the fact that this is going to be release next year is unacceptable

anonymous asked:

What do you have against Bex? (Can u also provide evidence thanks 💜)

When I first got this ask, I was tempted to play it off as a joke and say “the fact she exists,” and leave it at that. But I feel like it’s important to stay informed. And if you genuinely don’t know, I’ll give you the complete rundown. It’s long, it’s messy, and it’s nasty, so bear with me.

First, and introduction. When I talk about Bex, I’m referring to the actress Bex Taylor-Klaus, who is the voice actor (or VA) of the character Pidge in the show Voltron Legendary Defender on Netflix.

It all began a while ago when Bex liked a comment of a picture. The picture involved a ship called Shei//th. I censored the name so it doesn’t show up in the tags of that on tumblr. But essentially it’s a ship between two characters, Takashi Shirogane, a 25 year old pilot who is the leader of the team, and Keith Kogane, one of the other “paladins” or fighters on the team. People like me find this ship to be distasteful, since Shiro is an adult, and the others are teens (it’s actually a bit messier than that, since an official Voltron source listed Keith as 18, but the producers of the show, Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, said they were not consulted on the book so there’s some question as to whether it’s canon or not). Either way, the consensus by most reasonable people is that it’s probably not a healthy thing to depict in children’s media, when you consider the considerable age difference, the power imbalance (leader, senior officer with someone they are in charge of), and finally, the iconic line by the character of Keith himself when he defines their relationship as a familial one.

Nonetheless, the ship persists, as nasty things on tumblr are wont to do. There’s a lot of shipping discourse on tumblr between two distinct groups which can be labelled as “antis”–people who are not in favor of any Shiro/paladin ships, or what has become to be known as “shaladins”–people who ship any variation of Shiro with the paladins.

Here is where Bex got involved. On Instagram there was a picture of a black shoe and a red shoe together and the joke was about the shoes being a prophecy that Shei//th would be canon. A joke, mostly, considering all the evidence above. But here’s where Bex got herself in trouble. She liked a comment on the picture where someone said “Keith is a power bottom confirmed.”

Obviously, this caused a bit of an uproar within the fanbase, especially between the discourse between antis and shaladins. Shaladins were celebrating that an Official Voltron Source liked their ship, and antis were angry about that acknowledgement of the ship at all by official sources, and the sexualization of a kid’s show (more on this later.)

So of course this sparked the discourse on tumblr. One user, @lancehunks, who was receiving asks about Bex, tagged her in the replies.They were definitely unfavorable. 


and a few more. 

Bex, being the big strong, adult, woman she is, decided that she could not take this obviously grievous insult to her name [sarcasm], and decided to reblog them all and respond to them. Keep in mind, that @lancehunks was just 13 years old. And Bex (22) decided that these were appropriate responses:

Yep, you read that right. Not only an adult but employed on a kid’s show! To a 13 year old! The target audience of the very show she’s a part of! (Oh, the hypocrisy). But wait, there’s more:

Just in case you’re confused, let me tell you the many, many reasons why this is unacceptable. 

  1.  Bex is an adult. You’d think she’d be a little more mature by now just in general. It’s the internet and there are trolls.
  2. The person she was addressing was 13!!!! Do I think it was mature to tag Bex in all those posts? No. But it’s… behavior that you can expect from 13 year old’s on the internet. If we swore at and tore down every single one of them every time they did something dumb, we would need a lot more therapists for teens in the world. Plus it’s really disingenuous to pretend that we wouldn’t have done something similar when we were younger if we were in that position.
  3. Bex is famous. While she’s certainly not on the caliber of massive A-List stars like Tom Holland or Zendaya, she has a fanbase that exceeds the normal person’s friend group. Just because she’s been on TV before, she has groupies that will support her no matter what, who will troll for her, who uncritically and unconditionally worship her. I’m not a Bex fan, nor do I really care to know her well enough to know just exactly how many fans she has, to be certain she does have them. When she publicly reblogged those words, that “motherfucker,” those fighting words, she weaponized her fanbase. What I mean when I say that is her behavior gave her groupies permission to behave the same way. By targeting someone who didn’t like her (a thirteen year old!!!!!), she opened the gates to her fans and groupies doing the same thing, to a kid.

This lead to some terrible things happening. The 13 year old was getting death threats, sexual violence threats, and nsfw content, all because Bex just couldn’t let it go. 

What does this mean? Finish it? Finish the kid? If you’re so sick of the fighting, then why did you even respond in the first place? Bex is the one who escalated the situation. Bex is the one who caused the fighting in the first place (by that I mean the fighting between the two that night, the fighting between antis and shaladins has been going on for as long as the show).

There we go. Now he have something resembling dignity. But unfortunately the damage was done, and user @lancehunks deleted their blog. As a direct response to Bex’s actions. Bex caused a 13 year old to leave tumblr. 

When hearing this news, Bex offered a half-assed apology:

This is the most insincere apology I have ever seen. “The internet has Bad things on it and it’s YOUR fault for seeing them” is not an apology. The best part is that she’s a big fat hypocrite. “Sometimes, when it’s harmless, the best thing I can do is shake my head and keep scrolling.” So why didn’t you Bex? Why didn’t you keep scrolling instead of targeting a 13 year old?

In light of recent political events, though there’s one thing that stands out to me: 

Sound like anybody you know? The esteemed President, perhaps?

*disclaimer* I am in no way claiming that Bex is a Trump supporter. I don’t know enough about her–and I don’t want to know enough about her–to know where she leans politically. I’m just drawing the attention to the similarities in moral equivalency going on, here.*

Sure you targeted a 13 year old and weaponized your fanbase, but someone tagging you in a snarky post is just as bad, right? (Wrong.)

You’d think that would be the end. You’d think that Bex would be capable of living and learning, or maybe even just taking her own advice, and keep scrolling. But here we go again.

The next bit of drama started when the possibly canon guide book was released, stating Keith’s age as 18. There was a big celebration on the shaladin side because technically, that would make it “legal” for Keith and Shiro to have sex. Besides the fact that legal  ≠ moral, again, Voltron is a kid’s show. But on tumblr this time, Bex posted this.

This time, the discourse surrounding Bex was a little different., This time, the discourse mostly focused on the fact that even if Shiro and Keith disregarded canon and morals and the fact that it’s a kid’s show ever did get in a relationship, the only thing that matters is how they like to have sex.

This is a problem for a lot of reasons. There’s a culture, pretty prominent on tumblr of women, mostly white, who are obsessed with gay sex. They write fanfiction and p*rn solely for their own personal gratification. This, of course, is a gross misinterpretation to wanting LGBT+ representation. If you aren’t a mlm (an acronym for men-loving-man, that includes many sexualities) then writing p*rn about is sexualizing them, using them as a tool to get yourself off, and not like complex human people. Mlm are more than how they like to have sex. In fact, that shouldn’t be a part of a discussion for anybody except between willing partners. This also feeds into the popular and damaging stereotype that gay men are predatory by nature.

So, as a whole, not good. 

And again, we have a whole situation escalated by Bex. The worst part is, to people who tried to explain this to her, the only response they were given was a gif:

So once again, a minor dared to express their distaste for Bex on tumblr. But this time, they didn’t tag her. This time, they censored her name. But Bex found it anyway. And she decided to do the exact same thing that led to a minor leaving the website, and to stop watching the show. 

Have no fear, this time though. This time, Bex is going after a 14 year old, at least she’s not going after kids anymore, right? [sarcasm]

Some final notes. 

Bex claims to be an LGBT+ rights activist. I’m also pretty sure she’s a lesbian herself (again, I already know too much about her, I’m not looking to get to know her better.) So, you’d think, as someone who wants equality for LGBT+ people and communities, she’d have the wherewithal to listen to specific subsets of that group when they say something about themselves, like, for example, young mlm who don’t appreciate being sexualized by a white woman. So I couldn’t help but laugh out loud when I saw this on her blog:

Now, I happen to agree with the above statement, but it’s so ironic, so hypocritical that Bex is talking about the sexualization of anything. Because kid’s shows aren’t safe from her sexualization and mlm certainly aren’t. How can one person be so incredibly oblivious? A mystery that I don’t have any interest in solving. 

I also want to address something a little more devious and a little more dark. I personally know of at least 12 different people who sent Bex asks, politely explaining some of the things I’ve talked about here, or relaying how her words hurt them personally. Bex never answered any of them. But she did answer this:

Just to be perfectly clear, I do not condone or encourage hatemail. Do not send people anything wishing them death or harm in any way. I have never sent nor do plan on sending hatemail, and you should be ashamed of yourself if you do.

However, this is incredibly nefarious. Bex doesn’t answer any of the many asks she got that were polite, but proved her wrong. She didn’t answer any of the young mlm who gave her their personal stories and who weren’t anonymous. Instead, she publishes this. And she did this on purpose, to make her look innocent, to make her look like she’s the one being attacked. I get hatemail every single day too. Things along similar lines to this. I block the user. Delete them, One, because I don’t want to expose my followers to that kind of negativity on a daily basis, two, a mature person knows that deleting them is the best kind of revenge because the user will be constantly looking for a response and they will know they had no effect on me and three, because if you do that, eventually they stop. This is intentional on Bex’s part to make the people who don’t like her look bad. I don’t like Bex at all, and I certainly do not support that message. Any reasonable person wouldn’t. Also the fact that it’s an anonymous message adds a certain air of doubt as to who sent it. 

The point is, Bex is purposely ignoring polite and well-meaning people and posted this to “prove” she’s the one on the “good” side because no good person would send that message.

This is also worth noting: 

This was posted after the lancehunks debate but before the power bottom comment she made. In this post, Bex admits that a relationship between Shiro and any of the paladins is predatory in nature. She said that. Her words. And then after that she said that Keith was a power bottom. 

The last thing I want to say, is that Voltron is a kid’s show. It’s rated US-TV-Y7. Which means for years 7 and older. Regardless of the ship, there should be no sexual content, be it fanart, of fanfiction of Voltron characters at all. We are all collectively responsible for keeping content age-appropriate for the target audience. So, stop it. All and any ships. 

For minors, this is my advice to you:
Bex is a predator, a hypocrite, and a liar. Do not engage with her. Block her. Do not tag her in any of your posts. She has a history of targeting minors. Protect yourself. Do not engage.

When I’m Looking Up At You

Since my post about taller Harry was getting so much attention and had people arguing not only with me I felt a little (very) guilty. So I decided to write taller Harry! (and got a little carried away) Title comes from Troye Sivan’s song Blue.

