#and the fucking help that the website offers doesn't do shit

[ariiiloves]

I swear the day my mother actually supports me instead of telling me all the time to smile and not get angry

That day

I will believe in god

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[mujerarana]

r/AmItheAsshole

u/deadfuckingbird0427

AITA for telling my boss’ son his taste in literature is something he got from his mother?

(Asshole)

I'm only posting on this damn website because my fucking coworker refuses to work with me because of it and another coworker suggested I ask here. I hated the idea but the Dickwad coworker that refuses to work with me caused me to lose an important fucking deal I had pending because he decided to be a dick, so I want to just get this over with.

I (19M) was taking a break at work reading a book when my boss’ little demon son (11M) came in trotting around and demanded I stopped reading my ‘idiotic excuse for literature’ and help him with something I don't fucking remember and I don't care enough to remember. This pissed me off, but the fucking brat does this all the time so I just ignored him. He didn't give up immediately and instead just fucking stood there and stared at me for a moment before telling me in the haughtiest fucking tone that my Dickwad coworker (23M) had told him to come bother me. I didn't want to fucking deal with that guy getting on my ass about this later so I resigned myself to losing my break dealing with the brat. I set my fucking book down and asked the kid what he wanted.

Apparently my job title is fucking tutor now because the kid needed help with homework or some shit, and on top of that, I'm the only one with enough culture to know anything about literature in this goddamn workplace, so he was sent to me. Whatever. It was at least something I enjoy so I wasn't going to ditch the kid yet. Apparently he needed to pick a work from before the 21st century and explain its relevance to current culture. I asked what book he picked and apparently that was the trouble. He claimed he suggested a few works to his teacher and they were all shot down. When I asked which ones, he listed biographies and volumes of history books. I told him of fucking course they got rejected, he's supposed to use his brain to analyze a work of fiction and connect it to present day. The little brat scoffedat me. Which doesn't make me want to help the little shit. I'm losing my fucking patience at this point and I tell him that just because his mom has no taste it doesn't mean he has to follow her legacy. Hit a fucking sore spot apparently because the little demon said a comment about my own mother, my DEAD mother. I fucking flipped, of course. He implied shit about my fucking mom.

I told the kid that maybe his boring fucking taste in literature is the only thing his mom liked about him and that's why she left him at his dad's doorstep. He screamed at me that he was heir or whatever rich kids tell themselves to sleep at night, then he threw my fucking book at my head and got the fuck out of there. The Dickwad coworker found out and called me later to yell at me and tell me to apologize. I told him to go take a long walk into the harbor and hung up. Now he refuses to even fucking speak to me at work and sometimes even explicitly gets in my way. It's not even his kid I don't fucking know why he cares.

so AITA?

TLDR; my boss’ kid could dish it but couldn't fucking take it. Now it's my fucking problem and I wonder if I should've just shut the fuck up rather than deal with the dickwad shaped headache.

↑ 1,425  ↓       ➤ 563 comments

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OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might be the asshole:

 I probably shouldn't have fucked around with the 11 year old's mommy issues

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Contest mode is 1.5 hours long on this post.

Anarchyleague 15h

INFO: Did I miss how his mother factored into this conversation until you brought it up? Sounds like you already knew it was a sore spot and mentioned it just to start shit.

Beyond that, umm, yeah YTA??? You people would rather treat a child like dirt instead of helping them! He’s only 11, he doesn’t know better, but you’re an adult here. There’s a reason that young people don’t care much about literature anymore and it’s because people like you would rather spend time mocking them instead of being a guiding hand. I’d hate reading too if I was stuck around people like you. You could’ve been flattered that someone thought you were good enough with literature to help him. He shouldn’t have said anything about your mom but it sounds like you started it. And what did he even say about your mom? I’m getting some missing reasons from the way you don’t seem to want to share that, probably cause you know it wasn’t that bad. Also sounds like you do remember what he asked you to help him with since you spend the next paragraph explaining it. How’s he supposed to grow into a better adult if everyone around him treats him like trash? Not like he’s getting any good examples from YOU

⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 6.0k  ↓

deadfuckingbird0427 OP • 5h  Fuck you. ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ -757  ↓

Indigo_lantern 15h

🚩🚩🚩🚩 The entitlement is strong with this one. NTA at all. It’s not your job to babysit your boss’s snotty crotch goblin just because he decided to procreate. Kid deserves a dose of reality for once in his privileged life. Not a surprise this family refuses to read but wants to exploit you to do their work for them. Report your boss to your local labor board, he’s not allowed to make you babysit on your mandated breaks or change your job title like that. Better yet make him fire you and then get a lawyer and report him for retaliating for refusing to do work not in your contract. Play stupid games win stupid fucking prizes

⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 3.0k  ↓

Featheredass_sass 10h

ESH, the kid for sucking and you for telling your coworker to walk into the harbor when it sounds like he’s the only one here with a sense of job preservation. Yall sound exhausting to be around just quit at this point

⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 1,856  ↓

deadfuckingbird0427 OP • 5h  Fuck you. ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ -344  ↓

unibomberbuthot 12h

INFO: What did the kid say about your mother?

I can't possibly imagine anything that would warrant deliberate cruelty against your boss’ kid, but I'm curious if you lost your job due to a yo mama joke. You call the kid entitled but the only one that sounds entitled in this whole story is you. You antagonize this kid and then act surprised and enraged when he shoots back at your own mother. Either way YTA!!! I hope you get fired and blacklisted from whatever industry you work in.

⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 1,856  ↓

deadfuckingbird0427 OP • 5h  Fuck you. ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ -226  ↓

Deliriousseriousfam 15h

JAH

I cant believe people are getting mad at you for being upset about your break being interrupted by your boss’ little gremlin. Literally not your responsibility to help your BOSS’ KID with his HOMEWORK. Its so bizarre that these people seem to forget that when replying. Yeah maybe you were an asshole to the 11 year old but jfc i would also be a bit of an asshole if im taken out of my break to help with some entitled kids homework.

And not to mention your other coworker sending the kid to you ON YOUR BREAK and then getting in your business because you made the kid upset. Crazy that it wasnt your boss saying something and instead this nosy ass coworker ????

⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 689  ↓

Yarn_queen07242000 2h

knitting needles and a dream

I was going to say everyone sucks here but I saw OP replying to everyone that disagreed with him with “fuck you” so YTA . learn to take some criticism, you clearly can't even take it from an eleven year old

⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 306  ↓

deadfuckingbird0427 OP • 1h  Fuck you. ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ -98  ↓                 Yarn_queen07242000 1h                  knitting needles and a dream                 point proven ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 123  ↓

        deadfuckingbird0427 OP • 1h

The coworker who told me to post here told me there was no point in getting opinions online if I didn't provide any reasoning and just antagonized everyone. I don't give a fuck about any of you, but he's annoying me so I'll answer some fucking questions.

I brought up his mom cause I know her and I know she's the reason the little shit doesn't give a fuck about anything that isn't nonfiction. I wasn't trying to fucking start shit. You presumptuous assholes love assuming things.

And since everyone is so fucking curious, I'll tell you what the little shit said about my mom. He said (and I'm fucking quoting here): “Unlike you, I didn't need to immerse myself in fiction to escape the reality of a mother preoccupied with avoiding sobriety and being a harlot.” So yeah, I maybe poked at his mommy issues a little. Fucking SUE ME.

To everyone wishing I get fired or otherwise lose my job: They can't get rid of me unless they hire someone to take me out. I'm never getting the “karma” you self-righteous pricks seem to hope for. Sucks to suck, my ass is not getting blacklisted.

Last but not least: Fuck you.

⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 209  ↓

 teentitanfan0765 40m Nightwing's hot ass         Why the fuck does your boss’s 11 year old son know this information about your mother???? I can't imagine how that’s any of his business ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 88  ↓

                gaybladerunner 33m I still dont see why you had to mention the kids mom that way or at all lol. it doesnt matter if you knew her your still an asshole ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 67  ↓                         deadfuckingbird0427 OP • 30m *don't *kid's *It *doesn't *you're ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 75  ↓

         grayson_thotdaughter 10m CALL ME. ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 45  ↓

         temporalanomaly3346 5m This is so clearly rage bait and karma farming LOL op makes a clearly aggravating post then makes up details after the replies started settling. sure, i believe you and your alcoholic dead mom that your boss’ kid somehow knows about ⋮       ↩ Reply         ↑ 13  ↓

[gayelectro]

That's what gets me about posts that ultimately get rebuffed with "Don't you have a VPN, pleeb?" or "OMG, just use a adblocker" like... Okay, I do. And? I don't want the issues I'm talking about to be directed at anyone. I want some rando's grandma to not have to encounter a geolocked website if it would help her in anyway. Like can you offer an ounce of compassion to human beings who aren't, and might never be, as tech savvy as you? Damn! I just want things to be better for everybody, it doesn't fucking matter if I personally have little hacks for getting around the shit I despise.

[trickscourse]

My hot take the fucking week this week is that giving someone their own medicine is almost never worth it and if you see someone actively mentally spiraling and their mental health becoming worse, instead of broadcasting their suffering for the world to see maybe offer them help instead of treating them like a personal circus act.

Armchair diagnosis of someone you don't fucking know isn't okay and does absolutely nothing and slamming the term narcissist on someone doesn't do anything except create a worst stigma around for other people.

The exact same goes for mocking someone's abuse, especially something they couldn't control or lying about little fucking things that don't matter at the end of the day. Randomly throwing accusations that someone that don't make sense ends up making you look worse in the long run.

When I end up dealing with people who are "victims" on this website I try to use cognitive dissonance to understand certain shit. I realized how bad the shit I was doing and people enabling were getting when a friend of mine from high school reached out saying that they were sorry for being fucked up to me but I was just as bad back and took a second to step back and realize that even though I was upset, angry, and hurt that gave me no right or reason to take that on other people.

Even with the mods I still talk to, I asked them to delete things once the blog is done being archived so we can save stuff like the swatting incident. Doing the shit to me that I've done the others does absolutely nothing in the long run except make everyone worse.

