#i have no patience nor time to give a shit about what other people online are doing

[dragonqueer]

honestly i am so goddamn tired of fandom/shipping discourse. the mentality of "you know i find this thing kind of gross/weird but it's not my business what random people online do" is so goddamn rare to find these days lol. instead you'll always have people whinging loudly about it instead of knowing how to just mind their own gotdamn business.

and THEN even when you do have people who find xyz gross but claim they don't care because they have better things to do, they'll proceed to insult people over it. like ok then. so do you not care, or do you actually care? because it is one thing to find a certain trope or whatever gross, but it is another thing to automatically assume that anyone and everyone who DOES like it means they are gross and disgusting. do you understand.

[amarantine-amirite]

The Frustration Trap

It started when we had to buy a new oven. We did our research before we purchased the range we wanted. At least, we thought we bought the range that we wanted.

I was 17 and my parents were away on business when they delivered the unit. We did not receive an oven. The local hardware store instead delivered what I maintain is the most useless cooktop in existence instead of the range we wanted.

Most importantly, there was no oven. We can't make do with just the stovetop. Some argue otherwise, but there are some foods you need to put in the oven. For example, sous-vide chicken wings just don't taste right.

I swung by the furniture store where we bought the range. I waited forever to talk to someone because the place was crawling with personal shoppers who soaked up the cashier's time and attention. I've never seen personal shoppers in a housewares store other than for people in wheelchairs, not even in a fancy housewares store.

Finally, someone came over to help. "Hi, can I help you?" said a sales associate with a bushy hairdo, mustache, and a name tag that read "Doug."

"Yes," I said, "we bought a range here and you delivered a totally useless cooktop"

Doug tilted his head to one side. "What was wrong with it?"

I pulled out the picture I took of the cooktop on my phone. "The piece of shit that called itself a cooktop had no dials and was made of window glass painted to look like quartz glass."

Doug had difficulty believing what I just said. He tipped his head to one side. "How would you work a cooktop with no dials?" he asked.

"By using the app that goes with it, which is also total shit," I huffed. It pisses me off that the manufacturer forces you to download a crappy app to restore functionality you expect to come standard.

"Oh, this?" Doug said as he pointed to the app on my phone, "Yeah, their app is super easy to use."

"Ya think?"

Doug began his bullshit-laden spiel. "well, it's free and -"

"No, it's not." I interrupted, "The app wasn't free and the subscription fee cost almost twice as much as our rent!"

"Well," Doug stammered, "you can control the cooktop from anywhere - "

I blinked at him. "Doesn't matter. This stupid app made you give it your social security number to set up two-factor authentication and your bank account to verify payment information. I have no idea how stupid people would be to use it," i said, "Worse, none of the materials online mentioned you'd need this to install the app."

"Why is it stupid?" Doug asked.

"I'm positive that this app harvests your data and sells it on the black market."

Doug still didn't get it. "What's your point?"

"My point is you didn't deliver the product you wanted and what you did deliver is useless." I said tensely.

Doug shrugged. "How is this my problem? I'm not responsible for what we sell."

"Yes, you are" I nodded, "You are a salesman. You are responsible for assisting the customer when the product fails to meet expectations." I can't believe I had to tell him his job.

Doug raised his hands. "Hey, it's not my fault your frustration tolerance is so bad," he said defensively. He did the human equivalent of a lazy pony that trots really fast when you ask him to canter and hopes you don't notice.

I started to lose my patience. I felt myself tense up and go up on my tiptoes. "I do not have bad frustration tolerance," I said. I struggled not to yell at him. "The same things that frustrate you also frustrate me. I'm just more vocal about what's bugging me than other people."

"Yes, but let me repeat myself here," Doug said to me, "I am not responsible for the manufacturer telling the truth, nor am I responsible for managing the customer expectations. My mandate is that I only get the thing out of the store."

"No," I corrected, "that's only half your mandate."

Doug nervously turned around. "I'm going to get my manager."

"Yes," I nodded, "please do, because you're clearly too stupid to handle this on your own."

The manager arrived but did nothing to help. "Is there a problem here?" she asked with a facial expression that suggested I pulled her away from playing League of Legends on company time.

I noticed her name tag read "Anna". "Yes, I bought a range and they delivered a cooktop that leaves loads to be desired and the salesman has done nothing to help me rectify why I've received a subpar product," I said.

Anna shrugged her shoulders. "Why should I deal with your frustration?"

"Because it's a question of customer service," I huffed. I tried not to yell at her because people who work in stores have shit jobs and it isn't fair to yell at people who are trying to help even though their pay and work environment is crap.

Anna shook her head and said, "No, you just can't cope with frustrations."

I could feel myself losing control. My mouth dried up and I started shaking and pointing indiscriminately. "I do not have any more of a problem coping with frustrations than the next person," I said unbelievably quickly, "What I have trouble coping with is Doug's inability to do his job!"

Anna leaned forward and talked down to me, "No, he does his job just fine, you're just a bitch with the frustration tolerance of a four-year-old."

There was no way I could get myself back down. I couldn't even leave the store. I just froze. While I stood there unable to calm myself down, she proceeded to record me on her phone

It slowly occurred to me that she egged me on in hopes she could get a good Karen video to post online and license the rights to the highest bidder. I tried to walk away before I could further humiliate myself, but my legs just wouldn't move. I know because I fell over just turning around.

In hindsight, I don't think it would have helped. "I'm putting that on YouTube!" Anna exclaimed triumphantly.

The video went viral. It spread like wildfire across social media platforms. It captured the attention of thousands, including my parents.

They came home from their business trip early so they could deal with me. Dad brought the suitcase in from the car. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for what would come.

"We need to talk," Dad began as he slammed his large suitcase on the stairs.

"Lay it on me," I sighed as I sat down on the couch.

Dad walked into the living room, sat in front of me, and pulled up the video on his phone. "I saw this video of you giving the manager of the Karl Farbman Store a hard time about the range we bought," he sighed heavily in frustrated disappointment.

I didn't hesitate to defend myself. "Because it wasn't right, and they weren't doing their job," I firmly retorted.

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose, a sign of mounting frustration. "Harriet, this is why you need to check before you accept the order," he reasoned, trying to get his point across.

"It's not my fault they brought it while you were away," I responded with a touch of exasperation, "They said they were bringing it the week before you left."

Dad looked at me incredulously. His frustration broke through. "Then whose fault is it? Charles DeGaulle's?!" he exclaimed sarcastically.

My eyes widened in disbelief. "You weren't there!" I shouted, "Those morons were the exact opposite of helpful!"

Dad waves his hands horizontally. "It doesn't matter, Harriet," he grimaced, "The problem isn't the customer service at Farbman, the problem is you wear your frustrations on your sleeve, and that attracts the wrong attention."

I crossed my arms. "Not all the time," I protested.

Dad shook his head. "Harriet, when you deal with people, they see you express what's bugging you, and unfortunately, they take advantage of you so they can get a Karen video that they hope will go viral," he explained, "They set a trap, and you walked right into it."

My eyes narrowed. "Well, then, avoid those people," I shot back.

Dad shook his head. "You're going to be avoiding everybody if you do that," he retorted. "Retail workers make next to nothing, so what would you do if you saw someone who was upset, and you knew that you'd make ten times your yearly salary from the video of their meltdown?"

"Start looking for a better job?" I asked. I wasn't wrong.

"No. You'd egg them on and hope you got something explosive enough that you could license it to a content aggregator," Dad shouted like this was something that I should know, "Anyone who works in retail will natter at customers until they explode, but for most people, it doesn't post a problem because they don't express frustration as visibly as you do."

I hesitated before I said anything. Nattering at people until they blow up so you can make money off the footage of their tantrums didn't seem normal, but maybe I had just gotten lucky. "So, you're saying it's my fault that someone tricked me into misbehaving?" I questioned. How can the actions of someone else be my fault?

"No, Harriet," Dad said sharply, "it's your fault for taking the bait."

I mentally checked out. Nothing Dad said made any sense, so I picked up the Rubik's cube and tried to solve it.

Grandpa gave me the Rubik's cube just before he died. He asked me to solve this ordinary-looking but very special cube. I received no instructions on how to solve it, only a note that read: There are two kinds of people in the world - people who can solve Rubik's cubes, and people who just move the stickers around to make it look like you solved it. The latter are cheaters.

It's been a month. I'm nowhere near solving it. The mechanism would jam if I turned in a certain way. Unfortunately, turning it that way seemed to be a requirement to solve the puzzle. I tried so many other ways to avoid turning at the way where it got jammed, but nothing worked. It'd feel like I got somewhere but then I'd make an even bigger mess and have to start over.

Dad caught me struggling to turn the Rubik's cube. "You see? You're doing it again, Harriet."

"No, I'm not!" I grunted as I turned it as hard as I could.

To everybody's shock, the Rubik's cube broke apart after I turned it. If you turned it past the point where it jammed, the cube itself would open up to reveal the mechanism inside. I looked at the mechanism and saw it contained an SD card. I picked it up and put it in the pocket of my jeans.

I haven't been able to sleep that night. At about 1 a.m. the next day, I got up and plugged the SD card into the computer. I noticed only one item: a wave file titled November-3-2002-Broadcast.

I clicked on the link, intrigued by the mysterious recording that awaited me. As the audio began to play, I realized it was a recording of an alien anthropologist calling into a podcast. The familiar voices of the podcast hosts greeted the extraterrestrial guest.

"Welcome to the show," the host chimed in. "What's up? You've reached our podcast."

The caller gave the people on the podcast the surprise of their lives. "Uh, yeah, my name is Jethré. I'm one of the many aliens studying your species, and I'm calling to lodge a complaint."

The host sat there with a confused look on his face, looking confused. "OK?" he responded casually. He thought it was a joke - people prank call podcasts all the time, especially in the fall.

Jethré quickly explained, "Your species needs to stop calling yourselves Homo sapiens. The term sapient means something specific: a sentient species. Many species of sentient aliens, ours included, do not consider humans sentient."

The host's disbelief turned into curiosity. "Why is that?" he asked. He seemed genuinely intrigued by the alien's perspective.

"Because you humans are unable to keeneetaa," Jethré responded.

While the host muttered "What the hell is keeneetaa?"; his co-host chimed in with a suggestion. "Is it the ability to evolve intelligence without destroying our environment?"

Jethré promptly dismissed the notion. "Nope, it's not that," xe replied.

The co-host's determination persisted. "How about the ability to power our big brains on a plant-only diet?"

I don't think any of those are right. It sounds like someone projecting their wishful thinking onto something they don't understand. It's more likely that keeneetaa is either a universal language understood by all members of a species, a connection to some psionic web of understanding, or some wacky dance with little kicks and thumbs.

Jethré finally told us what keeneetaa was supposed to be. "It's neither. Keeneetaa is the sound of something colliding with nothing." xe said.

It took me a while to figure out what something colliding with nothing was supposed to mean. "No Earth language has a word for the instantaneous realization that something magnificent doesn't exist."

The alien was right. No language on Earth has a word for that, not even German, and German has a word for everything. We do, however; have a story for it: the story of The Emperor's New Clothes.

I thought back to my debacle with the stove we bought from the Karl Farbman store. The salespeople went on and on about how fantastic the smart cooktop was, but I was the only one who saw it for what it was: nothing but garbage. I saw something everyone said was magnificent was really nothing.

Does this mean I am the only sentient human because I can keeneetaa? Only time will tell.

@sstrangeprompts

[didntwantanaccount]

Opinions change

Tumblr needs to date shit again. I'm sick of getting people big mad over some shit I said practically 5 YEARS ago.

Examples: I no longer have issues with nonbinary people, the term queer, or microlabels as long as they don't claim to be a whole ass sexuality on the same level as bisexuality, for example. I've NEVER been racist or homophobic, but admit to having been more ignorant than I am today, and having not understood much about genetics vs culture. I no longer believe in cringe culture(but I talked about that shortly before leaving), and my opinions on some other things have moved as well.

I now understand that my language barrier with others is partly caused by my own neurodivergency causing me to think and express differently, and that even among other neurodivergent ppl, I have low social skills. It's not an excuse for lashing out at people at all, but my point is that we need to give people a little benefit of the doubt online, that they might be confused, hurting, unknowing, and feel attacked when you scream at them instead of trying to interpret what they're saying with a more optimistic lens. I'm not out to ever hurt anyone intentionally, nor have I been for years now, and when I've hurt unintentionally, more often than not it was because something I said sounded perfectly understandable to me, but was interpreted through a lens of trauma or vitriol, an assumption of my entire character based upon a poor choice of words or a misunderstanding of a situation.

Anyway, I'm not out to have a pity party, I don't feel like I did nothing wrong ever, but I hope this can reach the people who need to be reminded to have a little more patience and empathy in knowing that our minds don't all function the same, but that doesn't make the different people bad. I understand that, which is the lesson I've had to learn again and again over time and hope sticks.

[jxgi]

an independent roleplay blog for hokuto no ken's jagi; with verses based in final fantasy, resident evil, modern / realistic aus and more. a study in jealousy and hate - a life lost and the exploration of the sadness beneath sociopathy.

ambition tearing out the heart of you, carving lines into you

[ carrd ] | [ main ] | [ ask ]

  001   This is an independent roleplay blog for the character of Jagi from the manga / anime / game, Fist of the North Star aka Hokuto No Ken. Obviously, this character doesn't belong to me. The character of Jagi is a mean, villainous character and his backstory has a good amount of triggering content. Please keep this in mind when interacting. This blog is 18+ (adults only) and low activity.

  002   Triggering content that you can expect to see frequently on this blog will be violence, murder, aggression, blood and general fighting / battle themes. Sexual content will be present, as will consensual-rough sex. Explicitly dark themes such as rape / sexual violence / dubcon etc, will be alluded to in terms of backstory but not necessarily written. Everything will be tagged. Example is - 'tw.triggerhere'. I, myself, have no triggers.

  003   Mun's name is Han, you may know me from such blogs as 'cwarscars' (a badly written attempt at a military general in a fantasy world) and 'mencnfire' (a multimuse attempt at some veteran type characters who all have issues). Are you noticing a theme? Lol. I'm 29, work full time and like to do all sorts of stuff so I wont be super active. I'm pretty friendly and very chilled out, discord is available on the carrd - just tell me who you are if you add me please.

  004   This blog is low activity; primarily because I work full-time hours and have other stuff going on outside of the online world. Generally, I like to restrict myself from being online too much. It's never anything personal if I'm not online, don't reply to a message or favour one thread over another. I just have limited time to work with and am terrible at messages. I do like communication, but I also appreciate realism, understanding and patience. I give exactly what I expect of partners. Be laid-back and just have fun!

  005   Generally, I prefer longer threads and planned threads. I will do the odd starter or random thread about random thing, but I love a good, juicy, well-thought-out thing. If we're going to plot, I love to have a beginning, middle and end. They are my favourite kinds of threads to write. I don't like too much exposition and prefer a slow burn when it comes to all manner of relationships etc. I can't be bothered to use icons and fancy formatting gives me migraines, so I'll just stick to standard small text.

  006   In terms of character / shipping. I base my Jagi's backstory off of his story in Jagi Gaiden. If you're not a fan of HNK / barely know it, don't worry - Jagi has a tonne of verses I have thrown him into and I am more than open to writing a new verse to base around our muses! Regarding shipping - I am open to it! But keep in mind that Jagi is a sociopath and a dangerous murderer. As you can imagine, I'm willing to write most kinds of ships, be they romantic, dark, family, dark-romance etc. However, Jagi will not sexually assault or rape your muse. I've got ten years+ of writing villains under my belt and people trying to force that on you is never enjoyable.

  007   Please don't block-evade, hound me for replies, do any creepy shit like stalk my blog / discord, talk shit etc. This is a weird, slightly vague rule but I'm just not down for the high-school side of the RPC nor am I down for the weird things such as block-evading and the like. Please don't pretend to be someone you're not to me (as in, literally pretend to be another person), it's very unsettling behaviour.

  008   I have approximately minus interest in getting involved in any slapfights between pro-ship & anti-ship content. I believe in freedom of expression and am anti-censorship, but I also believe that people are allowed to be unsettled / turned-off by certain content. Generally, I'm open-minded but also do my best to be respectful. As said previously, stuff is tagged, dark content will be written, but I also have limits and I respect others' limits, too.

 009   My main blog is CWARSCARS and generally, I'll be over there. I just needed to get the rascal that is Jagi off of my chest for a little while as I replenish my writing juices (gross lol).Have fun and I hope we have good rp times! :-)

[ha-hatdog]

all in a day's work / daisuke kambe

somebod requested a badass reader? sorry for this very late update. online classes is kicking my butt. you wanted either a scenario or a headcanon so i decided to make both. long scenario/headcanom mashup ahead.

requsted by anon: Hii!! I just want to say first of all, that I just discovered your blog and I just fell in love with it, keep going you’re amazing❤️❤️ soo can I ask for a Headcanon or scenario (it’s up to you) where Haru has a female friend who works in modern crimes prevention and is really badass (like she knows how to fight and all that stuff), so one day she helps Daisuke and Haru in a investigation in which a fight starts and Daisuke gets impressed by her abilities and develops a crush on her (????)

UNEDITED

__

It was another mundane morning for the the Modern Crimes department. The room was oddly colder, and the civil servants occupying the compact and simple space secluded themselves with their own businesses. Mahoro Saeki sat on the couch partaking in an unhealthy snack she had shipped from a foreign country, Kamei Shinnosuke was browsing through the internet and more than once using to his advantage the global connection that comes with his access to the computer in order to satisfy his habits and indecent hobbies, Yumoto Teppei tuning in to the occuring horse race in an international channel in his device, Nakamoto Chosuke merrily bading his time reading through documents of recent illegal activities assigned to his care, Kiyomizu Yukihiro fiddling with yet another craft he made out of wood and glue, Kato Haru awaiting the telephone to sound off and have another indiviual summon him for a petty crime, and Kambe Daisuke seated far from the othere, legs crossed and chin resting on his knuckles as he appraised the tranquil area.