One thing Draco Malfoy was proud of was that he had always been at least slightly taller than Harry Potter. Years of insulting Potter and his friends were only made that much sweeter when he could look down on them. After the war however, this was the last thing on Draco’s mind. Potter had testified at his trial, saving his family from being sent to Azkaban. They hadn’t seen each other since then, but they’d given each other a nod before leaving the Ministry that day that said more than any words ever could.

They had a newfound respect for each other although neither one was likely to admit it. Draco thought about Potter occasionally. He’d been trying to find a job for about a year to no avail so he’d had a lot of free time to read the news. For example, the groundbreaking headline about 6 months prior about the bisexual Boy Who Lived. That was certainly an interesting revelation. Draco shook his head, trying to clear his mind as he headed toward Kinglsey’s office for a check in as it was a year since his release. He was about to enter when someone with messy black hair rushed out, colliding into him and knocking them both to the ground. Draco fell on his back with a thud and the other man landed on top of him.
“Watch where you’re going next time you-Potter?” Potter lifted his head looked down at Draco, surprised.
“Malfoy! Was in a rush, sorry,” he got up and offered his hand to Draco, pulling him to his feet.
“See you around, I guess,” he said awkwardly, giving Draco a sheepish grin before turning to leave.
Wait. Was that-no it couldn’t be. It was impossible. Unacceptable. But Draco had to make sure, nonetheless.
“Potter!” he shouted.
Potter turned abruptly and ran toward Draco. “What is it?”
Draco stared at him. Not down at him, no, he was looking straight ahead into Potter’s eyes.
“Malfoy, not that I don’t want to talk but I am in a hurry so if you could-”
“Shut it, Potter.”
Draco wasn’t going mad. Potter was now the same height as him. He gasped at the realization and took a step back, staring at Potter in horror.
“Er, is everything alright? Do you need-”
“How, how, how could this happen? How is this possible? How dare you! What are you-how did you-” Draco spluttered before ending off with a dramatic groan.
“Malfoy, are you okay?”
Potter stepped forward, placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder and giving him a concerned look. Draco was too stunned to reply. “Okay…I wish we could continue this thrilling conversation but I do really have to be going now. Maybe you can owl me once you figure it out, yeah? Unless something is wrong, I can stay-”
Draco shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, still unable to form words.
“Alright, it was good to see you.”
He squeezed Draco’s shoulder before rushing off into the crowd, leaving Draco too shocked to move until Kingsley opened the door, giving him a curious look before he finally entered.

A few months later, Draco was preparing for an interview at a new, tiny wizarding bookshop. Granger had sought him out, aware of the difficulties he’d had in trying to find a job and insisted that the owner of this shop wouldn’t discriminate and would be glad to have him. It wasn’t the most exciting career, but he’d rather be organizing bookshelves than reading every issue of the Daily Prophet which always found some way to mention the Chosen One, yet failed to mention his growth spurt. He shivered, shoving the latest issue in his pocket and walking into the shop. It was close enough to Draco’s flat, in a less populated area but by the looks of the place, would likely attract a fair amount of customers. He looked around; there were a few boxes here and there but otherwise it was a cozy little spot. As it had yet to open, there was no one in sight, although he’d agreed to meet the owner there. “Hello?” he called out.
“Sorry, we’re not quite open yet-” came the response from around a corner as Harry Potter stepped out of a room behind the counter.
Of course. Draco stepped closer to the counter and squinted. Oh no. Not again. This was just too much.
“Malfoy. What are you doing here? I’m expecting someone-”
“Potter. What are you doing? Are you standing on something?” Draco sauntered toward Potter, looking at the ground behind him to see if it was at the same level as the rest of the shop. “No? Look, I don’t know why you’re here but we aren’t set to open yet for at least another month and I’m supposed to be interviewing someone so if you could just-”
“Get out from behind the counter,” Draco barked.
Potter looked at him questioningly, unsure of what to say.
“I said come out of there. Come stand in front of me.”
Potter hurried around the counter, walking up to Draco and stood with his arms crossed.
“What?” Draco began circling him like a hawk.
“I don’t understand…I just don’t understand…how is this possible…not fair…” he murmured.
“Would you care to explain what’s going on and why you’re looking at me like I’m your prey? I need to-wait. You’re the person I’m interviewing, aren’t you?”

This pulled Draco out of his trance.
“You’re the owner?” he asked incredulously.
“Yeah. Changed my mind about becoming an Auror. Decided I’d had enough trouble for a lifetime. I know you’ve been struggling to find a job and I only have one question to ask you before you get the job.” Draco started to protest but Potter raised a hand to silence him.
“This is the same way I would treat anyone else who walked through that door. Why do you want to work here? I’m hoping you have an answer other than the fact that I’m the only person who’d hire you, and clearly by the look on your face when I came out you aren’t here to work under the Chosen One,” Draco started choking, “so why would you like this job?”
Draco took a deep breath and thought for a moment.

“Because where would we be without books? They help people and can be used for various purposes, like cooking or just an escape from your own life. Not to mention textbooks; Merlin knows you wouldn’t have made it through Potions without one.” It was definitely not the same, insulting Potter while looking up at him. Potter laughed as Draco started to glare, hoping to look more threatening.
“You’re hired. First order of business, head to the storage room and find the Tales of Beedle the Bard. I have to go make a phone call. And be careful, the door locks from the outside and I’m still trying to figure out the magic of this place. Used to be where lots of duels were held many years ago and now most spells don’t work in the building.”
Draco frowned but headed toward the room anyway. There was only one dim lightbulb and the place was so small it might’ve been a broom cupboard at one point. There were a few shelves filled with books. How was he ever going to find anything in this mess? He clutched one of the shelves, leaning forward to search the lowest tier. He couldn’t even concentrate, still thinking about the fact that Potter was now taller than him which was completely unfair when he heard the door shut behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, “Potter!” he yelled, freezing when he heard breathing behind him. He reached for his wand and turned around quickly, backing up until he hit the shelf.
“Right here, Malfoy. Oh, this is unfortunate. It appears I’ve gotten us stuck here together,” with every word Potter inched just a bit closer, “At least now we can finally talk.”
Draco gulped as Potter looked down at him, sporting an evil grin Draco had only ever seen on a Slytherin achieving their goal.
“Talk about what, you insufferable prat?” he asked, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice. He began to wonder if he’d ever made Potter feel this way during their fights at Hogwarts.
“Between what happened at the Ministry and what happened out there, I’d like to know why you keep looking at me like a winded kitten. Because I was under the impression we’d put everything behind us, but if not…” he took a small step back, looking hurt. “It’s not that,” Draco said, straightening up in his best attempt to look taller.
“Oh,” the devilish grin reappeared, “then what?”
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“You just have to ruin everything for me, don’t you Potter?” he yelled.
Now it was Potter’s turn to look like a wounded kitten.
“I don’t under-”
“One thing. You couldn’t let me have one thing. The one thing I quite literally could hold over you, and you couldn’t even let me have that,” Draco rambled.
“What are you-”

“It’s not fair! I just don’t understand. This is not how it’s supposed to be. It doesn’t even make sense. I at least deserved to have this one thing.”
“Malfoy, what-”
“YOU ARE TALLER THAN ME, POTTER! Or does that need to be spelled out for you as well?”
Potter looked down at his feet and then met Draco’s eyes again, as if he really hadn’t noticed.
“Oh. Yeah.”
This only infuriated Draco more.
“Oh? Oh? What do you mean, oh? Are you really so daft that you don’t see the problem here?”
Potter blinked expectantly.
“You are not supposed to be taller than me. How did this even happen? I am supposed to be able to look down on you like you’re my enemy. Not up like…like…” he trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

Potter smirked and shrugged, “Late growth spurt I guess. I thought we weren’t enemies anymore, though. Didn’t realize height had anything to do with it. Although I am curious to hear the rest of that thought,” he leaned in again, placing his hands on the shelf on either side of Draco’s head, trapping him.
“Th-this isn’t fair. Now that you know it bothers me, you’re using it to your advantage. Once we get out of here I’m going to find a way to shrink you.”
Potter stared Draco down with that wicked look.
Potter’s voice went rough, “You didn’t answer the question, Malfoy.”
“You didn’t technically ask a question, Potter,” Draco snapped. Potter removed his hands but didn’t step away, keeping his gaze locked on Draco.
“Oh, alright. Let me think. If looking down on me equates to a rivalry, what does looking up to me mean to you?” he asked smugly.
“For Merlin’s sake, Potter, when you put it that way…that’s not all it is.” “But that’s what you just said. That is generally what it boils down to, right?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “Oh yes, Potter, I hate everyone shorter than me and I’d like to shag everyone taller. You do have my logic spot on, it’s a shame we aren’t the same height because then it’s more of a fun toss up between the two.”
Potter’s smirk faded.
“Oh. I thought you were-nevermind,” he backed away.
“You thought I was what? You thought I was joking, Potter? Of course you would. Of course you wouldn’t understand that after everything else you took away one of the only things I had left to be proud of.”
Potter snorted, “Why the hell does it matter so much to you? Would you like me to chop off my feet, would that make you feel better, huh? Would that give you your pride back?”
Draco was taken aback. He hadn’t expected Potter to get so upset.
“What’s your problem?”
“You. You are my problem. I don’t understand-do you want us to continue being enemies? Is that why it’s so important for you to look down on me, like a physical representation of how much better you are than me?”

“No, I-what do you mean, I’m your problem?”
Potter was silent.
“Answer my question first.”
“Fine. I guess it was easier to look down on you, to pretend that I hated you than to admit that I actually did look up to you and your idiotic bravery. And now I have to physically look up to you and I’m reminded of myself and how long I spent not being honest, and how different things are now. I guess I don’t know how to feel about it.”
Potter remained silent for a few moments, then took another step forward.
Another step.
“Why did you come in after me?”
He took another step until he was standing in front of Draco, so that they were almost touching again.
“What did you mean when you said I’m your problem?”
“Unlike you, Malfoy, I don’t like to pretend when it comes to my feelings, especially when it involves other people. And when I have problems I like to handle them.”
Draco gulped, his breath coming in rapid bursts.

“But I think I may need your help with this problem. So tell me, what is it you feel?”
Draco blinked up at Potter, locked in his gaze. He licked his lips and when Potter’s eyes glanced down it was all he needed. He surged forward, pushing one hand through Potter’s mess of hair and pulling him down as he wrapped the other around his back. Potter nipped at his lip, growling before meeting Draco’s tongue with his own. It was passionate and fiery, all teeth and tongues and the need to be closer; all the years of fighting building up to this very moment. Draco wrapped both hands around Potter’s neck as he gripped Draco’s hips, pulling him close. Draco moaned into his mouth and they both pulled away, breathless.
“Oh. Is that what you feel?” Potter asked, panting.
“That too, but that’s not all. More like this.”
Draco pulled Potter in, kissing him again but much slower. It was sweet and soft and seemed to go on forever, even though in that moment it felt like the world had stopped. They finally broke apart when Potter started smiling.
“Why are you smiling?” Draco asked before breaking out into a smile himself.
“Oh nothing. I was just thinking…” he trailed off before sliding his hands down from their original position on Draco’s hips.
“I am not shagging my boss in a storage room on my first day on the job.”

