#<- new tag - filter if uninterested

[danielpowell]

Mel's Pairing Monday

Today is my first track pairing post and I wanted to showcase the pairing that inspired me to start sharing them !

Our first track is...

Clay Pigeon by bikini

It has a percussive intro with a healthy helping of reverb.

The lyrics contain themes of struggling with vulnerability, as described by the artist.

So be my clay pigeon

I play around and I'm shooting you

So naked, so sadistic

I don't wanna be the same, I don't wanna

It ends with some plucked strings and distortion, echoing as it slowly fades into our next track...

Lovely Sewer by Yves Tumor

It has a similar intro to Clay Pigeon, although now it has a slightly faster tempo, a new key signature (that only differs by two sharps, I believe), and a bit of synth for extra texture.

The lyrics contain of themes of a toxic relationship, while still holding onto affection for the former lover.

Lovely sewer, tragedy free

In love with the frenzy

We stared at our ceilings

Always the last to arrive, the first to leave

It ends with that repeated bittersweet refrain, now with a sense of realization. The vocals still have that consistent reverb, but the piano keys stop abruptly.

I find listening to them in tandem creates a new experience that is enhanced by both the differences and the similarities.

Notes of this pairing: imperfect relations, fondness of the past, carefully crafted space, a sense of relief, the idea of two conversations at adjacent tables that result in a knowing nod when they lock eyes

[sailoryooons]

Hali's Happy Agust

Welcome to Hali’s Happy Agust! This is my second year of doing this event and I am so excited to bring it back! For those who weren’t following me during August last year, I dedicate the full month of August to Yoongi-only content! Last year, this included requests, series and fic drops and banner reveals. This year will be a little different but I am so excited to do this event! 

This year’s Hali’s Happy Agust will feature opening Yoongi drabble requests, Yoongi-only Thirsty Thursday fic reviews, and a bracket challenge for the best Yoongi trope! Details and requirements for each section of the celebration are detailed below, but each one of these parts will also receive its own post to help separate it all! 

If you don't want to see Hali's Happy Agust content on your dash, you can filter #halis happy agust as a tag!

My requests are now open for the first week of August. Request are strictly for Min Yoongi content. You can expect requests to periodically be filled throughout the month of August.

RULES FOR REQUESTING:

❀  Your request must be Yoongi centric but may feature multiple members

❀  The following pairings are acceptable: Yoongi x reader, Yoongi x mem, Yoongi solo

❀ Smut requests must be submitted off of anon and you must have your age in your bio. If you submit a request for a smutty request on anon or do not have your age in bio, the request will be tossed out. NON-smut requests may be submitted on anon. 

❀  You must submit a request between August 1 12:01 am - August 31 11:59 pm ET - I will not accept late requests - sorry, this is just to make sure I manage my time

❀  You may submit a request for fluff, smut, angst, or any other genre

❀  You can expect your requests to be fulfilled within the month of August

❀  I reserve the right to dismiss any request that I am uncomfortable writing, uninterested in, or do not have time to do

❀  Request may be inspired by prompts, scenarios, scenes, photos, lyrics or any other media

SUBMIT REQUESTS

Requests for Hali After Dark will also be open to celebrate Hali's Happy Agust. If you have access to Hali After Dark, you may submit requests throughout the month of August.

RULES FOR REQUEST ON HALI'S AFTER DARK:

❀  Your request must be Yoongi centric but may feature multiple members

❀  The following pairings are acceptable: Yoongi x reader, Yoongi x mem, Yoongi solo

❀ Requests may be submit on and off anon regardless of content

❀  You must submit a request between August 1 12:01 am - August 31 11:59 pm ET - I will not accept late requests - sorry, this is just to make sure I manage my time

❀  You may submit a request for any dark element - sky is the limit as I explore writing darker genres

❀  You can expect your requests to be fulfilled within the month of August

❀  I reserve the right to dismiss any request that I am uncomfortable writing, uninterested in, or do not have time to do

❀  Request may be inspired by prompts, scenarios, scenes, photos, lyrics or any other media

SUBMIT HALI AFTER DARK REQUESTS

Note: Hali After Dark is a password protected blog that has an application and approval process for access. This blog features some of my darker fics and is only accessible to those who meet the requirements as outlined in the application. For more info, please find the form in my navi.

 Every Thursday I will share fic recommendations and reviews that are Yoongi-centric only. I want this to be a mix of things that are currently on my to be read list and things recommended to me! My goal is to do five fics every Thursday and to read works from active writers and new writers! 

Fics can be shared through this submission box here to keep them separate from my asks which will mostly have fic requests. 

Submission Requirements:

Yoongi must be the central character of the fic

Must be written by a writer who is still active in the community (the goal is to interact with people who are still creating content or are new to the writing community here)

Fics submitted must be written by someone 18 years of age or older - I will not read fics written by minors or authors who do not have an age displayed anywhere on their blog 

Submission Notes: 

You can submit any pairings: Yoongi x mem, Yoongi x reader, Yoongi x OC, or just Yoongi himself 

You may submit your own fic or someone else's fic

This is not on a first-come, first-serve so I will be reading/reviewing in a mostly random order, but reviews will be posted every Thursday throughout the day during the entire month of August

I will read anything, so long as it is tagged appropriately 

Please note: I reserve the right to not read/recommend everything that is submitted for any reason, including not having time to do so!

Vote on your favorite Yoongi tropes every week until a final Yoongi remains standing! Whichever Yoongi wins the bracket is my next featured Yoongi one-shot! Voting will be handled in weekly polls that will last for 24-hours each and the trope that wins will move to the next round of voting!

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT: @theharrowing actually came up with the concept for this and I 100% owe them the original genius of this. I could not have done this without them.