Haru slammed his hands on his desk and threw his head, moaning in disdain. "Why isn't the phone ringing?" Whined he as his posture was regained after a moment or so. His eyes, lit with pure frustration and impatience, glared at the telephone, as though threatening without verbalizing his objective would somehow make it ring. "Come on, ring, you stupid phone. How come you always ring whenever I don't want you to and don't when I do?"

"It's a slow day." Remarked Kamei, not takint his eyes off his computer as he regarded his colleague. "Try to enjoy it. You can have all your action some other day."

Haru leaned against his chair, back sliding against the backrest and the back of his neck hitting the edge of his leverage. "Not everyone has weird hobby to keep themselves entertained." Countered Haru, and a pout formed on the blond male's lips at the comment. "This job is what keeps me from going insane."

The offended male turned his swivel chair to face Haru, face scrunched with the same attribute he exuded, "Oi, don't say it like that. It's bad if you describe it like that."

"It's weird without even having to add the adjective." Saeki chimed in between her chewing, humming as the flavor of the chip formerly cinched in the possession of her fingers travelled to her taste buds.

Kamei whipped around to her position, shoulders tensr with the taste of truth and reality, both of which ignored in favor of living in bliss. "It's nor weird. It's perfectly normal for men to be looking at those . . . sort of inappropriate . . . videos." His words trailed off as he came to realization that his own defense betrayed him.

"I agree, but not at work." Haru simply retorted. "Would you want to see me cooking a whole feast inside the precint?"

Kamei looked up in ponder, mouth curling as his thought process stuttered before he presented his inquiry, "Do we get to taste the food you made though?"

Haru stared at the blond man with an impervious mask decorating his appearance, unimpressed with how the man broached the metaphorical event served to him. "Never mind." Shaking his head with amicable dismay, Haru turned his seat to a half circle, arms taking space upon the the armrests. His line of sight crossed over the facile yet minimalistic design of their room, the dull colors of the walls an addition to his disinterest until it landed on a brooding and well vested man.

The referred individual had boredom etched all over his striking features, the lack of events occuring in the Modern Crimes he could invest his time in had him in a bad mood although showcasing it to his colleagues was not his cup of tea. He and Haru were different, and how they handle themselves in this patience consuming day was one of them.

"I'm surprised you're still here." Haru conveyed with a vestige of astonishment. Truly the older man had no such ability that could understand the complexity of his wealthy counteepart. Most days, whenever days were a little too slow for his liking, he would up and retreat back to his home (mansion seems more of an appropriate term to refer to his household) but lately, he had been spending more time in the precinct, and Haru did not know how he should react to this development, or devolvement. His comment floated in the density formulating inside the office, and everybody present swiveled their heads to await his response. "I thought you'd be back in your house now. No cases today, it seems. No games to entertain yourself with today."

"Tell me something I have yet to know, Inspector Kato." Retorted Daisuke, and a tick mark grew on Haru's forehead, but his displeasure to his rude counter was ignored as Daisuke brought his fingers to his ear. He spoke, enough for others to hear his statements. "HEUSC, locate the nearest and most recent crimes occuring within the area."

Haru rose from his seat, alarmed. "Oi, what do you think you're doing?"

Daisuke did not respond to Haru and awaited his butler's relay of information. It did not take more than a few seconds until it has accumulated enough information to submit to his master. "A few streets away, a murder of two took place in a bar called Denyr. Investigation is in process currently."

Daisuke removed his hand from his earpiece and looked towards a flabbergasted. "You heard HEUSC. Let's get going." Daisuke stood up from the couch, dusting himself off before making his way towards the door.

"Wait a minute," Clamored Haru, and Daisuke looked over his shoulder to gaze at him. Haru gritted his teeth, irritated. "You can't just up and go and do whatever you want! This is not your call! We weren't called so we'll just disturb everyone else who's already there."

"Aren't cops allowed to interfere in crimes or disturbance in peace whenever they want? It's their job." Said Daisuke. "And besides, you're just as eager as I am to do something other than waste the entire day waiting for the phone to ring." Then he frowned. "Unless, I'm mistaken, of course. I have no qualms leaving you here. I'm sure you'll be useful for warming up your chair for tomorrow."

Haru growled at him. "You stupid . . . " He grunted and took his jacket off his chair. "Fine! I'll go with you, just to keep you in check!"

“Wait a minute,” Exclaimed Saeki, causing Haru and Daisuke to turn just as the latter had began turning the doorknob. The pink haired female abandoned her seat in favor of giving them a standing and patronizing narrowed glower. “Haru, aren’t you forgetting something today?”

Haru looked up in thought, trying to recall what Saeki was implying. Nothing significant manifested in his line of thought and he turned to his colleague with a frown conjuring in his mien. “Uh, I don’t think I’m forgetting anything.” Answered Haru.

Daisuke grunted, displeased by the interrupting. “Then let’s get going.”

Daisuke pushed the door open and stepped outside. Haru was following suit, shrugging his jacket on when Saeki called out for them once more, particularly the older officer. She had her arms crossed, an unamused pout forming on her brims. “Haru, don’t be stupid!” Clamored she. “I can’t believe you forgot what today is!”

Haru let out an exasperated sigh. “I honestly can’t remember what makes today so important.” Said he. “What is it?”

Kamei rolled his swivel chair back, making sure to reveal himself from any obstructions blocking his form. “Eh? You of all people forgot (Your Name) is coming back?” He conveyed and whistled right after. “That’s surprising, and disappointing. I’m sure she won’t be thrilled knowing you’ll be the last one welcoming her back after her hospitalization – her best friend, her partner in crime.”

Haru’s face fell upon acquiring the information relayed to him. His mind refreshed, finally remembering the time when you took your time from resting in the hospital just to tell him you were soon to be discharged after the outcome of you recklessly electing to throw yourself in front of him when the perpetrator pulled the trigger and shot a bullet his way. You were fortunate enough to have the cylindrical metal projectile imbedded nowhere near any of your vital veins, but due to your blood loss as well as the stacking strain and stress in your body forced you to be admitted in the care of the hospital. Haru was sure you were not supposed to move when you selected to take your phone and call him because he can hear the nurse in the other line scolding you, telling you to end the connection and to rest easy for the remaining week. He could only miss you more – he knew how much you hated doing anything but police work. Haru couldn’t believe he forgot about that since he distinctly remember hardly being able to be consumed by sleep when excitement for your return filled him.

“Shit, it’s today.” Cursed Haru as his shoulders dropped. He slapped his palm against his forehead, groaning. “My God – how can I forget? I’m the worst partner ever.”

Daisuke glanced at Haru, bemused. This was the first time he had heard over this (Your Name) woman. To him, Haru was always a lone wolf who preferred to be alone in his work unless he was required to have a companion with him. Or maybe because it was loyalty to his said partner kept him from going to missions with another. Daisuke looked back at Saeki and Kamei, “Who’s (Your Name)?”

Haru wanted nothing more than to hide your existence from Daisuke. You already had so much in your plate and having a rich bastard interpolating with it was more than you can handle, especially after being hospitalized for quite a while. But it was inevitable for the two of you to meet seeing as Daisuke seemed to be taking a strong liking with playing cop and were in the same department as him. So resigning with the concept of keeping you away from Daisuke, Haru let out a deep sigh. “(Your Name) is another cop in our department. She’s my partner.”

Daisuke blinked at him. “Someone can actually put up with you?”

Haru angrily show his fist to Daisuke, irritation swathing his figure. “What was that? I should be the one saying something that! I don’t know how Suzue-san can put up with your rich ass!”

“Maybe if you’re rich, you’ll know.” Countered Daisuke.

Before Haru could grab hold of Daisuke’s collar, the latter efficiently evaded his attempt to do so and stalked off into the corridor, adjusting his pristine suit as he ventured away. “If you want to stay here and wait for your partner, fine by me. I can go alone and handle the murders all by myself.” He said without looking back to meet Haru’s hardened gaze. “I’m sure this (Your Name) person is more important than the safety of other Japanese citizens.”

“O-Oi, I haven’t even decided yet! Don’t assume I’m not going!” As much as Haru wanted to be the first person to greet you back to work, he too loved justice and cared about the people who wanted to live in peace. Clicking his tongue out of annoyance, he turned to everyone left in the room, and all of them returned his gaze with bemused expressions. “Kambe and I will be quick. We’ll just drop by the crime scene and then cime back. I’m sure I’ll be able to return here before (Your Name) can. If not, tell her I’ll be back soon.”

***

daisuke was never inclined to pursue a romantic relationship. ever since witnessing his mother died, his life had been reserved into finding the truth. but little did he know, his perspective in love and romance will change, and hary will most certainly freak the fuck out

the two police officers arrived in the crime scene in a short amount of time. with how daisuke was speeding, it was understandable they would get there fast and very understandable how haru's whole life flashed right before his eyes. daisuke was actually tempted to go even faster but opposed to it after a while as he did not want to deal more with haru's tantrum after he recovered.

of course when they arrived there, the detectives assigned to the case shooed them off because they're not part of the investigations.

daisuke knew how to deal with them, of course. he brandished stacks of yen to include them in the case and the detectives were like 👀 because you know, who doesn't want extra cash?

haru didn't bother complaning anymore and just went to work. he wanted to get back to the station as soon as possible and welcome you first. best friend efforts, get a best friend like haru.

haru: "i scout the ground floor, you go upstairs - AND NO SPENDING MONEY YOU RICH BASTARD"

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

haru: "and - "

daisuke left before haru could finish his sentence. really daisuke just stayed and didn't answer him just so he could piss haru off. it worked nonetheless and daisuke can hear haru cursing at him as he walked upstairs

but we all know whatever daisuke does pisses haru off so so it didn't matter.

daisuke went up to the second floor if the bar and he saw how thrashed the place was

overturned tables, fallen chairs, broken bottles, reeks of alcohol, smears and pools of blood but everything seemed pleasant to look at compared to the two corpses that laid out on the floor with police tapes around them. it looked like a small massacre occured in there, and thay surely was the case

head smashed, chunks of flesh scattered, broken skulls but daisuke merely stared at them blankly

he wasn't disgusted nor disturbed. seeing his own mother's corpse was enough for him to deem gore as just another normal addition to his life

like another detective, daisuke began looking for clues. he searched the entire place like the good and professional detective he is -

who am i kidding - the first thing he did once he sees the condition of the second floor was, or course, ask HEUSC for information. screw asking them from fellow detectives when daisuke has his own ai butler

ahh perks of being a kambe

daisuke: "heusc, tell me the exact number of people that attended this bar between nine am to twelve in the afternoon"

heusc: "understood"

it did not take long until heusc responded

heusc: "the exact number of people who attended genyr is twenty seven. twelve in the ground floor, twelve in the ground floor, fifteen in the second. there are two dead bodies found in the second floor - "

daisuke snapped his head to the ceiling as soon as he heard a soft creak emit from over him

daisuke stared at the ceiling for about a moment before askint heusc - "look at the footage from the surveillance cameras surrounding the the bar. how many people fled outside?"

daisuke heard another creek above him, and this time he was sure he wasn't alone

and his unknown companion would love to have him in the same state as the corpses

and heusc replied: "twenty four"

daisuke closed his eyes, "is that so?"

heusc: "one person remains inside the building"

daisuke dropped his communication with his ai and positioned himself to a clean posture, back straight and hands tucked inside his pockets

daisuke: "you can come out now. no use hiding. i know you're here"

no response

daisuke clicked his tongue, "i heard you moving around in the ceiling the entire time i'm here and it's only been two minutes. you're not as discreet as you think you are. reveal yourself now and i'd consider lessening your time in jail."

still, silence greeted him

daisuke was growing irritated by the lack of answer given to him.

daisuke: "a coworker of mine needs to be back at the station right now for a reunion with his girlfriend - " daisuke paused as he imagined haru having a girlfriend. " - so let's keep this short and simple. surrender and as i have promised earlier, i will try to get you lesser years in prison"

but daisuke was not intending to keep this promise. even he knows giving a generous offer to criminals would weaken their resolve

but again, there was no answer

but he expected this

he always does to every case he gets handed with, or forced his hands to

daisuke observed the ceiling through a blank lense before sighing "if this is how you want things to go down, then so be it"

daisuke touched his earring and deliberately increased the volume of his voice as he spoke to heusc - "heusc, purchase the bar and its neighboring buildings and set a bomb for twenty minutes. tell the others to get out of here as soon as possible" he sneered at the ceiling. "i don't mind dying inside this bar with the suspect. it's the norm for a police officer to risk theit lives in the name of justice"

he sounded like haru for a moment there

heusc responded immediately: "understood, sir. balance: unlimited"

it was after that statement did a response come to light

the ceiling above daisuke broke as a firm kick broke through the fragile material

daisuke jumped away before a slim figure of a man dropped down from the hole

before daisuke could move, the man dashed pass him and out of the room, his oustretchrd hand barely grazing the bloodied clothes he wore

daisuke didn't waste time and recovered from his stunned state before following after the perpetrator

daisuke kept losing track of the man from time to the time and when he got down to the grounr floor, he saw no sign of him

nobody was present inside the bar anymore per order of heusc and money

all except for haru of course who immediately ran out of the place he was scouring and back to the main room

daisuke knew he heard heusc's order to leave the building but

haru will always be haru

haru, upon seeing daisuke's solemn state, asked: "what happened"

daisuke: "the man - did you see him?"

*haru, confused noises*: "what man? who?"

daisuke: "the man who killed the peple upstairs - he was still here and he ran down, didn't you hear him?"

haru: "no, i didn't - " his sentence was cut off when a figure suddenly lunged at him

lo and behold the criminal who was hiding behind an overturned couch

haru and the man tumbled down to the ground, fists and feet swinging wildly. daisuke watched as haru struggled to acquire dominance over the situation

daisuke: "heusc, identity of the killer"

heusc: "sakatoshi matona, a former bouncer for genyr until he was let go without reason"

haru strung out profanities and grunts as he and the matona rolled on the floor, trying to pin the other down. with a boost of strength, matona managed to get the upper hand and he put all his weight on haru. his hands found haru's neck and began strangling him

daisuke was like aren't you cop? win you idiot in the inside and haru was like aren't you a cop? help me you bastard in the inside. just the norm for the reckless and seemingly suicidal cops

haru: "gwet hiff op opp mii"

heusc: "transalation: get him off of me"

daisuke took action after that. he pulled matona off of haru and immediately socked him on the face

matona stumbled back but daisuke underestimated the time he would tske to recover and he tumbled back as the criminal retaliated with a punch of his own

daisuke dodged the assault but in the process, temporarily losing his posture. matona took this as an opportunity to continue his line of attacks, landing a few good hits on daisuke but majority of the time, he failed

daisuke recovered from the initial shock matona has inflicted him with and returned to momentum ane he was preparing his attack when bam - haru kato

my day be so fine then boom - haru kato

daisuke's eyes widened when haru, after standing up, tried to lock matona's arms to prevent him from moving anymore but instead, his chest met with an elbow

air was taken away from him and haru staggered backwards, clutching his chest and matona seized him

daisuke cursed and shot forward to help him but stopped when matona took haru's gun away from him and pointed it towards haru

matona: "stand back or i'll shoot"

haru raised his hands in surrender but daisuke did not

and haru was: ?????!!!!! tryna get me killed????!!!!

daisuke: "i can keep my promise, you know"

matona pointed the gun at daisuke

matona: "how can you when you're just a lowly cop?"

daisuke took out his cigar and lit up

daisuke: "yes, because a lowly cop can just buy buildings with a single command from an ai"

matona growled "rich, snobby, uncaring, and a liar. you're just the same like the people i killed"

daisuke opened his mouth to reply when a feminine voice cuts in

"finally, a confession. now we can get this over with"

before anyone could react appropriately, matona felt a hand take hold of his stolen gun and tore it away from his grasp before a heel sunk into his stomach, causing him to spit out blood

daisuke saw her, a woman standing with such grace, confidence, and strength with a gun in her hand and a smirk on her brims

daisuke couldn't move not from shock, but with admiration

who was this woman?

and what was this thudding in his chest

doki doki

his face was hot, very hot

and so was the woman

"( YOUR NAME )???"

daisuke turned and saw haru gawking at you

haru: (@[]@!!)

daisuke: （－－）

also daisuke: is that really (your name)? haru's partner? haru's girlfriend?

daisuke: hmp hmp（｀ー´）

you turned to both of them and daisuke was blown away with you that he nearly fell

he thinks you're very pretty

V E R Y

doki doki

you smiled widely at them: "haru, it's so nice to see you again" and then you turned to daisuke

daisuke froze and his cigar dropped

you glanced back at haru: "you already replaced me?"

haru: "tf no! rich boy here wanted to plays cops for a while so he went to our department. you know me, i could never replace you"

daisuke glared at haru

it waa obvious he was trying hard not to upset you (though you didn't look like the type who would get easily offended)

plus he's pushing a single and narrow minded narrative about him towards you. what if you hate him?

but you didn't and merely smiled at him, ignoring the criminal trembling from the pain of your kick

you: "my name is (your name)"

daisuke.exe has stopped working

jk that won't happen to daisuke

for now at least

daisuke: "kambe daisuke"

you, smiling: "nice to meet you, kambe daisuke!"

haru: "how did you find us here?"

you: "was gon get a drink before i head to the station but then i saw police tapes and stuff"

haru looked alarmed: "YOU WERE GOING TO DRINK RIGHT AFTER YOU GOT RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL"

you turned away from them, facing matona: "you can continue scolding me after we arrest this killer, haru. sorry in advance for haru, daisuke. he can be pretty overbearing and protective"

daisuke: "i can tell"

haru was offended okay?

you were already teaming up with daisuke to tease? betrayal.

