#and the conversations become less than productive

[toskarin]

sorry to ask, but can you explain your last post to someone who knows nothing about the musician community youre talking about... it sounds like a really really good post if i just understood it better

this is another one of those posts where I'm transcribing a stream of consciousness, so I'll throw in a courtesy readmore

the musician community, as a whole, is much more segmented than the visual artist community

this leads to good and bad things, but generally it allows for more awareness of one's position and an acknowledgement that the needs of an underground folk artist are going to be different than the needs of a composer who receives a name credit. this means there is always going to be heavy pushback when someone tries to impose ethics downward

one element of this is the inward acknowledgement that the monolithic musician community isn't actually real in a way that isn't really mirrored in the visual artist community. besides making music and navigating the financial (and legal) landscape of that, there is very little that intrinsically unites musicians

this acknowledgement allows discussions about concerns among poorer musicians to exist without being completely shut down by someone who has different concerns, because they're not seen as the subject of the discussion unless they are respectfully contributing to it

one big reason for this being possible is that musicians are less respected than visual artists in the professional world

that might sound absurd if you only know of one landscape, but think of how many game (and movie, and tv, and etc. etc. etc.) franchises with identity-defining composers go on to swap out the composer at the first sign of a labour dispute, to very little protest as long as the quality of music isn't seen as dropping

hell, if someone else can copy your style satisfactorily, there's often no fuss at all! this leads to a pretty violent disillusionment with your place in the creative world

even beyond that, there exists an entire industry based around creating a parasitic body of IP landlordism for anyone whose music isn't attached to another product. the musician is, in a way that is deeply and thoroughly beaten into them, a labourer

the visual artist community (until recently) didn't tend to have this disillusionment, so it often follows the sway of its most popular and established members

in fact, the modern visual artist community as a broad cultural body is carved almost entirely from social media discussions that treat the community as one entity. accordingly, becoming established basically requires participation in this online entity

to further poison the well, the position of a visual artist is regularly talked about in spiritual terms rather than labour terms. there is something special that makes you a visual artist. it's the exact mentality that people rightfully made fun of in those ordinary people vs creative people comics. it's the unspoken cultural assumption that natural talent exists, even if most people would deny believing in it if put into explicit terms

while this does feel very good, it means that acknowledging labour-originated conflicts of interest is a bit rude

when a community unites itself around a spiritual core, it can't properly assert "your experiences are not applicable to what is being discussed and you should not be imposing yourself" because, by all metrics, an artist is a fundamentally unique demographic that can speak in all conversations about art

it's a warped form of anti-gatekeeping, a one-way gate through which you can strike down at other poor artists, but not up, enforced from below and framed as a desire for openness

the visual artist community's relative homogenisation of popular consensus is, on the whole, very very very bad for what it does to its norms. it hashes out and legislates within itself with an unspoken assumption that its most prolific members are simply further along the artist lifecycle, and therefore the most trustworthy

discussions with direct parallels ("is it okay to be obviously influenced by someone else's style?") come to much hazier conclusions which lean towards the opinions held by people with the most followers

most egregiously, this manifested in how visual artists react to piracy

the past ten years (in large part because of patreon making viable the paywalling of material behind a regular subscription) have been consumed by arguments about piracy that all seem to terminate in the assumption that piracy is theft, with little stratification of opinion between the hobbyist and professional scenes on this matter

this assumed spiritual core of the community is felt strongly in every conversation. look at the difference in attitudes around the distribution of cracked VSTs and the distribution of brush packs. hell, even on the corporate level, look at the difference in attitudes around pirating DAWs vs visual art programs

even when people are implying an approval of piracy, they find ways to frame it from a position of revenge on a company for something wrong it did, because they still need to conform to the community understanding of piracy as theft

individual visual artists can be (and often are!) more conscious of this stuff, but even then, people react with shock when these visual artists aren't horribly concerned about the possibility of their paywalled work existing on a torrent site

in a word, if you can see the ways these conversation spaces are different and similar, it's all so exhausting

[hyunverse]

dimples ★ jeong jaehyun.

jaehyun x gn!reader. fluff, oneshot.

wc: 587 words.

note: first!! ever!!! jaehyun fic!!! he might be a lil ooc lol. also i would like to dedicate this one to my bae @ch3rryd0ll for dragging me into the fandom ily forever <3

Inspired by a video of Mark saying that to make Jaehyun feel better, just poke his dimple with your finger.

The smell of Jaehyun’s cologne tells you he’s home, aside from the hushed pitter-patter of his footsteps against the wooden floor. You look up from your book, watching as he enters the room. His mannerisms tell you everything you need to know — he did not have a good day. 

Silently, you watch as he shrugs off his coat, tossing it onto a chair before taking off his socks. It’s not until you clear your throat that he acknowledges your presence — a small smile on his face, yet the stress in his eyes still apparent. 

“Hi babe,” he mutters, to which you reply with a “hey.” 

The conversation ends there, as Jaehyun disappears into the bathroom. You continue to read your book — or at least attempt to, your mind still occupied with what could’ve happened to your boyfriend, and the ways in which you could comfort him. The sound of water splashing becomes your white noise, along with the occasional sounds of Jaehyun rummaging around. The smell of his coconut shampoo (technically yours, he has a habit of using your products) leaks into the bedroom, and you smile. You’ve missed his presence all day, and you couldn’t help but bask in it, albeit it’s merely in the form of his scent. 

Soon after, Jaehyun comes out of the bathroom, a towel loosely hanging around his waist, raven hair wet and messy. Once again, he silently goes around the room, putting on a pair of grey sweatpants and drying his hair before getting in the bed with you. 

With Jaehyun finally beside you, messy-haired and so damn kissable, the bedroom walls finally feel like home again.

“Rough day?” you whisper, dog-earing a page before setting your book on the nightstand, “So pouty.”

“Mm,” he hums, his pout intensifying at your comment, “Missed you.” 

You chuckle, letting him cuddle into your side and place his chin on your shoulder. He’s talking less than usual, but you thank God he’s at least still clingy. 

“Missed you too,” you reply, pulling up the duvet to cover the both of you. 

Gently, you trace a hand up and down his chest, in an attempt to soothe him. The pout on his face remains. You could practically see his brain still racking, stressing.

“Want to talk about it, baby?” you question, pushing his hair back. A small sigh escapes your lips when he shakes his head.

“Talking about it could make you feel better,” you try again, rubbing a hand on his temple. Again, he shakes his head. 

“You sure?” you try again. This time, you poke his dimple, smiling to yourself.

Just like that, Jaehyun gives in to you. His pout turns into a small smile, growing wider as you continuously poke his dimple. Soon, he lets out small laughter, tilting his face away from you, as though to shy away. 

“You’re so cute,” you giggle, running a hand on his side, the other still poking on his cheek, “So fucking cute.” 

“That’s all you,” he chuckles, meeting your gaze. This time, he genuinely smiles. One that makes his dimples deeper, and his eyes crinkle. “I was stressed, but you just made it all better.”

It’s your turn to smile wide, “Okay, I’m glad. You can talk to me every time you’re having a hard time, y’know?” 

Jaehyun nods, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You’re now laying chest to chest, his heart thumping against yours. Tenderly, he places a kiss on your forehead, then your lips. 

“Okay, baby.”

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[fear-is-truth]

𝐇𝐈𝐌 & 𝐈 𝜗ϱ . . . 𝓟𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝓑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons﹒drug use﹒kinda toxic relationship﹒ p in v﹒handjobs﹒choking﹒use of the word “daddy”

SFW

has a habit of disappearing without explanation, sometimes for days at a time. when he returns, he acts as though nothing happened, brushing off your concerns with dismissive and cryptic responses.

extremely critical of appearances as he doesn’t handle flaws well—patrick fully expects you to mirror his aesthetic standards. even the slightest imperfection, such as chipped nail polish or an out-of-place hair, will piss him off. you’re basically his personal doll at this point—he buys you designer clothes, ensuring you wear the “right” brands to fit his ideal of a partner. he notices everything, from your choice of perfume down to the shade of lipstick you wear. if you switch brands, he’ll immediately make a comment on it.

prefers to keep conversations shallow and detached, as deep emotional topics make him uncomfortable. he constantly rambles about his niche obsessions—pop culture, business cards, and the “superiority” of certain types of suits. that being said, patrick talks at you rather than with you. he can yap on for an entire dinner about the fabric quality of valentino suits or the importance of a tie that “truly complements the suit’s structure.”

a walking encyclopedia on serial killers. in the middle of any conversation, he’ll start spouting facts about ted bundy or ed gein. he expects you to be thoroughly impressed by his knowledge and gets viscerally disappointed if you don’t show interest.

genuinely believes his opinions on music are groundbreaking. he’ll pull out albums and spend a good thirty minutes explaining why genesis or huey lewis and the news are masterpieces, analysing lyrics and production with the passion of a critic.

talks about dorsia as if it’s the holy grail of fine dining. if he’s lucky enough to get a reservation, he’ll spend days before and after the meal casually hyping it up to everyone, making sure they know he managed to get a table. however, if he fails to secure a reservation, it completely ruins his week. you sometimes wonder if he’d cry over it. (as a matter of fact, he does)

frequently asks if you think his business card is better than “so-and-so’s,” as if it’s a critical matter. if he gets even a whiff of another guy’s success, patrick becomes obsessed with one-upping them. you’ve had to sit through countless complaints about paul allen, his dorsia reservations, the fisher account. he can’t handle criticism, especially if it challenges his idea of “perfection.” if you casually mention you’re not a fan of his music taste or his suit choice, he’ll literally sulk about it for days.

when patrick gets jealous, you’ll catch him clenching his jaw, his hand gripping your waist a bit too tightly. sometimes he’ll try to act indifferent, but the slight sweat on his forehead or the vein throbbing in his temple gives him away.

lives by his routines and gets annoyed if anything disrupts them. you’re expected to adhere to his exact schedule when you’re with him, from gym time to dinner to his beloved skincare regimen. if something goes off-plan, he becomes irritable, even if it’s just because you suggested a new restaurant.