Calling someone the r slur, low iq, a 'transtrender' or calling then a narcissist or assuming they have a disorder they don't have because you don't like them is loser behavior, stalking them and frequenting their job and getting upset when anyone calls you out on it and throwing a hissy fit doesn't make you the better person.

It took me longer than it should to learn that, but I learned that. Holding blackmail over someone's head or harassing them with the threat of doxing them and their friends to the point where they have to move locations more than once is fucking insane and you are fucking insane for endorsing any sort of harassment like that.

Go outside and count the clouds or something, rent a puzzle from the library, I don't care what you fucking do as long as it's far away from me. Erase virtually anything related to me from your goddamn vocabulary and search history, or whatever files you have. You are insane.

[collidescopeeyes]

Time is a Roulette Wheel

Viego: Pt 1

League of Legends | Viego x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Crossposted on AO3 here

SFW

Decided to break this up into parts because Tumblr is a Super Functional Website, but you can read the full thing on AO3.

Summary: Turns out that Runeterra isn't the only place that has a Void. Plucked from your world into one of a video game with nothing but stolen time powers, an inability to die and a middling recollection of lore, you're prepared to do just about anything to get back home again. You just have to find the right Champion to help.

Viego is handsome even with his face frozen in a rictus of rage and despair, you'll give him that much. You can fault Vex for a lot of things, but her taste in faces wasn't one of them. That being said, you're pretty sure the only reason she told you where to find him was so you'd leave her alone, so whatever crush she had on him was clearly skin-deep. Still, you were lucky to run into the edgy little yortle–navigating the shadow isles wasn't exactly easy. The mist was still thick, the dead still restless, and the castle itself still a mess of floating broken ruins. You could've been here for weeks before you found him. Not like you don't have the time, though.

The mist is warm when you lower your hand to Viego’s face, and it hums on your skin in a way that vaguely unnerves you. You wind his past around your fingers and twist, rewinding his months of imprisonment until you reach the moment of his defeat. Then, ever so carefully, you creep his time back and watch the mist creeps down his face, to his shoulders and torso. You freeze it there, just free enough for him to speak, and he looks tiredly up at you.

“Are you here to kill me?” He croaks.

“No,” you answer honestly.

He closes his eyes. “How disappointing.”

Your purse your lips, suddenly uncertain. You suppose that answered that question–you weren't sure if he was actually awake in the mist this whole time. He must have been, if he's not still raging and wailing from watching his wife die before his eyes again. You'd been expecting him to try and kill you, to yell and scream and generally just lose his shit. You'd been planning to exploit that for your benefit. This, the utter defeat in his voice, you weren't prepared for. “I'm here because I need your help,” you say, trying to project confidence into your voice. “I’m not from this world. I need to find a way to get home, to get safe passage through the Void to worlds beyond Runeterra.”

He slowly opens his eyes to half-lidded, looking up at you dispassionately. “So you came to me?” He gives his still-frozen body a derisive look, skepticism dripping from his every word.

“You scoured the world for anything that would bring your wife back, I figured you might've found something,” you explain evenly. “That, and all my other leads either couldn't help or wanted to kill me, so I'm running out of options.”

He doesn't look impressed. You sigh. “Look, if you help me, I can help you.” And here you pause, because you know what you're about to offer isn't yours to give, but goddamnit, you just want to go home. “I know what you want, and I can give you it.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment he looks heart wrenchingly hopeful, and you think for one glorious moment that you've got him. Then his expression shutters, and his mouth pulls into a thin line of grief. “I suppose you're offering to give me Isolde, then?”

You pause, but after a moment hesitantly nod. This wasn't what you were expecting. He was supposed to be obsessed, wasn't he? You thought he'd leap at your offer, but he just looks…tired. Like you're ripping open an old wound and he's sick of hurting–not offering him everything he's ever wanted on a silver fucking platter like you are. “Whole. Alive. Exactly as she was before she died.” You say, trying to impress upon him that you're offering exactly what he wants.

He snorts bitterly. “She is gone, specter, dead in the truest of ways.” His tone is mournful as he casts his eyes up, through the broken ceiling to the mists swirling overhead. “I cannot feel her in this world no longer.”

He's not listening. You guess you just have to prove it. You reach out and touch your fingers to his forehead, and in your hands you twist the past until centuries fold beneath your fingertips. The sun and moon flit overhead as you rewind, the walls rebuilding themselves from the onslaught of time and decay. He gasps, then chokes, as all at once he is human again, and you stand in the living past of his dead kingdom. There is an echo of the Void in your voice when you say, “Time is mine to command, Ruined King. She may be gone, but I can bring her back, just as she was the day before the poison touched her.”

Viego looks up at you, utterly human and trembling, and you decide your point has been made. The present pushes harshly back against your manipulations, and you let it snap back to it's rightful place with a wave of your hand. Viego is once again a broken thing bound to the floor of his ruined homeland, and he…begins to laugh. It is most assuredly not a happy sound–rather, it's as if he's about to transition into sobbing any second. “Cruel fate,” he moans, and you realize as he looks up to the heavens that he is indeed crying; slick black tears as thick as oil which wisp into mist at the edges, sure, but tears nonetheless. “The one my heart most desires detests me, rejects me in favor of the oblivion I laboured to free her from, and you offer her to me once more?”

You shift uncomfortably, only to lurch as you realize you're swaying on your feet. That little demonstration took more out of you than you thought–time wasn't as malleable here as it was in the Void, and bringing so much back from so long ago was more difficult than anything else you've done since you got here. Viego is still wailing and moaning almost incoherently, and you really don't want to pass out in front of him. “Give it a think,” you say as casually as you can manage. “I'll be back.”

And with that, you walk away with measured steps that hopefully disguise how unsteady you feel, physically and otherwise.

---

You're not sure how long you're out for, but Viego seems to have composed himself by the time you come back. At least a day, maybe two, but it's hard to keep track of time when you can't see the sun. He regards you evenly as you approach, and before you can speak he announces “I decline.”

You blanch. “You what?”

“I. Decline.” He says purposefully.

Shit. You hadn't planned for this. He was your last concrete lead, everything after him was a shot in the dark. “Why? Don't you want your wife back?” You ask, baffled and more than a little panicked.

He closes his eyes as if your words pain him. “More than you can possibly imagine. But Isolde…it is time for her to rest. I see that now.” When he opens his eyes they stay low, gazing down into the weeping hole in his chest. “I thought that she would love me no matter what became of me, as I did her, but I was wrong. I thought that we could be happy together, if only I could find a way to bring her to my side once more.” His tone is mournful, but when he looks up at you his gaze is no less resolute for the pain in them. “My Queen has made her decision. I will not cause her more pain than I already have.”

You blink, desperately searching his expression for a crack, for some indication that he's just putting up a brave face. Then you sigh deeply, and practically collapse onto the cold stone floor. You may as well– no point pretending to have it together anymore. “God, the first time you exhibit a fucking iota of self-awareness just had to be when I was relying on you being a selfish prick, didn't it?” You gripe, though you sound like you're on the brink of crying. The bastard just had to have time to self reflect, didn't he?

He has the gall to look offended. “I'm not so thick as to ignore condemnations from the person I hold dearest.”

You roll your eyes. “The first time you brought her back she stabbed you with your own sword, and then you decided to try doing it again. I would think she was pretty clear about her feelings on the matter the first time.”

He jerks back slightly, which is as far as his bonds will allow. “She…what? I don't…” he casts his eyes down, brow furrowed in thought. “Isolde was the one who killed me…?”

You give him a scrutinizing look, but he seems genuinely baffled. “You don't remember,” you realize, remembering that single line of text in his bio.

He shakes his head faintly. “I had wondered what could have shattered her soul so thoroughly,” he says, voice so soft you're not actually sure he's speaking to you. “My blade and those waters…so that is what happened.” He tilts his head back to look up at the black mist choking the sky, and laughs bitterly. “I truly do destroy everything I touch, don't I?”

You don't have a response to that. You wonder if you should leave, but summoning the strength for that seems like a Herculean task right now. Where should you go next, anyway? Track down more voidspawn? None of the Void's other servants you've found seemed amicable to helping you so far, and the Voidspawn themselves seem mostly concerned with trying to eat you. You hadn't found Ryze yet, but that was just hoping his poorly defined magic crystals somehow could help.

“Your home,” Viego says some time later, interrupting your thoughts. You'd almost forgotten he was there. “Where is it?”

You shrug one shoulder, your body feeling like one big dead weight. “Far. Beyond the stars and the Void, in a world where all of this is nothing but a story.” You wave your hand around you vaguely. It was the best way to describe ‘you were a video game character’ that didn't end with you covered in blood.

He's quiet for a moment. “In my study,” he says finally. “There are notes on the Void. I thought it might hold the answers to returning Isolde to me, but the toll it would take on her fragile soul would have been too great.”

You don't bother to hide your surprise when you look at him. “You…why?”

He sighs. “You speak as if you know me, which means you must know that I am…” his brow furrows. “What did you say? Ah, yes. A selfish prick. But Isolde…Isolde was kind, and selfless, and everything I am not. If I am to make my transgressions up to her, wherever she is now, then I should start by trying to be the kind of man she would have wanted me to be.”

You pause, considering him. He seems genuine, if no small amount grief stricken. “Hard to do that stuck in there,” you point out, testing the waters.

He shrugs as much as he is able. “I cannot say I blame them, the doll and the sentinel. I did kill them. I suppose this is as close as they could get to doing the same to me.”

You tilt your head, examining him closely. “What would you do, if I let you out of there?”

He looks at you warily, but seems to seriously consider the question. “I am…unsure,” he says slowly. “I have lived with but a single purpose for so long, I don't…”

“Vengeance?” You suggest. “Isolde is off the table, sure, but wreaking havoc on the world that dared to take her from you? Covering the continents in black mist and turning it into an unliving graveyard of cursed souls?”

He grimaces immediately. “No, that's not…she would not have wanted that.”

