimentary statement makes Jungkook narrow his eyes in suspicion. “Seriously, I’m not just saying that. I think you guys make a cute couple.”

Jimin says something funny and you laugh again, giggles breaking out into the air as you slowly make your way towards campus. You’re not looking at Jungkook, but Jungkook is looking at you, and he thinks that maybe even if this is all just one big ploy, he might still get a really, really wonderful friend out of this. 

Taehyung pinches Jungkook’s cheek before turning his chin to face you. “I think that she’s someone you might want to hold onto.”

For once in his life, Jungkook has to agree. 

Jungkook is running late. 

This is no rare occurrence by any means, as Jungkook frequently shows up five minutes late to class with nothing but his half-charged laptop and an eraser-less mechanical pencil, which leaves fantastic impressions on both his classmates and his professors. 

But Jungkook hit snooze on his phone four times, and now he’s got ten minutes to get his shit together and get to his Metropolitan Nature class before he gets chewed out by his professor for being late three times already this month. 

He makes a few quick sacrifices. First, he’s not getting changed out of his pajamas, so this is what his Metropolitan Nature professor is getting, whether she likes it or not. Second, he doesn’t have time to use the bathroom so he’s just going to wipe his face with one of Taehyung’s makeup-removing wipes and pee after class. Third, there is no way in hell he’s making himself any sort of breakfast, not even grabbing a granola bar or anything, so he’ll just suffer until later, when he isn’t a debilitating mess of a human being and has time to stuff an apple into his mouth. 

And then, as he’s scrambling to get his backpack and make it to class on time (five minutes to go!), there’s a knock on his door. 

Jungkook almost doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs the nearest object to him—which happens to be their television remote—and holds it out in front of him like a weapon, waiting for the burglar on the other side to bust the door down, realize that Jungkook and Taehyung’s shared apartment has absolutely nothing valuable inside of it, and turn around to rob someone else. 

There’s another knock on his door. Jungkook decides that it’s probably not a burglar, but he keeps the remote in his hand just in case and opens the door.

On the other side is, much to his surprise, you, with a steaming cup of what he assumes is coffee and a little paper bag in your hand. 

“Oh, geez, what’s up?” Jungkook says, quickly trying to fix the mop on his head known as hair, to little avail. 

“Why are you holding the TV remote?” You ask instead of greeting him back like a normal person. 

“Oh, uh, just making sure you aren’t a robber or murderer or anything,” Jungkook says. There’s too long of an awkward silence that falls between the two of you, and in that time frame, Jungkook tosses the TV remote behind him and listens as it lands with a thud on the rug by the couch. 

“O…kay…,” you say nervously. “I got you breakfast.”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open and he’s too sleep-deprived to shut it again. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I told you that I would,” you remind him. “It’s a croissant and hot chocolate, because I wasn’t sure what your coffee order was. Here.” You don’t give him the chance to respond, instead shoving the cup and paper bag into his hands very ungracefully. 

“Oh, wow, I—I don’t know what to say,” Jungkook says, very obviously floored at your random generosity. He knows that this was what you discussed but he didn’t realize that it would actually be put into practice. 

“A simple ‘thank you’ would probably suffice!” Taehyung calls from his bedroom, clearly having overheard your entire conversation thus far. 

“Fuck off!” Jungkook shouts back, and he hears Taehyung cackle. 

You raise your eyebrows, leaning forward slightly. 

“Oh, yeah, thank you,” Jungkook says, still flabbergasted. “Seriously, I—I really can’t thank you enough. This was super nice of you.” God, who still uses the word super? Jungkook has to go before he embarrasses himself further. 

“No problem,” you tell him with a shrug. “Just doing the girlfriend thing.” It’s a good thing Taehyung’s in the other room, because he can’t see you wink. 

“I really appreciate it, Y/N. This was so thoughtful of you.” Jungkook doesn’t know how else to express his immense gratitude for this simple act, mostly because no one’s ever spontaneously brought him food at such an opportune time before. He missed you, is what it is. He didn’t realize it until you showed up at his door, and now he’s speechless and looks like an absolute fool, all because he missed you. 

Weird. 

“It was no big deal, really,” you tell him. “You headed to class? Let’s walk together.”

Jungkook’s already late but he decides that he would much rather walk than sprint, because that means he gets to savor the taste of blazing hot chocolate and a warm croissant, all while spending more time with you. 

When Jungkook was thirteen, a brand new go-kart arena opened up in their town. It had flashing neon lights and a giant sign and an arcade with actual prizes to be won in exchange for tickets. There was no sight more glorious to Jungkook’s freshly-teenaged self. 

His best friend at the time invited him out the day after it opened, and Jungkook was so excited that he said yes before thinking about anything else. He had never been go-karting. He couldn’t remember the last time he went to an arcade. He wanted to win ten thousand tickets to get a remote-control car. 

But he had no money because he realized that he was only getting paid for mowing his neighbor’s lawns at the end of the week, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to pay for anything. 

In desperation, Jungkook begged his older brother for some cash, promising that he would pay him back as soon as possible. Jeonghyun agreed (albeit begrudgingly) and Jungkook went on his merry way, having a grand old time at the brand new go-kart place with an arcade and winning one thousand tickets, which was enough to get him five of his favorite candy bars. 

Jungkook fully intended on giving some of them to his older brother as a thank you, but he ended up eating all of them on the way home, and then Jeonghyun doubled the amount that Jungkook owed him, and it took Jungkook a month to repay him. 

Jungkook discovered then that owing people is the worst feeling in the entire world, a sentiment he’s maintained ever since. It makes him an extremely reliable person whenever he borrows anything, which is already rare to begin with. 

Jungkook owes you more than just some hot chocolate and a croissant. You’ve saved his ass on numerous occasions, getting along well with Taehyung and Jimin and suggesting that you’re interested in him, striking up a deal that will save him from the wrath of Taehyung, giving him breakfast (free of charge!) on a day where he definitely wasn’t planning on eating anything. He feels like hot chocolate and a croissant just doesn’t cut it. 

In the end, Jungkook knocks on your door at seven in the evening with a paper bag filled with various Chinese takeout dishes. He never knows what to get whenever he gets Chinese food, so he gets a little bit of everything and, inevitably, eats all of it. He’s hoping that this is sufficient enough repayment, because you certainly deserve it. 

You open the door drowsily, mumbling something that sounds like “Who is it?” under your breath, when you see Jungkook and your eyes light up. 

“I brought Chinese food,” Jungkook supplies helpfully, holding up the bag as if the scent that’s wafting through the air isn’t proof enough. 

Your mouth drops open, just like his did. “Oh my God, you’re my hero. I was just about to make myself some shitty instant ramen for dinner, but this is so much better.”

“Just returning the favor, I guess,” Jungkook says with a shrug. “It was really nice of you to drop by this morning.”

“It was really nice of you to bring Chinese food tonight,” you respond as Jungkook hands over the paper bag. You let it sit on your palms, too heavy to be held by the top of it. “You just saved me from my fourth instant ramen dinner of the week.”

Jungkook laughs. He and Taehyung were like that during their freshman year, boiling water in their kettle at four in the morning to burn the insides of their mouths out with the fire noodles. Fond memories. You grin at him, Chinese takeout resting securely in your palms, and gaze at each other for a few more seconds before Jungkook coughs to end the silence. 

“Aren’t you coming inside?” You ask, stepping away from the door to usher him in. 

“Oh, no, the takeout was just a thank you for this morning,” Jungkook says, shaking his head and his hand as he takes a step away from the door. His stomach grumbles. 

Exposed. 

“Don’t think I can’t hear the whale coming from your belly,” you say, eyes narrowing as you point at his torso. “Come on, you paid for this thing, you might as well get your fair share. There’s no way I’ll be able to eat all of this myself.”

“No, it’s alright, seriously—” His stomach growls at him, like it’s personally offended that Jungkook’s rejecting the Chinese food. 

You frown at him, raising a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Come on, you dumbass. It’s getting cold.”

Jungkook relents, though it probably wouldn’t have taken much more to wear him down anyway, and walks inside your apartment. He slips off his sneakers and joins you as you set the food down on the coffee table in front of your couch, fabric worn and pillows sunken in. It looks delightfully comfortable. 

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess in here,” you say as you grab plates from your kitchenette. “You caught me off guard—I just got out of the shower, too.”

Your apartment is cleaner than his and Taehyung’s looks on days where they actually try to tidy up. Jungkook wishes he had those capabilities, but when he’s presented with the options of cleaning up or taking a nap, he will invariably choose the latter. And the clothes you’re wearing, even if you insist that they’re your nasty lounge clothes from high school, Jungkook couldn’t care less about. You look nice. 

You always look nice. 

Once you’re all settled, you tear open the stapled paper bag to reveal the glory hidden inside. Jungkook gets one whiff of the scent and nearly passes out, huffing it in like an Expo marker. He was a little worried that he hadn’t gotten enough, but as you begin to take each box of rice and biodegradable container of noodles and vegetables and soup and everything in between, he realizes he had nothing to stress over.

“Oh my God, we’re gonna have so many leftovers,” you say excitedly, eyeing all of the dishes as you break apart your wooden chopsticks. Every smell imaginable fills your apartment, and it makes Jungkook’s mouth water and his stomach rumble. “This cost way more than the hot chocolate and croissant, definitely. Let me Venmo you back half.”

Jungkook shakes his head defiantly, taking the rice out of your reach as punishment. “Absolutely not. I won’t let you pay me back a single cent.”

“What? That’s not in the contract,” you say with a frown, making to pull it up on your phone just as proof. 

“Who cares about the contract?” Jungkook says, snatching your phone right from your slippery fingers and placing it on the end table next to him. “I’m just doing the boyfriend thing.” 

You attack the mountain of food in front of you like an all-you-can-eat buffet, taking a handful of noodles here and a couple pieces of broccoli there, a few dumplings and a bit of soy sauce, a spoonful of rice, some of the wonton soup. Your plates are filled to the brim with helpings from every single container, too excited to save any one dish for another day. 

“God, this is just what I needed,” you say with a pleased sigh, tossing your head back. 

“Long day?” Jungkook asks before he puts a chopstick-ful of rice in his mouth. 

“The longest. I don’t know if I told you this, but my Communications 316 professor is absolutely incompetent. He has no idea what he’s talking about, confuses himself half the time, and doesn’t listen to the TA. It’s ridiculous. I might as well teach the damn class,” you say, clearly exasperated. 

“Sounds awful,” Jungkook comments with a wince. If he ever had a professor like that he would just drop the class and change majors, but you don’t seem to be taking as dramatic an approach. Maybe Jungkook’s just a chronic over-reactor.

“It is. Never take Comm 316, you’ll actually want to jump into a black hole. What are you majoring in, again?”

“Physics,” Jungkook tells you over a mouthful of food. 

“Wow, that’s amazing,” you say, and for once in his lifetime, Jungkook knows that there’s someone out there genuinely impressed by his choice of study. Normally he gets much more sarcastic comments, or the person he’s chatting with will just say “Flex” before changing the topic. “Do you wanna do engineering, astrophysics, or theoretical stuff?”

“Not sure yet,” he tells you, “but I’m thinking more astrophysics. I think space is really cool.”

“Astrophysics, holy shit! That’s like, the coolest thing you could probably ever major in. Meanwhile, I’m probably gonna end up being the personal assistant to some Instagram-famous fifteen-year-old.”

Jungkook refuses to let you put down your major. He’s a shitty conversationalist and an even worse public speaker. Jungkook thinks anybody who pursues an avenue like Communication could probably debate his ass into next month. “Hey, those fifteen-year-olds make bank, so I see no issue with that.” 

You laugh, nodding. Jungkook leans over the table to help himself to another couple of dumplings, looking back at you as you smile at him, a single grain of rice stuck on the corner of your lips. In the warm evening light of your apartment, the soothing noises of ambulances and honking cars below you, Jungkook decides to remember this moment. Save it forever. 

“Let’s take a photo,” Jungkook suggests, even though he’s already taking his phone out of his back pocket. “This is too good not to remember.”

“Right now?” You ask, caught off-guard. “I just stuffed my face with Chinese food, I’m wearing a t-shirt I got when I was in tenth grade, and we’re in my grody apartment. Are you sure?”

Jungkook’s already setting up the phone stand, stacking empty biodegradable Chinese takeout boxes to create the optimal angle. “I gotta get three Instagram posts in, remember?” He says. Because that’s obviously the only reason he wants to take a photo of the two of you, right here, right now. 

Obviously. 

You’re still hesitant, but Jungkook sets up the self-timer on his phone and leans back into the couch, pulling you in next to him. “Just relax,” he tells you. “You look wonderful.”

The first few pictures are classics—back straight, head up, chin down, hair fixed. Jungkook lets his phone click like a photobooth, making sure the camera gets every one of his angles. Then, the two of you start to get a bit more playful, coming up with creative (or uncreative) poses—peace signs, finger guns, winking faces. You drape your body over his legs and get a few of you looking like perpendicular line segments, a couple of you cuddling, one of you squishing his cheeks. 

“Okay, last one,” Jungkook says, setting his phone up. He expects it to just be a relatively normal one, your bodies close to each other but not aggressively so, but a second before the camera shutter clicks you plant your lips on his cheek, making him smile as he gasps. His phone snaps the last photo, and it takes everything in Jungkook’s power not to immediately look at the final shot.

“What was that for?” Jungkook asks, fingers tracing over where your lips pressed against his cheek. 

“Just ‘cause,” you say nonchalantly, beginning to gather up your leftovers. “I didn’t know you had a scar on your cheek.”

“I got it when I was little,” Jungkook says, finger lingering on top of it. 

“It’s cute,” you tell him, standing up to pack away the leftovers in your fridge and toss out anything you completely devoured. “You’re cute sometimes, you know that, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s speechless. He stands in the middle of your apartment like a fish out of water, eyes wide as they watch you flitter around your kitchenette. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if there is anything to say. 

“This was a lot of fun,” you tell him when you bid your goodbyes, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment. “Thanks for bringing me Chinese.”

“Thanks for inviting me in to eat it with you,” Jungkook says back. “We should do this again sometime.”

“You mean like a date?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “What do you think we are, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Jungkook laughs. “My mistake. We can have a friend dinner, if you want.”

You grin. “Hmm, I think I like boyfriend and girlfriend better, don’t you think?” You ask. 

Jungkook pretends to ponder the question, like he doesn’t already know the answer. “Me too.”

The entire way home, Jungkook’s cheek tingles. 

Jungkook (10:18AM): hey what r u doing rn??

You (10:18AM): i’m about to go to this volunteering thing at the animal shelter !!!

Jungkook (10:18AM): wow really?? that sounds like fun

You (10:18AM): yeah i’m really excited !!  You (10:19AM): are you an animal person jungkook

Jungkook stares at his phone distantly. He was secretly hoping you’d be free, because it’s a Saturday and he’s got nothing planned the entire day. He could do work, sure, but that’s a Sunday problem. And he just wanted to do something with you. Sue him. 

Jungkook (10:19AM): yeah i love animals Jungkook (10:19AM): except iguanas fuck those guys

You: (10:20AM): do i wanna know????

Jungkook (10:20AM): in high school my brother got an iguana and it ate my school id so i couldn’t buy lunch for the whole year

You (10:20AM): i’ll ask later You (10:20AM): but my volunteering thing isn’t until 10:30 do you wanna come?

It’s not that Jungkook’s heart skips a beat, but it skips half of one.

