#clutter the tags unnecessarily

[dubioushonour]

I'm rotating Project Sekai TWEWY AU in my head again because I was jotting down notes for it.

The SEKAI Ends With You? What a Wonderful SEKAI? Are You Asking For Death from Hatsune Miku?

It would run like a mix of original TWEWY and NEO, because I think the entrance fees are GREAT for character but the group team aspect is essential. Band groups would all be the same. I think mostly they all start as strangers except when it's fun if they weren't.

(If they knew each other before the story starts they still know each other, but also LN is together already because I feel like that's fair. I would say Vivids and BAD DOGs are aware of each other but haven't teamed up yet until they all end up in the same team after death)

I do not have a full idea of what everyone's fees would be, but:

Tsukasa's entry fee is Saki's memories of him

Mafuyu's entry fee is her memories, period, because she doesn't have anything else to take

Mizuki and Ena both get appearance fees (middle school mizuki and invisible Ena, maybe?)

Saki's entrance fee is her health

Minori's entrance fee is her determination or her memories of Haruka (kinda interlinked???)

Nene's fee is her voice, little mermaid style, obviously

Ichika's fee is not knowing who Hatsune Miku is or any of the virtual singers

Reapers are the virtual singers. Regular Miku is the Composer because I think that's fair, but due to Unfortunate Circumstances I Haven't Decided Upon Yet she doesn't actually have enough reapers to keep a proper game going so she's split herself into five, weaker versions of herself to keep the system running. (idk who her conductor is. Part of me says it's the little marshmallow avatar of us, part of my says It's Teto).

Otherwise then I would say One variation of a Virtual Singer each to accompany said Miku (this works out mostly fine because each Miku is basically paired off anyways. Exceptions are VBS Miku, who gets Meiko rights and N25 Miku, who gets Len.)

Pins and Powers would likely be based off songs, undecided if they would be based off all songs or just commissioned ones. Everyone gets 1 power, but it has the potential to evolve into a different one (As You Like -> Showtime Ruler as a maybe example). The big group all out attack would naturally be named after the big main group song.

For fun I would also say we get Bonus Reapers for virtual singers who are in the game, but not properly (Una, Flower, GUMI, VY1, VY2, who have in game vocals off the top of my head without checking).

- Tiny addition but I think it would be something like

MMJ Miku gets Rin and Gumi

L/N Miku gets Luka and VY1

WxS Miku gets Kaito and Una

VBS Miku gets Meiko and VY2

N25 Miku gets Len and flower

No one stays Perma Dead in this AU because I am just not about that in the Miku Friendship Therapy game. The main crux would be that yes, everyone is playing to come back to life and there is a genuine danger of losing and dying. (and tbh probably some side characters might die) (things happen) (stories need drama)

But ultimately Miku is just trying to fill her Reaper ranks back out after An Unspecified Incident, so she would rather them alive but with a side job if they lose.

(currently have no idea who the winners of the game would be. Leo/need is in the Leo/lead though) (I feel like n25 would jump at the chance to be Reapers)

Maybe? A background plot about someone trying to take over as composer while regular Miku is weak and split in five pieces but I haven't thought that hard about it. One of the other Big Vocal Synths trying to encroach on Miku's territory while she's down, maybe. (It couldn't be... Teto Territory... UNLESS?)

Anyways this concludes PrSk brain rot au ramble 2 Electric Boogaloo, thanks

[shybunnie20]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Bff!Robin Buckley

★My Masterlist

Summary: Your relationship with Eddie isn't what it used to be. Things take a turn for the worse and he faces the fragility of life when you're left at death's doorstep.

Author's Note: This is the longest one shot I've written so far. I worked on this for two months, so please let me know if you enjoy it! Be sure to reblog, follow, and show some love ♡

Author's Note Cont.: Established relationship. AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Predominantly angst but has fluffy moments. Bittersweet ending! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Descriptions of physical trauma (of the reader). Heartache, arguing, Eddie being a crybaby, includes swearing.

tags: @protecteddiemunson4vr

Initially, you were on the fence about moving in with Eddie, it was his childhood home after all. You were worried about imposing and it’s nerve-wracking to officially combine your life with someone else’s.

Wayne assured you that he was happy to leave the trailer to the two of you so that you and Eddie could pursue your lives together. You were considered a part of his family and he knew you’d take good care of his nephew; he expected Eddie to look after you just the same.

Once you had agreed to make the transition, Eddie had to learn to accommodate your needs in the confined space he’d previously shared with his uncle.

You folded your arms and took in the cluttered bedroom. “Can we please take some of these posters down?”

Eddie feigned annoyance with a throaty groan, but beneath it, he was eager to appease you. “Fine, but the Corroded Coffin banner stays up.” With a devilish smile, he pulled you into his embrace.

The unnecessarily secure hug caused a strained giggle to escape you. “Eddieee! That’s too tight!”

He chuckled amusedly and loosened his grip. After nestling his nose into your hair, he hummed with contentment. “This is your castle now, princess.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and sighed. “Someday I’m gonna get you a big house with a yard and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make it happen.”

You smiled and buried your face into his neck. “My home is wherever you are. If we grow old together in this tin can then so be it.”

That was well over a year ago and things are far from how they were. The air, once saccharine, has a sour aftertaste that has failed to melt away as you’d hoped.

Eddie is making every effort to juggle his responsibilities. He plays twice a week at The Hideout with his band, which means frequent late-night practice sessions. Despite being a Hawkins High alumnus, he remains the Hellfire Club Dungeon Master. In addition, he works extended shifts at the auto shop. More often than not, they need all hands on deck, being that it’s the only one in town.

Due to his demanding schedule, you don’t see him much anymore. There’s always something that he has to tend to. By telling yourself that his absence isn’t personal, you’re unknowingly making excuses for your boyfriend’s inability to make time for you.

Each day, Eddie wakes up at the crack of dawn to get ready for work. If you’re lucky, he’ll place a brief kiss on your forehead while you’re tucked under the shabby blankets; not even awake to savor the gesture of waning affection. Most nights, you’re exactly where he saw you last. Fast asleep and worn out from your own job and keeping the mobile home tidy.

The lack of physical intimacy has Eddie feeling rather unsatisfied. On a few occasions, he slipped into bed beside you and his hands searched your body in the dark. It was low to be copping a feel but his self-restraint had been whittled down from exhaustion. You’d pushed his hand away and mumbled in semi-cognizant disinterest. Left rejected and frustrated, Eddie’s hurt feelings have brought on a distant shift in his demeanor. His internal thunder matches the rumble of your own.

At this rate, you’re merely coexisting with one another. Hardly so, given that he’s rarely home. You’ve been nothing but patient and supportive of his copious passions. Truly, you’re glad that Eddie has these things in his life that make him feel fulfilled, you just wish that you were still one of them.

There’s a good chance that communicating will resolve the strain, but you can’t bring yourself to speak up. It’s pathetic to beg for his undivided attention. Thinking that you could tough it out, you’ve broken your own heart by waiting for him to realize how lonesome you’ve been.

Instead of counting sheep, you lay and wonder if it's fate that the two of you have grown apart. Regardless of kismet interpretations, it’s debilitating to continue a masquerade of pretending that this isn’t torturous. You’ve killed a part of yourself to keep this love afloat with no lifeboats in sight.

This relationship is more than its worst moments but you’ve exhausted the idea that this is simply a rough patch. A day where anything changes for the better remains a pipe dream.

You’ve bid farewell to the little moments that once meant so much. Light years ago, Eddie couldn’t bear to have you out of his arms for more than a few minutes. He'd wrap his arms around your waist and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you washed dishes at the kitchen sink. He would pull you closer by the belt loops of your jeans to kiss you with fervor after just a few short hours apart. At the time, hours felt like an eternity.

It stings, feeling that you’re not missed. Or at least not missed enough for him to make an effort to be home more. You’ve stopped looking for reasons to stay because he hasn’t given you any. But for the sake of it, you give him one last chance.

Eddie pinky promised he’d be home for dinner tonight. With renewed optimism, you whip up his favorite comfort foods. It feels odd to be cooking after countless weeks of takeout leftovers. You’ve gotten so used to gnawing on cold pizza that eating has lost its significance.

After swiping on a little makeup, you slip into an outfit that’s a step up from your usual sweatpants and t-shirt. The uneasy feeling in your gut bears a striking similarity to how you felt the night of your first date with Eddie. The inexplicable desire to impress him is undeniable. Maybe if you look pretty enough, he’ll remember that you still exist. Ultimately, how the evening goes will determine where you belong. Whether it be in his life or elsewhere. You’re sincerely coveting the former.

Eddie swore on being home by six sharp. Even so, the steam rising off of the hand-cooked meal dissipates as it grows cold. You take a final glance at your watch and concede defeat at the forty-five-minute mark of his tardiness. As much as you hate to admit it, you should’ve known better than to trust that he’d show.

Time has always had a way of throwing it all in your face, but it never fails to wreck you. Just like the days that led to this one, the sun came up and went down. You can’t discern whether it’s what Eddie did or didn’t do. If it was the lack of effort or the intentional cold shoulder. At the end of the day, all of the love is still there but it serves no purpose now.

The chair creaks as you get to your feet. You step into the kitchen and refill your drinking glass at the sink, promptly gulping down the milk-tinted water as a placeholder for the meal you didn’t have. Your skull acts as a cauldron for the boiling hurt and it bubbles to a feverish froth. Before you can stop yourself, you chuck the glass down onto the worn linoleum and jagged shards scatter across the floor. Along with it, you fall to pieces. Your back slams against the cupboard as you slide down until your tailbone meets the floor.