You stand, dusting off your clothes. “That's good enough for me.” You reach your hand out to him, and the Hallowed mist recedes into its needles, the thread falling limply from his wrists without Gwen to guide them. He slumps as it goes, as if he weren't prepared to hold his own weight up. He flexes his hands, and when he looks up at you he seems confused. You can't blame him. You're not even fully sure why you're doing this–just that leaving him here, trapped in this nightmarish stasis surrounded by the memory of everything he's lost, seems wrong.

That doesn't mean you fully trust him, though. “If I hear about you causing problems, I will find you,” you say casually. “I don't know if you can die, but I can stop time from ever passing for you again, and that's basically the same thing.” You glance at the needles still stuck in the stone. “You won't be awake, at least.”

He stands gingerly, and then nods grimly. “If I fail her again, I will be counting on it.”

---

You're expecting that to be it. That you'll go your separate ways, possibly until such a time he turns out to be fully crazy and you have to kill him. Instead, he shows up a week later while you're pouring through his notes. You only notice him because of the reflection in the dusty glass in the study's single intact window.

“You have shit note-taking skills, y'know that?” You say somewhat accusingly. “Beautiful handwriting, but shit note-taking.”

In the reflection, you see him he shrug casually where he's leaning against the doorway. “Academics were never my strong suit, ‘tis true.”

You turn around, holding out a sheaf of yellowed parchment and pointing to it accusingly. “What the fuck is this supposed to say, anyway?”

He leans forward, blinking at the offending word. Then he gives you a skeptical look. “Rest. It says, rest.”

You whip the page back to face you, squinting. “What? How is that an R? How is that an S?” You glance up at his skeptical expression, then flush. “Look, I wasn't taught cursive, gimme a break.” You toss the paper back on the desk. You're pretty sure it's useless to you. All of it is. “What're you still doing here, anyway?”

He gives you a blank look, as if he doesn't understand the question. “Where else would I go?”

You raise a brow. “I dunno, somewhere less miserable? What, are you planning to mope around here forever?”

He looks around as if you're referring to this specific room. “The idea has its appeal,” he says, almost to himself.

Somehow, the thought of him wandering around his ruined castle for eternity like some sort of kicked dog is both depressing and irritating to you. Like he's giving up, when you've been fighting so long and so hard the very idea revolts you. It has to–you don't have any other option. “Didn't you say you were going to try and be the kind of man Isolde wanted you to be?” You ask, probably a bit too sharply. He glances at you, surprised and a little on guard at your tone. “I can't claim to have known the woman, but somehow I doubt she wanted you to spend eternity in what is possibly the most depressing way anyone could spend eternity.”

He looks away, mouth a thin line. “I would not be so sure, after all the pain I caused her.” You open your mouth to argue, and then remember that she did kill him.

“Look, was she a spiteful person?” You try instead.

He recoils as if the thought offends him. “No, of course not.”

“Then she wouldn't want you to punish yourself like this,” you say.

His brow furrows, though you're not sure if it's in confusion or irritation. “And what would you know?”

You shrug one shoulder. “I am a spiteful person, and if you tried that shit on me I would've tried to kill you the second time too.”

“Ha!” Surprisingly, Viego laughs. It's a dry, self-depreciating sound closer to a bark than anything, but it is a laugh. “What am I to do, then? How can I possibly begin to undo what I have done?” His tone as a challenge, and you're about to snap back, but when you look in his eyes he just looks horribly, terribly lost. This is a man who has lost everything that meant anything to him, you realize, and he's desperately struggling to find his way back to the line. You've been there, and despite yourself, empathy tugs at you.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Look. Did she love you, before all of this? When you were alive?”

He opens his mouth, then pauses, brow scrunching. “When we were alive, yes, we were in love.” he finally says, his voice slow as if he's not entirely sure of his own words.

“Then she would've wanted what anyone wants for their loved ones after they've gone. She wanted you to find a way to be okay without her, to be happy without her.” Your voice is measured, with an edge of imploring. You weren't good at the whole conversation thing even before the Void happened, let alone during emotionally charged conversations.

He gives you a look that is all at once bitter, mournful, and as if you're suggesting something both impossible and idiotic. “There is no happiness for me without her.”

“You're like a broken record, y'know that?” You say archly. “Yes, she's gone, and I know how much that hurts, believe me, but that grief isn't all you are. You were happy before her, you can be again.”

He blinks oddly, a strange haze entering his eyes. “Before…Isolde?”

You nod slowly, suddenly unsure. “Yes. You were a prince before you two met, right? Nobility?” You pick up a random note and gesture at the fancy, curling script there. “You obviously had a lot of calligraphy lessons. Did you enjoy those?”

He stares at the paper as if he's never seen it before, then at you in apprehensive confusion. “I don't remember.”

You sigh, tossing the paper away. “You said you weren't very academic, so I suppose that makes sense.”

“Did I?” He murmurs, touching his mouth. “I don't…it seemed like it was true when I said it, but when I think back, there is nothing.” His hand travels to his cheekbone, and he frowns. “I recall that I look like my father, but I can't even remember his face, or why I know that to be true. Nor my mother, or anything of my childhood, my past…anything. Anything but Isolde.”

You blink. You thought he had just been obsessed with her because of love, but maybe it wasn't just that–if Isolde was all he remembered, all he had left, of course he would become fixated. If she was the last thing on his mind when he died, when he was trapped in that sword…you guess it wasn't a stretch, that she's the thought he would hold onto while everything else fell away over the centuries. “Dying really did a number on you, huh?” You muse.

His hand falls to the ragged hole in his chest. “The mist takes everything from those who are too weak to withstand it. Everything they are, everything they have ever been. I did not think I…” he trails off, and you both watch as plumes of mist roll from his broken heart to the floor, and he laughs bitterly. “But of course. How does one remember that they have forgotten something, when all reminders have been destroyed by their own hand? Why would I be spared the curse I created?” That seems like a rhetorical question, so you don't respond.

A long moment of silence passes, Viego deep in thought. It seems wrong to interrupt him, and you don't exactly have anywhere better to be right now. Eventually, he looks up at you, face creased with concentration. “I think,” he says slowly, “I enjoyed horseback riding, through the forests. I remember I wanted to take Isolde, but she did not know how to ride and horses scared her terribly, and I recall being very disappointed, so…I must have wanted to go. I must have enjoyed it, if I wanted to share it with her.” His voice gains certainty as he speaks, as he reasons out something so basic about himself from what little memories he has.

You make a decision, then and there. “Come with me,” you offer, except it comes out like you're telling him.

He blinks at the non-sequitor. “With you? To where?”

“You can go anywhere your mist goes, right?” He nods, confused, and you hold out your hand. “Gimme your sword, then follow me.”

“My sword?” He repeats, uncomprehending.

You wiggle your fingers at him impatiently. “This place is super depressing, Viego, and I've got a long list of places I'd rather be. So you can either let me borrow your sword, or you can stay here and be miserable. What'll it be?”

For a long moment he just stares at you. Then he gives a disbelieving little laugh, and raises his hand above yours. The blade materializes in it as if he were already holding it, before he drops it into your waiting palm. The moment it touches your skin, a strange flash of sensation travels up your arm, like dousing yourself in cool water. Your arm sinks with the sudden weight of it, but you manage to avoid dropping it. You grin at him, pleased. “Okay, now follow me,” you say, and rewind.

You pick a few months ago, when you were passing through a lush woodland. You pull yourself back to that time, then let the past push your intrusive presence back to the present where it belongs. Teleportation in two easy steps, if only to places you've already been.

For a long moment, you think Viego isn't coming. His sword is cold in your hand, thin sheets of mist dripping from it onto the grass, and by God is it heavy, so you stab it into the dirt. When you look up, Viego is there.

He looks around, brow furrowed. “Where are we?”

You shrug. “Somewhere in Ionia. I wasn't keeping track. I don't have any horses, and I somehow doubt they would tolerate you, but we can walk. See how you feel.”

He gives you a puzzled look. “Why are you doing this?”

You pause, and your voice is soft when you reply. “Because I know what it's like, to lose so much of yourself that a monster is the only thing you can be if you want to survive. And because I'm trying to find my way back to being the kind of person the people I love would want me to be, too.”

There's something unreadable in his eyes when he looks at you. Then, he draws his sword from the ground, and as it disappears into mist he begins to walk. Without a word, you follow. Somehow, leaving him alone seems cruel. For all that he's probably insane, he also strikes you as terribly, unbearably lonely.

He doesn't speak, and the silence begins to wear on you, so you do. You tell him about your world, how different it is, how you relied on machinery instead of magic. It's a dangerous game, feeling out the edges of what you're allowed to say, but it's also somehow freeing. To say you converse would be a stretch, but for all that his expression says that he thinks you might just be delusional, he seems intrigued by the world you describe. His questions are tinged with skepticism, especially when you get into trying to explain the Internet. You even get a laugh out of him as you offhandedly mention that your mystical worldwide library that contained the accumulated knowledge of your entire species was obviously largely used for disseminating pornography.

As night falls, for the first time, Viego comes to a stop and looks at you. His eyes are oddly bright in the dark, and his crown casts a dramatic glow over his face. He's looking at you like he can't quite make sense of you. “I do not know your name,” he finally says.

You guess you hadn't actually introduced yourself. As always, your real name rises to the tip of your tongue before you swallow it back. “You can call me Iso,” you say instead.

His lip quirks, and he gives you a very princely half bow, though his movements are slow as if he's following half-remembered steps. “Viego Santiarul Molach vol Kalah Heigaari, at your service.”

You laugh as he straightens up. “You can remember all that, but not whether you like calligraphy?”

“I did not like calligraphy,” he says decisively. “And my penmanship is middling at best. I suspect your standards are simply low.”

And then he vanishes.

“Bitch?” you say, disbelievingly, to the empty clearing

[yakityyaku]

Some of you are so absurd. "We need to review bomb the appstore so Tumblr doesn't go through with these updates we don't want!!"

Like... do you think they don't know this isn't ideal for the majority of the original userbase? They know what changes we want and don't want. They're not stupid.