although he appears to be emotionally distant, he’s highly hypersensitive to how he’s perceived by you. an offhand comment or anything less than admiration from you makes him noticeably on edge.

obsessed with acquiring materialistic items that showcase his success. he’ll bring up these possessions repeatedly, and when he buys something new, for instance a painting or a stereo, he’ll practically drag you to admire it with him, giving an extensive monologue on its artistic value or technical specs.

constantly trying to impress you with his wealth or his “connections.” he’ll drop the names of people he “knows” (sometimes with questionable authenticity) or go out of his way to show you his credit card just to emphasise how wealthy he is. patrick assumes his looks and material success is inherently attractive to you, and if you ever show interest in something less superficial, he’s truly baffled.

always subtly fishing for compliments, but he wants them to sound like they’re coming from you, not just because he’s prompting you. if you mention anything flattering about another human, you can see his jaw clench as he makes a mental note to find something he’s “better” at. if you don’t give him the attention he craves, he becomes passive-aggressive until you finally give in and tell him how handsome he is.

if you so much as hesitate before complimenting patrick, it eats at him. he starts nitpicking his own looks, spending even more time obsessing over his skincare routine, gym sessions, and hair products.

to patrick, relationships are transactional. he’s constantly buying you lavish gifts, partially to impress you, but mostly to keep you “tied” to him. he would be genuinely insulted if you didn’t wear or display his gifts, taking it as a personal rejection, even though he never explicitly says this. instead, he’d pout or go into a passive-aggressive silence until you “make it up” to him (usually with sex)

loves the fact that you’re both attracted to and a little intimidated of him. what he doesn’t know is that you also think he’s a pathetic loser.

insecure about whether you actually love him or are just with him for his wealth and status. he craves reassurance but would never directly ask for it, so instead, he does things to elicit compliments from you or waits for you to say something affirming.

secretly torn between wanting to keep you as a sort of trophy and feeling an actual attachment he doesn’t understand. on more than one occasion, he’s imagined what it might be like to marry you—he’s even purchased a 7ct diamond ring on impulse. the thought terrifies him, though. he’s afraid of real intimacy, of anyone truly knowing who he is. still, he sometimes drops hints about “the future,” gauging your reaction to see if you might even consider it.

likes it when you adjust his tie or fix his collar. there’s something about your delicate hands on him, perfecting his appearance, that makes the blood rush to his groin as he reminisces the same pair of hands wrapped around his cock. he’ll even purposely wear his tie a little off or leave his collar slightly askew, just so you’ll step in to fix it.

whenever you say goodbye before he leaves, patrick insists on making eye contact, as if daring you to look away first. it’s his way of ensuring that he’s the last thing on your mind as he walks out the door. expects you to fix his lapel, straighten his tie, or give him a quick peck on the cheek. if you forget or rush the routine, there’s disappointment on his side.

patrick insists on every detail being pristine and coordinated, and he takes pride in the aesthetic of matching “his & hers” items. towels, robes, toothbrushes etc. he doesn’t necessarily see this as sentimental but as a way to project his status to anyone who might see it—like a small, smug reminder that you belong to him. he’ll also make a point to keep these items perfectly aligned on the bathroom sink or kitchen counter, internally congratulating himself when he sees them.

adores watching you in the kitchen, especially if you’re wearing something skimpy or nothing but one of his button-ups left undone just enough. he’ll lean in the doorway, watching as you busy yourself slicing fruit or preparing his bran muffins for breakfast. he often finds himself admiring the delicate curve of your neck, the swell of your ass as you move, though he’d never voice anything genuine about it.

his nicknames for you : “kitten”, “bunny”, “sweetheart”, “doll”, “hun” or “honey” in public, “fuckdoll” in private.

your nicknames for him : “daddy”, “sir”, “pat”

super meticulous when it comes to your wardrobe, especially lingerie. he’s obsessed with victoria’s secret and demands that you wear sets he’s chosen—lace and silk, only in shades he deems “fashionable.” as a way to elevate his experience. he’ll sit back with a drink in hand, watching you with an air of smug satisfaction as you parade around the bedroom like it’s a runway.

has certain… kinks that he knows you wouldn’t approve of. this is when sex workers come in handy. sometimes, he wonders if he could somehow desensitise you or change your mind about these things. he drops hints, gauges your reaction to certain acts, and tests boundaries. if you outright refuse to engage in his fantasies, he holds it against you, making passive-aggressive comments about your “prudish” nature or implying that he “puts up with it” because he “cares about you.”

NSFW

his dry cleaning bill has spiked noticeably ever since you started dating. nearly every other day, a new suit or bedsheet stained with cum is dropped off, patrick never looks the dry cleaner in the eye.

patrick’s version of aftercare is incredibly minimal. he’ll be content to simply roll over or give you a lazy kiss on the shoulder but that’s about as soft as it gets—he’ll immediately head off to the en suite to freshen up. if he’s feeling particularly generous, he’ll hand you a bottled water and that’s that. if you need anything more, he’ll listen, but the faraway look in his eyes suggests he’s already moved on mentally.

very fond of kissing your neck or collarbone, especially before you attend social settings—leaving hickeys and bruises. kisses from patrick can be surprisingly sweet and sensual when he’s in a rare moment of vulnerability, but it’s always short-lived.

he’s become addicted to the sound of your voice, so much so that he has tapes of you—masturbating while saying filthy things. when he’s stressed at the office, he’ll slip on his walkman, listening to your sweet whimpers and moans echo in his ears.

gets a thrill every time you say his name—whether it’s a soft “good morning, patrick” or a “mghm-ahh patrick!” when he’s jackhammering his cock into your cunt. he’s especially weak to hearing you coo or whimper his name, and he’ll go out of his way to make you say (scream) it repeatedly.

has a ritualistic routine for doing coke—spreading a neat line along your stomach and the valley between your breasts, admiring how good you look beneath him. when he leans down to snort the line, he often allows his lips to ghost over your hard nipples.

has no problem dropping obscene amounts of money on you—high-end jewelry, designer clothes, perfumes, he loves the way you look in everything he picks out. “only the best,” he’ll mumble as he fastens a diamond necklace on your neck. but his favourite part is admiring the pieces when he has both hands wrapped around your throat while fucking you.

he’s particular about which rings he picks out, envisioning how they’ll look on your fingers while you jerk him off. there’s something erotic about the way they catch light and glitter against your skin.

you’re kneeling in front of him, the hardwood floor cool against your knees as you stroke his thick, angry cock. patrick reaches down, thumb brushing over the 18k rose gold ring he’d recently bought for you. “looks nice on you,” he mumbles, almost distracted. you watch him for a moment, noticing the way he’s staring at your hand, like the ring is something precious he’s put a part of himself into. “you think so?” you ask, trying to read his expression as you continue to jerk him off. patrick clears his throat, dropping his hand a little too quickly. “of course. wouldn’t have bought it otherwise,”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[maple-the-awesome]

The Chain Meets Your Baby || 1/2

Part 2 ||

Pairing: Hyrule, Time, Wild, Four x Reader

Requested by @kieradumpzz081927: I hope your request are open(or if ur free for requests), so i saw ur LU oneshots about the one that is called ' He becames a dad ' or smth. So, why not that he would introduce his kid(s) to the chain? That ones going to be interesting Interesting indeed 😈Now, I have my own set of headcannons for what order the Chain becomes dads in, but regardless of their own experience, I'm sure the Links would all subject the new dad to lots of support and teasing. Here you go 💜 Warning: Some mature jokes here and there. Nothing major, but gotta give the new dad a little hell, right? ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Zelda Masterlist 🤍Fandom Masterlist

The last thing Hyrule was expecting to encounter during his village visit was his old traveling companions, the other heroes of courage. Then again, life has been full of surprises lately and it wasn't like he didn't already know that the portals between their worlds are still active. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again and honestly, it couldn't have aligned more perfectly.

Happy to see the rest of the Chain again, Hyrule takes the liberty of inviting them back to his home so that they can properly catch up and not be the subject of so many judgment stares from villagers. Throughout the short trip there, the group’s laughter is vibrant as they detail accounts from their recent adventures, soon turning it into a friendly competition of who has the craziest stories. 

This conversation stays well alive all the way from their first steps outside of the village gates to the second Hyrule opens the door to his house, at which point the spirited teasing immediately dies off into a stunned silence.

“Oh! Hello again!” You’re just as pleasantly surprised to see the boys as your boyfriend had been, your smile more than welcoming as you turn around to greet them, yet they’re less focused on you and more so on the small infant you cradle in your arms.

“...I think the Traveler wins,” Wild mumbles, his disbelief shared amongst the rest of the group who merely nod distractedly. 

“Right! I forgot to mention -” Hyrule excitedly hurries to your side before turning to his friends with a thrilled smile, “- This is our daughter, Hope.”

“You just casually forgot to mention you have a kid now…?” Legend narrows his eyes while pointing to the kid in question. He should probably be more annoyed with Hyrule’s tendency of always skipping over important details, but honestly he’s just too shocked to process it right this second.

“Well, she’s only about a month old. Being a dad now takes some getting used to,” Hyrule defends, rubbing the back of his neck timidly, but when you pass your daughter over to him, he shows practice in the way he gently holds her securely to himself before approaching the boys to properly show her off.

Despite their surprise, they’re eager to crowd around him, each wanting to get a good look to ensure this isn’t some clever joke you’re both pulling on them. Fluffy head of dark wavy hair…A little button nose…Sharp pointed ears…Yep, this baby must be yours. She looks exactly as one would imagine the product of Hyrule’s sex life to look like…

“...Geeze. She’s adorable,” Warrior awes, practically leaning over Legend who elbows him back with a glare.

“Isn’t she?” You preen.

“She’s strong, too,” The Vet acknowledges with an unamused pout. He had made the mistake of holding a finger out to the baby only for her to grasp it in an unwavering grip. His attempts at pulling away are fruitless, not that he’s actually trying that hard. Maybe he even likes the feeling of his heart melting just a bit.