B R A C K E T

Bracket Schedule

First Round: Friday, August 4

Second Round: Friday, August 11

Semi Finals: Friday, August 18

Finals: Friday, August 25

2023 Hali's Yoongi Trope Bracket Champion: Mafia Yoongi

Fic Drop: September 2

[foggywonderlandgentlemen]

The fandom ecosystem is so interesting to observe. Currently, Gravity Falls is undergoing an explosion of content due to the supplementary material (BoB) being released. And yet, as the months go on, less and less is focused on the show itself. It starts to turn inwards, focused on fanon, on ask blogs, and most of all, on AUs.

Don't get me wrong, I love AUs, but the over saturation visible in the GF fandom is reminiscent of many others- ROTTMNT and Undertale are my biggest examples. When a show (or movie, or video game, etc) stops releasing content, over time the fan content becomes self referential rather than reflecting what's actually interesting about the source material. Especially in the case of GF and ROTTMNT, the supplementary material released years after the show ends brings an influx of new fans, particularly younger fans, who have a lot of confidence and pizzazz. This results in everyone who had a half good idea making an AU, an ask blog, or flooding the AO3 fandom tag with reader inserts.

It's also interesting how little of it focuses on Dipper and Mabel. Fan content nowadays focuses a lot on the Stan twins and Fiddleford. Which, again, not a bad thing, but is an interesting shift. It's partially because Ford and Fiddleford are relatively underdeveloped- Stan as the deuterogonist gets a lot of attention in canon- and so fans make the content they wish could have been in the show. It's also the overeliance of shipping as an exploration of characters. It's also fandom misogyny- Wendy and Pacifica are also both underdeveloped side characters like Ford and Fidds, with a lot of directions to explore their characters from. What about Wendy's grief over her mother? What about the abuse that Pacifica faces? What about Wendy's discovery of her sexuality? What about Pacifica unlearning her classist upbringing? The fandom at large seems uninterested in these explorations.

None of this is necessarily a bad thing, but for people like me who like to focus on canon/canon compliant fan content, it can get exhausting. I don't want to outright filter out 'gravity falls AU' in tumblr tags- there are some I enjoy. But this leaves me with the impossible task of blocking every individual blog I find exploring the show in an uninspired or sloppy way. I like the fan fiction focusing on Ford & Stan & Fidds, so I don't want to block any tags on AO3, but the vast majority of fics nowadays focus on them solely. This is the kind of fandom environment that causes me to lose interest, to look for other communities exploring different shows or movies or video games in ways that aren't repetitive and over saturated.

[habitual-truant]

intro

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ - basics ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

> this blog > this is my main blog, where i post most things. sometimes it will be fandom content, and i have the tags listed so if you are uninterested you can filter. i am not spoiler free, but i do tag things as spoilers when they are. you can find specifics in the tags section.

> me > i am a minor, anyone is free to interact // i leave most things about myself up to interpretation, including: my name, my pronouns, my gender // most people call me habit ; if im uncomfortable with anything, i will let you know, so don’t worry about it // i block freely for any reason

> warnings > i dissociate frequently and at varying severities. when heavily dissociated, my posts might be rapid and erratic, and many times they are either nonsensical, or vague vents. note, these posts will not have triggering content.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ - my interests ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

> long term > bsd [~2 years] , vocaloid [~3 years]

> casual > persona (3+4) , endoparasitic , wuthering waves , the summer hikaru died , citizen sleeper

> hobbies > digital art , story + world building

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ - sideblogs ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

@chronically-absent - art sideblog

@k0ibee - vocaloid sideblog

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰ - tags ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

#habit post - anything i post

#habit post + - adding onto my own posts

#habit art - my art

#habit rb - anything i reblog and add to

#habit asks - asks i get (which are rare but do happen)

#habit rants - talking about something at an extended length

> fandom tags >

#bsd - anything bsd

#vocaloid - anything vocaloid

#wuwa - anything wuthering waves

#persona 3 + #persona 4 - anything persona 3 or 4

#endoparasitic - anything endoparasitic

#tshd - anything the summer hikaru died

> avoiding spoilers >

i do not spoiler warning things that are widely known by the fandom, such as plot twists that have been revealed a long while ago, widely discussed character arcs, no longer ongoing story arcs, etc. i do spoiler warning new content as it releases, being new chapters, episodes, quests, etc. in general, it will be tagged #[acronym] spoilers. the specific tagging system is described bellow:

manga: #[acronym] [chapter number] ex: #bsd 120

shows: #[acronym] [season]* [episode number]* ex: #bsd s5 ep11

light novels: #[acronym]* [name of light novel / commonly referred to] [spoilers] ex: #bsd beast spoilers (this would be alongside a version without the word ‘spoilers’)

story updates: #[acronym] [game version] ex: #wuwa 1.4

*subject to change/some specific instances, this will not be included

[annwayne]

One thing I don't get about the lack of interaction/desire to read and general dislike of oc fics among the "reader insert" crowd is that, yeah it's a "new character" but so is your "reader insert"

The no named "reader insert" in the 2nd pov is just as much a character as the named oc in the 1st or 3rd pov. Hell, many "reader inserts" are given names! A few are fully described too! And it'd be a boring ass story if the "reader insert" didn't have a personality! So, I'm confused. What is it about 1st and 3rd pov oc stories that are so uninteresting to y'all who don't read them?

Would a 1st or 3rd "reader insert" fic be more appealing than an oc fic? Would a 2nd pov oc fic be given a chance? Is it just the pov??

Or is it the label of "reader insert?" A problem of filtering only for "reader insert" and missing everything under the oc tag?

Because at this point, I can't understand that mentioning physical features and a name different from yours is enough of a reason to avoid oc fics entirely when majority of reader fics have some kind of signifier that would not be universal.

[time-like-tears-in-rain]

Number 8 and 16 for the choose violence ask game?

ahhhhhh I forgot about this for a Long Time. Sorry.