Collapsible reblogs, live - none of it is for you. It's for new members. It's for people who only use Twitter and TikTok and are looking for somewhere else to invest all their freebie.

The CEO live just reconfirmed that Tumblr is still bleeding money. Not enough people are supporting Tumblr financially. They are not worried about keeping old users who aren't offering their help. They want a boatload of new users who, ideally, will be willing to pay for ad-free and other services.

I don't like the changes. I truly do not. But some of you just refuse to accept that there ARE either going to be changes and shit that you won't like, or the site will bleed until they decide they're no longer willing to support it.

No matter your opinion of staff, they've been exceptionally generous by not just shutting this website down. Modern business practices are the antithesis of that. Anyone else would've sold or just said it was a loss and canned it.

They continue to operate at a loss because they like the idea of tumblr and do not want to see it fail. That does not mean their desire will magically keep this site running.

You don't want collapsible reblogs? Then go buy ad free. Buy some merchandise. Support the website. Trying to fuck up their analytics and reviews isn't the genius plan you think it is.

[featureenvyproductions]

OK I THINK I GOT IT DONE

Ok digital/pdf version of Eyan Eternal Volume 1.

This is basically everything in the volume 1 print version, including the bonus content (and I’ve also included the promo image that you’d get with the print version, at the end of the pdf content). But in pdf form. And as for the chapters themselves, well at 300 dpi, they’ll be a much higher resolution than the tumblr images or the images on my website, and that makes a lot of stuff clearer to read I’m sure. They also aren’t subject to whatever the heck weird image conversion happens when you put an image on tumblr (I would experiment with converting everything to srgb but like, the cat’s outta the bag at this point).

I have tried my best also to add alt text to these pages describing what’s going on over all. I gotta admit, I don’t know what processing gets done to these files when I upload them into the void, but I downloaded everything and it seems to still work, so I’ll just cross my fingers and hope for the best. (this is what was taking me so fucking long)

Anyway I got two offerings for you pals.

The difference between them is mainly that one is one big pdf, and the other is 5 small pdfs. We’ll get to why.

But anyway, you will find the single big pdf here at lulu.com:

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ej-gravis/eyan-eternal/ebook/product-9yqvd9.html?page=1&pageSize=4

Here’s the thing, I’ve had like a non-trivial amount of people tell me the digital downloads fuck up here sometimes. I haven’t gotten a complaint for a while but it DOES happen. I was paranoid about it happening. (Their tech support has gotten better though so let them know if it DOES. or if they really don’t resolve it you can let me know. I’ll try to figure something out)

So that’s why, if you don’t want to take the risk, I have another listing up on Etsy:

https://www.etsy.com/FeatureEnvy/listing/1500364015/eyan-eternal-volume-1-digital-edition?utm_source=Copy&utm_medium=ListingManager&utm_campaign=Share&utm_term=so.lmsm&share_time=1686376620579

This had to be put up as 5 pdfs because of Etsy’s file size limit, but other than that, it’s exactly the same content, just split up. As far as I know etsy doesn't do any weird shit to PDF files though so it's more likely to work.

I mean either way, I’m charging you 2.99 USD and both sites will eat me alive with the cut they take, so it’s really just like “do you want 1 file for the price of Uncertainty or many for the price of Inconvenient” (Actually I think I will get SLIGHTLY more from etsy sales and they show up in my sale count for my shop which is nice too. Because right now most of my sales come from in-person shows and local bookstores so if you’re going by my etsy sale count it looks like i’ve barely sold a damn thing and you have no reason to trust me)

Anyway like I’ve said before. I will ALWAYS have free versions of things, as long as I can afford to do things that way. But if you want to support me and help me pay my webhosting bill and supply costs, this does help offset those :)

regardless of how you read my things though i appreciate you reading thanks a bunch to anyone who does :):):):):)

Oh also, this SHOULD be available everywhere (unlike the print edition which is US only right now) at least on etsy.

[behindtheireyes]

First off since this is my first time back on the desktop site in ages I feel the need to say how much I hate the changes that were made. If I wanted to see a website that's like Twitter, it will always be Twitter for me not this fucking X bullshit, I'd log onto my Twitter! Which I never do because I hate the fucking layout!

Also since I'm going to be on here a bit more often, in theory at least, I will not take sides in anything or be involved with drama. I will interact with anyone I connect with or can deal with my slow as fuck ass :P

I also want to thank the two people who have been there for me to talk to about this but I will not tag them because, again, not taking sides. You both know who you are and I appreciate you both more than you'll ever realize <3

Now it's time for an explanation as to why I've been in a shit head space since the end of July which I will put under a read more for those that aren't interested.

On July 30th I was at work and got pulled into the office to talk with my Store Manager, she had a few papers in hand and asked me to sit down. The day before she'd received an email about corporate restructuring and I was being told my full time position with the company was eliminated. I was completely thrown for a loop since I had been working at another store for a few days a week as of the week of July 9th and had only spoken to my district manager a few days prior about what needed to be fixed at the store I was helping. Everything had seemed good when we spoke so I was pretty shaken up by this news.

I was told I could continue on doing my job as part time making $9.75 an hour or take a severance deal and collect unemployment. I of course said I needed to think about it since it was a big decision going from 36-40 hours a week at $16.85/hr down to god knows how many hours at a shit wage. My SM, who was bawling like a baby along with me at this news btw, said she understood but FUCKING CORPORATE wanted an answer by Friday July 28th. The date this conversation was happening? Wednesday July 26th.

Yes, you read that right, Two whole days to make a huge decision and if I didn't give them one in time I was forfeiting my severance and it would be considered voluntary job abandonment so no unemployment for me! Also if I chose the deal I couldn't take any time off, use any of my PTO or sick time, or even call off because it would be considered voluntary job abandonment and I wouldn't get unemployment or my severance.

This happened company wide with even some assistant managers losing their jobs and being offered a similar deal. I will gladly send links to the Reddit subs talking about this if anyone wants to see exactly the fuckery this company is putting its loyal people through. I had almost three weeks of paid vacation and about two days of sick time built up that I lost.

I would have also been with the company for ten years in November and I worked through the worst of Covid being treated like shit by the customers for trying to enforce the company's and CDC's rules. I was also a manager for 7 or so of those almost ten years.

Then on August 1st I had a surgery consultation for a health issue only to be told it's worse that they thought and I would need a procedure that would land me in the hospital for a week with a TWO month recovery time. Thankfully my health insurance, as crappy as it is, is independent from my job so I'm not losing it but whose going to hire someone whose going to have to go out on medical leave in a couple of months? This wouldn't have been a problem before, you know sick time and PTO for the win, but now it is. I know my boss would gladly hire me back after I recovered but it's going to be at a shitty wage with shitty hours.

So do I put my health aside and risk my issue getting worse and try to find another job right away or hope my former company doesn't screw me over anymore and lets me collect until I'm fully recovered?

Thankfully, I won't be homeless but that's another issue for another day.

I'm not looking for sympathy, monetary help, or anything like that. I just felt like I owed the wonderful people I interact with here a proper explanation of to why I've been more out of it than normal.

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

Love,

Barb

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I don't think it's a closely guarded secret (more that these pieces of advice were REALLY common and easy to find back in the day when older users joined so many of us take it a bit for granted that folks would know how to access them and don't always remember to educate new users) and I *definitely* don't think "tumblr actually works" is a viable thing to say, even when you know these tools. I have known and used all of these for over a decade and watched my ability to actually return the posts/info I was looking for degrade steadily over that period of time. Tumblr does NOT work, and these tools, while helpful, are often inconsistent at best (yes, even on desktop. Part of the reason I switched from being a consistently 50/50 desktop and mobile user to a nearly 100% mobile user was that many of the desktop specific features that improved the experience simply stopped functioning as they used to and became more and more hassle for less and less value returned versus simply accessing my feed - and virtually nothing else - via mobile). It *does* genuinely increase your likelihood of finding what you're looking for to use these tools. But I return "what I'm looking for" maybe 1 out of every 5 times I use them. This is better than 0 out of 5! But it's still far from the functioning interactivity that many websites and forums used to offer (INCLUDING TUMBLR)

Many of us who have been around a long time make jokes about tumblr "barely working" because we're comparing it, not to other social media sites and their functionality, bjt to other *long form blogging sites* and THEIRS. And yeah. Sorry friends. Tumblr's a fucking shit show by comparison and steadily degrading further. So is everything else, tbf, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating.

In any case, definitely share these tools with new and returning users. Remind each other of them in times of need! But don't overpromise. And remember that "functionality" isn't always about the ability of a user interface to do what it claims it can do, but also to do what *any other similar user interface should be able to*.

how to find literally any post on a blog in seconds (on desktop)

there are so many posts about ~tumblr is so broken, you can’t find any post on your own blog, it’s impossible, bluhrblub~

I am here to tell you otherwise! it is in fact INCREDIBLY easy to find a post on a blog if you’re on desktop/browser and you know what you’re doing:

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant. every single post, every single time. in chronological order starting with the most recent post. note: it will not find #croissants or that time you made the typo #croidnssants. for a tag with multiple words, it’s just /tagged/my-croissant and it will show you everything with the exact phrase #my croissant

url.tumblr.com/tagged/croissant/chrono will bring up EVERY post on the blog tagged with the exact phrase #croissant, but it will show them in reverse order with the oldest first 

url.tumblr.com/search/croissant isn’t as perfect at finding everything, but it’s generally loads better than the search on mobile. it will find a good array of posts that have the word croissant in them somewhere. could be in the body of the post (op captioned it “look at my croissant”) or in the tags (#man I want a croissant). it won’t necessarily find EVERYTHING like /tagged/ does, but I find it’s still more reliable than search on mobile. you can sometimes even find posts by a specific user by searching their url. also, unlike whatever random assortment tumblr mobile pulls up, it will still show them in a more logically chronological order

url.tumblr.com/day/2020/11/05 will show you every post on the blog from november 5th, 2020, in case you’re taking a break from croissants to look for destiel election memes 

url.tumblr.com/archive/ is search paradise. easily go to a particular month and see all posts as thumbnails! search by post type! search by tags but as thumbnails now