“Aw, little Malfoy wants to take it slow.”
Draco shoved Potter’s hands away and scoffed.
“That’s okay. I can do slow.”
“Call me little Malfoy again and I will not be slow to hex your cock off.”
Potter raised an eyebrow, “Oh. Kinky.”
He laughed as Draco playfully punched his arm and sat down on the floor.
“Hermione will be here tomorrow so it’ll probably be awhile before we can get out. Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” he asked as Draco carefully sat down beside him. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed him down, pressing himself close to Potter’s back.
“Potter, I do hope one of these shelves falls on you in your sleep,” he whispered into his neck.
“Hmm?” Draco murmured sleepily.
“Harry. You just had your tongue down my throat. Call me Harry.”
“Go to sleep Harry,” he whispered, pulling Harry closer.
“Do you want to take care of that-”
“Goodnight, Draco.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”

Draco woke with a start. It hadn’t been that late the day before when he arrived for his interview and they couldn’t have been sleeping for very long, so he knew it was likely around 2 or 3 in the morning.
“Harry,” he whispered.
No response.
“Harry,” Draco tried again, lightly kissing his jaw.
Harry giggled a bit but still didn’t seem to be awake.
“Harry,” Draco elbowed Harry in the side. Harry didn’t open his eyes but groaned in response, clutching Draco’s other arm tighter to his chest.
“There’s no copy of Beedle the Bard in here, is there?”
“And that door doesn’t lock from the outside does it?”
No reply.
“It’s not locked,” Draco tried.

“And the story about duels taking place here.”
“Bullshit,” Harry murmured into his arm.
“And is this why you were smiling earlier?”
“Nope. Smiled cuz I got to kiss you.”
“Get up.”
“Get up!” Draco yanked his arm out from underneath Harry, finally forcing him to open his eyes.
“I cannot believe you made me sleep on this dingy floor for no reason,” Draco stood, patting his clothes as though he’d walked into a cobweb. Harry rubbed his tired eyes before looking around, confused.
“If it didn’t go well I wanted a reason to have just one night with you…just lay with you…” Harry’s voice was groggy. Draco’s heart clenched a bit as he helped Harry off the ground.
“Merlin, you’re such a sap. Did it ever occur to you that my tongue down your throat was an invitation for more than that?” Harry slumped against Draco, one arm across his shoulders and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. He gave a goofy grin, “More?”
Draco rolled his eyes, “We are not discussing this now. You’re like a drunk. Come on.”
“Where we goin?” Harry asked as Draco dragged him out of the shop.
“My place.”
“Ooooh.” Harry winked.
“Don’t even think about it. You need sleep. Merlin, you may be taller now but it seems I’m still going to have to take care of you.”
“Oh you can take care of me any day, baby,” Harry purred.
“Looking forward to it,” Draco said somewhat sarcastically.
“Are you gonna shrink me now?”
“No. It doesn’t matter to me. I quite like you the way you are.”

(btw this is the first work I’ve actually posted so I’d love to hear what you think, and I apologize for any mistakes as I was up late writing this)

A Chance Encounter

Sasuke-centric. Post-canon. Rated M for language and implied CSA.

A/N: I told y’all I was going to write this the second I got home from work. And five hours later, here it is. Painfully unedited and not proof-read. 

Inspired by this prompt

The rumbling of thunder catches his attention, ripping his eyes from his path to turn and glance behind him with mild interest. The sky at the edge of the horizon is dark, almost black in color as a storm gathers in the near distance. He stares, unflinchingly, as another strike of lightning splits the sky in two, the thunder echoing through the forest around him, shaking the Earth beneath his feet and causing him to stop for a moment.

By the look of it, it’s likely to be a bad storm if it’s approaching so quickly and so violently already. He turns back to his path and deliberates his next move, closing his eyes as he orients himself to his surroundings. His internal map is as good as any he could buy on paper; years spent traveling would give anyone a keen sense of direction.

He’s still a half a day’s journey from his next destination and he’s only a couple hours east of a small village in the mountainside, so for half of a second he contemplates veering off course, but he’s no fool.

Sasuke Uchiha knows that there are plenty of things in life you can run from, but Mother Nature is not one of them.

Instead he braces himself and pulls his cloak tighter around him, turning back toward his path as he begins to walk again—there’s no point in running when the downpour will be upon him in minutes.

A noise just ahead of him quickly alerts himself to the fact that he is not alone in these woods. He feels foolish as he opens a hand, holding it over the handle of his katana. The fact that the thunder distracted him this much is unacceptable and his mood immediately sours.

It takes only seconds before a group of shinobi emerge from the woods, laughing among one another as they step directly into his path.

In the moment it takes for them to realize that they’ve nearly run into another shinobi, Sasuke has already studied them all, head to toe, lone sharingan red and blazing as he memorizes everything about them.

There are four of them in their party; all men who lack headbands but who carry themselves with the confidence and grace of a group of shinobi proudly finished with a mission. Sasuke doesn’t know what they were talking about just before they emerged from the thick woods and in front of him, but they were speaking with a laid-back attitude about them. A couple of them are grinning, and one man laughs openly.

Each of them are dressed head to toe in an off-white color, mostly fitted gear with pearlescent armor plating their chests and backs. Two of them have swords, one of them has only kunai strapped to his body, and the fourth is armed with only what lies in the bag on his back.

Sasuke memorizes it all in a fraction of a second: hair color, eye color, height and even face shape. He recognizes none of these men but now he knows that if he ever comes across one of them again, he’ll be aware.

It’s always easiest for him to simply trap the various shinobi he stumbles across in a genjutsu—no matter whether they are enemies or allies—just in case, so that’s what he does. The smiles haven’t even fallen from their faces before he has them trapped in a world of his own creation as they meet his eyes.

Their forms still as reality slips away from them and for a moment Sasuke sizes them up. They look like they’re part some elite-level organization and the lack of headbands strapped to their heads strikes him as a little odd. Especially in the Land of Lightning, where Kumokagure’s shinobi are known for their ego and would never go without their hitai-ate.

He resolves to let them out of the genjutsu after he travels about another kilometer up the road—it’ll give him enough time to get off their radar and by the time the genjutsu releases the storm will likely be upon them. It’s a little inconveniencing for the group of shinobi, but Sasuke doesn’t feel too bad about it.

A little rain never hurt anyone.

He doesn’t turn his back to them even as he passes, circling around them swiftly even as their forms remain motionless, their minds captured by his jutsu.

That’s when he sees it.

The backpack on the fourth shinobi shifts, ever so slightly. Sasuke grips his katana and unsheathes it slightly, lowering his stance and preparing himself for anything.

But when he hears a tiny voice begin to cry—the noise so soft it hardly carries over the thunder rolling toward them—he freezes.

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Do You Sleep Anymore?

Summary: Phil has insomnia and Dan has bruises on his knuckles.
Word Count: 4916
Warnings: booty sex, punching walls, cussing
Title: Sleep - Citizen
A/N: ok I am working on a SHIT TON of fics rn ok so this one just happened to be finished first, as I was working on this one (or at least the idea) for like a couple months. Sorry I haven’t been able to write as much lately, I’m a bit overstressed due to school, and I literally have a month of school left before I’m graduating and I’m trying very hard to keep above a B in all of my classes so I graduate with an Academic Honors diploma! i hope you guys understand <3 But I would like to dedicate this to both wanksclifford, for helping me out with my ideas for this and telling me this was a good idea, as well as whalefairyfandom12 for keeping my ego up and being an all around wonderful person <3 I love you both and I hope you like this story haha!


There was a breeze wafting through Phil’s window that made him shiver, but he didn’t move to shut it despite the fact that his hands were quivering and his nose felt like ice. The joints of his fingers were sore from gripping the pen for hours on end, and his eyes were burning from the lack of sleep, but yet release refused to come. So he kept writing as if that would stop his thoughts enough to allow him to sink into darkness.

He was longing for it, the dreams, the darkness that came with sweet sleep, and yet it wouldn’t come. He was left with bruised eyes, pale skin, and mussed hair, receiving looks from strangers because he looked like an actual character from the Walking Dead, and that was apparently socially unacceptable. 

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X - Part Six

A/N: This one goes deeeeeep into some shit. Clears some stuff up in more ways than one. 

I wish you all the best and hope you enjoy. Any feedback is appreciated.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

“It was just breakfast! You know how fans and the media can twist those things around. I touched his hand for a millisecond as part of a joke and now I’m getting a lecture at four am!”

No matter how much I raised my voice, scrunched my eyebrows, balled my fists, my manager’s tone was monotonous and bored. His demeanor resembled one of a tired parent scolding their child.

“You’re getting a lecture because I warned you about what would happen if you lost your footing. You are not as precious to SM as Baekhyun is, you are not protected by them. I am your manager and I am here to fix the problems you get into but that doesn’t mean you can make all of the mistakes you want.”

My body sank down into my couch as my head sank down into my hands.

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anonymous asked:

Omg PLEASE do noorhelm for #1 or #12!!!!!

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three loud bangs against her front door woke Noora from a dead sleep.

Noora sat up on the couch moving her neck from left to right to loosen the knot that formed. She rubbed generously at the muscle, silently cursing this predicament on the wedding. The lack of sleep the last couple months was finally catching up to her.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three loud bangs against her front door again brings her attention to her clock on the wall. It reads three am. She lets her mind wander to the fact that its Saturday and it’s probably just Eva. 

She drags her feet along the wooden floor until she stands before the door.
For extra precaution, she calls out, “Who is it?“ 

There isn’t a peep hole in the door like her apartment had with Eskild and Linn. She misses it. She mentally notes to check out how to get one installed. 


Shit. Noora’s eyes race around the room not knowing what she should do next. William knows she’s home and awake because she opened her big mouth so she can’t actively ignore him until he leaves. 

He’s not supposed to be here. William promised her goodbye. 

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Hiatus Fic #2

Title: Prompt #2 - Eye Contact

Written for the Olicity Hitaus Fic-A-Thon started by @thebookjumper

Ready on AO3 or

A/N: I’m a little late on this one.  Also, no clue where this came from.  Student/Teacher AU.

