#the archive blog will be out a day or so later with all my old and relatively new stories/shortfics

[dragonpro809]

would you be willing to make an archive blog for your older stories? i loved them a lot so i’d still love to be able to read them :( if not, thats okay!!

Heya! After receiving this ask, I'd be more than willing too! I honestly had no idea I still had some followers who read some of my older works, and I simply assumed I was a dead blog atp after having gone dark across most of my social media platforms. But, I can and will make an archive blog of sorts that will contain all my older stories and some of my newer ones as well! I'll also make a masterpost in that blog as well to help people find a specific story easily (I will figure out how to do that ^^). Thank you so much for this ask, whoever you are. Just knowing people would still like to read my writing, as old and as cringy as it is, really warms my heart <3

#dragonpro posts #dragonpro answers #my writing #dragonpro's ask box #when the blog will be purged is undetermined #but just know when it is purged #the archive blog will be out a day or so later with all my old and relatively new stories/shortfics #thank you whoever sent this ask #you really made my day so much better ^^

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (1)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, Age Gap!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 17.4k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: discussions of significant death (does not happen in story), talks of a bad car accident, talks of drunk driving (please drinking responsibly), more than likely wrong swimming terms and poor understanding of how the Olympics actually works (I did so much research, pls be nice to me lol), strong language, lots of mental health discussions, reader has mommy and daddy issues, Older reader, Jimin is a complete sweetie, the tamest chapter of them all A/N: Well, well, well, look who came back. I first wrote Waterlog back in 2021, and while I enjoy the premise, I hate the finished product. I wanted to go back and edit/fix what I originally had, but when I tried it became so different, I was better off rewriting the entire thing. I hope you guys like this mini-series. If you would like to read the original go to my blog archive. Thank you for reading!

masterlist || next || playlist

Staring at the pool, I managed to calm myself with relative ease. Jin had been right, physical therapy had made things easier. The water glistened prettily in the lights, and I waited with bated breath for my trainer to come in. 

Emery was a sweet guy, pretty with a lip ring and tattoos, but with a surprising amount of shyness it was laughable. His softness was offset by his powerful muscles, and I enjoyed his never-ending sense of humor. Unlike Dr.Maddox, Emery treated me like I was a normal person. Not an Olympian who almost lost her leg in an accident, or the woman whose fiancé died. I was just Y/N, and it was a relief to be around him.

Running my fingers along the scars on my leg, I mindlessly drew patterns around them in the silence. It was not normal for Emery to take this long, but his assistant had said he was running behind due to another patient, so I was unbothered. I had planned my entire day around this, so I was in no rush.

Finally, the door swung open revealing a disheveled Emery. Breathing heavier than usual, he rolled his eyes at me in frustration before saying his pleasantries. Whoever it had been had gotten him worked up.

“Rough morning?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

With an annoyed sigh, he nodded.

“I shouldn’t say this, but I hope that woman never comes back here.”

I laughed, “We all have that someone. Don’t feel too bad.”

Shaking his head, I could tell it took restraint on his part not to rant and rave about the woman who had left. Emery and I were more friendly than most. I had been seeing him for over two years now, but we still kept a semblance of a professional relationship. Especially Emery.

“How’s the kids?” He asked, making small talk as we started getting ready for a swim.

I was the coach of a high school swim team in town, something I talked about quite a bit, and Emery always liked hearing about. He was a great water polo player but chose to go into physical therapy while he was in college. After seeing one of his friends get injured and how much physical therapy had helped him, Emery decided to change his major. Four years later, he says he could never see himself doing anything else.

“They’re doing well,” I said honestly. “We got a couple of freshmen on the team, but they’re doing a lot better than I thought they would.”

Emery hummed, offering me assistance getting into the pool. While walking had been mostly figured out, the obvious limp aside, I still had some trouble with getting in-and-out of things. Even my bathtub had to be switched out since I was unable to step over it. I still used the medical chair while in there, too.

The water was cool against my skin, and I felt instantly relieved. The dull aches and pains left as soon as I got into the water. Swimming to my usual spot, I waited patiently for Emery to join me.

“That’s great to hear,” He smiled.

Going to the edge of the pool, Emery grabbed a set of barbells and handed them to me. Taking them, the two of us went over the workout plan for the day. Pulling himself up on the pool’s edge, Emery picked up his stopwatch and told me to begin.

Getting on the interstate, I sang along to the radio as I made my way to Hoseok’s. The two of us had been friends since high school, our mutual love for swimming making it impossible to keep apart, and only growing with time. He was one of my biggest support systems after the accident. Both of us had retired years ago now, but I remembered our days as Olympians fondly. Those were the best years of my life.

A small group of our friends were getting together at his house to watch the summer Olympics this afternoon. The women’s swimming finals were happening today, and I knew two of the girls competing. Turning on my blinker, I quickly got off the interstate.

Pressing around my car’s radio screen, I went to my contacts and pressed Andy’s number. She was off today and in charge of getting everything together. Hoseok had tried to do it himself, but always seemed to forget who should do what and ended up buying everything himself. She picked up after the fourth ring.

“What’s up, sugar?” Andy greeted, her voice soft and light. Her Memphis accent was thick and brought a smile to my face. Everyone had made jokes about her being southern when we first met. “Don’t tell me you’re missing Nationals.”

I shook my head even though she could not see me.

“I’m on my way,” I replied. “What should I pick up? I completely forgot.”

Andy sighed, “You’re just as bad as Jin.”

Seokjin was Andy’s husband. The two of them had been together whenever they moved to Colorado, married before I ever met them, and became quick friends with Hoseok when they moved to the Springs. That was how I had met them. Whenever their daughter Dani was born, Andy had asked me to be her Godmother and I sobbed in her lap. They were my closest friends next to Hoseok. Jin was indeed very forgetful, though, and the jibe made me chuckle.

“Cut me some slack,” I argued. “I’ve been working out for two hours straight.”

I could hear the smile in her voice, “Just get some pizza or something. We’re picking up some wings and Hobi’s in charge of the drinks. Minho and Tilly are bringing… something. I don’t even know anymore.”

Fully laughing now, I saw a Little Ceasars up ahead and got into the correct lane. Minho and Matilda were loose cannons when it came to our parties. While sweet, and fiercely loyal, I found myself wondering why I hung out with them at times. We were night and day personality wise, but I loved them dearly. Minho would probably bring some Korean side dishes from home, and Matilda would pick up a few packs of ramen from the store. Andy was stressing over nothing again. I hoped she was getting proper rest on her days off.

“I’m at Little Caesars,” I told her, parking my car. “I’m going to get the basics. How many things of Crazy Bread should I get?”

She thought for a second before replying.

“Five?” She was definitely unsure about her answer.

It was hard to gauge just how hungry everyone would be, and Jin was a bottomless pit.

“Sounds good,” I said instead, already thinking about getting more.

“Drive safe. See you in a bit.”

“See you, Andy,” I unplugged my phone from the charger.

Pressing it to my ear, I pressed my start button and turned it off. I climbed out of my car and started walking to the store.

“Love you,” She sing-songed playfully.

“Love you, too,” I replied. Opening the door, a worker greeted me with a smile. “I’m about to order.”

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I gave the worker an awkward smile before telling him my order. I ended up getting seven bags instead of five. Just in case. Dani really liked the stuff and Jin could smash an entire bag by himself. While I waited for the cheese pizza to come out of the oven, my phone started ringing.

“Hello?” I answered, unable to check the caller ID while the cashier shoved the crazy bread into my arms.

“I heard from a little bird that you’re thinking about competing again.”

I grinned and thanked the cashier as she handed me my other pizza. 

“Hello to you, too, Frank,” I replied. “And your little birdie wouldn’t happen to be Hoseok, would it?”

Frank and Sarah Boone had become a part of my life after the accident. They ran a local support group to help those affected by drunk drivers to get connected with resources and therapy. The two had lost their son when he decided to drive home drunk from a party and used the group as their own coping mechanism. They were wonderful people and owned their own joint coffee shop and bookstore in Denver. 

“Won’t say names,” He chuckled, “But it might have come from a certain part-timer. So, is it true?”

I placed the boxes in the passenger seat and rounded my car. This was not a conversation I was expecting to happen today. I had brought up the idea to Hoseok since the Olympics were coming up next year, but I was not committed to it. I was enjoying my new job coaching and did not think I was in any condition for competition. When he brought up the Paralympics I laughed. Those competitors were in better shape than I was, and I doubted I would qualify. I was disabled but my disability did not (as far as I knew) carry over into the pool.

“I was just talking shit, Frank,” Backing out of the parking space, I put in Hoseok’s address and started to drive. Switching over to my car’s phone, I put my phone down and looked at the road. “You know I’m happy with my life right now.”

He made a grunting noise that told me he did not really believe me. No one did. All of them were sure I was miserable about my career ending far before its time, and while that may be true, I felt more loss about the life I was supposed to have than winning medals. I missed Namjoon more than any medal. Frank and Sarah understood that.

“I know that,” He cleared his throat, and I could hear the congestion. Frank had come down with a nasty case of walking pneumonia two weeks ago and was still recovering. “Just got a little excited is all. It would be nice to see you putting yourself back out there.”

It would be nice to see myself back in the pool, I could admit that. I had dreams of it at times. Being a competitor was a part of who I was. From the first time my dad took me to my swim classes when I was six all the way until I claimed my eighth Olympic medal, everyone had said there was nothing I hated more than losing. I was fiery, free-spirited, and kept my eyes on the prize. It was the thing Namjoon loved about me the most. That made me frown.

“I left a champ,” I forced a laugh. “Need to save some gold for the rest of them.”

Hiding behind humor was a pastime. 

Frank laughed, oblivious to the hollowness in my tone. “Heard they have a new guy taking your place.”

That made me snort, “He’s not taking my spot. Totally different competitions, my friend.”

“Winning gold like you, that’s for damn sure.”

It must be Jimin Park. The kid turned up on the scene a year after my accident. He was a very, very talented swimmer. Fast as a bullet with the best butterflies I had ever seen, Park was a force to be reckoned with in the men’s league. It was a joy to watch him swim and this year would be his first Olympics. Hoseok and I were very excited to watch him.

“If you’re talking about Park,” I chuckled. “He’s far from new. He’s been competing for a few years now. First Olympics, though.”

“He’s young, ain’t he?”

I nodded, “23, I think.”

Truthfully, I did not know how old he was. I remember the buzz around how young he was when he first broke out on the scene. He was eighteen when he took home gold all season before a family emergency took him out of the Olympics last minute. No one knew what really happened, but his team had said his brother was in an accident, tragically losing his life, and Jimin was prioritizing his family. He’s competed every year since and with the Olympics next year, I was certain Park would be there. He deserved it.

I was parked in front of the house now and from the cars outside, I was the last person to arrive. Frank and I talked for a few moments. It was cute how much he had learned about swimming so we could be buddies. Sarah was the only person who recognized my face when I first started going to the meetings and her husband was determined to get me to open after weeks of sitting in bitter silence in the back. 

We hung up after I promised I would make it to the meeting next Thursday. Frank was not happy about me skipping the past two weeks, but understood I was taking some time to myself. My boys were going to compete this year, I had fought tooth and nail for that funding, and the extra hours at school were exhausting. Jeremy and Evan showed promise, but they knew how to drive me up the wall with all of their simple mistakes.

As I suspected, the party was in full swing. Matilda and Minho were laughing loudly on the sofa, Hoseok sporting a beer in the recliner next to them, and Dani practicing her gymnastics in the middle of it all. I could hear the commentators talking animatedly about the girls, who they believed would come out on top and highlights from the night before, but I never really paid them any mind.

“Pizza’s here!” Minho boomed, practically running to greet me.

I laughed, handing over the boxes, “Need help carrying the rest in.”

Matilda offered, happily taking my car keys and leaving the house. Minho had disappeared into the kitchen. Dani spared me enough attention for a smile and wave before launching into excited pleas for me to watch her new moves. 

“Super cool, babe,” I smiled sweetly after her handstand. Dani was not particularly good at gymnastics. She started later than the other girls, rarely did anything she was actively afraid of, and hated her coach. Andy was already looking for a better gym, but I just thought she should start pointing her in another direction. Dani loved dancing and she would be a wonderful ballerina or figure skater if given the proper training. The Kim’s, however, seemed fine watching her deal with gymnastics and cheerleading. “You’re getting better.”

Dani beamed, “Daddy said the same thing.”

Flipping the right way around, her hair coming out of its messily tied bun and falling down past her shoulders. Brown, loose waves made her look so much younger than her eight years, her small stature only selling the illusion even more. Her skin was smooth, and she always looked as though she had been playing outside in the sun, a constant tinge of pink beneath her sandy skin. Her features favored her father, large eyes, long face, and plush, pillow-like lips, but after meeting Andy’s parents, I could see her grandmother hidden within the mischievous glint in her eyes and too small ears.

“Your dad’s a smart guy,” I joked. 

She continued to babble away as I made myself more comfortable, kicking off my shoes and tossing my hat onto the small buffet table that sat above the shoe rack. Matilda came back inside, her arms filled with bags of bread, and I took two from the pile. With a thankful, thin-lipped grin, she also complimented Dani’s moves before disappearing around the corner in the direction of the kitchen.

“Dani,” Hoseok seemed to have finally grown tired of hearing the girl talk. I would imagine this was all he had been hearing since he arrived. “Do you want to color with me?”

The little girl clapped happily, her eyes bright and shining, before abandoning her mat to gather a few coloring books and her massive hoard of crayons. Hoseok looked at me then, a sly smile on his face before winking. I chuckled and shook my head. He always did that to make her shut up. 

I left the living room before Dani came back. I loved her dearly, but I could admit she talked too much. It was a good thing for a kid her age to be so social but that did not mean I wanted to hear her every waking thought. Andrea and Seokjin were the only parents in our little group, and I imagined it would stay that way for a while. Even if my dreams of children were still alive, I did not have anybody I wanted to take on that responsibility with.

Minho was eating the pizza, as expected, while Matilda had already claimed her own bag of Crazy Bread. Andy and Jin were snuggled up at their dining table, his arms securing her to his chest, and she curled into him. I loved watching them together. I had grown up in a house with two people who hated one another, barely kept up a facade of civility before my mother skipped down to be with her new boyfriend in Florida leaving my dad and I behind in Pennsylvania. We made it work but things were never the same after that. It made me happy to know little Dani would feel the love radiating in her home as she grew up. I had never seen two people so enamored with one another in my life- not even Namjoon and I.

“How was therapy?” Minho asked after we exchanged pleasantries. “Hoseok said you were talking about competing next season.”

I laughed in disbelief. That man did not know how to keep his mouth shut. I said the same thing I told Frank over the phone, and he scoffed. Minho never truly laughed, if I was honest. It was always a snicker, scoff, or chuckle. He was a man of little words and even fewer outbursts of joy, and I found his versions of those things just as reserved as the rest of him. He was the most expressive when he smiled, but those were just as rare as a genuine laugh. Dani managed to squeeze more out of him than anybody else. 

“Stop meddling!” Andy scolded the other man from her spot in Seokjin’s lap. 

“Never,” My friend replied, amusement clear in his voice.

“Never!” Dani echoed, voice louder than Hoseok’s. She was giggling happily alongside him, and I rolled my eyes. He was her favorite. “Never!” She repeated again, pleased when Hoseok laughed. “Never!”

“That’s enough,” Jin’s voice was even and smooth.

Dani did not shout again but we could all hear her and Hoseok attempting to cover up their laughter. Andy smiled fondly. Their little friendship had warmed her heart. After Dani, Andrea had been diagnosed with cervical cancer. It had come back six times before her doctor said she needed to get a hysterectomy. She grieved the children they would never have, the large family she dreamed of stolen from her, but once Dani was old enough to walk, she had been glued to Hoseok’s hip.

Hoseok for all he spoke about never wanting children, he adored Dani. His family was small, he and his sister the only children, but they were extremely close. She lived in New York City as a fashion designer and got married last year, and I always had the feeling Hoseok felt lonely without her. Dani was a welcome break from routine and made him feel special. It was sweet but I hoped my friend would find someone to share his life with someday. 

“It’s starting,” Hoseok announced.

It was a great day for the U.S. Opal Simmons was one to look out for. She was the oldest woman on the team, a shocking 24, but she could out swim a vast majority of them. Her freestyles were amazing, earning her a gold with Japan just a few points behind. I was hopeful she would be able to come out on top in her distance swim. While not the fastest in the pool, the girl knew how to pace herself. The cameras cut to the shot of one of her coaches smiling triumphantly at the performance.

He was a good friend of mine, Oswald Bunch. He had been heavily involved with the Olympics for years now, promoted to one of the lead coaches back in 2020, but I remembered when he was still competing. A few years older than me, Ozzie was known for his backstrokes and long-distance swimming, and we bonded whenever we got the chance to meet in London back in 2012.

That was my first Olympics. I was a fresh-faced 20-year-old on a mission. My team at the time was stoked to have me around and I was excited to be there. I had built up a solid reputation over the course of two years, winning seven medals my first adult-competitive season, and the high was incredible. Back then, I was always the one to beat at the breaststroke and therefore, the medleys were in my favor as well. I walked away with 4 golds that year, and again in 2016. The accident happened a year later, but I left the competitive world with 8 gold Olympic medals and 19 world champion gold medals. Katie Ledecky held the record now, but for a time, I was the most decorated female swimmer in history. I was excited when I was finally passed up, happy for the younger woman.

Ozzie was the man, but sadly never got out of Michael Phelp’s shadow. It was not his fault. That man was insane in the water and would become the most decorated Olympian ever. Bunch was a great swimmer, but I did not know a single person who could compare to Phelps. Hoseok, maybe, but he only had 12 gold medals. Phelps had 23.