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio will show you every audio post on your blog (you can also filter by other post types). sometimes a little imperfect if you’re looking for a video when the op embedded the video in a text post instead of posting as a video post, etc

url.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/croissant will show you EVERY post on the blog tagged with the specific and exact phrase #croissant, but it will show you them in the archive thumbnail view divided by months. very useful if you’re looking for a specific picture of a croissant that was reblogged 6 months ago and want to be able to scan for it quickly 

url.tumblr.com/archive/filter-by/audio/tagged/croissant will show you every audio post tagged with the specific phrase #croissant (you can also filter by photo or text instead, because I don’t know why you have audio posts tagged croissant) 

the tag system on desktop tumblr is GENUINELY amazing for searching within a specific blog! 

caveat: this assumes a person HAS a desktop theme (or “custom theme”) enabled. a “custom theme” is url.tumblr.com, as opposed to tumblr.com/url. I’ve heard you have to opt-into the former now, when it used to be the default, so not everyone HAS a custom theme where you can use all those neat url tricks. 

if the person doesn’t have a “custom theme” enabled, you’re beholden to the search bar. still, I’ve found the search bar on tumblr.com/url is WAY more reliable than search on mobile. for starters, it tends to bring posts up in a sensible order, instead of dredging up random posts from 2013 before anything else

if you’re on mobile, I’m sorry. godspeed and good luck finding anything. (my one tip is that if you’re able to click ON a tag rather than go through the search bar, you’ll have better luck. if your mutual has recently reblogged a post tagged #croissant, you can click #croissant and it’ll bring up everything tagged #croissant just like /tagged/croissant. but if there’s no readily available tag to click on, you have to rely on the mobile search bar and its weird bizarre whims) 

[alex-guerin]

When I started my search for a new car, there were about 40-some odd ones that met my criteria (<$10k, <100k miles, 4x4). Cool cool cool! I start scrimping and saving as best I can, cuz there's a few I've got my eye on.

I now have $1,000 in sight for a down-payment, my current vehicle is soon to be down to roughly $3,800 pay off total...and the number of Jeeps that match my criteria has dropped to around 11. So, okay, fine...we'll tweek the criteria. <$11k, <120k miles. Number went up to 26. Better, not great, but better. The ones I originally had my eye on, all but like 2 sold, so I found a few others I really liked, and just for the shits and giggles of it all, applied for pre-qualification for financing on a few.

One website for one of the ones I liked flat out said they don't offer financing.

One said they offered it, but it depended on the vehicle, cost, and how much you were putting down on it.

And the one I absolutely adored, just slightly higher than 100k miles, a gorgeous blue, leather seats, clearly well taken care of, and only $8,500....flat out turned me down for financing. Told me, "sorry, we're not able to offer you financing at this time."

There's another one I'm waiting to hear back on. It's lower miles, but right at the top of my budget...but I'm still afraid they are gonna tell me no, sorry, can't help you, too.

And do you want to know WHY I am so fucked? BECAUSE MY NAME AND CREDIT ARE STILL ATTACHED TO MY DAD'S STUPID FUCKING $23K BUICK HE DOESN'T EVEN LIKE/WANT ANYMORE!!! I have damn near BEGGED him to look into refinancing it or getting my name taken off the title/loan somehow, but he never answers me and it's still not happening.

I am just...I am so fucking defeated in life, right now. Nevermind the fact I have never missed a payment on my car. And, in the last 2.5/3 months I have, in fact, been paying an extra $50/week IN ADDITION to my regular $217 monthly payment. Nope. That doesn't count for shit. Nobody cares. I am just plain ol' fucked and shit outta luck.

...so...I guess I'll stop looking. Just close the cargurus tab. Try to get my shitty car paid off and just deal with it.

...why can't life ever cut me some slack?

[m4rsd1ed]

He saved me || Part 8: -//////-

— Normans POV —

Morgan continues to play our song but I can't help but remember when he hugged me from behind. God I like him so much but he's the straightest boy I've ever seen THERE'S no way he's gay. As he plays I feel happy and also tired I get up and lay down on the mattress that has been set up for me he lays with me. He stops play and turns his body to look at me. He stares into my eyes and holds my face and starts to get closer to me so I got close to him too.

"Norman.."

It was Alice, her soft voice. I jumped up and away from Morgan and looks at her nodding. "Can I sleep with tonight it feels weird to sleep alone.." she said. I smile and told her to ask miss Maria if she has any plushies that she can borrow. She runs to go ask miss Maria for a plushie. Morgan says "Your sister must really love you huh?" And smiles I nod and say "It's always been us looking after each other us against the world type shit you know? She always helps with my self harm scars and bandaging them." Morgan smiles like he's proud of me but also feels bad then he hugs me. I hug him back and I hold on for a hot minute until Alice comes back with a bunny plushie. I give her an extra blanket and she lays down. I tell Morgan goodnight and he tells me the same and we all get to bed and close our eyes as they get heavier and heavier and we eventually fall asleep. 

 --- Nathaniel's POV --- 

I don't know how long I've been awake texting my mom, it's a whole ass eternity that I'm waiting. I'm outside to visit. She might still be sleeping but hopefully she hears. Until a girl comes to the door holding Morgan's old plushie. I think it's Normans little sister what's her name again? Oh yeah Alice!! She lets me inside and makes room for me on the couch. She offers me some tea or water but I kindly decline. Then I ask her "what are you doing here?" She explains that her and Norman got away from their mother who was nothing but shit to them. Then she asks me the same thing I asked her and I tell her I came back just to visit the family. Alice told me she was heading back to bed and that I could get the sofa bed stuff and bring it to my old room and I did just that!! I head to my old room and got ready to go to bed. 

———— MORNING THE NEXT DAY————

— Morgan's POV —

I wake up really early it has to be at least 7am. 'Did last night really happen did me and Norman almost kiss?! I leaned in first does that mean..'i thought to myself and then I pick up my computer and press enter on previous search "am I gay?" I tap that previous search to find... Buzzfeed and other quizzes. 'Buzzfeed doesn't sound as bad.... or maybe I should try Heywise... no, those quizzes take too much time, and the fucking questions...' After awhile of hesitation and deciding I end up choosing the first result which is some random quiz website. The questions are like "have you ever felt romantic or sexual attraction to the same sex" so you know your typical gay quiz. After about 10 minutes of answering questions and hesitating then the results start loading. 

On the loading screen it says these words

"Turn on your stove because you're Pan!! You like someone regardless of their gender."

I did about three more and they all said pretty much the same either pan or bi and I think I might be pan like the first quiz said. Now how to tell Norman I'm pan and how to tell him I like him..

Word count : 668

[bisha-geisha]

Title: Attention

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Word Count: 5k

WARNING: Mature themes. Smut. Con. DomFem. SubMale. Dacryphilia. Humiliation. Masturbation. Degradation. Dumbification. Overstimulation. Handjob. Vaginal Sex. Creampie. Mommy kink. Bullying?

Summary: Gojo Satoru is infamous in his school for being a man whore. Sleeping with girls left and right. While most girls knew how terrible of a person he is, they still can't help but fall for his charms and good looks. One day, while Gojo was going through the list of all the girls at the school, he came across your name. Unlike Gojo, who had a reputation and a lot of popularity, you were quiet and kept to yourself. He didn't know who you even were until he came looking around for you after picking your name. He thought this was going to be one of the easiest tasks ever in his life, but things weren't exactly what Gojo expected them to be, and it most certainly did not end up the way he expected.

A/N: This is my first fanfiction that I’m ever posting... And my dumbass made it a smut.... I’ve never written smut before... I’m sorry if this is shit. English isn’t my first language so please bear with me for any mistakes that were made.

Gojo Satoru.

He is one- no the most popular person in the school. Everybody knows him. Even the kids in the back know who Gojo mother-fucking Satoru is.

The reason why?

Well, because he’s a Man-Whore.

He knows he has good looks, has one of the shittiest personalities ever to exist but knows how to change them around people, and he's an egotistical and prideful mother-fucker.

The girls look at him in disgust, yet they always fall under his control. The guys cheering for him as if he's won an Oscar each time.

He was just living the life some could say.

“Hey, Satoru, who ya picking next?” One of his pals in his click questioned.

“Hmm... I'm still picking...” He was going through the list as if he’s browsing on the Amazon website. The audacity this boy has.

“How about this one?” His friend points at a name.

“L/N Y/N? Who’s that?” His face scrunched.

“Oh, she’s in class 3-5. She’s super quiet and never talks to anybody. I don't think she even has friends. But she’s really pretty. She’ll be easy for you to pull with a personality like hers.”

Gojo puckered his lips while he listened to his friend talk.

“Well... Off I go~.”

____

When lunchtime finally came around, Gojo walked his way to class 3-5 to check out who this L/N Y/N is.

When he opened the door to the classroom, he was immediately greeted by the girls.

“Satoru-kun?! What are you doing up here?”

“Hiya Senpai~, I was wondering if you know where L/N-Senpai is. The teachers asked me to tell her a few things.” He put on his act. Talking in a much more cheering tone.

“Oh, L/N-san? She’s usually in the art room at this time. If not, she’s probably in the library.” The girl who was completely melting from Gojo’s presence replied in a heartbeat.

“Really? Thanks for telling me! I'll go look for her now since you know, teachers.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I-I can help you look for her-.”

“Nope! Thanks for the offer though.” He gives her his signature smile, chuckling to himself when he saw her face redden.

Gojo made his way to the art room like the girl had stated, sliding open the door without knocking.

When he opened the door, a girl sitting on a stool while painting on a canvas came into view. His lips curl up into a smirk, making his way over to the girl.

“Are you L/N Y/N-san?” He asked politely. The way he changes his personality is terrifying.

Gojo waited for a reply, tilting his head when he didn't. He doesn't think you even acknowledged his presence from the silence.

“Um... Senpai?...” He tried once more.

Silence.

His friend said you were quiet, but he didn't expect you to be this quiet.