She hasn’t been able to look him in the eye since it happened.  Two weeks.  Two long weeks had passed since their heated encounter in his office after hours. They’d been alone, the two of them working through a stack of exams for his 100-level Criminology course, when he’d finally given in to his desire for her.  Three years she’d been in his life, her bright smile and brilliant mind lending a lightness to the dark he’d been shrouded in for so long.  First as his student, a wide-eyed freshman who had taken him by surprise with her genius and tenacity.  She’d sailed through every course he offered, acing them all without batting an eye, impressing each and every member of the department.  And then at the beginning of the year, three days before classes were set to resume for the fall semester, she’d appeared in his office like a mirage, handing him a sheet of paper that listed her as his TA for the year.  

“Professor Queen?”

He turned away from the white board suddenly, his shoulders tense at the sound of her voice.  It’d been far too long since she’d spoken to him directly.

When he searched the crowded lecture hall for her face, he wasn’t surprised to find her seated near the back, her head raised and angled in his direction.  And he wasn’t surprised to discover that she was looking anywhere but at him.

He cleared his throat.

“Yes, sorry.  Please make sure to take down the notes on the board. As I’m sure most of you have heard, I’m not like most of the other professors on campus.  I do not post my lecture notes online.  If you expect to pass this class, it’d serve you well to take the time to copy the notes before you go.  Also, next week we’ll be discussing the chapter on psychological and psychiatric foundations of criminal behavior.  It will be in your best interest to have read the chapter by lecture on Wednesday.”

He went back to the lectern and began to gather his notes, tucking everything into his briefcase. If he took a few moments longer than necessary, lingering as long as possible, he wasn’t likely to admit it. But he hoped that today would be different.  That rather than flee the moment class was over, Felicity would linger as well, that she would give him a chance to explain his behavior.

The biggest problem was that he didn’t have an explanation.  Not really. At least not one that he felt would be acceptable.  He was her professor.  He was at least a decade older than her.  She was a student, here to learn, not to be taken advantage of.

Sliding the last leaf of paper into his case, he slung the strap over his shoulder, and headed toward the exit with the last of his students.


He froze, just steps from the door, and turned slowly back to the room.  The lecture hall was empty apart from the petite blonde near the back. Her soft hair (and he knew now for certain that it was in fact soft) was pulled up in her usual ponytail, her vibrant blue eyes free of her glasses for once.  And unlike every other time he had attempted to make eye contact with her in the last fourteen days, she wasn’t avoiding his gaze.  Rather, she was staring him down with an intensity that sent electricity racing along every nerve in his body.  His pulse jumped and his breath stuck in his throat at the sight of her, at the soft, seductive grin that lifted her lips.  He reached behind him and shut the door.

“Ms. Smoak.”

Felicity stood then and he watched, somewhat mesmerized, as she came down the stairs to meet him. Her eyes remained on him as she moved, her gaze never wavering, and when she stopped just in front of him, his fingers itched to reach for her.

A tense moment passed before she spoke.

“We should probably talk,” she said softly, “About… about what happened the other day.”

The confidence he’d read in her gaze just moments before seemed to have faded as she’d descended the stairs, replaced with an air of apprehension that he’d never seen from her. She was always so headstrong. Resourceful and cunning and calculating all at the same time.  In every class of his that she’d taken, she’d found new ways to challenge him and to prove to him – and anyone else who had eyes – that she was the smartest person in the room.

In that moment, however, she seemed like a completely different woman.  

He nodded, “I agree. We should.”

Oliver watched as she swallowed hard, her eyes falling to her feet briefly before finding their way back to his face.

“I’m sorry.  For how I reacted.  For – for running out and not… not giving you a chance to say anything. And for these last few days.  I didn’t know what to say, I am so –“

He was shaking his head before she could finish, giving in to his need to touch her and wrapping both of his large hands around her small – but solid – biceps.  Her eyes widened at his touch, a soft blush staining her cheeks.

“Don’t.  Please.  Felicity, I … I should be the one apologizing.  My behavior was completely unacceptable.  I kissed you.  I initiated it knowing full well that I – that we…”

He shook his head again, unable to put into words exactly what he wanted to say to her.  Because he was sorry that he’d upset her, that he’d caught her off guard, but he was in no way sorry for kissing her.  Because even though he knew that he shouldn’t want her, he did.  More than he’d wanted anyone for a long, long time.

“I kissed you back, though. I wanted to.  I want to, Oliver.”


Her name fell softly from his lips, barely a breath leaving his body, and he found himself leaning toward her.  He allowed his eyes to stray briefly to her mouth, to the lips he knew to be soft and sweet and insistent, and his need for her swelled in his chest.  He wasn’t sure he was capable of taking another breath with the way his desire choked him.

“Please,” she gasped, her own voice strangled as it left her, “Oliver, please, kiss me.”

There was no way he could resist her plea.  Not when she was pressed against him, the slight weight of her body falling easily into his arms.  Not when she was right there, the subtle scent of her shampoo – something fruity with a hint of coconut – swirling around him and drawing him in.  He couldn’t possibly say no to a request from her. He didn’t want to.

He let his forehead rest against hers as he released her arms to cup her face, thumbs trailing along the apples of her cheeks.

“We’ll have to be careful,” he breathed, “So very careful.”

She nodded, “I know.”

“We can’t tell anyone, Felicity.”

“I don’t care. Oliver, I want this.  I want you.  Kiss me.”

He drew back, finding her eyes – her gorgeous blue eyes – and seeing nothing but truth and determination reflecting back at him.  He felt that lightening again, felt it slither along his spine before exploding out along his nerves, and he knew that this was only the beginning.  Whatever it was that existed between them would be intense and passionate and so very real.  He couldn’t wait another moment to get started.

Oliver drew her close and kissed her hard.



Words matter. Especially in Iran where what is permissible — to say, to do, to be seen to say or do — is an ever changing thing.

It took us many years of trying to finally be allowed in to Iran, the country with whom we have probably the most contentious relationship on earth. At the time, we thought that perhaps, our welcome was an indicator of a new attitude, an opening of a window. But as it turned out, that is probably not the case. The window appeared to slam shut in particularly ugly fashion shortly after our departure.

What we saw, what we came back with, is a deeply confusing story. Because the Iran you see from the inside, once you walk the streets of Tehran, meet Iranians, is a very different place than the Iran we know from the news. Nowhere else I’ve been has the disconnect between what one sees and feels from the people and what one sees and hears from the government been so extreme.

Iran’s official attitude towards America, its policies, its actions in the region, are a matter of record. How it treats its own citizens as far as their personal behaviors is also, a matter of record. You do not want to be perceived as behaving inappropriately in Iran — as we have seen with the recent video of kids dancing along to the song, “Happy.” And what is inappropriate is an ever shifting thing. What the “government” or the president says is okay one day, might be deemed dangerous or unacceptable by the clergy or the “basij”, the roving, unofficial but official religious police, on another — as we came to find out.

I’m going to be careful about what I say here. Even here.
Like I said. Words have consequences.
Not for me. I can go to China, for instance, and come back, and say whatever I want about Tibet or human rights without fear. But what about the people I leave behind? The ones who were kind to me, helped me, innocently put their trust in me and my crew to not hurt them? That is something I think very seriously about — and its something we are very careful to not do: put people in harm’s way for no other crime than associating with us. Innocence, in much of the world, is, sadly, no defense against accusations..and worse.

One of the reasons this episode is deeply confusing might be because the “vibe” in Iran, the general feeling of walking down the streets, through the markets, the way we were received everywhere by total strangers and passersby, was overwhelmingly friendly. I have said that Iran is the most outgoingly warm, “pro-American” place we’ve ever shot — and that’s true: in Tehran, in spite of the fact that you are standing in front of a giant, snarling mural that reads “DEATH TO AMERICA!”, you will, we found, usually be treated better by strangers — meaning smiles, offers of assistance, curious attempts to engage in limited English, greetings and expressions of general good will — than anywhere in Western Europe. It would be hard to imagine strangers in Germany or France or England, on recognizing you as American, giving you a thumbs up and a smile simply for your nationality. That was overwhelmingly the case in Iran.

We were having an off camera gathering to celebrate our producer Tom Vitale’s birthday at a restaurant in Tehran. When the other diners heard there was a birthday at our table, the whole dining room sang us Happy Birthday in farsi and English. This was not an isolated incident, only one example. Our daily experiences were filled with delightful incongruities.

At the time we were there, the mood was cautiously hopeful for a time where we, Americans and Iranians, might see more of each other in the near future. Iran, it should be pointed out, is very beautiful. The food is spectacular. Iranians are very proud of their cooking — and for good reason. They are also famously generous hosts.

During my time in Iran, I was not naïve about where I was — or the realities of the situation. The secret police camped out a few doors down from my room (very congenial ones, to be fair), were a reminder. The fact that twitter, instagram, and Facebook are forbidden. The sinister sounding “Ministry of Guidance”, for whom we had to refer for approvals, were unfailingly congenial and helpful, however. No intrusive government presence — or attempts to shape our story were felt as we went about our business, unlike any number of other places we’ve shot over the years.

We were not there to do an “expose” of life inside Iran. Nor were we there to do a fair, balanced, comprehensive overview — or anything of the sort. My intention was simply to give a flavor of that weird intangible, what it feels like to walk the streets, sit at the table, look around. To listen. To show you what I saw.

This is not a black and white world — as much as people would like to portray at as such. That’s not an apology for anything. I’m just saying that the brief, narrow slice of Iran we give you on this episode of PARTS UNKNOWN is only one part of a much deeper, multi-hued very old and very complicated story. Like anything as ancient and as beautiful as the Persian Empire, its worth, I think, looking further. It’s also place that can warm your heart one day and break it the next.

At the time of this writing, Washington Post correspondent Jason Rezaian remains imprisoned. The reasons for his arrest have never been explained. In our time with him, on camera and off, he was unfailingly affectionate and generous in his portrayal of Iran — an advocate for — if anything — understanding. It is a mystery and an injustice that any would find fault with him or his wife, Yeganeh (who has only recently been released).

Maid To Serve

TITLE: Maid to Serve

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Nineteen

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you have been sold to a slave trader to pay a debt. One day you are bought and given to Loki as a gift. He ignores you at first, but he slowly begins to notice your attention to small details in your daily tasks and your funny little quirks. He tries everything he can to seduce you, and the more you resist the more intrigued he is.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTE: Sorry about the delay, I know a lot of people have been wanting more, but my computer would not, for some reason, let me open the folder that I have all the chapters for this in, but I managed to get this one sorted in the end, so enjoy.


“I am not a hound Wilhelm!”

“No, you are not, the hound would know better than to try and get up.” He retorted in frustration. “Seriously Girlie, if I have to tie you to the bed, I will.”