At fifteen minutes to ten, the trailer door slams closed with a thud. Eddie toes off his grimy work boots and notices the romantic setting for two, the plates entirely untouched. It’s immediately evident to him that you went out of your way to put together a special evening that is well past expired.

Eddie’s gaze then finds the broken glass. He inhales sharply and concern coats his lungs. He heads down the hall toward the light emitting from the bedroom and calls out. “My bad for being late, I was-” Eddie reaches the doorway and his sentence drops off when he sees you haphazardly shoving clothes into a duffel bag. “What’re you doing?” He asks, his voice sewn tightly with puzzlement.

Mutely tugging open the top drawer of the dresser, you grab a fistful of socks and underwear and tuck it into the bag. Eddie used to be able to finish your sentences, but tonight you’ll be finishing his. You’re already anticipating the bullshit justifications that you’ve heard time and time again.

Eddie becomes frustrated with being blatantly ignored. When you shift to step past him, he blocks the doorway by extending his arm. “I’m talking to you. Where are you going?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You look into his hardened eyes, your own marbled with inflamed crimson veins. “But there’s no way I’m staying here.”

There’s a throbbing in his ribcage at the sight of how visibly saddened you are. Finally being confronted with the consequences of his actions, Eddie swallows hard. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” Your icy stare falters with the release of a shaky exhale. “I'm done waiting around for you.” Eddie’s expression only adds insult to injury, the fucking nerve of him to play dumb right now.

He throws his head back and scoffs, “Give me a break, I didn’t mean to be late! I was the only one closing tonight.”

Unconvinced, you mutter, “Uh huh,” while ducking beneath his blockading limb.

Eddie scoffs louder this time. “Okay, I see how it is. You think I’m lying.”

You don’t care if he’s telling the truth or not. Even with all of the space that’s amassed between the two of you, there’s no room for honesty. Eddie continues to prod while you rummage through the bathroom drawers gathering necessities.

The beat of your heart thumps wildly in your ears. All the while, your bones have caught a fever, and the fire in your chest spreads, charring your throat as the flames continue to climb. The blistering smoke irritates the backs of your eyes, causing tears to reform and your nose to run.

Eddie makes a sound of artificial amusement and it reverberates off of the shallow walls as he follows you to the living room. “Convincing performance, babe. You’re really sellin’ it, but you can put the bag down now, alright? I get it. I learned my lesson.”

While putting on your shoes you swallow a whimper. Your backbone is coming apart at the seams, but you refuse to express how distraught you truly are.

Folding his arms across his chest, Eddie continues. “Are you seriously making this big of a deal over one missed dinner?”

You stand and take a step toward him, accusingly pressing your pointer finger to his chest. Applying enough pressure that your nail leaves an indentation. “If you think this is because of one dinner, you’re fucking delusional.”

The hinges on the front door squeal as you push it open and walk outside. For far too long all you’d wanted was him, but now being in the same room is unbearable.

Eddie treads on your heels, descending the concrete steps out into the ill-lit trailer park. “Can you not be so overdramatic for once in your life? This is ridiculous. C’mon, let’s just go back inside and talk it out.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You growl while jamming the keys into the door of your car and tossing the duffel bag onto the passenger seat. It’s not improbable that if he begged you right now, you’d give in. Part of you is relieved that he isn’t on his knees because you’d never be able to walk away otherwise. Without sparing another glance in his direction, you reverse and steer out of the trailer park.

Cemented in place, Eddie’s socked feet press into the rocky gravel. The lights from the neighboring mobile homes flare like lasers as tears deluge his vision. The utter disbelief that you’re leaving him causes a surge of nausea to churn in his abdomen. What the hell just happened?

As luck would have it, Robin answers when you ring her doorbell. “Hey! Oh- you look like shit.”

Your shoulders slump with the bow of your head, feeling just as shitty as you look. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Errr, sorry. Come on in.” Robin insists, stepping aside for you to enter her home.

The two of you plop down on her living room couch and share a short-lived silence before unpacking the evening’s sequence of events. To the best of her ability, Robin digests your nonsensical blubbering about how you didn’t want to ask Eddie to give up the things he loved.

Half a box of tissues later, you’ve calmed some. “I feel like such a fucking idiot.” You sniffle and fiddle with a loose thread on your sleeve. “Y’know, I can’t even remember the last time we showered together. He treats me like a roommate. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t in love with me anymore.”

Robin frowns. “I don’t blame you. I’m sorry that you’re going through this.” She takes your hand in hers and squeezes it reassuringly.

Shortly after you’d left Forest Hills, Eddie did the same. He figured taking a joy ride down the streets of Hawkins could help clear his conscience. With heavy metal crackling from the stereo, he drives down the sparsely illuminated avenues. In an attempt to escape from his bleeding reality, he focuses on the beat of the music; tapping the steering wheel with his sterling silver-adorned digits.

This is the worst fight you and Eddie have ever had. Sure, there have been trivial arguments over him leaving water on the bathroom floor after taking a shower. Not to mention, Eddie was particularly explosive about you misplacing his belongings while cleaning the trailer. However, it has never gotten heated to the extent that either of you stormed off.

As much as you appreciate Robin’s hospitality, you feel that you’ve overstayed your welcome. Especially since she has to work in the morning. On your way out, you hug her firmly to convey your gratitude. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Robin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Robin rests her arms on the car door as you settle behind the wheel. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

With a nod, you force a grin as a semblance of emotional stability. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, but still. At least let me know when you get to the motel.” With a sympathetic expression, Robin pushes the door closed and watches as you back out of the driveway. 

Truthfully you would rather stay at Robin’s place than at a crusty motel, but you can’t bring yourself to burden her with your hardships. The radio hisses with a channel teasing to stick. A faint melody fades in and out of the static as you concentratedly twist the tuning dial to find the sweet spot. While preoccupied, you fail to notice that you’re driving through a four-way intersection.

Glass rains down like hail when the driver’s side door is struck. The echo of skidding tires halts as your vehicle comes to a complete stop, the passenger side crushed inward by the thick trunk of a tree. The other driver stumbles out into the street, disorientated by whiplash. They frantically shout for help and flag down a car that pulls up to the intersection.

It’s not long before the accident is encircled by emergency responders. Dismal gray columns of smoke lift into the air as the engine’s inferno heats the mangled steel frame that cages your scathed body.

Meanwhile, Eddie ventures to decompress at the private spot he used to frequent with his trusty lighter and a single lazily rolled joint. As he turns the corner of Highland and Chestnut, he’s taken aback by the twirling red and blue streams of light.

The firemen work skillfully to free you from the burning structure. Secured by your seatbelt, you’re slumped forward in your seat; your chin digging into your clavicle. The blaze roaring just inches away caresses you, leaving fiery kisses across your skin. Even so, the warmth gradually drains from your complexion as you begin to sink into the earth to lie forever. Death coaxes you with its enticingly bitter embrace and you're lured beyond control.

Eddie’s van slows as he drives past the scene. The catastrophic sight is unsettling but he can’t take his eyes off of the sparks from the jaws of life that cut the driver’s side door from the frame. It’s far too dark to make out what models of cars are involved.

By the looks of it, there’s a slim chance that whoever is being pulled from the vehicle will survive. There’s a morbid sense of comfort in knowing that he’s not the only one having an awful night. More than anything, he’s glad it’s not him who got into an accident.

Lakeside with the doors wide open, Eddie lies in the back of his van. He drags an ample hit from the joint, striving to cloud away the image of the ecstatic look you gave him when he’d assured you that he would be home on time. Eddie hasn’t seen you that excited in longer than he can remember. He wonders how this evening would’ve gone if he’d kept his word.

The argument replays, and it’s the frailty in your voice that’s penetrating deep into his memory. Eddie convinces himself that it was just a bad fight because that’s what couples do. You’ll come back in a day or so, you’ll hug and make up, and your lives will go back to normal.

Except that‘s exactly what got him into this situation. Things cannot go back to how they were, he has to do better. You deserve to be prioritized and he realizes that now.

Rattling fills the ambulance as it speeds over fragmented pavement caused by the most recent blackberry winter. Strapped on the gurney, you lie motionless. Catatonic, in essence, you're wading in and out of consciousness. Even though your eyes are practically swollen shut, you can see. Though, it’s like looking out of a frosted window. A pearlescent film alters the clarity and runs red due to the blood trickling down from the gash in your eyebrow.

The gurney wheels wobble as you’re rushed down the corridors of the hospital, lungs struggling for air as the bag valve mask offers little assistance to your labored breathing. Under the knife, the surgeons struggle to contain the internal bleeding and operate tirelessly to keep you alive.

After smoking himself as numb as physically possible, Eddie glances at his watch which indicates that it’s half past midnight. He zones out during the drive home and focuses on the painted white dashes that repeatedly disappear under his van. Once he stumbles back into the trailer, it feels exceptionally vacant and the silence is deafening.

Be that as it may, he’s bone-weary from the weed and the strenuous shift at work. Ultimately, he decides he’ll go to bed and deal with his emotions tomorrow. It’s probably for the best since he tends to make poor choices when he’s overtired.

Eddie shucks off the layers of denim and leaves them in a jumbled pile on the floor. His high has broken sooner than he preferred, which makes it difficult to doze off. For a while he tosses and turns on his side of the bed, respecting that the other side still belongs to you.

He listens to the sounds that he’d forgotten about. The crickets outside the window chirping like an off-tempo symphony, the buzzing of the outdated refrigerator in the kitchen, and dogs barking off in the distance. All of the sounds blend to create a foreign cradlesong, lulling him into the twilight of his mind. Your steady breathing is the lullaby he longs for. Shortly after his restless adjusting, exhaustion overtakes him.