Jungkook (10:21AM): are you sure?? i don’t want to be a bother

You (10:21AM): no come !!! it’ll be so much fun !!! we’re just holding an outdoor adoption fair for the day so we get to spend time with animals and encourage people to adopt them it’ll be lots of fun!! You (10:22AM): please come i’ll be so lonely without you :(

You don’t need to say another word. In fact, you pretty much had Jungkook sold the moment you told him what you were doing. He’s already halfway out the door of his apartment by the time he texts you back. 

Jungkook (10:23AM): i’m on my way!!

He gets to your apartment in record time, too excited to spend time with you to be ashamed of the desperation that’s radiating off of him. Jungkook’s not socially starved, nor does he not have other friends he could pass the time with. But he’s been friends with Taehyung, Jimin, and Yoongi ever since he set foot on campus for the first time, which means that he’s spent more time with them the past few years than he has in the past couple of months with you, because that is how math works. And Jungkook hates math, but he knows that he would much rather spend the day with you than anybody else. 

He knocks on your door, only slightly out of breath, to find that you haven’t even put on your shoes yet. 

“You got here quick,” you comment. “Did you run?”

“I didn’t work out this morning,” Jungkook lies like a liar. It’s by no means a good excuse, he just didn’t want you to think he ran all the way just to be with you. He wants to retain some shred of dignity, especially after losing most of it when he agreed to a deal where he would date someone for three months in exchange for money. 

“Sure thing, Batman,” you say. “I’m almost ready, just give me a second.”

Jungkook waits patiently in your doorway, catching his breath and trying to wipe away the sweat that’s slowly beginning to collect on his forehead in a futile attempt to make him seem as cool and natural and not-at-all-excited as possible. It doesn’t seem to be working very well. 

Whatever. Jungkook supposes that there are much worse things than having you think he just wants to spend time with you this afternoon. After all, he really does. 

On the way there, you tell Jungkook all about the cat that your family had when you were growing up. His name was Pickle and he frequently brought your family stolen flowers from neighbors’ gardens, which was both extremely endearing and also rage-inducing. He also exclusively ate cat food that was the combination of meat and vegetables, which made you believe for a solid three years that all mammals were omnivores. They were, in fact, not. 

“I haven’t had a cat since he died when I was thirteen, holy shit I want one so bad,” you say as you arrive at the park right by the shelter, where the adoption fair is being held. “Thanks for coming, by the way. You didn’t have to. You probably have lots of Physics work to do.”

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says instantly, refusing to let you believe otherwise. “I did. That’s why I texted you.”

“To come to the adoption fair?” You ask, waving hello to another one of the volunteers. You must be here often. 

“No,” Jungkook says, faltering slightly. “To, uh, well—to hang out with you, actually.” God, he sounds like he’s twelve. Hang out? To hang out with you? The same way that preteens do because they’re too old for the word playdate? For God’s sake. You’re college students, friends (hopefully, because if not then Jungkook has completely misread this situation), and fake lovers. And Jungkook chooses the phrase hang out to describe time spent with you. 

“Oh,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Your brows furrow slightly, like you’re pondering something too insignificant to say aloud. Jungkook knows that feeling. “Well, I’m glad you texted me, then.”

Jungkook’s glad, too. 

The animal shelter staff, despite his unannounced arrival, are absolutely thrilled that Jungkook’s volunteered to help alongside you. They tell him that he’s got an extremely friendly and marketable face, and will be good for talking to prospective adopters because he’s, by default, extremely charming. 

“I can vouch for that,” you mutter into his ear before another worker asks you to help out with some of the dogs. Jungkook stands there, your words ringing in his ears, as the instructions the shelter coordinator tells him fly right over his ear. Charming, huh?

Realistically, there are plenty of ways that Jungkook could be spending his free Saturday that would be appealing to most, if not all, college students. He could be lazing around in bed, sleeping in until two in the afternoon, and never getting out from under the covers. He could be marathoning his favorite TV show or a new K-drama that Taehyung’s obsessed with, finishing the whole series in a single day. He could go out for brunch like any good college student would, go to an overpriced café and take aesthetically pleasing photos to post online, spend the whole day online shopping. 

But instead, he’s standing in the sun surrounded by prospective owners and a whole bunch of pets, watching as you play with a few of the puppies in the pen as people ask you questions, and Jungkook decides that there’s really nothing else that he would rather be doing than this. 

Here’s the thing: animals are cute, but you with animals is cuter. 

Jungkook comes to this conclusion relatively early in the day, after staring at you unabashedly as you play with the puppies, pick up cats for people to hold, and encourage prospective owners to consider older animals in the shelter because they give just as much love and joy as the babies. He is, admittedly, not doing the thing he came here to do (volunteer), but hardly anyone is paying attention to him and he is, in turn, paying attention to you. And you’re doing your work, so does it really matter if he’s not doing his?

In the end, Jungkook actually does begin to contribute something of substance to the event, but only because the coordinator assigned him to the animal registration table for people adopting pets, which means he doesn’t get a free pass to watch you play with puppies for the rest of the day. 

Jungkook volunteers, he swears, but he doesn’t do it that often, which makes participating in this even feel that much better. He can’t help but smile and congratulate the brand new owners on their new best friend(s), happily filling in the official papers and watching as each animal goes to their forever home. It’s humbling, and it makes him happy, and Jungkook doesn’t think he could get that sort of feeling if he just stayed at home watching Netflix. 

The day ends up being a success. At least, that’s what the coordinator tells him, because over half of the pets available got adopted in that single afternoon, which seems to be quite the accomplishment. The good news is that even though Jungkook was objectively less than helpful, the coordinator isn’t shouting at him because everything turned out well anyway. So that’s always a plus. 

“We’re gonna start packing up, folks,” the coordinator says into her megaphone as the day winds down. “Animals first, equipment second!”

“Jungkook, come over here! Quick!” 

For a second, Jungkook thinks you’re in pain, but it’s enough of a second for him to turn to the sound of your voice and dash over, responsibilities (as per usual) forgotten. 

And then it turns out that you’re nowhere near injured, or hurt, or anything even resembling endangerment of your wellbeing. 

Instead, what he sees is this:

You, waiting in the middle of the park, grass tickling your ankles. You, grinning as you meet his eyes from where he stands a few feet away from you. You, with your t-shirt from the rescue center and plain jeans on. 

You, with a kitten in your arms, mewling softly as you stroke its back. 

“Are we allowed to adopt now that the fair is over?” Jungkook jokes as he comes over to you. It’s when he’s right by your side that he notices something different about the cat, at the exact same time you point it out—

“She’s only got three-legs!” You say, overwhelmed with affection and completely endeared. “Look at her! She’s only got three legs,” you say, motioning for Jungkook to come closer. 

“Do you know what happened?” Jungkook asks, leaning down to hold his fingers out for the kitten to sniff. She does so dutifully, pressing her little pink nose up against Jungkook’s fingertips before deeming him a satisfactory human being. Instinctively, Jungkook begins to rub at her cheek.

“No, only that they found her with something on her leg and it had to be amputated when they brought her to the shelter,” you say, bottom lip coming out in a pout as you look down at her. 

Jungkook grins. “What’s her name?”

“Miracle,” you tell him. 

Fitting name. 

“Isn’t she adorable?” You ask, holding Miracle close to you as she clings to your chest. It’s clear that the both of you have already latched on to each other. 

Jungkook nods, because how could he ever disagree? You’re standing in the middle of the local park as the afternoon draws to a close and the evening light sets in. It’s a little chillier now that the sun is going down, but it casts a hazy glow over your surroundings. And you’re just waiting there, a kitten in your hands and a smile on your face, and Jungkook can’t resist. 

He can’t resist the way you look, how you could possibly look like this. He can’t resist as he pulls out his phone, not-so-subtly pulling up the camera so he can snap a few quick shots. Because pictures like this deserve to be remembered forever. 

You don’t notice until the fifth picture in, when Miracle begins to meow, drawing your attention away from her and up to Jungkook. 

“Oh my God, hey!” You shout softly, trying not to frighten Miracle or attract the attention of any of the other volunteers who are very obviously doing more work than you two at the current moment. “How could you snipe me like that? I’ve got cat fur and dog slobber all over me, I probably look like trash.”

“You don’t,” Jungkook insists, but he pulls his phone out of your reach anyway. Just in case. “You look fine.”

“Fine does not equate to picture-worthy,” you hiss, but you’re laughing. 

“I’m a photographer, Y/N,” Jungkook says, patting himself on the back. “If I need a work a little magic, then I will.”

You scoff. “Sorry that my sweaty ass isn’t up to par with your Instagram standards,” you joke, making Jungkook chuckle. You put Miracle back into the pen she was waiting in throughout the fair, beginning to wrap up. “But at least you finally have two pictures of the same girl on your Instagram page.”

Jungkook chuckles again, but this one isn’t as real.

He had forgotten about Instagram entirely. 

“Jungkook, your fucking phone alarm keeps going off!” 

Jungkook’s in the bathroom, halfway through the latest John Mulaney Netflix comedy special, doing his goddamn business. 

“It’s for my laundry!” He shouts back. He needs to go and pick it up at the laundromat around the corner before someone steals one sock from every pair and leaves him, hypothetically, sock-less. “Can you just turn it off?”

“Fine!”

Jungkook thinks that’s the end of the conversation, so he unpauses the comedy special and laughs as John Mulaney tells anecdotes about his youth. And then, two seconds later, there’s banging on the bathroom door. 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Taehyung shrieks, accompanying every syllable with an equally as impactful thump on the door. “Open this door!”

“I’m on the goddamn toilet!” Jungkook shouts back. What does a locked bathroom door mean to Taehyung? Doesn’t he know what the hell Jungkook’s doing in here? “Give me a second!”

“We have to talk, right now!” Taehyung yells. Their neighbors are probably calling down noise complaints at this very moment. 

“What the fuck,” Jungkook mutters, closing out of the Netflix app on his phone and hurrying himself up. He finishes up his goddamn business, laments the cutting short of the comedy special, washes his hands, and opens the door. 

The moment it cracks open even a sliver, Taehyung is crashing into the bathroom, holding up Jungkook’s phone like it just murdered his entire nuclear and extended family. Jungkook nearly stumbles back into the shower at the force of everything, before Taehyung dangles his own goddamn phone right in front of his face. 

“What the fuck is this?”

“Uh…” Jungkook says, a little frightened and a lot confused, “the time?”

“Not that, you dumbass!” Taehyung says. “Your lockscreen!”

“What about it?” Jungkook asks, desperately trying to scramble for his phone back. And while Taehyung may have the upper hand and the element of surprise, Jungkook is swole and swift, and he manages to rip it out of Taehyung’s grasp before long. 

“It’s of Y/N! Are you serious!” In hindsight, maybe Jungkook shouldn’t have taken his phone out of Taehyung’s hands, because now both of them are smacking Jungkook’s shoulders repeatedly like the worst cuckoo clock ever. 

Jungkook pushes Taehyung off of him and gains his bearings. “So? We’re dating.”

Fake dating. Minor detail. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says like a popular white girl in a teenage movie. “But you’ve never set a photo of someone as your lockscreen before! Or ever!”

“She’s cute, what do you mean?” Jungkook says defensively. Taehyung is reading way too into this. 

Taehyung frowns. “I’ve known you since before we started college, and in that time not once have I ever seen your phone background be of a picture of a girl, or anybody, you were romantically interested in. Ever. I’m pretty sure you’d set your lockscreen as Hyuna before you’d set it to a picture of a girl you like. Let alone one with a three-legged kitten!”

“First of all, I love Hyuna, so fuck you,” Jungkook says pointedly. He’d die for her, full stop. If Hyuna told Jungkook to abandon his twenty-first century life and live as a hermit for the rest of his life, he’d do it without question. “Second of all, is it really that big of a deal? We’re just dating. It seemed like a natural segue.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says, taking another step back from Jungkook. He looks him up and down like a doctor inspecting the body for wounds, hands on his hips. Then he says, “I can’t believe you’re actually starting to fall for somebody.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to tell Taehyung he’s being overdramatic and ridiculous (as he usually is), but something stops him. There’s no way he could be falling for you. Absolutely not. You’re just friends, and after these three months are over you’re just going to go back to being friends. Friends who are, collectively, four hundred dollars wealthier. It seems like a good deal. It’s also fake in every sense of the word. 

There’s no way that the feeling are real. 

How could they be?

Min Yoongi does not want to make a big deal out of his and Hoseok’s first anniversary. Jung Hoseok wants to hire a plane to write JHS ♡ MYG in the sky. 

Naturally, they have a house party. 

It’s half an excuse to celebrate the first of what Jungkook is probably correct to assume is many, many more anniversaries, and half an excuse to throw a party that involves alcohol but does not involve frat boys. Which are two criteria that Jungkook heavily considers when figuring out plans for the night. 

Because it goes without saying, Jungkook invites you as his plus one. If he didn’t, Taehyung would probably accuse Jungkook of trying to fake date for money (which he obviously isn’t already doing), and then steal his manga collection and sell it on the streets, in that order. These are things that Jungkook definitely does not want. Also, you know Hoseok, which means that by the transitive property in Jungkook’s eighth grade geometry class, you know Yoongi. And that basically rounds out Jungkook’s friend group. 

By the time you and Jungkook arrive at Hoseok’s apartment just a couple of blocks off of campus, he can already hear the bass thumping through the floorboards outside. Hoseok and Yoongi have good music taste, for sure, but there is no way either of them would willingly set the volume that high. Which means that—

“Jungkook!” Taehyung shouts, already buzzed, as the two of you step inside Hoseok’s apartment. He wraps an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, nursing a nearly-empty glass of red wine. Jungkook is right to assume this is definitely not his first glass. Taehyung waves hello to you as well, doing his rounds as per usual, before fluttering off to cling onto someone else. 

Hoseok’s house party looks less like a party and more like a house. The lights are dim (courtesy of Yoongi), hors d'oeuvres are set out on the counter island (courtesy of Seokjin), and only their closest friends (plus guests) are here (courtesy of Hoseok). The only thing that might elicit any sort of party vibe is the booming bass that rings throughout the room as music plays from their television (courtesy of, you guessed it, Taehyung). 

“Hey, Jungkook!” Hoseok shouts from where he’s lingering around the kitchen island, popping an olive into his mouth. He waves the both of you over to where he and Yoongi are standing, drinking their tasteful wine and eating their tasteful tapas. “You’re the girlfriend, right?” Hoseok asks, pointing to you with a smile. 

“That’s me,” you say, nodding. “Hoseok and Yoongi, right? I recognize you from—” 

“From the pictures,” Jungkook interjects. You look to Jungkook with a puzzled expression, and he raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes unhelpfully. “I showed some to you, remember?” He says, trying to be natural. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say, catching on. Changing the topic, you turn to Hoseok and say, “You direct a dance group, right Hoseok?” 

“Yeah! You’ve heard of it?” Hoseok says, eyes lighting up. He’s always happy to talk about the things he loves (dance, chemistry, and Yoongi). 

“My friend is in it,” you tell him. “Do you know Chungha?”

“Oh my God, yes!” Hoseok exclaims excitedly. “I think that when I graduate, I’m gonna make her the leader. She’s so talented.”

“Learned from the best,” Yoongi adds in softly, blushing. Hoseok responds by pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, grabbing another olive to go as he heads off to greet other guests. 

With Hoseok out of the picture, Yoongi’s disposition morphs almost instantly. In the blink of an eye, he goes from humbled, in-love boyfriend, to jaded, suspicious college student. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to explain to Yoongi before his friend reads him like a board book, but Yoongi beats him to it. 

“Let me guess,” Yoongi says, eyes narrowed as he stares the both of you down. Unlike Jungkook, who’s already caving into himself under the weight of Yoongi’s gaze, you’re holding onto his arm firmly, looking at Yoongi with a stern glare. “You asked her to pose as your girlfriend so you can get the cash?”