“Simmons looks great out there,” Hoseok praised, a large smile on his face.

“Her butterflies could use a little work,” I murmured back, already seeing how I could fix it with some extra exercises. “It’s slowing down her freestyle. What else is she scheduled for?”

“I think she’s doing the 200-meter freestyles and the medley relay,” He replied, taking a sip of his beer. “Bunch is banking on her pacing.”

“She won’t win those,” I was positive. “She’s just going to get tired. Breaststrokes are obviously not her thing.”

He laughed, “You’re the breaststroke queen, Y/N. No one's as good as yours.”

I shrugged, “Ledecky is a great swimmer.”

“Never said she wasn’t,” He sipped. “Her freestyles are killer. Girls could never beat you in breaststroke or a medley. You’re untouchable there.”

It made me smile despite myself. Hoseok was right, those were my competitions. Even if Katie had surpassed my record for most gold medals ever, I still had more Olympic medals than she did, and they were in completely different events. I could have kept my title had the accident never happened. I would have. Even if we were friendly, Ledecky would have been my competition, and I would have fought hard to keep the record.

“What’s Jimin doing this year?” Matilda asked as the women’s scores were posted. Opal would be a strong contender. “Anyone know?”

I nodded, “I haven’t watched every competition, but he’s sticking to what he does best. Didn’t he swim the 200 yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “He’s skipping out today and doing his individual tomorrow. Swimming back-to-back after that. Kid’s a fucking animal in the water.”

I couldn't agree more. As I stared at Opal’s smiling face, her pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes, I wished I had been able to watch Jimin instead. She was cold and impassive even with a large, perfectly white grin that took up most of her face. In fact, I found her quite boring outside of the water. No flair or features that set her apart. Just a tall, well-built blonde with a nice smile. Ozzie would have to work hard to make her memorable.

“Simmons did well,” I yawned. “It’s getting late, though, and I have work in the morning.”

The goodbyes were quick, and Dani made me promise to take her roller skating soon. There was a girl at school making fun of her and she wanted her “super cool” and “famous” aunt to tell them off. We all laughed, and I told her we could go this weekend after gymnastics practice. 

My drive home was uneventful. It was already dark out, something that bothered me more than I would ever admit out loud, and I never turned on the radio. I preferred to drive in absolute silence, eyes and ears glued to the road. I had only started talking on the phone recently.

I was much worse after the accident. I refused to get inside of a car for weeks and if I did, I was a mess. No one was allowed to be a distracted driver either. No radio, no phone, no conversations. Nothing. Jin had been the default chauffeur during that time and put up with my anxiety better than the others.

It was close to a year before I tried to sit in the front seat again. Another five before I got behind the wheel. For hours I would sit in the garage with my hands on the steering wheel staring off into the distance. I was still in a wheelchair for most of my daily activities and a very obvious limp made me too self-conscious to be seen. Isolating was easy. Keeping the others away was more difficult.

My drives started with me just backing out of the driveway. I went around the block a few weeks later, hands shaking and Andy trying her best to soothe me in the passenger seat. I did not drive past the Whole Foods two minutes away from my house until after the second year. Things were easier after I ditched the wheelchair and got more open to the idea of therapy.

Moving out of Denver was the best decision I ever made, the Springs were easier to drive in and the traffic was not as awful. Andrea and Jin bought in Black Forest once I was settled in Briargate, so loneliness was never an option.

Matilda almost moved in after the housewarming party Andy threw for me. She said it was far too big for one person and the neighborhood was to die for. I laughed her off at the time not really wanting to admit how nice it sounded.

Nestled in Fairfax, my house was a beautiful piece of architecture. The striking brick and wood front exterior provided a warm welcome, with teal trimmings bringing a fresh feeling to the otherwise plain color scheme. With five bedrooms and four bathrooms, I dreamed of the day I was able to fill them all. A dream that I hoped would come before I hit 35.

 Pulling up to the house, I waved to Chika next door. The old woman raised her hand, still nursing a large mug of what I assumed to be tea and smiled. They were lovely people and we often helped one another out whenever we could. Chika liked to bring over food if she cooked and I paid my landscapers to keep with their lawn.

“Late night?” Chika called out from her front porch. 

“Went to a friend’s house,” I replied.

“Good,” She meant it. “Glad to see you getting out of the house.”

I smiled but was not sure how well she could see my face in the dark.

“Yeah. Night, Chika.”

“Night, Y/N.”

I showered quickly and sipped on a cup of chamomile tea before heading off to bed. After taking my night medications, one to force myself to sleep while the other blocked the never-ending nightmares, I climbed into bed. I was able to play a single game of solitaire before they both kicked in. I fell asleep with the sound of gentle rain humming in the background.

“Let’s go, guys!” I yelled, blowing my whistle.

The twelve boys waited, their small talk coming to an abrupt end. We had just finished warming up and I allowed all of them a short water break. I was a huge advocate for rest periods. No one needed to pull a muscle or fatigue early due to over working. I had a 2800-yard routine prepared, 800 of those done during our warm-ups, and the rest divided between our main set and cooldowns.

Jordan, our captain, was smiling happily. He was such an excited kid, and his positivity was contagious. While some of the boys were disappointed when I first chose him to replace our old captain after his graduation, I was sure his spirit would do everyone some good. It did not take long for the others to come around and he was beloved.

“Alright, so we have a 1600 main set. In between each of our reps, we will be doing a switch out of easy breast and backstrokes. Clear?”

“Crystal!” They all replied in unison.

“Alright. That's what I like to hear,” Flipping through my clipboard was more for show than anything. I used to rely on it heavily when I first started teaching since brain damage messed with my short-term memory, but I had been doing this long enough to know what was happening. Now it was just a way for me to write notes about their performances. “We’re starting with a 4x100 with 15-second rest; the first 25 butterfly. 3x100 with 10-second rest; again, first 25 butterfly. Following?”

No questions were asked, and a few guys voiced they were good for me to keep going.

“Good. Then we have a 2x100 with 5-second rest. First 25?”

“Butterfly,” Jordan replied.

“Thank you, Abbot. Okay, and we’re finishing up with 8x50 freestyle. Fast and easy.”

All twelve of them began to prepare to take their mark. One by one they stood on their blocks and waited for me to make the call. I admired them all for a moment. You could see the difference in each one of them. Those who were confident stood tall, their shoulders squared, and head held high. Newcomers were still figuring out their place on the team but were eager to prove themselves. Two of them would be leaving us this year, Gabriel and Marcus, and neither one of them were continuing to swim after graduation. It was a sad thought, but I was happy with how they carried themselves. They had both come a long way.

“Take your mark,” My voice echoed. Each boy got into their starting position as I watched them like a hawk. One of the freshmen, Phineas, needed major work on his form. I would talk to Jordan about it. Grabbing hold of my stopwatch, I took a deep breath. “Go!”

Marcus was the first in, like always, and I ignored him. I knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself. Phineas was the weakest link in my chain right now. He was struggling, his arms growing tired and his speed nonexistent. The other freshmen, Tobias, or as the guys called him, Twig, was not much better. He had more strength, but I chopped that up to his size. I would need to really start working some more beginner drills to get them in shape. Jordan and Gabriel would be more than happy to give up a Saturday or two to help out. 

Marcus was the first one finished and I marked his time. Still a tenth of a second faster than Jordan. After Jordan came Gabriel and then Joseph and Anthony. I was disappointed in Jett’s time, but I would invite him to the weekend practices with the others. He needed some foot and hip exercises. Twig came in before Phineas, but every other boy was already out of the water by the time they made it back. Phineas was visibly upset, and I made a note to pull him to the side after practice to cheer him up. 

Practices typically lasted two hours and the boys swam hard. Phineas did, in fact, perk up after I told him I was noticing tons of improvements in his performance. Twig just seemed happy he was not the worst guy in the water. After talking it out with Jordan, we decided on a good weekend time for extra practices, and I stayed behind to print off a poster and signup sheets for the rest of the boys. I had a feeling almost everyone except Marcus would show. He had a part-time job now and his weekends were full. 

Sitting in my office, I poured over my observations and timecards. With a team this large I should have an extra set of hands to help with timing. I sent an email to the principal asking about helpers and got back to the nitty gritty. 

All of them could work on something. Phineas might have needed the most work, Twig not far behind him, but my most seasoned swimmers had room for improvement. Jett was still struggling with maximizing propulsion, Anthony and Milo needed to get better water balance, and Gabriel’s pull could be better. Even my best swimmers, Jordan and Marcus, could use a bit of refinement in technique. It was nitpicking but they were too talented to give up on their potential.

It was close to nine when my phone began to ring. I knew it could not be any of my usual calls. Andy was working nights this week and Jin was fast asleep at home with Dani. Minho was in bed by eight, Matilda would never bother me this late, and Hoseok hated phone calls. Checking the caller ID, I was shocked to see Ozzie’s name.

“Hello?” I answered tentatively, afraid he might have called me by accident.

“Otter,” Ozzie greeted me happily. He seemed so delighted that I answered, I smiled even though I hated the nickname. “How’s life going?”

I chuckled, “Rockin’ and rollin’. Saw your girl last night. Looks great, Oz.”

“Appreciate it,” He was so dismissive of it I became interested. This was not a catch-up phone call or else he might have hooked onto the bait. My stomach twisted in anticipation. If it was not for pleasantries, then it was for work and that was something to be excited about. “Still teaching high school?”

“Mhm,” I fiddled with my pencil, papers forgotten. “My boys team is strong. I only have three girls that signed up so we’re just training during P.E. and hoping some more join.”

We chatted a bit more about the team. The longer it went on the more knots I had. Oswald was fishing for something, and I wanted to figure out what. After telling him about Phineas, I asked what the random call was about.

“Always cutting to the chase,” He joked.

I did not laugh.

“Alright, you caught me,” Ozzie sighed. “Look, the Olympic team is looking for another assistant coach and your name came up a few times.”

My mouth went dry. I had heard about Tiara Marsh leaving to focus on her family. She had a baby and stepped down a few months after coming back from maternity leave. I respected the decision and messaged her my congratulations. Ozzie had taken the lead coach position three years ago with Todd Packer as his partner. The other assistant, Drew Jones, was a sweet girl from what I heard and working with her would be a dream. 

Still, it was an impossible task. Trying to imagine myself on the sidelines, coaching the next big names in sporting history with a massive squad behind me made my stomach queasy. I doubt any of them respected me. My leg was ruined, my career burned out just as quickly as it started, and I never had the chance to reach my peak. Now I am a 30-year-old washed up recluse. Just thinking about the media frenzy made my breathing get a little heavier. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Oz,” I murmured.

“I told them you wouldn’t go for it,” He replied, unsurprised. “They’re going to approach Storm Kline instead.”

“Oh,” Now I was confused. “Why’d you bring it up then?”

“Because I got to thinking,” I braced myself. Ozzie was known for his big, bright, dumb, impulsive ideas. “I knew the Olympics would be asking too much of you. Cameras and interviews are the last thing you want after the fucking circus you went through last time.”

That was an understatement. Circus did not even begin to describe the absolute hell the media put me through after the accident. So many speculations and insensitive remarks managed to ruin any peace I could have gotten during that time.

While I was in a coma, no one knowing if I would ever wake up again, the news thought it wise to harass my friends and family. My old coach, Victor Stanley, was assaulted whenever he left the hospital. When news got out that Namjoon was pulled off life support, his mother and father were so sick and tired of people parked outside their house they packed up and moved away before I even woke up. I wanted nothing to do with the media after that.

“It’s a little different but I think you’d be a great fit for the job,” Ozzie continued. “One of my boys, Jimin Park, is in need of a personal coach. His mom is sick and he’s wanting to stay in Michigan for as long as he can before coming out to the Springs to start training for Paris.

“I almost called Jung, but I don’t think the two of them would get along well enough for this to work. You’re the only person I know I can trust with him, and from what I’m hearing, you’re one hell of a coach already.”

This was somehow even more nerve wracking than the assistant position. I had never trained one-on-one before, at least, not long term. I was sure I could do it, but a high schooler was very different from an Olympic athlete relying on me to keep him in shape for the season. 

“What happened to Hamilton?” I asked, still unable to wrap my head around the situation. “I thought he was Park’s personal trainer.”

“He was but the two fell out when Jimin decided to stay in Michigan. You know how Matt is.”

That I did. Matthew Hamilton was a massive asshole, and that was putting it lightly. He was one of the best trainers around and got results which was why he still had a job despite his rotten attitude. I had the misfortune of running into him quite a few times over the years and my distaste only grew with each passing. I could imagine that conversation not going over particularly well.

“But what about my team?” I asked, staring at my desk. All of my plans and strategies were mapped out and I was ready to put them to use. My boys were counting on me and leaving them felt wrong. “I don’t want to leave them high and dry, Oz.”

“Ask Hoseok to cover for you,” I rolled my eyes at his blase attitude.

“This is my team.”

“And this is Jimin Park.”

I hated that I understood where he was coming from. Most of my boys would never go off to swim professionally and their skill set was not on par with anyone out right now. They were not committed to the strict regime that would take and I did not get paid well enough to justify the extra hours. Jimin, however, would pay me extremely well and I would get that experience under my belt. I might even learn a few new things to add to my own drills.

“Give me a few days to think about it,” I finally conceded. “And set up a phone call, or meeting, or something with the kid. Need to make sure we’re on the same page before we waste one another’s time.”

Ozzie laughed, “I think you’ll get along just fine, but sure. I think he’d appreciate the gesture.”

Nothing of much importance was said after that. We hung up with promises of talking soon and then I was alone once more. My office was still just as messy and swamped with paperwork as it had been before, but it all looked different. It felt like I was already gone, and a deep homesickness settled in my chest. I stared at the papers in front of me and sighed before shooting a text to Hoseok.

As I expected, everyone had told me to jump at the opportunity. Hoseok even said if I didn’t, I would be the biggest idiot he had ever met. Matilda asked if she could come (I told her no), and Dani just seemed bummed that we could not hang out anymore. Andy and Jin were the most supportive of the situation while Minho the most cautious. He was worried about the media catching wind of something and causing a frenzy. After Matila pointed out how old news I was, I felt a little less afraid of that possibility even if it was a hit to my ego.

Ozzie seemed pumped when I told him I was open to the idea if Jimin and I seemed to mesh well. I was firm in my decision to talk to him before making any concrete plans, and from what Ozzie told me, my future student was extremely receptive to the idea. I also learned that Opal was jealous of her fellow Olympian, but I tried not to let that puff up my chest. 

That was why I was sitting in my home office, hair nicely styled and a light layer of makeup on waiting for Jimin to join our Zoom call. I wore blue since Ozzie said it was his favorite color, but the material was slowly driving me insane. While the color was nice, deep blue and sparkled whenever the light hit it, it was scratchy and irritated the skin around my chest and shoulders. I almost got up to change but a small icon with the letters ‘JP’ in the center popped up before I could.

“Hello?” A soft voice called out.

“Hey,” I replied with an awkward wave. “Can you see me?”

“Yeah, can you see me?”

I shook my head, “Just your icon.”

Cursing under his breath, Jimin apologized for the tech issues. I adored how nice he was to listen to. It was unique, gentle and raspy, but also feminine in its softness. There was no bass or hardness, every sound and syllable light and airy with self-depreciating laughter after every insult he threw at himself. Apparently, Jimin was not great with technology and always had a difficult time with cyber meetings.

“This is fine with me,” I tried to reassure him. “I don’t need to see your face to talk.”

“No,” He agreed, “But it’s a little awkward for you to have your camera on and mine’s off.”

I could hear him clicking around. “I’ll turn mine off, too, if that helps.”

He shut that down immediately and continued clicking and typing. After a few more minutes, he found his problem. Then the icon was gone and there he was.

His face was round, his cheeks plump, and chin soft. The first thing I noticed about him was his lips. They were rounded and plump like a baby duck with a soft, heart shaped cupid’s bow that led up a small, button nose. Everything about his face was soft except his eyes which were almond shaped and flicked outwards like a cat’s. His hair was pitch black and parted down the middle, framing his face and making his pale skin look like snow. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the camera a large smile took over his face and I felt the wind get knocked out of me. 

“Can you see me?” He asked.

I nodded, “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.”

Neither one of us knew what to say for a moment. He swirled around in his chair in search of his water bottle. He stood up, excusing himself for a moment. He was also wearing a blue shirt, a pair of black pants, and seemed just as nervous as I did. He left the room while I sat and thought about him.

There was one word to describe Jimin: pretty. His soft lines and tiny waist made him look so much smaller than I had imagined him. All of the years seeing him on the tv did nothing to compare to watching him walk around a little room in his home. Without a cap and goggles, Jimin was angelic, and I felt uneasy. How was I supposed to work with someone I found this attractive?

“Sorry,” He was back now, a large Yeti cup in hand. “I should’ve made sure I had this already.”

“No worries. I’m not in any rush.”

He sat back down, and I finally noticed the large oval necklace he was wearing. I did not know what it could mean to him, but I had seen him with it a few times at events. It was simple and silver, no gem in the center of the pendant, and sat directly over his heart. He took a sip from his cup, snapping me back to action.

“How’s your mother doing?” I asked. “Ozzie told me she wasn’t well.”

His expression saddened me, and I hated that I brought it up. I knew how much I did not enjoy talking about Namjoon’s death, and while his mother was still alive, she was not well. Unfortunately, I could not take the question back.

“I’m not sure how much you know,” He started, leaning back in the leather computer chair. “She has melanoma and isn’t doing chemotherapy anymore. I’m staying in Michigan so I can spend as much time with her as possible.”