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Lip Scar [KotoEli]

I saw birbyonce‘s kotoeli childhood au art (here) and I couldn’t resist, especially Eli’s lip scar! If there was a particular headcanon for it I wouldn’t know, sorry (ó﹏ò。) but here’s my take on it.

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Frozen: Why It Shouldn't Win Best Animated Feature Film Award

“In my honest opinion, Ernest et Célestine deserved the award for Best Animated Feature. But because I have not researched the production of that film, I will not use it in this argument. So many animation production companies spend YEARS on every movie they produce. DreamWorks has had ’The Croods’ in development since 2007, with ideas tossed around even earlier than that. Yes, Disney’s adaptation of ’The Snow Queen’ has been considered since the 1950s. HOWEVER, this current version - which strayed so far from the original fairytale that they simply decided to rename it as ‘inspired by’ and call it ’Frozen - has only been in development since 2011. That is less than TWO YEARS for development, not only in plot, writing, character design, software, music, score, voice acting, recording, animation, rendering, and everything else that goes into these productions. Keep in mind that halfway throughout this process, the entire plot was scrapped and restarted, leaving even less time. Now, most production companies would simply push back their release date, wait another year, in order to make the best film possible. But not Disney, who decided so stubbornly to finish production that when it came out, THERE WERE FLAWS. Flaws like this are unacceptable in animation, especially from a company so prestigious as Disney.

Now, back to DreamWorks, shall we? The Croods had been in development since at least 2007. And now they’ve confirmed a sequel. The sequel is TENTATIVELY set for release in 2019. That is FIVE YEARS of development, and it’s not even confirmed. ’Shrek 5’ is also rumored to be confirmed, but only just, and already three years after ’Shrek Ever After’. But five movies had been planned from the beginning. And with HTTYD, the trilogy had been planned from the beginning, explaining the relatively short development time. However, 'The Croods’ was not planned for a sequel. And neither was 'Frozen’, even though a sequel has been confirmed, and most likely for theater release.

Do you see my point? ’Frozen 2’ is most likely going to be out before ’Moana’ which is scheduled for 2018 (even less time than ’The Croods 2’). If a production company like Disney is going to shoot for this fast of a rebound time with the SAME CREW, then they better not have ANY flaws, or any slip-ups, because the statement they are trying to make is that they are better. But right now, it seems like they are nothing more than a fairytale adaptation factory. I loved the Disney Renaissance, but even then, the animation and pacing had a lot of flaws until they remastered them, and a movie was released every year. I severely enjoyed 'Frozen’; I saw it three separate times and I have the album (that I also have issues with but I won’t go into that) - and it was good. Great, even. But its flaws were unacceptable if they are going to try and pull that kind of production time.

There are production companies, independent production companies, that give their sweat and blood and more than half a decade to produce a fantastic film without any flaws. And then there is Disney, which tries to rush through a classic fairytale to deliver a movie that still has flaws. That is my problem with Frozen, and why it should not have won Best Animated Feature.

Frozen, does have flaws; I just didn’t list them because the post was long enough anyway. There’s the fact that Elsa’s hair phases through her entire shoulder during the 'Let it Go’ sequence, which has been excused as an 'artistic decision’. Also, Kristoff’s thumb clips into Anna’s side when he lifts her up near the end. The only mild accomplishment I can see from the animation when going into the development is the creation of the 'Matterhorn’ software, even though it’s only useful for animating snow and sand, possibly dirt or other large masses of crumbling matter, depending on the formulas used. But as for the detail animation, I’d seen better in DreamWorks’ ’How to Train Your Dragon’, in which the fabric carried a more distinct texture and reaction to the environment around it, as compared to Frozen.

Now, I don’t have formal education in animation or mathematics, so while there may be other flaws in the animation itself, I am not able to comment on them. The above arguments I know from research and analysis by those who do have education in software development. I do have formal training in musical theory, writing, and composing, however, so these next arguments I am able to give a better take on.

There were serious flaws in writing. Not to hate on Jennifer Lee, because the screenplay itself was great, but the lack of character development on Kristoff’s backstory is a minor discontinuity. Also, the concepts of the film contradicted themselves. How was it that Elsa’s powers were able to transfer through her shoes, and yet not through her gloves? As for plot points, the Duke of Wesleton became obsolete as soon as Hans’ plan was revealed. What happened to his entire conflict? Also, the justice given at the end was incredibly weak, especially compared to Disney’s usual standards.

As for music, there were many awkward moments in the score. Just look at the fade into ’Let it Go’; it wasn’t a good lead-in. The only lead-in that made sense was the track before ’Love is an Open Door’. The only track from the entire score to carry musical themes was the Epilogue. You could argue ’The Great Thaw’ as well, but it was technically a reprise of ’Vuelie’, not carrying much of a structural pattern. They went so hard for the wintery theme in their music that it ended up losing that theme. Compare the bells of the lighter tracks to the hard orchestral music of the fight scenes, and yet neither of them carry even a hint of similar musical patterns. To emphasize what I mean by musical patterns, see John Powell’s score for ’How to Train Your Dragon’, in which the soft scenes and the large fight scenes still manage to carry the same four themes and motifs. (Which, in turn, are almost all present in ’This is Berk’, aside from the motif for ’Forbidden Friendship’, which in turn is present throughout other tracks with the other motifs, such as in the track ’Where’s Hiccup?’. In all honestly, I could do a complete structural breakdown of HTTYD’s score, but now I’m getting off topic.) Or, to compare the score to fellow Disney films, see any score by Alan Menken. Also, the music itself did not blend completely well with the score; as is demonstrated by the intro to 'For the First Time in Forever’ reprise. (And yet it won the Annie for Best Music simply because it was a musical…)

And for critics to say that Frozen is the best film since The Lion King? That’s completely disregarding Tangled and The Princess and the Frog. And what about Wreck-it Ralph – which was a fantastic film that had a VERY LONG PRODUCTION TIME compared to other Disney films, having been in concept planning since the late 1980s. See, WIR deserved its acclaim because of how well put together it was, and without flaws (at least no glaringly obvious flaws that could be pointed out without a long analysis afterwards). I saw Frozen three times in theaters, and every time I watched it, I loved it. But the moment I left, I was left with an unsatisfied feeling that was only strengthened by the very obvious flaws that I noticed WHILE WATCHING the film. I’m not saying that every animated movie needs to be flawless, because NO animated movie is flawless (the only one I can think of close to that argument is HTTYD, but arguments can be made for the musically-run scenes and the pacing), but I am saying that Frozen did not deserve the Academy Award, simply because of the sheer amount of errors that were made.

In my personal opinion, 2013 was a weak year in animation, especially compared to 2012. But Frozen was not the best by far, and the flaws are obvious enough to prove it. But thinking optimistically, 2014 is already set up with The Lego Movie, Mr. Peabody and Sherman, HTTYD2, and The Boxtrolls, several films that I am very excited for. This year is going to be great, and hopefully the judges for the Oscars can realize that as well. (Also because The Boxtrolls is probably not for 6-year-olds; so that one judge better rethink his standards.)" — Renoku

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Hide and Seek: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (#5)

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, the fifth installment in the Hide and Seek series.

Parts 1-4

Word Count: 4165

A/N: Here’s part 5! It’s long (sorry if you’re on mobile!). We’re back to present time. And we’re getting domestic.

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No More Heroes: A Miraculous Fan Fiction Chapter 14

               It’s been three years since Papillion’s defeat, Paris is on the road to recovery.  One year after Ladybug and Chat Noir disappeared, the magic holding his victims’ memories in place broke. The LadyBlog is used to help those victims deal with the memories.

               Nobody has been more affected by this than Alix Kubdel.  Her memories haunt all of her waking moments.  Amongst those memories, she alone knows the identity of Chat Noir.

               Gabriel Agreste leaves to find his missing wife, leaving Adrien to run the company.  Marinette has taken on an internship, but it’s with his company’s largest rival.  While reconnecting with Alya, she learns of the horrors Akuma victims are dealing with and resolves to help them.  She just has to do it without revealing her own identity.

               Sequel to All Good Things.

Warning:  May cause you to feel

Rating: T+

Thank you to my beta readers @ace-fox​ and @fuchsrenard

All Good Things

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter 14


             Adrien felt an odd sense of dread.  It started just after he dropped off Marinette.  An odd itch under the surface of his skin.  Initially, he brushed it off as excitement.  By lunchtime it had grown into general unease. Resulting in him being little more than physically present in the afternoon meeting.  At the moment, he stood in his office, arms crossed over his chest, hands rubbing up and down his biceps.

           “If you are feeling chilled, might I suggest adjusting the thermostat?”

           The fact he hadn’t heard Nathalie approach put him more on edge.  He shook his head as he turned to acknowledge her.

           “Not cold, just thinking.”  His voice was low and carried a great weight.

           Nathalie stepped closer and held out a folder.

           “I noticed you doing a lot of thinking during the meeting and took the liberty of making this for you. It’s the minutes, plus the more relevant information that was presented.”  She pushed the file closer, indicating he should take it.

           “Thanks.”  He relaxed his stance and dropped his arms as he accepted the folder.  Her hand lingered a moment before releasing it to him completely.

           “I don’t presume to know everything going on with you.”  Nathalie began.  “My only guess is that it’s more than anyone your age should be worried about.”

           Adrien gave her a halfhearted smile.

           “It’s nothing, I’m just meeting up with a friend I haven’t seen in a long time.   I’m excited, but I’ve had a weird feeling ever since we decided on a time and place.  With everything else going on in my life, I’m just not sure why this is giving me a mild anxiety attack.”  He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

           Nathalie gave a small, almost knowing smile.

           “You feel guilty, Adrien.”  

           “Guilty?”  Now, he really was confused.  “Why guilty?”

           “You tend to hold yourself to a higher standard than that of your peers.”  She explained.  “While most people your age go out drinking every night, you are negotiating international business deals.  Believe me, it’s perfectly fine for you to go out and act your age.”

           “Why does it feel like you’re giving me permission?”  He quirked an eyebrow with the question.

           “Because it feels like you need it.”  At that statement, she turned to leave.  Not that there was anything else to say.

           She meant well, but that wasn’t what was bothering him.  He couldn’t exactly place what it was, but he definitely knew what it was not. He glanced down at his watch. There was a bit of time before his next meeting, maybe a run would dispel some of the nervous energy.


           “Thanks for all the help, Nino.”  The elevator dinged as it descended past each floor. “I’m sorry to throw off your schedule.”

           Marinette had insisted on escorting him back to his van.  He could have made it on his own, but he got the sense it gave her an excuse to be out of the office for just a bit longer.  They stood in the small elevator making polite conversation.