Post-operation, the humming machine beside you controls respiration as you lie in the hospital bed. The cocktail of painkillers in your system has buried you into the bottomless oblivion of unconsciousness. Cessation of internal bleeding is a miracle in itself, but being put in a medically induced coma isn’t exactly a triumph.

Due to having broken ribs, the expansion of your chest is feeble. In order to ensure that you remain stable, the medical staff keeps a close eye.

The sun has long since climbed the horizon. Eddie sleeps well past noon due to his body taking the time it required to achieve a relatively homeostatic state. Last night, he was supposed to have an intimate dinner, make love to you, and wake up with you wrapped in his arms. Instead, he was tormented by the fact that not only failed you but his uncle as well. He was raised better than to take your love for granted.

Eddie finds his hands searching for the comfort of your warmth, only to be met with chilled bedsheets. Given that you didn’t come home, he’s quick to remember the unsteadiness he saw in your eyes. Eddie caught a glimpse of the exposed nerve that was worn down to the point of you giving up on him, and he hates himself for it.

He feels vexed that you didn’t express how you’d been feeling. Regardless, he should’ve known damn well that he was running the risk of losing you. Eddie has to figure out where you wound up and think of a way to make things right. One thing is for sure, Eddie refuses to go a single day without you.

After getting out of bed, he pulls on a questionably clean outfit plucked from a heap on the floor. Hell, it passes the sniff test. Correctly assuming that you went to Robin’s after the fight, Eddie snags his keys off of the kitchen counter and sets out to locate you.

When he arrives at Robin’s place, he’s met with an empty driveway. A tinge of worry casts a shadow but Eddie fights off the pessimistic thoughts that pelt him like an air raid. Without stopping, he drives to Family Video. Eddie suspects that Robin is at work if her car isn’t at home, but that leaves your car unaccounted for.

Distracted by the cyclone of desperation stirring powerfully within him, Eddie nearly trips when he hops out of his van. He strides through the double doors and leans his forearms against the front counter.

Robin appears from the back room having been beckoned by the door chime. She stops in her tracks and a bewildered expression forms on her freckled face.

“What’s that look for?” Eddie asks regarding her strong reaction to his presence.

“Uh- nothing.” She resumes her path to the counter and sits in front of the computer. Her fingers clack away on the keyboard to log returns into the system.

Eddie rubs the back of his neck and shifts his focus to a scuff on the surface of the countertop. “I think it’s safe to assume you’re already aware of what went down.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “She stayed with you last night, right?” If Eddie knows anything about you, it's how much you confide in your best friend. It’s a fair assumption, given that’s precisely where you went.

“No, she didn’t,” Robin says snappily, baffled by how inappropriately relaxed he’s acting right now. What is he even doing here?

Eddie’s brows furrow and he raises his head to look at her. “What do you mean no? Where’d she go then?”

Robin stops typing to look at him. “Wh- Do you not know?” When she learned of your incapacitation, she thought that surely Eddie had already found out.

His posture goes rigid as he straightens from his leaning position. That’s not a sentence that ever leads to promising news.

Swiveling on the stool, Robin cocks her head in disbelief at the lost look on Eddie’s face. “She’s in the ICU.”

Blood rushes to Eddie's head and his ears begin to ring like a pipe bomb just went off in the video store. “What? Where’d you get that idea?”

“I guess she had me listed as her emergency contact, I got the call this morning.”

Eddie shouts vehemently, “And you didn’t think to tell me that?!”

Robin raises her hands defensively. “I thought you knew!”

Already having spun around, Eddie dashes through the doors and hops back into his van. Going twenty miles per hour over the legal limit, he speeds down the drabby roads of Hawkins. Luckily he finds an open parking spot in the crowded lot of the hospital.

Following the wall directory that indicates where the intensive care unit is located, Eddie runs faster than he thought he was capable of. He conquers the lengthy stairwells thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His eyes scan his surroundings while he blindly navigates the polished hallways.

Eddie fails to heed the “medical personnel only” sign and barges into the unit. A voice calls out for security and addresses his intrusion. “Young man, you can’t go in there!”

Frantically inspecting the area, he spots your name listed on a board. The sharp pang in his side from being out of shape isn’t phasing him in the slightest. When Eddie passes the threshold to the room you’re in, his heart is gouged from his chest; ripped clean from the cavity at the sight before him.

Wrapped in bloodied gauze, your complexion is hellishly bruised with raisin and rust-colored burns. The array of discolored hues makes you look like a well-loved doll that’s been drawn on with a permanent marker.

All Eddie can muster is an exasperated “Oh, sweetheart...” with a wobbly lower lip as tears well in his eyes. He reaches for your hand, but just as his fingertips are about to graze yours, he’s yanked backward by a security guard.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Eddie wails. "Let me go!” His composure disintegrates as he tries to free himself from the guard’s unrelenting grip. The resistance only lasts a few seconds before Eddie’s muscles give out and he’s dragged away.

Astonishingly, Eddie respects the stern warning he receives. He knows that if he impedes, it’ll make things worse for you. He’s done enough damage as is.

In the third-floor waiting room, Eddie settles into the chair in the far corner. Sitting near the window would provide him with vitamin D, which would help him feel a little brighter, but he intentionally avoids it. He won’t allow himself to feel the glow of the sun when you’re clinging to life by the skin of your teeth.

The room is no larger than fifteen by eleven feet and has a sterile atmosphere that makes Eddie feel rather uneasy. The adrenaline dwindles from his system, allowing him to drift off while resting in the firm armchair. Understandably, considering he didn’t sleep well last night without you beside him.

Over the course of the day, the respiratory analysts run tests to determine whether you can be weaned off of the ventilator but you’re still unable to breathe unassisted.

“Mr. Munson?” A tall, older male doctor asks flatly.

Eddie stirs, his frizzy curls flying as he shakes away the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids. “Yeah, yes. That’s me.” He rubs his eyes with his fists and sits up. “How’s she doing, is she alright?”

“Well, the acute agonal respiration has…”

Eddie stares blankly as the medical jargon goes in one ear and out the other. It sounds like an entirely different language, he has no fucking clue what the doctor is talking about. Eddie is trying his best to comprehend the complex terminology.

“...a coma has been induced to allow her a better chance at healing. With that, we’re hoping to see a reduction in brain swelling. Though I do regret to inform you that the likelihood of her waking is a matter of if, not when.’

It feels like the roof is crashing down on Eddie, thrusting him through the layers of the earth until he reaches the molten outer core. Grief eats away at his sweat-slick skin, causing a loss of feeling in his fingertips as if the blood in his veins slows to a crawl.

“...If she does rouse, there’s a likelihood that she’ll experience anterograde amnesia.”

Eddie scoots to the edge of his seat and runs his palms roughly down his face. “Amnesia? Does that mean she won’t remember me?” He gulps sorely and his eyes form a glassy sheen at the notion of everything that the two of you shared being lost forever. He doesn’t even want to imagine what his life would be like without you.

The doctor opens and closes his hand as if to catch Eddie’s concern as it floats through the air. “No, no. She shouldn’t have difficulty with memory retrieval. Consolidation is what may be impacted. Only temporarily, we hope.”

With a disheartened ��thank you” from Eddie, the doctor excuses himself. The strength that had kept Eddie’s tears at bay dwindles and he slumps back into the chair, sobbing noisily. He sinks his top teeth into his knuckles in an attempt to muffle the whimpers that tumble from his lips. What is he supposed to do now? Is he going to start praying to a god he doesn’t believe in?

With his optimism beyond pulverized, Eddie is overcome with the fear of losing you. How could he have let something like this happen? While managing the chaos of the present, Eddie lost sight of his future. You.

To say he’s regretful would be a substantial understatement. As Eddie realizes that you were in the burning car that he’d driven past, he feels like he’s going to be sick. The sensation is so strong that he keeps a small trash can nearby just in case. 

Beyond the thick panes of glass, the setting sun brushes the horizon and leaves the sky a flushed pink. Eddie attempts to talk some sense into himself. As difficult as it is, he takes on the responsibility of notifying your friends and family by phone call. Of the many, one call goes out to Robin.

As soon as she’s able, Robin arrives to provide Eddie with the emotional support he desperately needs. Few words are exchanged as Eddie drifts in and out of crying fits. She sits beside him and strokes his back reassuringly while he hiccups and coughs.

Robin hasn’t witnessed Eddie this perturbed before. It’s evident to her how sincerely in love he continues to be with you even though he neglected to express that when it mattered most.

A twister of bleak thoughts rips through Eddie’s mind, turning his mental state to rubble. It’s hard to process each emotion individually when they’re all equally loud. At this point, all he can think about is the little things that he may never get to do again. One particular memory stands out from the rest.

In the moments after Eddie made love to you for the first time, you laid in his bed on your stomach; naked, drowsy, and utterly satisfied. You looked ethereal to him. Eddie traced the contour of your spine with the tips of his fingers while you slept. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear to admire your sleepily blissed-out expression. Thereupon, Eddie knew that you were the most important aspect of his life and that wouldn’t change.

As much as she'd like to, Robin can't stay all night. After sacrificing her evening to console him, she has to go home. Which leaves Eddie by his lonesome once again. It’s a rough night but somehow he manages to catch some shut eye.

Come morning, the staff still won’t allow Eddie to visit you. He rings Robin and Wayne to update them when he receives the slightest bit of information. There’s no regression in your condition, but that offers little relief.

In the following days, Eddie camps out in the waiting room. Forfeiting his comfort for the sake of being there for you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he wasn’t there in the event that you needed him. After four days drag by, you’re finally capable of breathing without the assistance of the mechanical ventilator.