“Well,” Jungkook says, because technically Yoongi’s wrong. He didn’t ask. You did. And you’re splitting the cash, so that solves that issue. “Not really,” he says, like a kid trying to get out of punishment for something he very clearly did. 

Yoongi frowns. He turns to you. “Please tell me that you’re getting compensated for hanging out with my dumbass friend.”

“Hey!” Jungkook cries indignantly. 

“Yes,” you assure Yoongi. “I am. But thanks for the concern.” Just then, Hoseok calls you over to introduce you to a couple of his friends from his dance group, and you wave goodbye to Jungkook and Yoongi before scurrying off. 

Yoongi looks at Jungkook, and Jungkook feels fucking transparent under his sharp gaze. He grimaces. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?

“Yes,” Jungkook insists, taking some offense to what Yoongi’s insinuating. He’s got everything under control, thank you very much. The guidelines to your arrangement were laid out very clearly in a Google Doc, electronically signed by the both of you. You’re getting along well. Jungkook hopes that you’ll be still friends after all of this is over, because he likes spending time with you. Go figure. “I’m fine, Yoongi. You don’t need to worry.”

Yoongi looks skeptical, but he drops the subject anyway. “If you say so,” he says. “I just don’t want you to expect something you aren’t getting.”

“What do you mean?”

Jimin finds Jungkook, in that instant, and drags him to participate in karaoke with you, him, and Taehyung. As he’s getting pulled away from the conversation. Jungkook looks at Yoongi desperately for a response. Yoongi doesn’t answer. 

Two rounds of early 2000’s karaoke and several voice cracks later, you end up next to Jungkook’s side as the party rages around you. Well, not necessarily rages. More like continues. 

“What did Yoongi say to you?” You ask, leaning in to whisper into Jungkook’s ear. 

“Oh, he was just making sure that I knew what I was doing,” Jungkook says. It’s not not the truth. 

“And do you?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you look up at him. 

Jungkook falters. 

He thinks he does. 

“Taehyung, did you drink this whole bottle—god damnit,” Seokjin’s voice echoes throughout the apartment as Taehyung happily bounces out of the kitchen, even more tipsy than he was when he slung his arm around Jungkook as he and you walked into Hoseok’s apartment. He’s not flat out intoxicated yet, but he’s certainly getting there. Hopefully, Jimin has the sense to keep more alcohol out of his hands. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung coos happily as he peppers platonic kisses all over Jungkook’s cheek. This is natural. “Don’t forget about the deal, alright? I still have the four hundred dollars if you manage to date for that long.” He singsongs his words. In Taehyung’s stupor, he seems to have forgotten that you are still standing right next to Jungkook, watching as his best friend plops wet smooches on the side of Jungkook’s face 1) like it’s nobody’s business and 2) like he doesn’t already have a boyfriend he does this regularly with anyway. 

Jungkook turns to you, eyes wide, but you pat his shoulder and calm him down. 

It’s fine, you mouth to him. I already know. 

Obviously, Jungkook’s mind supplies unhelpfully. That’s why you’re here. Because you already know about the deal. And the money. Obviously. 

“You know what,” Taehyung says, finger pointed. “I’ve never seen you kiss Y/N,” he continues, and Jungkook already doesn’t like the direction Taehyung’s headed in. “You guys should do it.”

“Should we, though?” Jungkook say, looking hesitant.

“I know you, Jungkook,” Taehyung says accusingly, “I know that you would start fake dating something just so you could get the cash. Prove that you aren’t.”

Jungkook frowns. “You know you actually have no power or right to make us kiss, so—”

Before Jungkook can continue, you flip him around to face you and pull him in close, hands on his neck as you plant your lips on his. Jungkook nearly stumbles back from the shock of it all, but you keep your grip tight and slowly, his hands find his way to to your waist. Distantly, he can register Taehyung (and probably everyone else in the room) shouting, but all he feels is your lips on his and his heart on fire. It’s by no means a super majestic, romantic, movie-worthy kiss, but Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he instantly relaxes at your touch, and that’s never happened to him before. 

When you part, it feels like Jungkook’s heart is about to beat right out of his chest. 

Taehyung seems perfectly satisfied, and has already moved on to pressing up against Jimin in an effort to upstage the both of you. He will definitely succeed in his endeavors, mostly because Taehyung and Jimin are a thing, and Jungkook and you, well. 

You turn to Jungkook, cheeks warm from both the rush and the embarrassment, and you grin. Jungkook takes one look at you, and his heart starts to race. He maybe wants to do that again. Actually, he knows that he wants to do that again. 

Fuck.

You (3:23PM): hey are you busy rn?

Jungkook (3:23PM): no Jungkook (3:23PM): what’s up?

You (3:23PM): do you wanna go out and get acai bowls? You (3:23PM): i feel like we gotta talk about some stuff

Jungkook (3:24PM): yeah Jungkook (3:24PM): right now?

You (3:24PM): sure You (3:24PM): meet in 15?

Jungkook (3:25PM): okay!

Jungkook is nervous. 

Granted, Jungkook gets nervous when he’s spontaneously offered a baby to be held and he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t frequently hold babies, but still. He’s nervous. 

He’s sitting in the acai bowl place with his hands in his pockets, palms sweating. Logically, he should take his hands out of his pockets to remedy this, but if he does that then he’s just going to rub his sweaty hands through his obnoxiously long hair until you get there, and he doesn’t want to pour his heart out to you with sweaty hair. 

So he sits on the high stools by the counters against the windows with sweaty hands and a nervous blink, watching to see when you’ll walk in. 

It occurs to him then that if all goes well, you might actually end up holding hands after all of this is over, and for God’s sake he cannot have sweaty hands, so he gets up and grabs about fifteen napkins from the dispenser to the suspicious glare of the underpaid teenage worker behind the cash register, rubbing his palms profusely on them. 

It is then, as Jungkook stands looking simultaneously like a fish in water and like he just walked out of middle school PE, that the bell above the door rings and you walk in, hands in the pockets of your hoodie and your backpack resting on your shoulders. 

“Hey,” you say softly, standing next to him as you stare up at the menu board. Jungkook’s come here before with you, and he’s already memorized your order. 

“Hey,” Jungkook replies, weirdly out of breath. 

“What are you getting?” You ask. Jungkook hates how neither of you know how to start the conversation. 

“Oh, just, uh, my usual, I guess,” Jungkook says with a shrug. He has been here a total of one other time (with you), and he didn’t really like what he got last time, but now it’s been established as his ‘usual’ and he’s in too deep to change it now. 

You end up back where Jungkook was sitting before, next to the giant glass window that overlooks the busy street. Jungkook sets his acai bowl down on the counter, turns to face you, and takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. 

“I—”

“I think I like you,” you blurt out first, words tumbling out of your mouth like an avalanche. You’re staring at Jungkook, biting down on your lip nervously, and Jungkook sputters. “I’m just gonna tell you up front. I think I have a crush on you. No, I know that I do.”

“I—” Jungkook says again, floundering. “I don’t—” 

“I’m really sorry,” you say, turning back to look at the strawberries in your bowl. “I think it’s been building up slowly for a while, but ever since that night at Hoseok’s house I just… I realized, you know?”

Jungkook’s silent. 

“And I knew that I had to tell you because we’ve been really clear about all of the terms of this… agreement and I wasn’t going to hide this from you either,” you’re rambling now, words practically bouncing on top of each other. “I’m really sorry, Jungkook. It’s okay if you’re angry or something, I know that this wasn’t part of the contract because you kind of have to find a new partner since we both made it clear that this relationship wasn’t inherently romantic even though I made it into one anyway. Just say the word and we can call this thing off. I’m sorry.”

You stare down into your acai bowl like it just set the curve for your least favorite class. Jungkook sits there, acai bowl untouched, words processing. 

“Do you… want to say anything?” You ask, nervous again. 

“Don’t apologize,” Jungkook says. His hands are all sweaty again, but he barely pays them any attention. “I don’t care. Fuck the contract, honestly. It’s a Google Docs.” You’re gazing at him with wide-eyes, shocked that he’s even opened his mouth. “I’m really glad that you and I are doing this together. I probably would have never even met you if it weren’t for you interrupting me and Yoongi at the coffee place.”

You grin. 

Jungkook realizes, then, that he’s been waiting too long to do this. 

“Honestly, I—” He says before chuckling, sweaty hand scratching at the nape of his neck, “I was gonna tell you something too. But you beat me to it.”

“Hmm?” You ask, looking at him. 

“I think I like you, too,” Jungkook says, and his heart seems to finally settle. “No, I know I do. You’re right—it’s been a long time coming, but the party at Hoseok’s just… I realized. I needed you to know that, too. You deserved to know that this is reciprocated.” Jungkook gets a burst of confidence (probably from the cool air that rushes through the room whenever someone opens the door), and takes your hands in his own. They’re sweaty, and Jungkook feels like he just ran a marathon, but it feels almost like they belong. Like this moment was meant to be. 

“We may have started this thing because of my dumbass friends, but I want to continue it with you,” Jungkook says. He’s six lectures behind in his differential equations class, he hasn’t done the readings for his Korean-American history course since the beginning of the semester, his diet has mostly consisted of midnight ramen and chocolate chip granola bars, but he has never felt lighter. “I like you a lot, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank God,” you say dramatically, heaving a sigh. “Because I like you a lot, too.”

Naturally, it’s smooth sailing from there. At least one aspect of Jungkook’s life is working out for him. His differential equations lectures, history readings, and diet are still works in progress. 

“So, can I delete the Google Drive document?” You ask, pulling out your phone. “I don’t think we need it anymore, do we?”

“Unless you still want to reference it for instructions on how to be a good significant other,” Jungkook jokes. He still hasn’t touched his acai bowl. He definitely needs to come clean and order something else next time. “My standards are pretty high.”

“Hey! I exceed all of those standards on a regular basis, don’t I? I bought you hot chocolate and a croissant that one day. And I’m good with your friends. Isn’t that, like, what all guys want in a relationship?”

Jungkook pouts. It kind of is, but truth be told you exceed his standards just by existing. “No,” he insists. “Sometimes they just want to be little spoon but everybody makes fun of them.”

“Aw, do you want to be little spoon?” You ask, totally endeared. You press a kiss to his cheek and it makes his skin turn cherry red. “You can be little spoon. I think that I’m a great cuddler.”

“We’ll have to test that theory,” Jungkook says with an eyebrow raise. 

“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” you say, leaning into him. Jungkook lets his body be enveloped by your warmth, basking in it, before you jump up, something else popping into your head. “Oh! We should probably tell your friends to call off the deal, don’t you think?” You say. “This isn’t really about the money anymore, is it. I’d feel bad.”

Jungkook has half a mind to tell you that Taehyung would probably bathe in one hundred dollar bills if their apartment had a bath, so four hundred dollars is practically pocket change in his eyes, but you’re right. As usual, you’re right. Curse you and your good-hearted nature. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jungkook concedes easily. You could probably tell him to change his major to English and he would listen to you. “I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

“Oh God, they’re gonna roast us so hard for making a deal,” you say, face-palming. This is true, but Jungkook’s friends will get over it. Jimin’s a hopeless romantic and Taehyung will just be overwhelmingly thrilled that Jungkook actually managed to hold down a relationship. 

“They’ll get over it,” Jungkook says. He presses a kiss to your forehead and lets his heart flutter. 

“You think anything’s gonna change?” You ask, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Jungkook pauses for a second. Wonders if there’s something to fear. And he decides that he couldn’t care less about that. “Even if it does, I don’t care. As long as we’re together.”

“We’ve been summoned,” Taehyung says as he and Jimin arrive at the group study room Jungkook booked specifically for this occasion. 

“By who?” Jungkook asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “Because it wasn’t me.”

“No, you’re right,” Taehyung says, collapsing on the chair across from Jungkook. “It was this angry gremlin with hair that looks like a wet mop. Let’s see… what what his name again?”

If there wasn’t a massive table separating them, Jungkook would throw hands at this very instant. 

“The fact that you called both of us here frightens me greatly,” Jimin says as he takes a seat next to Taehyung, their hands interlacing almost instantly. “Either you’re about to tell us you’re dropping out or that Taehyung’s cheating on me with you.”

Jungkook frowns. “Why the fuck would I ever date Taehyung?”

Taehyung gasps. “What do you mean? I’m a catch. Admit it, Jungkookie, you’d date me in a heartbeat.”

“I would literally rather have Jimin vomit into my own mouth,” Jungkook deadpans. Jimin nearly actually pukes at the mention of such an action, and Jungkook decides that even the pure thought of that makes him want to cannonball into a volcano. “But I’m not cheating on either one of you with the other one, and I’m not about to drop out.”

“Oh, thank God,” Taehyung says dramatically, like he says everything else. “I thought that we would lose our resident Buff Boy who eats all of my leftovers at meals. I was worried there for a second.”

“I hate you,” Jungkook tells Taehyung genuinely. 

“If you’re not dropping out, then why did you call us here?” Jimin asks curiously. “To study? Taehyung doesn’t even know where his backpack is.”

“You lost your backpack?” Jungkook says, in awe. He knew Taehyung was careless, but he didn’t think he was that careless. Maybe he really has lost all fucks. Which does not bode well for him, considering he has to write a thesis in order to graduate. 

“I just don’t know where it is right now, alright?” Taehyung says, ashamed. He very well should be. What kind of college student loses their backpack? “Why did you ask us here?” He changes the topic so as not to be subject to any more shaming. 

“Uh, to talk about the whole deal thing,” Jungkook says awkwardly. He has no idea how he’s going to go about this. He walked into this group study room about as prepared as Taehyung is when he walks into his first round of midterms. 

“Ah, yes,” Taehyung nods sneakily. “Honestly, Jungkook, I’m impressed that you and Y/N have even been going on for this long. Does she know about it?”

Jimin smacks Taehyung in the side. “Obviously not, otherwise they wouldn’t still be dating. Have some faith in our Jungkookie for not betraying this deal to her.”

“Actually—”

“Oh, yeah,” Taehyung says with a laugh. “If she knew about this, she’d absolutely break up with you.”

“I’m. Aware.” Jungkook says stiffly. 

“You’ve exceeded all expectations, Jungkook,” Taehyung says happily. “You got a girlfriend and you managed to maintain a relationship for nearly three months all without mentioning the deal to her.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming.” Jungkook frowns. 

“We’re very impressed with you, you know? She seems really nice, too. I thought you’d, like, resort to Tinder dates just so you could get the money,” Jimin adds on. 

“Oh, speaking of money, since Jungkook’s doing such a good job, how about we…” Taehyung pauses for dramatic effect, which is something he does so frequently that it just makes every one of his sentences overdramatic, “raise the stakes?” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows just as an add-on to the proposition. 

“Seriously, Tae? Don’t waste your money on something like this—”

“But you’re doing so well! Why wouldn’t you want more money?”

The nagging college student part of his brain tells him to just cave and accept the money, because a higher payment means more money for the both of you, which is… tempting. Jungkook is, still at heart, a desperate and money-starved college student.

But he knows he can’t. Not because it would be a waste of Taehyung’s resources, but because neither of you need the money anymore. What for? You’re already dating. 

“Because—”

“Even I would accept it, and I’m an international student,” Taehyung says with a laugh. “Y/N doesn’t even need to know!”

Something in Jungkook snaps. 

“You know what, you guys?” Jungkook says, standing up from his seat angrily, hands slamming onto the table. “No. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want you guys to raise the stakes or whatever. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be paid to date someone.”