haru: "how dare you (your name) - "

you did not let haru to finish his sentence and starter beating the shit out of matona like DAMN GHORL

daisuke and haru watched from a distance as you expertly used the gun to your advantage without pulling the trigger. you used the metal to hit him in fragile parts of his body in order to limit his movement

daisuke gawked at you

he has never seen such fluid execution for an arrest

daisuke looked: O-O

haru, seeing him, smugly crossed his arms and said: "you get to see how amazing (your name) is as a cop. she's my partner"

just as he said that, you pinned the criminal down on the ground, gun discarded, your one hand straining his arm behind his back and the other pinning his other hand on the ground

you: "i just got out of the hospital. how did i still win?"

daisuke suddenly frowned

oh, right. she's haru's girlfriend.

several minutes later, you successfully managed to arrest sakatoshi matona and the other detectives came to take him. but of course, you made sure you, daisuke, and haru were getting the recognition

like hell you were letting someone else get the glory for your efforts

you returned to daisuke and haru, smiling

they were talkiny when you hugged haru from behind

you: "haru i missed youuuu. it was lonely without your annoying butt looking out after me all the time"

haru flushed red

haru: "if you didn't catch the bullet for me then - "

you: "and let you get shot instead? nu uh, no way. i would take any bullet for you. right, daisuke?"

he felt speechless when you regarded him

daisuke didn't know what else to say to you so he said: "yes, i agree"

but somehow the the thought of you getting shot angered him

haru looked at daisuke, thinking: he acting kinda sus rn

you turned to haru and the two of you began catching up, smiling and laughing

you two looked comfortable so with each other. you two were carbon copies of one another, except you were ten times better, sorry haru

you two were made for each other

no wonder you're his girlfriend

you: "how's everyone in the precinct?"

haru: "still the same. everyone missed you"

daisuke: "are you two together?"

haru: 👁👄👁

you: *long ass laughing emoji*

haru turned very red, shouting: "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA"

daisuke: "you said you were partners - "

you: "i didn't know you liked me that way, haru - "

haru: "NO I DON'T KAMBE WAS JUST BEING A DUMBASS"

you tittered and turned to daisuke: "no, we're not together, kambe-san" you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "sorry if i scared you"

daisuke felt relief wash over him

daisuke: "i was just wondering. you and haru seemed very close so i was just making sure i wasn't misunderstanding"

daisuke froze with wide eyes when you leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek

and you whispered to him: "gotta work on being discreet when you look at me. i can practically see you chasing after me in the future with how you were looking at me. i'm flattered you find me that fascinating"

you turned to the shook haru: "i like this one, haru. we should bring him along with our cases"

you regarded them both: "anyways, i'll be heading over to the station first. i can write up the report and have man behind bars quickly. don't worry though, i'll make all three of us have the glory. i trust that you two can finish up here without me?"

the two men wanted to say something but both of them were stunned. you just kissed daisuke on the cheek and your best friend saw it. daisuke's eyes were wide and haru had his jaw dropping down

they still didn't say anything when you bid them farewell and just watched as you went to a police car with another cop where matona was and sped off

daisuke can feel his heart hammering against his chest

what was this feeling? it was so strange and . . . it's just strange, but he was not oppossed to thie feeling

in fact, he wanted more of it. as long as it came from you, it was fine

haru, however, was not

haru looked like he had seen the most horrifying thing ever

B E T R A Y E D

his best friend and this cop wannabe?

D I S G U S T H A N G

daisuke cleared his throat and turned to haru to say something but was met with a finger pointed at his face and haru looking vexed

haru: "you - "

the bar and the buildings nearby exploded beforw haru could say anything more. everyone except for daisuke was startled and sunk down on the ground

daisuke was not though. and he remained standing. not for the reason he forgot about the bomb he instructed heusc to plant but because

- you kissed him and he was self destructing

daisuke held back the smile threatening to tear through his face

haru: "w-what was t-t-th - "

daisuke: "i forgot about the bomb, sorry"

[hualianff]

ASMR/Streamer AU

Thinking about an AU with video-game streamer HC and ASMRist XL. Both have huge followings on Youtube and other social media; both never show their faces.

On his channel, MantouASMR, XL uses audio from everyday things like cutting fruit or typing at his computer. Other times, he plans out a general script to help his viewers sleep or motivate them for the day. XL writes and reads his own poetry, as well as sings on his channel too.

XL strives to be the most attentive and considerate content creator. He is constantly reading his viewers’ comments and taking up their suggestions for future videos. Anything to help his viewers get through their day or lift their mood.

(One time, XL read a comment from the parent of a child who was MantouASMR’s superfan. XL’s voice apparently helped their son sleep when he’s scared of the monster under his bed. In his next “Time to Sleep” video, XL iterated a short thank you message for the son and his parent for listening and watching his videos, and he hoped he could continue helping in the future.)

(Another time, XL read a comment from a student who said his voice helped her concentrate on her maths homework—though she mentioned she still doesn’t understand integrals and derivatives. The following day, XL uploaded an ASMR math lesson.)

XL’s voice is known to be very soothing, his whispers as airy and delicate as a spring breeze. His lower register is smooth like honey, and anyone who happens to hear his melodious laughs on a live stream instantly falls in love with his character.

On the other hand, HC’s voice is enticingly deep but has a deadly edge to it. He has no shortage of vulgar language, especially when it comes to playing with other streamers. When HC posts an occasional video that’s not video-game-related such as a rare Q&A, he’s somewhat more pleasant.

Of course, HC is incredibly grateful for his followers’ support. He just finds himself involved in too much internet bullshit even when he respectfully minds his own business. HC supposes that it comes with being China’s number one video game streamer—Crimson Rain Ghost King—watched by millions all around the globe. However, this doesn’t stop HC from being vocal about his opinions and expressing himself without giving a fuck what others thought.

Naturally, HC and XL are in completely separate circles on the Youtube platform. As far as their fans are concerned, a mellow ASMRist and a brash gamer don’t interact with each other...

Here’s the catch: Hualian are secretly married.

XL and HC have been together for over ten years now—married for just under three years. They felt no need to disclose their full relationship when HC began gaining popularity as a streamer, nor when XL’s channel tripled in size a few years later.

In his lives, XL often mentions his mysterious husband a lot. For the third anniversary of his channel, XL retells his wedding day. The picture for the video is of HC’s and his intertwined hands with a red string attaching their middle fingers.

HC was the first one to subscribe to XL’s channel (from a side account). He never fails to remind XL that “Gege has many gifts to share with the world.”

Out of nowhere, a trashy review journal bashes XL’s videos, calling them unoriginal and lowkey creepy because XL is “...a full-grown man whispering random shit that people love for some reason.” HC tries to keep XL from reading the article, but he’s too late. What’s worse is that other media sites speculate XL’s identity after, trying to expose him.

XL has experienced media backlash in the past. This event has him revisiting trauma where he nearly lost everyone in his life. He also went through severe depression and has developed major anxiety since then. One of the main reasons XL started his Youtube channel was because he wanted to be the person of comfort he wished he had had during those dark times.

Witnessing how affected XL is by the article and online hate, HC’s already-thin patience is close to snapping. That specific journal does nothing but writes drama-seeking shit about creators with a notable platform–HC included. Not that he gives a fuck about it.

Except they made XL their next target, and that is unacceptable. HC promptly makes a video grilling the hell out of the journal and the writer who published the article, making it very clear that, “Whoever reads and supports this bullshit are the scum of the Earth.”

HC uploads the video, then proceeds to make a XL-care-burrito. He feeds his husband, keeps him warm, and cuddles him all day. After dinner, XL feels renewed with energy, thoroughly enjoying his Saturday with his biggest, most devoted fan. XL decisively unwraps himself from the burrito and goes to make that sewing tutorial ASMR video he planned for the weekend.

HC’s viewers are once again curious as to if he has connections to XL. They begin digging up evidence but after the short investigation, it seems not to be the case.

Of the two instances XL couldn’t edit out him saying his husband’s name on live, no one seemed to agree on what the two muffled syllables were. XL never shows above his chest (he wears a facemask in case of a slip-up) or goes into too much detail with his stories. Both XL and HC’s other social media accounts are squeaky clean. Plus, you can count on one hand how many times HC has mentioned anything about his personal life.

Their fans stop their analysis, for the most part; XL’s viewers adamant about protecting his privacy and HC’s viewers not wanting to piss their idol off.

With Youtube being an important and time-consuming side of their life, XL and HC make sure to balance their personal, professional, and romantic lives as best as they can, or re-evaluate priorities when things begin to go downhill.

In addition to streaming, HC works as an animator for a respectable company. He has flexible work conditions and schedules.

HC during his stream debuting a new popular game: “I helped make this game, of course I know what I’m doing.” XL watches from the side wearing an adoring and proud smile.

XL is an open and free-spirited soul, so he switches side jobs often such as a barista, salesman, model, etc.

HC’s other hobbies include photography, music, traditional art, and bowling. (He has impeccable aim for obvious reasons.) XL enjoys seeing his friends (SQX, MUA; MQ, lawyer; FX, lawyer), cooking, reading, and skateboarding.

Extras:

-HC often streams with XL in his lap.

-Hualian create NSFW ASMR for themselves.

-(HC in their bed, listening to one of XL’s ASMR videos...

XL, smiling like a minx and slipping into bed shirtless: “Why watch my video when you have the real thing right here?”)

-Someone edits a comedic video with XL and HC’s voices, comparing their styles and approaches to speech. It garners lots of attention for their respective channels, the hashtag #mantouxcrimson ??? trending for a few days.

Video title: You’re friends with both Mantou Gege and Crimson Rain

(In the video)

Situation 1: You haven’t started your homework and it’s already midnight.

XL’s voice: “Whatever you do, don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You can’t do things well if your mind is unwell. Try to finish the things that need to be done, but be kind to yourself~~”

HC’s voice: “You little fucker, what have you been doing this whole time!? If you don’t do your job in the next five seconds, I’ll make sure to bury your worthless dead body where no one can find you-“

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi)

[quillsink]

Hi pal,

Your college sophomore friend here - just came to check on you before I was winding down for the day - going to be t'rrow here which it already is where you are :)

I am proud of you - you have been through so much and come so far - spending less time online - music, contemplating - deciding to get better - well done!

I am sharing some stuff from my own journey. It may help you or it may not:

- As you know adolescence is a time when we let go of a carefree childhood and a lot of stuff hits us.

Well, one thing which worked for me and still does as a new adult is - tackling one thing at a time - all of it at once is absolutely overwhelming - focussing on one thing in my control or which makes me happy or both really helps - one thing at a time y'know

- I don't want to tell you the outcome of my gender/sexuality questioning but what I can tell you is it will be okay eventually - as long as you have a few people at the moment -even one or two - who give you some understanding - eventually you will find your place in the world - you know as well as I do - when one looks at inspiring role models through history - this is something that needs quiet patience is what I learnt rather than a raging intensity contrary to what popular debate says - make your place and then fight the bigger battles - at least that is my learning

- School, yeah, well, hard to find the perfect one pal - something to just get done with to 'get the grades' - though sometimes there is that one teacher or club or friend that makes it worthwhile - guess we all do this - take a quick break after the school day - tv, books, biking whatever - bit of downtime before we hit the books again

- Other kids - mostly ignore them - they get better as they grow up - sigh

- Country - well, yes, not that the US is perfect nor was Sg - it's like finding a partner - one keeps looking till own finds the one you can you know live with the faults :)

- Hope you share - with at least a couple of people - professional help like a mental health professional or a friend or family member what you really feel and think - lightens the load, gives perspective - ask for help for your studies if you need it - even if you are the A+ type

Phew - long one this ask - again, really proud of you - I think you are beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, truly well done - but pal - this windowsill high up you talk about - you are careful dude?:) Take care all around:)

Hey there!

Ahhh thank you ksjakskd!!

Ahh yeah a lot of people have suggested that, I’m trying it out and it works reallt well!!

Anon that is wonderful and I’m saving that, it’s beautiful....”this is something that needs quiet patience is what I learnt rather than a raging intensity contrary to what popular debate says - make your place and then fight the bigger battles”

Yeah, schools shit, but I think I can make it :)

I think I’m gonna live in the UK honestly, I was happiest when I was there and I liked it there

Yeah, my friends are always there for me and I don’t know what i’d do without someone to vent to

Ajsjajs thank you again!! And yep, I’m really careful, I don’t go too far out and sit on the inner part and hold on to the handle! Take care!

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 12

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 3.4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This one is from our lovely Hobi’s POV! He decided he wanted to take charge for a moment so...I hope you enjoy! :D please comment and send asks so we can taaalk :D

; Flower Masterpost

-

“FOR GODS SAKE GERALT CAN YOU JUST BLO- fuck, shit, cock sucker...ah fuck it all!” You hissed in anger, clenching the Playstation 4 controller in your hands tighter and shaking it wildly as your character, Geralt, died. It turned out that Hoseok had Witcher 3 and after binge-watching all of the Netflix Witcher show, you’d begged him to bring it over so you could play it.

Today he’d finally brought it, the small case catching his eye as he was grabbing his backpack and he’d quickly stuffed it inside. He’d promised to bring it two times already and two times he’d forgotten. Not today though, today he’d been good and remembered it.

That had been four hours ago, and you’d been gripped by the game since. In fact, you’d barely even stopped to take a drink, eyes focused intently on the screen as you fought, magicked and cursed your way free of fights in the virtual world. Needless to say, you were very enthralled by the game which in turn meant you had gotten progressively louder as you’d died from stupid things.

Not that you were dying because of anything you’d been doing of course. No, it was just your character was doing silly things like not blocking or swinging when you told him to. That was it. Hoseok had been assured by you many times at the start when he’d got a little concerned about how into the game you were getting.

That had been at the start though, and you were now so into the game, so unaware of your surroundings, that it was almost like Hoseok wasn’t actually here in the room with you. Your eyes remained glued to the screen the whole time. Which meant that you didn’t see the way he’d been pouting a little, starved of your attention as he played around on his phone aimlessly in an effort to entertain himself.

Hoseok loved watching people play games, he really did, but he was bored today. He wanted your attention; a novel concept to him as he’d never dated anyone who was more into video games than he was. Being on the other side of someone who avidly loved gaming was unusual and though he didn’t hate it...he just a bit like a child.

There was only so much playing with Kasumi he could do. And sure, he could read the book he’d found in your bookcase a few days ago or even play on your Switch while you entertain yourself, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to do something with you. He wanted to talk to you, listen to you talk and laugh with you.

He was being a brat basically, being a child about it. But despite that, he was also fully amused by your reaction to the game. This was the first time he’d ever seen you play a video game like this and the fact you became so fully immersed in it was exceptionally entertaining.

Why he was surprised about that, he didn’t really know. You most definitely had the personality of someone who would commit themselves to something 100% when they found a thing that was truly interesting to them. Just looking at the abundance of Pokémon around your apartment told him that.

But still...he wasn’t sure why he had such a strong desire for your attention. He was never normally like this with relationships, though admittedly he hadn’t had a relationship extend past three months in a while now. Not for lack of trying of course, but he’d just never quite found someone to click with.

And at the risk of sounding like an old man, at the age of 28, he wasn’t really interested in investing his time and effort into someone who he could already tell he didn’t particularly care for. Hoseok felt like there were three types of people by his age; those who had found love and were happy and content in it, those who weren’t interested in dating and were focusing on themselves and those who were in a relationship purely for the sake of it.

The first group had already started marrying and having babies, Namjoon and Jimin for example, while the second group showed no interest in any of that. Which was perfectly fine obviously. Taehyung and Yoongi were prime examples of people who had no interest and didn’t seem to show any indication of wanting to show interest.

But Hoseok didn’t want to be in the third group, dating just for the sake of dating. He’d done that for years now, had one-night-stands throughout his college years, and maybe even a few he definitely regretted in the end stages of high school. So he wanted what some of his friends had found. 

And he’d found that with you, which had been beyond surprising to him. You were most definitely not who he would have picked as his first choice to date, which sounded bad but he was just being honest. He hadn’t thought that he liked girls who liked cute things, nor had he thought he’d had the temperament and patience to put up with your anxieties and stresses.

He had though, finding within himself a deep need to make you happy and experiencing enjoyment at how slow things were progressing. His friends found it wild that everything was moving at a glacial pace and that Jung Hoseok of all people was going along with it and not complaining. But he liked it, he liked discovering your little quirks and traits slowly. 

It was like unwrapping a present, with each new thing he learnt about you being his present. And he loved it so much. Which meant that he enjoyed learning this new thing about you, or rather how intense you got in video games you liked.

But still...he wanted your attention.

He was like a child; a whiny and petulant toddler. He knew this, but he couldn’t stop. Almost didn’t want to.

Which is why he was slowly inching his way over to you on the couch, hoping that his slow movements would catch your attention. It was only when he was almost on top of you that he realised it wasn’t working, causing him to sigh deeply and flop back against the couch in what could politely be called a mantrum.

“Do you want me to order food? Or make food? I can make it...can’t guarantee it tastes great but I can make it.” Hoseok asked, his voice light as he questions you. And it’s like he never spoke with the quiet ‘hmm’ you give back to him. 

His bottom lip pushes out once more as he opens up his takeout app, inputting your address and ordering pizza for you both. There was no need to ask what you wanted, he knew what you liked by now. 

A sudden outburst of unintelligible noises from you causes him to look up with an amused quirk of his brow, watching as your face scrunched in annoyance as you shake your controller at the screen again, teeth gritted together. And suddenly, he’s not bothered that you’re not paying attention to him anymore. Not when you look that cute.

Slowly, he’s not entirely sure why he’s doing it quietly as well when you’re paying zero attention to him, he opens the camera on his phone and angles it towards you with a smile. He takes a few careful seconds to get the best angle before pressing the button, the shutter noise unnoticed by him as he checks on the photo.

Tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth slightly, he hums to himself as he opens up the photo editing app he has on his phone and begins to edit it. Shifting the exposure, contrast and more, he turns what could’ve been a boring photo into something befitting you.

“Did you just take a photo of me?” You ask suddenly, causing him to look up with wide eyes. For a moment, he’s too startled to speak before he gives a playful scowl, poking your side with a finger.

“Oh, so now you listen to me? Huh?” He teases, sticking his tongue out at you. Your eyes drop to it slightly before skittering away quickly, causing him to smile internally. Hoseok was not as immune to your glances and movements as you thought he was. He just chose not to do anything about them because he didn’t want to push you.

“I was listening...you just weren’t saying anything interesting…” The words trail off halfway through you saying them, as if you realise how offensive they could come off. Immediately your eyes widen, mouth opening in what he’s positive is an apology. He’d normally let you, knowing it would soothe your anxieties to know that you’d said sorry to him but he doesn’t care today. It didn’t bother him.

“I’m not gonna argue with you. But yeah, I took a picture. You looked cute, all focused. I never realised you become dead to the world basically when playing a game. I’ve been lonely.” Hoseok makes his eyes go big, an earnest look being matched with slightly pouting lips to give you a face of pure innocence.

It doesn’t work evidently, given the way you roll your eyes at him. But it gets a smile out of you so he considers that a win.

“Hoseok...I don’t really like my photo being taken…” You whine quietly, fingers playing with the controller nervously. Over the last four months, Hoseok had learnt to analyse your body's movements carefully. They spoke your inner thoughts more than your mouth did and he could tell that you were feeling anxious.

“Hey, hey...come here. Look at it...see I edited it! You’re gorgeous!” He turns his phone to let you see, smiling brightly at you as your eyes glance over it. Lower lip being chewed slowly, your shoulders deflate as you push it back.

“No I’m not, I look fat and ugly. I don’t have a good side.” Silence falls after that statement, Hoseok’s mind frozen in sheer disbelief at your words. He wants to sigh heavily, shout at you that you’re wrong. Every part of him wants to shake you and make you see that you’re beautiful, flaws and all. 

But he doesn't because he knows you wouldn’t like it. So instead he purses his lips, smacking them and making a noise as he tries to figure out a way to tell you that actually, you’re an idiot. He doesn’t want to hurt you though, so he knows that he has to tread a fine line.

Shuffling close, he presses himself to your side and holds up the phone to you, showing the photo once more. “I want to argue you with so bad right now, but all I’ll say is...you’re wrong. I think you’re pretty, cute even. Look at that scowl, it’s adorable. And look, you’ve seen the double chin I get when I’m laid down.”

“Oh please, as if that makes you look bad. You know you’re gorgeous, look at you.” You gesture at all of him, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around you tightly and kissing you all over your face until you’re no longer whining but giggling loudly. He doesn’t stop though, making the most over exaggerated noises as he does so.

“Oh no, oh no, the travesty of having to kiss this beautiful face. Oh please, I can’t handle it. It’s such a trial for me, to have to do this. Why couldn’t they give me someone less pretty? But it’s only fair that someone with my looks gets to kiss someone like you.” He gets the words out loudly between kisses, half laughing as he does it and fully enjoying the way that you practically shriek with laughter beneath him, body shaking.

Stopping, he just watches you for a moment with a soft smile, enjoying the brightness in your eyes that has replaced the fear and self-loathing. He really wishes that he could show you how he sees you compared to how you see yourself, but he supposes he’ll just settle for showering you with affection.

“Look...seriously...I like this.” He says quietly, resting his head on your shoulder as he shows you the photo once more. You don’t say anything this time, just look at the screen quietly with your head resting against his own. “Do you want me to delete it though? I will if you want.”

“No...if you like it...I just...I don’t have pictures taken often of me. I don’t really like it because I never really think I look good. It takes at least fifteen tries to get one I find acceptable for Instagram.” Chewing his lip, he sighs as he wavers on what to do. He doesn’t want to do something that will make you unhappy, but at the same time...he loves photography. And he wants to photograph you so badly. 

Proper photographs too, with his DSLR that he’ll edit with Photoshop on his laptop. He just knows that he can take photos that even you will love and he truly thinks they’ll be some of his best work yet. There’s no way he can go wrong when he has such a beautiful muse here.

“Seriously Hoseok, it’s okay. You can keep it. You have nice editing skills.” Smiling, he clicks through the menu options on his phone before he’s moving the photo slightly, setting it at the right size and centralizing it before saving it as his home screen. It’s only then that you realise what he’s done, eyes widening.

“Did you just make that your home screen?” You ask incredulously and he snorts, nodding with a grin as he shows you with pride. Carefully, he moves his app icons around until you’re no longer covered by them, letting him see you perfectly every time he unlocks his phone. He loves it.

“Yes I did, and it’s perfect. I’ve been wanting a photo of you for a while,” Glancing over at you, he smirks ever so slightly. “I know you’ve got a picture of me as your home screen. The one of me at Namjoon’s barbeque last year where I’m looking away. Jungkook took it and I had it for my Facebook profile for a while.”

The squirm you do let’s him know that you’re probably dying inside but he’s far too amused and pleased with himself over this. Honestly his chest had probably swollen three sizes in pride and ego when he’d glimpsed it the other day. There was something oddly satisfying at knowing you had him on your phone.

And now he had you.

Eyes widening suddenly, he shifts upwards to give you with a shocked look. “I just realised...we’ve never taken a selfie together! If you’re okay with that.”

“I don’t really take them often...you’ve seen my Instagram.” Snorting, he rolls his eyes and moves until he’s sitting up against you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and hugging you to him. You don’t push him away though, nor do you tell him not to take one.

“That’s a fucking travesty. You should bless the world with your face more. And you spend all that time doing that makeup!” Now it’s your turn to roll your own eyes, pushing at him lightly.

“I do that because I like it, not because I want to show off.” He opens up the camera app once more, shifting the camera to be front facing and watching as his screen fills up with your faces.

“Well you should show off. You’re really talented with it and I’m sure there’s loads of people that would like to see more of it. There’s like...a whole section of Instagram dedicated to it. I know, cos I looked after I saw your pictures. You could be like...the next NikkieTutorials or Tati Westbrook!” It’s only because of the camera facing you both that he sees your incredulous expression, brows furrowing in surprise before they morph into amusement.

“Have you been watching beauty YouTubers?” Glancing at you, he shrugs uncaringly.

“You like them, so I figured I’d see what they’re about. Not really my thing but at least I half understand what you’re talking about when you bang on about primers and toners and all that shit. Besides, I have discovered that they apparently live scandalous lives and I’m oddly entertained by all the drama even though I have no idea who they are.” Hoseok says absentmindedly, mind drifting back to all those drama videos he’d accidentally ended up watching when he fell down the YouTube rabbit hole one night.

You let out a peal of laughter, the sound bright and happy and it makes his stomach twist slightly to hear it. He likes your laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually watched that. So does this mean we can watch drama channels when you’re here?” Letting out a deep and bone weary sigh, he nods slowly before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

As he does so, he quickly angles the phone and snaps a photo of you both. You don’t realise what he’s done at first until he brings the screen for you to look at, grinning down at the image of you both that has been immortalised in high quality pixels.

You’re laughing still, mouth stretched into a wide smile of joy while your eyes are closed, the skin around them creased ever so slightly from happiness. His side profile is clearly evident, the gentle lighting of your room surprisingly good for this picture and his lips are pressed firmly to the soft skin of your cheek, lip ring shifted into view from the movement.

There’s no makeup on your face and you’re wearing an oversized white shirt with Kirby on it while he’s in his usual band shirt. The difference between you both is startling, but it makes his heart flutter a little oddly as he looks at it with a gentle smile.

Looking over at you, he realises that you haven’t said anything about it and he worries that you’re unhappy with the photo. Instantly, he stresses that maybe he’d done a bad thing and he’s about to apologise to you, chastened by his excitement.

But then you give him a shy smile, leaning into him and burrowing your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “I...I actually like that. It looks...nice. Though you should probably edit it, edit my flaws and all that.”

Giving you a deadpan expression, he just pushes at your shoulder before rolling his eyes. “I’m going to forget I heard that. So...anyway.”

Despite what he said though, he does edit it and shows you what he uses and what he thinks the best edit would be. He lets you play around with the editing too, smiling as you make the photo look horrific by maxing out different sliders before letting him edit it exactly how he wants.

And then once he’s done, he goes onto Facebook and uploads it as his new profile picture. 

The stunned silence from you has him looking over cautiously, taking in your shocked face which soon quickly morphs into shyness. It makes his chest hurt a little to see how you react to something as simple as him changing his profile picture to a picture of you both.

He doesn’t say anything though, recognising this as a moment that you’d need to work through it yourself. So instead, he presses his lips to your cheek once more before using his fingers to tilt your face towards his, capturing your lips with his. The movement is bordering on natural now, four months into your relationship.

“So...I ordered pizza which should be arriving soon. Think you might want to take a break?” Hoseok asks, nodding towards the screen where Geralt has been stood quietly for the last ten minutes as he’d distracted you successfully. Pursing your lips, you consider for a moment before shaking your head with a grin, picking up your controller once more.

And that’s when he realises that you had been paying attention to him the whole time. You’d just been refusing to give in to his whining. He almost says something before shaking his head with an exasperated smile, getting up when your doorbell goes off.

Well played, he thought to himself as he took the pizza boxes before standing for a few moments and watching as you became involved once more, well played indeed.

[cant-blink]

Half-Life

Summary: My first written story for Gigan and Showa Ghidorah. Gigan is trying so hard to go the honest route in earning Ghidorah’s forgiveness, but one’s true nature will always come to light eventually.

-

Never before has he felt so frustrated over one person...

Or was it three people...?

Eh, it was one person, all three heads spoke as if they were one, so...

He’s getting off track. He casted a glare at the golden dragon, wasting his time destroying plants of all things. This planet drew the serpent in with the promise of life, but the only life here were boring ass plants. Ghidorah didn’t seem to care, he was wiping them out anyway like it was the only thing he could think of.

Gigan wondered if there was anything else better for this three-headed asshole to do.

Guess he shouldn’t expect different. He heard about Ghidorah through his masters. He knew the dragon was created by another race, specifically to destroy. Not that different from himself, actually. He still remembered the days in the nest, back when he was all flesh. And fluff. And eyeball. And more fluff.

He would rather not be reminded of how cloyingly cute he looked, but alas, his masters thought it necessary to keep baby photos of him. And download them into his memories, never to be erased...

Point was!! He used to be mortal, whole, before he was old enough to leave the nest for his first hunt. He never got to enjoy that first hunt, for his Masters came and took him. Changed him. Kept him under that blasted mind-control Ghidorah hated so much. Blamed him for.

As if it was his fault. He wasn’t the one who studied Ghidorah’s creation. He wasn’t the one that got the bright idea to enslave him. Sure he was involved in his capture, but it wasn’t like he was in control of that.

The damn dragon and his damn grudges.

Not that different from himself, actually. Gigan can hold a mean grudge if he ever cared enough to.

Hell, he would probably hate Ghidorah more if it wasn’t for their shared past. Both created, made the way they are, by unnatural means. Both had their Masters destroyed (though from Gigan heard, it was Ghidorah that turned on his own creators, as well as destroyed Gigan’s Masters as revenge). Both were free of the mind-control and free to do and roam as they please.

And here Gigan is, spending that freedom following a dragon that didn’t even want him there.

But it’ll be worth it. He was never one to take “no” for an answer, and he admits, he saw something in Ghidorah. Perhaps it was his massive wings, resembling his own sails but much larger. Or perhaps, it was the gold scales that resembled the original gold feathering of his species. They were beautiful, the way they caught the light, as if from a well-preened female.

Gigan lost his own gleaming feathers a long time ago, gone was the last remnants of what he truly was. In the back of his mind, he wondered if THAT was the true reason why Ghidorah didn’t lust for him the same way.

He shook his head. He knew that was bullshit. He’s been following this dragon long enough to see that he showed no such interest in ANYONE. Not even fellow dragons, it seems, ones that resembled him far more than any other lifeforms he had stored in his memory’s database. No doubt, those draconian creatures served as blue-prints for Ghidorah’s creation. But even then, Gigan saw no courtship behavior, no attempt at casual conversation even. No interest outside of the usual “kill them all”.

Gigan loved the kill as much as the next person, but Ghidorah REALLY needed a hobby.

“Hey,” he called out from his seat upon a sizeable pile of boulders, his voice holding a mechanical edge to it. Ghidorah’s response to his voice was immediate and already full of tension so thick, Gigan can slice through it.

“Leave me alone.” Those words again, Gigan’s heard it plenty and it just sounded like noise to him at this point. So he ignores it, as he gave a casual stretch of his arms and tail, before leaning back on the larger rock behind him.

"Whaddya say we get outta here and go to the bar? Grab some drinks, have some fun. Kill a few folks."

"No."

"Heh, bet you don't even know what the bar is."

"Nor do I need to know." Ghidorah hissed, clearly not amused by the cyborg’s playful tone as he turned back to the forest blazing around him. “If you’re there, I want no part of it.”

Gigan frowned, but he doesn’t lose his cool yet. This was all a game of patience, a battle of wills, and he will not be the first to break. He will continue to wear this dragon down until he gives in. 

“You’re destroying plants, of all things!” he pushed. “The bar is a much better time than this place. I’ve sharpened these bad boys-” He lifted the blades on his arms for emphasis. “-for the past hour just hoping for something interesting to happen.”

“Then go,” Ghidorah grunted. “Do something useful for once and stop distracting me with your half-life.”

“Oh~?” Well, this was new and served as a confidence boost as he pulled himself up from his seat and stepped over towards the golden dragon. “I’m distracting you, am I? Tell me more about my ‘half-life’ then.”

Ghidorah’s left-most head turned to glare at him, while the other two Gravity Beamed the forest around them.

“I grow tired of having to filter out your presence when I’m looking for new victims to destroy. My crests constantly detecting you and throwing off my hunt for lives more worthy of my time than you will ever be.”

“More worthy?!” He shouldn’t feel so insulted by that, but he does. Especially when the three-headed monster turned away fully. “These are nothing but damn trees you’re wasting time on! They don’t even scream and you think this is more fun than I am?!”

“These trees,” Ghidorah continued without even looking at him. “It gives me great pleasure to snuff out their life-force. They scream in their own way. You, on the other wing, only give me annoyance with your constant blabbering and useless ‘apologies’.”

“Useless apologies?!” Gigan sputtered, his sails fanning open wider with indignation. “You’re lucky you’re getting ANY apologies from me! You know how many others I’ve apologized to? A grand total of ZERO!! But, nooo, apparently that’s not good enough for you!”

“Because I know what a real apology looks like,” Ghidorah growled. “I have seen many who fall at my feet, seeking forgiveness for whatever crime they felt they committed to earn the fate I bestowed on them. I see more genuine regret from those pitiful creatures than I see in you.” 

Gigan said nothing for a long moment, the red glow of his eye growing brighter as his anger begins to build. But his voice remains calm.

“So basically, you want me to beg at your feet.”

Ghidorah turned his heads again, watching him for a moment before a cruel look grows upon all three of his faces, his own red eyes gleaming.

“That would be a start, wouldn’t it?”

The cyborg’s tail tip clicked loudly with agitation before he broke eye contact. He should just leave, track the dragon down another day and avoid this bullshit altogether. But if this is what he had to do to finally make some sort of progress...

Ghidorah better be the best lay he ever had.

Swallowing his pride, he stepped closer and with another moment’s hesitation, he lowered himself down. One knee, then both knees. All three of his sails flatten to his back. It was the single hardest thing he’s ever done, and he dared not look up at the dragon. He didn’t want his embarrassment to be seen on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled through his teeth.

“For what?” Ghidorah pressed and Gigan’s tail tip gives another sharp spin. It takes another moment to respond, resisting his body’s urge to upper-cut the tip of his blade into one of those stupid chins. But he doesn’t and his voice softens.

“For what my Masters did. For what I did. I wasn’t in control, but I’m sorry anyway.”

“Hm...” was the only response he got and he finally gives a single glance towards those three faces. And no sooner than he did that than a golden foot slams itself right into his exposed chin and throat, causing him to fall back. He was stunned for a moment, his senses both organic and mechanic struggled to get back online. He almost missed the words being shot at him with venom. “As if I will ever accept anyone’s apologies, much less yours.”

.....

The amount of sheer rage that boils from within his core was unbearable. This game, he lost it. He broke as he pushes himself up with his elbows to glare seethingly at this good-for-nothing, piece-of-shit lizard!

“That’s it! I tried playing the nice guy with you, but I’m done.” He pushes himself to his feet, storming over to the three-headed asshole who stands his ground. “I’m done with your damn attitude!!”

“Then leave, or die.”

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you? But I’m not leaving empty-handed. I’m getting what I want, whether you like it or not!”

He swiped for Ghidorah’s middle head with a scythe, the dragon pulling back with the slightest of nicks. Without hesitation, he slammed all three heads into Gigan’s chest to push him away. But the cyborg was not so easily swayed, as he kept his footing and jumped for him with an arm raised. His sights remained on the dragon’s middle head and he just needed one good hit to-

A Gravity Beam met his chest, causing him to fall to the ground. More beams around him brought rubble exploding from the ground and onto his face and chest. Before he can recover, he felt a heavy weight crash onto him, Ghidorah’s feet planted on his shoulders, wisely avoiding the buzzsaw on Gigan’s chest.

Those red eyes glared down at him, those three mouths opening to no doubt unleash another blast of energy. Gigan wasn’t giving him the chance and lifted his tail up, lunging it forward to stab the end into the dragon’s back.

This got a shriek, as a spray of blood escapes from the wound. Gigan gathered his strength, pulling his tail back to get Ghidorah’s weight off his shoulders. He shifted to get to his feet and swung a blade towards the middle head, but it struck the side head that thrashed in the way.