“Mr. Munson, would you like to see her now?” A nurse asks.

Eddie’s eyes widen with the desperate nod of his head. “Fucking finally.” He murmurs to himself.

Now that you’re no longer in critical condition, you’ve been situated in a room outside of the ICU. The nurse leads Eddie to the room and he hesitates outside the doorway. Up until now, he wanted to see you more than anything. But now that he can, he’s petrified. Taking the deepest breath he’s ever taken, he enters.

The blunt discomfort in his ribs is alleviated by how pretty you look. You’ve been cleaned up, which makes you appear less mangled than you did when he saw you last. Eddie's movement resembles a shuffle and his eyes switch between your face and his dirty sneakers. As if trying not to startle you, he carefully pulls up a seat at your bedside to absorb his new reality.

The steady beep of the heart rate monitor brings consolation because it reminds him that you are in fact still alive. Your unmoving hand is gently taken into his trembling palm. Eddie handles it delicately, knowing how fragile you must be.

He contemplates in silence, unsure if you would even be able to hear him if he did talk. Surely, you must be in there somewhere. In a circumstance like this, what would be the right thing for him to say?

The pad of Eddie’s thumb strokes your knuckles with a featherlight touch and his burnt caramel irises are downcast in chagrin. He can’t bring himself to look at you for very long, feeling that he doesn’t deserve to because he hurt you.

With his gaze remaining fixed downward, his other senses heighten in the hopes of detecting a subtle twitch or quiver. Any kind of indication that you know he’s there and that he promises to be by your side for as long as he lives.

Your motionlessness is killing him, but you look agonizingly peaceful. Beneath the plum-colored bruises, stitches, and scabs, you’re still the beautiful girl he treasures. Eddie whispers, “my sweet angel,” as he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

The tears that run astray trickle down his cheeks, each salty droplet holding a memory. Eddie isn’t ready for you to become a real angel. If you do, he’ll spend the rest of his life searching for white feathers and shapes in the clouds. Eddie will endlessly scour for signs that you’re watching over him.

Thirty minutes pass before he finally garners the courage to speak. “I don’t really know where to start, this feels kinda silly. But first and foremost, I owe you an apology.” Eddie tries to swallow the stale air that's making his throat feel brittle. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I know that probably doesn’t mean shit. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself, so I don’t expect you to.”

With his free hand, Eddie wipes his cheeks with the hem of his shirt. “If I’m being honest, I’m fucking terrified that you aren’t gonna wake up. I miss you so god damn much. I can’t imagine how tired you are, and if you wanna let go… It’s okay.”

Eddie can feel pressure building behind his eyes as the tears threaten to fall faster. He blinks them away and tries to stay focused. “But I want you to stay, baby. I’m not done being selfish yet, I need you to come back to me. Please come back. I promise I'll treat you better this time.”

It feels like he’s on a bullet train, the outside world soaring by at lightning speed while the hospital room is eerily stationary. “I swear to god, I’ll never make you feel alone like that again. No more broken promises either.” Eddie hooks his pinky finger with yours, solidifying his word.

There’s a knock at the door and Eddie peers over his shoulder. A nurse enters with a full rally bag and a roll of bandages. "You'll need to step out for a moment."

Eddie is unwilling to leave your side, but he knows he shouldn’t interfere. When he rises from his seat, he gives your hand a brief kiss. Eddie glances behind him before leaving and thinks as if saying to you, “I’ll be right back, princess. Don’t be scared.”

As the nurse is refreshing your bandages, Eddie wanders until he happens upon the gift shop. He purchases a wimpy bouquet with the pocket change he has on him. When he’s allowed to return to your room, he places the vase on the utility cart beside the bed. Even though you’re unable to see them, Eddie tells himself that you like them.

From thereon, Eddie never leaves your side. He doesn’t care about the awful nicotine withdrawal or how much he misses his mattress, there’s not a chance in hell that he’s going to be separated from you longer than absolutely necessary. Your hand never leaves his for as long as he's sitting at your bedside.

The staff takes pity on him and brings him ham and cheese sandwiches. Eddie struggles to eat one-handed but he makes it work. He wonders if you’re hungry, considering you’re surviving off of IV mixtures. He misses eating junk food with you and licking the cheese dust off of your fingers on movie nights.

Eddie’s sanity gradually slips due to being confined to the small room, but having visitors is keeping him relatively sane. Over the remainder of the week, the atmosphere vibrantly evolves. The gifts from Wayne, the Hellfire Club members, and your family bring a spiritedness similar to that of a blooming field of spring flowers. Themed balloons, greeting cards, and assorted floral arrangements line the windowsill.

Robin buys you a stuffed monkey that she names Bananas and it stays tucked under your arm. She stops in every other day, usually bringing Eddie clean clothes from home. Robin keeps you company while he takes brisk showers in the private bathroom. She even brings nail polish and paints your fingernails your favorite color.

Eddie wishes you could see how incredibly loved you are. In part, he's glad that you’re not awake because you don’t have to bear the damage your body has endured.

His thoughts continue to consume him. Eddie incessantly scolds himself for having ruined the best thing that's ever happened to him. He feels wholly responsible for you being in this state. If he hadn’t fucked up, there wouldn’t have been a fight, and you wouldn’t have left.

Eddie is slouched in the same uncomfortable chair that he’s been glued to for two weeks. He’s currently zoned out while mindlessly drawing shapes on your wrist. His eyes are fixed on the western program playing on the outdated television across the room. Eddie is pulled back to reality by the twitch of your fingers in his grasp.

His heart leaps in his chest and his eyes switch to where his hand is joined with yours. Eddie holds his breath, sits up straight, and stares intensely. He’s convinced that he’s just imagining things until there’s another twitch. And another.

Eddie’s eyes dart between your hand and your face, whispering “C’mon, baby. You can do it.”

Your eyelashes flutter as your lids steadily retract, though they don’t open very much. It’s like the storm is dispersing and the sky is pulling itself together as you come to.

Eddie is elated, to say the least. He tries to stay calm because the last thing he wants is for you to be frightened.

“There’s my girl,” He says softly while stroking your arm. Tears of pure joy roll off his cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart.” Eddie sniffles, “I really missed you.”

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

[fangbangerghoul]

I was tagged by @therealgchu which I appreciate SO MUCH! I honestly wasn't sure if I was going to post a snippet sunday/sunday snippet (im dyslexic damnit) because I had just posted my new Logan fanart yesterday. I had spent the majority of the week on that and not much else if I am being honest. I also posted the first chapter to Over Exposure this week as well.

I do have some wips in the chamber I can swipe from so I will post that under the cut!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful week!

Tagging: @bearlytolerant @lisa-and-shadow @kimberbohwrites @staticpallour @arisenreborn

Godless Realms | Starfield fic with Ghoul and Valentine Blanche (bearlytolerant's OC) |

“Long day at work?” A familiar voice asked, and she did not look at him at first. His words earlier still irritated her, and she partially blamed him for being off her normal groove.

“No.” She opened her eyes to see the entire room covered in clutter and bags. Val was sitting in the middle of the hotel room on top of a blown-up purple pool chair with pink sunglasses and holding an unnecessarily extravagant chalice with a bending straw. He had a devilish grin on his face has he sipped from the drink and let out an extra loud ‘ahh’.

“Did you at least leave enough room to sleep?” She asked drily as she scanned all the items that were strewn about. None of them were of importance and it was obvious that was the point he was trying to make. He could have just fucked off instead.

“You don’t want to sleep with all your new things?” He asked sarcastically.

| I have been thinking heavily about this particular fic lately and have been considering coming back to work on it. Also been thinking about starting the fic that is supposed to come after Fleeting Pleasures. |

[rainee-da]

Hey I like your wroting, pls keep up the good work 🙌🏻 i was wondering why u use emoji for character sometimes tho

Heyy anon thank you so much! I'm glad you like the fics that I made 🍀

I'm not really sure about what you mean by that, but if you're talking about the emoji I put after each character's name, it is indeed intentional and there are interesting reason for it! (at least I think it's interesting lol)

It's gonna be unnecessarily long so read down below if you happen to be interested with this one! (for some reasons)

I'm used to indulge to my fantasy via X (Twitter) a lot, especially since there are many Character X Reader fanarts created by JP's artists being posted on twitter. But in japanese fandom's twitter culture, there are many unspoken rules as to how to tag/title your work for the sake of decluttering/censoring/gatekeeping (idk how to best phrase that lol) and it is especially important to learn it if you want your work to reach to their demographics as well.

As for emojis, many people often used the unofficial fandom's designated emojis to tag their work/tweet/ instead of typing the actual name of the character, this is so they'll not clutter the hastag itself with their artworks/fic. Especially since sometimes there are character with similar names to one character in another fandom / the character's name itself is similar with a certain slang/noun/place.

The best example for this is Epidem from Mashle, since if you put the katakana of his name on twitter search engine you will be directed to a news/threads/tweets that is talking about 'epidemic'. It will be troublesome if someone who doesn't know anything about Mashle ended up finding random fanart about Epidem when they tried to find news related to 'epidemic', right? that's why tagging it with the designated emoji/term for that character will be more preferrable in this case.