“Congratulations. You two must be very proud,” Time praises kindly, having already felt the joy that comes with being a parent himself. He can recognize it in the way Hyrule and you affectionately watch your giggling baby with a pleasant glow surrounding you both.

“We very much are…”

Muffled commotion outside alerts you to the fact that you have visitors long before they stumble into your home, not even bothering to knock as their excitement gets the better of them. Now, any other day, your husband would be quick to scold such ill-mannered behavior, but fortunately for your guests, he's in far too good of a mood to let it be soured.

So, instead of acknowledging the Chain’s less than graceful entrance, Time immediately rises to his feet with a proud hand left upon your shoulder, "Everyone, we'd like you to meet Saria and Mallory."

The young heroes are in awe as they crowd around the bed just to get a look at the small bundles held within your arms. Sure, they've seen babies before, but these are Time's babies. For many of them, the complicated concept of love alone had once seemed out of reach for any hero of courage, yet here the Old Man is, hitched to a lovely wife and now the lucky father of two adorable daughters. It's an amazing accomplishment, really; one that has the entire Chain feeling happy for him.

"They're so little," Hyrule whispers, scared to speak any louder out of fear he'll accidently wake them.

"They inherited their dad's nose, poor things," Warrior jests, throwing a smirk Time's way.

"They'll grow into them," Rather than take it personally, he chuckles while carefully taking one of the girls from you. Despite having only become a father a few hours ago, he's already a natural at handling them. Ever so gently - as if handling the thinnest of glass - he cradles his daughter to his chest and fixes the tiny hand-sewn blanket around her; a gift from her godmother, Malon, of course.

"You'll have your hands full with twins," Four remarks prudently.

You sigh at the thought, your head thrown back against your pillow, "Ugh, we know…”

Although you’re visibly tired after having undergone hours of stressful labor, you still look upon the baby in your arms with nothing short of pure admiration, clearly having no actual regrets towards having either of them. In your eyes, twins just mean all the more love to give.

"Nothing we can't handle," Time promises before getting a mischievous glimmer in his eye while casually extending his sleeping baby out to Twilight, "This one is Mallory, by the way -"

"- W-Wait -!" The Rancher is immediately caught off guard by it, yet his objections are ignored. Time drops the baby into his arms anyway, practically forcing Twilight to take her, not that he truly minds. A natural around children himself, it takes him only a few seconds to adjust the baby comfortably in his hold.

Blind to the other boys who hover around his shoulders, Twilight's eyes are locked in amazement upon the tiny bean who scrunches her nose and whimpers quietly before soon settling down…To think, this small infant no more than a few hours old is a relative of his. He can't help but wonder how closely related they are. How many generations between them? Three? Two? Maybe even just one? It's a strange thought to consider...but also a very comforting one, too.

"...She's a real beauty, isn't she?" Time asks softly with a strong pat to Twilight's back. The only reply he gets is a wordless nod and whimper as the teary eyed Rancher sniffles.

What kind of horrors do they need to prepare themselves for? That's the question that rings through every hero's head as they approach Wild's home. They're concern only grows when - as if sensing them - the Champion suddenly appears in his open doorway with an ear-to-ear grin greeting them...Not the most comforting sight seeing as they've come all this way under his vague request.

A letter had been sent to each of them only giving the minor hint that there’s a certain 'surprise' he can't wait to show them, and with someone as chaotic as their accident prone centenarian, the Chain has every right to be anxious about it.

Even as they all crowd outside of his home, Wild refuses to add any context, instead maintaining his mysteriously upbeat aura before finally stepping aside to allow them in. It's only then that the heroes realize what his 'surprise' is, welcomed by the sight of you as you stand there matching Wild's grin while holding an unfamiliar baby in your arms. She can't be much older than a few weeks, judging on both her tiny features and the obvious bags under both of her parents’ eyes...

"You have a baby?!" Wind screeches with delight, not wasting a second to race to your side.

"Her name is Mikan," Chuckling, you kneel down to let him better see your pride and joy. It isn't long before you're surrounded by most of the heroes who are immediately taken by your daughter's cuteness.

"When did this happen?" Time inquires through a raised eyebrow, one of the few Links who had remained by the door with Wild.

"Uh, she'll be three weeks old tomorrow," Wild answers, his hand darting up to rub the side of his neck. He knows that isn’t exactly what Time meant, but it’s the easiest answer.

"I didn't think you -..." Begins Twilight quietly. Although he ultimately cuts himself short, the curious look he gives his successor wordless finishes what he might've said.

Nodding slowly with some hesitation, Wild bows his head while looking back over to you. There's a fondness in his eyes as he watches you carefully pass your daughter over for Wind to hold, "I know what I said before. I...I didn't think this was something I could have - something I could want this badly, but...Well…I probably don’t need to tell you how it is…”

Twilight pats Wild’s back with a knowing smirk, indeed understanding. He’s happy to see his friend finally accept the peaceful life he deserves instead of continuing to run away from it, after all, Twilight has never been blind to the curiosity and faint jealousy that would shine in Wild’s eyes whenever listening to the other heroes talk about their families. He’s been long overdue to have one of his own.

"Hey, just one question," While Wind is busy cooing and rocking your daughter, Four turns around to address Wild once they finally join everyone else, "Did you really name your daughter after a fruit?"

Wild's cheeks flare in embarrassment, "I - It can be a pretty name, too!"

"I'm actually the one who chose it," You confess sheepishly, taking the attention away from your partner, "I was really craving tangerines throughout the whole pregnancy."

"At least it's a somewhat normal name. I was half expecting you to name your future kids something like 'Biscuit' or 'Curry'," Legend snorts.

"...We did consider picking 'Sage'.”

Warrior laughs heartily before throwing a hand over Wild shoulder with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, "Can we expect that to be the second child's name then?"

"Woah, woah, woah - Let's settle down now, gentleman,” You immediately scold while also taking the chance to save your poor partner by pulling him away from the onslaught of teasing he was about to endure, “One baby at a time. It’s not easy carrying those things, just ask your wives!”

Four has been off into his own little world - That is to say, he’s been both distracted and extremely tired; a terrible mix, but hey, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Despite his eyelids feeling like bricks, he remains awake and alert, arms folded across his chest as he sits in the bedside chair keeping watch over your sleeping form. 

You need the rest more than him anyway. Your husband has been through some pretty fearsome and ravenous beasts in his time, yet your work last night easily trumpeted every hell he’s undergone himself. Best to let you sleep unless he wants to change that statement.

A series of echoed knocks send Four bolting through the house, hissing a curse under his breath before tossing the front door open with plans to scold whoever’s on the other side, yet he’s stunned into silence when he realizes it’s no poorly timed mailman, rather the very friends he had invited over…although, they did come a lot sooner than he thought they would…

“WE’VE COME TO SEE -!”

“- SHHH!!!” Four nearly smacks a hand over Wild’s face. 

“- …The baby…” Wild finishes with a whisper and a grimace.

Four quickly ushers the Chain inside, allowing them to make themselves comfortable with STRICT orders to keep the noise level down. Yes, their early visit may not have been exactly anticipated, but Four holds no ill feelings towards it, in fact, he’s rather smiley while leading them to the nursery.

“Here they are,” He practically sings, eagerly looking inside the large crib as if he, himself, still can’t get enough of its contents. He has every right to be infatuated, “These are my girls~”

Although Four is bubbling with joy as he admires his little creations, the rest of the Chain stands by with wide eyes. Some even take the time to count each baby just to confirm that they are, indeed, seeing triple. Inside lies three little newborns, each fast asleep after having about as stressful of a day as their parents.

“We’re thinking of naming them Marigold, Amber, and Camelia. You know, keep to the color theme and all…”

“Damn, three of them, huh? You didn’t hold back at all, did you, Smithy?” Warrior observes aloud, much to Four’s instant lack of amusement.

“They’re so cute~” Wind coos, Twilight having to pull him back before he accidentally falls into a crib again.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I brought some of the twins’ old stuff then,” Time hums, his smirk holding a hint of sympathy. Needless to say, he doesn’t miss those early days of juggling babies himself, as much as he loves them dearly.

Four preens at the attention his daughters get, however his smile falters when he notices Sky sticking to the very back of the group, awkwardly rubbing his arm and chewing down on his lip. Four frowns.

“...I’m sorry. We should’ve waited until we told -” He keeps his voice down as he joins the older hero who is quick to shake his head and muster his best smile.

“- No, no. We’re happy for you both. Really…” Despite the sorrow stuck in his voice, Four can tell Sky means every word of it, even the sighed: “...You’re a very lucky guy.”

“...I am,” While there could be more said, he realizes now might not be the time to discuss it. Not with so many new babies in the room.

“No wonder you wanted us to be quiet. I can barely handle one newborn at a time, let alone three at once?” Legend mumbles half to himself, his finger gently cresting one of the baby’s chubby cheeks.

“You know, if you ever find your house getting a little too quiet, you can always babysit -”

“- No way in hell. We already have our hands full as it is.”

[littlexdeaths]

stage tech eddie munson x actress reader

warnings: modern!college au, lots of making out

y’all can blame this brain rot i’m currently having on a conversation i had with @rebelfell about techie eddie that ended up spawning all of this… thanks sarah for indulging me xx. 😘

also big kisses to @taintandviolent and @uglypastels for giving this a look over for me <3

“hey— sweetheart. you’re gonna miss your cue.”

eddie all but mumbles against your lips as you pull him in even closer, your bodies wedged between the heavy stage curtains.