My heart ached for him and his family. Cancer had a reputation for ripping families apart and I could only imagine how this was affecting the young swimmer. My own grief was long and drawn out, guilt and shame hanging over my head for years before I was finally able to let it go, but the death itself was swift. Joon was dead and buried before I woke up from the coma, but I could recall every detail of that hospital room when Victor told me what happened. I hated to think about watching the life slip from him, knowing he would die, and knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“I understand. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

I knew it was inadequate, but I did not know this man well enough to say my thoughts out loud. Maybe later, after a few weeks of training together, I could get the courage to let him know I would be there if he needed someone to talk to. I knew all about navigating grief and I would happily help him stay motivated through this horrible, tragic time. Jimin stayed quiet so I took it upon myself to get the ball rolling again.

“I know you’re going through a difficult time right now, and I just want you to know that I get it and I see you. If we work together, I will make sure your mental health comes first. Whatever you need, whatever your family needs, will always come before getting in the pool.

“You were working with Hamilton before this, and whatever happened between you two- I don’t know, that’s none of my business, but I can promise you I will try my best to make sure our professional relationship doesn’t reach that point. Just tell me what’s up and I’ll make it work.”

Jimin smiled a small, sad smile that paled in comparison to that blinding show of teeth earlier. My eyes could not help their roaming and I felt guilty. There was a chance we would be working together, and I could not feel this way about him if that time came. I could only hope that if we did decide to move forward with this arrangement, any affections I could have for him would get buried. I would have to talk to Hoseok about this.

“I have to take her to appointments once a week,” He replied, voice small and eyes staring at something off camera. “She’s not getting her chemo anymore but still goes to see her doctor often to manage symptoms as best she can. She also has a dance class every Sunday morning and I will be going with her.”

I nodded, “I can live with that. As long as you’re still putting in work you can take your mom anywhere.”

He took a deep breath and finally looked at the camera again. The vulnerability I found there took me off guard. Jimin must be someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve, and I would have to learn to nurture that. Namjoon always told me I needed to work on being more sensitive to others, a skill I had yet to master. 

“Matt didn’t like how much time I spent out of the pool. I understand where he’s coming from but I’m hoping we can come up with a training schedule that works well for the both of us. I feel bad enough pulling you away from your life, and I don’t want my personal shit to bleed into what you’re going through.”

It was a kind gesture, one I appreciated, but he needed to get over it. I told him in so many words that I was happy to help him.

“Trust me,” I said. “If I didn’t want to do this then we wouldn’t be talking.”

Jimin seemed to like my bluntness and I was fond of his over-analytical anxiety. The way he fidgeted reminded me of Namjoon, his forward and direct confrontation of his emotions and needs so strikingly similar it made it nearly impossible for me to dislike him. I don’t think a person alive could dislike this man. 

“I can be in Ann Arbor next week,” Jimin had gone on another rant about inconveniencing me and I shut it down. “Everything here is already squared away. We can discuss it more later, how does that sound?”

He smiled wearily, his nerves causing him to squirm in his seat. 

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Y/N.”

I hoped my expression looked as sincere as I felt, “I’ll take care of you, kiddo.”

Pulling a face, Jimin laughed heartily. Triumphant, I smiled brazenly, his laughter contagious. I made a note to pull out a few age jokes now and then if it meant making him smile like that. 

“I’m an adult man, I’ll have you know,” He was still laughing.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I teased.

“We’re going to get along just fine,” He seemed more confident than ever, and it warmed my heart. “Let me know when you’re expected to get here. Do you have my number?”

We exchanged our contact details. After days of talking over email, I finally found a smiley face emoji in my notifications, a Michigan area code attached. Saving his number, I replied with the old woman emoji earning myself another laugh. 

“Talk to you later, Park.”

“See you, coach.”

I left the meeting, my chest much lighter after talking to him. He was a sweet man and not half bad to look at. I was a few years older but not disgustingly so, and he was more than available from the sound of things. Realizing the direction my thoughts were going in, I stood up from the chair to start writing out some drills and scheduling prototypes. Before I could get out of the door, however, my phone vibrated in my hand.

Jimin: 👶

I did not respond until I had my flight booked.

Me: I’m flying in on Tuesday. Know a good place to stay?

He replied a few minutes later.

Jimin: Do you need a lot of space?

Me: Not really

Jimin: One of my neighbors has their mother-in-law suite for rent. I could probably cut you a good deal with them.

I smiled. He really was a sweetheart. 

Me: Thank you. And no deals. I can pay for myself.

Jimin: My mother would be very upset if I didn’t at least try.

Jimin: I was raised to respect the elderly.

I laughed out loud, thoroughly amused. I had a feeling he was testing the waters after I poked fun at him earlier. Jimin was probably used to the stick stuck up Hamilton’s ass. He was in for a treat. At the pool I was cool and collected but I could cut up with the best of them. 

Me: Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the sound of my hip breaking

I was practically giddy with excitement waiting for his response. It had been such a long time since someone joked around with me like this. Hoseok tried but he was awful at taking a joke, so I stopped poking the bear. It was refreshing and all too familiar. 

Jimin: I’ll get you one of those life alerts just in case.

Was he flirting with me? Did I care? Shrugging, I went along with it. I would remain strictly professional while we worked together, but if things developed after that I would let them. Happily. I barely knew this guy, but I remember this feeling. It was the first time since Joon’s death that it showed itself to me and I wanted to hold onto it.

First work then play, I told myself. 

Who knows? This little bit of infatuation could fade just as quickly as it came, and I would leave Ann Arbor with a new friend instead. Might even be able to score a steady job with the kid if things worked out. My life in Colorado would remain untouched, my friends happily accepting a new kid in the group when he came to visit, and my house just as bare and empty as it always had been. The years continuing to pass me by.

I tried not to think about why that thought made me want to cry.

“I told you I’m fine,” I sighed into the phone, waiting at the baggage claim for my things. “You’re in rare form today.”

Andrea laughed, the sound slightly hysterical and I winced. That was the wrong thing to say, but she was driving me insane. I had traveled around the world multiple times, and she was acting like Michigan was going to kill me.

“Well excuse me for worrying,” Andy bit back, her tone clipped and harsh.

“I’m sorry,” I heaved one of my bags off the conveyor belt. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but I promise you I’m fine Andrea. You’ll be my first phone call if that changes.”

The other bag finally popped up and I quickly snatched it. Slinging the large duffle bag over my shoulder, I adjusted it until it rested comfortably on my shoulders. Lifting the handlebar off my large suitcase, I drug it behind me while I followed the signs for the exit. Jimin said he arranged for someone to pick me up but did not specify who. He was busy with a few interviews this morning and could not get me himself. He had been very disappointed about it.

“I know I’m nagging,” Andy groaned. “Scratch that. I’m acting like a total helicopter parent.”

I laughed, “Your husband had been even worse. The man tried to book me a charter flight because he was worried about my leg in an airport. What the fuck does that even mean?”

Everyone had been super happy for me, especially my team. Those boys almost cried when I told them who I was helping out and Jordan begged me to bring him back something autographed. None of them seemed as familiar with my own background but I was fine with that. All of them took to Hoseok rather well, except for Marcus who made me swear to come back before school let out. I did not tell them I was planning to make monthly trips to give Jimin some space with his mom. I was sure that surprise would go over very, very well.

Despite his indifference when I was first talking about the job, Seokjin became an overprotective dad as soon as I made him aware my flights were booked. He was quick to cancel them and put in a few calls of his own. Jin was an operations manager for Delta airlines and knew plenty of pilots. He was able to get me a plane to land in Willow Run out in Ypsilanti, but I quickly intervened and told him a normal flight was perfect. I rebooked my tickets and flew into Detroit Metro at 10 am.

Andy snorted, “He means well.”

It was snowing in Michigan, and I was finally hit with the realization that I would be seeing far more of it here than I ever did back in Colorado. It was only mid-September, so it was still light and melted away quickly. I would have to ask Jimin if it stayed this calm into December, but I had a feeling things would pick up by late November. 

It was a very cold morning in Detroit, and I was excited to get into a heated car. Getting off the phone with Andy, I quickly sent Jimin a quick text message letting him know I was outside and looking for my ride. A loud honk made my jump, almost dropping my phone in the process.

Pulled up at the curb was a navy-blue Volkswagen Beetle. I could tell from its body that it was an older model, and it was a convertible. Sitting behind the wheel was a little old lady, a pair of gardening gloves on her hands and a pair of large, hexagon sunglasses taking up most of her face. Her face was familiar, and it hit me. Sitting behind that wheel was Jimin’s mother. 

She smiled at me and waved, beckoning me closer to the little car. I forced myself to smile back. My nerves made it feel damn near impossible, but I managed. Opening the door, I did not know where to put my things. The backseat was so small.

“There’s a lever on that side that’ll push it up. You should be able to get everything to fit if you try hard enough.”

Fumbling around, I finally found the little handle and pulled up. The seat lurched forward, folding in on itself, and I clumsily shoved my suitcase into the backseat. It smelled like stale cigarettes and fake pine, but when you had a car this old it usually had history. I was excited to pick up my new car from the dealership. My Porsche already had a difficult time driving around Colorado and I did not think it would survive the heavy winters in Michigan, so I decided to leave it home and get an Altima. I had the money and could easily get rid of it. Tilly had been talking about needing an upgrade. 

Finally managing to get both bags into the backseat, I put the seat back and got into the car. Closing the door, I sighed in content. The heaters were at full blast and pointed directly at my cold face. Buckling my seatbelt, I leaned back and tried to relax after the long day of flying. Jimin’s mother pulled off the curb.

“It’s cold out there,” She laughed, her voice just as sickeningly sweet as her son’s. “Glad you were able to make it okay.”

I nodded, “I’m surprised to see it snowing so early. We don’t usually get anything until closer to Thanksgiving.”

“Colorado, right?” I could hear a faint accent and I remembered that Jimin was first-generation Korean American. Both of his parents moved to the states before he and his brother were born. Media outlets loved talking about it, but I was not sure how much he enjoyed discussing his personal life. While he came off as a sweet and mild-mannered man, he kept his personal life private. “I’ve heard it’s very pretty.”

“It is. Too expensive, but very, very pretty.”

Then she was fiddling around with the radio, and I finally cracked a genuine smile. I was not sure how much work had been done on her car, but I was positive the sound system had been completely redone. A brand-new radio, complete with a touch screen and Bluetooth, lit up at the touch of her fingers. A man’s voice serenaded us through the updated speakers, and I was in awe at how beautiful it sounded. I assumed he was speaking Korean and Jimin’s mother sang along fluently. 

“What’s your name again?” She asked once the song was over. Another, more upbeat song started, and she increased the volume. “Jimin told me but I’m horrible with that sort of thing. I’m Na-Yeon, but Audrey works if it’s easier for you.”

I pulled a face, “Audrey?”

“It’s my American name. It’s easier for people to pronounce and more convenient. All of us have one. Jimin’s is Christian.”

It was odd to think about. A name that was mine but not mine. Christian did not suit Jimin, but I could imagine growing up with a name that other people made fun of would be difficult. Maybe even impossible. Still, I did not feel comfortable calling the woman Audrey. She did not seem to particularly care for the name and I did not want to alienate myself from their circle for convenience's sake.

Namjoon’s mother had been similar to Na-Yeon, always afraid her culture and customs would make me uncomfortable or burdened, but I managed to calm her fears and reassure her after years of showing up to Chuseok with a smile on my face and food in my hands.

“I like Na-Yeon,” I finally replied, voice small. “It’s nice. I’m Y/N.”

“I like Y/N,” She echoed back to me, making me grin. “It’s nice.”

It was a long drive filled with K-pop, ballads, and sporadic conversation. Na-Yeon was very funny. She sang along to every song, dancing as she went, and calling on me to sing alone. Of course, I could not speak Korean very well and hummed the melodies instead, but it appeased her. When she did speak to me it was to ask me questions about myself. 

“You’re that swimmer, aren’t you?” She asked, sparing me a look once we stopped at a redlight. “The one everyone’s trying to beat.”

I shook my head, “At one time, sure, but not anymore. I’m retired.”

Squinting her eyes at me, Na-Yeon pursed her lips. 

“We used to watch you. Haru called you a mermaid.”

 That was not too much of a shock. Jimin was swimming at that time. While I am a few years older than him, he would have been in middle school when I went to my first Olympics. He had told me he joined the swim team the year before. He said that watching Michael Phelps win 6 gold medals changed his life forever, and I could not help but agree with him. I had a huge amount of respect for my fellow Olympian and wished him well in his retirement. What shocked me the most was the mention of Jimin’s little brother. The dead brother.

“That’s sweet,” I did not know what to say. “I felt like a mermaid back then. I’m not that good anymore but I still like to swim sometimes.”

“You were in an accident,” It was not a question. “We saw it all over the news. Couldn’t believe all of those people harassing your family like that. So sorry for your loss.”

It was strange to talk about it again. I appreciated her keeping it vague. I had gone through a tremendous amount of change and growth since then, but it was nice to hear someone else validate how crazy the media frenzy was. I would not wish it upon anyone, and I was happy her family was allowed to grieve in peace. Neither Namjoon’s nor my own were allowed that luxury.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m sorry about Haru. I can’t imagine what your family went through.”

She smiled sadly, “I think you can.”

We did not talk much after that. The music still played, Na-Yeon still sang, and I still hummed, but we did not ask any more questions. Neither one of us wanted to bring up those hurt feelings. It was not until we turned down a long, empty road that I realized I had yet to ask her about her cancer. 

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“As good as I can,” She breathed. “My boys are both worriers so don’t take anything they say to heart. Bunch of hypochondriacs.”

And even though I laughed along with her, I knew that she was lying. They were not overreacting. She was sick, refusing treatments, and letting herself die. Anyone would be worried about her. Na-Yeon must dislike being taken care of. Well, I thought she would need to get used to it. I loved spoiling others. 

“Eloise and the kids must be here,” She muttered to herself, pulling to a short driveway. 

I did not know who Eloise was, but I would soon find that out. There were two cars parked out front. One was a simple, black Tahoe with a brightly colored steering wheel cover. The other was another vintage model. Painted a pretty light, muted green the truck was in pristine condition. It was an old Ford, the branding written across the tailgate, and a spare tire was bolted to the side. I asked Na-Yeon about it and she smiled happily.

“It’s Jimin’s,” I felt my heart rate increase. “He must’ve gotten back. Pretty thing, huh?”

I nodded, not really paying attention to the truck anymore. I was about to meet Jimin for the first time and my nerves were taking over. I knew how much his looks affected me over video chat and I was afraid I would not be able to control my facial expressions in person. I was resolute not to act on whatever attraction I may have felt toward him. My professionalism would not allow it. It did not mean, however, that I wanted to discuss it with Jimin at any point. It would make him uncomfortable and affect our working environment. 

“Keep your bags in the car,” Na-Yeon told me. “Jimin’s going to take you over to meet the Andersons this afternoon.”

Walking up to the house, I was first struck by two things. The main one being the impressive teal it was painted and the other the loud talking and laughter coming from inside. It was odd. Thinking about my own parents I knew we had never been so happy. Mom had left when I was so young that I could hardly remember her, but I could recall the screaming and shouting. Dad was quiet after she left, spent most of his time locked away in the garage watching sports channels and leaving me to my own devices. 

When I started swimming it helped for a time, but when I was old enough to leave, we spoke two or three times a year. After he met Danielle, his new wife, he stopped reaching out altogether. The accident had spooked him enough to warrant holiday and birthday calls for a time, but when he had another baby those slowly faded away. My half-sister and I had never met, Danielle did not like acknowledging that my dad had a child with another woman, and it seemed as though my dad was fine with how things turned out. I dealt with it.

The laughing echoed through the house, and I could hear loud foot-steps pitter pattering on the tile floors. The house smelled heavily of kimchi and lemons making my heart ache. Joon and I used to keep the windows open for days after his mother came over to make kimchi with him. We would squat on the floor for hours, laughing and talking. I missed those days more than I realized and I smiled involuntarily. For the first time in years, it felt like coming home.

“Sorry about the smell,” Na-Yeon whispered to me. 

I shook my head and took my shoes off. “I love kimchi.”

She smiled brightly, her shoulders immediately relaxing. I was glad I had spent so much time with Namjoon and his family. Na-Yeon was someone who wanted to make others feel more comfortable even if it put her own peace at risk, but I would never ask her to change her routine for me. I loved learning about other people and her little house brought me more happiness than I thought possible. 

“Sounds like we have company!”

A short, stocky man came into the living room. He was wearing a white polo shirt and khaki shorts; his hair was very short with silver streaks starting to take over the once very black strands. Catching sight of me he smiled. 

“You must be Y/N,” The man said. “I’m James.”

His accent was much thicker than Na-Yeon’s and he introduced himself in his English name. He seemed much happier about it than his wife did, and I decided to go along with it. If he wanted me to call him James, then I would.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, giving him a small bow.

His smile got even bigger somehow, and he returned the gesture. Na-Yeon chuckled beside me and started to speak to her husband in Korean. I picked up a few words and deduced that he was supposed to make sure I was going to get a nice lunch, and she wanted to know if he had taken care of it. He nodded and told her he had.

“Hungry?” James asked, Na-Yeon already disappearing into the house.

“Yes,” I quickly followed behind him.

“I made jjigae,” He frowned. “I can’t say it in English. Sorry.”

The house was small and warmly lit. Cream tile flooring, exposed wood beams, and white walls. Whatever loud conversation they had been having before I got here had died down, but the footsteps did not. I could hear children giggling somewhere in the little home and my curiosity peaked. I did not think they were Na-Yeon and James’s.

“I want to say it’s soup,” I kept my voice down not wanting to make him feel awkward. “Or stew, but I don’t think it matters that much.”