If you want to know the designated emoji for each character in Mashle, here are the list of some that I've known;

ADLER DORM

Mash Burnedead = 🍄

Finn Ames = 🐬

Lance Crown = 🪐

Dott Barret = 💥

Lemon Irvine = 🍋

Rayne Ames = ☔

Max Land = 🎈

LANG DORM

Abel Walker = 🪆/🧸

Abyss Razor = 🎭

Wirth Madl = 🕶️

Love Cute = 💗

Milo Genius = 🎓

Olore Andrew = 🦈

Anser Shinri = ⚙️

ORCA DORM

Margarette Macaron = 🎼

Carpaccio Luo-Yang = 🍥

Tron Morceau = 🎺

Cello Morceau = 🎻

DIVINE VISIONARY

Ryoh Grantz = ✨

Orter Madl = ⏳

Kaldo Gehenna = 🍯

Renatus Revol = ✝️

Agito Tyrone = 🐉

Sophina Biblia = 📕

Tsurara Halestone = ❄️

WALKIS ACADEMY

Domina Blowelive = 💧/🌊

Levis Rosequartz = 🧲

Lovie Rosequartz = ⚡

Charles Contini = 📞

Galuf Gargaron = 👅

Kenny Clark = 🧊

Malcolm Curtis = 🪲

MAGOL CASTLE

Innocent Zero = ⏰/🕰️

Cell War = 💎

Doom = 🪞/🥞

Famin = 🤡/🎪/🃏

Epidem = 🍮

Delisaster = 🍾

That is the reason I put certain emoji for certain character. It's just because I often do that when I talk to other ppl about Mashle & I thought it would be nice to apply that to my writing!

There are (obviously) many others that I didn't write here because I didn't know, and I can't say for certain that what I describe up below is the correct explanation for this. For that reason, feel free to leave comments if you wish to add more/correct my post!

Well, that is all. Thank you for reading all of that mumbo-jumbo I just wrote up there 🍀 sorry if it's messy.... i know it is....

[lime-sar]

Another (slightly unrelated) thing is that tags that you add more as comments than as search tools are ok too. Encouraged, even! People tend to appreciate leaving your single-word reply to a reblog chain in the tags as opposed to a full-on reblog.

Part of Tumblr's culture is using tags for things aside from search words! Put whatever minor thoughts you thought didn't belong in your main post in your tags! Keysmash in there! Pretend you're doing a soliloquy in the tags! (maybe try not to go overboard with that last one tho, trust me it can look quite messy in there)

The two examples OP showed could've easily had their tags reduced to something like these:

(hash)amine (hash)keen (hash)keen my beloved

(hash)xmas (hash)australian xmas

(not including the actual symbols because i don't want it to unnecessarily enter the searches. like this whole post is all about. lol.)

These don't clutter the screen as much, and they summarize all those tags quite nicely, don't you think? The "keen my beloved" tag may be "unnecessary" in terms of searching, but tag searching on Tumblr searches the exact tag (minus capitalization, but hardly anyone capitalizes their tags unless it's for a bit). Searching "(hash)star" doesn't bring up "(hash)star trek" or "(hash)star wars" in the same results, for example. (unless a post happens to also have either of those tags lol)

(Granted, commenting something short like "(hash)wow" or "(hash)lol" can kinda conflict with some tags that are abbreviations for other things (i.e. World of Warcraft or League of Legends). People tend to have a different tag for those sorts of things tho, so I wouldn't consider it a major issue)

TL;DR: You can add irrelevant comments in tags as long as they're not relevant for other kinds of posts as well. Just make sure the tags meant for searching are relevant and you should be fine by TOS standards.

‘Why is trending so weird’ because of tag spam. Because people (and bots) are tagging like it’s Instagram.

This is spam. It’s against TOS and it throws trending completely out of whack, along with being wildly annoying.

Please, please, PLEASE report posts like this as spam, because otherwise it’s just gonna get fucking worse

[fidgetheart]

for my design blog, I’ll be tagging each cat with their name(s) (ex: Leafstar & Leafdapple), but also with what Clan they’re in and their main position (so, for her, SkyClan & leader)

but! would it be good if I also tagged any other, relevant, positions they earn? ex: Longtail is tagged as a warrior, but should I also tag him as an elder?

I’d be avoiding kit/apprentice tags unless they’re truly relevant (ex: Dandelionkit with kit, and Swiftpaw with apprentice) just so it’s not a complete disaster for those going through each tag 

[nickgerlich]

Doing More With Less

The American mindset has long been one of manifest destiny. Whether pillaging and plundering the land and people as we expanded westward, or with firms today in the corporate capitalist era, it is a “take no prisoners” philosophy. Bigger is better, and More is always better than Less.

And for better or worse, it has helped propel us into wealthiest nation status. Investors dig it.

But not all companies buy into it, and oddly enough, have even prospered by going against the flow. Call it salmoning or whatever, these companies—albeit few—are swimming upstream when everyone else is heading to the ocean.

There is probably no better example of this than Trader Joe’s, the cult-popular grocery chain headquartered in Monrovia California that has 569 stores in the US. Its smallish stores—by today’s standards—stock only about 4000 SKUs, a far cry from the 45,000 available at larger modern supermarkets.

Trader Joe’s, which is owned by Germany’s Aldi Nord, bullishly proclaims its “Less Is More” tag line whenever it can. It’s also a take-it-or-leave-it statement as well, but thus far, it has paid off handsomely, with sales of US$16.5 billion. With about 50,000 employees, each worker generates US$330,000 in sales.

It was during COVID that TJ’s operating mantra was put to the test. Most of its competitors, including first-cousin Aldi (owned by Germany’s Aldi Sud), boosted their online presence, with many also offering curbside pickup and/or delivery. Trader Joe’s wanted nothing of that.

And that is because the company firmly believes its brand is the experience, and you cannot replicate that experience anywhere outside of its stores. You either shop there, or forget it. Given that its stores are small by design and often in or near shopping centers, the addition of order pickers and delivery vehicles would unnecessarily clutter the whole space. That, of course, would help ruin the experience on which TJ’s hangs its hat.

Their product assortment is also ever-shifting, reflecting a heavy emphasis on seasonal products (pumpkin is king right now, but you better hurry, because once those products are gone, you’re out of luck until next year). The company is also dedicated to innovation, something that keeps people coming back (side note: their plant-based spinach ravioli is to die for). Other items rotate through availability, meaning that every time you go to TJ’s, its equal parts shopping and discovery.

You never know what you’ll find, again, because it is part of the experience.

With 80% of their products being private label—meaning TJ’s contracts with companies to manufacture them and put a TJ’s marque on them—it leads to higher profit margins. Typical nationally-branded grocery items often have a 20-22% margin, which, after overhead is deducted, leaves a slim 1-2% profit margin for most other grocers.

Their laid-back nautical-themed atmospherics, complete with friendly employees who are paid to answer customer questions, give advice, and walk them to the right product, reinforce the experience. And employees will even open an item to let you try before you buy, whenever that is possible.

Their “less is more” strategy also applies to its marketing, which is centered primarily on a podcast, Instagram, and a monthly in-store newsletter called the Fearless Flyer. The store has such loyal customers that fan-based Instagram accounts have popped up that showcase products and recipes. Otherwise, their marketing efforts focus on reinforcing the message, which is to come to the store.

Making matters somewhat complicated is TJ’s resistance to reckless expansion. It routinely receives hundreds of requests each year from people imploring them to build a store near them, but it is just not going to happen. They would rather people like me travel prepared with an ice chest and freezer bag so that when we are near a TJ’s store (which for me would be OKC, Dallas, Albuquerque, or Santa Fe, all four or more hours away), we load up. And I do. Heck, three weeks ago I spent $200 at one of the Dallas stores.

Adding glitter to the scene, TJ’s devotees even collect their city and state reusable shopping bags that are sold in-store for $1. Look on eBay and you’ll see what I mean. Once we figured this out, we started selling off our collection. My wife sold two Oklahoma bags for a total of $98. Not a bad ROI. As a result, we routinely buy several in each TJ’s state we visit. Even if they don’t sell, we use them for shopping, or as gift bags.

All of which illustrates that, for every glowing generalization I or anyone else makes, there are exceptions, and Trader Joe’s has hit pay dirt by doing less. There is always the possibility of finding a pot of gold far out on the tails of the customer distribution.

And that is a destiny that Trader Joe’s has made manifest.

Dr “More Or Less“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[actualfkingvoid]

precisely

this action is making it unnecessarily harder for anyone using the ao3 website. when i tag, i generally ask these three questions:

what aspect of the content might potentially trigger someone? (FOR FILTERING)

what trope would an audience potentially look up? (FOR ACTIVE SEARCHING)

what other referential data do i have? (FOR ARCHIVING)

number 1 is the most important and you can skip the rest but make sure to tag your content appropriately if you will be using themes like “suicide” “murder” “rape”. yes, it may feel very uncomfortable reading these words straight. but between reading the word “rape” in the tags and getting shocked over graphic depictions of it in the middle of the fic i’m reading because filters didn’t work, i think i would prefer getting queasy for 3 seconds and moving on with my life.

number 2 is for your audiences. be broad as possible when tagging. think of words you would personally use to look up fics you like. for example, would it cross your mind to look up fics using the keyword “dining room”? most likely not even if that’s where your fic’s setting takes place in the most (although, i’m not saying that fans of the “dining room” tag do not exist).

also consider it from the perspective of the reader looking through the tags. is the fic something that the readers of the “dining room” tag are looking for? to further elaborate, we can use the “high school” tag. fans of the high school tag are likely there to read about mushy student romance in a school setting. if the characters are merely high schoolers but the focus of the story is a fantasy setting in another world without academia, then they are less likely to check the fic out.

there is no hard and fast rule for this, but a good starting point would be to ask a beta reader or a friend to summarize your story in three words: genre (e.g. comedy, romance, mystery), dynamic of the characters (e.g. found family, rivals to lovers, established relationship), and the conflict/macguffin/checkhov’s gun/just the THING your story is about (e.g. hanahaki, body switch, fake dating, revenge, overprotective behavior, manipulation, jealousy). if you are unsure of what your story is about, don’t worry as your friend/reader would likely be able to spot what you’re going for anyway.