“don’t care,” you reply almost breathlessly, allowing your lips to trail over his neck.

you are no longer interested in listening for the inevitable call of ‘veronica?�� to leave barb’s microphone. the music begins to swell just as you are supposed to rush out on stage to finish off the opening number.

while robin was initially supposed to help you with your quick change, when you rushed off stage you were surprised (and delighted) to find eddie in her place instead. the male gave you a cheeky grin as he had your blazer and skirt combo draped over his arm.

but the way his eyes continued to linger a little too long on your half naked figure once you slipped your costume up over your head— would only spell out trouble for both of you.

which was how you ended up half-dressed, blue blazer dangling off your shoulder and your lips smashed against his own. his hands tug you inevitably closer, rings digging into the meat of your hips while he effectively steals the air from your lungs.

your fingers grip tightly onto the cotton of his black t-shirt, feeling the heat radiating from his chest beneath the worn fabric. your lips eagerly drag across the thick skin of his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto the pale skin there.

this had been building for weeks— it had all started when eddie had offered to help you with your scene work. the male almost too eager to have you in his lap, grinding on him while you belted out the lyrics to dead girl walking.

but he’d had his eye on you from the moment you walked into that first rehearsal, all bright eyed and giddy. the more he saw you blossom under the glow of the stage lights, the more he wanted to call you his. little did he know that you felt the same way, despite your initial reservations.

the cast and crew should never mix— that’s what you were always told.

however your eyes would always seek out his lanky figure in the light booth during rehearsals. and you’d ‘accidentally’ leave your prop package of red vines out for him to steal, just to have an excuse to go up to booth to see him. only for him to hold them hostage above your head, dimples on full display as you fought to get them back.

but when you had to kiss your on stage JD— all you could think about how much better his lips would feel slotted against yours. and eddie can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him after you receive some feedback that the passion between you and jonathan was less than stellar.

but that low burning jealousy would rear it’s ugly head when you steadily began to improve.

wanton hands would paw at each other hungrily, those once dull kisses becoming increasingly more passionate with each rehearsal. and that blissful expression that flitted over your features while you gazed into the warmth of jonathan’s eyes has eddie crumbling the pages of his script beneath his fists.

but if this sudden improvement was because you were picturing eddie during your scenes together, no one was the wiser.

the mutual pining between you was palpable and downright maddening, to everyone involved in the production. so if some of them began to scheme a little behind the scenes to bring you two together, neither of you were aware of this recent development.

but everything finally come to a head with the culmination of what your cast mates so lovingly called, hell week. with the stress of opening night looming over your head, and the ever mounting tension between you two— it didn’t take much for your remaining resolve to crumble.

so when he gave you that look, all bets were off.

when eddie desperately tugs your mouth back to his, any worries that you shouldn’t be getting involved with one of your crew members is thrown out the window with each heated press of his lips. you can taste the lingering cigarette on his tongue and you’re engulfed in the musky, spicy scent that is so distinctly eddie when he reaches up to cup your cheek in his palm.

you are so wrapped up in each other that you don’t notice when the music stops abruptly and the burst of confused chatter erupts on the stage. eddie just pulls you in closer, eagerly swallowing the small whine that leaves your lips. the two of you only manage to pull apart when you hear nancy’s annoyed voice ringing out from behind the curtains.

“where the hell is veronica?”

you are a flurry of limbs and fabric as you struggle to pull on the rest of your costume, eddie’s rings accidentally getting caught in your hair during the process. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead in a silent apology before pushing you toward the bright lights of the stage.

you subtly wipe the gloss that was smeared across the corner of your mouth when you rush back out from behind the curtains. unaware that your blazer was buttoned incorrectly in your haste to finish dressing.

“sorry! costume malfunction! can we run it from the bridge?” you ask innocently.

nancy gives you a disapproving look from her stage manager’s seat, flipping the pages of her script back with a raised brow. you’re just thankful the director wasn’t here for this run through— or you’d have your ass chewed out for missing your big entrance.

“alright from the top of the bridge people, places!” she calls.

everyone utters a ‘thank you places’, while you duck back behind the curtain to get into position.

you can feel how flushed you are, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. whether that was from the way his lips were pressed against your own or the melting warmth of the stage lights, was hard to say. but you manage to catch his eye as he makes his way past you and the male can’t help but grin despite himself.

“don’t miss that cue again, sweet thing.” he teases, giving your ass a little pat before continuing on his way back towards the light booth.

[budgebuttons]

There's a lot of reasonably frustrated but ultimately misdirected psa-style posting about how viewers NEED to start reblogging things rather than just liking them because that is the primary mode of post circulation on this site. The modern manifestation of this sentiment seems to miss the fact that, if you've been here for ~15 years, were here prior to, during, and after the exodus to the bird app, you already know that likes have always been more common than reblogs, that many people simply don't want to put your art on their blog, and that guilting end-users into using a microblogging site A Specific Way absolutely does not work. If it did, the trend would have shifted a decade ago. Because this conversation really is that old. Regardless, the modern discourse of how difficult it is to be Seen specifically on Tumblr isn't productive because I think it ultimately misses the reason being an artist online feels so Bad, now.

The social media era has funneled Looking At Stuff on the Internet into an economy of engagement that encourages end-users to treat everything we/they see as quick, cheap, and disposable. This is just another fun and flirty way that capitalism devalues art. It's nothing new. Trying to force masses of users to behave in a way that is healthier for the circulation of art isn't going to do anything to solve the discontent we all feel when we hurl something into the void and it is ultimately ignored. I swear up and down: A higher notes number won't feel better, either. Popularity is just as demoralizing as radio silence, but it manifests differently. Instead of 4 likes and maybe 1 reblog from Old Faithful Mutual, you get a horde of people who treat you like a content machine. You keep hoping for an impossibly Bigger Number. The notifs on the first Big Number Post haven't even settled, and people are already asking when the follow-up is coming. You get anons, but most of them are trying to passively convince you to give them More Content.

It's really, really hard to make people care about art. If there was a silver bullet for making the average person appreciate the enormity of human effort behind every beautiful thing they encounter, we would have found it centuries ago.

The best thing creatives can do for their lives online is to be friendly, or at least kind, with other creators. "Big" artists don't form in-groups because they're snobs. They find each other because they casually showed each other support, and their mutual appreciation for that Thing that wound them up in the same tag becomes a foundation for connection, and in many cases, the ever-illusive Bigger Audience as they introduce themselves to each others' circles. We get more eyes on our work by building community with each other.

Where does that leave people who are just here to look at things, not post them? I think the answer is almost identical: COMMENT!! Please, comment! The first step to engaging with art on a more meaningful level is to point out something you particularly enjoy about a given work. It can go in the replies, it can go in the tags, doesn't matter!! If you notice some symbolism or make some connection, there is all likelihood that OP put it there because they desperately wanted somebody to notice it. Let them know why you like it!

Reaching for the nebulous, impossible goal of better post circulation isn't going to make being a creator online in 2023 suck less. Meaningfully connecting with each other can, will, and does. You can make someone's day just by passingly letting them know that their effort is worth more than a number.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Realistic Tips & Tricks to Become "That Girl"

Some alternatives to having an entire day before 9am that allow you to enjoy your life and help you find pleasure in reaching your goals. Enjoy xx

Focus on a consistent sleep schedule, not select times: Structure your day around your energy, not an idealized schedule is guaranteed to not work for everyone. Wake up at 6-7 am, if you're a true early riser, and head to the gym to get your day started. Otherwise, there's no reason why waking up at 8-9am and getting in an evening-time workout session is lesser than.

Plan your days & week around your energy peaks: Figure out the times of the day when you're most focused, productive, creative, fidgety, sleepy, etc., and structure your days/weeks/month around your internal clock to the best of your ability. While this may be slightly difficult if you have a 9-5 or go to school during the day, think about what blocks of time are best dedicated to meetings, creative work, planning, routine tasks, emails, studying, etc. For those with uteruses, consider your energy throughout your cycle to help you plan the month.

Create "bookend" routines: While these will often be your morning and nighttime routines, consider how you prime and unwind your mind from your biggest tasks of the day (for most of us, this will be work, school, and chores on the weekends). Some reading, light movement, and upbeat music can create momentum before starting your daily tasks. A long walk and some journaling are a simple yet productive combination to decompress from the day.

Embrace the power of 3s: Create a daily primer routine, workday, and relaxation routine around 3 core tasks/projects/rituals. For example: Mornings can include using your 5-Minute Journal, doing a quick 10-minute meditation/yoga/dancing session to get in some movement, and spending 10 minutes reading; Your workday should be focused on completing your "Big Three" tasks, projects, or meetings of the day; Evenings can include a quick 5-10 minute planning session for the next day, a 15-60 minute walk or workout (depending on how you're feeling), and some journaling/reading time after dinner. You don't need to do it all. Consistency is key.

Create a "pleasure" and "pain" list. Own your inner masochist: Open up a fresh journal page or web document. Create two separate lists titled "Pleasure" and "Pain." The first list captures all of the simple pleasures that make your days enjoyable (from coffee rituals and your skincare routine to small work successes, daily movement, and indulgent evening treats, like a favorite TV show, a glass of wine, tea, etc.). The second list captures the tasks you regularly dread or procrastinate out of hatred and overwhelm (includes tedious or mentally-draining work tasks, meetings, chores, difficult workout sessions, necessary conversations with emotionally immature people, etc.). Looking over these two lists gives you an overview of your daily experience to help you (realistically) optimize your day for more ease and enjoyment.

Incorporate a pleasurable element into every ritual: Find ways to pair these more "painful" activities with something pleasurable. Examples include having a favorite coffee or tea while working on a draining work project, listening to a fun playlist, taking a walk/doing a face mask or massage while having a less enjoyable conversation, etc.)

Leverage habit stacking: Build habits on top of one another to set yourself up for success. Use a nearly mindless or enjoyable "cue" to spark action that results in habit formation. For example, use sipping your morning coffee as a cue to read your 10 daily pages or do some journaling. Leave your workout clothes out beside your bed with your yoga mat all laid out to make it stupidly easy to get your workout done right away. Have a playlist curated and opened to let you press "start" immediately when you need to begin your work day.

Create a capsule menu/wardrobe: Streamline your everyday meals and outfits by curating a handful of healthy breakfasts/lunches/dinners/snacks and outfits that you can put together mindlessly throughout the week. While creativity in these areas is fun, pre-determined options for busy days can help minimize decision fatigue. Know what staple groceries you need in your kitchen to make these recipes, and ensure to keep them in stock when going on your weekly grocery run. Have a few go-to outfits for work, running errands, working out, and social outings. Choose 5-10 well-fitting wardrobe staples that pair well together in the front of your closet at all times.