“What’s the difference?” James asked, just as amused as his wife at my vague knowledge of Korean words. “Soup and stew the same, no?”

I shrugged, “I have no clue. I’m a miserable cook.”

That made James laugh. We passed all of the rooms in the house, the kitchen, living room, and dining room all in the back of the house. As we passed the second room to the left, James said it had been Haru’s photography studio before he passed away, but they ended up converting it once Eloise gave birth. He did not say it out loud, but I had gathered the kids running around had been their youngest son’s. I did not know how old Haru had been when he died, but it was far too young to be having children. I was 31 and still felt ill equipped for the job. 

It was a small kitchen with very simple and plain colors. The countertops were obviously laminate, but someone had taken the time to stick on a marble patterning to make it look nicer. Black appliances clashed with the chestnut cabinets. The tiles were no longer cream but hideous black and white checker printed that clashed heavily against the olive-green backsplash. While the rest of the house seemed to go through renovations at some point, I had a feeling the kitchen remained largely untouched. 

Sitting at a small table on the other side of the room were Na-Yeon, Jimin, and a young woman. She was a cute girl, long brown hair and blue eyes, a large number of freckles across her cheeks. Her outfit was very modest, a pair of flowy cream pants and an equally flowy olive shirt. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon that matched her pants, and taking a closer look at her, she wore no makeup. A classic girl next door.

“Come sit,” Na-Yeon waved me over, her voice showing no room for argument. “Hyun-Soo is in charge of lunch.”

I was only briefly confused, the name completely unfamiliar, but by the time I sat down I was sure she was talking about James. It made sense for her to call him by his Korean name, and since I had shown no qualms about using their proper names, she saw no need to bring them up herself. 

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jimin’s sweet voice reached me, and I smiled at the sound. “I hope getting here wasn’t too bad.”

He reached out to me, and I happily took his hand in my own. The skin was soft, perfectly smooth, and warm. It was over far too quickly but my displeasure was easily hidden. Andrea always complained about my poker face and how difficult it was to get past it. She said it was too good and thus refused to ever play poker with me again. 

“It was nice,” I meant it. Na-Yeon was wonderful company. 

“Hope the concert was nice.”

That made me and Eloise laugh. Na-Yeon smacked Jimin’s arm playfully, unable to keep the smile off her face, and the two began to bicker. Having them in the same room highlighted the differences I hadn't noticed before. Jimin’s nose was closer to his father’s, his eyes, too, and both of them had a slight lisp. Na-Yeon’s teeth were perfectly white and straight while one of Jimin’s front teeth was slightly chipped. Jimin had a dimple; his mother had none. Their English soon turned to digs in Korean and I could no longer follow. A few words here and there but nothing substantial. James joined them.

“Hi,” Eloise shyly greeted me, obviously used to being left out of conversations.

“Hey,” I replied lamely. “Eloise?”

She nodded, “Cam and Harper are playing but you’ll meet them in a bit.”

I nodded along and cemented the names into memory. It would look bad if I forgot them and kids had an ability to remember the worst things about a person. I did not want them to dislike me this quickly. Their giggles and feet were still going, and I suspected they had their own rooms on top of the little playroom in the hall.

“What do you do for work?” I asked Eloise, hoping my attempts at small talk were going over well. The other three were still chatting and I stopped paying attention long enough to be completely lost. Their dialect was different from Namjoon’s family, and I gave up entirely once they switched in and out of it with ease. 

“I’m taking over Audrey’s restaurant,” Eloise, it seemed, preferred to use their American names. I wondered if she called Jimin ‘Christian.’ I really did not like the name for him. Not at all. “We used to be co-owners but she’s preparing for…” Eloise’s eyebrows scrunched together as she struggled to come up with a way to voice her thoughts, “her next steps. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. It was so easy to forget why I was really here when Na-Yeon was so full of life. She laughed and joked easily, sang off-key in the car without a care in the world, and called the shots at home. I had hardly noticed any sickness, but I knew better. I already figured out she hated being cared for and our trip in the car could have taken a lot of her. More than I realized.

Wanting to change the subject, I asked about the kids. Eloise was more than happy to talk about her little ones. Cameron and Harper were twins, names that she had originally been very against but when she lost Tony (Haru preferred his American name, Anthony, and all of his closest friends called him Tony), her opinions changed. Harper was the bigger, older baby, while her brother needed to stay in the NICU for a few days after birth due to his weight. They were joined at the hip and rarely seen without the other, something Eloise was happy about given she was usually too busy to spend as much time with them as she would have liked.

“How old are they?” I asked.

“Almost 4.”

Jimin was 19 then. I shuddered to think about how old Haru was, or Eloise for that matter when they became parents. When I was their age, I had been at the top of my game, though not what I would call my prime. If I had gotten pregnant my career would not have been over, but meeting Joon never would have happened. That was a travesty regardless of how things turned out. Trying to picture a life without him touching it made me physically ill and so I pushed any of those thoughts away.

Cam and Harper came out of their room when dinner was ready. They were both very cute, loud, and dressed identically. Harper’s hair was braided down her back while Cam’s was in a bowl cut, and I laughed every time the little girl made a big show about her sparkly red shoes.

James made a very spicy fish stew. It was delicious, so salty and hot, but I needed multiple glasses of water as I ate. He used red snapper adding a sweet, nutty flavor to the otherwise savory dish and I loved the zucchini. Like many Korean meals there was an array of side dishes surrounding the large pot of stew. Tonight was braised potatoes, steamed eggplant, a radish salad, and, of course, kimchi. A small bowl of rice was given to all of us to eat the stew with and the rice cooker was filled if any of us wanted more. 

The Parks were a lovely family. Jimin was quiet and did not talk to me much but his mother more than made up for his silence. After getting all of the details about my coaching job she moved on to my life back in Colorado. We talked about my friends and what they were like, my house, and even my neighbors. Na-Yeon seemed particularly interested in Hoseok since Jimin had been such a fan of his growing up. 

“You need to get her over to Calvin and Violet’s,” James told his son, scraping up the last bit of the soup out of his bowl. “They’re expecting her soon.”

Jimin looked at me, eyebrow raised, “Are you ready?”

I nodded, “We can leave whenever you’re done.”

He smiled and went back to eating his meal. Eloise left before I did, Cam was tired and Harper was bored without her playmate, so she decided it was time they went home. Cam liked an afternoon nap still, but his sister could run all day if you let her. Harper gave me a big bear hug before she left, something Na-Yeon said she did to everyone, and held her brother’s hand on their way out. 

Na-Yeon eventually got up from the table, James followed after her, leaving Jimin and I alone. I did not know what to say, if he wanted me to say anything at all. He had hardly spoken to me since I arrived, and it left me feeling out of place. I was here for him, and he wanted nothing to do with me. He kept eating, the spice unfazed him, and getting bowl after bowl of rice. 

Watching him walk around I was struck by how short he was. Most male swimmers were huge, well over 6 feet, and broadly built. Not Jimin. He could not be any taller than 5’9” with a thin, tiny waist. I could see defined muscles hidden underneath his white t-shirt, but nothing spectacular. Even his body was soft and elegant, moving gracefully and quietly, and absolutely none of it would give away that he was a world-class athlete. As if he could feel my eyes following him, Jimin’s eyes snapped to meet my own.

“Sorry,” He pulled his spoon from his mouth. “I’m sure you’d like to leave and here I am gorging myself.”

I stopped him before he could stand, “No, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking about your workout routine.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue, but I could hear how natural it sounded. He sat back down and took another bite of his food. His workout regime was standard for most swimmers. Pull-ups, bench, squat, lunge, power cleans, power cleans to overhead press. After that he was in the pool for a few hours before going about his day. He usually added in another swim at the end of the day, but he had recently given it up to have dinner with his family. 

“What are you doing for your core?” I asked.

“I stick to pull ups, crunches, thrusts, and back extensions.”

I nodded, frowning, gears in my head turning. I have always believed the core was the most important part of swimming. Arms as well, but I have seen many overwork those muscles and lose from weak turns. Hoseok used to joke about my performance and how I only won because of my turns. I would make sure he would be able to see a little bit of me in Jimin’s swimming. There was a reason I won gold.

“You don’t look very impressed.”

I chuckled, “Just thinking. You need more variety than that.”

“Gym snob, are we?” His mouth stretched into a playful smirk, and I could not help but smile back. “You must be an animal in there.”

“I don’t work out like I used to,” I admitted, averting my eyes. “Most of my exercises are yoga and running now. I swim twice a week.”

I was hoping to get back in the pool more often, but I was not sure I was ready for the disappointment that would follow. My sessions with Emery were simple, exercise-focused, and had little to no expectations behind them. They were there to help me gain strength and confidence in myself. Saturdays were spent with Hoseok doing laps around the pool and shooting the shit. It was just enough to get your heart pumping but never went past that. 

Failing was daunting. I could not remember a time before swimming consumed my life. My dad always said I was afraid of the water; it was the biggest reason he placed me in lessons. He did not have the time (nor patience) to teach me himself, and after I saw younger children getting into the pool I was determined to act like a “big girl.” I was only three at the time, so the memory was lost to time, but I went every week after that. It gave my dad a break and I had friends for the first time. I learned later that mom had left for a few months and dad was drinking again, but at the time all I knew was that I liked swimming, and I was good at it.

It was frightening to believe that all of the time, energy, and hard work went to waste. 30 seconds. That was all it took to destroy my life. 30 seconds and all of my joy, love, and happiness was gone. My career, my health, and my Joon. I hated the man who hit us. Hated the way his family cried for me. For him. For Joon. Squeeze my hands into fists, I was glad they were hidden underneath the table. Getting in the water and realizing it was truly over would only make that hatred worsen, and my therapist told me I needed to let go of my anger.

“Violet and Calvin are excited to meet you,” I did not know if Jimin could see something in his face, perhaps my eyes, but he changed the subject. The look on his face made me feel exposed. “We should get going.”

No one was around when I left so I did not get to say goodbye, but Jimin yelled that we were leaving. We did not get a response and I wondered if his mother had actually gone to do laundry or take a nap. She looked tired when she left the table. Jimin told me to get into the truck and laughed when I said I could grab my own bags. 

“Your hip might give out, granny.”

Off guard, a strange, loud noise came out of my mouth. He had yet to start up our playful banter and my heart soared. Jimin was a very cheeky man, his tongue sharp, and with a quick snapback time, he was difficult to take down. Our text exchanges were always brief and about work, but he managed to squeeze in at least one teasing comment about my age. He said calling him ‘kiddo’ is what started the whole thing.

“Just get in the truck,” He sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes.

Huffing, I went across the lawn and got into the unlocked truck on the curb. The interior was just as refurbished as the exterior. The bench was covered in a dark green vinyl, and I could tell the rubber carpet mats were new. It smelled much better in Jimin’s truck. Less like cigarettes and more like the cologne he wore. It was floral, powdery, but with a subtle spice that made it bitter-sweet. It had a nice scent. It suited a man like Jimin whose own spice was buried underneath his pretty visage. 

Watching him jog across the yard, I suppressed a sigh. It was easier to ignore how pretty he was when we were around other people. Now it felt impossible. His clothes stuck to him like a second skin, the black leather pants (which I had only just noticed were leather) making his thighs bulge and accentuating his backside. He was gorgeous and I felt sorry that I would have to keep it to myself. Jimin deserved to be told things like that, but it was not my place to do so. Not as a coach, trainer, or otherwise.

He tossed my things into the cab of the truck as if they weighed nothing. Arms lifted; his shirt rose revealing a delicious patch of skin. Watching him in the rearview mirror, I swallowed audibly. A thin, almost nonexistent patch of hair touched his belly button. Forcing myself to look away, I took a few deep breaths.

This trip was going to be long. Very, very long. 

The drive down the road was quiet. Jimin’s radio was out, and he needed to replace it, so music was not an option, and he did not seem to want to fill the space between us. Neither did I. My growing bashfulness around him was distracting and strange. I had always been surrounded by attractive men, all of my friends back home were very good looking, but none affected me in the same way Jimin had. Perhaps it was due to my relationship with Namjoon that made all of the other men pale in comparison, but I could never know for sure. Either way, it was incredibly frustrating.

We drove for less than ten minutes. Calvin and Violet were the elderly couple renting out the small house in their backyard. Jimin had spoken to them for me, and they were all too willing to help me out. Violet nearly cried when I told her I was going to pay all of my rent up front, and actually did when I told her that I would help her fix up some things around the house while I was in town. The Andersons seemed like lovely people, and I was happy to know them.

Pulling up to the house I smiled. It was exactly how I imagined it would be. The Anderson house was a simple, All-American home with a front porch. The window trimming was black, house white, and a beautiful garden wrapped around the front at either side. The roof and front door were the same color green as Jimin’s truck, and it helped the otherwise unnoteworthy home feel more inviting. Sitting on the porch swing was Violet, her silver hair braided down her shoulder.

“Before we get out,” Jimin mumbled, waving at Violet through my window. The old woman waved back, a large smile on her face making her look twenty years younger. “The Andersons are great people, but Calvin’s starting to forget stuff. Violet won’t admit it but it’s getting hard on her to deal with him. He can become very angry so keep an ear out. Last time he had an episode, Violet called my dad crying. She’s not handling it well.”

I frowned, my heart hurting, “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“Thanks.”

He was out of the car a few seconds later, voice so sweet and bubbly you would have never guessed what we had been talking about. Staring after him, my eyes squinted. I would have to keep my eye on him. Jimin was a great actor.

Getting out of the truck, I took out my bags and slung my duffle on my back. Jimin was quick to take my suitcase away once he caught me in the corner of his eye. Violet seemed positively giddy about it and made a few inappropriate comments about Jimin needing to settle down.

“I’m just saying,” She laughed when Jimin scoffed, face flushing the prettiest shade of pink. “You’re going to make a young woman very happy. Might as well get started.”

It was strange to think about my trainee seeing someone. He had made it very clear in his interviews over the years that his dating life was on hold until he was finished swimming. He did not want the added distraction and his family life was far too chaotic for him to focus on someone. This did not seem to deter Violet and her comments about his love life, or lack thereof, continued until we got inside of the house.

“Well,” Violet acknowledged me for the first time since I arrived, “This is the main house. It’s not much but it’ll work. Christian, take her stuff out back.”

I cringed. It really did not suit Jimin at all, but he seemed completely unfazed. Violet used his names interchangeably, sometimes calling him Jimin and other times Christian, but his English name rolled off her tongue more often than not. I wondered why she even bothered calling him Jimin at all. He did not seem to care either way.

Looking around the little house, I was pleasantly surprised by how clean it all was. The floors were carpeted and the walls a bright white, family photos hung up alongside landscape paintings. During my two-hour phone call with Violet, the woman talked my ear off, she bragged about Calvin’s art. I had to admit they were all very beautiful and I wanted to know where he had found all of the slices of heaven he captured. I hoped the places themselves were more colorful than he depicted. The muted washes of color made them blend in with the rest of the boring house even with how nice they were.

The furniture was just as boring as the house itself. All of it was cream or beige, nothing of importance really stuck out to me, and I was disappointed. All I could figure out about the couple was one was an artist and they had children and grandchildren they loved displaying. Even the smell of the house lacked character. No air freshener, no food, and no perfumes. Nothing to give away that people actually lived here. The Anderson home was a foil to the Park’s in every way.

“Come on out back,” Violet was already across the house, standing in front of a door beside the kitchen. “This is the utility room. You can do your laundry here.”

Following behind her, I felt even more depressed looking at her kitchen. It was nice, new appliances and a pretty coffee station on the corner closest to the utility room door, but it was bland. All white cabinets, white marble countertops, and stainless steel everything. Even the curtains hanging around the windows above the sink were dreadfully plain.

The utility room, like everything else, was plain. The washer and dryer were white, the floor concrete, and the shelving barebones. The detergent was the most colorful thing I saw since arriving. Somehow even this room smelled like absolutely nothing. Directly across from the door we entered was the backdoor and Violet told me where they would hide a key for me to be able to get inside.

“Ready to see it?” She asked, smiling politely. 

I nodded, “Thanks again for renting it out to me.”

She chuckled, “No thanks needed. You were paying, that was enough for me to say yes.”

The back porch was tiny, just barely big enough for the both of us to stand on. There was a small vegetable garden along the side of the house, but it was empty. Noticing my wandering eyes, Violet told me all about the turnips and gourds she had been planting this season. She had watermelon and tomatoes in the summer, but they were long gone. The rest of the yard was taken up by my home for the next few months.

It was small, but that was to be expected. What disappointed me, though I should have not been very surprised, was how white it was. The windows were a dark gray, a small porch was set up with enough room for one of those hanging egg chairs, and two built-in planters. They were empty and Violet told me I was welcome to give gardening a chance if I was interested. She was planning on growing some flowers eventually, but she was not sure what she wanted.

The front door was open, Jimin already inside, and Violet and I went in. There was a small entryway, two doors leading to rooms I would explore later, and a small shoe rack. I took mine off and put them up. Violet watched me and took hers off as well.

“Audrey told me I should put one in here,” I was learning that Violet enjoyed meaningless small talk. “Glad I did. Don’t think Christian took his shoes off, though.”

I shrugged, “No biggie. I was going to clean up around here anyway.”

The house opened up to my right and I was happy with the space. I had a fully functional kitchen and enough space for my coffee cabinet along the wall. The living room would be able to fit a small loveseat, television, and coffee table. It was white and plain, but I was very happy with the floors. Whoever picked out the dark vinyl flooring must have had me in mind. I would go crazy if this place was as sterile as the Andersons’.

“I put your stuff in your room.”