“But what does it matter if she doesn’t know?” Taehyung asks, a single eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“It matters because I care about her! For fuck’s sake, that’s why it matters,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair out of exasperation. “It matters because it’s about the principle. I care about her, and I don’t need any sort of incentive to date her. I just want to.”

“But—” Taehyung says again. 

“She knows, you dumbass!” Jungkook shouts. “She’s well aware that there was money on the line. We started dating because we came up with this—this agreement to split the money once the three months were over. But then we both realized we actually wanted to date each other for, you know, an actual relationship, and we decided to get rid of the deal. Which is why I called you guys over here. To tell you that I don’t wanna do it anymore. I’m out.”

“Seriously, Jungkook?” Jimin says. “You started fake-dating someone for money and then you fell for her?”

“She is really nice,” Jungkook insists. “You said it yourself, Jimin. I care about her.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says, speechless, for once in his life. “I never knew you actually went through with all of this. I didn’t even think you’d manage to do it at all. You had me fooled.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “Me too. The fact that you guys even thought this deal was a good idea at the time is just… it’s ridiculous. I was dumb, too, for accepting it. But I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says with a simple nod. He’s holding Jimin’s hand, which means all this talk about romance and dating is making him sappy. “We don’t have to do it anymore. I’m sorry for being so obnoxious about it. We’ll call it off.”

Jimin raises his hand, almost like he’s scared to say something. “I know we’re calling this off, but since Y/N knows about this whole deal in the first place, I feel like we should do something to make it up to her. You know, because she got roped into this thing.”

“I think that’ll be nice. Something meaningful, too. Not just money,” Taehyung adds. 

Jungkook grins. He knows exactly what to get.

When Jungkook knocks on your door the next afternoon, he can barely hold his grin in.

“Jungkook?” You say when you open the door to see him, holding a nicely-wrapped but suspicious-looking box in both of his hands. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Jungkook says happily. 

“I don’t like that look on your face,” you immediately say as you usher him inside. “You’re scaring me. You text me are you at your place rn? and when I say yes, I receive no further information.”

Jungkook just smiles. “I have a present for you.”

“I can see that. Can I ask why?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend.”

You squint your eyes. “Is that a good enough reason?”

“I think so. It’s also from Taehyung and Jimin, but don’t give them most of the credit. It’s mine. I got this for you. Because you are my girlfriend and I am your boyfriend.”

“O...kay,” you say hesitantly, hands held out as Jungkook places the box in your palms. You sink under its weight, clearly surprised at how heavy it is for a simple box. “If this is a prank, I’m breaking up with you.”

“Please don’t break up with me. I think I might love you,” Jungkook says, smile so wide it’s beginning to hurt his cheeks. 

You pause, hand on the top of the box about to open it, and look up at him. Your face is impossibly soft, and Jungkook wishes that you could stay like that for longer, just so he can etch it into his memory. Remember it when he’s sad. “You think you might love me?”

“I think so,” Jungkook says honestly, because it’s true. He’s not sure yet, but he knows he’s on his way. “I think I do.”

“I—” You say, soft grin lacing your features. “I think so, too.”

“Open it!” Jungkook insists, giving your wrist a squeeze as encouragement. “I promise it’s not a prank. But even if it was, please don’t break up with me.”

“You are never this happy, which makes me exceedingly stressed,” you say, hands tentatively beginning to take the lid off of the box. “Why are there holes in the side of this thing? Is something about to squirt out at me?”

“No,” Jungkook says. “It’s nice, I swear.”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“You’re my girlfriend,” Jungkook says. “You deserve it. You wanted it, too. I got exactly what you wanted.”

Before you even have the lid off of the box, you hear a sound.

Meow.  

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #bts fake dating au #w: the coffee shop contract

[chocopvffz]

My Problems with Fandom

It’s been a while since I’ve kinda just let out my thoughts and feelings on this stale hell site. It’s just now more than ever I’m having the weirdest realizations while I’m participating in any Fanbase. This topic may piss ppl off. But to that, I say fuck it, I’m gonna do it.

Around 2 years ago I took a backseat to actively participating in fandom. So I’d be more of an onlooker rather than someone who contributed. Just reblogging stuff rather than making my own content. Usually in fandom, things are said in the heat of the moment, with little thought and more emotions. Taking a step back I started to realize that while that’s fine in and of itself, You’re entitled to what you like and what’s interesting to you, but I’ve realized that people kinda settle for the bare minimum. Especially now that representation for marginalized groups is becoming the norm. Which is great, but there are still problems that plague us as a community.

I just finished watching Unicorn of War’s video on RWBY, and they delved into the absolutely garbage writing that surrounded The White Fang subplot. I highly recommend you watch the video, it’s about the bad representation of minority oppression and how it relates to RWBY as a whole. While this post doesn’t stem from that in particular. what did was though is how UoW confessed that they were guilty of completely ignoring how harmful the writing was for pocs, as well as downright silencing and downplaying poc that had a problem with the writing. Unicorn of War is not racist, the fact that they realized the type of systemic racism they’ve been inadvertently spreading is so harmful is a a step in the right direction. Here is where the problem lies. UoW said that they were a perpetrator of this because they were to focused on the representation the show did give the fans. They said that they lumped all of the genuine criticism of the problems with homophobes and bigots because they didn’t want to hear any of the criticism at all. RWBY has some pretty shit representation in ever field. UoW said that they were settling for the stuff they did get because they get so little, and their whiteness blinded them to listening and trying to understand why so man poc had an issue with the show.

Basically what I’m trying to say is that, a lot of the time In Fandom, ppl would rather settle for what they do have and what caters to them, rather than criticize a product of its faults and ask for more.

I’ve been scared to talk about She-Ra because the fandom is pretty scary. I liked the show. To me it wasn’t anything special. But it was a fine show, and I can’t wait for what the crew does next. But here’s where a lot of the issues come from for me. There are some problems both w/ the show, and the representation. Catra and Adora have been queercoded up until the very end where it does get revealed that they are in fact lesbians. Which is great and all but at the end of the day. They kiss at the very end of the last episode, nothing was explicit before then. But the thing is that Catra is an abusive manipulative person, that kinda just gets a pat on the back, and all is forgiven when she realizes she’s alone(both in the fandom and the show). I mean glimmer got more hate than Catra. The point I’m trying to make is that I’ve seen way to many ppl ignore the fact that they side stepped the development of Catra and Adora, and kinda get mad at the ppl that criticize that we could have gotten better rep. For a lot of the fans, at least from what I’ve seen, yall are okay with the problems the show has as long as you get some form of rep. Which is valid, but when that complacency spills over into silencing ppl with criticisms. This usually happens when someone has had another experience with the show where the thing that represents them isnt done as well. it rubs me the wrong way. Someone could see Catra’s behavior, liken her to a toxic person they knew, criticize how the show kinda ignores that. I can bet that some ppl would tell this person that they’re wrong, because she ended up where she did at the end.

This brings me to my last example, during my watch of Infinity Train, I started getting a little bit more involved in the fandom; reblogging, commenting. During the show I noticed a small amount (larger than I would have liked) making passive aggressive remarks toward Grace (the only black girl and protagonist of the season). They were all in regard to her having a redmeption arc. At first I was kinda in denial. Like most ppl are immediately after suffering an injustice, cuz despite her being an awful person at first. She gets better. And there are so little black women that are protagonists. I felt represented. But then I’d see ppl demeaning her in order to make her friend Simon (basically the antagonist) more sympathetic. Mind you he’s white. And after the show ended I had a weird encounter. There were many posts about how enthralling it was that Grace, a black women, telling Simon, a white man, that his problems were his own, and she doesn’t have to be the one to fix them. Most of the ppl that made these posts were woc. The show isn’t about race, but the fact that the character is black resonated with a lot of ppl.

Under ever single one of these posts, I saw multiple people, getting weirdly angry at them. Like “this has nothing to do with race, why are you bringing it up here.” Which I guess is fair, but no one says it as much to ppl when the post is about sexuality. So getting fed up, I responded to one of these ppl explaining how odd it is that the characters that get really popular are always of the same archetype. White Sad Boys, it’s the same with ships. Instead of critiquing the show or anything I wanted to call attention to subconscious biases in fandom. The person accuses me of calling them racist, tells me that race isn’t an issue in fandom, and tried to gaslight me into thinking that what I was talking about doesnt apply to how ppl choose who their favorite character is.

This issue here isn’t about the race, or the actual content in the show. It was about the person telling me that the empowerment I and other woc experienced while watching infinity train s3, doesn’t exist and we shouldn’t criticize ppl putting her down in order to uplift the antagonist.

Which leads back to the point I’m trying to make. So many ppl in fandom settle for whats there instead of trying to make things more representative of everyone. Representation can always get better, we just have to stop fighting ppl that give constructive criticism to the things we like.

And I’m completely guilty of this too, that’s why I took a step back. I don’t like silencing ppl when they try to criticize something that resonates with me. So I try to sit back and let them tell me what can be done better based on their experiences. I’m still struggling. I’m pretty sure I was ultra defensive with the person telling me that race doesn’t matter.

This happens a lot more with white ppl than it does with people of color. And this isn’t a dig on any white person at all. It’s just that white have a vastly different experience than a poc. A white LGBT person is going to have a completely different experience than a black lgbt person. Just like a cishet white person is going to have from a poc cishet person. And since we have different experiences, there are aspects of my life you won’t understand and vice versa. An abuse survivor is going to be more equip to tell us what works better than other things in a story that tackles those subjects. You see what I mean.

I just want everyone to take a step back and consider the criticism that is being made. And try to understand why this person may see it that way.

TLDR; We need to stop silencing marginalized ppl just because they criticize things we relate to, especially when it pertains to their experiences. It’s settling for the bare minimum when we deserve better. Just because we’ve got a gay character doesnt mean the show is perfect. It happens way more than we think. Especially now more than ever.

Sorry this is so long, and full of typos. I just needed to rant.

#she ra spop #spop spoilers #she ra princess of power #infinity train #infinty train spoilers #rwby v7 #rwby volume 8 #rwby #queen of typos #just getting my thoughts out

[sunmaylight]

TGCF Book 2 Reaction pt. 4

Okay. Let’s finish this for book 2, then I can post stuff about book 3 after this

I have decided to split instead of my OG plan because like I said last post, my reading app decided to cram Ch 82-88 into one reading count, so I got a counter that said that Ch 82 has like 100 some pages and I firmly decided that I will read that later.

I said and did what I promised and became a wreak after the end of book 2 cause of all of the drama and development that happened. Book two is literally about Xie Lian growing up and I got so emotional from the environment that forced him to.

Ch 82: The effects of the aphrodisiac-like drug were paused somehow.

- Me: Hm, was it cause Xie Lian cut himself and drained some of the blood away? Or was it cause some of his blood mixed with Hong Hong-Er’s blood was inserted into his bloodstream. Wait, if that is true. Xie Lian is lucky with his divinity he doesn’t get blood poisoning. 

The affects of the curse-drug are affecting Xie Lian and the novel is slowly climbing to the R-18 levels based on sounds.

- Me: Oh, Hong Hong-Er. I wish you luck and that you NEVER find out what those sounds mean until you are older.

Xie Lian ties a piece of his hair to Hong Hong-Er’s finger on one hand.

- Me: Wait, if Hong Hong-Er becomes Hua Cheng in the future, then...oh! This is where the red string ring on his hand comes from?

* Learns about Ch 83 *

- Me: Wait. -checks table of contents- *sob* oh thank god. There are like four more chapters to go instead of one really long chapter

Ch 83: Xie Lian pulled a Nagito Komaeda.

- Me: *Sob* Xie Lian, no! I understand why, but nooooo!

Feng Xin and Mu Qing find Xie Lian on the ground with the sword and freaks out. Then once Xie Lian is out, they explain that Yong’An has hidden backers secretly supplying them supplies for war.

- Me: Fu-dge. It’s getting bigger than expected.

Xie Lian comments to his retainers that the Young Solider has the potential to wield the Sabre, like Mu Qing. Mu Qing: *Unreadable expression*

- Me: Oh, is Mu Qing jealous? I think Mu Qing is jealous of a teenager

Back at Xian Le: Xie Lian runs into Hong Hong-Er again. Hong Hong-Er says he got kicked out of the army because...

- Me: ...Did baby Hong get kicked out the army because the army found out about his cursed existence? *Gasp* What if Mu Qing did something out of spite/jealousy. 

Ch 84: First victim found to possess the Human-Face disease is found in Xian Le. Everyone starts to freak out because of the large commotion it made. The ‘Face’ is revealed to be functional somehow.

- Me: *Reading the description* Oh gods. I think I’m going to be sick.

Hong Hong-Er tries his best to help Xie Lian do damage control

- Me: Awe, Hong Hong-Er. How adorable. You are trying to seek attention

Hey, remember the child of Lang Ying that was buried near the temple? Yeah, it became a curse/demon after being buried for over a decade without proper rites.

- Me: *Sigh* Why am I not surprised. Actually, I am very surprised. This was near a sacred place and NO ONE noticed this slowly growing into something dangerous an alarming rate.

Human-Face disease is growing and people are desperate. They turn to Xie Lian thinking he could do something instead of trying to find an alternative solution.

- Me: Man, I am so glad for modern medicine and the ability to have multiple paths taken to try and find the solution to this problem.

Learning about Human Face disease

- Me: Will make another post for theorization of how the disease come to be, but for now.

- Me: Wait, if the cursed child grew from almost over a decade ago, then that means Hong Hong-Er is like around 15 now...Holy shit.

Ch 85: Xie Lian created an idioms punishment if Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s arguing went out of control

- Me: Aww, how cute. This will also be good practice to familiarize one self with literature and language. 

Guoshi asking Xie Lian the hard, but necessary hard questions. Scolding Xie Lian for his naive ways of thinking and he should have listened to Guoshi from the beginning. Says that this matter with the kingdom of Xian Le is going out of control cause of Xie Lian

- Me: I know that the Guoshi is trying to drill the important stuff into Xie Lian’s head. But he is also at fault for omitting/withholding important information that Xie Lian should have learned

- Me: Flipping balancing act, that is ugh.

Yong’An troops is now classified as an army. The battles become bigger. Lang Ying is shown in a one-on-one battle with Xie Lian that he has a Deus Ex Machina effect attached to him

- Me: Oh no. That is not good. That is a sign of the shift in power and Xian Le will, the inevitable is coming. 

Human-Face Disease: Becomes sentient and eats and screams

- Me: O-oh *Blegh* Not good.

Ch 86: Xie Lian took a nap and woke up to a quilt on him

- Me: Who placed that on him? Hong Hong-Er? Did you do it?

The rapidly declining situation is now affecting Xie Lian to the point that he snaps. He punches a tree. Scared of the enemy and is getting desperate?

- Me: “To rise is human. To fall is also human” Shit, that is coming true now.

Xie Lian trying to call out for the White-Clothed Ghost. Said Ghost appears & tells how the Human-Face Disease came to be to Xie Lian

- Me: I already made a post about this. No need for repeat

- Me: The Human-Face disease. I am actually curious how it came to be.

Ch 87: Reveals the origin of the Human-Face disease in his bedroom to his retainers. Knows how to cast, but no cure

- Me: Oh god. It is a curse with no counter spell. Oh no.

Xie Lian and Mu Qing are fighting. Feng Xin, stays quiet until he can’t take it anymore and snaps.

- Me: Ah, a fallout? No, an argument. This is the start of the splintering between these three. Mu Qing always says the blunt truth with no consideration of how this will affect people later.

Earthquake? Happens later. Qi Rong jumps out from under the bed

- Me: Oh no. Fu-dge, it’s bratty Qi Rong. He is going to blabble, I can feel it

Ch 88: Xie Lian calls upon a giant golden statue of himself to hold up the Celestial Pagoda from falling

- Me: Wow! Gundam. Xie Lian can control an ancient Chinese Mecha. Wait, *inhales* o-oh. Atlas. Xie Lian is now representing Atlas.