Become a playlist master: Curate different playlists for particular tasks, activities, and times of the day. Having playlists for creative/admin work tasks, reading, working out, cleaning, waking up, and winding down for the day can give you the energy to focus and not procrastinate or simply enjoy a necessary task more.

Focus on systems, not habits: Consider the domino effect of each practice and activity. Determine whether your current strategies and routines align with your energy, goals, and desired outcomes. Reflect on the parts of your routine that increase/decrease your energy and motivation. See how you can create a system – a pattern of consistently-practiced habits – that supports your goals and desired lifestyle that does not compromise your overall life satisfaction and well-being.

Experiment until you find an achievable balance: Focus on progress, not perfection. While there may be days or even seasons where hard work and fewer pleasures take priority, life is meant to bring you joy, peace, and satisfaction at the end of the day. Remaining in your comfort zone does you no good. However, learning ways to find pleasure in the process remains the key to long-lasting discipline and the energy necessary to maintain the determination required for success.

Sending you healthy and prosperous vibes xx

[quinnlarrabee]

Macron's fiery Sorbonne speech targets summering American Millennials

It’s no coincidence that Emmanuel Macron gave a fiery speech about the threats facing Europe the same week that American Millennials in New York, LA, and Miami began talking about booking their one-way flights to the continent. "There is a risk our Europe could die - we are not equipped to face the risks," Macron said, referring to the dietary allergies, alternative milk needs, and tedious conversations of trust-funded, unemployed young adults who will begin their summer in Paris to attend a museum benefit that spills into a large dinner party with several professional photographers before traveling to Puglia, Comporta, or Ibiza where they will subsist on ‘beautiful tomatoes,’ flat whites, and MDMA. 

Europe has struggled with illegal immigration for decades, and there is no more pressing illegal immigration threat than American Millennials who have decided that being unemployed in Europe is less distressing for their parents than being unemployed in Williamsburg. Google searches for ‘how long can I stay in EU without passport’ spiked in late-April among Americans who have not yet bought a Portuguese passport from a guy who used to run a turnkey Burning Man camp who is now running a Golden Visa scheme in Lisbon. “Our Europe today is mortal,” Macron said. “It can die and that depends solely on our choices,” the choices being whether or not to search and detain for ketamine at customs and how to clearly define tipping protocol in restaurants. 

“It used to be enough to spend a couple weeks in Italy in July,” observes Coco, a 34-year-old retired gallery founder who is on the board of several art-related non-profits that she instructed her unpaid interns to start. “But now it gets so hot in Europe in July that everyone is going in June and even like, May.” Coco has several weddings and dinner parties in various coastal destinations in Europe in June, but she has not yet RSVP’d nor has she booked any travel. “I know I’m going to go, but I’ve just been too busy to look at the dates or book anything,” she says, absently picking some kind of beige matter from the left eye of her toy goldendoodle. Macron at one point asserts in his speech that Europe is “too slow and lacks ambition,” referring directly to Coco’s ambivalent European travel plans. 

Uncertainty permeates the vibe in Europe right now, not because of a military threat posed by a giant, angry country with cocked nukes driven by a weak-minded Cold War relic, but because every Millennial in New York, Miami and Los Angeles has expressed their intention to occupy Europe without declaring the targets. 

“Is very stressful,” says Aldo Melpignano, the proprietor of Borgo Egnazia, a trendy boutique hotel in Puglia that for Europeans costs €120 a night and charges 30something Americans visiting from coastal zipcodes $970. “I see the hashtags on the Instagram, like, I’m coming for your @borgoegnazia,” he says. “Va bene, Allison, when you gonna come for us, and are you gonna come with that stupid capello?” says Aldo while making a pinched-fingers emoji with one hand and pointing to his head with the other. Hotel, coffee shop, organic market, and narcotics purveyors all over Italy, France, Spain, and Portugal have echoed this desire for more resolute planning and fewer hats from the demographic that funds the less productive but more desirable EU countries.  

"We must produce more, we must produce faster, and we must produce as Europeans," Macron said, a rallying cry to European DJs to sample only vocals that were recorded in native European languages.  

“Europe must show that it is never a vassal of the United States and that it also knows how to talk to all the other regions of the world," Macron said, refuting the irrefutable fact that Europe has become a summer camp for unproductive younger Americans and suggesting that they be immediately deported to Bodrum or Izmir upon landing at CDG, MXP, and LIS. 

“This is a betrayal of our values that ultimately leads us to dependency on other counties,” Macron said, making an observation about Europe’s frustration with having to work between May and August in order to show American Millennials how to correctly tap their credit card on puzzling European payment terminals.

“Europe must become capable of defending its interests, with its allies by our side whenever they are willing, and alone if necessary,” said Macron, in defense of French baristas who do not like working with oat milk. Taking a hands-on approach to ensuring the EU’s “ability to ensure our security” Macron and his wife will begin their Summer at a wedding in the Aeolian Islands in early June, float around Sicily or Puglia the following week, head to Bonjuk Bay for an appearance of prominent LA-based DJ, RICHE, and then couch-surf in Santa Gertrudis de Fruitera the rest of the summer.

[sinfulpanda16]

Amazing Classmate

Midoriya, Bakugou, Uraraka, Todoroki x foreigner reader

You are an international student in U.A and meet all of Class 1-A. What are their reactions to seeing you for the first time? How do you guys bond together despite the differences in nationalities?

(n/l) = native language (y/c) = your country

Midoriya

Is fascinated by you

He tries to learn your language by taking notes

When he saw you for the first time, he was starstruck. Your features are so beautiful, and he can't help but to blush a bit when you make eye contact with him. He decides to be a good friend towards you because he didn't want you to feel too different. You two become good friends and when he asks if you can help him learn your native language it made you feel a sense of warmth. You happily agreed, you would tell him 'The Word of the Day' and he would write it down in his notebook.

Izuku waits for you to think of a word. When you finally do you look at him with a smile, "The word of the day is, (random word in your language)."

Midoriya smiles brightly, "Ok! How do you spell that?" he asks getting ready to write in his notebook. You spell it out for him and go on to translate the word in Japanese. You explain to him how you would you use it in a sentence and Midoriya is writing it all down.

It makes you happy that Midoriya is so dedicated to learning your (n/l). He's learned so much from you and is almost able to have a full conversation with you in your mother's tongue. In a way he makes you feel at home.

He does it all because he wants to. He really likes you and where you come from. He likes all of you.

Uraraka

Strives to be more like you

You are so inspirational in her eyes

She walks into the common room and sees you sitting on the couch. She's hasn't been motivated to do much recently and doesn't know why. You have made it clear to all of Class 1-A that you're a safe space and are there for them. Uraraka figures maybe she can talk to you, so she takes a deep breath in and makes her way towards you on the couch.

"Hey (Y/N)" she waves shyly and sits down next to you.

You look from your phone and give her a smile. "Hey what's up?" you ask.

She looks at your eyes and she finds them so beautiful. She can't help but to turn away shyly. "Oh, it's nothing really. I just figured I could use some advice."

You turn off your phone and give her your undivided attention. You allow her to tell you her thoughts and feelings. You listen closely and after she explains everything, she looks at you, "I don't how (Y/N). What should I do?"

You chuckle a bit and begin to answer her question. "Back where I'm from they have a famous saying." Uraraka listens closely. You explain to her a quote your people back at home say a lot. It's something that people tell each other to help them feel better. After you finish explaining you look at her, "It's ok Uraraka. You're human so there's no need to beat yourself up for feeling more tired than usual. I'd recommend going on a walk. That always makes me feel better and productive". You give her a warm smile and say the quote in you language.

She looks at you with her big eyes and then chuckles. "Thanks (Y/N). Thats means a lot. You and your people are really something." she laughs.

You smile, it's true. You're proud of your blood and culture. And Uraraka is also proud of you for that.

Bakugou

Admires you from afar

At first he could've cared less about you, but your just so intriguing

He's sitting in the common room lost in thought and he sees you come out of the elevator. You two make eye contact and you smile brightly. You say, "Hi Bakugou." in your native language. He and all of class 1-A already know the word for Hi in your language because you always say it.

Bakugou just grunts, but that doesn't mean he's not willing to talk with you. You don't mind him and make your way to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat. You been enjoying cold soba ever since Todoroki recommended it to you. He was onto something cuz cold soba hits every time.

Bakugou knew you've been eating a lot of soba cuz of Todoroki and it bothered him. He wasn't sure why, but it did. He calls out for you "Oi! (Y/n)." you look up from what you were doing and look at him. Your eye contact always makes him feel a certain type of way. He can never hold eye contact with you. He looks away and abruptly says the first thing that came to his mind, "Teach me some curse words. You know...in (n/l)."

His request is so random, but you laugh, "Alright".

So that's what you do. You teach him all your favorite curse words in your native language. It makes you laugh because he honestly sounds and looks good cursing in your language.

This helped you two get closer and after you left, he found himself smirking. Just everything about you intrigues him and that includes your culture and language. And you can bet that after that he yells curse words at any extra in your native language.

Shoto

Is respectful to you and your culture

You and him both have your struggles and are always there for each other

You were feeling down and were in your dorm room. You love Japan but just like everyone else who moves countries, you get homesick. You sat at your desk looking at a photo of you and your friends back home. You miss them like hell. Long distance relationships are not easy. You hear a knock at your door and already know its Todoroki cuz of the way he knocks. You call out for him to come in.

He opens your door and walks inside, "Hi (Y/N). Are you busy-" he's caught off guard cuz he can tell something isn't right. He can tell your feeling down.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "Is everything ok?" you ask when he stops speaking mid-sentence.

"I don't know. Is it?" is all Shoto says in his soft voice, and you're taken aback. In all those months Todoroki managed to read you like a book. Honestly, you learned to do the same with him.

You smile softly, "I'm ok Todoroki. I just feel a bit homesick."

He walks towards you, "Oh. You miss (y/c)?" he asks sitting down on your bed. You nod your head and look back at the photo of your friends, "Yeah. I mainly just miss my friends and family. It's been a while since I've seen them in person." you explain.