Turning I grinned at Jimin. It was sweet of him to help me out. I was going to pick up my car tomorrow morning and he had volunteered to drive me. We would be starting our training next week so I could have some time to settle in. All of my furniture was arriving either tomorrow or the day after and my hands would be full. I was counting on Jimin and his friends to help me unpack. His manager was going to make himself known as well, but would not be staying for long. Apparently, according to Jimin, Sejin was not one to get his hands dirty.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Violet was already scratching to leave, and I wondered why. She had been very hospitable over the phone. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Calvin is going to bring the air mattress out here tonight, so you have someplace to sleep.”

With a kiss on Jimin’s cheek, Violet slipped on her flats and left. Alone with Jimin again, I found it hard to speak. We were much better over text. Looking just as lost as I was, Jimin scratched the back of his neck and looked down. 

“My, uh, my mom offered you her couch if you want it,” He stuttered, his face turning red. “Or, uh, um, you can take the spare room at my place,” He let out a huge gust of wind. “It’s a bit of a drive but I do have the space.”

Flustered, I quickly declined, “Thanks but I’ll be fine here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin shook his head, the redness spreading down his neck. “For sure. Totally.”

The air was awkward now and I could not figure out how to fix it. Jimin was the one always breaking the ice between us, and now that he was acting like this I was stranded at sea. Even when he warned me he was more reserved in person I had not expected this. He was so quiet and skittish. How was I supposed to work with him if I could not get the courage to speak?

“Thanks for the offer,” I cleared my throat. “Are you staying for dinner?”

He shook his head, “I promised Jungkook we’d go out tonight. Any other time I’d say yes.”

I asked my disappointment. The thought of spending time with Violet and Calvin alone made me deeply uncomfortable. Their house felt like a hospital room and her weird behavior was unsettling. I could only hope Calvin was nicer but from what Jimin said he was a ticking time bomb. It would be nice to have someone act as a buffer.

“Why was she acting so strangely?” I asked, hoping Jimin had picked up on it as well. “It was like a totally different person.”

He frowned, “I think she’s just on edge since Calvin went to the doctor’s today. Their daughter took him, and she hasn’t heard anything. She’s a sweet woman, don’t worry.”

Now I felt like an asshole.

“That’s understandable,” I murmured. “Do you think she’ll be upset if I order food for all of us? If she’s stressed out, I don’t want her feeling like she has to cook for me.”

Jimin smiled, “She would appreciate it. I’ll go talk to her, how does that sound?”

I nodded, grateful. “That would be nice. The house gives me the creeps.”

That made him laugh, “What? Why?”

I shrugged, giggling with him. 

“Feels like a funeral home or something. I hate the minimalist aesthetic.”

Jimin bit his lip, “You’d probably hate my place, too, then.”

I chuckled. It was easy to imagine Jimin inside of a huge modern house, dark wood and barely anything in it. He was a single man, busy, and spent so much time at his parent’s house it did not matter what he had inside of his own place. Not wanting to make him self conscious, I bit my tongue. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He cocked his head to the side, and I laughed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “I would probably dislike it, but I don’t think it looks like a white padded cell.”

I may have been exaggerating a bit, but it was not that far off from how the Anderson home looked to me. I hoped by asking me to help fix up a few things, Violet meant giving the house a much-needed makeover. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince her to get a few throw pillows to break up the monotony.

“Jeez,” Jimin laughed. “Harsh critic.”

“Well, is it?” I joked, glad to have found our footing again.

“No,” He shook his head in thought. “It’s mostly gray and black, but still just as empty. Probably emptier, honestly. I don’t have as many pictures as Violet does.”

Smirking, he snapped his fingers, “My trophy room is pretty colorful. I have a lot of pictures and shit in there.”

That made me smile. I was not bringing any of my memorabilia here, but it was nice to hear him sound so proud of himself. I kept most of my competition stuff in my basement, a large China cabinet displaying all of my awards. My favorite had to be the small, cheaply made trophy sat at the very top. It was beside my Olympic medals, worn and dull beside the beautiful necklaces, but I loved it all the same. 

It was the first trophy I ever won. I was seven and my dad convinced me to sign up for a swimming competition my swim class was hosting. He promised to come. I practiced a lot preparing for it and made use of the new above ground pool my dad had bought. I won the race. My own joy and happiness made me forget that he never showed up until it was time to go home. I had to wait with my coach for two hours, and by the end of it she felt so bad for me she took me out for ice cream. Dad never apologized, I don’t even think he acknowledged that I won at all, and I never tried to bring it up again. Still, I loved that stupid thing. It was the reason I wanted to compete. That little pocket of happiness between winning and realizing that no one cared was precious to me and I held onto it. 

“I need to get going,” Jimin sighed, reaching into his back pocket and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Jungkook’s blowing up my phone. Just got broken up with and needs a drinking buddy.”

I sucked in air through my teeth, “Well, your services are needed. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Jimin smiled at me, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

I nodded, “See you.”

He lingered in the entryway for a moment more before shaking out of whatever trance he had been in. Slipping his converse back on, Jimin waved at me before walking outside. His face was buried in his phone, so he never saw me wave back. He shut the door, the sound echoing in the empty house, and I was once again left alone.

Violet came out a few minutes later to discuss take out until we finally landed on pizza. She never said thank you, but her offer to give the tip since I was paying was more than enough. Then later when a few of my boxes came in early she happily carried them to me. She even helped me put everything away. When Calvin came home, she led me back inside and said with so much affection it made my heart melt.

"Calvin, this is Y/N. Sweetest woman I ever did meet. Bought us dinner."

Calvin reminded me of Namjoon in a way. His soft eyes and gentle voice. He took my hand when I introduced myself, his hands cold and soft. Wrinkles and sunspots went up the length of his arms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," He said.

"Likewise," I replied.

We ate in silence, the three of us watching Jeopardy on the sofa. Even though I had been nervous about eating inside, Calvin's presence warmed the place up. Once a prison now felt like a poorly decorated home. A home filled with love.

As I watched them together, Calvin reaching out for Violet's hand and her giving it to him without question, I felt myself getting choked up. There had been a time I had that. Joon would be on the floor, book in his lap, while my hands were in his hair as I studied my training tapes.

I left early that night. I blew up the mattress, the house quiet, before sending out a few texts to my friends to let them know I was getting on alright. After that, I put on nature sounds to help me drift off to sleep. I had not felt this lonely in a very long time.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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On June 23, 2021, You Tube announced that any Pre-2017 unlisted videos will be made private on July 23, 2021. Why? BTW this is an attempt to raise awareness about an event few fans may even know took place and highlight the importance of supporting archiving projects. It's written by those directly involved - any re-blogs are appreciated. An example of a rescued vid is at the end. Security update: Why? You Tube screwed up when it first developed unlisted videos. There was a loophole. Any unlisted video that was added to a playlist would automatically be made public. Oops! June 23, 2021 was when they made a formal announcement about their efforts to rectify it. You Tube's Solution? - Blanket privatization of ALL pre-2017 unlisted videos & then apply the security update for all new unlisted videos going forward. What if you don't want your pre-2017 unlisted videos to be made private? Filling out a form telling You Tube to do nothing is one option. Great for people who don't mind filling forms to send to You Tube. Make your videos public. 🤨 or download them and reupload them then make them unlisted with the new update. 🙄 You can watch the video below for descriptions of all the options. Most not ideal. Official Video: Released June 23, 2021. You can watch it whenever if you want to, but I must say contrary to what one would expect it is a very clear explanation without too much technical jargon. However, it doesn't really explain the obvious ramifications of this.

What are the freaking Ramifications: You Tube is 18 years old. What?!?!! 😲 Yeah, I know. Any pre-2017 videos would account for more than half of You Tube's history (11 years) and therefore fandom's history on You Tube. How many fans would be aware they had a 30-day notice and could act in time? Were you even aware of this?

More Issues: More importantly, how many users with abandoned accounts with noteworthy, valuable unlisted fanvids are no longer around to fill out a form. How many "Dead Embeds" would be the result of this when the videos go private. Many prefer to Unlist and Embed on other sites. Unlisted is not the same as private. It only means the videos can't be searched and found on You Tube but is available to anyone with a link or Embed. Private basically means no longer accessible and limited to people who were emailed a link directly.

There were only 2 people in Fandom (to my knowledge) who worked on rescuing content like that. We had about 2 weeks before the July 23, 2021 deadline to archive about 11 years of Pre-2017 unlisted fanvids and ask questions later. One of those people was Morgan Dawn and the other was myself. Other archive teams did work on this but their focus was on other types of videos related gaming, political history, anime, etc. Essentially non-fandom. In a nutshell, our collaboration led to the rescue approximately 12K unlisted fan videos. 12K fanvids that would have been made private forever and unable to be seen. The Work About 50% of that total came from accounts that had never uploaded a video since 2018. The work involved required more technical knowledge & resources than we had ever used before on any prior archive projects. There were several brand-new archive techniques we developed specifically out of necessity during that intense time period. One example was renting multiple virtual machines to sift through thousands of playlists just to find a fraction of unlisted videos. There was so much at stake. What happened with the content that was archived?

To my knowledge, there isn't an Open Doors for fanvids. There is just a few dedicated individuals who may be bad at promoting their work. Let's face it, when there is a fire at a library you marshal all resources to save as many books as you can and worry about everything else later. If archiving speaks to you whether that is fanzine, oral history or fanvid related, then there are certain things you can do:

Follow this Tumblr (we will post about relevant projects here)

If you have time, ask us how you can volunteer on projects and see if what we offer works for you. You can always opt out.

Re-blog this so that maybe someone who does have time sees this.

If you don't have time support our Patreon https://patreon.com/vidding

If you don't have time or money like this post acknowledging you appreciate that this work is being done even if you can't assist in those ways.

Choose whichever options work for you if possible.

This kind of work is done by very few people and not necessarily by those you would think would do this type of work. It can fly under the radar and so can support. This is an attempt to raise awareness which sometimes we are too busy to take time to do. If support doesn't go to the right places projects like this may never have happen or may not be as successful as they could be. This Unlisted You Tube Project is a perfect example of something a lot of fans may not be aware even took place. Thank you for whatever method of support you choose. The following experience was brought to you by archiving.

The following vid is one of the 12k saved. It's a Kirk/Spock vid. You will not find this vid anywhere but here. I know. I went to the original vidder's You Tube Channel https://www.youtube.com/@xKelociraptor and they have other vids on there. Last vid uploaded 11 years ago and no contact info. You want to know the kicker? I looked at all the other vids they have available but the best one (in my opinion) is the one that was unlisted & rescued. Unlisted vids are not necessarily unfinished projects or bad takes of a final version that should not see the light of day. They can in some cases be the best vids you will never see.

If you liked this post you might like this:

The last vidder friendly hosting & streaming site?

#fanvid #vidding #archiving #Youtube

[secretmellowblog]

I noticed a bunch of new people in the Les Mis tag because of @lesmisletters, so I thought I’d share my Les Mis Blog recommendation list! If you’re looking for Les Mis blogs to follow, here are some people I recommend checking out! : D

Because Les Mis Letters is a readalong of the Brick I’m going to keep my recommendations to “currently active Les Mis blogs who focus on posting primarily canon era Brick-related things, are participating in the readalong in Some way, and post a lot of meta or academic analysis or information about historical context/political context/artistic movements relevant to Les Mis.” if I were to include every Les mis blog I enjoy this post would be 200 miles long XD.

1. @pilferingapples is basically the pillar of the Les Mis fandom on tumblr! They’ve been here for a decade and have an extremely organized blog that basically feels like an archive of the entire fandom- including everything from meta on all the different characters, information about lesser known adaptations like the anime Shoujo Cosette, and discussions about the historical context around the novel/French Romanticism/Victor Hugo’s life. I definitely recommend looking through the tags in their pinned post ajdjdjd. They are also just Very Nice.

2. @everyonewasabird is a Brick-Club member who has already done exhaustive chapter by chapter analyses of the entire book, and writes amazing intensely researched fanfiction. They are also very nice! (Just assume everyone on this list is nice)

3. @fremedon also has tons of exhaustive analysis/meta, and also writes great funny intensely researched fanfic that captures Hugo’s writing voice extremely well.

4. @bobcatmoran posts a lot of great things, but i especially love their recent posts about the Arai Manga and its translations!

5. @vapaus-ystavyys-tasaarvo has been posting tons of great historical context/footnotes lately—- and they’re also the number one source of Les-Mis-related maps!! So many high quality maps

6. @psalm22-6 posts translations of old 19th century reviews of Les Mis, as well as vintage advertisements and other weird ephemera. It’s very fun and often deeply cursed stuff.

7. @thevagueambition also does a lot of historical research (especially into things like queer history) and writes really great intensely researched Grantaire fic!

8. @persefoneshalott does a lot of great translations of Spanish adaptations of Les Mis, and has recently been posting about what things were removed in censored editions of the novel.

9. @alicedrawslesmis is a great Les Mis art blog that also dives into jokes/analysis too!

10. @shitpostingfromthebarricade posts a lot of brick-focused stuff, and does a lot of clever clever and thoughtful modernizations (ex. Retelling an entire chapter with nearly the exact wording Hugo uses, but changing the setting/historical references to modern day ones)

11. @ueinra posts illustrations from old editions of Les Mis across the world and screenshots of/ information about obscure adaptations. :3

I might add more later because I know I’m missing people, but these are just the first currently active brick-focused somewhat research-heavy blogs that came to my head! :D

#Les mis #les mis letters #and I hope no one is insulted by the way I described their blogs ? 😂 #But YEEE there are so many more blogs I could add #like there are people whose stuff I love but #who don’t primarily post Les mis right now #including some of my fandom friends …. #anyway I recommend following Everyone but this is just my non exhaustive top-of-my-head list #obviously there’s also pureanon and byjuxtaposition #and badlesmisimagines #and etc etc #but yeah i spent too long on this XD

[genevawren38]

My Favourite Stories I Have Written, a Blog;

✨Wilbur & Technoblade, Wilbur & Techno & Eret [Twinsduo, Traitorduo, Royalduo]

✨38k The Last of Us AU

✨Wilbur-centric & Techno-centric

✨Graphic Depictions Of Violence & MCD

✨Chapter 2 / 2 (When You're Lost in the Darkness / Look for the Light)

🎵Atlas Falls by Shinedown

"Wil, maybe you are immune?”

“Just put a bullet through my temple Techno, be simpler than second guessing leading to me accidentally killing you.”

“I won’t do that as long as you remain healthy, let’s just keep going and wait out a few more days before I do something so permanent. Deal?”

“...Fine.��

~~~

Wilbur and Technoblade's parents go missing, one after the other when their mother leaves for a routine outing and never returns leading their father to follow suit. Scared but determined the pair of brothers leave their safe haven to search, facing the horrors of the world they grew up in on their quest to find answers. Along the way they make a concerning discovery after Wilbur is bitten, with the tears of losing a close friend on their face the twins find themselves with more questions than answers on this long road they travel.

✨#mcytficfight Team Mushroom, c!Wilbur Soot & c!Technoblade & c!TommyInnit & c!Phil Watson [SBI / Sleepy Bois Inc]

✨12.1k W.C.

✨c!Wilbur Soot-centric

✨Graphic Descriptions & Canon Divergence

🎵Beside You by Marianas Trench

“I don’t know how to do this.” Wil admitted, looking down at the wrinkled hand he still held pressed to his scar. 

“If I know you, and I hope I do because you are my son, you have the strength to face this. Your inner core is pure hellfire, when forged right you could melt the very bedrock we stand upon if you believe it to be best. For you to even begin to accept how far your actions spread you must face the people it hurt the most. For you to get that determination you must see the pain you caused, then do your best to resolve it because your strength comes from those you keep near, fighting for ideals they believe in. You just care so fucking much about things, son, let those things be the ones you once held dear. After all, when you have good connections you can face anything. You might see forgiveness in the smallest places, but it will be a step forward nonetheless.”

✨#3SongsChal, c!Eret & c!Wilbur, c!Fundy, c!Philza, c!Niki Nihachu, c!Technoblade, c!Foolish_Gamers, c!Awesamdude, c!TommyInnit, c!Tubbo [Traitorduo, Prankduo, Divineduo, Royalduo, Eternalduo, Butterflyduo]

✨15.8k W.C.

✨c!Eret-centric

✨A tour of the Royal Archives

✨Graphic Depictions Of Violence & MCD & Canon Divergence

🎵WHERE THE SKIES END by Starset

Each space had its time and place, many combinations of conversations happened as they moved through their histories. Wilbur, Fundy, Tommy, Tubbo and Eret stood inside the Final Control Room as they exchanged apologies, the walls of death changing to mean one of reunions even moons later. Father and son eventually discussed their problems, turning into a family discussion when they moved to Wilbur’s Control Room.

Every place they stopped inspired the spark of forgiveness, from tiny to years old wounds, many things were talked about on this tour.

Tommy and Sam took a moment alone inside the copy of the prison cell the teen died in, coming out looking on much better terms. No more glances were traded between the pair, a tentative peace that would only grow stronger with the right sort of nurturing. 

A private moment happened between Ruler and shark totem when they approached the Egg, the Ruler gave themself the grace of the words the shark had told them time and time again, it was time to let go of the regret.

Each exhibit passed in much the same fashion, the people most affected discussing their experiences and talking about thoughts they held for years. When they stood in front of the desk once more, the tour completed, tension no longer crackled in the air.

Comradery had been forged among these broken soldiers who stood before them, each put through their own personal hells in their time spent here. The Ruler felt the lightest they had in years seeing the fire ignited in so many souls once more. 

This is what stories were supposed to do, to bring others together to listen to others words. To share wisdom and morals, to learn from what happened in the past and move forward into the future. Looking at each face gathered, Eret draws comfort that even through it all, they had said yes to coming today.

[The rest below the cut]

“if you find bones in the forest, sit a bit and listen. they are old and have some good stories to tell. maybe they’ll teach you a spell or two, or explain where the water on our planet came from.

✨#mcytficfight Team Phantom👻

✨Eret & Techno, Eret & Niki, Eret & Phil

✨13.4k W.C.

✨Eret-centric

✨Pirates & Sirens & SBI goodness

✨Forgotten by NateWantsToBattle

if you find bones by the ocean, run. don’t look back. run, faster, faster. the sea may love you but there are nights where she knows neither mercy nor science, and the bones warn you only once.”