While he waited for your response, Gojo was able to get a good look at your features. His friend wasn't lying when he said you were pretty. Your hair was tied up into a low bun, your uniform and oversized jacket’s sleeves rolled up so the paint wouldn't get on them. A perfectly sculpted side profile with your eyes never leaving the canvas.

“Neh, Senpai. Don't you think it’s a little rude to ignore your kohai?” Gojo whined.

You didn't answer again. You kept your same blank face and continued to paint whatever you were painting. His lips turning into a frown, snatching the paintbrush out of your hand.

His frown turns into a small grin when you turned your head and looked up at him. Gojo was a very tall man, looming over practically everybody and even more when they’re sitting.

Yet his attempt failed again when you just got a new brush and started painting.

Okay. No more cute little kohai act. Time for something different.

He got really close up to your ear, whispering lowly, “Neh Senpai~, why do you keep on ignoring me?” This usually does it for most girls, but not you. You weren't even fazed at all! Not a single shiver or blush was on your cheeks!

It was starting to get frustrating. You should've fallen for him by now. He wasn't supposed to be working this hard to gain your attention. He shouldn't need to.

Gojo was about to say something again when the warning bell rang across the school. You immediately start packing up, not even glancing once at Gojo when you walked out, leaving him standing alone in the room.

Humiliated.

Gojo felt humiliated by himself. His pride in getting every girl was wounded just by a single girl. It was unacceptable for him.

For the next few weeks, Gojo would visit the art room or library each lunch break and after school. Doing the most to gain your attention. Throwing erasers or pencils while you read a book, ruining your art midway by suddenly smearing paint all over the canvas.

But nothing gave him the attention he wanted from you.

Stepping things up a notch, it was those rare times when you were eating your lunch in your classroom. While you sat alone by the open window, Gojo took this chance to pour milk over your head. Your blank face finally showed some emotion, eyes widening when you felt the cold liquid drip through your hair.

Everyone in the class became quiet as they could hear Gojo’s friends laugh. Some classmates snickering along with them. Gojo chuckled lightly with a smirk, bumping shoulders with his friends, but he stopped laughing when he made eye contact.

The only time out of all the weeks you've looked at him was the first day he had met you.

He got a little excited. His cheeks slowly turning pink when you continued to look at him with such strong eye contact.

You finally looked at him.

It was as if he was deprived from your attention. The attention he wanted more.

That event ended there, some of the girls helping you out to get the milk out of your uniform.

The next time you meet is after school...

You were in the art room per usual, finishing up a new painting you started a few days ago. Your eyes shifted over to the clock that was ticking, 3:58 PM. It was around this time where-.

The door slides open.

Gojo Satoru comes in, strutting his way to you. There was a daily routine. Gojo would walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your shoulder, setting his chin on top of your head. He would watch for a bit and he’ll start his schemes.

But not today, especially not after the incident at lunch. He craved for more of your attention.

However, before he could do anything, Gojo was pushed down by you. A firm grip on both wrists held them down to the floor, his whole body caged in from you.

Your faces were really close. And I mean really close.

That same feeling of excitement rushed through his body, his cheeks burning a brighter color than at lunch.

“Are you that much of an attention whore that you had to pull that stunt at lunch?”

Gojo’s body froze.

This was the first time you ever spoke to him. Let alone, the first time he heard you speak. You had a very sultry voice. A voice that you wish to hear all the time when you're angry or stressed. A voice that’ll lure you in without any intention.

“I-I-, umm... I...” He couldn't form his sentence, taken aback by you suddenly speaking.

“Why don't you start with an apology instead of whatever you’re trying to say right now, hm?” You leaned your face closer, not helping the situation for Gojo.

“I-I’m sorry...”

“What was that?” You leaned your face to the side.

“I’M... sorry... I'm sorry.” He apologized. His gaze shifted away from you.

“And for what are you apologizing for?” You honed him down.

“For pouring milk over your head at lunch...” It was as if he was the small bunny getting pinned down by a wolf. You could hear his voice quivering as he spoke.

“Aww, you know there's more than that to apologize sweetheart.”

God, he could've died right then and there just now. The nickname sent shivers down his hot body. The feeling of your chest pressed against his, your thigh brushing between his legs now and then.

It was too much.

“I’m sorry for everything I've done up until now!” He spoke so quickly that the sentence didn't even last a second.

He was beyond embarrassed. He knew that you could see how red his face was getting and how loud his heart was thumping.

A small smirk appeared on your lips that made him blush even more.

“You know... I never thought you’re the type to be this obedient. But I guess I was wrong. What a good boy slut you are~.” You teased, putting your hand on his cheek. “Maybe you should've tried acting like this instead of the cute little kohai act you did on the first day. Then maybe I would've found you cute.” You pulled yourself away when you finished, gathering all your belongings, and left, just like that.

Gojo was left and the floor and continued to stay down on the floor, making sure his brain processed everything that just had occurred.

He looks down at his pants. A raging boner suffocated underneath them. He could already feel the precum staining his underwear. It painfully throbbed, begging for it to be touched.

One of his nails chipped in the process when he hit the metal part of his buckle because of how much he was struggling with his belt.

Throwing the belt across the room, he unzipped his pants, feeling a slight sense of relief when it was no longer restricted. Not wasting a second, his hands when straight for his erected cock, pumping it at a decent pace.

His mind is filled with images of you. The stuff you said earlier, ‘Aww, you know there's more than that to apologize sweetheart.’ The image of you smirking. ‘What a good boy slut you are~.’

The only thing he could think of was you.

The door wasn't even locked and anyone could walk in on him any minute, but Gojo, without a care in the world, moaned as loud as he pleased.

“Ah! Fuck~.” Fastening his pace, his moans grew louder, finally meeting his release. He looks down at the thick white liquid that covered his hand, wishing it was your hands that did all of this.

Gulping down his dry throat, he pulled his pants back up and grabbed his belt. He made sure to clean the floor so there’s no evidence left of what he just did, leaving the classroom to not come back to school for a whole week.

___

Nobody knew why Gojo was gone for a whole week. Rumors that students have made up started to roam the halls. Even though he’s not the greatest person, he’s not the type to skip school. He’s someone that cares a lot about his image, so believe it or not, he cares about his grades and records more than everyone thinks.

“Oh, L/N! This is perfect.” Gojo’s teacher walks up to you. “Could you go over to Gojo’s house and hand over the homework that he missed for this week?” The teacher held out a beige file folder that contained all his homework.

You didn't say anything but the teacher could tell from your face that you were questioning why.

“I already asked his friends, but when they went over to his apartment, he didn't answer. They said he was there, but he wouldn't open the door for them. And I heard that he’s been hanging around you a lot lately, so I thought why not give you a try. I'll give you his address and everything.”

You looked down at the folder for a bit before taking it.

“I’ll give it a try. I'll need his address though.”

The teacher smiled. “Thank you, L/N.”

___

You looked down at the GPS on your phone, walking up to the apartment building. And when I mean apartment building, I mean a penthouse.

Honestly, you didn't find it surprising. You would always hear Gojo brag about something expensive during the halls when you passed him some times.

He lived on the 10th floor in room 115. Pressing the doorbell, you waited for Gojo to pop up on the monitor of the screen.

“Whoever it is go away.”

“It’s Y/N. I brought your homework.” You stated. There was a pause of silence before you could hear a panic of rustling before he opened the door.

“Y/N! Umm...” You held out the file. “Oh! Thank you...” He gladly took it from you.

“I'll be going now.” You bowed with your head and started walking away.

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist a little too desperately. “Umm... I...” He didn't know what to say. He doesn't even know why he grabbed your wrist when the reason why he’s been gone for the whole week was that he’s too embarrassed to face you. But now that you're here with him in a more private area, he doesn't want to waste his chance.

“You know Satoru...” Damn, the way you say his name makes him melt. “You’re a very, and I mean very irksome guy.” You walked towards him.

Every time you took a step forward, Gojo would take a step backward.

“From the day you started bothering me... Ruining my paintings, throwing erasers and pencils at me while I try to study, pouring milk over my head, and now? You avoided me like some plague for a week and trying to make me stay now that I'm here?” You were inside his penthouse now. Gojo fell backward when his heel got caught by the edge of the flooring that was a level higher. “What exactly do you want from me, Satoru? Because I know damn well that you don't do all of this with the other girls you've slept with.”

You stood between his legs, leaning your upper body down while looking at him. Gojo gulped down the lump in his throat, cursing at himself in his head as he was getting turned on by this. His heart was beating with more nervousness this time, contemplating whether he should just tell you straight up.

He doesn't want to be left alone again like last time, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to admit to the shameful thoughts he's been thinking and wanting.

Him and his stupid pride.

“I...” You raised a brow as he started. “I want you to fuck me.” He finally confessed. If there was a word worse than embarrassment, that’s exactly what he’s feeling right now. His eyes could no longer look at you, straying away to the floor. If there was a dark hole, he would love to crawl into one.

The silence from you wasn’t helping either. Gojo was immediately regretting saying what he just said. He shouldn’t have said that. He should’ve said something different. That was too straight forward. 

“Pfft.” Gojo’s eyes look back up when you slowly came to a fit of laughter. “Haha... Hahahahaha!” Your laugh became hysteric. One hand covered your eyes while the other held your stomach. “Hahaha! Oh my god... Haha... I can’t believe that the Gojo Satoru just asked me, me to fuck him. I knew you were a wretched person from the start, but I never knew you could be this pathetic.” You continued to laugh after that. 

Somebody kill this man before he does himself.

You squat down to his level, Gojo shying away as he leaned his body back. “Is that why? Is that the reason why you were gone for the whole week? Because you were too embarrassed to show yourself to me?” You cooed the last sentence in mockery. “No wonder, because this place smells like some bitch was in heat.” He looked at you with quite the surprised expression. “What? You didn’t think I wouldn’t have noticed? The second you opened that door I could smell it.”

Embarrassment. Shame. Humiliation. It was all getting to him. Fat tears started to roll down his cheeks. His breath hitched as it became uneven.