8.common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

TENTOO ISN'T TEN. He's not in the show--even Ten says he's part human, even with all the memories, he's something new. People bend over backwards to say that he's Ten in canon and that word-of-god from the producers and DT proves it....but word-of-god from Eccelston and Piper says otherwise, AND the actual canon comic (for better or worse) says that Tentoo isn't the same man as Ten.

Anyway. I have always been a Tentoo hater and will always be a Tentoo hater.

Also, that Martha was a weaker character for going through her unrequited crush on the Doctor. While I agree 110% that her character was treated like shit, I don't think this made her weak. I don't think it made her uninteresting. Yeah, it's tiring that everyone falls for the Doctor, but look at Ten and tell me to my face that it's unrealistic that someone attracted to men wouldn't be a bit. Taken by that.

I've lived through (obviously not the scifi shit) but the whole "Hey, even though you'll never love me and that's done massive damage to my sense of self worth, you're going to get yourself killed without me, and I do love you as a friend, not just romantically, so I'll see this through," and it was the worst.

16. You can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

SEE ABOVE.

And: I've never seen a fandom use the sex pollen trope so many times. I had to filter the tag to search AO3. To each their own, but no.

[desertsportshipping]

Blog Update thing?

Under the cut so that people uninterested can skip easily.

For anyone who's been here a while, I have a Patreon. Up until now, I had some NSFW art that was exclusive to Patreon members. However, given that it was art of Leon and Wes (two characters that don't legally belong to me), I took it down from there. It's unlikely, but I don't want to be sued by Nintendo for porn.

I like drawing NSFW and will probably keep doing it even if I don't post it (mainly because it's a REALLY good way of keeping anatomy skills sharp). But as I am a sucker for validation, I did want to ask people if they wanted to see it.

[sidebloggingaway]

Just about in last month we had here the "usual" recurring row about:

1. how hard to filter out these type of stories;

2. how there are a shitton of tags to blacklist even if [and i repeat *IF*] the authors use the usual tags;

3. but often they don't;

4. and the best part when they also refuse to use readmores so you check out the tag of an interesting villain of a new show you like and the whole thing is full of uninteresting walls of text you've already should see nothing of because you had several good content filters in place... but all of those need the author to effin' tag properly.

It requires a disporpotionally-sized effort to avoid these type of stories, none of the usual methods for it work better than 75%, and actually this thing is one of the hardest genres to "not read" i've seen.

5567

I get that disliking a genre or a POV or whatever is a common thing to talk about, but literally it is so easy to just not read them.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[staff]

Testing: Shorten long posts in your dash

Hello.

We are testing out an optional setting to shorten long posts on the dashboard. We’re initially rolling this feature out to a smaller number of you on web and iOS starting today, March 28, with an Android release to follow soon. We realize this is a significant change to how you interact with your dash. So this will be an optional feature you can easily turn off anytime by visiting your dashboard settings and toggling “Shorten long posts” off.

What does this mean?

Long posts can crowd your dashboard. Some of you find them so annoying that you filter out the tag #long post. This means you could be missing out on posts you might love that also happen to be tagged as #long post. This setting shortens posts to offer a content preview instead—with the option to unfurl the full post by clicking “Expand” on web, or opening the post in a new screen by tapping “View Post” on iOS and Android. Here is a preview of how your dashboard will now appear on web before expanding the full post.

Why are we doing this?

Some of you have told us that long posts can feel like they take over your feed or make it harder to skip uninteresting posts. This feature will allow you to scroll through content more smoothly while also encouraging meaningful interactions—promoting the art, culture, and content you love, curate, and create.

Any questions? Then please drop us a line on @wip or Support, and keep an eye out for more changes on the aptly-named @changes.

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Word Find Tag

I’m responding to an open tag from @ezestreet

The words are: anything, something, everything, and nothing.

Anything

Her eyes, still very human, were rattled by the number of light changes. The technology adapted faster though, she knew this. She knew she could defend herself from the tech. The protectors began moving in on Green. She knew Peace might be right. Each protector reached for her. Grasping onto anything their hands could touch. The dilapidated bun, her stolen clothes, and the strong arms attached to her boxy torso that weren’t moving from their inhuman grasps. The feel of their fake skin and metallic fingers grip throwing chills through her body as they yanked at the woman in their hold. 

The tech that was supposed to aid humans failing as a human would. The protectors, robots with human qualities, succeeding. She thought of Peace as she swung her knife wildly. Even after their agreement she felt betrayed and defeated. A few fell to their knees using it as an opportunity. They grabbed her legs. Doing their best to bring her down to the lifeless gray dirt. If she weren’t so short they might’ve tried it already. 

Something

She stared at her reflection in the dusty full body mirror. Her figure has been said to exclaim strength, but she felt stupid. Standing there with an uninterested expression. She ran her fingers through her thick hair before looking down at her hands. 

Middle, index, and pinky fingers are all replaced with machinery. Each hand was like this, inorganic. She curled each finger individually. She could’ve done something more enjoyable with her life. Obviously, disaster hit. With these new fingers came stress her body couldn’t handle. 

“There you are! You ready for our big job tomorrow?”

Everything

The inquizitive protestor went silent focusing on recalling as many events as they could. They simply nodded and laid back, their hair resting in the dirt. Peace was glad to have the silence back. It couldn’t be subordinate for much longer. Similar to how everything around here could never remain the same. Light filtered through the few protestors and shined upon the trees. 

Peace startled, looked to the direction of the lights. She covered her eyes in shock of how intense the burn was to her eyes. Machinery trekked on unbothered by the startled protestors. Shouts. Commands probably. Peace knew they needed support. Still she found herself standing although like a newly born calf.