Xie Lian’s strength is failing him. All he can do is hold up the pagoda.

- Me: Xie Lian is losing belief. No, not that. Also is anyone going to do anything to evacuate precious items form the Pagoda before it will eventually fall?

Qi Rong blabbles about the Human-Face disease. It makes everything more stressful for Xie Lian

- Me: Goddamnit, Qi Rong. I called it.

The outbreak of the Human-Face disease in the capital + Yong’An finally invaded the capital, people going to Xie Lian asking him to fix them even though he can’t. All of it builds up and then Xie Lian falls and breaks his leg. After, changes as something indescribable is lost.

= Me: ...oh Xie Lian. 

- Me: Depression...?

Xie Lian thinks he is a god of misfortune. Watches his temples burn with no emotion. Empty.

- Me: ...Xie Lian. I can’t understand how you are feeling, but the void and empty feeling? I can relate.

There is one temple of Xie Lian that was going to burn, but stopped. It is revealed a young teen has been protecting this temple. A painting of Xie Lian is revealed.

- Me: ..Hong Hong-Er is that you?

Xie Lian decides to let this teen see him on whim for a second. His retainers and the teen are surprised. Xie Lian tells the teen to forget him,

The teen: “IN MY HEART, YOU ARE GOD!”  “I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU!”

- Wow. I can hear the theme music play in an uplifting tune.

MXTX Author’s note read

- Me: Wow. All of this story so far for this one image. Amazing.

Okay. Book two got me emotional like I said before that I read straight to book three next. Once I have a good place in book three, I will do a post then

#sunmay rambles #sunmay reads tgcf #sunmay reads tian guan ci fu #sunmay reads hob #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #tian guan ci fu novel reaction #hob #heaven official's blessing #hob spoiler #tgcf spoilers #the end of the long emotional roller coaster for Xie Lian #Now there is more questions I want answers to #Especially how did he gain the cursed shackles and Ruoye

[la5t-res0rt]

this was written several weeks ago in response to asks i was receiving i am posting it now it is very long the longest i have ever made and it is not very well edited but here it is in this final essay i talk about how shitty rae is about black people in her writing as well as just me talking about how her writing sucks in general lets begin

hello everyone 

as you may know i have received a lot of anons in the last week or so about issues of racism in the beetlejuice community both just generally speaking and also within specific spaces 

i was very frustrated to not be getting the answers i wanted because i typically do not talk about what i do not see but in an effort to be better about discourse i went looking through discourse from before my time in the fandom and i also received some receipts and information from my followers and from some friends

keep in mind that the voices and thoughts of bipoc are not only incredibly important at all times but in this circumstance it is important that if a bipoc has something to add you listen and learn and be better

i admit that when this happened i wasnt aware of the extent of what occurred and im angry at myself for not doing more at that time and i want to work harder to make sure something like this doesnt go unnoticed again

im a hesitant to talk about months old discourse because i have been criticized for bringing up quote old new unquote but this is very important and i am willing to face whatever comes from to me

lets talk about this

content from our local racist idiot that may be months old but its important

putting my thoughts under a cut to spare the dash but before i begin obviously this is awful

lets fucking unpack this folks

right out the gate op states that she supports artistic freedom but then within a couple words she goes against that statement

being entirely canon compliant isnt artistic freedom and even so if this person has so much respect for canon they wouldnt be out here erasing lydias obvious disgust for beetlejuice in the movie or ignoring lydias age for the sake of shipping that shit isnt canon either 

also we love the quick jab at the musical there hilarious we love it dont we because god forbid a licensed and successful branch on a media have any standing in this conversation but whatever

now lets scroll down and talk about the term racebending

the term racebending was coined around 2009 in response to the avatar the last airbender movie a film in which the east asian races of the characters were erased by casting white actors in the three leading roles of aang sokka and katara 

whenever the term racebending is used in a negative light it is almost always a case of whitewashing like casting scarlett johansen in ghost in the shell or the casting of white actors of the prince of persia sands of time instead of iranian ones

this kind of racebending erases minorities from beeing seen in media and is wrong

all that being said however racebending has also been noted to have very positive after effects like the 1997 adaptation of cinderella or casting samuel jackson as nick fury in the marvel movies nick fury was originally a white guy can you even imagine

i read this piece from an academic that said quote writers can change the race and cultural specificity of central characters or pull a secondary character of color from the margins transforming them into the central protagonist unquote

racebending like the kind that rae is so heated about is the kind of creative freedom that leads to more representation of bipoc in media which will never be a bad thing ever no matter how pissy you get about it

designing a version of a character as a poc isnt serving to make them necessarily better it serves to give new perspective and perhaps the opportunity to connect even more deeply with a character it doesnt marginalize or erase white people it can uplift poc and if you think uplifting poc is wrong because it tears down white people or whatever youre a fucking moron and you need to get out of your podunk white folk town and see the real world

the numbers of times a bipoc particularly a bipoc that is also lgbt+ has been represented in media are dwarfed by what i as a white dude have seen myself represented in media is and that isnt okay that isnt equality and its something that should change not only in mainstream media but in fandom spaces as well

lets move down a bit further to the part about bullying straight people which is hilarious and lets also talk about the term fetishistic as well lets start with that

this person literally writes explicit pornography of a minor and an adult are we really going to let someone like that dictate what is and what isnt fetishistic

similarly to doing a positive racebend situation people may project lgbt+ headcanons on a character because its part of who they are and it helps them feel closer to the character and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that

depicting lgbt+ subject matter on existing characters isnt an inherently fetishistic action generally things only really become fetishistic when the media is being crafted and hyped by people who are outside of lgbt+ community for example how young teens used to flip a tit about yaoi or how chasers fetishize trans people

but drawing a character with top surgery scars or headcanoning them as trans is harmless and its just another way to interpret a character literally anone could be trans unless if their character bio says theyre cis and most of them dont go that deep so it really is open to interpretation and on the whole most creators encourage this sort of exploration because it is a good thing to get healthy representation out in the world

as for it being used to bully straights thats just funny i dont have anything else on that like if youre straight and you feel threatened and bullied because of someone headcanoning someone as anything that isnt cishet youre a fucking idiot and a weak baby idiot at that like the real world must fucking suck for you because lgbt+ people are everywhere and statistically a big chunk of your favorite characters arent cishet sorry be mad about it

lets roll down a bit further about the big meat of the issue which was when several artists were drawing interpretations of lydia as a black girl which i loved but clearly this person didnt love it because they have a very narrow and very racist and problematic view of what it means to be a black person

and before i move forward i must reiderate that i am a white person and you should listen to the thoughts of poc people like @fright-of-their-lives​ or @gender-chaotic it is not my place to explain what the black experience is like and it certainly isnt this persons either

implying that the story of a black person isnt worth telling unless if the character faces struggles like racism and prejudice is downright moronic 

why use the word kissable to describe a black persons lips now thats what i call fetishistic and its to another extreme if youre talking about a black version of lydia on top of that

the author of this post says herself that shes white so clearly shes the person whos an authority on the black experience and what it means to be a black person right am i reading that right or am i having a fucking conniption

how about allowing black characters to exist without having to struggle why cant a black version of lydia just be a goth teenager with a ghost problem who likes photography and is also black like she doesnt have to move to a hick town and get abused by racist folks she doesnt have to go through any more shit than she already goes through and if you honestly think thats the only way to tell a black persons story you need to get your brain cleaned

you know nothing about the complexities about being a black person and i dont either but you know wh odo black people who are doing black versions of canon characters they fucking know 

lets squiggle down just a bit further 

so the writer has issues with giving characters traits like a broad nose or larger lips if theyre a woman but if theyre a man suddenly its totally okay to go all ryan murphy ahs coven papa legba appropriation when approaching character design like are you fucking stupid do you hear yourself is that really how you see black men like what the fuck is wrong with you

none of the shit youre spewing takes bravery it takes ignorance and supreme levels of stupidity

do you really think you with your fic where a black lgbt+ woman is tortured and abused where you use the n word with a hard r to refer to her like that shits not okay its fucking depraved and yeah we know you love being shitty but like christ on a bike thats so much 

can we also talk about this

what the fuck is this fetishistic bull roar garbage calling this black character beyonce dressing her up in quote fuck me heels unquote are you are you seriously gonna write this and say its a shining example of how to write a black character youre basically saying ope here she is shes a sex icon haha im so progressive and i clealry understand the black experience hahahaha fuck you oh my god

on top of that theres a point where this character is only referred to as curly hair or the fact that the n word is used in the fic with the hard r like thats hands down not okay for you to use especially not in a manner like this jesus christ

oop heres a little more a sampling for you of the hell i am enduring in reading this drivel

oh boy lets put a leash on the angry black woman character lets put her in a leash and have the man imply hes a master like are you kidding me are you for real and what the fuck is with calling her shit like j lo and beyonce do you actually think thats clever at all are you just thinking of any poc that comes into your head for this 

also lydia fucking tells this girl that she shouldnt have lost her temper like she got fucking leashed im so tired why is this writing so problematic and also so bad

hold up before i lose my head lets look at some of her own comments on the matter of this character and what happens to her

hi hello youre just casually tossing the word lynch out there in the wide open world as if thats not a problem that is still real like are you fucking unhinged there have been multiple cases of this exact thing happening in our firepit of a country in the last five months alone like how can you still have shit like this up for people to read how can you be proud of work like this in this climate

and also what the fuck is that last bit 

what the actual fuck

i dont speak for black people as a white person but you do!? im sorry i had to get my punctuation out for that because wow thats fucking asinine just because one black person read your fic and didnt find the torture and abuse of your one black character abhorrant doesnt mean that the vast majority of people not only in the fandom but in the human population with decency are going to think its okay because its not 

i started this post hoping to be level headed and professional but jesus fucking christ this woman is something else white nationalism is alive and well folks and its name is rae

if you defend this woman you defend some truly abhorrant raecism

editors notes 

in order to get some perspective on these issues more fully some of the writing by the author was examined and on the whole it was pretty unreadable but i want to just call back to the very beginning of this essay where the person in question talked about holding canon in high regard but then in their writing they just go around giving people magic and shit and ignoring the end of the movie entirely like are you canon compliant or nah 

the writing doesnt even read like beetlejuice fanfic it reads as self indulgent fiction you could easily change the names and its just a bad fanfic from 2007

also can we talk about writing the lesbian character as an angry man hater like its 2020 dude and als olets touch on that girl on girl pandering while beetlejuice is just there like here we go fetishizing again wee

i cant find a way to work this into this already massive post but

im going to throw up

okay so thats a lot we have covered a lot today and im sure my ask box will regret it but this definitely should have been more picked apart when it happened

please feel free to add more to this i would love more perspectives than just my own.

#long post #racism #raecism #im so tired #thanks for reading

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

You said we can ask you questions so here goes( hope they arent invasive)

-at what age did u realise u were lesbian?was it easy/hard to accept?

-how was your coming out like? How did your family and friends react?

-were you ever/are you religious?do u believe one can balance between being homosexual and religious?

- were you always masc or is it something that came with accepting your sexuality?

-do you call yourself a stud?

- how hard/easy has it been being an out and proud black lesbian?

- thoughts on the stigma against stud4stud/butch4butch lesbians

-were you ever a TRA/libfem? If yes, what made you peak?

-ive had ppl talk about how masc lesbians being touch-me-nots is problematic/toxic and how its more about upholding a "status" than it is about preference. What do you make of that?

Not invasive at all! I'm happy to answer and thank you for asking :).

- I realized I was a lesbian at age 12 when I developed a HUGE crush on my gorgeous English teacher. I also got a small crush on a girl in one of my classes. I didn't grow up around much homophobia so it wasn't hard for me to accept that I was gay but what was hard was the absolute intensity of my feelings towards my teacher. I used to pray to god to have my feelings for her taken away because they were just so intense and I didn't know how to handle them (she was my teacher so I clearly wasn't going to ask her out. There was literally no outlet for what I was feeling so I kept it bottled.). My parents never brought up gay people in any positive or negative way and the kids I grew up around didn't really either. So me being gay wasn't something I beat myself up over. Once I accepted that I wasn't an overly invested straight ally, the road to acceptance was a peace of cake tbh.

-My coming out was... Well. I first started coming out to my friends when I was 13 and they were accepting of it. It honestly wasn't that interesting to tell you the truth 😅. All the peers that I gave a shit about never gave me shit for being gay. I never lost a friend for being gay. Coming out to my parents took me until I was 16 and the reason for that is because I genuinely didn't know how they'd react. Like I said, they never said anything about gay people point blank period. However, I was kind of forced to come out one particular night because my heart had been fucking shattered by a girl I was strongly crushing on at the time. I was pacing up and down my house, my best friend wasn't answering me, I could hear my dad's TV playing, it was late, I was tired, I couldn't sleep, I had school tomorrow, I was freaking out, I was devastated... I wanted to be comforted so I went to my father, threw my head into his arm and started telling him how my heart felt broken. He asked me if I had a boyfriend and when I said "nope" there was some silence and he was like "it's okay, I've known for a long time". I never actually said the words "gay" or "lesbian" during my coming out but I guess I didn't need to. The next morning, my father asked if it was okay if he could go tell my mom and I said yes. Long story short, my mom was even less surprised than my dad and she's the more progressive of the two so it wasn't really an issue (though she did tell me to keep an open mind in terms of liking men 😅 she seems to think I'm bisexual which is whatever because she never bothers me about it).

-Hmm. I don't like to completely cut out religion from my life. My father was extremely religious and now that he's gone, I feel it's disrespectful for me to say God doesn't exist. Like, "dad, you spent practically your whole life believing wholeheartedly in God but guess what! It was a waste and the thing you dedicated your life is something I think is a fairytale!" that doesn't sit right with me at all. I've been baptized and I used to go to church when I was younger. I think that there's no reason to shake my head at the possibility of a God. In terms of being gay and believing in God, I once watched a video by a devout Christian gay man who went through all the homophobic stuff Christians love to quote from the bible and gave the actual meaning behind them. I, personally, do not think that God is homophobic. I think that God's love is not something we have the capacity to understand. So, I, personally, think Christian gay people are perfectly fine and are already balanced. Here's to hoping that they stay away from homophobic churches!

-No, I wasn't always masc. As a child I was a huge girly girl. Like, legit, I wasn't a tomboy in the slightest lmao. I'm not sure when I started being masc. But what I do know is that I've grown far more masc over the years. I used to not want to dress too manly (no tuxedo's and no clothes from the men's section and no boxers) but nowadays I love all of those things and that's genuinely what I want in my wardrobe so I have no problem going into the men's section for my clothes.

-No, I don't call myself a stud. Love those guys though. The label I feel that's most accurate for me is masc.

-Um, I'm not sure how to answer this since I don't have experience being any other kind of lesbian. I guess it's just kind of tiring. I'm black, female, and homosexual. That's a LOT of different topics to give my attention to. The hardest part of being a black lesbian is knowing who to give my camaraderie to. Do I give it to black women? Black women AND black men? Lesbians? Only black lesbians? The lgb community as a whole? It's just a lot to think about. I will say, though, I think that it's a lot harder to be a masc black lesbian than a white one. Black women are already perceived as manly just based off of our skin color. So for me to willingly present masc can often be... A non-pretty picture in the eyes of society and I'm hyper-aware of that which is why I often have trouble going all out with the wardrobe I truly desire. That's my biggest challenge navigating the world as the black lesbian that I am. On a more positive note though, it's great being a black lesbian because I can have an opinion on everything and nobody can tell me I'm being racist/homophobic/sexist or stepping outside of my lane 😂. I'm on a three-lane road motherfucker and I'm not afraid to use all of them.