           “That woman at the desk,” Nino looked at the ceiling as he spoke, “is she the one that sent you on that crazy errand?”

           An annoyed looked passed over Marinette’s face.  She took a deep breath and chose her words carefully.

           “Nichole.”  She paused as they stepped off the elevator and out into the lobby.  “I don’t know if I did something to get on her bad side, or if she’s like that with everyone.  At least she speaks to me.  No one else has even said a word to me outside of their lunch order.”

           “I thought you were supposed to be gaining job experience.”  He observed.  

           “If my parents ever decide to add a delivery option to the bakery, I’ll be fully prepared.”  

           Nino took it as a good sign that she was able to make light of the situation, but could also see the toll it was taking on her.  Though her eyes still sparkled, they weren’t the same as he remembered from when she was younger.  Seeing that spark dimmed in the slightest was unacceptable to him and it made him feel a deep sympathy for his friend.  

           As they exited the building, Marinette stopped short, as if a thought had just hit her.  She reached out and grabbed Nino’s arm.

           “You can’t tell Adrien about this.  He’s been dealing with a lot and I don’t want to add this to his list of worries.”

           “As close as the two of you are, I’m sure he knows.”  Nino smiled down at her and she dropped his arm. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t run into you today, but I can leave out some of the details.”

           “Thanks.”  She put on a fake smile.  “Tomorrow will be a week down, only thirteen more to go. Knowing it has a set time to end always makes it easier to deal with.”

           “That’s quite possibly the least optimistic thing I’ve ever heard you say.”  They continued walking toward the van.  “Don’t let this place get you down.  Promise me you’ll leave before it gets under your skin.”

           “I’ll add you to the growing list of people concerned with my well-being.”  When they reached the van she surprised him by gripping in a tight hug.  He stiffened slightly, but when she pulled away, her smile had shifted into a genuine one.

           “Thanks again for being such an awesome person, Nino.  You didn’t have to do any of this today.”

           His eyes narrowed, adding a seriousness to his features.  

           “We both know Alya would kill me if I didn’t.”  They shared a friendly chuckle and Marinette made her way back into the office building.

           As she disappeared through the lobby doors, Nino wasn’t sure what to think about the day’s events. He had learned one very important fact: If Marinette was the mystery poster, she hadn’t done it as a joke.  That being said, Adrien was still a possible suspect.  One way or another, Nino was putting this to rest tonight.


           Adrien stood outside of the club designated for the evening meetup.  His run earlier had done little to dispel the nagging energy that was following him around.  In fact, it had done just the opposite.  When he made it back to the office, he was almost late for a conference call.  Sweaty and a bit disheveled, he had little time to make himself presentable.  

           When the call had finished, his sweat-moistened clothes had dried and left him feeling gross.  He intended to grab a spare suit from his office, but found only a pair of dark blue relaxed-fit jeans and a black V-neck tee. These were kept on hand for more casual interviews and media appearances.  It would work out for the evening, but forced him to finish the day in his sweat-encrusted garments.  

           Nino spotted Adrien right away.  Despite all the time spent in front of a camera, the guy was painfully awkward when left to his own devices.  Standing out on the sidewalk, rubbing his arms as if he were chilled, Nino chalked the action up to nervousness.  While he had seen Adrien on numerous media sources, they were always business related or gossip rags attempting to break into his private life.  Not once could he remember a story about the guy hanging out anywhere, much less a club.  

           “Adrien.”  Nino raised a hand in greeting while approaching. “Long time, no see.”

           “Too long.”  Adrien dropped his left arm to his side, but kept a grip on the upper portion with his right.  When Nino came within proper distance, they gave each other a handshake and pulled in for a friendly pat on the back.

           “You ready to head in?”   Nino pointed to the entrance with his thumb.

           “Please.”  Adrien put on a smile, but his nerves were present in his eyes.  They approached the door and Nino greeted the bouncer with a series of handshakes.  The two finished with a fist-bump.  

           “How’s it going, Bruce?” Nino addressed the large man.

           “Slow, you know how industry night is.”  Bruce’s navy suit appeared stretched to its limit over his bulky muscles.  Edges of tattoos were visible around his neck and wrist. “Also means the VIP room is all yours, just clean up when you’re done.”

           “Thanks, man.” Nino gave Bruce a final handshake and called to Adrien.  “This way.”

           Bruce took in Adrien as he walked past.  They were the same height, but Bruce had at least a hundred pounds on the former model. For some reason, Adrien knew he could take him.  It wasn’t a thought he expected to have.  The man hadn’t even threatened him in any way.  Before he could dwell on it, Nino grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the darkened doorway.

           “I spin here pretty regularly.”  Nino explained as they walked down a black-lit hallway coved with plush curtains. The blue violet glow picked up every stray piece of dust and paper that had made its home on the walls and carpet. The dull thud of baselines could be felt, but the sound was tapered by the door shutting the hall off from the main club.  

           Adrien kept his eyes trained on that door.  He had been very careful to never step foot into a club.  Not that he had never been asked to make an appearance.  He always turned them down.  It would be free advertising for the establishment that may not reflect well on the family business.  The fact he agreed to meet Nino at one should speak volumes for how bad Adrien felt about not staying in touch.  He was so focused on the door; he didn’t see Nino disappear behind one of the curtains.  It was quite the shock when hands shot out of the nowhere and pulled him through the wall.

           “Dude.”  Nino let go of Adrien’s shoulders to re-adjust the curtains.  “It’s cool, private entrance.”

           Adrien took a few deep breaths and looked around.  There wasn’t much room where they stood, but opposite the curtained entrance were stairs leading up into an unseen area.  Nino took point once again, and he took up the rear.  

           The top of the stairs emptied out into a large open space.  Unlike the rest of the club, this room had decent enough lighting that Adrien could make out the details of his surroundings.  The floor was a light wood brought to a high polish.  More thick purple curtains hung against the walls. A small stage and several couches were scattered throughout the room.  A bar was set up on the far wall.

           “This place is reserved for private parties and VIP guests.”  Nino explained.  “I know it isn’t the fanciest place in town, but it is the only place I have some pull.  Figured it was better than meeting up somewhere more public.”

           They started walking towards the bar.

           “Thanks.” Adrien relaxed at the considerations of his former best friend.  “It’s been a rough day.  I really appreciate it.”

           “Yeah, rough days seem to be going around.”  Nino commented as sidled behind the bar.  “What can I get for you?”

           “Is there club soda and lime back there?”  Adrien sat down at the bar and began arranging the napkins, plastic stirrers, and condiment bottles that sat up on the counter.  

           “Yeah, what do you want mixed with that?”  Nino grabbed a lime from the mini-fridge that sat under the counter.   He picked up a blue bar rag and threw it over his shoulder.

           “Ice?”  Adrien shrugged and released a small smile.  Nino grabbed another rag and threw it in Adrien’s face.  They shared a friendly laugh and Nino picked up a paring knife to slice the lime.  

           “You mentioned rough days going around.”  Adrien watched as Nino set up a couple of highballs and filled them with ice.  Half a lime was squeezed into each glass, then dropped in on top of the ice.  He grabbed the hose that hung off of the counter and hit the button for club soda, topping off each glass.  He kept one for himself and handed the other off to Adrien.

           Nino walked back around, took up the closest empty stool, and raised his glass.

           “Cheers.”  They clinked their glasses together.

           “Cheers.”  Adrien responded.  They each took a swallow and put down their glasses.         “Now, about those bad days.  Unless you’d like to start catching up from another point in time.”

           Nino stopped a moment to think, took in a deep breath and let out a thoughtful sigh.  He looked into his glass and swirled the liquid with a slight movement of his wrist.

           “I don’t know how the girls did it.”  He let out a chuckle laced in frustration.  “They just picked up from where they left off, and here we are like it’s some awkward first date.”

           “I’m mad at myself for being out of touch.”  Adrien was picking up all of the items on the counter and arranging them in various configurations.  “I abandoned my best friend.”

           “What?”  Nino was confused.  “You didn’t abandon me, I abandoned you.  I knew you were going through something major.  At first, I was just giving you space, then things went south. By the time I got myself back together, you were going around doing the whole rich and famous thing.  It didn’t feel right trying to just jump back into your life.”

           “I should have made the effort.”  Adrien argued.  Neither one would look at the other.

           “Dude, I know how you are when it comes to the social stuff.  The blame is all on me.”  Nino went back to starring into his drink.  He looked up when he caught sight of a hand in his peripheral vision and followed it up to a halfcocked grin.

           “Hi, I’m Adrien.”

           Nino reached out and playfully punched him in the shoulder.

           “Ok, smartass.”  It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his back.

           “We good?”

           “Yeah.”  Nino agreed.  “The bad day I was talking about wasn’t mine, by the way.”

           “Really?  Whose was it?”  Adrien picked up a cocktail napkin and placed it under his drink to absorb the condensation that had begun to form and run down the side of his glass.

           “Believe it or not, Marinette.”

           “What happened?” Adrien’s voice took on a panicked tone and he scrambled to pull his phone from his pocket.  “Do I need to call her?  Should I….”    

           Nino grabbed his shoulder to calm him.

           “She’s fine.  Just one of those ‘Send the intern on a crazy task’ situations.”  He explained. “I happened to be in the area and was able to help out.”

           “Oh, you mean all the food and coffee runs.”  Adrien was visibly relieved.  “Yeah, I warned her about that.  She simply refuses to come work at my company, I understand her reasons, but I don’t really see her benefitting from that hackneyed design house.”

           “Alya’s had to do several interships for her degree. It was those stupid errands that prompted her to finally get the Vespa.”  Nino reached for his drink and brought it up to take a sip.

           “So, you think a scooter would help her out?”  The gears moving in Adrien’s brain almost made a physical noise.  

           “It would save her time getting across town.”  Nino confirmed.  “Is she properly licensed to drive one?”

           “Yes.  I had one in Uni.  We both would drive it to and from, depending on our schedule.  I started driving the car when the press started getting too obtrusive.  I honestly don’t know what happened to that thing.  It never occurred to me she might want it.”  Adrien tapped his chin thoughtfully.

           “Now that we’ve hashed all that out, let’s order some food.”  Nino grabbed a slip of laminated paper from behind the bar and presented it to Adrien. “I know you’re probably used to much fancier stuff, but I recommend the steak frites.”


           “Now you’re starting to sound like Adrien.”  Marinette glared at her friend.  “Honestly, my parent’s didn’t give me as much flak about this as the two of you.”  The two of them were setting up and arranging folding chairs in Alya’s living room.  