~~~

Nightshade spent her whole life jumping from crew to crew, following the only magical item that might answer her lifelong questions about the missing part of herself. During her quest she ends up captured by the Shadows of the Abandoned crew who accepts her without condition and she learns to love herself despite the hand life dealt her and unlocks her true heart.

✨q!FitMC / q!PacTW [Hideduo/Fitpac]

✨12.3W.C.

✨q!FitMC-centric

✨Federation Happy Pills aftereffects & Canon Divergence & Romance

🎵How Did You Love by Shinedown

~~~

Finding love in the hints of shaky music and heavy aromas of roses, in the hesitant new beginnings of a starting courtship seeing the worst of each other and still accepting them no matter how battered or broken. They are both on their first dates and their forever partnership, forced together by horrifying circumstances but finding sanctuary in one another's arms and words.

Fit realises just how much Pac means to him after nearly losing him, dedicating himself to treasuring the one who trusted the anarchist to protect him, both healing along the way.

‘Tell me about Technoblade’.

✨q!Philza & q!Chayanne & q!Tallulah, c!Philza & c!Technoblade [Emerald Duo]

✨4.6k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

🎵Traveler’s Song by Aviators

The Angel of Death’s new charge commented a dear name to the ancient crow on the sign in front of him, a small blonde child looking at the avian hybrid with wide blue eyes filled with an ocean of curious questions. A dragon skull encased the top half of his face, held by some unknown force as wild gold curls spilled around it. His rose scaled wings were held close to his spine, peering up at the tall older blonde with an expectant stare.

“Oh Goddess, where do I start with that bastard?” Phil said with a wicked smile.

~~~

Philza tells Chayanne and Tallulah of Technoblade's adventures; from the beginning when they were teamed for Minecraft Monday to the Great Potato War, with a few more in between.

“Who are you?”

✨#mcytficfight team mushroom, c!Eret & c!Foolish_Gamers [Eternal Duo]

✨13.5k W.C.

✨c!Eret & c!Foolish_Gamers-centric

✨MCD & Graphic Descriptions & Canon Divergence

🎵creature by Half Alive

“My name is Foolish, I am here to stop the cult!”

The being proceeded to raise an eyebrow while staring at the demi-god, making him wonder why this brunette wasn’t ecstatic that someone friendly arrived and felt rather intimidated by their glare.

“Alright and how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Foolish opened his mouth to explain before falling short, realising beyond getting into the camp he had no clear idea on how to even stop the ritual from happening. Surprising the shark again they let out a rumbling chuckle, a small smile breaking out across their face.

Wilbur’s face doesn’t quite light up like it used to upon seeing them, early days of their country’s formation flashing to mind when they saw happiness when they spoke. Now he seemed hesitant, stopping before them. “Greetings Eret, off to a party?”

✨c!Eret & c!Wilbur [Traitor Duo]

✨3.6W.C.

✨c!Eret-centric

✨Regret & Canon Divergence

🎵Mykonos by the Fleet Foxes

A warm teasing tone sounded through his voice, one white curl falling down his forehead above his crinkled eyes. A hint of worry hid behind that liquid chocolate gaze but he seemed to be in a pleasant mood.

The Ruler laughs, holding the wine up for Wilbur’s viewing. “A party for one if you can believe it.”

“That’s a rather lonely concept.” Wilbur comments, peering at the label in the low evening light.

His reply stung, Eret tried not to let it dig too deeply as they tried to joke. “I am rather used to it. Just me and my bottle of wine, we will spend a lovely night together.”

“Feel up to adding another to that party for one?”

“Wil-Wilbur?” He stutters a bit, shuddering before reaching a tentative hand out to his son.

✨For meIIohisunsets New Years Fic Exchange Event 2022

✨o!Wilbur & o!Tommy, o!Wilbur & o!Philza, o!Wilbur & o!Technoblade [Crimeboys, Sand Duo, SBI]

✨5K W.C.

✨o!Wilbur-centric

✨MCD & SBI Inc as Found Family

🎵Blackbird by The Beatles

Concentrating, he let the blonde feel his cool dead flesh, looking at how his father has aged in the time past. A deep echoed tone rings through his sonorous voice, an eerie marker that he returned from beyond the grave for unknown reasons. “Hello Dad!”

Phil coos, reaching his scarred palm up to caress his son’s strong jawbone. “My son, what happened to you?”

“My own hubris.”

~~~

Wilbur is watching flying lessons between Philza and his youngest chick, Tommy, when the sunshine blonde gets a little too ambitious and the phantom rushes to his side fearing the worst.

[for the rest of the links my AO3 profile is here]

We May Have Lost Our Sanity (We Have Not Lost Our Humanity)

BOLAS BOLAS BOLAS!!!

✨q!Philza & Team BOLAS

✨25.5k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

✨Graphic Descriptions

✨QSMP Purgatory Lore Retell

✨Chapter 2/2 (Balance Exists That Calls Through the Abyss / In the Chaos I Create Again)

The Wise Crow Has Been Fooled (A Cage for a Cage)

"Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don't forget. They tell each other who to look after and also who to watch out for."

✨q!Philza & Chayanne & Tallulah, q!Philza & q!Tubbo & q!Fit & q!Etoiles [Hardcoreduo, Veteransduo, Codebreakers]

✨7.4k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

✨QSMP Non Canon Tale

✨The Call by League of Legends, 2WEI, Louis Leibfried, Edda Hayes

~~~

My non-canon telling of the events from Phil's return to the QSMP after filming and learning of the eggs disappearance up until his capture by Cucurucho.

If the World Wants You Gone, We Will Fight the World

Picking back up his new scythe, his hands find familiar holds on the carved handle as he takes a few practice swings. It had been a very long time since the Angel of Death held a weapon such as this, the past few worlds only allowing him a sword or bow and arrow.

✨q!Philza & Chayanne & Tallulah

✨4.5k W.C.

✨q!Philza-centric

✨QSMP

✨Demons by Imagine Dragons

Flaring his crow-black wings wide, chest hurting as his sky eyes catch the shorn secondary and primary feathers, he allows the moniker to possess him once more. Taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes, seeing battlefields soaked in blood by his hand, he opens them once more to look over this world he woke up in mere months ago.

~~~

Philza is invited to the QSMP Electoral dinner only to find his chicks there, the same chicks he put to bed mere hours ago. As the realisation happens that these are not the real Chayanne and Tallulah, chaos unfolds as two binary monsters suddenly appear.

Gentleness in the Absence of Violence (Despite the Abundance of It)

”We have not touched the stars, / nor are we forgiven, which brings us back / to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, / not from the absence of violence, but despite / the abundance of it.”

✨gl!Charlie Slimecicle and gl!Ranboo

✨Generation Loss

✨2.7k W.C.

✨gl!Charlie Slimecicle-centric

✨Graphic Depictions & MCD & Non Canon

🎵Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

~~~

Loneliness smashed into the muscular brunette as Charlie walked past the abandoned storefronts, debris spread across long forgotten floors.

Left behind pieces when not needed, just like him.

Turning the corner of the hall that drew his attention, he freezes at the sight in front of him.

You Make Sure I Always See the Daylight

A Coffee Shop AU about Ranboo, a new student to the city and university, stumbling across The Crows Roost Cafe for some food and he finds so much more than that.

✨#mcytficfight team mushroom, Ranboo & Toby Smith, Ranboo & TommyInnit, Ranboo & SBI Inc [Bee Duo, Allium Duo, SBI Inc & Sleepbees & Friends]

✨32.2k W.C.

✨Ranboo-centric

✨Alternate Universe & Cafe AU & SBI as Found Family

✨Summary continued below

🎵Daylight by Shinedown

A feel good found family story, this follows Ranboo meeting Sleepy Bois Inc and some other recognizable faces, from someone used to being alone to then finding warm companionship served up with his favourite cinnamon vanilla tea.

This will be a multi-part fic telling of how having a support system, even found off random happenstance, can be the best thing that happens to someone.

A White Orchid Broken in the Rain

“You may not remember this, but all of us went through hell to follow your frantic steps. After you left us, when you begged for death which was given to you, we were left in the remnants of what you had done. They were only children, Wilbur, kids left bearing the transgressions of a previous generation’s decisions, something the ones after us should never have to face.”

✨c!Wilbur Soot & c!Niki Nihachu [Rain Duo]

✨11.3k W.C.

✨c!Niki Nihachu-centric

✨Emotional Hurt/Comfort & Graphic Descriptions & Canon Divergence

🎵If You Only Knew by Shinedown

She took a breath, breaking their gaze for a moment before meeting him once more. “You might not have liked any of the things that were said, but I see an element of truth in all of them. So many consequences of your decisions landed on us, the ones sworn to you. While you got death, Wilbur, we got living hell.”

Her words were harsh, her mind finally settled on anger as the words left her full lips. “I do not know how you stand here again today, but I do know every word I've heard so far is deserved. You had the unlucky experience of coming back from the dead to fill shoes stained in blood and its going to fucking suck for a while, but you must face each person you harmed before you can ever begin to feel better.”

#wrenrambles #qsmp #mcyt fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fitpac #hideduo #ao3 writer #emerald duo #rainduo #eternalduo #beeduo #alliumduo #twinsduo #traitorduo #sleepy boys inc #sbi #team bolas #sandduo #crimeboys #mcytficfight #3songschallenge #ao3 works #archive of our own #fic rec #fanfic recommendation #dsmp #generation loss #origins smp #wren writing

[gothicprep]

even better, re: the cut: the ‘I think my husband is trashing my novel on goodreads’ article is the first of a NEW advice column by the same author of the disastrous ‘lure of divorce’ personal essay from last week.

lol i was debating talking about emily gould when that essay came out, but i figured "nobody cares about your weird interest in gawker media lore" and decided against it. but i'm going to interpret this as permission to just go crazy on main.

context for readers who don't know: emily gould, on valentine's day, published an essay that's ostensively about divorce, but it's actually about a lot of other things. not even *a* divorce, because she decides against getting divorced at the end of the essay. i wouldn't bet on anything that comes after the end of this essay, but that's a separate question.

it's probably important to establish who emily gould is for what i'm about to say to make any sense: she was a media darling in her 20s. she was one of the first people to get Very Famous from blogging, an editor at gawker, and probably the best known writer there during the mid to late 2000s. very american apparel indie hipster sleeze era personality. could probably be described as a "literary sex symbol" insofar as the literary world has those things.

there were two things that she was famous for in this era. one of them was this post she put on gawker about how she had broken up with her boyfriend and it was a massive success. if you comb through old archives, people were talking about this like it was the brangelina split. i want to say this was a dam breaking moment for a particular kind of personal branding/internet personality that involved revealing things about your personal life, which eventually took over more broadly and gave rise to the culture we have now online. the other thing was this very unfortunate appearance she had on larry king live or something after she'd been taken to task for the "gawker stalker" feature on gawker, where people would send in tips about celebrity sightings around the city. someone sent in a tip about jimmy kimmel being drunk and obnoxious in a bar, and because kimmel is the world's biggest baby, he flipped out and went on this whole tirade about how it was a threat to his safety. in reality, he was just mad that someone saw him drunk in public and said something about it. kimmel and a few other guys confronted her about this on larry king. she looked like a deer in headlights and either wasn't prepared/hadn't been prepared for what was coming. like kimmel told her she was going to hell on live television. mess. there was also some really public drama she had with lena dunham but i don't really remember the details.

she never really disappeared between then and now. she's been writing for the cut for a while, which i guess you could say is her aging into a different kind of women's journalism. she's published a few books, but she hasn't really found her footing since her breakout success in her 20s didn't turn her into the established writer she probably hoped she would be. there was a time where it seemed like she was positioned to be this generation's joan didion, but that didn't end up happening.

so that brings us up to this essay, which was preceded by the last little bit of gossip that i need to get out of the way, even though she mentions it in the essay. in her personal newsletter, she made a crowdfunding request for money to "taking an infinite hiatus from hetero marriage and monogamy. they are a trap for women, full stop. sometimes a trap can be cozy. mine was, until it wasn’t." she does mention she's having a manic episode. she's upfront about the fact that something is going on with her.

anybody who's at all familiar with gould and her financial challenges must question the wisdom of giving money to this, but she presents it very much in the spirit of "men are pigs. men are trash. divorce that man now." and as we learn later, gets money from lyz lenz, who has a book out that's basically the feminist case for divorce and being a single mom.

so gould is not just neck deep in this divorce literature, but producing it to some extent. maybe a crowdfunding request isn't truly a literary form, but it's written in a persuasive way that fits with other writing in the liberate yourself through divorce canon. but the valentine's day essay, while i don't think it's great, i do think it's interesting how it breaks from form. it's not an anti-man personal essay, and these always are. so it was nice to read something a bit different. well, maybe not different, but retro.

i've never been a fan of gould's work, but it did get me wondering "what itch are people trying to scratch when they read essays like this?" because it's like the reader wants them to be an explicitly moral fable, but they want it to be racy and spicy. like one of those mid century pulp novels with a painting of a woman on the cover looking kind of slatternly with a lot of makeup on. it'd be called something like "wild trash" and the subtitle would be "she couldn't wait for her divorce". it's smut about a woman who's sinning gratuitously and flouting society's expectations. and usually with these books, there'd be some kind of cosmic comeuppance for her where she'd get syphilis and die in a pauper's prison or whatever.

and i think people come to stories like this because they want to read something like that. you're gonna read about a woman who was debauched and all the naughty behavior in graphic, titillating detail. and at the end, you get served up a nice, neat conclusion. her husband divorces her and finds love with a kindergarten teacher from iowa. so it flouts the "rah rah divorce him" essay and the pulpy personal essay that some people want. if you're going to write a 3,000 word apology, at the very least, it is a novel take on it.

but i think what the problem is with an essay like this is that it's very... dated in its style. the expected thing with personal essays in the 2020s, the thesis of them usually boils down to something about what a great person the essayist is. most of them do this. that's why you get privilege disclaimers in them – the point of the essay is how the essayist is sensitive and kind and wonderful. even when there are flaws, they're overcome, or something systemic lead this to happen. a flawed woman is because patriarchy made her thus.

to give a better example of the kind of thing i'm talking about, you'll see an essay in the atlantic or new york times magazine and it follows the same formula. Woman Has Personal Life Grievance. Step Back. Here's Why This Is A Big Issue In Society, Bolstered With Statistics. Here's Why If This Woman Was Black Or Poor Or Gay Or Trans, It Would Be Even Worse. Back To The Personal Anecdote... you know what i mean? it's a very well established formula, but you can't have that with "also i'm a dirtbag". once you're talking about society and societal issues of which you're just a little representative – because those are the stakes. it has to be universal – you can't just be talking about yourself.

and then there's this question of personal writing more generally. you aren't a fictional character, you're yourself. and whether you want it to be or not, every personal essay is going to function like a cover letter. it's presenting you to the world. and i don't like these, but i don't want gould's style of personal essay to come back either. it straight up ruined a lot of women's lives who wanted to get their foot in the door in media, got $75 from xojane to write something lurid about their personal lives... and their career never took off. so now this is just on the internet forever.

this old piece in slate sheds a light on just how exploitative that whole thing was.

"don't make life decisions based on emily gould's writing" is useful advice for more reasons than one.

#gossipprep #this is my edrama tag now i guess

[barclaysangel]

Guardian Doll (part 2)

Took me a while but I finally finished the second part of this story. I still have barely any idea on where it’s going so I don’t know if I’ll keep updating. But I still wrote something. I think I would like some help on where I can take the story, I wouldn’t mind that at all. But for now, please like or comment if y’all liked this fic please. The character, Cecilia, is based on me when I was younger sooooo she needs some extra love and care. The first part of the story is on my fic archive secondary blog.

Anyways, thank you and enjoy :)

Word count: 1.1K

Tags: @vi0lentg0d @streets-in-paradise (if you want to be tagged later on, let me know!)

The walk home was peaceful. 

Cecilia kept humming Halsey songs under her breath, Tiff the doll safely secured to her hip almost like it was a baby, as she made it to her house. She had to adjust her hold on the doll to pull her keys out of her backpack, unlocked the door, and walked inside. 

There goes her last bit of freedom. 

Her house wasn’t the biggest but it was something. It was just her and her parents that lived there. Well, currently only her father was there, home from work while her mom was still at her job, sitting in front of the tv. 

When her father heard the door open, he turned his head to look at her. “Hey, kid.” 

“Hi daddy.” Cecilia said softly, walking into the living room to further greet him before her father’s eyes landed on the doll tucked under her arm. 

“The fuck is that?” 

“A doll I found by the cemetery,” she replied, smoothing back the blonde strands, “I don’t think she belonged to anyone. She was just left there for who knows how long.” 

“I’m not surprised. The thing’s freaky.” Her father scoffed at it and then turned his attention back to the news on tv. 

Cecilia frowned but went to her room. “Ignore him, muñeca bonita. You’re not freaky at all to me.” She told Tiff before placing her on top of her bed and dropped her backpack to the floor. 