Todoroki can only imagine what that must feel like. He sometimes misses his family, his mother, even though they're all with him in Japan. He doesn't want you to feel sad, so he suggests doing something to ease your mind.

"(Y/N) me and our friends were going to go to mall together." he reaches to hold your hand, "Please come. I promise it'll make you feel better." he says looking into your eyes.

You smile softly. Although your childhood friends are back in (y/c), that doesn't mean you're all alone here. You have amazing friends like Todoroki and the rest of Class 1-A to be with. You back into his eyes, "Ok. Thanks, Shoto."

He gives you his soft and cute smile, "You're welcome (Y/N)".

[allykabbet]

Sneezing dynamics I like 2

Small touches of comfort, almost without noticing, more out of habit than anything else. Lightly rubbing the back, a small touch on the forearm or leg, gently stroking the hair.

Extremely polite sneezers. Sneezing into the elbow, wrist, or forearm, or even into the inside of a jacket. Moving away from the person they’re talking to or interacting with in order to sneeze.

Sneeze forceful, congested exhalation. Pressing the bridge of the nose and shaking the head. Blinking several times and trying to focus on the pile of work ahead.

A congested person who doesn’t blow their nose productively because they don’t want to make too much noise and disturb the environment, instead passing a tissue over their nose just to remove the moisture, causing them to constantly sniffle.

*Stifled sneeze* "Bless you. You’re going to hurt yourself, why sneeze like that? / It hurts just to hear you." "That’s how I sneeze, I don’t know any other way." "You sneeze in a very unproductive way." (Casual conversations about sneezing)

Pre-sneezing face on someone who rarely loses control; their usually composed and controlled demeanor fades in a brief moment of vulnerability: their mouth opens slightly, eyes squinting in anticipation, and their expression becomes soft and unguarded, revealing an uncharacteristically delicate side just before the sneeze.

“Excuse me” after sneezing 😳 and if it’s like an exhale or very congested, or still pressing/with the hand on the nose *-*

“Can you pass me a tissue, please…?” In a soft voice, because they’re too focused on not sneezing yet. When the other person hands it over, they quickly bury their face in the tissue and release a stifled or muffled sneeze.

Two people sitting on the bed, chatting, facing each other. One of them sneezes three/four times mid-conversation, suddenly, although they usually sneeze once, maybe twice. "Uh, are you getting sick?" "I don’t know, my nose itches"

Hoarse voice when getting sick. The other people notice they’re sneezing more than usual, scrunching their nose every so often, or getting lost in the conversation/being less attentive than usual. The people around, however, don’t say anything because they know they doesn’t like to show vulnerability, but they make small gestures. They offer hot coffee, press their shoulder when they sneeze, hand them a tissue in silence.

Shivering after sneeze.

Two people sharing a hotel room (in two separate beds or the same). There’s not much trust between them, they’re just sharing space due to circumstances. From the perspective of one of them, X hears, but doesn’t see, that Y is shifting uncomfortably in bed and rubbing their nose. Y starts having a sneezing fit, trying to contain it as much as possible so as not to wake them. X pretends to be asleep but eventually decides to get up and bring them a roll of paper. Neither says anything other than a whispered thank you.

TIRED sneezes. A lingering cold, and sneezes that practically drain all the energy you have, barely coming out through an already scratchy throat and a sore chest.

Offering to turn on the heating when someone is having a sneezing fit, or rubbing their arms to warm them up.

A hand with long, thin fingers, full of rings, holding in a sneeze. No more. 😳

Someone else keeping count of how many sneezes the other have had when the fit goes on.

The head shaking from a forced sneeze, especially when it’s stifled.

Someone who usually stifles their sneezes deliberately to try to stop a sneezing fit. "Finally. A somewhat satisfying sneeze." "Shut up."

Small or gentle sneezes (ApTsch'u! PTschu!) in someone who appears tough, proud, or cocky.

Different ways of blessing. "Bless you" "Bless" "Blessings" "Bless dear" "Gesundheit" Or even saying it in another language if the person speaks a different one: "À tes souhaits" "Salud!"

Okay, let’s talk about allergies. Rapid blinking, throat clearing, twitching the nose and gently passing fingers or knuckles over the nose to avoid itching. Slight sniffles. The nose is slightly redder than usual. Tired sighs.

Someone at a public event, holding a relevant position (perhaps the head of a company, a mafia leader, something like that) and their subordinate are talking to another important person. The high-ranking individual feels the urge to sneeze, and after suppressing it throughout the conversation, they can no longer hold it back. They place a hand on their subordinate’s shoulder and subtly hide behind his/her shoulder to sneeze into their hand. Then composing themselves and apologizing to their interlocutor.

Someone sneezes and forgets what they were saying. The other person notices how lost they are, the rising fever, and their flushed cheeks and nose. Before saying "bless you," they place a hand on their forehead. The other person closes their eyes. What level of intimacy is needed to place a hand on someone’s forehead without them asking for it?

Sneezing when injured. Perhaps a gunshot wound or after surgery, and the wound hurts when they sneeze.

[Thanks for the support on my previous post! <3 Would you like to read fics too?? :) ]

[sorcave]

After spending some time thinking about Peter Pettigrew, I’ve realized there’s a huge disconnect between how he’s portrayed in canon and how the fandom—especially within Marauders fanon—handles him. Let me preface this by saying, I get it. The Marauders era is filled with beloved, tragic characters like Sirius, Remus, and James, who are all charismatic in their own ways. It’s easy to frame Peter as the villain, the weak link in the group, because, well, he is the one who betrays them. But I can’t help feeling like fanon’s interpretation of him has become deeply flawed and even unfair in its simplification of his character.

Peter Pettigrew, as written in the books, is actually a much more complex figure than the rat-betrayer caricature that fanon often makes him out to be. He’s not some mustache-twirling villain, nor is he just a pathetic hanger-on who was lucky to be in the Marauders’ circle. If you really pay attention to the way his character is written, he’s someone who’s constantly underestimated by the people around him, including the very friends he ends up betraying. He’s not powerful in the traditional sense, but his cunning is what allows him to survive the chaos of two wizarding wars. He’s not a mastermind, sure, but he’s resourceful in a way that deserves more recognition than he gets. Canonically, it’s clear that he isn’t just bumbling around until he stumbles into Voldemort’s arms—he’s making calculated choices, and we need to give those choices the weight they deserve.

This brings me to why I think fanon’s insistence on reducing Peter to a one-dimensional villain is so misguided. There's this huge trend in Marauders fandom where Peter is either villainized beyond recognition or, worse, completely written out of the story. He’s often replaced in fanon with a random “better” Marauder, or he’s ignored entirely, as if his betrayal somehow disqualifies him from being part of the story. And here’s the thing: canon compliance isn’t a crime! In fact, canon gives us a far more interesting story. The tragedy of Peter’s betrayal is that he was their friend—he shared their dorm, their secrets, and their history. His actions were not driven by some inherent evil but by fear, survival instincts, and yes, cowardice. It’s a much richer narrative than reducing him to a monster.

In the fandom, there’s often this hyperfocus on moral purity when it comes to the Marauders, especially when it comes to ships and rewriting dynamics. Peter, however, disrupts that neat narrative, so fanon tries to erase him to preserve the integrity of the fan-created relationships. But that oversimplifies everything. Why should we villainize people for sticking to canon when canon is, arguably, what makes the Marauders’ story so compelling in the first place? The fall of the Marauders—this group of young, talented, promising boys—hinges on Peter’s betrayal. You can't just ignore that without losing a fundamental piece of what makes their story so tragic. He’s not a random character you can swap out. He’s the pivot point.

Peter’s character also raises some interesting discussions about how we view heroism and villainy in fandom spaces. For instance, we’re often quick to forgive other characters—Sirius, for all his bravado, is reckless and cruel to people like Snape, but we don’t hold it against him in the same way. We empathize with his trauma, his tragic backstory. So why is it that Peter, who is also a product of his circumstances, is written off? He wasn’t born evil; he was shaped by the same war that shaped all of them, but his path led him to make different choices. There’s something so fascinating about exploring how someone who was once a friend could betray everything. It’s a conversation about human flaws, not just villainy.

And yes, in a world full of Marauders fan content, it’s fine to like your AUs or write your fix-its. But let’s not pretend that sticking to canon, and appreciating Peter for the complex character he is, is somehow less valid. The fandom would benefit from looking at Peter as more than just “the betrayer” and instead as someone who, like everyone else in the story, is a deeply flawed person whose mistakes have devastating consequences. That makes the story richer, more painful, and ultimately, more meaningful.

forgive me for the ramble but Im going insane with my term paper and my thesis, unfortunately I've been diving too deep into the marauders again

[yridenergyridenergy]

Dir en grey interview translation notes around The Devil In Me

Just some of the more interesting bits from the single's booklet and from PHY vol. 25.

Kyo

He was the one who came up with the title, and the title was determined before they even attached a song to it. The band basically decided to set a date for a new single ahead of time, not too long after 19990120's release, then they had just one song selection meeting (usually, they have three) to pick a song to work with toward becoming "The Devil In Me". After scheduling a release date, they had to pick a title before even knowing what song would be part of that release for production/logistical reasons.

Kyo wrote the lyrics of The Devil In Me based on his sense of dissociation from world events, how his own issues are not aligned with what the world cares about. He finds that people's lives are sometimes pre-determined the moment they are born. It's really a reflection on: "Why am I the way I am?"

The chorus has so many layers because Kyo wanted to illustrate that inner evil, or wickedness.

While re-recording Yokan, Kyo realized that he used to sing in short bouts, taking a breath more regularly, whereas he's evolved to sing as much as he can in a single, long breath now.

The small changes made to the lyrics of Cage just serve to help Kyo feel more immersed in that old poem, but if he'd wanted to change the lyrics to represent his current mindset, clearly he would have composed a completely new, different song.

Kyo commented in PHY vol. 25 that if the producers wanted a band that sells a lot, they would have had to replace him with someone who is taller, has a nice face and that composes songs that appeal to a wider audience. But around their debut, Kyo had to bend to some of the producers' demands because he had to rely on their knowledge of what would make the band successful. He wanted to make a very dark band, but he had to accept to make songs like Yokan.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to sing about corpses and internal organs to a melodious song such as Yokan (lol)."