-my thoughts are that you should leave people alone. I will say though, I once read something that was like "if you call yourself a femme but the idea of being with a butch disgusts you, you're not a femme, you're just a feminine lesbian" and that rang true to me so it feels hypothetical (and nonsensical) if the reverse wasn't true as well. If a butch/stud shits on femmes and assumes they can't be as feminine as they are and ACTUALLY gay then I do have a problem. Butches and femmes have a history that's damn near inseparable from each other so for a butch to shit on femmes... I'd argue that they're probably not butch but instead just masculine lesbians. However, I don't care if two butches or studs want to date lmao. All the power to them, I hope they're happy.

-I definitely used to support trans rights more than I do now. I would correct people who misgendered others. I thought trans women were women. I was in support of bathroom laws. I never made posts about it, but I very much did believe it. Magdalen berns made me peak. I started realizing that gender makes no sense. I did some research and came to the conclusions I hold today. Even when I want to go back to my ignorance, I can't because I've seen too much by now.

-I honestly don't know. I think that some masc lesbians don't want to be put in that "feminine" position of being touched by their partner. It could stem from upholding a status but at the end of the day, sexual boundaries are sexual boundaries. What are you gonna do? Force your touch on to them? Yikes. Leave them be. If you're upset about your partner not wanting to be touched by you then get a new one. Clearly you're not sexually happy so leave. I don't think it's necessarily toxic unless they think there's something inherently demeaning in being touched by their partner or they do want to be touched but won't allow themselves due to trauma or feeling like there's a certain persona they must uplift. Other than that though, I don't see the issue.

Thanks for the questions, buddy ❤️

[dirtyfilthy]

The True Story Of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer: on the limits of transparency, or why you should stop feeding your quarters into the dopamine slot machine

Gather round children, and I will tell you a tale. This story is a hundred percent true. It occurred sometime in my late twenties, which would have been in 2008 or thereabouts. I had just taken the biggest acid trip of my life, eight tabs, but of fairly weak acid, I’m guessing around 400 micrograms total or close enough. Still, it gave me exactly the experience I was looking for. We went to the beach, and as a good friend of mine used to say: “got gay with nature”. Everything had been building to this point. First we took one tab. Some weeks later: we doubled down and took two.. After another month had passed, we gobbled up a four strip. Eight tabs only seemed logical at this stage. And man…

It was exactly how you imagine acid is going to be when you’re a kid. Everything was beautiful and melting  and there were colours I don’t even have the words for.  The trees were full of fractals, the ground was a river flowing beneath my feet. The sky was bright green. The sand dunes: a brilliant purple. It was like that cheesy chroma-keying effect they used to use to represent drugs in old movies from the 60’s. I even nearly went blind staring at the sunset like some hokey old LSD urban legend. Getting gay with nature?  This was a little more than merely getting high with one of your straight friends and perhaps sucking each others cocks and then never, ever mentioning it again, this was…  I wanted to settle down with nature and build a whole new life together, I wanted to get married, buy a house, maybe even adopt a couple of children. Don’t laugh, this isn’t fucking funny. We were in love!

Anyhow, acid, drugs, beautiful uplifting experience yada-yada. The thing is, on acid you tend to get these… ideas. Crazy, completely off-the-wall, gorgeously bent ideas. And I had just had a real doozy of an acid thought.  “Why lie? Why don’t I just be exactly who I am all the time? Why not be completely and utterly transparent with everyone?”. Now this is hardly some kind of grand cosmic revelation. I think that in most individuals this would have cumulated in a simple but genuine effort to be more honest with the people around them, or maybe simply faded with the trip, but in me…

So let me preface this with a couple of things about me that will make the following point make more sense: 1) I tend to take ideas and run with them, generally off a cliff 2) I am very good with computers. To the point where I am a professional hacker these days (as in I break into systems for a living), but back then I was only a hopeful amateur. 

So in me, the way this idea came out was I decided I was going to publish my entire browser history, online, in real time. Every site I visited would be available for the whole world to see, should they wish to, seconds after I had clicked the link. I won’t bore you with the technical details, they really  aren’t that complicated -- and neither are they honestly that interesting -- but suffice to say I built the thing. I named it on a whim after a Beatles song I happened to be listening to at the time: “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”. And then it was done. Every link I visited was put in a database and displayed on a web page. It was in the form of a giant, constantly growing list, newest at the top. For general purposes of  convenience, I had colour coded everything. So all social media sites would be say, purple. Wikipedia would be blue. News was green etc. 

So one great and terrible thing about LSD is it has a way of teaching you things. This generally happens while you are tripping, or maybe afterwards when you re-integrate the experience. In this case, acid had decided Maxwell’s Silver Hammer was the to be the terrible form my teacher took. And boy howdy, it would certainly teach me some lessons 

So I told all my friends about it. And they told their friends. And then word began to spread. And so I embarked on this slightly weird experiment in radical personal transparency, bouncing down the road like a complete asshole with nary a care in the world, full of hope in the promise of the dream, but I was to very quickly to discover it’s limits… 

The first limit should have been the most obvious one. Porn. At the end of a hard days labour avoiding working, I liked nothing more than masturbating for a solid three or four hours over the choicest and rarest sweet-meats the internet had to offer, before eventually collapsing on my bed from sheer sexual exhaustion. The thing is… porn is a very personal thing. I mean: what really spins your wheels, what you get off to. At the time, I wasn’t ready to admit to my friends that I still really liked women ok but sometimes when the mood struck me I liked to watch some massively hung black dude plow a white guy around half his size while fantasying that it was really m… Anyhow, porn is a deeply personal thing and can show quite a lot about someone. Besides, what if my Mum was watching… or my female friends? Sweet jesus. 

Well, if I was going to be consistent, I could either “rock out with my cock out” as we used to say back in primary school, or I could stop watching porn altogether. And that was the first lesson. Perfect transparency means constantly worrying about how you look because everyone can see everything. It means censoring, not just what you say, but who you are. it wasn’t just about porn of course. Maybe I should browse some wikipedia so I can look a bit more intelligent? What would the chick I had a crush on think if she knew I kept on visiting these horrible gore sites day after day? And so on and so forth, forever.  

I had thought it would be liberating, to be free of all secrets. In fact, it was the exact opposite. I wasn’t living a radically transparent life, instead I was an actor, just playing at performing one. 

The second revelation came in the form of the colour coding. I could see myself reflected in a sea of purple. It was obvious I had become obsessed with social media, particularly facebook. Constantly refreshing my homepage, hoping for that next sweet lick of dopamine, another little like on my post, a little sliver of ice from the great icicle of validation that would only ever melt away in the heat of the morning sun. I used to be a meth addict, and it’s exactly the same, that is: it’s never enough. You’re a fiend for it. It had revealed something deeply narcissistic and petty about myself that I really did not like. Why was I doing this? What did it matter? Did I really have three hundred “friends”? Of course not. I had the usual amount of people I cared enough about in my life to see on a semi-regular basis, a few close, ten or so I saw fairly often, maybe thirty total counting colleagues and co-workers and assorted demi-friends and vague acquaintances. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous. 

The third lesson came only after both of these things had been grating at me for quite a while. After this synthesis, suddenly, I became enlightened. There was a lot more freedom to be had by not being famous or observed. Privacy wasn’t just a haven for the liars and the hypocrites. In fact, privacy enabled you to be most truly yourself. Sure, be honest where it matters, but you don’t need to put your every card down on the table all at once. Seems like a basic enough thing to realise, but I really had to get slapped upside the head pretty hard to see it. There is a power in being invisible.

So I took down the site. Deleted my facebook. Watched all the “black tops white“ gay porn my little bisexual heart desired and, ironically, stopped caring so much what other people thought about me. Don’t get me wrong, I still get that little rush of validation when someone I respect likes my shit, but you gotta pick the individuals who’s opinion you’re gonna care about. The vast majority of most people are either dumb as fuck or completely antithetical to my values. Which isn’t to say I exactly begrudge them, but I’d still much rather avoid getting myself in a public fist fight, metaphorical or otherwise, unless I really really need to. I think in most cases, power doesn’t need to be confronted, it can simply be routed around. You don’t go and deliberately blow your weed smoke right up a cop’s nose, instead, just go get high in the disabled toilets like everybody else. I mean: it’s what they’re there for!

I guess that is the real moral of the story.

#lsd #acid #radical transparency

[constant-instigator]

In comes a rant. I will not be reading replies.

Ownvoices writing is good. Ownvoices writing is vital, indispensable. Worthy of so much support.

But JESUS CHRIST people need to settle the fuck down about others “writing outside their lane.”

Let me explain.

1) A shit ton of marginalized people- largely creators, have worked our collective asses off helping people write beyond their experience. Claiming that nobody of a particular marginalization wants anyone outside their community to write about them is a massive disservice to people doing the work to make sure that writing is good. 

2) For every marginalization, there are those at the border- at the egde. Who see these demands for ownvoices only rep and tailspin into wondering if they are ______ ENOUGH to write from their own life. I have seen these calls for ownvoices-only make people consider either giving up writing, or only writing white, straight, cis, nondisabled, allo characters which honestly we do not need a bunch more of. Creating ranking within our own communities just re-establishes harmful hierarchies within communities that have already been harmed by such hierarchies. And honestly this kind of thinking contributes to so many harmful stereotypes about what people of different marginalizations feel/think/act like. This kind of thinking stops people from finding help. From finding community. Stop hurting marginalized people with gatekeepy bullshit. No more “not trans enough” to deserve transitioning support. No more “not depressed enough” to deserve mental health help. This an incredibly harmful scarcity mindset that helps nobody.

3) NOT EVERYONE WANTS TO TRADITIONALLY PUBLISH. I bring this one up only because there’s a lot of talk about people “taking up space” by writing a particular marginalization. By all means, take publishers to task for their “we already have a black book this year” bullshit. But some people just wanna self publish and we do not need to act like every marginalized community has like 3 book slots per year and wont read more than that. The thirst for books about marginalized folks is VAST. People are hungry to be seen. The market can bear it. And those that self-pub aren’t taking anything away from anyone else.

4) Multi-POV books are a thing? Like honestly why would I write a queer cast if they’re all gonna be white? What unrealistic whitewashy bullshit is that? Why would I bother writing about disability if I’m gonna exclude queer folks, who are disproportionately affected by a number of disabilities due to medical negligence? If you write communities, if you write multiple points of view, you shouldn’t be contributing to the media mass removal of people who don’t fit hollywoods idea of real people.

5) Stop treating people who have different experiences of marginalization as different goddamn species. I’m really seeing people say queer women shouldn’t write queer men and vice versa? So who is my nonbinary ass supposed to write, huh? Just only nonbinary people? Yeah ok, I hate book sales. Lemme just do that. Or maybe we could stop acting like our differences make us incomprehensible to each other- especially when dealing with adjacent communities.

6) If your answer to #5 was “well the more marginalized can write the less marginalized” then you have just bought into the idea that marginalization can be ranked and rated and my dear that is a bullshit idea. Yes, there are some clear cut exampled. Being white is gonna protect you from racism. Granted. But who is “more marginalized” a queer woman or a queer man? An autistic person or someone with bipolar? A Muslim or a Hindu? If you just tried to answer any of these questions stop. Go get a glass of water. Take a few deep breaths, and realize that creating hierarchies is half of how we get into these situations in the first place.

7) Said hierarchies would, under ownvoices-only rule, ensure that those with the greatest barriers, on average, bear all the responsibility, with the LEAST amount of support from publishers. This isn’t a “boo-hoo where will Black people get Black books if white people don’t write them?” It’s “if queer women can only write queer women, and not queer men, then they are relegated to the less profitable section of queer publishing and the patriarchal order is maintained”. I think my community can do better than that. I refuse to invite those models into my community.

8) “Well if you listen to people who are X, they want-” Stop. Stoooop. No. We are not a monolith we are never a monolith. Go read #1 again.

In conclusion, a lot of harmful bullshit books make it out into the world. Those books can and should be called out. But we don’t need to harm marginalized people to do that. We don’t need to water down our communities. We don’t need to uphold hierarchies that the craptacular establishment approves of. We don’t need to ignore the hard work so many people have put into helping there be more good rep in the world.

Ownvoices stories are vital. We must uplift them. By all means, side-eye anyone you see writing what they’re not without uplifting those who educated them. 

But #ownvoices is a beacon, not a cudgel.

I will not be reading or responding to any comments on this post, because Tumblr purity bullshit culture may well find this post one day. And a lot of people want to use the concept of “safety” to attack anyone who makes them feel anxious by pointing out that there is no simple, cut and dry way to avoid harm, to avoid messing up, to avoid their ever-encroaching sense of anxiety-riddled guilt. Life is messy. Learn to apologize and do better, because you will never be free of making mistakes.

#writing

[kindabraveandlittlestupid]

Should be noted this post isn't about Shawshank Redemption (which was a damn good movie), this post is however about the term “White Privilege” but also about a less popular but still incredibly important term “Black Oppression”. If you’re not the sort to read a long post and just want the quick answer on how I (a Straight White American Male) feel about those words, I know White Privilege IS real. We see it both social interactions, how the police treat white men, how we are portrayed in popular culture, how we the courts rule in our favor when we break the law and all that doubly so when you start to include economic elements. On the other side, there are things that ARE NOT White Privilege such as voting in certain red states where policies are enacted that don’t uplift white voters but instead suppress black voters. This is where I think we need to use the word Black Oppression and differentiate the two things. Below I will provide some examples of White Privilege, some examples of Black Oppression, and some examples where there is both White Privilege and Black Oppression.

This whole point of the post isn’t to challenge the concept of White Privilege but perhaps add some nuance and shift the way we view things between what is privilege and oppression. If only for us to strive for a more equitable and equal society as well as sharpen our wits for when we encounter white supremacists who rely on flaws in our beliefs, values, and logic to further their own hateful agenda. 

As always this is an opinion piece and if you have your own thoughts on the subject, take your time to reply with your own clear thoughts. I appreciate other points of view regardless of race, sex, orientation, political party or creed. I am always looking to expand my views, understanding complex social issues and develop a better foundation for my beliefs.

Medium

The first thing to discuss when dissecting this issue is the Medium, there are other words for this concept I am sure but basically, this is the expectation of how people should/expected to be treated in society. If you’re a registered voter you expect your ballot to be counted, if you run a stop sign you expect a ticket, and if you go into a store you expect to be able to shop without security following you. I am sure some might argue that certain groups of people have a higher expectation for their Medium such as wealthy thinking society is here to serve them but those people have an Economic Privilege and often White Privilege (though I have encountered a healthy mix of other races who enjoy that same Economic Privilege here in Silicon Valley... still mostly white).

No. the Medium in society is attributed itself to a social agreement, common sense and good dose of empathy of knowing how you would like to be treated and wanting that for other people. It’s why we observe lines the way we do and get pissed off when someone cuts deciding they are more important than anyone else standing there. It’s also why we take a little joy in seeing someone with Economic or Racial Privilege have to observe the social medium like everyone else. You know what I am talking about the lawyer who makes 400 dollars an hour saying her time is precious therefore everyone else should wait in customer service while she is taken care of first? Yeah... that was a real encounter I had once.

So once we establish that baseline we can start clearly identifying interactions that seemingly exceed what is expected in society (privilege) or what interactions are well under the medium (oppression). This seems like a good as a point as any to recognize that all these examines require the human interaction. Interactions plagued with prejudices and biases for our choices every day. Sometimes someone deviates a small degree over or under a medium because they are having a shit day. If we encounter someone who slips up, I always advocate forgiveness when someone makes a mistake.