But Ghidorah can’t pull away from Gigan’s grip, those sharp ends fastening onto his spine. One wrong move would cause irreversible damage and clearly, Ghidorah was unused to having blood drawn. Those scales were hard and durable but even they were no match for the weapons the cyborg yielded. 

Such a shame though, that he had to stain those beautiful scales.

It’ll be worth it though, as he makes another swipe and successfully landed the tip of his blade directly into the base of Ghidorah’s middle skull, behind the horns where his mane met scales.

Got it!

The jolt that went through the dragon’s body can be felt, and Gigan couldn’t stop a smirk on his face as he met the wide eyes of his newest victim.

“What’s wrong, Ghiddy? Did you forget?” He opened the blades of his tail tip, and pulled his tail free of Ghidorah’s back violently, with another spray of blood. Ghidorah lets out another shriek, but he doesn’t run. “I know far more about you than you’re willing to admit. Have you never wondered how I’m able to track you down so well? You think being mind-controlled left you unscarred?”

The cyborg struck again with a blade; this time, across the dragon’s chest to draw more blood, causing Ghidorah to stumble backwards. Gigan snickered, stepping forward.

“You still have that chip,” He lifted a scythe once more, tapping the pointed tip right into the wound he left in Ghidorah’s head. He can see the blood already beginning to mat into that oh-so-luxurious mane. “The same chip my Masters and I activated when we first met, remember? Of course you do, that’s why you never tried to kill me, huh? Because you knew that I can do it all over again.” 

The blade tenderly moved from the wound left down to the dragon’s mane and all the way down that neck, tracing the dragon’s blood onto those scales. “I wanted to go the honest route for once, thought you would be worth the trouble. Figured it was the least I could do.”

Ghidorah still does nothing to fight back, even when Gigan kicked him and sent him crashing down onto his wounded back. Another shriek escapes, but this one was filled with anger. Gigan can see it, the way the dragon’s muscles convulsed beneath those scales. Ghidorah was fighting the chip, a battle sure to be lost.

“I guess I should thank your Masters as well as my own,” Gigan continued as the dragon carried on his mental struggle to keep control. “For being a rather stupid bunch, they chose such a strategic spot to ensure you can NEVER truly be free. For all your grandeur, you always were just a pawn for someone else. Even without the mind-control, all you’ve ever done was follow the programming given to you like a goddamn robot. Yet you call me the half-life?”

He planted a foot onto Ghidorah’s chest, staring down at those six eyes that began to lose focus. “Well, this ‘half-life’ owns you now. So let the fun begin~.”

[kagehinataboke]

only time will tell - chapter 2

High school is not what Todoroki expected. Of course, he didn’t really know what to expect—but it certainly wasn’t this. The instant he steps past the school gate, there’s the sound of yelling. A crowd is gathered up ahead. It's rather obvious, upon first glance, that a fight is going on.

Todoroki knows he should probably avoid it, but curiosity gets the better of him and he edges his way into the crowd. Before he can make it through, a teacher comes sprinting over to break up the scuffle. Dang it. He was kind of looking forward to seeing a real high school fight.

With a sigh, Todoroki adjusts his bag and heads for the school’s front doors, doing his best to ignore the staring. He can’t exactly wear a disguise to school, so people have started recognizing him already. Girls are chattering loudly among themselves, and even a few guys are noticeably staring at him. So much for keeping a low profile on his first day.

“You there!”

Todoroki jumps at the sudden exclamation. He barely has a second to mentally prepare himself before the loud stranger is upon him. He’s got unruly red hair and a huge smile that makes Todoroki a bit nervous. Does this guy recognize him?

“Can I… help you?”

“Aren’t you the new transfer student? Todoroki? Our homeroom teacher asked me to come find you. I’m Kirishima Ejirou.” The redhead holds out a hand, which Todoroki discovers is very callused when he shakes it. “You can follow me.”

Todoroki nods silently, feeling a bit winded by Kirishima’s rapid-fire speech. High school is certainly very energetic so far. Not that he doesn’t like it. It’s more interesting than modeling shoots and online classes, at least. And there’s still the chance that Katsuki will be here somewhere, even if they’re not in the same class.

Ah, Kirishima is saying something. Todoroki hasn’t been paying attention. It’s probably fine: he doesn’t seem to be expecting a response. It sounds like he’s been talking about the school. If it’s anything important, the teacher will reiterate it later.

“Kirishima, what took you so long?” The homeroom teacher opens the classroom’s sliding door right as Kirishima is reaching for it, almost as if he could sense their arrival.

He’s tall, dark-haired, has dark circles under his eyes, and is—strangely enough—wearing a scarf even though it’s April. Todoroki supposes he isn’t one to judge based on appearances: he always gets weird looks for his hair and his eyes—although the latter is something he has no control over.

“It was hard to find him,” Kirishima says in reply to the teacher’s question. “We’re here now, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Fine.” The man, Aizawa, jerks his thumb at Kirishima. “Take your seat. And you”—a thumb jerk at Todoroki this time—“you can introduce yourself to the class.”

Todoroki nods and finally steps into the classroom, slipping into a quick and shallow bow. “Hello. My name is Todoroki Shouto.”

There’s an instant shockwave of excited chatter among the students, mostly from the female population. While Aizawa is giving the ‘treat your classmate kindly’ spiel, Todoroki takes quick stock of the room.

It isn’t a shocking moment: Todoroki was hoping they would be in the same class, after all. No, it isn’t shocking. But the moment Todoroki sees him, something in the air changes. Something shifts; twists; almost breaks apart. The spring breeze blowing through the open classroom window seems to make time pass more slowly for the span of several seconds.

It’s been ten years, but Todoroki would recognize him anywhere. He’s obviously grown-up: his hair is black now, and there’s numerous piercings decorating his ears. But his dark eyes and sharp bones and distracted frown are exactly the same as when they were children.

“Katsuki?” Todoroki mutters before he can think it through.

The classroom chatter dies off in an instant, replaced by dead silence. Everyone slowly turns to stare at Katsuki, whose face cycles through a million different expressions before finally settling on cold nonchalance.

“Who the fuck are you?”

It throws Todoroki off for a second, and then Aizawa intervenes. His voice is an exasperated sigh: he has no idea of the importance of the moment that just transpired. “Bakugou, language. How many times do we have to have this talk? Todoroki, you can take a seat over there.”

And just like that, everything is moving again. But at the same time, life seems to have come to a standstill.

* * * * * *

“Is it really true you’re a model, Todoroki-kun?”

“I’m sure it is! He’s definitely handsome enough.”

“And I think I’ve seen him in magazines before. So is it true?”

Todoroki holds back a grimace. He’s used to this kind of attention from girls, but right now he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Katsuki stormed off as soon as the lunch bell rang, and Todoroki needs to find him. He has to get to the bottom of what happened earlier. Does Katsuki not recognize him?

“I’m sorry, girls, but I have something else I need to do right now.” He tries for a sheepish smile. That always seems to melt girls like ice cream on hot pavement. “Do any of you happen to know where Ka— I mean… where Bakugou is?”

The girls’ smiles instantly turn sour. “Bakugou, the delinquent? You shouldn’t hang around with him, Todoroki-kun.”

“Yeah,” one of the other girls agrees. “He’s got a really bad reputation. I heard he got into a fight with third years from another school. He’s just bad news.”

“He dropped something earlier and I’d like to return it to him.” Todoroki turns the charming smile up a notch, bowing his head for good measure. “Please, if you have any idea where he is, could you tell me?”

The smile never fails. The girls, although still disdainful, tell him that he can find Katsuki on the school roof. He’s a bit apprehensive about going there, but he doesn’t have much of a choice, does he? His one goal was to find and make up with Katsuki, so he’s got to talk to him, despite how much he may have changed.

Todoroki finds the stairwell that goes to the rooftop after some trial and error, but he doesn’t make it far.

Someone slams against the wall in about three seconds flat. “What the fuck was that back there, bastard?!”

“I don’t understand why you’re angry.” Todoroki meets Katsuki’s furious gaze without making an attempt to push him away. At least they’re finally talking. “You pretended not to know me. Why?”

“Why?” Katsuki mocks. “Why the hell do you think, asshole? You're going to ruin my reputation.”

“Reputation?” Todoroki repeats in utter confusion. “I still don’t get it.”

“Moron.” Katsuki slams him against the wall once more before releasing his now wrinkled uniform collar. “Fuck, you’re so damn dense. You really haven’t changed at all.”

Todoroki adjusts his shirt, eyeing Katsuki warily. “You‘ve definitely changed. You seem like you hate me.” Not that he wasn’t expecting this outcome, but it still stings a bit.

“Maybe I do hate you.” Katsuki’s fists clench at his sides, as if he wants to hit him. He probably does. “You just left ten years ago, asshole. Disappeared into thin fucking air. You didn’t even tell me where you were going. Now what, you expect me to welcome you back with open arms? Are you delusional?”

“You don’t understand,” Todoroki tries, but Katsuki isn’t listening to him. He always gets defensive when he’s upset. At least, he did when they were kids.

“Stay away from me, asshole.” Katsuki slips his hands in his pockets, turning to give Todoroki a withering glare. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t call me by my first name again, either. In fact, it’s better if you just pretend you never met me.”

He slams through the door, and Todoroki takes a moment to recollect himself. Then he follows him, because he doesn’t have to listen to a word Katsuki says when he hasn’t even given him the chance to explain. Todoroki is a bit annoyed that he was written off so easily. Katsuki has no idea what he's been through in the last ten years.

Then again, they’re both different people now, aren’t they? Katsuki could’ve been through something equally as bad. But when it comes down to it, Todoroki still needs to clarify things. He can try, at least.

However, Katsuki isn’t heading back to class. He’s leaving school—or, at least, he’s about to. Someone appears at the gate to stop him, but the man doesn’t look like a teacher. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, and underneath it, his neck is covered in scars.

Todoroki pauses behind a tree nearby, just barely within earshot of their conversation.

“What the hell are you doing here, psycho? I told you I’d beat the shit out of you if you showed your face to me again.”

Katsuki certainly talks like a delinquent. Maybe what those girls were saying earlier is true.

“Skipping class again?” The stranger’s voice is deep and raspy, as if he has a bad cold. “You’re such a bad student.”

“Fuck you.” Katsuki’s scowl grows deeper. “Get the hell out of my way, Shigaraki, or I’ll put you in a fucking body bag.”

The man, Shigaraki, pauses. Todoroki stiffens when he lifts his head, and a pair of unnerving gray eyes seem to meet his gaze for half a second. Katsuki’s head also tilts to look back, but Todoroki is sure neither of them could possibly see him. But then why…

“I’ll go,” Shigaraki says, finally looking away. “I’ll try to avoid you, too. But I can’t promise you won’t see me around again.” He waves his fingers and disappears.

Todoroki finally relaxes, but not for long. Someone grabs him by the shoulder and wrenches him away from his hiding spot. “What do you think you’re doing?”

It’s Katsuki, of course. He’s glaring at him, fingers tightening against Todoroki’s shoulder with each word. “I told you to stay away from me literally five minutes ago.”

“But you wouldn’t listen to me,” Todoroki stresses, knocking Katsuki’s hand off his shoulder. He’s growing annoyed now. Apparently, Katsuki actually hasn’t grown up very much. “I deserve a chance to explain. You have no idea what happened—“

“You’re right,” Katsuki interrupts, “and I don’t care. We’re not friends anymore, get it? We’re strangers, so just stay the fuck away from me.”

* * * * * *

“Why are you making that face?”

“What face?” Todoroki asks, immediately frowning a second later. Dammit. Fuyumi is too good at picking up on his emotions, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. “Okay, fine: I’m having problems with… someone at school.”

“Already?” Fuyumi sets down her chopsticks. “How can they not like you if you’ve known them for a day?”

Todoroki shifts. He doesn’t want to tell her it’s Katsuki and make her worry. “Well… this person... doesn’t seem to like me all that much.” He fidgets with the edge of the tablecloth. “They told me to stay away from them. Does that mean they hate me?”

Fuyumi shakes her head, tapping her nails against the tabletop. “No, Shou. They probably just got the wrong idea about you.”

Her fingers still. “And maybe this person is going through something. You have no way of knowing. They could be hesitant to open up to others.”

Todoroki frowns. “So... he— I mean... this person doesn’t hate me? I just need to keep trying?”

“That’s what I would do.” Fuyumi pats him on the shoulder. “Never give up on what you want, Shouto.” She starts eating again, her moment of sisterly wisdom passing. “Other than that, how was your first day?”

“Fine. The classes are very simple.” Todoroki glances out the window behind Fuyumi. It started to rain a while ago, and it seems like it won’t get lighter anytime soon. “By the way, I ordered some clothes earlier, and they should be here sometime during the day tomorrow.”

“Really?” Fuyumi sighs into her miso soup. “I suppose I shouldn’t say anything about it. Did you end up talking to your agent yet?”

Todoroki flinches. This is another topic he doesn’t want to talk about. He wishes he hadn’t told her about it, but it’s too late for regrets now.

“...Not exactly. I haven’t gotten the chance.”

“You should consider doing it soon, before she schedules you for even more photo shoots. Don’t you have three this week?”

Todoroki grimaces into his bowl of soba. “Yes. It’s fine, Fuyumi. I can handle it. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

She gets up from the table, eyeing him disbelievingly. “Whatever you say. Hurry and finish eating.”

It figures she wouldn’t believe him. He has some trouble believing himself, actually. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to stick it to his agent despite trying for months, and now he has Katsuki to deal with. Todoroki’s head is spinning just thinking about it.

How is he supposed to make Katsuki like him again? He wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain himself earlier, and he’s changed so much. Comparing him to how he used to be is like comparing night and day. Like Fuyumi said, maybe something happened to him, too. But if that’s Not true, Todoroki wants Katsuki to open up about it. Why is he being so cold?

Maybe persistence is key. Katsuki always had a hard time saying no to him when they were kids. If Todoroki tries hard enough, he’s sure he can win Katsuki back over again.

Geez. Life was supposed to be simpler here in Hosu City, and it’s turning out to be anything but simple.

previous | next 

[andyouknowitis]

“The Fandom Funundrum” in other words you don’t want to feel guilty for every advantage Harry’s been given. Noted! Keep pretending to care about Louis, you’re doing great sweetie!

This arrived in my inbox a week or so ago at the end of a very long, shitty fourteen hour day. 

Right then I was already dealing with the sudden loss of my uncle, who I’d just handmade a wreath for, as well as coming to terms with the fact that while I love my job, I will soon haveto leave it, and move, as all manner of things that have served to make it impossible for me to survive as a freelancer in this economic climate. 

I’ve discussed here, in painful detail, some of the otherthings I’ve had to work through in recent years, ever a work inprogress. I don’t know if I’m a good or bad person. 

But I’m a person. A real person. And I deserve better than this at the end of a really bad day, not least when I come to one of the places where I find comfort in small things and bright people that interest me and make me smile.

Louis is one of those people. 

One of the most important to me, as it happens.

I am not the blog for you. And certainly not with an action such as this one.

My crime, apparently was to post this, a reblog of something that I wrote a while ago as a general nod to being chastised for daring to enjoy one thing when another very bad thing was happening. 

It was not fully specific to any fandom or person when I wrote it, other than suffice to say, after many years online I’ve learned that fandom gatekeeping is a form of bullying and I have little patience left for it.

A cursory glance around my mess of a blog will show anyone who cares to look that while I do blog very much a lot about 1D, I am actually a multi-fandom blog. 

More specifically I am a ME blog. 

Hell my url is a Snow Patrol lyric and no-one ever gets it. Here I lay things I like, love, find interesting, think important, and want to share. 

A wallpaper made up of my mind, a patchwork comprised of things that for me, helps me make art and help people. 

In this instance anotherfandom I’m part of (shout out to my Emmerdale sheepy peeps) were arguing heatedly about something, which essentially boiled down to how can you enjoy x when y is happening etc. etc. While I do have a sideblog for in-depth stuff, mostpeople follow me on my main so I posted it here too.

And yes, after several years here, and online in general, I do get tired of seeing discourse after discourse that I’ve probably already discussed in detail in the past, as well as fandom infighting that only serves the money men and none of us. 

And certainly not Louis, or any of the 1D boys (they will be the boys to me even when they’re in their 80s shush). Something Iactually wrote about here, as relates to the 1D fandom, in the early summer of 2015, unknowing that the worst was yet to come, but knowing even then that I was tired of all the ways we had been fractured and used. 

People will forever be divided and conquered. I haveno wish to be another perpetual pawn in this tired game.

I very rarely publish asks I receive, either because I speak with people via message if something bears further discussion if they’re off anon, or because some things are just not worth the time and energy it takes to answer them. 

Some people don’t want to listen, only to be heard. Time is aprecious commodity that I have little of. 

When I do have free fandom time I like to spend it responding to interesting asks, writing fic when I’m able, making fan edits (mostly of Louis as it happens), working my way through the Womens and Equalities Committee findings on NDAs which I think may be pertinent (the inquiry is still ongoing), live blogging, and curating a peaceful space for when I need it.

And sometimes like this time, I engage.

The last time I took the time to answer something like this was actually also about Louis. I stood accused of infantilising Louis because I wrote a single tagline on a post I had made about wanting to give him a hug.

The time before that I was, conversely to the latest offering, apparently the devil for daring to hope that Louis would soon have more visible and tangible support from people in the industry. 

For a post I wrote THREE years ago almost to the day, and still stand by. 

I support him. I don’t have to meet anyone else’s standards of how to do that.

Something I really had to learn in therapy a couple of years ago was that it’s okay to get angry. It’s something I struggle with and fear somewhat. But I have learned. Sometimes it’s okay to get angry. 

And this is one of those times.