           “That neighborhood is super sketch.”  Alya argued. “My guess is your parents were hoping Adrien could talk you out of it.”

           This made Marinette pause for a moment.  She’d never even thought about that possibility.  Leave it to her parents to realize the more they opposed something, the more she would fight against it.  

           “If I told you I’d at least think about it; could we drop this conversation?”  Marinette cocked her head and looked her friend in the eye.

           “Only if you mean that sincerely.”  Alya sassed back.  “Thanks for helping me set up for tomorrow’s meeting, by the way.”

           “I didn’t realize you held some of the group meetings in your apartment.”

           “Every Friday night. It’s an open forum for anyone that wants to talk.  Sometimes it’s all anyone needs.”  Alya scanned around the room to make sure everything was in place.  “It also establishes this as a help center for victims, government pays the rent and I have a roof over my head.  Otherwise, I’d still be living with my parents, and I don’t think they would appreciate the weekly intrusion.”

           “That’s fair.” Marinette agreed.

           “You and Adrien are welcome to attend.”  She paused to adjust the distance between a few of the chairs.  “People show up that were never directly possessed, Pharaoh’s mummies, D’Argentcourt’s knights, and Jackady’s army.  Same as you, some of them multiple times.”

           It took Marinette a moment to register the “same as you” part.  She hadn’t had to keep track of her Ladybug cover stories in so long, she had almost forgotten what it was she had told Alya.  

           “Or like you with Dark Cupid?”  Marinette deflected the focus of the statement.  Alya nodded at her in response.  “Adrien and I are having dinner with my parents this week.  Maybe next time?”

           “Even if you can’t make a meeting, I’m always available to talk, for you or Adrien.”

           The knowing look she sent caused a cold shiver to work its way up Marinette’s spine.  There were so many things she had always wanted to tell her friend.  Even now, after their period of estrangement.  She did the only thing she could and gave Alya a grateful smile.

           “Thanks.”  The phone in Marinette’s pocket buzzed.

           “Speak of the devil.” Alya stepped into the kitchen to give her some privacy.

           “How’s it going?” Marinette picked up.

           “Just finished, it went great.  I’m heading over to pick you up.” Adrien responded.

           “You didn’t have to call to tell me that.”  She chided sweetly.

           “I just wanted to hear your voice.  See you soon, My Lady.”

           “You too, Chaton.” She whispered the nickname as she hung up.  The walls could still have ears, and she was not in the mood to explain their private nicknames for each other.    

           “I’m surprised it took him this long to call you.”  Alya leaned against the doorway, watching her friend.  “It’s really cute that you still blush like that from just a short phone call.”

           “What about you and Nino?”  Marinette shot back playfully.  “He doesn’t call just to say hello?”

           “Nino and I have a perfectly healthy relationship.”  Alya took on a crossed her arms in mock defense.  “You and Golden Boy, however, are so sweet I’m surprised you both have all your teeth.”

           “Speaking of sweet, I believe I was promised ice cream in exchange for setting up tonight.”  

           “I believe you were.” Alya tapped her lip.  “Too bad the only kind I have is spumoni.”

           “Only kind?  More like best kind.”  Marinette followed Alya into the kitchen.  


                       Adrien hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of a sloppy kiss when Alya’s door opened. Marinette had been on the other side and practically jumped into his arms.  Her lips were surprisingly cold and tasted faintly of something sweet.  Maraschino cherry was the strongest flavor he could place. When she pulled away, he was smiling dopily.

           “What was that about?” He asked.  “Not that I’m complaining.”

           “Just showing how sickeningly sweet we really can be.”  Marinette stepped back inside to allow him through the door, then closed it behind him. “I’m going to head to the bathroom, then we can go.”  she excused herself and stepped down the hall.

           “Hey, Alya” Adrien nodded as he stepped into the kitchen.

           “Hey yourself, Charming. How was the man-date?”  She shot him a smug look.  

           “I think we’re both going to be better about staying in contact.”  He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.  “Can I ask you a question?”


           “Has Marinette mentioned anything bad going on at her internship?”  He asked.

           “You mean besides her new found intimacy with the menus at all the local cafés?”  Alya thought for a moment.  “Not that I can think of, just the usual intern BS.  Why?”

           “Nothing, I try to give her the freedom she needs in this area, but I get the feeling she’s not telling me everything.”  He shrugged. “Almost like she’s trying to protect me from something.”

           “You’re a busy guy, and she’s a big girl.”  She chewed her lip a moment.  “This is going to sound like I’m putting my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I’ve seen where her apartment is.  I think you should focus more on getting her to move.  You live in a mansion, I’m sure there’s enough space somewhere.”

           “I’ve been against that place since she told me she was moving in there.”  He somberly agreed.  “Your living room is bigger than the entire floorplan, and the shower sits so low I haven’t bathed decently in weeks.”

           “Don’t tell me you moved in there.”  Her eyes were wide and mouth slightly open in disbelief.

           “Officially, it’s only been a few days, but I’ve spent most of my free time there anyway.”  He sighed.  “Sometimes she can be really stubborn.”

           “Well, I’m on your team with this one.”  Alya agreed. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

           “Help with what?” Marinette emerged from the hallway.

           “I was just giving Adrien the same invite to the weekly group meeting I gave you earlier.”  Alya shot Adrien the “Go with it” look.

           “I’ll see if I can fit it into my schedule.”  He hoped that was the right answer.

           “Well, we have to get going.”  Marinette said.  “Early mornings all around.”  Adrien grabbed her hand and they both made their way out the door.

           “See you soon!” Alya called out as she closed the door behind them.

           She started cleaning up after her visitor when the tone for a video call filled the air.  She grabbed the phone and walked into the bedroom. Nino’s face popped up on the screen.

           “Are you alone?” He asked.

           “Is that a threat or an invitation?”  She responded in a sultry tone.

           “I’m going to guess that tone means you are.”  He smiled at her.  “This is about Adrien.”

           “I thought everything went well.”  Her brows furrowed in concern, and she took a seat on the bed.

           “It did, but I was kind of in recon mode and noticed a few things.”  His tone was serious.

           “Like what?”

           “The biggest thing was how nervous he was the entire time.  I would almost say fidgety.  Which kind of leads into the touching thing.”  Nino took a moment, trying to figure out how to explain it.

           “He got a little too hands-y with you?”  She wasn’t quite sure what he could have been talking about.

           “No,” Nino shook his head, “It was more like everything had to be arranged just right.  If he wasn’t moving stuff, he kept reaching for his phone, wanting to call or text Marinette.  I would have thought it was him still being head over heels for her, but I’ve seen behavior like this before.”

           “Your dad….”  She whispered.

           “Yeah.”  He agreed.  “He’s a recovering alcoholic, and I took him to a bar.”

           “Nino, I had no idea, Marinette never said anything.”

           “Neither did he, I kind of put it all together after the fact.  We had access to a full bar and he only drank club sodas with lime.  So, he made it through like a champ.  Marinette must be a part of his network, and I kept him from contacting her in a situation like that.  I feel like such a jerk.”

           “At this point, you’re just speculating.”  She tried to reassure him.

           “We’ve seen it before; he wouldn’t be the first person to deal with their problems at the bottom of a bottle.  Look at Ivan.”  Nino pointed out.

           “Yeah, but he’s never quite grasped the recovery part.  Not that I blame him.”  Alya commented.

           “Even so, my dad did make it that far.  I’ve seen him do some of the same stuff, especially in the first couple of years. People think you just quit, and that’s it.  I watched him deal with triggers and self-coping.    Once you’ve seen it, it’s easier to spot in other people.”  Stress was evident in his voice.

           “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”  Alya attempted to calm him down. “This might be something they want to keep private. If it were something as big as that, I’m sure he would have said something.”

           “If it isn’t that, something still isn’t right.  I know he’s always been a little awkward, but this is on a whole other level.”  Nino took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

           “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it, tonight.”  She pointed out.  “I say we sleep on it.  After that, we tread carefully.”

           “Ok, but sleeping is happening later.  I have a big gig that’s running pretty late tomorrow.  I need to get back on my weekend cycle.  I’m staying up tonight, then sleeping all day tomorrow.  So good luck with the meeting.  You’re welcome to come watch me after it lets out.”

           “I’ll think on it.” Alya said.  “Break a leg at the gig tomorrow.”

           “Love you too.”

Chapter 15

8 + 1 = complete ♥

30st September  2014 I will remember as the day when SM destroyed one of the world’s most successful groups. My bias, Jessica Jung, was kicked out of Girls’ Generation. There were a lot of speculations regarding why, but after SM released their statement Jessica broke the silence again and released another statement of her own. Parts of her letter such as “the members suddenly changed their position and (…) told me to either quit my business or leave Girls’ Generation (…)”; “ I was given a one-sided notice asking me to leave Girls’ Generation” and “(…) I was asked by the agency and fellow members, (…) to leave.”  really shocked me.

Before I continue with this post, I would like to say that I will support SNSD as an 8 member group, and I am still a sone, BUT being a sone doesn’t mean that I can’t be disappointed, angry and voice my opinion at SM and the girls.

I just don’t understand how and why could someone so easily kick out someone you spent your life together with so easily? They kicked her out as if it was nothing, like she has never meant anything for them. For the past seven years they constantly talked about them being like a family, about their strong bond and how supportive of each other they are. Was that fake? Does songs ‘INTW’, 'Complete’ and 'Indestructible’ mean anything any more? What happened between you guys supporting her and turning your backs on her? I do believe there is so much more than was released in public, but this is just not acceptable. 

Reading SM’s statement I felt like my IQ was dropping by every sentence. They kicked out one of the most popular members and THAT was their answer?

Some of the reasons were unacceptable. One of the reasons she was kicked out was because she neglected her groups activities. Seriously SM? Sooyoung wasn’t at K-con because of her drama. Sooyoung won’t be attending your next SMTown concert because of her drama. How many promotions, events, awards etc. did Yoona missed out because of her dramas? Yuri as well? So, there are double standards for Jessica, or you’re just bitching because you didn’t earn anything from her PERSONAL fashion line? Grow a pair and just say that it’s all about money. People already know that SM cares only about money.

Some people speculate it’s because of Tyler Kwon and their marriage. In my last post I voiced my opinion that I really don’t see a problem of them getting married. I do see SM’s perspective as possibility Jessica’s marriage affecting groups promotions but Tyler did release a statement saying that he has no plans of getting married, not this year or the next. Also, some people started hating on the guy, but hold the fuck up! Tyler Kwon helped her establish Blanc, got her investors, promoted the Blanc all over China, Big Bang’s Seungri promoted the brand because of him etc. But even if you don’t care about all that - HE is the ONLY ONE supporting Jessica. I don’t care who he is, what he has done, or what he will do next. All I care is that in this moment he is there for her, supporting her. So no matter of his intentions, he’s here.