Just like the house, her room wasn’t all that interesting either, rather simple actually. There were no posters hung up because her father didn’t want nails in the walls and her room was rather messy. Half of it was because she was lazy and knew where everything was in the mess, and the other half was a silent way to rebel against her mother wanting her to be more “feminine”. 

Geez. Maybe she really did have issues. 

But that was something Cecilia would worry about another day. Right now, she adjusted the leather jacket on the doll and then sat on her bed, taking her hairbrush and began brushing through Tiff’s blonde hair while seating the doll on her lap. She made sure to be careful with any tangles and knots, not wanting to cause any damage. 

Ever since Cecilia was a kid, she would always play gently with her dolls. She never wanted to break them and would cry if she accidentally did. Overall, she did her very hardest to treat all of her toys and dolls like they were living people. 

Of course, she knew now that they weren’t alive or anything. Yet, she supposed, old habits die hard. 

“You know, I think you’re the most beautiful doll I’ve ever seen, Tiff.” Cecilia spoke, turning the doll around so it was facing her. “Who would leave you out on the cemetery all alone?” She asked out loud but knew she wouldn’t get an answer. 

Instead, she placed the doll down beside her so she could pull out her folder from her backpack. “Want to watch me do my homework?” She placed her hands on Tiff’s head and gently moved it up and down to make it look like it was nodding, giggling. “Okay, you can watch then.” 

So Cecilia spent the next couple hours doing homework, music playing on her phone since it was the only way to help keep her concentrated, alone. Well, not entirely. Tiff might have been a doll but she still liked having the extra company since Cecilia was often so lonely sometimes. 

One of the many downsides to being an only child. She lost count of how many times she prayed for a younger sibling growing up before just completely losing faith. 

Cecilia was solely focused on her homework and showing Tiff her work that she didn’t notice her mother coming home until she was in front of her doorway. 

“What is that?” Was the first thing her mother said, an almost disturbed look on her face as she stared at the doll. 

“Tiff,” Cecilia responded simply, “I found her and she was in great condition, no scratches or anything.” 

“Aye, que fea…” Her mother said with an almost disturbed look on her face. 

Cecilia got an almost offended look on her face by her mother’s statement. “No she’s not!” She insisted, pushing her homework off her lap and replacing it with Tiff. “Look at how green her eyes are. She’s so pretty!” 

Her mother didn’t seem to believe Cecilia, still looking perturbed as she shook her head. “Whatever…” she grumbled before walking away. 

Cecilia sighed loudly, wrapping her arms around Tiff and hugging her. “Well…you’re pretty to me,” she insisted and then turned the doll around to face her, “and badass too.” She giggled and poked the tip of her nose. 

She stayed with her new doll for a while, doing homework until it was time for dinner. That’s when she finally left Tiff unattended, lying her down on her pillow. It had only been for half an hour, half an hour of uncomfortable and boring silence, until Cecilia was free to go back to her room and saw Tiff sitting at the edge of her bed. 

Was that where she left her?

She was sure she did and just shrugged her shoulders, picking up the doll to take her to get ready for bed. Cecilia talked out loud when she was doing this, telling Tiff about her interests and her favorite or least favorite subjects at school. She was sure she was being annoying, blabbing while brushing her hair and then her teeth, but it was nice just talking to someone who wouldn’t tell her to shut up. 

She really was used to being told to shut up for so long. 

Cecilia got into bed and pulled Tiff with her, turning off the light and lying down beside the doll. She was quiet for a moment, turning on her side to face Tiff. “Hey, Tiff. Can I tell you something?” 

The doll, of course, didn’t respond so she continued speaking. “I…don’t have any friends. They just don’t like being around me. They think I’m weird and a freak. Maybe I am. I’m just…really alone, I guess. No friends. No brother or sister. My parents always work and don’t have time for me. It’s just…me. I’m alone.”

Cecilia went quiet, processing her own words. She was completely and utterly alone. 

Eventually she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders so casually. “Eh, whatever. Life sucks and then you die, I guess. But at least I’m not alone now. I’ve got you.” Cecilia smiled sweetly at Tiff and hugged her tightly. 

She must sound so crazy, talking to a doll and acting like she’s real and can hear everything she’s saying. 

Maybe she was going crazy. 

Oh well. 

Cecilia yawned and closed her eyes, keeping her arms around her new favorite doll. “Goodnight, Tiff…”

#luna talks #admin #chucky #chucky 2021 #bride of chucky #tiffany valentine #original character #oc #cecilia carter #chucky fic #guardian doll #chucky fanfic #tiffany the doll

[b-courageous1010]

Day 4: For the love of Note-taking

I am a person that loves to learn and take notes, but I tend to run into the problem of over-consuming. I’m a big idea type of person so I have many things I want to try but if I don't have a system most ideas are stuck in my head taking up space that can be used for creating.

I need a system that can be used in all parts of life that will help me capture my ideas and build on them. I reintroduced myself to the concept of a second brain. A second brain is essentially a methodology for saving and systematically reminding yourself of ideas, insights, and connections you’ve made through your experiences. It's used to free up your brain space and ensure you are creating valuable things from the information you consume.

It's a pretty simple concept that is achieved through a 4-step process:

CODE

Capture the ideas and insights worth saving

Organize for accountability

Distill down to the essence

Express your unique ideas and experiences

———————————————————————

Capture the ideas and insights you think are work saving 

Keep your notes in a centralized place so you will always know where things are

Make conscious decisions about what you consume

Only keep what resonates, that way everything has a purpose.

Decided that I will use OneNote as my one-stop shop. I also started using a read-later app as a way to save articles for later and it has a tagging feature which is amazing!

——————————————————————-

Organize for accountability

When it comes to note-taking, the simpler and more flexible the organization method the better.  

Pro-tip: Avoid making a perfect hierarchy of folders from the get-go 

PARA Method: Everything in your life can fit into one of the below categories 

Area: Long-term responsibilities  

Projects: Short-term responsibilities  

Resources: Topics or interests that will be useful in the future 

Archives: Information that is inactive 

I adopted the PARA method for my work OneNote, I have the tabs sectioned out for the different categories and I also have a section that I named inbox. The idea here is that everything has a place but try not to overthink it. The more flexibility you give yourself the better.

Pro-tip: Start with a clean slate. Move all existing files into an archive folder with today's date.

This is the main issue I had with the methodology, when I first tried to implement the PARA method I thought I had to use it on existing information. Needless to say, it was overwhelming and I ended up giving up. This time starting fresh took the weight of what to do will all the old information and allows my system to grow with me and helps reshape my method of thinking. It also helps that I didn't delete anything. If I need an old piece of information, its always there.

——————————————————————-

Distill down to the essence 

Create actionable, bite-size summaries and focus on the main points

Summarize progressively, save an excerpt, create a summary, and create a summary of the summary.

I know it sounds a bit redundant BUT this allows you to see the note in different ways and you always want to leave a note better than you found it.

Add value to each note every time you touch it

Highlighting the most important parts

Add a link to reference later

Defining key terms in case you forget

Inserting placeholders when you leave off so you know where to pick up

You always want to enhance your notes and design them for your future self.

——————————————————————-

Express your unique ideas

For me, note-taking is also an art form. It's how I express my interests and thoughts. I love that anything you want to learn is at your fingertips and I love sharing what I find in hopes that it helps someone else.

I also find informational blogging therapeutic. If I have a problem, goal, or task I usually make a post about it which helps me to not only think through my thoughts but also as a way to showcase what I learned. I feel like I found my voice and note-taking helps me not only learn and stay organized but also keeps me sane most days.

I'm excited to perfect my craft and the best part is that there is no finished product, you’re always improving!

——————————————————————-

Music Challenge Day 4: A song by a new artist you just discovered

My Pick: Muni Long is not a new artist but I've fallen in love with her voice and her pen is nice!

My Aunt: Sza is new to her and she loves her.

#soft black girls #black femininity #soft black women #self love #spotify #black wellness #wellness journey #mindfulness #productivity #note taking #second brain #self love journey #blackgirlbloggers #organization #self improvement #positive thoughts #100 days of mindfulness

[aux-barricades]

Tips for Les Mis Daily readers who want to avoid spoilers

Are you planning to read Les misérables in 2023? That's awesomet! As someone who has been in the Les Mis fandom for several years and had a blast in 2022 during Dracula Daily, I'm looking forward to joining Les Mis Letters and seeing how all the new people react to things old fans are already accustomed to.

But a word of warning: the Les Mis fandom is huge and active, so if you come to Tumblr for your daily memes, it will probably be a challenge to avoid spoilers.

That's why I've decided to share some advice based on my Tumblr experience in this fandom. This may not be enough to avoid all the potential spoilers if you're here very often, but I hope it will at least help you dodge a good amount of them.

This post is for you if:

You've never read Les misérables.

You haven't seen the musical or any other adaptation (or you have but it was so long ago that you hardly remember anything or you have but you aren't sure how accurate the adaptations are, so whatever happens in the book will come as a surprise).

You will be checking Tumblr while taking part in Les Mis Daily.

You don't like spoilers.

Mute the "les mis spoilers", "les miz spoilers" and "les miserables spoilers" tags. This one is obvious, but it won't be enough, so please keep reading.

Mute the "les mis", "les miz" and "les miserables" tags. Les Mis fans regularly use them to post pics, fanart, fanfics, metas and all kind of spoiler content and they don't tag them as spoilers because it's just regular posting for them.

Don't follow Les Mis blogs that aren't joining Les Mis Daily unless they commit to tag spoilers during this event.

Avoid musical blogs in general, since they usually share pics that may or may not contain book spoilers.

Don't scroll down or search the archive of old Les Mis or musical blogs. Some of them (such as mine) will be spoiler-free or tag the spoilers during this event, but if you scroll down enough you'll inevitably find content you'd rather not see yet.

Don't check any character's tags. Again, people who aren't joining Les Mis Daily will be posting about them and you'll come across spoilers more likely than not.

Try to stick to the "les mis daily", "les mis letters" or other event-specific tags. That's where people will be posting the day-to-day memes, metas and stuff anyway, so those tags will be your safest place to find people who are reading the book at your same pace.

Be especially careful from the 1st to the 7th June. The fandom goes wild during that week, especially on the 5th and 6th June. Mute the "barricade day", "barricade days" and "barricade week" tags. Don't worry, you'll only have to wait a few months to know why and then you can always check the tags later.

That's all I can think of for now, but I'll update this post if something else comes to mind (and if any Les Mis fan happen to read this, feel free to add your advice!).

And don't worry if you end up seeing spoilers! One day I'll tell you how I spoiled myself with an internet search I was too curious to delay... but the thing is, even though I was sad to find out something I would have preferred to read in the book at the right time, it didn't really take away from the effect when I actually reached that point. Les misérables is a huge book (fans call it "the brick") and even if you come across some major spoiler, there'll still have hundreds of pages you know nothing about.

Good luck and see you in the Les Mis Daily tag! 😄

#Les Mis Daily #Les Mis Letters #les mis #les misérables #my stuff

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: warpedfungusonastick

today's interviewee is warpedfungusonastick, who's been in MCYTblr since the summer of 2020 and is a member of dreamlying! below is a transcript of their account of early MCYTblr.

Digging back into what I have of my online history, I started the tumblr blog warpedfungusonastick in late July 2020. Beforehand I had a very small <20 follower dttwt account and saw that the Tumblr community was more my vibe. I was 18 when I got into being a dteam ~fan and my personal views on fandom and stan culture and parasocial relationships were, while still evolving, kind of against a lot of the culture that was growing up around especially the twitter fan community.

(This being said, this was the depths of COVID lockdown and I rarely left my house because I was a senior in high school in the U.S. and living with someone who absolutely could not get sick. So I was terminally online and can definitely say in retrospect deeply invested in the fan culture and even the creators/their online personas while being semi-ironically self aware of this relationship.)

I first saw a dteam video in later 2019. Funny enough (and not funny at all, because I think about these Patterns quite a lot), I had then just left the Cryaotic fandom. If you don't know, he was an old friend of pewdiepie who split with him around the time of or before the multiple pewdiepie scandals and pewdiepie whistling off several alt-right dog whistles and that whole thing. But back to the point, like a month after i became a regular Cryaotic Twitch viewer, a long expose came out about him being abusive to his ex-girlfriend and a groomer of underaged fans. Cryaotic was a faceless streamer whose iconography was this little blob thing and I will not abandon the theory that the origins of Dreamwastaken fanart are the direct successor to humanized fanart of this Cryaotic persona.

Through the whole Cryaotic thing I first found out about kiwifarms/lolcow. What stuck to me, beyond the abhorrent stuff said on those sites, was that they had a pretty clear system of archiving things using sites such as archive.is and were completely unafraid to post "doxxed" materials anonymously.

Commentary on DL interviews: - I fully second what georgesoot said about "No it's not odd, I at least partially strove for infamy. Any attention gratifies the ego after all, not just positive attention. Then there was the absurdity of it all". I tried to be a lot less controversial than some other DL members, but I did run with them and did say some things that weren't within the typical conventions of more mainstream and popular blogs of the time. It was a dopamine hit for people to interact with my blog--like any social media--but I/we did it in a kind of absurdist way at a point with the things we said and the ways we kind of transgressed whatever the normal way of being a fan blog was. - Re: Wormweeb--I was also kind of mentally ill and depressed and really only interacted with both friends online (even if they were friends from school). And as a result I took it all a bit more seriously than it was at the time. This is is less related but I used to get these--visceral? reactions to when Drama would happen because I was personally invested more so because I didn't want my online friend group who (although seen as a united front on the outside sometimes, I think) each had our Faves in the mcyt space and had had petty infighting over the morals of that (both seriously and unseriously, but everything starts to bleed, in my opinion).

More about my previous exposure to Minecraft fandom: I used to follow mianite back in the day and watched a lot of captiansparklez & aureylian. Since I joined the dteam fandom before any blog presence I was there for their very first streams (which got like…5k views 10k?) and the birth of the dsmp as essentially a server for friends (which led to minor discourse later when the line between roleplay and people on a MC server blurred.)

So my points of reference for these types of fandoms were a fandom that was very much for younger children (Mianite) and therefore the creators were treated with more distance and the recently up-in-flames Cryaotic fandom.

Back to doxxing/archiving/odd relation between: I used to joke about the tension between the right to privacy and to be forgotten on the internet and the right for nosy teenagers with too much time on their hands (and literally obsession brainworms) to dig up your past. Two things I think that were interesting about the most (in my opinion) morally dubious element of mcytblr and most people formed their negative opinions of critblr on was the having/knowing "forbidden" information. Most of this we were either told by randos or knew through other people online. A lot of it also ended up on Dream's kiwifarms, but that was a bit of a two-way street.

And the second part of this whole thing is the way that this information would come up among The Discourse. Because knowing some of the things we/I knew, you could call out creator's lies/misrepresentations of their histories/online pasts in ways that people who didn't know couldn't. Which was kind of where some of the in-jokes came from. I also took the habit of archiving things (old accounts, posts, whatever) to archive.is and such at the time because I fell on the 'I don't want this digital history to be erased if only for my own sanity.'

I think this has been rehashed before, but at every corner, the mcyt/dteam fandom was a fandom like any other, complicated by the fact that it was a real person fandom. And especially on tumblr where the Culture was a little different because no creators (few creators) were on Tumblr, people kind of just said and did whatever. I struggle to think of any of this as important in the grand scheme of anything, but there was a massive outpour of content because of the sheer size of the fandom across all platforms. There was 24/7 content, big fomo, and so I think blogs acted like pundits--like a forum on the newist in DSMP or Love or Host or MCC or whatever. My memory of that time has atrophied a lot but I think that DL and co. cropped up as the pundit subclass (however some of us had actual talent like wormweeb and made fanworks) and the fandom overall was sustained by a sprawling form of Conversation on the Latest Content.

Q: right-- and while other blogs caught people up on streams, dream lying was more interested in meta on the creators themselves?

I think that was a part of it. We were all united in this semi-ironic cynicism about fandom culture as a whole while being fans ourselves, and we socially shared this Vision of a number of variably worded critiques about - stan culture - cancel culture - the dangers/pitfalls/intricacies of these.

I think a lot of it was just shits and giggles, but at least I at one point had this idea that I was a tiny little measured response to the excess of fandom culture. I looked down on uncritical fandom and thought that especially because some of these creators cultivated deeply parasocial relationships with their young fans (I was not much older, but all 18 year olds are Like That) it was some sort of imperative to talk about that at least a little bit.

As I read through my old posts--these was a lot of self important a lot of rambling a lot of nonsense. And I don't really think that these fandom culture can be changed by one little microblogger with a couple hundred followers, but I stand by a lot of my initial criticisms of the ecosystem as a whole and mainly the creators themselves and their (heh) lying, their harm, their overall misconduct and above all the systems that created and enable their whacky ass bullshit to this day. .

But the doubled edged sword of (I return to the forbidden info thruline) I never really shared info that was private because I wanted to be somewhat ethical, so it always felt a bit like we/I was going crazy with things I knew to be true but obviously wouldn't share because that's nor super moral.

Another note about The Rumors and DreamLying--in my memory we kind of thought were Something. And I guess we've been nudged along in that perception but I think the most vocal and controversial of us just said wild shit that stuck in people's brains and for the longest time I didn't associate myself with dream lying at all on Warpedfungus because I wanted to be Somewhat Normal, if measuredly critical and just…vibing. But I think at circles back to a lot of this being wank amongst a handful of terminally online people who at the time didn't get out enough and, like, fixated on this Thing because it was community (or a facsimile of) and at the end of the way we're all just archives or archived pages or gone forever.