I am angry that a stranger, or perhaps even worse, someone who otherwise follows/followed me and should know at least a modicum of my character, would fucking dare to tell me, after all I’ve said and done, that I don’t care about Louis. 

Louis, who I care about most of all in this entire shitshow. 

Louis, who I care about so much, that the top thing my fandom friends will attest I whine about most is having to see Harry blogs on my dash that I know have said incredibly vile things about him.

I don’t know Louis. Nor may I hazard, do you, coward in my inbox. I’ll likely never meet him and I acknowledge that my perceptions of him are coloured by time, life experience, and an understanding of parasocial relationships. 

But I would hope I know of him well enough to feel that he’d agree if you’ve got something to say then a) have the balls tosay it to someone’s face (privately if not in public), and b) theprecise opposite of ‘let’s make someone happy today’ (his ownpractice when he has a shit day like the one I had), is to makesomeone unhappy like you have set out to do here.

I don’t know Louis. But I know enough to know that he’s important to me and why. 

Why above and beyond anything else he’s the reason why eight years ago I kept watching a show I had long before lost interest in. 

Why I voted every single week. 

Why he was the first person I took a photo of on TMH tour when I could finally afford to see them. 

Why I waited hours in relentless sun in a different country just so I could be at the barrier when he sang Moments right in front of me during WWA. 

Why I kept coming back after grief and loss in mypersonal life turned me inside out, time and time again. 

Why I stood in Sheffield on the final night of OTRA tour when my heart was numb to almost anything that could reach it. 

Why I met people who changed my life just by being in it.

The music is important to me, OT5 is important to me, but Louis, above all Louis is important to me. Louis is why I stayed when I wanted to go. Louis. Louis and friends that I’ve made here, who know me better than you ever will.

So please, if you haven’t already, please block me and neverinteract with me again. I don’t want to know. 

If anyone else reading this happens to feel the same about me, unfollow me now. 

I follow and sometimes interact with some people I don’t necessarily agree with, primarily because I like to be open to different aspects of discussion, and to not exist within a fandom vacuum. 

But I don’t tolerate vitriolic bad mouthing of any of the boys. And I will not interact with people who try to hurt me. 

Much less with someone who attempts to do it anonymously. The sad thing is you’re so very, very visible for what you are.

I am not the blog for you. 

You know why? 

Because I’m the blog for me. And you will not makeme feel bad about that, or about myself. Least of all about caring for Louis. Not now, not ever.

Oh and Sweetie? All the links are clickable. I have been here. I will be here. I am here. And there’s nothing you can do to change it. Knock yourself out. 

[thefanficmonster]

Some Fun

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Spoilers for HTGAWM Season 1&2, Swearing, Sleazy/Creepy Behavior, Mentions of Heartbreak, Alcohol

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: While the Keating 5 is out enjoying the first time they have been allowed to let loose in a long while, Michaela finds herself nursing a broken heart following the debacle with Levi. Sadly, heartbroken girls seem to be a magnet for sleazy guys at clubs.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Hope you had a great commencement ceremony, sending you my biggest congrats and hugs! Sorry you had to experience such an important event online and not IRL, but I still hope you got to make the most out of it and celebrated your success safely :) Hope you enjoy the fic as well hehe. Love, Vy ❤

“Girl, you weren’t even together for two weeks!“ Laurel says, handing Michaela her lipstick while the two fix their appearance in the bathroom they were happy to find empty at the club where they’re currently celebrating having avoided going to prison for the nth time. “I’m surprised you’re not over him already.“

“Honestly...“ Michaela trails off, pausing just as she’s about to apply the lipstick, “In two weeks, he made me feel more than Aiden ever did.“

Laurel rolls her eyes exasperatedly, “Either that or you got too attached too soon. No offense, you seem to have real shit taste in men.” Seeing the glare her friend is sending her in the reflection of the mirror, Laurel quickly defends herself, “I said no offense! Can you really say I’m wrong though?”

Michaela rolls her eyes, applying the nude shade of lipstick before gracing her friend with the reply she already knew she’d hear, “I can’t, you’re right. But that’s not helping my current situation in any way. So, care to share any helpful advice?” She turns to look directly at her with this strict and annoyed yet somehow still soft look in her eyes.

Laurel takes the lipstick from her and drops it in her purse, “There’s a bar out there with surprisingly cheap drinks and a ton of hot guys surrounding it. I’ll let you guess what I’m insinuating.”

Michaela’s face contorts in a displeased expression, “A hook-up with one of those lowlifes who waste their lives at underground bars like these? No thanks, I’d rather wallow in my sorrows.” She shakes her head with evident disgust and repulsion, her shoulders tensing at the mere thought of hooking up with anyone before seeing full info about said person. It’d be an understatement to say Levi only fueled her already existing trust issues that were already present even before Aiden. Laurel’s definitely right about one thing - all the ‘luck’ she’s had with guys throughout the years has led to these trust issues upon trust issues, creating a mountain-high pile of distrust.

“No, fuck no! I’m talking fun. Dancing, drinking, flirting and then going home alone, not with one of those assholes.“ Laurel explains, “See, that’s your problem, Michaela - you can’t just have fun with a guy and forget about him, can you?“ Michaela inhales sharply as though she’s about to snap a retort to shut her friend up, but she finds herself lacking words to say so she closes her mouth and clenches her jaw as her eyes wander around the white-tiled bathroom. Realizing she won’t be talked to hell, Laurel continues with a tad bit more caution this time, “Have you ever even tried to do that? Have fun and then dump a guy?“

Bracing herself to be laughed at and teased for her answer, Michaela bites her lower lip and shakes her head. It’d be a blatant lie if she said she had tried. Her and Aiden were high school sweethearts and she had never even gone on a date before meeting him. Following the break of their engagement, she threw herself into work and didn’t allow herself much partying or drinking out of fear she might start regretting the decision to call it all quits. Sober, she knew it was the right thing to do, so sober she stayed. And then she met Levi and fell for him almost immediately, distrust after Aiden be damned. So, in conclusion, this is her first time finding herself in a party setting in a very long while. Single and in a party setting, that is. Ok, single, heartbroken, and in a party setting. A perfect combination for getting drunk and letting loose. Laurel might have a point.

“In that case...“ She says, taking Michaela’s hand and giving her a mischievous smile, “Let’s break your ice.” She proceeds to drag her friend out of the bathroom and into the club where they get a friendly reminder of how loud the music really is. The bathroom must have one hell of sound isolation, considering the two girls nearly get deafened when stepping back onto the main and oud scene so abruptly.

The club is as crowded as it is loud and they have already lost sight of the male half of the Keating 5, but neither of the girls seem to care as they make their way to the bar, ordering themselves vodka shots which Laurel takes upon herself, winking at Michaela and mouthing the words, “My treat for your first time.”

Smirking, Michaela accepts the offered dose of alcohol, clinking the shot-glass against Laurel’s before they down their first of many shots for the night.  With each rush of vodka going down her throat, Michaela finds herself getting more and more relaxed, loosening up and she’s even starting to consider accepting the offer Laurel posed earlier about moving the party over to the dancefloor. The tipsy chat they’re having is lighthearted and fun, often swerving because of their inability to focus on one topic for too long without bursting out laughing.

Eventually, the two are interrupted by someone familiar but someone they weren’t expecting to see.

Michaela spots him first, “Frank? Who the hell invited you? Were you sent here to babysit us? We’ll pay you to leave if that’s the case.“ Yeah, after a few rounds of shots it’s safe to say she’s lost any kind of thought-to-speech filter and is being 100% honest which is quite amusing to observe.

At the mention of that name, Laurel whirls around in her bar stool, eyes wide when they meet Frank’s, “Wonderful, Annalise has sent her hitman to keep a watchful eye on us.“

Surprisingly unbothered by Laurel’s comment, he smiles, “Nice to see you too, Laurel. And no, I wasn’t sent by anyone. You just happen to be at a bar a buddy of mine owns. A bar I frequent too.” He explains, his claims backed up by the lack of his professional suit that has now been replaced by jeans and a button-down. He glances briefly at Laurel who has turned back around, downing her Margarita with frustration. His smile turns into a smirk as he points at her and turns to Michaela, “Is she bothering you? I can escort her away if she is.” He sends her a subtle wink, clearing up the message for her hazy brain to properly pick up on.

When it does, she returns the smirk right back at him, “Please do, she’s a real party-killer.”

Laurel turns to face her and Michaela can swear on all she’s ever owned she has never received such a betrayed and pissed-off look from anyone. It almost cracks her up to the point of laughter but she knows better than to fuel the the rage fire within her friend at the moment who has already hopped off the bar stool and is slowly being led through the crowd by the aforementioned ‘hitman’. Before she’s completely out of view though, she mouths a quick ‘I’ll kill you’ at her.

That manages to break Michaela down as she starts laughing, calling after her without any hope that she’ll be heard: “I won’t be your first.”

“You could be my first.“ An unfamiliar voice appears right next to her ear, startling her. 

She turns around and sees a guy, a stranger, smirking at her. Even in her drunken state she finds herself unwilling to enter a conversation with him. But then she hears Laurel’s words repeating in her mind, telling her to have fun.

Ok, I don’t really need to like the dude in order to have fun, do I? She thinks to herself, briefly contemplating the whole situation before finally replying.

“First what?“ Her voice has a friendly tone to it - friendly, but not quite flirty.

“First lady to dance with me tonight.“ The stranger replies, “If I play my cards right you may also be the only.“ He winks at her and she can’t help but find it more repulsive than appealing. She finds herself comparing him to Levi all of a sudden, despite the two having nothing in common at least appearance-wise.

In order to push those thoughts away she makes the rash move of offering him her hand, tilting her head towards the dancing crowd, “I don’t know. Let’s test that theory out, shall we?” She definitely sounds more confident than she feels but she’s prepared to do almost anything to get Levi and that whole ordeal out of her mind, so a quick dance with a stranger doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

Oh boy how quickly she regrets it.

The guy has no chill nor patience. He’s handsy right from the get-go: touching her inappropriately any opportunity he gets, grasping at the chance he’s been given seeing as how she has no escape and no room to get further away from him without bumping into other people dancing carelessly. However, when he starts grinding his hips against hers, she’s finally had enough planning her escape and instead chooses to act on impulse.

Looking around the unfamiliar faces for the odd chance she might spot someone familiar, she slowly inches further and further away from him, despite the fact she’s not able to put much distance with his hands on her waist, keeping her close to him. The alcohol seems to have evaporated from her system as she’s in critical survival mode, wanting nothing more than to leave the situation or maybe even the whole club for the night, finding it too uncomfortable to stick around after this event.

And then, like a literal miracle, she spots him and he has very clearly spotted her and is giving her this confused yet concerned frown.

That’s all she needed really. Pushing the stranger’s hands away, she pushes through the crowd, ignoring the people calling after her, calling her names for bumping into them or shoving them a little harder than intended.

“Connor, baby, how’s it going? You’re having fun?“ There’s a grin on her face, but her eyes are screaming ‘help me‘ at him. Something he clearly doesn’t pick up on because the frown of confusion remains mounted onto his face.

However, before Connor could reply, the creep has appeared next to her yet again, having followed after her from the spot they were dancing at, “Is this your boyfriend?“ He asks, not hiding how pissed and disappointed he is by the sudden emerging of Connor.

Michaela parts her lips to answer but Connor beats her to it, “Yeah, her boy space friend who has a boyfriend. And you are?“ He narrows his eyes, analyzing the guy’s face as much as he can in the dark, vaguely strobe-light illuminated club.

“Interested in the young lady.“ The creep smirks, giving Michaela a once-over look, taking in her body from head to toe with a gaze that makes her shiver with disgust.

Connor, thank God, picks up on this and takes a step forward so that he’s standing between the guy and Michaela, a serious and intimidating look on his face. “Well, she’s not interested in you. Go find someone willing to put up with your inappropriate and downright disgusting behavior.”

The creep laughs, his jaw clenching as he licks his lips, frustrated that things aren’t going the way he’d like, “Whatever. She’s a 4/10 anyway. A four who thinks she’s all that with her head in the clouds and playing eye-candy and then running away. I know her type quite well.” He shoots a look at her over Connor’s shoulder before turning around to walk away.

Michaela is not at all bothered by his words, she’s just glad he’s off her back. However, she can tell Connor is far from done with the case, seeing as how he takes a step to go after the guy and go off on him. To avoid further complications of what’s supposed to be a fun night after so much stressful shit in their lives, she quickly takes hold of his arm to stop him in his intentions.

“Connor, let it go, it’s ok. Let him be. Don’t waste your time and energy on a sleazy fucker like him.“ She tells him, gripping tightly on his bicep until he finally turns to look at her, seeming significantly calmer.

“But it’s not ok, Michaela. I was planning to leave.“ He says, his voice stern, “What if I had left? God knows how that asshole would’ve progressed his creepiness. Shit like that’s not ok and it’ll keep happening if fuckers like him aren’t put in their place.“

“There’s no putting them in their place. You think pep-talking him was gonna prevent him from doing the same to another girl in this very bar?“ She looks at him expectantly, knowing full-well she’s proved her point. When he sighs in defeat, she claims her win in the argument and changes the subject, “Also, leaving? Why?“

Connor shakes his head, grimacing as he motions at their surroundings, “All this, not really my scene. Plus I’m starving. There’s a Burger King down the street so yeah, that was gonna be my stop before going home. After all the crap we’ve been through, some of us might appreciate a little partying, but I’d rather have a quiet night in, you know? A fast-food-and-movie type of night.”

A genuine smile spreads across Michaela’s face. “Makes two of us. I prefer partying when I’m completely free from my worries. They just end up resurfacing after a couple drinks.“

Connor scoffs, returning her smile, “Who knew we could have more things in common than the need to be better than everyone else?” This comment actually manages to earn him a laugh from Michaela - something he rarely gets from her so he’s willing to hold onto it as a positive sign for the progression of their frenemy-ship. And so, he pushes his luck, “Wanna accompany me?”

Although surprised by the offer, Michaela feels the sudden urge to accept it without much thought. Even so, she decides to say: “As long as we’re not watching a rom-com, I’m in.”

Connor smirks, “You pick, boss.”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s the problem, I’ll pick a rom-com out of instinct. You know they’re one of the top five medicines for a heartbreak?”

He shakes his head, unamused, “No they’re not.“ He takes her arm by the wrist, guiding her through the crowd towards the exit, “Fast food is though“, he tells her, flashing her a quick smile over his shoulder as he adds, “And ice-cream. My treat.“

Once again left at a lack of words, Michaela just accepts what’s been offered to her. Never did she expect spending the night watching a movie with her main rival would be more appealing to her than partying under strobe-lights but here she is, leaving a club to head for Burger King with Connor and she doesn’t care enough to dwell on what that means for the constant war they’ve had between them. Guess it’s put on hold, but just for tonight.

Who knew wars could be paused by a fast meal and a movie? 

[anewdiscipleofdiscipline]

The Endless Abyss

Going to be a whiny post so... Fair warning.

Well. No one's ever going to read this whole fucking thing anyway, so I suppose it doesn't really matter...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So last night, since it's a long weekend, I stayed up late, as I do every weekend, because late at night is the only time I get to myself. However, this time, my dad kept calling for me every 30 to 90 minutes. The whole fucking night. From the time we put him to bed at 11 something, until I went to bed at 6 am-ish.

The whole fucking night.

Then today, I help my mom get him out of the house and into the car so they can go for a drive, because my dad has spent the last several months (until the last couple) being trapped in the house. Finally, some time to myself. I was glad for it... Until my mom and dad got home, we got him put of the car and back into the chairlift... And the fucking thing BROKE. BROKE.

He was ON IT when it broke. My mom and I "caught" him (for lack of a better term) and "threw him" (also for lack of a better term) into his wheelchair.

He's a 350 lb man. That's a LOT of stairs. He can't walk, and we can't carry him. I hurt my back preventing him from getting hurt.

Now we have no way of getting him in and out of the house.

Luckily, we were able to get 911 to send paramedics and they helped us get him into the house...

Except 10 minutes after that, he started having severe chest pains and starts bellowing that he's having a heart attack so we had to call 911 right back, and they took him to the hospital.

He's fine now, wasn't a heart attack.

Then my sister comes home. Last night, she spent the night at a dude's house she's been seeing. Then she came home, showered, and went to a DIFFERENT dude's house right after.

I don't have a problem with that, what I have a problem with is...

Why THE FUCK can't I find even one, JUST ONE, fucking person to do... Fucking anything with.

It doesn't have to be a relationship, let's face it, I don't fucking want one right now, nor would I be able to handle one with everything that's happening, but I can't keep fucking anyone's interest. Not a single person's.

Her telling me that was such a fucking punch in the gut. I'm sacrificing my body, my time, my mental health, my LIFE, and my patience to help my dad... And she's able to date 2 people at once. She's having fun and enjoying life while I'm trapped and miserable. She's home less than my brother was when he still lived her while flipping his own house in a different town.

I'm so angry and upset by this. Like, I get that she has chronic pain, and can't help us because of it and the physical weakness that goes with it... So she's paying for this life on her own way... BUT AT LEAST SHE HAS GOOD THINGS TO HOLD ON TO.

I have fucking nothing. Fucking. Nothing.

I'm living the same life now that I was in middle school... High school... University... The second university... Through 3 shitty jobs...

My dad's going to die soon.

My friends don't talk to me, or if they do, they don't spend time with me at all, and believe me, I've fucking asked.

I failed to do well in school. I tried. I tried SO FUCKING HARD. But there was always something in the way. Depression. PTSD. Anxiety. Seizures. Back injury that laid me up for a month. Nearly losing friends who suffered from their own mental health issues (between the not eating and not sleeping for the several months this went on, I'm kind of surprised I didn't die).

There was always something. I tried changing study habits. I tried learning everything I could about learning so I could learn and study more effectively. I got meds for my ADHD. I worked through many nights, using so many energy drinks, and that may have ended up causing my seizures.