Nothing

Green looked in the direction she believed the voice was originating from. Her brain was processing as much as it could, which slowed her thoughts. She couldn’t multitask currently, but she never truly succeeded at it any other time either. Assuming that Green didn’t hear the original request it was repeated. 

“Look I’m just lost.” She needed to avoid answering their request as long as possible, “Maybe you can show me out.” 

Nothing. No response to Green. Were they just toying with her? A bright light focused on her cutting through the darkness. The further bafflement made her take an aggravated step towards the voice’s origin. The light almost blinding her from it’s intensity. Her eyes and the gear were both dysfunctional with it.

I tag @amapofyourstars @winterandwords @jezifster @adie-dee and anyone else willing to participate.

Your words are: fire, skill, imagine, plan.

[botm77]

Have you made any changes to docbot since you started this? (I don't know coding very well (at all) so this may be a dumb dumb ask)

this is not a dumb ask! botm77's content is produced via the absolutely ancient markov chain generator contained in the spreadsheet in his pinned post, which I have used for various bot_ebooks projects since 2014. unfortunately this means all his "tweets" are capped at 140 characters (the old limit), and I've made futile attempts to adjust the script without any luck. whenever I feel like it or I see Doc tweeted new words I want in the corpus, I run a new TAGS pull (info in spreadsheet) and filter out RTs and uninteresting replies.

(incidentally, this is why he used to post a lot more about nuclear waste - before I cleaned up the source material, doc arguing about nuclear power plants accounted for 1-5% easily of the tweets I could pull. this tendency has been eliminated through trial and error.)

a very small number of posts were created using some markov chain generators I found on the web as an experiment, but not many and I wasn't happy with the results vs. the spreadsheet.

my dream, since tumblr is unfriendly to automation and I have to queue everything manually, is to get a more advanced AI program such as textgenrnnn going. unfortunately, the google collab doc I have for textgen is no longer functional and i am too busy to learn enough python to troubleshoot. markov chains are good for simple ebooks, but since this one has an outdated character limit and also the corpus is not friendly to longer string, the quality of outputs are limited in terms of novelty if nothing else; you see a lot of structures like "just got this is insane" where you can clearly see the two logical strings that got stitched together by the algorithm; I also curate out a lot of the repeated phrases that become less interesting when they're used over and over by the generator.

in the future, significant changes to the code I use for posts will probably be at least updated in the pinned post here! but I am also capricious and extremely lazy, so do not hold your breath.

[nowhere-to-go-but-down]

2, 12, 48, 50 :)

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

My results for this are a bit funny thanks to fandom hopping and co-writes, but ultimately I think they do mostly represent what I like to write.

From the top: Humor, Fluff, Oma Kokichi is a Little Shit, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa)

While I haven't touched Danganronpa as a fandom in some time (and as mostly dragged into writing fics for it by my co-writer), those particular tags are fairly emblematic of my overall sensibilities as a writer. I like characters being able to just exist and interact outside of the dramatic stakes of the story they're in and I unfortunately think I'm funny, so I tend towards more mundane comedy and banter whenever a fic concept allows it. The only tags truly missing from the lineup are Hurt/Comfort and Conversations, as anyone who follows my writing on the LU Discord server can attest. I will rip out your heart over a single heartfelt conversation between two characters who will then proceed on to comfort each other and heal.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

Tying into my answer to 14 here, tropes like this tend to be ones that are popularly executed in ways I find uninteresting because they rely on perceptions of what that trope should be instead of letting possible nuances of the trope show. But if that trope ends up being used in a new way, possibly even deconstructed and then reconstructed in the process, then chances are I'll like that particular use of it.

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

That would be A Guide to Living (Again) by cerame! It's a darkverse fic centered on Shadow so I know it's not for everyone, but if you do like that then I highly recommend it.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

In that case, as an extension of my answer to 2 I'll go with 3: What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

While I certainly go for more mundane concept than some, I would say the one thing I always come back to are conversations between characters. Heartfelt or not, angsty or not, funny or not, I thrive writing two people just talking to each other to discover and reveal layers of the characters. Or, as I often phrase it, I just like writing Two Dudes Talking.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Smut, you say 👀

You're this cute, kinda innocent woman that gets the help of this handsome gigolo to not be as... innocent.

💕 The Professional: Chapter 1 💕

Chapter Two

Rating: PG-13 (for this chapter only)

Pairing: Danma Takeru (Hatter)/Reader (she/her

Tags: flirting, suggestive conversation, alcohol consumption, smoking, kissing

“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

Notes: This is a kind-of sort-of AU—in the show, Hatter references his involvement with the host club business, and mentions that he “would do anything” to be the best. Although host clubs do not usually involve sex work (as far as I know), I believe that he would definitely offer that “off the books” in order to win over his clientele.

You’re nervous. Nervous and jittery and—oh, dear, there’s a lot of feelings going on in here, and all of them seem to fall under the umbrella of ‘mild to moderate discomfort.’ Not that feeling uncomfortable is anything new; in fact, there are very few times where you happen to feel truly comfortable outside of, say, the warmth of your bed or the soothing calm of a late-night bath. Places where you feel safe. Places where you can let yourself breathe and be, unhindered by expectation.

The place where you currently find yourself—this strange little pocket of a room in the buzz and bustle of a Friday-night Kabukicho—is full-to-bursting with expectation. From the polished wood floors to the glittering gold chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling, there is an inescapable sense of opulent whimsy that is tinged pink with a blush of sensuality. There are even fresh flowers on the table in front of you—a vase of ranunculus, blooming bright and orange like a green-stalked bunch of tiny setting suns.