“Awww, I’m sorry~. Was I being too mean to you?” You weren't sorry at all. “You never thought that you’ll get pushed this far into the corner? You’re just a big baby inside a teenager's body. Maybe this is a great chance for you to be put into your place. What do you think?” You questioned.

“I'm sorry...” He could only repeat the same sentence over and over again.

“Can you stop saying the same shit over and over again? I get it.” Gojo was quick to shut his mouth, continuing to cry silently. You watched him cry until your face perked up when you thought of an idea. “How about this.” Gojo slowly glances back up at you. “Since you want me to fuck you so badly, I will.” His face almost instantly brightened up.

“R-Really?...”

“Mhm...” You nodded. “But yah know... Your friends have been worried about you a lot for this past week since you’ve been ignoring them like the little bitch you are.” He flinches at your words. “So, why don't you give them a call, and while you’re catching up with your friends, I'll help with your little problem here.” You look down at his pants.

“O-Okay...” He didn't sound too sure, but truly he was so desperate for your touch.

“And if you’re good, I'll fuck you with my pussy. You would like that, wouldn't you?” You tilted your head with a sly grin. Gojo nodded eagerly. He would love that. “Well then... Here ya go.” You pull out your phone from your pocket, unlocking it and handing it over to Gojo to call his friend.

He grabs it with shaky hands as he started to call his friend. While he was doing so, you got to work.

The phone rings a few times before his friend picks up.

“Hello? L/N-San?”

“Uhh... Hey, it's me... Satoru.”

While he answered the phone, you slowly undid his pants, pulling down the zipper. You could hear Gojo take in a deep breath of relief when you did. Hooking your fingers at his waistband, Gojo lifted his hips a bit so you could pull them down.

His boner sprung up, hitting his lower stomach. He was big. There's no denying that. His tip was flushed pink, precum drooling down his veins.

His legs flinched when you first touched the tip, circling it with your thumb.

“What have you been up to man?! You completely ignored us for a whole week!”

“Oh, about that... I’m sorry. My famil-EEe.” He messes up his words when you suddenly gripped his dick. Using his precum as a lubricant, you stroked him at an agonizingly slow pace.

“You good bro?”

“Y-Yeah. I was just about to drop a glass cup. Anyways... My family came over and we wanted to spend some time together s-since I rarely get to see them.” His eyes rolled back to the back of his head. You've had fastened your pace. Holy shit, you were only stroking him and this felt better than anything he's ever had with the other girls.

“Oh, okay. But give us a heads up next time though... We were really worried.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry-Ah~!” He slaps his hand over his mouth.

“Are you sure you’re good? Am I interrupting something?”

“Nonono, not at all.” His voice was getting shaky. You started massaging his balls, rolling them around your fingers. All swollen up for your hands to cup.

“Are you gonna be back at school next week?” You could tell that the conversation was coming close to an end. The sudden change in speed made Gojo’s body squirm. His jaws dropping with a silent moan.

“Y-Yeah...” He pulled away from the phone so he could moan quietly. You suddenly stop, a small whine escaping his mouth.

“That’s cheating Satoru. Do that again and I’ll leave you right now.” You whispered the threat into his red ears.

“I'm sorry...” He quickly apologizes, putting the phone back up to his ear.

“Glad to hear!” His friend cheered on the other line.

You went straight back to the same pace you left off. Gojo could no longer sit up, letting his back hit the wooden flooring. His back arched as his chest heaved up and down.

“I’ll see you next week then!”

“Yeah... I-ah- I’ll see you next week.” He bit his lips so he wouldn't risk the chance of moaning anymore for the remaining last seconds. He was so close.

“Bye~!”

“Bye.” He quickly hit the red button, dropping the phone to the ground.

He threw his head back. “Aaaah~”

“You close?”

“Yes yes! Please ngh~ let me cum!” His hips started rutting upwards. “I’ve been good a boy! Good! So pleeeeeazzzzeeee ah~ let me cum!” He begged, the pitch in his voice getting higher.

You wanted to laugh at how desperate he was. “I don't know~...” Your pace slows down. “Have you really though?”

He knew exactly what you meant. “I'm sorry! I’ll never do it again! I promise!” He grabbed your hands. “I promise I’ll never do it again! Mommy please~” Tears stream down his face.

You were taken aback by the name, but you didn't mind it at all. More like it made you snap.

“AH!” He yelps in pain when you unexpectedly grabbed his hair. Kicking your shoes off, you dragged him further into his own house.

You threw him towards the couch, his legs stumbling his way. Getting on top of him in a swift movement, your lips immediately connected with his. He moaned as you pushed your tongue inside, pinching his nipple through his shirt. You were rubbing him with your clothed pussy that was starting to damp from how wet you were. 

One more pinch on the nipple was all it took to make him come, pulling away from the long kiss with a long moan. His breath felt hot on your chin as he panted, your skirt stained from his liquid. 

While he was collecting himself, you started undressing him so he would be completely naked, his lazy eyes watching as you did. 

He couldn’t help but gasp when you took your top off. Who would’ve thought that a girl like you would’ve worn something like that under your crisp uniform. Let alone have some tattoos. The way your bra perfectly fit your chest made him drool. The tattoos making you sexier than you already are. 

“Why don’t we start with your prize?” Your nails trailed down his abs. He nodded hardly that his brain would shake. 

Scooping his cum into your hands, you pumped his already hard dick, pushing your panties aside before you slammed yourself on him. 

“Oooohh-my god!” He screamed in pleasure, throwing his head back once more. 

“Mmmhmm~” You hummed. You weren’t someone who moaned a lot, but he felt so good. The way he filled you up was nothing like you’ve felt before. He was a bit too long for your liking, but his girth was just perfect. It’s a shame that a dick like this is attached to someone like him. 

Rocking your hips, you started a steady pace. The sound of your skins slapping together echoed through the penthouse. Leaning down to his body, you sucked his skin harshly on all different places, making him look as if he was abused. 

“Mommy, mommy, mommy~” He was going dumb. He tried to say something, but all of them came out as moans. 

“Is my sweet slut going dumb from Mommy’s pussy?” 

“Yesyesyesyes! Aah~ Cum! Please!” 

A sinister giggle escaped your lips. “Than come for me.” You fastened your pace. He moaned even louder. Glad that this place had soundproof walls because if it didn’t, you bet there would be noise complaints if it wasn't.

Few more seconds and you could feel him fill you up with his warm seeds. Both of your bodies relax, pulling yourself off of him, you looked down at your work. His lower area was covered with his white liquid, splotches of his skin glowed red, some already turning into a purple bruise. His nipples perking up, lips swollen with a small cut. 

You got up from the couch to look for a towel. When you did, Gojo was quick to grab your wrist. 

“Where are you going?”

“Where’s your towel? We need to clean up.” You answered with a question.

“But you haven’t came.” He pulled you a little bit. 

“Wow... A narcist whore like you can care about other’s pleasure?” You saw his lips twitch a frown. “It’s fine. We’ll leave that for next time. Now, where’s your towel?” You started walking around. You didn’t see it, but when you said ‘next time’ he was more than delighted to know that there’s going to be more in the future. 

“They’re in that closet over there.” 

[fenixfoxtrot510]

I had a book as a kid that was all about setting boundaries around your own body as a growing up little girl. It taught about consent being absolutely necessary for any adult to lay a hand on me. If I don't feel comfortable being bounced on uncle so-and-so knee while he rubbed my back then I was well within my rights to deny him and find an adult that would make him stop if he doesn't take no for an answer.

Do you have any IDEA how many Christian mothers would clutch their pearls and claim that kind of book is inappropriate for children! It implies that children aren't safe with their family, implies that adults in a childs' life don't know how to keep a kid safe from molesters, implies that children have a right to say no, implies to children that molesters exist (despite never using that word) and we all know that teaching children about sexual assault is deviously grooming them into accepting porn or whatever. 🙄

Everything in books is problematic if you find the right wack job to twist it into something it's not.

CSAM involves living, breathing children. It takes real children to make and it's twisted and fucked to all hell. Anyone that lays a hand on an actual child like that deserves the death penalty in my oppinion.

Books. Stories. Fics. Words on a paper or screen. These to not involve living, breathing children. Real children don't get hurt in the act of typing out words. The Death Note is not Real.

Throwing a crusade over literature doesn't do shit to help protect real children.

That's why it's not considered real child porn.

It's still sketchy as fuck. And gross. But it's creation doesn't actively hurt children.

If you want to help protect children from abuse then there are plenty of organizations that you can donate time and money too.

If you actually care about REAL children then I suggest you look into them. This link is for the USA. Feel free to explore google and add links to organizations in your own country if you live outside it.

"but AO3 hosts content that contains abuse!" please never go to a local library ever.

[jellyfish-and-deer]

Hannigram Au Idea

Okay, so, Will doesn't pass his psychological evaluation test for the FBI, and is like, drinking away his sorrows in a bar, when this red-haired, mouthy woman with foxy eyes introduces herself as Freddie and they start talking and Will’s complaining about his failed test and just shit faced drunk, right. And Freddie ends up learning about his 'gift' and leaves a card with her name and number offering him a job.

Cause in this au I want them to be friends and Freddie and Will are a terrifying team, plus I feel like Freddie would make an amazing employer compared to Jack. So, yeah...

Anyways, Will wakes up the next morning with a killer headache and finds the card offering him a job and figures, eh, why not? He's kinda in debt cause of school and the loan for his house, originally he thought he had a JOB but now he's kinda fucked and being a reporter should be easy.

So Will Graham becomes the boogeyman of reporters. He's like Hella good at finding evidence and he's Jack's worse nightmare because Will's good at solving cases but he doesn't just do murders and when Miriam Lass goes missing Will nearly ruins Jack's whole freaking career.

And he gets help for his encephalitis cause Freddie notices that shit from the start. She's like, I know Graham's kinda crazy and that's not it! And so he gets help and all while he's becoming a famous reporter, unaware of his admirer.

And so Hannibal comes in.