But then either a health or mental or some other issue would happen and it would all shatter. I'd fall terribly behind and never be able to catch up. And trust me, some months I didn't do anything fun or enjoyable or for myself. Work. Study. Attend class. Study more. Sleep a little. Eat a little.

Fail a lot.

I did eventually get a degree... But I got into post secondary at 19, and finished officially at 29. For a BA. Not even in the program I changed schools for, but in the program that's a "step down" from it.

So I don't have academics to boost my self esteem with.

How bout work? Nope. Retail for several years (5+), factory work, courier job that literally nearly killed me. Back to factory work to escape courier job...

No idea what to do that'll make me happy. No thoughts of finding anything that will make me happy anymore.

Friendships/relationships? My friends from high school are still one big group... They still hang out and do shit together. They still talk. You know who they don't talk to or even really include at all? Fucking me. And I've even talked to them about it. I even told them about my mental health issues and how hard it is for me to reach out to people, how hard it is for me to be social because of it, and practically begged them to include me anyways.

No dice.

I've had and lost so many good friends, too. Some used me up, and tossed me aside. Some used me into I tossed THEM aside. Some just ghosted me, despite my efforts to stay in touch. Some I had major falling outs with. I do have some long term friendships... And yet... Even these people don't spend time with me. Don't even ask. All of my friendships right now... ALL of them... Are conducted entirely online.

As for relationships... I don't fucking know. I don't feel monogamous relationships are for me... BUT THE PEOPLE WHO ARE POLY ARE A SMALL POPULATION. And then the people who like me and are poly are a basically non-existent population...

But I can't be the way I'd rather be. Now that I know, I can't go back.

My sister doesn't identify as polyamorous... Yet in practice, she's participating in it more than I ever have.

I've never really dated. I've been on 1 real date in my entire life, and that went nowhere.

I've only had sex with 3 people in my entire life. And with 2 of them, it was once each. 3 times with the other.

They all cast me aside after. Or things ended terribly.

Now that I want to try and date, try to have sex, and utilize the knowledge I learned on the topic, to try and enjoy my life, I feel like I'm not allowed. Because nobody wants me. Because I'm working a shit job and don't have my own place. Because I have to be home to help care for my dying father. Because my siblings have fucked off in their own ways.

Because I was sexually assaulted as a child and suffer for it.

Because I'm not normal.

Because I'm perceived by society as a loser.

Because I'm too hairy.

Because I'm broken.

Because I'm not good enough.

Because I'm not successful enough.

I know life isn't fair... But this feels excessive. This is too much. It's all not so terrible that anyone would feel like it's tragic if I tell them and explain it all, but it's bad enough that I feel like I've been massacred inside.

My dad's going to die, probably within the next year. I work a shitty job with no prospects or ideas or energy or motivation for a better one. My mental and physical health is garbage, despite all the time in therapy, exercise, learning so I can rehab, meds or specialists I've seen. I'm not good at anything. I'm not well liked. Girls don't want or like me, especially not for the things I'm looking for. I'm stuck at home caring for my dad. My siblings are both out enjoying their lives as much as they can while I'm stuck in the abyss.

I don't enjoy anything anymore.

You know what the worst part is? I have no one else to blame but myself. I’m the common denominator. For all of it. I mean, I can’t explain how bad my luck is for all of the things out of my control, but even that feels like it must be my fault.

I give up.

I've got nothing left.

It's too much disappointment. And not enough reward for all the pain.

That's all, folks. That's the whole show.

[goingknowherewastaken]

This is a writer shaming post.

Maybe “shaming post” isn’t the most accurate description for this post.

“Tip/Heads-Up Post On How Writers Can Get More Readers” is a more accurate description...with the twist that it is written in a salty and Done^TM manner thanks to the amount of bullshit that’s happened in the past year.

Basically, I am fucking done with it. Done with the pathetic bullshit that has been going on for the past how many fucking months - hell, this goes beyond months! Fucking years this shit has been happening in the fanfiction community and I am done with seeing this shit continue to happen. 

Fucking. Done.

Anyways first and foremost before I get into this, I am not forcing anyone do any of these. Then again maybe I should be because these things are all things that have been repeated by all of a lot if not all of us writers and many writers have not bothered to improve on different points that I am about to make. So maybe consider these and how badly you want to improve your writing and note count, yeah? And dear god please stop with the bitching and moaning.

*sips tea* So, let’s get started, shall we?

♦♦ No one is obligated to read your work because SURPRISE everyone has their own preferences. 

What does that mean????? It means that not everyone likes everything so they may skip it if they don’t like what their reading. If what you put for the fic is a turn off then they won’t bother reading it or if halfway through they realize they don’t like it then they will leave it. 

So maybe the reason you aren’t getting notes is because it’s simply something that some people aren’t into. And don’t you dare get mad at the readers for that nor should you be trying to force them to read your stuff.

► Follow up point! There might also just be a small fandom for whatever it is you just wrote for!! Just keep writing!!! You never know, people might become curious and join the fandom for your content :D

♦♦ You gotta know your audience (for Reader Inserts).

Who are you writing the fic for? Women? Men? WOC? Trans men? Everyone?

Everyone has preferences for their fics, but the preferences get more intricate when you look at various demographics. 

Women of Color are not going to finish a reader insert if they see details (from terms to gifs) that would make the reader a white woman. Men are not going to read a fic for a female reader. 

It’s fine to tailor a fic to a specific demographic. Great, actually! But you need to be mindful and respectful of it. If you say the fic is going to be a gender neutral fic then you gotta make sure that it is gender neutral. Reader Inserts should always be race neutral unless you are tailoring it to a minority. Don’t try to get high and mighty about the “what about white people????” shit. Just don’t.

Speaking of which...

♦♦ Step away from what you know.

A phrase that many cling to often gets brought up in these moments: Write what you know. 

A dangerous phrase.

“I don’t know how to write for X because I’m not X.” It’s the usual statement said when people are asked to write for something that they are unfamiliar with.

Now, if you’re a new writer - I mean brand, spankin’ new - and are still figuring out the writing world - you get a pass to say this, but the longer you’re writing...

No. N - fucking - o. 

Sticking to what you know and not exploring new themes and views stunts your growth. You do not improve. You do not grow as a writer. You do not grow as a person.

Challenges and learning new things help us grow and become better...and get more readers.

♦♦ Just because you can write it doesn’t mean you should.

Oooooh boy. 

Everyone raise your hand if you’ve ever had a bunch of people come at you telling you that what you wrote is bad. By bad I don’t mean that they’re saying that it was badly written, but that what you wrote was insulting and/or wrong and you should never write that again.

If you raised your hand then I sure as hell hope that you heard those people out because if you didn’t and you just went into a pissy “waaaah these people are being mean and telling me to stop this and I don’t understand why and I don’t want to stop” mode then you need to pull your head out of your ass.

Sometimes, we do get readers who just want to nitpick everything and it’s easy to dismiss them. I had a person once tell me that I needed to stop using large spaces between paragraphs because they didn’t like large spaces. You’re damn right I ignored them because it was a stupid thing to pick at. (The spaces were due to the writing program I was using fyi.)

Other times, though, if many people are bringing it up, then it is something to be listened to. 

► Example - Cisswapping. I said Cisswapping not Genderbending. Both deal with changing the gender of a character for a work. Now there are instances of genderbending that are acceptable - like if the character can canonically shift their gender at will and/or identify as genderfluid; there can never be enough fics written about trans characters or readers.

But Cisswapping - just changing the character’s gender...now that is a massive no-no. Like, saying that James T. Kirk (Star Trek)(male) is going to now be Jamie T. Kirk (female) - not making the character trans or genderfluid, but saying that from birth Kirk is actually female in your work - that is shitty. How do I better explain how bad this is? Hmmmm...you guys know how shitty it is when a POC character is whitewashed? 

It’s that shitty and insulting. 

Cisswapping characters erases and disregards so many people and their stories and struggles. See, fandom ships usually M||M and the majority of the time the people that are disregarded are people who are gay and/or trans. These are people who have gravitated to fanfiction to see themselves and those like them reflected in works because popular culture is still trying to catch up to them. We can now see more gay and trans characters and celebs in our movies and TV screens and such than we could years ago, but fanfiction will always be a sure place to find that representation. 

So to suddenly find that Jane Doe decided that she wanted this popular M||M ship to be M||F ship... You bet your ass people are gonna be pissed. It takes strength and bravery to transition...but you just said that that means nothing compared to having an M||F ship. 

If you are that desperate to have a character in an M||F ship, just make an OC. 

Just leave the idea of Cisswap behind. 

(PS - thank you @insane-sociopath ♥)

►► Follow-Up Point - Do your research before going and writing your fic. There are plenty of sources online - not to mention people to talk to - that will help you out.

► Example - And rpf ships because those involve real people whose personal lives you are disregarding for your “fantasy” and no matter how many times you cry “but I respect them!!!” the dozens upon dozens of fics and fanart you post (both sfw and nsfw) about the rpf ship says otherwise. And the hyper-analyzing of photos and stuff to say that they’re in love…it’s on the creepy side of obsessive.

Not to mention you guys tag the celebs in the ship in your posts... Like, you guys do realize that the internet is not a vacuum right? Celebs and those who know them personally can see your shit and the process is made all that easier when you tag the celebs so it shows up in the celeb’s tag. Platonic and romantic relationships between celebs have been damaged after finding out about the rpf ship you guys have been creaming your pants over.

If the rpf ship in question are both single it’s just a tad bit less weird (still weird though) and if they are a legit couple in real life it’s definitely less weird to ship them (writing nsfw stuff for them is disturbing as fuck though). If one or both are in a committed relationship with someone who is not the other half of your rpf ship then uh-uh no way did you not read the start of this example?????

Reader inserts involving celebs can be looped into this as well if you think about it. There’s usually more acceptance for reader x celeb fics, but it doesn’t mean that they are accepted by all nor that you shouldn’t be treading lightly.

To wrap up this point, you might have scared off readers because they are tired of seeing you writing something that you shouldn’t be writing. This isn’t a “well you just said that people can have preferences and don’t have to like everything” thing. This is a “you’re probably being a tactless dick” thing.

*note - many do get a lot of notes on celeb content, this section was more addressing the hate that gets sent 

♦♦ People rarely have time to read your work right the minute it’s posted.

Did you know that mankind created this thing called Time and that the Earth is divided into timezones? No? Well, you’re education failed you. 

See, when you post a fic online, the following people will see it - those who you tagged in it, those looking in the tags you tagged it with, those who have selected the option to be notified every time you post something, and those who are simply scrolling through their dash. The latter point is what we are going into right here, right now.

Posting it once and assuming that everyone else will do your dirty work on spreading the news that the fic is up for reading only allows for a certain number of people to see it. It is highly encouraged to reblog your own shit. A lot. Like, ten times a day or even days on end. Hell, you should still be reblogging it long after you posted it. When you reblog your work you are putting it back into people’s dashes and giving it a better chance of being seen by other people. Depending on when you post could mean if an entire country and it’s residents (aka - followers and readers) is enjoying their free time, sleeping, attending classes, or working. 

So maybe the reason you’re getting no notes on it is because barely anyone has seen it due to it being posted at a bad time for them. 

Also, even during free time people are busy; they could have also seen it and are waiting until a later date to read it. Or they just aren’t in the mood for whatever theme your fic is. Regardless, don’t fret or be like “well I guess no one wants to read this now” or shit like that. Give them time. Patience. 

♦♦ How is your fic written? 

You don’t become a fantastic writer overnight. It takes time and effort and practice. Sooooo much practice. Some people who have been around for a while will only read fics with good grammar. A thing which is actually rather rude considering those writers with “bad grammar” are usually people who are in the early stages of their writing career or they are writing in a language that is unfamiliar to them. And I give you writers in those two categories a damn huge KUDOS. Do not stop writing because a reader is rude and is like “blah your writing sucks!” 

Writing takes practice and with every fic written and read we all get better and better. 

►► Some extra tips for us all to look out for:

+ Research! Research! Research!

+ Massive blocks of text scare people off. Try breaking them up into smaller paragraphs when you can.

+ Take a look at your tenses. This is something I myself am working on improving in my own writing.

+ Find yourself some beta readers! They are a huge help when it comes down to figuring out your fic!

+ If it’s a long work, please use the read more option. Hitting a long post on tumblr mobile without a read more is one of the worst things and it puts many readers off. 

+ Use a mix of said and adverbs; don’t be afraid of either. Adverbs can help set the scene more, but too many or using the wrong ones just makes the writing tacky; said gets boring after a while and only brings forth so much to the table. 

+ Make a masterlist - preferably a mobile friendly version!! You can do this by making a text post and linking your works and then embedding that link in your tumblr bio!

+ Read! Read! Read! Reading a wide variety of fics can help improve your own!

+ Don’t steal anyone else’s fics!!!! This is just really obvious people.

♦♦ Did you do anything at all to introduce your fic to people?

This is a huge point. See, most people don’t bother reading a work if they don’t know what it’s about. I don’t. If I can’t immediately see the ship or characters involved (not everyone likes every character or ship), warnings, a summary, or even the fandom (there’s so many Steves guys...you gotta include the last name of a Steve if you’re not gonna put their fandom) then I don’t even bother reading it. Books and movies and TV shows introduce us to these things; why can’t you?

And warnings.

♦♦ Did you post any warnings about your fic?

There are two types of people in this world. Those who see no warnings and don’t bother reading it because they don’t know what’s in store for them and others that will see no warnings and will then assume that the fic is safe. 

Big surprise when they’re caught off guard by something serious and they refuse to finish the fic. If people know that you are a chronic non-warner of sensitive content then they will not be returning to read any of your work. SPOILER - NOT WARNING PEOPLE ABOUT SERIOUS AND/OR SENSITIVE CONTENT NOT ONLY EARNS YOU NO NOTE ON THAT FIC BY PEOPLE BUT IT ALSO MAKES YOU A FUCKING JACKASS IN THEIR EYES

Warnings save a writer’s ass.

I cannot stress this enough - include warnings for your fic!!! Ao3 is built on warnings (the tags are warnings people) and people seem to get readers fine there. What’s your issue with putting warnings on tumblr fics? And they help summarize a fic (summaries also can act as warnings fyi)!!!!

Some people will argue that warnings = spoilers. They don’t want to give a heads up about sensitive content in lieu of not letting anyone know a single detail of what happens. Do I need to point out what’s fucked up with this statement? You are putting spoiling your fic above the mental and emotional health of your readers? (I swear to god if you try to argue that a trigger is only something that sets off self destructive behavior you need to check yourself. What about those that end up suffering panic attacks or emotional breaks? Or that writing doesn’t trigger anything? How does seeing other visual stimuli set off a trigger but not text? People can be triggered by any number of things; it all depends on the person. We can’t tag or warn for every trigger because there are so many, but the least you can do is warn about the mains ones (sexual assault, violence, abuse, self-harm, injury,...).) If you’re really gonna be anal about that then a trade off will be putting them in the tags and then telling people they can find the list of warnings there. But you gotta tell people where to find the list of warnings.

Not to mention that this stuff will dictate where someone reads your fic. Now, a lot of people read some really sexy or violent store bought books in public, but that is strictly text. I’ve seen a lot of fics with some nsfw gifs and moodboards slipped in. Most of us are already fearless when it comes to reading nsfw stuff in public, but the visual things can get people into a shit ton of trouble. And of course you have plenty of people who are mindful of what they read in public.

Or that they don’t have to use warnings because movies and tv and such don’t give warnings. Oh, yeah, you read that sentence right. There are people who have not been paying attention at all to movies and tv and such created over the past several decades. 

Or that ‘real life doesn’t have warnings’... I’m sorry have you checked the labels on medicines and other products? Or have you seen road signs? We have warnings everywhere people!!! It’s about fucking time that written works got better with it. 

If you don’t have anything serious to warn about then don’t put any warnings, but if you do then dear god you should probably do some warning.

♦♦ Make sure to tag!!!! 

On tumblr there are two different types of tags - the @ and the #.

The @ tag - Tagging people means that those people will be notified that you posted a fic (or they should be assuming tumblr is working properly)! If you don’t know who to tag, pose a question to tumblr asking if anyone is interested. A lot of people also are open to and encourage you to tag them if you have something that you think they may be interested in. And regardless of if you do tag people or not, people will often times approach you through comments, replies, asks, and DMs with requests to be tagged in future works. 

The # tag - using tags on your fics is so fucking important. These tags are how people find your stuff. Tag wisely. 

► Example - Let’s say you wrote a Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers fic; expected tags should be - bucky barnes, steve rogers, captain america, the winter soldier, marvel, stucky, bucky barnes/steve rogers, bucky barnes x steve rogers, captain america x the winter soldier, avengers,... 

Honestly, I could add more tags to that. 

Another example - A Bucky Barnes reader insert fic; expected tags should be - bucky barnes, marvel, reader insert, bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes/reader,  the winter soldier, bucky x reader,...

You get the idea? 

Tag your shit, but don’t over tag it. Stick to the necessary tags and don’t skimp on those, but don’t tag the unnecessary tags.

What are unnecessary tags? These tags are tags that have nothing to do with the fic and/or are not the main focus. Bucky Barnes x Reader fics should not be showing up in the Sam Wilson tag if Sam is not a main focus in the fic. Spirk fics should not be in the McKirk tag if McKirk is not the main focus of the fic. 

Many people will not read your work on purpose if you pull this shit because they’re pissed that your cluttering the tag with unrelated work for not reason.

But tumblr used to say that only the first five tags will be counted towards where a post shows up in searches, but I’ve sort of found this to be false? I’ve found many posts show up in searches where the tag I searched is actually far past 5 tags in. Basically, all of the tags are valid.

So tag responsibly people!!!!

And I think that wraps it all up.