Something like an itch tickles your sweat-damp palms, making you ball your hands into tight fists around the fabric of your skirt. Oh, you should have worn something different! Something sexier, maybe, with a deeper neckline and a shorter hem, that hugged the shape of your body as opposed to ghosting over it in fluttering chiffon. Not that you actually, you know, owned anything like that, but—

The pop! of a champagne cork makes you jump. Hell, you feel like you’re about to pop, too, from the nervous energy boiling and swelling in your chest. It’s so very difficult not to fidget, to keep your toes from tapping out a frantic little rhythm on the rug.

Looking back, you realize that the paperwork had been the ‘easy’ part. Not that it had been particularly easy—who knew there would be an application process for this kind of thing?—but it was less stressful to fill out a (surprisingly comprehensive) questionnaire in the privacy of your own home as opposed to this agonizing waiting.

And what, exactly, are you waiting for?

Why, you’re waiting for him.

His name is Takeru—or, at least, that’s what he’s asked you to call him. Whether or not it’s a stage name is difficult to tell; but what you do know is that it sounded so very nice in the deep clear of his voice. The only thing that sounded better was your name, which he said in a gently-sultry half-whisper that made you feel…many thing, and not all of them innocent.

In a devastatingly well-tailored suit of lipstick red—a vibrant pop of a color you would so often consider buying at the makeup counter but always put back—it’s nearly impossible to look at anything but him. A small collection of rings glisten from his fingers, most of them delicate little things that wink a tiny gleam when the light hits them just right. The dizzying black-white-gold pattern of his shirt is unbuttoned just a smidge too low, offering you a tantalizing view of his chest.

And although his back is toward you, concocting some kind of magic at the bar cart along the far wall, you can all but feel the warm-dark of his eyes on you. Oh, he has beautiful eyes, dark and warm with the glitter of laughter—or perhaps mischief, if the situation calls for it. A slim nose leads down to a shapely mouth, handsomely framed by a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache.

Also, his hair—oh, that man has a great head of hair.

Aesthetics aside—he has been undeniably lovely. Slipping the coat from your shoulders when you walked into the room, fingertips skimming the slope of your shoulders with only the barest of touches. Offering you a glass of champagne (“Yes, thank you”) as he leads you to sit on the green velvet settee, hand hovering above but never touching the small of your back. A serene smile on his lips as he talks, as he tells you that your dress is lovely (“Blue is definitely your color, darling”) and letting out an airy chuckle when you mention that this was as good occasion as any to dig it out of the back of your closet.

It is impossible to ignore the way he is so very provocative—subtly so, in a way that makes you second-guess whether his flirtations had happened at all. Did his eyes really linger over the shape of your legs, or was he simply taking a moment to admire your (new, very cute) shoes? Did his fingertips slip over the curve of your shoulder as he removed your coat, or were you just imagining it?

His gaze tiptoes over your shape as he sits down beside you, two flutes of pink-tinged something in hands.

“I’ve taken the liberty of making something a little special,” he says, “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say as he hands you one of the glasses, “it…it looks nice.”

“Know what it is?”

“Uh,” you say after a moment of silent deliberation, “Maybe alcohol?”

He huffs a short laugh at your half-joke—a rather polite response, and it manages to soothe the bubble of regret that had risen up your throat the moment you’d said it.

“You’re not wrong. More specifically, though, it’s a Kir Royale—or, my take on one, at the very least,” he watches the bubbles fizzle to the top of the glass, “I find myself more or less incapable of keeping with convention, even when it comes to alcohol.”

“Well, uh,” you say, “it’s pretty. I like the color.”

You taste the drink, bubbles like tiny fireworks tickling over the surface of your tongue. There is a dry bitterness, no doubt from the champagne, but it’s softened by a fruity sweetness. Something familiar, something that reminds you of summer and shaved ice and walks along the river and—

“Cherry,” you say, half-lost in the hazy-warm memory of days gone by—until you remember where you are and snap back to reality, “it’s, uh, it tastes like cherries.”

“Very good. Usually, the drink calls for creme de cassis, but I used Kijafa instead. It’s a dessert wine from Denmark, made from cherries,” his brow raises just a smidge, “I thought it appropriate, given the situation.”

And it takes you a minute to understand what he’s talking about. Cherries. You. Ah. A rather crass comparison, but accurate all the same.

“Oh,” you say, picking a very uninteresting spot on the rug to look at in an attempt to avoid meeting his eyes, “I, uh…”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he adds, “In fact, virginity isn’t even a real thing. Completely made up. Means nothing, really.”

There is a kind of lag—he’s speaking, you know he’s speaking, but it takes your brain a few extra seconds to figure out what he’s actually saying. It’s strange, hearing someone talk to you so openly about sex. Not unwelcome, by any means, but you need a moment (or two, or ten) to adjust.

“That being said,” he continues, as if he’s discussing the weather, “just because it doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of life doesn’t mean it’s nothing to you.”

He’s fishing. He’s fishing, and you kind of want to take the bait, but…well, you’re finding it difficult to get your thoughts in order. He’s the very picture of calm, all while you’re floundering over a simple conversation.

“Apologies if I’ve overstepped,” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink, “I thought you might prefer to talk it over a bit. ”

“No, uh, you’re fine,” you answer quickly, “I’m just…I thought the paperwork kind of covered all that.”

“More or less,” he answers, “however, I’ve found that the person who fills out the forms and the person who ends up sitting across from me are not always of the same mind.”

He reaches a hand into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a silver-plated cigarette case. Although he is not gentleman enough to ask your permission to smoke, he is gentleman enough to offer you a cigarette before taking one of his own. You decline. He shrugs and quickly snaps the case shut before laying it on the table.

“In fact, it’s not uncommon for my clients to have a complete change of heart the second they walk through the door,” he continues, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, “Or, sometimes later on, for that matter. Depends on the person.”

Cigarette held between his teeth, he retrieves a lighter from his right trouser pocket. With a sharp little snick, he ignites it, pulling the little orange flame towards his face and hiding it behind his hand to let it catch.

“Really?”