number 3 helps keep the archive organized. this means putting:

appropriate fandom names (you can look it up beforehand or edit after posting. mcyt stans i’m looking at you, please stop putting “no” as a fandom name as i’ve used every single filter i can possibly think of and i’m still finding philza fics that it is driving me to the brink of losing it) and

appropriate character names (”if i was a major X bias, would i want to read this work?” before you tag X) and

appropriate ship names (have mercy on rare pair shippers. if the focus isn’t on the X/Y ship, you can use the tag “background X/Y” so that it’s filterable but it won’t lead to false hope and tag clutter) and

any other data such as events the fic is made for (e.g. Kinkmemes, Big Bangs, etc; ask the event host!)

this is important so that future users of the archive know where to go if they are interested in a particular event for example. this helps greatly for posterity and is the reason why ao3 is highly regarded as it is: it is a very good archive. let’s all collectively do our work to keep it this way

similarly, please remember that it’s not a grievous sin to have previously committed bad tagging etiquette, and i don’t think it ever will be. but we can definitely enjoy the website more if we all do our part in making the job easier for the volunteer team, as this is a nonprofit endeavor

I just saw a story on AO3 tagged "pet p!ay"

TIK TOK MUST BE STOPPED BEFORE IT DESTROYS LANGUAGE

[tricksheart]

Unnecessarily Detailed Dislikes

Please repost, don’t reblog.

Answer the questions for your muse and tag some people.

Muse name: Akira ‘Kurusu’ Amano-Suou

Least favorite nickname: Guinea Pig ( that comes from Tae )

Least favorite color: Brown

Least favorite season: Spring ( when he got arrested and other bad memories ).

Least favorite weather: Icestorms ( falls easily ).

Least favorite—hot or cold: Cold ( hurts his teeth, sensitive to cold ).

Least favorite holiday: Cat day ( February 22nd ).

Least favorite food: Too many to count but Chocolate is in the top 10.

Least favorite flavor: Banana anything.

Least favorite drink: Water ( feels like he is drowning )

Least favorite scent: Maruki’s school nurse office / antiseptic.

Least favorite sound: Nails on a chalkboard.

Least favorite book: The Hunger Games.

Least favorite movie: Gone With The Wind.

Least favorite tv show: Resident Evil ( Netflix )

Least favorite school subject or area of study: Gym / Math

Least favorite aspect of their job: Too many customers, not enough employees.

Least favorite fictional character: Iron Man ( Tony Stark ) / Zephyrman ( Akira Konoe )

Least favorite person: His father Katsuya.

Least favorite trait in others: Hiding the urge to kill.

Least favorite place: The ( his ) Velvet Room.

Least favorite thing to talk about: About himself / family.

Least favorite thing about themselves: His resting bitch face without his fake glasses.

Least favorite sexual position: N/A

Least favorite daily chore: Making coffee.

Least favorite style of clothing: Too much clutter.

Least favorite activity: Working. He wants to play. :(

Least favorite superpower: Strength

Least favorite thing about humanity in general: They’re cowards who won’t help.

Least favorite thing about being in love: Knowing they might leave him for someone else / better opportunity. 

Least favorite thing about death: Leaving his mother behind.

tagged by: @kingspuppet​​ (Thank you!!)​

tagging: @more-than-a-princess​ @cantillat​  @ervaurem​ @praeteritus-memories​  @zhonde​ @magician-under-the-moonlight​ @lucktalented​​ &&&  If you’re reading this consider yourself tagged!

[obsessivedilettante]

Dramaland Forecast: June 2017

Previously: 2016 - Jan - Feb - Mar - Apr - May

Completed:

Radiant Office -- the little underdog that could! This show has nothing new to offer, but it was packaged with such warmth and heart and agonizing relatability that I fell for the Suicide Squad as they tried to prove they were worth being given a chance. This is currently my favorite show of the year -- at least for now.

Whisper -- what a wild and crazy ride. This is a show that, if left to my own devices, I probably would have dropped. Lee Bo Young and Kwon Yul kept my attention (poor Lee Sang Yoon and his eyebrows did their best, but I’m not sure if he’s really cut out for this kind of intensely dramatic role), and the show was utterly stolen by Kim Hyung Mook as Secretary Song. While I enjoyed the constant allusions to real-life corruption, this wasn’t what I’d consider to be one of Park Kyung Soo’s better dramas.

Tunnel -- I can appreciate it intellectually for what it was trying to do and what it accomplished, the concept was interesting, the cast was pretty great (Yoon Hyun Min was perfect as ever, but as much as I love Sexy Demon Daddy, he really needed to dial down the shouting). But for whatever reason, it didn’t grab me as it should have. On paper it has everything I’d want in a mystery/thriller, but in reality it was difficult giving it my full attention and my heart just couldn’t connect with any of the characters. I enjoyed it for the most part, but it’s going to be one of those dramas that I’ll immediately forget I ever watched.

Individualist Ms. Ji Young -- this drama special hit some very painful nerves but in the best way. There are shadows of Flower Boy Next Door with the bubbly neighbor that barges his way into the life of the loner-next-door. But there’s also a darker sadness and realness here that one doesn’t always find in dramas. Perhaps that’s why, even beyond the fact it’s only two 1-hour episodes, this felt more like a movie than a drama. This is by far my favorite romance I’ve watched this year, which probably tells you too much about my tastes (or at least my inner world).

Currently watching:

Super Family 2017

Chicago Typewriter

Recent premieres I plan to check out when I have a chance:

Fight My Way

Lookout

Circle

Dropping/skipping:

My Sassy Girl -- despite loving Joo Won in Gaksital, I just haven’t been able to get into his other dramas. I also have a terrible track record for sageuks, be they fusion or not. This means it’s on the “skip” list even if I have hopes for the fantastic Oh Yeon Seo in the titular role.

Suspicious Partner -- I loved this writer’s previous work (All About My Romance; Protect the Boss) so this may go into the watch list eventually, but nothing I’ve heard so far has made me want to immediately pick it up.

Upcoming dramas of interest:

The Best Hit -- I am really excited about this one, because I loved the docu-style from Producer until it turned into a standard drama. I also love Yu PD, and Cha Tae Hyun has been my favorite of the 1N2D members ever since the original crew moved on to other things, so I’m curious to see how they’ll handle directing their first-ever drama together. Also, as a fan of the slice-of-life genre, I'm hoping it will be along those lines just based on the premise. Last but not least, this cast is incredible, and I’m already anticipating a slew of cameos.

Duel -- I was only vaguely interested in this because it’s from the writer of Nine: Nine Times Time Travel and Queen In Hyun’s Man (and I’m assuming this is the writer who focused on the more sci-fi mind-bendy aspects of those dramas ‘cause this one has clones) but given a choice to recap this one, I took it, because I have a feeling this will be fun to write about.

Forest of Secrets -- I’m hoping giving this one up for Duel won’t haunt me because omg this caaaaaaaaaaast.

Woman of Dignity -- I’m so nervous and conflicted. I adore Kim Sun Ah and Kim Hee Sun, and having them work together in a show is like a dream come true. But I really hated the writing of SWDBS and don’t trust this writer to do these incredible women justice. *fingers crossed for a miracle*

Bad Guys: Age of Evil -- everyone’s gnashing their teeth that the original crew aren’t coming back but I’m over here already anticipating Park Sung Woong and (possibly) Kang Ha Neul.

As always, any drama not listed means I have nothing new to add since the last mention and/or it’s not something I care about enough to add to the list.

[gosickoonmymode]

⛔ 18+ Bloodhound x Reader!!!! ⛔

Summary: you're not being very nice and they aren't patient today (they notice your shift in behavior and play along convincingly, everyone is in their comfort zone)

Details: Dom BH, knife, brat(?), gender neutral reader. Also I think BH would speak Icelandic when they're mad so...I'm sorry if I botched it. Translations in the tags!!!

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Bloodhound opens the front door and walks inside, exhausted, to find you sitting at the table eating snacks. You’re wearing a pair of their pajamas, a spare they offered you in the past that’s just a little too small for them now. They drop their bag in the usual spot by the door, "didn't I tell you to clean up in here?" they groan.

You glance over at the living room, your stuff scattered everywhere, "Meh, I'll do it when I feel like it," you reply before taking another bite of your snack.

They sigh and sit facing the door to remove their boots. Their shoulders tense up when they hear you smacking your food. They turn around, "Y/N, please knock that off," they say with a stern tone. You ignore them and grab another snack, crinkling the bag unnecessarily. Bloodhound stares wide eyed as you take your sweet time getting your treat, making as much noise as possible. In the process of wrestling with the bag you knock wrappers onto the floor, further irritating the hunter.

You look down at the fallen wrappers, turn to Bloodhound and say, "pick that up for me."

They look at you with disbelief, "...no. You're sitting right there, do it yourself," they reply, clearly annoyed.

You roll your eyes and flop out of your chair, snatching the wrappers off the floor. You stomp on your way to the trashcan, each thud is like nails on a chalkboard to Bloodhound. "Whatever, don't have to give me attitude over it," you whine.

They try to ignore you and stand up to take off their jacket, realizing they forgot about their shoes, their patience is incredibly thin at this point. You come up behind them, "uh, could you not get dirt all over the floor? You want me to clean but you make all this mess?" you say with a shrill voice, "real hypocritical of you-"

They let out a frustrated growl, slamming their fist against the nearby wall. You quickly back away as they aggressively approach, nearly tripping over the clutter and your own feet. You find yourself in a corner, they pull out a knife and stab it into the wall next to your head. You stare into their wild, fiery eyes, you've really done it now. They lean in, almost shaking with irritation. "Ég er búinn með skítinn þinn," they say through gritted teeth, "from now on you only speak when spoken to, understand?"