Kyo feels like Dir en grey is the toughest band for him to be a part of, because the band's shows are especially mentally difficult.

Kaoru

The music of The Devil In Me was Kaoru's idea.

Kaoru agrees that the song kind of ends in a way that the band could have, in the past, followed up on with a second section of the song, but they felt like ending it in a more simple way now, which still represents the band's current state.

Die

The band had a discussion in a dressing room during Tour23 Phalaris Final –The scent of a peaceful death- and that's where they came to an understanding of where they wanted to take the band next. Kyo brought them ideas on what he felt that the next single song should sound like, but in the end, at the selection meeting, the majority of the band chose a completely different song than the other of the 5 that Kyo preferred. He's fine with letting the majority win.

Die started working out in 2018 to make sure to stay in shape for stage performances, and I think that he mentioned that it's important for him to appear young and healthy so that the fans who follow the band also don't feel old.

For Die, he was in part less active on stage during the Dum Spiro Spero era because the songs were dark and complex, so he had to focus more. Because of that, he couldn't enjoy the actual shows as much.

Toshiya

Toshiya mentioned that doing commemorative tours and shows is really just fan service.

Toshiya described Dir en grey as a group of five dictators. Their enemies and friends/allies are all inside that group, and the past 25(+) years have been a continuation of challenges to bring the band forward despite this type of chemical reaction between five egos.

Apparently the band never has casual "weird" conversations where they chat about their interests of the moment, but they quietly observe the others without interacting, like by observing what kind of clothes they wear or are into.

Shinya

Contrary to the band's habit, the vocals did not even exist yet when Shinya had to compose and record his drumming for The Devil In Me. When the vocals were eventually recorded, they kind of matched what Shinya had expected.

However, overall, a couple of members of the band feel like The Devil In Me might be a song that people react to with: "I don't get it", rather that just liking or disliking it.

Shinya dissing The Marrow of a Bone again hahah.

Shinya described The Devil In Me as mysterious, inexplicable.

He started taking some lessons from Buck-Tick's "Anii" (Toll Yagami) to learn a new drumming method. In the past, at the very beginning of his career, Shinya used to wear lead weights at his ankles to hit the pedal heavier and develop muscles, but Yoshiki and other seniors told him how to actually play and he quickly got rid of the weight belts.

[tsunami-of-tears]

Someplace better

Azriel x Reader

A/N: This is dark. There are no happy endings. Please read the warnings.

Wordcount: <1K

Warnings: angst doesn’t even cut it; emotionally abusive family dynamic; suicide; it does not end well, you’ve been warned.

My mother is a horrible wench. 

We just had yet another fight that ended in screaming and tears and slammed doors. 

I thought our relationship was getting better. I was trying to open up about the struggles I’ve been having, only to have them all thrown back in my face. 

“Before you point the finger at everyone else, maybe you need to consider that you’re the problem,” she sneers. 

I’d been trying to tell her how overwhelmed I felt, that I felt stuck and couldn’t see a way out. I can feel myself starting to crack under the pressure, pieces of me splintering as I try to be everything for everyone. 

No matter how hard I try, it’s not enough. There’s always something I’m not doing, something not done right. 

‘You’re a failure and a burden,’ that little voice says, harmonising with my mother’s insults.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself,” she says dismissively. 

So much for motherly love… 

————

Later that evening, I’m heading to the River House for a family dinner. These events have become less frequent with everyone’s busy schedules, and I’m looking forward to seeing my friends. 

Rhysand greets me at the door, pulling me into a hug. “Y/N, it’s been too long,” he smiles down at me warmly. “Everyone else is here already, come in.” 

“It’s good to see you, I’ve missed everyone,” I give Rhys a tight smile in return. 

Time appears to stop as we walk down the hallway. The awkwardness drags on for what feels like forever. My thoughts race with things I could say, but my tongue cannot form the words. Rhys notices my silence, furrowing his brows at me. I plaster a huge smile on my face, attempting to conceal my inner turmoil. I can’t tell if Rhys picks up on my forgery. 

We enter the living room which is alive with chatter between my friends. 

Mor, Feyre and Cassian are laughing together, likely about something Cassian said. 

Amren and Nesta are engaged in a heated discussion.

And then Azriel… He’s with Elain, talking softly together about gods knows what. My heart starts to crack at the sight. 

I really don’t want to get between Nesta and Amren, and I can’t face Azriel and Elain together, so I sit next to Cassian as Rhys perches on the arm of the chair beside Feyre. He leans down to kiss her softly on the top of her head and I look away quickly, the crack growing until I feel like my heart is split in two.

Cassian gives me a quick peck on the cheek as I sit before returning to his conversation with Feyre and Mor. 

I struggle to engage with anyone, feeling more alone than ever while surrounded by my chosen family. 

————

The rest of the night is much of the same. 

Every single word is a monumental effort. 

I’m hyper-aware of every single person around the table. Every single smile and hidden touch. I feel as if I’m watching from behind a window. I’m on the outside. Alone.

‘They’ll be fine without you,’ that little voice whispers in my ear. ‘Look how happy they are. They don’t need you. All your efforts are wasted. You are a waste.’

After dinner I bid everyone goodnight, heading up to my room. 

I miss the concerned glances between my friends, who noticed I’ve been extra quiet tonight.

I miss the shadows that follow behind me. 

I miss the way Azriel zones out from what Elain is saying as he watches me leave. 

————

I can’t remember the last time I stayed in this room but all my things remain untouched. Clothing, journals, even some beauty products - all where I left them. 

I pick up one of my old journals and flip through the pages. I mostly write down the bad stuff. It usually helps get the feelings out, but right now, it’s only adding to the storm that’s brewing inside me. 

I carefully set down the books in a stack on my nightstand, picking up a scrap of parchment. As I always do, I write. 

I’m sorry to do this here, tonight, but I cannot go on any longer.  I truly believe this is for the best. The world was not made for people like me. I’m far too soft.  I love you all. Y/N

I set the note down on the bed and rummage through my various medicines. I’ve always struggled to sleep, so I should have some extra tonics in here somewhere… 

I find four bottles of sleeping tonic in one of my drawers, plus the one in my pocket. 

I arrange them on the nightstand in a straight line. 

I pick up the first bottle, uncorking it and raising it in the air. 

A toast, to finding someplace better.

I bring the glass rim to my lips, chugging the clear liquid. 

One down. Just a few more. 

I make short work of the remaining bottles, though I feel a bit queasy from the sheer volume. 

As I set down the last bottle, a wisp of darkness curls around my wrist and snakes between the empty bottles. 

“You’re too late,” I tell it. 

The shadow vanishes and my eyes start to droop. 

I lay down on the bed, my entire body feeling heavy. 

As I feel myself losing the battle for consciousness, a mass of dark shadows appears next to the bed. 

Azriel. 

He is frantic as he reaches towards me. 

So close. He was so close. 

I never get to feel those hands again as the world fades to black and I give myself over to the endless sleep. 

A/N: I’m not gonna lie and say I’m okay when clearly I’m not, but I’m not unsafe tonight. 

Mental Health Resources*:  If you’re in immediate danger please call your country’s emergency number. Australia: Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ Mental Health Hotline: 1800 011 511 Lifeline: 13 11 14 USA:  Crisis Line (call or text): 988 UK:  Lifeline: 0808 808 8000 *If I have gotten anything wrong or if you have other resources to add, please let me know

[eldritch-spouse]

Currently you're sitting at a table with your master, waiting on your meal. You have complicated feelings on Nebul. He doesn't necessarily treat you badly, he takes care of you but that's because you've been cooperative, you've seen him less gentile…..

The chef walks on by dragging a man screaming and wailing. His eyes look searching for someone, until they fall on you.

“Help me!” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “He's going to kill me!”

You are no savior, you have no power here. You look down at your lap, hearing his cries for help become more and more distant. Dread and despair grows in your heart.

[I can write this out from his perspective.]

Nebul enjoys pets like you.

One might glance at him and think that perhaps the trainer would prefer a real brat. Someone who stomps their feet, bitches and whines and spits. The kind that just won't take it lying down and nearly breaks themself in their effort to be free of his controlled dominance.

But they'd be quite mistaken.

Nebul loves a pet who instantly recognizes their place. A darling thing like you, smart enough to realize that you have no chance of ever escaping intact, and thus, become subservient to your rightful master. You know Nebul will protect you, will provide for you, because you're learning to be the perfect pet he's training you into on a daily basis. There's something just insanely satisfying and obscenely arousing about your immediate submission to Nebul, he savors it slowly, preens you, makes sure you'll last him long.

Many were the tests you've been subtly subjected to since your time under his care. Some were elaborated to get a feel for your character, others for the amount of progress in obedience and loyalty you've developed. The undead quickly adjusts his methods depending on your performance, though you've been nothing if not stellar thus far. Very impressive, very good.

This moment is both another test and a reward. You have earned yourself time outside of the shop, time watching others, pretending to be a member of a community. Not that this particular community sees you as anything but a breathing toy, but he knows it's enough to bring a semblance of comfort to a contact-starved psyche like yours.

See, tonight you're having dinner at The Clergy's restaurant. And the place is quite packed, much to Nebul's distaste. His organism, unalive and magic-riddled, may not require food, but yours sure does. Nebul did take the care to make sure you will not be ingesting "human products", as he already ordered your meal a fair bit ago. Now, he's just making idle conversation and attentively mapping your reactions to seeing so many monsters ogling you like a steak. At certain times, it feels as if you want to sit next to him on the ground, where you have correctly learned is safest, and he glows with pride.

Many a client have stopped by and wordlessly pointed at you, every each one receiving a polite and consice explanation that you're not for sale or a free-use treat. He relishes the dread in your eyes, but even more so the relief. Gratitude that you had been picked by the wraith, and not some uncaring, sadistic entity looking to rip you open.

Yes, the sooner you understand how good you have it here, the sooner you'll drop silly ideas of escape and freedom.