Privilege

The problem with Privilege; be it economic, social or racial is that when you’re in it you don't always know it. Sometimes you’re so wealthy you're used to people waiting on you hand and foot, simply look to the Kardashians, Bieber, or Jaden Smith. These are some people who enjoy wealth so much that when they have a small thing go wrong they bitch about it all day on their reality shows.

As a White Male, I try to reflect on the privileges I might have enjoyed. I try to differentiate between moments where I received better service or social interactions because of my skin color (or gender). I realize there is a possibility that I could also be “blind” to certain privileges but it if makes you feel better if there are things I am enjoying that others do not, I have full intention of trying to pull other people up to enjoy that privilege so that it becomes the new societal medium. I am ranting a little...

The clear privileges I have enjoyed have not surprisingly been with police. Of the about dozen encounters I had with Police Officers about none of them resulted in a ticket. One incident resulted in a car being impounded but I was under 18 and didn’t have a license and even then I paid to have it unimpounded ($700 Dollars) and had the infraction removed from my record with a driving school class. You can call it luck perhaps but for the most part, I have never been given a ticket and when seeing how police treat other men my age who happen to be black with disdain, its easy to see why African Americans are pissed off and I can only have a vague understanding of how frustrating that might be for them.

Oppression

The problem with being Systemically Oppressed is that everyone living/existing on the medium seems like they are privileged. This leads to a fair amount of anger, frustration and pain in various communities. While the general topic is focused on Black and White, it does not take much imagination to project that same oppression on the gay/transgender community, women, other non-christ based faiths or other minority groups (Latinos and Middle Eastern specifically in the US).

I myself have had only small encounters with oppression myself, most of them taking place at the airport as my ass seems to get selected for extra security screenings. I am not sure what website I went to, if my beard is to thick or if that month in Indonesia has flagged me in the wrong way but that is a personal experience where I am observing social interactions below the Medium.

This post isn't about me though so let's give a clear example of oppression today. That example is voting in the United States. Many Red States have been adopting strategies to disenfranchise black voters by removing voting stations, requiring ID’s and limiting hours while keeping other voting locations (in white communities) open for normal hours. This isn't an example of White Privilege as this is how voting should be like that for everyone. No, this is white voters enjoying their right to vote, while the black community is being OPPRESSED from having a say in politics. Ok, there might be some white privilege in there but for the most part, its mostly Oppression that we are seeing, yeah?

We see other elements of Oppression in the courts, police interaction, and also pop culture, mostly in the film and television industry... which now that I think about it is also white privilege considering Asian and Indian actors are still trying to break through. 

Privilege and Oppression

Most examples share above tend to dabble in both Privilege and Oppression, and as I stated this goes beyond race as sex, economics, and other social qualifiers. I felt compelled none the less to point to politics as a system that both explores a great amount of Privilege and utilizes a great amount of Oppression. Leave it American Politics to show White Wealthy Male Privilege in its full swing while Oppressing Women, Minority Groups, and Non-Christians. It’s easy to see why people don't want to hear from a Straight White Male like me when all these douche bags represent the worst humanity has to offer.

Guess you can say I feel a bit bitter on the fact that I see so many memes on Tumblr telling me to shut the fuck up because I look like them *points to assholes in picture* even though I am on board for a more equitable and equal society. *Slaps Cheeks* Keep things in perspective, Mike!

Coming back to examples of both Privilege and Oppression, another prime example is the police. We look to cities where Stop and Frisk policies exist(ed) and you could see how civil rights were secondary to a police officers ‘gut feeling’ that a black man could have drugs or weapon on them. This is an example of Oppression, clear and simple. On the flip side, you have officers waving on white citizens letting them off with warnings which isn't a bad thing in itself but when the courtesy is ONLY given to fair skinned citizens then it is a problem, it becomes Privilege.

Conclusion

White Privilege is real as fuck. Economic Privilege is real. Social Privilege is real. Depending on your lot in life you might be enjoying a great number of Privileges while others might have lower income bracket, from the wrong ethnic background, and have darker skin having a much rougher go at American life. We, the good fair loving compassionate progressives, should aim to balance these issues out. We need to find the moments where someone is enjoying an unfair privilege (like me not really every getting tickets) and bring me back down so that I have the expectations as everyone else. We also need to find the oppressive interactions (often institutional) and correct them as well and make sure everyone enjoys the same quality of life.

If you enjoy privilege in some form or another you have two options. Either bring yourself down and be held to the same standard as your fellow men (and women) OR start bringing other people up to enjoy the same privilege you do so that it becomes the new medium for society and raises the quality of living for everyone. If you feel compelled to do neither then you might be the problem. Thanks for reading.

Regards, Michael California

NOTE: It’s important to measure subjects like this with data and not anecdotal evidence or experiences. I tend to add a few personal accounts to these sort of posts to better appeal to the emotional side of readers but hard numbers display more of the truth than my personal experiences ever could. Driving While Black is statistically proven in the data where White/Hispanic drivers are pulled over about the same rate but black drivers are stopped in excess. This is also true for Use of Force numbers, Stop and Frisk, Searching of Vehicles and even how the courts decide to process the cases. 

Black Men serve 20% longer sentences to their White counterparts charged for the same crime.

Black students make up 18% of preschool enrollments but make up 50% of suspensions.

Applications with ‘Black’ sounding names are 50% more likely to be passed up by employers compared to ‘White’ sounding names.

And this list goes on and on.

If you’re a white guy, who has had a few moments where you pulled over yourself. It is neither a logical or sound argument to say “I have had difficult encounters therefor my experience is the norm and therefore is no white privilege.” Always! Always look to the data and see the numbers for both the state you live in and the country as a whole. Anyone with half a mind to understand statistics can tell there are some major racial biases in our society.

#Black Oppression #White Privilege #Race Politics #Race #Political Theory

[the-erickson-labrynthian]

Gardening, by Brandon Erickson

(A short story I wrote for a small writing contest I won (by being the only entry, I think, but I digress.) that I edited a bit and want to post on here for everyone to enjoy. So... I hope you do... and yeah, here it is. Be sure to tell me what you think and follow for more... if you want.)

Gardening, Word Count: 1668.

It was early in the morning, not quite dawn, closer to that thin moment of the day where the sky layers at the distance, colors all screaming out to rise but unable to, for it is not their time. Patience is a virtue. While the colors of yellows and oranges that burn themselves into the clouds had their battle off miles away—a fight they could continue for up to an hour—it was light blue and the warm purple of a lavender flower that was the faint illumination John needed to get to work. Whether a true statement or not, John would be the first person to declare that he could do all his work blindfolded; that the garden was him home. That part was true—at least—like colors burn into the sky, John burned into the garden, using colors, the prettiest pinks and blues he found worth looking at, all splattered along the family property to create a maze, and it was all his. His child. The backyard was little more than the paths around his handiwork, a path he stomped into now, pressed into the soft dirt and held firmly in place as he bent over to dig a hole for his latest project at the only time he thought it sensible to do so.

The morning was quiet around now. Not even the most hardcore of fishermen and hunters got up as early as this. Even animals, they were faint whispers at this time. Nuzzled into their nests, their homes, all waiting for the morning wake up call to feed, eat, nurture their young, and rest once more. Man has a cycle of his own, however, and there are times where man must bend it, where man deals with the strife upon his shoulders for the idea of something better. And such a man tended to his garden, whilst another carried his strife with him as he made marks against the soft soil, bending and turning around John’s garden until he was at his side. John heard the noise, but paid no mind to it. There was this root from an old lingering plant that refused to give to his will.

“You’re out here too much,” Jake aspoused, “Mom wants you back inside.”

“Mom’s up?”

“How couldn’t she be? With you digging like a maniac out here. Trying to tiptoe down the stairs when you’re wearing gardening boots.”

John glanced back at the house where an amber colored light peeked out from the windows, the dull shade of their living room lamp.

Jake bent down to a squat, tilting his head to the right to put it within John’s field of vision, “Mom’ll make us some breakfast before school, but you gotta come inside.”

“Tell her to go back to sleep. I’ll be in before the bus comes anyways.”

John stabbed the trowel into the dirt as he began to build a redness from everything around him, his cheeks flaring up and his head giving slight stressed twitches that only his brother could notice.

“You know that she’s not making you food because she wants to make sure you eat. She wants you inside. We all would kind of prefer that too. It’s crazy seeing you out here working all the time, especially this early in the damn morning!”

“Sounds like your guys’ problem. I’ll try to be quieter next time.”

Jake sighed and ran his hands through his hair, “It’s not about waking us up. We wake each other up all the time with our bullshit. It’s about your… ‘ya know, your well being! Its just… not good, the amount of time your out here, just… working on this place. And… barely doing anything in school, never talking to us, and all that… I,” He sighed again, a placeholder to find his words, “Listen, I wouldn’t be out here talking to you like this if it wasn’t really getting to Mom. I mean, she liked gardening, she liked having a couple flower beds out here, and at first she was happy you were getting into it, but then you take it all over and are out here so much it’s like you’re disconnected from the real world! Even she can’t stand the sight of a flower from this much gardening,” He laughed.

“How’s it any different from spending all your time reading, or writing, or dancing, or… playing video games?”

“Well… when you don’t make responsibilities it can be fine but… I mean, you never even liked going outside and getting dirty!”

“That’s why I have gloves and boots,” John carved circles into the dirt, glancing every now and then at the brick of soil to his right, where his flowers sat perched, waiting for nutrients at any moment. Patience is a virtue.

“You never liked hard work!”

“I never liked being forced into hard work, or working for some asshole.”

Jake groaned and rubbed his face, “Just… just why? Why now? Why all of the sudden, and why can’t you come back inside?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Really? Complicated? That’s gonna be your excuse? I’m gonna walk back and tell her that?”

“You don’t have to tell her anything. I don’t feel like sharing my whole life with her anyways.”

“Yeah, I know, we’re all a bunch of edgy teens who hate our mothers getting into our business, but all she wants to do is make sure you’re not hurt. She’s looking out for you.”

“Am I supposed to tell her thank you?” He thrusted the trowel into the root again, every time enunciating the words he said, “I didn't ask her to. It’s nice, but it doesn’t change that she ignores me when I say that I’m fine, and if she wants me to be happy about that it’s not gonna happen.”

Jake paused, “She knows that. And, she knows not to worry too much. That’s why I’m out here. Like I could handle you any better, though.”

“Nothing to handle. I said I’m fine.”

“I’ve never met anyone who actually means fine when they say fine, especially when they’re stabbing into the ground like a psychopath.”

“It’s this stupid root! I’m too distracted to get it out.”

Jake looked over at the darkened dirt and extended his hand out for the trowel, “Here, let me handle it.”

He handed his brother the trowel and Jake gave one strong stab into the ground, then twisted around vigorously until the root was uplifted. The dirt scarred his hands in brushstroke patterns as each twist kicked up and rubbed dirt along his usually so clean skin. But, the job was done, and he signed and sealed his work by flinging the roots across to the back of the backyard, where it hit the top of the fence and fell on the other side, painting the white of the fence as well in a soil brown.

“You’re welcome,” Jake finished.

“Alright, give me my trowel back so I can plant these guys.”

Jake moved the trowel away from his reaching hand, “Nu-uh, not ‘till you tell me why you’re out here so much.”

After trying to reach for it a few more times and failing he groaned in frustration with his hands covering his face—but that groan came out more like a growl, “What do you want me to say? What every other person says about a hobby? It’s calm, relaxing, helps me clear out my thoughts, gets me away from the day, and it’s a nice quiet job-”

“Cut the shit, tell me why you do it.”

John stopped in his tracks, looking up at his brother. That look on his face, the way his brows bent sideways as he glared, it pierced right through any attempts to move the conversation to anything else.

“Maybe I… I just like being in control of something… for once.”

Jake’s face first went harsher, but then softer, loosened, “Hm?”

“Maybe everything in my life keeps being a living hell, and… I can’t stand it. I’m so tired of trying, and putting all this effort into something that never works out. I’m tired of the world doing everything it can to stop what I want to do in my life. I just feel… helpless, alright? And being out here, I get to vent it all out and maybe do something that nobody can stop. At least, not yet. I get to make the decisions. I get to do what I want. For once. So… maybe that’s why.”

Jake said nothing, eyeing the tool in his hand.

“Is that so horrible of a thing to want to do?” His voice was barely audible by the final word.

“No,” He let out in a small whisper, tossing the trowel back into the dirt hole, “I’m sorry… about whatever you’re going through,” He pulled himself up in a mild grunt and dusted off his jeans, “I know sometimes it’s hard to talk much, but… I’m here for you, if you need anything. And, I’ll get Mom off your back for today, at least.”

“Thank you…” John picked up the trowel and the plant, gently laying down the plant to fill the hole, covering up the signs of human intervention by washing dirt over the cracks, padding the soil and packing it tight, and ta-dah, his Azalea's had been planted. He heard Jake begin a soft trot back through the flower maze and to the house.

“But, uh, John, you’ll come in for food when you’re done, right?” He heard his brother ask from a few yards away.

“Yeah…” He muttered, “I’ll be in soon.”

After that John was left with his silence, and the cold of the morning air. Things were a bit brighter outside, the layer of before now thicker and rushing in like tidal wave. Yellow and orange and even faint reds that would soon disappear and give way to the blossoming sky blue. And hopefully by then he’d be in for breakfast. Anytime now, but not before a job well-done.

Patience is a virtue.

#story #writeblr #writing #short story #brothers #family #work #strife #pain #obsession #my writing #life #writing about life #story about life #characters #dialogue #imagery #storytelling #writing on tumblr #tumblr writer #gardening #flowers #colors #stuff #things #other tags #writing contest

[sweetsoursugarcube]

The Ghost Ship

I wrote this to celebrate Eren’s birthday, but it’s been over a week since the big day D: In my defense, I’ve been busy translating it from Swedish to English.

Please read the original story, Spökskeppet, if you can, either on AO3 or on FF.NET

You can also read The Ghost Ship in English on AO3 and FF.NET

Summary: The sea rages and Eren awaits a visitor. Jean tells Marco the ghost story of the captain and the lighthouse keeper in the stormy night. And through the mist sails the ghost ship; the Captain’s coming to meet his lover. ~3k

EDIT: tumblr is having problems with the “read more” feature and some strange symbols might pop up if you read the post on desktop, but if you view it on my blog it should be fine :) i didn’t put them there myself lol

Once again the clock strikes twelve and it’s the thirtieth of March. The light of the crescent moon and the stars waltz across the smooth surface of the sea and the heavy air rests. A thick mist from the north glides over the calm waters. Above it rolls the clouds. And the world slumbers.

Standing on his islet, Eren looks over the sea. When he catches sight of the gray mist wall in the horizon, he hops down the cliff and slides down to the water’s edge with wildly flailing arms. There he sinks to his knees on the small, charcoal stones covering the beach and stretches his hand over the water. It’s hardly comfortable despite that the stones have been polished smooth by the waves, but he doesn’t register the pain. He’s only interested in the rippling surface and how the tips of the tiny waves lick his palm.

These waves aren’t common. The sea outside of Shiganshina bay behave like this only once a year, on the thirtieth of March. A hundred years ago or so it might have done so more often, but it’s been long since then and the circumstances have changed over time. Eren doesn’t remember the details of his past very well either, so maybe he’s mistaken. It doesn’t matter.

He wipes his hands on his pants. Visitors are on the way, they must be. The ship has never missed his birthday, but that’s not enough to put him at ease. “The sea has its own mind. You can’t control the damned thing,” Levi used to say. And when Eren’s temperament exploded, he’d say “you’re just like the fucking sea” in that special tone of voice with a tenderness only Eren could hear.