(Which reminds me that for the longest time I had you and Roxytonic blocked because I thought archiving was corny but I now think it's kind of cool. It's a nostalgia trip, if anything else. I'm now in another fandom that would've really benefited from some hardcore archiving because so much of the old internet (and fan spaces amongst them--ie ff.net, livejournal, even more underground spaces) are completely lost to the sands of time and the deletion of those hosting sites, etc)

Q: i am very interested in your thoughts on, as you mentioned before in reference to cryaotic, the way that creators cultivate and manipulate fanbases, and the effects you think it had on how the mcytblr fandom

Dream, along with "learning/studying the algorithm" and getting insanely lucky, did many specific things to cultivate a fandom of immensely parasocial fans. And regardless of my cynical vision of what his motives were, his actions of wanting to be seen as a 'friend', sharing many personal details, being accessible to fans, DMing young stan accounts, following fan accounts, OKaying a lot of fanworks about him/his personal and the whole…gaybaiting (you know what i"m referring to) thing had the result of a very large very dedicated fanbase.

As far as cryaotic, it's my theory that dream knew the effect on having a very…intimate…relationship with his conventionally not ugly young white man friend, and used that. And as far as the other element that I associate between dteam/cryaotic--these were men who had very boring lives and probably saw themselves as undesirable to women Until they had this massive following and this kind of situation happens time and time again where people get Influence that didn't used to have and do messed up things with it. And I don't know what's to be done, but it's quite bad and completely goes against the "wholesome" image they try to cultivate. If not some of the stuff being actually crimes.

I think the common perception is sometimes that these cases are "bad apples" when there are so many bad apples And not even in the man aint shit way, but unlike more conventional routes to Fame, mcyts have no oversight unless they join and esports org and still then…the org may just side iwth them if it's worth it. And that's not to say that this stuff doesn't happen with conventional celebrity and even on college campuses and in everyday life and whatnot but I think people in such a public eye should be held to standards of conduct that may prevent some of this.

#early mcytblr interviews #Volume 14 #warpedfungusonastick

[p-redux]

Do you know how or when caitriona met her husband? I’m so fascinated by them and you seem to know a lot about her.

Hi Anon, yes, I know the whole story via my previous Tony family source. I've answered this question MANY times, but I don't mind answering it again. But since I've answered it so many times, I'm just going to direct you to a previous post where I talk about most of my past insider sources. And I'll also copy and paste the specific parts related to Cait and Tony and their backstory. Let me know if you have any questions.

Happy reading! 👇

And here's the insider source info specifically related to Caitriona Balfe and Tony McGill. 👇 ( This is an excerpt from my previous Insider Sources post).

---------------👇

My second major source was my Tony family source. My Tony source is someone from Glasgow who was friends with someone I’d known for a while. My friend put me in contact with her. The Tony source approached me to tell me that she was shocked to find out a relative of hers (later found out it was her brother) had revealed “the lead actress from that new show Outlander is dating Tony McGill.” She was shocked because she and her family have known Tony and his family for years, all of them growing up in and around Glasgow. Her brother went to school with Tony and his brother, Joe. She then told me the whole backstory of Cait and Tony. She wanted me to keep the info to myself, and she had no motivation or intention of making it public. But she finally agreed, after I gave my word that I would protect her identity and I have. 

What she shared with me in late 2014 is that her brother found out their friend, Tony was dating Caitriona Balfe. At the time she said they’d been dating for about 9-10 months, that’s why I always put the start of their relationship around March 2014. She was told that by December 2014, the relationship was “dead serious” between them, and that Cait had spent Christmas 2014 in London with Tony and his dad. And then Tony had flown to Ireland with Cait to spend New Year’s Eve and New Year’s with her family and friends (we’ve all seen the pic and video on Donal Brophy’s IG). My source said that Cait and Tony had been friends for 9 years or so at the time (again, this was told to me in 2014) and had met years ago when Tony rented out a room to one of Cait’s friends. They hooked up briefly back then and then remained friends, until it turned romantic again around March 2014. The source said that she and her family knew Tony and his family from back in the day, and she told me what school Tony went to in Glasgow (something I haven’t and won’t make public). She said that Tony had moved from Glasgow years ago and had been living in London for a while (again, this was told to me in 2014). Also, that he and his brother owned a bar/live music place in London, The Library in Islington (they later opened a second one, The Reading Room, which Cait posted from on IG) and a music production company. And that prior to that, Tony was the band manager for some Scottish bands, most notable, The Fratellis. She described Tony as “fun, clever, and hysterically funny.” 

The Tony source came into the picture after I had my Twitter account up, where I was posting insider info given by my first source. I had already posted that Sam and Cait weren’t dating. This second source is the one that filled in the missing puzzle piece I didn’t know was missing and told me she knew WHO Cait was dating. I would have NEVER known the name Tony McGill associated with Cait if not for this source. He was on no one’s radar. And he wasn’t on social media. This source told me details only an insider would know. And I also had her full identity, so I knew she was legit as well. Then ‘lo and behold Tony started showing up places with Cait. There is NO way I would have known about Tony without this inside family source. No way. Of course after my source told me about him, I did look him up online and there was hardly any information about him. Never in a million years would I have linked Tony McGill with Cait on my own. And I mentioned Tony McGill way before he started showing up places with Cait. How could it be that I said sources told me Tony McGill is dating Cait, and then a man identified as Tony McGill is seen out and about with Cait? The only way I knew about Tony is because the source told me. 

Back in the day, when Cait and Tony weren’t yet living together yet, people wondered how they made their relationship work given the sometimes long distances? Well, when they first started dating around March 2014, Cait was filming Outlander Season 1, so Tony would go to Glasgow or Cait would go to London on weekends. Then when Season 1 wrapped and Cait went back to L.A. (where she had been living) in late Sept. 2014, Tony went to L.A. to visit her in October 2014 (both their birthdays are in October, Cait Oct. 4 and Tony Oct. 12, Libra/Libra bond!). The Fratellis were also in L.A. Oct. 2014 and Tony helped them out with some business stuff. Then, as I’ve already stated, Cait and Tony spent time together Dec. 2014 and January 2015 for the holidays. Then Valentine’s Feb. 2015, Cait flew to London for the opening of Tony’s 2nd bar, The Reading Room. She posted a pic on IG. Then in April 2015, Tony flew to NY to join Cait for the premiere of the second half of Season 1. Eyewitness sources saw him sitting with Cait’s friends at the screening and then with Cait and her friends inside the after party. There was one PUBLIC pic on Twitter of Cait, Tony and Sam. And I and others have been shown private pics of Tony there. Many of us have seen them but we couldn’t make them public because they show the location where they were taken, thus identifying the source who took them, and she would get in trouble with her boss. After that, in May 2015, Cait went back to Glasgow to begin shooting OL Season 2, and this time, she brought her cat, Eddie with her. Per more than one source, Tony pretty much lived in Glasgow after that with Cait. One person who went to Tony’s bars in Glasgow and then reached out to me, said that she had asked about Tony and was told “he doesn’t come around much anymore because he moved back to Scotland.” They then moved into their new place in Glasgow, moved out of that one and they moved to a new place in Glasgow, and also have a place in London. Some say they also bought a place in the English countryside. And they are obviously now married (since 2019) and they had their first son. THAT’s how Tony and Cait made it work.

My Tony source also parted ways with me, also due to fear of being found out. She didn’t formally break up with me, the way the original industry source did, she simply ghosted me. But I also see her pop up on Twitter or IG sometimes and get all wistful. Oh well...

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

So, Anon, that's the Tony and Cait backstory straight from someone who knows Tony and his family. Let me know if you have any questions. Thanks for stopping by! ❤️

#caitrionabalfe #caitriona balfe #tonymcgill #tony mcgill #tait #themcgills #mr and mrs mcgill #source #sources #@fortruthseekers

[sunhated-a]

It’s me. 🦈 Shark anon again.

So this time I’m just gonna ask

What would muzans hobbies (asides from work) be.

(Yes, my brain can’t come up with a entire essay for a question this time, I came up with one but forgot it)

(Also youre real cool 😎)

(Also if you know about evil politician muzan, could you make hc’s based off of that au or is your blog solely only dedicated to demon kingy muzzy?)

Good afternoon, Shark Anon! I hope you had a merry christmas if you celebrate, and I'm sorry it took me a bit to get to this ask. The power was out all day.

I'm afraid that fully uncoupling Muzan's hobbies from his work is very difficult, because he merges the two a lot. And many of his interests have stemmed from his work. One such hobby he enjoys is gardening and flower pressing.

The former began as a necessary preparation for when he found the Blue Spider Lily, but it quickly developed a life of its own, and the garden became his own little quiet space. He often finds himself tending to his plants when he wants to think. Or, if a particular upper moon wants a quiet space (particularly Kokushibo), they can make use of his garden. Most gracious indeed.

Flower pressing came later on. It wasn't uncommon for Muzan to gift books full of pressed flowers to the Moons. The habit started with Kokushibo. Later on, Douma and Akaza would receive their own too, and then he ended up relenting and giving away his older books to the rest of the moons. They'd be perfectly preserved and meticulously archived. Unfortunately, he doesn't do this quite as much anymore.

During the Heian era, he used to practice calligraphy to make particularly difficult times more bearable, this too evolved into writing of poetry and prose. Rumors are that Muzan has published a popular romantic novel under an anonymous pen name. Though these are unsubstantiated rumors and nothing more.

Another hobby he's taken up somewhat recently is kintsugi. For most of his long life, Muzan would simply cast aside what is broken or flawed, it had no use to him anymore so he didn't think much of throwing it away. Maybe his old age has made him sentimental, or perhaps wiser. And he's has begun to see the merit of repairing things by his own hand. Making something beautiful out of the broken and worthless.

#Thank you so much for your kind words too💗 much appreciated!!! #This ask was getting really long (oops!) so i owe you modern day muzan hcs. i'll write up a meta sometime soon about his modern verse. #Because i'm not sure if I want to write politician muzan or something different. we'll see!!! #headcanon.

[giacosketch]

Hi, I'm back and I drew a Chasmosaurus!

Hey hi!

It's been a while, huh? I'm going to dust off this old blog and see how things go. I like being able to archive my work, and having the opportunity to talk about it is also pretty nice :)

So anyways here's something I drew recently;

The Chasmosaurus!

Known for its huge, square like head, the Chasmosaurus is a ceratopsid dinosaur from the Late Cretaceous Period in North America.

Recently i went to the Royal Ontario Museum to film a project for school. While i was there i was looking at the Chasmosaurus mount they had on display.

I've seen it before. I love going to the ROM, and I've always liked this mount. It has a nice bit of motion in the pose. When I saw it, it looked as if the left front leg was raised, like it was mid-stride, and the head being slightly cocked down, as if it was grazing or showing off its massive frill.

Looking at it now, I can tell it's more of a flat pose, but the damage was done. I wanted to draw this!

I went home with the idea in my head, and a day or so later, I whipped up this pencil drawing.

I added a few things that the original fossil didn't have, such as the Chasmosaurus's horns. I'll admit I wasn't sure whether this was a male or female fossil, nor that the horns could've been lost to time on this specimen. I also added spikes/horns on the side of the frills that the original fossil also didn't have. I also included small hints of picpycnofibers on the back of the animal, a trait that many ceratopsians had.

when I was happy with the pencils, I moved onto the inks

I had fun with this. I live streamed the inking process over on my Instagram (@giaccosketch) i used two zebra brush pens to ink this.

and then I cleaned it up in Photoshop

BAM!

Blacked out some of the cross-hatching, as it didn't really translate well in the scan. I also cleaned up some of the lines and scan debris. I think I did a good job!

After I was done, I sent this over to Procreate and coloured it all in. I used a colour palette I made a while back for some fan art.

After some time, the final product came out, and I was really happy with it! This was the first time in a long while that I went through a whole process like this for a piece, and I think I'm going to do it again really soon.

Thanks for reading; I hope you liked what I had to say. See you next time!

#paleoart #dinosaurs #illsutration

[kyra45]

Pet Donation Scams v2

To put it simply, a pet donation scam is when someone has stolen the legitimate content from another post and uses it for their own post. Most often, they will remove a listed fundraiser option and add their own to it. The story is usually copied word from word otherwise, and pictures used are edited so you can’t reverse image source them. These scams usually get caught too late, but on occasion are found before they get too far. Underneath, I’ll explain these scams in more detail or at least more then the previous one. Please share this post or link to it when telling someone a post is a scam as I’ve included reference links this time to existing posts.

As always, feel free to tip/donate to my ko-fi if you appreciate my efforts. Long post is long so it’s all under readmore.

Scam Asks

These kinds of scams usually start with the blog reblogging random posts to look legitimate though some will only have one post. They will generally try to fit into a fandom, and reblog any posts related to it. The blog is always a few days or even a few hours old before they start sending asks. (Example Example Example) are examples showing a few asks that are sent by these blogs. Notice how it’s always to reblog a pinned post about a pet and sometimes to answer privately. This is an attempt to prevent the ask from being answered publicly which would allow it to be found when searched.

Stolen Fundraiser

Lately, it has become all too common for these scam posts to steal content from a legitimate fundraising site. This is most commonly from Facebook (Example Example) although more often then not it is from gofundme (Example Example Example) if searched around well enough. Sadly, the scam fundraiser post will often get more shares then the original one. Some users may also doubt the legitimacy of alerts posted as contacting the real owners of the fundraiser are usually difficult though possible (Example Example). This is why research into these posts are necessary to find out the truth. All the links used for gofundme lead to a post that show a legitimate one whose content was stolen and any Facebook links are screenshots of a post whose content was stolen.

Common Scammer Names

Due to the constant posting of scam posts, it has become easier to track and list the names most commonly listed. It is strictly frowned upon to harass any blogs listed under these names and it is advised most are usually long gone a few days later. These names are archived for future references. Some examples of these names are (Tamie Wilcox) (Nalyn Grace) (Daniel Vanderwiel) though many more appear on the Named Scammers List.

How to deal with them

In a sense, the best way to deal with these scams is to alert anyone reblogging them. You can also post your own scam alerts or search to find ones posted by other users. As the scams always pop back up daily, it’s a hard task to keep track of them even for one person. You can also help by reporting these scammers and their posts by the ‘…’ option and selecting ( Report -> Something Else -> Illegal Uses or Content -> Phishing). While phishing is another scam type, this all that can be used to remove the scams as they will stay up otherwise. Keep in mind weekend reports don’t process until weekdays.

In closing, please always do your research when getting asks to reblog a pinned pet post. Do not let your followers lose money to the scam posts, and rather let them donate to the source of the stolen fundraiser if you are able to locate it. If your ever unsure about a blog that looks suspicious, ask around or tumblr search it. Thank you for reading this, and please continue keeping an eye out for these scams.

#scam #pet donation scam #important information #scam information #how to spot a scam blog #longpost #long post

[msbarrows]

Huh... so, several times recently I’ve had “may or may not be a pornbot” followers crop up, where it looked kinda sorta like a fandom blog, but was somehow... off. Like they had a scant handful of old stuff reblogged, mostly all in one fandom, mostly older stuff being reblogged, without any real cohesion to it, and without any personalized tags or personal posts or anything that made it feel actual-for-real person-like. There’s also usually a mismatch between the fandom in the blog header/avatar and the fandom being reblogged. So I have a handful of names I’ve been checking back on for further activity to see whether or not I should block and/or block & report them.

And then this happened today. Reblog of a 4 year old post of mine. Except - that post is appearing with only the images and tags I had on it on the day I first posted it, 4 years ago (image on left), and it’s one of my personal record of familiars posts, that I added more pictures and tags to later as I acquired additional familiars (image on right).

So where the heck are they getting this original version of it? It’s the sort of thing you’d only find on something like the Wayback Machine, or maybe a scraped archive of Tumblr from a specific date back in time. Going through this person’s bot’s blog - sure they have a bunch of 4 year old stuff reblogged, but it’s all recently reblogged, all from a few month period in 2019, and it’s all been pulled from just a handful of other blogs, mine being just one of those sources. I also note it’s all original level of posts, no reblog chains.

I don’t feel like real people ever blog like this. This feels like some sort of “used a more thorough script to create more realistic fake blogs” bot behaviour.

YMMV as to whether you also find this to be suspiciously bot-like behaviour, but I’m pulling out my sniper rifle on blogs that look like this one, going forward.

#Tumblr #vs #Pornbots

[charliethomascoxuniverse]

Hi, all. 😊👋🏼

So I feel like some of you have probably noticed I haven't been making original posts in a while. The reason for that is that, unfortunately, my laptop has looked like this for the last while:

I can't seem to fix it, and it's already over five years old so I don't want to throw money away on expensive repairs. But I also can't afford to buy a new laptop right now, so I guess just be doing without for however long that takes.

Worse yet, though, I hadn't backed up my files in quite some time so I've potentially lost a lot of stuff including a big chunk of my Charlie Cox folder with the +10,000 pics and digital filmography on there. Fortunately I can probably find a lot of it on my blog since I archived so much Charlie content here, and then I can just save it all again to a new laptop later on.

But I also can't watch anything I don't have on hardcopy without my laptop either. Guys, I have been forcibly separated from the magnificence that is S3 of Daredevil!!! 😭😭😭 (And, you know, The Defenders, too, but I can live without it for a while. lol)

I've also been robbed of my digital music collection.😢 I actually had to go dig my CD collection out from the bottom of my closet because I simply cannot live without music. lol And, oh, some of the stuff my ears have been treated to lately is no doubt older than some of you. I've been both joyously reunited with old favourites, and occasionally horrified by some of the old songs I found on my burned cds. I can only plead indoctrination via repeated radio exposure in the vulnerable days of my youth to account for some of those music choices. 😖😅

So yeah, that's the little life update for now. Stay calm and carry on loving Charlie! 😘❤

#my random ramblings #charlie cox