Unlike Freddie's more crass and conspiracy theory-like blogs/posts that are often rude, Will types everything like it's cold hard fact and every theory he comes up with that seems like a whimsical leap based off of nothing more than a preference for liking white wine over red or the way someone ties their shoes are always followed up by raw evidence with zero tampering.

Hannibal just sees Will as a useful tool for gathering unbiased information until he's consulting (because even without Will, Hanni would've found an in with the Ripper investigations) on one of his own tableau's when he spots Will purely on accident in the crowd.

In this AU, I'ma say Will only has Winston, okay? Okay! For simplicity's sake! (Though I could also see Will walking all seven of his dogs past the crime scene)

And Will's got this distinctly unimpressed look on his face, which Hannibal notices is actually quite lovely, and is staring at the agents in almost parental disappointment. And so Hannibal, because so rarely do things catch his interest, goes to talk to the mysterious Adonis when the very recognizable Freddy Lounds swoops in and the pair walk off.

Now, Will's never put his picture anywhere on the website. But he's only human so naturally his profile is of a very distinctive brindle mutt, which is how Hannibal, who is quite smart and much more observant than I give him credit for, puts a name to the mysterious writer who he often uses to keep updated in all the latest gossip and keep tabs on all the other lower killers that might grace Jack's table.

Now they don't officially meet, but Hannibal keeps seeing Will around the city and at various other events. And he's also started to notice a distinct lack of work on or about the Ripper from Will's page.

So things are going great! And then for one reason or another, it was probably Beverly, let's be honest, Hannibal gets caught. And it's like this giant scandal and every reporter wants to get a chance to talk to Hannibal the Cannibal (so named by Freddie), but Hannibal refuses all of them and stated that only the reporters at Tattle Crime can interview him.

So naturally Freddie is all for it and Will drags his feet before agreeing, but only as long as he doesn't have to see Hannibal himself. Which doesn't bother Freddie, but oh boy does Hannibal find it rude.

So using his little cannibal powers, Hannibal eventually learns Will is in a loving relationship with a kid and everything, soon to get married. And he's petty, and like, you know what? NO! That's my sassy little reporter who kept teasing me all over MY city to the point of distraction, causing me to get CAUGHT!

So yeah, he gets in contact with the DRAGON!!!! Dun, dun duhhhh! And it basically follows the bit in season 3 where Hannibal sends Francis Dolarhyde after Will and Molly and Walter (plus Winston).

So then Will storms into the BSHCI and is all threatening Hannibal through his glass cage and demanding to know why the fuck he sent a serial killer after him because he doesn't even KNOW Hannibal, and there's a storm raging outside and suddenly the power goes out with a flash'a lightning.

Oh no, all the doors open up and the patients start rioting in other blocks of the hospital and Will's like oh fuck. So then there's like this chase scene, sexual tension is HIGH, and finally Hannibal catches up with Will, who no hesitation punches him in the face.

They tussle, finally Hannibal knocks Will out and Chiyoh, who ruined the back up generator, is waiting outside in a getaway car. And she like, raises an eyebrow at the Scruffy unconscious man but otherwise doesn't say anything.

And bam, idk. I got about this far and wasn't sure where to go. I'm thinkin' kidnapping to Europe, lots of fighting, bit'a angst, lots and lots of sexual tension and then eventual Murder Husbands.

[spacetwinks]

It's good to see you on here! I've always wanted to ask you as a long-time follower, first-time caller just how you deal with Twitter and all the dumb bullshit that goes with it? Specifically not caring about what people say about you, follower count, amount of positive reactions to your posts, etc.

It feels like Twitter has legitimately affected my mental health because all I ever get exposed to on there is CONSTANT negativity. Even from folks I generally tolerate. I would love to just stop using it, but everytime I try it feels like I'm missing out on a lot. Plus it's where most of my friends are.

How do you shut out the voices in your head that make that website a goddamn nightmare?

part of it is just curation of who you're following, actively muting certain terms and phrases that might make things bad for you in your head, having a locked account for venting shit (this is one i think is crucial because sometimes you still want to post just to get bad energy out of you but you need a space where it won't be seen by EVERYBODY - maybe just a few people, or maybe even just yourself, tho in the latter i'd recommend getting a regular ass journal for that purpose), all that sort of regular social media stuff but part of it is for me, personally... i just had a break a long time ago with wanting to be The Funny Guy.

because i’m me, this is gonna get long. bear with me.

it's something i actually brought up forever ago on tumblr itself, and how i approached this platform in contrast to my existence in other online spaces before it, my approach would be I Just Post. from serious shit to funny shit to dumb shit, i just let it out of my head, emptying it out. in times WAY long ago in my personal life i would want to be The Funny Guy because that was how i saw myself as having value, which pushed me into unhealthy patterns, needing to 'perform', needing to be 'on', and losing my own sense of value if i wasn't making people laugh, wondering if i'd be pushed out of friendships or social spaces if i let my true self out. i'd keep all sorts of my real feelings inside of me and just simmer with awful thoughts because i had to be The Funny Person, at least that's how i thought of it at the time.

so i fucking ditched it. it wasn't healthy for anybody, not for me, not for the people who came to see me as The Funny Guy either and what preconceptions they might have of me because of it. this also lead to giving less and less of a shit about having high follower counts or whatever. people get it really twisted 1. what a high follower count *actually* is and 2. what it means, materially, for the person who has it. i got 27k on twitter and to someone who doesn't have 1k followers on twitter, yeah, that'll seem like a lot, but here's the thing:

follower counts don't pay bills. follower counts don't help you eat. the only time these numbers are materially useful to me in any way is when i have something new to sell, a twine, a pack of photos, or whatever. and even then, i still have to regularly advertise that stuff, because this relative high follower count doesn't automatically translate to success, to money, whatever. a lot of the people following me are a lot like me: they do not have a lot of money to pass around. this isn't the pre-'08 crash era where we're all tossing 5 bucks at some webcomic's paypal donation bar to get some 800x600 computer wallpapers, everything costs more and everybody has less disposable income. people with a lower amount of followers have, i think, an understandable assumption that high follower count = something materially beneficial, but... no, not really. if we all had more disposable income again, maybe.

but we don’t.

and i'd be fucking miserable if i approached my online presence that way too. just trying to get more followers, focusing solely on that above all else, to get bigger to achieve - what? i get a couple more freelance writing job offers that pay 50 bucks to, at most, 300 dollars? fucking god awful, man. that's not a life i wanna live.

also, seriously, digging in more into how 'high follower counts' are relative: it's not just that my numbers are nothing compared to actual literal celebs, but they're also frequently nothing compared to, say, some random fursuiters i might've never seen before, who are, again, themselves nothing in follower count compared to actual celebs. i think sometimes fixate on a random person who SEEMS popular and get lost in how that 'popularity' can be extremely relative. it's good to step outside of it and see where other people are much, much more popular, and then also to check if THAT greater popularity actually translates into something material for the person with it. it's less common than people tend to assume!

same goes for the ‘not caring what people say about me’. it’s not a ‘haters gonna hate’ deal, it’s ‘sometimes people just won’t like you’. some people just won’t like me. that’s fine! maybe it’s because they think my jokes suck, or i post too much/am too longwinded (these are incredibly justified reasons to dislike me in particular, i do post too much and am too long winded), or for whatever reasons. so long as someone isn’t like trying to start shit with me over it, it’s... whatever, y’know? there’s people i just don’t like too. trying to make it so Everyone Likes Each Other or Trying To Make Everyone Like you is disastrous for everyone’s mental health, especially one’s own. i’d very much rather not end up like fucking amanda palmer obsessing over some Guardian reviewer who didn’t like her work, or a YA author finding some student from several years ago mildly dunking on their books in the article of a small town college newspaper and blowing their top over it. and some of those fuckers - like amanda palmer there - actually make a SHITLOAD of money. they could be jet skiing all the time on a private island, but instead they just fuck themselves up over the fact that some random critic didn’t like their music. not healthy for amanda palmer - or for the critic!

other thing about twitter: it’s the fucking Id of social media platforms. no other site is more ‘everyone is just dumping out what they’re feeling with zero thought for curation’ than twitter. it’s just not designed with curation in mind! i’ll post about whatever the fuck comes to mind, because it all gets into the ‘waterfall’ of people’s feed, people EXPECT things to be all over the place on twitter, ESPECIALLY if they follow a lot of people. someone following 2000, 3000 people, and i’m one among them? my thoughts are just one of many, bursting forth and then disappearing into the flooded ether among the rest! i don’t worry about being ‘consistent’ or having a ‘presence’ because twitter isn’t built for it nearly as well as anything else. i talk about depression, beat ‘em up video games, communism, and which version of master splinter i think is the hottest, maybe all of them in the same day, and it’s just fuckin’ whatever. i find it personally so much preferable than trying to ‘be’ some particular performance, like being ‘the funny guy’ how i used to.

also: right now? twitter is gonna be a lotta negativity in particular! the world is in all sorts of fucked up flux emergency states right now and worse yet for many of us there’s no structure in our lives that actually values and gives time for us to pour out our grief and worry and fear in a healthy way and with the dedicated time necessary to do so. it’s all just sorta scrunched into one fucking cube. some people will handle it okay-ish, for various reasons. i think i do okay-ish, largely because i’ve just been extremely online since i was a kid and i’ve absorbed so much poison that i’ve immunized against a lot of it and process it different. other people won’t handle it as okay-ish, and there’s... nothing wrong with that! not the fault with them for not being able to handle it, but the fault of our societal structures that they don’t give us any real means to handle it but just ‘rugged individualism’ bullshit.

if going cold turkey sounds too much for you right now, i’d say instead just take large steps back from it instead of throwing it out completely, cut down your numbers of who you’re following and/or temporarily deploy more tactical mutes, make a locked account for brain venting purposes, and put more time and mental energy into fulfilling hobbies elsewhere during times you’d spend more on twitter.

you can’t eat twitter clout, you can’t pay bills with it, caring about ‘getting big’ on twitter or w/e is bad for the self and for others. dramatically reassess and change how you interact with that website, find ways to do so that are better for yourself, build other means of communities with your existing friends (and making new ones), do what’s right for you. take care, anon.