You watch him intently, the way his eyelids flutter closed at the first inhale. The way his lips pucker around the filter and release, the red-pink sticking slightly as they pull away and let smoky white flow out and fade into the air.

“Really,” he confirms, “once, I had a client step inside, take one look at me, and promptly walk right back out. Never saw them again, which is fine. I’ll never fault someone for doing what’s right for themselves.”

“Are you, uh, trying to talk me out of it?”

“Not at all. Just making you aware of your options,” he says, “Doing anything for the first time is scary. Driving a car, swimming in the ocean, traveling abroad—sex is no different.”

“Yeah, well,” you respond, “you also get to do most of those things with your clothes on, so…”

“Depends on who you’re with.”

You can’t help but laugh a little.

“Well I still want to…you know,” you answer, “uh, do it. The…the sex part.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to say that.”

“It’s the truth,” he insists, “I can’t imagine anyone being upset at the thought of having a pretty thing like you in their bed.”

“I’m not—“

“Don’t,” he interrupts, taking on a tone that brokers no arguments, “I will suffer many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You are an attractive woman and I refuse to be told otherwise.”

“Sorry, I,” you say sheepishly, “I guess I just…wasn’t expecting you to…like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his cigarette and takes another long, slow drag, “You’re very sweet. A bit shy, maybe, but I happen to like the shy ones.”

And there is something about the way he says it, the way his voice wraps around the words—oh, there are implications to those words, and you find yourself growing warm at the thought of what exactly those implications could entail.

You sip your drink. He smokes. The quiet between you is almost comfortable. Maybe it’s the alcohol working it’s bubbly magic, but you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease in this strange little place.

Moreover, you’re starting to feel a bit more at ease with him. The thought of kissing him crosses your mind, then doubles-back and crosses it again. Oh, that sounds nice. He would be good at it, too; starting gently, mouth pressed soft and sure against your own, and then just the tiniest tease of his tongue—

“And there you go, biting your lip again,” he says, snapping you out of your impromptu fantasy, “You have no idea how sexy that is, do you?”

He is sporting a devilish grin—not only is he aware that you had been daydreaming about him, but he’s relishing the fact that he was able to catch you so off-guard.

“Didn’t even realize I was doing it,” you admit with a shrug. But you can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of being considered ‘sexy’—you never really let yourself feel that way, but now that it’s happening…oh, it’s nice.

“It’s absolutely delicious, darling. Makes me wonder what else you do when you’re turned on…”

And he’s got you—like a knife held under your chin, his sharp gaze pins you in place. He is impossible to avoid. Not that you particularly want to avoid him—there’s something irresistible about this man, something that you can’t quite name but definitely want more of.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

“I’m,” you say with a nervous chuckle, “not really sure, myself. Guess we’ll have to, uh, figure it out together.”

His gaze darkens. He takes one last lungful of nicotine before stubbing out his cigarette.

“I suppose we shall.”

And he’s moving now, sliding himself down so that he’s closer to you. He stops when there is barely an inch of space between the outside of his thigh and your own. His right arm has draped itself over the back of the sofa, the fingertips of his hand now skimming the skin of your shoulder in loose, mindless sweeps.

“Well, darling,” he says, voice low and smooth and so much closer than before, “I think it’s high time we got to the heart of the issue. The root of the root and the bud of the bud, as it were.”

“Uh,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this but very much enjoying his simple touches, “what do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering,” he clarifies, pausing to let out a soft sigh, “when you’re going to give in and kiss me.”

He plucks the champagne flute from your grasp and sets it on the table in front of you.

“I, uh—“

The fingertips on your shoulder continue to make their idle little circles, almost hypnotic in their swirling pattern. His left hand catches your right wrist, his thumb pressing above where your pulse thrums beneath sensitive skin.

“Bit fast,” he observes, pulling your arm closer as if inspecting it, “Could be nerves, but I think it’s more from excitement, don’t you?”

You have no choice but to lean into him as he brings your hand closer. Your shoulder presses against his arm, and you feel the solid shape of him through the smooth of his suit. He’s strong underneath all of those layers—warm, too, judging from the heat that radiates from his person.

“I’m—“

The thumb that had been testing your pulse inches higher, stopping when it’s pressing into the center of your palm. His eyes lock with yours, a heartbeat of a moment, and brings your wrist closer and closer until his lips are ghosting over your flesh. When he finally decides to make contact, you gasp—it’s a delicate sensation, but sends your heart skipping in a shaking staccato.

And, then.

Then he sucks.

The sound you make is halfway between an oh of surprise and a desperate little moan—oh, wow, that’s really weirdly unexpectedly hot—and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed by your own reaction. He’s not even doing much, not really; just a little bit of pressure, lips parted just enough to let his tongue slip out and have a taste of you.

But, oh, it feels…it feels filthy, it feels decadent, it feels like something you should not be doing but very much want to keep doing for the rest of your life. Takeru’s eyes have since fluttered shut, and he hums the tiniest sound of pleasure as he maintains his seductive tease.

“Please,” you manage to sigh, sounding as breathless as you feel, “please, I, I want you to kiss me.”

His lips release from your wrist with a pucker-pop noise—which was no doubt intentional on his part, and does nothing to quell the thrill of desire in your belly.

“Hm. I’ll make you a deal,” he says, shifting a bit to the left so that he can turn to face you better, “I’ll kiss you for the rest of the night, but right now…you kiss me.”

And what a deal that is—you don’t even have to think about it, head bobbing in an affirmative nod as you wet your lips in anticipation. The hand that had so lovingly held yours is now guiding you to rest your palm just above his knee. You reflexively reach your other hand out to steady yourself, and it lands against his chest before you can stop it.

He’s so close now. There’s barely any space between your faces, barely room to breathe—

“Go on, darling,” he whispers, “if you want me, have me.”