SM, Girls’ Generation, Jessica, Tyler, Blanc. SM could have used her popularity in China to promote SNSD better. They stated something like that they don’t want her to use SNSD’s name (brand) to promote Blanc. The funny thing is that on Blanc’s official page there is no mention of SM nor SNSD. It states that she’s a singer, nothing more. Even though she’s not in GG she will always be remembered as a member of GG. The same way Kelly and Beyonce will always be remembered as Destiny’s Childs members and Robin Williams a part of Take That. *sigh*

Also, I don’t understand GG members. First they are blue, then they laugh, then they cry, then they are depressed again…come on, make up your mind. During a fan event Taeyeon released a statement saying “The only thoughts I’ve had since the beginning was to protect Girls’ Generation. (blah blah blah)” - she also allegedly cried while saying this.

There is no room for tears Taeyeon. You cried enough this year, and I’m sick of it. You guys kicked her out (I don’t care about reasons any more), the best thing you could do is to face up for what you did, grow a pair and continue as an 8 member group. 

Fans started choosing sides. So there are actually four options: a) support SNSD and Jessica; b) support only SNSD, c) support only Jessica, d) give up on all of them. When the news broke I was in a category c).I couldn’t accept that they could do something like that to their member, but I decided to support the option a). I believe that SNSD will continue to be an amazing group and they do have my support. I would only like for them to be honest about what happened.

I would also like to mention that Jessica’s fans are still with her, in fact the number of her weibo followers since the departure from the group went up in thousands. 

Another positive thing is that SM’s stocks dropped for about 4,10% by the latest reports since the news broke out. Also, SM lost, according to some sources, over $ 60 000 000. Hit them where it hurts the most - in SM’s case, that’s their wallet. $ 60 mill down the drain.

I’ll end this post with a wish. I wish that Jessica’s brand becomes successful all over the Asia. I wish she becomes happy and does what makes her happy. I wish she never feels betrayed like she does now. I wish that SNSD still keeps going strong. I wish that there won’t be anymore scandals like this. I wish for all of them, the 9, to be happy.

P.S. - In my last post I used Korean word ’saranghae’ and some of you complained for my usage of that word. The same way Koreans can use English, I can use Korean. I’m not breaking any laws and I can and will use any word from any language I wish to. Peace. 

snowdropsandtigers  asked:

I want to thank you for explaining all the things I want to say that I wish didn't need to be said. Fandom. I think OUAT's writing is informed by rape culture (and other internalized crap) and it affects all the narratives, but fandom tends to taint analysis by letting personal preferences whitewash certain things they like. It's made of extremes and is particularly gross and disturbing after reading a who people claim almost no one criticizes CS with ulterior motives. It's coopting feminism.

I’m really disturbed that someone who I’ve read talking about rape culture tried to disconnect it from Rumplestiltskin being a wife murderer. Not only is the act precisely the kind of thing rape culture allows, but the actual framing of that episode encourages sympathy for him right up until it shifts to doing it for Hook, and never to Milah. Rumplestiltskin obviously viewed himself as victimized by her, as real men who kill women do—like that shooter that’s been compared to Hook—and just.That’s reinforcing rape culture right there. Giving the sympathy to the man who killed woman/women because he felt their lack of “love” was a personal crime against him. Because he felt emasculated and powerless before that. Making an effort to defend the man’s actions and/or go on about how understandable and sympathetic he was when murdering his wife/girlfriend/some girl who dared not love him.I was going to make a post about how while it’s okay to not always talk about all the characters, I’m suspicious when people speak passionately about one while never acknowledging the issues with others (or other ships) they like (people who talk about Hook but never about Neal even though they were both framed as pursuers of an Emma who never got to comment much on it; people who uncritically say Hook/Neal is bad boy/good boy (people ignoring that Rumplestiltskin is one)), but I just can’t even It’s honestly horrifying and utterly disturbing that people consider it even REMOTELY appropriate and acceptable to use serious, relevant issues by unacceptably trivializing and oversimplifying them in order to rationalize and justify their blatant and explicit bias against fictional characters/pairings/stories. The fact that there have been actual and legitimate instances of a misogynistic crime and rape on the show, committed by Rumple and Regina respectively which have never been strictly and constructively addressed by either the narrative or the fandom (yet said fandom is repulsive and atrociously gross enough to take real life tragedies and reduce them to inherently flawed and appalling arguments against a character that’s come to be treated as a scapegoat) is uncalled for. If there is a misogynistic male character on the show who equates with psychotic and controlling abusers who shoot, stab or throw acid in women’s faces when rejected, broken up with or cheated on it’s Rumple. Because it’s literally what he DID when his wife left him for someone else and his swollen ego couldn’t handle it. All three villains of the show - Rumple, Regina and Hook - are criminals yet Rumple is the one who has committed a misogyny induced crime against a woman BECAUSE she dared to reclaim her agency and leave him for someone who acknowledged and prioritized said agency, gave her a full power and control over her life (thus doing the opposite of what misogynists do) and endorsed her needs and desires. Regina is the one who deprived a person of agency and exploited them on both emotional and sexual level for two decades and half, proceeding to - much like Rumple - remorselessly slaughter said person when they made an attempt to get away and chose someone else. Hook’s misdeeds are classified as banditry, whereas that of Rumple and Regina are officially considered - by a legal definition - misogyny and sexual assault. Yet the aforementioned duo consistently gets away with it because their BA fans cannot recognize the flaws of their precious mass murdering snowflakes hence falsely attributing their core traits to Hook. To top it off, Rumple and Regina also hold institutional power over people in Storybrooke and Enchanted Forest which equates their actions to political tyranny and systematic privilege abuse. By all the logic (which fandumb clearly does NOT manage to conjure up) Hook would be serving a multiple years long jail term and released on parole due to earnestly recognizing his wrongness and making active attempts to rehabilitate himself (and he would only be prosecuted for his crimes against Storybrooke citizen none of whom he has murdered. He cannot be charged for whatever crimes he committed as a pirate because it was an act of rebellion against his corrupt government, similarly to Snow’s conversion into thievery when she was wrongfully persecuted by authoritatively empowered Regina. Only his government can charge him and if said government is just as corrupt as Regina then it should be taken down the same way Regina was). Rumple and Regina, on the other hand, would be sentenced to a lifetime in prison, charged for power abuse, mass murder, sexual assault, misogynistic crime/first degree murder of an ex wife and 28 years of psychological abuse they inflicted on the Storybrooke citizen. In my opinion, Milah WAS portrayed as a victim and a sympathetic party by the narrative. As an individual character she admittedly didn’t receive much of an exposure but as a woman who was brutally slayed by her murderous, abusive, malicious ex she absolutely was NOT blamed or undermined by the show (contrary to, say, Snow being accused in her own persecution because her 9 year old self revealed a random information to a social ladder climbing manipulator Cora, only to be subjected to a lifetime of terror and torment on part of a ruthless dictator Regina). The narrative tends to frame Hook as a sympathetic party as well where this issue is concerned, however, not so much because he lost Milah but because he was maimed which is legitimate. It’s his physical disability that is being continuously highlighted, not his man-pain. As opposed to Rumple who IS being presented as a poor, rejected, mistreated husband who was supposedly entitled to his wife’s unyielding love and loyalty because he made a handful of decidedly toxic, unreasonable, self destructive choices such as crippling himself (apparently mastering a new hobby so that he could then try it out on others) and becoming a cowardly deserter. The show did quite an outstanding job with defying and challenging right man versus wrong man dichotomy and not reducing EITHER Neal or Hook to a “bad guy” status as far as their pursuit of Emma is goes because Emma had the full agency in the situation. Hook/Bae connection was endearing and complex and remarkably not belittled because of the love triangle. That said, fandom does tend to completely neglect the fact that Emma and Neal were in a legitimate relationship when Neal disgracefully wronged Emma rather than being the opponents turned allies turned friends turned lovers (or whatever status Emma/Hook relationship is going to assume next season) who have only just established something relatively close to a romantic partnership. Neal engaged in a relationship with Emma when he was a legal adult and she was a minor, impregnating her teenage self in a process. And much like his father, Neal felt entitled to his (former) female love interest and their mutual son (to whom he - technically - was no more than a sperm donor) after suddenly - and completely randomly - bursting back into her life.  Not to say Neal’s approach towards his relationship with Emma was anywhere NEAR as harmful and problematic as Rumple/Milah and Regina/Graham issues but Emma/Neal dynamic was marked by GLARING and enormous issues fandom also tends to conveniently sugarcoat. Because Neal is Rumple’s sonny honey bunny and apparently this family with horrible genetics is absolved from scrutiny.
Were the World Ours (Chapter 9)

Title: Were the World Ours (Chapter 9)

Genre/Rating: Multi-chapter AU; expect a bit of everything; PG-13 for now

Word Count: 1,584 (Total - 17,568/??)

Summary: Year ten theatre nerd Dan finally musters up the courage to try out for his school’s production of Midsummer Night’s Dream. But who is the blue-eyed unknown that’s been mysteriously cast as Puck? (AKA the one where magic turns the whole town gay.) Based on the movie Were the World Mine.

A/N: Thanks so much for 3k!!! And I loved all your reactions to the last chapter (apologies for any pain caused)! Consider this installment the moderate period of rest before magical shit gets real

CHAPTERS - One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight


The next day, Louise was condemned to lunch detention with Dan.

“I ran into Mrs. Buzzkill Babington,” she said, waving her sparkly hot pink nails. “Couldn’t be bothered, honestly. I still think they look fab, and now I get to spend some extra time with my bestest pal.”

Mr. Linden shushed them from the front of the fluorescent-lit classroom, despite the fact that Dan had done little more than hum in response. Louise leaned back in her chair, angry pout on her lips.

“What I wouldn’t give to steal that diseased meerkat from his dumb head,” she murmured.

“Juvenile delinquency wouldn’t suit you, Louise.”

“Excuse you, I would be the best delinquent.” Dan’s phone buzzed for the third time in as many minutes, and Louise eyed his pocket with suspicion. “Someone’s popular.”

“It’s my mum.”

“That hardly looks like mum face to me.” Louise grinned slyly. “Are you hiding a date or something? Is there a secret girlfriend? Come on, then, Dan – dish.”

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Endangered (13/25)

The second half of the previous chapter, finally. I had to work every day this week. :I

Part 13 of a Dirk/AR AU fic where androids are wiping out the human race one at a time. Warning for language, injury, death threats, AR being his typical self, etc.


Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25

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