Your rhythmic fidgeting with the silver tag of the collar around your neck is harshly interrupted by the sound of the closest elevator parting its doors, and a very angry monster stomping out, dragging a badly injured human man by medium-length hair.

Nebul senses the way your breath catches and a spike of adrenaline makes you pale, eyes wide, so tense you might pop.

He diverts his attention to Morell. The chef looks more than agitated, genuinely irate. It's not likely that the human actually managed to place a dent on that cinderblock of a monster, but it is a possibility that it outsmarted the chef in a moment of stressful workflow. And that, Nebul knows, will have the shroom smashing through furniture.

" Fuckin' pig! Ah was gonna make it smooth for ya, make it fast, ya wouldn' even feel much- "

The chef's apron is smeared with splatters of blood, what Nebul thinks might be some kind of sauce, and a decent chunk of dirt from the messy chase. The man, on the other hand, is bruised on the face and limbs, one hand bent at a bizarre angle and his ankles most definitely crudely twisted to a mockery of a ragdoll.

Even through the immense pain the undead can sense emanating from this human, the resilience commonly associated with this species shines clearly, as he screams and tries ever so hard to claw the mushroom monster's skin. Broken nails fail to so much as scratch the calloused pudge of his executioner's fingers, who are so tense around that mangled arm it might just explode.

He tries still, he tries, and will continue to for as long as his organism can supply a powerful dosage of adrenaline.

The mostly pointless squirming does succeed in one thing however, getting on Morell's nerves. Predictably, the chef turns around just enough to land a powerful steel-toed boot kick right to his middle, making the man wheeze like a dying animal. He seems to zone out for a moment, probably due to the immense pain wracking his body.

He doesn't zone out enough to miss you, the only other human present.

Nebul expected his frantic screaming, and he can't lie, part of the undead was looking forward to seeing how you'd react in a situation like this. Do you have any kind of wit in that cranium? It seems you do, because even when he's dragged by, pleading with all the remaining breath in his lungs for the help of his kin, for salvation only you can provide, you hardly react.

Aside from a light twitch of the limbs, as if you're trying to guiltily swat a mosquito away, you hang your head and focus on your intertwined hands on your lap. Your stare glazes, losing its alarmed quality, and your breathing becomes steady. You're effectively out of the scene.

Good.

Very good.

Morell makes an apology gesture towards the shopkeeper when he realizes that's the table he just walked past, eyes lingering on you with morbid curiosity before he slams the kitchen doors open and drags the drained human inside.

Nebul doesn't let you dissociate for too long. It's not the first time he's seen you do this, but he needs you quite present for this feedback. A grasp upon said clasped hands gets you to inhale sharply, shaking a bit. You glance at him with fear, as getting distracted in certain moments can earn you punishments.

" You've been performing exceptionally well. " He purrs. " With such exemplary behavior, you're on the fast track to perfection. Pets like you deserve rewards for their discipline, and you will get one once we're done eating. "

You nod hastily, fidgeting on your chair while you try hard to ignore the stains of blood on the floor.

Nebul's mist swirls playfully. " Now, what do we say? "

" I'm sorry, Master- Thank you, Master. "

" Very good. "

[the-heart-of-leo]

Nick's so far under the bus that they might as well change the oil while they're under there.

Okay, because I'm a bit of a masochist and I have adblockers...

I'm going to count how many times James throws Nick under the bus:

@2:40 – 'This fell upon Nick as well, as a non-binary person on the ace spectrum, they wanted to include asexuality and non-binary representation to our videos. But because Nick's experience is not universal – There is no universal experience – people felt that we were delegitimizing their own experiences because we focused on Nick's.' (The reason we were acephobic was because we (meaning Nick) didn't think other ace people had problems and when it was pointed out to us by The Ace Couple that ace people did, in fact, face discrimination and conversion therapy, we (meaning James) accused them of homophobia and sicced their followers on them.)

@6:38 – 'The work Nick and I were doing on the channel...' (Because Nick was here too! Not just me!)

@10:46 – 'I was much more interested in the production of the videos than the writing of them, at this point. So after three or four videos, I brought Nick on as a main writer for the channel. The idea is that they would write the vast majority of the scripts. I would film, voice, and edit the videos and we'd split the money that came in.'(Nick was the main writer for the channel! In case you forgot...)

@14:40 – 'And then my mom died... and I became completely useless. I couldn't think straight, at all, so Nick had to completely take over writing duties.'(DID I MENTION NICK WAS THE MAIN WRITER. ALSO MY MOM DIED; FEEL SORRY FOR ME)

@19:44 – 'When Nick got back, he believed the script needed a first page rework. This was also when he told me he was going to be moving back to Ontario permanently soon as he wanted to live closer to family and live in a bigger city with more opportunities. This was a punch to the gut for me. We'd been living together since 2015 and had become quite dependent on each other. I felt like there was no way I could make this movie without him.'(We couldn't make the movie we promised because SOMEONE DECIDED TO MOVE and since I'm co-dependent on him, I moved with him and screwed up everything. Oopsie.)

@26:32 – 'But by accepting as many sponsors as we did, which became very important when Nick and I started living apart and suddenly had two rents to pay, we ended up needing to produce even more videos. Which, along with the work on Telos and making sure everything was okay with my dad while living thousands of kilometers away meant I had even less time for writing – putting more stress on Nick and leading to even more copy and pasting from me.' (See what you did, Nick?! We have to pay TWO rents now and we need to make even MORE videos. I'm not creepily co-dependent on my asexual ex-roommate at all!)

@32:50 – 'I know what misinformation had made its way into our past videos. That was not something we intended; in some cases it was information I was told by people I considered experts. In other cases it was information that we had researched. In other cases it was things that Nick had learned in university.'(Nick told me some of this stuff! ((which is fair because NICK ADMITTED HE DOESN'T DO RESEARCH)) In other cases it was because I assumed I knew what happened because I'm the smartest person I know so of course Lesbians had it easier! I just forgot that Radcliffe Hall's books were banned and destroyed because of that head injury I talked about earlier.)

And here's an honorable mention where the smug “I'm smarter than you” BS comes to visit:

'To those who say I plagiarized the plot from the novel Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix – Read the book. It's nothing like the plot of the movie. And 'The Final Girl' is a trope in horror movies so if using the Final Girl trope is plagiarism then basically everyone who's made a slasher movie since Texas Chainsaw Massacre owes the Toby Hooper estate some money.'

So, much like how James doesn't understand why people aren't upset at him because of citation issues, he doesn't understand that it's not the fact that he's using the 'Final Girl' trope... it's the fact that he stated the book as a favorite of his and then... suddenly he's writing a movie about the aftermath of the Final Girl. And given the plagiarism, it can not be taken in good faith.

First off, if you just google 'First Final Girl', it just says Texas Chainsaw Massacre is one of the earliest examples. Another possibility for the 'First Final Girl' was actually Black Christmas which was released the same day in Canada so it is literally tied.

Secondly; the final girl trope is not required for slasher movies. One of the first 'proto-slasher' movies was actually Psycho so there were a few good decades between that and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. (I could try and make a case that Lila Crane should count as a Final Girl; maybe even Mrs. Bates/Norman as a subversion... but I'm not that invested or interested.)

So... James was true to form, he just wanted to be a smug asshat and try and seem smart over something easily googled.

[aroacewxs]

rui facts that are common knowledge atp but i just feel like repeating

hates vegetables because of their texture, and dislikes anything that has similar texture to certain vegetables. example: he hates watermelon because apparently to him the texture is just like a cucumber's? he's not very fond of many fruits either, albeit he dislikes them less than vegetables

only eats at places he's a regular at and becomes distressed when the menu changes. he picks off all vegetables from his food and sometimes emu helps him and eats anything he doesn't like

preferred rivers and lakes over pools as a kid. he would search for shiny rocks and the like in these rivers and lakes and show nene his discoveries

he owned many encyclopedias as a kid. one of them being one about poisonous plants. it had a bright red cover that scared nene LMAO but he read it over and over so now he can recognize which plants are poisonous or not

favourite animal is the platypus because he finds the fact that they are egg-laying mammals interesting

owns three monitors. has a tablet (owned this tablet since he was a kid) and a phone

horrible at packing! he's always thinking about worst case scenarios and possible hypotheticals that could occur during his travels, causing him to overpack and not use half of the things he brings. he mentions that this was the case when he went to america with wxs, and he struggled with the same problem when he was trying to pack for his kyoto trip in pandemonium

his favourite show he performed with wxs was the little mermaid. the show that made him feel the most nervous was a pianist named torpe, and the show that left the strongest impression on him was the one tsukasa performed with the others to convince him to join wxs again

dislikes cleaning because he finds it pointless when his room just becomes cluttered again sooner or later

worst sleep schedule known to man. has been scolded by wxs for coming to rehearsal with horrible eye bags

he people watches a lot. very observant of his environment and uses anything that catches his attention as inspiration for shows and other stories. this can be seen in island panic, where he makes up an entire possible conversation between three monkeys he was observing and in the area convo where he views students fighting to buy bread at the tuck shop as a metaphor for human nature and survival

his role model and inspiration is a director named tom gray! he watched interviews of him and read his books over and over

enjoyer of sci-fi

eats his taiyaki by first splitting it in half to avoid burning his mouth with the hot bean paste. interestingly enough, it is said in japan that the first bite you take in taiyaki determines your personality. rui breaks his taiyaki first before eating, making him a "person of action."

he deepened his interest for shows as a kid by imagining how he would adapt his favourite books into stage productions

there's a specific stool in his room that has remained since his childhood. also an orange box of toys(?) It seems

on the other hand, several aspects of his childhood room have changed: his lampshades are in the shapes of flowers now, his couch is patched up in blue, and he has multiple streamers and balloons. the balloons have little faces on them btw. he also installed a clock. the step ladder near his bookshelf is gone too from what i can see

ok that's all i can think of from the top of my head, hopefully none of these are incorrect,, i'll be very sad if something is wrong. if you know any fun rui facts that aren't listed above PLEASE enlighten me