And you do.

You kiss him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The anxiety that has plagued you since the moment you entered the room hasn’t completely dissipated—it would be foolish to think it’d be that easy to banish those feelings completely—but all that is now secondary to the feeling of his mouth on yours.

Kissing Takeru is warm. It’s soft and it’s sure and it’s…comfortable, in a way. Safe, even. He does not press, doesn’t do much of anything except mirror the way your lips slide against his own. A gentle rhythm, a push and pull between the two of you that feels as natural as the moon guiding the tides to shore—yes, kissing him is good and right and something you want to do many times over.

Unfortunately, you have to pull away to breathe. He doesn’t let you go far, though, one hand cupped behind the nape of your neck and the other pressing into the small of your back.

“Oh, you are sweet,” he purrs, his gaze dropping to your freshly-kissed lips, “and, seeing that I’m a man of my word…”

As it turns out, being kissed by Takeru might be better than kissing him, yourself. He is still so very careful when he presses his lips to yours, but this time…this time, there’s fire. He tastes like the best part of a cigarette, like warmth and alcohol and cherries, and it only intensifies as he tests the seam of your lips with his tongue.

Little by little, you begin to test him, too. Hands cradle the curve of his jaw, feeling the way his face shifts as he moves against you. Fingertips run through the soft dark of his hair—oh, he likes that, if the half-sigh that slips from his throat is to be believed. And when you nip at his lower lip with your teeth (he had, after all, very much enjoyed the way you bit your lip earlier), he genuinely moans and pulls you even closer to himself.

It’s when he begins to wander lower, with his mouth skimming the sensitivity of your neck and his hand splayed across your lower back in a way that flirts with the idea of indecency, that you begin to want more. Fear—and maybe that’s not exactly the right word for what you’re feeling, but it’s the only one that comes to mind—begins to creep up the column of your spine.

The “what-if’s” start filling your brain; what if you mess something up? What if you do something he doesn’t like? What if you freeze up later and—

“Alright, darling?”

His voice is a low soothe against your ear; he’s retreated, just a bit, and his hand has wandered to a chaste and respectable area of your mid-back.

“I—“

You want him to take you to bed. You want him to take off your dress and kiss you in all the places you thought weren’t worth kissing, to let his hands trace sparks along the curves of your shape and let him be close to you in a way that no one else has. You want him, despite the uncertain ache that burns between your ribs and bids you to hide yourself away and leave behind the pleasure of his touch.

…But all you can manage is a nervous glance to the bed behind you (the one you had been avoiding thinking about up until this point) and a stammered “Can we, uh…?”

“Ask me,” he says, his index and middle fingers idly skimming the notch in your collarbone, “I’ll give you anything you want, as long as you ask me.”

It’s difficult to make eye contact with him—every time you try, you feel embarrassment swell up beneath your tongue.

But Takeru is, as you have come to learn over the last hour or so, decidedly patient. He shows no sign of relenting, appearing to be perfectly content with giving you an expectant grin and continuing his little touches as you try not to squirm in your seat.

“I,” you gulp, “I want…“

You bite your lip—oh, wait, he likes that too, and he’s staring at you with those sharp and sultry eyes, and it makes something behind your heart squeeze and unsqueeze itself and punches the air from your lungs and—

“Take me to bed,” you manage to spit out, and it all sounds like one word with how quickly you pushed the words into the air. The “uh, please” you tack on at the end is an afterthought, but perhaps it’s polite enough to pass muster.

“Was that so hard,” Takeru asks with a good-natured chuckle, “but since you asked so nicely…”

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss—and even that, after everything, still has you feeling a flutter of something giddy in your stomach.

“Darling,” he says, “it would be my pleasure.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

…and now, you’ll have to wait until chapter two to get to the “good stuff!”

It’s been a challenge writing this—I’m trying to make the scenario believable while still keeping it vague enough to allow for people to make up their own little details. It’s also been unexpectedly difficult to write him, since he’s kind of being himself while also playing a character who’s trying to mold themself into their client’s fantasy…it’s a lot of layers, but it’s been fun trying to figure things out!

[measuringbliss]

Tag game time!

The delightful @frog-in-bog tagged me and I must oblige!

Relationship status: recently singled, even more recently in a new relationship. it's working out. he's adorable.

Favourite colours: red and pink and indigo!!!!

Favourite foods: FAJITAS. risottos are nice too!

Song stuck in my head: This Monitor/Quondam Monitors (from Zero Escape) cover

Last thing you googled: if boiling water truly made it drinkable. roommates were not going to take a chance however.

Time: 01:42 am

Dream trip: Nothing. I'm fine with where I live! I just came back from a year abroad after all. ...Well I'm missing that city...

Last thing you read: The Picture of Dorian Gray, and I'm still at the beginning

Last book you enjoyed reading: See previous answer but also I love Les Faux-monnayeurs (The Counterfeiters) by André Gide. favourite book.

Favourite thing to cook/bake: Fajitas and risotto

Favourite craft to do in your free time: honestly not very crafty but I occasionally write. I also found taking care of my laptop soothing but it's. an endeavor.

Most niche dislike: I can be very specific about what I like and don't like in ASMR. First off, a few years ago you could search "asmr" on YT and filter by "last hour" and you always got a nice selection of new artists. Now 60% of these results are spam, 30% are slime and/or mukbang (eating), and the rest is mostly uninteresting. I love ASMR done by people who don't have the best control of their own voice (loud whispering or normal talking) with a bad mike, and kids are absolutely great in this category. But it can be complicated to find those videos, and even then people already have too much "good" craft. They know they have to whisper (because everybody does it), they know they can film with their phone (and nowadays even your base smartphone is a great recording device) and it all feels so formulaic. It's boring. My brain isn't interested. Another issue with the current state of ASMR is that Youtube recently introduced Shorts.