They adjust their grip on the knife causing the light to reflect against the blade. It catches your eye before Bloodhound grabs your chin and jerks your attention back on them, "Svaraðu mér," they demand. You nod to the best of your ability but they grip tighter and slightly shake you, "Out loud."

You swallow hard, "I understand."

"You will do what I say, without hesitation."

"Ye-"

"Repeat it," They interrupt with a firm voice.

"I will do what you say, without hesitation."

They come in closer, "You're in for a long night," they say as they pull the knife from the wall and use it to tug on the bottom button of your shirt. They cut off the buttons one by one, from bottom to top. You shiver from the air touching your skin. They take a step back and observe your exposed chest as you breathe deeply, back pressed flat against the wall. Hound points to the floor, "Farðu á hnén."

You immediately drop to your knees and avoid making eye contact with them as they close in. They stop just before you and lift your chin with one finger, their black leather gloves glisten in the dim light. You feel incredibly hot and it's showing on your face. Bloodhound stares down at you, their expression is now stoic, "Expect no mercy from me.."

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And then they made you clean your mess

[smalltowndetective]

🌷, 🎁, and 💗 for any detective you’d like!

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask! You are the best!

I randomized which detective I was going to answer for, and added an extra one just so all four could be represented haha!

🌷 Is your muse likely to be the one to make the first move, or would they wait for the other to make a move first?

Mariana “Mari” Gonzales- Mari is very likely to make the first move! Once she knows that she likes someone, she has not problem being the first one to actually admit, and be the one who makes that first step. In her eyes, if she knows, there is no point in hiding it, and getting it out in the open allows then to actually decide to continue with it or leave it as friends. Mari does not pine, at all haha! (And she normally burns and fades quickly with her attractions, but that does not seem to be happening this time!)

🎁 Does your muse become flattered to receive gifts?

Natasha Trexler- To be honest, Natasha is not normally the best at showing appreciation in general, and this most certainly results to gifts. She hates clutter, and is normally someone who appreciates having everything in order and nothing that she needs unnecessarily. But if you give her a gift, she does do her best to try and return the favor herself, never wanting to feel indebted to anyone! 

💗 Would your muse prefer a large, public proposal, or do they prefer a small, private one?

Pearl Reid- When the time comes, I don’t think Pearl would have a preference either way, but I don’t think she would be opposed to either of them! Her more extroverted nature would probably take a public proposal right in stride, so I don’t think she would ever an actual issue with that haha! It just would be special that it was happening in all, no matter the way that it did! :)

💔 Has your muse ever been heartbroken? If so, explain what happened.

Thea Holland- (Of course, this is the one that I randomize haha!) I have been trying to give this the reader’s digest version of what happened, but we’ll leave it like this. Thea has her heart broken several times, and that is partly because she does love so fiercely and so strongly that she is not afraid of being vulnerable, and this has landed her in some situations where she has way deeper feelings then the other person, but she never lets these stop her from loving just as hard the next time, because in her eyes, that is not fair to them. Why should she change that? They are not the one who hurt her. I have written about a few of these, but because they take place before Book 1, I don’t even know if I could even tag it with the Wayhaven tag. (These started as just me “world-building” for Thea, but maybe one day once I edit through them?) But I do have a playlist for these, and I’ll give you the song that these fit in the most- Broken by Isak Danielson

[vmheadquarters]

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Thirty of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @heavenli24​. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.31 from @nicemom93​  - tag, you’re it!

_____________________________________________________________

CHAPTER THIRTY by @heavenli24​

“Well, that was fun,” said Logan unnecessarily, as they left the Deep Ridge security offices. 

“What do you think Wiedman meant about Ruby’s manuscript?” Veronica wondered as she opened the car door and got in. “Because I was really hoping not to have to finish it.” 

“No idea.” Logan slid into the driver’s seat. “But I have to admit, it has my curiosity piqued.” 

“Mine too.” Veronica gave a reluctant sigh, before grimacing. “Damn my curiosity!” 

“You don’t have to read it right now,” he reminded her. “It’s getting late. Why don’t we pick up that dinner and head over to Keith’s?” 

Veronica shook her head. “As tempting as that sounds, I want to check out Ruby’s apartment first. That was the plan before we got side-tracked by Wiedman, remember?” 

“Okay.” Logan nodded and started the car, pulling it out into the road. 

As they headed across town towards Ruby’s apartment—the same one Veronica searched last year when she was investigating Carrie’s murder—Veronica tried to process everything they’d learned in the last couple of hours. How had a simple game of ‘guess who the murderer in my novel is?’ turned into this convoluted, real-life, tell-all exposé about the Kane family, involving a number of sources—including her own mother—and an actual murder? It was making her head hurt. 

“Shit!” Logan muttered harshly a few minutes later, slowing the car to a stop not far from Ruby’s apartment. 

“What?” Veronica’s head snapped up, the sudden stop pulling her from her thoughts. 

“That.” He gestured ahead of them. 

Veronica looked in the direction he was indicating, her heart sinking at the sight before them. The apartment was surrounded by cop cars and a not-insignificant-group of journalists and paparazzi. 

“Shit,” she said in agreement. “Guess searching Ruby’s apartment tonight is out.” 

“We gotta get going,” said Logan. “If anyone sees us here, the press will have a field day. Not to mention Lamb. And I’m not fighting another false murder charge.” 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Veronica shuddered at the thought. She had no desire to go through that rigmarole again. “We’ll come back later.” 

As discreetly as he could, Logan turned the car around. He took a left turn through Ruby’s neighbourhood and headed back across town quickly, trying not to draw attention to themselves. 

“So, dinner at your dad’s?” he asked eventually. 

“Sounds good.” 

*** 

On the way to Keith’s, they stopped for take-out at the new Italian restaurant downtown that Veronica’s dad was eager to try, and then drove over to his bungalow. 

“Veronica, Logan,” Keith greeted with a smile when they arrived. “Come on in.” 

As Pony bounded excitedly over to Veronica and she crouched down to greet her adorable pup, Logan carried the take-out bags over to the dining table, telling Keith, “We brought sustenance.” 

“Ooh,” Veronica’s father’s eyes lit up as he followed him through the house. “Is that from Carluccio’s?” 

“Yep.” Logan shot him a grin. “You said you wanted to try it.” 

“I did. Thanks.” Keith nodded, before shooting Logan a suspicious frown. “Or is this just a ploy to get in my good books again after last week?” 

Logan pushed down the embarrassment he suddenly felt at the memory of Keith walking in on him and Veronica in a more than slightly inappropriate position on her desk at the office last Wednesday afternoon, and gave a casual smirk instead. “Why, is it working?” 

Keith pursed his lips thoughtfully, though there was an amused twinkle in his eye. “Depends how good this food is.” 

“Come on, Dad,” Veronica swept past them and into the kitchen to grab some plates and cutlery. “Stop giving him a hard time.” 

When she’d set the table, they took their seats, Pony curling up at Logan’s feet, and dug into the delicious-smelling food. The atmosphere was relaxed—well, as relaxed as it could be when Ruby Jetson’s murder, and Van Clemmons being revealed as the publisher of Ruby’s book, was the big news of the day. Logan stayed out of the conversation as much as he could, leaving it to Veronica to decide how much to tell her father about Ruby, her manuscript, and Lianne’s return to Neptune. As expected, she told Keith as little as possible, and by the end of the dinner, Logan was sure Veronica hadn’t even mentioned to Keith yet that she’d had a copy of the manuscript for a week. 

*** 

Later that night, Veronica lay awake in the large, comfortable bed in Dick’s spare room. She should be exhausted after all that amazing Italian food at her father’s place, followed by incredibly satisfying round of sex with Logan when they got back to Dick’s empty beach house—sex she was sure he’d initiated specifically to distract her from the case…though after that last orgasm, she couldn’t find it in her to be annoyed with him. Except, now that Logan was fast asleep, snoring softly beside her in the bed, she was wide awake, her mind whirring. 

In fact, she was itching to get back to work, to figure out what the hell was going on, both in Ruby’s manuscript, and out here in the real world. She checked her phone—just after two a.m.—then glanced over at Logan to check he was still asleep, before carefully sliding out of the bed. 

“Where you goin’?” came his groggy voice, and Veronica froze as Logan turned over, his hand reaching for her arm, stopping her. 

“Just getting some water,” she told him quickly. “Go back to sleep.” 

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice more clear now as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and turned on the light on his nightstand. 

“I am,” she insisted, trying to look innocent while also not looking directly at him. 

“Bull,” Logan countered. 

She turned to see him shooting her a smirk and a raised eyebrow. 

“You’re too distracted to sleep, because you’re dying to work on the case,” he told her knowingly. She gave him a questioning look, and he added, “I could feel you tossing and turning.” 

Veronica sighed. “You caught me. I’m heading over to Ruby’s. There won’t be anyone there this time of night.” 

“I’m coming with you,” he said decisively, pulling back the covers and moving to get out of the bed. 

“No, you’re not,” Veronica shot him a firm look. “Stay here. I can handle this alone.” 

“No,” Logan insisted. “We’re a team now, remember? If you’re going, I’m going.” 

She frowned at him for a minute, but he was wearing his determined, ‘no one’s gonna talk me out of this’ expression, and she relented. “All right. Fine. We’ll go together.” 