He runs despite the lighthouse door being thirty scarce steps from the beach and he could make it walking as well. Leaving the door open behind him, he rushes through the lighthouse keeper’s apartment and to the stone stairs. So often have they been plodded up and down that the edges have become slanted and the surface worn into slipperiness. Hence why he kicks his shoes off before climbing two steps at a time all the way up.

Lighting the lamp in the lighthouse is like second nature to Eren. Once the light is on, he pushes the balcony door open and gazes northward.

The enormous waves heave greedily. Some break against the cliffs, while others throw themselves over the stone beach to leave thick stripes of sea foam behind, over and over again. It’s a game for them. Sometimes their tips glimmer when the crescent peeks out from between the clouds. The wind that had been mild all afternoon pulls now at Eren’s clothes. It blows through him and nips at his soul as it passes.

The mist is thick and the clouds dark. Eren shields his eyes from the wind and his own hair that whips him in the face. He has to confirm that the travelers are going to pay him the visit he’s been longing for every day, every minute, all year long.

But there in the distance flutters a flag. Not wildly like Eren’s hair, but proudly. It’s green, with a pair of white and blue swords painted across it. Or maybe they’re wings? Hard to tell, because the picture is as worn as the lighthouse’s stairs. Worn and familiar.

He leans over the balcony railing and peers in the mist. Its damp, silky lips have reached the lighthouse and are prepared to swallow him. And all he wishes is to make sure his visitor has arrived.

Surrounded by a bubble of stillness, despite being the eye of the storm, glides the ship across the sea. The mist hangs over her like a bridal veil, but the wind is mild and the air is lukewarm. The floorboards and masts creak, and on the starboard side gapes a hole so big you’d think the ship should’ve sunk a long time ago.

But she has not.

The wind blows away but Eren and the lighthouse remain. They’ve been swallowed by the ship’s private bubble.

“There she comes,” he whispers to himself. “There comes Kuchel and her crew.” And her captain. Kuchel’s son, who has named his most important belonging after he. If only she knew how far away he’s sailed and how much he’s seen and done. The world’s strongest captain, they call him. She’d be as proud as Eren is.

The mist following the ship lies heavy as a curtain and the sight is poor, but there’s nothing wrong with the sound. If you get close enough, you’ll hear the ship creak and the ropes beat the masts, and if you get even closer, you’ll hear the men sing and laugh. In the commotion a command may ring. “Order aboard” or “scrub the decks” will a low but silky voice yell then. And always will it be answered by a “yes, Captain!”

Shanties echo over the calm water. Eren’s heart pounds. Fluttering wild against his ribs, like a flag in the September storm.

Vaguely sung words about storms and sea monsters are carried to him on the wind. The crew has changed course since they’ve caught sight of the lighthouse light. They’ve avoided grounding and are on their way past the islet. The shanty fades away and the low but silky voice shouts “do you call this clean? Deck’s covered in shit, redo it!”

Afterwards it’s silent. Not even a small ”yes, Captain!” rings through the night.

The ship has passed Eren without anchoring. He squeezes the balcony railing so hard his knuckles shine white.

“Wait,” he yells. “Wait!”

Now he’s running again. Down the lighthouse stairs, two steps at a time. He trips, but gets a hold of a window aperture and continues without missing a beat.

This can’t happen, it can’t be true. For the first time ever the ship passes the lighthouse on the thirtieth of March without stopping. Has the old Captain gotten senile? Has he forgot what he came here for? Or does he not have the time to take a break? But Eren’s waited for this night! He’s waited for it for a whole year, every day and every minute, he cannot wait another year. He just can’t.

The lighthouse door has locked itself. Without yanking on his shoes, Eren twists and pulls the lock. He kicks the door.

“Open up, you old bastard,” he says and jerks the handle. The door groans but obeys and Eren falls out onto the cliff.

The pier lies in the southeast. If he waves and shouts from there perhaps the ship’s crew would hear him. And if not, at least he can threaten their captain with what’ll happen the next time his collar is within reach of Eren’s fist.

“We’ll see how much you love the uncontrollable sea then, all right,” he hisses from between his teeth.

The islet is slippery after the mist and the great waves washing the cliffs. The chance of falling into the sea is high, especially if Kuchel continues onward and the storm following her gets a hold of Eren before he gets inside. But he’s not afraid of drowning for he’s been the lighthouse’s keeper for decades already and he can take care of himself. Besides, the legend says that if you drown, you’ll grow a tail over your legs. Though that sounds more like a beautiful tale told to comfort the parents of the hopeless girls who’ve drowned themselves.

When Eren reaches the pier, something splashes at its end and he halts abruptly. An oar pokes out from behind it. In the background sits Kuchel surrounded by her heavy veil.

A man disembarks on the pier. Kicking the rope that keeps his rowing boat in place with the tip of one boot. He raises his gaze and meets Eren’s with an emotionless expression.

Short and pale as a ghost, he is. The hair’s inky black and his eyes light. A few wrinkles sit in the corners of his eyes with black bags underneath. He’s dressed in shiny, knee-high boots and around his neck hangs a white cravat.

The awaited visitor has arrived.

“Levi,” Eren shouts. His legs are numb and yet he runs. On the last step he jumps despite being at least half a head taller than his guest.

They stagger but Levi gets a grip of Eren’s waist and holds him up, unaffected. He tilts his head back to study Eren’s grin.

Eren squeezes the cravat in his fist. “You little bastard, I thought you’d leave without seeing me.”

A small smile pulls at Levi’s lips. “Never. Congratulations on your birthday, love.”

  Jean and Marco sit wrapped in a blanket on a fallen pine trunk. The weather had been calm all evening, but around midnight a storm blew in and Marco confessed that he was too nervous to sleep. Together they left the tent to watch over the sea, sheltered by the forest. The shared blanket was Jean’s idea.

“I wonder where this wind came from,” Marco says. Only his eyes peek out from behind the blanket.

“Who knows,” Jean mumbles. Gravity pulls at his eyelids, even though his company has an uplifting effect. It wouldn’t be all that knightly of him to fall asleep in the middle of the storm that worries Marco, so he fights bravely against the Sandman’s temptations.

“It shouldn’t be this windy by the end of March.”

“The end of March. . .” Jean blinks. The sea raging outside of Shiganshina. . . by the end of March. . . A vague bell rings somewhere at a distance, but his brain is too tired to remember what it wants to remind him of.

“Oh but look, someone turned on the lamp in the old lighthouse. I didn’t know it was back in use. Who’s the keeper?”

“Huh? Where? The old lighthouse has been empty for at least a hundred years, why would anyone turn on the lights there?”

“I wonder as well. But since the light’s on someone has to have done it. Look.” Marco shoves his hand out from the blanket fort and points before he quickly tugs it back into the warmth. How cute he is. Jean can’t help his feelings. He wants to say something, but peers northward instead. And as it is, the light from the lighthouse shines through the thick mist.

And then it hits him.

“Oh shit.” Gravity gives up on Jean’s eyelids, because now he’s wide-eyed. Goodbye, Mr. Sandman. “Someone’s playing us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you heard the ghost story?”

Marco pales. “No, which one?”

”The one about the captain and the lighthouse keeper?”

“Sounds scary.”

A wide grin spreads across Jean’s face. ”Not really. Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

Marco squirms until he sits pressed against Jean’s side. Hip to hip, arm to arm. He pulls the blanket closer around them.

“It’s said that the old lighthouse is haunted. It’s the crazy son of a doctor, Eren Yeager, who lives there. He’s the last one to live in the lighthouse before it was shut down. Eren died on that islet on the thirtieth of March, on his twenty-eighth birthday. He turns on the light in the old lighthouse every year, on the night before the thirtieth.”

Sorrow weighs Marco’s voice. “In his own memory?”

“Nope. He’s showing the way to passing ships.”

“Only once a year? The lighthouse isn’t used anymore, it’s not needed.”

“No, but it’s more of a signal to one ship alone. Or to its captain. When Eren turns on the lamp, it’s to say ‘here I am’. He’s hoping for visitors, you see.”

Marco gasps. ”The Captain.”

Jean nods with a serious countenance. ”Yeah, that’s his lover. Eren was barely twelve years old when he met the Captain for the first time here in Shiganshina. He was known as a merciless pirate before he was employed by the state. They said that he was the strongest man in the world, that he was invincible. When his ship Kuchel arrived to the battle, it was already won, because she was the quietest ship in the world, and her crew the most skilled. The Captain always led his men himself.”

“What was his name?”

“No one knows. Eren probably was the only one who was allowed to call him anything else than Captain. He was known to be very strict and tidy. And short. It made him scarier, you couldn’t get a good grip of him.”

“Did Eren become a sailor as well?”

“No. His father made him a doctor. And Eren was young, the Captain didn’t want him coming along either. It wasn’t until he turned fifteen that they started to seriously socialize. It’s a bit unclear with all of that. Some pages have been ripped from Armin’s book.”

”Armin’s book?” Marco frowns. ”Is this a fairytale?”

“No-no. It’s Eren’s childhood friend’s diary. That’s where everything’s written. People were worried when weird things happened on the sea and wanted answers, so they dug up some old books. But I personally think it’s only little boys who’re playing around. They probably row out to the lighthouse once a year to turn on the lamp and then they come back again. It’s all in good fun, I know it.”

“Yeah. . .”

”Anyway. The Captain and Eren were in love and Eren goes with Kuchel as the ship’s doctor. One time, when they return home, they’re told that there are many sick in Shiganshina and that Eren was more needed here than on the ship, so he stayed. Kuchel and the Captain sailed away. But they were supposed to return on the thirtieth of March because the Captain insisted on being here on his lover’s birthday.”

“How romantic.”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe.” Jean rubs the back of his neck and looks over the sea. The mist is thicker and heavier than before, but the lighthouse lamp shines bright. “Problem is, they never came back. People said they must’ve lost their way. Or that maybe the Captain had grown tired of Eren and left him for good. That maybe he had found some nicer and more handsome ship’s doctor. You see, Eren was known for his temper and stubbornness and the Captain was invincible, so it was unlikely that he would’ve died. We still don’t know where Kuchel is, but it’s known that she and her Captain visited the city she was supposed to. She disappeared after that with all of her crew aboard.”

“Do we really not know their fate?”

Jean shakes his head with pursed lips.

Marco shivers. “What do you think happened?”

“Some people blamed sea monsters. It was the only thing people thought could’ve overpowered the Captain. But it’s more likely that he upped and left to a faraway country, painted his ship and lived there for the rest of his life. Eren didn’t want to believe that of course. He insisted that the Captain would keep his promise and sat down to wait. ‘Crazy, he’s completely lost it,’ people said about him. So Eren decided to become a lighthouse keeper instead, since no one trusted him to be their doctor anymore.”

“People are terrible. He was just mourning, poor thing.”

“Yeah, maybe. He was a lighthouse keeper for four years, but then he drowned. No one knows how, but it was on this night, between the twenty-ninth and thirtieth, after he had turned on the lighthouse lamp. It’s said that it was terribly misty back then. The next day Armin and Eren’s sister went to the lighthouse to celebrate Eren’s birthday. They found him dead on the beach by the pier.”

“No, that’s too horrible. I don’t like this at all.” Large, brown eyes stare out at the sea, pause at the lighthouse and turn then pleadingly toward Jean. “It was his birthday. How can something like this happen?”

“Take it easy, it’s just a story.”

“But you said it was written in Armin’s book.”

“I’m sure he’s exaggerated for the sake of drama, it’s okay. So, once Eren had died, everyone thought that was the end of the Captain and the doctor’s son’s romance. No one wanted to move into the lighthouse so it was abandoned. Besides, it wasn’t needed anymore. Everything was forgotten. But then, exactly a year later-”

”The light in the lighthouse was turned on.” Marco swallows. He searches for Jean’s hand beneath the blanket and holds it tight.

“Yeah. Armin and Eren’s sister rowed out on the thirtieth. They’d been warned for the confusing mist that seemed to roll in by the end of March. They were the only friends Eren had and wanted to leave flowers in his memory. But guess what they saw on their way there?”

Marco holds his breath and Jean raises an eyebrow before continuing.

“Kuchel.”

“No, that can’t be true.”

“But it is, according to Armin. Kuchel had been anchored outside of the lighthouse and someone had tied their rowboat to the pier, so Armin and Eren’s sister didn’t have room for theirs. They left their flowers there and rowed away. When they passed the Captain’s ship, they saw an enormous hole in its side and heard shanties sound in the mist. And on the pier stood Eren and the Captain waving at them, side by side. They realized that they’d seen a ghost ship and that Eren had reunited with his lover.”

“But why would Eren still light in the lighthouse if he’s found his Captain?”

“I already told you, it’s not him who turns on the light, it’s just someone playing around. But . . .” Jean bites his lip. ” Armin thought that the Captain’s not done sailing yet. He’s no landlubber you see, he loves the sea. Besides, Kuchel’s disappearance was never explained, so maybe she was cursed.”

“Eren could’ve become the ship’s doctor again,” Marco says.

“But he died as a lighthouse keeper. Armin suspected that he can’t leave the lighthouse and that the Captain can’t abandon his ship either. It’s their destiny to be forever separated and only meet once a year.”

Marco buries himself deeper into the blanket. His eyes glimmer in the light from the lighthouse. “Such a sad ghost story.”

“It’s a myth, don’t be sad because of it,” Jean says. ”It’s just some brats who are trying to trick us with the lighthouse lamp.” And yet he had goosebumps.

Marco sits in silence. ”But it’s misty out here. It’s always misty by the end of March. And the storm began so suddenly too. . . that’s weird, isn’t it?”

Jean rubs his knuckles. ”Ha, no, that happens all the time, every now and then. It’s not weird at all.”

“But a little bit.”

“A little bit, maybe.” And he straightens his back. ”But don’t worry about it. You didn’t get scared, did you?”

“No, just sad.”

Jean grins, but shivers run down his spine again. “That’s so like you. But Marco, shouldn’t we maybe go back to the tent now? Not because I’m scared or anything like that, I just don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“How nice of you,” Marco says and smiles.

“Yeah, haha.” Jean jumps up. ”Let’s go.”

“Okay, I’m coming- oh, but look!”

”What? Where?”

”The ghost ship. It’s there. I swear I can see it.”

Jean laughs, but it sounds more like a cough. He stares wildly over the sea. “No-o, you’re just making things up. It’s so misty, sometimes you imagine seeing things in the mist.”

“No, look past the lighthouse. If you look carefully, you’ll see it.”

He follows Marco’s pointing finger in the thick mist around the lighthouse and its bright light. And he distinguishes a proudly fluttering flag on the top of a mast, and under it the contours of a ship.

“The Captain’s ghost ship,” Jean whispers. His voice is hoarse and so low he barely hears it himself.

“The Captain’s come to meet his lover on his birthday. How nice.”

“You’re the one being nice.” Jean grabs Marco’s arm. “I think it’s for the best if we leave now.”

Into the forest they disappear, Jean and Marco, hand in hand. And out on the open sea rocks the ghost ship, while her captain disembarks on the little islet where his lover has waited and longed for a visit, every day, every minute, for a whole year. As he’s done for many years and will do for many, many more

#ereri #rivaere #riren #fanfic #levieren #fanfiction #snk #my fics #long post #the pocket universe #thank you nevermorexxx for beta-reading this! #and thank you alphaofallcats for helping me with phrasing stuff The English Way #words that inspired this: sea mist love #also do you guys know the ghost ship from moomin #? #it was haunting me while i wrote this