Shorts look like this when normal videos look like this:

The length is not shown on Shorts because they're at most 60 seconds long. However they take up the same space as normal videos, are in this weird aspect ratio that's for your phone, not your laptop, and the video player is bad. I understand that it's a mean to grab/make available small bites for your audience but it's a horrendous idea in ASMR because you usually want your video to last a while so that the watcher/listener can get in the mood. 60 seconds or less? There's no way I can enjoy it. But somehow, content creators absolutely lashed onto it and it is... displeasing, essentially polluting our experience.

Another issue with the ASMR community that REALLY needs to become a discourse already is this:

I've been seeing ASMR videos "for ADHD" for about a year now, I think. I don't like my disability becoming a wide selling point. ADHD has been trivialized and it's been everywhere. I complained about it on r/asmr but the agreement was lukewarm at best. I don't doubt that some people who do ASMR also have ADHD; my issue is that it's a real disability that ruins a lot of lives and people latched onto it as the new ~big word~. It's insulting, really. Anyway.

Opinion on circuses: I hate them but I do understand the appeal

Do you have any sense of direction: Yeah! But sometimes it fails me. So it's unreliable.

Tagging, with no obligations: nobody! if you see this, consider yourself tagged by yours truly!

HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT! 💌

[seokoloqy]

NEVERMORE | jhs TEASER

➳ PAIRING: sorcerer!hoseok x witch!reader (feat. hunter!namjoon and hunter!yoongi)

➳ GENRE: fantasy!au, smut, angst

➳ WORD COUNT: approx. 16-20k 

➳ WARNINGS: i suggest reading joon and yoongi’s fics before this one, character death, jin is my fave character, things heat up by the fireplace and i’m not just talking about the fire :), real warnings will be on the final post

➳ SUMMARY: After leaving your hometown of Northhaven in search of a magic teacher, you accidentally stumble into the sleepy, seaside town of Nevermore by way of magic door and suddenly, become the eager apprentice to a powerful sorcerer, Hoseok, who only has one goal: resurrect his brother. Learning new magic, avoiding relentless hunters, and slowly falling in love with the gentlemanly sorcerer becomes your new normal.

➳ A/N: if i don’t post this by October i give you full permission to come and declare me your arch enemy and duel me in a Mcdonalds parking lot bc i’ve spent months on this fic and it needs to be done

➳ TO BE POSTED: eventually...

—

The pleasant chime of a bell rang above the door and the pungent aroma of lavender masked the subtle scent of decay. You were met with a wall plastered with various papers. It ranged from bounties to missing posters, with unfamiliar faces sketched out and rewards listed, to simple fliers that posted job opportunities. But the most prominent of all the posters was the one in the middle painted in bold red letters, ‘NO FIGHTING’. 

Below the words was a sketched drawing of a skull and it didn’t take much for you to understand the consequences of fighting. You were relieved to know that nothing would attempt to attack you in here, even more, relieved when you peered around the corner to find a few non-human looking creatures lurking the aisles that weren’t licking their lips at the sight of you. 

The shop was smaller than you imagined, much more cramped. It seemed like the owner packed as much as he could into the space. 

The various aisles of potions and ingredients were only wide enough to fit one person, barely accommodating to any broad-shouldered werewolf squeezing past. The walls were lined with thick tomes, spines declaring them spellbooks. Animal skins hung from the vaulted ceiling, ranging from seal to wolf with hefty price tags splayed on them. 

“Welcome to Hell’s Gate,” the man at the glass counter greeted, not with a courteous smile, however. He looked over you once, taking in the soaked boots clutched in your hands and your wet, bare feet on his wood floors, decided he wasn’t interested and went back to the spell he was reading over.  

“Excuse me, sir,” you tried being polite despite obviously being ignored. You walked towards the counter, cringing when your feet squeaked against the floor. “Excuse me? Are you the owner?”

The caramel haired man didn’t look up from the arcane tome laid out on the counter and his only response was an uninterested, “hm.” And you could only assume that meant yes.

So, he was the powerful sorcerer, Seokjin, everyone was talking about.

You swallowed any hesitation you had. This was what you left home for. 

“My name’s ___ and I’m from Northhaven. I’m looking for a teacher and I think you’d be-”

Seokjin snorted, only lifting his head slightly to look at you through his bangs. “A teacher? I’m not in the business of taking on any students.”

He turned back to his book and filtered through the pages of old text written in a language you could hardly comprehend. The scrawled writings were foreign, nothing you’d ever seen in your short time studying. 

“I promise I’m a good student! If you just give me a chance to prove it to you, you won’t be disappointed!”

He sighed heavily, running a hand down his face, “I said I don’t take students. Unless you’re here to buy something, I suggest you leave.” 

“But,” you were about to go into a long-winded speech about how you left home in search of a magic teacher and you couldn’t go back looking like a fool without one. He lifted his head finally only to glare which sent a chill down your spine and went back to studying. 

Someone with his level of magic could do irreparable harm if he felt like you were being too much of a nuisance. 

Your shoulders sagged in defeat and head hung in shame. He seemed adamant about the answer being a resounding no. 

“Please, pout somewhere else. You’ll scare off my customers.” He gave you a dismissive wave to the side and you felt your shirt being tugged on by an invisible force, pulling you aside. 

You stumbled back and grabbed onto the counter for balance, wrinkling a few scattered papers. When you glared at him, he didn’t seem to care about what you were doing as long as it was out of his face. 

So, you dragged your wet feet down a random aisle clogged with bones and skulls of various animals, wondering what you would do next. Maybe if you stuck around and proved yourself he’d agree. Impressing a powerful sorcerer would be difficult at your basic skill level. You only knew simple animation spells for brooms and dustpans. To someone like him, that kind of magic seemed like child’s play.