I was going to do a section dragging readers, but I think that will be for another time because this is a little on the long side. Because sometimes us writers can follow all of the above and still have no notes. 

Anyways, once again, I am not forcing anyone to do any of these; it’s all up to you what you want to do in regards to your writing. I and a whole bunch of other people are just exhausted with the bitching and moaning people are doing in regards to not getting readers when there are several easy actions that could be taken to change that.

[leonardodespacito]

Since you went public I will too.

I haven’t felt this much pain in a long time. I thought you were going to be my forevermore. I pictured us side by side exploring the world and loving life.

I realize now everything was in my head and it’s even more painful.

I will say this. The lack of communication was all you. Because I opened my heart and soul to you. All the time. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but it is for me. But you never did the same for me.

I’ve never loved a woman as I did you. I can honestly say it was the first real time, I felt actual mind, body and soul love. I was willing to give my life and everything I had for you. I don’t think you will ever know what that means. And that makes me sad.

I was always listening and giving up my time, my emotions, everything for you but I didn’t care because when you love someone, nothing else matters but their happiness. You of course will say you were there for me too and yes you were. But you never EVER opened up to me. It was all surface, no depth.

I know this because if you truly knew me or cared for me, you wouldn’t have left in the most cowardly way. You would have had patience and waited. Just like I waited for you. Weeks, months I waited for you. Yearning for a single hello. But you never gave it. I had spent my hours, thinking and wishing for a single acknowledgement from you. But it never came. It was always me.

It was always me.

I realize now how stupid that was. Spending so much time chasing after someone who would never love nor respect me as I deserved. And you will say that you did care for me and that you know my worth. But if you did, you wouldn’t have hidden yourself from me at every point of our connection.

Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally. Everything about you is an unknown. You never allowed me in. When you did, it was always all surface, no depth. You will say I’m laying but, can you remember my birthday? Can you remember the abusive past I’ve lived through? Do you remember the dreams I shared with you? Do you remember my favorite dessert? I bet you can answer them.

I cant for you. Because I know nothing about you.

You always kept me at a distance. At first I understood because unfortunately being online means there is dangers unknown at every corner. It’s scary. But I opened up. I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to know my soul and everything that was me. But you never did. Not after 1, 2, 3 years more..

Why? That’s the only question that has been plaguing my mind since you left. Why? Why couldn’t you open up? But you were willing to sacrifice your very life for people in your town who never gave a shit about you. Not a single one of them. But I did. I would have given you all of me and more. Our connection was so strong I was even at times thinking of abandoning my life and just being with you.

I’m glad I wasn’t such a fool.

But I will admit I still feel like one. Because I still cried. I still feel grief and pain like no other. When I wish I could say fuck it, and move on like you did. But I can’t. It’s not me and never will be.

I think aside from the emptiness I just feel pity. Pity because you will never know peace. You will spend your life hiding your very existence for a family that would rather you didn’t exist. Hiding from supposed friends who you sacrifice everything for but are not willing to do the same for you. Everything in your life is a lie and you will never escape it because you’d rather remain comfortable hiding in the shadows of mediocrity and shame. You’d rather date men and be with them knowing that you never be happy with them. You’d rather live a lie of a life then face the truth of your existence and the struggle that comes with it. It’s hard but every single tear shed is worth it for a single moment of living your truth.

Which is and will always blow my mind because you are so fucking stunning. You are magnificent. I’ve never met a woman like you. Truly. Not just physically but inside as well. Your mind, your heart, your very presence brought the sun to my life. It shone brighter than a thousand suns and made me deliriously happy. I realize now that too was a falsehood of my own creation.

You said I emotionally exhausted you. It’s because you never give me a single reason to think you even cared. Because the last moments we spent together you were so cold. Distant. You weren’t willing to hear a single plea or even put yourself in my shoes for a moment. You were not the empathetic soul I thought you were. That too was probably a lie I created.

Now I’m left.. naked.. empty.. a shell that’s been hollowed out and abandoned. Lucky for you though, I’m not alone. I have people in my life who accept me as I am. Who love me unconditionally unlike you did. To think I once considered you another part of my soul makes me wish i could erase the history between us. But I can’t and I won’t.

This thing between us, whatever it was, made me so incredibly happy. It made me smile and laugh and that is how I will remember you some day.. if I even do. But being that this has re traumatized me I have no doubt it’s going to stay with me for a long time. It’s definitely taught me an important lesson in trust. And love. And in general humanity.

I truly wish you nothing but the best in your life. Seriously I do. I feel no ill will towards you and I don’t think I can. I’m angry yes. But ultimately I still hope against hope that you live your truth someday and can be extremely happy. Until then good luck my old friend.

Good bye.

[riaasam]

... because they know exactly what they are doing

Jair stepped onto the spacious terrace of the Presidential Villa, his official residence in the government capital Brasilia. The architecture of the villa did not suit his taste. Too simple. Too detached. So he preferred his finca in the rainforest in an elegant, down-to-earth colonial style and his city palace in the style of modern Sun Kings. He smiled at the thought, then his eyes began to dim. How greedily the people cried out for democracy. Acting as if something had changed beneath him. As if the rainforests had not been cleared for hundreds of years, to the advantage of the most successful, because cleverest. As always. Like everywhere. He was glad that the road was now too arduous for old Batista to audition personally at the villa. He laughed up his sleeve at the thought of how cleverly he had managed to pull this off again. Old Batista had the unbearable charisma of a self-made man who looked down scornfully on all those who were already born into a privileged position through the achievements of their forefathers. As if he had chosen it! The old man unpleasantly reminded him of his father who never missed an opportunity to point out the ridiculousness of all his Jair's successes in relation to his own, his life-giver and founder of the family dynasty.

One of the reasons why he got along so well with Joesly Batista, who was tormented even more by his father, who had actually made him one of the richest people in the world and his son, as he was happy to point out, would be nothing without him. It would not surprise him if Joesly would speed up the departure of the old man, who, in his mid-eighties, was still bristling with tyrannical power. His assistant, a capable but extremely ugly creature, he suspected that his wife had had a hand in this, as she knew too well how quickly he exchanged his wives for their younger model, reported that the gringos would arrive slightly late and Joesly was to arrive in five minutes. He liked Trump for his exquisite taste in choosing his women and admired his open display of his supposed wealth. And he was not one of those softies who outwardly presented himself as liberal and democratic and then, behind closed doors, euphorically shit on morals and greedily seize every opportunity for money, as the US and European democrats like to do. He shivered at the thought of the second guest who was to travel with Trump. He was reluctant to admit it but this Larry Fink frightened him. For a long time he had pondered over his motives. He was already rich and his power was one he could not flaunt. What was he interested in? Control? The guy worked 100 hours a week, did not take part in orgies, did not drink, did not take drugs, ate only white rice. Creepy. At least this time Trump left his maladjusted son-in-law at home. After the last visit they had to pay the family of the very young chambermaid a horrendous amount of hush money to comfort them over the brutal rape by the devilish gringo. A fine piss who believed the whole world had to obey him. Jair had heard rumours of goon squads, from which the said son-in-law had his opponents beaten to a pulp, and then, when the poor bastards were tied up and lying half-dead in their last trains, he would slip on a pair of gloves made of human leather, demonstrate his power with weak blows and then cut their throats in a cruel, amateurish way. Rumours. But he would not be surprised. Despite the pleasant 24 degrees that prevailed here in summer, Jair shivered again.

His assistant tore him from his morbid thoughts to report that she had led the just arrived senior Batista to the large terrace. Jair tensed his shoulders, pulled in his stomach and put on the El Presidente's jovial smile as he approached his guest. They greeted each other amicably and toasted to hopefully successful negotiations with the whisky that his prudent secretary had brought. Trump had been extremely vague on the phone, but he was immediately infected by his euphoria at the prospect of the money blessing. Joesly seemed tense as he talked about the shitty climate bitch from some shitty farm town in Europe who dared to complicate his life. "Isn't it enough that I have to deal with these retarded Indians and their backwoods tree love? And then there are those brainwashed religious fanatics from Gringoland who claim that God has a problem with us cutting down trees to grow meat. Then why did God give us the fire and the saw in the first place, if He objects?" Jair nodded sympathetically and grumbled something about plaited dictatorship, which he had picked up on the internet and seemed particularly witty to him. In fact, these rebellious children were increasingly becoming a problem. They talked about their future, even the future of all humanity, which was stolen from them by the older generation. Old that he did not laugh, he was in his prime. As a result, an unpleasant hatred of the rich and powerful also began to spread, and it took on alarming proportions. Powerful men were dragged to court for so-called sexual harassment. As if they did not all crave for it and lick their eggs with enthusiasm for even the smallest promise of success. Now these sluts all suddenly showed solidarity and spoke of abuse, even though for centuries it had been more a matter of a silent agreement of giving and taking. Sometimes he no longer understood the world. Maybe he was getting old after all. Both looked mournfully ahead and sucked listlessly on their Cohibas as the roar of an approaching helicopter tore them from their thoughts. As this ghastly bloodsucker Fink seemed to have something against sunlight, they had to leave the bright day to go to the darkened library. They allowed themselves a good sip and poured themselves into the leather couches that looked more comfortable than they were. Trump rumbled a greeting in surprisingly poor English for a native speaker, while Fink's smile seemed a little forced as usual. The two probably saw each other more as an unfortunately acceptable means to an end than as a human enrichment. Drinks were served, still water for Fink, a can of light cola for Trump and after the somewhat tough small talk had completely dried up, Fink, the initiator of this meeting, directed the conversation towards the purpose of this very meeting. "Gentlemen, I think I need not mention that everything discussed in these four walls today is subject to absolute secrecy. He looked around and everyone nodded. "The world is changing right now and not in our favour. The internet is a goldmine on the one hand, but on the other hand it is an almost uncontrollable pool of information that can be accessed by almost the entire world population. What used to be a regional scandal is now a global story that puts pressure on the courts to impose harsh penalties and forces politicians to take an official stand. Two decades ago, neither Weinstein nor Epstein would have been brought down. At the mention of these two names, all those present sighed with concern. That such cunning bastards were put on trial in public had been a shock. Especially this blackmailer Epstein had made all men in powerful circles tremble. It had been a masterstroke to fake his death, to give him a new face with a small surgical operation and to make him disappear forever to prevent all the sex videos with minors that this criminal had recorded with almost everyone in the world who had anything to report from being published on this damned internet. After a short break Fink continued: "Millions of young people worldwide have made it their business to destroy our economic system and even if they are just children, we should not underestimate the pull of their rebellion. Politicians feel compelled to make more and more green concessions for marketing reasons and consider that these children have parents who will take them on for themselves and their cause. The fear of terror is decreasing worldwide as the Islamist movements become less and less attractive and fewer and fewer young people want to commit themselves to their cause and give their lives. We need a new source of fear, a new enemy from outside, which makes authoritarian states seem necessary again, nips troublesome social and climate policy discussions in the bud and promotes nationalism. We have run various scenarios through our Aladdin Programme and our analysts have come to the conclusion that a global pandemic is the best outcome. We take a relatively harmless virus that actually exists and declare it the greatest threat to all mankind. The virus will be fatal, especially for very old people, thus reducing the burden on the health care system, and will hardly affect the production and consumption power of younger people. The initial uncertainty will turn into fear and, as a result, widespread support for rigid policies and high public spending on public health and safety. According to our calculations, the portfolios that we have created in anticipation of what is to come will have a significant increase in value in the pharmaceutical industry, medical products, safety clothing, new technologies, digital media, food industry" - he nodded to Batista, "online shopping etc. with 99% certainty". Trump, who was always nervous when listening for a long time, asked for his third can of light cola. Fink waited, with the patience of a sadistic governess for the child she had entrusted to her disturbed parents, until the little drink disappeared in her big hands to continue with his explanations: "Politics, which fortunately is globally in conservative hands, where change tends to be detrimental. "But our hands are not at all conservative behind closed doors, aren't they Jay-Jay?" Trump interjected and looked around the faces of his co-conspirators for recognition. Jair twitched slightly and forced himself to grin. That this stupid redneck could not remember a single non-English name. And Jair was really not complicated. Fink suppressed his increasing energy. Even the joint flight with this giant baby had been an intellectual imposition. But he played his role in world political affairs perfectly and had earned them billions in just one term of office, thanks to the withdrawal of bank regulations and other gifts with which he bought himself free of his debts. He cleared his throat: "Conservative governments worldwide will not question the existence of the virus when they realise how useful the situation is for them to extend their power and distract from their own political shortcomings.  And no one will risk going it alone, as science will be uncertain in the beginning, when assessing the danger of the disease and a decision against the trend could make you a murderer umpteen times over. We already have the Chinese on board. Their sensible approach to the freedom of the internet and freedom of expression in general will make it much easier to let the outbreak take place there and we have been able to convince them with the political incentives as well as the financial ones, as the unrest in Hong Kong, Taiwan and the PR disaster with the Uyghurs urgently require distraction. The international airport in Wuhan will make a rapid global dissemination look credible and the scandal-hungry press will be enthusiastic about it. Our programme sees only one problem and that is the unpleasant desire to question the decisions of the rich and powerful, which is ineradicably stuck in a part of the people. We distinguish between the factually based empirically rational criticism of the mostly academically educated, the argumentatively logical criticism of the intellectuals and the intuitive criticism of the uneducated. In order to convince the critics of the opposite, our analysts have come to the conclusion that the questioning of the existence of the virus must come from their anti-Jesus, the symbol of the rejection of rational reason and scientific facts, from them, Mr Trump and Mr Bolsonaro!Jair was unsure how to react, as the image for which he had just been described to stand did not necessarily seem positive to him. "Don't get me wrong," the diplomat of money, who became aware of his perhaps a little too businesslike way of talking about people present at that moment, reacted promptly. "of course, this is not about you as private individuals, but you as public figures with a publicity value" Both Trump and Bolsonaro seemed insecure and hurt. "What I mean is not real public opinion but the left-wing propaganda that sells you to the establishment! Larry's voice was firm and convincing as he quickly took those words from his brain. That was the secret of his success. He was simply faster than the majority of his counterparts and was able to provide the desired answer within seconds, which in turn led to the desired result for him. Larry looked at his brain in a similar way to a computer, which fed data into it and used it to make predictions. The better the data, the more precise the prognosis. When the internet was invented, he immediately saw its potential. With it he was able to build the super brain, the real time super brain that was closest to a collective memory and therefore knowledge store, the Internet, scouring for information and being able to make the most precise predictions about the possible future. A real boon to financial investment, whose weakness is its dependence on insecure political systems, rebellious people and natural phenomena. The earlier an investor can predict the occurrence of major changes, the earlier he can react to them by either selling or buying shares affected by these changes, depending on the circumstances. An incoming uncertainty among consumers, let's say caused by a virus that can be deadly, offers the opportunity to sell shares in tourism, travel transfer, aircraft manufacturers and their suppliers, shipbuilders and their suppliers, car manufacturers and their suppliers, etc. and to buy shares in pharmaceuticals, medical supplies, safety clothing, online shopping, telecommunications, security, etc. But, why bother reacting to events only when you can trigger events? Especially if you have the perfect tool to play through all scenarios and thereby protect yourself. He was almost touched when he thought of Aladdin. For him it was like landing on the moon for others. His dream had come true. Jair was still not quite sure if he had just been insulted, but decided to listen to the bloodsucker for a while. "We already have Boris Johnson on board. He thinks the plan is brilliant. Even the Chinese will first deny the existence of the virus in order to strengthen the belief in the virus among opponents of authoritarian regimes. Steve Bannon has the political right in Europe well in hand. There are too many risks involved in opening this kindergarten, but they will probably follow your good example as always. Your followers, who are more likely to be the Uneducated Critics, will follow your example and question the existence of the virus, which in turn will strengthen the credibility of the Educated Critics Group 1, as they will instinctively believe the opposite. Group 2 of the intellectual free-thinkers is more difficult to convince but according to our calculations negligible, as they play hardly any role in the formation of public opinion at the moment, fortunately for us. If at some point it inevitably comes to light that the virus was actually harmless, group 1 will look stupid, group 3 will feel strengthened in their belief in themselves and their leaders and you will be the more or less the only ones who have seen through the situation". Fink looked around to see if his words had the desired effect. "I love it," Trump said. "Nice work, Larry." He patronisingly added. Jair was thrilled. A worldwide conspiracy and he, one of the few initiates. As far as he could see, the thing didn't even seem to be claiming any real victims, just hastening the departure of those already doomed to death. "Not uninteresting" he commented, however, with restraint at first. Larry added "In addition to the political capital, there is of course also the possibility for you to privately and discreetly make considerable financial capital out of the matter. Through Black Rock I have the possibility to invest anonymous investment packages for you, whose profit is distributed directly to an untraceable account in a country of your choice. "Who all knows?" was Batista's first words. "Few who, apart from me, know nothing about each other. There are no records, only verbal agreements. I don't need to explain to you what you or your company get out of it. Climate strikes will dry up. People will have other problems than thinking about animal welfare and veganism, and according to our calculations, the turnover of the food industry will shoot through the roof because underemployed people tend to overeat. Batista nodded in agreement that this was a well-known fact. Hooray for the holidays. Jair's mind was already somewhere else. He thought of the house on the French Riviera that Michelle had wanted for so long, the Ferrari he had secretly dreamed of for so long. All of this was served to him here on a silver platter without him having to lift a finger! And in the end it would even get him another term of office. So dreams became reality. He smiled blissfully as he rang for the maid to order a bottle of the best champagne the villa's cellar had to offer in the library. The mood was exuberant. Even Fink was persuaded to have a glass. Suddenly it didn't seem so bloodless and unpleasant anymore. He was a genius and they are notoriously eccentrics. And this eccentric would make him Jair very, very rich. He would have liked best to kiss him. Instead he raised his glass and shouted happily: "To a fantastic coming year gentlemen!"

Continuation followed ...

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)