They dressed, grabbed a few supplies and headed out to the car. Within thirty minutes, they’d parked a block from Ruby’s, had managed to get into her apartment—thanks to Veronica’s experienced lock-picking skills—and were now stealthily making their way through Ruby’s bedroom. 

“Fuck, what is that?” Logan exclaimed in a harsh whisper, aiming his phone flashlight towards Ruby’s bedroom wall, which was still covered in a large image of Carrie. 

“Oh, that?” Veronica shrugged. “It’s her crazy murder wall. I told you about it last year.” 

“Yeah, you did.” He nodded slowly. “I kinda thought she’d have gotten rid of it by now.” 

“Yeah, well, who knows what went through her mind half the time.” 

Beside her, Logan shuddered. “I dread to think.” 

“Come on, let’s check the closet.” 

Opening the door to Ruby’s walk-in closet, Veronica pushed aside the large collection of Bonnie Deville-inspired outfits and shimmied her way inside. Logan followed, and they began going through the large amount of junk cluttering up the small space. After several long minutes of digging and not getting anywhere, Veronica was just about on the verge of giving up when Logan gave a sharp inhale. 

“What the hell is that?” he wondered incredulously. 

“What?” 

“That.”  He pointed his phone in the direction of his wide-eyed gaze and Veronica followed it, freezing when she saw what he was referring to. 

“Ho-ly fuck.”

[panonbinary]

Im going to start this off by saying I don’t ship R*mrom. However, I’m not going to clutter their tag because very few of them actually support incest, and I have spoken to some to get that information.

The Sanders Sides fandom is full of people who have had traumatic pasts and they use Sanders Sides to cope. Some people who ship R*mrom do so to cope with past trauma. Sure, there will be the ones who do ship it because they are brothers, but quite a few do not.

And that’s the thing, all the R*mrom shippers I have spoken to make sure to specify that they are not siblings when they write or read about it.

As I said, I do not ship it, and I certainly am not defending any type of incest, but please don’t judge people solely based off of one piece of information.

Please don’t be unnecessarily cruel to people, and if you see something you do not like, from both sides of the argument, please don’t fight and just go on your way. The world is full of anger already, petty and mean comments do not need to be spread to make people more miserable.

Stay safe 💓

[orcx-nus]

@flowerytruth​ said: “ 1,9,13 “

the be honest meme.

                  1. What would prevent you from following someone?

(( i’ll be honest, i have quite a few things that would prevent me from following someone. when deciding whether or not to follow someone i mainly look at rules, character descriptions, writing style, some aesthetic & organization, and the type of activity.

rules: i have seen a few blogs with rules like “if you write [insert some sort of common trigger here] whatsoever, even if tagged, don’t follow!” or “even if i don’t follow you i will block you if i so much as hear that you write [insert  some sort of common trigger here]” or smth like that. in which case, i avoid them entirely. first of all, i hate rules that police other’s behaviors outside of their personal interactions. as long as someone tags things properly and it’s evident that mun=/=muse, why be so hostile from the get-go? second, if they’re not gonna like what i write for character exploration purposes, then there’s no point in following to begin with. better to avoid issues before they start. also, if i see someone just doesn’t have rules altogether, or has very minimal/vague rules i tend to avoid them. nothing personal, it’s just easier to avoid problems if someone has proper rules.

character descriptions: especially if they’re an OC, if they lack any character descriptions of backgrounds, or have very minimal ones, i tend to avoid. i hate having to constantly ask questions about characters and prefer to have someplace i can come back to in order to double-check details and make sure i don’t cross certain lines. 

writing style: i tend to avoid people who write a lot of short replies (a paragraph or less) bc it gives me nothing to work with in the long-run. i used to write with a lot of people like that, and i eventually ended up just having to remake bc i lost my inspiration to write altogether. it’s not fun if i have nothing to work with. also, although it’s not necessary, i tend to enjoy those who regularly use icons and format replies at least a lil bit. just a personal preference.

aesthetic & organization: as i mentioned, it’s not super necessary but i definitely enjoy at least a little bit of aesthetic. however, i mainly apply this to replies only. in other words, if someone writes a lot, but doesn’t often use formatting (ie: small text, bolded/italicized words or ‘speech’, etc.) i tend to lean more towards not following. of course, this doesn’t always apply but i do like seeing pretty writing lol however, if someone uses too much aesthetic writing (ie: drastically formatting every other word) it makes it more difficult for me to read and i can also avoid them. basically, just format within moderation. also, if someone doesn’t have any sort of organization, especially in regards to links, i avoid. 

activity: i now i’m also not the best example of this and i may come off as a bit hypocritical, but if someone posts wayyyy too much ooc instead of interactions i tend to steer clear. it’s just not fun or enjoyable to have my dash constantly cluttered by one person constantly posting ooc and/or never actually doing any sort of rping. unless we’ve known each other for a while or i like you enough, i will generally avoid people who do this. i’ve already unfollowed some people for this. ))

                  9. What is your opinion on exclusivity? Do you practice it? Why / why not?

(( hmmm don’t care for it. i respect if others are exclusive with other partners, be it in terms of only interacting with one of each muse at a time (ie only one Makoto or Haru at a time), exclusive shipping, etc. however, i refuse to be exclusive for the time being. i think it just limits interactions unnecessarily, as well as makes exploration of relationships more difficult/boring. my muse may react differently with two different harus or two different rins, be it friendship-wise or romantically, and i really like to explore how each relationship is formed! ))

                  13. Have you ever thought about leaving rp? What caused it? What changed your mind?

(( i have actually thought of it and done it at least twice before! it wasn’t bc i hated it or anything tho. it was mainly bc my life got too busy for me to keep it up after some time, or i just lost my muse for a much longer period of time than i initially anticipated. i recently came back again, actually, for the same reason that i came back the other times: i missed rp, finally got some more free time, and i got my muses back! however, my life is getting busy once more so i may eventually have to take another semi-hiatus until i get some more things sorted out ;w; i don’t expect that happening too soon tho ))

[kingofthewilderwest]

Why are people and critics bashing on The Hidden World again? Am I missing anything?

Heya there, friend! Hope you’re doing well! I’ll be honest, I don’t like discussions about “what is the fandom doing negative” because it can lead into some fans misconceiving their own situation. Talking about fandom from this angle can make people think the fandom is in a widespread negative, unhealthy state, when that’s FAR from the situation. Some people are good about being relaxed about it, but others get worried and fall into doomsday traps in these convos. I want to clarify, before someone freaks out and misinterprets fandom community for what it’s not: 

So many people in fandom are ablaze with hype and feels for THW! Audiences are coming out of theatres crying and in love. It’s not getting bad reception at all and saying otherwise would be misleading!

I suppose I’d say fans and critics have never been bashing THW. There’s a 91% rating rn on Rotten Tomato; that impressively high score is the lowest THW has been. Hoards of dragons fans in my life - both irl and url - are screaming with heartfelt emotion. Most critics are giving complimentary discussions on THW, with quotes like, “a tender, spirited, coming-of-age CG-animated feature that proves every bit as emotionally resonant and artistically rendered as its 2010 and 2014 predecessors, if not even more so.” I can only think of one person I know, in all of tumblr and discord and face-to-face friendships, who hated the film and rages on it. I’ll admit I’m not sure why you’re saying “bashing again” because, while of course I can’t see everything going on, there’s not bashing from any of the wide circles I’ve engaged with.

What I’d say is happening is that fans and critics are engaging in balanced constructive criticism. It’s important to remember that people can adore something and still acknowledge that it is - like all media - imperfect. It doesn’t even mean that a movie is “okay” instead of “good,” because people will discuss the imperfections of masterpieces - not with irreverence, but with love, appreciation, acknowledgment, and consideration. Constructive criticism is healthy discussion, analyzing a movie from all its angles, not insulting or belittling it. Most fans who engage in constructive criticism still enjoy THW or find value in it. I suppose the reactions I see in the HTTYD fandom for THW are: 1. Loved it, hyped, probably cried hard in theatres, and 2. Mixed opinions, not sold with the ending, but found the movie worthwhile to see on screen. 

Which isn’t too different from how HTTYD 2 was received four years ago, honestly!

You may already be familiar with the dialogue, but in case you or anyone else is interested, I’d say these are the points most often constructively analyzed:

Hiccup and Toothless’ relationship feels one-sided. 

Hiccup’s selfless love for Toothless is treated as clingy. 

Romance feels like it’s given the priority over friendship.

Hiccup and Toothless separating doesn’t feel like the inevitable solution to the problems being presented in the film.

The first two movies are all about how friendship triumphs, and how Hiccup will do what he can to create peace between humans and dragons to change the world. Viewers feel like the movie 180′s this message without needed grounding. It can come across like Hiccup is failing or giving up.

There is too much humor cluttering other parts of the film.

Toothless is too anthropomorphized or treated like a cutesie good boy.

The movie focuses too much on the Light Fury and Toothless bond over the other dangers and points of conflict.

The Light Fury’s design is unnecessarily feminized.

Grimmel is a fairly standard HTTYD villain in his motivations, plot arc, threat, etc.

The movie’s pacing might feel too rushed. Some say it could have used 30 more minutes, or even another movie or two. (I propose simply tweaking scene presentation and making the climax a few minutes longer).

You can see my balanced constructive criticism discussions (or blacklist them, if you only want the happy hype) under the #httyd 3 criticism tag for more depth! Other people who have respectful, balanced perspectives include @avannak @inhonoredglory and @inkerii.

None of us hate the movie! There is lots we’re hyped about and love! But we’re also engaging in a dialogue about what the movie could have done better!

I don’t know if this gets at what you were confused about, but I hope it helps. Take care and stay awesome, dragon nerd! :)